by Amanda Wills
Chapter 16
The bright autumnal days had been replaced by a relentless September mizzle that settled on the moors like a heavy overcoat and matched Caroline’s bleak mood. Poppy was feeling under pressure. There were four days left before term started and the thought of school made her sick with nerves. To make matters worse the annual drift was just over three weeks away and although she knew she was gaining Cloud’s trust it was a slow process and she was no nearer to catching him.
A sneezing and coughing Charlie was banned from joining Poppy on her nightly ‘badger watch’ until he was over his cold. One afternoon as he sat on the end of her bed, a string of green mucus hanging from each nostril, he asked her why she didn’t tell Caroline about Cloud.
“She likes horses. She used to ride when she was your age, remember?”
Poppy wasn’t sure why she kept Cloud a secret, if she was honest. Caroline probably would have understood and tried to help, although the way she was at the moment she didn’t really seem to care much about anything. On the plus side her stepmother’s malaise meant that Poppy was enjoying much more freedom than usual. On the down side the house was a tip, the washing basket was overflowing and they were existing on frozen ready meals and jars. In Twickenham Caroline had fed the children nothing but healthy, organic food and they’d snacked on pumpkin seeds and fruit. These days she just slapped whatever happened to be in the cupboard or freezer into the oven. This week they’d had turkey twizzlers, oven chips and baked beans for three nights running. Charlie was in heaven, but Poppy was missing the ready supplies of houmous and fresh vegetables. She had a spot on her forehead and a couple of nights ago had even Googled the symptoms of scurvy.
“I will tell her. Just not yet,” promised Poppy.
The next morning Charlie was feeling better and was itching to get out after being cooped up inside for so long. The rain had stopped and Poppy suggested they take a picnic lunch onto the moor. She wanted to see if they could find Cloud and Charlie was desperate to discover a paw print. Caroline, pleading the onset of a migraine, was curled up in bed with the curtains drawn when Poppy crept in. It was so out of character that Poppy was beginning to wonder if her stepmother had lost the plot.
“Caroline, would it be alright if we took a picnic up onto the tor? I promise not to let Charlie do anything silly.” Poppy spoke slowly and with emphasis, as if she were talking to a half-wit. Grateful to be left in peace Caroline said they could go as long as they stayed within sight of Riverdale and had Poppy’s phone with them.
There wasn’t much in the cupboards but Poppy cobbled together a picnic of sausage rolls, crisps, half a packet of bourbon biscuits and the last of the raisins, in the hope that they would provide at least a small dose of vitamin C. She packed the food into her rucksack along with a couple of bottles of water, Charlie scooped up his binoculars and camera and they set off.
“The ground is nice and soft so we should be able to see any prints quite easily,” said Charlie, as he hitched the camera strap up his shoulder.
“Can you also keep an eye out for Cloud’s hoofprints? I’m sure he can’t stay hidden in the wood all day. He must come out and graze sometimes. I was wondering if he ran with a particular herd of Dartmoor ponies,” Poppy said.
They skirted around the edge of the wood at the base of the tor, inspecting the ground as they walked as if they were forensic officers examining a crime scene. Charlie found a smudged hoofprint in the mud that could have been Cloud’s but could equally have belonged to one of the larger Dartmoor ponies. They came across the same herd they had seen when they first moved to Riverdale, but there was no sign of the dappled grey pony.
“Shall we have our picnic now?” suggested Poppy, and they settled down in the shelter of a large boulder. She shared out the lunch and watched her brother with amusement as he dived on the food as if he hadn’t eaten for weeks. She stretched her legs out in front of her as she leant back on the boulder. “Can I borrow your binoculars, Charlie? I’ll see if I can see Cloud.”
Poppy adjusted the lens until the view in front of her swam into focus and she started scanning the moor, sweeping from left to right as she looked for Cloud’s familiar grey shape. But the vast expanse of green and purple moorland was deserted. Not a sheep, a rambler or a pony in sight. Even the crows had stopped wheeling overhead. The air was still and silent. Odd, thought Poppy, as she reached for a handful of raisins and munched thoughtfully.
“It feels a bit weird up here today, don’t you think?” she asked her brother, who was lying on his front watching a grasshopper rubbing his spindly legs against gossamer wings.
He shrugged. “What do you mean?”
“Like the calm before the storm. It’s as if something’s waiting to happen. Don’t worry, I’m probably just imagining things.” She handed Charlie the binoculars and he trained them on the grasshopper. The insect sprang away in a series of staccato leaps, making him jump.
A mosquito buzzed angrily and Poppy waved it away. The air felt sticky and she could feel a slick of sweat across her forehead. “Come on, let’s make a move,” she told her brother. But Charlie was sitting as still as a statue, staring at the top of the tor. When she followed his gaze her hand flew to her mouth. Tucked behind another huge boulder was a black, distinctly feline-shaped head with small pointed ears and a jutting jaw.
“Look at that!” breathed Charlie. Poppy motioned to his camera. “Take a picture. Quickly!” she said in sotto voce. He lifted the camera, zoomed in as far as he could and pressed the shutter a dozen times. The animal looked in their direction then jumped with a neat spring onto the rock.
“Oh no, the battery’s run out,” said Charlie. He swapped the camera for his binoculars and they watched as, with a flick of its long tail, the panther-like creature bounded off the rock with one graceful leap and disappeared behind the tor. Brother and sister looked at each other in disbelief.
Charlie was the first to speak. “Poppy, this is just amazing. A big cat, living on our tor! Tell me I’m not dreaming. You did see it too, didn’t you?” he asked her, suddenly uncertain.
“I saw something, goodness only knows what, but it did look like a cat,” she admitted. “We need to go home and look at those photos.” She shoved the remains of their picnic into her rucksack and they scrambled down the rock-strewn hill towards Riverdale.
Caroline was in the kitchen tidying up unenthusiastically.
“Mum! You’re not going to believe this! We’ve found a big cat,” shouted Charlie.
“Really? Well, that is exciting. Was it a lion, a tiger or a leopard?”
“No, we really did see one, didn’t we Poppy?” He glanced at his sister for reassurance and Poppy looked at Caroline. “We saw something large and black. I don’t know what it was but it definitely wasn’t a sheep or a Dartmoor pony. But Charlie’s taken some pictures so we can show you.”
Caroline was glad of a distraction after spending the morning trying and failing to shift the feelings of lethargy and unhappiness that at times threatened to drown her. She took out her laptop, booted it up and slipped in the memory card from Charlie’s camera. Together they watched the screen as Caroline downloaded the photos. There was the tor, so familiar to them by now. Charlie pointed to the boulder where they had seen the animal. “Look! There it is,” he cried with relief.
Indistinct though it was, they could definitely make out the cat-shaped head. Poppy gasped. “There - look. You can see its tail.” And sure enough, a long black tail stuck out from the side of the rock.
“Well I never,” said Caroline in amazement. “That really is extraordinary. I wonder if it could be a panther or something?”
“Of course it is!” replied Charlie hotly. “I told you there were big cats on Dartmoor and I was right. This must be the same one Scarlett’s dad saw. He’d believe me,” he said, his bottom lip wobbling.
“I believe you, Charlie,” said Poppy quietly. Although they had been a couple of hundred metres away she was in no doubt that what they’d
seen was some kind of large cat.
“What do we do now?” demanded her brother, who was jumping from one foot to another, his blond hair tousled and his blue eyes shining.
“What do you mean?” Caroline asked, puzzled.
“Well, do we call the police or the zoo - or do we start building the big cat trap I designed ages ago?”
“I suppose we could call the Tavistock Herald,” Caroline suggested. She had started out as a junior reporter on a local paper before moving to the BBC and knew they loved a big cat story - especially if there was a photo involved. The fact that a six-year-old had been behind the lens was the icing on the cake.
“Yesssss!” Charlie punched the air with his fist. “Fantastic idea, mum. Can we do it now?”
“Sweetheart, it’s gone five o’clock. There won’t be anyone in the newsroom until the morning, but we’ll do it then, I promise.”
The intrigue brightened Caroline’s mood and they spent a happy evening playing Monopoly and eating crisps in front of the fire. It was almost like old times and Poppy felt some of the unease she had been feeling about her stepmother’s frame of mind lifting.
“I really must do a big food shop tomorrow. We’ll pop into the Herald offices afterwards if you like,” Caroline offered and Charlie beamed.
“Is there any chance I could go and see Tory while you two are at the supermarket? I wanted to apologise for not saying goodbye when she came for tea. With school starting on Monday I’m not going to get another chance for ages,” Poppy said.
“Yes, that’s fine. But I still don’t understand what happened between the two of you. I can’t imagine Tory upsetting anyone; she’s so lovely.”
Poppy swallowed. Admitting she was wrong was not something she was good at. “It was my fault. She was trying to help and I was mean to her. But I don’t want to talk about it,” and, avoiding an inquiring look from Caroline, she picked up the dice, threw them and landed herself in jail.
