Checkmate

by Malorie Blackman

  'Yes, Mummy,' Rose sniffed.

  I squatted down in front of her. 'Callie Rose – stop crying. Now.'

  Rose sniffed and gulped and the flow of tears was stemmed.

  'Now we're going to walk out of this place with our heads held high. D'you understand?'

  'Yes, Mummy.'

  'Come on then. Let's go home.' I took my daughter's hand in my own, careful not to hold on too tightly.

  We made our unhurried way out of the school, without catching the eye of a single person. I didn't say a word until the school was way behind us. Then I stopped and looked down at my daughter.

  'OK, Rose. Let's hear why Mrs Hoyle sent you out of the classroom today.'

  Tears reappeared and threatened to wet Rose's cheeks.

  'Uh-uh!' I shook my head. 'No waterworks. What happened?'

  'I don't know why she sent me out,' said Rose. 'I really don't, Mummy.'

  'So tell me what happened before you got sent out,' I said.

  'Well . . .' Rose worried her bottom lip as she thought back. 'Mrs Hoyle was telling us the story of Chicken Licken – the one where an acorn falls on her head and she runs around in a panic, telling all the other animals that the sky was falling. D'you know that one?'

  'Yes, love. So what happened then?'

  'Mrs Hoyle read out, ". . . Chicken Licken ran up to the Goosey Loosey and said, 'The sky is falling! The sky is falling!'" Then Mrs Hoyle looked around a-and she asked, "What d'you think Goosey Loosey said? Hands up." So I put my hand up.'

  'And what did you say?' I asked.

  'What Tobey told me. Goosey Loosey said, "Bloody hell! A talking chicken!" And that's when Mrs Hoyle sent me outside.'

  I sucked in my cheeks and bit the inside of my bottom lip. 'I see,' I said when I could trust myself to speak. 'Rose, "bloody hell" is swearing. And that's not the original ending to the Chicken Licken story.'

  'It isn't?'

  'No, love. Not even close.'

  'But that's what Tobey told me.'

  I sighed deeply at the mention of Tobey. Not only did he live next door to us, he also lived for the fun of winding up my daughter – and he almost always succeeded. I should've guessed that Tobey's version of 'Chicken Licken' wouldn't be the same one everyone else in the country knew and shared. Rose looked up at me, trepidation painting her expression.

  'Mummy, are you going to shout at me?'

  'Would you like me to?' I asked.

  Rose shook her head vehemently.

  'If I were you, Rose, I wouldn't be quite so quick to believe every word Tobey tells you,' I said.

  When Rose heard that, her eyes went all squinty and her cheeks filled with air. It was just as well Tobey wasn't standing in front of her.

  'Rose, you're puffing up like a balloon. Take a breath, dear.'

  She hissed out then inhaled sharply. 'So how does the real story end then?'

  'Chicken Licken and all her equally idiotic friends get eaten by Foxy Loxy for being so stupid,' I told her, all trace of humour fading.

  'Oh!' Rose blinked in surprise. 'I don't think much of that ending. The fox wasn't very nice.'

  'That's the way the world works, Rose,' I warned her. 'If you're naive – which means immature, inexperienced or a bit thick – you get eaten alive.'

  'Oh!'

  We carried on walking.

  ' "Chicken Licken" is not one of my favourite stories any more,' Rose told me unexpectedly.

  No, Rose. I didn't mean to upset you. And I didn't want to spoil one of your favourite stories. It's just that . . . I was just trying to . . .

  I opened my mouth to show Rosie the thoughts not waving but drowning in my head. But then as usual, as always, I closed my mouth and said nothing. And the words of comfort and reassurance that I was desperate to say floundered and got washed away.

  'Come on, Rose,' I sighed. 'We have to get a few things from the shops before we go home.'

  'Yes, Mummy,' said Rose, subdued.

  The local supermarket was about ten minutes out of our way, but I didn't want to go home and then have to come out again. We walked up and down the aisles, Rose lost in her own thoughts. I rehearsed in my head the different things I could say to make her feel better, but everything sounded wrong.

  We were just turning the corner of one aisle when I almost bumped into two Cross men who were chatting away, not looking where they were going.

  'Sorry,' I said, inanely. After all they'd almost walked into me, not the other way round. Both men looked me up and down, then looked at Rose. The taller one narrowed his eyes.

  'Slag!' he hissed at me. 'Blanker-lover.'

  And they carried on walking. Astounded, I turned to stare after them. To say that to me . . . they didn't know me from a hole in the ground, but one look at my daughter and I'd been assessed and judged. I glanced down at Rose but she was oblivious, still lost in her own world – thank goodness.

  And if she hadn't been with me . . . Both men were taller and stronger and younger than me, but I would've taken them on. I wanted to rip their tongues out.

  If Callie Rose hadn't been with me.

  five. Rose is 7¼

  I don't particularly like swinging backwards and forwards. Everyone does that. I like to twist round and round and round. That's much more fun. I like to sit with my head tilted back so I can look up at the sky and play cloud busting. I like cloud busting. Just look at that cloud! It looks just like a giant long-eared dog, racing after something I can't see. Or maybe it's running away from something I can't see. I wonder which one is right? I do like to sit on the swing and twist. I do it most afternoons after school if it's not raining. But today, twisting isn't cheering me up the way it usually does. The breeze teasing round my face has stolen all the smell from Mum's garden flowers – and I love the smell of flowers – but even that isn't making me feel any better.

  The kitchen door opened. I dug my heels into the ground to stop myself swinging.

  'You're horrible, you are!' I shouted at Tobey the moment he set foot in our garden. He was wearing the T-shirt Mum and me bought for his eighth birthday – the one with a photo of Tobey's pet snake, Cuddles, on it. Mum took a photo of Cuddles to a special shop where they did stuff (I don't know what!) and put the photo on a Tobey-sized T-shirt. But the whole thing was my idea. Now I was really sorry I'd bothered. And why had Mum let him in after what he did?

  'Sorry, Rosie. Your mum just told me off for what happened at school today,' Tobey said as he walked towards me. His mouth wasn't laughing, but his eyes were.

  'It's not funny. I got into tons of trouble – and it's all your fault.'

  Tobey tried to hide the smile on his face, without much luck. He smoothed his floppy, brown hair down over his forehead the way he always did. But it wasn't long enough to hide the fact that his eyes were still twinkling. 'Sorry, Rose.'

  I sprang off the swing. 'You get out of my garden.'

  I lowered my chin and gave Tobey my best worst look. I was so angry my face felt like it was getting smaller and more squashed up. I was so angry that my eyebrows were knitting together.

  'I said sorry,' said Tobey. 'I didn't mean to get you into trouble. It was just a joke.'

  'Some joke! And you should've told me. I told my teacher what you said Goosey Loosey said, and she sent me out the room for swearing.'

  Tobey burst out laughing. My eyes squinched up and my cheeks puffed out and my lips were pressed together so hard, they were beginning to tingle.

  'Oops!' said Tobey. 'I'm not very popular in your house today, am I?'

  I wanted to say all sorts of thing to him but the words just kept tripping over each other and falling down inside my mouth. Then my eyes began to prickle and itch which was even worse.

  'Tobey Durbridge, I'm never going to believe another word you tell me as long as I live.' The words were meant to come out all fierce and angry but instead my eyes began to leak – which made me even more mad at Tobey. He was still my next-door neighbour but he wasn't one of my best friend
s any more.

  'Rose, I didn't mean to make you cry,' said Tobey. And just like that the silly, smiley look on his face had gone. He looked all serious but I didn't care. Too little too late, as my mum says.

  'I don't believe you,' I snapped like a crocodile.

  'Rosie, I really am sorry,' said Tobey. 'Tell you what – you can ask me to do anything you like to get your own back, and I'll do it.'

  'You will?'

  'Yep! Anything!'

  Hhmm! I didn't feel like crying so much any more. Now the afternoon was warmer and the sky was bluer and I was in charge!

  'Will you do absolutely anything?'

  'Anything.'

  'Eat a slug?'

  'Anything.'

  'Would you kiss my feet?'

  'Yuk! Anything.'

  'Right then. You're on!'

  I looked around. Mum had planted pink and red rose bushes up one side of our tiny garden. And she regularly put horsey smelly doings under each bush. She said it was ferty-liza to help the plants grow. Time to make Tobey suffer! I was actually beginning to enjoy myself now.

  'Grab a handful of dirt from under that rose bush.' I pointed.

  Tobey looked relieved. 'Is that all?'

  'Nope. Then I want you to eat it.'

  'Eat what?'

  'The dirt you pick up.'

  He didn't like that – not one little bit. 'Are you serious?'

  "Course. Eat dirt and then I'll know you're really sorry.'

  Tobey walked over to the closest rose bush. It was covered with dark red roses but half the petals from half the flowers were decorating the ground like the rose bush had had a nose bleed or something. Tobey scooped up a handful of poopy dirt and walked back to me. My stomach flip-flopped. Yukkity-yuk! Wouldn't catch me sticking my hands in that stuff!

  'Don't even think about chucking that at me,' I said in my fiercest voice.

  'I wasn't going to,' said Tobey, still looking all serious.

  We watched each other, then Tobey slowly moved his hand up to his mouth. He bent his head. His hair flopped forward till it was almost sweeping the muck in his hands. Was he really going to do it? No . . . Yes! His lips were just millimetres from the dirt. He opened his mouth. I sprang forward and knocked his arm down. I only meant for the dirt to drop out of his hand. But I hit his arm down and then it came straight up again like it was on a spring and the dirt went SKADOOSH – all over Tobey's face. Tobey stared at me through his mask of horsey poo and dirt and we both burst out laughing.

  'You'd better wash your face before your mum sees you,' I warned him.

  Tobey tried to brush himself off but all he did was rub the poopy doings into his T-shirt. It was in his hair, on his face, over his clothes – everywhere. We walked back to the kitchen, but I kept my distance. He was a bit smelly now. Actually, he was a lot smelly now.

  'D'you want me to tell you the real story of Chicken Licken?' asked Tobey.

  'Mum already told me. They all get eaten by a fox for being so stupid.'

  'I'll tell you another story then. Only . . . it's not really a story. It's a secret – about me. And you must promise never to tell anyone else.'

  'I promise.' My eyes were almost as wide as my open mouth. But then I remembered 'Chicken Licken'. I looked at him suspiciously.

  'It's as true as I'm standing here,' Tobey protested. He sat down on the grass in front of me. 'Sit then. I'm not going to stare up your nose as I tell you.'

  I sat down. I liked Tobey's stories. 'I'm still mad at you though.'

  'Fair enough,' said Tobey. 'If I were you, I'd be mad at me too. That's why I'm going to tell you something that no one else in the whole world knows.'

  'Tobey,' I couldn't help asking before he began. 'Were you really going to eat that dirt?'

  Tobey smiled. 'Ah! You'll never know now, will you?'

  six. Sephy

  It was another one of those nights. A still, lonely night where, however much I might beckon, sleep was a stranger. So here I was again, sitting in the purple grape-skin dark, staring out at the night sky with nothing to do but count my thoughts. It was a cloudless night and very mild for the end of September. I sat by my window, perfectly still, watching the stars multiply, watching the leaves of the small, newly-planted horse chestnut tree a few metres down the road sway to their own music. All my past regrets started skirting round each other in my head, the way they always did when I couldn't sleep. Memories that grabbed hold and made me flinch and wouldn't let me go. How I wished for someone to turn to, to talk to. Someone to hold me through all my doubts and fears.

  'Mummy

  My head whipped round. I hadn't even heard Rose enter my room.

  'Yes, treasure?'

  'I had a nightmare.'

  Rose stood just inside my doorway, her hand still on the door handle. My eyes were accustomed to the dark so I could make out more than her outline. Her pyjama trousers were twisted around her waist, her hair wisped up in odd angles at the front and her eyes were round and bright like full moons, but anxious. An anxiety that was only partly caused by her bad dream.

  'Come here,' I beckoned, keeping my voice low and soft.

  The last thing I wanted was to wake Meggie. We'd been through this so many times before. Whenever there was something wrong with my baby, Meggie insisted on sorting it out . . . to save me the bother. Sometimes we argued about it, most of the time we didn't. What would I do without Meggie? Rose walked over to me. I kept my hands at my sides.

  'Want to sit on my lap?' I asked.

  Rose nodded.

  'Up you get then.'

  Rose clambered onto my lap and put her arms around my neck. My hands fluttered like cautious birds, one to land on Rose's back, the other on her thigh. I silently inhaled. I never grew tired of the smell of Rose – especially that early-morning or late-night smell that was so clean and childlike.

  'So what was your nightmare about?' I whispered.

  'You promise you won't get mad?'

  'Why would I get mad, Rose?' I frowned. 'It's not your fault you had a nightmare.'

  'I know but . . . I dreamed that

  'Go on.'

  'I dreamed that Tobey turned into a wolf and came through my window to gobble me up.'

  'It was just a silly dream, Rosie. Mind you, dreaming of Tobey is enough to give anyone nightmares,' I teased.

  'But Mum, it wasn't just a bad dream . . .'

  'What d'you mean?'

  'If I tell you a secret about Tobey, d'you promise not to tell anyone else?' Rose said seriously.

  My insides went warily still. 'I promise.'

  'Well . . . when it's a full moon, Tobey changes into a werewolf,' said Rose.

  I fought down the impulse to burst out laughing. I didn't know what I'd been expecting, but that certainly wasn't it. 'Er, I don't think so, darling. There're no such things as werewolves.'

  'There are too. Tobey told me this afternoon. He said when it's a full moon, he changes into a werewolf and then he doesn't know what he's doing. He said his mum locks him in the cupboard under the stairs every time there's a full moon and keeps him there the whole night and won't let him out till morning and she stuffs cushions into the gap under the door so that when he howls no one can hear him and—'

  'Whoa! Slow down before your lungs implode!'

  'What does implode mean?'

  'To collapse inwards instead of being blown outwards which is what explode means,' I explained impatiently. 'So Tobey told you all this, did he?'

  Rose nodded. 'And he said he sometimes manages to get out of the cupboard and out of the house and so if it's a full moon, I should keep my windows closed and my door locked and he said—'

  'I don't want to hear what else he said. What I do want is to wring his scrawny little neck for him,' I told her.

  'Why? It's not his fault he's a werewolf,' Rose said, reproach in her voice.

  'Callie Rose, the boy was winding you up – again. Werewolves don't exist. And even if Tobey was a werewolf, which he isn
't, he wouldn't get past me. I'd dropkick him down the garden path.'

  Rosie giggled, which is just what I'd wanted her to do – but I was only half joking about dropkicking Tobey bloody Durbridge out the house. Tobey was almost eight months older than Rose but about ten years older in world-weariness. He'd regaled Rose with his nonsense stories ever since he was old enough to open his mouth and Rose swallowed his foolishness almost every time.

  'Rose, I will never, ever let anything bad happen to you. D'you understand?' I told her, my hold on her back as light as a sigh.

  'Yes, Mum.' And for the first time since she'd come into my room, Rose smiled, then yawned.

  'You really must stop believing everything Tobey or any other boy tells you.'

  'Yes, Mum,' Rose yawned again.

  'They all tell lies, darling.'

  'Yes, Mum.'

  'Promise me you'll stop believing everything Tobey or any other male tells you.'

  Rose's voice was so sleepily faint, I had to bend my head and strain to hear it.

  'I promise, Mummy. I promise.'

  'OK then. I'll put you back in your bed.'

  'Can I stay here with you?' Rose asked quickly, her eyes now open.

  I sighed. 'OK then. But we both need to get some sleep – OK?'

  'OK.'

  I smiled. 'And Rose, werewolves really don't exist. I'm not lying to you.'

  'I know, Mummy,' Rose half yawned. 'You never lie to me.'

  The stillness inside was back with a vengeance.

  Lies by omission. Right lies for the wrong reasons. Wrong lies for the best of intentions. Lies that refused to lay down and die. Lies too old for young ears, but when did those scales balance out?

  'Callie Rose, I . . .'

  Rose was already asleep. What was I going to say? Did it matter anyway? Rose Hadley . . . Even my baby's name was a lie. Not what I'd promised myself, or the world – or Callum. Layer upon layer of lies. But I had to pick my moment. And this wasn't it. The full moon now bathed Rose's face in its silvery wash. She was so beautiful, her eyes closed, her long lashes sweeping down her cheeks. I stood up, carefully lifting Rose as I did so, her arms around my neck. I struggled to pull back the duvet with one hand, my forearm still supporting Rose as best I could, before placing her in the bed. I kissed her cheek and stroked her hair. I toyed with the idea of getting into bed and going to sleep myself. I could do it – I was now tired enough to be sleepy. But I headed back to the chair by the window and sat down.