Desperate Measures (11 page)

‘They nested on the island last year,’ said Daniel quietly. ‘And the year before.’

‘Guess they know a good place when they see it . . . Like your cave.’

Daniel smiled. ‘Not as comfy as home though.’

Now it was my turn to clam up. Daniel looked at me, his dark brown eyes becoming soft and gentle. I shuffled my feet, slightly embarrassed by his steady gaze.

‘We were in care,’ I said. ‘Can’t call that a proper home.’

‘S’pose not.’

‘Our mum’s dead.’

‘Sorry.’

‘S’OK.’ I gave a little laugh to show him it didn’t matter. ‘She died ages ago.’

I tried to conjure up her face in my mind’s eye but it was as if some invisible force was rubbing out the details as fast as I tried to remember them. Shocked, I concentrated harder but all I could see was her small shrunken form, swaddled in blankets, and eased awkwardly into a deck chair next to
Guinevere
where she dozed undisturbed under the pretence of watching us play.

‘You all right?’ Daniel asked.

‘Course.’ I pasted on a grin. ‘So . . . Is it fun having your parents teach you?’

He shrugged.

‘Not bad. Can’t get away with “The dog’s eaten my
homework” excuse any more though.’

I laughed a bit too loudly and a bit too long. Daniel looked at me. I needed to fill the gap, keep things normal.

‘So aren’t you s’posed to be, like, having lessons now?’

‘Mum and Dad are decorating so I’m actually working hard on my project.’

‘What sort of project?’

‘Astronomy.’

‘Wow . . . I’m a Pisces by the way.’

‘That’s astrology.’

‘Only teasing.’

‘I’m Scorpio. Mean, moody and vicious when roused.’

‘Really?’

‘No. I’m a wimp.’

‘You don’t seem like a wimp. And I’ve met a few.’

‘Ta. But take it from me. I’m wimp to the core.’ There was a sudden edginess in his voice. Somewhere along the line the joke had disappeared and he was deadly serious. He seemed to realise and gave a small laugh.

‘Sorry. Told you I was mean and moody. So what about your dad?’

The last thing I wanted to talk about was Dad so I started to trot out the old story about him being abroad. Daniel was still looking at me and I could feel my face blushing beetroot. I knew he didn’t believe me.

‘If my kids needed me, I’d be back like a shot,’ he said quietly.

‘Well maybe our dad doesn’t care about us,’ I retorted with just a bit too much emotion in my voice.

‘So you’re running away from him too?’

There was an awkward silence. Daniel was watching Re and Jamie in the lake. I felt the anger bubbling up in me. Just who did this kid think he was?

‘He’s in prison, if you must know.’

It felt good to blurt out those words. It was like a huge weight coming off me. Then before I could stop myself, everything came tumbling out about Dad’s drinking and Mr McCready’s special deliveries.

Before I knew it, I was telling him how Dad got arrested. I’d never told anyone before. It happened a few weeks after we were taken into care. When he came to visit us, I’d noticed he looked more and more dishevelled each time, like he’d given up or something. The last time he came he’d been drinking. A lot. I could smell it on his breath and tell by the way he slurred his words and kept repeating the same thing he’d said a few minutes before. Then the visits stopped. A week later, Mrs Frankish spared a minute out of her busy schedule and filled me in with a quick phone call. The police had stopped Dad on the motorway. They said he’d been swerving from lane to lane so they’d breathalysed him and found he was well over the limit. When they looked in the van he was driving, they found it was full of stolen tellies. To cut a long story short, they arrested him, he went to court and was sent to prison.

Jamie and Re came running out of the water, and I clammed up again. Daniel didn’t say anything but he’d noticed I’d stopped talking. Those eyes didn’t miss much.

‘We’re going to swim to the island,’ said Jamie. ‘You coming?’

‘Jamie be careful —’

‘Vicky, don’t be such a chicken. Just because you can’t swim,’ Jamie taunted.

‘I can . . . A bit.’ I looked at Daniel and could feel my face reddening again.

‘I’ll stay here with you,’ he said.

‘Can’t you swim either?’ asked Re bluntly.

‘Yeah, I can swim.’ I detected that cold note in Daniel’s voice again. ‘I just don’t want to, that’s all.’

‘I bet you can’t really,’ Jamie teased.

‘Jamie!’ I hissed, glancing at Daniel.

Daniel was glaring at Jamie. A hard glint came into his eyes. Mean, moody and vicious when roused.

‘Bet you’re scared like Vicky.’ Jamie started making chicken noises. ‘Bet you’re just saying you can. That’s what she does.’

‘OK, I’ll prove it.’ Daniel kicked off his trainers. He pulled off his T- shirt and stood in front of us. I just managed to hide a gasp. Covering most of his chest and stomach was an ugly, dark purple blotch. The skin looked sore and angry.

‘Come on then,’ said Daniel, staring coldly at Jamie. ‘I’ll race you to the island and back.’

I looked at Jamie. He was fidgeting nervously, trying not to look at Daniel’s torso but unable to stop himself. Re just stared unashamedly, her mouth open wide as Daniel turned and walked down to the water.

‘It’s OK,’ he snapped. ‘It’s not contagious.’

Daniel was a much better swimmer than Jamie. He beat the pants off him. By miles and miles. He beat me too but only just. Vicky stood at the edge of the lake but she didn’t cheer us on. When we came out Vicky made us dry ourselves with Jamie’s sweatshirt. Then we all sat on the boat looking at the island and eating cheese rolls. I had three and I was still starving. Jamie didn’t say anything. Nobody said anything. It was getting really boring all sitting around saying nothing so I thought maybe I should say something.

‘Daniel what’s that big purple splodge on your tummy?’

Vicky pulled a funny face and said, ‘Re . . .’

But I wanted to know. ‘Does it come off, like felt pen?’

‘No.’

‘So what is it?’

‘When I was nine I tipped a saucepan of boiling water over me.’

‘Does it still hurt?’ I asked.

‘Only here.’ He pointed to his head. I didn’t understand.

‘Why?’

‘Re drop it.’ Vicky got up off the boat.

‘Why Daniel?’

‘At school they called me Lurgy Boy. One girl refused to swim in the school pool with me and got her parents to complain.’

‘You should have just whacked her one,’ said Jamie.

Daniel ignored him.

‘Is that why you don’t go to school?’ Vicky asked.

‘What do you think?’ He quickly pulled on his T-shirt even though he was still wet. ‘We all run away from stuff we can’t handle,’ he said, looking straight at Vicky who went bright red.

‘But what about your mates?’ said Jamie.

‘What mates? I was different. You know how it is. No one likes different.’ He got up. ‘And I was really stupid to think you lot wouldn’t be the same.’

I thought about my friend Maxine. There wasn’t anyone like her.

‘I like different,’ I said, picking up the last cheese roll and taking a big bite.

But Daniel wasn’t listening. He’d already snatched up his jumper and was marching off through the woods with Jip at his side.

We didn’t stay long at the lake. The sun disappeared behind clouds and it felt chilly. Jamie didn’t feel like swimming again and Re just kept asking why Daniel didn’t like us any more. In the end, when we were more or less dry, we started walking back through the woods in silence. Rhianna stuck close to me and jumped a mile every time she heard a sound.

‘There’s nothing to be scared of, Re.’

‘That’s what you think,’ she replied, looking round nervously. We must have taken a wrong path because we found ourselves near a narrow lane. Jamie spotted something lying by the kerbside and wanted to go over to investigate.

‘Better not,’ I said, turning back the way we came, ‘someone might see us.’

‘Don’t be daft, Vicky, there’s no one around.’ He ran off before I could stop him.

It was a rabbit. I thought it was dead at first because it wasn’t moving but when we looked more closely we saw it was trembling slightly. Its eyes were wide open and staring.

‘Must have been hit by a car or something,’ said Jamie. Re stroked the soft grey fur. The rabbit barely flinched.

‘Let’s take it back to the cave and look after it,’ said Re, gently picking it up.

I looked at the little bundle cradled in Re’s big clumsy hands and couldn’t help thinking that things didn’t look very promising.

‘Please, Vicky.’

‘I don’t know . . .’

Jamie’s caterpillar eyebrows knitted together in an anxious scowl.

‘You wouldn’t like to be left on the road to be squashed, would you?’ he said.

Re joined in. ‘You wouldn’t, Vicky.’

I was definitely outnumbered. ‘All right.’ Suddenly I was aware of a deep rumbling noise down the lane. And it was growing louder. ‘Something’s coming!’ I hissed.

We dived for cover behind the hedge just as a coach turned the corner and pulled up about ten metres ahead of us. It was a battered old school bus. There were some kids play fighting on the back seats but no one saw us. The door swished open and we could hear the racket inside. After a second or two, a shaven-headed boy of about fifteen tumbled out, followed closely by a girl with eyes like little black beads
stuck in her pale face. The girl yelled something rude at the driver as the door of the bus swished shut. The boy laughed and the pair sauntered off down the lane taking swipes at each other with their school bags, cheering when they scored a direct hit.

We waited till they were out of sight then turned back into the woods.

‘So much for not seeing anyone,’ I said.

There was a small village about a mile away from Great Auntie Irene’s house. This road must lead there, I thought. Dad and Great Auntie Irene had walked us there once but Mum had stayed at the house, too tired to join us. We’d bought sweets from the little shop and posted some cards to our friends. It was run by a lady in a flowery apron and sold everything you could possibly think of. It was like an Aladdin’s cave because you never knew what you’d find sitting in a dusty corner. On one of the back shelves, wedged between balls of fluorescent-coloured wool and a box of garden trowels, there was a row of large glass jars full of all sorts of sweets we’d never even heard of before. We were each allowed a little paper bagful – tangy cola cubes, chewy milk bottles, rhubarb and custards with sugar on the rhubarb side and liquorice comfits that stained your tongue black as you ate them. What I’d give for a bag of those sweets now, I thought.

We found our way back to our cave. Jamie went straight in, took the old biscuit tin down from the shelf and pulled it open. He lined it with his T- shirt before taking the rabbit gently from Re and placing it inside. He took his drink
flask, poured a little water over his finger and put it in front of the rabbit’s mouth. It didn’t move. It just sat in the tin, staring straight ahead, helplessly.

‘Can I hold him again?’ asked Re.

Jamie passed the tin to her. She sat transfixed by the rabbit on her lap, hardly daring to move in case she frightened it.

I checked our supplies. We were down to some orange juice and a few potatoes.

‘We could bake them in a camp fire,’ said Jamie hopefully.

‘We haven’t got any matches.’

‘Who needs matches?’ retorted Jamie, taking his camping book down from the shelf.

It was written by a man called Falcon B. Tremaine and had his picture on the back cover. He had a big fuzzy beard and wore a bush hat with a feather in the headband. He looked pretty tough except for the white socks he wore under his sandals. Jamie flicked through the pages until he got to the chapter about fire lighting. Concentrating hard, he slowly started reading. About ten minutes later he looked up at us, his face like thunder.

‘Stupid book!’ he muttered, throwing it across the cave and stomping out, swearing under his breath.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Re.

I picked up the book and turned to the pages he’d been reading. There was a whole page on how to cut a square of turf from the ground and six detailed diagrams showing different ways of laying the twigs and kindling. I finally got to the crucial sentence.

‘
Strike the match close to the kindling and let it burn halfway down before applying it.
’

I quickly turned the pages looking for how to light a fire without matches. Nothing.

‘We don’t have any matches, you stupid fuzzball!’ I yelled at the photo on the back cover.

‘I’m hungry, Vicky,’ Re said, stroking the rabbit. ‘And I want to see Daniel.’

‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s go and find him and try and make up.’

Jamie didn’t want to come at first but he tagged along once Re and I set off. We made our way up the path to the end of Daniel’s garden and saw him on the patio outside the back door brushing Jip’s coat.

I exchanged grins with Re. He had his head down and he hadn’t seen us yet. We were just about to climb over the gate when the back door swung open. I pulled Re back and we all hid behind the fence. His mum appeared and said something to him. He nodded then gave Jip one last brush before disappearing inside.

‘What do we do now?’ asked Re.

I shrugged in reply.

But things were soon taken out of our hands. A few minutes later the back door opened again and Daniel and both his mum and dad emerged. His dad was carrying a bulky-looking holdall and Daniel had a rucksack on his back. His mum locked the back door.

‘Are they going away?’ asked Re.

‘I don’t know.’

Daniel called to Jip and they all disappeared round the side of the house. We heard the sounds of car doors slamming and then the starting of an engine.

We caught glimpses of the red car as it drove away up the lane. It was only then that the awful reality of our situation suddenly hit me. Daniel was our lifeline. Without his help, we were stuck.

When we got back to the cave, Vicky said that there wasn’t anything for tea. Jamie wanted to eat the potatoes raw but Vicky said raw potatoes were poisonous. Jamie didn’t believe her and when she wasn’t looking he took a big bite out of one. As he chewed it he made a face. Then he spat it out on the ground.