Inside the Worm (5 page)

‘It nearly is,' interrupted Trot. ‘We've got everything. Now all we have to do is fit the skin and figure out a way to make it breathe fire.'

‘Just a minute, David.' Mr Hepworth smiled. ‘I know we want this worm to look as realistic as possible, but I think we're going to have to draw the line at fire-breathing.'

‘Aw, Sir—?'

‘No, David, I'm sorry. Anything you could devise would be highly dangerous. Just think what would happen if the worm caught fire with people inside it. It might be possible to fake smoke using dry ice or something, but there's to be no fire. Is that understood?'

‘Yes, Sir.' Trot looked crestfallen.

‘I thought he was here in an advisory capacity,' hissed Neil Atkinson.

The teacher looked up sharply. ‘He is, and he has sharp ears, and his advice to you is to keep
comments of that sort to yourself. All right?'

‘Yes, Sir.'

From the start of the session, Lisa had struggled silently with herself. A part of her wanted to withdraw from the play, or at least from the worm, while another part – a dark, submerged part of herself whose existence she hadn't even suspected a week ago – urged her in excited whispers to say nothing: to hold on to her place inside the worm and see where it might lead her. And this had nothing to do with Trot. She was fond of him, of course, but this was something else; something altogether darker, more compelling. And the dark part won. When twenty to three rolled round and the teachers brought the session to an end, she'd said nothing.

I'll do it, she cried inwardly, and a tingle ran down her spine into her tummy-muscles. When Fliss approached her gingerly at home-time she seemed her old self, and they chatted as they dawdled up the drive. Only Lisa knew she'd given in to something dark and strong, and neither girl knew their paths were set to diverge, or that when they came together again it would be as enemies.

WHEN FLISS GOT
to Trot's at twenty-five past seven, Lisa was already there. Fliss's arms ached from carrying the curtain. She let it fall to the floor. Ellie-May and the two boys went down on their knees to look and feel. ‘It's terrific, Fliss!' cried Gary.

Ellie-May lifted a fold, rubbed it against her cheek and let it slip through her fingers. ‘Yeah, terrific. It's shiny, like it might be covered with slime or something, and the colour's exactly right. How long is it?'

They measured, and the curtain proved to be more than ten metres long. Lisa pulled a face. ‘Pity. The real worm was twice as long.'

‘Yes,' said Fliss, ‘but remember it's very wide.
If we cut it in two lengthways and stitch the halves together we'll still have plenty of width and it'll be just the right length.'

‘Who's going to do all this stitching?' asked Gary. ‘I'm useless at sewing.'

‘No problem,' Trot told him. ‘My mum's volunteered to help. All we have to do is tack it more or less as we want it and she'll stitch it properly on the machine. Let's get started.'

It wasn't nearly as easy as it sounded. Their lengthways cut was a bit wavy and it took ages to fasten the two pieces together, even with Trot's big tacking stitch. Then they had to drape the slippery material over the worm's neck and body and mark where they'd attach the tapes which would be knotted under the worm's belly to fasten the skin to the frame. When that was done, they spread the fabric on the floor and took turns sewing on the tapes in such a way that they wouldn't be visible to an audience. It was twenty past nine by the time they'd finished, and they'd done nothing with the fifteen metres of material which would form the monster's tail. ‘Leave that,' said Trot. ‘My mum's clever. She'll figure out a way to cut and stitch so it tapers to a nice sharp tip.'

‘Let's try it out,' suggested Gary. ‘Fliss can tie the tapes, and the end can just trail for now like a peacock's tail. What d'you say?'

‘I say yes!' cried Lisa, eyes shining.

‘OK,' said Trot, ‘only don't step on the tail or it'll rip off and all my brill tacking will go to waste.' He turned to Fliss. ‘Will you do the tapes?'

Fliss shrugged. ‘Sure, but don't be too long, OK? I was supposed to be home for half-nine.'

The four stood in line and lowered the frame over their heads while Fliss held the skin to stop it sliding off the hoops. Yells and laughs came from inside the worm as Fliss knelt, pulling down on the tapes and tying them. ‘Hey, it's dark in here!' complained Ellie-May. ‘I can't see where I'm going.'

I can see for all of us,' said Gary from the front. ‘Put your hands on Trot's shoulders, Ellie-May, and go where he goes. Trot puts his on Lisa's and Lisa has hers on mine. Easy-peasy.'

It wasn't easy. Not at first, within the confines of the Trotter family's garage. Peering through the eye-holes on the worm's neck, Gary went off at a slow walk, twisting and turning to avoid walls, worktops and obstructions on the floor. The others followed as best they could, with frequent exclamations and much giggling. Fliss leaned against the workbench and watched. She wished they'd stop now so she could undo the tapes and go home, but they didn't.

At twenty to ten, Gary broke into a slow trot and the others followed suit. The worm danced sinuously through the darkening garage, its great
head swaying and bobbing. Now and then its reflector eyes would catch light from somewhere and flash red. Fliss was amazed at the dexterity of her friends; their co-ordination. The way their dancing feet avoided the great train of fabric they trailed, which slid, hissing, across the dusty concrete. The ease with which they seemed to have mastered the technique. Their shouts of laughter grew louder as Gary increased his speed, but there were no disasters – nobody stumbled. Fliss watched as though mesmerized, and when she remembered to look at her watch it was ten to ten.

‘Hey!' Their exultant laughter drowned her voice. ‘Hey, you guys. It's almost ten. I've got to go.'

Nobody heard. Gary shifted up another gear and they came whooping in his wake, precisely, like a well-drilled squad. Fliss moved over to the wall switch and snapped on the lights. At once and in unison the dancers broke into a rhythmic chant of ‘Off, off, off!'

Fliss shook her head. ‘No – it's ten o'clock.'

‘You what?' cried Gary, and the others took it up: ‘You what, you what, you what?'

‘I have to go.' She was close to tears.

‘Go, go, go!'

‘Lisa?' Surely her best friend would respond – break step so that the dance could end in red-faced, panting laughter?

‘Lisa?' they mimicked, and her voice was among
them. ‘Lisa, Lisa, Lisa, Lisa, Lisa—' The worm was coming at her now, eyes burning, jaws agape.

She turned and fled.

‘CERIDWEN, CERIDWEN.' MOCKERY
in their eyes, their voices.

‘The worm. Terrific skin.'

‘Triffic, triffic, triffic.'

‘Tied with tapes.'

‘Tape-worm, then. Heeee!'

‘People inside, see?'

‘Room for another though.'

‘Room for one inside.'

‘You, Ceridwen. Room for you.'

‘I'm not Ceridwen!' she screamed. ‘I'm Fliss.'

‘Fliss!' they cried. ‘Flass, Fluss, Floss.' Pressing in, crowding her so that she was forced to move out to where the worm danced. There it was. Its red, mad
eyes and pinky, fang-crammed maw. It saw her and came slithering on a zig-zag path towards her. She tried to throw herself back, but they caught her and flung her forward again. The worm was close now. So close she could smell the putrid stench of its breath. Its slavering jaws gaped to engulf her. ‘Room for one inside.' The voice was Gary's.

Fliss woke, damp and shaking. It was a long time before she slept again.

TUESDAY MORNING. FOR
the first time ever, Fliss didn't want to meet Lisa at the end of the road for the walk to school. She dawdled so long over breakfast that her mother started giving her funny looks. ‘Fliss,' she said. ‘Are you feeling all right?'

‘I'm fine, Mum.' Pushing Coco Pops round her bowl.

‘Then eat your breakfast, dear. It's almost twenty to nine. Lisa will go without you.'

That's the general idea, she thought, but didn't say. Her mother dropped toast on her plate. Fliss pushed aside the unfinished cereal and began to butter a slice as carefully as if she were painting a masterpiece. Her
mother sighed, cleared Dad's place and ran water into the sink.

Fliss knew her tactic had failed the moment she turned out of the driveway. The end of the road was about a hundred metres away and Lisa was there, waiting. It was almost ten to nine, for Pete's sake. They'd practically have to run to reach school on time, yet there she was. Fliss thought of ducking back into the driveway but if she did she'd certainly be late for school, and anyway Lisa had probably spotted her. With a grimace of resignation she walked towards the girl she'd regarded till lately as her best friend.

‘Hi, Fliss. Why d'you leave in such a rush last night?' Lisa sounded genuinely concerned.

Fliss gazed at her. ‘Are you kidding? After the way you all ignored me and mocked me and then came at me as though you meant to trample me into the floor? You'd have left in a rush too. Anyone would.'

‘Would I heck!' Lisa's tone was scornful. ‘It was a bit of fun, that's all.'

‘Well, it wasn't fun for me, Lisa. It scared me, the way the four of you moved in that thing as though—'

‘As though we'd been doing it all our lives,' finished Lisa. ‘That's what you were going to say, isn't it?'

Fliss nodded. ‘Something like that, yes.'

‘And that's exactly how it felt, Fliss.' Lisa's eyes
shone. ‘We couldn't put a foot wrong, any of us. I mean, you'd think— I expected we'd stumble and fumble around, you know? Knock things over, step on our own tail, fall down. Three of us couldn't even see, and yet we ended up running, Fliss. Running like one creature, not four. I can't describe the feeling except to say it was awesome. Sincerely awesome.'

‘Yes, well, like I said, it was no fun for me.'

Lisa laughed. ‘You shouldn't have joined if you can't take a joke, Fliss. And anyway, you'll get the last laugh, won't you?'

‘How d'you mean?'

‘You're Ceridwen, aren't you? Heroine-Saint of Elsworth? You get to vanquish the worm, remember?'

‘Oh, yes. I see what you mean, but I still don't like the way you ganged up with the others against me last night, Lisa. You're supposed to be my friend.'

Lisa sighed. ‘I am your friend, Fliss. Same as always, only you're not in the worm, see? You don't know what it's like 'cause you're not part of it, and that's bound to make a difference, right?'

Fliss shook her head. ‘I don't see why. It's only a play when all's said and done.'