The First Book of Calamity Leek (2 page)

Nancy snorted, ‘Like the mashhead can understand you.'

So then I did, I did shoot Nancy some spit.

So Nancy flung me a fist.

So Annie forgot to be all shaky and turned and stamped her foot. ‘Devil take a dump on the two of you, will you both just SHUT UP!'

But Truly was the one that did.

And right then was when it started. Yes, the ruination started right then, with Truly Polperro shutting up when she shouldn't, just after she'd gone climbing where she shouldn't, exposed like she shouldn't. So, really, ain't like it should have been a surprise that Truly would get ruined, was it?

But, see, the real surprise was, it wasn't just Truly who got ruined, but us all.

Yes, down in the Boules, all our Garden's ruination was about to start right then. And there weren't one thing a body could do to stop it. Not one thing at all.

NOW, TRULY POLPERRO
didn't die right there and then. No. Just after her UUUs turned off, just when we were all shivering in our furs and shifting on our heels, and trying not to listen to our eldest, prettiest but most chicken-brained sister, Sandra, wailing out what was sneaking up on all our tongues – ‘Is that Truly done for? Is a demonmale going to jump over the Wall to take her down to Bowels?' – well, just then, Annie shone her torch on Truly's mouth and said, ‘Her lips are moving.'

Course, we all gasped.

And course, Annie St Albans was straight up then. Before anyone could stop her, Annie was throwing back her curls and sticking her ear to Truly's lips. So it weren't like anyone else heard what Truly said. And that needs remembering. On account of the ruin that happened after, it really does.

‘Yes, Truly,' Annie said. She stepped back and frowned, ‘Are you sure, Truly?'

‘What is it, Annie?' I asked, stepping up quick. ‘Do you
need me, Annie? Shall I ask her a question from the Appendix, shall I?'

But Annie was too busy bent over Truly's lips to hear from me.

Annie frowned and nodded, and frowned and nodded some more. And then halfway to a nod, she stopped and stared down at Truly's mouth.

‘What is it, Annie?' I said.

Annie swallowed down a long old breath before she found some words. ‘No injuns, you say? But I don't understand you, Truly, I don't understand.'

And all the air flew out of my throat and black fear flew in.

‘Definitely no injuns?' Annie said. ‘None at all?'

And all my sisters cried out, and I did too, ‘Injuns? What's she saying about the injuns, Annie?'

And Annie went, ‘Tell me again, Truly. Tell me more about the injuns.'

But Truly didn't.

No, I am sorry to say, her lips fell loose, and no matter how many times Annie went at her with, ‘Truly, it's Annie. Your Annie. You can talk to me.' And no matter how Annie waggled her torch, or jiggled Truly's arms, it seemed that Truly Polperro, having spoken such terrible things, wasn't for bothering with talking to no one, no more.

Up on the Wall rim, an owl screeched watchful at the Demonmoon.

‘We should take her down right now,' someone said.

This was Dorothy Macclesfield, course, come grasshopping up to the bush. ‘Dear, unfortunate Dorothy' was what our Aunty liked to call her, seeing as she had grown twitchy and twiggy and disappointing. ‘Abandon hope all
who enter here,' was what Aunty liked to say. Which was going to be sad for Dorothy when she went to War, but we never minded because she had a brain busy with good ideas. It was so busy it never stopped rattling. And right now, Dorothy's head was near rattling itself off her neck.

She lifted up Truly's wrist and watched it flop down on broken branches. ‘You know how in the Showreel, Marius gets stuck on the barricades and Aunty runs up and helps him onto a stretcher?' Dorothy said. ‘Well, we should make a stretcher from two fur coats and lay Truly on it like that, watching out for her neck.' Dorothy looked out across the roses to the black clot of yard. ‘We should do it right now. We've been Out of Bounds far too long as it is.'

Clever Dorothy, like I said.

‘Eldest sisters take up a corner of Truly with me, nice and gentle.'

Except before even one of us had grabbed a leg, the Silver Anniversaries let off a scream. It went on loud and forever, like a pig being gutted chin to tail.

And all my bones turned to jellymeat. And two smacks stung my ears at once.

‘Devil's pubes, Flap-ears, I said she'd be trouble. Didn't I say don't bring Maria the mashhead? Didn't I say that?'

‘Not now, Nancy,' Dorothy whispered. ‘Maybe Maria's just having herself a shout at the thorns, maybe it's just that.'

But it wasn't. Because the scream started running towards us. And then we heard something coming after. Yapping. Chasing after Maria Liphook's scream came yap-yap-yapping, that meant only one thing on this terrible night.

‘We're done for,' Sandra wailed.

‘Sure are,' Nancy said.

We sure were, because chasing after screaming Maria Liphook, and that nasty yapping, came something else then – the only sound ever known to hatch instant maggots in a body's stomach –

I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and bright –

Sandra gave a sob. Annie ran to cover Truly's face with fur. Nancy flung me a third thump. And all our youngest sisters started to wail.

‘Quiet down!' Dorothy hissed. ‘Turn off your torches, we'll have to run.' She spun about, and faced nothing but the Wall of Safekeeping.

And though I wanted to spit at Nancy, and shout it wasn't my fault that Maria Liphook had been woken by a herd of sisters with their brains in their chicken feet, Dorothy was right, there weren't no time at all, because over the crops that song was swelling –

I feel charming, oh so charming, it's alarming how charming I feel
–

There weren't time to do nothing but set my feet racing after my sisters into the only hiding place around – the mangy-petalled, good-for-nothing-but-prickling dog roses straggling up the bottom of our cold stone Wall.

Weren't two seconds later that our softbrained sister skidded into the Boules, that fleabag dog snapping at her ankles. Maria stopped and stared at Truly, like she'd never seen her in her whole sorry life before. Maria stood and stared like she was a sign saying ‘This way to Out of Bounds, nieces.' Which was all we needed, it really was.

I poked my head out of prickles. ‘Maria, over here! Maria Liphook! The dog roses! Come on!'

I ran out and kicked the dog off Maria, and pulled her in with us. I slid down against the Wall and jammed a hand over her lunatic mouth. Thirteen fur lumps and twenty-six jelly eyeballs, shrunk down under weeds, plugging up ears and swallowing breath, as that song kept coming our way.

Soon enough we could hear the sound of thrashing in between words –

See the pretty girl in that mirror there
? Thrash thrash.

I shrunk myself into my fur, quieter than a slug in buds. Or a worm. Better to be a worm, sneaking down to soil safety. Breathe all quiet under soil, worms do.

Such a pretty face, such a pretty dress, such a pretty smile
–

All sudden it stopped. It had arrived, that song, in the Boules de Neige, and we had nowhere to go.

I scrunched my eyes blind and tried to keep the shake out of my bones. I pressed Maria's mouth shut and groped my free hand out for a sister's warmth. It was Nancy's fatty paw I found next to me, worst luck. But never mind, I took it.

Up high on the Wall, the owl screeched. I could hear nothing else in my ears but my own smashing heart.

Course, that dog came snarling on up to the dog roses then, snarling and sniffing and snapping for toes. And for a few seconds there weren't nothing happening in the Garden but that owl screeching, that dog sniffing, and the sound of a bottle unscrewing. So I began to hope it was just a Constitutional being taken, and some medicine would be drunk and then the singing would
turn around for the yard, and we could be back in our dorm faster than my sister Mary Bootle could say Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. And I was turning to mouth this at Nancy, when a voice said, ‘How very curious, the Boules de Neige appear to have grown a lump.'

And all my hopes of getting back safe died off.

A white light smashed into the dog roses and wobbled over us. ‘Toto! Toto-tots, get away from those dratted weeds, and come here at once!' the voice said.

Now, I don't mind saying right here, the voice, course, was our dear Aunty's own one, and like
Ophelia Swindon Volume III: The Glory Years
says it much better than me –

Never was a larynx more loved. As powerful as the Phantom's, as pitch-perfect as Poppins, its eviction from the theatres of the West Midlands left a vacuum as vast as a black hole, a situation as vacant as a womb, and a memory more mourned than a dodo on the dinner plates of the Indian Ocean.

‘How very curious, I was saying, there appears to be something cancerous clogging up this Boule bush. See, Princess, bits of bone and fur and hair. Dear oh dear, how messy it looks. And do you know what, Princess, this is very sad news, because cancers are bad news. Cancers spread, see, and soon enough they are gobbling up every inch of an otherwise healthy organ. Before long, they are on the rampage, ruining years of TLC, not to mention best-laid plans for the future.' The medicine bottle sloshed. ‘So, what on earth are we to do with this one?'

Someone moaned. Someone else somewhere else was eating down tears.

Aunty's voice turned butter-soft, ‘After all, it can't be allowed to spread. It certainly can't be allowed to do that. What's that, Princess, do we have a choice? A lady always has a choice, sweetie. However, in this case, I fear our options are somewhat limited.'

Nancy pumped my hand. I forced an eye to look out where she was looking. Our dear Aunty was jabbing about the Boules with the correcting stick, her lantern held high and her shadow thrown protecting as a wall over the bush where Truly dangled.

Aunty slammed the correcting stick into the bush and sighed. ‘I suppose we'll have to chop it out. Either that or mash it to a pulp. What do you reckon, Toto-tots?'

A hot tear fell on my left cheek and ran away quick.

‘What's that?' The shadow skull of Aunty's head turned down at the fleabag dog itching its bottom in rose roots. ‘Chopping would probably work best, you say? Chopping it into teensy pieces and hoovering them out would work best of all? Oh, but damn and drat, I haven't a knife on me. What's that? Oh no, Princess, I don't think your stumpy old gnashers are strong enough to tear it up. But I won't say it wasn't a charming thought, and terribly heroic of you to offer.' Aunty shook her head. ‘I guess we're just left with plan B. We'll have to mash it to a pulp.'

‘Come along, Mr Stick,' Aunty said. The correcting stick rose to striking position, in two-handed steadiness above Truly. I shut up my crying eyes. It didn't do to think of my sister right now, it really didn't.

‘Are we ready, Mr Stick?' Aunty said. ‘I do hope you're feeling energetic—'

And someone shouted, ‘Stop!'

Someone in the dog roses. ‘Please stop!'

Well.

Well, Annie St Albans, that was. None other. Jumping up out of the weeds, like a statue to her very own stupidity. And Devil take me if Annie didn't go running on up to Mr Stick, like it weren't the nastiest bruiser ever made. Annie went running on up, shouting, ‘Please don't strike, Aunty! It's me, Annie St Albans. And it ain't a cancer in there, it's Truly Polperro.'

Well, Aunty lifted her lantern high at that. And the light crawled up her silver furs, and over her chins, and past the scoop of her melted cheek and into the socket of her empty eye, and set its skin to twitching. ‘You're Annie St Albans, you say? And you say there's something Polperroey curled up in there? Dear oh dear, I wasn't aware we had started growing children in this part of the Garden.'

Aunty set Mr Stick to turfing off fur from Truly. ‘Well, Toto, this is even more curious than I thought. It appears my niece was spot on, there is indeed a little girl snuggled up inside. It seems it was a good job Annie St Albans just happened to be passing, otherwise Truly Polperro might have become Truly Mushy Peas by now. What's that, Toto? Annie needs correcting for being Out of Bounds? Oh, pup, I think perhaps you're right. Sadly, I think perhaps she does. After all, she's clearly come all this way alone, while her good little sisters are tucked up safe as corpses, getting their beauty sleep in the dorm. Aren't they, Annie?'

Well, Annie really had gone and dived herself down a well now. And she was stuck deeper than a drowning mouse. And now she was about to pull us all down there too. Because it weren't but the worst thing you could do, to tell Aunty an untruth, because she would crack them
open like a louse on a hair when she found them. And she always found them, never mind she only had the one eye for the hunting.

‘Aren't they, Annie?'

‘No, they're not, Aunty.' Would you believe it, this was Dorothy. Grasshopping out of the dog roses before I could grab her fur to tug her back in. Clever Dorothy, being not so clever about it now. ‘We all came. We heard Truly scream, and we came because we were worried for her.'

Aunty's empty socket twitched at Dorothy, and from her living eye it seemed she wiped a tear. Except, of course, she didn't, because Aunty had no tears left, after crying them all away when she suffered her Splashback.

‘Such solidarity in the sisterhood,' Aunty said. ‘How sweet.'

I shut my eyes again, but it was too late. The lantern swung onto the dog roses.

‘Choppity-chop, up you pop, every darling one of you, before Toto takes it upon herself to dive in there and tear you all to pieces. Splendid. Now then, my precious little pension plans, who'd like first go with Mr Stick?'