The Shiver Stone (10 page)

Jago tapped the computer screen. There were 1,430,000 results for ‘
Vulpes
Vulpes
'.

‘We can't search through all those,' he said

It was disappointing. ‘Ask your mum about the tattoo, then. She should know.'

‘Yes. She's coming out of hospital today, so we'll move into the caravan.'

I could still hear my dad snoring in the bedroom, so when the phone rang, I ran to pick it up before it woke him. I almost tripped over Tia. By the time I'd got my balance back, the phone had stopped ringing. I could hear Dad talking. He came out of his room looking like he was still half asleep. He had his old blue dressing gown over his pyjamas and his hair was sticking up.

I looked at him to see if he was smiling, hoping everything was okay with us again. He wasn't smiling.

‘You're on a real roll, aren't you, Carys? That was Jim from the housing association. Mrs Jenkins has been on the phone to them, complaining that we have a dog in the flat. She also says she wouldn't have said anything except that you were very rude when she spoke to you on the steps this morning. So, thanks to you, the dog has to stay outside in the shed.' He stroked Tia's head and she licked his hand. ‘Until your dad gets back that is,' he added quickly to Jago. ‘You'd better put her in the shed right now.'

‘But what about tonight? She can't stay out there all night. She'll be cold and frightened,' I wailed.

‘Maybe you should have thought of that before you were rude to old Mrs Jenkins. Maybe you should think before you're rude to anyone. Linette got it right this morning, Carys, you can be a spoiled brat.' He stormed back into his bedroom slamming the door behind him.

I wanted to cry. Dad was furious with me and Tia was banned to the shed. It was a bad day.

It was about to get worse.

‘Spose we'd better put her in the shed then,' Jago said.

‘We could take her out for another walk? We can't just leave her in there on her own all day.'

‘What about if we take her back to my dad's place? At least she'll be in her own home and, when he gets back, she'll be there waiting for him.'

‘But then she'll be too far away and still all on her own.'

I picked Tia up and rubbed my face in hers. She squeaked and wagged her tail and that made me feel even worse.

I got two bowls and filled them with cornflakes and milk. That would do for dessert. ‘Besides, what if your dad doesn't come back?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Well, if he has been kidnapped…'

I ignored the look of horror on Jago's face and went on.

‘I mean he can't just be hiding away from that man, can he?'

Jago walked away from me and went out onto the balcony and I followed him, carrying the bowls of cornflakes.

‘He must know your mum nearly died; that she's in hospital.'

‘How would he know?'

‘If he's hiding in the village, someone would tell him. Everyone knows everything in Carreg. And unless he's committed a terrible crime or…'

‘Shut up! Shut up!'

Tia leapt at Jago's leg, barking. He ignored her.

‘How would you like it if someone said your dad was some murdering maniac? What your dad said was right, you are a brat.'

‘I'm sorry, I…'

Jago slammed out of the flat.

Brilliant. Now everyone hates me, I thought. I placed both bowls of cornflakes down on the floor for Tia to lap up the milk. And then sat at the table with my chin in my hands, watching the sea mist roll in and cover the Shiver Stone.

CHAPTER

10

I wasn't exactly flavour of the month: Dad was still mad, Linette hardly speaking and now even Jago was ignoring me. We were in a group outside Polly's caravan, sitting on an odd mix of chairs and stools owned by the park. Polly wanted to thank us, so we'd come for a meal of lettuce leaves and fruit. No wonder she was so skinny.

Don't know why Dad was still angry. I'd apologised to Linette – sort of.

The caravan park was crowded; small kids ran around screaming, music played from several different places at once. Everywhere, wet clothes and towels flapped like flags in the breeze. The smell of barbeques cooking made me hungry.

Dad was deep in conversation with Polly. She was telling him about her Kirlian photography but Dad wasn't buying it. He kept shaking his head and rolling his eyes. They were laughing though. Linette and Jago were talking about, of all things, geology. Yeah, rocks and stuff.

‘You can find jellyfish fossils in Carmarthenshire,' she told him. Jago got really excited about that. He'd plaited his hair. He was trying to copy his dad because Hug Howells said Tristan looked like an American Indian. I thought it just looked dumb.

Tia was my only friend. She lay curled on my lap, her fur hot and prickly on my bare legs.

So, when Linette realised she'd left the Welsh cakes on the table in our flat, I volunteered to get them. I thought they'd say no, but they didn't. Dad just handed me the door keys.

I clipped on Tia's lead and strolled down past the Coppet Hall Visitor Centre and across the beach. I didn't think anyone would make a fuss about a dog being there at this time in the evening, especially such a very small dog. I walked slowly picking up bits of shell and odd shaped pebbles. No point hurrying. No one was going to miss me. I sat on the sand throwing stones for Tia to chase.

By the time I got home, collected the Welsh cakes and headed back, the tide was lapping at the shoreline. Unless Tia and me wanted to get very wet I'd have to brave the Troll Hole to get to the caravan park.

I felt a nervous flutter in my stomach, but then remembered how I'd run through it when I was looking for Tia. Not worried at all then. It was time for me to stop being so stupid – I wasn't a little kid anymore.

It was the longest Troll Hole. The one I hate the most. Still it was early evening and there should be loads of people wandering through. I had Tia with me as well.

I gazed into its depths: the darkness, the creepy leaking water-drip; a wind as cold as stone blew through.

A family came hurtling out of the gloom, the kids running ahead half afraid half excited. I bent down and pretended to tie my shoelace. I needed time to calm my heartbeat and get my breathing under control. Tia tugged at the lead and looked up at me with a puzzled frown on her face.

I took a long shuddering breath and dived in.

I made myself walk slowly, every bit of my brain screaming run, run, run. I didn't. I wouldn't. There was a horrible under-stone damp smell, and my footsteps echoed. I realised, with a stab of fear, that there was no one else inside the tunnel with me. It was just Tia and me alone in the dark.

Trolls, my brain whispered. Invisible. ‘Stop it!' I said out loud. I kept up a strong steady march. I couldn't see Tia on the lead in front of me. I couldn't see anything. Teeth, claws, my brain murmured. A drip of icy water landed on my head and I shuddered. Then I heard the other footsteps. Good I thought – someone else in the Troll Hole. I'm not on my own. I slowed down waiting for them to catch up. We'd laugh, say how creepy it was in the tunnel, and I'd walk with them to the end. I tucked the bag of Welsh cakes up under my arm. The footsteps slowed down too. I stopped to listen. The footsteps stopped too. I could hear my own breathing loud in my ears. I turned back and thought I could make out a darker shape – the shape of a man. My heart was beating so hard it hurt. With a cry somewhere between a shout and a scream, I ran.

The footsteps ran after me and they were getting closer. Tia thought it was a game and jumped up at me. For a horrible second her lead caught in my legs and I thought I would fall. I stumbled, steadied myself against the wet walls, and raced on. The footsteps grew closer. At last I saw the arch of light and almost sobbed with relief. Just as I reached the end, a hand grabbed my arm. ‘Kid, kid, wait!' It was Kemble Sykes.

‘Let go!' I screamed.

A large group of teenagers arrived. Shouting and laughing, they got off their bikes and I scuttled through the middle of the chaos, almost dragging Tia off her feet.

Kemble called after me. ‘Kid, I didn't mean to scare you! If you know where Tristan is, tell him … tell him: I'm here to warn him. Tell him, it's not me he should be afraid of … it's her.'

I ran as fast as I could back to the caravan park, Tia leaping and jumping beside me, thinking this was great fun. I reached Dad and the others shaking and breathless and blurted, ‘In the tunnel, he grabbed me … wants Tristan…'

Dad was on his feet before I had a chance to finish and he raced off towards the Troll Hole. If I thought Dad was angry earlier, it was nothing to the murderous look he had on his face now.

Linette put her arm around me. Jago looked worried and not sure what to do. Polly insisted I have a couple of drops of something called Rescue Remedy on my tongue to calm me. It was a while before I realised the Welsh cakes were now a bag of crumbs.

Dad came back, panting and talking on his mobile. I think it was probably lucky for Kemble Sykes that he hadn't hung around. ‘Thanks, Sian, I'll drop by with her tomorrow. It's becoming an odd business. There's some character hanging around the kids. I don't like it. Bye.' He slipped his phone back in his pocket.

‘That was Sian at the police station,' Dad told us. ‘She called me earlier, said you two had been in to tell them Tristan was missing?' Jago and I nodded. ‘I thought you were just wasting her time and I said so. Now I'm not so sure. You reckon this guy in the tunnel is after Tristan – do you know him?'

‘His name is Kemble Sykes,' I said.

The effect on Polly was immediate and startling.

‘Kemble Sykes? My God I thought I'd seen and heard the last of him.' She sank back down into her chair. Grabbing her wine glass, she filled it and took a big swallow.

Jago was the first to speak. ‘Who is he? Why is he after my dad?'

We were all watching her waiting for an answer.

‘OK. I owe it to you all to tell you what I know, although it's not much.'

The caravan park was much quieter; as the sun went down, lights appeared in scores of windows all over the camp as kids were put to bed. Crickets chirped in the hedges and people spoke in whispers.

Polly dabbed at the line of stitches on her forehead, took another big sip of wine and turned to face her son.

‘Years ago, when we were in Swansea University together, there was a group of us who were against fox hunting. It was legal then. It was a vile, cruel sport. Killing foxes, taking pleasure in seeing them hunted down and ripped apart by dogs. There was about eight or nine of us at first. Kemble was the leader. I suppose you could say Tristan was his right-hand man, but really Tristan just did whatever Kemble told him to. We joined the Hunt Saboteurs Association.

‘We'd go out on hunts and do whatever we could to save the fox from being killed. Shouting and blowing horns at the dogs to distract them. Spraying the ground with aniseed or citronella, strong smells that covered the scent of the fox. It was good at first – fun even. We were thrilled every time we saved a fox from the hunters.

‘But it was too tame for Kemble. He wanted more action, more violent action. He wanted us to start our own group. We called ourselves
Vulpes
Vulpes
.'

‘Red Fox,' Jago said.

Polly seemed surprised that he knew what it meant. ‘Yes. Red Fox. Most of us were content to wear identity bracelets or medallions with the name on but not Kemble. Oh no, Kemble got it…'

‘…tattooed on his arm,' I interrupted.

Again Polly looked surprised. ‘Yes, so of course Tristan had to do the same.'

She hesitated and took another sip of wine. Dad topped up her glass and Linette's and placed the bottle beside his chair.

Polly looked from Linette to Dad and then back again.

‘I don't know what Tristan is like now, it's been ten years since I've seen him, but then … well then, he was a gentle sort, always the artist. Sweet really, but easily led. And Kemble loved to lead.' Her face flushed with anger.