Wickedness (9 page)

But there was not time, not yet anyway, because the circus tent was suddenly full of people and noise as a group of Italian students flooded in.

“Zacharie!” An older man with long grey hair tied back in a ponytail was calling him.

Zacharie turned. “
Merde!
You see what I mean… no escape! I’ll have to go. Are you coming to join the workshop? Please say you will. I’ll look after you. Promise!”

“No. No thanks.” She didn’t want him to see how hopeless she was. That she had no sense of balance and couldn’t even catch a ball when it was thrown to her from a metre away.

“Have you got a pen then?”

Claire nodded and rummaged in her
backpack
. Then Zacharie took her hand, turned it over and wrote his mobile phone number on the inside of her wrist.

“In case I don’t see you later. It is always manic after the show and I might not. Oh and my name is Zacharie… but you can call me Zac if you want. Call me?
Tu promis
? Oh and
your
name, I don’t know it.”

“Claire.” She nodded. “And I promise.”

She watched as he ran off. She couldn’t stop
herself. He moved so beautifully and with such confidence. Then he was swallowed up by the group of students. She looked down at the number on her wrist. Touched it with her little finger. It smudged. She looked in her backpack for her notebook and copied the number down carefully on the inside of the back cover. And then tore out a piece of paper and wrote the number on that too, folded it and pushed it far down in her jeans pocket. Insurance!

Claire stayed and watched the workshop. Felt her heart miss a beat as Zacharie turned and looked in her direction. She’d had to look away quickly and pretend she wasn’t watching him. But she was, especially when he was helping a slim and beautiful girl turn cartwheels. Placing his hands on her hips and guiding her round.

That could have been me, she thought, if only I’d been braver.

The show was awesome. Especially Zacharie. Jacalyn was right, he was totally fearless and Claire
found it hard to watch as he danced on the wire. And there was an excitement in knowing that she ‘knew’ him. That she’d felt his arm around her. Her fingers went up, instinctively, to tuck her hair behind her ears, touch where he had touched. And she had his mobile number. And he’d made her promise to call him! Mmm. She’d been going to leave early, get home before it got too dark. But the temptation to wait, see him again after the show, won out against her fear of being alone at night, on the tube. So she waited. Waited until the last seat in the big top was empty. Sat on for a while, watching as the ring was cleared. But there was no sign of Zacharie or Jacalyn anywhere. Several texts from her mum though. She looked at her watch. Ten o’clock. Texted back, ‘
On my way
.’ She’d have to go now.

But as she went out, Jacalyn was standing by the entrance.

“Hey again! Did you enjoy it? And Zac? He’s amazing,
hein
?” She was smiling… a look of wry amusement at Claire’s expression. “Yeah! All the girls chase him. But he never gets caught. A real, how do you say… breaker of hearts.”

“It was great!” Claire was shifting from foot to
foot, feeling awkward and wanting to escape now. “But I have to go… get back home. I hate…”

“Wait!” And Zacharie was there beside her, dressed now in black jeans and a white T-shirt. Smiling. Looking really pleased to see her… reaching out to touch her arm with a finger. Making her shiver.

But Jacalyn didn’t look pleased at all. She looked cross. “For God’s sake, Zac… she’s way too young for you. Leave her alone.” Claire felt herself tensing up. Being treated like a child again. It made her so angry. But if Jacalyn thought Zac would react, she was disappointed. He just stood with his arms crossed, smiling. Jacalyn hovered around for a second, unsure what to do. Then she stormed off. Zacharie made a face at Claire. “She is
reloue
. You know, a pain in the – how do you say? – butt.”

She couldn’t stop herself looking down and thinking how perfect
his
was and felt herself going hot all over. And
how childish was that
? “I’ve got to go,” she said quickly. “If I’m late home…”

“I’ll come with you. Keep you safe! Where do you live? And then we can talk about the rings! Wait… I’ll just get my jacket.” And he sped off
towards a huddle of trailers tucked behind the Big Top.

And Claire was still standing there, feeling happy that at last something
nice
was happening, when Jacalyn came back. She was smiling, so Claire was caught off guard when she spat out the words. “A warning. Stay away from him. He plays around. You don’t need the complication. You can sort it without him you know. Go on. Go home…”

Claire was shocked. Flustered. What did she mean…
sort it without him
. Sort what? Maybe she should ask? But Jacalyn stood there, implacable… her arms folded tight across her body. Intimidating. Scary. There was no sign of Zacharie.

Claire ran.

She was used to travelling on the tube, but not at night and on her own. So she felt anxious and she was still upset and angry at what Jacalyn had said. How it had made her feel silly, childish, humiliated, confused. “Stupid cow. She’s just jealous, that’s all. She can go screw herself!”

But it wasn’t really that late and in spite of the flu, there were plenty of people around. Too many. The tube was packed, though everyone was trying to
create little exclusion zones around themselves and looked horrified when anyone sneezed or coughed. A few people were wearing masks and there were no babies in buggies, no small children. Claire had to straphang, her backpack tucked between her feet because there was nowhere to sit. It was stiflingly hot. She could hardly breathe. So when the train stopped and people got out, she made a beeline for an empty seat and sat down gratefully, hugging her backpack close. But then, as she took a deep breath in relief, something, and she didn’t know what it was at first, started to make her feel uneasy. She scanned the carriage hurriedly. Just the usual mix of people. Nothing alarming. Except the smell. The perfume. She’d been so busy thinking of Zacharie, that for a while she’d forgotten about
HIM
. She breathed in slowly, tasted the air. Yes, there it was. Cinnamon and flowers. Faint but insistent. She looked around anxiously, but the carriage was full and there were too many people standing for her to be able to see to the end.

He could be here
, she thought.
Why not?
A coincidence. Her mum had met an old boyfriend like that once. “The carriage doors opened,” she’d said, “and there he was, getting out as I was
getting in. And I hadn’t seen him for 15 years! Amazing.”

And it had to be a coincidence, didn’t it? Because the alternative was unthinkable.

She thought she would walk up the hill from the tube station, then along the side of the common and into Grandma’s road. But as she came out of the tube station, she felt as if she was being followed. When she turned, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of something, someone turning away as if to hide from her. So, when she saw the bus coming, she didn’t think twice, darted across the road and as soon as the doors opened, she leaped on, pushing past a whole queue of people. But she didn’t care. She just wanted to be somewhere light and full of people. Somewhere she’d feel safe.

She passed her travel card across the sensor, then dropped down sideways into a seat right at the front of the bus, her legs sticking into the aisle and her eyes fixed on the door of the bus. That way she could see everyone who got on. And even after the doors had closed and the bus had pulled away, she still kept looking. Expecting any moment he’d
pop up, or she’d smell the cinnamon and flowers.

But it was only a few stops and, when she got off the bus, she ran fast all the way to Grandma’s house. Didn’t stop to look back and see if anyone was there. Just ran. Then she panicked when she couldn’t find her key and banged on the door like someone demented and rang the bell and clattered the letter box.

“What on earth?” her mum stepped back hurriedly from the doorway as Claire cannoned through, slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, breathing hard.

Claire’s mum went to push her aside and open the door. “What on earth’s the matter? Where’s Jade?”

“Jade’s not here. Her mum was feeling poorly so Jade stayed with her.” Not really a lie at all.

“Oh. So you came home all on your own?”

“It was fine. It was okay.”

“Then why were you running? What’s happened?”

“Nothing. Honest. I just thought I saw… heard someone behind me. That’s all… and I got scared. Stupid. There wasn’t anyone.”

“Hmm.” Claire’s mum opened her mouth to
say something and then thought better of it. “Well you’re all right and that’s the main thing. But I hope Jade’s mum is feeling better. God, I hope it’s not flu. Do you think…”

“Mum! I’m going to bed okay? I’m really tired…”

Claire was lying on the bed, in the dark, fully clothed. She wanted to be quiet and still so she could think about things. About him, Robert. Had Robert been following her? She was sure he had. About Grandma leaving tickets for a circus where the
wire-walker
had a ring just like hers. About Zacharie.

She scrabbled upright in bed, reached over and picked up her phone from the bedside table. Then she lay back down again, holding the phone to her chest. Maybe she could just send him a text. Just a ‘
Hi!
’ and a smiley face. There wouldn’t be any harm in that, would there? He’d wonder where she’d disappeared to. And so what if the things Jacalyn had said about him were true… he was only ever going to be a friend, wasn’t he? Someone who’d understand about the ring. Nothing more. And if he wanted to reply he could, because then he’d have her number. And if he didn’t…

She lay a long while thinking about it… building up the courage to do it. Heard her mum coming up the stairs and hurriedly pulled the covers over and pretended to be asleep. Then, when she heard her mum’s bedroom door close, she pulled out the piece of paper from her jeans pocket and unfolded it. She could just read the number in the light from her phone. She keyed it in, saved it to memory and then wrote the text, took a deep breath, and sent it.

And waited and then fell asleep and it was gone two o’clock when the message came in. Click.
‘I thought I’d lost you! Now I can sleep! Zxx’

Robert’s house, tucked away behind the Strand just over the river from the Jubilee Gardens, was spectacular. Even Claire could see that and took a surreptitious picture of it on her phone. It looked really old and was made of worn red brick and weathered stone. It had tall glittering windows and, between them, plaster panels decorated with Egyptian figures in relief. Steps led up to a great carved wooden door and into a panelled hall large
enough to take the biggest fireplace Claire had ever seen.

It was a pity there wasn’t a fire lit, Claire thought, because even though the heat outside was like a furnace, the cold from the stone floor still struck up through the soles of her shoes.

She didn’t like it here. She knew he could see that. Because, although he was paying a lot of attention to her mum and Micky, he was watching her. She could feel it. And she knew absolutely that he HAD been following her too. She’d thought about refusing to come today, but wanted to see where he lived. It was important somehow. And anyway, she wasn’t about to let her mum and Micky go off with him alone.

“Let me show you around,” he said and her mum was saying, “Oh, yes please,” and following after him with the biggest smile on her face, as if he were offering to show her the crown jewels, then let her try them on.

Even Micky was excited by the tapestry hanging over the chimney piece in the room he called ‘the great parlour’. A man in armour thrusting his sword up into the belly of a huge, fire-breathing dragon.

Then while Claire’s mum went to the loo – she said she was feeling queasy with the heat – he showed them the library with its illuminated medieval manuscripts, as bright as jewels, laid out in glass cases. And in the corner of the room, standing in shadow, was a decorated wooden mummy case painted with the life-size image of a woman. She was dark-eyed and full-lipped and had two ropes of black hair framing her face. Micky spotted it at once, ran over, “Can I touch it?” Her hand reached out; hovered over the case.

“You can look inside if you like.”

“Oh!”

He lifted the lid off and to one side.

“That is wicked!” Micky said, turning to Claire and reaching back to tug at her hand. “Look!”

Claire reluctantly peered in. The mummy had been half unwrapped.
Poor thing
, she thought, with her sunken eyes and stretched yellow skin and horrible tufts of dull red hair… and the third finger of her right hand missing.

“Does she have a name?” Micky asked.

“She does,” Robert said, pointing to a cartouche on the mummy’s case. “Nefertaru, priestess and dancer at the temple of the Lady of Red Linen,
the Bringer of Plagues, the goddess Sekhmet.”

“Sekhmet?” Claire looked startled. There it was again. That name.

“How cool is that?” breathed Micky, eyes wide and round as saucers. “And look!” Micky had noticed the missing finger too. “I bet she had a ring, just like Claire’s, that wouldn’t come off, and somebody chopped off her finger to get it.” Micky was looking enquiringly at Robert.

“Mmm.” He looked thoughtful. “It is said that only death can part the wearer from the ring…and it’s said to protect the wearer from sickness too… so maybe she was
murdered
for it. What do you think?”

He’s teasing
, Claire thought.
Isn’t he?

He was pointing to some other hieroglyphs. “She was only just 14 when she died.”

“Eugh… Claire… just like you,” Micky started to say. “Now you’re going to have to wear the ring always, unless…”

But then Claire’s mum came back into the room.

God,
Claire thought, distracted for a
split-second
from what Micky was saying,
you do look awful, even though you’ve brushed your hair and put on
lipgloss
.