Wild Robert (9 page)

“People
were
awful in those days,” Janine said.

“So is that all?” said Heather.

“No,” said Janine. “There’s a bit more.” She was embarrassed again. “They say that because of his mother being – being what she was, Wild Robert couldn’t really die. They say that if someone calls his name by the mound, specially if it’s around midday, Wild Robert will answer and come out. Gran told me quite a few stories of how people called him and then ran like mad when he appeared.”

“Oh, dear!” said Heather.

So Robert had been out before. It was odd the way he didn’t seem to remember. But he was, Heather thought, most of the time half dead, the way he was half alive. And every time he came out, it must have been all new to him – a new time in history and a new, fresh memory of how the people
he had loved had tried to kill him. Heather thought that in Robert’s place, she wouldn’t have behaved even half as well. She would have done more than play tricks. She would have tried to break the place up. And she thought that, in spite of being a spoiled baby, this must mean that Robert was a nice person underneath.

Janine must have thought that Heather was getting upset by the story. “Yes, but it’s all right,” she said soothingly. “It’s not really a ghost story, because his power ends at sunset. Gran says he has to go back to his mound and his heart as soon as the sun goes down.”

“
Does
he?” Heather shot a frantic look at the dark pink light slanting through the window.

“Definitely,” said Janine. “That’s the treasure they talk about – the silver box with his heart in it.”

“Sorry, Janine,” Heather said. “I have to go now. I need to go up the tower at once. See you as soon as my bike’s mended.”

She hurled the phone down and raced back to the kitchen. She could tell Robert was up to more tricks in there, because there were now strangled-sounding yelps and whines coming from someone. Heather was afraid Robert had made Mum really ill.

But the sounds were coming from the large mottled dog. Mrs McManus was standing, planted like a massive tree, just inside the back door,
blocking Heather’s way to the tower. She was holding a rope that was tied round the dog’s neck and the dog kept straining to get free.

“And he comes from nowhere in the middle of the afternoon,” Mrs McManus was telling Mum and Dad.

Heather looked at the dog’s mottled face. The dog looked back accusingly.

“And
round
the hoose and
round
the hoose and pawing at the door to come in,” said Mrs McManus. “And not a soul in the village owns to him any more than you do! I’m thinking someone of those tourists kidnapped Mr McManus and left me this beast in his place.”

“Well, I admit I haven’t seen your husband since this morning,” Dad said, “but that strikes me as an odd thing for a kidnapper to do – where are you going, Heather?”

“Just for something I left – on the tower steps,” Heather said, waving the key as she tried to squeeze past Mrs McManus on the other side from the dog.

“No, Heather,” Mum said. “Bedtime.” She took firm hold of Heather’s arm.

“Oh,
please
!” Heather said, wriggling.

“Do as your mother says,” said Dad.

As he spoke, the sun must have set. Mrs McManus cried out. She was suddenly holding Mr McManus by a rope round his neck. Mr McManus stood up and wrenched at the rope, staring at Heather in the same cringing, glaring way in which he had stared at her when he was a dog. Heather knew she had made an enemy for life. But she had known that before. She almost could not think of Mr McManus for the sadness that came over her.

“I must say that I don’t understand this,” Dad said.

Understatement of the year! Heather thought.

“Oh!” cried Mrs McManus. “I have come over queer! How could I lead my own man on a rope like a dog!” She sank into the nearest kitchen chair. Mr McManus flopped on to another, rubbing angrily at his neck. Mum forgot she was sending Heather to bed and hurried to put the kettle on for tea.

Nobody seemed to know what to say. They waited awkwardly while the kettle began to sing. And while they waited, Heather thought she heard noises outside the back door. It sounded mostly like scared whispering. Just as she thought she ought to say something about the sounds, somebody knocked timidly on the door.

Dad opened it. Outside was a group of white-faced, tired teenagers. All their hairstyles were in a mess. Some of them had torn clothes. This made them look a great deal younger, somehow, and not at all alarming.

“Sorry to trouble you,” one of the girls said politely.

“We saw the light,” said a boy.

“And – er – we don’t know what happened but the coach we came in went and left without us,” said another girl.

“We – er – we sort of lost track of time,” another boy explained.

“You’d better come in and have some tea,” Dad said. “Heather, get out eight more cups. We’ll see if we can sort something out. Any of you have parents we can phone?”

The teenagers crowded timidly in and stood leaning against the furniture. Mr and Mrs McManus glared at them, but they said nothing. Heather laid the key to the tower down on the table and went round with cups of tea, feeling sadder and sadder. Janine’s Gran was right. Wild Robert’s power really did end at sunset. He must be back in his mound now. Heather had to admit that this did solve everyone’s problems, but she still wished it had not happened. It seemed so unfair on Robert.

Then, when the teenagers crowded into the living room with Dad to phone their families and Mum at
last sent Heather to bed, Heather remembered that Wild Robert had made her promise to speak to him again tomorrow. He had known. He knew he would have to go back to the mound at sunset, and he had planned for it. This made Heather feel much better. She climbed up the stairs to her little room in a corner of the old castle, smiling. Robert was full of tricks. Tomorrow she would understand him better. She would manage to explain him to Mum and Dad. She could start teaching him to be a modern person.

Heather fell asleep thinking of ways she might even rescue the treasure that was really Wild Robert’s heart…

Chrestomanci Series
Charmed Life
The Magicians of Caprona
Witch Week
The Lives of Christopher Chant
Mixed Magics
Black Maria
A Tale of Time City
Howl’s Moving Castle
Castle in the Air
The Homeward Bounders
Archer’s Goon
Eight Days of Luke
Dogsbody
Power of Three
For older readers
Fire and Hemlock
Hexwood
The Time of the Ghost

First published by Methuen Children’s Books 1989
First published in paperback by Collins 2001
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Text copyright © Diana Wynne Jones 1989
Illustrations copyright © Emma Chichester Clark 1989

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