Marcus stopped talking and patted Emily’s arm with a newly gloved hand. He indicated the nearby hut. ‘You both look a bit cold,’ he said. ‘Let’s go in there. I’ve got the heater working.’
Dumbly, they followed him into the tiny interior. With the heater, shelf, cupboard and chair, it was barely big enough for all three of them standing together. Marcus squeezed over to the heater and fiddled with a dial, while Emily closed the door. A low humming noise began, followed swiftly by the smell of burning dust.
‘Won’t take a minute to warm us.’ Marcus picked up a packet of biscuits that was lying on the shelf. ‘Have one. Em – you take the chair.’
The biscuits were passed round. Emily sat on the chair, the others on the floor. For a minute they crunched in awkward silence, feeling the generated heat slowly steal over them. Emily shivered luxuriantly as she grew warm, but her eyes remained fixed on Marcus. He now seemed remarkably composed.
Simon took his third custard cream. ‘So how did you get down here, then,’ he said, ‘if your bike was knackered?’
‘I think,’ Marcus said, examining the fragment of biscuit he held in his hand, ‘that Dad felt removing my bike from the equation would prevent me from going off again. He’s simple that way. I’ve always cycled places to get myself out from under his thumb and it’s always driven him mad. Maybe this was the worst occasion, but not by much. He hates it if I’m not there when he needs me, or when he’s asleep and might wake up and want something.’
‘I can’t believe he hit you,’ Emily said suddenly, uncorking at last.
‘Well, it wasn’t that so much. It was the bike . . . Anyway – I won’t make this into a long story, so don’t worry, Simon – I lay there that day working out what I wanted to do. Next morning, when Dad came home, I was there as good as gold. Made him his breakfast, gave him his paper, waited for him to go to sleep. He takes pills to knock him out, so I was safe once that was done.
‘The rest was as simple as pie. It was all about gathering supplies. I wanted food, drink, heat, maybe a bit of comfort. I thought of Baron Hugh, how he’d have systematically gathered in his corn and livestock before barring the castle door. Which reminds me – I’ve got a brilliant idea for keeping Harris out, if necessary!’ He paused to bite a side-slab off another custard cream.
‘If armies were in enemy territory, they’d despoil it,’ he went on. ‘And that was what I did with Dad. First I took everything I could from the fridge and pantry, which wasn’t much because we were running low. A few tins, mainly – and I didn’t forget the tin opener either, Simon, you’ll be pleased to know. I could have used some of the breakfast things – eggs, bacon, tomatoes, but hell, I was going to buy them later. So I chucked them in the sink and left them. Opened a tin of beans on top for good measure. Then I went upstairs to Dad’s room, found his jacket and took his wallet. You all right there, Em?’
‘Yes. Go on.’
‘That got me twenty quid. Not nearly enough. But there was his debit card too and Dad had made a big mistake with that. A while ago, being a lazy sod, he’d got me to go to the hole in the wall and get him some cash. So I knew his number. I don’t forget things like that. I took the card and the twenty, and chucked the coins into the sink with the rest. Then I left. Took the rucksack but not my manky old sleeping bag. Walked into town, visited the bank and did a spot of shopping at Safeway and the outdoor centre. I’ve got a very nice new torch, guys, with settings for three types of beam.’
‘You didn’t buy a new bike, did you?’ Simon asked. He was looking at Marcus with a kind of begrudging respect.
‘Not enough cash sadly. Had to take a couple of buses. Got here in the afternoon.’
‘And how did you get in?’
‘But Marcus,’ Emily interrupted, ‘you’re not going to stay here.’
‘Why not? I’m not bloody well going back and I’m not dossing in the street either. This place has got it all, except a water supply, but I can melt snow. I’ve brought books, heating equipment . . . there’s firewood not far away. I’ll just need to make a few trips into the village for food now and again and I won’t even need to do that for a bit. I just need to make sure you two don’t give the game away, that’s all.’
‘You’ll be caught so fast, Marcus,’ Emily said.
‘You are a real doom-merchant, Em, you know that? My dad hasn’t got a clue where I am; I’ve not told anyone apart from you and the castle’s shut up till March. I can keep out of Harris’s way. I know his route already.’
‘But how did you get in?’ Simon persisted.
Marcus laughed. ‘Easy! Harris let me in!’
‘Meaning what?’
‘Meaning I was lucky. I stashed my stuff under the hedge – and was I glad to get rid of it! Nearly broke my back carting it up from the village. I did a recce, and I was thinking I might have to call you again, Em, when – ’
‘So it was you who rang me yesterday. Why didn’t you leave a message or phone back?’
Marcus shrugged. His trekking jacket crackled. ‘I don’t know why I rang you, really,’ he said. ‘It was when I was about to leave. I was flustered, I guess, and I hadn’t a clue how I was going to get inside. I had half an idea that you and Simon might rig up the rope again. But when I couldn’t get through I changed my mind and decided instead just to get out here, see what turned up. I didn’t want you to be involved if I could help it.’
Simon glanced up at Emily with a ‘told you so’ kind of look.
‘Anyway,’ Marcus continued, ‘I was just collecting my stuff again when I saw Harris crossing the bridge. Whether he was going into the keep or not I didn’t know, but I didn’t want to miss my chance, so I wriggled under the hedge and pelted after him at a safe distance. I was at the gatehouse when he got to the keep, and – lo and behold! – before my very eyes he unlocked the door and went in.
‘I had to take a gamble here, so I ran to the tower, fast as I could, and peered round at the door. It was slightly ajar. There was no point hanging about. I went in, replaced the door as it was and crept up the steps to the top. That was the worst bit of all. I couldn’t hear a thing – for all I knew, Harris might be just beyond the door at the top. I had to risk it. I came to the last door, peeped inside, found all quiet and went through. I didn’t waste any time, I went up the staircase to the tower and shut myself up there, on the roof. That was bad too. At any moment I thought – ’
But Simon had listened long enough. ‘Yeah, we get the gist,’ he said. ‘Harris didn’t come up. You were left safe inside with all your stuff.’
‘That’s about the size of it,’ Marcus admitted.
He stopped talking. Simon nodded slowly and reached out to prise another biscuit from the packet. Emily sat slumped on the chair, looking miserably at Marcus. She knew very well she had to act, but she was now weighed down both by anxiety and by a guilt that had been growing throughout the telling of his story, and this made her feel helpless, panicky and rather nauseous all at the same time.
However, she did her best.
‘Marcus,’ she said, ‘it’s brilliant that you managed to get here, and you’ve done really well getting all the equipment and everything. I’m sure you’ll be able to avoid Harris as long as you like. But sooner or later you are going to have to leave the castle and sort things out another way.’
She was watching him closely. His lip curled as she said this.
‘What your dad did was wrong,’ she went on hurriedly, ‘and you were right to get out. But you shouldn’t coop yourself up like this, as if you were on the run.’
‘I’m not on the run,’ Marcus interrupted. ‘I’m retreating to a position I can defend. And there’s no other option.’
‘But there is,’ Emily said. ‘Go to the police. Parents aren’t allowed to hit their kids. It’s illegal.’
‘I’m not going to the police, Em. They wouldn’t be interested.’
‘Of course they would. They’d sort it out for you, wouldn’t they, Simon?’ (Come
on, she thought, back me up here.)
‘I dunno.’ He was picking at his fingernails, studiously disinterested.
‘I’m telling you Marcus, they could have your dad up for it.’
He laughed harshly. ‘Think they’d believe me? You’re mad!’
‘Look at your bloody face, for heaven’s sake! Of course they’d believe you.’
‘So what if they did? Let’s say they put Dad away. Great! I’d be allowed to swan off home on my own then, would I? “The house is yours, now, sir.” I don’t think so.’
‘This must happen all the time! There’d be ways – ’
‘Too right there would. And where d’you think I’d end up?’
‘Well, where are you ending up now? Freezing your arse off here!’
Simon looked up suddenly. ‘You shouldn’t count on the police, Em,’ he said. ‘It would be Marcus’s word against his dad’s when it came down to it. They’d look at his dad, see he’s got a good job and that, then look at Marcus . . . Well . . .’
‘Yeah?’ Emily retorted. ‘Why wouldn’t they believe Marcus?’
Simon’s lips thinned. ‘“Nice clothes you’ve got there, son. New, are they? Bought them with your own money, did you? Right, right. You must have a decent part-time job, then. What d’you earn?” You don’t know them, Em. They’d look at Marcus and see a thief.’
Marcus listened, white-faced. ‘I’m not going to the police,’ he said.
‘Yeah, police aren’t the answer,’ Simon said. ‘Don’t know what is, though.’
Emily snorted. ‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘You haven’t got a clue. All that’s rubbish, Marcus. Don’t listen to him.’
‘I know more about it than you,’ Simon countered. ‘There is one thing I do agree with Em about, though – you shouldn’t stay here. You’ll get pneumonia.’
‘Well, where else am I going to go?’
Simon shrugged. ‘Dunno. You got any relations?’
‘Oh sure.’ Marcus put on a falsetto voice. ‘“Poor Nick, it’s been so hard for him. Be a good boy for Nick, won’t you . . .” You must be kidding. They love him.’
‘Mmm. Dunno then. It’s tricky. Any more ideas, Em?’
Emily gave him a look. There was a silence. All three sat staring into different corners of the hut, listening to the humming of the heater. Finally Marcus roused himself to action.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘I’m here for the moment, and I haven’t been wasting my time, either. I’ve got to show you something I’ve discovered. It’s brilliant. Come on!’
He got up with an energy that neither Emily nor Simon shared and opened the hut door. An icy blast swept into the warm interior, routing them out to stumble after him across the courtyard to an arch that Emily had not previously explored. It led onto a broad circular stairwell, which Marcus scaled two steps at a time, the others traipsing after. On the next landing was the room with the door that led to the entrance stairs. It was still hanging open from when Emily had dashed through it.
‘This has got a latch,’ Marcus said, pointing it out, ‘but there’s no way to secure it. No lock. Now, this next one . . .’ He headed down the long flight of steps to the second door halfway along. It too was open. Marcus pushed it so that the latch clicked shut. ‘Look at this.’
He indicated two deep rectangular grooves in the stonework of the arch, halfway up the door on either side. They were the same shape as letter boxes, only a little bigger and turned ninety degrees so that they ran straight up and down.
‘What do you think these are?’ he asked.
Emily shook her head, but Simon’s eyes brightened.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘It’s for a bar of some kind. To keep the door shut.’
Marcus nodded excitedly. ‘Exactly! It’s for a drawbar. You slot a thick plank of wood in here and it prevents the door from being opened from the outside. It would need a battering ram to break it down.’
‘So?’ Emily was unimpressed.
‘Don’t you see? This is the one weak spot of the castle as far as I’m concerned. Harris or anyone else with a key can just open the door down there and waltz right in. But with a drawbar inserted here I could stop them from getting into the keep. They’d be stuck on the staircase.’
‘Under the murder-holes,’ Simon said. A grin widened slowly on his face.
‘That’s it. Anyway, it won’t come to that if I can keep out of sight. But if there is any trouble, I’ve got a drawbar ready made.’
‘Where from?’
‘From the hut. It’s made of planks of just the right width. I’ve checked – they’d fit. And a couple of them at the back are loose. I could rip them out if I had to.’
‘If you had tools.’
‘I do. I pinched a few of Dad’s things. Hammer, Stanley knife, things like that.’
Simon whistled. ‘Good job.’
‘I’m out of here,’ Emily said suddenly. ‘You can stay if you want, Simon.’ She turned and set off up the stairs.
‘Where are you going, Em?’ Marcus said, following her. ‘I’ve got a couple of other things to show you.’
‘I’m not interested. I’ve had enough.’
‘Em – ’
‘Sorry, Marcus. You can stay here as long as you want. It’s up to you.’
She re-emerged in the entrance lobby, Marcus and Simon hard on her heels.
‘It’s all right, you don’t have to follow me,’ she said tartly. ‘I can walk to the rope on my own. You carry on playing your games. It’ll be great fun for you, but I want to get back to the real world, if you don’t mind.’
Marcus shrugged. ‘Do what you like.’ He hopped onto the low deep sill beneath one of the room’s narrow window slits. ‘I’ll be fine.’
Emily looked at Simon. ‘What about you?’
He stood silent, undecided. Emily turned to go. ‘Whatever. I’ll see you.’
Even as she turned Marcus made a strange choking sound. He staggered backwards off the sill, his legs collapsing under him as he landed on the floor. His mouth gaped. To Emily’s horror he began to moan in a continuous high whine that raised the hairs on the back of her neck.
First Emily and then Simon rushed over and knelt down at his side.
‘Marcus, what is it?’
‘Are you all right?’
‘What’s happened? What’s the matter?’
‘Some sort of fit . . .’
‘Do you need a doctor? Simon, he’s gone all pale.’
Marcus’s whine broke off into a stuttering cough. His eyes, which had been staring straight ahead, began to turn wildly in all directions. His mouth closed, then opened again; he seemed to be trying to speak.
‘What is it, mate?’
‘Can you sit up properly? Let’s get him up onto the windowsill, we could get his back against – ’
At this suggestion Marcus’s choking broke out anew. He shook his head frenziedly from side to side. ‘No, no – outside . . .’
‘What? What’s outside?’
‘Did you see something?’
‘What’s outside, mate?’
Marcus’s eyes finally met their own; he looked from one to the other and back again, then swallowed and spoke. ‘Don’t go near the window . . . he might see you.’
‘Who might? Who’s out there?’
‘I saw him, down by the moat, looking up at the keep. He may have seen me!’
‘Who? Who did you see?’
Marcus took a deep breath, then spoke in a voice that was barely a whisper.
‘My dad.’
{12}
For a moment Emily and Simon could only stare speechlessly at Marcus. Then Simon straightened his back.
‘Your dad’s out there?’ he said incredulously. ‘Your dad? Give over!’
‘He is! Don’t go near the window! Don’t, Simon!’
‘Oh, I’ll be careful, don’t worry. No one’s going to see anything . . .’ Keeping his back to the stonework, he climbed onto the windowsill and, edging nearer to the sl
it of light, peered out.
‘There is someone down there, you know,’ he said. ‘Bloke standing in the shadow of the arch. Hard to make him out. What makes you think it’s your dad, Marcus?’
‘Because I know my dad when I see him! Oh God, how did he find me?’
‘Come and look again. You need to make sure.’
‘No way. He’ll see me.’
‘Marcus, this is a bloody arrow slit and we’re ten metres up. If you don’t stick your nose out the crack there’s no way he’ll spot you. I want you to look again and confirm it’s your dad, because it doesn’t seem likely to me that he’s managed to track you down, unless you told him where you’ve been the last few days.’
‘Of course I didn’t! But it’s him – ’
‘Well, come and look then!’ Simon snarled.
Almost like a sleepwalker, Marcus struggled to his feet and approached the window. Simon drew back and gave him space to pass cringingly along the edge of the deep windowsill towards the strip of light. He peered once, then jerked back with a yelp.
‘It’s him?’ Emily asked.
Marcus nodded dumbly. Simon shook his head.
‘How the hell . . . ? It doesn’t make sense. Shift out the way. I want to see what he does.’
He resumed his spying position, while Marcus dropped to the floor again beside Emily.
‘He’s going to come in and get me,’ he said in a small voice.
Emily reached out and held his hand. ‘Of course he won’t.’ She was trying for a sensible, matter-of-fact sort of voice, but it came out high and squeaky. ‘He hasn’t got a key, has he?’
‘Harris may have given him one.’
‘Oh, talk sense! Of course he hasn’t. Harris would be here, else. In fact,’ she went on, warming to her reassuring theme, ‘I don’t believe he can know you’re here. He’s guessing. If we keep still he’ll go away.’
‘What car’s your dad got?’ Simon put in suddenly.
‘Ford Fiesta. Blue.’
‘It is him then; I can see it in the car park.’
The Last Siege Page 12