by Sylvia Waugh
Nesta blushed deeply. That was just too near the truth.
‘Only,’ said Stella, ‘it wasn’t a lie. It was the absolute truth, though it took me five years to find it out. And by then Thomas and his father had set out in their ship for their own planet leaving traces behind that I alone could interpret. That, I believe, was them saying a loving farewell to me. So, Nesta, a secret for a secret. It is your turn to tell me yours.’
CHAPTER 35
* * *
Nesta and Stella
Nesta looked searchingly at Stella. How was she to understand her? How was she to be understood? This was a woman older than her mother; yet not really old at all. Her hair was a curious coppery colour. Her eyes seemed a shade of amber. Her smile was warm but quiet.
‘Before I tell you,’ said Nesta, ‘there is one great and important favour I have to ask.’
‘Yes?’ said Stella. She stooped to take a log from the scuttle and put it on the fire. Her manner was unhurried. She would take time to listen.
‘Please,’ said Nesta, ‘can I stay with you till tomorrow morning, and will you tell no one about me?’
‘I don’t know whether I can,’ said Stella. ‘Someone, somewhere is bound to be looking for you. It seems almost criminal not to let them know that you are safe. Whatever I can do, I will.’
‘Amy didn’t tell,’ said Nesta. ‘She’s my best friend and she’s very hard to convince if she thinks anything is wrong. She told the teachers when I was bullied at school, even though I begged her not to. But she hasn’t told my parents where I am now because I managed to make her understand how important it was to keep quiet.’
‘You told Amy about Ormingat?’ said Stella, showing just how much she had already guessed, and worried at how far the secret now had spread. The thought of Rupert Shawcross clumsily checking a new visitation was not a pleasant one.
‘No,’ said Nesta. ‘I just told her that my parents had decided to go to Boston immediately. The bit she had to accept was that if they did not go this week, they would never go at all. I told her I couldn’t explain it but that it was true.’
‘There was a deadline then for leaving?’
‘Yes,’ said Nesta. ‘If they do not go at two o’clock tomorrow morning, they will never be able to go at all.’
‘So,’ said Stella, ‘let me understand this. You need to stay away till that hour is past.’
Nesta nodded.
‘Then it would surely be possible to ring your parents straight after two o’clock. There will be no need to wait till morning. But that still leaves everyone hours of worrying. I really don’t know, Nesta, what I should do. Convince me.’
Nesta’s expression was one of desperation.
‘If you don’t help me, I don’t know where to turn. I was born in England and I have lived here all my life. There is no way I would risk being taken away to someplace I can’t even picture. Did Thomas not feel like that?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Stella. ‘He loved me and I loved him. For five years I took care of him. But when it came to the point, he could not bear to be parted from his father. And, unlike you, he must have had some knowledge of Ormingat: he would surely have been born there.’
‘I love my mom and dad,’ said Nesta, ‘but not enough to leave the Earth with them. That makes me less loyal than Thomas, doesn’t it? But that’s not how I feel. I suppose I am depending on them loving me enough not to go without me.’
‘And if they do?’ said Stella. ‘After all, it will be a hard choice for them.’
‘If they do, I’ll have no one. So I have to be sure, sure, sure that they won’t.’
Yet there remained a doubt that a hundred ‘sures’ could not dispel.
‘If they are not there tomorrow,’ whispered Nesta guiltily, ‘you will have to hand me over to the police. They are looking for me. That is why I did not want you to see the TV tonight.’
‘That makes it even worse,’ said Stella. ‘The police are already very dubious about me. It would be better for all of us if no connection were made. Just sit quiet and let me think.’
Stella poured herself a second cup of tea and offered one to Nesta, who refused. In the silence that followed, the clock on the mantelpiece could be heard ticking and the logs in the hearth seemed to crackle more loudly.
‘Stay the night,’ said Stella at length. ‘At ten past two, I shall phone your parents and tell them you are safe. But the police must be kept out of it, for everybody’s sake.’
‘Oh thank you!’ said Nesta. ‘Thank you.’
Then she added, almost as if to reassure, ‘If we told them all the truth, you know, they would never believe it. Nobody would. So I don’t think it’s as important as all that.’
‘It is,’ said Stella. ‘The policemen would not believe any of it, but there are those who would want to check it out. For you to know me, for my name to appear anywhere near yours, is dangerous. There are people on this planet whose job it is to find out all they can about visitors like you.’
‘I am not a visitor,’ said Nesta. ‘I was never a visitor. Earth is where I was born. I belong here. And here is where I am going to stay.’
Her words ended in a yawn. Then her eyes could stay open no longer. She slumped sideways on her chair in a deep sleep, just like a baby.
‘Poor child,’ said Stella. She bent over, lifted Nesta up in her arms and laid her gently on the sofa. Nesta gave another yawn, tried to wake up but couldn’t. Three nights in the garage and a long day on the road here, followed by this difficult discussion, had simply drained all her strength. Stella tucked the tartan travel rug around her and left her to sleep.
It was after nine o’clock when Nesta stirred again. She looked round in bewilderment and had to try hard to remember where she was. She was alone in the room. Stella was next door washing the dishes.
‘Hello,’ called Nesta in a timid, worried voice.
‘I’m here,’ said Stella, coming straight in at the sound. ‘Feel better for your sleep?’
‘What time is it?’ said Nesta, rubbing her eyes.
‘Ten past nine,’ said Stella. ‘Now if you can wake up for a little while, there’s a comfortable bed upstairs you can sleep in. I’ve got it all aired and ready.’
‘You haven’t told anybody?’ said Nesta.
Stella smiled.
‘I couldn’t, could I? I’m as deep in the mud as you’re in the mire!’
Nesta managed a smile at the strange expression. She had never heard it before, but she could guess what it meant.
‘Now then,’ said Stella. ‘You do trust me. So as soon as you feel like it, you can go to bed and sleep till morning. I will phone your parents at ten past two – that’s just five hours from now – and I will make arrangements to take you home tomorrow. All you have to do is catch up on your sleep.’
‘What if they don’t answer?’ said Nesta, facing up to a very real worry.
‘They will,’ said Stella.
‘But what if they don’t?’ Nesta persisted. ‘What if . . . what if they’ve gone?’
‘They won’t have,’ said Stella firmly. ‘Let’s not even think about it. There are some bridges much better left until we come to them.’
In the next hour, Nesta drank chocolate and told Stella the whole of her story, not even omitting Grandpa Turpin’s greatcoat. Then she went comforted to bed.
No one could offer greater security than Stella Dalrymple. She was not a fairy godmother. But she possessed all the qualities required for the job! At ten past two in the morning, she rang the number Nesta had given her.
There was no answer.
Stella let the phone ring for ten long minutes before replacing the receiver. Then she sat back and wondered what on earth she could do. What a useless instrument a telephone is if there is no one at the other end to answer it!
What was she to tell the girl upstairs, exhausted but sleeping in the hopes of everything being right by morning?
I do that to people, thought S
tella, impatient with herself. I convince them that I can put everything right. You’d think I’d know by now that I can’t. I was depending on the Gwynns not leaving without their daughter; but I don’t know them and I don’t know how strong a pull their own planet has on them . . .
If they are gone, I shall have somehow to pick up the pieces. I might not be much good at it, but there isn’t anybody else. Tell the police. Arrange for Nesta to stay here with me, at least for a time. And, if necessary, lie through my teeth!
Her hand went towards the receiver. The child reported missing from home in York is here in my house. I took her in because she was lost and frightened. I have settled her down for the night. Can we leave her asleep till morning?
The hand hesitated as Stella mulled over what she would say. Then the thought came that perhaps the parents had not left after all. Perhaps they were even now out looking for Nesta. One of them should have stayed at home to answer the phone, she thought crossly. They’ll be running round like headless chickens, getting nowhere.
I’ll wait a while, thought Stella as the wave of irritation passed. She could understand how those parents were feeling. She just knew what sort of panic they would be in.
I’ll try again later, one more try.
And if there is still no reply, what can I do?
Cross that bridge when you come to it, Stella Dalrymple!
CHAPTER 36
* * *
Where the Frog Went
It was as well the police car was parked at a safe distance on the other side of Linden Drive. It was as well that no late-night reveller was walking home along the pavement outside Number 8 on this dark, cold night.
For suddenly there was an explosion – perhaps it would be better to say a detonation, as if a great cannon had been fired, Mons Meg at the very least! What followed seemed even more primitive. The startled policeman looked up to see a stone of huge size fall from the sky into the road. Like a missile flung from a medieval trebuchet, the frog had come hurtling high over the roof of the house into the front street. As it hit the ground, it split into three large lumps that became bouncing bombs hammering holes in the roadway. One hit a main and sent a jet of water whizzing up into the air.
After a few seconds that seemed like for ever, the constables in the car recovered enough to call for help, lots and lots of help. In a sort of hysteria they asked for emergency backup, the fire brigade, an ambulance and anything else that might be to hand. Fortunately, or unfortunately, it was a quiet night in York. There was an eagerness to answer this frantic summons.
‘You stay here, Andy,’ said the constable in the passenger seat, after the call had been made and answered. ‘I’ll go round the back of the house and see what I can see.’
Before he was halfway up the Gwynns’ front path, bells and horns could be heard as all the might of York’s emergency services gathered from different directions to come to the rescue. The constable continued round to the back garden, comforted by the knowledge that he would not be alone for long.
What did he expect to find there? Evidence of an earthquake? Signs that some unsuspected dormant volcano had erupted? No, strangely enough, he had this odd thought that there might be some gigantic catapult set up on the back lawn. He had the makings of a good policeman!
He was really quite disappointed to find Matthew and Alison Gwynn gazing speechlessly at a hole in the ground, with not a siege engine in sight.
‘What happened?’ he said.
‘We don’t know,’ said Matthew. ‘We heard this loud bang and came out here to see what it was. But we’re none the wiser. Except the frog’s gone.’
‘The frog?’
‘There was a huge ornamental frog sitting on the lily pad,’ said Alison, ‘a really ugly object, been there since we moved in. Whenever we cleaned the pond it took two of us to move it. Now it isn’t here.’
‘Whew!’ said the policeman. ‘I think I can tell you where it is. Not five minutes ago a great block of stone flew over your roof, landed in the front street and broke into pieces.’
The fire engine came speeding round the corner of Linden Drive at that moment, followed by two police cars, an ambulance and a medic on a motorbike. Doors and windows were flung open all over the street. The constable, Matthew and Alison looked at one another, appalled. It seemed to each of them that, mysterious though the blast had been, it was about to receive a disproportionate amount of attention.
‘Nobody hurt?’ said the constable, knowing what the answer would be.
‘Not back here,’ said Matthew. ‘What about at the front?’
‘Burst water main, but there wasn’t anybody around to get hurt,’ said the constable. Then, remembering that he was supposed to be watching this house and this couple very discreetly, he added, ‘We just happened to be passing; good job we weren’t too close.’
Detective Inspector Stirling took charge. Enquiries had now moved on to a much higher and more serious level.
What was needed was done and peace was restored. Then, and only then, the inspector turned his attention to the Gwynns who by now were standing out in the front street watching the proceedings.
Inside the empty house, the phone rang quite insistently for at least ten minutes, but no one was there to hear it.
‘I think we should go indoors, Mrs Gwynn,’ said the inspector. He was very soft spoken but his manner was that of one in authority. He ushered both of the Gwynns towards the house.
‘Back way,’ said Matthew. ‘That’s the way we came, and I haven’t brought a front door key.’
In the back garden, two policemen and an officer from the fire service were still busy inspecting the hole where the frog had been.
‘Any ideas yet?’ asked Inspector Stirling as they passed.
‘None at all. We’ll have to work on the theory that there has been a build up of underground gas,’ said the man from the fire service.
‘A natural accident?’
‘Not much else it could be, is there?’
Inspector Stirling shook his head.
‘I suppose not,’ he said, ‘but it seems odd that it should happen to this couple at just this time, when their young daughter has mysteriously disappeared.’
‘What do you mean?’ said the fire officer.
‘Well,’ said the inspector slowly, ‘I wondered rather whether it might not have been an accident at all. Could it have been in way deliberate? Could someone somehow have caused it?’
‘Practically impossible I should think,’ said the fire officer. Then he added, ‘But, to be honest with you, the natural accident will take a fair amount of explaining too.’
Matthew and Alison were already ahead of the inspector, going into the house. His conversation with the fire officer was not quite audible to them, but the words ‘natural accident’ registered with Matthew. It would be the most useful and least embarrassing explanation. Any hint that this might be due to extraterrestrial activities would be terrible. Especially now that we have burnt our boats!
‘That pond has always been a trouble,’ he said to the inspector as they entered the house. ‘Just last week I had to drain it because it had got choked and was overflowing.’
They went into the front room and sat down. The inspector did not sit in a comfortable armchair, but instead chose a hard, high-back chair as distant as possible from Mr and Mrs Gwynn. His appearance was so nondescript that people found it difficult to remember what he looked like. He had no charm and no desire to please.
‘The explosion, or whatever it was, is now the concern of the scientists, those wonderful forensic people who can see a world in a grain of sand,’ he said in his quiet, slightly sarcastic voice.
Alison shivered at the words. What did he know about grains of sand to speak so glibly? Now that she was committed to humanity it seemed to her more and more a poor exchange for what they had lost.
‘What I find hard to understand is your reaction to this strange event,’ he went on. ‘Most people would be u
p in arms, demanding to know the cause of the explosion, making allegations, demanding protection. Some of your neighbours have even wondered if the whole street should be evacuated as a precaution. You, on the other hand, just accept it. Does that not seem odd?’
‘Many people,’ said Matthew, ‘would be stunned into silence. It happened in our back garden. We were the first to see the hole in the ground. It is not an everyday event.’
‘Our neighbours,’ said Alison sharply, ‘are not worried about a missing daughter whom the police have done little to find.’
The inspector hid a yawn. It had been a long day. He did not like these incomprehensible people. He hated this incomprehensible situation.
‘That is my main concern,’ he said coldly. ‘Despite our best efforts, we have found no trace of Nesta. It seems at least possible that you know more about her disappearance than you care to say. I am not even sure whether there could be some connection between your daughter and this bizarre explosion, or whatever it was. Coincidence is much rarer than you might think.’
‘I don’t know what to say to that,’ said Matthew. The hairs prickled on the back of his neck as it dawned on him that this man thought that Nesta might have died at the hands of her own parents. What other interpretation could an intelligent listener put on his words?
‘Say nothing,’ said the inspector. ‘Tomorrow will do. What has happened here tonight is very strange and could be dangerous. We don’t know, do we? For tonight, for your protection as much as anything, I would like an officer to remain on the premises. I shall be here myself at nine o’clock in the morning. We can talk further then.’
The Gwynns made no protest. They had far too much to hide. But that was only part of it: the events of the night had been distressing in the extreme. And their daughter was still missing.
The officer, a dour young man in his late twenties, came in and settled himself down in the sitting room.
‘We are going to bed now, Constable,’ said Alison, glaring at him. ‘There is no point in us sitting here for the rest of the night.’