by Liz Trenow
‘What were you up to in London?’ I asked.
‘Oh, this and that,’ he said, kicking the dusty ground. ‘But you haven’t told me why you’re sitting all alone in the churchyard.’ He put on a theatrical voice. ‘’Tis now the very witching time of night, when churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out contagion to this world.’
‘Whoever said that got it about right. About hell and contagion.’
‘Hamlet, I think. But what do you mean?’
‘Can I trust you?’
‘Pirate’s honour,’ he said, crossing his hands over his chest. ‘My lips are sealed. Fire away.’
He was a good listener, taking in every word as I explained about Eli, the Blackness and the meeting, and what Miss Calver had said.
‘What a bastard,’ he said finally. ‘That old boy’s been around forever. He was very kind to me when I was younger. Always giving me biscuits and the rest.’
‘Jimmy adores him,’ I said. ‘We must do something, and soon. But what?’
‘Are you really certain that saving the hut is the best thing to do?’ Kit asked. ‘Would he actually be better off in a council house, like they say?’
‘Honestly, it’s not as though I haven’t wondered that too. But I’ve seen how Eli loves the place. That glade, the trees, the birds. And he said he’d only leave if they were carrying him out in his coffin. And I believe he’s serious. I’m afraid that if they force him to move, he might just wither away and die.’
‘Blimey.’
‘So don’t you see? We have to do something.’
Kit went silent for a few moments. ‘Look, I think it’s brilliant that you want to help the old boy,’ he said. ‘And whatever you decide to do, you can count on me.’
I could have kissed him there and then, but something held me back, and then the moment had passed. Kit stood up and began to pace the ground in front of me. Suddenly he said, ‘We need a demonstration. What about a parade, with white horses and banners?’
‘Where are we going to get white horses?’ I said, starting to enjoy myself. Somehow, when Kit was around, I couldn’t help it.
‘And a brass band.’
‘We’ll chant, “Down with Blackman”.’
‘Give the bastard Blackman a black eye.’
‘The evil Blackness.’
He held his fingers in a cross, as though warding off the devil: ‘The curse of the Blackness.’
Turning him into a figure of fun gave me courage. We were still laughing when Jimmy appeared, calling us in for tea. ‘I’m hungry,’ he insisted, pulling at my arm. ‘Come on.’
‘Just a few more minutes,’ I said. ‘Come and sit down.’
I sat on a gravestone. Kit took one opposite and Jimmy sat down next to him. ‘Good lad,’ Kit said.
‘But seriously, what can we do? Any other ideas?’ I said.
‘A petition might be less controversial.’
‘But would people want to sign it? That’s the problem.’ I told him about the conversation I’d overheard in the church about people not wanting to get on the wrong side of Mr Blackman.
‘The very fact of starting a petition would rattle him, surely? And even if we didn’t get many signatures, it would at least be a way of telling the village about Eli’s plight. Even if they won’t give their names, they can put a mark, with “Signature withheld” or some such official words. Like: We, the undersigned, wish to state that . . .’ Kit dried up. ‘We object to the plan to move Mr Eli – what on earth is his surname?’
‘Chadwick. Anyway, there’s only one Eli in the village. Everyone will know who we’re talking about.’
‘Object to plans to move Eli Chadwick from his shepherd’s hut . . . that he’s lived in for ten years – to a council house, against his wishes . . .’
‘. . . threatening the future of the precious village woodland,’ I added.
‘What do you think, Jimmy? If we make a petition, you can help me persuade everyone else to sign it. Will you do that?’ Jimmy’s eager nod helped me decide. At least we’d be doing something.
‘There’s my boy,’ Kit said, ruffling his hair. My brother’s face lit up with the most beautiful smile. He loved Kit as much as I did.
Kit was as good as his word. The very next afternoon he came to the vicarage with a bag containing a clipboard – stolen from his father’s office, he said with a cheeky grin – and several sheets of lined paper. We drew up columns, finalised the wording, and set out to knock on doors.
We met a mixed reception and lots of difficult questions: who owned the land, why was the church so keen to get rid of Eli’s hut, what was the church going to do with the land anyway, and why didn’t I get my father do something about it? He was the vicar after all, they pointed out, not unreasonably. When I explained that it was a committee decision, instigated by Mr Blackman, who was in charge of church financial matters, their countenance changed.
Although they were concerned that Eli might be moved against his will, would it not be better for him in the long run? ‘If only he could be persuaded it’s for the best,’ they said.
‘But the hut is his home, and he’s been there ten years,’ I tried to explain. ‘He doesn’t care about the inconvenience. He loves the woods and the birds. Why can’t he live the rest of his life in the place he loves?’
Jimmy always tried to chip in, too, not always successfully. ‘Eli my friend.’
By six o’clock that evening our optimism was fading. We’d been to fifteen houses and had no signatures at all. It was quite clear: people were afraid of standing up to the Blackness. Half an hour later I’d all but given up, and anyway Kit said it was time to head home for supper.
‘Whatever can we do now?’ I said, miserably.
‘Come to the Hall tomorrow morning. Ma will be out, so we can talk. Bring Jimmy.’
Of course, the news reached Blackman. Soon after supper the doorbell rang and he was on our doorstep. I showed him into Pa’s study and lurked outside the door, trying to overhear what was being said. Before long, I was summoned.
Both men were still on their feet. My father’s normally pale face seemed to have taken on a tinge of puce.
‘Henry here has been telling me about the petition you’ve been circulating,’ he began, ‘about the plan to find Eli a council house. This is confidential church business, for goodness’ sake. Why didn’t you ask me first, Molly?’
‘Because you would have stopped us,’ I said, wishing Kit was with me, and cursing myself for not being better prepared for this moment. Here was my big opportunity to tell Blackman the truth, but somehow the words wouldn’t come. Pa sighed and sat down heavily on his desk chair.
Blackman filled the silence. ‘I understand that you and Christopher Waddington have been fomenting unrest in the village.’ What a pompous idiot; we were hardly starting a revolution. ‘I think I have the right to see this so-called petition, if you don’t mind.’
Actually I did mind, and wasn’t about to admit that we’d failed to gather a single signature. ‘When it is complete,’ I said, feeling braver by the minute. Kit would have been proud of me. ‘You will of course see it, when we have spoken to everyone in the village.’
There was a knock on the door. Pa ignored it. The knock came again.
‘What is it?’ he said, irritably.
The door opened and Jimmy walked in, bold as brass, without waiting for permission. ‘Want to help Eli. My friend,’ he said simply, without a single stutter. Pa stood there, astonished, and seeing my brother being so bold and determined only galvanised me further.
‘We both think that trying to make Eli move out of his hut is unfair and wrong. He’s been there ten years and, more to the point, he loves it there. He doesn’t want to go into a council house, and he would be miserable without the trees, his birds, his woods.’
I stared right at Blackman, but he seemed unable or unwilling to meet my gaze. His eyes strayed to the floor, out of the window or at Pa, as though he didn’t want to accept
that what I was saying was the truth.
Even when he addressed me directly, he seemed to be looking somewhere to the side of my face. ‘Your passion is laudable, Miss Goddard, but I’m afraid we cannot escape the fact that, as a community, we have a responsibility to look after elderly frail people like Mr Chadwick. This is precisely why we have petitioned the council over several years to build ten council homes in the village, for deserving people like him.’
‘What if Eli doesn’t want to leave?’ I continued to glare, daring him to meet my eyes. He was a bully and a coward, and I felt suddenly powerful, facing him square-on with my arms folded in front of my chest.
‘Then I am afraid that the other matter – the legal issue concerning the lack of any formal lease for the hut – will come into play,’ he said, looking at my father. Pa’s eyes were lowered; he seemed determined not to take sides.
‘And you will evict him by force? Don’t imagine he will go quietly.’
Blackman hesitated for a fraction of a second. ‘We are sure it will never come to that, Miss Goddard. When Mr Chadwick sees the wonderful facilities he is being offered, he will see his old hut in a different light.’
‘He has made it perfectly plain that he will never leave his hut of his own free will,’ I said. ‘You’ll have to carry him out in his coffin, he says.’
Jimmy now began to shout, ‘No, no, no, NO!’ I turned to him to tell him to stop, but his eyes were closed and his hands over his ears. His cheeks burned bright red and he was well on his way to a fully-fledged tantrum. I needed to calm him down. Mother had always drummed into us that, because he had a fragile heart, he must not be allowed to get upset.
‘Take him for a walk in the garden, Molly,’ I heard Pa saying, over Jimmy’s shouts. ‘I will be with you shortly.’
As we walked in the cool of the evening, with the sky turning a luminous azure and the stars just beginning to appear, Jimmy’s breathing slowed and his face returned to normal. The mosquitoes had largely disappeared – apparently the countryside was so dry they had nowhere to breed – and it was the only place where you could hope to find fresh air.
‘We’re going to stop him somehow, don’t you worry.’ I tried to sound confident even though, inside, I felt quite terrified by the storm we had unleashed. Soon afterwards Pa came out too.
‘I’m sorry, Pa,’ I started. ‘But we had to do something to help Eli.’
‘I know how much this issue upsets you, and Jimmy. But it is absolutely the wrong time for me to take a stand. The diocese is launching formal investigations into the missing money, starting next week.’
My stomach lurched. ‘Oh, Pa, that’s terrible.’
‘So you’ll understand that I have to be very careful until that’s been cleared up.’ He took a last draw on his cigarette and stubbed it out against the wall. ‘Now listen. This is deadly serious. I want you to back off from this business with Eli’s hut.’ I was about to interrupt, but he held up a hand. ‘Let me finish. I need to concentrate on sorting out the church finances, before anything else. And while that is still under investigation, I simply cannot afford to offend Mr Blackman – or anyone. I’m going to need all the support I can get.’
That night the village seemed to be holding its breath. In the distance we heard the first rumblings of thunder and a few flashes of lightning lit up the sky, but the rain never arrived and the heat felt even more oppressive than before.
18
Next morning was overcast and not a single hint of a breeze tickled the leaves of the trees as Jimmy and I walked down the lane to the Hall. The air seemed weighed down with humidity, and we were soon perspiring from the simple effort of walking downhill. But when we arrived, Kit was bounding with an almost manic energy, so that he could barely keep still, and was grinning from ear to ear.
‘Come in, come in,’ he said. ‘Ma’s out, and I’ve got a treat for Jimmy.’
‘The Blackness – he came last night and threatened me about the petition,’ I whispered as he led us along a corridor.
‘Shh. Let’s not spoil Jimmy’s surprise. We’ll have time later.’ He winked conspiratorially, and my heart did a somersault. ‘I’ve got an idea.’
He took us into a back room filled with boots and raincoats and six terrifying-looking rifles on a wall rack.
‘That’s enough to equip a small army,’ I gasped.
‘My uncle was a maniac,’ he said, laughing. ‘Liked to shoot anything that moved. My father’s not interested, so these days they just breed pheasants for other people to shoot. It’s a profitable business.’ He scrabbled under a bench and pulled out an old cardboard box. ‘Now, Jim-lad. Take a look at this lot.’
It took a moment to work out that this jumble of red and black fabric was a child’s pirate costume, including a tricorne hat with a skull and crossbones embroidered on it, a toy sword with a scabbard and strap, and even a moth-eaten woolly parrot that you could attach to the strap so that it seemed to sit on your shoulder.
‘You said you wanted to be pirates, Molly.’
‘Said nothing of the sort,’ I protested, embarrassed. Did he think I was that childish?
‘Okay, so you can be Peter Pan.’
‘What’s got into you?’ I said, feeling uncomfortable.
He shrugged. ‘I found this lot in a cupboard and thought Jimmy might like it.’ I was still hesitant, but Kit was not to be dissuaded. ‘Look, I know you’re worried about Eli, but we can talk later. Let’s have a bit of fun as well.’
So we dressed my brother in the costume and tied red kerchiefs around our own heads. When we looked at ourselves in the mirror, Jimmy laughed so much that he went red in the face, and his clear enjoyment was somehow infectious. I began to loosen up, too.
‘Yo-ho-ho, me hearties,’ Kit shouted as we ran to the boathouse – Jimmy holding on to his hat and the parrot with both hands. ‘I’ll take Captain Hook here with me in the Mary Jane, though of course she’s the Jolly Roger today,’ Kit said. ‘You take Robin and try to find us. You’ll have to wait ten minutes to give us a head-start, though, cos this old thing’s so slow.’
He put a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. ‘Come with me, Cap’n. Let’s weigh anchor and hoist the mainsail.’ As they rowed away, Jimmy waved his sword and, noisily encouraged by Kit, approximated shouts of ‘Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum’ over and over again.
It was obvious that they were heading for Pirate’s Lair, and after five minutes I climbed into Robin and began rowing in that direction. Sure enough they had already landed, and I pulled up Robin and pretended to corner them. Kit and I had a sword fight with sticks, with Jimmy excitedly shouting encouragement from the sidelines, before Kit surrendered and we all fell to the ground in a heap, laughing uproariously. I was exhausted, hot and sweaty, but hadn’t had so much fun in years.
Once we’d recovered, Kit sent Jimmy searching for the treasure he swore he’d buried on the island some years before. ‘Look for the pile of pebbles,’ he said. ‘It’ll be under that.’
‘Really?’ I asked. ‘Is that true? I hope you’re not teasing him.’
‘Yes, really. I buried some old bits of jewellery my mother gave me in a cigar box, and marked it with stones. That was a few years ago, but I expect it’s still there somewhere.’
With Jimmy gone, we were alone, sitting side-by-side on the rickety old landing stage, our feet dangling in the water. It was so hot that even the birds seemed to have taken cover: not a single coot, moorhen or duck was to be seen, and there was no song from the trees. Willow fluff floated, barely moving, on the air. Insects skimmed across the surface of the water below us; the ghostly forms of tiny minnows approached our toes and disappeared in an instant with the slightest twitch.
We sat in complete silence for a few minutes. Kit’s fingers rested on the boards beside me, and my fingers itched to creep forward and touch them. At any second, I felt certain, he would turn his face, his dark eyes would meet mine in a soulful gaze and he would kiss me.
What he said was
: ‘So, tell me about the Blackness.’
I wanted to forget about the whole wretched affair and just enjoy this perfect, idyllic moment with the boy I loved.
‘Molly?’
I pulled myself together, took a breath and began to tell him about Blackman’s visit and Pa asking us to drop the whole thing, although I didn’t explain why. The issue of the missing money was too terrifying – as though putting it into words might be implicitly accepting that Pa had some guilty part in it. ‘There’s no smoke without fire,’ I’d heard Mrs D say once about something else, which I understood to mean that however innocent someone is, people will associate them with the problem. Deep down, I was really beginning to wonder whether Pa would ever be able to clear his name.
‘So that’s it then. We simply give up on saving Eli’s hut?’ Kit said.
‘I don’t know. I feel awful about Pa, but I don’t want to let Eli down, either.’
Just then we heard Jimmy crashing through the undergrowth towards us, panting as though he’d run a mile, even though the whole island was less than a hundred yards long, and holding out empty hands.
‘No treasure?’ I asked.
‘You haven’t looked hard enough,’ Kit said.
‘Have so.’
‘Go and look some more, Jimmy,’ I said. ‘We’re having a talk, Kit and me.’
He put on a sulky face.
‘Then sit down and catch your breath for a few seconds, Jim-boy, and we’ll come and help,’ Kit said. ‘But I have to finish talking to your sister, first. Understand?’
Jimmy sat down on the landing stage to the other side of Kit and looked up at him like an adoring younger brother. He’d do anything Kit asked him, I thought, rebelliously. If only we could tell him to row away and leave us alone.
‘Okay, so what about this for an idea?’ Kit said. ‘You told me Eli talked about chaining himself to the hut?’
I nodded, wondering where this was going.
‘That’s what the suffragettes did – chaining themselves to the railings of Parliament when they were campaigning to get the vote for women. So why don’t we suggest that we join Eli, by chaining ourselves up too? If he doesn’t want to, we’ll do it without him.’