“Pretty shrewd, Amelia. But we only have four tickets. Lorraine makes five.”
“No, there’s more. Molly can’t get a sitter for the boys and Nigel said he’d do it so that Molly won’t miss out. Now, you know that both your mum and mine won’t like that. They want him there to keep an eye on us. I’m told these things can get really rough. So, I’ll babysit and leave the way clear for you.” Amelia held her breath, waiting to see if it had worked.
Rayn didn’t speak immediately. She was sniffing and using the back of her hand to try and stop her nose from running.
“Amelia, that’s brilliant,” she said at last. Amelia breathed again. “That’s the most well thought-out load of battery operated turdles eggs I’ve ever heard. And I’m good at it. I know you’re lying, but what about?”
Rayn’s voice was so penetrating that Amelia’s resolve crumbled. “Oh Rayn, I really don’t want to go to that concert,” she confessed, “and I don’t want to disappoint you either. I’m sorry.” She stood and waited for the expected eruption. To her complete surprise Rayn just started laughing.
“Oh, I know that,” she answered. “I’ve known that since I saw the tickets.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Amelia demanded, feeling a little humiliated.
“I just wanted to see how you’d get out of it,” she said, still laughing. “I must admit, I was worried that you wouldn’t make it. That would have given me the problem of telling you.”
“Rayn! That’s horrible. It’s a wonder you’re not on the front cover of Bitch Weekly. I hate you,” said Amelia, trying to retrieve some shred of dignity.
Rayn was curled up. “Amelia, could you really see yourself with purple hair, black lipstick and a mini skirt? I couldn’t do that to you, I like you too much. Anyway, your plan may be just what we need. It’s quite elaborate, but it’s spawned a few good ideas. Even if we can’t get Lorraine off the hook, Nigel still has to go, so you can still get out of it.”
“Thanks Rayn,” said Amelia, smiling.
“Talking of Nigel,” continued Rayn, “we’d better get a move on. I must see your mum, do the shopping and get back and get changed.”
“But I still need a good excuse not to go to that concert. We don’t want anyone even thinking that some things going on,” said Amelia.
Lucy was appalled at Rayn’s conclusion on the water meadows pollution and the news of the reservoir. “I’d heard that the moor at Grabsum was to be developed into industrial and housing estates, but I didn’t think anything of it. There may be something in it after all. But why pollute the water meadows?”
“Can’t the wildlife people do something?” protested Rayn.
“Not really.” Replied Lucy. “Once it’s done all they can do is levy fines and make noises. It’s too late by then, the damage is done.”
She showed Rayn how to collect an uncontaminated sample of the water and, although she didn’t have the facilities to analyse it, she knew someone who could help.
Probably George again, thought Rayn as she hurried home huddled against the cold wind. She looked around. There were a couple of wood pigeons but no magpies or crows. A flock of starlings in the distance, but that was all. She was thoroughly depressed, and even the thought of her Mum’s roast duck couldn’t change her mood. However, the thought of telling Nigel about the concert had cheered her a little. Along with the aroma of roast duck in herbs and spices her mother was creating, it had, all in all, put a new complexion on the day.
She was curious about her mother’s cheery mood. She rarely if ever sung, especially while she cooked, and her request not to be late for dinner was unusual and she was greatly intrigued. She knew she hadn’t forgotten her mum’s birthday and they didn’t go in for national celebrations. So what the devil could it be? She wondered.
***
Amelia had turned the heating on in the gym earlier and their workout was going well. Nigel was impressed with their progress in all aspects; especially, he said, in controlled aggression.
There then came a point that Amelia had been expecting. After an unarmed combat session, Rayn paused and looked at Amelia.
“I’ve got to box,” she said. It was a flat statement of intent, flavoured with resentment over the pollution of the water meadows. Nigel looked at Amelia with a frown and she gave him a nod. “It’s okay Nigel, I’ll take her on.” He checked their gloves and head-guards, made sure they were wearing gum shields and gave them the all clear.
Rayn came at Amelia as if she were possessed. Her skills and control had improved, but she pushed so hard and fast that Amelia had to back pedal, rolling and blocking to stay on her feet.
Nigel gave a warning shout. “Stop. Now! I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but if you want to work something out, that’s up to you. I’m the referee and you do as I say. This is boxing and there are rules. You will obey them, and me. Don’t make me treat you like children.” Both girls were shocked at this sudden outburst and once again they were reminded who was in charge.
As they started again, Rayn was much more in control of herself. The wildness was gone, she made good use of her new skills and they boxed well.
They’d gone several rounds when Amelia, in a flash of inspiration, saw an answer to her problem As Rayn feinted with a left; Amelia rolled her face straight into her right as it came across at full power. Her gum shield flew out and she felt her lips split and the taste of blood. Having rolled to take out some of the impact, she went down anyway, and there was her excuse. She wasn’t going to that concert with a fat lip. If it wasn’t so painful she would have been quite proud of herself.
As she hit the canvass she thought Well, it’s better than slitting my wrists and not so permanent.
Nigel left to see if George was in, while Rayn helped a bleeding Amelia to her feet. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’ll still be a mess by the weekend.”
“How did you know?” mumbled Amelia, with difficulty.
“Hey, you walked right into it. That’s not your style. I’m still going to claim it as a win, though,” she laughed.
“Oh giss a greak. It ‘urts ’en I laugh,” managed Amelia, spitting blood into the sink.
George arrived with a towel and an ice pack. “Let’s have a look then,” he said. “Just hold the ice pack in place. It’s not too bad. You’d better go and clean yourself up, you’ve got some blood on Nigel’s mats.”
Amelia looked at Rayn. An unspoken question.
“Don’t worry,” Rayn said, “I’ll be fine. I can manage.”
“You sure?” she said through the ice pack.
“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be in shortly.” and Amelia stumbled out, trying not to over-act.
“And what was that little charade all about, then?” George asked as Rayn pulled off her gloves and head guard.
“It’s simple, George. I’m getting faster. Hey Nigel,” she called, turning to face him. He was looking puzzled at the recent events. “It looks like your luck’s in.”
“Huh?” said Nigel, avoiding George’s eyes. “How do you mean?”
“She won’t want to go on Saturday looking like that. Perhaps she’ll babysit for you and Molly, then you can go as well.” If it hadn’t been for George’s eyes boring into her, she would be enjoying herself.
“What?” said an excited Nigel, “you think she would after that?”
“Why not? A fortunate accident, I’d say.” She acknowledged the light nod George gave her as the explanation dawned on him, he knew exactly how good Amelia was. “Nigel, you’d better go and tell Molly, she’ll be over the moon.”
“Yes. I’ll see you later. Could you lock up please – and tell Amelia to clean that blood up,” he called back as he flew out the door.
“And what was that charade all about?” George asked her with a grin.
“We were just being nice to a couple of good friends. Why?”
“Oh, nothing. I just wondered,” he replied.
“There is one t
hing George, while we’re here.” Rayn was feeling very nervous. This was Amelia’s field and she felt clumsy and inadequate, but something told her this was the right time.
“And what’s that?” he asked.
Trying to talk and hold her breath at the same time she plunged in. “We saw a film at school about the battle of Agincourt. It was really a documentary about the development of the long bow. Anyway, we went down to the archery club afterwards and it was fun. We thought it would be nice to learn how to make one and fire it.” Rayn stopped for a breath, her heart thumping.
“Shoot. You fire a gun, you shoot, or ‘loose’ an arrow,” was his only comment. “That’s an expensive hobby, you know.”
Rayn decided to really push her luck. The conspiracy theory was beginning to look like a fantasy again and she was losing her nerve. “Oh, I don’t know George,” she continued as calmly as she could. She indicated the gymnasium equipment and stepped into the abyss. “This looks a bit more than a hobby, don’t you think? This looks like it has some purpose to me.” She was trying not to show any fear. Plead your innocence, she told herself. Come on, get that Oscar. “So what do you think?” she asked him.
“You realise it’s a whole new set of skills. Not so much this fast and furious stuff you’ve been doing?” he reminded her. “But if you want to, I’ll see what I can do. I can’t promise though.”
“Oh I’m sure you can manage,” she said, her confidence returning. “and does Nigel do knife-throwing, by any chance?” she added, making it sound like an afterthought.
“What? You want to do that as well?” he asked her.
“Why not?” she said. “It’s more me, don’t you think? I’m already pretty good at it.”
“I’ll see what Nigel thinks. Actually, he’s very good at it, but it’s up to him really,” he responded,”
Rayn detected his first direct lie and felt good about herself. She gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, partly to remind him that she was, after all, just a harmless child.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” George asked her. “Any other problems you want sorting out while we’re here?” It wasn’t sarcasm, more resignation. Amelia’s honorary Granddad looked old and tired.
“There is one thing, as you ask. But it’s more of a personal situation. I doubt you can help with this one.” Rayn sounded off-hand, hoping he would catch the throwaway remark. He pushed his hands into his boiler suit pockets, rocked back on his heels and took the bait.
“Why don’t you try me?” he said, smiling.
Rayn hesitated. This was the big one. She had to get it right. He wasn’t stupid and would most likely figure out what she and Amelia were up to, and that the underlying implications were more important than the results.
“Molly’s friend, Lorraine, wants to go to the concert but she’s working up at the Hall on the weekend. Now we have a spare ticket, it would be a great chance for me to get to know her better. I don’t suppose you know anyone up there who could help?”
“Hey, I just do a few odd jobs for them. I don’t actually know anybody,” said George. He was quite adamant. But the lie was there, like a beacon in Rayn’s mind. Got you, she thought.
“Oh really? Amelia and I were quite sure that you did,” she replied pleasantly. “Never mind, thanks anyway. It was just an idea.”
George felt as if he’d been asked to raise the lid on Dracula’s coffin before sunset. This isn’t due for another two or three years. How did they get so far ahead of the programme? “Well,” he said, slowly. “I might know someone. I’ll see what I can do.”
He was staring straight at her. Rayn was trying to keep her eyes expressionless. His, on the other hand, bored into her like diamond drill bits, trying to see beneath this childish facade. This wouldn’t be interference, he was thinking, it was a specific request.
“I’ve got to go,” she said quickly. She’d been a long way out on that limb and she needed to steady herself for the climb back. “Thanks for everything George. I have to lock up now.”
Rayn jogged in the dark down Millers Lane, her head down against the cold wind. She was deep in thought about how proud Amelia would be of her, and of the apology she was planning for forcing her friend into taking such drastic action to avoid the concert. She didn’t see the dark blue car parked by the iron bridge until she collided with it. She wasn’t hurt, more shocked than anything. That’s weird, she thought, no one lives out here. Running her hand across the bonnet told her that the car had been there for some time. It was cold. So, she took stock. This car has been here for quite a while, next to an isolated campsite where my mother is. And she’s alone.
Alarmed and on full alert she moved swiftly and silently along the path. The dogs looked up but didn’t bark as she made her way to the foot of the steps and listened for any sound. Her heart was pounding and her body tense, ready for action. Hearing a man’s voice in a muffled, heavy accent she feared the worst and coiled her body for attack. At that very moment she heard her mother laughing. What the devil’s going on? She wondered, and immediately became embarrassed at the thought of what might indeed be going on. As she moved back down the path, the rich aroma of roast duck wafted through the trees, which accounted for the dogs’ silence. It was dinnertime and her mother had specifically told her not to be late. She walked back to the caravan and called out. “I’m home, Mum. Hope I’m not late.”
Chapter Eighteen
Amelia woke, feeling awful. Her lips and jaw were painful to the touch and her clock leered at her gleefully. She went downstairs and made tea for her mum and coffee for herself. Sitting on the side of the bed, Lucy sipped and sighed while Amelia sipped and winced waiting for the cobwebs to disintegrate.
Eventually Lucy spoke. “Are you still wearing that old tracksuit? Don’t you like your new one?”
“Mum,” Amelia smiled. “If I wore that one it would hurt your eyes. It’s too bright for indoors.”
“I know, my love,” said her mother. “I’m sorry, but I feel much safer when you’re out jogging on the roads, especially in the mornings when all the drivers are still half asleep.”
“I know, Mum,” she answered. “That’s why I shall still wear it. But only outside!”
“It’s a deal,” Lucy grinned. “At least you can brighten up the village.” They both laughed.
“So, what are you up to today?” Lucy asked her daughter.
“Not too much,” replied Amelia. “I’m meeting up with Rayn and Nigel later for a run. Then we’re going to…” she was going to say ‘discuss knife throwing and archery’ but thought better of it. It might be wiser to spare her mother the extra worry. “Er, sorting out the gym. It needs a good clean-up.”
“Oh?” said Lucy, surprised. “Getting domesticated are we? I know another place that needs a good clean-up, but I did promise not to interfere.” She grinned broadly at a disgruntled Amelia.
“Oh Mum, It’ll get done some time.”
“Oh yes,” said her mother. “That’s what they said about raising the Titanic. I wonder why I don’t believe you.”
“Ow! Ouch! Don’t make me laugh,” she wailed as she held her mouth. “Just remember who’s doing your physio.”
“Doesn’t Molly jog with you now? I thought she was into all this stuff. I must admit she’s looking pretty trim lately.”
Amelia explained. “No. Timing’s all wrong. She has Zac and Miles in the mornings, and again when we’re in the gym or running after school. It would cost her a fortune for a sitter for those hours.”
“What about taking the twins to the gym with her?” asked Lucy.
“We wouldn’t get much done with those two around, would we?” answered Amelia.
“I don’t know,” pondered her mum. “Perhaps you could fix up a climbing frame or something? Get them some kiddie boxing gloves, maybe? I’m sure they would enjoy it.”
“You know, you might have an idea there,” said Amelia. “I’ll have a chat to Nigel and Molly about it. See if it�
�s possible.”
“Just make sure you tell them it was my idea, then. Let them know I’m not just a pretty face. Oh, sorry,” she added as she looked at Amelia’s swollen mouth.
Amelia wailed again as they both burst into laughter. She gave her mother a hug and they hung on longer than usual, almost desperate not to let go.
Amelia had noticed a subtle change in their relationship. They had always promised each other ‘no secrets’. But now she knew her whole life had been a deception she felt that some of the warmth and trust had diminished and wasn’t sure how to deal with it.
I have to tell her soon, Lucy was thinking. But how and when? “Amelia, I love you so much,” she whispered into her daughter’s ear. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, Mum, I know,” she replied, and gave her mum an extra squeeze. In an attempt to lighten the mood, she tried to change the subject. “Have you anything planned for New Year’s Eve? I’ll be at Molly’s with the twins.”
“Not a lot,” said Lucy. “Just Bridie. She’s staying over, and George as usual. It’ll be nice and quiet. Some wine and a few nibbles will see us through. I’ll miss you, but then, time trudges on.”
“Leaving the past to figure out where the hell it’s going,” Amelia finished, and turned to leave the room so that her mother wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes.
Molly and the boys turned up to thank Amelia for babysitting. She was a bit subdued when she saw Amelia’s face and did a bad job of looking sorry while feeling a little pleased at the sight of both the top and bottom lips of Amelia’s face swollen to twice their normal size and purple. The boys were told off for laughing, but Amelia said it was okay. Not for the first time did Molly’s cheerful banter become a strain for her.
Amelia eased her embarrassment by pretending it hurt more than it did and slipped out the door. She met up with Nigel on the village green and they jogged down to the water meadows to pick up Rayn. They found her sitting on the caravan steps, half asleep.
“Hi trouble,” called Amelia. “What’s up with you today?”
“Rayn’s not in at the moment.” The answer came back in a quiet, hoarse voice in the low register. “Please leave a message and she’ll get back to you.”
The Chrysalid Conspiracy Page 26