King cut him off. ‘I played the game his way. I deliberately lost the race and for one glorious moment I had something far better. But No! Thirty bloody seconds! That’s all I got! And then it was Ralf this and Ralf that! I had to spend that whole afternoon listening to how Ralf is the very embodiment of the school spirit...Having that out-dated claptrap about team work, community spirit and the good of the whole rammed down my throat!’
‘But it’s true, Julian! You must see that!’
‘Oh, what?’ King sneered, then clutched a hand over his heart and turned his eyes skywards. ‘We few, we happy few, we band of brothers!’’ He let his hand fall and leaned down so his face was inches from Ralf’s. ‘Father dines out on that medieval bilge, but you believing it? Really? How do you think that works in real life? It hasn’t done me any favours! Well not anymore! From now on it’ll be a practical gain every time. I’m all out to win.’ King’s face contorted. He stabbed a finger at Ralf, spitting his anger and frustration. ‘I am better than you. I will beat you. I will show you both!’
‘You’re so bitter!’ Ralf exclaimed helplessly.
‘And you’re so naive!’ King dug his heels in and the skittish horse turned, its rump bashing in to Ralf, making him stagger. The horse sped off across the meadow and King’s parting words were brought to Ralf on the wind. ‘Grow up!’
Ralf hardly slept at all that night. The clocks boomed at him. Winters, King and the King’s Hadow War Memorial were large in his mind. He heard Hilda come in at around two o’clock and the dawn found him reading in bed, trying to vanquish the shadows and banish his dark thoughts. The pale morning sunshine, which crosshatched his room, did more to comfort him in a minute than the pages of his adventure story had done in three hours.
At seven o’clock, he threw on his uniform and then went to repack his satchel ready for the day’s lessons. In amongst his books from the previous day he found a stack of lined paper, some envelopes and a copy of The Daily Telegraph. He was confused for a second until he saw the completed crossword on the last page. He must have accidentally taken it from Winters’ desk as he picked up his things. He scanned over the clues – which looked incredibly difficult – but the answers were all there. A note underneath the crossword caught his eye:
Did you complete this puzzle in less than twelve minutes? If so, you may be eligible for entry into our competition. Spectacular prizes to be won. Please complete your details below and return.
Acting on impulse, Ralf picked up a pen and wrote in Winters’ name and the school address, detached the crossword from the rest of the paper and stuffed the whole lot in one of the envelopes. He’d post it on his way to school. You never knew, Winters might win the prize. It was a small thing but it may give him a boost. Satisfied, Ralf gathered up the rest of his books, shoved his marble bag in his blazer pocket and went downstairs.
He got to school late and went straight to History to find Weedy Green, frowning in concentration over a newspaper at Winters’ desk.
‘Where’s Winters?’ he asked Seth, as he slid into the desk beside him.
‘He had a bad night. Shaking so badly this morning he couldn’t drink his tea,’ said Seth. ‘I wanted to stay with him but he made me come in.’
Weedy Green folded up his copy of The Times and called the class to order.
‘Good morning, boys!’ he beamed. ‘Can’t seem to get in to the stock cupboard. If someone could just start by telling me where Winters keeps his keys?’
Tank Tatchell jumped to his feet. ‘I’ll get them for you, sir,’ he volunteered with uncharacteristic helpfulness. He elbowed Alloway in the ribs. ‘Just tell us what you need and we’ll bring it all out for you.’ Ralf frowned. Tank’s colour as he listened to the Chaplain’s instructions was a smouldering flame of gold round his thick body.
‘Excellent!’ Weedy gushed. ‘Right. Let’s crack on, shall we?’
Seth raised his eyes heavenwards.
The Chaplain was a nice enough little man but he had the merry face and wistful eyes of the terminally ineffectual. Ralf let his droning voice fade in to the background and stared out of the window. Spring sunshine glistened on the clock tower and for the first time in months the sky was a clear, bright blue. After such a long hard winter, now that Spring had finally arrived, it was hard to believe that they stood so close to a night that might last forever. Ralf could feel it though. The sun outside was warm, but it wasn’t strong enough to touch the chill in his bones.
When he moored The Sara Luz later that evening, the feeling of lurking dread was still with him. His catch had again been poor and seeing Valen waving frantically from the quay with a look of desperation on her face, and a colour that pulsed from angry red to deep claret, confirmed his darker fears.
Valen caught his guide rope and jumped aboard. ‘Cripes!’ Valen exclaimed at his swollen eye. ‘That still looks terrible.’
‘Never mind me,’ Ralf said. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Three more Falls! Not even counting the ones on the run,’ said Valen. ‘Three! Just down the road from my window! A ninth century tinker, a group of Elizabethan huntsmen and a very confused Highwayman.’ She shook her head, sighing. ‘Ambrose must be knackered!’
Ralf sighed. ‘I know I can’t, but I’d really like to tell Winters the whole story. You’re not crazy, sir. At least no more than everyone else…’
He boxed up his catch and they did a sketchy job of swabbing the deck while he filled her in on what had happened with Tank, Winters and the white feather.
‘That’s dreadful,’ she said, ‘but I’m not surprised. You don’t see it as much as I do. People have changed. Ever since we gave up looking for Charles Hart it’s as if there’s no hope and there’s a – oh, I can’t find the right word for it – a nastiness here. You’re on the edge but I’m right here in the village and it’s horrible.’
Ralf did understand. Everything he’d once depended on as safe and solid, Winters for example, was crumbling. It was starting. This was the Fear about which Ambrose had spoken and, like the nightmares, it would get worse before it got better.
‘Remember how things felt just after Hallowe’en when people were locking their doors and hardly talking?’ Valen said
He nodded.
‘It’s like that,’ said Valen. ‘Only worse somehow. People are jittery and bad tempered.’ She lowered her voice. ‘And everyone’s really foul about the new evacuees. Saying they’re smelly and full of disease. Treating them like animals.’
‘I know’ said Ralf, ‘Frank Duke’s all for putting them on the next train back. Like it’s their fault there’s a war on. Like it’s their fault they were born in the slums!’
Valen shook her head ‘This was such a lovely place when we came but now…’
‘It’s far darker,’ interrupted Leo, stepping aboard. ‘You know how sometimes when you meet someone for the first time you get a feeling. An, ‘I wouldn’t trust that person with a bargepole feeling’. I’m getting that a lot at the moment. And not only with people I’ve just met either.’
He looked at Valen and then at Ralf questioningly touching his own eye but Ralf shook his head and discretely touched his lips in a ‘don’t say anything yet’ motion
‘I know exactly what you mean’, said Val. There was a catch in her voice that Ralf had never heard before. ‘Look at the Hatchers. I mean they’re lovely and everything but – but I think what I mean is, they were lovely. And it’s not just me getting in trouble all the time. They had an argument on Monday, shouting and everything. Wolf, they never argue! And it was over such a little thing. And when Mrs Tomkins was in the shop yesterday… (Have you seen her lately? She was a mess! Hair not done and her dress looked like she’d slept in it!) Well, normally the Hatchers would be all concerned and try to help but they – they laughed at her!’
Ralf was shocked to see Valen’s eyes well up and reached out a hand, which he quickly drew back. Knowing how she’d react if he tried to be nice to her, he changed the subject,
instead.
‘What about Brindle? I know it’s difficult for her to get any nastier but have you seen her?’
‘Oh! That old cow!’ Valen exclaimed, relieved to get back to her normal emotions of angry and very angry. ‘You were right. She definitely had the opportunity to have done any or all of the things that have happened. She was out walking, without her dogs, on Hallowe’en, Grianstad and the night the boats were set adrift. Hettie confirmed it.’
‘So do we think it was her then? All of it?’ Ralf asked.
‘Well it’s difficult. It’s like those vile dolls on Hallowe’en?’ Valen said. ‘Mr Picken says Brindle bought a box of steel dressmaker’s pins a few days before but she does actually sew her own clothes so it’s not proof. I still think it’s her, though.’
Leo frowned, not quite willing to agree. ‘Well, whichever way you look at it, her behaviour is seriously suspicious. But what about the Muntons? Heard from Alfie yet?’
‘He’s on it,’ said Valen. ‘He said you gave him orders?’ She looked to Ralf for confirmation. ‘I said we’d meet on the Green tomorrow.’
‘Good thinking. I’ll tell the others,’ he said.
‘At least there haven’t been any more accidents,’ she said. ‘So far all the Righteous Echoes are still alright...’
‘But they’re not alright, Valen! Winters is having some kind of breakdown! And who’ll be next, eh?’
‘I was trying to be positive,’ she said quietly.
At that moment there came a loud crash and a torrent of curses from aboard The Fisher King. The Arbuckles had just docked and were unloading their catch. It was so unlike any of them to swear that the three ran to The Sara Luz’s prow to see what the fuss was about.
For a second Ralf, was distracted by the spotlight of colour that danced on the jetty. As he’d suspected, the Arbuckles colours were as bright as Winters’. Ron’s was an azure blue and Tom’s a swirling turquoise. Old Bill had one too. Once, Ralf thought, it must have been a deep sea green but it was weak now and faded with age. Leo elbowed him in the ribs and pointed.
Ralf tore his eyes away from the light round the Arbuckles and looked in the direction of Leo’s pointing finger. There, on the quayside, was a splintered crate. No one rushed to pick it up, though, and it lay forgotten where Old Bill had dropped it. Instead, all eyes were on its scattered contents. A startling array of deformed and mutated sea life had spilled out on to the stone flags; anaemic looking fish with shrivelled fins, eyeless shrimp and clawless crabs, two headed mackerel, eels with the stunted vestiges of legs and rays dotted with deep red scabs and weeping sores.
Heedless of where he was, Old Bill dropped to his knees.
‘Lo, though I walk through the valley of death’s dark shadow, I will fear no evil. The Lord is my shepherd and forgive us our trespasses…’
The old man’s mangled prayer continued as the children watched in speechless alarm. Overhead, gulls swooped and dived in a dense, swirling cloud. Their raucous caws drowned his words, their voices harsh and mocking.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The Rise of The Fear
‘Well this is flippin’ weird!’ said Alfie, when they met the following weekend. ‘Where the heck is everyone?’
Ralf, Seth and Leo were with him waiting for Valen to show up. They looked across the deserted Green in disbelief. It was two thirty on a sunny Saturday afternoon. The village should have been alive with noise.
‘They’re all inside with their doors locked,’ said Leo. ‘Everyone’s heard about the bottom dwellers. Hettie thinks they were sent by the Nazis.’
‘Yeah,’ said Alfie. ‘A poisonous invasion army sent to crawl outta the sea at midnight!’ He lurched towards Seth on stiffened limbs to do a jerking zombie-like walk, his colour flashing a bright, leafy green. ‘They drag themselves up the beach like creatures from the Black Lagoon!’
The others grinned but Seth was distracted, cleaning his glasses and squinting into the distance. ‘Is that Valen now?’
‘Hardly!’ Leo laughed. ‘It’s Gloria.’
Ralf turned and gulped. Gloria had a colour too, a bright flame radiated out from her body as she approached. He adjusted his gaze to see it better and was struck dumb by the brilliance of it. Gloria didn’t seem to notice his dazed expression.
‘Darlings!’ she cried, hurrying towards them. ‘So glad I caught up with you. I have news!’ She embraced each of them in turn and then got to the point. ‘Look, I really think you need to think carefully about this whole Echo business,’ she said.
Ralf snapped out of his daze to pull a face at her. ‘We have been!’
Gloria gave him an additional squeeze. ‘Of course you have! It’s only I’ve just heard something that might change your minds about things. Captain Keen, would you believe! He’s only gone and volunteered for France!’
‘France?’ Seth repeated. ‘But I thought his arm wasn’t better yet?’
‘I know,’ said Gloria. ‘I’ve seen him trying to hide it but he’s still in a lot of pain. I feel dreadful about it! If the poem had something about frightfully irritating Echoes then he’d have been top of my list for sure, but I never imagined!’
‘So when does he go?’ Leo asked.
‘I’m not certain. Fairly soon, I’d imagine, but he hasn’t actually told anyone yet. It’s only because I happened to be passing the door while he was on the telephone. I shouldn’t have eavesdropped, I know, but it was awful. Assuring them he was fighting fit when he so obviously isn’t. Telling them he was ready for immediate deployment and he understood the importance of his mission! I really think you should consider him as one of your Righteous sorts don’t you? Honestly, I don’t know whether I want to hug him or box his ears!’
Ralf couldn’t begin to think how Keen would cope with fighting. But the thought sobered him.
‘It must be him,’ said Alfie, begrudgingly. ‘My flabber’s well ghasted! I never thought he had it in ‘im!’
‘Just so,’ said Gloria. ‘Listen, I can’t stay. I just wanted to tell you and give you this.’ She handed Seth a slip of flowered notepaper. ‘A list of all the ghost sightings, since that ghastly blood bath at Christmas. You are still keeping that map, I take it?’
Seth stuffed the paper in his pocket. ‘For all the good it’s doing.’
‘Oh!’ Ralf gasped. Had he imagined it, or had Gloria’s colour faltered at that? ‘I think he’s a lot closer to working this out than he admits.’ He added with enthusiasm he did not feel.
‘That’s more like it!’ she smiled. Ralf squinted and was relieved to see her colour flare bright. ‘How can you fail with the village genius on the case?’ she said, giving Seth a squeeze. Seth flushed and adjusted his glasses. ‘Oh Heavens! Is that the time?’ Gloria cried as the clock struck the quarter. ‘I really must dash. And I was so hoping to see Val!’
‘What’s the hurry?’
‘Didn’t I say?’ Gloria trilled. ‘I’m off again, already. I’ve another meeting with Daddy’s American friend, Ike, but I can’t talk of it, honestly. Mother’s having fits but it can’t be helped. We must all do our bit, mustn’t we? Say typing or filing or some such if anyone should ask... On second thoughts, probably best not to say anything at all. Won’t leave you empty-handed though, have you tried some of this, yet? It’s all the rage! It’s called ‘chewing gum’. It’s the strangest stuff you know. You don’t swallow it; just chew it until the flavour goes. The clue is in the name, I suppose,’ she grinned. ‘Oh, there’s Val! I’ll catch her on my way!’
She gave them all a whirlwind round of hugs, patted Alfie’s tam o' shanter, and was going to peck Ralf on the cheek when she pulled up short.
‘Goodness! What have you done to yourself!’ she cried.
‘I didn’t do anything, actually,’ said Ralf. ‘Your brother’s friends tried to rearrange my face on the run.’
Gloria blanched. ‘That little ratfink! He really is the limit!’
‘Forget it, Gloria. It doesn’t hurt.’
Another round of rib cracking hugs followed, then she was running across the damp grass, waving at Valen who hurried to meet her.
Where was Gloria going really, Ralf wondered. He stood for a minute and watched her farewell to their friend from a distance. The hug Gloria gave her was fierce and almost final. Eventually she released a rather stunned looking Valen and hared off up the pathway. Even though the path was gravel, Ralf noticed, her feet made hardly any sound at all.
‘Seriously, mate, how comes your eyes are different colours now?’ asked Alfie.
‘Let’s wait for Valen...’
Valen Shifted to join them. ‘Relax,’ she said. ‘There’s no one here to notice.’
‘What kept you, anyway?’ Seth asked.
‘I had a hard time getting away,’ she said. ‘The Hatcher’s were funny about me coming out. What’s happening?’
Ralf told them about his meeting with Ambrose.
‘Sorry I didn’t say anything before but the whole thing’s been doing my head in,’ he admitted sheepishly. ‘It was all so quick and he told me a load of new information which I think I was supposed to understand but didn’t.’
‘Ambrose was here!’ Valen breathed. ‘I’d almost given up on him.’
‘The important thing is that he came,’ said Leo.
‘The important thing is that he confirmed what we thought about the Hidden and the Righteous Echoes.’
‘They’re called the Natus, then?’ said Seth. ‘And one, or all, of them helps stop the war?’
‘That’s what he said,’ Ralf confirmed. ‘He said to use our ‘Skills’. He kept going on about colours and keeping an eye out too. I didn’t understand him at the time but I think I do now.’
‘Wolf’s got himself another Power,’ Leo grinned.
‘It’s since the massive clunk I had on the run.’ He pointed to his face. ‘Echo Eye,’ he said.
‘Echo Eye?’ Alfie repeated. ‘Echo Eye?’
‘It’s not just the colour change,’ said Ralf, ignoring the feeble joke. ‘I can now see which people are Echoes.’ As he said it, he knew he was right. ‘Only Echoes have a colour and some of them are much brighter than others. I’m guessing the brightest ones must be the Natus.’
The Turnarounders and the Arbuckle Rescue Page 39