Writing On the Wall

by Lynne Reid Banks

  But the thing that got me most was his body. Must be humping stuff on the building site that gave him those big shoulders. He had lovely round arms too. Specially at the top, the skin over his muscles so smooth and silky I wanted to stroke it. . . . I looked down at my own arm. That looked brown and silky too. I wondered if he wanted to stroke that. I remembered how he’d touched my foot that morning, while I was still asleep, how I’d felt it in my morning dream. . . .

  “Come on, you lot, time to be moving.”

  I didn’t want to move. I wanted to lie there dreaming. But there was no time. We all had to help rolling the tents up.

  While we were busy at it, I noticed something funny. There was Karen rolling up one tent, and Cliff rolling up another. Back to back. I went over to help Karen and we had our heads together, kneeling on the sand, and I muttered in her ear, “What’s up with you two?”

  She shook her head as if a fly was biting her. “Nothing, what you mean?” Dead snarky with it.

  “Why aren’t you rolling with Cliff?”

  “Rolling with Cliff? Rolling with him? I’ve done rolling with that creep, I can tell you that for a start!” she said, loud enough for him to hear.

  “What’s he done now?”

  “None of your business!” she snapped. “And I can do this on my own, thanks very much,” and she turned her back on me too.

  Talk about on again, off again! And at the same time, there’s old stuck-up Con, rolling away with Darryl, cosy as you like, even giggling together a bit. Wonderful what a hot-house and a few birds’ll do. Not that I’d have bet on it to last.

  “Well,” said Darryl, “last time for this time.” He stood up and dusted the sand off himself, looking round at us all. “I don’t know about you lot, but I’m going to do this again soon as I’ve saved some cash.”

  “Soon as you’ve earned it, you mean,” I said.

  “Oh I’ll earn it all right! Don’t worry about that. France for me next time round.” And he looked sideways at Con.

  “Smashing food in France,” she said.

  H’m!

  At eight o’clock we set off, whizzing down the track beside the traffic. Goodbye Holland! I was thinking. Just imagine, by tonight we’d be home, I’d be telling the family all about everything. I felt older. I’d found out more in that week than in a solid year at that stupid school. Must be what they mean about foreign travel broadening the mind. And my body was better too – not broader (I hoped!) but healthier. I was a gorgeous colour (Mary wouldn’t half be jealous!) and I didn’t get leg-ache at all now.

  I was in a good mood, all excited about the boat-trip and getting home, as we turned into the docks at the Hook. Our boat was waiting for us. And suddenly I saw that so was someone else.

  Kev.

  This is going to sound dead stupid, but I’d forgotten all about him. Well, almost. I mean, he’d dropped right into the back of my mind. The front part being full of Michael. When I saw him standing there – Kev I mean – outside the customs shed with his bike, waiting for us, my heart did a flop. Not a flip – a flop, a kind of flabby flop.

  Of course nobody else felt like that, except maybe Michael who was still narked about him leaving me the way he did. The other two boys let out a cheer and zoomed up to him, yelling and teasing. “There’s a lad, then! Where’d you get to, eh? What you been getting up to?” and all that, like he was some kind of folk-hero. Karen was acting all feminine, I noticed – flirting with him to get back at Cliff, I suppose. Even Con gave him a welcome in her way. But he was looking over them all, at me.

  “’Lo, Trace,” he said, a bit sheepish.

  “’Lo.”

  I didn’t want to say too much to him, so I just wheeled my bike into the customs. He came after me, but I kept turned away, and Michael stuck with me so Kev couldn’t talk to me alone. Of course I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep that up, and sure enough, when we got on the boat and everybody scattered, I found myself up on the highest deck with him climbing up the ladder after me. I leaned on the rail looking at the horizon.

  “Are you not speaking to me or something?” he had the cheek to ask.

  “What if I’m not? D’you blame me?”

  “What did I do that was so terrible you had to run off without a bloody dickybird?”

  I turned to him then all right. Turned on him rather.

  “Don’t you know what you did? You call that—” I nearly said “nice” but I remembered what Con said and changed it to—“decent, to piss off like that when I was sleeping and leave me all on my tod half the night in a strange flat?”

  He hung his head. “I thought you’d sleep through till morning,” he said. “You wouldn’t have liked it anyway.”

  “I believe that!” I snapped back. “Disgusting, I’ll bet! But you’d rather see that cheap dirty rubbish than be with me, wouldn’t you, you and your new pals? You know what they were, don’t you – them two? Porn merchants, that’s what. No, not just merchants, they actually give the merchants what to merch!”

  “What you on about, merch? What’s ‘merch’?”

  “Flog, then. Those two take photos of girls with their backsides hanging out of key-holes, on motorbikes—”

  I was getting all mixed up and he was starting to laugh at me. But I wasn’t about to back down.

  “—And talking of flogging,” I said, “did they show you their collection? Mucky sods, that’s what they are! I can just imagine what kind of dirty old men buy the pictures they take – a bunch of rotten sadists!”

  He looked dead sullen now. “I dunno what you’re talking about. They was okay – good blokes. Lot older than us, they didn’t have to take us on, give us a place to kip for free, not to mention—” He stopped, but I’d caught on, or thought I had.

  “Don’t tell me they treated you to the clubs and that as well?”

  “So what?”

  “So where’s your pride? I wouldn’t’ve taken nothing from them, not if I’d known what sort they were! What were they up to, anyhow?”

  “They wasn’t up to nothing! They was just being friendly.”

  “Oh yeah? Must’ve been something behind it. That sort don’t give nothing away.” I noticed he’d gone red. “Oh, so that was it, was it?”

  “What?” he said quickly, looking up at me with his eyes kind of startled (I’m only remembering the details now, looking back. I didn’t take them in at the time, I was too angry).

  “They were on at you to get me to pose for ’em! Wasn’t that it?”

  He seemed to relax, and laughed a bit. “Get away,” he said. “As if I would.”

  “Wouldn’t put it past you,” I mumbled, although I really believed him. He wasn’t that bad, Kev, though I knew now he’d do a good lot if there was money in it.

  “Look, Trace,” he said, all gentle, trying to get round me. “Let’s forget it. I admit I shouldn’t’ve left you. I felt bad all the time; I wanted to come back but it was awkward, I mean with me being their guest and that. And I meant to make it up to you next day, but then you’d gone, hadn’t you. I wish you’d’ve left me a note, I was dead worried about you.”

  “I bet!”

  “I was. Course I was.” And he tried to grab me, but I jerked away. “Can’t we make it up?” he said, blowing down my neck the way I used to go for.

  But I was noticing something. Before, when he’d come this close, I’d been all in a state, but now I wasn’t. Not a bit. I just wanted to get away from him. He turned me right off suddenly. I even rubbed my ear where I’d felt his breath, and when he tried again to put his arm round me I just ran away from him, and practically slid down the ladder like a fireman I was in such a hurry to get back to the others. It wasn’t even that I wouldn’t forgive him – I’d almost forgot all about Amsterdam and that. I just didn’t want to be alone with him any more.

  He came after me, and caught me by the arm half-way along the deck.

  “Tracy, I forgot! I’ve got something for you!”

  I stop
ped. He’d never given me anything – ever. I wanted to see what he thought would make it up to me for the way he’d acted.

  He had his rucksack on the deck and was groping in it. “Bet you’ll be pleased to see this!” he said, all bright-eyed and full of nice surprises.

  And handed me my pump.

  20 · Dogs and Coppers

  We all stood in a line, against the back railing of the boat, watching Holland sort of sinking into the sea behind us. None of us said anything, but we were all a bit sad. We wouldn’t forget that holiday in a hurry.

  One thing I did wonder, standing there in the salt spray. Why Holland in the first place? I mean, how did we decide to go there and not, say, to France? I racked my brains trying to remember who first mentioned Holland of all places. Well, it had to be Kev, didn’t it? I mean the whole thing was his idea.

  He was standing next to me, but a little way along the rail, staring down into all that churned-up white sea coming out from under the back of the boat. He looked put-down and miserable, and although I was still furious I thought it was silly to go on not speaking.

  “Hey, Kev,” I said, above the noise of the engines and the water. He looked up at me. His face was all hard, but then it always went like that if he felt he’d been got at. “What made you think of going to Holland to begin with?”

  “I was just wondering that,” said Karen. And she went around the back of Cliff and stood, all come-and-get-me-I’m-free between me and Kev, looking up at him.

  Kev shrugged. “I dunno. Just wanted to see it, that’s all.”

  “But why not France, say, or Spain? All that hot sun and sexy women?” Karen said, googling her eyes at him. He gave her a cool look.

  “Maybe I’d rather have a pair of clogs and a windmill,” he said, and turned back to the sea as if she wasn’t there.

  We spent hours on the boat playing cards and pencil and paper games, all but Kev and Cliff who played with the one-arm bandits. That took care of any odd coins they had left over. Michael seemed to be sticking fairly close to me. Once, he went off to queue up for some tea. Asked me if I wanted a cup. I knew by now what it costs on those boats so I said no thanks. But he brought me one anyway, and a fresh roll and butter and jam. So then Darryl took the hint and went and got the same for Con. Poor old Karen! Women’s lib time for her – never happened to her in her life before, I bet. I offered her half mine but she turned up her nose at it and left our game to “go and get some air” – she said. I guessed she’d gone looking for Kev so she could flirt with him in front of Cliff.

  At last Michael looked at his watch and said we might be able to see England if we went up on deck. It had gone all gloomy outside, as if we’d left the sun behind in Holland. The sky was low and grey and it was raining a sort of misty rain. We put on our cagoules though, and went out on the front deck. Couldn’t see much ahead of course – there was even a bit of fog on the water.

  “What price biking in this?” said Darryl.

  The ship’s syren hooted. Saddest sound there is. I felt my heart sinking somehow. It was as if I knew I was going into some kind of misery. I shivered, and Michael suddenly put his arm round me. Lovely strong warm arm. I felt better in one second flat.

  *

  We docked at Harwich in mid-afternoon. Lugged all our stuff and our bikes off, and headed for the customs sheds. As we were walking along the quayside, Michael suddenly said, “Look over there!”

  We looked. Waiting at the far end, where the cars would come off, were some policemen with dogs on leads.

  “Who do you think they’re after?” Cliff asked.

  “Smugglers,” said Con.

  “What they want the dogs for, to chase ’em if they make a run for it?”

  “Don’t you know?” asked Michael. “Those Alsatians are specially trained. I bet the fuzz have had a tip-off.”

  “What sort of tip-off?” said Kev.

  “Must be expecting someone to try and get drugs in.”

  “Drugs?”

  “Yeah – the hard stuff. The dogs can sniff it out.”

  “Great!” said Cliff. “Good for a laugh, specially if they catch someone. Why don’t we slide along there and watch?”

  “Yeah, let’s!” we said.

  “Well, I’m not bothering to come—” Kev shouted after us. But we were half-running now, hoping to see some fun, and we hardly noticed he wasn’t with us.

  When we reached the other end, we came up against a barrier, but we could see everything. We just stood there, holding our loaded bikes, watching while the cars came slowly out of a big opening in the back of the boat, bumping onto the dockside and queueing up at the customs.

  Two of the coppers led their dogs forward and they stood near the cars. Another one was still standing near us, on the other side of the barrier. We were chatting away and seemingly we got on his nerves, because he turned to us and said, “What are you lot hanging about for? You’d better take yourselves off, it’s not a circus laid on for your benefit.”

  Of course he only took that tone because some of us still looked a bit punkish. It made me mad, because we weren’t doing any harm, and I felt like giving him a piece of my mind. But Michael got there first with a bit of the other cheek.

  “Are we in your way, Officer?” he asked, sweetly.

  “I didn’t say that, did I?”

  “We’ve read about the way your dogs work. Marvellous. I’m a dog-fancier myself. I’d appreciate it if you’d let us watch how they do it.”

  While he was saying this, he’d reached over the barrier to stroke the third dog’s head. I wouldn’t have dared – savage-looking thing – but they say dogs know who to trust. It stuck its tongue out and sort of panted up at Michael, all loving.

  The policeman looked a bit annoyed.

  “Don’t handle her, she don’t like strangers,” he said, although it was clear as daylight she liked this one.

  “Sorry,” said Michael at once, and took his hand away. The dog shifted on its rear-end so it could poke its nose through a hole in the wire, looking for Michael’s hand.

  Suddenly it went all stiff. You could see its tail had stopped wagging. And the same second the policeman changed too. I can’t explain it, he just went tense, his head shifted in a little jerk towards us and his eyes got beady. The dog’s bottom came slowly away from the ground. It stood up on stiff legs, its nose still through the wire as if it was stuck there, and you could hear it going sniff-sniff-sniff. Very sharply it pulled its nose out, moved along the barrier, and stuck it back in further down. Right opposite where I was.

  The copper stretched his arm so the lead wouldn’t pull. He didn’t have to move. The dog sniffed like mad. Then it pulled its nose out, threw up its head and started to bark.

  I jumped back. It gave me such a fright! It was barking straight at me! And one second later, that copper had vaulted right over the barrier. The dog jumped after him. It made a rush at my bike. Next minute there it was, pointing its black nose straight at my pump. And the copper had hold of me as if he wanted to pinch my arm in half.

  The nightmare had begun.

  21 · My Ordeal

  I’ve got to skip here. Not that I don’t like remembering what happened next – I can’t. It was all so mixed up and horrible. I don’t even remember seeing them opening up the pump and finding those long, thin packets inside. I saw them later, but not when they first found them.

  I wasn’t crying or anything, I just – well, it was like a blackout. A blank. There was a lot of noise going on – barking and shouting (I do remember Michael shouting, perhaps because he hardly ever did and now he seemed to go crazy) and Con’s voice in my ear saying something like “Take it easy, take it easy.” But really I can’t remember details until I found myself in a little room with a woman in uniform – not a police uniform – standing facing me telling me to get undressed.

  I couldn’t at first. It wasn’t that I wouldn’t – I could hardly move myself. I felt so strange. I just stared at her like a
n idiot.

  “Come along, I’ll help you,” she said, and stepped towards me.

  “No!” I shouted, waking up suddenly and with the same awful dizzy feeling you get. “Don’t you touch me!”

  “Then do it by yourself. Everything off.”

  I do remember this part, all too clearly, but I won’t describe it. It was just – horrible. She didn’t only make me strip right off. She wanted to examine me. Like a doctor. I couldn’t believe it. When I saw what she was at, I backed away against the wall and started screaming. Outside I could hear Michael’s voice shouting, “What’s going on, what are they doing to her?” and then right near the door, calling, “Tracy! Tracy!”

  I felt wild, like an animal. I stopped yelling, and started kicking out at this woman with her horrible transparent glove.

  “Don’t be so silly, it won’t hurt,” she said.

  Hurt! That’s all they think you mind about, is pain. I thought I was going mad. I didn’t know yet what had happened, I just thought the whole world had turned against me. Any normal pain would have been better than that.

  In the end she had to get someone in to help her because I fought tooth and nail. But they did it finally, what they had to do. Then they turned round and tried to be nice, and calm me down, but it was no good, I was all to pieces by then and so was Michael outside, by the sound of it. Later on I felt ashamed of carrying on like that and getting him so upset, imagining heaven knows what from the way I was yelling (though it couldn’t have been much worse than the truth). But at the time I couldn’t control myself and that was that.

  They had to get a doctor to me and he gave me an injection. That stopped me crying. Someone helped me get dressed again. Finally they led me out of that hateful little room. Michael was waiting. He jumped up and rushed at me the minute he saw me.