by Sharon Sant
Sky gently moved the cat from her knee. It gave her a look of wounded reproach for the impertinence, and then stalked over to settle at the fireside. She fetched a glass of water and offered it to Rowan. He didn’t move. She put the glass down beside him and sat next to Elijah, watching Rowan carefully as she finished her bowl of soup. The conversation they had been in the middle of resumed.
‘I had heard there’d been trouble at White Lodge.’ Ishmael clasped an old earthenware mug. ‘It wasn’t much of a surprise to most folks. Mrs Bettencourt is a nice lady, but the doctor… let’s just say he has a reputation.’
‘Do you think it would be worth trying them?’ Elijah asked.
‘Dunno. I could make some enquiries tomorrow when I’m on my rounds.’
‘You won’t mention us, will you?’
Ishmael narrowed his eyes. ‘Do you want to tell me why? I have an intuition, which I usually find I can trust, that you’re good kids… but I know when things are being kept back.’
Elijah exchanged a dubious glance with Sky. ‘Before we say anything, we should tell you, the things that have been said about us... they’re not true, well, not really, not all of them anyway.’
‘We’re kind of in trouble,’ Sky continued. ‘Dr Bettencourt thinks that Elijah is public enemy number one.’
They watched Ishmael carefully. For a second his face was impassive. Then he threw his head back in a hearty laugh. ‘This is a story I have got to hear!’
Elijah was almost offended that the idea of him being a hardened criminal was so funny.
There was something about Ishmael that invited trust. Elijah and Sky soon found themselves sharing almost every last detail of their recent lives with him. Only Grace and her gateway was left unsaid. It was obvious to both of them that it couldn’t have been what it seemed. They didn’t want to give Ishmael any excuse to turn them over to the authorities, and it occurred to them that a crazy time-travelling story would be just such an excuse. Rowan had fallen asleep again. When the story was told, Elijah and Sky sat and waited for Ishmael’s reaction, with only the cracking of the fire to accompany the silence.
‘I believe you.’ He pushed himself out of the chair and stood with his back to the fire. ‘The question is what to do about it all. I agree that the Bettencourts should know what has happened, and I understand why you wouldn’t want to go and see them. I don’t mind doing that.’
‘That still leaves Jimmy and Rosa.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Ishmael. ‘But I wasn’t necessarily thinking about that.’
‘What do you mean?’
Ishmael rubbed his chin with a calloused hand. ‘If you get them out, where are you all going to go? It’s only a matter of time before you’re all back in the camp again. They’d be better off where they are.’
‘How can you say that?’ Elijah started up from his seat. Ishmael held up a hand.
‘Calm down my lad. Think about it. They’re getting fed, they’ve got somewhere dry to sleep, and they’re out of trouble. They wouldn’t be released without a sponsor, and if they got out any other way they’d be like fugitives, it’d be worse when they were caught again because they’d be labelled troublemakers. I think you should leave them be.’
‘You don’t understand. Those people hate kids, the camps are horrible.’
Ishmael nodded slowly. ‘They probably are, Elijah. It’s the lesser of two evils, isn’t it?’
‘No!’ Rowan had joined the conversation, unsteadily pushing himself up to sit. ‘At least in the real world you have a fighting chance. At least you can make friends, do what you want, stay where you want. Even if you’re hungry you don’t mind because you’re not being told what to do; there isn’t someone at your back with a punishment every time you say something they don’t like.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘I grew up in one of those places,’ he continued quietly, ‘was in there for years. I hated it.’
‘That’s how it is,’ Ishmael replied gently as he turned to him. ‘I don’t make the rules.’
‘You’re going to turn us in, then?’
‘Course not. I never said that. I can help you three out a little. And I can bring one family back together as it should be. But we can’t do anything for your other friends and that’s just life. It’s how the world is.’
Elijah opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Rowan who suddenly broke into a fit of violent coughing. Sky rushed over and tried to get him to drink some water.
‘He’s not well enough to go anywhere yet,’ Ishmael said looking at Rowan. ‘Stay for a few days. I’ll go to White Lodge tomorrow and sort that out. Then we’ll decide what’s next.’
Ishmael left the room without another word. It was obvious that further discussion wasn’t invited.
Elijah woke late the next morning. He was on a bed made of cushions and faded blankets, laid out on the stone floor of the old kitchen in front of the smouldering fire. He looked around at the teetering piles of junk in awe. The house was still and silent. It seemed that Ishmael had already left for the day.
When he finally got up, Elijah found a note from Ishmael on the mantelpiece explaining where everything was and telling them what time he would be back. Elijah wondered at his trust. He moved around the room as the others slept on, examining bits and pieces from the assorted debris that graced it. Ishmael hadn’t told them what it was he actually did for a living. Elijah made a note to himself to ask later. He liked it here; possibilities began to creep into his mind, fantastic, too much to be hoped for possibilities. He pushed them out, he couldn’t think about that now.
Next to Ishmael’s old chair there was a pile of shoe boxes. Elijah didn’t want to look, but something wouldn’t leave him alone. He succumbed, but was disappointed to find that they only contained old photographs of dozens of people he didn’t know. As he flicked idly through, one caught his eye, a woman of about twenty.
A voice at his shoulder made him almost drop it.
‘What are you doing?’ Sky had her hands on her hips. ‘D’you want to get us kicked out?’
Elijah mumbled an apology and started to stuff the photo back a box.
‘What have you got there?’ Sky’s gaze was drawn to the picture in his hand. ‘Let me see.’
Elijah handed her the photo. ‘I thought you said I shouldn’t mess.’
‘I’m going to put it straight back. I just wanted to see what was making you so quiet.’ She held it up and viewed it closely, then looked at Elijah. ‘Oh my God, this woman is related to you.’
‘Is that one of your hunches… you know, premonitions?’ Elijah asked.
‘Don’t be silly.’ Sky laughed. ‘She looks exactly like you.’
‘Let’s see.’ Elijah peered over. ‘She’s got black hair and blue eyes. So have a lot of people.’
Sky looked again. Where Elijah’s hair was an unruly shock of curls, the woman’s hair was in sleek corkscrews. Her eyes were like his, an unusual shade of blue, so deep it could almost be black. His face was much thinner, but the nose was the same, small and snub, the mouth with a perfectly formed cupid’s bow. ‘I’m telling you, Elijah, you should ask Ishmael about this photo.’
‘Why? Besides, then he would know we’ve been snooping, wouldn’t he? You don’t want to get us kicked out, do you?’
She sighed and gave the photo back. ‘Right, clever-clogs. Put it back then.’
‘Rowan still asleep?’
‘He’s been asleep for ages. I think maybe that’s good, though, don’t you?’
‘Yeah,’ Elijah answered with absolutely no idea whether it was good or not. ‘I think so.’
Ishmael had left Spam and eggs for them. Sky boiled the eggs on a small electric stove, squealing with delight as the rings began to glow red and heat up. ‘This is so cool!’
‘He has his own turbine. I heard it last night,’ Elijah commented sagely.
‘It’s a bit mad here isn’t it? Mad but good.’ Sky glanced around at the room.
Elijah didn’t reply. H
e was busy fighting back the yearning that had taken hold.
Rowan was better but weak. He ate a couple of eggs and went back to sleep almost immediately. Sky busied herself dusting, though it was hard to see where she had been when it was finished. Elijah thumbed through a shelf of old compact discs.
‘These are ancient. My dad used to listen to some of these,’ he said to no one in particular as he looked around for a player. He was disappointed not to find one; he would have liked some small connection with his dad. So much had happened that he barely had time to think of him lately. The old guilt came back. He went out to the front step and sat gazing out at Ishmael’s land. It was almost as packed with junk as his house, only bigger items: bits of cars, cycles, farm machinery. A ragged band of chickens pecked and scratched at the thin dirt, casting wary glances at two of the cats who were sitting together under the eaves of a shed, watching them with glassy eyes. Elijah drew his knees up and hugged them, hiding his face. The breeze tugged at his hair as he listened to the intensified sounds of birds in the distance, the chickens scratching and the lazy purring of the cats. To sit amongst such perfection, it was hard to believe that his world was so broken.
‘Now then, Elijah. What’s the matter with you?’
Elijah looked up. ‘I never heard you coming.’ He scrambled to his feet.
‘Aye. I can be quiet when I want to.’ Ishmael grinned. ‘What you three been up to today then? Did you find everything alright?’
‘Great, thanks.’ He faltered at the doorway.
‘Aren’t you going to let me in my own house now?’ Ishmael raised an eyebrow.
‘Sorry.’ Elijah hurried ahead of him into the kitchen. ‘Did you find out anything? What did they say at White Lodge? What happened in town? Did they ask about us?’
‘Hang on! Let me get my coat off!’
They gathered in the kitchen. Rowan was now sitting up with more colour in his face.
‘I’m afraid it’s not good news for the brothers.’ Ishmael took a mug offered by Sky. ‘The good lady was out, so I had Dr Bettencourt to contend with. First he wanted to know where I had got the information from. When I said I couldn’t tell him he got all antsy, said I wasn’t a reliable source. I told him I had it on good authority - didn’t mention your names, exactly - but he guessed right enough.’ Ishmael laughed. ‘He said you was a lying, stealing, violent little toe rag. It’s a shame Mrs Bettencourt wasn’t there, I’d have had more luck with her. I left my card anyway, just in case.’
‘What about the camp?’ Elijah asked.
‘You were on the wrong road with the Isle of Wight; it’s at Hayling Island. Found out something else that you might be interested to know…’ He paused. ‘Called in to see my mate, Paul, at the Police station. He found the records on that old man you told me about. Turns out the inquest cleared any suspicion of foul play. The fight with your skinny mate sounded like a good un’ though. Wish I could have seen it.’ His face wrinkled into a smile. ‘Not quite sure where that leaves you with anyone else, but it clears you of all charges in my eyes. The question is: what do you want to do now?’
‘What do you think?’
‘Unless the Bettencourts have a change of heart, I think we’re done there.’
‘We could let them know at Hayling, tell them to contact White Lodge,’ Sky put in.
‘Don’t you think Xavier and Francois will have already done that?’ Rowan interrupted.
‘You would think so. But I think it was the
first Dr Bettencourt had heard of it, so why haven’t they been in touch?’ Ishmael stroked his chin. ‘They don’t believe Xavier and Francois. It’ll take their parents to get them out.’ Rowan looked at Sky and Elijah to support his argument.
‘And if their parents don’t believe us, then they won’t go, and if they don’t go, Xavier and Francois have no chance of getting out. And that still doesn’t help the others.’ Elijah ran a hand through his hair.
‘Could you speak to the people at the camp?’ Sky asked Ishmael.
‘Why would they believe me? I could be anyone.’
Elijah stood up. ‘That settles it, I’m going to Hayling.’
‘What will you do when you get there?’
‘I’ll get them out.’
Ishmael smiled patiently. ‘Before you go on your heroic quest, let me dig round some more and see what else can be done. You could stay with me for a few days. There’s plenty to be done here if you want to earn your keep and, to be honest, I’d be glad of the company. We’ll have a think about a plan. What do you say?’
Elijah chewed his lip. The one thing he would have loved more than ever was now the one thing he was going to deny himself. But he wouldn’t deny the others. He would go alone.
Twenty-Six: Elijah’s Deceit
‘How far is Hayling Island from here?’ Elijah was helping Ishmael to collect eggs. He tried to sound casual.
‘Don’t you think of taking yourself after them. It would be madness. As the crow flies it’s roughly seventy K, by road much longer. You’d never do it on foot any time this year. Besides, your lad in there,’ he tilted his head in the direction of the house, ‘he’s not fit to go anywhere.’
‘I wasn’t going to go after them,’ Elijah corrected quickly, ‘I was just asking. Have you got a computer?’ he added hopefully.
‘Aye. Well, I got enough parts to make one if you want a project.’ Ishmael laughed. ‘It’s too damn expensive to use the web, so I haven’t bothered with one for years.’
‘What about the pleb web?’
‘The what?’
‘You know, the cheap networks.’
‘Oh, the edited version?’
Elijah nodded.
‘Waste of time. What is on there I can find out in the village for free. Can’t say I’ve missed it, all doom and gloom anyway if you ask me.’
Elijah grinned. ‘I know a way of getting on the full one for free if you’ll let me. Someone at school showed me.’ His smile faded. School seemed as though it had been a part of somebody else’s lifetime now.
‘As long as they can’t trace me, hack away. After supper I’ll have a rummage about, see what I’ve got.’
‘What do you do, Ishmael?’ Elijah hadn’t meant the question to come out so abruptly, its tone even surprised him.
‘Can’t you tell?’ Ishmael replied, not in the least offended. ‘I’m a recycler, a junk merchant, rag and bone as they used to call it in the old days. Just like my dad and his dad before him.’ He swelled with pride. ‘People think there’s not much to be had out of junk.’ He tapped his nose and grinned.
Elijah felt desperately sorry that he was about to deceive Ishmael. He only hoped he would be forgiven when it was all over.
It was dry when Elijah pushed the old bike out of Ishmael’s shed, early next morning. He had to be thankful for small things. The others were still sleeping. He had left a note for Sky and Rowan, explaining everything and asking them to tell Ishmael how sorry he was, and could he please not be angry with them for what he had done alone. He didn’t think for a moment that Ishmael would. He vowed to return the bike and the maps. In the end, Elijah hadn’t needed the computer, though he kept up the pretence of wanting the parts to keep Ishmael busy whilst he poked about for other stuff he might need. Luck seemed to be with him, for once. Earlier in the day he discovered the bike, standing under a tarpaulin in the shed, extremely dirty but in working order. Then, a map of the surrounding area mysteriously appeared on top of a pile of faded magazines. Ishmael had put together a bag of food for his rounds the following day, and it sat on the kitchen table. This was the last thing Elijah picked up as he readied to leave. It wasn’t stealing; he had to keep telling himself that. He would make it up, somehow.
The bike let out a rusty squeal as he rolled it out through the gate and Elijah caught his breath. He halted and glanced around. The house remained silent. He opened the gate and, as soon as he hit the path, mounted the bike and pedalled away.
The jour
ney had been almost too easy. Even though it took a frustratingly long time and every break, although necessary, found him so impossibly wired that he could not rest, at least the weather had held; it stayed grey but dry with a brisk wind that kept him cool as he pedalled. Elijah reached the coast without getting lost or the bike breaking, which had been his main worries. The route had been quiet and, though he passed many houses, he managed not to draw attention to himself. It helped that he had some half-decent clothes on and didn’t have to try to get food; for those things alone he silently offered thanks to Ishmael and his crazy farm. He wondered about the road bridge onto Hayling, but when he arrived there he saw, to his great surprise, that the toll gate appeared to be deserted and so he crossed onto the island easily.
The weather-beaten sign rose in front: Welcome to Hayling Island Holiday Park. Surely that couldn’t be it? Yet the fearsome wire fences around the perimeter of the camp told Elijah that he was in the right place. He dismounted the bike a short distance away and hid it behind some hedges off the road. Keeping out of sight, he started to follow the fences around the camp to see if he could spot a weakness or opening that might help him. He still didn’t really have a plan and hoped something would come to him as he went along.
One circuit at a safe distance revealed nothing of use. He was too far away to get a good look at the fence. The only thing it did tell him was the size of the camp, and that filled him with despair. He guessed it was practically half the size of the island. Even if he did get in, how on earth would he find them? Though he had expected it to be a difficult task, faced with the true enormity of it he was stunned.
When he had collected his thoughts he decided to tackle one problem at a time. First he needed to get a closer look, and to do that he would have to wait a couple of hours for the cover of darkness.
With a growing feeling of impatience, he turned and began to make his way back to the bike. The wind and the steady beating of sea on shingle in the distance left a constant low sound in his ears. Lost in his thoughts, Elijah never heard the muffled footsteps behind him. It was over quickly. The shock coursed through his body and he was aware of no more.