Is that really true? Daniel wondered. Does the outside world care or know anything about Wragge? Until he came here he had never even heard of the place.
He tuned back in to hear Mrs Ivory say, “What we have is very special. But you know, wherever something exists that is good and precious and special, there are outside forces bent on destroying it.” The crowd quietened. “I am telling you that there are those who would like to ruin what we have here. They are jealous of our success and they want us to fail. But we must be vigilant, and together we can resist these outside forces – for the sake of our young people, and Julian Joff Stape, whose life we celebrate tonight with this terrific display of light and noise! Enjoy the fireworks!”
This speech was greeted with a storm of applause, and then the first rocket tore into the sky and peeled open with a fizz and a crackle, leaving a shower of glitter trails against the blackness. “Ooh,” sighed the spectators in unison, as each firework went up, and then, “Ah!” as it disintegrated.
“What was that all about?” Daniel asked Louie. “What did she mean?”
“I dunno, I wasn’t listening,” said Louie. She was concentrating on trying to get the peel off a chestnut without losing a fingernail.
It was the expression ‘outside forces’ that made Daniel uneasy. Weren’t they always being reminded that they were outsiders? But they were no threat to anyone on Wragge, or anywhere else. He couldn’t imagine anyone less likely than his family to interfere in other people’s business. Keeping themselves to themselves was practically a religion. Perhaps Mrs Ivory envisaged some form of invasion by a foreign power. Ridiculous. Then a sudden memory of Helen Swift’s anxious, stricken face rose up before him. Maybe she too had some inkling of a threat to the community? Impatiently, Daniel scanned the spectators, trying to pick her out, but it was too dark and most people had their faces turned upwards to watch the fireworks.
There was a dazzling flash as half a kilo of magnesium exploded above their heads and for a moment the Centennial Gardens were lit up. Daniel found himself staring straight at Ramsay, only a few metres away, positioned at a strategic distance from the war memorial. Even in a woolly hat with ear-flaps she managed to look pretty. She was peering impatiently into the crowd just as he had done. He felt his heart give a sudden kick of excitement as he realised that she was just as eager to find him as he’d been to find her.
Chapter 12
“HE’S NOT GOING to turn up,” said Fay. “I knew he wouldn’t.”
“He might just be late,” said Ramsay, who refused to be pessimistic so early in the evening. “It wasn’t a firm arrangement.” She had made so many preparations for tonight: making sure her favourite jeans and top were clean, even though they could hardly be seen under her coat and boots, and doing her hair up in a new way to survive the ravages of her hat. Remembering that he didn’t like or approve of Leaf, she’d left her supply at home and cleaned any traces of green from her teeth before doing her make-up. And, most difficult of all, she had managed to give her mates the slip earlier in the evening, in case they scared him off. She’d read in a magazine that boys were especially put off by giggling. On reading this she had resolved never to giggle again. Although laughing at a boy’s jokes was allowed – in fact, recommended.
As seven o’clock approached, she found a suitable spot to stake out the war memorial. Ramsay had hardly been aware of the music or Mrs Ivory’s speech and now the deadline had passed, time seemed to speed up. With each minute it seemed less likely that Daniel would show up and Ramsay began to wonder if he’d ever received the flyer she’d posted through the door of The Brow. Perhaps it was mistaken for a piece of junk mail and binned unread or maybe chewed up by the dog. She regretted the attack of shyness that had stopped her ringing the doorbell and making the invitation in person.
Then in the dazzle of a brilliant white firework, Ramsay had the odd prickling sensation of being stared at. She turned and there he was; for a second their eyes locked and then they were plunged into darkness again. I knew you’d come, she thought, her doubts forgotten, blown away by the energy that seemed to stream from him.
“Hello,” Ramsay said, as he approached, shouldering his way through the crowd. “You decided to come then.”
He smiled. “Of course.”
“This is my sister, Fay,” said Ramsay. “She’s been dying to meet you.”
Daniel introduced Louie, who was hanging back in the shadows. Remembering what he’d told her, Ramsay took pains to be friendly and welcoming, complimenting Louie on her interesting hat and her nails, which were looking a bit sooty after their tussles with the chestnuts. She had told Fay to be especially nice to Louie, but not why. Her sister needed no encouragement. The opportunity to make a New Best Friend before anyone else collared her didn’t arise very often and Fay had no intention of wasting it. They stood together watching the fireworks for a while and sharing the last of the chestnuts, then Fay noticed some people in the crowd with glow-sticks. “Oh, I want one of those!” she said. “They always have them here!” She went off to find whoever was selling them, dragging Louie along with her.
“It’d be good if they became mates,” Ramsay observed.
Daniel looked at her in surprise. “You read my mind. I was just thinking the same thing. She seems nice, your sister. Do you get on well?”
“Of course,” Ramsay said. “Why wouldn’t we?”
“A lot of sisters are always arguing and winding each other up. I mean, me and Louie get on pretty well most of the time. But when she gets into one of her moods, it really kicks off.”
“I suppose we’re just not very moody people,” Ramsay said. She smiled, showing white leafless teeth. “I couldn’t sleep last night.” Something had disturbed her and then she had lain awake for hours, anticipating tonight and worrying that he wouldn’t turn up.
“Neither could I,” said Daniel. “In fact . . . I was walking past your house at about two in the morning.”
“Really?” said Ramsay in surprise.
“I took Chet out for a walk, and I just kind of kept walking.”
“All the way to Stape? At two o’clock in the morning?” It was about that time that she’d woken up; she wondered if it could have been his presence that was the cause.
Daniel nodded. “I like going out when everyone else is in bed. You feel like you’re the only person left alive.”
“You’re strange,” said Ramsay, pretending disapproval she didn’t really feel. It was his strangeness that was so attractive.
“You said that last time!” Daniel protested.
“We’ve only met twice and I’m already repeating myself,” Ramsay sighed, shaking her head in dismay.
“Three times,” Daniel corrected her. “We’ve met three times.” He stopped, as if he had betrayed himself with this remark, but they were distracted from any awkwardness by a huge eruption of noise and colour overhead that signalled the end of the fireworks.
There was a smattering of applause and then the crowd began to disperse in the direction of the giant bonfire which was about to be lit.
A few people nodded at Ramsay as they passed, and one woman, who was being pulled along by a large mongrel, and obviously hadn’t looked too closely, said, “Hello Ramsay, hello James,” and was dragged off by the dog before they could correct her.
Daniel gave Ramsay a sidelong look.
“That was my neighbour,” she said with an embarrassed laugh. “She is a bit blind.”
“Where is James, anyway?” Daniel asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Somewhere about, I expect,” said Ramsay vaguely. She wasn’t sure how to mention that she and James had broken up, without making it screamingly obvious that she wanted Daniel to know she was Very Much Available. “I haven’t seen him much lately,” she added, hoping that this was a broad enough hint.
Daniel seemed to be looking out for someone – for James perhaps, or Louie, or just someone more interesting, Ramsay thought with dismay. “I could introduc
e you to some people if you want,” she offered, brightly, remembering that this was the original purpose of the invitation. “Friends of mine. Nice people.”
“OK, if you like,” said Daniel, “but I’d rather just talk to you.”
“Or we could go and watch the bonfire?” Ramsay suggested, backtracking. She didn’t really want to share him unless she had to.
“Bonfire sounds good,” he said.
But before they had gone more than a few steps they were waylaid by a bunch of Ramsay’s friends. They were wearing rows of fluorescent glow-sticks around their wrists and ankles. Ramsay hoped they weren’t going to start giggling.
“This is Daniel,” she said, running through the register for his benefit; “Amy, Ellen, Rebecca, Sian.” His gaze flickered momentarily over the faces of the girls as they greeted him, and came to rest on Ramsay with an intensity that made her blush.
There seemed to be some delay with the bonfire; someone had left the taper on the grass and it was now damp and refusing to light. Cigarette lighters were offered and refused by the official in charge, and there was some slow handclapping from some of the crowd. At last a long spill made of rolled newspaper was produced, and its flame was held against the meths-soaked rag protruding from the base of the pyre.
They watched, mesmerised, as the bluish flame travelled along the rag and gradually the balled-up paper and twigs inside the wigwam of planks began to catch. Within thirty seconds the base of the bonfire was ablaze, fanned by a gusty wind, and flames were darting and leaping almost halfway up the structure.
“I like watching fire,” Ramsay said dreamily.
“I saw James with Grace earlier,” said Amy casually, and Ramsay felt Daniel grow suddenly attentive.
“Are they going out now?” asked Rebecca, turning to Ramsay for confirmation.
“Certainly looked like it from where I was standing,” Amy replied.
“I didn’t even know you two had split up,” said Ellen.
“Forgot to mention it,” said Ramsay, grateful to Amy for bringing up the matter in Daniel’s hearing. “I think they’re very well suited.” She didn’t feel a grain of possessiveness about James. The sooner he got a new girlfriend the freer she’d be.
The burning woodpile creaked and shifted, collapsing gradually as kitchen chairs and ladders and fence panels and the frightened-looking rocking horse were consumed in the flames. The wind changed direction, sending dense billows of smoke into their section of the crowd. They backed away, spluttering and covering their streaming eyes. Sparks rained down, and above their heads shreds of blackened paper danced in the night sky.
Watching the fire, Daniel was hit with a sudden panic. “Oh my God. Where’s Louie?” he said, looking around wildly.
Through the smoke and commotion they saw Fay pushing through the crowd towards them. “Daniel! You better come. Something’s happened.”
Chapter 13
“WE WERE WATCHING the bonfire and she suddenly went really strange,” Fay explained breathlessly, as they hurried through the gardens towards the town square, where Louie had last been seen heading at a run.
“Strange like what?” Daniel asked, his heart thudding in protest. It was his fault: he should have been keeping an eye on her. A bonfire of all things.
“Her eyes were watering. I thought it was the smoke, but then I realised she was crying.” There was more than a hint of embarrassment in Fay’s voice, as though she had caught Louie dribbling or wetting her knickers. “I asked her what was wrong and she said, ‘I can’t breathe, I’ve got to get away,’ and started shoving past people. Then she just ran right out of the park. I couldn’t keep up with her.”
“You didn’t say anything that upset her?” Ramsay asked.
“Of course not,” Fay insisted. “We were getting on OK, I thought.” She added, “I gave her some Leaf and she said it was disgusting and spat it into a tissue – but that was ages before.”
They finally reached the gates of the Centennial Gardens; beyond, the town square was lit up by colourful lanterns on every stall and the moving shapes of fluorescent glow-sticks. Manically cheerful Wurlitzer music was piping out of the speakers.
“So she just started crying and then ran off ?” said Daniel. This wasn’t too bad or unusual. The only problem was how to find her. She’d never get home without him – she didn’t have a clue about the buses and would never ask a stranger.
“Yes, crying,” said Fay in the same tone of mild disbelief. “Actual tears.”
There was no sign of Louie at the chestnut stall or on the benches around the stage or at any of the other places they had stopped. “We could get them to page her over the Tannoy,” Ramsay suggested.
Daniel shook his head. “She’d hate that. She’ll be hiding away somewhere quiet, away from the noise. She sometimes gets these . . . er . . . panic attacks,” he said. “Especially in crowds.”
After twenty more minutes of searching, they found Louie sitting on a bench inside the beer tent, being comforted by Mrs Ivory. Someone had brought her a drink of hot non-alcoholic punch strongly flavoured with cinnamon and pepper. Daniel would have put money on Louie refusing to touch the stuff, but there she was, clutching the polystyrene cup in her skinny hands and sipping obediently at the dark steaming liquid.
“Sorry,” she said, turning a streaky face to Daniel. “I ruined your evening.”
“No you never,” he said, though he had just been thinking exactly that. He’d have to take her home now, instead of staying here longer with Ramsay. When he’d heard that James was no longer on the scene, the evening suddenly seemed full of promise. But now it was over. And the worst of it was, he should have seen it coming.
“It was that horse in the fire,” Louie quavered. “I could see its eyes looking at me while it was burning. It was horrible.”
Mrs Ivory gave Louie’s shoulder a gentle squeeze with her black-gloved hand. “You felt a bit squished by the crowd, didn’t you?” she said kindly. “But the good news is, this is the only night of the year when there’s even a chance of finding a crowd on Wragge. So things will only get better.”
Louie smiled weakly at this attempt to jolly her up.
“I’ve said I’ll give her a lift home whenever she’s ready,” Mrs Ivory went on, addressing Daniel. “You too – if you like.” Her glance flicked towards Ramsay.
“I’m ready now,” said Louie.
“Er . . . well . . . thanks,” Daniel replied, churning with frustration and buried rage. It was only half past nine. The night had hardly started, but he couldn’t let a virtual stranger take Louie home alone – right over to the other side of the island – when she was in a state. It wasn’t the first sacrifice he’d made for his sister, and he didn’t suppose it would be the last, but for some reason he was pierced by the unfairness of it.
“OK, I’ll come,” he said, bitterly. Beside him he could sense Ramsay becoming very still.
“You wait here, my lovely,” Mrs Ivory instructed Louie, “while I bring the car up to the barrier.” She strolled out of the tent in the direction of the car park. Fay, smiling because the crisis was over, sat down alongside Louie. Daniel and Ramsay had been standing by the entrance to the tent during this discussion but now they stepped outside.
Manic fairground music was belting out from the speakers. A woman was walking amongst the crowd with a bunch of lit sparklers, handing them out left and right. It was the usherette from the cinema. Before he could refuse, she had pressed one into Daniel’s hand and done the same to Ramsay.
“Well,” said Ramsay, to break the silence.
“Sorry I can’t stay,” said Daniel. They stood there helplessly, hampered in their goodbyes. In spite of themselves, they couldn’t quite help wafting the fizzing sparklers around.
“That’s OK,” said Ramsay lightly. “The best of it’s over, really.”
No it isn’t, thought Daniel. The best was still to come. He had imagined walking her all the way home in the darkness, stopping to kiss h
er at every gate and stile. His fantasies had taken no account of the distance or Fay or any other obstacle. “I could come back,” he said impulsively. “Once I’ve got Louie home. I’ll walk back.”
“It’s eight miles,” Ramsay laughed. “It’ll all be finished.” She looked at her watch. “Mum and Dad are giving us a lift home at eleven.”
Daniel sagged, defeated. If she’d agreed to wait for him he would have run the eight miles, definitely. Across the square he could see Mrs Ivory reversing her car up to the line of traffic cones.
“We’d better go,” he said, pulling back the tent flap and beckoning to Louie.
“Call round some time,” Ramsay said in a rush, as he turned to leave. “I mean, if you’re passing.”
“Definitely,” said Daniel.
“I mean, any time except two o’clock in the morning,” she called after him, in a voice both joking and not.
As Ramsay and Fay headed back up towards the heart of the party, and Louie and Daniel walked down to the car, his sparkler sputtered and died, giving off a gunpowder smell that he would ever after associate with disappointment.
Don’t look round, he told himself sternly, and then immediately did exactly that. He was rewarded with a view of Ramsay vanishing into the crowd without a backward glance.
ALAN SHOWED ME the rec room. We could use it during supervised free time. There was an ancient TV and PlayStation 2 bolted to metal brackets high on the wall; a pool table with a foot-long gash in the baize; an exercise bike and table football. All loose bits of equipment – cues, balls, remote handsets and the lame selection of PS2 games – were kept locked away in the office and had to be signed in and out. I wasn’t looking forward to being in here with the others when they were armed with pool cues.
Burning Secrets Page 7