by Ruth Thomas
‘Hey, you haven’t paid for that,’ ‘Stuart, Stuart, it’s that boy again!’ ‘Little thief, stop him!’ The cries sounded all around, but everything happened so quickly that Nathan was out of the shop before anyone could actually catch him. Two or three of the more athletic, lacking anything better to do, followed him along the seafront. At the first corner, Nathan plunged on to the beach, rolling over and over down the steep slope of pebbles. The cascading pebbles half buried him as he rolled. He dug his toes into the shifting mass, to stop himself sliding any further, and peered cautiously at the promenade above him. His pursuers lumbered mistily past, and Nathan dropped his head on to the smooth cold pebbles, heaving to regain his breath.
He hadn’t meant to steal the cap. He wasn’t really a thief, he wasn’t! But he couldn’t go back and pay for it now. Under shelter of the shelving pebbles, Nathan doubled back along the beach, then climbed back to the seafront walk, and from there up the steps to the promenade and the busy road with the traffic thundering past. He kept the anorak hood over his head, even though it wasn’t raining any more. He went a long way round to Mrs Parsons’, weaving and dodging just in case there might be someone following him.
By the time he got back it was late afternoon. Julia was frantic with worry. ‘I thought you got caught, I thought you got caught,’ she wailed. Nathan explained that he nearly did. In few words, but with relish and some embroidery, he told his story. When he had finished, Julia had a picture of the world outside populated almost exclusively with threatening policemen and hawk-eyed members of the public. Nathan had forgotten to buy any food, but Julia practically had hysterics at the idea of his going out again to get some. They shared a bag of crisps left over from the day before, and drank water from the wash-basin in their room, and Nathan wished he’d been a bit more discreet. Another time, he’d be more careful what he told her.
After they had eaten, Julia examined the clothes Nathan had brought for her. They looked all right. She had rigged up a private dressing cubicle for herself in a corner of the room, using a spare blanket off the bed, and she retreated into this to change.
The tee-shirt and jeans were just right,. Julia’s long, thin, flat-chested figure looked convincingly boyish inside them. Julia was less happy when she saw the curved nail scissors. ‘I can’t cut my hair with them,’ she protested.
‘Yes you can,’ said Nathan. ‘Go on – you can!’
Julia stood in front of the mirror, the little scissors in her hand. Now that the moment had come, she was fearful of beginning. She had always had long hair – well, as long as the meagre little rats’ tails would grow. To cut it now seemed an awfully big step. Besides, she’d got used to looking nice. It really hurt to have to spoil that.
Feeling slightly sick, Julia took a front strand in one hand, closed her eyes, and jabbed at it with the scissors. There was a ripping sound, as the blades went through the hair. Julia shuddered and opened her eyes. The deed was done, or as good as. There was no going back now.
Carefully, Julia worked round her head, hacking away with the little scissors. Nathan watched in silence, and increasing dismay. Julia’s feelings, as she saw what she was doing to herself, were of sheer mounting horror. ‘It looks awful,’ she moaned, when it was finished.
It did. The long hair flowing round her face had softened it, distracting attention from the bony contours. Now these features were prominent again – even more so than they had been with the plaits. Worse still, the cut hair was jagged, shapeless.
‘Let me do the back for you a bit,’ said Nathan.
He snipped anxiously here and there, and made some marginal improvement, but it was soon clear that, if they worked at it all night, their combined efforts were in no way going to produce anything like a proper haircut.
Julia was too shattered to cry. She sat on the bed, pouting and shaking her head. ‘I ain’t going out like this. I ain’t going out,’ she kept repeating.
‘But we got to go,’ said Nathan. ‘The police. Come on, Ju, it’s not that bad.’ He had a sudden inspiration. ‘I know – you could wear my cap.’
He produced the cap, and Julia put it on. The cap covered most of the terrible haircut. Julia regarded herself doubtfully in the mirror. ‘What do the letters say, Nathan?’
She meant the wording across the front of the cap. Nathan peered closely, to read the legend. He opened his mouth to tell Julia what it was, but changed his mind at the last moment. ‘I can’t see without my glasses,’ he claimed.
‘Liar,’ said Julia.
She took the cap off and tried to read the words herself. They were not very long words. Julia tried very hard, sounding out the letters. ‘KISS ME, it says KISS ME,’ she announced. Triumph at having actually read something struggled with outrage at what she had read. ‘I ain’t wearing that,’ she decided, throwing the cap on the floor. ‘No way, I ain’t wearing that.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Nathan, ‘it ain’t that bad. Plenty of people wear caps that says that.’
‘Not me,’ said Julia.
‘Come on, Ju,’ said Nathan picking up the cap and trying to replace it on her clipped head. Julia pushed him away and then sat with her hands over her head, her mouth a stubborn line. She was being totally unreasonable, but nothing Nathan could say or do would shift her. ‘I know,’ he tried, ‘wear your anorak hood.’
‘My anorak hasn’t got a hood. I lost it.’
‘That plastic mac then. That’s got a hood.’
‘It’s a girl’s one. How can I wear a girl’s mac if I’m supposed to be a boy?’
‘Wear the cap then.’
‘No.’
‘What do you want to do then?’
‘Stay here.’
‘We can’t.’
‘We could stay one night. My hair might have growed a bit by tomorrow.’
‘Not much though. You going to breakfast like that then? What’s Mrs Parsons going to say when she sees you with your hair cut?’
Appalling thought. ‘I won’t go to breakfast, I’ll stay here.’
‘And then we’ll go. Eh Ju? We’ll go then, eh?’
In the cruel light of day? With the morning sun on her poor shorn head?
‘No,’ said Julia.
‘What you mean, no?’
‘I ain’t going out, not till my hair’s growed.’
Nathan lost his patience. ‘You’re stupid!’
‘No I ain’t.’
‘Yes you are, you’re a silly stupid Rat-bag.’
‘I hate you, Nathan Browne.’
‘So do I hate you.’
‘I wish I never run away with you.’
‘Good.’
‘I want to go ho–o–o–ome,’ Julia wailed, in sudden anguish.
‘You can’t.’
Why couldn’t she? There had been a reason, but from this distance, and in her misery, she couldn’t remember what it was.
‘Yes I can, you can’t stop me.’
‘Go on then.’
‘I’m going now.’
‘Go on then, I said.’
‘It’s all your fault. You made me come. I’m going to tell of you, when I get home.’
‘Who cares!’
‘You made me cut my hair too.’
‘You didn’t have to. Silly stupid Rat-bag! . . . Can’t read! . . . Silly stupid dunce!’
Julia turned her face to the wall, and retreated into wounded silence. Nathan, angry and frustrated, kicked at his bed-post, then at Julia’s bed-post. Then he went to the window and drew patterns on the pane with his finger, humming a bit to show how little he cared about the quarrel. He was at his wits’ end, though, to know what to do next.
Suddenly he stiffened. ‘Ju – there’s a police car coming up the road!’
No answer.
‘They stopping. They stopping outside. Ju – the police is coming to the door!’
She looked round then, her pale eyes tragic with fear. ‘Are they coming for us?’
‘They must be.’
‘Oh don’t let them get me! Lock the door, Nathan, don’t let them come in!’
‘That’s no good.’
‘What is then? What shall we do?’
‘We could climb out the window.’
‘It’s high up. I’m scared to.’
‘I could do it.’
‘But I’m scared.’
The sound of the doorbell vibrated through the house. The children looked at each other in dismay.
‘We’ll climb out the window when the police is inside. Come on, Ju. I’ll help you.’
‘No I’m scared, I’m scared.’
Nathan’s thoughts were a turmoil. He didn’t want to desert her but. . . . ‘Let’s see when they come in the hall,’ he said. ‘We could run down the stairs perhaps. We could. If they ain’t standing in the doorway, we could get out then. Perhaps.’
He opened the bedroom door and tiptoed on to the landing, leaning over the bannisters to see what was going on in the hall below. He saw Mrs Parsons moving stiffly to answer the bell, and caught the gist of the conversation on the doorstep. A moment later he was back in the bedroom, grinning broadly.
‘It’s all right, it’s not about us.’
‘What’s it about then?’
‘It’s about a house was burglared, next door.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, it’s not about us at all.’
‘We ain’t caught then?’
‘No.’
‘Oh, I was scared.’
‘I thought you wanted to go home though. You said you wanted to go home.’
‘I changed my mind.’
‘Shall we escape then? When the police is gone?’
Julia did not commit herself. She stood at some distance from the window with Nathan, watching until the police came out of the house and drove away in their car.
‘Shall we go now?’ said Nathan.
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘My hair.’
They were back to that.
‘How can we go anyway? The police is going to be watching the station, you said so,’ said Julia.
‘We can go by bus.’
‘How do you know they ain’t watching the buses?’
Actually, she could be right. Nathan was silent, considering the problem. Buses, trains – what other means of transport were there? ‘We could stow away on a lorry.’ he said, with sudden inspiration.
‘You’re mad,’ said Julia.
‘No I’m not, they do it in stories.’
‘That’s in stories!’
‘Well we could do it. It’s better than the train.’
‘Where will we go to though?’
‘Wherever the lorry goes. A long way. We’ll get one of them long-distance lorries that travels all night.’
‘Where we going to sleep though?’
‘In the lorry.’
‘But after? Where we going to sleep after? I’m not sleeping in no more building sites. That was horrible!’
‘You won’t have to sleep in a building site. We can sleep in the lorry tonight and then – I know, I know, we’ll have a tent!’
‘I ain’t going in no tent with you, Nathan Browne, I don’t like you,’ said Julia, remembering recent insults.
‘All right, we’ll have two tents. One each.’
That was an even better idea, Nathan thought. A tent all to himself! Almost as good as a house. Julia also liked the idea of a tent. She began to cheer up, thinking about it, and even half-heartedly fiddled with her packing.
‘You coming then?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘I’ll help you pack,’ said Nathan, thinking that the sooner they got out of the house the better. Before she changed her mind again. ‘What about your money? How you going to carry that now?’
‘In my shoulder bag of course, like I always do.’
‘But you’re a boy now, boys don’t have shoulder bags like that.’
‘Oh no, I forgot.’
‘Why don’t you put it in your anorak, like me?’
‘There’s no hole in my pocket.’
‘Make one then, cut one.’
But Julia was scandalized by the idea of such an act of deliberate destruction. She would put the money round her waist like before, she said. She fussed around looking for a suitable plastic bag, and Nathan was getting very impatient, because it was well into evening by now and he thought all the long-distance lorries would have started their night journeys, and he and Julia would be too late to find one. Then Julia needed something to fasten the bag with, and there was no string, and in the end she took the elastic out of a pair of knickers and used that.
‘Shall we go now then?’ said Nathan.
They might have made it but unfortunately, just as she was picking up her beach bag, Julia caught a glimpse of the terrible haircut in the wardrobe mirror – and sat down heavily on the bed again.
‘What’s the matter now?’ said Nathan.
‘My hair.’
‘Oh forget your silly hair! It’s going to be dark soon, anyway. They won’t see.’
No answer.
‘Come on!’
Julia sniffed and pouted, and tossed back the plaits that weren’t there.
‘Come on, Rat-bag, the police might really come for us next time. They might be here now. Any minute, they might be at the door!’
No answer.
Nathan kicked Julia, quite hard, on the ankle.
‘Don’t you kick me, Nathan Browne!’
‘Shall if I want to.’
He kicked her again, harder. Julia began to wail.
‘Shut up, stupid Rat-bag!’
Julia’s wails rose to a shriek.
‘Shut up,’ said Nathan, frantically. ‘Someone’s going to hear. Mrs Parsons is going to come!’
‘You hurt me!’
‘Serve you right. You’re stupid, innit!’
He did not kick her again, though he would have liked to. Instead, he lay down on his bed – it was almost bedtime anyway. It looked as though they were stuck for the night, and what after that? Perhaps they were stuck here for ever. Perhaps he would never persuade Julia to leave the sanctuary of their room. Perhaps, perhaps . . . he would have to go by himself.
Nathan curled up with his face to the wall, and tried to go to sleep. It might be all right in the morning. By the morning the problem might have gone away.
But he was too upset to sleep. He fidgeted and turned the other way and saw that Julia was still sitting there on her bed, shoulders hunched forward, fingers pulling hopelessly at what was left of her hair, as though she were trying to force it to grow again. Angry as he was, Nathan felt a pity for her which really hurt. He fell into an uneasy sleep at last, and when he woke he saw by the moonlight streaming through the bedroom window that Julia was also sleeping, after a fashion, sprawled across the bed with her feet still on the floor.
Long before dawn both children were wide awake, exhausted with sleeplessness, wretched with anxiety.
‘We could go before Mrs Parsons gets up,’ said Nathan, pretending the quarrel had not happened.
Julia looked quickly in the mirror, and quickly away again.
‘Shall we go then?’
‘My hair hasn’t growed.’
‘Well it won’t, will it. It’ll take weeks. Anyway you supposed to be a boy.’
‘I ain’t coming out like this.’
‘All right,’ said Nathan, regretfully. He got off the bed, and picked up his beach bag. ‘Bye then, Julia.’
‘You’re not going without me!’
‘I’m not staying here to get caught.’
‘Don’t leave me!’
‘Come on then.’
‘No.’
Nathan walked to the bedroom door and opened it. Would she change her mind and follow? He looked over his shoulder and saw that she was still sitting on the bed, her face a mask of total despair.
Nathan crept down the stairs in the dark. The front
door was locked and chained and Nathan was very much afraid that Mrs Parsons or someone would hear him unfastening it. But all the house was sleeping soundly, and in a moment Nathan was safely in the street.
He felt very lonely, plodding along by himself. Running away on your own was quite a different matter from running away with somebody else. He didn’t quite know how he was going to manage alone; he couldn’t quite see it.
He had turned the corner, and was halfway up the next street before Julia caught up with him.
9
Stowaways
‘Shall we go in a lorry then?’ said Nathan.
Julia did not answer. She was coming out of desperation, not enthusiasm. Nathan thought he must treat her carefully, or she might change her mind again. She slouched along at his heels, her long face drawn with tiredness. Nathan turned a couple of times, to give her an encouraging grin, but she wouldn’t look at him.
They were vulnerable, and conspicuous – two children alone in the deserted early morning streets. Nathan was terribly afraid they might meet a policeman. There seemed to be an extraordinary dearth of lorries in Brighton today. They wandered from street to street, searching, while the sun came up and the town came to life.
Nathan was seeking a lorry with such single-mindedness that his mind didn’t register the caravan till they were way past it. He stopped suddenly.
‘Let’s go back a bit.’
‘What for?’ They were the first words Julia had uttered since leaving the house.
‘Have a little rest. Here, on the pavement.’
She followed him apathetically and they squatted side by side. The caravan was parked on the opposite side of the road, where a man with a bald head and a woman with crimped grey hair were fussing around, making last-minute preparations for their holiday. The caravan was big, with orange curtains, and it was hitched to a shiny, new-looking car. The man and the woman kept going into their house, and bringing out more odds and ends which they packed into the car or the caravan.
‘See that caravan,’ said Nathan, cautiously.
‘What about it?’
‘Would you like to ride in it? Instead of a lorry?’
‘You’re mad.’