by Julia Jones
Sandra shut up.
Tony carried on. He was looking mainly at his secretary who was taking the minutes. “Clearly we need to Professionally assess whether the proposed accommodation meets our minimum standards criteria. Separate bathroom facilities, his own bedroom, study and recreation areas – the things we caring parents Want for our children. But, you know, what we all have to think about first is the Risk to John.”
“Risk, what risk? Strong Winds is in Shotley marina, not the South Atlantic!”
“The risk, Miss Walker, of Significant Harm. I do not believe that your niece is a fit person to be entrusted with parental responsibility for this troubled young person. You have ruled yourself out as a potential adopter and have failed to put forward any credible alternative. I therefore declare this Statutory Services Care Review & Assessment Meeting closed.”
Donny was too shocked to work it out and Tony carried right on. “I am convening an immediate Child Protection Conference and I move that John be accommodated in one of our secure Units. As previously arranged.”
One of the silent women removed the cling-film from a plate of home-baked cookies and placed it before Tony like a votive offering: the other draped a napkin over her arm and fetched the cafetière. Then she looked around the table and selected seven bone china cups.
Donny did a count-up: none for him and Skye and Great Aunt Ellen, obviously. None for Sandra and the school nurse either, he guessed.
CHAPTER FIVE
S.S.C.R.A.M.
Friday 29 September, afternoon
Tony’s Conference didn’t last long. It was almost funny when Donny looked back. Except it wasn’t funny in the least. It was about as hilarious as running your dinghy onto a submerged rock on the first day of a holiday.
Tony started out by reminding them all that the rules for the Conference allowed any participant who felt intimidated by anyone else in the room to ask for that person to be removed.
Gold Dragon had got herself together now. “That’s okay, Bunter,” she said to Flint. “You’re not bothering us. But you can take yourself off if you like.”
“No,” said Tony smoothly. “You misunderstand. Inspector Flint has already advised me that he is not comfortable with you remaining in here, Miss Walker. Possession of an Offensive Weapon. I have to ask you to leave. There’s a chair outside.”
Gold Dragon didn’t move.
“Aim additionally suggesting that John’s presence is no longer Appropriate,” smiled Toxic. “Research suggests that young males in his situation lack the emotional maturity to accept the judgement of Professionals.”
“We get stroppy when we’re pushed about, you mean?”
Her smile became even wider and more wolfish but Tony wasn’t going to use up any more charm from his limited supplies. “Get up and get your great-aunt out, John. There may be a chair in the foyer for you as well.”
“Leave my mum on her own with you lot? I don’t think so.”
Donny knew that Skye would be picking up fast on the body language. Sometimes she was so quick that he hardly had to bother signing but she wasn’t well now and he remembered what Joshua had said about disorientation. He leaned close to her and began explaining in a way she’d understand.
“You were right, Mum. They’re all of them crooked tongues. And snatchers. We’re in enemy territory and it isn’t looking good. We three have to stick together if we’re going to get out of here alive.”
He had no actual idea what they were going to do. Gold Dragon had hooked herself to the back of her chair, daring them to force her out. Donny wondered whether he should hang onto the table leg or punch someone. The problem with the second option was being spoilt for choice.
Skye stood up, tall and stately. Then she made her sign of peace to everyone around the table. It was a bit like a bishop’s blessing. Hand held high, she backed carefully out of the double doors.
Donny and Great Aunt Ellen followed.
Gold Dragon scowled; Donny managed a quick thumbs-up all round. As he passed the secretary’s seat he caught sight of her agenda paper – Statutory Services Care Review & Assessment Meeting. S.S.C.R.A.M. – scram! Too right, they were out of here!
Skye turned away and walked through the foyer, out into the street. Gold Dragon used her hook to push the visitor’s badge under the screen to the receptionist.
“I’ll have my belt and pouch now,” she said, in the sort of voice that you didn’t argue with.
Donny, meanwhile, had an irresistible, straight-to-video idea.
He saw that there were indeed two solid, high-backed chairs positioned outside the meeting room. Perhaps people were always being chucked out of Tony’s Conferences and had to wait there in disgrace while the Professionals rearranged their lives.
The double doors of M1 opened outwards. Donny was the last of his family to leave so he shut the doors behind him, grabbed the nearest chair and stuck it neatly under both handles.
It might have been made for the job.
The receptionist yelled at him but she was trapped behind her security screen. Donny gave her a smile that he tried hard to make as cheesy as Tony’s. Then he was out of there and legging it along the pavement to catch up with the others.
The street curved sharply away and led them into a shopping area. Skye took them down a side lane; through an arcade and back to the bookshop that she and Donny had visited when they had first arrived in Essex.
The Goth with black clothes, purple hair and a nose stud recognised them at once. She asked Donny whether his mum had enjoyed Swallows and Amazons.
“Oh, er, she was buying it for me.” Donny didn’t usually tell people that his mum couldn’t read words.
“So what did you think of it?”
“Yeah. It was cool.” Maybe this wasn’t the way to describe a book that had helped to change his life but ... where to start?
Great Aunt Ellen asked whether the shop stocked any of the other volumes in the series. She bought Swallowdale, Winter Holiday and Missee Lee.
“These are the ones that happened next in time,” she said, showing Donny the first two, “but Missee Lee’s always been my favourite. I thought of her as my pirate godmother. She had three islands and a patch of sea. If you decide to live full time on Strong Winds, you ought to read her story.”
“I don’t ever plan to live anywhere else,” he said fervently. Then he remembered Sailing, the book that had been her brother Greg’s most treasured possession. He’d written a list in the front of all the boats he’d ever captained. “At least, I plan to live on Strong Winds and sail Lively Lady until I’m old enough to have a ship of my own,” he amended.
Gold Dragon added a local bus timetable to her pile of purchases and they left the bookshop. There was enough money left for some filled baguettes, which they ate on their slow bus journey back to Shotley.
The small man did not stay for the talking that followed the family’s escape. It was time he returned to his base. They would need him now to keep lookout on the harbour. They could not have Hai Lóng staying here.
When the small man discovered the welcome mat he was very angry. This was defiance. Someone would suffer. He kicked the plank aside and went below.
“There’s sure to be someone waiting,” said Donny, as they walked down the steep hill towards the River Stour. He remembered, only too well, how Flint liked to hunker down in his police car until his victim came strolling innocently within range. Then he’d be out and snatching his prey, ruthless as a conger eel in a rock pool.
Donny was right: there was someone. But it wasn’t the person he’d expected.
Rev. Wendy was sitting in Strong Winds’ cockpit. She had a slim black laptop perched on the downhill slope of her knees and was holding it rather awkwardly with one hand while she tried to make notes with the other.
“For Sunday’s sermon,” she expla
ined, closing the machine with obvious relief. “I often need to make changes. It’s having so many different parishes. What suits one is almost certain to upset the rest.”
None of them knew what to say to that. Skye was looking speculatively at the aft mooring line. She scooped her long skirt into one hand and climbed aboard, stationing herself strategically close to the samson post where the end of the warp was knotted. Donny stayed on the pontoon. He didn’t know whom he trusted least: his mother or his former foster-carer.
Rev. Wendy slipped the laptop into its case and came ashore to join him.
“Beg Nimblefingers to hold off for few moments,” Gold Dragon said to Donny. “She’ll get her chance soon enough but I need to pay our harbour dues. We can’t afford to stay here any longer – even if we wanted to.” She nodded to Wendy and set off to the watchtower beside the lock.
“Um, hello,” said Donny, after an awkward pause. “Why are you here?”
“To offer my assistance ...”
He didn’t give her a chance. “Thanks but no thanks,” he said. “I’ve had your assistance before, remember. You do what Toxic Tune tells you. That’s probably why you didn’t bother turning up at the meeting.” He was surprised how much he’d minded about that: not one of their so-called friends showing up. Typical adults! His friends would have come – if they weren’t all locked away in school. “You knew you’d get your orders afterwards. I expect you’ve come to drive me off to some SS boot camp. Well, I’m not going.”
Rev. Wendy sighed. “I understand your anger,” she said. “I want you to know that I did attend the meeting. So did Mrs Ribiero. But we both attended in the wrong town. We went to Ipswich, not Colchester. Unfortunately there’d been some mistake in both our letters.”
“Everyone else got there,” said Donny. “Flint and Toxic and a bloke called Tony, who looked like a lawyer, and his posse of hags and enforcers. We all got there. Wish we hadn’t.”
“Yes. The mistake was only in our letters. They were sent from Denise Tune’s personal office. No-one could quite explain it.”
“You missed a treat. All the sort of stuff you really like – talking in gobbledygook; risk-assessing anything fun; slagging-off Skye ’cos she can’t answer back; forgetting that the only thing that matters is people loving each other. Not whether they have the right size bathroom and five portions of veg for breakfast.”
Donny’d been boiling up to let rip at someone. In the absence of the real villains Rev. Wendy was the perfect target. She just stood there in her drab clothes and dog collar taking it. Her cheeks got a bit blotchy in the wind and she held her laptop closer to her thin chest.
Donny found quite a few more things that he wanted to say. He forgot he should have been keeping watch on Skye and he didn’t notice that his great-aunt was back already from the marina office, looking shocked and extremely cross.
“That’s enough,” she said. “Apologise at once! How can you have forgotten who rescued your mother from that ... bin and brought her here? I’m ashamed of you.”
Donny went very red. “Sorry,” he mumbled, kicking a bollard. Then, “No, Mum, don’t!”
Skye had lost no time turning the deck into a spaghetti heap of loosened ropes once again. Now she was undoing Strong Winds’ fenders and very obviously preparing to leave. Donny did notice that she hadn’t (as yet) cast off any of the mooring lines. Had she actually learned something from last time’s disaster?
“Godssakes!” muttered Gold Dragon, as she sprang on board to try to restore order. Donny knew he ought to follow her.
“All right,” he said to Wendy, “It’s been a bad day. But you did get my mum out. Never mind what you and Gerald said about her all those other times when you thought I couldn’t hear.”
“Oh! I can’t deny – I have been a sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal. But I have seen the error of my ways. It’s why I’ve come.”
“You’re too late: we’re off. Maybe you don’t already know but they won’t let Great Aunt Ellen look after me ’cos she’s too old and she won’t buy a house and they think I need protecting against my mum. So they’re going to get some sort of Order and meanwhile they want to bang me up in a Unit.”
“No, no, they don’t.”
“Yes they definitely do. They said so, in the meeting. You weren’t there.”
“But we were.”
Donny stared at her. Had the vicar finally lost it?
“Mrs Ribiero was most ... upset when she discovered what had happened. No, let me speak with truthfulness ... she was furious. I give thanks that she is also knowledgeable. She insisted that I had an inalienable right to be consulted as I am your named carer – at least I was your carer then. The Statutory Services have since relieved me from my duty.”
Rev. Wendy sacked!
“So, at that point ... when I was ... any decision made without me could be open to legal challenge. Mrs Ribiero said that she was ready to instigate such a challenge. They were forced to reconvene. First she tried to have the meeting postponed so that she and I could drive to Colchester, then, when they said that wasn’t possible, she demanded that they use a video conferencing system.” Rev. Wendy shook her head. As if she still found events rather hard to believe. “I have to say they weren’t immediately keen. In fact they said that, because they were in Essex and we were in Suffolk, they didn’t think the systems were compatible. Something to do with bandwidths?”
“Oh,” said Donny. Technically he didn’t have a clue but he didn’t want to put her off, so he nodded, knowingly.
She looked relieved as she continued. “You youngsters are such experts. Fortunately – providentially, even – I was able to offer a suggestion. The Diocese is currently piloting a new initiative. We have a target to reduce the mileage undertaken by those of us in rural districts. So we’ve all been issued with these.” She touched her laptop. “And I’ve recently attended a networking course where we practised talking to colleagues as far away as Chelmsford. I was therefore able to point out that compatibility between the counties is possible. In fact, once the system was set up, we aditionally managed to contact your tutor at Gallister High School. That was another of Mrs Ribiero’s ideas.” Wendy paused again. “I’d expected Denise Tune to have been keener. But she wasn’t. She seemed to think he wouldn’t have much to say. He did though. Once he understood what was proposed, he became most ... eloquent.”
Donny began to get the message. “So am I okay to carry on living with my mum and Gold Dragon? Did the three of you fix it? Have I been signed off from the SS?”
Her shoulders drooped. “Not really. Your name’s on the At Risk register and there’s a Care Plan, which you must follow if you’re not to be sent to ... the Unit. We – that’s June and I and your tutor – continued to disagree but the vote went against us. Six to four. They wouldn’t let June vote – or speak – but, because it was only my face on the screen, they couldn’t see the notes she was writing for me. That was also providential. I’d never have achieved a deal on my own.”
A deal? Previously when Denise Tune had told Rev. Wendy to jump, she’d only wanted to be advised the recommended height. Had his ex-foster-carer really changed?
Donny could hear Strong Winds’ engine running. A deep, purposeful sound. Wouldn’t it be simplest to head out to sea and not come back?
“I entreat you to listen,” the vicar said urgently. “They expect you to leave the country. It’s extraordinary but I got the impression that some people would welcome that outcome. No-one will to try to stop you. Then your great-aunt will be charged with child-abduction. She’ll never be able to return.”
“She might not mind ...”
“And they’ll charge your mother as well. You must stay. We fought for you. Sandra too ... as far as she could. Her job was threatened.”
“Look lively there, Sinbad.” Great Aunt Ellen was Polly Lee again, a seafarer ready
for adventure. She’d loosed two sections of Strong Winds’ foresail, angled so that the wind was already pushing the junk’s bow away from the pontoon.
“Why? Why should I trust you? You might be okay now but they’re monsters. We don’t have to come back – ever. Strong Winds is an ocean-going vessel.”
“What about the other children?” Wendy asked, desperately. “Little Vicky might forget you but Anna, Luke and Liam won’t. I wonder how you’ll feel about yourself if you blow off and leave them without saying goodbye? They’ve been abandoned once. Deserted – by their own mother! At least come and see them before you go. Please.”
Anna, he’d forgotten Anna!
It felt bizarre to hear his former foster-carer saying pretty-please, instead of laying down the law as if she’d been personally entrusted with the SS commandments in stone tablets. But if she could do deals, so could he.
“Okay,” he said. “It’s not my decision. Gold Dragon’s the captain. And my mum’s got a point of view – except nobody takes any notice. But I might just tell them what you’ve said and we might decide to stick around a bit. Or we might not. Meanwhile, you’re always on about Trust so I’m going to dare you to give it a try. I want you to let Anna use that laptop to access the Internet whenever she chooses. I want you to trust her to go wherever she wants on the web. And not even ask her where she’s been unless she wants to tell you.”
Rev. Wendy looked horrified. “Inappropriate content ... guidelines ... danger ...” was all she managed to splutter.
Donny had cast off the bow-line now and was back on board with the stern warp in his hand, ready to slip as soon as the junk had swung towards the lock gates. “No trust: no deal,” he called. “I’m not even going to ask.”
She opened her mouth and shut it again. He slipped the line and Polly Lee put the engine into gear ahead. The light above the lock showed green. They could go straight in.
The vicar had to run. Back along the pontoon, past the slipway and the marina office, until she was leaning over the safety rails as water poured in through the sluices and Strong Winds rose steadily to the level of the river beyond. She was breathing heavily as she called across to the captain. “Miss Walker ... and Ms Walker ... I’d like to invite you to supper tonight. Donny will explain ... Please tell him that I’m going to trust ... I’m going to do as he’s asked ... as soon as I reach home. Whether you come or ... whether you don’t.”