Obsidian Pebble

by Rhys Jones

  “I thought that he and your dad were friends.”

  Savannah shook her head. “Dad says it’s purely a business arrangement.”

  “Patent law,” explained Sydney.

  S and S exchanged conspiratorial looks before Sydney said, “We heard Dad call him a very shady character.”

  “Why?”

  They didn’t answer.

  “Oh, come on,” Oz pleaded. “I need to know what Gerber’s really after.”

  “We know a lot about him,” Savannah said.

  “A lot,” added Sydney, in exactly the same voice.

  “Whenever anyone visits, we usually find out more than they want us to know,” Savannah said.

  “We’ve bugged the whole of downstairs so we can listen to Mum and Dad talking about us—”

  “—whenever we like.”

  Oz didn’t doubt any of this for one second. Surveillance was a pretty strange hobby for eleven-year-olds, but then, S and S were pretty strange girls.

  “So tell me, you’ve seen him up close. What’s with his face and hair?”

  “He has a birthmark on his neck. A big red one,” Sydney explained.

  “That’s why he wears those funny high collars,” added Savannah.

  “Really?” Oz said. “But his face…I mean, it’s like it’s made of plasticene.”

  There was another exchanged look between the two girls and Sydney giggled. “Mum thinks he has a portrait in the attic.”

  “A what?” Oz asked.

  “You know, like in that book where this man had a painting made of himself and made a wish so that the painting grows old instead of him.”

  “Oh, right,” said Oz vaguely. “So your mum thinks he’s weird, too.”

  Savannah nodded. “Dad just thinks he’s had a lot of work done, you know, like plastic surgery.”

  Oz nodded. The thought had crossed his mind, as well.

  “So, why was Gerber at your house?” Sydney asked.

  “Heeps brought him. If you really want to know, I think he wants to buy the place.”

  The look of shock on the girls’ faces would have been comical were it not for the fact that it was so disturbingly identical.

  “We wouldn’t like that,” they said in unison.

  “We wouldn’t want Gerber as a neighbour—” Savannah said quickly.

  “—He’s not very nice—” said Sydney.

  “—He’s done things—”

  “—Bad things—”

  “Once, when Mum and Dad were arguing about Gerber, Dad said that his family used to work for the Germans during the war—”

  “Looking after horses for the artillery,” Savannah explained.

  Somewhere, an annoyingly distant and tantalisingly significant bell rang in Oz’s head, but he dared not interrupt the girls. They kept on talking, finishing each other’s sentences, almost as if it were one person’s thought process.

  “Dad said that after the war, Gerber came over here—”

  “—and they got into trouble for doing things—”

  “—Animal experiments—”

  “—Dad says that all the other stuff like the estate agent’s business—”

  “—it’s all just for show, just a way for him to get money—”

  “—so that he can do what he really wants to do.”

  “Which is?” Oz demanded.

  “We don’t know,” Savannah said with disappointment, “but we think it has something to do with animals and the SPEXIT.”

  Oz glanced across at the glasses with renewed interest, his mind roiling at what a roller coaster ride or white water river rafting had to do with animals.

  “So, we don’t want him as a neighbour,” Sydney said. There was yet another shy but knowing glance between them, and they said in unison, “We prefer you.”

  Oz hurriedly gulped down some more lemonade. He quickly changed the subject by asking what the moon looked like through the telescope, and shortly afterwards went home with his mind buzzing, not from the satisfaction of having revised all of science, but with the twins’ revelations. Was that why Gerber was so interested in Penwurt? Did he see the orphanage as a site where he could do something unpleasant in a quiet neighbourhood, where no one would suspect? But what sort of things were S and S talking about? How were animal experiments tied up with something as brilliant as the SPEXIT?

  * * *

  When Monday came along, Oz ran everything the twins had said to him about Gerber past Ellie and Ruff, but it still didn’t seem to make much sense, something which Ellie, as usual, was quick to point out.

  “Animal testing lab?” she said with a withering look. “There are millions of out of the way places you could use, where no one would ever visit. Why pick a house on one of the best streets in town?”

  “Yeah, but that’s where he’s being extra-clever,” Ruff said, taking the exact opposite view. “No one would expect him to do anything like that. It’s a double bluff.”

  “Double cobblers, more like,” Ellie said.

  As for the Gerber family’s murky past, it simply reinforced Oz’s first impressions of the man. But the truth was, none of them had much appetite or time for Gerber that week because the exams were upon them.

  Oz had taken the twins’ advice and had made notes of all the important points he had to remember for every subject; he played geography, history, French and science snap whenever he got the chance, both by himself and with Ellie and Ruff at school.

  Somehow, they got through the worst of it, until finally they got to the following Wednesday lunchtime and their last exam. They were supposed to go back to normal lessons, but the teachers were all tied up with marking and invigilating the year nine and ten exams, so 1C were left to their own devices. That included reading or, more usually, playing games, so long as they weren’t too rowdy. Ellie, Ruff and Oz played hangman and draughts and minesweeper on their phones, while Jenks and Skinner got thrown out for making silly animal noises at the back.

  Wednesday afternoon’s last lesson was French. But instead of letting them entertain themselves, Madam Chang announced that she had finished marking and proceeded to give them their exam results.

  Oz felt his stomach clench. He knew that the school party was at stake here, and he waited nervously for his name to be called out. Even so, it was something of a shock when it eventually came.

  “Marcel, très bien, soixante-quinze pour cent.”

  “How much is that?” hissed Skinner, two seats behind Oz.

  Ellie turned and said irritably, “Seventy-five percent,” and then added in a French accent for good measure, “imbecile.”

  Ellie and Ruff did equally well, and as the results kept coming the following day Oz was astounded to learn that he had passed most things, and done pretty well in them, too. Apart from science—in which he had done brilliantly. That evening, his stomach fluttering, he felt at last he could broach the subject of the party over tea with his mother.

  “French, seventy-five; English, sixty-eight; geography, seventy-nine; history, seventy…” Oz paused dramatically.

  “What did Ellie get?”

  Oz stared at her in exasperation. “I don’t know. About the same, I think,” he said. “Besides, what does it matter what Ellie got?”

  “Okay, okay. I was only teasing,” said his mother, grinning.

  Music, Geography and History were all okay, too, but Mrs. Chambers wasn’t going to be hoodwinked.

  “So, what about science? You said that was the one you were worrying about.”

  “Eighty-two percent. Thanks to Sydney and Savannah.”

  “Well done, Oz,” said Mrs. Chambers, her eyes shining.

  “So, it’s just art and maths to come and art was a doddle. I did this mountain landscape and Mr. Holland said it reminded him of Mordor. It was meant to be Kilimanjaro, but the white paint for the snow on the top looked pants, and I was in a bad mood so I used red instead, and turned it into a volcano.”

  “I am really proud of
you, Oz,” Mrs. Chambers beamed.

  “So does that mean that I can go to the party, and that Ruff and Ellie can come and stay afterwards?”

  “I suppose we should really wait for the maths result,” said Mrs. Chambers, but Oz knew she was teasing again.

  “Or, I could bet you a pound I’ll get over ninety.”

  “That confident, are we?”

  “It was a walk in the park,” Oz said, because it had been, since the coloured numbers thing was still happening.

  “Okay, a pound it is, but I think that the results so far get you a pass to the party.”

  “Thanks, Mum,” Oz said, getting up from his seat and giving his mother a hug.

  “The only thing is that you’ll have to let yourself in and get a lift back, because I’m out tomorrow night as well.”

  “Anywhere nice?” Oz asked, intrigued. His mother rarely went out unless it was to her book club, or occasionally with Ellie’s mum for a drink.

  “Yes, actually,” Mrs. Chambers said, starting to clear the table with a great deal more vim than was necessary. “I’m going to a posh charity do. Jack Gerber has a table and he’s asked me to go.”

  Oz was stunned into a long moment of wide-eyed silence. When he did find his voice he only managed a “But—”

  “It’s just a charity do, Oz. There’ll be lots of people there, Lorenzo and the university crowd. And the Fanshaws, I expect.”

  “But…”

  “You don’t mind, do you?” said Mrs. Chambers, stopping her clearing away to peer at Oz challengingly.

  “But Gerber is a…,” Oz almost said Puffer, but caught himself in time. Instead, he opted for what the Fanshaw secret service had told him. “Sydney and Savannah say he’s been in trouble for experimenting on animals and stuff.”

  “I’m sure that’s just a nasty rumour. Lorenzo assures me that Mr. Gerber has lots of fingers in lots of pies, but I doubt that animal testing is one of them. And anyway, I think I deserve a little bit of fun, don’t you?”

  “Oh, so they’re not just trying to butter you up to make you sell them Penwurt, then?” Oz said with feeling.

  Mrs. Chambers sighed heavily. “Oh, Oz, we have to start looking at things realistically. We’re struggling. Really struggling. Especially now that we’ve lost Caleb’s rent.”

  “And whose fault is that?” Oz pointed out, feeling the anger rise in him like a red tide.

  “Not mine,” said Mrs. Chambers icily. “He brought that on himself. He promised me—”

  “And you promised me that we would never leave here.” Oz was shouting now. He could feel hot tears sting his eyes. “You said, after Dad died, that we’d always have this part of him. We’d always have this place.”

  Mrs. Chambers stopped clearing away the dishes. She sat opposite Oz like she had a hundred times before, her face suddenly full of pain again, her voice earnest. “I know I did, Oz, and I am really and truly sorry. I thought we could afford it. We should have been able to, but…” She faltered, the words petering out into nothing.

  “It’s because the insurance people won’t pay us, isn’t it?” Oz said, the words tumbling out. “Because of what the coroner said about Dad, isn’t it? The open verdict thing.”

  Mrs. Chambers looked up at Oz with a little shake of her head, her brows knitted with incredulity. “Is there anything you don’t know?”

  “I asked Caleb, since no one else would tell me,” Oz muttered darkly. “Mum, I know that Dad couldn’t have killed himself, but if we leave here we’ll never be able to prove it.”

  “That’s just nonsense, Oz,” she said, but she sounded suddenly defeated and tired.

  “It’s not nonsense, Mum. I believe it, and so should you,” Oz pleaded.

  But all Mrs. Chambers could do was sadly shake her head as she sat with her eyes closed, fingers trembling slightly as she slowly massaged her temples.

  * * *

  Oz was still fretting over his mother’s unbelievable gullibility at school the next day. But there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it, no matter how he approached it. The bet he’d made with her about maths had burrowed to the back of his mind, but when 1C pitched up for third lesson that morning and he saw how everyone fell quiet with nervous anticipation, he, too, felt a sudden pang of anxiety. Badger Breath, in his usual sardonic way, called out everyone’s marks but left Oz until last. After everyone else had been named, he summoned Oz to the front and, while he busied himself with some marking, thrust the paper at him without even looking up.

  “I don’t know how you’re doing it, Chambers,” he said, in a barely audible whisper, “but rest assured that I will be spending the final two terms of my employment at this institution finding out.”

  “You’re leaving, then, sir?”

  “Yes. My blood pressure, already precipitously high, will not stand the infuriation of another academic year with the likes of you, Chambers.” He held up the paper and shook it. “Go on, take it.” Oz could see the muscles of his jaw working as he spoke.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Oz said with exaggerated politeness as he took the proffered paper. He stepped away, but then hesitated and turned back to the desk and said, slowly and loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Sorry, sir, but I can’t quite read the mark. Does that say ninety-five or ninety-three?”

  Heads shot up.

  “Five,” muttered Badger Breath through clenched teeth.

  “So, a ninety-five, then, is it, sir?” “Yes,” snapped Badger Breath, finally looking up and throwing Oz a glare of cold fury.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Judging from the number of open mouths Oz counted as he walked back to his seat, he was delighted to see that the whole class had heard the exchange. When Oz examined the paper, he saw that the only marks Badger Breath had taken off were for not using a black pen and for bad handwriting. But that didn’t matter. A low hum of excitement was audible in the classroom. 1C were celebrating the brilliant news that they only had to put up with Badger Breath for another two terms.

  * * *

  That evening, as Oz wolfed down a banana sandwich prior to going out, Mrs. Chambers walked in wearing a dress she hadn’t touched in a long, long time. She’d also donned long, sparkly earrings and a necklace that he remembered his dad giving to her one birthday not so long ago.

  “Well, do I pass muster?” she asked, giving Oz a twirl.

  “You look…different,” Oz said truthfully, since he wasn’t at all used to seeing her dressed like this.

  “Okay, I’ll take that as a positive, shall I?” She clipped across the flagstones on high heels and wiped a stray strand of hair from Oz’s forehead, and then stepped back to consider him, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t look too bad yourself, scrubbed up.”

  “Mum, promise me you won’t make any decisions about the house tonight.”

  “I am just going out for some adult company,” she explained calmly. “Is that so bad?”

  “No, but I just don’t trust Gerber or Heeps,” Oz said, desperate to make her understand. “I wouldn’t put it past them to get you tiddly and make you sign something.”

  “Oz, they’d have to get up very early in the morning to catch me out,” she said.

  But Oz had a funny sinking feeling that she was underestimating Gerber in a big way.

  * * *

  The school party was being held at the sixth form college, half a mile away from the lower school campus. This meant that, although there were lots of teachers present, including the Volcano, who was on corridor patrol, sixth formers were in charge of the music. In Oz’s junior school they’d usually roped in the caretaker as DJ, a man whose musical choice usually consisted of rubbish songs you only ever heard on the radio for a month just before Christmas, followed by sing-along carols. Oz found himself hoping that this party wasn’t going to be as bad as those had been. He caught a bus to the college and had barely walked through the big glass and steel entrance when two pairs of hands grabbed him roughly and dragged
him into an alcove off the main corridor. Oz struggled and kicked out, and only when he heard Ruff’s pleading voice did he ease up.

  “Ow, Oz, wait. It’s us!”

  “Ruff?” Oz extricated himself from the grasping hands and arms, and turned around to see Ruff massaging his shoulder and Niko Piotrowski looking sheepish.

  “You didn’t have to thump me quite so hard,” Ruff complained.

  “I didn’t know it was you, did I? What’s going on, anyway?” Oz smoothed down his ruffled shirt.

  “Skinner and Jenks,” Ruff growled.

  “They have set ambush,” Niko explained. “Outside boys’ toilets. They have water bombs.”

  “What’s that got to do with me?” Oz asked.

  “You’re their main target,” Ruff added, grimacing from where Oz had landed a good right hook to his shoulder. “Niko heard them plotting. They still hold a big grudge against you for the Skullers losing their unbeaten record.”

  “Oh,” Oz said.

  “Jenks and Skinner, they are like rats. Horrible and never far away,” Niko said with feeling. “They pick only on smaller and weaker, or when they are more.”

  “We can’t let them get away with it,” Ruff said, still rubbing his shoulder, “so we thought we’d intercept you. Didn’t know you were going to turn into Mike buzzard Tyson.”

  “Sorry, mate,” Oz said, trying not to laugh. “So, what are we going to do?”

  Niko held up a small plastic packet. It was a selection of coloured balloons. “Attack is best form of defence.”

  Oz grinned. “What’s the plan?”

  “I found a map of the place next to the office,” Ruff said with a glint in his eye. “If we go right here, up the stairs and along the corridor, there’s another toilet. We can load up there and then go down the other side, and me and you can sneak up on them from the back.”

  “We will probably get into trouble…” Niko said.

  “And your point is?” Oz said.

  Niko grinned.

  They followed Ruff up the stairs and along a dim corridor.

  “By the way, thanks for warning us about Jenks and Skinner,” Oz said to Niko as they hurried along.

  “Is okay. I have not had chance to thank you for helping my sister in Ballista’s,” Niko said, before adding, “She likes you very much.”