by Arnot, Tim
Rosie looked up at Flick. ‘Promise you won’t tell I told you?’ she asked.
‘Of course, Ro,’ Flick said, still stroking her hair. ‘What is it?’
Rosie leaned over to whisper into Flick’s ear. ‘He was told off in Assembly this morning, for talking. Got sent to the headmaster’s study and everything. And there were two Kingsmen came and searched the school.’
There was silence while they took in that information. Flick’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of the Kingsmen, but she told herself it was ridiculous; there was no proof that Shea was the Scav they were looking for. It was just coincidence, surely.
Then their father stood up. ‘Time to get these dishes sorted; they won’t clean themselves,’ he said, and started stacking the plates. Flick nodded and went over to the stove to fetch a kettle of hot water.
Rosie stood up too. There was a shy little smile on her lips. ‘Dad, I’ve still got something to tell you all.’ They all stopped what they were doing and turned to her.
‘What is it, Rosie?’ Dad asked.
‘At school today,’ she began, ‘in class, teacher said I had to be Queen of the May.’
‘Oh honey, that’s absolutely marvellous!’ Dad said, hugging her and giving her a big kiss on the forehead. Flick beamed, and moved to join the hug. Then Dad said, ‘Adam really ought to hear this,’ and he yelled out through the door, ‘Adam, get down here. Rosie has something important to say!’
Rosie was still grinning broadly when Adam came through the door. ‘What?’
‘Go on Rosie, tell Adam what you just told us,’ said Dad.
‘I’m going to be Queen of the May,’ beamed Rosie, ‘I get to be crowned with a crown and everything!’
‘That’s nice,’ Adam grunted as he turned round and stomped off back to his room.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ asked Flick. ‘Okay, so he got told off at school. Big deal, he’s always being told off, and it’s never bothered him before. Not like this anyway.’
‘I’ll go up and talk to him,’ Dad said. ‘He might open up if we have a bit of man-time. Would you mind finishing up the dishes?’
‘Sure, me and Ro will do them, won’t we?’ Rosie nodded. ‘Come on Ro-Ro, we’ll have them done in no time.’
7
A Near Kiss
THE NEXT MORNING, Flick was up early. She had her bike loaded up with food and bottles of small beer from the pantry, and a spare small cooking pan.
‘Dad, I’m off out,’ she called out to the hallway.
‘Be back by curfew!’ came the response from somewhere upstairs.
On her way through town she stopped at the baker’s and bought a loaf of bread.
The town gate was open when she reached it, and Fred was huddled inside the little shack next to it, fiddling with a roll-up. He waved, ‘Hey Flick!’
She stopped at the gate. ‘Hey Fred, I’m off to the ridge,’ she said.
‘See what you can catch eh?’ Fred said. ‘Sorry you couldn’t go hunting yesterday; Felix said you’d tried to go out, but orders is orders, especially with those Kingsmen around.’
Flick shrugged. Lucky he didn’t know the real reason she was going out. ‘Yeah, got to try twice as hard today,’ she said. Which was true, especially with the shortages. ‘Did they find whoever they were looking for?’ Flick tried not to sound too concerned.
‘Dunno,’ said Fred. He’d wedged the roll-up behind his ear. ‘They don’t tell us. Anyway they seemed more interested in the mayor’s new estate workers than anyone else, so I reckon it was one of them they was after.’
Flick felt a surge of relief. They weren’t after Shea at all. She put her foot back on the pedal.
‘Be back before curfew,’ Fred said. ‘Corporal Ross is on tonight, and he won’t keep the gate open for stragglers, not after yesterday’ shake up.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll be back,’ Flick called as she set off.
It was a pleasant ride through the lanes, with the sun poking through the clouds and a light breeze. It was still quite chilly though and would be for another few weeks, particularly at night. Before too long, she’d reached the cottage, and dismounted.
‘Shea!’ she called. ‘It’s me, Flick. You there?’ This was the moment of truth, finding out if he’d survived, died or gone; if he really was a Scav, or dangerous. There was silence.
‘Shea?’ she called again.
‘In here!’ came from somewhere inside.
Flick allowed herself a cautious smile. She unloaded the supplies from her bike and went into the cottage. The first thing she saw was a nice fire crackling in the grate, with a pile of branches close by. As she cast her eyes around the room, she noticed a little cooking pot, currently empty, and the fabric sail that she’d dragged from the crash site was covering a pile of bracken and leaves, making it into a comfortable looking bed.
But otherwise the room was empty.
‘Shea?’ said Flick, puzzled. She put the supplies down, and her hand hovered over the knife in her belt.
‘Sorry,’ the voice came from behind her. ‘Can’t be too careful. You never know who’s out in these woods!’
Shea came into the room cautiously. Flick couldn’t help noticing he had her old stone knife in his hand. He grinned, but didn’t put the knife away. Only when he’d looked outside and satisfied himself that nobody else was about did he put the knife back into his belt.
‘Welcome to my little abode!’
‘Looks like you’ve got a cosy little place going here,’ said Flick.
‘A nice little home from home,’ said Shea. He’d managed to make himself a crutch out of some branches and vines. He hobbled into the room, and motioned for her to sit. He carefully eased himself down, which took some effort.
Flick watched him carefully. ‘How are you? How’s your leg?’ she asked.
‘About as well as can be expected,’ he replied. ‘I’m pretty sure it’s just a sprain, but it’ll still be a week or two before I’m running around. The rest of me is pretty sore and I’m covered in bruises, but otherwise I’m pretty good.’
Flick leaned over and looked his leg up and down, feeling over it gingerly with her hand. Shea winced, but not as much as he had a couple of days earlier.
‘So what’s in the bag?’ he asked, pointing at the offending article.
‘I brought some supplies,’ replied Flick, dragging the bag over. ‘There’s bread–only from the baker’s, I’m afraid. We didn’t have enough of our own to spare any today,’ she said, pulling the long thin loaf out and waving it around.
‘I’d better take that before it has someone’s eye out,’ said Shea, reaching for the bread. ‘Well, my eye anyway!’ He laughed, and for a moment they both had hold of the bread. He looked at her and smiled. Flick looked back at him. She couldn’t help noticing the way the corners of his mouth turned up when he smiled. Her gaze drifted up to his big brown eyes, which also seemed to smile at her. She felt her tongue rasp in her mouth, it had become so dry. She swallowed and blinked.
No, this wasn’t right. Scav, remember!
Then the moment passed. ‘Oh sorry,’ she said, letting go of the bread and pulling more things out of the bag. ‘Here’s some cold cooked meat, and some vegetables. Should keep you going for a few days.’
‘Thanks,’ said Shea, still smiling, ‘I was about out of small beer, and I haven’t eaten anything in ages. Do you mind…?’
‘Tuck in!’ said Flick, picking up the loaf again, breaking off a lump and passing it to him.
She watched him eat, noticing the way he wiped the grease off his chin from a piece of cold chicken. He didn’t seem so bad; so what if he was a Scav?
‘Sorry I couldn’t get here yesterday,’ she said. ‘Only the town got invaded by Kingsmen yesterday.’ She watched him closely, looking for any reaction. ‘Apparently they were looking for a runaway Scav. Closed the whole town down; no one in and no one out.’
Was that a reaction? She thought there had been a very slight
twitch, or had she imagined it? Or maybe he was very good at controlling his reactions. That wasn’t getting her anywhere.
He smiled. ‘It’s not your fault,’ he said, ‘I did wonder for a while if you would ever come back, and I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t. But you’re here now and that’s what matters.’ He picked at his teeth with a fingernail. ‘Are you sure they said runaway Scav though? Perhaps you misheard and they were looking for a runaway slave?’
Flick hadn’t considered this. ‘We don’t have slaves round here. At least, I’ve never seen one,’ she said. ‘But they’d be easy to spot with their tattooed faces.’
Shea nodded. ‘Well, they’ve gone now. So either they found who they’re looking for, or they’re looking somewhere else.’
‘So, are you a Scav?’ This is it, Flick thought, moment of truth…
Shea was silent for a moment, looking at Flick intently. ‘Does it matter?’
She flushed. Does it matter? What sort of an answer was that? He didn’t deny it. If he wasn’t a Scav he would have said no, surely.
‘Do you want to come back?’ Flick asked all of a sudden. Where did that come from? ‘The housekeeper is dying to meet you.’ Worse!
‘You have a housekeeper?’
Flick felt flustered. This wasn’t helping and now she was sounding like an idiot. ‘No. The inn has a housekeeper, and I run the inn with my dad. You could stay.’ Better.
‘And the housekeeper is dying to meet me? How many people know I’m here?’
Aargh! I’ve really dug a hole for myself here.
‘Just Maggie–the housekeeper. We’ve been friends since forever and she can keep a secret.’
‘And I’d be staying there as a guest? I’ve got no money.’
Flick nodded. She was wondering now how she could sneak him in. Obviously she’d have to go home and get the trailer for her bike, and then sneak him past the guards on the gate and into the inn without being seen. And then she’d have to explain to her dad why the guest in room five didn’t seem to be paying his bill… Why did she never think of these things before opening her mouth?
‘Thank you for your most generous offer, but I’m okay here,’ Shea said. I’ve got a comfortable bed and a warm fire and a roof–well, nearly a roof, and a nice girl bringing me food. What more could I possibly want? And you don’t want any unnecessary complications.’
‘Complications?’
‘I’ve met one or two dads in my time,’ Shea said, ‘and there’s always complications. It seems that me and “welcome” don’t get along too well. Now I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I’m sore and I’m tired and I’d like to rest now if you don’t mind.’
‘No, not at all,’ Flick said, and hurried quickly out.
She found herself back outside the cottage wondering what she’d done wrong. Was it the mention of Maggie? Or the Kingsmen, or suggesting he came back to Faringdon? Or maybe she should take him at face value and he was just tired. Perhaps she was just a silly idiot.
On the way back to town she spotted a few rabbits still in the fields, and bagged them almost without thinking. At least dinner was sorted out.
Shea shivered on his makeshift bed. Sometime during the night the fire had gone out and the clear sky had made it cold enough for a frost to form outside. Now he was regretting turning down Flick’s offer of a warm bed in the town, even though the woollen lining of his flying overalls kept the worst of the cold out.
He got the fire going again, striking his hunting knife against Flick’s stone knife for a spark, and warmed himself against the flames while heating up some water. He’d need to go out and find more wood. And while he was out, he’d keep searching for that damned radio. The chances of rescue without it were considerably less, especially while he was lying on his back inside the cottage; he needed to be outside scanning the sky for any sign of another aircraft. Another reason to keep the fire going: the smoke would act like a beacon and the rescuers would be sure to check it out. Somebody was bound to be looking for him by now.
He started on his morning fitness regime; just some gentle calisthenics and stretches. He was too bruised for a full workout and still couldn’t put his full weight on his sprained ankle, but he did what he could. He carefully undid the top of his overalls and examined the bruises on his arms and torso; they were going a nice shade of purple. He noticed the small tribal tattoo on his upper arm and smiled. This was what Flick had wanted to see. He’d need to update it when he got home, extending it with a new design reflecting this experience and part of his life.
Once his exercise was complete, he buttoned up his overalls, grabbed his crutches and headed out to the meadow to continue the search for his radio. He still hadn’t found it when he heard something in the direction of the cottage. That was probably Flick, so he crutched his way back.
He was right; her bike was leaning against the wall, meaning she’d probably gone inside. As he went in, he bumped into her coming out of one of the rooms.
‘Oh there you are, I was looking for you,’ she said.
Think of something plausible!
‘Had to take a dump,’ Shea said, matter-of-factly.
‘Yeah, well I’m glad you didn’t do that in here!’ Flick replied. ‘Place smells bad enough as it is!’ They laughed. ‘I’ve got some snares in the back of my bike, we can set them if you feel up to it?’
‘Sure,’ Shea replied, ‘and when we’re done I’ve managed to brew up some tea. It’s only nettle, and I haven’t exactly got cups, but it’s almost civilised!’
Flick got the snares from her bike, and the pair went back out to the field. She pointed out the rabbit runs and set the snares, showing Shea how to reset them once they’d been sprung. ‘Check them a couple of times a day. If there’s foxes or dogs about, chances are you’d just be catching food for them else.’
Shea nodded. It was basic woodcraft, but he’d never had to do it himself before, so he was glad of the lesson. And anyway Flick was kind of cute and he enjoyed having her around.
Back at the cottage, Flick stoked up the fire, and Shea started making his nettle brew in the cooking pot. The tea was soon made and they sat down and waited for it to cool. Shea shuffled about uncomfortably, trying to find that position of least pain. Eventually he decided he was as comfortable as he was going to get.
‘Look, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable yesterday,’ she blurted out at last.
‘You didn’t,’ Shea said.
‘I’m sure it was all just a coincidence, you being here and the Kingsmen turning up.’ Flick said.
‘Yup.’ Shea nodded.
‘You never did properly explain how you got into that field.’
‘Did too. Crashed,’ said Shea.
Flick thumped him on the arm. ‘There you go again!’
‘Owww! What was that for?’ Shea clutched his arm with his other hand. She hadn’t hit him that hard, but he was playing for sympathy.
‘I’m sorry,’ Flick touched his sleeve and looked him in the eye. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
‘You didn’t,’ he said.
She smiled.
His heart skipped a beat. Something about her smile turned his insides to jelly. The air between them was expectant, charged, thrilling. Shea reached for her with both hands and he went over, hitting the ground with a screech.
‘Now that really did hurt!’ He propped himself up slowly and carefully, and sat, his eyes closed and brow furrowed. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes. ‘How’s that tea coming?’ he asked quietly. Sweat glistened on his forehead.
Flick touched the side of the billy can, checking that it was cool enough to pick up. She blew on it and sipped at the steaming green-brown liquid and winced and sputtered.
‘Gah! That’s some interesting brew! Go on, you try it.’
She passed the billy to Shea. The tips of his fingers touched hers as he took it in both hands, and he felt the brief tingle of electricity. The world shrank. Their hands parted a
s Shea put the billy to his lips, and drank. Fire burned in his throat and his tastebuds exploded in a cacophony of alarm signals and warnings until he coughed and spat it back out. The billy went flying, spraying the hot liquid across the room.
‘I know I made it but that was the worst thing ever!’ He laughed.
Flick laughed too. ‘That was so funny,’ she said between convulsions, ‘you should have seen your face! It was so…’
She stopped. There was a strange radiance in her eyes.
‘Mmmm?’ he said. His eyes met hers. He saw her lips, that curved up smile and his heart quickened as they parted slightly. He searched her face and his eyes met hers, questioning. She moved closer and he held her gaze. He leaned in towards her.
Don’t stop!
They were so close he could feel her warm breath. His hand reached towards her face and she closed her eyes in anticipation.
No I can’t. This is so stupid!
He pulled away, then flicked at a lock of her hair. ‘Spider! I hate those things,’ he said, realising it was a dumb, stupid thing to say as soon as he’d said it.
Damn!
He turned away, grabbing the billy can and sipping at the foul tasting liquid. It tasted as bad as he felt.
8
Smoke!
ADAM STALKED TO his room at the top of the inn and flopped down onto his bed. Don’t tell anybody about this room, or our little chat. The conversation with that woman at the museum had played on his mind ever since he’d got out of there. Who was she? It would be a real shame if, for any reason, you didn’t get into the Watch this summer. Did she really have the power to stop him getting in? She was a Kingsman, and they could do anything. The threat was unmistakable, and frankly the prospect of not getting in terrified him.
And what was that business with all that stuff? He’d never been much into mechanical things; that was more Dad’s thing, and he didn’t scavenge, so where would he ever find things like that? Then a thought occurred to him. Flick liked hunting, maybe she was a scavenger too? Perhaps she’d found some of this stuff? But how could he find out without saying something? She’d be suspicious and he’d have to tell, and that would be the end of his career in the Watch. No, he’d have to be careful and keep an eye on her without her noticing. Then if she knew anything, she’d lead him to it and he could go and tell the Kingsman lady.