Monkie Business

by Thomas, Debbie;

The ceiling dripped. The walls gleamed. The mud sucked her sandals.

  She blundered on, the candle in her right hand. With her left hand she shielded the precious flame. Every few steps she called Perdita’s name. The tunnel curved right, then left, then went straight on. Left again, right again, straight. The air became colder. The candle burned lower. Colder, lower, further.

  ‘Please!’ she begged the darkness. ‘Let me go!’

  ‘Oh.’

  She stopped. Was that an echo?

  ‘Loh … ello … hello?’

  ‘PERDITA!’ She rushed on in the gloom. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Here.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘I don’t know!’

  Abbie tried to think calmly. If Perdita came in the same entrance as me, and the tunnel hasn’t forked, she must be just ahead. ‘Don’t move.’ She rounded the next corner.

  ‘My candle went out.’ Perdita’s voice was getting louder.

  ‘I’ve got one. I’m coming.’

  ‘I can hear you squelching.’

  A bend to the left. A blur in the darkness. Two brown eyes, a pale teary face and – ‘Abbie!’ Perdita’s arms were around her neck. ‘Oh, thank goodness.’ She stood back, crying and smiling. ‘I was too scared to go on in the dark so I turned back.’ She squeezed Abbie’s hand. Her teeth gleamed in the candlelight. ‘The treasure must be in here somewhere. If we go back and get more cand–’

  ‘We can’t.’

  ‘Can’t what?’

  ‘Go back.’ Abbie held her arm. ‘There was a rockfall. The entrance is blocked.’

  Perdita froze. Her eyes glowed, huge and unblinking. She closed her lids, as if tucking the news underneath. ‘Blocked.’ Her voice was flat.

  ‘We have to go on.’ Abbie swallowed. ‘And find a way out.’

  Perdita opened her eyes. ‘Out,’ she echoed dully. A drop of water fell on her head.

  ‘Come on. There isn’t much light left.’ The candle was down to its last few centimetres. Taking Perdita’s hand, Abbie led them through the dripping gloom.

  At last Perdita said, ‘How did you know I was in here?’

  Abbie looked over her shoulder. ‘I couldn’t find my notebook. I guessed you’d taken it.’

  ‘But I put it back in your rucksack so you wouldn’t know. You must’ve missed it.’

  Abbie was sure she hadn’t. But what was the point of arguing? They’d done nothing else on this island and look where it had got them.

  ‘I’m sorry we took it,’ said Perdita. ‘But I was so mad when I read it. Why did you write that stuff about me? And why didn’t you tell us about the cave?’

  ‘’Coz I was mad too.’

  ‘I know. Like you have been this whole trip. Why?’

  Abbie stopped. Does she really not know? She turned round. ‘Because you went off with Ursula, of course.’

  ‘What?’ Perdita scrunched her eyebrows. ‘I didn’t “go off”. I was only trying to help – trying to cheer her up.’

  ‘You dumped me to share a hut with her. And teamed up with her for the treasure hunt. Was all that just cheering up?’

  ‘No. That was because she’s nice, which you’d have found out too if you’d stayed around.’

  ‘You didn’t want me to!’

  Perdita stared at her. ‘Of course I did. You’re the one who didn’t want to. So I gave up. I thought …’ her eyelids fluttered, ‘you’d had enough of me.’

  Abbie’s jaw dropped. ‘You’re joking.’

  ‘Actually,’ said Perdita in a thick voice, ‘I’m not in the mood right now.’

  ‘I mean, I thought you’d had enough of me, the way you hung around Claire, then Ursula – then even Henry.’

  ‘I was making friends with them, not unmaking friends with you.’ Perdita shook her head in bemusement. ‘Why would I? How could I? You’re brilliant.’

  ‘I am?’ Abbie stared at her. ‘Well … well so are you.’

  Perdita held out her hand. ‘Friends again?’

  Abbie squeezed it. ‘Friends.’ They were trapped in a tunnel with no way out. But still a ridiculous relief spread inside her: a bubble of light that seemed to rise and expand, shrinking all her hurt and anger, squeezing it out of her chest and away through the darkness.

  The darkness that wasn’t so dark.

  She turned round and looked down the passage. The blackness really did seem to be lifting to a greyish gloom. It couldn’t be from the candle: the flame was guttering and thinning. Could there be another source of light?

  They rounded a bend. ‘Hey!’ She pointed ahead. ‘Is that …? YES!’ About five metres ahead a circle of light pooled on the ground. It came from a hole in the roof of the tunnel.

  ‘Oh,’ breathed Perdita. ‘Thank you. Thank you!’ They hurried on as fast as they could without killing the candle flame.

  ‘Hey!’ Reaching the light, Abbie felt a tug from behind. A draught of air was pulling at her back. The candle went out. Dropping it, she looked up. The hole was just above her head. ‘Quick!’ she yelled. ‘I’ll give you a leg up!’

  ‘No, you go first.’ Perdita was struggling too, bending forwards against the backward pull and cupping her hands to make a step for Abbie.

  ‘No!’ shouted Abbie. ‘You’re lighter and thinner. You can get through the crack and pull me up.’

  ‘Not against this wind!’ screamed Perdita. ‘It’s getting stronger.’

  Rooted in terror, stupid with horror, Abbie knew one thing. She’d got Perdita in here; she had to get her out. With a strength born of desperation, she crouched down; grabbed Perdita round the knees and shoved her upwards.

  Perdita’s fingers gripped the edge of the hole. Yes …

  ‘Aaaaagh!’ Abbie was yanked backwards in the draught. For a second Perdita hung by her fingers from the lip of the hole. Then she lost her grip and dropped back down into the passage. The air went still. Then the pull became a push, the stillness a rush. With a sound like a gunshot, the girls were hurled forwards and upwards in a blast of hot, wet wind.

  ***

  ‘Where could she have gone?’ Dad shielded his eyes and peered up the beach.

  ‘We last saw her in the cave, right?’ said Ursula. ‘And she’s definitely not there now. We must’ve just missed her.’

  They’d been heading back along the beach before they’d noticed that Abbie wasn’t behind them. They’d shouted, searched the undergrowth, blown their reed whistles, run back through the waterfall and peered round the cave – but there was no sign of her.

  ‘Maybe she found a different way back,’ said Marcus. ‘Maybe she called but we didn’t hear her over the waterfall.’

  ‘Perhaps she found Perdita,’ said Ursula, ‘and they’re back at the huts already.’

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ said Dad, rubbing his beard nervously. ‘I guess we’d better go back and check.’

  ***

  Up on the moor, Chunca peered through the binoculars. ‘It’s a small world,’ he said, chuffed at remembering another phrase from his BBC lessons.

  ‘That’s ’coz they’re back to front.’ Grandma took the binoculars, turned them round and peered through. A rabbit jumped across her vision. She trained the glasses over the moor, the woods and then up. ‘Ha!’ Wobbling up the mountain, high above the woods, was a football-shaped figure. ‘There ’e is, the great melon! Knew ’e wouldn’t take long to find.’ She patted her head. ‘’Ow about a chocky, Chess?’

  Chester dived into her rucksack, brought out the box and popped a Ferrero Rocher into everyone’s hand.

  ‘Eat up, boys,’ said Grandma. ‘We’ve got quite a trek.’ Gazing up at the mountain, she dropped her wrapper absent-mindedly. Then she set off over the moor.

  20

  Bigmouth

  Abbie blinked. The daylight was dazzling after the gloom of the tunnel. Her head throbbed, her face was hot. ‘Ow!’

  ‘Sorry,’ Perdita was sitting on her foot. She wriggled off.

  ‘Where are we?’ said Abbie. �
��What happened?’ They’d landed in a heap of arms, legs and bruised bottoms on a patch of scrubby grass. In front of them was a tangle of nettles and brambles. She didn’t recognise this part of the island.

  If it is the island. Despite the heat, a shiver ran through her. Have we died? Is this Heaven? What a let-down. Since when did Heaven have nettles and thorns? Oh no. Does that mean it’s–

  ‘Hell,’ boomed a voice. ‘Now I’m in doo doos.’

  The girls spun round. There was no one there: just a massive grey rock looming from the grass about three metres in front of them. It stuck out from the bottom of a steep mountainside. Halfway up the rock was a hole, rimmed by a band of reddish stone. Was that where they’d been flung out? But how?

  Abbie clutched Perdita’s arm. ‘There must be someone inside,’ she whispered, pointing at the hole.

  ‘Let’s go,’ hissed Perdita. They turned back towards the brambles.

  From behind came a snorting, sniffling sound, like a hundred bulls with colds. The girls were sucked backwards in a whoosh of warm air.

  A rumble rippled up from the ground. ‘Excuse me. A little thank you wouldn’t go amiss.’

  Abbie knew she should run or crawl or fly – whatever it took to get away. But her legs had other ideas.

  Perdita too was turning round slowly. ‘How …?’ She trailed off, her mouth agape. They’d been dragged right back to the rock. The hole was just above their heads.

  Closing her mouth to stop her heart jumping out, Abbie stood on tiptoe and peered through the hole into a dark cave. As far as she could see it was empty.

  ‘Oohoo!’ rumbled the voice. She leapt back as hot air blasted into her face. ‘Ahaha. Tickly.’ The rock gurgled, as if water was bubbling deep inside. ‘Haven’t had a laugh in years. Lost the habit, you might say.’ More gurgles. Abbie shrieked. The rim of the hole was wriggling like … like lips round a mouth! She stumbled backwards and fell on her bottom.

  The gurgles subsided. ‘Not that I’ll be laughing much longer. But at least you’re safe – for now.’

  ‘We are?’ squeaked Perdita, helping Abbie to her feet.

  ‘Thanks to me.’ The rock-lips pressed together. ‘Wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Er … yes. Thank you.’ Abbie nudged Perdita.

  ‘Very much. Indeed. Um, what for?’

  ‘What for?’ bellowed the rock-mouth. The girls ducked as more hot air shot out of the hole. ‘Only saving your lives. I was supposed to swallow you. But you stuck in my throat.’

  ‘We were in your throat?’ Abbie’s hand flew to her own. She remembered the wind that had sucked them back down the tunnel, like – yes, now she thought about it – a huge intake of breath, and then thrust them up and forward. ‘You mean,’ she gasped, ‘you coughed us out?’

  A windy sigh escaped the cave. ‘Couldn’t keep you in. You choked me up. Brought back so many memories.’

  Abbie blinked. The craziness of this conversation was conquering her fear. ‘Of what?’

  ‘Oh nothing much.’ The cave gave a rasping laugh, like rocks sliding over each other. ‘Only friendship, loyalty, love – all that fluff Father K can’t stomach. You’d think he’d have mellowed after all these centuries.’

  Centuries? Father K? Jigsaw pieces crashed round Abbie’s mind. ‘How many centuries?’ she whispered.

  ‘Hmm, let’s see. Not that I can, these days. I’m blind as the bats inside me.’ Another laugh burst out. ‘What year are we in now?’

  Perdita told him.

  ‘You’re kidding. Well, doesn’t time fly when you’re having fun?’ Another snort escaped, ruffling Abbie’s curls. ‘Eighty plus a hundred, plus lichen, plus more hundreds, divide by erosion, minus leap years … oh at least a thousand.’

  ‘You mean–’ Abbie gulped, ‘you’re a – you were a – monk?’

  There was a slow hiss as the cave sucked in air like a weightlifter gathering strength. Then words rattled out. ‘In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, yes indeedie. Brother Finbar, servant of the Most High – priest of the people, former holy man, current rock-star, pleased to meet you, top o’ the morning, Amen.’

  The girls gaped at each other, their mouths frozen Os. After swallowing three gnats, Abbie mumbled, ‘Pardon?’

  The cave repeated itself.

  ‘But,’ Perdita’s lips warmed up, ‘if you were a monk, then you must be a …’

  ‘Oh puh-lease.’ The cave groaned. ‘Do I look like a ghost? Do I waft and woo-hoo? How could I pass through walls? I am walls. Try putting your hands through me, sunshine, and they’ll never pray again.’ Laughter echoed out, deep and dark as an underground river. ‘Think of me more as a fossil in progress. Nine parts mountain, one part monk. Lucky for you, my heart’s still softish.’

  Abbie breathed slowly, trying to take it all in. At last she said, ‘You don’t really, um, look like a monk.’

  ‘And you don’t look like dinner. But that’s what you were meant to be. As I said, I had orders to swallow you.’

  ‘Orders?’ A chill ran across Abbie’s shoulders. ‘Whose orders?’ She glanced wildly round the glade.

  ‘If you want my help,’ muttered the mouth, ‘you’d better stop interrupting. There isn’t much time. I told you, I’m already in the poop. So I suggest you sit down, shut up and hear me out.’

  ***

  ‘This is a nightmare.’ Dad put his head in his hands. ‘We leave in search of one missing person and come back to five – six if you count Chester.’

  ‘And seven if you count Klench,’ said Mr Dabbings. The way Coriander looked at him, he wished he hadn’t.

  Dad, Marcus and Ursula had returned to find everyone who wasn’t missing sitting in Abbie’s hut. Which meant they now needed two search parties: one to find Abbie and Perdita and one for Grandma and the Incas who, they agreed, must have gone off to look for Klench.

  Dad insisted on looking for the girls. ‘Mother’ll be OK. Klench wouldn’t lay a finger on her.’

  Matt was torn between going with him and staying to look after Coriander.

  ‘Stay,’ said Ursula. ‘I’ll go. I promise we’ll find Perdita.’ Dad’s eyebrows rose. ‘And Abbie,’ she added quickly.

  Which left Mr Dabbings as the only remaining adult to lead a search party for Grandma. ‘I’d love to,’ he said. ‘Really. But I’d be much more use manning the fort.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ said Matt. ‘And Coriander will woman it.’

  ‘And I’ll child it.’ Henry stroked Coriander’s ankle. ‘Mr Binkles needs my support.’

  ‘You’re not scared are you, Sir? Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,’ said Marcus. ‘Diddums,’ he added under his breath.

  Mr Dabbings’s sideburns drooped. ‘But I’m so behind on my knitting.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Terrifica grabbed his hand. ‘I’ll come too. A Guide knows no fear.’

  ‘Besides.’ Dad punched Mr Dabbings’s shoulder. ‘If you did happen to meet Klench, Bran, your phenomenal peace-making skills might well make him surrender and earn you a major international police award.’

  Mr Dabbings looked round the nodding faces. ‘Really?’

  ‘Ooh yes.’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘No question,’ said everybody with a sincerity that would fool absolutely nobody except a really clueless teacher.

  ***

  ‘Last one, lads.’ Grandma gave them each a Ferrero Rocher. ‘Good job we’re headin’ into shade. It’ll be cooler in the woods.’ She popped her chocolate in her mouth and regretted it. ‘Ooh, I’m parched. Any water left?’

  Chester shook his curls. Bacpac held up his empty bottle. Chunca drank his down to the last quarter then threw the bottle into the air. Water scattered on the ground.

  ‘Thanks a bunch,’ muttered Grandma.

  ‘Ancient Inca custom,’ Bacpac explained. ‘Emperor offer last drops to Granddad so that he send rain to fill bottle.’

  ‘No offence,’ snapped Grandma, ‘but Granddad doesn’t seem to listen muc
h.’ She pointed at the cloudless sky. ‘Come on. We’ve got a mountain to climb.’ Dropping her chocolate wrapper, she headed into the woods.

  21

  A Tragic Tale of Tableware

  ‘Oh it was peachy,’ sighed Finbar the cave. ‘When we first arrived there was never a squabble, never a tiff. All three of us were one.’

  ‘How can three be one?’ said Perdita.

  The cave mouth tutted, a squelchy sound like a boot rising from mud. ‘If you’ll just let me finish … I’m talking peace and love, sister. I’m talking major hoorays at escaping those Vikings. I’m talking one long hooley: thanking God like there was no tomorrow.’

  Perdita couldn’t help butting in again. ‘You don’t sound very – well – monkish. I thought they said things like ‘thee’ and ‘thy’ and ‘wouldst thou pass the butter?’

  ‘Ha!’ snorted Finbar. ‘Fooled you. That’s how we wrote, so that people in future would read our manuscripts and think we were super-sacred. Holier than Thou, you could say.’ Chuckles rippled out, flattening the grass in front of the girls.

  Abbie wished he’d cut the corny jokes. But she guessed the suggestion wouldn’t go down well.

  ‘And we were for a while. Holy, I mean. Brother Oisín was cool as a cellarful of cheese. And our boss, Father Kenneth – what a leader. When he talked you listened, when he ordered you obeyed. A mighty man of God indeed.’ The cave lips trembled. ‘Until he forgot the God bit.’

  Abbie frowned. ‘The Annals of Donal said he was gentle.’

  ‘Gentle?’ Air gusted out of the cave. ‘Oh, he put on a show in front of Bro Do. And in front of us too, at first. But as time went on, power went to his head. Started throwing his weight about, skiving off work. Told us God needed him twenty-four seven. “Brother Fin,” he’d say, “The Lord wants a chat. Knock me up some breakfast, would you?” or “Brother Oisín, I can’t plant the barley. God wants my hands muck-free for prayer.”’

  Good one. Abbie imagined trying that after dinner: ‘Sorry Mum. God wants my hands Fairy-Liquid free for prayer.’

  ‘But pushing us around,’ said Brother Finbar, ‘only pushed us together. The more Kenneth bullied, the closer we got. He became jealous of our friendship. And that made things worse. He ordered us to weed the crops, knead the bread, fish and farm till the cows came home – which they only did when we fetched them. The final straw was when he used the goblet as crockery.’