The voice faded. The ripples calmed. The lake was a still, brown soup.
‘Wow,’ murmured Perdita. ‘Do you think he’s found peace at last?’
If only, thought Abbie. But why the mud? Why the silencing of the lake? Setting off back to the huts, she tried to ignore the other possibility nibbling the edge of her mind … that it was anything but peace that had shut Brother Oisín up.
***
‘What on earth?’ Dad ran onto the beach. He’d been searching the undergrowth with Ursula when they’d noticed the lake turning brown. ‘For goodness sake, what’s going on here? And where in Heaven’s name could those girls have got–’
‘Shh!’ Ursula raised a finger. A crunch of pebbles. A murmur of voices. A foot, a leg, and then round the bend came …
‘Abbie!’ Dad hurtled towards her.
‘Perdita!’ Ursula scuttled behind him.
***
‘It’s no good.’ Grandma sat on a boulder. ‘I’ve got to ’ave a drink.’
Bacpac bent down. Pulling up a daisy from a patch of grass, he popped it into his mouth. ‘Peughh!’ he cried – the ancient Quechua word for ‘Peughh’ – and spat it out. ‘In my country,’ he said, ‘we have flowers that store water. When you thirsty, land provide.’
‘Well this isn’t your country,’ Grandma snapped. ‘And if someone doesn’t provide pretty soon, I’ll be pushin’ up daisies.’
Chester wriggled down to wipe her face, her neck and – way beyond the call of duty – her armpits. Then he dived into her rucksack, brought out her empty bottle and rolled it a little way down the mountainside.
‘Genius!’ cried Grandma.
Chunca, who was picking dandelions and blowing the puff, bowed.
‘Not you, Peabrain. Chester’s offerin’ to nip back down through the woods and across to the stream to fill up me bottle.’ She lifted the binoculars and peered up the mountain. ‘Looks like Klench is diggin’. If ’e stays there a while, we shouldn’t fall too far behind.’ She picked Chester up and kissed his dusty curls. ‘Off you go, chuck. We’ll wait ’ere. Quick as you can, now.’
***
Digging Klench was. And digging and digging. And sweating and cussing while Mummy was fussing. ‘Hole is too shallow, you pink marshmallow. Give it more velly, you melting jelly.’
His face was indeed pink. His legs did indeed feel like jelly. And he was indeed heading for a meltdown.
23
Abbie’s Horrible Hunch
‘I think you need to lie down, darling.’ Dad leaned over and felt Abbie’s forehead with his hand. ‘The sun can play the weirdest tricks.’
Abbie pushed him away. ‘For goodness sake, Dad. You’ve got to believe me.’
‘It’s true,’ said Perdita. ‘I saw them too.’
They were sitting in Abbie’s hut. After their reunion in the undergrowth, Abbie and Perdita had collapsed with exhaustion and promised to tell their story after lunch.
Over a slap-up first course of omelette (made with Kinder eggs) the girls had been updated on who was missing and who was searching. When Perdita learned that Klench was on the island, she almost choked on her Kinder toy.
Over a knockout second course of barley cake and Jungle Jellies, the hut party had been updated on the girls’ adventure. When Dad learned that two monks had somehow fused with the landscape, he almost choked on his strawberry anaconda. ‘A cave that cracks jokes and a lazy lake? It’s a little hard to swallow.’ He put his arm round Abbie. ‘Though not as hard as you two, by the sound
of it.’
Matt hugged Perdita. ‘Thank goodness.’ The Platts were sitting with their backs to the stone bench. The stretcher lay on top.
‘We imagined pretty much everything,’ said Coriander, squeezing Perdita’s hand. ‘Except that.’ Her leg was stretched straight in front of her. Henry was massaging her Binkles-wrapped ankle. ‘Cave puke,’ he said, gazing at the girls with a new respect. ‘Awesicks.’
Ursula nibbled a blackcurrant jaguar. ‘I don’t get it. How can a person turn into landscape?’ Everyone looked at Matt.
‘Well.’ He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. ‘I guess we’re all made of chemicals – carbon and silicon and stuff – just like the land. And when we die, and our bodies decay, they go back into the earth.’
‘But Finbar and Oisín didn’t die,’ said Abbie. ‘They’re still alive. At least …’ she trailed off, remembering the sealed cave and the muddied lake. ‘Who knows what they are?’
Dad jumped up. ‘Never mind the science – what about the history? The living history!’ He paced round the hut. ‘Don’t you see? This is huge. This is research grants. This is documentary heaven. I’m seeing academic papers, conferences, a whole new branch of–’
‘Dad!’ exploded Abbie. ‘Don’t you see? If Finbar merged with a cave, and Oisín lived on in a lake, then what about Father Kenneth? They talked about him as if he’s still around. But where?’
The words hung in the air. Dad stopped pacing. Henry stopped massaging. Ursula stopped nibbling. And three earwigs stopped discussing who had the biggest bottom.
At last Matt mumbled, ‘Where indeed?’
Abbie swallowed. Because suddenly she could guess. She’d suspected, or rather sensed, it all along. ‘The woods.’ It all made sense – or as much sense as anything on this horrible island. If Kenneth had fallen into that bog at the edge of the trees, could he somehow have merged with those woods, just like Finbar had merged with the cave and Oisín with the lake? It would explain that feeling she’d had of entering a presence, a living world of watching trees and breathing earth. Her stomach twisted at the thought of what they could have disturbed, picking plants and gathering firewood in that wicked gloom. What the others might be disturbing right now: Grandma and the Incas, or Mr Dabbings, Marcus and Terrifica.
Her breath caught in her throat as Oisín’s words came back. Your quarrelling strengthens his power. Marcus and Terrifica would be quarrelling for England.
‘We have to find the others,’ she said hoarsely. Pressing her hand against the cool, calming stones of the hut wall, she looked round. ‘Who’s coming with me?’
‘Oh no,’ said Dad. ‘Oh no no no. You’ve caused enough trouble, my girl. I absolutely forbid you from–’
‘Rescuing your mother.’
There was an awkward pause, during which Henry got back to massaging, Ursula resumed her nibbling, and the earwigs found a tape measure to settle things once and for all.
‘Oh,’ said Dad at last. ‘Right. Of course. Off we go then.’
Perdita leapt to her feet.
‘No!’ cried Coriander, trying to stand up. ‘Ow!’ She collapsed against the bench.
‘You’re staying right here.’ Matt put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder.
‘I’ll go.’ Ursula got up and turned to Perdita. ‘You need to look after your mum.’
Perdita shook her head. ‘Sorry. But I’m going with the girl who saved my life.’
Coriander clutched a plait. Matt rubbed his teeth. How could they argue with that?
Abbie’s heart did a high jump. Best friends again or what? She couldn’t help a teeny smirk at Ursula.
Who, to her amazement, smiled back. ‘OK then,’ she said to Perdita, ‘I’ll look after your parents.’ She patted Matt’s arm. ‘You and Henry mind Coriander. I’ll stand guard. And if Klench appears, I’ll sort him out.’
It was Abbie’s turn to smile. A week ago she’d have scoffed to think of this gnat of a girl confronting Klench. Now she almost pitied the hefty horror.
They waited outside while Matt fetched three water bottles from the food tent. ‘Good job I filled up the jerrycans this morning,’ he said, nodding towards the muddy brown lake.
Everyone agreed and managed not to say what Abbie guessed they must be thinking: Let’s hope the water lasts until we get off this island.
***
‘We haven’t seen one wrapper in here.’ Marcus peered at the dark soil, littered wit
h leaves and twigs.
‘It’s hard to see anything in these woods,’ said Mr Dabbings. ‘Tell you what, why don’t I go back to the huts and collect some cand–’
‘No,’ said Terrifica sternly. ‘You’re staying right here. We need all the eyes we can get.’
‘What’s the point?’ Marcus kicked a root. ‘We’ve lost the trail. You’re right, Sir, we might as well go back.’
Terrifica shook her head. ‘A Guide never gives up.’
‘Well on you go then.’ Marcus shooed her off with his hand. ‘And good riddance!’
Terrifica glared at him. ‘You’re just jealous because I’m better at tracking than you.’
‘Why so you are,’ Marcus sneered. ‘That must be why we’re lost.’
Terrifica stormed off between the trees.
‘Waity ho!’ Mr Dabbings stumbled after her, pushing back branches that interwove ever more thickly. ‘Don’t wander off, Terrifica. Remember I’m the responsible adult. Besides,’ he panted, ‘I’ll never find the way back alone.’
‘I will,’ said Marcus behind him. ‘Come on, Sir. We’re wasting our time.’
‘Oh are we?’ came Terrifica’s triumphant voice.
They stooped under branches that locked together, thick as thatch, and found her grinning and pointing at a footprint. Small and wide, it led to another … and another, between the trees.
Marcus snorted. ‘Those could be ours, from when we came in here before.’
‘There’s only one set. We came in a group.’
‘Well so did Grandma.’ Mr Dabbings stared at Marcus. Who stared at Terrifica. Who stared through the trees. ‘Yikes.’
With a finger on her lips, she crept a few steps beneath dense branches. Beckoning furiously, she crouched down. They joined her at the edge of a clearing. In the middle stood a mint-green tent. The footprints led to the doorway. The flap had been rolled right up.
‘A tent,’ Mr Dabbings whispered, rather unnecessarily. ‘Grandma had no tent.’ His sideburns trembled.
Terrifica peered across into the doorway. ‘Empty. Phew.’
‘Yeah phew,’ muttered Marcus, rolling his eyes. ‘Phew that you led us to Klench’s hideout.’
Mr Dabbings ducked behind a tree. ‘He could be anywhere, waiting to spring on us.’
‘Now what, Miss Wonder Woggle?’ hissed Marcus. ‘Stay here and wait for a deadly criminal to wander home, or leave and risk bumping into him?’
‘I don’t know. You think of something for a change.’
‘I always do. But you just ignore me and make everyone do what you want, like you’re the Guide of the Universe. Doesn’t she, Sir?’
‘Oh belt up!’
The children’s mouths fell open. Mr Dabbings had never spoken so harshly. ‘To be honest, kids, I’ve had it with both of you. Nothing but bickering all the way. I’m going back.’
Marcus’s eyes went wide. ‘But what about Abbie’s grandma? You can’t leave her to Klench.’
‘You just watch me.’ Mr Dabbings turned. The others followed the few steps to the spot where Terrifica had found the footprint. The undergrowth seemed thicker and darker than ever.
‘Blast!’ Mr Dabbings’s rucksack caught on a bramble bush. ‘Now where?’
Terrifica, who’d followed him pointed to the right.
‘No.’ Marcus pointed left. ‘Remember that holly bush?’
‘No,’ said Terrifica and, ‘Ouch!’ as her foot caught in a root.
Marcus frowned at a tree with fungus on the trunk. Had they passed that before?
‘Well?’ squeaked Mr Dabbings.
Terrifica sat down on a log. ‘Let me get my bearings.’
A bramble snagged Marcus’s T-shirt. ‘Ow!’ Unhooking himself, he leaned against a tree. ‘Face it, Girl Guide – we’re lost.’
***
‘Come on Chess, where are you?’ muttered Grandma, wiping her forehead with her hanky. Chunca was lying on his back, using Bacpac’s backpack as a pillow.
The old servant was looking up the mountain through the binoculars. ‘Klench he digging. Klench he stopping. Klench he sitting on rock.’
***
‘Vot you doink? Get ups.’
Klench didn’t move.
Inner Mummy wagged her finger. ‘If you slacken from your duty, how you ever find ze booty?’
Klench folded his arms. ‘Zere is no booty here, Muzzer. I’m sure ve are barkink up wronk mountain.’
‘How dare you doubt me, lardy cake! You know I never make mistake.’
Despite the confident words, Klench noticed a quiver in her voice that suggested she might just be wondering, for the first time in his life, and possibly hers too, if she had, in fact, made a boo-boo.
Just a quiver, mind. But it was enough to wobble the lid of tyranny that had sat on him all his life. The lid that had suppressed all his rage and rebellion, kept it in check like a simmering stew. The lid that Grandma had loosened.
And that now, at last, blew off.
You don’t want to know what words he used. Some were so bad he didn’t know them himself. But the gist was clear. There was something about bullying. Something about tormenting. Something about bossing him about while dossing on her butt. Something about abusing him, something about misusing him. Something about a stolen childhood. Something about birthday parties where she ate all his presents, including the Mr Men umbrella. And lots of things about letting rip in lifts and blaming it on him.
When he’d finished, she stared at him, speechless.
He met her inner gaze with cold, triumphant eyes. Then he stood up, reached for his spade and set off down the mountain.
24
Out of the Woods
Abbie, Perdita and Dad ran across the moor, jumping over the stream, not stopping till they reached the edge of the woods. Pausing for a quick drink, Abbie plunged inside and led the way between the trees.
Not that she knew the way. Grandma, Marcus and the rest could be anywhere in this gloom – if they were here at all. A twig snapped against her shoulder. Catching her breath, she glanced round. Even if they weren’t here, something was. She could feel it in the stillness and silence, in the shadows that stroked her with weightless fingers. She imagined them stroking Marcus, Terrifica and Mr Dabbings. She pictured brambles snagging, ivy grabbing and soft damp earth sucking them down.
Don’t. If there was any hope of rescue, they had to slip calmly and quickly through these woods without awakening more wickedness. Her heart whirring like hummingbird wings, she crept on.
‘Aaarrgh!’ Everything went dark. She staggered backwards, clutching her face. The darkness wriggled off.
‘Chester!’ she squealed. ‘Oh thank goodness.’ He climbed over her head. ‘Where’s Grandma?’ She felt him against her back, rummaging around in her rucksack. ‘What are you doing?’ He brought out her water bottle and dropped it on the ground. Then he jumped onto her head and stretched up into a cone.
‘High?’ guessed Perdita. ‘Pointy?’
‘She’s up the mountain,’ said Abbie. Chester flew down to the bottle. ‘And she wants water.’
They stumbled through the trees trying to keep up with Chester, who darted along the ground or leapt from branch to branch. A squirrel watched him fly between trees and dropped her pine cone to clap.
‘Wait!’
Abbie spun round.
‘Shh!’ Dad had stopped and was standing with his head cocked and one finger raised. Then she heard it too: a whisper in the undergrowth.
No. She glanced around wildly. This is it. We’ve woken Kenneth.
‘Ouch.’
‘What?’
‘Get off my foot.’
‘Terrifica?’ Abbie murmured. ‘Marcus?’
They followed Chester to the left, towards the voices. Branches scratched Abbie’s arms. Her feet sank into spongy earth and caught in tricky roots. The voices grew stronger.
‘You trod on it deliberately.’
‘There’s nothing I’d less rathe
r tread on.’
‘Ow. My hair’s caught in … ow!’
‘Sorry Sir. Just trying to pull it out.’
They reached a small clearing. On the right stood a tent. To the left was a cluster of trees and bramble bushes. Sticking up from one was the top of a golden head. ‘Mr Dabbings?’ Abbie’s throat went tight. Had she been right? Were the woods finally devouring them?
The head popped up. ‘Abigail! Thank heavens it’s only you.’ It dived down.
Marcus’s head rose. ‘We’re hiding from Klench.’ It ducked again.
Terrifica stood up. ‘Not very well. The noise you lot are making, he’ll hear us a mile off. Quick!’ She beckoned to Abbie, Dad and Perdita. ‘He could be back any minute. We’re trying to decide when to make a run for it.’
‘Right now,’ said Abbie. ‘We’ve got to get out of these woods.’
Mr Dabbings bobbed up again. ‘I’m not going anywhere until we know where he is.’ He dropped down.
‘For goodness’ sake.’ Abbie crept over to the brambles. ‘Klench is the least of our worries. I thought you’d already been … oh never mind. But you’ve got to come. Now.’
Terrifica shot up. ‘We haven’t got to do anything. Stop bossing us about.’
Marcus stood up. ‘Says the Empress of boss. Priceless.’
‘No,’ said Abbie desperately. ‘Don’t start quarrelling.’ She pulled Terrifica’s arm.
‘Get off!’ Terrifica yanked it away. ‘I’ll come when I’m ready.’
‘Well I’m ready now.’ Mr Dabbings appeared again. ‘Thank goodness you’re here, Graham. These two kids refuse to obey me – their teacher!’
‘A useless one at that,’ snapped Terrifica.
Disaster. They were all at it. Abbie looked at Perdita and Dad. Grabbing arms, T-shirts, rucksacks and hair, they tugged and lugged the squabblers. They had to get out before the woods got them. Chester led them through the dense gloom. At last the trees thinned and stopped, opening out onto the mountainside. Panting and blinking in the sunlight, they flopped down on a patch of grass.
Abbie took her water from her rucksack. Chester wrapped himself round the bottle as she drank. ‘Alright, alright,’ she said, screwing the lid back on. ‘I promise I’ll keep the rest for Grandma.’
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