by Julia Jones
For the first time in his life Donny wondered if there was a reason why his mum was the way she was ...?
“Your social worker’s coming to see you this evening, John,” Gerald told Donny as soon as he got in. “She needs to check that you’re settling into your placement and she’ll want to catch up with the paperwork.”
Did she have to? He’d planned to go straight out again. Take his map. Check around. Try and work out how far it was to Shotley. See if the foster-carers had a bike he could, er, borrow.
“There’s a glass of water and some fruit on the table.” Gerald was scrubbing organic vegetables for supper and sounded harassed. The baby was in a pen. It had a wipe-able book and a couple of bright plastic toys but they had been thrown down. It was pulling itself up on the bars as if it was trying to get to Donny.
Donny took a deep breath. Mustn’t shout. He walked across to have a look. “I don’t know much about babies. Is this one a boy or a girl?” He reached through the bars as he spoke. The baby grabbed his finger and started biting it with a warm wet mouth. It had grey eyes and red hair. It didn’t seem to have many teeth.
“She’s female. Her name’s Vicky. Those are her brothers – half-brothers to be exact.” Gerald gestured towards the plain glass window. The two little boys were pounding each other on the grass whilst a football lay disregarded beside them.
Then he noticed what the baby was doing to Donny’s finger.
“Oh no, no! I don’t suppose you’ve washed your hands since coming in. She’s still in the oral phase. I can’t risk infection. Why don’t you go and make some social contact with Luke and Liam?”
Donny looked again at scene outside. One of the boys had rolled on top of the ball while the other was punching him in the ribs. “Um, actually I’ve got homework.”
He got to his feet and moved towards the door. The baby let out a wail of protest, stretching her small hand over the top of the pen.
“Over-stimulation,” muttered Gerald, wiping his hands dry and moving to disengage the baby from the rails. “Off you go, John. I’ll tell Sandra where to find you ... We have supper at half past six,” he called after him as the baby began to howl again. Sighing, he extracted a stick of raw carrot from the fridge and pressed it into her spitty palm.
Donny heard the telephone in the study ringing disregarded as he stomped upstairs. Wendy must be out. It would have been so easy to get away if he hadn’t had to wait for Sandra.
Unless she was going to give him Skye’s address? That would be worth the wait.
He supposed Anna was already in her room. He wondered what she did there? Homework, maybe. Or reading. They weren’t allowed any electronic equipment. Inappropriate, apparently. Or a safety hazard. He couldn’t remember which.
Much later that night, when he was certain everyone else was either in bed or, in Gerald’s case, trying to soothe the baby, Donny crept downstairs and checked the lock system on both front and back doors and the downstairs windows. All securely bolted.
His heart sank when he found a keypad beside the front door. The vicarage had an alarm system.
You wouldn’t have expected that an old place like this would have something so modern. Donny didn’t for a moment think that these security arrangements were to keep people out – vandals or burglars – as they would be in a normal house. These locks were to keep people in.
Even at this moment a ship might be pushing her way through the waters of an unknown sea bringing Great Aunt Ellen closer. How was he going to reach her? Donny stared at the LED winking green on the keypad. He supposed these things could be disabled but he didn’t have a clue how. Would all the windows be connected as well as the doors? Maybe he should try. He could always say he’d made a mistake.
The rest of the house was in darkness, except for a couple more of the low wattage night-lights strategically placed by the study and the kitchen doors. Donny had been creeping round letting his eyes get accustomed to the near-blackness, doing everything by touch. The study door wasn’t quite closed. It moved as he pushed it. Donny stepped back, oddly startled.
He stopped a moment. Had something, near him, rustled? This house didn’t feel safe. The night-lights made the dark bits darker. Donny took a few deep breaths to steady himself. He’d got to have a go. Which window should he try?
He was in the living room and fumbling to find the window catch in the darkness when a voice hissed behind him,
“Are you completely dense? Can’t you see the alarm’s on?” It was Anna.
“What are you doing down here then?” he hissed back once he’d got over the shock.
“My own business. Now get back to bed without them seeing you – or I’ll ... call the police!”
“I thought you said you never told,” he whispered weakly as he turned away.
“This would be an exception.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Allies
Friday, September 15th, morning
Donny had a terrible dream that night. It was the worst dream he could ever remember having. Though in that peculiar way of dreams, while he was having it, he felt as if he’d had it before. That he knew what was going to happen next but he was powerless to stop it.
He was somewhere cold, very cold and he was on a ship. It was a destroyer and he was at war. At that moment when the dream began he was relaxed. The part of him that was in the dream was gazing almost idly at the collection of ships around him. They were headed due north. To Russia, he thought. Their mission was to protect a convoy of merchantmen carrying supplies.
His ship was fast and fine. He was in command. He had done a good job. So, for a moment, he was allowing himself to linger, forgetting his duties, watching another warship in the escort group, a junior ship, who carried someone very special to him.
“Don’t look,” shouted Donny to himself in the dream. “Look away, now. You don’t want the next bit ...”
The man in the dream couldn’t hear him. He carried on watching the other ship rolling gently about half a mile away on their starboard beam. He was remembering the happy days of childhood. He pushed his mittened hands into his duffle pocket to touch the slim blue book that he always carried. It made him feel like a boy again.
His brother might be looking across. Might be thinking of him.
“DON’T LOOK!” Donny screamed, unheard.
The explosion ... the searching ... that white face with its desperate appeal ... Down, breathless, down into darkness, crushed by the weight of the icy sea —
He shouldn’t have been touching the book.
Donny was panting and sweating as he woke. Someone had switched on his light. He pulled himself up onto his elbow and stared around the empty walls, trying to remember why he was here.
Anna was just inside the door. Her pyjamas were so pale because the pattern had been washed right out of them.
“I heard you shouting,” she whispered, closing the door with extreme carefulness behind her.
“I was having a bad dream.” He still felt disorientated. She sat, unexpectedly and warily, on the far end of his bed.
“I’ve always had bad dreams, ever since I can remember,” she stated quietly. “But I don’t think I shout out any more.”
Donny sat up properly now and bunched the blanket and thin quilt against his chest. Her attitude confused him.
“Did your mother used to come to you? Does ... did ...does she mind about dreams?” He too was whispering – the thought of Gerald or Wendy coming in was unbearable.
“She did to start with. Come in, I mean. After my dad was killed. I think my stepfather stopped her. He used to get drunk and once he hit her. The dreams were always worse when he was home. I don’t mind about dreams – I think they’re a symptom.”
Her quiet voice was unemotional.
“My mother thinks they’re real. That they matter. She’d come. Except she can’t hear me because she’s deaf. So she makes dream-catchers. They have a web to catch the bad dreams. You decorate them in speci
al ways.” He paused, thinking how Skye might be at this moment. “She used to make them for herself as well.”
“It was a pity you didn’t have one tonight then.”
“I don’t suppose she’s got one either. She’s in hospital.”
“In Ipswich?”
“Where’s that?”
“Nearest town.”
“I don’t think so. I think it’s further away. Where we were captured. That was Colchester but then they moved her. I asked the social worker but she wouldn’t tell me. They think I’ll run away if I know where to go.”
“Would you?”
“Might do. Depends.”
“You were trying to get out earlier. You were going to set off the alarm.”
“I also need to meet my great aunt. That’s at Shotley – that’s quite near, I think. But why were you so angry? You’re nice now.”
“You were on my patch.”
“Oh.”
“You need to remember that you’re not the only one here with problems.”
“Do you ... er ... want to talk about them?”
“No.”
Neither of them said anything for a bit. Donny leaned forward and hitched up the far end of his quilt and Anna put her cold feet underneath.
“Do you know how to make these dream-catchers?” she asked, after a while.
“Probably, if I could get the stuff.”
Skye hadn’t always used seedpods and dried grasses. There’d been strips of leather and horsehair, willow, painted beads and once they’d combed and twisted long strands of sheep’s wool that they’d found tangled in a wire fence.
“I could help you if you liked. I’m good at making things.” She looked alarmed at what she’d said. “Only I don’t usually tell people.”
“We can keep it secret. I’ll make a dream-catcher for you if I can find some good bits, and you make one for me. It’s better if they’re gifts. I’ll make one for Skye too.”
“Skye?”
“My mum. They must let me see her eventually. Wherever she is.”
“It’s a lovely name.” Her voice carried some emotion now. Wistfulness.
“Thanks. She’s a lovely person.”
He didn’t ask about her mother. He didn’t think she’d tell him.
Anna’s eyelids drooped. She sat up, startled.
“I’m going back to bed now if you’re okay. My room’s opposite.”
“I’m okay. Um ... sleep well.”
She tiptoed to the door and slipped out more silently than he could have believed possible, closing it without the faintest click. There was no sound from the landing floorboards and nothing from her door either.
Donny wasn’t ready to risk going to sleep again so he kept the light on and read Swallows and Amazons for a bit. Those kids did him good. They were so normal. He could almost smell their campfire.
What would one of them have done, stuck up here? His room was on the top floor. About as high as a lookout pine? Donny drifted off to sleep again, his mind full of confused ideas about ropes and knots and signals.
And boats. He would definitely need a boat.
“Hi, Donny! Er, hi ... Anna.”
Maggi and Xanthe had piled into the seat in front of them. Maggi was twisting round immediately to chat through the gap.
Anna looked away without answering.
“Hi!” said Donny. Why did Anna have to be like this? Okay, so she was tired but it wasn’t that hard to be friendly. Was it?
Then he remembered how he’d snapped at Xanthe yesterday. She wasn’t saying too much this morning.
“Um. I’m sorry about yesterday, Xanthe. I did try to find you but I’ve been put on report.”
She turned round. “In your first week? That’s victimisation. Who’s your tutor?”
“Mr McMullen.”
“What’s got into him? He’s normally well cool.”
Donny didn’t want to answer. Not on the bus.
“We were wondering if you wanted to come round ours?” said Maggi. “Mum tried ringing you but there wasn’t any answer at first. Then it was engaged for ages. We thought you were maybe surfing? Do they not have broadband?”
“No chance! There’s a really old computer in the living room but all that’s got is educational games. Times table practice. No access. They’ve got one in their study that’s enabled but apparently we’re only allowed to use that for special homework projects. And we have to be supervised ...”
“What a boot camp!” Xanthe was outraged.
Half the bus was listening now. He felt Anna shift even further into the corner of her seat as if she was creating a personal exclusion zone.
“’T’s alright really,” he mumbled, trying to sound casual. “There’s other kids there – and a baby.”
Once again Maggi was more perceptive than her sister. “Shut it, Xanth. You’re so embarrassing sometimes.”
Then she gave Donny one of her lovely smiles.
“Mum was going to ask whether you’d come and have supper with us tonight? It won’t be late because we’ve got a training session on the river tomorrow. But we’d collect you and take you back afterwards...”
She glanced over to Anna who didn’t meet her eyes. “Maybe you could come too, Anna? I could use some help with this week’s homework ...?”
Anna didn’t even look.
Donny was annoyed with her. He started to answer, “Yeah, that’d be really good ...” when Anna interrupted. “Don’t bother. It’s House Meeting on Fridays. We have to go. It’s in our Care Plans.”
She said it like a slap.
Maggi stared a moment then got busy checking her texts. Xanthe pulled a battered looking book from her bag, stretched her long legs far beneath the seat in front and read with complete concentration for the rest of the journey. Donny just sat there.
As soon as the bus pulled up, Anna grabbed her bag and pushed awkwardly past all of them.
He realised, too late, that she was in a hurry because she needed to find somewhere to cry.
“Donny-man, we need to talk. I’ll meet you outside the DT block at the end of morning lessons. Okay?”
Donny nodded. Xanthe wasn’t offering No as an option.
“I’ll be there too,” said Maggi, gathering up her bags.
The fat policeman was in the school office, waiting for Donny. Some kid had reported a lost mobile and they’d been on Donny’s bus the morning before.
The policeman persuaded the school administrator that Donny should be searched. He made it sound as if Donny had come from a really bad home, full of gangs and criminals. The Welfare Officer was there too, smirking.
They took his map – which didn’t really matter because he hadn’t done a lot of work on it – and they didn’t bother looking inside Swallows and Amazons which was where he’d put Great Aunt Ellen’s telegram.
They didn’t find a mobile of course. Donny hadn’t ever had a mobile in his life. It was just humiliating and dirty and made him late for his first lesson and then he had to explain what had happened to Mr McMullen who had been sent for by the subject teacher when he didn’t turn up.
And there was everyone in the class listening.
When he met Xanthe and Maggi at lunchtime he couldn’t see he had much more to lose. So he told them everything. About Granny, about Skye, about Great Aunt Ellen, about the fat policeman and the welfare officer. About being a scrounger and a fantasist. And now a thief.
The sisters were silent for a moment after he’d finished. Then both spoke at once.
“Count us right in, Donny-man!” said Xanthe. “Mum’s a magistrate. She’ll get you off the full custodial sentence ... Only joking,” she added quickly as Maggi turned on her.
“Our dad’s a doctor. Maybe he could help? Is Anna’s mum in hospital too?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. She said some things last night ... I can’t repeat them. But I feel really sorry for her. Like, I don’t think she’s even got a Rescue Myth ...”
> “Especially one that might arrive in less than a couple of weeks! All we have to do is get you to Shotley. How easy is that! I feel seriously undervalued.”
“Well ...” started Donny.
But Maggi was on a different tack.
“Maybe when your great aunt arrives, we should work out what we can do to help Anna? She doesn’t exactly give the impression that she’d welcome anyone getting involved right now.”
“But Great Aunt Ellen doesn’t even know that we need rescuing. I don’t know what she knows. I never heard of her before. She might take one look at me and Skye and go straight back to China. And that’s if I even manage to get to meet her in the first place.”
He’d made up his mind.
“There’s one thing I know I want. It’s my big ask.”
“Try us –”
“That first day on the bus – you said that you go sailing?”
“It’s our life!”
“Well I’ve done it once and I totally want to do it again. It was like ... magic. I wondered whether maybe you could give me some lessons? I have to convince Great Aunt Ellen that I’m not a landlubber. Maybe a scrounger and a fantasist and a ... thief. Just not a landlubber. It’s all I can do.”
Xanthe and Maggi looked at each other.
“Sure.”
“But how?”
“He could watch us train.”
“That’s not learning. He needs to do it for himself.”
“But he couldn’t sail the Lasers, not yet. Not on the river.”
“And we’re going to Weymouth on Sunday.”
Donny almost wished he hadn’t asked.
Except he didn’t. He wanted this so badly.
“Got it, Maggi-baby – the Mirror! I saw her in the corner of the dinghy park a while ago. If we were to get ahead of ourselves tonight – chores, homework, music practice, goody- goody, blah-blah – we could take him for a spin tomorrow before we start training.”
“On the river?”
“He’d have to. Anyway Lady’s a bath toy – even you never managed to sink her completely – okay, okay, don’t hit me, please ...! How’s your swimming, Donny-man?”
“I’ve never done much. I did get my 25 metres at primary school.”