by Fiona Shaw
Jake heard the click of the door lock.
–Quick, get out, the tall man said. –And jolly good luck, he called after them as they ran, full pelt, down the road.
A terrace of houses. Jake glimpsed the numbers. Thirty-five … forty-three … sixty-five … then there was a beautiful house set back from the road with a high front wall and big gates. A doorway was set into the wall, and on the door: sixty-nine. This was it.
–I’ll go, Poacher said, and quickly he pushed the gate open and stepped through. The gang waited, backs pressed against the wall. Cass hid in her sister’s shadow. Jake heard the tap of Davie’s drumming fingers, saw Ollie make the cross sign again. He could smell the dampness of the old wall. He could smell roses. He heard Poacher’s footsteps on the gravel drive, heard him clear his throat before he knocked on the door.
–Hurry up, he heard Swift mutter.
But before Poacher could knock there was the sound of the tannoy, blasting through the air, booming all around them. And this time there was no mistaking the voice. It was Scar woman and the words were very clear:
–ALIYA KHAN. ALIYA KHAN. WE ARE HERE TO HELP. THIS GANG IS DANGEROUS. GIVE YOURSELF UP. WE WILL TAKE YOU TO SAFETY.
–No! It’s her! Jake felt Aliya’s hand on his wrist, gripping him as if the hubbers were already pulling her away.
Then Poacher’s feet on the gravel, running, urgent, and he was back with them on the street.
–We’re outta time, Poacher said. And Jake could feel the hubbers now, the rumble in the ground from the heavy hub vans.
–In here! It was Ollie’s voice from across the street. An alleyway with a sign over in gold lettering that Jake could just read in the thin moonlight: The Church of Our Lady and St Oswald.
They ran into the alleyway, pushing the big iron gate shut behind them, Ollie leading the way, Jake and Davie bringing up the rear. From the dark Jake and Davie watched a hub van roll to a stop, its headlights blasting the street in light. They saw hubbers tumble out, six Jake counted, helmets on, Tasers ready. And they saw them pile through the doorway of number sixty-nine.
Three minutes later and the hubbers were out, two of them with a woman between them. She was in stockinged feet and she seemed to have trouble walking. They had her by the elbows and were half dragging, half lifting her to the van. The moonlight caught on a string of pearls around her neck. This was the tall man’s friend, Jake knew, the woman with the yacht who was to take them across the border.
–Lord, Davie breathed, fear in his voice. Because she had not left her house willingly, that much was clear to them.
As the hubbers pulled the woman to the back of the van, Jake glimpsed her face. There was blood on her cheek, and her mouth was open in an ‘O’ of shock. For a flash of a second, their eyes met – Jake could have sworn it – then the back of the van was opened and the hubbers threw her in and climbed in after her.
Jake watched in horror. She’d been arrested because of them. The hubbers had beaten her up. What would they do to her in the hub station?
Then Poacher was there, pulling Jake’s arm, tugging Davie away. –Come on, he whispered.
Forty-two
The church door was locked, but beyond it was a little garden and at the end of the garden, a statue of Mary. Little spotlights lit up her long blue dress and her hands lifted up to heaven. The gang all stared at her, and she stared up at the black sky.
–Maybe she’ll put in a word for us, Ollie said.
–D’you believe that? Jake said.
Ollie shrugged. –My dad’s a Catholic, so he does.
–The woman in the house, she knew we were coming, Poacher said. –An’ the hubbers, they’ll get that out of her quick enough. They’d already started before they got her in the van. It’ll be a fist here, truncheon there. Her pearls won’t last long. An’ then they’ll be back fer us.
–We could make a run for it, now the hub van’s gone, Ollie said.
–Too risky, Poacher said. –They’ll be back any second.
–So what we going to do? Jake said.
–Do like Ollie says. Call up Mary, or Jesus, Davie said.
–Shut up, Davie, Swift said. –We gotta think.
But Davie went on. –Jesus had a way with storms, didn’t he, Ollie? We could—
Then he stopped. Someone was coming towards them, walking firmly, unhurriedly. A woman, Jake thought, until the figure got closer, and he saw it was a man wearing a dress and a pair of Doc Martens.
–Be ready to run, Poacher murmured.
Then they saw the cross hanging round his neck.
–It’s a priest, Davie said, and Jake heard wonder in his voice.
–Good evening to you. I’m glad you’ve found my little sanctuary.
–Sanctuary? Aliya said.
–I think so. And you … He swept his arm round to include all of them –I think you may be the answer to my prayers.
–We ain’t any person’s answer to nothing, Poacher said. –An’ we gotta go. His voice sounded dangerous, angry. He took a step closer to the priest and Jake saw he had one hand on his belt, ready to pull out his knife. –Anybody asks, we ain’t bin here, all right? Then he turned away, and gestured for the rest of them to follow.
–Hang on, Poacher. That was Swift’s voice. Then she spoke to the priest. –You don’t know who we are. So what d’you mean?
The priest stopped. He looked up to the sky, then down at his feet. Then he gave a little nod to himself and looked at them. –I believe you’ve been sent to me. To help.
–Sent by who? Swift said, suspicious. –Why should we trust you?
–Follow me, and I’ll explain.
–Come on, Swift, Poacher said. –We gotta go; and the gang was turning to him when a beam of light lit up the night sky overhead, and there was the sound of the tannoy voice again.
–Quick, the priest said. –My house is over there; and he pointed to a door in the corner of the garden.
Poacher was still moving towards the street, but Swift shook her head.
–They’ll catch us at once, she said. –I’m following him. Nothing to lose. And without waiting for Poacher to agree, she followed after the priest, hugging Cass so close they seemed to Jake like one person. Poacher only paused for a moment, then he nodded, and they all followed Swift.
The priest took them through the door into a house that smelled of cabbage, and closed the door behind them.
–Tell me nothing, then I have nothing to lie about. Don’t speak, just nod or shake your head. Are you running from the hubbers? And are you needing a boat?
And when he saw their nods, he lifted a dark cape from a hook on the back of the door and picked up a red velvet bag from the side table that jinked as he slipped it into his pocket.
–The chance I’ve been praying for, in this benighted land, he murmured, and then, to them: –I have a way out through the back here. I was after taking a walk to the seafront. Do you want to come with me?
The priest’s voice was soft and he spoke his strange words in a lilting accent Jake had never heard before. And although he walked briskly, under the electric light Jake saw that the priest was an old man whose head shone, and whose eyebrows were white.
The priest seemed to glide, not walk, and Jake had to jog to keep up. The gang followed him along stone passages and old alleyways too narrow for any hub van, down the hillside, through ramparts from another time when other kinds of walls were built.
They came to the seafront, the sea just beyond, its breakers white in the moonlight.
The priest handed the red velvet bag to Swift. –Wait in the car park, he said, and he pointed to it. –The hubbers will be a while getting there. I’m after a man to take you across and I know where I’ll be finding him. But be careful. There’s dangerous fellas about. Smugglers. Don’t take a lift from them. They’re as bad as the hubbers. They care about no one.
Gently he put his hand on Cass’s head.
–I’ll be back.
Then he was gone.
The gang stood in the corner furthest from the lamplight. Behind them in the town they could hear the hubbers’ vans, and the tannoy calling Aliya out, again and again. Jake looked round at her. She had her eyes on the ground, her mouth pinched to a line.
Five minutes they stood on the grass at the edge of the car park, and then a white van drove in and a man in oilskins got out. He looked over at the gang, then walked across, purposeful.
–He must be the one, Ollie said. –The priest’s man. He looks like he’s come to find us.
The man stood a few feet away. –You’re needing a boat, he said. He had a nice face. Friendly.
–You from the priest? Poacher said.
The man hesitated. –Yeah, he said. –Yeah, that’s me. The priest told me you needed something, he elaborated.
–We need to get across the border, Swift said. –Now.
–So I’m your man, the man said.
–Where’s the priest? Poacher said.
–He’s on his way, the man said. –But no time to waste, those hubbers on their way too. He pointed. –Boat’s just down on that beach. Don’t suppose you’ve got anything to help with my costs? Mobiles, Nikes, pads? He said it hesitantly, like he was embarrassed to ask.
–I don’t trust him, Davie whispered. –I don’t think he is the priest’s man. I think he’s bluffing.
–No choice, Swift said. –Got to trust him; and already she was taking the red velvet bag from her pocket, passing it to him. –The priest gave us this.
The man thumbed through it quickly, and when he looked up his face had changed. He didn’t look friendly any more. –This a joke? he said. –All you got? There are more hubbers in town than I’ve ever seen before. D’you know how dangerous it is for me, just being in this car park?
–Swift! Davie whispered. –He’s not the priest’s man. He’s a smuggler.
Searchlights lurched across the sky above the town. Then the noise Jake had been dreading: the thrub of a helicopter.
But Swift waved Davie down. –We’re out of time. The priest isn’t back. We got no choice.
–How much d’you need? Poacher said.
The man counted round the gang. –Seven of you. He nodded towards Cass, in Swift’s arms. –Do you the little hinny for half, cos I’m nice like that, long as she shares on the life jacket. But my best price: it’s more than double what’s in this bag. He shook it so it tinkled.
–We’ve got nothing else, Swift said. –Please, we have to cross the border tonight. My sister’s very ill. She needs medical help. We can’t get it in England. We’ll make it worth your while later. But if they catch us …
–Come on. The smuggler’s voice was soft. –Everybody’s got something else they can offer. Something valuable.
Swift was standing oddly, like her legs didn’t connect properly to her body. Jake shivered.
The smuggler went on, his voice like a caress now. – Everybody’s got something. Something they really didn’t want to lose, but …
Ollie put his hand on Swift’s arm, and she didn’t shake him off, but covered it with her own and dropped her head on to his shoulder. It was as if she’d finally given up.
–You can take me. It was Aliya, and before anyone could do anything, she stepped forward. –I’ll be your price. You can hand me in, if you take the others to Scotland.
There was a moment of total quiet. Davie crumpled to the ground, a small, collapsed shape, but nobody else moved.
–There’s a reward for my return, Aliya said. –A big reward. You can claim it.
The smuggler stared at her, like he didn’t understand.
–My name is Aliya Khan, she said. –I’m Ina Khan’s daughter.
Then everything happened at once. Poacher, Swift, Jake, and Ollie, and the smuggler too: all of them lunged towards her. All of them shouting.
–No! NO! Jake was yelling at the top of his lungs.
Swift grabbed Aliya, but the smuggler was there too. He pulled something from his pocket.
–You move, I’ll shoot her, he said, and he held the gun steady at Aliya’s head. –I’ve done it before. Don’t think I won’t.
Jake felt as if ice had been poured into his veins. He made to run at the man, thinking if he went low and fast he could shove his arm down before he could fire. There were lots of them, they could overpower him, pull Aliya back.
But Ollie grabbed at him, held him. –Don’t! He’ll kill her.
–Aliya! Poacher shouted. –What have you done?
Now the smuggler was dragging her across the car park, banging on the side of the van. –Open it up, Benno.
And another man got out, and like vampires leaning over their prey, the two of them bundled Aliya into the back, locked the door and climbed into the cab.
–Aliya! Jake yelled, and he shook off Ollie’s hold, and was across the car park to the van, one hand against the rear window to brace, the other pulling and pulling at the rear door handle.
Through the window’s small square her face, wild with tears, stared out at him. She put her hand to the glass, so that it met his, palm to palm, fingertip to fingertip. The engine roared and the van started moving, headlights off but gathering speed, and Jake was running to keep up, running to keep sight of her.
–We’ll rescue you! he shouted. –I’ll rescue you! You’re an Outwalker! Always!
Then the van was gone, away into the English night.
Forty-three
Everything went quiet. That’s how it seemed. Like the world around them held its breath. The hubbers’ sirens, the tannoy, the vans: they all just stopped.
–No, Jake cried, and he sank down and pressed his hands on to the wet tarmac, pressed as hard as he could for the pain it gave, because at least the pain stopped the thoughts for a few moments.
He could hear the sea. It was so close, just across the grass and over the beach. A soft sound, a gentle sound. He shut his eyes and wished he never had to open them again.
–Jake? It was Poacher’s voice, but gentle. Poacher crouching down next to him, pulling Jake’s beanie from his head, and lifting his hands away from the ground.
–Yer spoke good words to her. Good words. But you ain’t gonna be able to rescue her if yer give up now.
Then Poacher fetched Swift from where she sat, and Davie and Ollie, and when the priest returned, they were a gang again. Sad, hopeless nearly, but a gang.
The priest was running, and he was alone. Out of breath, he bent forward, gasping. In the moon glow his bald head shone.
–Thank God you’re still here, he said. –I saw the van. I know them that own it well enough.
–They took Aliya, Ollie said.
–Aliya? She’s one of you? the priest said.
Ollie nodded.
–She’s the girl they’re hunting for, the priest said, like that explained everything.
–They took her at gunpoint, and we couldn’t … Ollie’s voice cracked.
The priest looked down at the ground, thinking. –Now listen, he said. –We can’t rescue your friend Aliya now. If we try to, they’ll catch the lot of you. The hubbers are already on Pier Road. I just came past them. They’ll be here in minutes. But I’ve got an idea.
–Your man with the boat, Swift said. –We need him right now.
–I’m afraid he can’t help us, the priest said. –So—
–So get lost, Poacher said. –We gotta run, cos they ain’t gonna catch us jest standing here.
–No indeed. I’ve a far better idea than that, the priest said.
The priest took them out to the boat in a rubber dinghy, across a sea that was smooth black glass and silver. Behind them, searchlights crossed the sky.
The priest pulled on the oars and the dinghy surged forward. Jake’s life jacket was sticky to touch. It smelled like the boat shed. He trailed his fingers in the water. It felt so cold, it burned. He pictured Aliya in the van, Aliya with the blond Surfer, Aliya facing her mother. He wished the water hurt his fin
gers more.
–I used to be a fisherman when there was fish to be had. Same as those smugglers, the priest said. –No fish left, so now it’s people.
Ollie sat on one side of Jake and Swift on the other, Cass buckled in to her life jacket. Cass seemed so small on Swift’s lap, it was as if she was shrinking away, and in the moonlight Jake could see the bones in her face set tight against her skin. She seemed to be getting more fragile by the day now.
In the front sat Davie, peering across the black sea. –Do you know the way? he said, and the priest laughed.
–North is the way, he said. –Two miles from here and we’ll be in Scotland. Across the border. And I know these waters like the back of my hand.
–So we’ll be safe? Davie said.
–The priest shook his head. He spoke in snatches, between the pull on the oars. –Safe from rocks and currents, and the hubbers’ patrol boats are still moored. But not safe from the people that are after you. I’d say they’re not ordinary hubbers, and they’ll have more than patrol boats to chase you with.
–Listen, Swift said. –It’s very important we get to Scotland tonight, and that we deliver something to the Scottish government. Aliya knows that too. If they force her to tell them …
Swift didn’t finish, but everyone knew what she meant. Aliya was strong-willed, but who knew what the Coalition might do to her, to make her speak.
The priest was silent a moment, just the forward and backward motion of his shoulders as he rowed. Then he seemed to nod to himself, like a decision come to.
–So I’m after taking you to someone I know, across the border in Scotland. Someone I can trust absolutely. But the journey won’t be a walk in the park. It’ll be a couple of hours in the boat, and the weather’s set fair tonight. But the hubbers’ll be out hunting.
–We ain’t chipped, Poacher said. –Not any more.
–But I am, the priest said, –and they only need the one to find us.