I find one in the straw, take it to the doorway and unzip it. I hope so it is another bag but it is the one I look in yesterday. I take out a slab of the plasticine to sniff, then I hear a man coughing. He is not in the yard but will be soon. I zip up the bag, push it in the straw and run out. The door is hard to close, I don’t think so I do it right. The cough is very close now. I run in the house.
Cleaver comes in the yard, enjoying a cigarette that is making him cough. I am in the porch, ready to run upstairs if he comes this way, but it will be no use. He will see my stuff, the stove under the sink. He will find me in the wardrobe. Eat me.
He does not come. I can’t believe he is so not curious. If I see a ruined house I must explore. He’s brought another bag for the outhouse. He even does not notice the door is different. Cleaver is close to clever but not close enough, Allah be praised. He puts the bag in the outhouse, pushes the door shut and leans on the wall to finish his cigarette. I wish the cigarette will finish him instead.
I dare not move, try not to breathe. He sucks in smoke and lets it out slowly, looking at the house. Any second something will catch his eye, make him want a closer look. It doesn’t happen, just suck, suck, suck. Each suck is making the cigarette shorter. Now and then he removes it from his lips to cough. Once he makes a choking, roaring noise like a dinosaur and spits a big, green gob in the mud. At last, when my nerves are screaming and I am bursting to scream myself, he throws down the butt and shambles off without a backward glance. I think so I have nine lives, like a cat.
When Cleaver has left the yard I find I’ve got the slab of plasticine in my hand.
- Seventy-Seven
Ruby Tanya
DAD DIDN’T DRIVE straight to his office in Danmouth that Thursday morning. He called in at PC Willoughby’s house first, to tell the policeman what he’d seen and heard at the BF rally last Sunday. He hadn’t told Mum he was going to do this, and we didn’t find out about it till after, when it had nearly cost him his life.
By sheer rotten luck, Dad came out of the police house just as Cave-Troll Cleaver was driving along Aspen Arbour on his way to Long Lane and the ruins. Cleaver clocked him, and mentioned it when he phoned his boss later. Sefton Feltwell couldn’t possibly know why Dad had been to the police but that didn’t matter: his fate was sealed.
Anyway, we didn’t know any of this at the time. I biked off to school as usual, and Mum went to her work at the charity shop. Normal lessons had more or less ground to a halt because of the Christmas concert. There were rehearsals of Joseph morning and afternoon, and as if this didn’t make school feel unreal enough, we found ourselves suddenly famous.
FEARS GROW FOR VANISHED SCHOOLGIRL was the headline in one tabloid. Normally you wouldn’t find a newspaper anywhere near school, except the odd racing sheet in the staffroom, but now kids were bringing them from home and swapping them in the yard. Our village had become this week’s focus for the paedophile hysteria industry. The school was mentioned loads of times, and Ramsden warned us not to talk to reporters. Apparently a few had been spotted on a sponsored sensation sniff around the village. Tipton Lacey seemed set to take over from Bradford as the capital of deviance, crime and racial strife.
Made things twice as scary for me, I can tell you. It felt like the eyes of the whole country were on me, when all I was trying to do was help my friend. People were saying Asra had been murdered or abducted. I was amazed the police hadn’t searched the ruins; they must’ve assumed she’d left the district. I was thankful, of course, but I knew they were bound to get round to it before long. I wondered how many years I’d get when they found her – found out I was behind it all – and whether a tabloid might pay a million pounds for my story. I came this close to betraying my best friend.
I didn’t know it then, but events were soon to take matters out of my hands and leave me and Asra at the mercy of the man we feared the most.
- Seventy-Eight
Ruby Tanya
I BET YOU know where she is, said Millie at afternoon break. I nearly fainted. Then I saw she was grinning.
Oh yeah, I managed to joke. It’s a scam we dreamed up: baffle the police, the immigration people and everybody else, then come out to one of the tabloids. The paper gives us a million to show ’em how we did it, they run the story with pictures and everything, and me and Asra split the dosh and sit in Mayfields getting fat.
I didn’t want Millie around really. I was thinking about what Mum had said at breakfast. If I had a friend in Asra’s position, I think I’d try getting a message to her mum and dad. She’d said other stuff as well; it was almost as if she knew. She’s not daft – it wouldn’t surprise me if she’d put two and two together and realized. Or maybe Gran had had a word. What would surprise me would be if she knew and didn’t try to stop it.
I might try a local paper. What was that if it wasn’t a message, a bit of advice? All right, so why not call the Star? I would withhold my number; they wouldn’t know who called.
I had the number – I’d entered every one I could think of when I first got the phone. I told Millie I had to pee, hurried to the cloakroom. Locked in a cubicle, I sat on the seat and thumbed in the number.
Tipton Lacey Star, Tracey speaking, how may I help you?
It’s about the missing girl.
May I have your name, caller?
No name. Put me through to someone, it’s urgent.
One moment, I’ll try the newsroom.
Hello, newsroom.
Oh, hi. It’s about the missing girl.
Asra Saber. What about her?
She’s safe and well.
Who is this, please? How d’you know she’s safe and well?
I can’t give my name, but I know. We’re in contact.
Will you tell me where she is, love?
No.
Then why call the Star? What d’you want us to do?
Get the message to Asra’s parents.
What message?
That she’s safe and well of course. They must be frantic.
Yes, but they’re abroad. I’m not sure we’d be able …
Try, right? I’ve got to go. ’Bye.
Did I do the right thing, or would the call enable them to trace me somehow? I’d no way of knowing, I could only wait. I lurked in my cubicle till the buzzer went, then hurried to my next class hoping Asra’d be pleased when I told her. Hoping I’d be free to go to her tonight.
- Seventy-Nine
Ruby Tanya
HOMEWORK AT MILLIE’S again, I suppose? said Mum at tea time. If she hasn’t sussed everything I’m Posh Beckham.
Leave her alone, defended Dad. Better she spends her time with Millie than with some terrorist’s kid from that camp.
It might sound like my parents were fighting again, but they weren’t. Dad had just told Mum he’d talked to the police, so she was fairly happy. Not as happy as if he’d said he was joining an asylum seekers’ support group, but still.
Yes, I said. History and RE. Her mum’s getting us a pizza after. This was only partly a lie: I was getting a pizza for Asra.
Now that’s what I call a friend, smarmed Dad.
It had turned colder. The ruts and puddles of Long Lane had ice on them. If it hadn’t been for that hot pizza inside my jacket I’d have frozen to death. Asra was pleased to see us both. We huddled close to the stove while she demolished the pizza. Between bites, she told me about Cleaver.
Hell’s bells, Asra, I gasped, you want to stay right away from that outhouse. What if he hadn’t coughed?
She nodded. I know, I won’t go in it again. I got a bit of his plasticine.
Did you? Where is it?
It is in my bestest room, in the wardrobe. I’ll show you after.
She didn’t though, because when she’d finished eating I told her about my call to the Star. It pleased her even more than the pizza. Her eyes shone. Oh, Ruby Tanya, I hope, hope, hope, they get a message to Mother and Father. I worry about them all the time, worrying about me. T
hank you for thinking of it, you are so clever.
Not me, I admitted. It was Mum’s idea.
Your mum? But that must mean she …
Knows. I nodded. I think she does, Asra. The amazing thing is, she seems to be going along with it; even gave me an alibi for tonight.
That is wonderful, Ruby Tanya, but what about your father?
Oh, he’ll never change. He definitely doesn’t suspect though, and Mum won’t tell him.
Are you sure?
Absolutely sure.
I had another go at her about staying with my gran. It’s got a lot colder, I said. What if the gas runs out? You’ll freeze.
It’s still the first can, she told me, and I’ve had it on ever such a lot. It won’t run out for ages. She grinned. I even washed in warm water.
Yeah? I smiled. Oh well, if it’s getting that comfy I think I’ll join you for a night or two. How about tomorrow?
She thought I was joking, I knew she would. When I told her Gran had agreed to lie for me, that I’d be sleeping over Friday and Saturday she was chuffed to little mint balls. I can’t wait, she squealed, hugging me.
You’ll have to, I told her. There’s a little feather bed waiting for me.
It was a numbing ride home without the pizza. History go all right? enquired Dad as I hung up my jacket.
I nodded. Fine thanks.
RE?
Fine too. Where’s Mum?
Over at your gran’s.
At Gran’s? Why?
Don’t ask me. Your gran phoned, your mum went to see her. Go get ready for bed, love: school tomorrow.
I sat on my bed and gazed through the window at the lights. Mum and Gran. Gran and Mum. I thought I knew exactly what they were talking about and I was right, though I didn’t find out for sure till after.
- Eighty
Ruby Tanya
THE STAR PRINTS readers’ letters. That Friday morning there was one by Gran, and it had inspired an editorial. Both were about Asra, and they spoiled Dad’s breakfast. He flicked through, groaned and slid the paper across to Mum, who read the two items and passed it to me without comment.
Gran had written about the cruelty of sending parents out of the country while their child was missing. She invited village parents to try to imagine how they would feel if they had to fly home at the end of a holiday, leaving their child wandering somewhere in Spain, hunted like a criminal.
I thought it was a great letter. The editor obviously agreed with me, because the piece he’d written supported Gran’s point all along the line. If Asra Saber was a village child, he said, our hearts would go out to her parents and we’d all be helping in the search.
I wasn’t crazy about that last bit, mind: helping in the search. There were more than enough people looking for Asra already, but it felt like the editor was on our side. Well, not on our side exactly. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t approve of the way me and Asra had gone about things, but he and his paper were certainly against those who were against us, if you know what I mean.
This was the morning I had to ask Mum if I could sleep over tonight and tomorrow at Gran’s. I’d been dreading it before, but not as much as now. They’d talked together last night. What if Gran told Mum about the alibi I’d asked her to provide? The two of them might have decided it was a bad idea for me to sleep over at the ruins. Knowing I was going to ask, Mum’d be ready with a straight no. What of my promise to Asra then?
It felt like ages till Dad went off to work. As the Volvo crunched along the drive I screwed up my courage. Mum?
What is it, sweetheart?
I was wondering, would it be all right if I stayed at Gran’s this weekend? I mentioned it to her, and she seemed …
Mum nodded. Gran told me, Ruby Tanya. Of course it’s all right. She smiled. When we love someone, we don’t like to think of them being all alone, do we? Too sad.
Th-thanks, Mum. I’ll go pack a few things then. I left the room quickly, blushing.
Take a woolly, sweetheart, she called after me. It’s sure to be colder than you think. And give me a ring so I’ll know you’re all right.
Colder than you think? Gran’s cottage is too cosy if anything, and I’m always all right there.
But she’s not talking about Gran’s, is she?
- Eighty-One
Asra
A TERRIBLE THING has happened and I don’t know what to do. This morning I am using the dirty old lavatory when I hear people in the yard. Cleaver is one, I know his voice. I am very scared. What if they go in the house, or if one of them decides to come in here? What if they notice my many footprints to and fro? I move silently, making myself ready. If the door opens I will burst out – they might be surprised enough so I can get away. Not so good, but no other way.
I listen. They are putting more things in the outhouse. I pray to Allah to make them go away like before. I hear the scrape of the outhouse door closing. Will they look in the house now, find my things? If they move that way I must go at once, leave everything.
They are standing in the mud, lighting cigarettes, talking. There is a hole in the lavatory door, shaped like a crescent moon. I put my eye to it. Four men in a half-circle, two metres away. I daren’t even withdraw my eye. Cleaver is speaking.
Right, lads, better get back. Sefton’ll be up later for a shufti. Eagle’s Nest, he calls it. Sparrer’s Dump, I call it.
The other men laugh, throwing down cigarette ends, treading them into the mud, turning away. I breathe in deeply. My prayer is answered but I wait a bit. Somewhere an engine starts up. I come out, but I am hearing Cleaver’s voice in my head. Sefton’ll be up later for a shufti.
Up where? Here of course, where else? And what does later mean? Later today, most likely. Eagle’s Nest must be the house. I don’t think so they will call a poky little outhouse Eagle’s Nest. So Sefton Feltwell’s coming to look at the house, which has all my stuff in it.
What can I do? I could run away of course, leave everything and just go. But where would I go? To Ruby Tanya’s gran’s house? I’ve come to live in your house, Ruby Tanya’s gran. I’ve lost your stove and your bedding and your towels and your pans and everything, but you don’t mind, do you? I cannot do this. The only other thing I can think of is to take everything out of the house and put it somewhere else till Sefton has had his shufti, then bring it back. But where do I take it, and who says the house will be empty when it’s time to bring it back? Eagle’s Nest might be occupied tonight and ever after.
There’s no other way though. I must remove all trace of myself from the house. Find somewhere to stow my things, stow myself. And Ruby Tanya’s coming tonight. I can’t let her walk into the yard, can I?
Oh, Father, Mother, I don’t know what to do.
- Eighty-Two
Ruby Tanya
THE DAY HAD seemed endless but finally I was on my way, wobbling up Long Lane in the dark with two supermarket bags on the handlebars. I’d called at Gran’s to confirm my alibi and to pick up Asra’s laundry, and she’d found her old sleeping bag in the loft. You might be glad of this, she said. She didn’t say Mum knew where I’d really be this weekend and I didn’t ask, but I’d a strong feeling she wouldn’t need to lie for me.
I was approaching Mushroom Gap when I saw movement by the hedge. Somebody was there. I went into a U-turn that was impossibly tight. The bags made it harder and my wheels skidded sideways on the gritty surface, throwing me heavily to the ground. I shoved the bike off my leg and was scrambling to my feet when I heard my name.
Ruby Tanya, I’m sorry, are you all right?
Asra? What the heck you doing here? Did you think I wasn’t coming or something? My leg was stinging like mad, grazed through my jeans.
Asra picked up the bike, leaned it on the hedge. Yes … no. I mean, that’s not why I’m here. I knew you’d come, but I’ve left the ruins. We must get away before Feltwell comes.
Feltwell’s coming here?
Yes, for a shufti. Cleaver said so.
A shufti at what, Asra?
The house. He is calling it Eagle’s Nest.
But … all our stuff. He’ll see it, know you’ve been living there.
No, I have moved it all.
Where to, for Pete’s sake?
There’s a … a shed, a barn or something, in the field behind the house. The things are there. Come, let’s go away. Bring the bike.
It was hard, wheeling the bike through the long grass. The barn was twice as far as the ruins, right in the middle of a field. My leg was killing me and I had a hundred questions. As we stumbled along in the pitchy dark, Asra told me how she’d overheard Cleaver and realized she’d have to get out. But the barn’s got no roof, I protested. We can’t sleep there.
Asra shrugged. I think so we will sleep, she said. Tomorrow we can return to the ruins, if nobody is there.
And if somebody is there, then what?
I do not know, Ruby Tanya.
We were ages getting to the barn – what was left of it. Like I said, there was no roof, and an end wall had partly collapsed. She’d been busy, using lengths of rotting timber and some old bin liners to erect a flimsy shelter across a corner. She’d lined its floor with bags and piled her stuff there, leaving just enough room for the two of us to squeeze in. There, she sighed as we settled. Snug as a bug in a rug.
D’you think we could risk a light? I asked.
Oh yes, our back is to the ruins. Nothing will be seen. She switched on Gran’s lantern and I glanced about me.
You are clever, I gasped. I could never have turned bits of rubbish into a place like this.
Ruby Tanya Page 13