‘He must know your mum nearly died; that she’s in hospital.’
‘How would he know?’
‘If he’s hiding in the village, someone would tell him. Everyone knows everything in Carreg. And unless he’s committed a terrible crime or…’
‘Shut up! Shut up!’
Tia leapt at Jago’s leg, barking. He ignored her.
‘How would you like it if someone said your dad was some murdering maniac? What your dad said was right, you are a brat.’
‘I’m sorry, I…’
Jago slammed out of the flat.
Brilliant. Now everyone hates me, I thought. I placed both bowls of cornflakes down on the floor for Tia to lap up the milk. And then sat at the table with my chin in my hands, watching the sea mist roll in and cover the Shiver Stone.
CHAPTER
10
I wasn’t exactly flavour of the month: Dad was still mad, Linette hardly speaking and now even Jago was ignoring me. We were in a group outside Polly’s caravan, sitting on an odd mix of chairs and stools owned by the park. Polly wanted to thank us, so we’d come for a meal of lettuce leaves and fruit. No wonder she was so skinny.
Don’t know why Dad was still angry. I’d apologised to Linette – sort of.
The caravan park was crowded; small kids ran around screaming, music played from several different places at once. Everywhere, wet clothes and towels flapped like flags in the breeze. The smell of barbeques cooking made me hungry.
Dad was deep in conversation with Polly. She was telling him about her Kirlian photography but Dad wasn’t buying it. He kept shaking his head and rolling his eyes. They were laughing though. Linette and Jago were talking about, of all things, geology. Yeah, rocks and stuff.
‘You can find jellyfish fossils in Carmarthenshire,’ she told him. Jago got really excited about that. He’d plaited his hair. He was trying to copy his dad because Hug Howells said Tristan looked like an American Indian. I thought it just looked dumb.
Tia was my only friend. She lay curled on my lap, her fur hot and prickly on my bare legs.
So, when Linette realised she’d left the Welsh cakes on the table in our flat, I volunteered to get them. I thought they’d say no, but they didn’t. Dad just handed me the door keys.
I clipped on Tia’s lead and strolled down past the Coppet Hall Visitor Centre and across the beach. I didn’t think anyone would make a fuss about a dog being there at this time in the evening, especially such a very small dog. I walked slowly picking up bits of shell and odd shaped pebbles. No point hurrying. No one was going to miss me. I sat on the sand throwing stones for Tia to chase.
By the time I got home, collected the Welsh cakes and headed back, the tide was lapping at the shoreline. Unless Tia and me wanted to get very wet I’d have to brave the Troll Hole to get to the caravan park.
I felt a nervous flutter in my stomach, but then remembered how I’d run through it when I was looking for Tia. Not worried at all then. It was time for me to stop being so stupid – I wasn’t a little kid anymore.
It was the longest Troll Hole. The one I hate the most. Still it was early evening and there should be loads of people wandering through. I had Tia with me as well.
I gazed into its depths: the darkness, the creepy leaking water-drip; a wind as cold as stone blew through.
A family came hurtling out of the gloom, the kids running ahead half afraid half excited. I bent down and pretended to tie my shoelace. I needed time to calm my heartbeat and get my breathing under control. Tia tugged at the lead and looked up at me with a puzzled frown on her face.
I took a long shuddering breath and dived in.
I made myself walk slowly, every bit of my brain screaming run, run, run. I didn’t. I wouldn’t. There was a horrible under-stone damp smell, and my footsteps echoed. I realised, with a stab of fear, that there was no one else inside the tunnel with me. It was just Tia and me alone in the dark.
Trolls, my brain whispered. Invisible. ‘Stop it!’ I said out loud. I kept up a strong steady march. I couldn’t see Tia on the lead in front of me. I couldn’t see anything. Teeth, claws, my brain murmured. A drip of icy water landed on my head and I shuddered. Then I heard the other footsteps. Good I thought – someone else in the Troll Hole. I’m not on my own. I slowed down waiting for them to catch up. We’d laugh, say how creepy it was in the tunnel, and I’d walk with them to the end. I tucked the bag of Welsh cakes up under my arm. The footsteps slowed down too. I stopped to listen. The footsteps stopped too. I could hear my own breathing loud in my ears. I turned back and thought I could make out a darker shape – the shape of a man. My heart was beating so hard it hurt. With a cry somewhere between a shout and a scream, I ran.
The footsteps ran after me and they were getting closer. Tia thought it was a game and jumped up at me. For a horrible second her lead caught in my legs and I thought I would fall. I stumbled, steadied myself against the wet walls, and raced on. The footsteps grew closer. At last I saw the arch of light and almost sobbed with relief. Just as I reached the end, a hand grabbed my arm. ‘Kid, kid, wait!’ It was Kemble Sykes.
‘Let go!’ I screamed.
A large group of teenagers arrived. Shouting and laughing, they got off their bikes and I scuttled through the middle of the chaos, almost dragging Tia off her feet.
Kemble called after me. ‘Kid, I didn’t mean to scare you! If you know where Tristan is, tell him … tell him: I’m here to warn him. Tell him, it’s not me he should be afraid of … it’s her.’
I ran as fast as I could back to the caravan park, Tia leaping and jumping beside me, thinking this was great fun. I reached Dad and the others shaking and breathless and blurted, ‘In the tunnel, he grabbed me … wants Tristan…’
Dad was on his feet before I had a chance to finish and he raced off towards the Troll Hole. If I thought Dad was angry earlier, it was nothing to the murderous look he had on his face now.
Linette put her arm around me. Jago looked worried and not sure what to do. Polly insisted I have a couple of drops of something called Rescue Remedy on my tongue to calm me. It was a while before I realised the Welsh cakes were now a bag of crumbs.
Dad came back, panting and talking on his mobile. I think it was probably lucky for Kemble Sykes that he hadn’t hung around. ‘Thanks, Sian, I’ll drop by with her tomorrow. It’s becoming an odd business. There’s some character hanging around the kids. I don’t like it. Bye.’ He slipped his phone back in his pocket.
‘That was Sian at the police station,’ Dad told us. ‘She called me earlier, said you two had been in to tell them Tristan was missing?’ Jago and I nodded. ‘I thought you were just wasting her time and I said so. Now I’m not so sure. You reckon this guy in the tunnel is after Tristan – do you know him?’
‘His name is Kemble Sykes,’ I said.
The effect on Polly was immediate and startling.
‘Kemble Sykes? My God I thought I’d seen and heard the last of him.’ She sank back down into her chair. Grabbing her wine glass, she filled it and took a big swallow.
Jago was the first to speak. ‘Who is he? Why is he after my dad?’
We were all watching her waiting for an answer.
‘OK. I owe it to you all to tell you what I know, although it’s not much.’
The caravan park was much quieter; as the sun went down, lights appeared in scores of windows all over the camp as kids were put to bed. Crickets chirped in the hedges and people spoke in whispers.
Polly dabbed at the line of stitches on her forehead, took another big sip of wine and turned to face her son.
‘Years ago, when we were in Swansea University together, there was a group of us who were against fox hunting. It was legal then. It was a vile, cruel sport. Killing foxes, taking pleasure in seeing them hunted down and ripped apart by dogs. There was about eight or nine of us at first. Kemble was the leader. I suppose you could say Tristan was his right-hand man, but really Tristan just did whatever Kemble told him to. We joi
ned the Hunt Saboteurs Association.
‘We’d go out on hunts and do whatever we could to save the fox from being killed. Shouting and blowing horns at the dogs to distract them. Spraying the ground with aniseed or citronella, strong smells that covered the scent of the fox. It was good at first – fun even. We were thrilled every time we saved a fox from the hunters.
‘But it was too tame for Kemble. He wanted more action, more violent action. He wanted us to start our own group. We called ourselves Vulpes Vulpes.’
‘Red Fox,’ Jago said.
Polly seemed surprised that he knew what it meant. ‘Yes. Red Fox. Most of us were content to wear identity bracelets or medallions with the name on but not Kemble. Oh no, Kemble got it…’
‘…tattooed on his arm,’ I interrupted.
Again Polly looked surprised. ‘Yes, so of course Tristan had to do the same.’
She hesitated and took another sip of wine. Dad topped up her glass and Linette’s and placed the bottle beside his chair.
Polly looked from Linette to Dad and then back again.
‘I don’t know what Tristan is like now, it’s been ten years since I’ve seen him, but then … well then, he was a gentle sort, always the artist. Sweet really, but easily led. And Kemble loved to lead.’ Her face flushed with anger.
There was a hiss and clink as Dad levered the cap off a beer bottle.
Polly’s voice was soft but strong. The sort of voice you hear reading stories on podcasts and CDs. Bit by bit we shuffled our chairs nearer until we were in a circle around her. Tia settled on my lap and fell asleep.
‘Kemble’s ideas grew crazier, out of control. One by one we drifted away, frightened by his antics and wild behaviour. He thought that the people involved with the hunt should be punished. I tried to tell Tristan that wasn’t right – it made no sense. Save animals? Yes. Hurt humans to do it? How can that ever be OK? I tried to get him away from Kemble’s influence, but he seemed fascinated.
‘That night, the night Tristan came home covered in blood, I think they’d been to sabotage a hunt. Tristan had already stopped telling me what they were up to. He knew I didn’t approve of Kemble and his schemes. He was frightened, very frightened. All he would say was that something terrible had happened and he had to get away for a while. I begged him to tell me what, but he said for my sake, and your sake, Jago, it was better I didn’t know. He told me he’d contact us as soon as things settled down.’
She shrugged and took another long sip of wine. ‘And that, folks, was the last time I saw him until a week ago, when he appeared on the news as the man behind the mysterious sculptures of Carreg.’ She lowered her voice. ‘If Kemble Sykes is here, you can bet he’s here to get Tristan. But I don’t know why.’
We left not long after that. Everyone seemed a bit down, everyone except me. I was just glad that they were speaking to me again.
As we left, Polly gave Linette a hug. ‘I bet you have a lovely aura. I don’t have my camera with me, but maybe another time, I can take a picture for you? A small thank you present.’
Linette smiled. ‘I’d like that,’ she said.
The four of us, me, Dad, Linette and Tia, walked home together through the Troll Hole. Linette kept her arm over my shoulder and part of me wanted to tell her to leave off, but part of me felt all right about it.
When we reached our road Dad said, ‘Let’s get some fish and chips, I’m starving.’
We sat on a bench, overlooking the harbour, facing St Winifred’s Hotel nestled on the high shelf of rock above.
‘You just want to sit here so you can look at your darling boat,’ Linette laughed.
The Sea Spirit clicked and clanged alongside the other boats as they were jostled by the tide.
‘Guilty,’ Dad said.
I was enjoying my fish and chips and daydreaming again when I heard Dad say, ‘It’s ridiculous. She’s a nice enough woman but she’s filled the kid’s head with rubbish. Photographing auras indeed.’
‘I don’t know, Dai. There’re all sorts of things we don’t understand in this world.’
‘You’re just saying that because she told
you you probably have a lovely aura,’ Dad laughed.
Linette laughed too. ‘Everything about me is lovely, Dai Thomas, and don’t you forget it.’
She turned to me. ‘What do you think about all this aura stuff, Carys?’
‘Dunno,’ I said, because I didn’t. I didn’t know what to think.
CHAPTER
11
‘Please Dad, please,’ I begged.
‘She can’t sleep in the flat, Carys, and that’s final. The shed it is.’
‘She’ll be cold and frightened. It’s dark outside.’
‘It’s the middle of summer and we’ve put warm blankets in the box. She’ll be fine.’
‘But, Dad!’ I wailed.
‘That’s enough, Carys. This is your fault, remember. If you carry on like this I’ll call the RSPCA or pay for her to go into a kennels.’
That shut me up. ‘Okay, okay,’ I said.
I found an old stuffed teddy and put it in the box with Tia. I shut the shed door. As I turned I heard her muffled whimpers from inside.
‘I’ll see you in the morning, little one,’ I whispered though the door. She whimpered again. ‘Night, girl.’ I dragged myself up the steps to our flat feeling sick and miserable.
I couldn’t sleep. If Jago was still here I could have talked to him but he was in the caravan with his mum.
Dad wasn’t fishing, but Linette was sleeping over anyway. I couldn’t stop worrying about Tia locked in the shed on her own. I think I knew what I was going to do even before I went to bed. As soon as I heard them switch off the TV and go to their room, I got up.
I wrapped the duvet tightly around me and shuffled across the lounge floor. I could hear Dad snoring. I found the spare keys in the fruit dish where Dad keeps them. I didn’t have hold of them properly and they dropped with a clang. I froze, then counted to twenty under my breath. Dad was still snoring.
The steps were cold on my feet and I wished I had thought to put my flip-flops on. Outside, the street was eerily quiet as I padded down the path. Tia heard me coming. Her joyful little bark echoed in the shed. I unlocked it quickly and scooted inside.
She went crazy – leaping into my arms and licking my face with her tiny tongue, all the time whimpering with joy.
I laughed out loud. ‘You didn’t think I’d leave you here alone all night, did you, girl?’
I stacked some of Dad’s birdhouses against the wall, brushed a bunch of wood shavings out of the way and arranged the duvet on the floor. Tia snuggled in beside me, gave a little sigh of happiness and immediately fell asleep. I cuddled her tight. She smelled like sunshine and sea salt.
I don’t know how long we’d been sleeping when Tia’s sudden bark woke me. The beam of a torch light flashed across the window and lit up the inside of the shed. Frightened, I held my breath and watched as the door handle turned very slowly, one way and then the other. Tia was barking like a mad thing and leaping up at the door.
‘Who’s there?’ I shouted. I hadn’t planned to shout and I surprised myself. I surprised the person trying to break in too – they dropped the handle with a clank. I could hear footsteps on the gravel.
I quickly switched on the light, opened the door and peered right and left into the darkness. I couldn’t see a thing. Even after locking the shed I was too scared to go back to sleep. I pulled the duvet over my eyes and cuddled up to Tia until the light of dawn came in through the window.
Sleepily, I dragged myself back up to the flat. Tia would be okay now it was daylight and I needed some real sleep. I had to get back in my bedroom before Dad woke. He’d go crazy if he knew I’d slept in the shed all night. I couldn’t even tell him that someone had tried to break in. To steal, what? His birdhouses?
Luckily for me he was still snoring.
I noticed bits of wood shavings and sawdust stuck to my duvet
. They left a trail behind me across the lounge floor and down the hall. I fell onto the bed, and into a deep sleep. Just before dropping off I had a thought: Kemble Sykes had shouted, ‘It’s not me he should be afraid of, it’s her.’
What if the her was Polly? We only had her word for what happened. What if she was lying and Tristan was hiding from Jago’s mum? What if she wanted to hurt him in some way? The first birds were beginning their early morning chirping as I closed my eyes. But that was a good story Polly told, too good to be a lie, I thought. So who was the mysterious woman Kemble wanted to warn Tristan about? My eyes were sore and my eyelids heavy. Just before I drifted off to sleep, I thought I heard my door open softly and then click shut again.
The doorbell ringing woke me. It was Jago.
When I came out of my room he was sitting with Dad and Linette on the balcony. I could smell bacon and eggs.
‘You look rough. Bad night?’ Dad said.
‘Mmm.’ I hurriedly checked the floor but there were no telltale signs of the shavings and sawdust I’d dragged into the flat the night before.
‘Fancy a cooked breakfast?’ Linette got up and went into the kitchen. She came back with a huge plateful of food.
‘I don’t like beans,’ I said.
She sighed, went into the kitchen and I heard her scraping the baked beans into the bin.
‘Okay now, madam?’
‘Okay now.’
Dad gave me a dirty look.
‘Thank you,’ I mumbled.
Jago and I hurried downstairs and collected Tia from the shed. She jumped up and down in happy excitement.
‘I think we should approach this like detectives,’ Jago said. ‘I’ve brought my geology notebook and we can make notes and jot down clues.’
I thought this sounded a bit geeky but I had nothing better to do. Then Jago said something really sad. ‘I wish I had a dad like yours. In fact I wish I had a dad.’
I knew how he felt. I was sick of being asked, ‘Where’s your mum?’ Tired of trying to explain. Tired of pretending it was okay, that it didn’t bother me that my mum loved a load of other kids more than she loved me.
The Shiver Stone Page 7