When I’d eventually got up this morning, I’d hobbled out to the garden and filled a jam jar with earth and compost for Skaw. I’d checked God’s dish too, but the food was still untouched. I glanced up at Miss Mirk’s windows, expecting to see her eye peering out at me through the hole in her blind. I was convinced she was hiding God, and although I had other more pressing things to deal with first, he was still very much on my mind.
Moonzy, Skaw and I had argued in hushed whispers all morning. Carline Deedclathes telling us where to find Sully Tarn was a mixed blessing. Skaw and I were grateful we knew where to go now, but Moonzy was more cautious, worried it might be a trap.
Mum waffled on about giving a customer a free makeover because she had walked past the counter with a sad face.
The dishcloth became soggy as I finished drying the cutlery. I wasn’t sure what was worse: bringing Carline Deedclathes back from the dead or searching a cave inhabited by a cannibal for bones.
My stomach twisted the same way as tangled bedsheets on a washing line.
“You’re quiet.” Mum shoved the griddle that Gran and I used to cook pancakes on into the water. When I was younger, we’d make a batch of round ones and with the last of the batter, she’d let me do squiggles and letters. There really wasn’t anything more delicious than hot pancakes.
Mum peered at me. “Are those scratch marks on your neck?”
I touched my skin. “Managed to get caught in some bushes searching for God.” I tried not to imagine the expression on her face if I confessed I’d come close to being throttled by brambles because of stealing tears from an irate witch.
She paused. “You get your clumsiness from your gran; she was forever tripping on the lawn.”
“She always said it was because she wanted to give the grass a hug.”
Mum and I smiled at each other as she handed me the griddle. She plonked a pan into the basin, scrubbing it hard. “Your dad told me you went to the library yesterday.”
“My book was overdue.” I put the griddle away in the cupboard.
Mum filled the pan with water and put it to the side of the basin to steep.
“I think you were really brave. I know how special the place was to you and your gran.” She wiped around the sink with a cloth and then attacked the kitchen table, sweeping the crumbs up into her hand. The bin lid clanged against the radiator and the crumbs showered into it as she brushed her hands together.
“I’m dreading going to the hairdresser’s. Your gran always sat next to me, being the life and soul of the place. The last time we were there, she was getting everyone to show off their tattoos.” Mum grinned at the memory and then it faded with her next thought. “My hair will be down to my ankles before I can face going back.”
“I could come with you, if you want?” I slung the wet dishcloth over the radiator and pulled a fresh one out of the drawer. It had a picture of Brad Pitt on it and Gran would say there was nobody she’d rather dry the dishes with.
“That’s lovely of you, Coral.” Mum touched my arm in a gentle way that showed she was grateful and leaned against the kitchen worktop. “Nothing makes a room emptier than wishing she’s going to be in it. I keep expecting to find one of her notes on the kitchen table or to step over a pile of weeds she’s left at the bottom of the steps.” Mum fought hard to keep her voice steady.
I wanted to tell Mum the truth, to explain it was my fault Gran had died, and it would be such a relief because keeping this all to myself was making me feel as if I could burst at any second.
The dishcloth dropped to the floor.
“Coral?” said Mum.
The breath I was holding in escaped. I pushed the thought from my mind. Thanks to Lyart, I knew Gran hadn’t crossed over to heaven yet, which meant she was still here.
“I think wherever we are, Gran will not be far away from us.” I bent to pick up the dishcloth.
Mum’s mouth opened slightly. She blinked twice; her Deep Ocean eyeliner flicked perfectly out at the sides, as though she had drawn it on with a ruler. “That’s such a lovely thought, Coral.” She tucked my hair behind my ear but it didn’t stay there for long. “I could talk to Dad, if you want? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you met up with Isla and your pals for a little while on Halloween? You’ve been through so much this past week.”
You wouldn’t be so lovely to me if you knew the truth.
My insides squirmed like maggots.
“I’m not really in the mood,” I mumbled. I’d give anything to hang out with Isla and have a laugh with my friends, but on the night of Halloween, I had to stop Muckle Red from escaping the graveyard. “Mum?”
“Yes?”
“Can I have my phone back?”
“Nice try. Not until Monday. Come on, I think we’ve earned ourselves a cup of tea.” She clicked the kettle on. “Away and see if there’s something good on the telly.”
“Would you mind if I went to my room?” Moonzy, Skaw and I had to prepare for the night ahead. And besides, I hated watching TV in the lounge now. Gran used to guard the remote and change channels halfway through a programme if she got bored, making us all mad at her. I would give anything for her to do this again.
“Are you all right?” The teabags swung in the air above the cups.
“I’m tired, that’s all.”
“Missing someone can be exhausting, Coral. You be sure and get a good night’s sleep.” Mum rubbed my back. I avoided her gaze, feeling awful about lying to her.
Just before I left the kitchen, I stole a last look at her standing on her tiptoes, sneaking her hand into the biscuit tin. I hoped I would make it out of Greystoor cave, alive, to see her again.
CHAPTER
13
The path to the cave was well-worn and steeper than slides. My footsteps made a hollow thud on the ground, which was studded with Wolf Grey smooth stones. To the right of us, the hill changed into a gorse-clad cliff and dropped sharply to the shore. As we began our descent, the waves rushed into the inlet below.
The cider bottle stuck out the side pocket of my rucksack. Moonzy cleared her throat in a way that indicated she was going to say something she knew might not be received too well. “Coral?”
One slip and we’d be taking the shorter, more lethal route to the cave.
“Mmm?” I kicked a stone, which clacked twice before vanishing over the side of the cliff.
“I can’t shake the feeling something horrible is going to happen. Carline Deedclathes is not exactly going to be winning a prize for being Good Samaritan of the Year.”
“You’re no’ wrong there,” piped up Skaw, who was tucked into the fold on my beanie hat.
I hated that I kept on seeing Carline Deedclathes’s eyes before she was sucked back into her grave. They would haunt me for the rest of my life. “Moonzy, what the witch said is all we’ve got to go on. I wish things were different, but we don’t have much choice in the matter.” I scratched an itchy spot on my head through my hat. I didn’t like this one little bit either.
“I’m a plastic bottle, which is going to make tiptoeing around a cave searching for bones a little tricky.” Moonzy sighed, exhausted.
“Can you no’ just be you; I mean the real, earthbound you, and no’ a stuffed squirrel or a bottle?” Skaw chewed on his bottom lip.
“You sound exactly the same as Lyart. I prefer being other things,” she answered, her voice flatter than a skimming stone.
I hoped Lyart was OK wherever he was and that he wasn’t going out of his mind with worry. I hoisted up the rucksack. “Skaw has a point, Moonzy. It might be a lot easier on you, if you were just yourself.”
The bottle’s sides cracked, giving me and Skaw a fright.
“I’ve been so many other things for so long, I’m not even sure I know how to be me.” Moonzy sounded close to tears.
I stopped dead and plucked the worm off my hat. “Skaw, Moonzy would feel a lot better if you could just tell her where Muckle Red has hidden Lyart?”
Moon
zy’s plastic sides crinkled as she listened in.
“Do you think my head buttons up at the back? If I tell you, you don’t need to collect the objects and Muckle Red can’t leave the graveyard.” Skaw pressed his lips together, emphasizing the point that he wasn’t going to say another word on the matter.
“Thanks. Really helpful,” muttered Moonzy.
“You’re welcome,” barked the worm.
I placed Skaw on my hat and stepped off the path on to the shingle beach. The waves charged towards me, narrowly missing my feet.
Facing us, at the end of the short cove, was a triangular cliff of Grizzle Flint stone topped with grass. At the very bottom of it was a narrow entrance. Fallen boulders crowded outside Greystoor cave, as though eager to catch a glimpse of Sully Tarn.
The thought of a cannibal creeping up on us set my nerves on high alert.
“We have a problem.” Skaw was gazing straight ahead.
“What?” Moonzy and I both said at the same time.
“The tide’s coming in.”
This was a disaster! If we didn’t get a move on, the cave entrance would be completely cut off by the rising waters.
Skaw started to quake uncontrollably. “W-we could return. When the tide is out.”
“Everything all right there, Skaw?” asked Moonzy, sensing his hesitancy.
There was a pause. “Cannae swim,” he confessed.
“Of course,” said the bottle. “It’s where you always spot a worm – drowned in a puddle after the rain.”
“If you’re no’ going to change into yourself, could you turn into something useful like a boat or a canoe or something?” The worm’s voice quivered.
“Do you see one handily bobbing on the waves? There’s your answer, then.”
I took my rucksack off, lifted out Moonzy and placed her on the shore. The witch’s tears were safe, as I’d poured them into an empty lip balm pot at home and hidden it in my wardrobe. I had rifled through the cupboard under the kitchen sink for a torch, but couldn’t find one. The only thing I could think of to use were Gran’s matches. Whenever she’d had a bath, she would fill the room with candles because she always swore their light made anyone look half-decent in the nude.
Fishing out the matches, I stuffed them into the pocket of my sweatshirt. Having something of Gran’s with me felt as though it could somehow bring me luck. Lastly, I took off my coat. If I had to swim back from the cave, the wool might become so waterlogged, the weight of it could drag me under.
I shuddered as the breath of the sea whirled around me. I was so shattered each strange noise or swish of swaying grass became Sully Tarn stalking us.
Gran had told me I could make a difference by choosing one thing I believed in to fight tooth and nail for. I focused on the task ahead, like a telescope sharpening a faint blur in the night sky into a star. I wanted Gran to know how sorry I was, and for this to happen I was going to have to fetch the cannibal bones.
My heart banged out of rhythm. “Moonzy, you could make too much noise in the cave so you can be the lookout. Skaw, you can help me search for bones. It’ll be dark, so I’ve got matches in case of an emergency, but I’d rather we didn’t use them, as it could alert Sully Tarn that we’re there. Any questions?”
“Being an earthworm, I’m extra sensitive to heat.” Skaw nodded his head.
Moonzy and I gawped at the worm, waiting for him to explain himself further.
“It means if Sully Tarn is close by, I’ll know,” he huffed.
“That’s brilliant, Skaw.” I accidentally pictured a cannibal standing next to us in the cave and shivered. “Listen, you two. I know Carline Deedclathes hasn’t sent us here out of the kindness of her heart – so we are going to have to keep our eyes peeled. We have her tears, don’t we? This has got to be easier. We go in, grab a bone and get out.”
“In. Grab a bone. And out,” chanted Moonzy and Skaw under their breaths.
I stuck the bottle in my sweatshirt pocket and checked Skaw was secure in the fold of my hat before picking my way along the shore.
The tide powered in, slapping my legs, and when it raced out, it sucked the stones from underneath my feet. The relief of reaching the rock pools was short-lived. Polished by starlight and booby-trapped with slippery fingers of seaweed, it was near impossible to keep my footing. I clambered over the uneven surfaces, wincing as limpets and whelks crunched under my feet, seaweed bladders popped and barnacles, sharper than teeth, cut my skin whenever I fell.
The waves behind us thundered in faster and stronger. As they pummelled the rocks, spray flew up, soaking me. My nose filled with the smell of salt, reminding me of fresh blood. I clawed my way over the last of the boulders, overjoyed to finally arrive on dry land. I stood, wiping my face with my sleeve to stop the seawater stinging my eyes. My chest heaved up and down, and my body trembled.
The cliff loomed over us, sprouting old bird nests from its crevices. Gannet droppings dripped down the stone, as if pots of Wedding Veil matt emulsion had been accidentally spilled. Spindly trees gripped on to tiny cracks and Ochre 2 lichen blossomed over the rock.
My tread became deer-quiet as we approached the entrance, a low yawning mouth in the cliff, poised to swallow us in one gulp.
I placed Moonzy to the side of the opening.
“Give us a warning if the tide gets too high or Sully Tarn appears.” I gave her a weak smile.
The bottle dipped its top.
To the left of us, there was a small hole in the rock. I didn’t bother to check it; if I couldn’t slip in or out of it, neither could Sully Tarn.
Crouching, I stepped inside, straining my ears, but all I could hear was the swell of the sea. I smelled bird poop, fish and rotting seaweed.
The cave was darker than a power cut; I kept to the right, my hand feeling my way along the wall. The rock started to slant inwards until it came together with the opposite side. I had to duck, careful not to bang my head, and squeezed through the gap at the bottom. I crawled on my hands and knees, small stones pressing themselves into my legs and palms, as we entered another chamber. I could no longer hear the waves – just my heart clunking against my ribs.
As I inched forward, I patted my foot lightly on the ground, hoping it would kick a piece of bone.
“Sk-aw?” I said, quieter than a whisper. “A-ny-thing?”
He leaned over the fold of my beanie hat. “Nope.”
I moved on a couple of steps.
Up ahead, I heard a noise, similar to the soft tread of footsteps.
“What was that?” Skaw held his breath.
I fought the urge to cough. My nostrils flared and my throat tickled. Feeling dizzy, I clung to a narrow shelf on the rock, knocking dust off it, which fell to the ground the same way sugar spills from a bag.
As the sound echoed around us, I stumbled, my hat catching on something. My hand shot up to feel a tree branch, no thicker than a knitting needle, sticking out from the wall. I snatched my beanie off it and put it back on to my head.
I hoped Lyart wasn’t being held, alone, in a place as horrible as this. I thought about his soothing words that had helped me to breathe properly again. The urge to cough left me and I inhaled. Thing was, I’d been so busy focusing on trying not to choke, I had no idea which direction I was going in. I felt around my head for Skaw, except he wasn’t there. He must have been knocked off when my hat snagged on the branch.
I didn’t want to be in this cave all by myself.
“Sk-aw?” My scalp bristled with fear.
“Aye?” said a voice right in my ear.
I let out a gasp.
“Calm your jets. I got knocked on to your shoulder.”
“You scared me!”
“Eh, newsflash: I’m no’ as terrifying as a cannibal. And you’re heading the wrong way.”
I swivelled and pushed on, only hoping if Sully Tarn was close, Skaw would be able to sense him.
It wasn’t long before I heard another sound, close by – a high-pitche
d rush of air.
“Skaw?” I stood stock-still, petrified.
“Aye, sorry. That compost you’re feeding me is awfully rich; it’s giving me terrible wind.”
“Skaw!”
“I said sorry.”
I crept on, further into the cave.
A faint pitter-pattering noise halted me in my tracks. Sweat trickled down my spine, making me shiver. I was too hot and too cold all at the same time. “I don’t think I can do this.” I dug my fingernails into the palms of my hand, desperate to fight back the tears.
“Aye, you can. The tide is coming in fast, and in case you’ve forgotten, I cannae swim. I’m risking my life in the hope of a better one with Muckle Red. You just keep thinking of that wee granny of yours and carry on.”
I wished I’d brought Moonzy instead. I picked up the pace, my right fist clenched for good measure.
Skaw twitched. “There’s something up ahead.”
“What?” It was hard not to screech it out loud.
The worm craned his neck, trying to see. “A light.”
I inched forward, aware of a faint glow coming from an opening at the end of the corridor. When we got there, I mustered up all my courage to peep around the corner.
Skaw and I were astonished that the cave was bigger than the inside of the church. In the centre of the floor was a weathered rowing boat, which had been made into a table. On the bare rock wall hung a Satsuma Punch trawler net, covered in every size of fishing hook imaginable. Underneath it was a shopping trolley stuffed full of bags, shoes and clothing. A headless doll sat on top with its arms outstretched. Next to that, a tarpaulin sheet had been draped over an object.
At the side of the table, a fire crackled. Above it was a huge metal keg, suspended from the wall by iron chains. Giant plumes of steam whooshed out from it, billowing across the cave.
I scanned the floor for bones; there was nothing.
Skaw spoke quieter than Miss Mirk. “There are a couple of chambers off the main one; we’ll need to check them out.”
“Can you sense him?”
He shook his head. “Only the heat from the fire.”
The True Colours of Coral Glen Page 11