‘They don’t know that.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I need another dictionary. And it’ll look weird if I go alone.’
Jack thought it was a bit weird, and his stomach agreed, but he decided he could put off his sandwich for a couple of minutes if his sister really thought they should.
‘All right.’
Jaide told Mr Carver and he gave them permission to ride home, provided they were back in time for the afternoon session. They assured him they would be, and ran off to their bikes.
As they pedalled up Dock Road, Jack felt an unnerving sensation between his shoulder blades, as though someone was watching him closely. He studied the shops to his right, but could see no one looking at them. The fish market to his left was full of people, but none of them were paying attention to him either. He told himself he was imagining things and pedalled furiously to catch up to Jaide, who had pulled ahead while he was distracted.
They dropped their bikes on the lawn and ran up the front steps. Jaide grabbed the front door handle and turned it, but instead of bursting into the house as they always did, they crashed headlong into the door. For the first time ever, it was locked.
‘Ow!’ said Jack, rubbing his elbow. He tried the handle himself, but it wouldn’t budge. ‘Now what?’
Jaide kicked the door as though it had affronted her personally. ‘We try the back, I guess.’
It was the same with the laundry door. No matter how they wrenched the handle, it wouldn’t turn.
‘The curtains are closed too,’ said Jack, stepping back to stare up at the windows.
‘What’s she up to in there?’ muttered Jaide.
Something rattled in the garden next door, perhaps a brick dropping from the rundown walls, or a careless footfall kicking a stone, and the twins turned as one to stare at the fence.
Both of them expected to see Martin McAndrew there, staring at them with inquisitive eyes and his all-too-brilliant smile. But there was no sign of him.
‘Hello?’ called Jaide.
Jack didn’t say anything. The odd feeling had returned. In one of the empty windows, from the shadows of the house’s hollow shell, he was sure that someone or something was watching them. He was also sure it wasn’t a vandal.
‘Ari? Kleo?’
Jaide tried to sound brave, but she was feeling it too. The tiny patch of skin between her shoulder blades itched worse than a mosquito bite and the hair of her arms was all standing on end.
‘Grandma?’
A sliver of broken glass slipped from its frame and smashed, sending a tiny avalanche down the side of the ruined house. The courage of both twins broke at exactly that moment, and they turned and fled round the other side of their grandmother’s house. Whatever was lurking next door, they didn’t want to face it alone, not when they were barred from the only place in Portland they felt truly safe, Grandma X’s home.
‘Was it The Evil?’ gasped Jack as he leapt on to his bike.
‘I don’t know, and I’m not going back to ask!’
They pedalled pell-mell down the cobbled lane, glancing over their shoulders to make sure no one was following them.
‘Stop right there!’ a voice cried.
CHAPTER NINE
Where There’s Fire . . .
Jack and Jaide skidded to a halt, very nearly bowling over a woman in a post office uniform standing sturdily in the middle of the lane. She had raised one hand in a commanding gesture, like a traffic policeman. All the hounds of Hades could have been on their heels, but nothing would have compelled them to disobey the fierce expression on her broad face.
‘Not so fast! And why aren’t you at school? Are you Jaidith and Jackaran Shield?’
Jack could only gape at her, stunned by the barrage of questions. The postwoman wasn’t large in stature, but what she lacked in height she more than made up for in her barking tone.
‘I – I’m Jaide.’
‘A postcard for you, here.’ The woman thrust a small stack of mail into her hand. ‘It is from your father. He wishes you well.’
‘Thanks . . .?’
The postwoman turned her attention to Jack. ‘So you must be Jack. You are too quiet. Why did you not answer my question? I have a postcard for you too. Your sister has it now. You could have had it first. He tells wild stories, just like he used to.’
‘It’s not . . . I mean . . . that is, we were in a hurry to get back to school.’
‘No child is ever in a hurry to get to school. You rode as though the monster itself was after you.’ Her keen green eyes narrowed. ‘Have you seen it?’
Jack didn’t know. He hadn’t seen anything so far that could definitely have been the monster, for all that he felt and suspected.
‘Have you ?’ Jaide asked on an impulse.
The postwoman sucked in air through narrow, wide-spaced teeth. Her eyes lost their focus and her voice some of its harsh tone. ‘A huge thing it is, with the tail of a dragon and the head of a wolf. A chimera. You are very clever children. They say the monster lived in Portland long before mankind ever did, and ate the first settlers who tried to build here. I haven’t seen it myself, but my sister did, and she died of the fright. She said it had six long legs and scales like dinner plates.’
‘How could she have said that if it frightened her to death?’ asked Jack.
The postwoman’s focus returned. ‘It was a slow fright, in her lungs. Some people said she smoked too much, but I knew.’
‘OK . . . sure.’ Jaide shifted restlessly on her feet. ‘Can we go now ?’
‘Yes, yes. Back to school with you, and be brisk about it! No dawdling! The clock is ticking!’
The postwoman obeyed her own imperative, turning smartly to march off along the cobbled lane and, turning left, disappear up Parkhill Street.
‘Completely bonkers,’ said Jack. His stomach rumbled as though in agreement. Now that his fright had passed, his hunger had returned with a vengeance. ‘Can we eat our lunch now?’
‘No, we still have to get a dictionary.’
‘Where from?’
‘Wait a second and I’ll show you. I don’t want to go anywhere until she’s long gone. And while we wait . . .’
Jaide leafed through the stack of letters until she came to the card from their father, noticing as she did so that all of the letters were addressed To the occupant or To the proprietor or even To the lady of the house. No one addressed Grandma X by name – something they had observed when first arriving in Portland, but which they’d never got to the bottom of. When asked, she always changed the subject or said it was yet another mystery.
At the very bottom of the stack were two postcards from somewhere in Europe, one addressed to Jaide, the other to Jack, just as the postwoman had promised. Jaide’s started with Dear troubletwisters and ended midsentence. Jack’s picked up from there, and concluded in the bottom corner with a PS. The letter in its entirety said:
Dear troubletwisters,
So you found my old football, did you? I thought I’d lost that long ago! You know, I once kicked a goal in Scarborough from the pitch in Portland. Shame you popped it. (I advise against trying anything like that while your mother is present. Or ever. Don’t forget your promise.) You can probably tell that I’m not in Venice any more. Where I’ve gone is a mystery to me, as the storm I was using blew off-course, but I’m sure I’ll work it out soon enough. This is just a quick note to say that I miss you both immensely and wish we were together.
Love always,
Dad xx
PS Don’t forget your promise!
Jack leaned closely over Jaide’s shoulder to read with her.
‘How did he know about the football?’ he asked. ‘That was only yesterday! And how did these cards get here so quickly?’
Jaide had as little idea as he did. ‘He’s a Warden,’ she said. ‘I guess he can do things like this.’
‘Did Grandma X tell him or is he spying on us somehow?’
‘I don’t know that either.’ The matter of the
promise bothered her. They were sneaking around behind Grandma X’s back, which they knew she wouldn’t like – but what else were they supposed to do, when she was keeping secrets from them and ignoring everything they thought was important? If The Evil had found a way back into Portland, it was up to them to stop it, and them alone.
She put the post into her schoolbag. They had bigger things to worry about than what their faraway father was up to. ‘Come on. Let’s get that dictionary.’
They headed to the bookshop by their house. Its proprietor, Rodeo Dave, was sitting behind the counter, grooming his moustache with a tiny brush, when the twins came in.
‘Howdy, neighbours!’ He rushed out and shook both their hands, nearly toppling a stack of bargain paperbacks as he went. ‘What can I do for you this fine day? If you’re looking for Kleo, I’m afraid she’s elsewhere. Haven’t seen much of her lately, come to think of it. Maybe she’s got a boyfriend.’
His grin was wide and infectious. There was no one else in the bookshop, but that wasn’t unusual. In the last week, Jack had seen only two customers browsing the shelves. And no wonder, he thought: the books were stacked right up to the ceiling, in no obvious order. Romances cosied up to fat political biographies, which looked uncomfortable in the company of trashy sci-fi novels and murder mysteries. Rare editions slummed it with paperbacks, and encyclopedias warred with condensed novels for control of their shelves. Everywhere was the smell of old paper and glue, and dust, thick with every breath.
‘We’re looking for a dictionary,’ said Jaide. ‘A good one. The one at school is hopeless and Mr Carver is never going to let us use the computers today.’
‘Ah!’ Rodeo Dave rubbed his hands together. ‘I have just the thing.’
He led them to a deep, dark corner of the shop and proudly showed them a series of thick grey volumes that filled an entire shelf. Jaide pulled one out and cradled it in two hands. It seemed to weigh as much as she did and covered just the letter E. She put it back.
‘Have you got anything that would fit in my bag?’
‘Hmm.’ Rodeo Dave looked around and tapped his chin. ‘What about this one?’
He slid a book that was almost perfectly cubical from an upper shelf and handed it to Jack. The letters on the cover had faded to illegibility, but when he opened it, Jack saw the usual list of words and definitions in tiny print.
‘I think that’ll do the trick,’ he said. ‘Right, Jaide?’
‘Perfect. How much is it?’
‘For you? Nothing. That book’s been sitting there as long as the shop. You’re doing me a favour taking it off my hands. I can use the space.’
‘Really? Thanks.’
‘Don’t mention it. Would you like to join me for lunch? I was just about to eat.’
‘Well, we should really –’
‘That would be great,’ said Jack, whose stomach would brook no further delay. ‘We have sandwiches.’
‘So do I! Pull up a chair and I’ll get you a drink. I presume you like lemonade?’
The three of them gathered round the counter and unwrapped their lunches. Susan had packed for the twins before she left, stocking their lunch boxes with extra treats that Grandma X never included. Jack ate the treats first before moving on to his more serious sandwich. Rodeo Dave had a round, brown roll that stank of pickles, which he ate in small measured bites in order to keep the crumbs out of his moustache.
‘I was talking to your grandmother the other day,’ he said. ‘She tells me you’re settling in fine now, after a bit of a rough start.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Jaide.
Surely Grandma X wouldn’t have told him about The Evil?
‘The storm, school being closed – all that. Worse even than the winter of ’72, and that’s saying something. Quite a welcome Portland has given you.’ He winked and leaned in closer. ‘And now there’s all this talk of the monster. You must think us completely cracked.’
‘Well,’ said Jack, ‘we did just bump into the postwoman . . .’
‘Did you now?’ Rodeo Dave rocked back in his chair and laughed. ‘Well, don’t let our Hilma bother you. That’s Hilma von Klippert, if you please. She’s been delivering the post as long as that dictionary’s been on my shelf and she’s seen a thing or two, without a doubt.’
‘She said she knew Dad.’
‘She did. They were even an item once,’ he said, then screwed up an eye and tilted his head to one side. ‘Or was that Sal Govey? I forget now.’
Jaide couldn’t imagine their father ever being interested in anyone like Hilma von Klippert – or vice versa.
‘Did her sister really see the monster?’ Jaide asked.
‘What do you think?’
She shook her head.
‘Right. And no one else around here seems to have seen it either. If it’s not their sister, it’s their father or their best friend or a cousin.’ He grinned, exposing yellow-tinged teeth. ‘I have a friend in Camfferman Crescent who says it’s a giant snake, a boa constrictor that escaped from the Rourke Estate menagerie, which has grown long and fat on missing pets and sheep. He’s never seen it himself. He just knows someone who swears she did, and barely escaped with her life. See what I mean?’
‘Couldn’t there be something to it though?’ asked Jaide. ‘If everyone says the same thing, maybe there’s a little bit of truth behind it.’
‘Where there’s smoke there’s fire?’ Rodeo Dave shrugged. ‘If that’s the case, why does the monster always look different? Maybe it’s the other way round.’
‘Where there’s fire there’s smoke?’ Jack scratched his head. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Beats me, but it’s worth thinking about.’ Rodeo Dave folded up the greaseproof paper his sandwich had been wrapped in and wiped the crumbs off his desk. ‘I suppose I’d better be getting back to work . . .’
Jaide looked around her. The shop was as empty as it had been when they walked in.
‘Give Kleo a pat for us,’ said Jack, who still felt bad about making her look small in the eyes of the other cats.
‘I will, whenever she turns up.’
They hurried back to school, the dictionary a dead weight in Jaide’s backpack. The end-of-lunch tune sounded just as they propped their bikes up in the rack and fastened the locks. Tara was waiting for them at their table.
‘Where did you go?’ she asked. ‘It’s really boring here without you.’
Jack explained about going home for lunch while Jaide got stuck into deciphering the article.
‘It must be great living so close to school,’ Tara said, propping her chin on one hand and sighing dramatically. ‘You can be home in no time at all. I have to wait around for Dad, and then drive all the way to Scarborough. Or get the train, if it’s running.’
Jack felt uncomfortable, sensing that she was fishing for an invitation. That would be impossible, he knew, until the business with the monster was sorted out. Not to mention her father.
‘It’s pretty bad actually,’ he said. ‘Every time we go anywhere, we pass the school. It’s like it’s following us.’
‘Now that would be weird.’ Tara smiled. ‘Ringing its prayer bells and playing its crazy tunes . . .’
Tara finished the portrait of Rennie and together they worked on the background, before finally all the pictures were gathered up by Mr Carver and put in an envelope.
‘I’ll make sure her family gets these later,’ he said with one hand on his heart. ‘They’ll be thrilled.’
‘She doesn’t have any family,’ Miralda said. ‘Don’t you know that? She was an only child and her ex-husband left ages ago. That’s why her story was so tragic apparently.’
‘Her parents then –’
‘Dead for years.’
‘Oh.’
‘What a waste of time!’ groaned Kyle. ‘I used my best black marker too.’
‘Well, it’s the thought that counts,’ said Mr Carver, rather unconvincingly. ‘And it doesn’t hurt for you to be rem
inded that everyone is important, even if they live alone –’
‘And no one knows anything about them.’ Miralda smirked.
‘I think it’s sad,’ said Tara. ‘And you should too. I can’t think of anything worse than being forgotten.’
Every head turned to face her.
‘What’s your name, again?’ asked Kyle.
‘Har har.’ Tara wasn’t fazed at all. ‘Remind me not to forget your amazing sense of humour.’
‘Students, students.’ Mr Carver raised his hands for calm. ‘Let’s observe a minute’s silence for Rennie, and then we’ll get on with your education.’
‘Do we have to?’ asked Kyle.
‘What’s one minute out of your life, Kyle? You’ll have plenty left over.’
‘I meant getting on with my education.’
Mr Carver looked weary, but he did eventually manage to calm the class down. A fragile silence fell, in which Jack clearly heard cars driving by down Main Street, the whoosh of a fishing boat’s bilge pump and the barking of a distant dog. He thought about Rennie and wondered what happened to someone who died while possessed by The Evil. Were they themselves at the end, or were they so completely absorbed that they never knew what happened? Rennie had gone back to herself at least once; he had seen her eyes change back to normal when Jaide had whacked her over the head with a silver tray. Could she have gone permanently back to normal if she hadn’t fallen off the lighthouse and drowned?
He snuck a quick glance at his watch. Surely it had been a minute already. It felt like more than five . . .
‘Got it!’
The sudden cry made the entire classroom jump.
‘Jaide – shhhh!’
She looked up from the dictionary with innocent alarm. She’d been so engrossed in the puzzle of the Compendium article that she hadn’t noticed how quiet it had become.
‘Sorry, Mr Carver. What are we doing?’
‘That’s Heath, and . . . oh, never mind. The moment has passed. Free drawing for an hour, children. Try creating something your parents would like to see, in appreciation for everything they’ve done for you. Remember, they won’t be here forever.’