“It’s not the first I’ve received,” he said with a hint of pride.
“Nor the last,” added Evelyn behind his back.
Connie spent the night wondering why Gard had not received a letter from Mr. Coddrington despite the fact he was openly staying at their house. She half expected it to drop through the letterbox the next morning, and she looked up apprehensively as her aunt came into the kitchen with the mail.
“Nothing for Gard?” Connie asked as her aunt split the pile in two; the larger half she kept for herself, a single letter she chucked at Mack who caught it deftly in his left hand.
Gard grunted with derision from the armchair by the fireplace, where Madame Cresson had curled up on his knee. He did not eat or drink, but he liked to keep them company at breakfast. “Coddrington knows better than to take me on, Universal,” he said, understanding her thought. “I still command respect for my frequent periods of service as Trustee over the centuries. He knows that.”
“Whereas insignificant rebels like me and my son, he doesn’t care two hoots about, is that it, Rock Dwarf?” Mack said with a laugh.
“That is it, Kraken Companion,” returned Gard in the same spirit. “Though I am surprised a Sea Snake, reputed by his nearest and dearest to have frogspawn for brains, was so quick to see to the heart of the matter.”
“Frogspawn!” exclaimed Mack, turning on Evelyn. “You didn’t say that, did you?”
“No,” said Evelyn innocently, “don’t look at me like that. I wish I had said it though—”
“It was your mother,” Gard butted in.
“The treachery of women!” Mack said, casting his hands up in the air dramatically. He threw himself at Connie’s feet. “Connie, it’s up to you to save the reputation of your sex and denounce all these foul slurs on my intelligence.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Mack,” Connie said hesitantly, still unused to the ways of her new uncle, “frogspawn sounds a lot safer than what I’ve got in my head. I’d stick with that, if I were you.”
He laughed. “True, I forgot I was having breakfast with our own weapon of mass destruction.”
Connie gave a wan smile. “Yeah, you’re a brave man to risk it.”
Gard was clearly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. His joints creaked in the chair as he turned around to address Evelyn, who was immersed in her letters at the far end of the table.
“What were you saying last night, Evelyn, about your cliff?”
Evelyn looked up. “It was Connie’s idea. She thought you might be able to help.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Connie putting down her spoon, “I just thought you might be able to check out the cliff for us—you know, tell us if it’s dangerous or not. Is there anything you can do about it?”
Gard nodded slowly. “Perhaps. I will investigate for you.”
There was a knock at the back door. Mack moved quickly to stand in front of Gard as Evelyn opened the door a crack.
“Mrs. Evelyn Lionheart?” inquired a man’s voice on the other side.
“Yes?” Evelyn replied, her shoulders blocking his view into the kitchen.
“I tried the front but there was no answer.”
“That’s right. The bell’s not worked for decades. How can I help you?”
“I’m from the town council. We’d like to discuss relocation with you.”
“Relocation? I’m not going anywhere.”
“We’re not talking about anything permanent. Just a temporary measure while we look at the cliff and see if we can make it safe—”
“Examine away,” she said, starting to close the door, “but I’ll take care of myself, thanks.”
The man wedged his foot in the door. “I was warned you wouldn’t like it—nobody would, of course—but I don’t think you quite understand. We are about to declare the cliff unsafe and that means you’ll have to move out, like it or not. You’ve got a child here, I believe. Social Services will not look kindly on your putting her life at risk…whatever you do with your own.”
Evelyn threw open the door again, wide this time, so that the bespectacled man obtained a clear view of the kitchen. In a flash, Mack pulled Connie over to his side to create a larger barrier for the rock dwarf.
“Don’t you threaten me with Social Services!” Evelyn said in a menacing tone.
“My dear lady, I’m not threatening you! But you must know that your situation has been discussed by the council. Your niece is well known to Social Services—my word, even I know about her running away last year, and I’ve nothing to do with that department!”
“Well, if it’s nothing to do with you, Mr….?”
“Cornell.”
“Mr. Cornell, then I suggest you say nothing about it.”
“Face facts, Mrs. Lionheart,” he said in a final effort to get through to her, “you’ll have to move.”
“No, you face facts. That cliff is not yet declared unsafe and may never be. My family is staying put.” She slammed the door.
“Well,” said Gard, getting to his feet with a creak, “I had better start work. It looks as if you need some mythical help to sort this one out.”
Col approached the Mastersons’ farm on Tuesday evening with a feeling of trepidation. His breath came in white clouds as he pedaled along the dark country lane, his bike lights dancing off the shoulder. Captain Graves had left an urgent message demanding Col’s presence at a meeting to discuss his conduct—so he knew he was in for trouble. It was with feelings akin to a prisoner going to his sentencing that he stacked his bike against the barn wall and went in search of his mentor.
Knocking on the back door of the farmhouse, Col found himself face to face with Shirley, Mr. Masterson’s daughter. She gave him a smug smile as she held the door open for him.
“Hi, Col,” she said, “Captain Graves is expecting you. He’s in the dining room with Dad.” She flicked her long blonde hair over her shoulder—having met her Cousin Erik, Col now understood from which side of the family she got her pale coloring.
“Oh,” said Col shortly, pulling off his gloves and jacket, adding them to the miscellaneous collection of coats in the corner of the kitchen. His jacket promptly slid off its peg, but he could not be bothered to pick it up.
“She’s not worth it, you know,” Shirley said, returning to the magazine she had been reading at the kitchen table.
“What?” Col snapped, stung by her tone.
“Connie Lionheart. Hescombe’s only universal. The Society doesn’t need universals anymore. They just put the rest of us at risk. If I were you, I wouldn’t sacrifice my training for her.”
Trying to master his annoyance, Col took a deep breath, knowing that an outburst at Shirley just before facing a disciplinary hearing was not the wisest course of action.
“Well, Shirley,” he said, his voice only trembling slightly as he put on a passing imitation of a conversational tone, “at least I now know one thing.”
“Oh?” inquired Shirley, putting her magazine aside, expecting to hear his change of heart. She smiled flirtatiously at him. “Seen the error of your ways, Col? I always knew you were smart.”
“Oh, I’m smart all right,” said Col with a hard smile, “but now I know that you’re not. You must be dense to think the Society can get by ignoring the fact that there’s a universal out there. Anyway, Connie’s my friend and I stick by my friends, unlike some people I know.”
He kicked open the door of the kitchen and left before she had a chance to say any more—not because he was afraid of an argument, but because he was afraid he would enjoy it too much and live to regret venting his feelings.
He knocked firmly on the dining room door, in no mood to show remorse.
“Come in, Col,” said Captain Graves sternly.
His mentor and Mr. Masterson were sitting next to each other on the far side of the polished table.
“Sit down,” said Captain Graves, waving at a chair opposite him. “You know why you’re here, of course?”
br /> Col nodded, choosing to sit down rather than answer. He had already decided that the less he said, the better. Mr. Masterson was looking at him with an expression of regret mixed with self-righteousness.
“Mr. Masterson has done his duty by bringing your misconduct to the attention of the Trustees,” said Captain Graves, with a nod at his neighbor, “though he has also stressed to me that you were less to blame than the adults you were with. You cannot be expected to go against the wishes of your father or of others you are used to trusting.”
Col looked down at his fingers, noting absently how dirty his nails were. He could tell that Mr. Masterson and Captain Graves, both kindly men in the right circumstances, were attempting to give him a way out.
“It may be that you were merely following their wishes when you went on your expedition with Connie Lionheart and the rock dwarf last Saturday?” suggested Captain Graves, his eyes glinting at Col from under his gray brows.
Col said nothing but began to pick the grime from his thumbnail.
Captain Graves rubbed his moustache speculatively. “On the other hand, perhaps you fully condoned their action and have no intention of obeying the Society’s ban against your friend?”
Col still said nothing but stopped digging at his nails.
“In which case, you are in serious trouble. Rules are there to keep our mythical creatures safe. They must be obeyed, however painful that may prove to us individually. We all have to learn that the good of the whole is more important than our private feelings on a matter.”
Col felt the urge to argue with his mentor. It was so tempting to speak his mind. But he mustn’t. He gripped his hands tightly, trying to keep the lid on his anger.
“Connie’s a nice enough girl, I’ve no doubt, and probably very persuasive with a warmhearted boy like yourself,” Captain Graves continued, his eyes fixed on the top of his charge’s bent head. “I’ve no doubt she’s talked you into thinking she should be given another chance. You’ve probably even forgiven her for trying to kill you.”
“She’s done no such thing,” Col said, each word an effort as he struggled to keep cool. “She’s not asked me for anything.”
“What! Not even your forgiveness!” said Mr. Masterson with a hollow laugh. “It’s a strange kind of girl who can try to blast her best friends apart and not worry about it afterward.”
“Of course, she’s worried about it!” Col spat out, but then pulled back, regaining control. “But what she’s said about it to me is private.”
“Oh, is it!” said Captain Graves knowingly. “I thought as much. When I heard that my star pupil was abusing the Society in this way, I thought that it had to be a matter of the heart rather than the head. You see, Clive,” he said, turning to Mr. Masterson, “it’s as I said: the poor boy can’t think straight about her.”
“What?” Col sat up, staring at his mentor.
“Don’t worry, my boy, I remember what first love was like,” said Captain Graves with a paternal smile. “And I dare say Clive does, too.”
“Oh, yes,” said Mr. Masterson with a sigh.
Col looked from one to the other in amazement. Both of them were now wearing inane grins and looking at him as if he were to be pitied.
“Connie’s my friend,” Col said. “We’re just good friends.”
“That’s what they all say, isn’t it, Michael?” said Mr. Masterson with a wink.
“But it’s true!” Col thundered back.
Mr. Masterson and Captain Graves refused to be angry with him and continued to smile at each other.
“Unfortunately, Col, you’ll have to learn to curb your feelings for the former Society member if you are to remain in the training program,” said Captain Graves gently. “But as it was a first offense, I’ll be merciful and only ground you for a month.”
“A month!” Col protested.
“It will delay your Grade Four examination a year unfortunately, but that’s the penalty you have to pay. However, if I hear you have been associating with Miss Lionheart again,” Captain Graves continued, his voice taking on a hard edge, “I’m afraid I’ll have to suspend your training and inform the Trustees that you should not be allowed near the pegasi until you have proved that you can obey Society rules.”
There was a moment in which Col knew he had a choice: either he could accept the sentence and leave the room or he could vent his anger and tell them exactly what he thought of them both. Looking up at the family portraits on the walls—all of which seemed to be listening with the same supercilious smile as their descendant, Shirley—Col knew that he would not give them the pleasure of seeing him lose control. That was what Connie had done in this very same room, admittedly under worse provocation, and she had ended up with an expulsion. He swallowed and said nothing.
“Do you understand, Col?” asked Captain Graves severely.
Col nodded, still gazing hard at one bald-headed Masterson from the past, concentrating on his ugly bulbous nose.
“Then I hope to see you again in mid-February. I’ll explain to Skylark why you are unable to train with him. I’ll find someone else to ride in your place for a few weeks so that he can continue with his training program.”
This was the hardest moment of all: hearing that his place on Skylark’s back was to be taken by some other pegasus rider. Col dug his nails into the palm of his hand to stop from saying anything, focusing instead on the pain he was inflicting on himself.
“Then I look forward to seeing you in a few weeks. Oh, and…er…let her down gently, won’t you, my boy?” Captain Graves said, standing up and picking up his cane from the table. “She must be having a hard time, and I’ve always rather liked her myself. But duty is duty.” He pointed to the door.
Col shuffled to his feet. “I can go then?”
“Dismissed,” said Captain Graves briskly as he always did at the end of a training session, but this time adding, “and good luck. If you need any tips on what to say, I imagine Clive here would be happy to make some suggestions. He was quite a ladies’ man himself in his day, as I remember.”
“Go on, Michael,” said Mr. Masterson, blushing.
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine,” Col said, leaving quickly before Mr. Masterson felt moved to share any reminiscences of his past love affairs. It was only when he was outside in the cold night air that Col realized he had confirmed their suspicions about him and Connie with his last remark. It was too late now to go back in. The absurdity of the situation made him give a mirthless laugh as he pedaled back home, already resolved that no one should hear anything about it. He would not be able to live it down if Rat got hold of it.
12
Snowstorm
Col and Rat were walking down the corridor a few steps behind Connie on their way to Geography.
“So, Col, what’s all this about you and Connie?” asked Rat.
Col grabbed his friend by the front of his sweatshirt and bundled him into the caretaker’s storage closet. Connie, who had turned around on hearing her name mentioned, was just in time to see Rat jerked inside and the door banged shut.
“What did you say?” hissed Col fiercely, still gripping Rat’s gray pullover. Rat wriggled free. “Hey, cool it!” Rat brushed himself down and perched on an empty shelf. “Touchy!”
“I’m not touchy,” Col growled back, “but you’d better tell me why you said that—and now!”
“All right, all right, keep your hair on.” Rat was trying hard not to laugh at his friend’s expression of outrage. “I just heard from Erik that you’ve been told to dump Connie. Strange,” he added reflectively, “I hadn’t even realized you two were going out and now it’s all over.”
“It’s not all over,” replied Col, kicking a bucket angrily, making the closet ring with its dull chime.
“So you haven’t dumped her, yet?” said Rat eagerly, his bright eyes twinkling in the semi-darkness.
“Aargh!” Col let out an exasperated groan. “’Course it’s not all over—it never started. It??
?s just a figment of my mentor’s overactive imagination.”
“Oh, I see,” said Rat skeptically.
“And if you tell Connie one word about all this, I’ll kill you!”
“As if I would!” Rat grinned back.
There was a tap at the door before someone pulled it open.
“Col, Rat, are you okay?” It was Connie peering anxiously in on them.
“We’re fine, Connie,” said Rat brightly. “It’s just Col suffering from the effects of an overactive imagination.”
“I’m not,” Col grunted.
“What?” Connie looked puzzled.
“Forget it,” said Col, quickly leaving the closet, pulling Rat with him. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”
The threesome began to jog down the now deserted corridor. Checking that no one was within earshot, Connie asked Rat: “So how was your visit to the wind farm with Jane and Anneena? They didn’t come across anything unexpected, did they?”
“Oh, no,” said Rat. “I kept Icefen away from them. ’Course, he caught their scent from the plantation and was itching to give them a fright, but I made him promise to behave. Besides, with all those builders up there, it’d be loads of people to knock out. We might’ve missed someone.”
“Yeah,” said Connie, relieved but not entirely comforted by hearing of her friends’ near escape.
“You should come up there again, Connie,” Rat continued. “The masts are going up. They’re really cool.” He glanced at Col. “Even Ma thinks they’re not so bad now that she’s seen them. At least, she’s stopped swearing at the foreman, which is a relief for Dad. Mr. Masterson asked him to control Ma—doesn’t understand a thing about women, that man.”
“Maybe I will,” said Connie as they turned into the Geography corridor. “I’ll go and see Uncle Hugh on Saturday and take a look. Even Mr. Masterson can’t object to me visiting him. Will you be flying, Col?”
“Er…no,” said Col shortly.