Ribblestrop Forever!

  There was a silence.

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Mr Ian.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The chicken-pox turned out to be an isolated case and Mr Ian nearly wept with relief.

  The boys and girls of The Priory finished morning prep in the usual frigid silence and at half-past twelve put away their books. Some went to the library for periodical reading, for there was a current affairs test twice a week. A select group went to practise their university application letters, while those doing the Pioneers’ Award put their blazers into polythene wraps and filed to the gym for the dreaded final kit inspection.

  Mr Ian had organised a line of tables and each child set out the items it intended to take.

  ‘What’s that, Perkins?’

  ‘My reading book, sir.’

  ‘Rejected. You will not have time for reading.’

  ‘Sir.’

  ‘Hubble. Re-fold those socks.’

  ‘Sir.’

  He moved down the line and the children sensed his tension. Jacqueline stood with her hands behind her back, eyes down. Scott was beside her.

  ‘You let me down, you two,’ said Mr Ian quietly. ‘You were not loyal.’

  The children blinked. Jacqueline licked her lips.

  ‘I’m not going to punish you now. I’m going to observe you, in the hope you’ll win favour over the next three days. If you fraternise with those . . . lowlifes again, I’ll assume you want to undermine me. And when we’re home, you will experience the full hell of my retribution. Do you understand me?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said the children together.

  ‘Why are there feathers in your kit, Scott? Matron told me about this.’

  ‘They were given to me, sir.’

  Mr Ian picked one up. ‘A feather collection,’ he said. ‘You’re an effeminate boy, aren’t you? Who gave them to you? Speak up.’

  ‘They were given to me at the camp, sir. I just like them.’

  ‘Rejected. I don’t want clutter on this trip. I’ll say this to all of you . . .’ Mr Ian raised his voice. ‘If you’re taking toys, get rid of them now. Do not think you can conceal a toy, I will find it. Last term it was Charlie Johnson, wasn’t it?’

  A fair-haired boy at the end of the row jerked to attention. ‘Yes, sir,’ he piped.

  ‘What did you conceal?’

  ‘A toy car, sir.’

  ‘What did we do with it? When we got home?’

  ‘We smashed it up, sir.’

  ‘We took a hammer to it, didn’t we, Johnson? We agreed that toy cars were inappropriate, even if they had been given to us by a much-loved, much-missed grandparent. We smashed it to pieces and we put the pieces in the bin. When we’re out on the moor, we’re a unit working together. One weakling and the whole group is weakened. If you spot weakness, tell me about it. Toys, knick-knacks, reading books. They have no place on Ribblemoor. So . . .’

  He moved out to the front where everyone could see him.

  ‘I will call an item of kit. You will pick it up and hold it above your head. Start with your compass. Come on, hold it up!’

  The children did so.

  ‘Good. Survival muesli bars, six-pack.’

  They put their compasses down and held up their muesli bars.

  ‘Okay, let’s speed this up. Toilet tissue, pack of ten. Grey shirt. Get it folded, Tutton! Good, Fisher – very neat. Outward-bound neck-tie – let me see it! Good!’

  The list went on, and Mr Ian marched up and down the line, checking his squad. At one o’clock he was done and they all went to lunch. Then they moved their packs to the waiting minibus. At two-fifteen, exactly on-schedule, Mr Ian nosed the bus out of the school gates and set off for the moors.

  As he did so, two elderly donkeys made their way up the long flank of Corriemor Hill, drawing chariots that bulged with weapons and equipment.

  The Ribblestrop children and their teachers were walking beside them, drenched in sunshine. The sky overhead was a dome of cloudless blue and skylarks poured down song, as fresh and clear as water from a spring. They had all set off at sunrise and had already walked several kilometres. Doctor Ellie checked one of the old maps, which flapped in her hands.

  ‘Off the path, I think!’ she cried. ‘If we swing northwest, we’ll go past a little wood. That’s where the flare path was leading, I’m sure of it.’

  A gust of wind almost tore the map from her hands.

  ‘Where exactly are we going?’ shouted the headmaster.

  Doctor Ellie put her mouth to his ear and shouted back. ‘We saw the path last night! But the stones aren’t easy to spot, you see. It’s a far cleverer system than I’d thought!’

  ‘Look behind!’ shouted Sam.

  Doctor Ellie turned and saw that most of the children had paused and were gazing in the direction they’d come. Their cloaks flapped and their hair streamed. The higher they climbed, the more the wind tugged at them. The land folded away below them, a great duvet of greens, yellows and browns. They could see the track they’d ascended and they watched the shadows of clouds steaming across the landscape. The camel brayed with joy – it had been impossible to leave her, after all – she’d cried all night. Now she carried Professor Worthington, who sat back in a classroom chair that Sanjay had lashed over the hump. She was reading under a parasol.

  ‘Why haven’t we been out here before, sir?’ said Imagio to Doonan.

  Doonan shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘It makes me want to be out here every day.’

  ‘I don’t ever want to go back,’ said Eric, holding his hand.

  ‘Oh, but you can’t leave Ribblestrop. You can’t be serious!’

  ‘It’s so beautiful, though!’

  ‘Come on,’ said Asilah. ‘We’ve got six hours of walking ahead. Let’s move it!’

  ‘But who’s actually navigating?’ cried the headmaster. ‘We do have a destination in mind, don’t we?’

  ‘Follow me!’ yelled Captain Routon.

  He trotted down the hill towards them, waving his arms. He was in a bright red army coat, courtesy of the Ribblestrop auction house, and was impossible to miss. It flapped behind him like a scarlet cloak and he was grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘The first tor’s in sight, sir,’ he panted. ‘Just over that ridge. Then we push on through the valley, all the way to Flaming Tor. And that’s where we meet The Priory children.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Mr Ian’s got the final co-ordinates. He knows where we end up.’

  Miles jumped onto a rock. He drew his sword from his belt, and raised it, so that it flashed in the sunlight. The donkeys brayed again, and the chariots rolled forward.

  ‘Heave!’ cried the children, turning the wheels. ‘Heave!’

  The tribe moved steadily on.

  Millie hung back for Doctor Ellie.

  ‘Where’s Vicky?’ she said.

  ‘Looking after Eleudin,’ said Doctor Ellie, quietly. ‘She’s going to meet up with us later, when we find the main flare path – when we know where we’re going. We’ve all got those field telephones Captain Routon bought, yes?’

  ‘You think they’re going to work? They’re ancient.’

  ‘I have more faith in ancient things than you do, my dear. And Oli seemed hopeful.’

  ‘I’m just not sure how we’re going to keep together,’ said Millie. ‘We’re going to be splitting up and we’re not even sure what we’re looking for . . .’

  ‘But you can feel it, can’t you?’ said Doctor Ellie. ‘Something’s guiding us.’

  ‘I just don’t want to be lost out here,’ said Millie.

  ‘You can’t be lost at home. And this was their home, remember.’

  They ploughed on, up ground that got rockier and rockier. When they came to the next ridge, they stopped again, for the world had changed and the new landscape stunned them. The softness they’d come through came to a sudden and dramatic end, and they were peering down into a gorge that was wild and forbiddin
g. The grass had been nibbled to almost nothing and a bridleway wound down towards a stream that hissed and gurgled across a plateau of rock. In the distance, they could see an upthrust of savage, grey stone. It reared up like the volcano it was, cut off flat at the top. Beyond it was an even larger one and this was topped by a spike of granite that pointed like a dead finger right up into the sky. It was a prehistoric land and, had a brontosaurus sauntered into view, nobody would have been surprised.

  ‘That is crazy, isn’t it?’ whispered Miles.

  Tomaz was next to him. ‘What is?’ he said.

  ‘I just didn’t know there were places like this on our doorstep.’

  ‘It’s mad,’ said Imagio. ‘We’re just a few hours from school – and this has been waiting for us.’

  ‘We’re going back in time. How can this be here when we’re . . . doing lessons?’

  ‘It’s awesome.’

  Everyone climbed onto the chariots now, for they were rolling downhill. Sanjay and Israel had the reins and the donkeys took the strain easily. Nobody spoke, for as they descended, the rock rose up on either side and enclosed them in a silence they didn’t want to break. Even the skylarks hung back, and the only sound was the wind sawing at the occasional bush and the water grinding the rock.

  They forded the stream easily, up to their chests in icy water. They hauled the chariots back onto dry land and set off into the Stone Age. The grass had given way to lichens and there were gleams of silver and quartz under foot. The first volcano now towered over them and they could see its black fissures and the piles of debris that had collapsed down its sides, strewn around it like rubble.

  ‘Why don’t we climb it?’ said Sam.

  ‘Not that one, lad,’ said Captain Routon, cheerfully. ‘That’s a baby compared to where we’re going.’ He held one of the maps in his hand and studied it, turning it this way and that. He jogged on ahead and waited.

  ‘That’s Killer Tor, that one,’ he said when they were together again. ‘That’s the first, isn’t it?’ He scratched his head, aware that an old war-wound had come to life. ‘That means we’re coming in here, just where we wanted to. The next one is Silver Tor, then you’ve got Hammer Tor and Broken Tor. We’ve got to get past all of them.’

  ‘Sam’s right, though,’ said Kenji. ‘We ought to climb them.’

  ‘You’ll get plenty of climbing tomorrow,’ said Captain Routon, zipping up his coat. ‘Don’t you worry about climbing. Okay, forward march, everybody! Follow me!’

  The chariots rolled on. They had refilled their water bottles and snacked on dried fruit. Everyone had plenty of energy and the only worrying thing was how small they suddenly felt. It was as if they were shrinking. That morning they had been part of a lush, green landscape. Now they felt like insects on the moon.

  When they saw the hot-air balloon, high above, it seemed comforting. They had felt cut off from civilisation, all alone in a valley that had existed quite happily without them for millions of years. It was nice to know another human being was aware of their presence and they waved their arms.

  Timmy Fox got straight on his radio.

  ‘The eagle has landed, old boy,’ he said. ‘Are you there, Cuthbertson?’

  ‘Clear as a bell, I’m here all right.’

  ‘You’re on Lightning Tor, are you?’

  ‘Right by the main mast – that’s why reception’s so good. What have you got?’

  ‘The Foxter’s got them in his sights; they’re dressed rather strangely and riding in chariots. Unorthodox route. They’ve come past . . . I think it’s Silver Tor.’

  ‘You think? Or you know?’

  ‘Silver Tor. ID positive.’

  ‘Ian’s on the move too. They’ll rendezvous tonight.’

  ‘Good. Bang on schedule, then.’

  ‘Have you heard the weather forecast? That low pressure’s doing just what we hoped.’

  ‘I can feel it. It’s pretty tempestuous up here, so foul weather is on its way.’

  ‘You can stay up for a while? Keep track of them?’

  ‘I’ll be all right. I’ll be with you after dark, after touch-down.’

  ‘You can see Routon, can you? Big chap, bald on top?’

  ‘I can see him. Red coat – stands out a mile.’

  ‘We’re going to need to identify him tomorrow, once my brother gets here. Keep high and don’t screw up. I’m entering the codes.’

  ‘What codes?’

  ‘The explosives, Timmy. I’m entering the explosive codes – have you forgotten the plan?’

  ‘No. I’m . . . on the ball, Cuthbertson. I’m up to speed.’

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The Ribblestrop children reached Flashing Tor after six hours, and sang when they saw it.

  It was a spontaneous song, led by Israel – a chant he’d learnt from an old monk in Tibet, used for paying homage to creation. Their voices rose and they flung the chorus at the landscape, for the sun had turned into a great ball of red gold and its heat was gone. As they came to the foot of the crag, it rolled lower, and rested on a shoulder of cloud. Flashing Tor seemed like a vast and mighty mountain, rearing up and begging to be climbed. When they had sung the song five times, they set off at a run – they had to make the top, for the sunset would be the miraculous climax to a miraculous day. They scrabbled up, using hands and feet, for the slopes were steep. After half an hour they came to a great granite plug, that was more like a chimney. They swarmed up it as one and they found there was just room for everyone to sit on its sloping summit.

  They watched a melting world. The cloud had been stirred into a furnace of black, pink and red, and the sun was at last being swallowed. The dark of the evening came down like a soft ink-wash, bleeding through a papery sky, and when Sanchez found a hand holding his own, he realised with a little lurch of joy, that it was Millie’s. She pressed against him.

  ‘It’s even better than Columbia,’ she said. ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘All right, then. It’s as good.’

  ‘How can anything be the same after this?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Sanchez found that the words he wanted to say were thick in his mouth and useless. He felt an arm round his shoulders and saw that Miles had squeezed in from the side. He was grinning and his eyes were full of sunset. Sanchez gave up on words and pulled his two friends closer, with all his strength, as far off in the valley there was the first, distant flash of lightning.

  ‘You think they sat here?’ said Sam.

  ‘Who?’ said Ruskin.

  ‘The tribe – the Caillitri. You think they would have come up here?’

  Ruskin took his glasses off and cleaned them, thoughtfully. ‘I think they would have,’ he said. ‘They’d have been stupid not to. What would they have talked about, though?’

  Sanjay leaned in. ‘Maybe they imagined us.’ He grinned. ‘Maybe they sat here and said, “You think they’ll ever be kids up here, wondering if we existed?”’

  The teachers had stayed at the bottom, looking after the donkeys and camel. If their maps were right, then the rendezvous point with Mr Ian and The Priory children was just three kilometres further, on the far side of the tor. They drank water and moved on along the track.

  ‘You know,’ said Professor Worthington, from her perch, ‘this feels like a holiday to me. I haven’t actually relaxed like this for quite some time.’

  The headmaster looked up at her and smiled. ‘I agree,’ he said. ‘Once term starts, it’s absolutely non-stop. When they disappear off in their groups, I’m going to do some serious reading. Some of the books in your library, Ellie, are quite extraordinary. I’m getting all sorts of ideas for the end of term. A nice series of tests, perhaps, to consolidate what we’ve been teaching. How are you, Routon?’

  Routon was driving the second chariot. He had zipped up his hood, so only his eyes were visible.

  ‘Caught the sun, I’m afraid, sir. I should have known better.’

/>   ‘I think the weather might be changing,’ said Doonan. ‘I can smell rain.’

  ‘Well, Ian’s the expert on that one,’ said the headmaster. ‘He’s our reconnaissance man and he says it’ll be fine. Are you going to be out there with them?’

  ‘We’re not supposed to be,’ said Doonan.

  Captain Routon nodded. ‘According to the rules, the children have got to go it alone. We won’t be far away, though – me and Ian.’

  ‘What’s the finishing post?’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s classified, sir. Only Ian knows that.’

  Doctor Ellie laughed. ‘I must say this has whet my appetite,’ she said. ‘You ought to have a staff team, next time. I’m tired of the children having all the fun.’

  ‘How are supplies?’ said Doonan. ‘Do you think they’ve got what they need?’

  ‘If they haven’t they’ll be sorry,’ said Captain Routon. ‘It’s the only way to learn, you know. I was in Siberia once, crossing the steppes with a husky team – everything in tins. Food, water, fuel – all in tins. We’d gone through that list so many times and do you know what? We got to base camp and we’d forgotten the most important thing.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘A tin opener.’

  ‘What on earth did you do?’ said Doonan.

  ‘As it turned out, we were very lucky. There was a youngster on the team who’d lost part of his jaw in a sniper attack. Smashed up his bottom teeth, so his dentist had replaced them with metal. He had to open his mouth, and we had to press his head against a box, and I had to kind of rotate the edge of the tin between two molars. You find a way when you have to.’

  ‘They’ve got what they need,’ said Professor Worthington. ‘And whatever they lack in equipment, they make up for in spirit. Ah, look down there! Can you see what I see?’

  ‘Is that a minibus?’ said the headmaster. ‘That will be The Priory.’

  ‘By the way, sir,’ said Captain Routon, ‘did the High School ever make contact about that bicycle outing? I thought that young teacher was just what they needed.’