The helicopter was back, suddenly, nudging in closer than ever. Dr Warren leaned out of the door, wondering if he could drop. He put a thumb up, and the helicopter turned slowly. They could smell the fuel, and the noise was unbearable. They could see the commandos’ grim, humourless mouths, and this time Dr Summersby had the megaphone.
‘Keep still, Rikki!’ she cried.
Rikki and Richard had removed their waterproof, and stood freezing in a thin jersey. Then Dr Warren was floating down towards them, the winch unwinding.
‘Take that off,’ said Eric. ‘Boots, as well. Empty your pockets.’
Rikki did as he was told. The whole frame was going over his bare, scarred shoulders now, fitted by many hands. He was covered in cuts and scratches, and his friends winced as they tightened the cords around him.
‘Goodbye,’ said Aparna. ‘Goodbye.’
The two heads – both Rikki and Richard – wore an identical expression. They were frightened, but calm, and it was suddenly impossible to tell who was who. Their hair flew backwards, and their jaws were set.
‘Take it easy, boy!’ said a voice. Everyone turned to see a commando heaving himself over the rock. He clambered to his feet, smiling – and moved in.
‘Take that off, son,’ he said to Rikki and Richard. ‘It’s suicide.’
Salome stepped forward and hit him full on the jaw. It was her finest uppercut, and it knocked the soldier flat on his back. At once, Aparna dragged Rikki and Richard up to the very summit of the rock, and Mark and Jeff held the gigantic wings as the gale raged over them. Another peal of thunder crashed onto the mountain and the lightning struck harder than ever. It seemed to strike the child, for he staggered, and spun, and there was fire all along the metal frame, sealing the fabric. Jeff and Mark clung on, with Aparna – Salome clambered up now and, with Eric, they drew Richard and Rikki backwards.
They pulled him right back, and then the boy with two heads started to run. He ran as fast as he could over the rocks, and then even as he stumbled he jumped the longest jump of his life, right up into the wind. His two bare feet kicked, as hard as they could – and he dived off the edge of the mountain.
He was caught at once in a swirling air current, and blown backwards. He corkscrewed for a moment, and they thought he’d be dashed against the rock. An air pocket sucked him up and righted him, and his wings found some kind of balance. His feet kicked again, uselessly, and they saw how he clung like a child to the framework – no controls, nothing to steer with, just a frail white body under the huge flying machine. The helicopter rose in shock, and Dr Warren was jerked upwards as Rikki and Richard flew underneath him, plunging into clear blue sky.
The soldier who’d been hit by Salome gazed, his mouth bloody, his eyes wide with astonishment. There were soldiers everywhere now, so the mountain seemed full of spectators: they all stared upwards as Rikki and Richard rose higher and higher. Another crosswind took him and he was skimming out towards the sea.
Those on the mountain watched, shielding their eyes. The sun had come out, too bright to look at, and the child flew straight into it.
CHAPTER NINE
It was curious weather.
On the left, there were storm clouds. On the right, there was bright sunshine. The wind caught Richard and Rikki and seemed to push them where the two skies came together. They flew in a huge, calm arc, and one moment they were sprinkled with rain, and the next baked dry.
It was only a kite frame, so they went where the currents took them. The mountain revolved far below, and then there was a glitter of sea as they rose and rose. Perhaps Rikki leaned to the left and it did make a difference? They banked left and were among birds, startled at the intrusion. They banked right and were dropping. They looped round in a spiral, dangerously low, and just as they felt the salt spray, they were rising again.
They flew and they flew.
They practised loops, and they found out how to do rolls. They learned how a bird can rise in an air current and hang motionless. They let the breeze take them right out to the silver horizon, where the world disappeared, and then they drifted back in long graceful arcs. When Richard saw the island, Rikki did too. They saw the lighthouse and they knew it was their destination. At first, it looked like an angry little spike, marooned in the sea. As they came round, however, they saw that there was a beam of light winking out at them. Under the lighthouse was a short plateau of land, as flat as a runway.
They saw one sailboat in the sea, and they somersaulted once above it, for the sheer joy of gymnastics – it was just a little dinghy, with two little people inside it, bracing the sail. They swooped in, then shot upwards again, so the world shrank to a football.
Rikki looked left and saw Richard. He was sitting quiet and calm, at the end of the wing.
Richard looked right and there was Rikki. He too was on a wing, and their eyes locked together.
In those magical seconds they smiled at each other and gazed, unable to tear their eyes away again. Soon, however, they were banking and both knew they were ready for the drop. The island was below them, still marked for the planes that had practised there, and they plunged down towards it.
Mr Barlow had been right.
Pilots really had trained at this very spot for years and years. The water was deep enough for the aircraft carriers, and the island itself had been the perfect length to try the innumerable takeoff and landing manoeuvres – the assisted landings that were so important to the Navy. It was no longer in use. Even the lighthouse was unmanned – but the markings stood out bright white, and there were a handful of rusty sheds and hangars.
The boy approached from the east. He was caught by a downward gust that dropped him faster. He was lost in cloud for a moment, but came through it, and the island was yet closer. Rikki leaned left, and Richard leaned right, and they lifted their legs. The runway was under them, and another gust carried them down, so they floated in, soft as a butterfly. Their running feet came to rest with ten metres of ground to spare.
They removed their wings and stood, breathless – ribcage heaving. They were shaking all over, burned by the sun. The last thing they expected to hear was a voice, because the island had seemed so deserted – but the voice came loud and clear, and they turned in wonder.
There were men in uniform all around them.
There must have been twenty or thirty – absolutely rigid and still, as if stuck fast in photographs. Their hands were raised to their caps in a crisp military salute, and the world had faded to black and white. In the middle of the island stood a thin, elderly man – slightly hunched and smiling.
He said, ‘The perfect landing.’
Rikki blinked, aware that everything had slowed down. Just the turning of his head was in slow motion. He saw the man moving towards him, walking carefully over the grass. There was an extraordinary stillness, as if the wind had been simply sucked away, and the men who saluted still didn’t move. Even the grass was still, and the wings lay on the landing strip absolutely motionless.
The man was frail, but determined. He was carrying a flask, and he stopped to unscrew the top. Then he poured steaming coffee into it and smiled again. With difficulty, he got down on his haunches and set the flask on the ground.
Richard and Rikki sat down in front of him. They were on the pale grey tarmac of the landing strip.
‘If it was me,’ said the old man, ‘I’d add something a bit stronger. But you don’t need it at your age. There’s plenty of sugar in this, and . . . I think you know what’s in here. You recognize this?’ He pulled a paper bag out of his pocket, and they could see at once that it was full of chocolates.
He sat, with difficulty, spilling a little of the coffee. He was breathing hard, and it was clear that he wasn’t used to getting down onto the ground. Once he’d succeeded he relaxed, and Richard and Rikki took a sweet each and looked at their knees. They could not meet his eyes.
Neither could they speak, so they looked down and waited.
‘Firs
t time I did that was ’fifty-eight,’ the old man said. ‘The Sea Vampire, which was the training craft then. Not my favourite aeroplane, but . . . serviceable. You’d come in from the east, just as you did – and you had three seconds. It’s called the “Icarus Drop”, you know. Did you know that? You remember me telling you that?’
He smiled, and took hold of Richard’s foot.
‘Once you’d done the Icarus Drop they gave you the badge. Have you still got the badge, son?’
Richard nodded.
‘You’ve got it with you? I know you have.’
It was the only thing left in Rikki’s pocket – the only thing he hadn’t discarded as he stood on the mountain. He produced it. The two halves were one again, as if a magic hand had stitched them. The gold thread gleamed in the sunlight.
‘You can wear it now, can’t you?’ said the old man. ‘Wear it on your new blazer, if you want to. You’re off to the grammar, you know. You got in. But then we all knew you would.’
They ate another chocolate. They finished the coffee, and there was no hurry. Time was standing still for them.
‘You were spotted, of course,’ said the man. ‘This is a secure area, so, er . . . don’t think you’ve got away. The coastguard took over, and there’s people coming for you. But the boat you saw – that should get here first. And that’s important.’ He put his hand on Rikki’s. ‘Your mum and dad are in that boat, boy. So I’m going to disappear. You understand that, don’t you? You understand I’ve got to go? It’s been a year now.’
Rikki nodded, but the pain was so acute he thought his jaw would break. The tears were also blinding him, and he couldn’t lift a hand to wipe them away. He wanted so much to look up and speak. He had so many things to ask and say, but his airway was blocked. He could only sit, and listen.
Richard was the same.
‘I know you’ve got questions,’ said the old man. ‘I can’t let you speak, love. If you speak, the spell will break – just like that. Do you understand? It would all be over – and it is nearly over. So let’s just . . . enjoy the last of it. I’ll tell you some things. I’m not going to blub, all right? I am not going to make an exhibition of myself. I’m going to tell you some things, and then it really will all be over. Number one is that people die. We die, Richard, Rikki. We clear the ground. We don’t want to, usually. I didn’t want to and I didn’t expect to, but that was how it was – and if I’d had a choice, I wouldn’t have done that to you, my love. Why it happened like that, I do not know. Why you had to endure that, I do not know. There was nothing you could do. You know that, don’t you?’
Richard nodded, and he felt his grandad’s hand on his chin. Rikki felt the same, and they managed to look up at last, and meet the old man’s clear, pilot’s eyes.
‘You’ve got to be strong when we go. Don’t let the dead take you with them: stay with those who need you. Take comfort, son. From the time we had. Are you listening? And you have to accept . . . you have to accept that I’m just not there any more. I’m in you, and part of you, and in that way I’m never going to leave you. You’re stronger for that, even though . . .’ He wiped his eyes. ‘Oh, I know how lonely it is.’
Richard managed to nod. Rikki was simply crying.
‘What you’re doing can’t go on, son. You know it can’t. You’re too precious to be broken like this, and you’re breaking up others. You’ve got too much to do. Too many friends. You’ve got your mum and dad to look after. School, Rikki. You’re going to a good, wonderful school. You can be whatever you want – and I’m not asking you to forget me. Think about me – always think about me. Look in the mirror, and you’ll see me. But not over your shoulder any more, because I’m not coming back. I’ll be in your eyes, looking right back at you. You understand?
‘You have to get on now: get on with things. People die, and the time they have is precious for that reason, isn’t it? And you know what I’m saying is right, because it’s what you think when you’re sensible.’ He pushed up with his hands. ‘Help me up, lad.’
Richard stood up with Rikki. They didn’t think they were going to be able to, but they did. They managed to wipe their eyes, and they even managed to hold a hand out to their old, dear, dead grandad, who seemed lighter than ever as they held him – translucent, almost, as if he might float away.
He put his arm round the grandsons he’d loved, and laughed. He pulled them together.
‘Don’t speak,’ he said. ‘Not yet. I want to tell you one more thing, and then . . . look. Your parents are here. I want you always to remember that I loved you.’ The old man put his hands on the two heads. ‘No man had a better grandson than you. How do you think I feel, watching you destroy yourself? No man could have had a better grandson. Why was I so lucky? Come here.’
He hugged Rikki to him. Richard managed to get his arms up, and around the old man’s shoulders.
Rikki felt it first: a kiss, firm on his forehead – and it was like another lightning bolt. Richard felt it too – a blast down his spine and into the soles of his feet. He thought he would faint, but he clung on with Rikki and he felt the man’s hands squeezing them back together. There was such strength and pressure, and for a moment there was intolerable pain. He glimpsed his grandad’s own, twisted face, using every atom of his last strength, and he felt Rikki’s rage and courage burn inside him.
Rikki gasped, and felt the heat of Richard’s love and wonder – and then they knew it really was over. Without needing a mirror, they knew: a year had passed, and they were whole again. They were one, and could at last wipe one pair of eyes.
Rikki and Richard spoke together. ‘Goodbye, Grandad,’ he said.
As he spoke, the spell broke, and the child was alone on an abandoned airstrip.
He turned. He saw his mother and father, some distance away – at the far end of the runway. They walked, and then they were running. Their son started walking towards them – and, of course, in a moment he too was sprinting towards his parents. They met in the middle and threw their arms around each other.
And that is how they were restored to each other.
EPILOGUE
I’m going to dash this off fast because I’m supposed to be at the gym with Salome, helping her train and being her personal punch bag – and I don’t want to dwell on stuff, anyway. We’re at the end, as you must have guessed. And the beginning too.
The soldier she hit is not pressing charges, which is lucky. He was so amazed he got smacked by a girl that he’s saying nothing about it – there’s no comeback from that. Our beloved headmaster got a boot so hard up the you-know-what that he went flying into early retirement (where he wanted to send the Bra!) – and nice Miss Maycock got a full-time job because of what they call ‘continuity’. That’s what we all need, they say, for the last few days of our very last term before the big, wide, scary world. Continuity. They asked Mr Barlow to come back too, but he’s getting ready to go travelling.
I told him he should look up his poor abandoned kids, and patch things up with Mrs B – she might be lonely and sorry, and they could all be happy together in Cyprus. He said he’d give it serious thought, but I think he’s going to head off to some wilderness and do all the crazy things that he should have done in his teens. He recovered from the tranquillizers, of course – he said they made him feel nice and fuzzy. They had to carry him off the mountain, though.
‘I’ll be sending you postcards,’ he said – but where he hopes to send them, I don’t know. Because of course, all of us are splitting up. There are five schools around town, and we get scattered now, like a bunch of sweet little seeds. Where will we land? Will it be on stony ground, or nice, rich, fertile soil? Will we grow straight and tall, or crooked and bad? Who knows . . .
And I am pleased to confirm that Dr Warren has officially lost everything.
Dr Summersby legged it, straight out of the country, while the Rectal Institute is facing the biggest investigation in the world – it made the national papers and there were big demo
nstrations, and I was on TV at last (just three seconds, in the background, looking outrageously handsome). We all made statements, and Eric’s brother produced the hard drive he’d found, which – along with the phone – showed exactly what that very nasty man hoped to keep secret. Those poor old animals are being taken care of, so we were told, and the whole place is closed.
A few more loose ends, and I must be gone.
Jeff and Aparna are best friends again. But she’s going to an all-girls school, so that’s going to be difficult. Except she might not be: she’s told her parents she’s not, anyway. Jeff’s developing attitude too – one step at a time, and I help him along the best I can, giving him tips. Aparna just laughs at us both. How we didn’t see that coming is beyond me. She’s a dangerous girl now, and everyone’s scared of her.
Eric’s fine, and still wants to join the Army – more than ever, in fact. He’s going to repeat the year, and says he’s ready to work hard for the qualifications he needs. He got so much praise for all that survival stuff that I think it changed him. Mark, as well – the commandos loved both of them, and they stayed a week at the training camp as a special reward. Mark got his head shaved, and they spent all their time doing assault courses and rifle-range stuff. Learning to be men.
We’re happy, I think. All of us.
Can I tell you about the last football match we played? I’ve got to, because you might have forgotten, but Green Cross did make the cup final – that awful ref never dared to complain. It took place in the very last week, against arch-arch-rivals Dundonald Primary. They’re a school like us: same size, same kind of kids, and they wanted to win even more than we did. By half time we were one down, and Jeff was feeling bad because it was an easy save and he muffed it. But the great Barlow (supercoach) had come back for just that game, and he had a meeting with us there on the touchline, and he worked his magic. He reminded us of a few things, and we just got it together and played like a dream. We played for each other and Eric equalized after ten minutes.