A Small Free Kiss in the Dark (14 page)
‘Of course not, Skipper. I wouldn’t tell them about you, never, cross my heart.’
I wondered if she knew about torture.
She reached out and touched my face. Her hand was as cool as an angel’s wing. I closed my fingers around her wrist and felt a narrow chain.
‘What’s this?’ I asked and she snatched her arm away.
‘What’s wrong with you, haven’t you ever seen a bracelet before?’ she said.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t even ask where she got it. I didn’t want to know.
‘Sometimes they give me things,’ she said. ‘I dance for them and they give me stuff, that’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.’
I got out of the carriage to have another drink, and then I went back to the Devil’s Lair with Max. I couldn’t sleep. I wondered what would happen if the soldiers wanted more than dancing from Tia. What if they wanted information? Would she give it to them? Did they watch her to see which way she went when she left them? I had to find a way of keeping Tia away from them. I had to keep her safe. I had to keep us all safe.
If I’d thought about it a bit more I mightn’t have gone off on my own. But in a way I didn’t have a choice. When I woke up, everyone else was still asleep. Max was wound up in Dad’s coat, so I left it there and tiptoed down to where my books were hidden. I put the one about Monet in my backpack. I wanted to be by myself for a little while, just to think about things the way I used to; important things like light and shade and the meanings of colour. I was tired of wondering how to keep Tia safe and of pretending it wasn’t going to hurt too bad when I said goodbye to Max.
I climbed the Ferris wheel and sat on the top seat. Then I opened my book. I read how, in the beginning, some people thought Monet’s paintings were rubbish because he painted in a different way to most other artists back then. But Monet kept on practising to make his work better and he went for a lot of trips to the sea to study light and colour. My favourite bit on that page was where it said, ‘Monet was later recognised as a master of meticulous observation.’ That means Monet was like the guru of noticing details, or so Billy says.
After I finished reading that page, I turned to the picture of
The Water-Lily Pond
, and I looked at it until I had a clear space inside my head. That’s when I got the idea.
It was such a great idea that I never even thought about telling someone else what I was doing or where I was going. I put the book in my backpack. I had to take it with me, because if I’d gone inside I might have woken someone up and that would have spoiled the surprise.
First I went to the house with the chickens in the backyard, because Billy told me once that chickens let you pick them up at night without making a fuss. It was morning, but only just, so I figured they might still be a bit sleepy. I didn’t know that chickens are early risers. The rooster had the best tail feathers. They were long and curved like a rainbow made out of shaggy black-and-green ribbons. We eyeballed each other, me and the rooster, but as soon as I made a move he took off and I could tell there was no way he was going to let me get my hands on his tail feathers. In the end I had to make do with the already-fallen-off ones I found on the ground.
After that I went to the chemist. There was no one out the front this time. I went around the back and pulled a bin across, the way we had the time before. Someone had smashed the bottom piece of glass so there was more room to get through, but there were still a few bits of glass sticking up in the frame like sharks’ teeth. I tried to pull them out but I couldn’t, so I put my jumper over them. Then I stuffed my shirt in the backpack and chucked it through the window before I climbed in. I didn’t have Billy’s torch this time so it was hard to see anything until I got close to the front window. But that was okay because the things I wanted were up there.
There was gold and there was silver. I went for the silver; silver like the moon, silver like a sixpence. I could have taken a heart or a star, but I chose a tiny padlock on a chain. Padlocks are used for keeping things safe, that’s why I picked it. It came in a blue velvet box. Then I saw a glass cabinet full of bottles of perfume, but I couldn’t undo the catch and it still seemed wrong to break things, even if there was a war. Light was flooding in the front window by then and I thought I’d better hurry in case the others were awake.
On the way to the back of the shop I got another can of milk powder for Sixpence. I stepped up on the toilet seat and pushed my backpack through the window, then I dropped the can of infant formula after it. I didn’t notice that my jumper had got pushed through with the backpack until I put my hands up on the window frame. I found a couple of clear spaces and balanced on my hands above the sharks’ teeth while I squeezed my shoulders through the gap. I was seesawing half in and half out of the window when I saw them.
There were two of them and they were waiting for me. One had my jumper tied around his waist. They grabbed my arms, one each. My guts hit the glass and I heard myself scream as they dragged me through the window. Then I landed, face first, on the concrete path. They rolled me over and one of them put his foot on my chest. I guessed he’d be about Tia’s age. He wasn’t very tall but I could see his muscly arms because even though it was cold he was only wearing a singlet. I reckon he liked wearing it so people could admire his muscles.
‘Watcha doin’ on our turf?’ he asked.
‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘I didn’t know –’
‘Strip him,’ said the other one who had his head shaved, and a black leather collar studded with silver spikes around his neck. It was the kind you’d put on a pit bull terrier if you had one; only this kid was more like a greyhound or a whippet, with his skinny body and long nose. It’s hard to stop observing things even when you’re in grave danger. I guess that’s the way it was for Monet, when he was practising to become the Guru of Noticing Details.
‘See if he’s got anything in his pockets,’ said Greyhound Boy when he figured out I wasn’t wearing much they could strip.
‘I just came for the milk powder,’ I lied. ‘I’ve got a baby to look after.’
‘A baby? You’ve got a baby? Bullshit you’ve got a baby!’
‘It’s true,’ I said. ‘Her name’s Sixpence.’
‘Sixpence! Yeah right, as if anyone’s gonna give a kid a name like that. Let’s see what else you’ve nicked.’ He pulled my shirt out of the backpack.
I tried to get up, but the one with his foot on my chest took his other foot off the ground and let his full weight press down on my ribs. I could hardly breathe. Jags of glass buried themselves in my guts and I bit down hard, so I wouldn’t scream.
‘Anything else in the bag?’
‘Just a book.’ Greyhound Boy shook the bag and the Monet book fell onto the ground. The cover bent back like broken wings and the beautiful shiny pages fanned open.
‘Don’t!’
‘What?’ said the boy with muscles.
‘Be careful,’ I said. ‘It’s not mine.’
Greyhound Boy picked it up.
‘Let him up, Pratt,’ he said.
Muscle Boy took his foot off my chest. ‘What’s it about?’
‘Monet. He was an artist.’ I pulled myself up and leant against the wall. I could feel the blood running out of my nose and I tried not to look down at my torn chest and stomach.
‘Yeah? What sort of pictures did he paint?’
For a minute I thought Greyhound Boy seemed interested.
‘He was an impressionist. There’s pictures in the book.’
‘He’s got stuff in his pockets, Zombie,’ said the one called Pratt.
Zombies are the walking dead. Greyhound Boy sure had a nerve saying that about Sixpence’s name.
‘Don’t just tell me about it,’ said Zombie.
I felt Pratt’s hand slide inside my pocket and pull out the blue velvet box. ‘I s’pose this is for the baby too?’ He waved it under my nose.
I didn’t say anything.
‘You’ve been lying to me, haven’t ya, kid?’ said Zombie. ‘Said you only took the milk, said it was for a baby. Well, there’s two things I don’t like about you: you’re a liar and a thief.’
He came really close. I think he would have grabbed me by the shirt like they do in the movies only I didn’t have one on. I tried to concentrate on details so I wouldn’t get scared. I noticed he had blackheads next to his nose. I’ve never seen a dog with blackheads. Zombie sucked hard on a cigarette end that was only about as big as my little toe, then he blew smoke in my face.
‘I think I’ll have to teach you a lesson,’ he said. ‘But first we’ll have a competition. I’m gonna try and pick your favourite picture in the book.’ He started turning the pages, making dirty fingerprints on the corners, but I didn’t say anything.
‘Is it this one?’ he asked, showing a picture of a cathedral, a bit like St Mary’s before the bomb fell on it.
I shook my head.
‘Okay, so we can get rid of that one,’ said Zombie. He talked slow and he smiled.
‘No, please don’t!’ I said. But it was too late. He ripped the page from the book. A blade appeared from nowhere in Pratt’s hand and I felt it press against my windpipe.
‘Now,’ said Zombie, ‘let’s see, could it be this one of a haystack?’
I shut my eyes.
Zombie ripped another page from top to bottom. Then he said, ‘Tell you what, kid, I’m feeling generous. I’m gonna give you somethin’ to remember me by. You can take the milk, whatever it’s for, and give him back the bling, Pratt.’
I felt the blue velvet box in my hands. I couldn’t believe I was getting off so lightly.
‘But just to remind you not to come back on our patch again . . .’ He flicked a cigarette lighter and held the flame to the bottom of my beautiful book. I shut my eyes and tried to remember all the things I’d read in it, all the pictures I’d seen, all the small details.
‘Watch and learn, kid,’ Zombie said.
Pratt grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head up.
‘Open your eyes,’ he hissed and I felt his blade press harder. The pages blackened and curled, then burst into flames. Flakes of burnt paper drifted away like small grey moths.
‘Don’t let there be a next time or it will be worse, much worse,’ Zombie said.
Pratt shoved me forward.
I stuffed my shirt into my backpack and grabbed the infant formula. I didn’t want them to know where I came from so I walked in the opposite direction. As soon as I was out of sight I ran until I was sure they weren’t following me, then I stopped and put my shirt on, and the can of milk and the blue velvet box in my backpack. I checked in the side pocket to make sure the rooster’s feathers were still there, and then I ran again, all the way back to Dreamland.
When I went inside, Billy, Max and Sixpence weren’t there and Tia was still asleep, wrapped up in her red coat. I was glad because I was shaking and tired and there were things I didn’t want to think about and questions I didn’t want to answer. I put the blue velvet box in my pocket and climbed into an empty carriage. I’d got the two things I went looking for – something to send Max on his way and something to keep Tia with us – and that was all that mattered. I crawled under Dad’s coat and went to sleep without even trying.
It was the screaming that woke me up. I opened my eyes and saw Max pointing at me.
Then Billy burst in. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘There’s blood all over Skip!’ screamed Max.
I looked down to make sure Dad’s coat hadn’t slipped off and then I remembered about my nose.
Sixpence started crying and then Tia woke up.
‘My God, what happened, Skipper?’
‘It’s all right,’ I said, ‘I just had a blood nose.’
Billy brought some water in a bucket, and a piece of rag, and started to clean me up.
‘How did this happen?’
I never lied to Billy, but I couldn’t say anything about the presents, and I didn’t want to talk about Zombie and Pratt in front of Tia and Max. Before, it was only the soldiers we had to worry about, now things were different. We were getting squeezed in from all sides.
‘I went back to the chemist shop to get another tin of milk for Sixpence. It happened when I was climbing out again. I fell down on the concrete.’
‘But we’ve still got nearly a whole tin,’ Billy said. He had his hand under my chin.
It’s hard to act normal and calm when you’re not telling the whole story and someone’s looking at you very close and you’re feeling like everything inside you has turned to jelly. What I really felt like doing was putting my head on Billy’s shoulder and crying, except I was too old for that.
‘I know, but it’s getting harder to find things. I thought it would be a good idea to get a spare one . . .’
‘You must’ve left early.’
‘I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d be back before you were awake. I forgot how long it takes to get there.’
‘Don’t ever go by yourself again,’ Billy said. ‘Okay?’
‘Okay,’ I said. But, if it meant keeping my friends safe, I knew I’d watch while every single one of my books got burnt, and I’d let them scrape the last bit of skin off me. Only I couldn’t tell Billy that, because of the soldiers on the hill and the promise I’d made to Tia.
