Cold Shoulder Road (19 page)

Is remembered what Mrs Nefertiti had said.

“‘Look for their weaknesses’, the old gal told me.”

“Yes. Like splitting a rock; you study the grain, strike where a crack shows . . .”

“But what’s the weak spot of the Gentry?”

Ruth sighed.

“The weakness of their Leader. Whatever that is.”

Penny and Arun came out on deck. Penny had already started to work over Arun, to change his appearance so that he could go to the dentist in Seagate without being recognised by anybody. She had stained his skin light brown with walnut juice (which she used for dyeing dolls’ tippets). Now, out on deck, she cut his hair a good deal shorter, and darkened it with tar and grease until it was almost black. He had also been fitted out, from the ship’s stores, with a sailor’s canvas trousers, white drill vest, reefer jacket, black kerchief, and round black hat.

He looked thin and changed and foreign.

“You’d best tell the dentist that you are a midship lad who had his teeth knocked out in a gale by the swinging boom.”

“Or somebody bashed me with a marlin spike. And I’m on my way to London port to pick up another ship,” mumbled Arun, recalling the sailors at Cold Harbour. His tongue was swollen and sore, he found it hard to speak, and quite impossible to sing.

“Best not be too free with your tales of ships,” Is suggested. “If that Fishskin dentist is a rib-chum of his cousin the Admiral, he likely knows all the craft that puts in to Dover and Folkestone.”

“I wish I needn’t go to
him,
” croaked Arun. “If only there were another—”

“Phoo, phoo, boy, you can’t walk round for the rest of your days with two teeth busted and one missing,” said Penny. “You can’t talk, you can’t sing, and that broken dogtooth is wearing a hole in your tongue. Sooner that’s set right, the better.”

Nobody had scolded Pye for the damage that she had done to Arun, since it was plain that she had not intended to hurt him so badly and was startled by what had happened. And it was clear, too, that she felt some guilt and dismay; instead of stumping noisily about the deck on her own concerns, as was her usual habit, she had retired into a corner of the galley and stayed there, curled up defensively, sucking her thumb, with Figgin huddled beside her.

When Arun’s disguise was complete, and he was pronounced fit to set off to Seagate, Pye sidled up to him and pushed a dirty scrap of paper into his hand.

“What’s this, then, cully?” he said in some surprise, peering at it.

On the paper Pye had written with a stick of charcoal,
PLES FOR GIV
.

“But, Pye!” mumbled Arun, coughing out a little more blood in his astonishment, “when did you ever learn to write?”

“I been learning this while,” whispered Pye, with downcast eyes.

“Well you are a proper little caution!”

Everybody exclaimed over Pye, and Arun rumpled her spiky hair and gave her a bloodstained, gap-toothed grin.

“You and me ‘ull have some parleys, I reckon, when I get back with my new teeth, young ’un.”

“
Try
not to get into trouble, Arun,” Ruth said anxiously. “Penny has certainly done a notable job on changing your looks, but I shall worry—”

Just so’s he don’t meet Old Domino in the street, thought Is, I’d back Old Domino to see through that window-dressing. But she kept that fear to herself.

“Pye,” she said suddenly, struck by an idea, “what are tangerines?”

Pye scowled and shrank away. Was she going to slip back into her old hostile habits?

“Tangerines?” said Ruth. “Why should you ask Pye that?”

“Something the old gal said about the things Twite is keen on.”

Again, Is unrolled the dusty brown beads from their waterproof cover, and rubbed away a little of the dust with one finger. A brilliant golden gleam flashed out.

“Bless my soul!” said Ruth. “From where had you those?”

“From the Admiral’s cave,” said Is.

“They must be worth a pretty penny!”

And Penny, looking over Ruth’s shoulder, exclaimed, “Well, I’ll be dragged! Brown diamonds!”

“Brown
diamonds? What in tarnation are they? And how d’you know that, Pen?”

“Remember Mr Van Doon, the Dutchman what used to lodge with us?” said Penny. “He knew a deal about gemstones. And he told me about brown diamonds. Showed me a tiny one once In the trade they are called tangerines. They come from High Brazil. They must be just about the rarest, most uncommon stones there be.”

“That’s what these are?”

Is cast her mind back to the old lady at the farm.

“Yes, Mrs Nefertiti said the same . . .”

“They came from the Admiral’s cave?”

“That’s where! And the cream of it is,” said Is, beginning to chuckle, “it seems the old cove doesn’t have the least notion in the world that all that lolly is stowed away under his hill.”

Pye was now eager to speak.

“Tangerine
rubies
, too,” she said. “Twite has. In a sparkpin, like a twig with fruit.”

“A brooch? You’ve seen this, Pye? When?”

“One night. In Twite’s house. Pye wide awake. Sleep not. Get out of bed. Go down stair. Twite has tray with stones. Shine. Pretty! Brown. Gold. Orange. Ginger-colour. Red. Burned yellow. All shining. Twite sees Pye. Oh, terrible angry. After that, shut in box. Every night. Tells Pye, you speak these things, I drop under train. So Pye don’t speak. Not ever.”

“And I don’t blame you,” said Ruth, giving her a hug. “Pye did very sensibly.”

“Now, steady the buffs,” said Penny. “This-here Twite is crazy-keen on collecting sparklers. Extra-specially tangerine-coloured ones. That right, young ’un?”

Pye nodded again, big-eyed.

“So all we gotta do is show him one of these mibbies – and say we have more of ’em salted away – and then we’ll have him on toast?”

“Ye-e-e-es,” said Ruth doubtfully. “But, even supposing we could persuade him to come somewhere – by means of such a temptation –
then
what would we do?”

“True,” said Penny. “He’s not going to mend his ways just for one necklace, even of brown sparklers.”

The cat Figgin came back from a bird’s-nesting foray in the upper shrouds and jumped up on to the captain’s card-table which, as the day was fine, Ruth had brought up on deck so that Pye could do lessons in the fresh air.

The dusty necklace of brown diamonds still lay in a tangle on the green baize.

When Figgin saw the beads he behaved strangely. Hissing and growling, with ears back and all his fur on end, he retreated at speed from the table and made off to a far corner of the deck, where he washed himself furiously all over several times.

“Saints save us!” said Penny. “What’s got into the cat? He sure don’t like those stones.”

“Perhaps he mistook the necklace for a snake?” suggested Ruth.

“Figgin’s not such a dummy.”

“Perhaps something bad happened to it once?”

“He’s never acted so before.” Is was puzzled. She slid the beads into her pocket. “Here, Figs, Figs, Figwiggin!”

But, so long as she had the stones on her, the cat would not come near.

“Maybe that’s why he was so unfriendly when I first came aboard.”

“Well,” said Penny, “if the stones are that valuable, it’s best, anyway, you shouldn’t carry them loose in your britches pocket all the time – you might lose ’em or drop ’em. Why don’t you put them in one o’ those little rowan-wood boxes I bought from a peddler for keeping dolls’ eyes in?”

“Rowan-wood should be good,” agreed Is, “if there’s owt spooky about the stones.”

Arun unexpectedly said, “Can I have a single stone? Just one? To take along with me?”

Ruth gave him a doubtful look.

“What for?”

“In case . . . in case . . . Oh, I dunno. To be on the safe side. Maybe to pay for my new teeth!”

“Are you mad, boy? You offer the dentist a brown diamond, he’d have you clapped in the pokey before you could sneeze. I can give you
plenty
of dibs for your teeth,” said Penny firmly.

But Arun still persisted. “If Twite has such a craving for stones, perhaps I could contrive to drop one in his way . . . with a clue as to where it came from—”

“Sounds a mite dicey,” said Penny, giving him a sharp look.

Is caught a picture in Arun’s mind: the cave by the three great tubs of treasure; the loose, terribly dangerous sandy roof. If Twite could be lured into that cave, Arun was thinking, he might never come out alive.

“But, Arun,” she said, speaking aloud, “that cave’s a death-hole. You mustn’t go near it yourself! Promise!”

“How can I promise?” he said impatiently. “How can I tell what will happen? I just think it would be a useful thing to have one of the beads along with me.”

“Oh, very well.” She took the beads from their rowapwood box and passed them over to Penny who, with skilled fingers, unknotted the silken plait on which they were threaded, unfastened the clasp, slid off the end bead, re-knotted, and put the clasp back on.

Arun nodded his thanks, tied the bead in the corner of his regulation calico midshipman’s neckerchief (which had the words
Property of H. M. Navy
embroidered by the hem in red chain-stitch) and mumbled, in an effort to sound carefree, “I’ll be off, then. See you by cock-shut,” and climbed over the rail.

They heard him go off through the wood, trying to whistle, but not succeeding very well.

Then, when he musthave been aboutamile away, longsince out of earshot, Is, to her astonishment, began to catch, in thought form, the sound of his voice singing. It was like a tickle in her mind, and she cried out involuntarily.

“Oh, how queer! How very queer! That’s never happened before!”

“What is it?” asked Ruth.

“You got hiccups?” said Penny.

“No, but I suddenly heard Arun singing – inside of my head!”

“You think there’s something amiss with him?” Ruth at once asked anxiously.

“No . . . no, he sounded quite happy, just walking along, singing inside of his mind.”

“What song?”

Ruth sounded a little wistful – not envious of Is, but just as if she would give anything in the world for a chance to hear her son sing inside his head.

“A song he sang the other night in Cold Harbour.” Is sang it herself: “If I had a bird that would bounce or a ball that could fly—”

“Oh yes, I remember it.” Ruth smiled a little in recollection. “That’s one he made up when he was quite small – no bigger than Pye.” Pye scowled horribly. “He used to steal out and sing it on the hill above Cold Shoulder Road where he thought he’d not be heard, and I used to steal out and listen to him.”

Ruth sang it herself softly:

Oh, Aunt Ruth, Is thought, not for the first time. Why in the world didn’t you tell Arun
then
how much you liked his songs? What a deal of trouble would have been saved.

Pye had climbed to the cross-trees, a spot where Arun liked to sit when he was on board, and squatted there, hunched and frowning.

“What’s come to Pye?” said Penny. “Dodging lessons, is she?”

“Oh, she’s jealous,” sighed Ruth.

“Jealous, what of?”

“Jealous of Is being able to hear Arun sing inside her head,” Ruth said with sad certainty. “Now she has spoken to Arun, Pye wants him for herself.”

“Oh, for the land’s sake!” Penny was impatient. “That young ’un’s got more tangles in her than this ship’s rigging! How you put up with all her whim-whams has me in a puzzle! I’d give her rats’ rations!”

Ruth shook her head.

“When a person – specially a child as young as Pye – has had nothing but bad usage, you have to go slowly with them. A step at a time. Just now, I am the only person in the world that Pye has learned to trust, a very little. A very frail trust! If she lost that, then we’d have to start all over. And the second time round would be harder.”

Penny looked as if she doubted whether this would be worth the bother.

But after a while Pye came down, sidled along the deck, edged her way up to Ruth, giving Is a sulky defiant glare.

“Right, time to start our lessons,” said Ruth. “Hallo – what’s this?”, for Pye was handing her a folded square of paper. “A
note
? Where had you this, Pye? The ladder is drawn up – nobody could have got on to the ship?”

Pye shook her head and, from the other hand, which she had been holding behind her back, produced an arrow.

“Stuck in deck,” she explained. “Paper on point.”

Sure enough, there were four neat holes in the folded paper where the arrow-point had pierced it.

“Well I never! Lucky one of us didn’t get spitted. Why in the world couldn’t whatever fool it was just give us a call?”

Ruth opened the paper and read it.

“‘Please Ruth come to farm. Missis Lee took poorly.’ Oh gracious me. I wonder which Mrs Lee that is? I hope it isn’t the old lady. ‘Bring beads. ‘Now, why in the world should they say that?”

“Maybe she’s got a plan how to use ’em?” wondered Is.

Ruth hurried down to the cabin where she kept a bag of medicines and bandages and herbal remedies.

Returning on deck, she said to Is: “I’ve a queer feeling – kind of a premonition – that those brown beads are going to be needed.”

“Like a medicine, Aunt Ruth?”

“I don’t know. I just feel – very strongly – that I ought to have them with me. Would you mind, Is, if I took them with me?”

“No, that’s all rug,” said Is, passing over the little rowanwood box. “Maybe the old lady can work a cure with them.”

“Pye come too!” announced Pye, when Ruth walked to the rail.

“No, Pye. Not this time. I’ll be busy, looking after the sick lady. You must stay on board and learn your lesson with Is.”