Hills End (9 page)

Perhaps the water had never washed the bones away because there never had been a storm like this before. Perhaps this was the worst storm for a hundred thousand years. Perhaps this was the storm that
would
wash the bones away.

 

Miss Elaine Godwin waded on across the rock pan, calling for Christopher, surely knowing that her voice was lost in the storm, but still calling. Perhaps she called to convince herself that the boy was still capable of answering. Perhaps she called because she needed the company of her own voice. Perhaps she needed to direct all her thoughts upon the boy because it was not possible any longer to blind herself to the rising waters. She knew the peril was there, but had to force herself to ignore it. In places the flow of water had become a dangerous current. In places it roared and swirled and branches and bushes swept from the cliffs bounced and spun across the rocks, propelled sometimes by water and sometimes by wind; but she waded on, pulling herself hand over hand, searching, calling, groaning for breath in the gale that sought only to punch the life out of her, sometimes driven into the rocks or gusted into pools that were waist-deep and more, sometimes knocked from her feet.

Her calls became weaker and weaker. Her ability to fight the wind and water and rocks became less and less. She had drawn upon reserves of strength that had been unused in a lifetime. She had wrung her thin body dry. There was nothing left except her will, but she had not found Christopher. Perhaps it would have been better if she had died at the foot of the bluff. Then she would have been spared this last bitterness, which had given her extra life for nothing.

At last she laid herself down to die, because she couldn't help Christopher or herself any more. She still cried his name in a faint, faint, call, but she couldn't hear herself or anything else. She was finished. That she laid herself down only three yards from the boy she didn't know.

He knew, but she didn't.

Simple Butch, the boy who was almost as big as a man, wrapped his fat young arm round her and began to drag her towards the forest fringe.

 

Paul stirred. He was stiff and chilled and aching. ‘The rain's stopped,' he said.

‘Do you think so?'

‘Well, I can't hear it, can you?'

‘I don't know. I'm not sure. What would you say, Frances?'

‘Perhaps it's only the wind that's dropped.'

‘What's the time, Adrian?'

‘Ten past five.'

‘Golly! Is that all? It feels like the middle of the night.'

Paul flashed the light on the water beneath them. It was about six inches from the lip of the ledge. The cave was like a lake. Must have been under water to a depth of eighteen inches.

‘It's getting higher.'

‘Yeah.'

‘Are we going to drown?'

‘Don't be silly, Gussie.'

‘Better switch that light off.'

‘Wait a tick. What's wrong with Harvey?'

‘Nothing. Sound asleep.'

‘Poor little kid.'

‘Golly! What a day for a picnic!'

‘Wonder how they went?'

‘Perhaps it rained there, too.'

‘Could have, I suppose.'

‘Do switch that light off, Paul. We might need it during the night.'

‘We're not going to be here all night, are we?'

‘Grow up, Gussie. You know that. How can we possibly get out until morning?'

‘Oh dear! I hope we do get out—some time.'

‘I think we'd better not eat the rest of our food. I think we'd better keep it.'

‘All I've got's a bit of cake.'

‘I've got a couple of sandwiches.'

‘How much higher do you think the water'll get?'

‘How should I know?'

‘Perhaps Miss Godwin will rescue us.'

‘Yeah. But somehow I don't think so.'

‘Funny, isn't it?'

‘What's funny?'

‘I dunno. Everything.'

 

Butch had used his brains. Perhaps he didn't have many, but he used what he had. He had dragged Miss Godwin into the foliage of a fallen tree where the force of the storm was broken and where nothing could hit them, unless the wind turned round and blew from the opposite direction. There, in the little nest he made of leaves and twigs, he sheltered his teacher from the rain, with tons of wood, boughs, branches, and dense foliage between them and the angry sky. It was wet, dreadfully wet, but he couldn't have found a safer place in the forest.

He sat beside her for one hour, for two hours, for three hours and a half before she came out of her sleep, her coma, or whatever it was. When she opened her eyes she looked straight up through the gloom and he saw a frown etch into her brow.

‘Good afternoon, Miss Godwin,' he said politely.

She didn't speak and he thought she hadn't heard, so he repeated his greeting. And slowly then, as slowly as her frown had formed, a little smile formed at the corners of her mouth.

‘Good afternoon, Christopher,' she said thinly. ‘So I did find you after all?'

‘Yes, miss, but you were in a bit of a mess, if you don't mind my saying so.'

‘That's a good boy, Christopher. That was nice to hear. You preceded the gerund by the possessive. Have you been thinking about it?'

‘Yes, miss. I've had a long time to think about it.'

‘A good boy, Christopher. Is it still raining?'

‘Yes, miss.'

‘But the thunder has stopped?'

‘Long ago, miss. Before you found me, miss. It was kind of you to look for me, miss.'

‘That's all right, Christopher. You knew I'd come, didn't you?'

‘Yes, miss.'

‘Where are we?'

‘In the forest at the edge of the rock pan. We're in a tree that blew down. I knew it couldn't blow down again, so I thought it would be safe.'

‘That was very clever of you. I do feel weak, Christopher, but I think we'd better be going. We must tell Mr Tobias what has happened. He'll be able to rescue the others. They must not come down without ropes to steady them. Will you be able to help me along?'

‘Of course, miss. Do you want to go now, in the rain?'

‘We must, mustn't we?'

‘I suppose so, miss.'

She squeezed his arm. ‘Thank you for saving my life, Christopher. You know you've saved my life, don't you?'

‘Yes, miss, and I'm so proud.'

‘You're a dear boy and a very clever boy. Will you help me now?'

‘Follow me, miss. We'll have to crawl to get out.'

She rolled over and made to follow him and then she saw his bare feet. ‘Christopher,' she cried. ‘Your new shoes—what have you done with them?'

He stopped and hung his head. ‘I've lost them, miss.'

‘Oh, what a shame! I must buy you another pair …You will let me, won't you?'

‘Yes, miss.'

‘And you were going to walk all that way without shoes? And with feet so tender?'

‘I'm still going to, miss. We've got to get the ropes.'

‘You're a brave boy, Christopher, as well as a good boy.'

They crawled out into the open and the wind had dropped and the rain was slackening. Miss Godwin looked back across the rock pan and it was like a river, a vast, boulder-studded river, and countless tons of water crashed down the face of the bluff in foaming cascades.

It was terrifying, and she was sure the children were drowned, because she had forbidden them to leave the caves.

Butch took her arm and they hobbled away into the shattered forest back towards Hills End.

Frances felt bruised. A long time ago she had been kicked by a horse. That was how it felt now all down one side of her. She wasn't shivering, but she was very cold.

She was sure it must be morning because she had been lying on this shelf of rock for such a long, long time. It was the longest night of her life. So awfully long.

Everything was dark, almost silent, but not quite. She could hear water dripping, splashing, gurgling, but she had become so accustomed to those sounds that she had to listen hard to hear them. And then there were the sounds of breathing close by, the deep and slow breathing of young people asleep. So they had slept, after all. She had slept herself, an hour here and an hour there.

But surely it was morning.

Slowly she sat up and reached her arm over the side of the ledge and swung it back and forth, but couldn't touch the water. It seemed that they weren't going to drown. The water was subsiding. It might even have gone from the cave completely.

‘Is anyone awake?' she asked quietly, and someone sighed.

‘Is that you, Frances?'

‘Yes, Paul. It's morning, I think, and the water's gone down.'

Paul, too, sat up and reached for Miss Godwin's torch. ‘Cold, isn't it?' He switched the light on and played it over the cave and the others began to stir.

‘Whassup?'

‘What's happening?'

‘Who's that?'

‘The water's gone,' said Paul. ‘We can get out.'

Adrian sat up groaning and panting and blinking stupidly at his watch. Adrian was never at his best first thing in the morning. He shook his watch and listened to it.

‘Oh crumbs!' he groaned. ‘I forgot to wind it… It's morning, is it?'

‘We think so, but now we don't know,' Paul answered impatiently. ‘Surely you could have remembered to wind your watch!'

‘Surely you could have remembered to remind me!'

‘We can find out very easily,' said Frances. ‘Just collect our things and go out to the entrance. We'll know if it's daylight soon enough.'

‘I'm hungry,' said Harvey. ‘Who's got something to eat?'

Gussie sniffed. ‘You've eaten almost everything already, you little pig.'

‘I'm a growing boy,' said Harvey.

‘You ought to be, the way you eat.'

‘Righto,' said Paul. ‘Frances has the right idea. Let's take a look at the sun. We've got to think about getting home. Our mums and dads will be pretty anxious.'

‘They'll be out looking for us, most likely.'

‘Yeah. It must be early or they'd be here by now. Perhaps the sun's not up.'

‘They know where we are, anyway. Miss Godwin will see to that. Gee, I suppose it's been exciting, really.'

‘Suppose it has. But I'm glad it's over, aren't you?'

‘In a way. I'm sure ready for some breakfast.'

‘You've got five miles to walk before breakfast.'

‘You would wake that up, wouldn't you?'

‘Everybody got everything?'

‘I think so. You've got Miss Godwin's stuff, have you, Paul?'

‘Yep.'

‘Well, I suppose we'll be back in a day or so to take the photographs. We'll have to ask Miss Godwin to organize it on a schoolday.'

‘Can't say I want to come back again, ever. I've had enough of this place…Whose schoolbag is that?'

‘Mine. I hadn't forgotten it.'

‘Righto. I'll go in front with the torch. The rest of you string along behind. And bung Harvey in the middle. We don't want to lose him.'

‘Hey! What do you think I am? A baby?'

‘You said it. I didn't.'

‘You'd better hurry. That torch is getting weak.'

‘Call me a baby! I'll give you a black eye, Paul.'

‘Don't be silly. You couldn't reach that high. And pipe down, Junior. You're a disturbing influence.'

‘Can you find Miss Godwin's string, Paul?'

‘I'm blowed if I can. We'll have to take pot luck, I think. The string has been washed away or broken or something.'

‘Take pot luck then, or we'll be left in the dark. I wouldn't give that torch another minute.'

‘I don't know,' said Gussie, ‘and they say that
girls
are talkative.'

‘That's why we're talking. To keep you quiet.'

‘I'd say that was the way, Paul. Down there.'

‘So would I. Still a lot of water about, isn't there?'

‘If we don't get any more than wet feet we can't complain. You girls all right back there?'

‘Of
course
we are. Do you think we're silly?'

‘All girls are silly.'

‘You keep out of it, Harvey, or you'll get your ears slapped.'

‘My dad always says—
ow!
You
beast
, Gussie. You only hit me because you know I'm not allowed to hit a girl.'

‘I see daylight.'

‘Where?'

‘Switch your torch off, Paul.'

‘Golly! It's sunlight, too.'

‘Have we been sitting in the cold when it's lovely and warm outside?'

‘Sunlight!'

‘What's wrong?'

‘If it's daylight why haven't they come for us?'

‘Hurry up. Let's get out.'

‘Gosh! It's great to breathe fresh air again. Isn't it beautiful?'

‘Is it? I want to know why they haven't come for us.'

‘The sun's high. Must have been up for two or three hours. Must be eight o'clock.'

‘Yeah. Eight o'clock.'

‘Set your watch, Adrian.'

‘It's funny that they haven't come for us.'

‘Look! Look at the rock pan!'

They looked at the rock pan, and they didn't want to talk any more. They all felt very weak and very frightened.

The rock pan was like a great river in flood, littered with uprooted trees that must have come for miles and with all sorts of rubbish. It seemed that half the forest must have been washed from the mountains. They couldn't even begin to comprehend it. It was something that they had never seen before and probably would never see again. They couldn't even describe it to themselves, couldn't find words to express the degree of destruction.

‘Oh dear!' whispered Gussie.

‘Isn't it
terrible?
'