In Darkling Wood (12 page)

I’m in Mr Jennings’s office with the door closed. My hands are sweating. I don’t like these teacher talks.

‘I understand this is a difficult time for you, Alice,’ he says. ‘But while you’re attending this school, you’re Ferndean’s responsibility. We really can’t have you missing school and not completing homework.’

I keep my eyes on the carpet.

‘Is there anything we can do to help?’ he says. ‘A session with our counsellor, maybe?’

I shake my head.
Not more talking.

‘Then…’ He pauses. ‘How about we let you off doing homework for a week or so? You’re clearly struggling to keep up with it.’

Again I shake my head.

‘I’m trying to help you, Alice. Yours are special
circumstances, and being exempt from doing homework might take the pressure off,’ says Mr Jennings.

‘Thank you, sir, but I’m fine,’ I say.

His ‘special circumstances’ idea makes me uncomfortable. No one used those words at my other school. No one treated me differently, and I didn’t want them to, either.

This time I meet Mr Jennings’s eye. ‘I’d rather do my homework just like everyone else, sir.’

‘Are you sure?’

I hesitate. There’s bound to be work set today, and I still have to catch up on the lessons I missed last Friday. But I hate being singled out because of Theo. It makes it harder to forget what’s happening, and sometimes I want to try.

‘Totally sure, sir.’

‘Very well. From now on we’ll expect your homework to be in on time. If it isn’t, I’ll be calling your grandmother again – and this time, I’ll invite her in for a chat.’

I get an image of Mr Jennings, Nell and me, all here in this room. It’s not nice. Not one bit.

By breaktime I’ve got English homework and more words to learn for French. There’s also a meeting about to start in our tutor room. Through the door I see bright green ‘SAVE DARKLING WOOD’ posters on the walls.

‘Come on,’ says Max, taking my elbow and trying to steer me past. ‘I’ll buy you a hot chocolate.’

He’s being sweet, I know, but what’s the point in hiding from Ella when I want to save Darkling Wood too? And though I’m beginning to think there might be fairies there, Ella’s protest feels more concrete. More real. I want to take part in it, if she’ll have me.

‘Thanks for the offer, but I’m going in,’ I say to Max. ‘Coming?’

‘I’d rather get a hot chocolate.’

As he leaves, I open the classroom door. Down at the front, Ella’s handing out little green badges saying ‘SAVE DARKLING WOOD’. It’s a genius idea. Trust her to think of badges.

‘Can I have one, please?’ I say, joining the group stood around her.

Ella stiffens. The other students move aside. A space forms around me.

‘What d’you want, Alice?’ Ella says.

‘I want to save the wood. Just like you do.’

Ella does a big weary sigh. ‘Why would you want that when it’s
your
grandmother, who
you’re
staying with, who’s cutting the trees down?’

It’s a fair point. Nell and I have spoken about the trees, and I’ve told her I don’t think they should come down. That’s all she knows, though. And it should stay that way until tomorrow. I can’t risk her grounding me again, or worse, sending me to Dad’s.

‘I know those woods now. I feel sort of connected,’ I say. ‘Every morning, I look out of my bedroom window and see them. And every night, I walk through them on my way home from school.’

‘You’ve only been there a week,’ Ella reminds me.

‘Yes, and it feels like forever.’

I look at the other students here. There’s got to be twenty of them at least, each wearing a bright green badge on their blazer.

‘Have any of you ever been to Darkling Wood?’ I ask.

They glance at each other. One girl wearing glasses raises her hand.

‘Do the rest of you even know where it is?’

More glances. Ella rolls her eyes. ‘What’s your point, Alice?’

‘My point is that most of you are protesting about
a place you don’t even know. So what if I’ve only been here a week? At least I know what Darkling Wood looks like, what it smells like. It’s not just a wood, it’s an amazing place. It’s … magical!’

I must’ve got a bit carried away, because they’re all staring at me now. A couple of year 7s actually have their mouths open.

‘You’re right, I guess. It is kind of magical,’ says Ella, warily.

I nod. ‘A friend of mine really believes it is. She says if we destroy the wood then the fairies who live there will take revenge on us.’

A few people start sniggering. Now I have said too much. It’s stupid to think they’d believe in fairies: I mean, I’m only
maybe
coming round to the idea. But when I glance at Ella I see her face is lit up, and she takes me to one side, while the rest of the group starts chatting.

She says in a whisper, ‘My mum thinks there are fairies in Darkling Wood.’

‘Has she ever seen any?’

Ella shakes her head. ‘No. She believes they’re there, but says only people with a special gift can actually see fairies.’

My stomach does a swoop. Flo said something
similar, didn’t she? Or at least she said the fairies had chosen me for a reason. Might this
be
the reason? It’s hard to think so – I don’t exactly feel like someone with a special gift.

Yet the thought stays with me. And as the room fills with more excited chatter, I feel my mood lifting. Ella’s group is organised and thorough. When she calls for quiet, they all listen like I bet they never do in class.

‘The work on Darkling Wood starts tomorrow. We, ladies and gents, need to be there to make a … well … let’s call it a
nuisance
of ourselves.’

‘That won’t be hard!’ someone chips in. Everyone laughs.

‘So, how about we meet tomorrow morning in Bexton village square, say eight fifteen a.m., sharp?’ Ella says. ‘Oh, and be prepared to get muddy.’

A girl with blonde hair says, ‘What about school?’

‘Skip school,’ says Ella.

People share nervous looks.

‘I mean it,’ Ella says again. ‘We all have to skip school.’

I don’t think they’d quite signed up for that.

‘Can’t we do the protest
after
school?’ someone says.

Ella sighs. ‘Look, what’s the point in doing a protest
to an empty lane? We need to be there when the work starts. We need to get in the way.’

‘But I’ll never convince my mum to drop me in Bexton rather than here,’ says another girl.

A ripple goes through the group. People shake their heads. A few unpin their badges. More make their way to the door. As the room steadily empties, Ella frowns but stays calm.

‘I’ll be there tomorrow morning, with or without your support,’ she says to the last few students as they leave.

I’m the only person left. I’m not going anywhere.

‘Here,’ Ella says, passing me a badge.

I pin it on my blazer and smile. She smiles back.

‘Looks like it’s down to you and me,’ she says.

And the fairies
, I think, because try as I might, I can’t forget their part in this.

Max is waiting for me outside the classroom. He hands me a cup of hot chocolate that’s still warm.

‘You star!’ I say. ‘Thanks so much!’

Max does a little bow. ‘Not at all.’

He grins in that way that makes his eyes twinkle. As if I’ve not got enough going on right now, I think I’m getting a crush on him.

After break it’s History. Straight away Mrs Copeland talks about last week’s homework, and how today’s lesson will be based on it.

‘So get your notes out, please,’ she says. ‘We’ll do this in register order.’

‘What homework?’ I say to Max. I picture Mr Jennings dialling Nell’s number and cover my face with my hands.

‘The homework set last Friday when you were ill,’ says Max.

‘I wasn’t ill,’ I say, moving my hands away. ‘I went to London to see my brother.’ I don’t mention the being sick part.

‘Oh. Okay. Well, we’ve all had to choose a person to base our project on.’

I stare at him in panic.

‘Hello? Anyone in there?’ says Max, waving at me. ‘A person who was alive in 1918? Who was affected by the war ending?’

I nod. I remember the project. ‘But what are we doing now in register order?’

‘We’ve got to talk for a minute on the person we’ve chosen and why.’

My mouth goes dry. ‘Oh.’

‘Campbell’ is near the top of the register, so I know
I’m going to get called soon. What’s worse is the five students going before me all do brilliantly. One boy’s chosen his great-great-grandfather, another boy talks about a football player for the local 1918 team. Someone else does the old headteacher for this school. By the next two I’ve stopped listening properly. All I hear is how confident they sound and how many enthusiastic comments Mrs Copeland makes.

Then it’s my turn.

Mrs Copeland sees the confusion on my face. ‘It’s okay, Alice, I know you missed Friday’s lesson so you probably haven’t done this, have you?’

‘No, miss,’ I mutter.

‘Do you have anyone in mind for your project?’

‘No, miss.’

Everyone’s looking at me now.

‘That’s fine. Don’t worry,’ says Mrs Copeland.

‘I’ll catch up, miss,’ I say.

‘You don’t have to, Alice.’ She gives me a knowing look. That look says ‘exceptional circumstances’. She doesn’t know about my agreement with Mr Jennings, it’s obvious.

One of the back row boys says loudly, ‘That’s not fair, miss. On Friday you told us we’d get a detention if we didn’t do the homework.’

Mrs Copeland holds up her hand. ‘Alex, I think …’

‘Yeah, miss,’ says someone else. ‘That’s favouritism, that is.’

A murmur goes round the classroom. I’m feeling really uncomfortable now. ‘I’ll do it by next lesson, miss,’ I say.

The murmuring stops. Mrs Copeland moves on down the register. And my brain starts whirring because I’ve not got the foggiest idea who to base my project on, or where to even start.

At a quarter to six, I give up. With no internet to use for research, this history project has got me stumped. I can’t do it. I can’t do anything. To make the point I throw my exercise book across the kitchen and thump my head down on the table. I don’t know anything about anyone alive in 1918, let alone someone remotely interesting.

It’s dark outside. Next time the sun comes up will be the day the trees are cut down. There was no sign of Flo on the way home from school. All I can do is trust the fairies to work their magic, even though it still sounds a bit mad. At least we’ve got Ella’s plan as backup. Or perhaps that should be the other way round.

And then there’s Nell.

To be honest, I’m starting to feel shifty. All she wants to do is protect her house from tree roots, and I’m here, a guest in her home, plotting against her.
Tomorrow there’ll be a protest about it too, never mind what the fairies might do. I think it’s probably fair to warn her.

At seven o’clock, I knock on the library door.

‘Supper’s ready!’

I’ve found enough in Nell’s cupboards to make us a pasta bake. When we’ve eaten, I’ll tell her about tomorrow.

Nell comes into the kitchen, Borage at her heels.

‘It’s sweltering in here!’ she says. Leaning over the sink, she opens a window. There’s no mention of the table laid with her best matching plates or the pasta bake sat bubbling in the middle.

‘I used the hot shelf of the Aga,’ I say, because I’m quite pleased with how my first ever attempt to cook in Nell’s stove has turned out.

‘You didn’t use the microwave?’

‘No, just the Aga.’

She looks shocked. Genuinely.

‘Try some.’ I put a spoonful on her plate. The bottom layer’s burnt and the carrots are still crunchy but the rest looks pretty good.

Nell sniffs at it. ‘What’s in it?’

‘Onions, leeks, carrots.’

She blows on it then takes the tiniest forkful, pulling
faces because it’s still too hot. The way she wrinkles up her nose makes her look so like Theo. I can’t believe I’ve not noticed it before.

‘Is it all right?’ I ask.

‘It’s rather nice,’ she says.

‘I wanted to cook you something, you know, for a change.’

‘Oh,’ says Nell. ‘And there was I thinking you were trying to butter me up.’

I fiddle with the pepper pot. Nell moves it to one side, out of my reach. ‘What’s this really about, Alice?’ she says.

‘Umm …’ I clear my throat. ‘It’s about the woods tomorrow.’

Nell narrows her eyes, first at me, then at what’s behind me, hanging on the back of my chair.

‘Save Darkling Wood,’ she murmurs.

‘What?’ Then I guess what she’s spotted. On the back of the chair is my school blazer. The bright green badge is still attached.

I clear my throat. ‘Nell, I need to tell you …’

She’s not listening. Her attention’s been caught by Borage now, who’s sat bolt upright in his bed. There’s a noise outside, a car engine. Headlights sweep down the lane. The dog starts barking. Nell gets to her feet.

‘Who the devil can that be?’ she says, grabbing the torch off its hook.

Holding onto Borage, I follow her to the front door. It’s pitch black out there. The torch beam picks up a number plate, a silver-grey bumper, a person getting out of the driver’s door. With a jolt, I recognise the car.

It can’t be
, I think.
No one told me.

Nell’s hand covers her mouth.

‘Oh gracious!’ she says. For a second, I think she’s actually going to shut the front door.

‘I won’t come in,’ says Dad.

‘I’m not inviting you in,’ says Nell.

Borage is still growling; no one bothers telling him to shut up.

‘What brings you here, David?’ asks Nell.

I can’t believe she’s being so cool, not when my heart’s about to burst from my chest.

‘It’s Theo, isn’t it?’ I say, pushing past her. ‘What’s going on?’

Dad holds his hands up. ‘Whoa, Alice! Slow down! Theo’s okay.’

‘Is he? Are you sure? You’ve been to see him?’

‘I spoke to your mum a couple of hours ago. He’s okay, honestly. Not brilliant, but okay.’

‘Good!’ I gasp, clutching my chest in relief. Next to
me, Nell sighs very quietly. It’s the sound a frightened person makes when they start to feel a bit less scared. Yet that can’t be right. My grandmother’s not scared of anything. Or anyone.

‘So why are you here?’ says Nell. ‘And please be brief. You’re letting out all the heat, keeping this door open.’

Actually, the kitchen’s the only warm room. But I don’t think this is about heating. It’s about getting rid of Dad as fast as possible.

He glances my way, then at Borage, who’s stood in front of me like a giant, furry wall. Dad takes a nervous step back.

‘Alice,’ he says, ‘your mother’s worried about you.’

‘I’m fine,’ I say a bit too quickly.

‘She’s fine,’ agrees Nell. I’m not sure why she’s sticking up for me, not after the conversation we’ve just had. I’m sure she just wants Dad to leave.

Dad shrugs. ‘Your mum doesn’t think so. She said you put the phone down on her yesterday.’

‘Oh.’

‘And if
she
thinks something’s up with you, then, you know, maybe she’s right.’

I frown at him. Since when did he start agreeing with Mum?

‘So,’ Dad continues, ‘she’s asked me to take you to
Devon to stay with me. You’ll have to kip on the sofa, I’m afraid. What d’you think?’

A heavy feeling lands in the pit of my stomach.

‘I can’t.’

Dad looks uneasy. As he rubs his jaw, it makes a scratchy, bristly sound. ‘I know it’s not perfect but Lara wants to meet you properly, and you’ve still not seen Poppy, have you? She’s grown so much.’

Poppy
. I wish they’d called her something awful.

‘Well, this is all very charming …’ says Nell, starting to close the front door. Dad sticks his foot in the way.

‘I’m not going,’ I say.

‘Come on, Alice. You’ve been enough of a burden on your grandmother.’

‘How very thoughtful of you,’ says Nell.

But I don’t want to sleep on his sofa. I don’t want to wake up in his house with his new family and see him loving other people more than he loves us. And then there’s Flo. And Ella. And tomorrow. I can’t leave now.

‘I’ve got a history project to hand in at school tomorrow and I’ve put loads of work into it,’ I say, though the lie makes me wince.

‘Don’t make this any harder for me, Alice,’ Dad says.

‘Hard for
you
?’ Nell snorts. ‘That’s so typical of you, David. Always putting your own feelings first.’

Dad rolls his eyes. ‘I didn’t come here to fight.’

There’s a silence.

Then Nell says, ‘Just go.’

I think she means both of us. Dad moves back from the door. He reaches into his pocket and jangles the car keys. ‘You’ve got ten minutes to get your things. I’ll wait for you in the car.’

‘I’m not coming.’

‘Ten minutes,’ says Dad, like he’s not heard me.

Nell turns away. Calling Borage to her side, she heads back to the kitchen.

‘Dad,’ I say into the darkness. ‘I mean it. I’m staying here.’

Turning up his coat collar, he doesn’t look round. And in that moment he seems further away than ever.