Invisible! (4 page)

‘Rosie?' This from Peter.

‘Still here.'

‘Me too.' Carrie's voice.

‘And me.' Conrad.

‘Come on.' Rosie. ‘Your turn. Doesn't hurt a bit.'

Boy and girl looked at each other. ‘Shall we?' Peter sounded hoarse.

‘I suppose so.' They positioned themselves beside a stone and moved backwards, slowly. Both were afraid, and their fear stretched out time so that it seemed to take forever to go right round. Presently though there came a cheer from the other three, and looking towards the sound they beheld Rosie and the twins wearing exultant grins and absolutely nothing else.

‘Have we done it?' Peter held up his hands and examined them. ‘Don't look any different.'

Rosie chuckled. ‘If you can see the rest of us, you're invisible. Visible people can't see us at all.'

‘Yeah, well, I can
see
you all right.' Peter felt his cheeks go hot. ‘In fact I don't know where to look.'

Rosie laughed. ‘Well there you are, then. You can see us so you're invisible. And if you're
still
not convinced, look at your shadow.'

‘Huh?' Away to the west, the sun's rim was touching the horizon. Shadows of standing stones lay long across the grass, but where
Peter's shadow ought to be there was nothing. Rosie giggled at the expression on his face. ‘See? The sun's shining through you as if you weren't there.
Now
do you believe?'

‘I … suppose so, but it's pretty embarrassing. I mean, I don't have a sister. I've never seen …'

‘Oh come
on
, Pete. I told you – you'll soon get used to it, and we can do anything we like now we're invisible. Follow me, only watch where you put your feet.' She grinned. ‘Thistles and broken glass can be disastrous to bare feet.'

She led them downhill. On the bottom stretch of the footpath, just outside the village, they saw an old man walking his Jack Russell terrier.

‘Ssssh!' Rosie pressed a finger to her lips. ‘No use being invisible unless you're inaudible too. The dog'll come.'

Carrie looked at her. ‘Can it see us?'

‘No, but it'll know we're here. Dogs go more by scent than sight.'

Sure enough, as the five children drew near the terrier gave a little yip, bounded towards them and began scampering about their feet, jumping up and whining. Its stumpy tail quivered with pleasure as first one child then
another bent to ruffle its ears. The old man peered towards the scene of activity, and for an awful moment Carrie felt sure he must see them. It was only when he yelled at the dog that she knew he couldn't. ‘Matty! Come 'ere, you barmy mutt – what the heck's up with you?' To him, the animal was fussing round absolutely nothing. The children clamped hands over their mouths to stifle laughter as he came stumping towards them, muttering swear words he'd never dream of using in front of children. The terrier ignored him, and Conrad had to jump back when the man made a lunge, grabbed Matty's collar and clipped on the lead. As he began dragging the dog towards the village the children capered round him, goading the unfortunate Matty into a frenzy of barking and tugging. Where the footpath gave way to a cobbled lane, Rosie made them stop. They weren't quiet enough. Only Matty's barking had prevented the old man from hearing their giggles. They'd need more practice before she'd trust them in the village.

‘That was ace,' grinned Conrad as they padded uphill in deep twilight. ‘Frantic dog, old guy swearing his head off. I learned four new words.'

Rosie shook her head. ‘That was nothing to what we'll do later, but it's really important to keep quiet. If enough people report disembodied voices, scientists'll investigate and then
every
kid will know the secret. It won't be fun any more.'

‘Brrr.' Charlotte wrapped her arms round herself. ‘It's gone flipping cold since the sun went down. I want my clothes.'

Peter nodded. ‘Me too.'

Rosie smiled. ‘Race to the top then, OK? Winner hides everyone's stuff. Go!' She went off like a mountain goat and the others followed, too breathless to protest.

Sunday morning, ten o'clock. Rosie opened the rear door of the old ambulance which was her home, descended by way of two metal steps and stood barefoot in the dewy grass, stretching and yawning. It was going to be a beautiful day. Hazy sunshine glowed through a mist which would soon burn off. The lightest of breezes stirred the fluffy heads on the willow herb, freeing seeds which drifted lazily beneath their parachutes, up and away. Down among the stems, spider webs glittered as the sun turned dewdrops to diamonds. Rosie breathed in deeply, her senses filtering the elusive scents of late summer.

‘Good afternoon, lazybones.' Her father had carried water from the stream to boil for tea and was watching her through the steam.

She grinned. ‘It's only ten o'clock.'

‘Only?' He lifted the billy from the Gaz and poured. ‘I've been up three hours. There's porridge if you want it.'

‘Where's Mum?'

‘Gone up the village for baccy.' He smiled. ‘I expect she'll get you a choc bar or something, you're so spoilt.'

‘I am
not
.' Rosie knelt at the bucket, scooped up icy water and splashed it on her face, scrubbing vigorously with her palms and using fingers to wash inside and behind her ears. ‘Spoilt kids have hot water and central heating. I have to make do with this old bucket.'

Her father looked at her, stirring tea with a battered spoon. ‘Is that what you want, Rosie? Hot water and central heating?'

She shrugged, reaching for the towel. ‘Sometimes, in winter.' She rubbed herself warm and shook her tousled hair. ‘No, not really. Not if it means living in one place all the time, in a house.' She draped the towel over a bush, got up and helped herself to porridge.

She'd just started eating when she heard a vehicle approaching. It slowed, pulled off the road and came nosing along the bit of overgrown track their home was parked on. When he saw that it was a police car, Rosie's father got to his feet. Not everybody liked travellers, and sometimes a visit from the police meant trouble.

The car pulled up and two officers got out. One of them nodded to the watchful traveller.

‘Morning.'

‘Morning.' Rosie's father remained wary. ‘Is something wrong?'

‘Why, sir, should it be?'

The traveller shook his head. ‘Not that I know of.'

‘Well that's all right then, isn't it?' One officer, a woman, moved off and started walking round the ambulance as though she might be interested in buying it. The other gazed at its owner. ‘I'm Detective Sergeant Springer and that's D.C. Widmead. Can I ask you where you were last night sir, between midnight and four a.m.?'

‘I was here, sleeping. Where else would I be?'

‘Where else?' The policeman pulled a face. ‘
Somebody
was over by Inchlake Manor between
those hours, sir. I suppose it wasn't you, by any chance?'

‘I told you – I was here.'

Rosie looked up at the officer. ‘He was, and so was I and so was Mum.'

‘Where's your mum now, miss?'

‘Gone to the village.'

‘I see.' He looked at her father. ‘D'you mind telling me your name, sir?'

‘Not at all. I'm Daddy Bear, and my wife is Mummy Bear.'

The officer sighed. ‘Your
real
name sir, please.'

‘That
is
my real name. I chose it myself. It's not against the law, you know.'

‘I know the law, sir. I'll call
DVLC
with your vehicle registration. They'll have your – er – previous name.' He looked at Rosie. ‘Baby Bear, is it?'

Rosie shook her head. ‘Rosie.'

‘Thank God for that.' He glanced towards his colleague, busy kicking one of the ambulance's tyres. ‘Mind if we take a look inside the vehicle, sir?'

‘What on earth for?'

The officer shrugged. ‘You know, sir – routine.' He frowned. ‘I could probably get a warrant.'

The traveller shook his head. ‘That won't be necessary. Help yourselves. We've nothing to hide, only don't mess the place up. It's our home.'

‘Why're they bothering us?' hissed Rosie, when the officers had disappeared inside. Her father shook his head. ‘Not sure, sweetheart. Probably investigating a burglary at that place he mentioned – Inchlake Manor.'

‘But why
us
, Dad? Why do people assume we're criminals, just because we travel?'

The big man shrugged. ‘Who knows? It's an old prejudice. Gipsies. Tinkers. New Age travellers. We're that little bit different, you see.' He chuckled. ‘People have a problem with that.'

The officers emerged after a minute or two, empty-handed. The man came over. ‘Right, sir, that's all for now. You're not planning to move on in the next day or two, are you?'

The traveller shook his head. ‘Not so soon, and when we
do
we're not that hard to find.' He gazed at the officer. ‘We've no reason to hide, you see.'

Rosie watched the car reverse down the track and zoom off up the road. Her porridge had gone cold. She scraped it back into the pan and set it on the Gaz, scowling. She hated warmed-up porridge.

One of the best things about Sizzlers was that it was open on Sundays. A juicy burger with all the trimmings makes a fine Sunday lunch, especially if you've only had warmed-up porridge for breakfast. The Invisibles had arranged to meet at Sizzlers at two, but Rosie got there early so she could eat before the others arrived. They'd only get Cokes, having eaten lunch at home, and she didn't want them drooling over her Big Boy two-decker cheeseburger with fries, or her three flavours ice cream in a tall glass with hot fudge sauce and chocolate buttons.

She'd finished eating and the waitress had
cleared when the twins showed up. They joined her and ordered drinks, and by the time the Cokes came Charlotte and Peter were there too. Peter slid into a red plastic seat and grinned. ‘You know what we should do, don't you?'

Carrie looked at him. ‘What should we do, Pete?'

‘We should order five of everything on the menu, scoff the lot, then go in the toilets and make ourselves invisible so we could sneak out the door without paying.'

‘We'd need a ring, dummy. And what about our clothes?'

‘We chuck 'em out the window, pick 'em up round the back. Easy-peasy.'

Carrie laughed. ‘You're a criminal deep down, aren't you, Pete?'

Peter shook his head. ‘No, not really. I was joking.'

Rosie nodded. ‘I hope so, Peter. You see, there's a rule about that.'

‘What d'you mean?
Whose
rule?'

‘My rule. It says we never use our invisibility to do bad things, like stealing.'

Conrad looked at her. ‘You mentioned getting in places free. That's the same as stealing.'

Rosie sighed. ‘I didn't mean we'd actually
do
it, Conrad. I was giving examples of what's possible, that's all.'