Olivia and the Great Escape (8 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Olivia and Tom stood on the edge of Tower Bridge, shivering in the icy wind that whipped their cheeks until they turned pink. The sky was heavy and grey. The electronic screen on the riverbank said day seven.

“Phew, it’s cold,” said Tom. He stared at the figure of Jack who was sitting huddled on the wire like a small, unhappy gnome. The wire swung in the high wind. “But it’s nothing compared with what it must be like for Jack.” He looked at Olivia’s intense, anxious face. “Do you think he’s all right out there?”

Olivia shook her head. “I don’t know. In these conditions it would take all your strength and concentration to stay on the wire, but to have done it for over a week is truly superhuman. It’s
really going to take its toll. The real dangers are exhaustion and hypothermia.”

They saw Pablo beckoning to them and they ran over. It began to sleet heavily.

“I’ve just spoken to Jack. He’s coming in for a ten-minute break. You can have a quick word. It’ll cheer him up. He needs a boost.”

He sent them off to greet Jack while he went to check that the team were at the ready with hot soup, a fresh thermos of tea, hot water bottles and dry clothes.

Jack walked along the wire towards Tom and Olivia carrying a load of waterproofs and wet bedding. Or rather he shuffled like an old man. He looked as if he was a hundred years old and every muscle and bone ached. But he smiled when he saw the children and raised a hand in greeting. It was a mistake. It coincided with a sudden vicious gust of wind and the gesture threw him off balance. For a moment, he teetered and Olivia thought that he was going to topple off the wire. Both she and Tom gasped, and she heard Pablo shout behind them, but just in time Jack recovered himself and stayed on the wire.

He grinned sheepishly and continued towards them but when he got up close, Olivia
could see how pale, tired and vulnerable he looked. She couldn’t tell if he was shaking or just shivering from the cold. There was a glittering, feverish look in his eyes. As he jumped down, a photographer ran forward and poked his camera directly into Jack’s face and took a picture.

Pablo looked annoyed but he didn’t say anything: he knew that the stunt needed as much publicity as it could get because that’s what the sponsors demanded. They were delighted by the ongoing rivalry between Jack and Viktor, as it ensured continuing and maximum media interest.

Pablo looked after the man who was now walking briskly away. It was odd, he didn’t recognise him. He certainly wasn’t one of the accredited photographers, as he knew all of them by sight. He tutted and made a mental note to increase the immediate security around the end of the wire. They had somebody keeping watch both day and night to make sure nobody attempted to get up on the wire, but it couldn’t hurt to be more vigilant. Only yesterday they had had to deal with a group of drunken louts who had stood on Tower Bridge at midnight taunting Jack and throwing apples at him as if
Jack was a living coconut shy there exclusively for their enjoyment. Fortunately there had been no direct hits.

Pablo looked at his stopwatch. There were only eight minutes before Jack had to be back on the wire or he would have broken the rules and Viktor would be the winner.

Olivia hugged Jack under the shelter of the little tent while the rest of the team made ready all the provisions and equipment that he would need for his return trip along the wire.

“Are you all right, Dad?” she asked anxiously.

“Fine, chick, just a little tired,” he said with a smile, before he broke into a hacking cough. “My chest hurts a bit. I’ve got a bad cold. It’s tough out there. But I comfort myself with the thought that if I’m finding it tough, then Viktor must be really struggling.”

“Yes, but Viktor doesn’t have a chest infection,” said Olivia.

“No,” said Pablo with a grin. “He’s got something far worse: bad balance.” The others looked at him expectantly. Pablo seemed remarkably happy given that Jack clearly wasn’t in the best of shape.

“I’ve just heard from a friend of mine who has been down at Waterloo Bridge. Viktor has fallen off the wire twice during the last four hours, and only just managed to get back on. It’s a sign that he’s in a really weakened state. You’re going to beat him, Jack.”

But Jack said nothing because he was caught by another spasm of coughing. Pablo looked worried. “I think we’d better get a doctor down here during your next break to have a listen to your chest.” He turned to Olivia and Tom. “Probably best not to go round broadcasting to everyone that Jack’s sick. We don’t want it to get out in the media. Wouldn’t be good for morale. Viktor’s team might find a way to capitalise on it.”

“Dad,” said Olivia slowly, “if you
are
sick, there would be no shame in giving up.”

Jack looked at her aghast as he walked back towards the wire. “Give up?” he said. “Never!” He suddenly brightened. “I’ll only be coming off the wire after thirty days.” He saluted as he stepped out on to the wire and the wind howled as if in welcome.

“He’s impossible,” said Olivia, sighing.

“But if it was you out there, you’d never
give up either, would you, Liv?” said Tom, seriously.

“Probably not,” conceded Olivia.

Tom laughed. “Like father, like daughter,” he said.

Olivia turned to Pablo. “So your friend, the one who knows about Viktor falling off the wire, is he a kind of spy?”

“Not really, he’s just doing me a favour and reporting back on how Viktor is faring, seeing if he can pick up any gossip from the journalists or the team.” He saw Olivia’s face. “No dirty tricks, I promise. You know that’s not our style. But knowing what is going on in the other camp can give you a psychological advantage in an endurance stunt like this. Success or failure is so much in the mind.”

“But if you’re checking out his camp,” said Tom slowly, “then it probably means that people are checking out ours.”

Pablo nodded. “What do they say? All’s fair in love and war. Well, this is a kind of war. There can only be one Viktor. That’s why you need to be careful what you say. Only talk about how Jack’s getting along and his state of health to the people you
really
trust.”

Chapter Seventeen

Olivia, Tom and the others stared in shock at the double-page spread in the
Comet
, a tabloid newspaper, that lay open on the table in front of them. In the centre were two large pictures of Jack. In one, he looked happy and smiling and boyish, and in the other he looked haggard, ill and ancient. Olivia could tell from the angle that it had been snatched by the unknown photographer as Jack had stumbled off the wire when she and Tom had been down at the bridge.

Across the top of the pages was a big headline in bold black letters that read:
High-Wire Walker Hits Rock Bottom.
The story went on to say that the world-renowned Jack Marvell was feeling the pressure in his head-to-head with ace stuntman Viktor and that the stress was making
him ill. It looked likely that he would concede defeat to the Russian within the next few days.

Tom read out the rest of the story: “‘Sources close to the Marvell camp say that the Great Marvello has been suffering from bronchitis and, combined with the appalling weather conditions on the wire over the last few days, this has brought the daredevil to his knees. ‘He’s a finished man,’ said the source. ‘It’s only a matter of time.’ Pablo Catalano, a spokesman for Marvell, was tight-lipped but confirmed that the high-wire walker had been suffering from a bad cold, but he insisted that there were no plans to cut short the world-record attempt. ‘Jack Marvell is in it for the duration.’”

Tom took a deep breath and continued: “‘He would say that,’ said Viktor, during one of his ten-minute comfort breaks. ‘We’ve heard that the marvellous Marvell is close to breaking point. I’ve never felt better in my life. I could probably manage sixty days on the high wire.’”

There was a short silence when Tom finished. Eel took a great gulp of air and looked as if she was struggling not to cry, while Tom looked anxiously at Olivia as she gnawed the knuckle on her right hand.

“But it’s all rubbish!” said Aeysha. “Everyone will know that it is, and even if they don’t, as long as Jack doesn’t see the newspaper report, it doesn’t really matter. The only damage it can do is psychological, if he’s feeling a bit down and ill. But if he doesn’t see it, it doesn’t really matter what the newspapers are saying, does it? And Pablo is smart enough to make sure he doesn’t know anything about it.”

“Aeysha’s right,” said Georgia brightly. “He need never know.”

But when they all trooped down to the river a little later, there were masses of TV crews down on the banks and a crowd had gathered. Some were shouting their support but there was a gaggle on the bridge yelling, “Give up! Give up! It’s all over, Marvell!” Olivia wondered if they had been paid to be there.

The Swans stood on the bank, looking horrified. Just when it didn’t seem as if things could get worse, they did. A light aircraft with Viktor’s sponsor’s name on it started circling above where Jack was perched in the drizzle. Behind it flowed a banner on which was written:
“Jack Marvell staring defeat in the face!”
Olivia saw her dad stare up at the sky for a long time, then
drop his head.

Pablo had come to join them. “This,” he said, through gritted teeth, “is all-out psychological warfare.”

“I could kill the rat who’s been leaking stuff to the papers,” said Olivia fiercely, “they deserve a long, slow, lingering death.” Eel burst into tears.

Olivia looked at her little sister in surprise. She wasn’t normally so sensitive. “It’s all right, Eel, I’m not really going to kill anyone! Yet…”

Chapter Eighteen

Alex and Eel were alone in one of the music rooms.
Eel’s face was red with anger. “It had to have been you, Alex Parks!” she cried. “You are the only other person who knew that Jack was ill. None of the others would dream of giving away any information about Jack’s stunt. They’re too loyal to do something so nasty. I would never have told you if I’d realised that you were going to use the information in such a terrible way. I only mentioned it because you seemed so interested in Jack’s stunt and so admiring of what he’s doing. I thought you were on his side. I thought you could be trusted.”

Alex smiled at her patronisingly. “You’re jumping to conclusions, Eel,” he said. “Of course
it wasn’t me. Who would I tell, anyway? I don’t have any interest in who wins some silly
high-wire
competition. It could have been anyone. If you knew, lots of people must have known.”

Eel considered this. Perhaps he was right? She’d been eaten up with guilt since the piece about Jack had been published, convinced that it was her babbling to Alex that had done the damage. He had seemed so genuinely interested in what Jack was doing. But it was true, lots of people talked carelessly, and maybe she was being unfair in accusing him like this.

“OK,” she conceded. “Maybe I was wrong. I’m just so worried about my dad. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” said Alex, with a smirk. “It could have been one of his team, or one of Livy’s friends. They’re always in the café across the road, gossiping and talking about each other. Georgia’s got a big mouth. She probably let something slip and it was overheard by a journalist or something.”

“Don’t talk about Georgia like that!” said Eel, hotly. “Everyone loves Georgia, and she really likes you.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Georgia! I’m out of her league, and anyway I’ll talk how I like.
You still owe me, Eel Marvell.”

There was an edge to Alex’s voice that Eel didn’t like. She wished that she’d never got Alex involved in her secret scheme to audition at the Imperial. She’d been taken in by his lazy smile and open admiration for Olivia. But now it felt as if he had some kind of hold over her. Still, she wasn’t going to let him see that she was rattled.

“Look, Alex,” she said as sweetly as she could. “I did what I promised I would. I tried to put in a good word for you with Livy, but it was a complete waste of time. She so clearly wasn’t interested in you.”

Eel didn’t say it out loud but inside she was thinking what a good thing it was, too. Alex clearly wasn’t half as nice as he made out. Or maybe his pride was just so dented by Olivia’s disdain that he’d become some kind of monster.

Livy had briefly confided in Eel what had happened between her and Alex and sworn Eel to secrecy.

“I tried to let him down gently, Eel,” she’d said. “But I think I made a terrible hash of it. I can still feel him looking at me, but his gaze is cold and hostile. I wish he’d stop coming to
high-wire
but it’s like he’s trying to prove something.
I was loving
Dream
rehearsals but now they feel spoiled. I wish Tom was playing Demetrius and wasn’t just the understudy.”

Eel had tried to soothe her sister, but she could see why a boy like Alex might find it hard to be turned down by a girl he was keen on. In fact, she had the evidence in front of her eyes. The Alex in front of her now didn’t seem anything like the Alex who’d been so eager to help her try out for the Imperial.

“Of course, I could let your gran know what you’ve been up to?” said Alex softly.

Eel’s stomach did a somersault, but she wasn’t going to let Alex see how worried she was.

“You could,” she said, trying to sound completely unfazed, “but of course if you did, you’d be in as much trouble as me.”

Alex shot her a look of fury and spun on his heel. At the door, he turned back and snarled: “You stuck-up Marvell sisters deserve everything you get!”

Eel waited until she was certain that he was too far away to hear and then she burst into noisy sobs. She wished she could turn back the clock to before she’d even thought of applying
for the Imperial, before she’d got involved with Alex and before she’d got herself into this terrible mess.

Suddenly, Aeysha popped her head round the door.

“Eel,” she said, both surprised and concerned to find her crying. Eel was normally such a cheerful little soul. She put her arms around the younger girl. “Is it anything I can help with?” she asked gently.

Eel looked up at Aeysha, her face wet with tears. “Aeysha, have you ever done anything you really regret?”

“Loads of times,” said Aeysha. “There was the time I told my brother that I hated him and so did all my brothers and sisters, and he went out on his bicycle and fell off and gashed his forehead, and for days after I was consumed by guilt because I was convinced that I had caused the accident, when in fact there was something wrong with the peddle on his bike and it would have happened anyway. But it didn’t make me feel any less bad. I knew that I should never have said what I did. He’s still got the scar on his forehead and I still feel a little twinge of guilt every time I see it. But my brother just laughed.
He loves me, so he could forgive me.”

“That’s quite bad,” said Eel. “But I think I’ve been badder, and it’s got really complicated.”

“Well,” said Aeysha, “the best thing would be to come clean. Most things can be put right if you talk about them. Keeping secrets makes things fester. Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I’ll think about it,” said Eel, wiping her tears.

“Well, anytime,” said Aeysha.

Eel sighed. “At least Livy told Alex Parks where to get off,” she said.

“I guessed as much,” said Aeysha.

Eel clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, didn’t she tell you?”

Aeysha smiled. “You know Livy, she’s like an oyster.”

“I’m pleased she did,” said Eel, as the bell rang for afternoon lessons. “I don’t think he’s a very nice person at all.”