The Grasshopper's Child (12 page)

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Authors: Gwyneth Jones

BOOK: The Grasshopper's Child
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Her palms were sweating, her cannonball heart chewed at her insides. She tried to calm herself, walking round the car park: tried to picture Mum in a white bed, in a small clean room by herself, her beautiful wild hair exploded over the pillow. Mum softly opening her eyes, and Heidi saying

Mum, I'm here and nobody else, please Mum, tell me what happened.

Heaps of grey snow towered around the few parked cars. It wouldn't be like that. She wouldn't be allowed to go to Mum's room, or be alone with her. It would be some drab dayroom, and Mum with mad eyes, crying like a sick baby, not fit to talk to anyone.

Mum wasn't under guard now, she was only a suspect: but she'd been in the hospital for nearly six weeks, sicker than ever before, and that was very frightening. My dad's been dead for six weeks, thought Heidi. The lost dimension, the Garden House and Mehilhoc vanished from under her feet. She was back in the terrible world.

She gave her name at Reception, and showed the text permitting her to visit. She was told to wait. Mental Health outpatients and visitors sat on plastic chairs; you couldn't tell the difference. Heidi stared at the snacks in the vending machine. She'd forgotten to pack herself a lunch, but she didn't feel hungry.

Heidi Ryan? Please return to Reception.

A doctor in a white coat and green trousers was waiting. She took Heidi aside. ‘I'm sorry Heidi. You can't see your mum right now.'

‘How long do I have to wait? I'm expected back at work.'

‘I'm afraid you can't see her today.'

The cannonball exploded. This was the one fate Heidi hadn't tried to prepare for. ‘
But you
knew I was coming!
Why didn't you CALL me?
Why
can't I see her?'

‘I'm very sorry. Your mum isn't stable yet, and it turns out this is a bad day. We'll tell her you were here, soon as she's able to take it in. You can call the ward any time, Heidi, and drop in whenever you like, there's no problem about that—'

‘I CAN'T! I haven't any money for fares. I'm INDENTURED! I can't DROP IN ANY TIME! I can't keep taking time off!'

‘Come with me, Heidi,' said the woman, ‘somewhere we can talk.'

She went with the doctor to an office. A beefy nurse brought a tray with thin sandwiches and pale coffee. He winked at Heidi, kindly. She ate, grimly: for the strength to fight.

‘Can I just
see
her? What if I just look through the door and wave, and say hi?'

‘I'm sorry you came all this way for nothing,' said the doctor. ‘But we have your phone number. We'll let you know when things change. We'll keep in touch.'

There was nothing Heidi could do. If there was a magic word, she didn't know it. Totally defeated she walked out through the hospital gates, reeling in shock and disgusted with herself.
Why
hadn't she dug her heels in, why hadn't she asked more questions? She saw herself running down corridors, charging past Mental Health staff, knowing where to go because Mum's bedside drew her like a magnet—

Instead she'd been dealt with. Fed like a stray animal and dismissed.

She didn't know she'd walked straight past the Hospitals Shuttles bay at the gates until a normal bus stop materialised in front of her. It didn't matter, she had a warrant.

The strange hospital was closer to home than the place where Mum usually went. The numbers on the board were familiar. Heidi didn't know what she was going to do, until a bus drew up. She asked the driver was her warrant only good for a trip back to the terminus.

He took it from her and inspected it.

‘Nope, you're fine. Have warrant will travel, all day, anywhere in this zone you like. The only thing you have to watch for is if you have further to travel, after you get back to Mayle. There won't be any forward transport from there after about four o'clock.'

‘Thanks.'

She got off at her usual stop, and walked home. There were no curtains at the windows of the house where she used to live. A sign planted in their tiny front garden said TO BE SOLD BY AUCTION. Nothing else had changed. The police had bashed their door open but it looked okay now. It didn't look as if anyone had even changed the locks. She opened the cover in the pavement, where the stop-tap was, and groped inside the hole. The spare key was there, where it had always been kept.

She tried it, and it turned. She let herself in.

Nothing seemed real. There was a ringing in her ears, and everything was gone. The fitted carpet was as shabby, and as clean, as when Heidi had last vacuumed it. The slate-coloured vinyl in the kitchen shone. There was no tv screen, no furniture, no ornaments. Upstairs, her bedroom was bare. She wondered what had happened to the Purple Suitcase. Did it get lost, or had the loan company sold her things for scrap: the way they'd sold Heidi?

What am I doing here?
she wondered, feeling helpless as a ghost.

Mum and Dad's room was as clean and neat as Heidi had left it, except there was no carpet; and a dim, irregular stain marked the boards, beside the pale patch where their bed had been. She stared at the fitted wardrobe where Mum had crouched, crying and all over blood. That's not why I'm here, thought Heidi. I don't need to be reminded.

What is it, what do I want?

The reason came popping back into her mind. It was the hidey hole.

Standing at that bus stop by the hospital, she'd thought of the hidey-hole. Dad kept a locked cashbox, under a loose board at the bottom of the wardrobe. Heidi wasn't supposed to touch it, and she never did. But in the same hidey hole, in a tatty, beloved envelope, Mum put the cash she saved for emergencies. Heidi could see it now, Mum's lovely swooping handwriting on the outside, saying:
Hey Baby! This Is The Money! Love you, sweetheart!
Heidi's sums, going back for years: what she'd taken out, and what was left. There'd been quite a bit of money in the envelope when Dad was killed. If it was still there, Heidi wouldn't need another travel warrant, she'd only need to get Tallis to give her time off. She could go and see Mum any time—

The hope was real, for a moment.

The hidey-hole was empty. Of course it was. The police had been through here. Heidi put the loose board back, not even disappointed. And stayed where she was, kneeling, staring at nothing: asking herself a question she'd never thought of asking before.

If Mum didn't kill him, who did?

She closed her eyes, trying to catch the tail of something that nagged at her. I came in here. Dad was all over blood, Mum had the knife, but what else? Did I notice something wrong? I know there was something, some little thing wrong—

At last she stood up. She'd remembered. It wasn't much, but she had something to take back from this long cold journey and offer to the Inspector.

Something she was pretty sure he didn't know.

The bus driver had been right; there was no bus to Mehilhoc from Mayle by the time Heidi got there. Somebody showed her the start of the footpath, but it was a five mile walk in the freezing cold, and not much chance of dinner on the table by seven. Luckily Melinda the Community Nurse spotted her, and gave her a lift to the Learning Centre. As she hurried over the harbour bridge she almost ran into the Hooded Boy, who was pushing his Elder along in a wheelchair. The old lady was wrapped up tight, only her eyes, and the tip of her nose, pink from the cold, showing between warm scarves and warm hat.

‘Hi,' said Clancy. ‘You got there all right?'

‘Yeah, but I couldn't see her. I'll tell you later. Hello Mrs Scott-Amberley.'

‘Hello dear. Roddy's been taking me for a walk. We went to St Mary's.'

The old lady's voice was tiny and clear; like a doll talking.

‘I'm Roddy,' said Clancy, shrugging. ‘Whoever “Roddy” is.'

‘Congratulations, Roddy. How d'you swing the outing?' Heidi knew about the demon Crace. She'd been visiting the Chinese Temple on her afternoon runs.

‘No idea. Irene suddenly crumbled this afternoon, broke down and admitted there was a wheelchair. She practically made us a picnic.'

‘The tympanum carvings are
unusually
interesting,' piped the old lady.

‘I must have a look, but now I have to go,' said Heidi, ‘I'm late. Bye, Mrs Scott-Amberley, nice to meet you. See you, Clancy.'

The Running Girl sped away. Clancy, pushing steadily, noticed a dark car parked opposite Mrs Scott-Amberley's house. That was strange. Who had a private car around here? The only motor traffic he'd seen in Mehilhoc, aside from Melinda the Lone Ranger's little red electric, was the veg van, driven by Brooklyn's mum. Then somebody came out of the house, a man in a bulky winter coat: walking down the path fast, with no goodbyes.

‘Mrs Scott-Amberley, were you expecting a
visitor
this afternoon—?'

‘Nobody ever comes,' whispered the old lady. ‘Irene would know.'

Clancy put on speed, suddenly very curious. Mrs Scott-Amberley's woolly-hatted head bobbed to and fro: but it was too late. The strange car had started up and disappeared around the bend in the lane, before Clancy had even caught the licence plate.

‘Sorry for the rush,' he said. ‘I thought you might want to know who that was.'

‘It doesn't matter. Just take me to the door. No need to come in.'

He pushed her up the garden path, frowning. Irene Crace must have been watching for them. She opened the front door and stood there, waiting. She said nothing to Clancy, or to Mrs Scott-Amberley, as she took possession of the wheelchair. But she
smiled
.

Maybe there was some perfectly okay explanation. But that evil smile said otherwise. Clancy had a dirty feeling he'd been used. Played for a fool.

And the Demon Crace was a worse demon than he'd suspected.

10: Changing The World Flamenco

The interview room was the same. Same blue table, same blue walls. The Inspector wore the same suit, same tie. His clean red hands were posed, one on top of the other, exactly the way they'd been the first time. But Heidi knew there was somebody behind the avatar, and she believed that person would listen. All she had to do was keep calm, and make her point. The Exempt Teen session was waiting down the hall: she didn't have much time.

‘I'm sorry you weren't able to see your mother.'

‘It's all right,' said Heidi. ‘I spoke to her doctor. I'll be able to see her soon. I'm here about something else.'

‘You've remembered something?'

‘Maybe; I don't know. There's something I need to ask you. What happened to my mum and dad's rings? They had matching gold wedding bands. Dad had an engagement ring too, gold with six small rubies in a criss-cross pattern; that Mum bought for him. Mum didn't like wearing rings, so Dad used not to wear his, either. He kept all three of them on a gold chain round his neck. Or sometimes he'd leave them in the hidey-hole, under a loose board in the bottom of their wardrobe. He wasn't wearing the chain the day he died—'

‘You're sure of that?'

‘He was all over blood, but anyway I
know
he wasn't wearing the rings because Mum had been worried about them, and had asked him to put them away.'

The Inspector looked at her sadly: Heidi's palms began to sweat.

‘What I've
remembered
is that nobody said anything to me about the rings, afterwards. Were they in the hidey hole? There was an envelope with cash in it, too.'

‘Hm. One moment.'

The avatar froze, the Inspector must be consulting the case notes or talking to someone. She waited until his face came to life again.

‘We know about the “hidey-hole”. A locked cash box was found there, nothing else.'

‘I don't know anything about Dad's cashbox. I mean, I knew it was there, but I don't know what was in it. What about the three rings?'

‘We don't believe anybody had tampered with the contents. The only fingerprints we found on it, or on the key, which was found in another location, were your father's.'

‘The rings wouldn't have been in Dad's box. What about DNA?'

The Inspector shook his head, smiling sadly. ‘DNA gets everywhere, Heidi. Your mother's DNA traces were all over that ‘hidey hole'. Yours, too. But three rings such as you've described have not been found, nor has an envelope containing cash. They were not in the house, or in your mother's possession.'

‘She wouldn't have touched the rings.'

The avatar froze again. She was pleased he wasn't pretending to have his virtual self get up and walk out of the virtual room. It made her feel she'd taken a step up. He came back.

‘Thank you for this, Heidi. I'll need you to talk to somebody, and look at some images, to make sure we have the best possible descriptions. Can you do that now?'

‘No, I have to get to Exempt Teens.'

‘Then I'll be in touch. How are things going for you, down in Mehilhoc?'

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