The Grasshopper's Child (25 page)

Just don't lie to them, Heidi. You'll tie yourself in knots and they'll wear you down. There's only one good thing ter say to the police. Nothing.

I'd tell them the truth if I could, but I don't know what the truth is.

That's settled then. Stick to saying nothing. Nothing's better.

Okay, so I don't talk to the Inspector. What
can
I do?

Talk to someone else. Look around. Isn't there someone on the exact same wavelength?

At first Heidi didn't know who she was talking to. Gradually she realised it was Dad. She was talking to her dad: the way she used to talk to him when he was alive, about anything that worried her. He couldn't usually help but he never stressed, and he was a good listener.

She had thought of Mum, over and over. She had been
with
Mum, in her heart, every hour since the terrible thing. She'd hardly thought of Dad once. He'd been completely gone. The scene that kept replaying in her head,
that
wasn't her dad. She'd never cried for him, not after the first shock, when she was just going crazy. Never mourned.

It wasn't because he'd accidentally sold her into slavery. If he hadn't died she'd have found out about the debt. She'd have been angry, and frustrated, and Immy would have helped them; and she'd have forgiven him long ago by now. It was because he abandoned her. He turned into a horrible, stringless puppet, all over blood; that crawled into her nightmares, and she knew it wasn't his fault but she'd blamed him.

Now she heard the true living tone of his voice. She could see his cheeky, innocent grin and his bright eyes. She tried not to breathe, in case she blew him away. Not to stir a muscle, in case she broke the thread.
Please stay
, she whispered. I know you couldn't help it, I truly
totally
forgive you for everything, I've missed you so much, stay with me—

I've never been away, said Dad. I'll stay as long as you like. And the cold wasn't cold, the dark wasn't dark; the tossing black water seemed like a warm featherbed.

Dying is the one brave thing everyone has to do, Dad.

Yeah. Everybody has to do this. You'll be okay.

Time went by, minutes like hours.

Heidi and her dad talked about life in the house with the cardboard walls, remembering funny things and sweet things. She told him about Tallis, and the stuffed cats. Brook and Challon were mean for no reason, Roger swam with frogs. The ruined Gardens, and the Steel Door. George, Clancy, the ship with no name. He was still listening, keeping her company, as she drifted into endless darkness.

Death is Heartwood

Death is heartwood

The dense centre of the soul

Where no laughing blood leaps

And no nerves thrill

The people we love are joined to it

One by one.

And fill its silence with joy remembered

And help us to grow tall. And keep us strong

21: Dr Gunn

Heidi woke in a cosy bed, feeling the slick wet waterproof arms that had lifted her into a boat. The roaring sea was still all around: until she woke properly and the roaring became rain beating at a window. She was in the Healeys' spare room, in borrowed pyjamas. Brook was safe in hospital. Her friends were not drowned, but safe, and she had Dad back—

Bruises made her wince as she sat up. The spare room looked like a child's room; a little girl's room. The walls were papered in pale green with bunches of snowdrops; the curtains at the rainy window had the same pattern. Framed photographs, and a small vase of fresh flowers, stood on a pale green, painted chest of drawers near the bed. Heidi looked at the photos: and looked again, frowning—

‘Mrs Healey?' she called. ‘Mrs Healey!'

Someone came thumping up the stairs. A plump woman she'd never seen before burst into the room. Her dark curls were tied in bunches, a tight belt cinched her short, flounced skirt, a large bosom strained to escape from her low-cut peasant blouse.

‘I am not Mrs Healey!' announced this person. ‘
I
am Daffodil Dyson.'

‘Oh,' said Heidi. ‘Sorry. What time is it?'

‘Two in the afternoon. You've had a good long sleep.'

‘Where is Mrs Healey? Is there news of Brook? Is she okay?'

‘More like at death's door. She's in the Intensive Care, at the hospital in Eastbourne. Mrs Healey and Tim are with her. I'm looking after you, leaving my poor old dad with nobody to look after
him
except Dave from the Garage Shop.'

‘Is your dad Eric Dyson?' She remembered her last glimpse of the beach, the wheelchair falling over. ‘Who was with us? Is he all right?'

‘He's had a
terrible, devastating
experience,' said Daffodil, importantly. ‘But he'll live. Corporal Harris is dead as a doornail. His heart just stopped, when he stopped that rubber bullet. Or plastic, or whatever they're made of. There'll be an inquest. Non-lethal my eye. The other victim, the young black lad, had two cracked ribs and a bruise like a great big purple plum, bulging out all down his side.'

‘Samedi.' She'd forgotten about the Tower Builders. ‘Is he okay, though?'

‘He did us a good turn, that lad. Joe Florence, who ought to be sent to penal servitude, not the Call-Up, had given orders to light a bonfire on False Head, whatever that was supposed to achieve. Young Bryan, the numpkin, actually
did
run off there. The boy that got shot lay taken for dead, and when the coast was clear he ran for it to raise the alarm.'

‘That's great, and great that he's okay. Where is he now?'

‘Gone home. His mum and dad came and took him home, 'course they did. The police officer wasn't too pleased about that, but who were we to ask questions?'

‘What about the pirates?'

‘Gone,' said Daffodil, with daft satisfaction. ‘Got clean away. Sank their ship and made off in an open boat, who knows where. And good riddance!'

‘The coastguards didn't go after them?'

‘They couldn't, could they? They haven't got the fuel, and they were too busy picking up survivors: our lot, and you, and all those poor unwanted kiddies. The whole village was up all night taking them in, laying them out in the Learning Centre and feeding them. And we'll probably still have the horror of finding dead bodies on the beach, all summer.'

‘What about the police? What are they doing?'

Daffodil drew herself up in disgust, making the bosoms jiggle. ‘
Them?
They're here. They're interrogating the poor cast-offs this morning: who don't know a thing. We all know what the police are good for. Nothing. It's none of your business, anyway. Now, since you're awake, I'll bring you some soup.'

Heidi was starving.

‘Yes please.'

The soup was very good, so was the crusty fresh roll that came with it. Heidi cleaned her bowl, and fought to stay awake until Daffodil came back for the tray, with a cup of tea.

‘What about Tallis and Roger, I mean, the Maylocks. Who's looking after them?'

‘Mrs Knowells is taking care of it. You're to stay in bed and recover. Now don't ask me any more questions. I'm busy.'

‘Thanks for the tea.'

Heidi drank her tea and resolved to get up and find her clothes, but instead lay thinking about a new poem, Dad's return warm in her heart; until sleep swallowed her again.

The second time she woke was far more confusing. The bone-deep drowsiness that had made everything okay was gone. Everything she knew or guessed rushed in on her: with all the questions she dared not ask. Rain was still pelting at the window, but she had a feeling she'd nearly slept the clock around. The Rock Mouse was at the bottom of the sea, and the pirates had taken her phone. She wondered how she was going to survive without them. Hearing voices downstairs she realised she'd been woken by the sound of a car arriving, and listened intently: hoping for news of Brook. But it wasn't Mrs Healey's voice.

Who else had a car? Maybe it was Melinda the Lone Ranger—

Or Portia Knowells. Suddenly she was sure it was Portia. George's mum with her cockroach-killing stare, capable of anything. She was here with a couple of bent social workers, to take Heidi to a
more suitable placement
, and Daffodil Dyson wouldn't stop her. She didn't even have her clothes. What could she do, where could she hide? More thumping up the stairs: Daffodil's head appeared around the door.

‘It's Doctor Gunn. She wants to have a word. She says I have to ask, do you mind?'

‘Er, no, er, that's fine. What about Brook? Is she okay?'

‘You're driving me mad with your questions. I'll send her up.'

Heidi lay back. She knew no harm of Dr Gunn: Dr Gunn was all right. She lived alone; she had a guide dog. Her father had once been the vicar. The Exempt Teens said she was old school, but in a good way. And George had stolen something from her: which was sort of reassuring. Anyone George disrespects is a friend of mine, thought Heidi. I wonder what she wants. I wonder if I dare
tell
her anything? Try a few hints, see how she reacts—

And her heart started beating on her ribs like a trapped bird.

Daffodil flung open the door. A tall old lady entered, a pale-coated Labrador in a harness at her side. Dr Gunn wore thick-lensed glasses that hid her eyes, and a worn but very smart brown skirt-suit. A brooch with a green stone sparkled in lace at her throat. The dog's claws clattered on the polished wood floor: Daffodil brought a chair. Dr Gunn rested her free hand on the back of it.

‘Thank you Daffodil. That's all we need for the moment.'

Daffodil closed the door behind her. Dr Gunn waited, smiling a little, not saying a word: until the buxom Ms Dyson could finally be heard thumping down the stairs.

‘There. Daffodil has retired hurt, and you and I can speak privately.' She turned the chair to face the window and sat sideways-on. ‘Excuse me if this position seems strange, I have a little peripheral vision: now I can see you. I'm Angela Gunn. You are Heidi. Heidi Ryan, isn't it?'

‘Yes. Dr Gunn, do you know how Brook is?'

‘Better. She was not very well at all, but thanks to Challon, and to you, Heidi, she may pull through this episode. For the moment, she's improving.'

Heidi nodded, and swallowed hard, afraid she was going to cry.

‘Daffodil tells me you've been asking her a lot of questions.'

‘Sorry. I didn't mean to annoy her, I just wanted to know if everyone was okay, and what the police were doing about the Recruiters—'

‘The
Recruiters
?' Dr Gunn frowned as if Heidi had said a filthy word.

‘You know. Gangs who kidnap teens for agricultural slave labour.'

‘I know the popular term,' said Dr Gunn. ‘I'm here to answer your questions if I can. In return, you might tell me what you remember, Heidi? If you don't mind.'

‘Okay, I'll try,' said Heidi, and took the plunge. ‘The men appeared out of nowhere, they shot Corporal Harris and Samedi. They tied us up and took us on board their ship, we didn't know, but it was because they were Recruiters. But it was all a bit weird. It was so risky, and they already had a cargo. They didn't make a getaway, they stayed close to Mehilhoc. As if they were waiting for something. I mean, I didn't know, until we were on the reef, but we were so near the May Channel that Challon could swim for it. Daffodil said the ship's crew all got a way in a lifeboat, and nobody's going after them. That doesn't seem right. Is it true?'

Her sideways view of Dr Gunn's pebble glasses told her nothing.

‘I'm afraid police and coastguards are often helpless in these cases.'

‘Well, that's about all I know. Brook and Chall and I were together, we didn't know what had happened to the others. But there seemed to be
hundreds
of kidnapped kids.'

‘Your friends are safe, as you know. The rescue services picked up 115 other teenage survivors. Some are in hospital. The rest are in the Learning Centre storm shelter. They'll be moved to better accommodation today, by the Social Services.'

‘Daffodil said . . . something about bodies?'

‘There were fatalities, yes. Nine bodies have been recovered, all young people; no ship's crew. We have no idea how many are still missing. The police hope to be able to establish numbers by questioning the survivors, but we may never be sure.'

‘That's awful,' said Heidi. ‘It's really terrible. But what I don't understand is why the bad guys came in and took us off the beach. And why they hung around the way they did—'

Dr Gunn kept gazing ahead of her. Heidi had nearly started babbling about the purple suitcase, the rings, the face at her door, the Rock Mouse that George had taken from her room,
proving he'd been in there
. But she wasn't getting any encouragement. None at all.

‘Let me tell you about Brook,' said Dr Gunn. ‘Did you know she had an older sister?'