The Grasshopper's Child (27 page)

Thank you, thank you
, they had cried, clutching at her hands.

Death is heartwood.

She knew who was doing the interviewing: they'd been told his name. In ways she wasn't even surprised. She had
known
the Inspector was more interested in George Carron than Heidi Ryan. Probably the Mehilhoc connection was the only reason he'd answered her call to start with. It was still a shock to see him, in the flesh, sitting behind a Learning Centre table in the Quiet Study room. He wasn't alone. There was another officer, a woman, middle-aged and in a very smart uniform; who didn't say a word. Heidi had a feeling she might be Special Ops, like the cop in the woods. She might even
be
the cop in the woods: anyone can wear a virtual mask. The Inspector told her everything was being recorded, took her consent, and asked her to tell him what had happened, in her own words.

It bothered her that the room wasn't painted blue, and the Inspector's hands didn't stay in the same position. That he looked a bit older than his avatar, and wore a different suit. It felt all wrong. But once she got started, the interview was easy. She knew what to say and what not to say —as if Dr Gunn had coached her word by word. The rule was simple: don't cause trouble.

‘We were having a picnic on the beach. A bunch of men appeared out of nowhere, and surrounded us, and tied us up, and took us out to a ship. I don't remember what they looked like. I don't remember anything about the ship, not really.'

The Inspector looked as if he'd heard
I don't remember
too often, but he seemed resigned. He must know about the conspiracy of silence. He wasn't expecting anyone to break ranks, and nor was the woman who sat there in silence. He only once asked a real question: and it threw her a bit.

‘We've heard the crew spoke Russian. Apparently you know some Russian, Heidi?'

‘Not much,' said Heidi. ‘
Zdravstvujte. Do svidanija
. They
could've
been speaking Russian but I wouldn't really have known. Only the two sort-of officers spoke English.'

‘Hello and goodbye,' murmured the Inspector, making a note. ‘Well, I think that's all. Thank you for coming in, call me if you remember anything else. Recording ends.'

Heidi got up to go.

‘By the way, there's a young man called “Clancy”. Not a local, but he's been attending Mehilhoc Exempt Teens sessions. We'd like to speak to him. Can you help us get in touch?'

Clancy had got back safely. Heidi knew that, but he hadn't been seen since. She would bet he didn't want to meet the police. ‘Not really. You should ask Tanya.'

The Inspector made another note, and turned to the woman who sat behind him, speaking so low Heidi couldn't hear a word. The woman answered just as quietly.

‘Inspector, can I ask you just one thing about my dad's case?'

‘What is it you want to know?'

‘Were there any DNA traces you couldn't account for in that room? I mean, enough DNA that you could test, and match with another sample?'

‘DNA gets everywhere, Heidi. It's not always important, or relevant.'

‘I know. You said. But were there?'

‘Yes.'

‘Okay. Thanks.'

She walked straight out of the Learning Centre without speaking to the others. She could call it delayed shock, if anybody asked: but how could she talk to them, and seem normal, when she kept asking herself
how much did they know?
George and Sorrel, she could accept. What about the others? Even Brook, even Challon—

Everything stayed on hold for a few days. Clancy didn't come back, and his stuff was gone from the Chinese Temple. Nobody sent Heidi any messages. Except for checking the WiMax for news of Brook, she was as isolated as she'd been at the beginning. She did her chores; she worked in the Gardens. At night she lay awake in her narrow bed, the Bad Dream Cat beside her: listening to torrents of birdsong, and wondering how she could ever dare to carry out her plan.

After her lunch chores, the Tuesday after the police interviews, she went to the Rose Arbour. It was looking good. There were gaps in the beds, but roses are tough and a lot of them had really profited from Heidi's slash and burn tactics. The climbers she'd pegged and tied were flourishing. The bonfire circle where she'd burned dead wood was thick with new grass. The water-feature basin held a pool of clear rainwater; the rescued herb pots were full of pungent shoots. With a warm feeling of achievement she picked herself a posy: naming the herbs as she laid them in her trug basket. Fresh quills of chives; spiky rosemary, sprigs of marjoram (a kind of English oregano); sage and thyme.

Take that
, Portia Knowells.

She wanted to wrap the lost dimension feeling round her like a blanket. Horror was all around, but
here
, within these walls, she could feel safe—

I'd like Tallis to see what I've done, she thought, as she caught up with the weeding down on her knees. One day when the early season roses are properly out. She'd found a lot of metal tags when she was clearing the beds, each bush and climber must have had a name plate. Time, and a rose catalogue, would tell if she'd put them back in the right places.
Gloire
de Dijon, Abracadabra, Rosamundi, Great Maiden's Blush.
One fine day I'll coax her out of the house. I'll say,
look, I know you're getting paid off to keep quiet. I don't care. So is
everybody else in Mehilhoc
.

Stop blaming yourself for what your brother did.

He's been punished, he's
being
punished. He's harmless.

She couldn't quite put it together yet, but Heidi felt she was close to understanding why Old Wreck was how she was. A child in an old photo. A brother on a serious tag. The ruined pictures in that murky bedroom—

Gardens heal people. I'll bring you down here, and you'll be healed.

She could make a party of it. Invite Brook and Challon (first having convinced them they wouldn't meet Dodgy Roger). And Clancy. Tallis would be dressed. Not neat but dressed, like a normal person, and she'd walk in here, on her own two feet,
as straight and tall as any
boy in Yorkshire
. . . Lost in this daydream, in which her owner had merged with a character in The Secret Garden (who had also needed to be rescued from wilful despair), she heard a strange noise; like a hissing snake. She looked round. Old Wreck, in her dressing gown and a grubby nightie was standing in the entrance to the Arbour. Her feet were bare. She didn't say a word. She came in and stood there, stone-faced.

‘I tidied up a bit,' said Heidi, uneasily. ‘Is that okay?'

Tallis moved her head up and down, and then from side to side.

‘I did ask if I could do some work, and you did say it was all right. This is the best thing I've done. There's so much, but I'm making an impact?'

‘
Might I have a bit of earth?
' whispered Tallis, still without a smile.

Heidi nodded. ‘Yeah, like you said. Same as in
The Secret Garden
.'

‘How sweet; how heart-warming.' Old Wreck's volume went up, ominously. ‘Perhaps you'd like your pretty young friends from the village to come and play with you.'

‘I didn't say that.'

‘Get out!'

‘Okay, I'm going.'

‘GET OUT!'

Tallis burst into furious weeping. She leapt into a rose bed, bare feet sinking in the soft soil, grabbed handfuls of budding shoots and tore them from their bushes.

Unfortunately Heidi hadn't thought to grab her tools. Tallis snatched up the secateurs, and went wild. All Heidi could do was dart around, trying to get hold of her owner's arm and being flung off, while Old Wreck stamped the trug basket to pieces, overturned the herb pots and charged up and down, slashing, tearing, wrecking everything in sight.

‘You know nothing!' she screamed, strings of spittle whipping from her contorted mouth. ‘
Get out of here!
No take!
No take!
NO TAKE!
Get out
, you filthy little
canaille!
' And finally flung herself, like a stage-diver, into the heaps of ruin she'd made—

Face down, blood-speckled, Tallis flailed: dressing gown and nightie rucked up, withered bum and stringy thighs exposed, her whole body convulsed by gut-wrenching sobs.

‘No take! No take! Oh
God
, NO TAKE—!'

Heidi retreated, very shaken, and crouched against the wall outside, her head in her hands.

‘I'm stressing out,' she muttered. ‘Stressing out, not thinking straight.
Why the hell
did I answer back? I know what she's like.'

It just shows how you can take an awful risk, and not even know it. What if Old Wreck demanded to have the offensive slave removed?

When the screaming had died down she wiped away a few tears, and went to have a look.

Thankfully Tallis hadn't stabbed herself, or climbed the walls and fallen and broken her neck. She was just lying there, worn out. She'd done an amazing amount of damage.

‘I'm sorry,' said Heidi. ‘I should've made sure it was what you wanted. Let's go in.'

She helped Tallis to her feet, and they went back to the house.

At seven Heidi served dinner, and everything was as before. Old Wreck at one end of the table, Stubbly Chin at the other, eating what was put before them, in total silence.

23: An Evening With The Immortals

Corporal Harris's body was released. His funeral was announced on the WiMax: St Mary's Church, ten in the morning. Heidi decided it would be wiser not to ask permission, but she was determined to be there. She slipped out after her breakfast chores, and ran down to the village. She was in time, but the little church at the end of Church Lane was already full. Unsure of herself, she spotted a hooded shadow behind a pillar at the back, also trying not to be noticed. She hid behind a different pillar.

It was the first time she'd been inside St Mary's. It was a candlelit cave, speared by shafts of sunlight, coloured by the stained glass windows. Words and music washed over her (Dr Gunn was presiding), as she tried to remember what Dad's funeral had been like. She knew she'd been there, with an Angel Care minder and a brand new tag, but no memories would come. That whole time —from when the police made her let go of Dad's body, until the day she was brought to to Mehilhoc— was a blur around ragged holes. Maybe one day she'd get her memories back. She wasn't looking forward to it.

After the service there was the burial, out in the churchyard. Heidi stayed at the back of the crowd, which included the lord and lady of the manor: but she saw her friends, and they saw her. When the work was done, the congregation broke up into talking groups, and the Exempt Teens gathered, one by one, under the biggest yew tree: looking at each other warily - as if they'd had a huge fight and weren't sure who was still friends with who, instead of having suffered a life-threatening ordeal together.

‘I'm glad you're out of hospital,' Heidi said to Brooklyn. ‘Are you okay?'

‘Not too bad,' said Brook. She was very pale. She ran a hand over her soft brown head. ‘I kept my hair, that's the main thing. Hey, before I forget, thanks for saving my life.'

‘It was Chall.'

‘It was both of you,' said Brook. They hugged tight, let go, and stood looking at Challon: who was deep in a private conversation with her former boyfriend.

‘She's really getting back with him?' asked Heidi, under her breath.

‘'Fraid so,' said Brook softly. ‘She says he's hassling her to ditch the Wild Card thing.'

‘Just great. I
hope
she isn't listening—'

Clancy came up. ‘Greetings, Brook. Greetings, Running Girl.'

‘Greetings, Hooded Boy,' said Heidi. ‘Where've you been?'

‘Around. Lying low. I couldn't go far, had to visit my old dear.'

‘Will you move back to the Chinese Temple now the cops have cleared off?'

‘I'm planning to.'

‘I'll drop by,' said Heidi.

Clancy nodded. ‘Okay. What about the film show? Are you coming?'

Heidi didn't know. A poster had appeared on the WiMax events board, but she hadn't really looked at it. Immediately everyone started telling her. It was a
brilliant
movie show; in the May Meadows on Friday night: a bar for the adults, a free barbecue, a band and dancing. It was a regular Carron-Knowells treat, like the Wild Garlic picnic.

‘I'm not sure.'

‘But it's
Film Night
,' protested Jo Florence, astonished. ‘You can't miss
Film Night
.'

Sorrel and George had left with their parents, the rest of the Exempt Teens were now a single group. Heidi was surrounded by shocked faces. Even Elaine looked worried.

‘It's the highlight of our year!' said Challon. ‘
And
it doesn't stink of garlic.'