The Grasshopper's Child (37 page)

The Arbour had recovered from Tallis's rampage better than Heidi could have hoped. It helped that the walls had sheltered it from the Solstice Storm, and that the sun had come out. Early season roses were in full bloom, a feast of them: great crumpled creamy globules, pink sugary festoons, dusky crimson damask thickets, and a peachy, venerable Hybrid Tea that smelt absolutely heavenly.

Clancy's old dear was no bother. She was thoroughly enjoying herself, sitting up very straight in her chair and directing operations: dotty and imperious. She called Clancy
Roddy
, and Heidi
Elizabeth
, and gave them endless orders, in her precise little doll's voice; occasionally almost making sense.

The night the police arrived at the Garden House, Clancy had convinced them to let him go by giving them Mrs Scott-Amberley's WiMax number. He hadn't been able to help it. The cops insisted on a contact number, and basically refused to believe Clancy didn't
have
a phone. The next morning he'd gone straight to her house —wet and cold, because he'd spent what was left of the night in a tree, not daring to go back to the Chinese Temple. He hadn't been looking forward to explaining himself to the Demon Crace, if the police had already been round. But he couldn't risk Mrs Scott-Amberley getting scared by cops at her door.

He'd found the old lady alone in a cold house, in her usual chair but wearing an odd assortment of clothes, and no sign of Irene. Mrs Scott-Amberley was cheerful, but she didn't know when she'd last eaten. She was very worried about the storm because she couldn't remember how to change a fuse, and Roddy had gone to London. Clancy had been sorting out breakfast when Melinda turned up, and told him Irene Crace had flown the coop.

Gone!
said Melinda.
And I don't think she'll be back. When I came to make my flying
check yesterday the house looked as if a burglar had been through it. I never liked that
woman, but what a shocker! I've called the police, you bet. They're sending someone, soon
as they can. But you know what the police are like
—

Melinda and Clancy had discovered a hoard of dementia medication in a kitchen cupboard. Mrs Scott-Amberley knew all about it. She said Irene had been giving her aspirin instead, because those National Health medicines were dangerous. They might be out of date.

Clancy worked in the sun, up on a ladder, fastening the thorny tresses of a flame-coloured climber to the Pergola arches, and thought about moving on. He had faced Carron, and Crace was gone. His work in Mehilhoc was done. Except for the problem that he was still alive, and the fateful phone-call had achieved
nothing
; but might still cause him trouble. It was time to go, and leave the Chinese Temple, leave Heidi; leave his old dear. She'd be okay now. Melinda the Lone Ranger was
totally
trustworthy.

No goodbyes, he thought. I hate goodbyes. Just me and my demons, on the road again—

Mrs Scott-Amberley said, ‘
Roddy
, do the big rubbish into little, with the cutting things.'

‘Secateurs. I'm not Roddy, Mrs Scott-Amberley.'

Heidi was replanting herbs in the stone pots that Tallis had flung about like skittles in her super-human mad rage. The plants had survived amazingly. Sage and thyme and marjoram; spiky green rosemary,
that's for remembrance
. Mum always said rosemary was ‘for remembrance', Heidi had no idea why. Maybe the sharp scent woke your mind up? Also good for roast lamb. A shadow fell on her: she looked up and saw a stranger. A sombre-faced middle-aged white man in a city suit, with dark hair going grey, stood in the entrance to the Arbour.

‘Excuse me,' he said. ‘I went to the house, Ms Maylock sent me down here. She—'

‘Oh,' said Heidi. ‘Are you from the National Trust?'

The stranger didn't answer. He was staring at Clancy, as if a teenage boy in a brown hoodie and beaten-up jeans was the most fascinating vision in the world.

‘I had a phone call,' he said at last; slowly, as if he was struggling to think of the words.

‘No. A voicemail. The caller avoided speaking to me, but told me I should come to Mehilhoc because all was not well with my mother. But I have often come to Mehilhoc, and always been turned away. My mother wanted nothing to do with me, or so I believed. Excuse me, I should explain. My name's Roderick Scott-Amberley—'

Heidi looked at Clancy's old dear. The old lady seemed completely unsurprised, she just sat there beaming under her sunhat. The stranger started to tell a story, still staring at Clancy.

‘It was because of Elizabeth. My sister Elizabeth, and her partner, had worked with Fiorinda's people in what is known as the First Occupation, or sometimes the Great Satan Occupation. Helping to rescue street children and others from the
sacrifice of the unfit
. Later, when the Criminal Junta came to power, their names were on a list. As I now know. They were taken from their home, with the children, by armed men. These were members, as I now know, of the Metropolitan Police's appalling Target Response Squad. At the time we couldn't find out anything. Elizabeth, Tadic and the children were never seen again. I was, I still am, a successful lawyer. My mother believed I had influence. She was completely mistaken. I have never had any such power. In all the horrors that have swept through this country, since the Dissolution of the United Kingdom, my only crime has been that
I
survived
. But my mother believed I could have saved Elizabeth and Tadic, or at least the children, and preferred to save my own skin.'

Clancy hadn't moved. He stood at the bottom of the ladder, a bundle of rose trimmings in his arms, his hood well down. He looked frozen in place.

‘So,' said Roderick Scott-Amberley. ‘I came to Mehilhoc. The situation was as my caller had described it. My mother, unbeknownst to me, had become too frail to protect her own interests. She had not been making her own decisions, and she was very pleased to see me.' He smiled at the old lady. Mrs Scott-Amberley smiled back; like the sun coming up.

‘I
was
, Roddy dear. I was
very
pleased to see you. I'm very pleased to see you again!'

‘I had a difficult interview with my mother's paid companion. We agreed that she would remain in post until I had settled my affairs; that she would make certain reparations, and that nothing further would be said. I returned to London. Today, I've learned that Ms Crace decided not to honour our agreement. I'm not sure how I would have chosen to proceed, but Melinda has taken the matter out of my hands.'

The real Roddy drew a hard breath.

‘I have no family of my own. The young man who made that phone call cited information: about my lost sister, my brother in law; the children, to support his right to call on me. They have never been out of my mind. Not for an hour, and the hideous truth is that records of atrocity were kept. Facts have emerged, over the years. I believe I now know what happened to Elizabeth and Tadic, and their daughters. Nobody has ever been able to help me, about the boy. He vanished. Young man, are you the person who called me?'

Clancy dropped the cuttings. ‘Yeah,' he said, and pushed back his hood.

‘My God. You look so like her. You are Owen.'

‘I'm Clancy,' said Clancy, and then his face seemed to break into pieces; it seemed to run like water. ‘They're dead! Mummy and Daddy and Linnet and Poppy. The bad guys took us away in a van. They stopped in the dark and took Mum and Dad, and I think my mummy and daddy got shot, right there. They took us on to another place. It was a room, all dirty with no furniture. They
hurt
Linnet, and they
hurt
Poppy. Then they killed them and
I was right there
, I couldn't do anything. I was five, I didn't know what to do. But they didn't kill me.'

‘What happened to you—?' breathed the real Roddy.

‘I got given to some people. Like a puppy. I was supposed to be their little boy, as if I was
adopted
, but I knew who they were and I kept hitting them and trying to kill them. So I was sent to a boarding school.' Clancy shrugged. For a moment he had been the little boy, now he had to fight his way back to being his tough, closed-off self again. ‘It was boarding schools all the way. They were all stinking awful, but nobody ever knew who I was. I didn't tell. I wanted to stay lost. Nobody cared so why should I? Lin was thirteen. Poppy was
three
, she was
three
. They're dead, and I don't know why I'm still alive.
I don't know why
.'

The fight to restore the force field was too much. He crumpled, sobbing as if he'd never cried in his life and had fifteen years to make up. The real Roddy swooped down, on his knees, and held Clancy, and rocked him.

‘
My boy, my boy
—'

‘
Owen
,' said Mrs Scott-Amberley, with proud satisfaction. ‘
Owen!
It was up the tip of my tongs.
Of course
I reconnoitred my own naughty little grandson!'

Heidi left the Rose Arbour quietly: Clancy and his long lost family deserved their privacy.

She needed a bit of privacy herself, because she couldn't stop the tears. When she thought of her happy childhood, and the sweetness of looking after Mum and Dad, it felt as if she was covered in gold and jewels and couldn't give Clancy anything. Not a thing she could do to give back the years to him, to take away any of the pain—

She dried her eyes and jogged up to the house, thinking that she knew practically nothing about the modern history of her country. It was
Fiorinda and her partners saved England
with their music
, and then
Here be monsters
. That was it. A handful of stories, like
Tales and
Legends From Many Lands
. But maybe that was always what history was like—

Tallis was at the kitchen table, reading, with Stimmy (also known as The Bad Dream Cat) squeezed tight in her arms. She'd made herself a cup of tea, probably with a fat shot of vodka in it. Heidi quickly checked that the kettle hadn't been left to boil dry, or the gas ring left on, and started putting together a picnic.

‘I'm taking the rest of this cake,' she said. ‘And some other stuff, to the Rose Arbour. It's for Clancy and his uncle and his nan, they're having a reunion. Is that okay?'

She made bread and butter and hesitated over the choice of jam. Mehilhoc mixed fruit, or the Dundee raspberry preserve, imported from Scotland and blatantly black market? The real Roddy might have a fit. She decided to push the boat out. It was worth the risk.

‘I suppose so,' growled Tallis. ‘As long as you're not feeding any National Trust swine.'

‘I think we'll have to, when they come.'

‘Do what you like. I'm just a senile demented old wreck, who cares what
I
think?'

‘You haven't got dementia,' said Heidi. ‘You've got a drink problem, a nasty temper, and a bit of clinical depression, which I'm hoping will improve now Roger's out of the house. I think I'm stuck with the other two issues.'

‘I'm sure you are,' said the Old Wreck, with an evil glare.

The Bad Dream Cat rolled pleading saucer-eyes at Heidi, but she ignored him.

You're a pet, mate. You get petted, it's the deal.

In the Rose Arbour, in the sunshine, Heidi unpacked her picnic and Clancy helped her lay it out: Mrs Scott-Amberley gave orders. The real Roddy looked suspiciously at the Dundee preserve, but he didn't say a word; just thanked her, and tucked in.

‘Here's to a fresh start,' he said, raising his lemonade mug. ‘And oblivion to the bad guys, Owen. Or Clancy; if you like. Just
forget
them, they're not worth your consideration.'

‘A very dear friend once told me something,' announced Mrs Scott-Amberley, ‘He said, “
I
knew that if I didn't leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I'd still be in prison
”. Mr Nelson Mandela, yes, that's who it was. A great personal friend of mine.'

‘Mm,' said Clancy. ‘Yeah, right.' He looked around him at the riotous blossoming roses, wide-eyed, like a child waking up and seeing a brand new world, and grinned at Heidi.

‘This is
very
good jam.'

29: October Sky

In July Brook had an operation to implant an artificial heart, performed remotely from China. It was the same deal that the Carron-Knowells had been holding out as a reward for her parents' good behaviour. It wasn't a lifetime solution but it would buy her time. And meanwhile the Chinese consultant thought there was a good chance of fixing her self-cell rejection problem, so eventually she'd be completely fine. The heart was too critically complex for printing: it was air-freighted. Brook sent pictures of it from hospital. It looked like an incredibly cute little robotic alien, no bigger than a curled up dormouse. She'd decided to call it Fido. She'd always wanted to have a puppy, but it was impossible at Heaven, because of the native mammals.