The Hidden Boy (7 page)

“C
ouldn't sleep, eh?” said Mr. Miller, leaning over the rail of the verandah. He turned his head and said, “Ladder,” and this time the ladder unfolded itself smartly, aided by a sharp tap from Mr. Miller's foot. Bea and Phoebe climbed the ladder and sank onto two of the cane chairs. “You can join me for breakfast,” said Mr. Miller. “I like to make an early start.”

He disappeared into the living room and came out a few moments later with a large breakfast tray. The eggs and toast scattered themselves onto plates in a considerably less tidy way than Mrs. Miller had managed the night before. “Oops,” said Mr. Miller. He poured the coffee by hand.

“Plumegranates,” said Mrs. Miller, appearing on the verandah in a silk dressing gown. She carried a bowl of
fat red fruit. “Try them. Very sweet.”

Bea took a bite of the strange fruit. It tasted like raspberries and honey, with a hint of marzipan.

“There were some strange people trying to look in through your windows when we came back,” she said, wiping juice from her chin. She was carrying too many secrets already, and she was sure this was something their hosts should know.

Mrs. Miller put down the bowl with a clatter. Her hand flew to her mouth and she looked at her husband with wide eyes. “The
Ledbetters
!” she said.

“Did you leave the back ladder down when you went out?” said Mr. Miller sharply.

Bea shook her head. “Phoebe pulled the ladder back up, and then jumped down.”

“They were standing on one another's shoulders,” said Phoebe with admiration. “They were pretty good at balancing.”

“They said they were neighborhood watch,” added Bea.

“Which windows?” asked Mr. Miller.

“I don't think they reached any of them,” said Bea. “They would have had to lean in over the bushes, and Phoebe stopped them before they got high enough.”

Mr. Miller took a long slurp of his coffee and eyed them from the caves beneath his eyebrows. “You're sure they didn't reach the windows?” he said.

“As sure as I can be,” said Bea.

“Who are the Ledbetters?” asked Phoebe. “What were they after?”

The Millers looked at each other. “They need to know,” said Mrs. Miller.

Mr. Miller cleared his throat. He took a large bite from a slice of toast and munched on it for a while to give himself time to think.

“Before Willow gets up,” said his wife gently.

“The Ledbetters are the oldest clan in Bell Hoot,” Mr. Miller said through a mouthful of toast. “They live on a small island in the middle of Mumpfish Lake, about three miles from here. There used to be fruit trees on the island, but they cut them down for firewood many years ago.”

“That doesn't sound very smart,” said Bea.

“They left nothing growing on the island, not even heather. Nobody knows why they did it. Their clan leader is old Maize Ledbetter. She was very highly regarded at one time, but she became more eccentric as she got older. Some believe she's as crazy as a hen, but
she's also a very shrewd woman, and gifted with second sight. She has predicted many things with great accuracy.” He took another sip of coffee. “You may be sure she had a good reason for chopping the trees down, at least in her own mind. Now they grow nothing on the island, and scrape a living from farm laboring and odd jobs on the mainland.”

“And burglary,” said Mrs. Miller.

“And burglary,” echoed Mr. Miller. “That was bad enough, but recently things took a turn for the worse. It's not valuables they're after anymore.” He buttered another slice of toast thoughtfully, searching for the words he needed.

“Aren't the police able to stop them?” asked Phoebe, who was only half listening.

“We don't have police here,” said Mrs. Miller. “Bell Hoot is a small enough place. Everyone knows everyone else, at least by sight. People get along most of the time, and when disputes arise they can usually be settled by the Quorum.”

“What's the Quorum?” asked Bea.

“It's where I'm going this morning,” said Granny Delphine, emerging from the dining room. She was dressed all in black and looked like she meant business.

“I think you have to put yourself on the agenda first,” said Mrs. Miller. “There's usually a couple of weeks to wait.”

Granny Delphine turned her spotlight stare on Mrs. Miller, smiled politely, and sat down to breakfast. “Is that coffee? I would love a cup of tea, if you don't mind.”

Mrs. Miller picked up the same pot from which her husband had poured the coffee. “Tea,” she said, and poured a cup of steaming red tea.

“Thank you,” said Granny Delphine. “I'm sure the Quorum will regard my grandson's disappearance as a matter of urgency.” She turned to Bea. “The Quorum is a sort of town council, except that I believe they actually get things done. I am going there this morning to see if I can find someone who can be of help.”

“I spoke to Theo again,” said Bea, “through the Squeak Jar.”

“What did he say?” asked Granny Delphine.

“I asked him to describe where he was,” said Bea. “He said it's a place with thin trees, and there's always a breeze.”

“Where might that be, Mr. Miller?” said Granny Delphine.

Mr. Miller scratched the back of his head. “Thin
trees,” he said. “Nowhere around here. This forest is old, and the trees are massive, as you can see.”

“That sounds like the perfect opportunity for the two of you to do some exploring,” said Granny Delphine to Bea and Phoebe. She turned around at a sound from the living room. “And this must be Willow,” she said. “Maybe she'd like to go with you.”

A young girl drifted out onto the verandah. She looked like a thinner version of her mother, but unlike Mrs. Miller's porcelain skin, Willow's complexion was pale and clammy, like cheese soaked in water. She walked as if in a dream, and barely glanced at Bea and Phoebe. She picked up a plumegranate without sitting down.

“I don't think so,” said Mrs. Miller. “Willow hasn't been well. She gets tired easily.”

“I get tired easily,” said Willow in a flat voice. She stared out into the trees without eating the fruit in her hand.

“You were telling us about the Ledbetters,” said Phoebe, to break the silence.

Mrs. Miller cleared her throat, and Mr. Miller stood up abruptly. “Nothing more to tell,” he said, without meeting Phoebe's eye. It was obvious the subject was closed for now. He turned to Granny Delphine.
“The Quorum starts early. I'll point you in the right direction.”

Mrs. Miller began to clear up the breakfast dishes noisily, as her husband and Granny Delphine descended the ladder. “Another plumegranate? I'll make you some sandwiches. It looks like rain later. Were the beds comfortable? You could take the old road past the orchards. You'll pass the windmill and turn left. There are copses of younger trees there. Don't know if any of them are big enough to get lost in, mind. You girls will need some sleep before you go.”

“I'm not tired,” said Bea.

“Me neither,” said Phoebe. “I want to go exploring now.”

“Well, if you're sure,” said Mrs. Miller, “I'll go and make you some lunch to bring.” She picked up the breakfast tray. “Willow,” she said gently. “Willow?” The thin girl started, and turned to them as if trying to remember where she was. “This is Bea and this is Phoebe. They'll be staying with us for a while. Why don't you sit down?” said Mrs. Miller. She swept into the kitchen, leaving the three girls alone.

Willow sagged into a chair and looked at them with dull eyes. “You're new,” she said.

“We arrived last night,” said Bea.

“I heard you,” said Willow.

“Did we wake you up?” asked Phoebe.

Willow shook her head. “I don't sleep,” she said.

At that moment the tree house began to vibrate with heavy thumping. Even in a strange house Bea recognized it immediately as the sound of Pa descending the stairs. His voice boomed from inside. “I don't see the harm in asking. I can't just sit here all day.”

“What are you going to do?” replied Ma's voice. “Go around the town asking, ‘Have you seen a boy?'”

“I can describe him,” said Pa, as he loomed onto the verandah. “Morning, girls.”

“Describe him, then,” said Ma.

“Well, he's…” A frown crossed his face. “Is he six or seven?”

“That's a good start,” said Ma. “Bea, have you even brushed your hair since we left the apartment?” She sat down and smiled briefly at Willow.

“Seven years old, brownish hair. Well, lightish. Front teeth missing, face probably dirty,” said Pa, counting off details on his thick fingers.

“We don't even have a photograph,” said Ma.

“I'll just have to do without,” said Pa. “Either way, I can't just sit around doing nothing.”

Bea could hear the background hum she had noticed
the night before: It was stronger now in the daylight, and it reminded her of a sound she remembered from years before. Her mother had still had her tattoo parlor back then, before Theo was born. Bea could remember sitting in the overstuffed armchair, watching Ma trace the curving tendrils of a climbing rose or adding the heat to a dragon's flaming breath, working so quickly that the picture would spread across the customer's skin like spilled ink. She could still see the contentment on her mother's face as she worked, and hear the sound of her tattoo machine buzzing reassuringly in the corner. She looked at Ma now. There were dark rings under her eyes, and she was shredding a tissue between her fingers.

A sudden thought struck Bea. “You could tattoo a picture of him, Ma!” she said. “Then Pa would be able to show it to everyone.”

Pa looked at her with admiration. “That's a genius idea!” He laid his forearm on the table and turned it over, pale side up like a fish's belly. “I've still got a gap right here, between the tiger's head and the butter fly in boots.”

“And what would I use for equipment?” said Ma.

Pa guffawed. “You can't fool me,” he said. “I could
feel the weight of it in your suitcase. You always bring it on holiday.”

“Then when you get home you always put it back in the cupboard and say, ‘I don't know why I brought this stuff,'” said Bea.

“I haven't done a tattoo in years,” said Ma doubtfully, but Bea could see the ghost of a smile through the sorrow on her face.

“Won't make a bit of difference,” said Pa. “You were the best in the business, and it will all come back to you the moment the ink hits the skin. Isn't that right, Bea?”

But Bea had already gone, through the dining room and up the stairs to fetch the honey-colored wooden tattoo box from her mother's suitcase.

B
ea Flint and Phoebe Lu walked along the forest path in the direction Mrs. Miller had indicated. They intended to double back as soon as they could find a turnoff. Bea had put their sandwiches in the outer pocket of Theo's backpack to protect them from the hungry meerkat. She would give the sandwiches to Arkadi, and in return she had questions to ask him. The buzzing from Ma's tattoo machine faded slowly into the background hum of the forest. A fat bumblebee sailed past them, and suddenly Bea realized what the sound was. “Bees!” she said.

“What about them?” said Phoebe.

“That's what that humming sound is.”

“I can't hear anything.”

“You can't?” said Bea. She spread her arms wide.
“It's all around us. I could hear it in the night too, but not as loud.”

“There's a turn here,” said Phoebe. They took a sharp right. After a short while the path began to curve back on itself, and they could see the back of the library building through the trees. “This must be the other path that goes to Cambio Falls,” said Phoebe. “I think I'll be able to find the hut when we get closer.”

They left the path after a while and made their way through the trees, clambering over twisted roots. Brightly colored birds perched just above their heads, eyeing them with black button eyes. A snake broke cover just in front of them and disappeared again into the shivering undergrowth. Bea kept her eyes peeled for monkeys.

They stumbled across the hut by accident. It was a tiny dilapidated wooden building, almost invisible among the trees. The roof was made from dried branches, which Arkadi seemed to have supplemented in the night with newer greenery. He sat outside the hut, whittling a stick with a knife. He looked up and smiled.

“Hello,” said Bea.

“I heard you coming,” said Arkadi. “You make enough noise for nine sumo wrestlers.”

“We brought you some sandwiches.”

“Did you steal them?”

“They were made for us, but we've already eaten.”

Arkadi unwrapped a sandwich and took a bite so enormous that he could hardly chew it. From his throat came a muffled sound that might have been, “Thank you.”

Bea seated herself on a log and waited patiently. Phoebe began to climb the nearest tree. Arkadi gave a grunt and wagged his finger at her. He swallowed noisily. “Don't climb,” he said. “Ringsnakes in these trees. They'll kill you stone dead and you'll fall, bump, bang, crack. Break every bone in your body and they'll have to bury you in a cake tin.”

“Ringsnakes?” said Phoebe.

“Ringsnakes,” said Arkadi. “They sit like a ring around the trunk. You can't avoid them whichever side you climb.”

“I thought you'd never been here before,” said Phoebe.

“I haven't,” said Arkadi. “Heard many, many stories, though.”

“Have you heard of a clan called the Ledbetters?” said Bea.

“Bedwetters?” said Arkadi. He looked at Bea with
an open face. It gave nothing away.

“Ledbetters,” said Phoebe, jumping to the ground from a high branch. “They look in through people's windows at night.”

“What are they looking for?” said Arkadi.

“We don't know,” said Bea. “But the family we're staying with seems frightened of them.”

“There are always things to be afraid of,” said Arkadi. “It's what you do about them that matters.”

“Like hiding in a hut?” said Bea.

“I'm just hiding till I figure out what's best.”

“What will they do if they find you?”

“They won't find me,” said Arkadi. “I'm good at hiding.”

“And if we tell?” said Bea.

“You promised.”

“My little brother disappeared on the crossing,” said Bea. “Captain Bontoc says that's never happened before.”

Arkadi glanced up from his stick. “I'm sorry to hear that. Little brothers are hard to replace.”

“Do you think he disappeared because you were under the floor?” said Bea.

“Why would he do that?” said Arkadi.

“‘Sky black, moon blue, nine souls go through,'” said Phoebe. “It says it on the side of the Blue Moon Mobile.”

“That's just a slogan,” said Arkadi. “Like ‘Men's shirts three for two on Tuesdays,' or ‘Half a dozen is better than six of…'” He put down his knife and his stick and began to count on his fingers. He looked confused. “I was never good with phrases,” he said. “I'm good at fixing things. That's me. And hiding,” he added.

“How did you unscrew the panel from the inside?” said Bea.

“That's another thing I'm good at,” said Arkadi, “unscrewing things from the inside.” He picked up his stick again, and Bea could see he was carving it into the shape of a meerkat. “Thank you for the sandwiches,” he said, without looking up.