Ribblestrop Forever! (31 page)

‘He says only weak people have accidents,’ said Scott. ‘He says he’s never had an accident in his life, and it’s all mind over matter and keeping calm.’

‘Why is he such a poisonous old devil?’ said Israel. ‘Is he ever nice to anyone?’

The Priory children shook their heads.

‘You’d better all stay with us,’ said Asilah. ‘We’re heading up Roman Tor, but I don’t know if we should move in this.’

The rain was falling harder. He looked around and said something in his own language. There was a brisk discussion.

‘No, we’re going to camp here,’ he said, finally. ‘I don’t think we should risk going any further.’

Tomaz opened his bag and took out three large fish. Nikko lent him his dagger and The Priory children watched, amazed, as he gutted them. The fire soon multiplied into several and a pot of rice
was set next to a pan of black-eyed beans. Hot chocolate was bubbling and Tomaz began frying cumin seeds in butter. His pack had been noticeably larger than everyone else’s and now they could
see why.

Night fell.

‘You guys cold?’ said Imagio.

The Priory children were as close to the fires as they could get, without burning themselves.

‘How come you’re not?’ said a little girl called Tilda. ‘You’re not wearing much. How come you stay warm?’

Israel said something in his own language and there was laughter. ‘You know where I lived before I came to Ribblestrop?’ he said.

‘Where?’ said Charlie.

‘I lived in a place so cold your pee froze. You know what “bonded labour” is?’

‘Course they don’t!’ said Kenji.

The Priory children shook their heads and Sanjay said something in his own language again, which made everyone laugh.

‘Bonded labour,’ said Eric, ‘is when your parents sell you. Like, for a debt. We got families so much in debt they had to sell us, so we ended up working in strange and crazy
places.’

‘I worked on ships,’ said Sanjay. ‘I been round the world three times.’

‘Liar.’

‘Nearly three! You seen Australia, boy?’

‘No.’

‘Then shut your mouth – you’ve been nowhere.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Harry. ‘How could your parents sell you?’

‘Huh?’

Asilah said something quietly.

‘Didn’t they love you?’ said Scott. ‘Or did you do something bad?’

Asilah looked round the group. It was hard to tell who was who, for everyone was huddled in blankets. ‘They probably liked us a lot,’ he said. ‘They just didn’t get to
know us too much . . . And they had to let us go.’

‘Do you ever see them?’ said Tilda.

Nikko smiled and looked down. ‘Every night,’ he said. ‘Every damn night – they don’t leave me alone.’

‘He means in dreams,’ said Israel, grinning. He punched Nikko lightly on the shoulder. ‘You don’t want to sleep near this one, man, he howls like a dog.’

‘Not as loud as you,’ said Sanjay. ‘I remember you at Christmas!’

‘Tell us about the cold,’ said Charlie quickly.

‘What about it?’

‘Were you serious? About your pee freezing?’

A few children giggled. ‘I was serious,’ said Israel. ‘You had to break it off in little pieces, there was no other way! This was way up in China, minus thirty, okay? I ran tea
to the railway workers there, and hot tea froze solid before I could get it to them – serious. I saw a man once and he just leaned his head on a rail – next thing he couldn’t get
off again. Men had hammers they couldn’t put down – the cold’s worse than the heat.’

‘Show your feet, Eric!’ said Kenji. ‘Do your feet thing.’

Eric grinned and unsquatted. He put his legs out straight, holding his ankles.

‘You want to see a miracle? Look at this – I did this in the circus.’

He put his right foot into the fire and trod down on red-hot embers. He held it there and only when Nikko said something did he take it out. The whole sole was black and there was a smell of
roasting.

Imagio said, ‘You want a toe, anyone? This boy’s better than pork.’

‘You could hammer a nail in me,’ said Israel. ‘We don’t feel stuff any more.’

There was a clink of glass.

‘Guys,’ said Asilah to The Priory children. ‘We have rum about this time. It might not agree with you, but you can try it if you want. That’s what really keeps the cold
out.’

‘Hey, let’s sing your song again,’ said Imagio, as the liquor was poured and the fish unwrapped.

The rain burst over them, then, and it was difficult to hear voices as they sang. The shadows on the cave walls flickered and everyone ate heartily. When the downpour eased, they told stories.
They sang again and the Priory children learnt another filthy ballad – this one about a Bengali farmer who did bad things with a buffalo. They got drunk together and when they heard the
laughter of strange children, they assumed it was their own. When they slept at last, listening to the buffeting wind, they didn’t notice the feathers around them.

They did not feel soft hands drawing blankets up to their chins and touching their hair.

Sam, Ruskin and Oli were arguing over the map.

Henry stood back and watched, waiting to be needed, and Caspar was too tired even to listen. The problem was that Sam thought the stream should be on the right, whilst Ruskin and Oli thought it
was in the correct place. Sam explained that if they turned the map round, then the stream corrected itself, and that would mean that they were moving in the wrong direction.

‘The thing is, Sam,’ said Ruskin. ‘We’re lost. Even if you’re right, we’re lost.’

‘We’re not lost if we know where we are on the map,’ said Oli.

‘That may be true,’ said Ruskin. ‘If we were on the phone to someone we’d be able to say where we were. But if we can’t work out where to go, you know, relative to
the things around us, then that is a definition of lost. Isn’t it? And that’s what we are.’

‘I can tell you the exact map reference,’ said Oli, sulkily.

‘I think we should just wait here,’ said Caspar. ‘This is a footpath. It stands to reason somebody’s going to walk down it. Some time.’

‘I think we’re quite a long way from civilisation,’ said Ruskin. ‘I’ve forgotten which tor we were making for.’

‘Red Tor,’ said Sam. ‘And I think it’s that one.’

‘It’s not red,’ said Caspar.

‘It might be at the top.’

They gazed up at a great, looming headland, with another granite plug sticking up out of it. It seemed to have its mirror image opposite and something similar further off. As they watched, the
valleys in between filled up with mist and the first raindrops fell.

‘Typical English summer,’ said Ruskin. ‘All promise. No delivery.’

‘What do you want to do?’ said Caspar.

‘I say press on. A footpath leads somewhere and . . . we’ll find ourselves eventually. I say walk for another hour and then pitch camp.’

‘Are you hungry?’ said Oli.

‘Not yet. I will be, though.’

Ruskin struggled into his backpack and took his glasses off. ‘We should have pinched one of the orphans. Vijay or someone. They never get lost.’

‘Where do you think The Priory—’

‘Shhh!’

‘What?’

The boys stood, listening.

‘What did you hear?’

‘I heard a groan,’ said Sam. ‘Or a kind of . . . howl.’

‘Which direction?’

‘In among those trees. Listen again.’

They waited, and sure enough there was a mournful moaning. It lasted a few seconds and died away. Then there was the unmistakable word: ‘Help!’ This was followed by another moan.

The boys moved towards it and soon found themselves clambering down a steep bank.

‘Hello?’ shouted Caspar. ‘Who’s shouting “help”?’

The voice came back immediately. It was weak, but it was fired by desperation. ‘Hello!’ it cried. ‘I’m here.’

Ruskin laughed. ‘If only people would stop and think about it. “Here” is meaningless, isn’t it? You know, unless you can physically see them.’

‘He must be where the trees are bit thicker,’ said Oli. ‘Come on.’

The boys hurried down a slope into thick woodland. When the voice came again, it seemed to be above them, and now that the light was going it was very hard to see. Eventually, however, they saw
something red – high in the branches, spread-eagled. Sam and Caspar clambered up to it and the riddle was solved.

‘It’s Mr Ian!’ cried Caspar. ‘He’s kind of . . . wedged.’

They managed to lift a part of him and a bough that had been half-broken suddenly gave way. The body slithered and cartwheeled, screaming in pain – and it was lucky that Henry was in just
the right position. He caught the body in his arms and laid it gently on the earth.

‘What on earth was he climbing trees for?’ said Ruskin. ‘He’s fainted, by the look of it.’

The boys gathered around and shone a torch into Mr Ian’s eyes. The face was deathly pale and yet again there was blood in the beard. The coat was ripped and his hands were badly
grazed.

‘He’s in shock,’ said Ruskin. ‘What on earth’s been going on?’

‘Maybe he was picking fruit,’ said Caspar.

‘I’d say he’s been attacked,’ said Sam. ‘A wild boar or something with tusks – and he climbed the tree to get away.’

The eyes blinked open and the pupils dilated with pain.

‘Mr Ian?’ said Sam. ‘You’ve been injured.’

Everyone nodded.

‘Can you walk?’ said Caspar. ‘In fact, do you know where we are? You’ve been here before, haven’t you?’

‘Oh God,’ said Mr Ian softly. ‘Help me.’

‘Which way did you come?’ said Oli. ‘Do you think you can you remember the way back, if we show you the map?’

Ruskin held it, close to his nose. Mr Ian gasped and they saw there were tears in his eyes.

‘Leg,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘He’s trying to say “left”, said Oli.

‘Left?’ repeated Sam. ‘Or leg? Which direction did you come in? If you can tell us that, we can retrace your steps.’

Ruskin looked down.

‘Oh my word,’ he said. ‘Oli, look at that. He must have said “leg”.’

Oli had stood up, and his hands were over his mouth. Caspar had changed colour too, for Mr Ian’s right leg was resting at a horribly awkward angle. The knee was almost upside down and then
there was a dramatic kink below it, at thirty degrees. The foot looked twisted too and the ankle was so swollen it might have been inflated.

‘That’s broken,’ said Oli. ‘That looks just like Uncle Abel after dad’s ladder gave way.’

‘We’re going to have to carry him,’ said Sam.

‘This is bad,’ said Ruskin. ‘And I know one thing. We’re going to have to give up any idea of winning this Pioneers thing; this is an emergency and the casualty takes
priority. I suggest you get on the field phone, Oli, and we’ll see if we can rouse Mountain Rescue. If we can’t, we’ll have to make a splint and a stretcher. Thank God we’ve
got Henry with us.’

‘I’ll give him water,’ said Sam. ‘We ought to get some food down him too – and keep him warm.’

The boys busied themselves around the body, which seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness. Oli soon had the phone out and, though its red light flashed importantly, the earpiece relayed
only a constant buzz of static. He wound the handle furiously, but there was no connection. Mr Ian coughed up the water they tried to pour down him, and they were forced to stop.

‘Jake,’ said Oli, quietly. ‘It’s the pain of the leg. That’s the problem.’

‘We ought to straighten it,’ said Sam.

‘Why?’ said Caspar.

‘Sam’s right,’ said Oli. ‘You have to set a broken limb. We might not find a hospital for days and . . . when our uncle broke his, the doctor said the most important
thing was to get the bones back in line, straight away, or you’d be crippled.’

Sam said, ‘How do you do that, though? Did you see the doctor set it?’

‘You kind of pull it,’ said Oli. ‘You have to be quite strong, because . . . well, you have to stretch the bones, and then everything knits together again. I didn’t see
it, but he explained it to me.’

Ruskin shook his head. ‘I wish Imagio was here – he’s the medic.’

‘Yes,’ said Sam, ‘but you know what Professor Worthington says about the human body – she told us when we were stitching Miles. People just kind of . . . adjust their
pain thresholds. Like in the old days, they didn’t have anaesthetic, so they got on with the pain.’

Ruskin knelt by Mr Ian’s shoulder. He spoke slowly and loudly. ‘Mr Ian!’ he said. ‘You’re in shock, but you’re going to be fine. We’re going to get you
back to camp. But first of all, we’re going to make your leg comfortable.’

‘No,’ said Mr Ian weakly. ‘Don’t touch it.’

‘Henry’s the strongest. He’s going to stretch it for you, and that . . . that should make it better.’

‘Don’t,’ said Mr Ian. He was blinking and managed to focus on Ruskin’s face. The child gazed back at him, smiling kindly. He felt a hand on his brow.

‘Think of nice things,’ said Sam. ‘That’s what my mum said when I had a tooth out.’

‘Please don’t,’ whispered Mr Ian. ‘I beg you. I implore you . . .’

He felt two large, powerful hands around his ankle and smaller ones pressing his shoulders down. Ruskin was smiling, and he saw him nod and raise his thumb. Then there was the most terrible
wrench and the world exploded into a million comets of pure, soul-wrenching agony.

The Sanchez party heard the scream and froze.

They had reached their first destination and found the metal box. They had the co-ordinates of the finishing post and had checked them on the map. They were feeling proud and fulfilled.

‘Wow,’ said Miles, listening. ‘What animal was that?’

‘Sounded like a bear,’ said Vijay. ‘A bear with a spear up its bum.’

‘Listen. Shh.’

They strained their ears, but there was only silence.

‘Must be dead,’ said Millie.

‘You think we’re safe?’ said Anjoli.

Millie laughed. ‘We’ve never been safe, little boy,’ she said. ‘There’s too much evil in the world.’

Vijay strained his eyes into the gloom. ‘Lightning Tor,’ he said. ‘You think we’ll find it in weather like this? That’s definitely where we’re
heading?’

‘Yes.’

‘You checked it, Sanchez?’