Ribblestrop Forever! (6 page)

The initials
SSS
were stamped on a little plaque and there was another camera rearing up from behind on a metal arm.

Millie whistled softly. ‘They think they own everything,’ she said.

‘They do,’ said Miles. ‘The founder was some saint. We had to bow to his statue the whole time. We had to wear cassocks on a Sunday.’

‘Should we go back?’ asked Ruskin. ‘If Miles doesn’t like it, maybe we should just turn around.’

‘I’m telling you, we don’t want to get caught here,’ said Miles. ‘They might remember me.’

Sanjay was peering through the trees. ‘There’s someone in that field,’ he said. ‘We could just ask for directions – they can’t stop us doing that. Maybe we
can find a bus or a railway station.’

‘That’s the first person we’ve seen,’ said Asilah, ‘apart from those kids. Let’s stop and ask.’

‘Maybe just one or two us should go,’ said Sam.

‘Yes,’ said Miles. ‘The rest of us should stay in the boat.’

‘No,’ said Sanchez, firmly. ‘No. We stick together now. We are not splitting up.’

‘What are you so worried about, Miles?’ said Imagio. ‘You must have had friends here. Maybe you can find one, and—’

‘They all hated me,’ said Miles.

‘What a surprise,’ said Millie.

Miles turned on her, angrily. Asilah held him back.

‘Don’t let her get to you,’ he said. ‘We won’t stay here long, okay? We’ll just walk over to that person in the field, get directions and go.’

‘He’s just standing there,’ said Sanjay. ‘He hasn’t moved in the last five minutes.’

The children pulled on their blazers and stamped back into their shoes.

The trailer had come to rest against the metal barrier, so it was easy to use the two branches to push it to the bank. In less than a minute, everyone had disembarked, and Imagio was leading
them up a narrow path. ‘I don’t know where I’m going, all right?’ he said.

They came to the top of the rise, the trees giving way to brambles and nettles.

‘If we’ve been seen on camera,’ said Ruskin, ‘then they might be sending someone to help us.’

‘We just say we’re lost,’ said Sam. ‘It’s the truth, isn’t it?’

Sanjay said, ‘I can see more of the kids.’

‘Where?’

He pointed and another column of running figures came into view. They were dressed in blue overalls.

‘They do look like prisoners,’ said Vijay. ‘You think they’re being punished for something?’

‘No,’ said Miles. ‘They run all the time.’

The column came closer and it was obvious that the runners were in some distress. They looked tired and strained and they were concentrating hard. There was no cheerful banter and nobody stopped
to dawdle. They ran almost in formation – left, right, left, right – and the one straggler, who was a plump girl with glasses, seemed desperate to keep up. Her face was wet with sweat
and her mouth was set in a thin, determined line. The Ribblestrop children crept back out of sight and watched them pass. Half a minute later they had disappeared over a hilltop and the birdsong
resumed.

‘Let’s go,’ said Tomaz. ‘I agree with Miles. I want to get to Ribblestrop.’

Miles was nodding and his face was pale. ‘I’d rather get back in the boat and go back the way we came. If we get caught here, they’ll lock us up.’

‘It’s getting late,’ said Asilah, reasonably. ‘We can’t just stay on the river, Miles – we can’t spend the night in the open. I really think we’ve
got to find civilisation. We’ll stay together, like Sanchez says. We’ll ask the guy we saw in the field and get moving.’

With that, he led everyone out of the brush and over the rise. The figure was still there, with his back to them, just as before. He wore a bright red waterproof, and was standing by a low
hillock. As they moved towards him they saw that there were several of these hillocks, rising like pimples on the plain.

‘It’s a woman,’ said Sanjay, after five minutes of walking.

‘What’s she doing?’

‘No idea. Looks like a . . . survey, maybe. She’s got some kind of tripod.’

‘She’s looking at the burial chambers,’ said Miles, softly. ‘We were never allowed near them, but we did some project—’

‘Who’s buried there?’ asked Sam.

‘No idea. I hated rubbish like that. I know tourists used to come and look at them, because we had to tell a teacher if we saw any. They have rich kids here, so they’re terrified of
kidnappers.’

Millie grinned. ‘Just like Sanchez, huh? Feeling nervous?’ she called.

‘No,’ said Sanchez. He looked grimly around him. ‘But I want to find the road, so let’s ask her if she knows the way, and get out of here.’

The figure still had her back to them as they approached. A stiff breeze was blowing her hair about and flapped the hood of her anorak. She was so immersed in her work that she
didn’t look round, even as Asilah coughed. Her eye was in the viewfinder of a large camera and she seemed determined to get close-ups from above and below. They could see now that she was
focusing on a pale white stone that was embedded in the hill, about the size of a small tombstone. The children stopped, not quite sure how to start a conversation with someone so intent.

‘Hello?’ said Sanchez. ‘We’re sorry to bother you . . .’

The woman didn’t hear him. She moved her tripod again, a metre to her left. She lowered the legs and crouched, and they heard her camera click. The white stone had lumps and carvings on it
and she was zooming in on the fine detail.

‘Hello!’ called Sanchez more loudly. This time she swung round and started with surprise. The tripod fell onto its side.

‘Good afternoon,’ she said, frostily.

The children came closer and saw that her face was pink and weathered. ‘Sorry to bother you,’ said Sanchez, ‘but —’

‘I know what you’re going to say,’ she interrupted. ‘I was told the same thing yesterday. By a little crowd of joggers and your wretched teacher.’

‘Oh.’

‘You may as well save your breath.’

‘Yes,’ said Sanchez.

‘Why it’s any of your business,’ she cried, ‘I just don’t know. I’m on a historic bridleway and I have every right to be here.’

Sanchez swallowed. ‘I see. We were just wondering—’

‘Apart from that, I’m doing absolutely no harm – so why you children can’t live and let live is quite beyond me. I do not recognise your school’s jurisdiction over
trade routes that have existed for five thousand years, so I suggest you clear off.’

The children stared from the woman back to Sanchez and waited for him to reply.

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Thank you very much.’

‘We’re actually looking for a telephone box,’ said Ruskin. ‘So we can phone someone.’

‘Do you know the significance of this stone?’ said the woman. ‘I bet you’re not even interested.’

Miles spoke up. ‘We didn’t want to bother you, honestly. It’s just that we’re a bit lost and getting quite hungry.’

‘Then I suggest you go back to school!’

‘Er . . . that’s what we’re trying to do. But not this one.’

The woman put her hands on her hips, and looked harder at the children. ‘You’re not from The Priory?’ she said, slowly.

‘No,’ said Millie.

‘Oh. I thought you were another bunch of those snotty-faced little snobs. Sorry, I rather jumped to that conclusion because . . . well, there’s so many of you, and I . . . No, your
uniform is totally different – I’m so sorry.’

‘We’re from Ribblestrop Towers,’ said Ruskin, showing a damp blazer badge. ‘Though we’re not from there, as such. We’re trying to go there.’

‘We’ve just come down the river,’ said Anjoli. ‘We had some accidents.’

‘Ribblestrop?’ said the woman. ‘Ribblestrop town, formerly the settlement known as Volara? Gateway to the silver and tin mines of Ribblemoor? Market town, granted its first
charter in 1302, but a thriving Iron Age trading post on account of the minerals? I was there last week, at the museum.’ She swallowed. ‘I got the wrong end of the stick, my dears. That
seems to be something I do rather a lot, so people say. I’m Ellie Mold, by the way – Doctor Ellie is what people call me. You want the nearest road, right? That will mean following the
bridleway I mentioned back to the school’s main entrance. Or you can take the shortcut I took and hop over the gate. Rather depends where you want to get to.’

‘We’re trying to find some shops, and a phone box, and—’

‘We’re starving,’ said Israel. ‘We got lost and we haven’t eaten for about a day.’

‘Anjoli!’ said Asilah, sharply. ‘Don’t touch it!’

Everyone swung round in time to see Anjoli step back abruptly from the fallen tripod. For the first time, the woman smiled.

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ she said. ‘You won’t damage it. I’ve knocked seven bells out of it over the years and it’s pretty much indestructible. Rather like
me. You can have a look through it, if you want. I was about to pack up now the light’s going. It’s part of a project I’m working on – decoding the stones. Ribblestrop
Towers, though . . .’ She thought hard. ‘Doesn’t that belong to the Vyner family? You say it’s a school?’

‘It’s a kind of school,’ said Miles. ‘It’s a pretty strange place.’

‘So you’re a kind of schoolboy, are you? You do look a bit unusual, you know. The Priory children dress rather more smartly.’

Miles grinned. His shirt was more torn than usual and the tails came almost to his knees. ‘They have to,’ he said.

‘So why are you taking so many pictures?’ said Oli. ‘Are you an archaeologist?’

‘Yes,’ said Doctor Ellie. ‘I don’t want to bore you, especially if you haven’t eaten, but that’s exactly what I am. I’m an amateur archaeologist –
full marks for guessing. And these stones are a mystery I’m determined to solve. They’re part of a very elaborate system of markers, but what they mark exactly . . . well, that’s
the mystery. They’ve been found all over the moor, though I expect you know that if you live at Ribblestrop – you study local history, I assume?’

‘No,’ said Sam.

‘Look, why don’t I get you to the road, and I can . . . well, I can drive you to the nearest supermarket, I suppose. I can at least get you fed.’

‘All of us?’ said Millie. ‘Have you got a bus parked somewhere?’

‘I’ve got a fairly big van, so it depends how small you can make yourselves. It’s in a lay-by over there – other side of that hedge. If The Priory lot haven’t towed
it away, that is. They think they own the whole earth and sky. Follow me, why don’t you? We can slip out quietly. Oh . . . too late. Dammit.’

‘Why?’ said Eric.

The children turned to look where Doctor Ellie was looking, and a voice floated over the field towards them.

‘You there! Stay where you are!’

‘Oh Lord,’ said the woman. ‘Here comes the tyrant.’

‘Who’s he?’ said Sanchez. ‘Is that the teacher?’

A large man was hurrying over the grass with another figure behind him. He had an arm raised, and his anger was obvious even at sixty or seventy metres.

‘It’s the same one as yesterday and one of the guards. He’s an absolute rogue – no manners at all.’

‘We could run,’ said Israel. ‘They don’t look too fast.’

‘Why should we?’ said Doctor Ellie. ‘We are not trespassing and I will not be chased off like a peasant. You have to stand up to these fellows.’

The two men broke into a jog and the children saw that there was yet another cluster of blue-suited children behind them. The taller of the men blew a whistle and waved. His voice floated across
the plain again. ‘Stay exactly where you are, please! You’re under arrest.’

‘He’s a history teacher,’ said Doctor Ellie. ‘Can you believe that? He teaches history and knows nothing about it. They call him “Mr Ian”.’

‘Mr Ian?’ said Miles. ‘History teacher?’

She shuddered. ‘He’s completely ignorant. We’ll ignore him, I think. Follow me.’

She started walking purposefully towards the hedge and there was another long blast on the whistle.

‘I order you to stop!’ shouted Mr Ian. ‘I order you to stand still!’

Doctor Ellie held the children to a dignified walk and it was soon clear that the two men would cut them off before they reached the hedge.

There was a gate through to the road but it was padlocked. Everyone converged and Mr Ian thrust his way to the front, blocking all chance of escape. He was puffing and wheezing, and his
security-guard companion was red-faced too. This man was dressed from head to toe in black and the letters
SSS
were inscribed on both breast pocket and cap.

‘Mr Ian,’ said Doctor Ellie, politely. ‘How nice to see you again. I expect you’re going to give me a good telling off, aren’t you? But do you really think you have
the power of arrest?’

Mr Ian fought for breath. He wore a tracksuit with a shapeless tweed jacket over the top, both elbows patched. His eyes were bulging slightly and he was chewing his lips through a shaggy, sandy
beard.

‘I thought I told you,’ he said, at last. ‘I told you to . . . to stay off our land!’

‘I thought I told you,’ said Doctor Ellie, ‘that it’s not your land to control.’

‘It most certainly is.’

‘No, it’s not.’

‘You had your warning. I am now—’

‘This is a path,’ said Doctor Ellie, ‘that has existed for thousands of years, and if you think your tin-pot college can privatise and close it, you’re demented. Now,
does this gargoyle have a key to the gate, or do we have to remove you and climb over?’

The children could see that there was a lay-by on the other side of the gate with a large blue van parked at the end of it.

‘I do have a key,’ said the guard, ‘but Mr Ian’s quite right. The fact you’ve ignored the sign means that you are in breach of by-laws, and—’

‘The by-laws are illegal.’

‘Oh no they’re not!’

‘I also happen to know that your security company – this SSS nonsense – is unlicensed and unregulated.’

‘We are not!’

‘Yes, you are, and—’

‘This is school property, woman!’ exploded Mr Ian. ‘You can’t just clamber over our gates and go where you like!’

‘I can and I do. This land was made public by Oliver Cromwell, and the right to freedom of passage—’

‘You’re trespassing!’ shouted the teacher.