The Shiver Stone (13 page)

CHAPTER

13

Tristan's shed should have looked neglected – it didn't. There was a used coffee cup, on the arm of the sofa, I didn't remember seeing the last time. I found an open packet of biscuits and half a sandwich on the bookcase, too. The stone dust had settled everywhere but you could see footprints on the floor – large and small. But not the prints I was hoping to see – paw prints.

‘Someone's been in here recently,' I said. Jago and I had the same thought at the same time and turned quickly to the door. No one. The only sound was a gentle bee buzz in the silence.

‘My dad?' Jago said hopefully.

Tristan? I wasn't interested in finding him anymore. I didn't care where he was or who he was hiding from or why. All I cared about was that Tia was missing, maybe hurt, maybe even…

‘Do you think Kemble Sykes has got her? Kidnapped her to lure my dad out of hiding?'

This time Jago's idea was a good one, but so frightening I didn't want it to be true.

‘Your mum says he's a nutter,' I groaned. I dropped down on to the sofa. ‘This is hopeless, she could be anywhere.' I shook myself. I mustn't think like that. I had to find her.

Jago looked as lost and helpless as me. ‘What now? If Tia is missing…'

‘Tia is missing?' said a voice. Shadowed in the doorway was a man, a tall man, with pale blond hair tied in plaits and wearing a bandana.

‘Tristan!'

Jago looked in shock from me to his father and then backed away, as if from a ghost.

‘Where have you been? Tia's been stolen!' I shouted. I was so angry. This was his fault, I was sure of that.

Tristan spoke to me and gave a shy glance at his son. ‘Who's taken her? Why? Please, sit down.' This was to Jago, the first words he'd spoken to his son in ten years.

Jago sidled onto the sofa beside me, but kept his eyes firmly fixed on the ground.

‘Tell me what happened.'

I did.

‘Have you tried the RSPCA? The police?'

‘Of course we have.'

As if in a dream, he opened the fridge and took out two cans of fizzy drink. I took one. Jago shook his head. He was still staring at the floor.

‘Kemble Sykes might have her.'

At the dreaded name Tristan shot a frightened glance at me. ‘You know Kemble?'

‘He's been following us around, trying to get to you. Why have you been hiding? Where have you been hiding? Why are you so afraid of him?'

‘Whoa, whoa.' He put his hands up to stop me. ‘Too many questions at once. Where have I been? That's the easiest one to answer. I've been staying with Hug Howells.'

‘Hug? But she…' Suddenly, everything made sense. ‘You were there, weren't you, the other morning when Tia was scratching at her door? She recognised your scent and that's why she was crazy to get in. So Hug acted all mean to get rid of us?'

‘Yes, she hated doing that, especially turning Tia away. She loves Tia. I knew Tia would be safe with you, Carys. Knew you'd look after her like she was your own. Why have I been hiding? That's an easier question. I was scared. I refuse to be scared anymore.' Tristan paced the floor, his eyes on Jago the whole time. ‘I knew Kemble was staying at the Seaview, the guesthouse across the lane. We watched him sneaking around here several times, trying to find me. Hug is a good woman. She knows what happened, what I did, and she still took me in. I couldn't let you know in case you told Kemble.'

Jago hadn't said a word. He shuffled his feet, checked his fingernails, twisted his hair, but not once did he raise his eyes to look at his father.

‘I don't care what you did, I just want to find Tia.'

Tristan stopped pacing. ‘And you're Jago. I can't believe you're my boy.'

At any other time that would have been funny. The likeness between them was startling.

He reached out a trembling hand and placed it on Jago's head. ‘Do you want to know what happened all those years ago, son?'

‘Yes,' Jago said.

The metal door of the shed scraped open. ‘Then why don't you tell the boy, Tristan?'

Kemble Sykes made his entrance like some evil movie villain. He sauntered to the centre of the shed, his dark clothes and black beard sinister in the bright sunlight streaming through the windows.

‘Tell them what happened to that child.'

Tristan's reaction was immediate. He half-crouched with his fists up like a boxer.

‘You tell them, Kemble; it was your fault, the fireworks, everything.'

‘I hold my hands up to that,' Kemble said, and, as if to prove it, he held both his hands in the air. ‘It was to do with fox hunting, which was legal then.'

‘We know about that,' I said. ‘We know about
Vulpes
Vulpes
too.'

Tristan was slowly circling Kemble, jabbing his fists at the air but going nowhere near his enemy. He didn't look threatening – he looked silly.

‘Tell them what you did,' Tristan said.

Kemble was turning in a small circle, keeping eye contact with Tristan. The result was weird. Like the earth orbiting the sun.

Jago and I watched them from the sofa, hardly daring to breathe.

‘Tell them, tell them what happened,' Tristan insisted.

‘We threw firecrackers under the horses.'

‘You did. You threw them.' Tristan was punching the air with more energy, more anger, like he was working himself up to something.

‘I threw them.' Kemble's voice had dropped so low it was difficult to hear him.

Although Tristan's fists were now punching the air closer to him, Kemble kept his arms to his side. He continued his small circles, speaking softly like he was remembering.

‘I threw the firecrackers. They caused panic, terrible panic. Horses reared, riders fell off. At first it was funny, we watched the chaos from behind the hedge, remember? We were laughing…'

‘You were laughing, Kemble.' Tristan pummelled the air. ‘You were laughing like a maniac.'

‘At all those people in their bright red coats tumbling off into the mud – but then there was the child…'

‘The child,' Tristan said. And he lowered his head.

‘We didn't see her at first, but we saw her pony, a white pony. He was crazy with fear: eyes rolling, nostrils flaring, rearing and bucking. She tried to hold on, tried to control him, but she was just a small girl, she didn't have the strength. He bolted towards us, towards a high brick wall. We saw them crash straight into that wall. And we saw the horse fall, bleeding, onto the child.'

I heard Tristan sob. ‘He was screaming. That poor animal was screaming and writhing and underneath him the girl was still as death. And what did we do? I'll tell you what we did. We ran away. Real heroes, huh?' He dropped his fists and wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘I still hear that pony screaming in my dreams sometimes.'

Jago and I listened.

‘And when we got back to my place, we fought,' Kemble said. He looked at Jago. ‘Your father wanted us to hand ourselves into the police. To face whatever we had to. He was desperate to know if the kid was hurt. I wanted to keep quiet. No one knew it was us. That's when we fought.'

‘Some fight, it was over in minutes.'

‘That was just a lucky punch you threw.'

‘But it put you through the plate glass door.'

‘I've never seen so much blood,' Kemble said, ‘and it was all mine.'

‘And then you pulled a knife on me.'

‘I was bleeding like a stuck pig. The glass cut me everywhere – my arms, my chin.'

The two men batted the sentences back and forth. Jago and I shifted attention from one to the other as they spoke.

‘And I pulled a knife,' Kemble said, softly.

‘And you told me you were going to the hospital and then you were coming after me. That you'd find me; hunt me down like the huntsmen after the fox. And I ran away again. But not any more, Kemble. What we did was wrong and I'm done running!'

The last sentence was a shout and without warning Tristan charged, head down like a bull right at Kemble.

I screamed.

Kemble dropped to the floor, but was quickly up again. ‘No Tristan, no!'

Tristan clasped him round the middle and tried a sort of judo throw on him. They tussled and wrestled but didn't seem to be getting anywhere. It wasn't much of a fight. They looked ridiculous.

I saw a fight once outside the pub. It was frightening, horrible, fists and blood. Dad pushed me behind him and hurried me away.

This was more like two small kids in a playground.

Now Kemble had hold of one of Tristan's plaits and Tristan was shouting, ‘Oh, oh, oh.'

‘I said stop!' Kemble shouted. ‘I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to warn you!' They were grunting and panting and sweating.

Jago and I stood up to get a better view.

At last Tristan managed a messy judo throw and Kemble went down, banging his head on the coffee table that Polly had collapsed onto just a few days before.

Kemble sat up, rubbing his head.

‘Okay, you win, if that's what you want. Now can I tell you why I'm here?'

Tristan slowly got his breath back and then put his hand out and helped Kemble to his feet.

‘Phew! I could do with a cold drink or something. How can you live in this tin can? It's boiling.'

Tristan got another can of fizzy out of the fridge and handed it to Kemble, who sat on the coffee table, still rubbing his head.

‘Could I have a drink too … um … Dad?' Jago said, quietly.

Tristan smiled slowly, showing the same gleaming white teeth as his son. He got a drink, handed it to Jago.

‘So what's the story?' Tristan perched on the edge of the sofa. His hair had come loose in the fight and he fiddled with it, plaiting it neatly without even looking.

Kemble took a long swallow of his drink. ‘It's the girl. Well, she's a woman now. She's out for revenge. She's going to make us pay for what we did. The pony had to be shot and she was seriously injured, could have died.' He was pacing the room restlessly.

‘You're crazy.' Tristan frowned.

‘No, but I think that poor woman may be.'

His pacing had brought him to the door of Tristan's workroom. He glanced in and said, ‘What the hell…?'

‘It's a
coblyn
,' Jago and I said together.

Tristan's face flashed with surprise that we knew, but immediately changed back to a frown. ‘Never mind that,' he said. ‘How did this woman know it was us?'

Kemble dragged his eyes away from the ugly goblin and shrugged. ‘Research? It's easy enough on computer. There's stuff on the net about us and how we formed
Vulpes
Vulpes
.

‘It wouldn't be too difficult to email the others either, ask questions. I know I wasn't Mr Popularity back then. Anyway, trust me, she knows it's us. She probably saw you on telly as well. That's how I knew you were here. Several people made it their business to tell me that someone, with the same tattoo as me, was playing around with mysterious sculptures on a Pembrokeshire Beach. There aren't too many of these around, Tristan.' He held up his arm to show the tattoo.

Tristan began rubbing angrily at his as if he wanted to scrub it away.

While all this talk was going on, I was worrying about Tia.

‘Look, I'm going. You don't seem to care too much,' I said to Tristan, ‘but Tia is still missing. I've got to find her.'

‘Of course I care…'

‘Wait. What?' said Kemble. ‘That little dog, your dog is missing?'

All three of us nodded.

‘Then I may be already too late.'

CHAPTER