Black Queen (7 page)

Evening after evening my father would take me through Greg McInley’s most amazing moves, and he’d go on and on about the genius of the man to anyone who would listen. None of us could really understand the complexities of it. All we wanted to know was who was going to win. Man or machine? Greg McInley or Purple?

My father tried to stay up all night to hear the news of the last match – the deciding match – as it came in, but he fell asleep. So he didn’t know the result any more than we did when it came
on
the breakfast news the next morning. We were all watching, watching and waiting. Then at last it came. “Chess. And Greg McInley has done it! Last night Greg McInley, world chess champion, beat Purple in the last match in the series. So he wins seven matches to six.” Then we saw pictures of Greg McInley sitting up there on the stage in New York. We saw him sit back, stroke his nose, reach out, tap tap tap on the Black Queen and at last make his move. He punched the timeclock, and then came his voice, soft, deep, calm: “Checkmate.” The cheering was thunderous. This time, when he stood up, he did bow just once, and I saw a flicker of a half smile, a shy smile on his face as he walked off.

The reporter went on: “That is
probably
the last we shall see of McInley for some time. He will take away five million pounds in prize money, money which he usually gives away to good causes. An intensely private person, he never gives interviews. He will disappear, as he always does, into nowhere.”

“Didn’t I tell you?” cried my father. “Didn’t I tell you?” He had tears in his eyes, and so did I, and so did Rula – but that was because she had lost Matey again. Matey turned up soon enough – my mother had shut him in the kitchen cupboard by mistake.

Later, when we were clearing up breakfast, Gran suddenly said: “No-one can disappear into nowhere. Someone must know where he goes. That chess man, he must have a family somewhere. Everyone has a mother.” I felt myself going cold all over. “I mean,” she went on, “someone must know where he goes to, surely to goodness.”

“Listen, Gran,” my father said, “if you’ve got a brain like he’s got, you can disappear, just like that, easy as pie. That man can beat the best chess players in the world, the best minds and now the best machines. Do you really think he can’t beat everyone at hide and seek too? If he doesn’t want to be found, then I’m telling you, he
won’t
be found.”

“His mother would know,” Gran said – she was not giving up the argument. “Find the mother – she’ll know where he is.”

I don’t know why I said it. I heard the words come tumbling out of my mouth and could not stop them. “The Black Queen, at Number Twenty-two next door, maybe she’s his mother,” I began – everyone was gawping at me – “well, she could be. She’s mad on chess. She’s got chessboards all over her walls,
like
pictures. I’ve seen them. Maybe she taught him. And she’s American too, isn’t she? Greg McInley’s American, isn’t he?” They were still gawping.

“You’ve been looking in at her windows!” my mother cried – she was furious. “You’ve been snooping!”

“I just looked, that’s all. When I found Matey that time, I just had a quick look.” I was in real trouble now.

“Well, you shouldn’t have.” Now my father was joining in too. “What if she’d seen you?”

‘“She’s away,” I replied.

“She’s not,” Rula said. “I know she’s not. I saw her yesterday through the fence. There’s a hole. She was feeding her cat. It’s a black one. It’s called Rammy Rambo.”

“You’re not to do it again, Billy, you hear me?” My mother was simmering down, but she was still cross.

So was I. After all, I had tried to tell them. If they didn’t believe me, then that was their fault. I stormed out in a huff. I needed to get out of the room anyway, to think things through. The more I thought about it now, the more I was convinced that the Black Queen had to be Greg McInley’s mother. She’d be back soon enough. I’d ask her straight out.

That evening I waited until I was quite certain that Rula was safe in her bath before I went to feed Rambo. I discovered the little knotty hole in the fence she must have been looking through, and plugged it with earth – just to make her wonder. After I’d fed him Rambo just wouldn’t leave me alone. He kept wrapping himself round my legs, badgering me for more food. I gave him
some
water – the milk had run out days ago – but he didn’t seem to appreciate it at all. In the end I decided I would have to fetch him a little more food.

I was going back up the steps when I noticed I’d left the door open. Suddenly Rambo made a dash for it. He was up the steps ahead of me and in the house before I could stop him. He wasn’t in the kitchen. He wasn’t in the hallway. I called him and called him, but he wouldn’t come. I tried tapping a bowl with a spoon. He still wouldn’t come.
The
Black Queen had told me I mustn’t let him in. I had to find him and put him out, or he’d claw at the curtains and do messes. I went down the hallway towards the front door. The doors were all shut on either side. Rambo had to be upstairs.

I went after him. The stairs creaked horribly, every one of them. Something dark whipped across the window at the top of the stairs and screeched like an angry ghost. I could see it was only a
branch,
but every nerve in my body was jangling by now. The whole house felt alive all around me. I called out again, in a whisper this time. Still no Rambo. There were three doors leading off the landing. Only one was open, just ajar. He had to be in there. I pushed it open tentatively. Rambo was up on the bed, on the pillows, licking his paws and purring loudly. I was worried he might scratch me if I picked him up, so instead I tried to tempt him off the bed. He wouldn’t budge. There were chessboards on the walls here too, and one with all the pieces set up on a table by the window. Then I noticed the framed photographs on the table. I knew I shouldn’t, but I went over to look.