Kingsholt (6 page)

‘I’ve come to take it back,’ said Chloe but Nimbus ignored her. He sat cross-legged on the floor and unfolded the map. Tammy sat opposite, her long black skirt swathed round her. She pointed to the space beside her father, and as Chloe unwillingly knelt
down, Nimbus took out a pill and a flask from his hip pocket.

Chloe heard Leela’s voice in her head but confronted by Nimbus’s intent gaze it had become distant and meaningless. With a sense of daring she put the pill in her mouth and picked up the flask. She expected water and as she took a large swig she watched Nimbus and Tammy exchange glances – one of those conspiratorial looks that turned her into an outsider again and made her wish she was as close to her own father. Then the burning sensation hit her and she felt slightly lightheaded. ‘I thought it was water,’ she spluttered.

‘No one carries water in his hip flask,’ said Nimbus. His deep, unfeeling laugh took over the room. ‘Come on, sit up! You’re going to teach us to read the map, aren’t you?’

Chloe swayed and rubbed her eyes. The map seemed at a great distance, a little black and white puzzle on the floor. Nimbus’s voice came and went, like a wind that swept over her and brought with it stories of another place and time. He was pointing to locations on the map, telling her what they might be. One description stood out so clearly in Chloe’s mind it was as if she was inside the underground domain that Nimbus was describing. All round her were natural passageways hidden deep in the ground, formed by the thrust of an ancient river long since gone. Rocky walls curved overhead, uneven in height, here and there covered with clustered formations and dripping stalactites. The image went and Nimbus’s voice grew loud, almost angry, as he shoved the map in front of Chloe. ‘Tell us, Chloe, tell us.’

‘I don’t feel very well.’

‘You’re meant to be clever, aren’t you, reading and writing?’

Nimbus stroked the air with his hands, speaking in a low, even voice until Chloe picked up the map. She talked through her teeth. ‘Another time, Nimbus, when I’m well.’ She tried to stand up. ‘I must go home.’

Nimbus’s voice hung over the images that came into her mind, insistent, old as the hills. His right hand cupped Chloe’s,
his left was clenched over the black pendant. ‘It matters Chloe and time is on our side for only a little while. You must help me, as I’ve helped you.’

Chloe put the map close to her eyes. It grew large and small and there was nothing she could understand.

‘The writing’s too small.’

Nimbus tightened his grip on her hand.

‘You’re clever aren’t you, you’re the clever one.’

Lazy, careless, inattentive were the words she mostly heard in her new school. She smiled as Nimbus looked intently at her. He unclenched his left hand and swayed the black pendant before her, to and fro, to and fro.

Chloe watched the shadow in the corner grow taller than the wall, until it crept over the ceiling above her. She knew that soon the shadow would envelop her unless she spoke, unless she made up an explanation. Her heart beat loudly like some sort of time bomb. Tammy was staring at her with blank eyes and the shadow hung above, ready to drop. She began to talk, hardly aware of what she was saying. It was no longer her own voice that was slipping between her teeth, it was the shadow’s that was leaning perilously over her. It sounded sleek and dark in her mouth.

‘There’s an underground passageway that goes through the Roman mines,’ it said in a low dark tone. ‘It leads…maybe to death, maybe to treasure. You have to find it for yourself, that’s what everybody has to do. A hole, a pit, a place of bones.’

The soft black voice withdrew and Chloe knelt and stared at Nimbus. Passerelle, passerelle. Leela’s word echoed in her head.

‘What are you doing to me?’ she asked.

‘Listening, Chloe, that’s what I’m doing. No harm in listening.’

With a huge effort Chloe stood up. ‘I must take back the map. I’m going home.’

Nimbus towered over her, speaking as if he was doing her an enormous favour, ‘No, Chloe, it’s my map now, and next time you
must tell us more.’

Tammy caught Chloe’s arm and pulled her round. ‘You haven’t heard Nimbus shout, have you, Chloe? He’s never shouted at you, has he? Don’t be mistaken, Nimbus has power and it doesn’t do to abuse it.’

Chloe staggered to the stairs and put her hand out to the wall, holding on to it as she circled down to the television room. The tiny figure was still jumping up and down on the screen. She ran out as fast as she could, terrified Nimbus would come after her. She thought the ruffle in the trees overhead was the shadow, sliding down to envelop her, but it was the buzzard, neck forward, straining, ready to swoop. She froze, as an animal might, until the great bird rose and left behind nothing but a few falling leaves. At that moment, she heard the thud of hooves in her head, the thin neigh of a horse.

Chloe stumbled on, half drugged, half desperate to get out of the wood.

‘You didn’t go then?’ shouted Aidan. He was roped to a tall beech and was slowly climbing it by wedging his spiked boots into the bark and leaning back onto a cradle of rope. He edged the rope up the trunk as he moved another step. Peering down he called, ‘You climb trees?’

‘Not smooth ones,’ said Sam. ‘I’ve never seen anyone do this before.’

‘There’s lots of things here you’ll see for the first time,’ said Aidan. ‘Dangerous things. That’s if you’re staying.’

Sam kicked the bottom of the tree trunk. ‘Always was a slow decision maker! Dorothy gave me the time-table just before she left, in case I want to go.’

A twig crumbled to the ground and Sam watched Aidan concentrate on his climb. An electric saw was attached to his leather belt and when he reached the spreading branches higher up he sat in his cradle and began to saw.

Sam was getting a crick in his neck so he decided to explore. He wouldn’t go far, but there were things he would like to find out, despite himself. What danger could there be in such a remote quiet place? It seemed illogical somehow.

He wandered off, making sure to stay within the sound of the saw. The shadows from the trees thickened and the undergrowth broadened out. He felt strangely protected by the thin whine of the blade and might have gone further if he hadn’t come across a huge pit surrounded by thorn and holly bushes and tall oak trees.

At that instant, the noise of the saw stopped and for the first time Sam felt insecure. He had thought, unconsciously, of the sound as a string that would lead him out of the wood, but now it had gone, maybe forever! The quiet atmosphere had become threatening, the trees were like creatures who had joined hands and would not let go. They closed in overhead, their matted
leaves keeping the earth in shadow. In his momentary panic, Sam stumbled and might have fallen into the pit if the thorn bush that tripped him had not also held him above it. He looked down where the newly dug earth crumbled through flints and tree roots to the bottom. He couldn’t make out what was down there but he could smell it, a sludgy, pungent smell, like the dead rat he had once found in the shed at home. The smell engulfed him and he clung to the thorn bush with scratched hands. His heart beat loudly, he felt captured by the smell. He looked up and the trees above the pit shivered. There was the great bird, sitting high and half hidden. For a few moments, although it seemed like hours, Sam’s fear was so big he hardly existed, as if he had turned into his fear. Was this what Chloe felt, a terror so strong it made your normal self almost disappear? When once again he heard the high whine of the saw he shouted out with enormous relief, adding, ‘I’m not the sort of guy who shouts normally!’ He was pleased to know his cry was probably lost among the trees.

He backed out of the thorn bush and began to follow the sound of the saw. For some reason he couldn’t make out, he felt as if he had a thousand miles to go. It was as if something weighted down his steps, trying to keep him back – trying to keep him in a time of fear; the same force, perhaps, that had rooted him in the bedroom. He expected to come across something terrible, a battlefield perhaps, or a massacre, and was surprised when he saw Aidan’s big haversack and then Aidan himself high up in the tree, striding a branch. Had he gone only a few metres? He sat at a distance on a patch of grass and tried to stop his whole body from shivering.

The sawing noise stopped and at the same time a branch fell, almost in slow motion, through the lower leaves, then crashed quickly to the ground some way off. Sunlight suddenly played at the foot of the tree and Sam found his spirits lifted. He looked up and saw the gap in the trees waving like a bright blue flag. Aidan grinned then slowly descended, spiking his boots into the bark,
leaning on his cradle of rope and sliding the noose that held him down and down the smooth tree trunk. When he touched ground he unharnessed himself and came over to Sam.

‘Enough for one morning.’

He took out a large handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his face. ‘You look as if you need something as well!’ He rummaged in his haversack for a bottle of coke and they drank in turn until the bottle was almost empty. Sam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Sharing the bottle had somehow turned Aidan into a friend.

‘I found this pit, and it smelled awful. I’ve always had a weak stomach. So has Mum. Once she took me to France for the day and I spent the whole time with my head down the lavatory pan! Don’t you notice that smell?’

Aidan nodded gravely. ‘It wouldn’t be so bad if it was just a smell.’

He packed the bottle away carefully into his haversack. ‘You see up there?’

Sam followed the direction of Aidan’s pointing finger. The blue gap in the trees cheered him still, even though its light was small and very high.

‘I’m bringing in the light. And when I’ve done that, I’ll set about building the chapel, just as Uncle George wanted, on the same site as the old one. I’ll make it from the wood and old stones that lie about. Have you noticed them?’

Sam shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t normally go around looking at the ground.’

Aidan laughed. ‘Sometimes it’s useful. Many of them are from the old chapel. Will you help me?’

At that moment Sam didn’t even consider what Aidan meant. The thought of Balham flashed into his head in the shape of the kitchen at home. He could see the table where he ate with Mum and did his homework, and the telly in the corner, perched up on a small table with a pile of videos below. He had a vision of
several of his mates choosing what to play. The sooner he got out of this one the better.

‘I think I’ll be going home,’ he said quietly.

He helped Aidan push the sawn branches and twigs into a pile and pack away his tools into the big, hemp haversack that was already bulging with different objects.

‘You never know what you might need,’ said Aidan, pulling out binoculars, string, note books, pencils and a bag of sandwiches. He re-arranged them round the tools, carefully secured the haversack and swung it up and over his left shoulder.

‘At least you can stay around for today. I’ve a little more work.’

‘Okay then.’ Sam followed Aidan into the undergrowth.

‘I have to notch the next tree.’

They scrambled through shrubs and brambles and, from time to time, Aidan looked up and back to the patch of light. They must have moved nearer the pit because Sam caught the stench of decay and his stomach turned over.

‘Too near,’ said Aidan, moving back and round. He pushed through a plantation of new firs and stood staring up at a tall sycamore. Its leaves patterned the sky so thickly, only small fingers of blue showed through its layers of green and shadow. ‘This one!’

He took out his axe and made a notch in the bark.

Just then there was a loud rush of leaves high above and birds shot up, invisible save for their cries. Sam thought he saw the shadow of the great bird behind the leaves but he wasn’t sure.

‘Do you have eagles round here?’ he asked nonchalantly. He never had been very good at birds.

‘Buzzards,’ said Aidan flatly. ‘That bird up there’s a buzzard. It’s a bird of prey, like the eagle.’

‘Like Chloe,’ Sam joked. ‘She’s a bird of prey. Yesterday she went off without telling me, and I never saw her for the rest of
the day. Today she’s in hiding again. You know, Aidan, there’s no point being here if Chloe’s not going to be around. Not that I don’t like your company but you have to face it, everything here’s a bit strange. At home I’ve only got car fumes to make me ill! But Chloe – the thing is, I can’t come to grips with what’s happening here.’

Aidan smiled.

‘It isn’t funny,’ said Sam angrily. ‘I mean I come while Mum’s away, mainly because she wants me to. My aunt beats a hasty retreat, my uncle’s not around as usual and Chloe’s turned into a freak. There’s a limit to my interest.’

‘What’s the limit?’ asked Aidan evenly.

‘How she’s carrying on,’ he said carelessly, and then to cover his tracks. ‘Not that I care.’

He was silent for a while, surprised at the way he was talking to Aidan. But he couldn’t seem to stop, as if this tall, grave man would take anything he said, anything at all. So he went on, ‘This fear thing, I’d hate to get like Chloe and her weirdo. You must see it’s enough to make me want to clear off. I really don’t understand what’s going on.’

Aidan looked down at him, his expression serious. ‘Nimbus may have captured Chloe already,’ he said.

He put his axe into his haversack and started to walk away from the tree. ‘Come with me and I’ll show you.’

Sam followed closely behind. Near the edge of the wood Aidan took out his binoculars and adjusted them. ‘Take a look at that field, over there, sloping up behind the trees. Can you see the stone cottage – it looks as if it’ll tumble down any minute. The pest house it’s called.’

‘Aptly named from the sound of it,’ said Sam. At first the lens were blurred and he fiddled with the knob. Leaves took on hard, big shapes, a bird looked at him with a sharp eye. He lifted the binoculars until he found the sloping field and the stone cottage. Then he focused on a girl with red hair.

‘That’s Tammy all right,’ whispered Aidan into his ear. ‘She’s one of the Nimbus tribe. The only one who’s left.’