Skull in the Wood (6 page)

Then I heard it. A sharp crack, like a broken twig. Instantly Jez stiffened. A shuffling noise overlaid the sound of the stream. Something was creeping up on me from out of the trees.

You know how normally you don't notice your internal organs? Suddenly they were all there and larger than life – stomach, lungs, heart, the works. I could feel my blood hot and violent in my veins. All the saliva had disappeared from my mouth.

Another crack, only nearer. What was it? An animal? I could hear it breathing now, great breathy breaths and scufflings. I looked around wildly, my hands scrabbling on the ground for something to defend myself with. The left one touched a hard metallic edge at the base of the standing stone. Frantic, my fingers dug into the crumbly earth to try and free it. It wouldn't budge. I shut my eyes in panic. Jez barked and barked . . .

Something was leaning over me. I felt its shadow pass over my eyelids and I scrunched them tighter shut. Confused images flitted through my mind – hounds with red eyes and fangs . . . sharp stabbing beaks. Why hadn't I listened to Gabe?

‘Not so nice when you're on the receiving end, is it?'

I looked up to see Matt standing above me, Jez barking at his side. She seemed pleased to see him, but if I could have got up and decked him, I would have. As it was, I just glared.

‘I knew you'd come back,' I said. I was trying for cool, but it's kind of difficult when you're lying on the ground like a sack of potatoes.

‘Yeah, yeah. But I nearly didn't. So what's wrong?'

‘Obvious, isn't it?' I pointed to my hiking sock. ‘And it's all your stupid fault.'

I have to say it for Matt – he was quite good about the situation. He didn't apologise for making me fall over, but he found a stick for me to lean on and chucked it over to me. When he saw I was having difficulty, he put on this bored face but came over and helped me to my feet. To be honest, my ankle wasn't that bad any more, but I milked it for all it was worth. Then I remembered the thing at the bottom of the standing stone and poked the ground with my stick. It gave a faint metallic dink.

Matt frowned. ‘What's that?'

‘Don't know. Buried treasure?'

Matt snorted. ‘The devil's crusty old toenail, more like.'

But he bent down and started fumbling in the leaf mould anyway. Jez tried to join in but he pushed her aside – gently, though. Maybe he was beginning to like her after all.

‘It's some sort of box,' he said, and tugged at it impatiently.

‘Let me,' I said. ‘I'm the one who found it.'

I shoved him aside and tried to reach down to it, but my ankle made me yelp with pain. Matt sighed, helped me up again and knelt down at the foot of the standing stone. When tugging at the box didn't work, he dug carefully around its sides until it shifted. At last he pulled it out. It was made of blackened metal, about the length of a paperback but much narrower, with a rusty catch at the side. He stood and, after a moment's hesitation, handed it to me. It wasn't heavy – no gold coins, then. I brushed the leaf mould off it, jiggled the catch and prised open the lid.

Inside, lying on a bed of folded purple velvet, was a skull. A tiny white head with a long, thin, curving bill. It took me a minute to realise that this was the skull of a bird, and not some mutant animal or baby dinosaur. The bill was huge – totally out of proportion to the head.

Balancing on my stick, I turned away from Matt
and picked the skull out of the box. It was as light as a feather. And it belonged to me. I didn't want to show Matt.

‘What are you doing?' he said, reaching round and grabbing at my hand. ‘Give it to me. I want to see it, too.' He sounded angry. His voice was different – harder.

‘Careful!' I said. ‘You'll break it, you clumsy idiot!' But I handed over the skull, even though I didn't want to.

Matt held it in both hands and stared at it. ‘What do you think it is?' he whispered.

I found myself whispering, too. ‘A wading bird. Like a curlew or a whimbrel. That beak's for digging things out of the mud. But you don't get waders in the middle of a wood. It's all wrong.'

‘Why? It didn't fly into the box all on its own, did it?' said Matt, louder now. He was acting confident, but it wasn't that convincing.

I took out the purple material from the bottom of the box. It was faded and worn, with a kind of raised pattern of velvet leaves. It reminded me of something, I couldn't think what.

‘So how did it get here then, if you're so clever?' I said.

‘I don't know. But I think we should put it back.'

I was so surprised I wobbled on my ankle and nearly fell over again.

‘No way,' I said. ‘You can't mean that. I'm keeping it.'

Matt hesitated. ‘Listen a minute, will you? Gabe warned me about something last night.' He rubbed his nose, embarrassed, but ploughed on. ‘He said there would be omens. Birds first – they're the harbingers, he said, though I don't know what of. The thing is, couldn't this be one of them?'

I rolled my eyes. Why was he acting like such a moron?

‘Gabe's completely loopy. And you are, too, if you believe what he says.'

‘Fine. Have it your own way. I don't care if something awful happens.'

‘Yeah, well. So long as it gets you out of our hair.'

Matt glared at me. Then he took the velvet from me, put it back in the box and placed the skull on top.

‘What is it with you?' he said. ‘You've been horrible ever since I arrived. What have I ever done to you?'

‘Do you
really
not know?' I said. My body was suddenly rigid with anger. ‘The farm, that's what. Grandad left it to Mum, but he left half to Aunty
Caroline, too. Only she doesn't want to keep her share – she just wants the money. She's been asking for ages. And now she's getting divorced from your dad, she says she really needs the whole lot. Which means we might have to sell the farm, even though she has her own house and it's a lot bigger than ours. The greedy cow.'

Matt was breathing hard and his cheekbones flushed red. The rest of his face was totally white. He looked like he wanted to thump me.

I took a step backwards. ‘I can't believe you had the nerve to come and stay,' I said. ‘But then, you were dumped, weren't you? Dumped by your dad, dumped by your mum, and now you're dumped on us.'

Matt made a grab for me. I sidestepped too fast on to my bad ankle and cried out in pain. Above us a bird whistled, high and clear and long. Then a whole load of them rose out of the trees, cackling and screaming.

Suddenly I felt shaky. We both gazed down at the skull. I couldn't hear birds any more, just the rushing of the stream merging with the rushing in my head. A shadow spread over the clearing.

‘I'm out of here,' said Matt. Although he still looked pale, his mouth was set in a determined line. He snapped the lid of the box shut. I could see his
fingers trembling slightly, but I didn't say anything. The only thing that mattered now was getting home.

Matt stuffed the box into my rucksack and slung it over his shoulder.

‘Come on, Jez,' he said, and she trotted to his side, the traitor. He stroked her black fur like she was an old friend – and she let him. I shot her a baleful look. Then I found the path and limped out of Old Scratch Wood, and on to the waiting moor.

7

Matt

I
was so glad to get out of there. Even with that little cow Tilda hobbling in front of me, barely saying a word. I wished I'd left her in the middle of the wood. That mask thing she pulled on me was bad enough, but finding the freaky bird skull was even worse. It made my skin crawl just to think about it. Yet somehow I didn't want to hand it over to Tilda. I could feel the box banging against my back with every step.

We walked for ages and ages in silence. The route across the moor was unbelievably barren and depressing, and it was getting windier, too. The sun was lowering and lowering in the sky. Soon it would be
dusk. I wished Tilda would get a move on, but her ankle was really slowing us up.

I tried to forget Gabe's talk about omens, but I couldn't stop it sidling into my mind.
Watching, waiting
, he'd said.
Get away from here as fast as you can, before you bring on something worse
. No wonder all those birds shrieking their heads off in the middle of that foul wood had made me so jumpy. My heart was still thumping away.

The dark moorland stretched out around us. How anyone could like it was beyond me. It was better than being in the middle of Old Scratch Wood, but only just. At least out here we'd be able to see whatever was creeping up on us, I supposed. And we had Jez – I reckoned she'd be able to see off most things. But I couldn't wait to get back. OK, the farmhouse wasn't up to much, but with luck Uncle Jack would have lit a fire and it wouldn't be quite so miserable.

Time to think about something else. I concentrated hard on what Tilda had said back there about the farm, and Mum wanting to sell her half. So that was what had been getting up her nose all this time. It was news to me. But actually . . . quite good news. It would be even better if Mum decided to hand some of the money to me. That would be really great. I'd
buy my own boat and sail around the world. Maybe life was looking up after all . . . but I knew better than to say that to Tilda.

I should try to smooth things over, I decided.

‘I never knew about the farm, you know,' I said. ‘Mum owning part of it, I mean.'

She turned and stared at me. Her red hair crackled with electricity.

‘Then you're even more stupid than you look,' she said. ‘We sold off three fields just before Mum died because Aunty Caroline said she needed the money. Mum was furious. She couldn't believe her sister would do that to her. It's so selfish.'

I blinked but forced myself not to react. Poisonous little toad.

It was interesting, though. That must have been, what, around three years ago? When Dad spent so much money doing up the boat, and he and Mum were fighting all the time. But I'd have thought Aunty Rose would have been happy to help her sister out. I mean, what do a few fields matter?

‘What do a few fields matter?' I said.

Tilda looked as if she might combust. She swivelled round on her stick and virtually spat at me.

‘You keep a farm together, whatever happens. If you
knew anything, you'd know that – it's been in the family long enough. You don't sell it off in dribs and drabs until you're left with all the worst pasture and you can't make enough money to keep it running and it gets so weak it finally dies. Though I suppose your mum'll make sure she takes her full share well before then.'

‘Oh, get off your high horse,' I said. ‘That's not going to happen for ages, is it? And you'll be off somewhere else by then. Let's face it, no one would want to stick around here.'

Tilda's face was as red as her hair now. ‘
I
would!' she yelled. ‘You just don't get it, do you? This is my home.'

She forged ahead through the dead bracken, almost forgetting to limp. Jez followed her, tail down, her whole body looking like a reproach. I wished I was somewhere else, somewhere warm and welcoming and ordinary.

It was then I remembered Paul. His arm round my mum's waist. His pathetic attempts to be nice to me. Yes, Tilda might end up losing her stupid farm. But I was losing my family. Everything that was precious to me was going totally pear-shaped – Mum and Dad breaking up, Paul moving into our house, me thinking I was escaping by coming here, my toxic cousin
making my stay a misery. I should be at home watching
Avatar
with a big bowl of crisps in front of me instead of being stuck here. It was all Paul's fault. I hated his guts.

I wasn't going to take it any more. There had to be a way to wipe that smarmy smile off his face, to make Mum see sense so she'd kick him out of our house and Dad could come home.

I walked faster and stuck my hands in my pockets to keep them warm, but it didn't have much effect. Then I thought of the food Tilda had brought. I was starving. I opened the top of the rucksack and rummaged about. My frozen fingers closed around the box containing the skull, and I jerked my hand away quickly.

We'd passed Thieves' Tor now. Ahead of us was the road, with the farm track leading off it. Fields stretched out on either side of the track, green against the brown of the moorland we'd come from. There in the hollow was the farm and all its huddled buildings. At last.

It was really bitter now, though. I put my hood up as I crossed the road on to the farm track so the wind didn't make my head hurt quite so much. That's why I didn't hear the screeching straight away. Black
shapes were rising at the corner of Far Field. Crows, I thought vaguely. Why were there so many?

Suddenly Tilda started hurtling down the farm track, then up the ridge, her stick thumping away at top speed. For a minute I stood there watching her, then I started running too, Jez racing alongside me.