The Amphiblets (8 page)

But Will didn’t feel fine; not when he felt as if he were dying. If only the itching would go away.

By the time a week had passed, Will had recovered and was feeling like his old self again, but with the new knowledge of having been sold by his father. It would take a lot longer than a week to heal that particular hurt. In truth, Will did not think he would ever recover from the shock.

But something remarkable had also happened in the past week; Will had shed his skin. Peter and Robert had taken it all in their stride, as if this was something they were used to dealing with every day. Between them, they had taken turns sitting with Will throughout the night, reading him stories, placing cold flannels on his forehead when he had become extremely hot, and adding more blankets when he had turned cold.

In the early stages, when Will had been extremely ill, he had been unable to think clearly. Now things were brightening up and, once he’d recovered, it was clear to Will how kind Peter was. It was during Will’s most painful hours that Peter had proven how much he did care, for his actions had spoken louder than words. Will was secure in the knowledge that Peter had told him the truth about wanting him as a son.

As each day passed Will thought more and more about his brothers, wondering what they were doing, what games they might be playing, how they were coping in his absence. After five weeks, Will had the sudden urge to phone home. He was aching to hear his brothers’ voices. He knew he could never go back but he still had their phone number. He couldn’t be killed over the phone. Making sure that Peter and Robert were nowhere to be seen, Will secretly dialled the number. His stomach somersaulted and his hand began to shake:

So Will hung up and tried again. But the same voice repeated the message.

‘No,’ he whispered, and stood motionless, wondering what to do next.

‘What are you doing?’

Will jumped. He had been so occupied by the message on the phone that he hadn’t heard Peter coming and into the room. Was he angry?

‘I wanted to speak to my brothers,’ said Will, with a tear in his eye. He stepped back from the phone as if it were a rattlesnake.

‘And did you?’ Peter stepped closer.

‘No,’ Will’s voice trembled.

‘Did you speak to your father?’

‘No, something’s wrong with the phone. I couldn’t get through,’ Will hurriedly explained.

Peter frowned and reached for the phone number that Will was holding. He lifted the phone and dialled. On hearing the same message as Will had, he grew concerned.

‘Wait here!’ said Peter, and dashed through the door that led into the kitchen.

Will suspected he had gone to talk to Robert. He slowly sat in the chair beside the phone, thinking hard. His father must have changed the number. Why? Was it because he was afraid that he might call? It wasn’t fair! If only he had called before now. Ten minutes later, Peter returned with Robert.

‘I’m going to see Professor Snipes,’ said Peter. ‘Robert will look after you.’

‘No. I want to go with you,’ insisted Will.

Peter was about to object but he changed his mind and smiled. ‘Grab a coat then.’

Will sat in the front of the car beside Peter and increased the volume of the music. As the two of them waved goodbye to Robert, who was holding firmly on to Shank’s collar, they sang together and thumped the dashboard in time with the song.

Since Will had been with Peter, he’d been on many trips, but only after Peter had bought him a pair of black leather gloves and sunglasses. This meant the two of them could go to town and mingle amongst the market crowd, who were none the wiser as to Will’s peculiarities. They had bought fruits and vegetables that Will had never eaten before. For once he began to feel like an ordinary boy. People hadn’t stared at him but smiled instead as the two of them made their way around the stalls.

‘We look like twins!’ laughed Peter, which pleased Will enormously.

Strangely, Will had not yet seen Peter without his sunglasses and still had no idea what colour his eyes were.

‘My eyes are very sensitive to light,’ Peter had once explained and Will had never questioned him again.

As they approached his previous home, Will was filled with fear. He tried to focus on what he would say to his brothers, but images kept appearing of his father chasing him around the garden with a shotgun in his hand.

He smiled across at Peter. He couldn’t believe he had been allowed to accompany him on the trip. Will liked Peter: he was cool and so different from the Professor, who had lied to him all these years.

Thoughts came and went, leaving him just as confused. A part of him wanted to plead with the man he’d called ‘Dad’ and beg to stay with him, so he could remain with Hugo and his brothers. The other part wanted to punch him in the face and demand an explanation.

Besides, Will had already begun to think of Peter as his father. He had made Will responsible for certain chores around the house and the garden, and this had helped Will feel an important part of the family. Will’s favourite job was exercising the horses and taking them to Soapwater Lake where Peter would relax and watch him swim. Since their first visit to the lake Peter had never swum nor mentioned that he might. Will assumed it was something to do with his eyes and, when each time he asked Peter if he was going to swim, and he always said no, he didn’t pester him but was excited to show off instead.

‘We’ll be there in two hours,’ said Peter.

‘I can’t believe I’m going to see my brothers again,’ said Will.

‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ warned Peter.

‘What do you mean?’

‘They might not be there.’

‘Of course, they will be there,’ said Will. ‘They never go far during the day.’

Will was excited and nervous at the same time. He felt a little resentful that his brothers’ still had each other and that he had been the one separated from them. But he also knew he wouldn’t have wished what had happened to him on Ed or Riley. It was hard being the one who had been sold, and sometimes he still cried at the thought of it. But life with Peter and Robert was good. He had fun. It might not always be enough to fill the void inside of him but Peter had reassured him that time was a great healer. Will wasn’t so sure: how could something so painful ever go away?

Since Peter treated him as a son, Will had wondered if he would be expected to call Peter ‘Dad’ at some point. It didn’t feel the right time yet. Perhaps it never would.

In Will’s mind, Professor Snipes was still his father – the only one he’d ever had. He thought of his mother. What kind of person had she been? Did she ever think of him and his brothers? Did she have any other children? He wondered what she was like. Was she old or young?

Will was unaware that he had dozed off until Peter was nudging him to wake up.

‘We’ll be there in five minutes,’ he said.

The winding country roads twisted sharply. Will recognised them instantly; he and his family had travelled along them plenty of times during the night. He was suddenly overcome with bitterness towards his father.

He had no right to send me away from my family. He had no right to sell me. I was never an object to sell,
he thought bitterly.

Tears filled Will’s eyes. He wiped them away quickly before Peter could see in case he had second thoughts bringing him along. Besides, he didn’t want Peter to think he was a crybaby.

‘I want you to be prepared for anything,’ said Peter gently.

‘Like what?’ asked Will.

‘For anything,’ repeated Peter. ‘I won’t let your father harm you.’

Will knew what his father had pledged should he ever be seen near his old home. The Professor had promised to kill his child on sight. What kind of father says a terrible thing like that? Will grew increasingly angry. He had an overwhelming urge to thump his father, scream and curse at him. The man he had called ‘Dad’ had betrayed him – betrayed them all!

As they rounded the corner into the driveway, Will half-expected his brothers to be there, but they were nowhere to be seen. The car wasn’t in the driveway, which meant the Professor was away.

‘Where is everyone?’ Will mumbled to himself. ‘They must be inside! This is better than I could ever have imagined. The Professor isn’t here to stop me seeing my brothers and Hugo!’

‘If we’re lucky perhaps you won’t have to come face to face with the Professor at all. Then he’ll be none the wiser to our visit.’

Peter stopped the car in front of the house. Will opened the door and jumped out.

‘William!’ shouted Peter. ‘Come back!’

Will ignored him and ran straight to front door – previously old and battered, but now painted bright blue. He knocked loudly, shaking with happiness. He couldn’t wait to see his brothers. There was movement behind the door. Will held his breath as footsteps approached. He wondered if they belonged to Hugo or his brothers.

But as the door opened, his face fell. An old man with a walking stick had hobbled to the front door to answer it.

‘Hello, lad,’ he smiled, chewing a stick between his teeth. ‘What brings you here?’

‘I came to see my brothers,’ said Will quickly.

Peter was suddenly behind him and quickly came to his rescue. ‘May I please speak with Professor Snipes who lives here?’

The old man gave Will a queer glance before answering Peter. ‘He doesn’t live here anymore. He moved three weeks ago. My son recently brought this property and has been renovating it ever since. It was in quite a state when he brought it, you know. It was a filthy place.’

Will turned around. He began to notice things that had escaped his attention before. The frames of the windows were no longer rotten, but had been replaced with white plastic. There was a wooden picnic bench under the tree from which he used to swing. Paving slabs ran beside a new washing line. The drains no longer reeked and the pond was cleaner. The previous drab windows now sparkled.

‘Do you know where he went?’ asked Peter.

‘No, I’m sorry I don’t. But wait here. I’ll call my son. He might know. You might want to put your hands over your ears. This tends to be a little loud.’ The old man lifted a whistle from his shirt; it was tied by a piece of string secured around his neck. He blew it at full blast. Within a few seconds a youngish man, dashed through the hallway.

‘Are you all right, Father?’ he asked, breathlessly.

‘I’m fine. I’m not a hundred years old yet though I might be close to it. I’ve still got a lot of life in me. No, these fine people are asking after the professor who used to live here.’

The younger man narrowed his eyes at them suspiciously. ‘I’m sorry I don’t know where he went. He was in a hurry and wanted to sell this place quickly. Apart from that I can’t tell you anything else. I’m very sorry but as you can see I’m rather busy.’ Before he closed the door, he said, as if remembering something at the last minute, ‘Oh, hang on. He wanted me to give you something.’

Peter eyed the man suspiciously as he went back into the hallway and came back holding a letter in his hand. He gave it to Peter and said, ‘Now I must go. Goodbye.’

And before they knew it the door had been slammed shut in their faces.

Behind the door they heard the old man say in a rather loud voice, ‘Well, that was rather rude of you!’

‘That’s the man stalking the Professor. He’s the reason they had to leave. Apparently he won’t leave him alone. I’m glad he never gave me a forwarding address!’ said the son, loudly and footsteps could be heard as he marched away.

Once again Will’s world was shattered. He hadn’t been expecting this. His father had fled with his brothers. Would he ever see them again? He stood beside Peter, hurt, angry, annoyed and confused. Peter opened the envelope; his lips set in a thin line. Will held his breath as Peter pulled the letter from the envelope and unfolded it.

The contents read:

I knew you would come here, despite your word – which is why I decided to leave.

You will never find us.

Enjoy your life, and my boys and I will enjoy ours.

Goodbye forever!

Professor Snipes

He hadn’t mentioned Will. It was as if the boy had never existed. Will read the letter after Peter and then, on impulse, he took off into the wood close to the house.

‘Will! Wait!’ cried Peter, running after him, knowing what a terrible impact the contents of the letter must have had on the boy.

Will didn’t wait but continued to run along a winding pathway. Within five minutes he had found what he came here for – a treehouse where his brothers and he had often used to hide. It was still there. It was very high up and not visible from the ground.

He took off his gloves and leapt as high as he could, before climbing the rest of the way up the tree and into the small hut. He sat there for a moment, catching his breath. His father had told the new inhabitants lies concerning Peter. Peter wasn’t a stalker! He was a good man. He went towards the wooden floor and lifted up a small board. He sighed. It was completely empty – filled with nothing but disappointment. Will had rather hoped there would be a message from his brothers. That was a game they used to play – writing letters to each other and leaving them to be found.

Suddenly a movement close to the door caught his attention. Will retreated towards the wall. Who was it? Then Peter’s familiar face emerged at the door.

‘Can I come in or is this a secret society?’

Will dashed to the entrance, expecting to see a ladder but there was none. How on earth did Peter climb up the tree so fast? Peter was crouching (since it was quite impossible to stand) with an amused expression on his face.

‘How did you get up here?’ Will whispered.

‘Oh, you know,’ said Peter, who quickly changed the subject. ‘What a lovely place this is!’ But as he swivelled around, he halted, having spotted something behind Will. His lips tightened and he said, perhaps a little too quickly, ‘Come on, Will. Let’s go home.’

Will was quick to sense the change in Peter. He turned around wondering what the man had seen. Suddenly his eyes filled with tears. There, written on the wooden walls were the words:

We’ll never forget you, Will,

You’ll always be our brother

In life and in death,

We miss you so much.

RIP

Will chewed on his quivering lip. ‘RIP stands for
Rest in Peace
. They think I’m dead, don’t they?’

Peter nodded. ‘When I told Professor Snipes you were shedding your skin, he informed me then what he’d said to your brothers.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I didn’t want to grieve you when you were so ill. I wanted to protect you. When you were completely well, I was going to tell you.’