The Spin (28 page)

‘Oh!' She reached her own hands round her neck as if it might be broken. ‘Poor Al. Will he come back? I can't imagine this place without him.'

‘I don't know.' They both stared at the ground.

‘What were you doing at the gatehouse?' Maud asked him.

‘Oh, Maud . . .' Suddenly the awful vision of the grubbin's head in the dome came to him again. That dear Mr and Mrs Small had made him forget it for a while. ‘The yellow powder! It comes from Otto's kitchen. The only person I can think of who might want the grubbins caught is Brittel.'

Maud was obviously struggling with some idea, twisting her hands together she stared at him worriedly. ‘They're all against you . . . If you had the spitfyre's name, do you think you could make her fly?'

Stormy nodded. ‘I do.'

‘Can I come and see you and your spitfyre tonight?' she said.

Stormy turned on her in surprise. ‘Well, yes, if you want, but –'

‘I'll be there at eleven. OK? It's number thirteen, isn't it?'

‘Yes, but –'

‘I've got something – I think. I think it'll help.'

What could Maud have that would help him? he wondered.

After his classes Stormy went to the servery. Purbeck and Ralf were lounging at the table, surrounded by that morning's breakfast remains.

‘Look who's here. It's His Lordship Sir Stormy,' Ralf said.

‘What are you doing here, hobnobbing with the workers?' Purbeck interrupted. ‘You might dirty your Academy uniform.'

‘Oh, Purbeck, don't . . .' Stormy frowned.

‘Al's gone,' Ralf said. ‘Vanished.'

Already the servery seemed less dreary and sad without Al's melancholy shadow cast over it.

‘He kept saying he was sorry all the time yesterday,' Ralf said. ‘And he remembered something for you.'

‘He left you a note,' Purbeck added, pointing to an envelope on the table.

‘A note for me?' Stormy grabbed the envelope. ‘It must be her name!' He paused, looking at the envelope. ‘You've opened it!'

‘Not us. It was Hector.'

Stormy felt his chest tighten. ‘If he's taken it, if he's stolen the name, I'll kill him!' Stormy reached inside the envelope and found a folded, hand-written note.

Stormy had his own spitfyre at last! He felt enormously proud and glad, and then just as enormously disappointed. He dropped into a chair. ‘He's given me his spitfyre,' he told them . . . which meant he must have planned to leave, Stormy thought. He had meant
to
jump. ‘Al's given me thirteen, but not her name. He can't remember her name.'

‘Good luck to you, mate!' Purbeck said. ‘You wanted a spitfyre and you got one, sort of . . .'

‘Talking of cheating . . .' Stormy said.

‘Were we?'

‘Al put that mouse in the gravy, didn't he?'

‘Yes.' Ralf grinned. ‘He wanted you out, mate. He liked it as it was here, sad and decaying and sinking, like him. And Araminta wanted you out too . . .'

‘
Araminta
did?' Stormy was surprised to hear that. ‘Are you sure?'

‘Yes, that's what Al said. So he came up with the mouse plan. But Al didn't want you to have an accident and disappear. Not like Ollie. He thought too much of you. Said you had skills.'

‘Did he? I'm glad,' Stormy said. ‘Listen, Ralf, now he's gone, you can stop putting that yellow powder in the Star Squad food, can't you?'

Ralf made a rude face. ‘Who are you to give orders all of a sudden?'

‘Just the same old Stormy. But if you so much as put a grain of it near any of those spitfyres,' Stormy said, ‘I'll . . . I'll make you eat it!'

Ralf laughed. ‘Try!'

Stormy lunged at him and quick as a flash had the little bottle out of Ralf's pocket.
Star Vitamin Plus
. The writing on the label wasn't Otto's, but he recognised it.

‘Brittel!' Stormy said. ‘It's Brittel's writing. I thought as much!'

‘What, him? I never liked Brittel,' Purbeck said. ‘He's a mean sort. Even Otto said he was mean.'

‘Do you know what this nasty stuff does to them, Ralf?' Stormy asked, shaking the bottle at him.

Ralf shrugged. ‘All I know is, it's the Director's orders and he's boss. So you'd better shut up.'

Stormy did shut up. Not Al's orders?
Director's orders!
Of course it was. Why did he never listen to his innermost voice, his deep suspicions? He had been so naïve, wanting to believe the Director was a good man despite all the evidence to the contrary.

And Stormy had thought he'd been so clever telling the Director what was going on. How the Director must have laughed at him!

He felt like running away, but he knew he had to stop the Director. He had to save the grubbins. He had to help Mungo. He was not going to give up his spitfyre now. Nothing anyone ever did or said would make him do that.

It was nearly eleven; the air was sharp and the sky was clear with thousands of stars twinkling in the blackness.

Stormy had taken four lanterns from the store cupboard and lit them. He kept their shutters almost closed, so only a chink of light escaped as he carried them across the terrace past the sleeping spitfyres. Now he was outside stable thirteen, waiting for Maud.

‘Stormy!' A whisper came from the dark.

‘Here.'

Maud appeared out of the blackness. She was wearing a large cloak that covered her from head to toe and hid most of her face. Only her eyes glinted above the folds of fabric.

‘You're not scared?'

She shook her head.

‘Take two of these.' He handed her the lanterns and slid back the shutters so light flooded out across the terrace and into the black of cave thirteen. Maud didn't hesitate but followed him inside.

The spitfyre was half awake and lifted up her head, blinking as they came in. She snorted gently in welcome and Stormy went and patted her head and smoothed her mane. Quickly he unfettered her leg – he had padded her leg iron so that it didn't hurt her but he felt he must keep her chained in case she decided to go after Al if he came back – or in case Hector tried to steal her.

‘Wow,' Maud breathed. ‘She's lovely. I love her. Look at her blue eyes, she looks so clever and wise . . . and everyone's always made out that she is so horrid.'

‘She
was
sick, but never horrid. Al spread rumours about her being crazy . . . She's much better. I think she's fantastic . . .' He hesitated. ‘But, sometimes, when I watch her face when she doesn't know I'm looking, it's like there's a darkness inside her, an emptiness, as if she might collapse inwards . . . It's hard to explain. She's been alone for so long. It's a sort of blankness – I think she's been badly hurt.'

Neither of them said what they both were feeling, that the spitfyre and Maud and Stormy had all been abandoned, were all orphans of one kind or another.

‘You can make her better, Stormy, I'm sure you can. You have to!'

They set the lanterns down on the rocky ledges round the cave and then crouched in front of the spitfyre.

‘I love her wings!' Maud whispered. ‘They are so beautiful, like pearly fabric, and I love the colour of her coat. She looks magical, almost as if she were a fairy horse . . . I wish I could ride winged horses.'

‘Is that why you wanted to come tonight?' Stormy asked.

‘Yes. No.' Maud took a fragment of paper from her pocket and laid it out on her palm. It was charred and burnt at the edges. ‘It's from the ledger. I rescued it from the fire.' Stormy met her gaze. ‘It's got writing on it. I bleached out the burnt bit and re-stained the paper and the writing came up and . . .'

A buzzing started in Stormy's ears; he felt light-headed. ‘Oh. I can't look,' he murmured. ‘Tell me, does it say something on it, really does it?'

‘There's a name on it. It must be this spitfyre's name. I'm sure it is.'

Stormy was so thrilled and surprised and amazed he could hardly speak. ‘Thank you, thank you,' he said. ‘I don't know what to say.'

‘It's nothing.'

‘It's everything.' He paused. ‘When a spitfyre is passed on to their new owner, they have a little ceremony . . .'

‘Yes. I know. I got these to help.' Maud dug into her pockets. ‘Cotton wool represents a cloud, the pebble here is land and the bottle of water, er, is water. It's air, land and sea, places the spitfyre will go.'

Stormy nodded. Maud was racing ahead of him.

‘And we ask permission from the Spirits to let her move through the elements and be kept safe, don't we?' he said. ‘I've read about the naming ceremony too . . .'

They turned and faced the spitfyre and looked deep into her eyes.

‘This is your naming ceremony,' Stormy said. The spitfyre scrambled to her feet and tossed her head, snorting warm sparkly air. ‘Are you ready?' Stormy asked her. ‘Right . . . Sun, Moon, Stars, all you that move in the heavens, hear me!'

The quiet in the cave was enormous. The spitfyre was concentrating on Stormy; her eyes never left his face and her ears twitched upright.

‘Make the path of the winged horse smooth so that it may journey well,' Maud said and put down the pebble.

Stormy glanced at her. Maud's eyes were shining, and her cheek was dimpled. She grinned back at him and gave him the thumbs up.

‘Winds, Clouds, Rain, Mist, and all you that move in the air . . .' he laid down the cotton wool, ‘. . . make the path of the winged horse smooth so that she may journey well.'

‘Hills, Valleys, Rivers, Lakes, Trees, Grasses, all you of the earth . . .' Maud put the bottle of water and a leaf onto the floor. ‘Make the path smooth for this spitfyre so that she may journey well.'

‘All you of the heavens, all you of the air, all you of the earth, hear me! Make her path smooth so she shall travel beyond the four hills. We name this spitfyre . . .'

Stormy read from the burnt fragment of paper.

‘
Seraphina
,' he said.

The spitfyre suddenly sighed loudly, as if a valve had burst or a door opened, as if something had been set free. Tossing her head so her mane flicked left and right, she blew out a cloud of tiny silvery sparks. The sparks spun and twisted and spiralled, flying upwards until they fizzled out against the roof of the cave. Turquoise smoke billowed in long trails from her nostrils and curled round her head. She shook herself as if shaking off an invisible heavy coat; or, like a reptile, casting off an old and unwanted skin.

‘
Seraphina?
' Stormy said, enjoying the sound. He laid his hand on the horse's head. ‘Seraphina. Dear Seraphina.'

‘Seraphina. Beautiful Seraphina, angel of the air!' Maud said. ‘Now she'll fly for you, Stormy. I know she will.' Maud turned towards the cave entrance. ‘I must go back,' she added. ‘I'm cold and I still have chores to do. Goodnight!' The light from the lantern fell across her smiling face; for a split second she looked quite different, like someone else he knew. ‘Maud?' He wanted to look at her again. ‘Wait!'

But she had gone.

Who? He was suddenly confused. He felt as if he'd known her before in a different life or time.

He turned back to study Seraphina,
his
spitfyre, and she stared back, her eyes bright and full of intelligence. Stormy quickly got down the bridle and put it on her and led her outside onto the terrace.

‘Now, my dearest Seraphina, this is the moment,' he whispered to her. ‘This is the moment we
fly
.' He remembered his vain attempt to fly with Mungo. He blushed hotly, thinking about it. What a disaster! He knew this would be different.

Seraphina knew it was different too. She understood, he could tell that she did – the way she was looking up into the sky, imagining it, just like he was. She wanted it in the same way he did.

Gently he got up onto her back. She was warm and shivering, gently expectant. He leaned down and whispered in her beautiful ear.

‘
Seraphina!
Let's fly.'

A tremor ripped through her body as if she'd been struck by gentle lightning. She flung back her head and made a strange sound, half whinny and half croaking dragon's roar. Every inch of her body twanged and vibrated with energy. She lurched forward, as if a brake had been released, and Stormy nearly fell, just grabbing at the reins in time. Her hooves rang loudly on the stone flags but he had no time to worry about the noise. As she sprang towards the edge of the terrace, picking up speed, he felt as if he were sinking into her back, as if his legs and body were melding into hers and they were one being. He wasn't bouncing at all, despite the speed, but was snug on her back as if glued there.

Then she was at the edge and springing forward and upwards. And at that moment he felt something extraordinary, not just that they had left the ground, but rather that they had pushed the earth away and were suddenly free.

Seraphina was a bird. A kite. An angel.

As she leapt up, a great weight in his heart dissolved and something, some inner spark of great happiness filled its place. The sensation passed from her to him – or from him to her, it was hard to tell – all he knew was a great joyousness speeding through his veins. Tears filled his eyes. It was the first time he'd ever felt so close to another living thing in his life.

They moved smoothly, almost silently as her large leaf-like wings flapped and they swooped effortlessly up and down in the dark sky.

Stormy laughed out loud. There was nothing below them, nothing surrounding them; they were flying.
He
was flying. At last! At last! ‘I've waited all my life for this,' he told her. ‘Seraphina! Thank you!'