The Witch's Daughter (8 page)

I
T WAS
T
OFFEE
P
APERS
. The sea boomed so loudly round the Point of Caves, that even Janey had not heard him come. He bent down and removed the piece of newspaper from Tim's limp fingers.

‘Not a bad likeness,' he said, regarding it critically. ‘Not bad at all.' His eyes bulged like pale, boiled sweets as he sat on a rock and looked at the three children. ‘National hero, that's what I was. A national hero …'

He took a toothpick out of his waistcoat pocket and began to dig between his yellow front teeth.

‘
Mr
Pratt?
'
Tim said.

He snapped the toothpick between his plump fingers and finished the job with his tongue. ‘Being a hero can be an
embarrassment.
Notoriety. Begging letters. So what do you do? You change your name. You get used to the new one and it don't seem worth changing back.' He looked at the newspaper story, grinned, and handed it back to Tim. ‘Where'd you find it?'

‘Mr Smith's suitcase,' Perdita said.

He looked at her. ‘Thought you didn't mix with other kiddies. Smithie was wrong about that, wasn't he? Poor old Smithie.' He sighed. ‘It's like him to keep that cutting. He's the kind of man who's proud of his old friends.'

‘What happened to the thieves?' Tim asked. He felt very confused.

Mr Jones—or Pratt—took a toffee out of his jacket pocket. He unwrapped it, popped it in his mouth, and said, ‘Oh, pardon
me.
Manners!' He abstracted three more toffees
from his pocket and tossed them over to the children.
‘Now.
The thieves. The gentlemen of fortune. They got away with it, young man. Deserved to, in my opinion. It was a clever job, a clever job. They weren't ordinary criminals, you know, not regulars. One job and clean away. That's the way to do it.'

‘What happened to the jewels?' Tim was hypnotised by Toffee Papers' broad, rhythmically chewing jaw.

‘Never seen again. Of course, the market was watched, but not a sign! That's the way to be successful, of course. Sit on the loot, don't spend it—or only spend it carefully, bit by bit. If you start spending money like water it attracts attention. That's the way fools get caught. These weren't fools, you know, these were clever men.'

‘I shouldn't have thought you'd have thought so,' Tim could not help saying. ‘After what they did to you.'

Toffee Papers looked faintly startled and then laughed. ‘Oh, they rough-housed me a bit. But I don't bear any malice now.' He leaned forward, his fat hands on his fat knees. ‘I was angry at first—mad! Then, after a bit, I got to thinking. What harm had they done, after all? Pinched a lot of stuff that was no real use to anyone. You can't eat diamonds—nor warm yourself by them, neither. No one lost anything, really, except the
insurance
company, and they could afford it. No—I thought it over, and the months went by and they didn't get caught and I began to think—well—good luck to them! What are most people's lives like, in the end? A treadmill. You work so you can eat, you eat so you can work. Round and round like mice in a cage.' He began to get excited, waving his fists in the air. ‘Here were some men, I said to myself, who'd had the courage to break out. Family men, perhaps, anxious for their children's future. But having the sense to wait. Bide their time, go on with their nine to five jobs, mowing the lawn Sundays. Then, when the hue and cry's over'—he snapped his fingers—‘OUT. Out and away …'

Tim was fascinated. ‘But stealing's
wrong,
'
he blurted out.

Toffee Papers mopped his forehead with a large, red
handkerchief
. He looked shaken, as if he had surprised himself by his own eloquence. Tucking his handkerchief back in his pocket, he suddenly grinned. ‘You're right, boy. I'm glad to see your Dad has brought you up properly. How
is
your poor father, by the way?'

Tim hesitated. What was he to think? Then Toffee Papers turned and spoke to a man who had come round the cliff path and was standing, looking down at them. ‘Campbell,' Toffee Papers called. ‘Campbell—we've got company.'

Slowly, Mr Will Campbell came down over the rocks. Toffee Papers turned to the children. ‘What are you doing here, by the way?' he asked, in a friendly voice.

‘Looking for rubies,' Janey said. ‘For evidence …'

Tim said quickly, ‘I found a piece of stone that I thought looked like a ruby. But I—I lost it. So I came to look for another one.'

‘Beachcombing, eh?' Toffee Papers said. ‘Oh—you find all sorts of things, beachcombing. When I was a lad, we used to spend our holidays at Herne Bay and one day I found—what do you think? Six half crowns and a florin.'

Mr Campbell stood a little way away. ‘Tide's on the turn,' he said.

‘Oh—there's time,' Toffee Papers said. ‘Time to help these young folk look for rubies!' He stood up, smiling and rubbing his hands together. ‘You know—there might be something in the cave. Washed up by a high tide. Have you looked in the cave?'

‘Only a little way. It's dark,' Tim spoke doubtfully. It all seemed so innocent. Toffee Papers, smiling and smiling in that cheerful, enthusiastic way, just like a boy. Innocent—but
somehow
not ordinary …

‘Dark, is it?' Toffee Papers was rubbing the palm of his hand over his chin as if Wondering whether he had shaved properly.
‘We've got a torch, I expect. I have, anyway. You got a torch, Campbell?'

Mr Campbell nodded. He was watching Toffee Papers. There was an uneasy expression on his face.

Suddenly Janey clapped her hands together. ‘Let's go in the cave,' she said. ‘Oh,
please
let's go in the cave. I never thought I'd be able to. Tim said it was dangerous to get here, even for people who could see …'

Toffee Papers looked at her. Then he spoke very gently. ‘All right, young lady. It won't be dangerous, not with Campbell here, and me. No harm'll come to you.' He looked at Campbell and spoke with an odd, meaning emphasis. ‘No harm at all, I promise.'

Campbell shrugged his shoulders. Toffee Papers bent to take Janey's hand. He said, to Perdita, ‘Take her other hand, you with the fancy name. It's rough going.'

Tim watched them enter the mouth of the cave. He felt a queer uneasiness he could not place or name. But what was wrong? What could be wrong? Toffee Papers, it appeared, was not a burglar after all. He was a fat, jolly, uncle-ish man who used to go beachcombing at Herne Bay and who did not mind sparing a little time from his fishing trip with Mr Campbell to amuse three children he had met on the beach. There was nothing sinister about him. There was the stone he had given Perdita, but that wasn't sinister, on its own. He was the sort of man who enjoyed giving children presents. If the stone really was a diamond, it was pretty odd, of course, but Tim could not be sure it was a diamond. The only thing that was really strange, when you came down to it, was his leaving the hotel before breakfast this morning without telling Mrs Tarbutt where he was going. But that was impolite, rather than sinister …

‘Coming?' Mr Campbell said. In a half dream, Tim rose from his squatting position on the beach, and followed him into the cave. Almost at once, he forgot his doubts and fears in the
excitement of discovery. The cave went back, deep into the rock. From the central cavern—which was as far as he had been with his father—several high arches led off, black as the mouths of railway tunnels. Down one of these tunnels, which had high, dark walls and a smooth, sandy floor, Tim could see the light of Toffee Papers' torch flickering. He heard Janey shouting and then her shrill, delighted laughter as the echo of her voice boomed back to her, and then Toffee Papers' exuberant, boyish shout, and
his
laughter. Mr Campbell had a hurricane lamp and its light danced and swayed up the tunnel, sliding its yellow circle over the walls which seemed to be made of black columns, fitting closely together and looking in places rather like the pipes of a giant organ. The tunnel twisted and turned, other tunnels led off it and, after a little, Tim found he could not remember which one they were exploring: when he looked back, he could see only black darkness.

‘Careful, now,' Mr Campbell said, swinging his lantern, and Tim saw they had come to a crack in the rock. Down—a long way down—there was water running, not booming like the sea, but rushing and gurgling like a narrow, fast river. They crossed this ravine by a ledge at the side of the tunnel which then wound upwards, up a sort of rough, natural stairway, and came into another cavern where the floor was not sandy, but made of stone. Examining it, Tim found it was the same columnar construction as the walls, only the columns were broken off, producing an effect rather like a tessellated
pavement
.

At the far side of this cavern, Janey and Perdita were sitting on a slightly taller column and singing, ‘Life is butter, butter melon …' ‘How does it go on?' Janey asked.

‘Life is butter, butter, melon, melon, cauliflower …' Toffee Papers sang, broadly grinning. ‘Sing it over and over,' he said, ‘and you'll find it doesn't mean quite what you thought at first.'

Seeing Tim and Mr Campbell, he came over to them,
leaving the girls singing. He was mopping his face, which had suddenly gone unsmiling and thoughtful, with his
handkerchief
. ‘Not a bad place, is it?' he said. ‘Dry, safe, bit of natural light.'

Mr Campbell blew out his hurricane lamp and Tim saw this was true: a faint, blue-ish light filtered down from somewhere up aloft, turning the cavern into a mysterious, exciting place. The columnar walls were smooth, but they were dry and not too smooth to climb: while Janey sat, singing on her rock, with Toffee Papers beating time beside her, Tim and Perdita
explored
, making their way upwards along an intricate series of ledges and precarious hand-holds, until they were some thirty feet above the floor of the cave and could see the source of the light, a high, narrow chimney in the roof. Not only light came from it. As they had climbed higher and higher, they had heard a low, musical roar which grew louder and louder. Now it seemed to fill the roof of the cave.

‘Perhaps it comes out under the waterfall,' Perdita said.

‘I wonder if you can get up.' Tim ranged his eye over the roof of the cave, but there was nothing there to hang on to. Except, perhaps, for a bat …

He looked down. He could see the top of Janey's head. He couldn't hear her singing, because of the noise, but he could see her hand, beating time. There was no sign of Toffee Papers or Mr Campbell, but he supposed they were hidden from his view, under an over-hang. ‘We'd better go,' he said. ‘If they want to go fishing …'

‘It's much too rough for fishing,' Perdita said.

‘Well—they were going somewhere in the boat, weren't they? Mr Campbell said the tide was on the turn.'

‘Perhaps they're going to Trull,' Perdita said.

‘What's Trull?'

‘The island, of course. Just across the water from the Point. The island of Trull.'

Perdita looked as surprised as Tim might have done, if
someone
had asked him what London was.

‘What do they want to go there for?'

‘There's a fine, big school on Trull,' Perdita said longingly.

Tim laughed. ‘I don't suppose they want to go to school.'

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Perhaps Mr Jones wants to catch an aeroplane. Perhaps he's suddenly made up his mind to go to South America. He told Mr Smith he was thinking of going there.' And then, as if there was nothing at all unusual in Mr Jones making a sudden decision to fly across the world—and, indeed, Perdita would not see anything surprising in it, as she did not know where South America was—she added, ‘I think I'll go down and play with Janey, now.'

She began to climb down to the floor of the cave. Tim
followed
her slowly, his mind reeling. South America? It seemed unlikely, though she had sounded so matter-of-fact. There was an airfield on Trull—he remembered his father telling him, now. If you wanted to leave the island in a hurry, that's what you would do: go to Trull by boat and catch a plane. But why should Mr Jones want to leave in a hurry, without telling
anyone
? And if he did want to, if he was in such a hurry, why had he wasted time taking them into the cave? It didn't make sense …

He reached the ground and saw Perdita, sitting beside Janey and singing with her. No one else was there.

‘Where have they gone?' he whispered, half to himself, though he knew there was only one way they could go. Driven by a half-understood panic, he started along the tunnel. It twisted downhill and he realised, with a lift of his heart, that the men had not gone after all: he could see the yellow light of the lamp round a turn in the rocky stairway. They were talking. He was about to shout, when something in the tone of their voices warned him. He stayed quiet, crept towards the light, and listened.

‘D'you think
I
like it?' Toffee Papers was saying. ‘The boy'll be all right, and Smithie's girl—but the other one! Poor little thing!' His voice became thick with emotion and he blew his nose with a trumpeting sound. ‘But let them go,' he went on, ‘and they'll be back at the hotel before you can say knife, won't they? The balloon'll go up then. Tarbutt's only to 'phone and I won't get that plane. No, Campbell. They can stay here, I can 'phone from Trull, leave a message. Tarbutt'll get them out, they won't come to any harm. Bit hungry, bit cold, scared maybe—but no real harm.'

He seemed to be arguing to convince himself. It was rather the way he had talked on the beach. Suddenly Tim's heart began to thump. It was clear to him now. That story Toffee Papers had told! On and on about how clever the jewel thieves were! Was tying him up part of the cleverness? Was he one of the gang? Of course, that was it. He'd hidden his share of the loot up here on Skua and now, after three years, he had come to collect it. And OUT. And away …