Troubletwisters (9 page)

Jack didn’t waste any more time shouting, and neither did Jaide. They ran quickly down the hill, lifting their feet high and half-running, half-jumping, crunching up hundreds of cockroaches as they went. But for every hundred they squashed, there were hundreds more, and with every step, cockroaches latched on to their shoes and ankles and started to climb up their legs.

The twins jumped higher and ran faster. Both of them instinctively knew that the cockroaches were trying to drag them down. If enough of them got a hold, they might even be able to do it . . .

It was the strangest, grossest thing Jack had ever experienced – the
squish
, the
splat
, the oozing guts and the terrifying attack of legs, legs and more legs. Cockroaches on his skin. Cockroaches in his hair. Cockroaches climbing into his sleeves. All he could do was run faster. Harder. He had to breathe through his nose so the cockroaches wouldn’t get in his mouth. But his ears – they were attacking his ears. He swatted at them. Stepped on them. Pushed himself, with Jaide right next to him. Then they broke through – once again, the cloud had passed, but this time there were still bugs all over them. The twins slowed a little and bent over to smash cockroaches off each other’s legs, while continuing to stumble forward like crazy clowns.

‘Let’s stop and get them . . . get them all off!’ shouted Jack.

‘No! No time!’ yelled Jaide. ‘That’ll do! Run!’

She started off straight ahead, but Jack pulled her back.

‘Not that way!’ he yelled.

There were dozens of horrible, jar-size things sliding down invisible webs from the branches of the trees uphill from Grandma X’s house. As they hit the ground, their eight legs uncurled, and they began to scuttle toward the twins, moving with alarming speed.

Spiders
. Jaide couldn’t stand spiders.

The twins ran from the spiders to dive frantically through a hole in the fence of the derelict house, sprint across the empty garden, and duck down the long-abandoned drive. At the front of the house there was a van with Repairs & All Maintenance painted on the side, and the odd-job woman they had met at the school that morning was sitting in the front eating a sandwich. She didn’t look up as the twins dashed past and onto the cobbled street.

Ahead of them, at last, Jaide saw the arched entrance to Grandma X’s yard and slowed down. But from behind them came the throaty snarl and scrabbling paw-steps of a large, angry dog.

Jack didn’t bother to turn around. He grabbed his sister’s arm and put on a last desperate burst of speed. Together they rocketed through the gates, skidded on the gravel, and fell over in a tangled heap. Behind them, with a yelp, the dog also skidded to a halt. Further down the lane, a few remnant spiders were seeking the shadows of the drain. They didn’t look as big as they had only a few moments before.

Hearts pumping, Jaide and Jack rolled over, hands raised to fend off a dog attack.

But the heavy-set pit bull terrier was still on the cobbled street, not quite under the arch of the gate, staring at them with its piggish eyes – eyes that were entirely white and shiny, without any trace of a pupil. Its flanks were heaving and its chops dripped spittle, but it wasn’t following them anymore, or growling. It paced back and forth just outside the gate, shaking its head and snapping at the air.

‘Hello, puppy,’ Jaide said. She tried to sound the way her father had taught her to talk to dogs, without fear or submission. Like a friend. An out-of-breath friend. ‘You don’t want to eat us, do you?’

The dog turned its head toward her, and all of a sudden the milky cloud left its eyes, like a mist being blown away by a sudden breeze. It yawned and licked its chops with a great lolling tongue and then, with one all-over shake, it turned and trotted off.

‘How did you do that?’ asked Jack. ‘I mean, with its eyes and everything?’

‘I didn’t do anything,’ said Jaide. ‘As far as I know —’

Something dropped to the ground behind them, and Jack whirled around in fright, thinking of the spiders.

‘Ari!’ he exclaimed in relief as the ginger tom slid up to him and did a quick back-scratching circle of his leg. ‘Was it you who scared the dog away?’

Ari looked up the lane and performed a very humanlike shrug. ‘Me? Scare that great beast away? I was hiding up the tree, like anyone sensible should have been.’

Jack stared at him, unable to believe what his ears told him. Cats didn’t talk. It simply wasn’t possible.

‘Did you . . . did you hear that?’ he asked Jaide.

‘Hear what?’

Jaide hadn’t reacted to the cat at all. Perhaps he had imagined it.

‘Uh, nothing, I guess,’ he said.

Ari stared at him, and gave one slow, deliberate wink.

‘If you can hear me, that ugly mutt is the least of your problems.’

With that, the cat sniffed and began to lick his paw.

Jack opened his mouth to ask Ari another question, but before he could talk, Jaide grabbed his arm.

‘The blue door,’ she said, pointing excitedly. ‘It’s still there – and the sign, too! Let’s check it out!’

Jack wasn’t so keen. He looked around again, but there was no sign of any further attentions from the insect or animal world. Even the wind had dropped away.

‘I guess we’re safe here,’ he said tentatively.

‘To a certain degree,’ said Ari quietly. He stopped licking his paw and stalked off toward the front entrance.

Jack stared after the cat and wondered if he was going mad.

‘I’m sure we’re safe,’ said Jaide. She
was
sure, though she couldn’t have said why she felt so confident. There was something about the house itself, looming over them, that gave her a sense of protection. ‘Come on!’

‘I really don’t know,’ said Jack. He just wanted to go inside and stick his head under a pillow until all the rampaging insects and talking cats went away.

‘Come on!’ repeated Jaide.

She dragged him over to the blue door. It was as solid as it had been that morning, and as they hammered on it they slowly remembered their earlier efforts to get it open, the memories drifting back like a forgotten dream recaptured days later.

With a strong feeling of déjà vu, Jaide ran her fingers around the jamb, looking for a hidden catch. When that failed, she stepped back to peer up at the hand-painted sign. The words had changed since yesterday. Now it said Temporarily Closed for Business.

‘How could we just forget?’ she asked her brother. ‘And how could the sign be there, then not be there, then come back later saying something different?’

‘It didn’t go anywhere,’ said Grandma X.

The twins jumped, their hearts pounding again, and backed up against the door. She was standing right behind them, and once again they hadn’t heard her boots on the gravel. It was like she had materialised there, out of thin air.

‘Maybe you’re seeing it differently now, don’t you think?’

Grandma X smiled and tilted her head, waiting for them to answer.

‘But . . . but . . . Mum couldn’t see it, either,’ Jaide said, just to say something, to try to get everything back to a more normal situation.

‘She sees what she wants to see, and understands what she
can
see entirely her own way.’ Grandma X bent down and peered closely at Jaide’s head. ‘You have dead crickets in your hair, green-backed fly bites all over you, and mashed cockroaches do not make a tasteful addition to even modern footwear. What happened? Tell me everything.’

There was no resisting that tone. Jaide stammered out an explanation, with Jack filling in details she had forgotten. Talking about it made it all seem unreal, like a story they had made up. The panicked horror she had felt was becoming distant, as though it had happened to someone else.

When they had finished, Grandma X’s eyes narrowed and she looked past the twins. First she gazed toward the town, then she turned completely around and looked toward the lighthouse. The twins shifted nervously during this strange rotation. Finally she stopped and, facing them again, took Jack’s hand and sniffed it.

‘That wretched handmade soap I put out for you,’ she said. ‘I thought your mother would like it, but it must have honey in it, and perhaps some of the more unusual herbs. That’s what attracted the bugs.’ Her words sounded forced. ‘I’ll get you some store-bought stuff and clean you off before you go out again. And I’ll talk to Old Mac about that dreadful dog of his, too: Luger is not normally unchained. What a terrible scare he must’ve given you!’

Under other circumstances, Jack and Jaide might have been satisfied with Grandma X’s explanation – or satisfied enough to leave it alone. But there were too many mysteries mounting at once, and too many questions that needed answers. There was something in her eyes that told them both there was a
lot
more to worry about than she was letting on.

Which reminded Jack that this was what Ari the cat had said.

‘What’s
really
happening, Grandma?’ he demanded. ‘And why is it happening to us?’

Grandma X put her left hand on his head and smoothed down his hair, a delaying tactic they were familiar with from their father. Hector must have learned all his shillyshallying and covering-up techniques from his mother.

‘I promise you, Jack, when the time is right, I’ll tell you. For now, let’s just go inside and get you cleaned up. Then you can finish unpacking and we’ll talk about dinner. Would you like a hot chocolate to warm you up?’

Jaide and Jack both shook their heads firmly. Every time they pressed Grandma X for an explanation, that hot chocolate made an appearance.

Not this time. A quick, shared glance confirmed that the twins were thinking the same thoughts. They knew each other’s faces better than anyone else, and right now they had exactly the same expression: a look of deep suspicion coupled with a determination that they would discover what they needed to know.

If Grandma X wasn’t going to tell them the truth, they would find another way to discover it. Later that night, perhaps, when everything was quiet. There were probably all kinds of clues hidden inside the house.

‘I think you can leave your shoes outside,’ said Grandma X. Her attempt to sound casual was spoiled by her looking around again, scanning every part of the horizon, her eyes narrowed and her face anxious. When she led them inside, it was at a pace so fast, they almost ran up the steps.

GRANDMA X INSISTED THEY BOTH
have another shower and thoroughly wash their hair. Jaide could still feel a thousand little legs tickling her skin, so despite her reservations, she didn’t put up much of a fight. When she was done, she slipped out of the hot water, smelling of soap and shampoo, and wound herself up in a thick, prickly towel that was still slightly damp from earlier. The bathroom was dense with mist. There was no sign of Grandma X.

‘Where is she?’ Jaide whispered to Jack, who rushed into the bathroom as soon as she was done with it.

‘Washing our clothes,’ he reported.

Jaide remembered seeing an ancient washing machine in the laundry downstairs. She could hear it through the floor, rattling and thumping like it was a cage with a wild creature inside.

The second-floor landing was empty. Only the blank eyes of the photographs and paintings watched her as she ran to her room. There she found new clothes waiting for both of them on their beds and all their mess cleaned away.

Jack followed suspiciously quickly, looking as though he had barely washed his hair beyond wetting it and giving it a bit of a shake.

‘What’s she doing in our
stuff
?’ he whispered, taking everything Grandma X had put away and pushing it back into his suitcase. He felt happier with it in there, and less trapped.

Jaide put a finger to her lips, listening. A moment later, silver-tipped cowboy boots thudded across the kitchen floorboards below. She nodded, and the twins had a hurried, whispered conversation while they had the chance.

‘Is this really happening?’ asked Jack, thinking not just of mad swarms of bugs and rabid dogs, but talking cats as well. Either he was going crazy, or Portland was.

‘Of course it is,’ said Jaide in the bossy voice that reminded him of their mother. ‘And whatever it is, Grandma doesn’t want us to know anything about it. That’s why she made us forget.’

‘How?’

‘The hot chocolate. It must have been. Just thinking of it makes me feel dizzy.’ She passed a hand across her eyes and pressed on. ‘We’ve got to make sure it doesn’t happen again, Jack. We have to remember, and we have to find out what she’s up to. Don’t let her give us anything that could make us forget.’

‘But we have to eat and drink,’ said Jack. Lunchtime felt like days ago already. ‘How do you know it’s her making us forget, anyway? It could be someone else.’

‘Yeah, right,’ said Jaide. ‘Like who?’

‘Uh, the cats?’

‘How could it be the cats?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe someone’s controlling them,’ he said, flailing for an explanation that wouldn’t sound mad. Clearly Jaide hadn’t heard Ari talk, which meant he probably
was
mad, after all. ‘The same someone controlling the insects and the dog.’

An idea went off in Jaide’s head like a firecracker. ‘What do you call the pets that witches keep?’

‘Familiars.’ Jack’s eyes widened. ‘You think Grandma X is a
witch
?’

‘Have you got a better explanation? She’s up to something, and we’ve got in the way by coming to live in her home.’

Jack frowned. He didn’t like this explanation at all. If Jaide was right, it could be the gingerbread house all over again, and mad or not, he didn’t fancy being Hansel . . .

‘But she’s our grandmother,’ he said weakly. ‘I mean, she’s Dad’s
mother
. . .’

‘Dad isn’t exactly reliable himself, is he?’ said Jaide bitterly.

‘Troubletwisters!’ came their grandma’s voice from the ground floor. ‘Come down for dinner!’

Jaide checked her watch in disbelief. ‘It’s only five o’clock!’

‘Old people always eat dinner early,’ said Jack, hoping the stab of fear he felt wasn’t warranted. The hunger he had felt a moment ago had quite evaporated.

‘Troubletwisters?’

‘Don’t ask any questions or act suspicious,’ Jaide reminded him forcefully. ‘I guess we’ll have to eat what she gives us, but
don’t
drink any more of her hot chocolate, no matter how much you want to.’

Jack swallowed his concerns and nodded. As Jaide left the room and he got dressed, he realised the mystery of Ari would have to wait. If they didn’t survive the night, it would be irrelevant, anyway.

Dinner was laid out on the table for them: two innocent-looking hot dogs each with equally innocent-looking buns and a selection of decidedly non-suspicious mustards and ketchups. The smell made even Jaide’s stomach rumble, but she forced herself not to eat too much, and to carefully examine every mouthful before she swallowed it. She had never before paid such close attention to the inside of a hot dog, and immediately wished she hadn’t.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Grandma X, watching them pick their slow and painful way through the meal. ‘I thought all children enjoyed hot dogs.’

‘Uh, we do; it’s just, we’ve been thinking about becoming vegetarians,’ Jaide improvised. It wasn’t entirely untrue, thanks to a particularly large piece of gristle caught between her front teeth. ‘We were learning about it at school back home, you see. . .’

‘You didn’t mention it before. And yesterday you ate a ham sandwich. Still, it’s not a bad philosophy, as long as we make sure your diet is balanced.’ With a heavy silver spoon, Grandma X indicated the bowl in front of her. It contained a strange-looking broth of lumpy green and orange vegetables, to which she now added a further layer of pungent herbs. ‘Lately I myself have been . . . not at my best . . . and I am hoping this will help.’

‘What do you call your diet?’ asked Jaide in as innocent a tone as she could manage.

‘Nothing in particular, dear. There are simply occasions when certain foods are beneficial, particularly for cleansing the mind. Would you care to try some?’

Both twins quickly shook their heads.

Grandma X smiled as though she rather enjoyed their reaction. ‘No, I didn’t think so.’

Jack tried his best to smile back, thinking that at least Grandma X wasn’t turning into a Hansel-and-Gretel type of witch. Or at least not yet. He couldn’t help glancing at the big old oven, though. It was huge, much larger than any normal person could need, particularly if she lived alone.

A child could fit in that oven. Even two children, in a pinch.

Jack shuddered and looked away. What was he doing? Staring at ovens, talking to cats—

Grandma X burped with surprising volume and waved her hand rapidly in front of her face.

‘Pardon me!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m very sorry about that. Well, if you’re not going to eat any more, you can dispose of your leftovers and clean up your plates. And then, if you like, I’ve fished out a stack of your father’s old toys for you to play with. They’re in the lounge, by the ottoman.’

Jack didn’t know what an ottoman was, but the thought of toys his father had owned as a child was very nearly sufficient to drive all his anxieties from his mind. He raced through his chores, then hurried to the lounge, Jaide hard on his heels.

What they found, next to a bursting footstool, was a pile of dusty old board games. They browsed disappointedly through them, recognising titles like Scrabble, which Hector notoriously beat everyone at, but finding many others they had never heard of. What their father had seen in them, Jack didn’t know.

‘I’ll just be in here, tidying up, all right?’ called Grandma X from the drawing room.

Conscious of her proximity, the twins settled in for a game of Park and Shop, which proved to be no more exciting than its name suggested. As Jaide moved her token listlessly across the board, from Bakery to Women’s Wear via something called Hay Grain Feed, she saw the old lady fiddling with the compass she had brought out the previous day, turning it from side to side and holding it upside down above her head. Whatever Grandma X was doing, it didn’t look like tidying.

As the twins played, the cats moved restlessly through the house, padding softly up and down the stairs and peering closely into every room. To Jaide they seemed to have a purpose of some kind. They were patrolling, or searching for something. Or maybe, she thought, they were like guards in a prison, doing the rounds. And if that was the case, then she and her brother were no doubt the prisoners . . .

Every time Kleo looked at Jack, he twitched guiltily back to the game. Luckily, however, neither Kleo nor Ari said anything more comprehensible than a meow the whole evening, and by the end of it he was convinced that he must have imagined Ari talking before. Maybe it had been oxygen deprivation from running so fast, Jack thought. His brain had become starved of air and had started hallucinating.

Then, as Jack and Jaide were packing up the game, the cats came back with something that indicated they had been on another mission entirely: Kleo strolled into the lounge with an apparently unharmed mouse wriggling about in her mouth.

Jaide ran forward in interest, trying to see how the cat was holding the mouse without killing it. Jack stayed back and watched from a distance.

As they studied it, Grandma X loomed up behind the cats.

‘What is it?’

‘A mouse!’ Jaide pointed at the tiny creature in Kleo’s mouth. It was staring around, obviously terrified. ‘Make her let it go!’

‘You’re not frightened of mice, are you?’ asked Grandma X.

‘No, but Kleo shouldn’t play with it. That’s torture.’

‘Take it from her, then. Kleo will give it to you. You can wash your hands afterward.’

Jaide pulled a face. ‘Can’t she just drop it outside?’

‘I’ll take it,’ said Jack. He came forward and crouched down and held his hands under Kleo’s mouth. She blinked up at him and opened her jaws. The mouse fell into his hands. It lay there for a moment as if stunned.

‘Hello,’ said Jack softly. He didn’t close his hands for fear of crushing the tiny animal. But the mouse wasn’t quite as shocked as he thought, and with a sudden twitch and twist, it leaped from his hands and scurried rapidly off.

As Jack grabbed at it, the cats tried to pounce, and they all got in one another’s way. Grandma X stood in the doorway, her feet planted wide apart, and the mouse ran straight between her heels and crossed the hall like a rocket into a tiny hole at the corner of the stairs.

‘Interesting,’ said Grandma X, dusting her hands on her jeans. ‘I had thought you might like mice more than Jackaran, Jaidith, but I see it is quite the opposite.’

Next she turned to address Kleo. ‘You were also rather late. I asked you for a mouse hours ago.’

Kleo’s only answer was to raise a paw, lick it, and begin cleaning her face. This was clearly the equivalent of a shrug.

Jack had forgotten that Grandma X had asked Kleo to catch a mouse. Jaide had to be right, he thought. The cats
were
Grandma X’s familiars, and that meant she really was a witch. He looked at Jaide. She lowered one eyelid slightly, a sign to be cautious.

The ring of Grandma X’s phone sounded from the drawing room. She marched out to get it, and they heard her answer with a brisk, ‘Hello?’

‘I’m not frightened of mice,’ whispered Jaide. ‘I just don’t like the cats playing with them.’

‘I know. What do you think that was about? Do you think she’s going to send an army of mice to get us?’

Before Jaide could speculate, Grandma X returned, holding the telephone handset out to them.