Princess Phoebe Page 9

  There’s quite a long silence, until Frank says, ‘I don’t believe a word you’re telling me.’ But his voice has lost its sarcasm. Suddenly, there’s a flash of lightning and, almost at once, a loud clap of thunder that makes Frank jump. I jump too, and Princess, who hates thunder, presses herself closer to me in terror. The storm has moved quickly overhead, and the rain that comes with it rattles onto the windscreen so that it’s getting impossible to see out.

  ‘You’re a good liar,’ says Frank, ‘I’ll say that for you. But I think you are a liar, and therefore the dog has to go. Let’s just call it losing the evidence, if you like.’ He suddenly stops the van and gets out of the driver’s seat, ducking through the rain to the side door, which he opens. I catch a glimpse of the river swirling by a few metres away; the water muddy and the raindrops splashing back high as they land. Frank reaches in to the van and starts dragging Princess towards him.

  I panic. He’s not going to take my dog. I lean forward and bite his hand until I draw blood. He pulls it back with a shout and swears at me.

  ‘Little bitch! I’ve a good mind to put you in the river too.’

  He tries to get hold of me but I back away, out of his reach. He turns again to Princess.

  ‘Leave her alone!’ I scream at him, but he takes a firmer hold of her collar and drags her out in to the rain.’

  ‘Look at her collar!’ I yell, against the sound of a deafening clap of thunder.

  He does look, and then he looks up at me, standing above him inside the van. I’m sure he must be able to see my knees shaking.

  ‘It says she’s called Phoebe, doesn’t it?’

  Frank looks again and swears. His face lights up as a fork of lightning tears through the sky and disappears into the far bank of the river. By its light, I can see his confusion. He lets go of my dog.

  I jump out of the van, but Princess has already disappeared into the bushes.

  As both of us stare after her, I’m not quick enough, and Frank turns to take hold of me. I duck and back away again, coming to a stop against the wide trunk of a tree.

  ‘So, there’s just us two,’ he snarls, coming towards me, ‘and at least that gives me a chance to teach you a lesson.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ I press myself against the tree, my voice just a whisper when what I want is to scream. I have to run but I can’t move. Which way to go? Left or right means moving dangerously close to the deep, fast-moving water; ahead means Frank. My whole body shakes and I sink to my knees.

  At the same moment, I hear a crash coming from somewhere behind Frank and, as he stretches out his hand to get hold of me, my eyes catch a movement to the side of him. Two fishermen, dripping with rain and with hats pulled down tight over most of their faces, come forward out of the bushes towards us.

  ‘Ellie? Is that you?’

  It’s my wonderful twin brothers! And Princess is with them, leaning close to Sam’s leg, and growling now at Frank. She must feel more confident with the boys, as her teeth are bared and she stares at Frank, crouching low as if to spring. Sam and David stare too, trying to take in the scene: Frank, purple with rage, water pouring off his head and down his neck, blood dripping from a wound on his left hand; and their terrified little sister, who for once in her life looks so pleased to see them that she seems likely to burst into tears with relief.

  Things change quickly. Frank turns and jumps in to his van. He reverses furiously and then accelerates as we all leap out of his way, Princess with us.

  ‘Let him go!’ I call to my brothers, who look for a moment as if they might try and give chase. But Frank can’t go. As he begins to move forwards, he hits a patch of mud and his van skids. He’s now dangerously near the river, but seems unaware of it, reversing again and making his engine roar. As the tyres finally catch on a patch of long grass, the van lurches sideways, sliding down the bank and towards the water.

  ‘Run!’ I shout.

  Sam and David pick up their fishing stuff and grab their bikes from the wet grass where they had thrown them. We have to get away. Sam tells me to sit on his bike saddle while he pedals. We leave Frank to his fate and, with me hanging onto Sam’s dripping back, we bike off up the track towards the main road, Princess running beside us. I glance behind me as we go, just catching sight of Frank standing up to his waist in water, his van tipped over at an angle on the muddy edge of the river.

  12

  The Twins

  As we come out on to the main road, the boys stop and look at the state of me.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Sam asks.

  I throw my arms round him and hug him, and then do the same to David. They’ve never looked so wonderful, safe and familiar, although with the rain still falling we can hardly see each other for drips and mud. Princess is soaked through too, and beginning to shiver under her thin greyhound coat.

  ‘Yes, I’m all right,’ I say. ‘Thank you for rescuing me!’

  ‘What on earth’s going on?’ David asks.

  ‘It’s too complicated to tell,’ I say. ‘But we have to phone and find out if Nick’s OK. He was supposed to pick me up but Frank got me instead. He’ll be worried sick. And we have to phone the police. They’re after Frank and we can tell them where to find him.’ It comes out all in a rush.

  ‘Are you nuts?’ David looks shocked. ‘Call the police on Frank Skally? Ellie, we’re too young to die!’

  ‘No, we have to,’ I insist. ‘He broke in to Mrs Henderson’s house and stole Princess, and just now, if you hadn’t come when you did, he was going to do something horrible to me. Someone’s got to stop him bullying people like Nick and Dad, and all the poor greyhounds.’ I don’t want to start crying – I have to get them to listen to me, and they don’t usually listen ... ‘The police are already on to him, and this time I’m going to help them get him.’ I say.

  ‘Blimey,’ says Sam. ‘What kind of a little sister have we got?’

  ‘Either very brave, or mad as a haddock’s swimsuit,’ says David. ‘And who’s Mrs Henderson?’

  ‘I’ll tell you later,’ I say, ‘we have to find Nick first. He was fighting Big Lennie last time I saw him.’ My brothers just stare at me. I dial Nick’s number.

  ‘If I take Princess to Jan’s house,’ I say, while Nick’s phone rings with no answer, ‘will you go to Lennie’s and see if Nick’s all right? I can’t understand why he didn’t come and catch me up. I’m scared Lennie might have had some big mates there to help him.’

  ‘Lennie hasn’t got any mates,’ says David, ‘but you’re not going anywhere on your own Ellie. I’ll see you safe to Jan’s place and Sam can go and help Nick.’

  As Sam rides off, I wipe more rain from my mobile and dial 999.

  The lady who answers wants to know my name and address. At first I don’t want to tell her, but then I think, why not? I describe where Frank is, and say that they are already after him for breaking into a house. She doesn’t sound that interested, and says she’ll pass my message on to the service desk.

  ‘But you are after him!’ I say, ‘and the break-in has been reported to you. You have to act now or he’ll get away again!’

  I get nowhere. I’m too stressed to remember the name of the road where Mrs Henderson lives. It’s not local to us and I can feel the woman on the end of the line becoming less convinced by the minute. She keeps telling me to leave it to her and she’ll pass on what I’ve said.

  Then David takes my mobile from me. He looks very determined.

  ‘Listen,’ he says, his voice serious. ‘This man, Frank Skally, has just kidnapped my little sister. She’s 11 years old and was in terrible danger. If my brother and I hadn’t managed to rescue her she might have been badly hurt by now. We want you to do something. Frank is stuck with his van down by the river. I can give you precise directions.’

  The woman must start listening at last because David goes on to tell her which lane to follow and where to find Frank.

  I turn to my shivering dog. ‘Let’s take Princes
s to Jan’s now,’ I say.

  I balance on David’s saddle, my face squashed up against his soaking jacket, and we set off again, Princess with us.

  My phone rings.

  ‘Ellie? It’s Nick. What the hell’s happened? Sam’s here. Someone must have emptied my diesel out so I couldn’t come after you. I’ll kill Frank.’

  ‘I’m all right,’ I tell him, ‘Sam and David saved me.’

  ‘I thought you’d be at the allotment,’ says Nick, ‘just get home quick will you? I’ll tell Mum and Dad you’re on your way.’ He rings off before I can ask about Lennie.

  David and I stand waiting on Jan’s doorstep after I’ve rung her bell. Two drowned rats and a shivering greyhound. Princess presses herself up against the door and then shoots inside the second Jan opens it. I fall in after her, and give Jan a massive hug.

  ‘Eurgh, horrid!’ she says. She’s in her nightie.

  David stands politely on the step until Jan waves him in. She stares in alarm at the puddles forming on the hall carpet and hustles us quickly through to the kitchen.

  ‘What on earth ... ?’ she starts, ‘what’s happened now? You never said you were going swimming.’

  ‘Ha. Ha.’ I say. But I can’t stop smiling at her. I’m so pleased to be in her warm kitchen and out of the wet dark night.

  ‘I’ll tell you everything tomorrow,’ I promise. ‘But Jan, I need your help. Do you think your dad will let Princess stay here for the night?’

  ‘Yes, but why?’

  ‘Please ask him,’ I say, ‘I know he’s not that fond of dogs.’

  ‘He’s in the shower,’ says Jan, ‘but don’t worry, he’ll be fine. Since we’ve had Jade he’s come round to the whole dog thing. But Ellie, how come Princess is with you?’

  ‘I’ve taken her back,’ I say, ‘it’s a long story.’ I’d love to sit and tell Jan everything but David and I need to go home. We’re both exhausted. ‘Tomorrow,’ I say again, ‘I’ll tell all, and please thank your dad for letting Princess stay.’

  Mum’s waiting by the open door as David and I come in the back gate. I don’t know what to expect, but she must have heard from Sam and Nick at least some of the things that had happened because, wet or not, she gives me a hug.

  ‘In the bath with you,’ she says firmly, ‘and be quick so David can go next. Then you can come down and tell me what you’ve been up to. Dad’s gone out to the chippy and Jack and Patrick are fast asleep so don’t make a racket and wake them.’

  Mum’s run me a wonderful bubbly bath. It sits there steaming while I peel off my sodden clothes and sink down into it. I give a long sigh. Home! Then, as I lean back for a lovely soak, the best smell in the world wafts up the stairs and under the bathroom door. Chips! I soon reach for a towel – I don’t know when I’ve ever felt so hungry.

  David’s next in the bath and he’s just as quick. By the time he comes downstairs we have the table laid and are ready to eat. It’s great to be home, but I wish Mum would stop staring at me. Why can’t she stare at Nick, whose cuts and bruises are glowing red now the mud and dirt has gone? She’s determined to concentrate on me.

  ‘Well?’ she asks, when I put down my fork and empty a large glass of lemonade.

  Where am I supposed to start? Whatever bit of the story I pick on to try and begin, there’s something I don’t want to admit to.

  I met this woman, Mrs Henderson. No, I was in this ditch. No, I hid in Frank’s van, that came first. No, I hid in Nick’s van, that came first, and so on.

  ‘I’m sorry Mum,’ I say in the end. ‘It’s too long to tell and I’m so tired! It’s school tomorrow ...’

  ‘Bed!’ she says then, ‘I’ll come and say goodnight in a minute. You can tell me the whole thing in the morning, and Nick can tell us what Granddad said now.’

  As they all turn to Nick, I go thankfully upstairs, wondering how many years it is since Mum came to my cupboard room to say goodnight. She must have decided to listen to Nick first, however, because by the time she comes, if she really does, I’m fast asleep.

  13

  Mum

  I can’t believe it when Mum turns up in my room at 7 o’clock in the morning. She’s carrying tea, her ciggies and a cup of hot chocolate for me. She must have got the boys up already because I can hear them downstairs muttering to each other as Jack grizzles for his breakfast and Patrick bashes his trolley into the kitchen units.

  ‘Now, Ellie.’

  She settles down on the end of my bed with her tea in one hand and a ciggy in the other. Glancing around to find somewhere to drop the ash, she chooses the top of my empty money-box. I try not to mind. ‘I want to know everything, from the night when Frank came and took your greyhound away. Don’t even think about missing anything out.’ But she says it kindly and, sitting here with her on my own, I find it easy to start.

  Now Mum never normally waits for anyone to get to the end of their sentences. She’s always butting in and saying what she can do without, or wandering off across the room to put the kettle on or something. But today she sits there and lets me speak. Sometimes her eyes go wide and she shakes her head as if she’s saying no, but otherwise I get to the bit where Frank went into the river without interruption.

  ‘I don’t think much of your Mrs Henderson,’ she says, after quite a long silence. ‘You say she’s nice but she should have got in touch with me. I can’t believe she brought you back and dropped you at Jan’s.’

  ‘Don’t blame her!’ I say quickly. ‘She did everything to help, and Nick’s met her. She kept telling me to tell you, but I wouldn’t. I was scared of Frank, and I didn’t want you to let him take Princess again. And Granddad knows her,’ I add hopefully.

  ‘Well Ellie,’ she says, ‘I don’t know what to think, but we’d better see what can be done now to sort this lot out. I suppose the police will be round.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ I feel dejected. How can Mum complain after all I’ve been through? I remember my night in the ditch and how scared I’d been, and then Frank grabbing me yesterday and that dark bike ride in the pouring rain. I turn my head away and try not to let the tears start. But Mum’s not as hopeless as I think. She turns my head back, really gently, and then gives me a hug.

  ‘It’s all right Ellie,’ she says, ‘you’ve been a brave girl and I’m proud of you. I’m just worried, that’s all. I know I should have made more time for you this summer. I shouldn’t have let any of this happen.’

  ‘It’s OK Mum,’ I say, cheering up a little. ‘I know you’ve got too much on your plate.’

  ‘Those are my words Ellie,’ she says, ‘and it’s my plate, so don’t you worry about what’s on it.’

  We get up and go downstairs, where all kinds of chaos has broken out. It’s no wonder Mum usually leaves the twins in bed till the last minute. The table is covered in soggy cornflakes and a milk spill has nearly reached the ironing they haven’t thought to move out of the way. David’s eating toast and peanut butter with Jack propped behind him with his bottle, and Sam’s frantically searching for socks while Patrick bangs the tray on his highchair, waiting for something to eat.

  At first I hardly notice Dad sitting in his chair away from the others. He’s got Tag asleep on his knee and the rent card balanced on top of Tag. He’s staring at it gloomily while he drinks a mug of tea. I go and give him a kiss.

  ‘Hello Trouble,’ he says, but he doesn’t sound cross. I nick a bit of David’s toast and leave to call for Jan. It seems unreal that we have to go to school.

  Anyone who’s had to go back to school after the summer holidays knows how horrible the first day is. And that’s without any of the sort of worries I still have. Jan stares at me with her mouth open when I tell her my story as we sit on the bus. We’ve left Princess and Jade curled up together on Jan’s sofa. Greyhounds never like an early start.

  ‘You’re not safe to be out,’ Jan says, when I pause for breath. ‘But I wish you’d taken me with you. I could have held Frank down while you jumped on him. Nex
t time, and don’t argue, I’m coming with you on whatever mad thing you’re planning.’

  ‘I didn’t plan any of it!’ I start to protest, but by then we’ve reached school.

  We’ve moved up in to Mr Hanford’s class. He’s known for being really strict and, sure enough, it’s not long before he calls out my name.

  ‘Ellie Wood? I don’t appear to have your summer holiday homework?’

  ‘No, Mr Hanford ...’ I’m about to start telling him about some of the reasons why I haven’t done it when he holds up one hand to stop me.

  ‘Enough,’ he says, ‘Mrs Wilson has already told me that you have a colourful home life, and that you apparently find it impossible to concentrate on the things which, one day, you will find are important. She tells me that you’re a bright girl. So I want you to write me an essay telling me about your summer and what you’ve been doing that has resulted in you not making a start on your homework.’

  I stare at him. He can’t be serious. A giggle goes round the rest of the class.

  ‘And the rest of you can do the same,’ Mr Hanford adds, which soon wipes their smiles away. ‘I want to know what you’ve been up to: what you enjoyed and what you didn’t; visits to the dentist; everything. At least three pages please, from everyone, and I want it by the end of the week. No excuses.’

  In four days? Impossible!

  But then I think, well at least I’ve got something interesting to say. Other people might write about the boring dentist or the seaside or whatever, but I can give him a thrilling story, with myself as the heroine. Yes! I’m just deciding I’ll give it my best try and surprise him, when the classroom door opens and the school secretary comes and whispers something to Mr Hanford.

  ‘Ellie Wood,’ he says, ‘you’re to go to the headmaster’s office.’