The Whitby Witches 2: A Warlock In Whitby Page 14

  Her brother returned bearing a piece of old wardrobe and laid it against the framework. "Is that it?" he asked Jennet. "Aren't you going to do any more?"

  The girl grunted in exasperation and decided that her dream of elegant fingernails would just have to wait. "All right," she sighed, "but I'm not touching any bits that have woodlice crawling on them."

  For the next couple of hours they forgot all quarrels and resentments. Jennet's enthusiasm grew alongside the pyramid of sticks and planks and she quickly stopped moaning once she became absorbed in the work. At times, it was quite like the old days again. When their parents had been alive their father had always loved November the fifth and made sure it was a special occasion for them too.

  When Miss Wethers popped her head out of the kitchen to see how they were doing, she was pleased to see the children united at last. "Well, Edith," she squeaked to herself, "that is a pleasant sight—how industrious they've been. Why, it's nearly finished." A momentary spasm of concern seized her as she thought of the actual fire. "Oh dear," she wittered, "I'll have to make sure they stand well clear of the flames, and I suppose that means I shall have to light it—I do hope I shan't get smoke in my eyes."

  Miss Wethers hated Guy Fawkes night; even as a child she had feared it, and now she was accustomed to remaining indoors like a timid pet—away from all the bangs and sulphurous flashes. The only part of it she was really looking forward to was the burning of that horrible effigy. Ben had almost frightened her to death with it earlier and she had forbidden him to leave it downstairs, for she had the disconcerting fancy that it would creep up behind and jump out at her.

  "Don't be too much longer," she called out before returning to the delightfully soppy book she was reading in the parlour to soothe her strung-out nerves. "It's getting dark."

  Jennet was busily stuffing the inside of the nearly complete bonfire with newspaper and she gave the postmistress a wave of acknowledgement. "Nearly done," she said, before standing back to admire her efforts.

  "Is there enough paper in there, do you think?" Ben asked. "Perhaps we should put in some of Aunt Alice's fire lighters, just to make sure it'll burn well."

  His sister gave him a warning glance. "You keep your hands off those," she said sternly. "You're not that dumb, are you? You'll be wanting to pour petrol on it next! Do you know how many people get horribly burned doing stupid stunts like that?"

  "It was only a suggestion," he muttered.

  "Well it was an idiotic one!"

  Ben arranged the last of his sticks around the bonfire, only to find that his sister was still looking at him when he had finished. "All right," he cried, "I didn't mean it! There's no need to stare like that!"

  But, when Jennet spoke, all her anger had gone, in its place her voice held a forced casualness. Ben had heard that tone many times before and knew that it meant she was after something—usually something of his.

  "Ben," she drawled nonchalantly, "don't you think it would be nice if we had a big Guy Fawkes party? I mean instead of just you, me and Miss Wethers?"

  "There's Mr Roper too," he butted in. "He's coming, don't forget."

  Jennet idly twisted a lock of her hair. "Mmmm," she agreed, "but that's still quite a small number of people isn't it? And both he and Miss Wethers are very old. They haven't got much in common with us, have they? I think it'll be dull with just them here."

  Ben wasn't sure where all this was leading. "I don't think Mr Roper's boring!" he declared loyally. "Besides, there isn't room for lots of others."

  "I wasn't going to invite lots," she answered, "only one more."

  "Who?" asked her brother, although by this time he had already guessed.

  "Well, what about Nathaniel?" Jennet said. "He must be awfully lonely staying with the Gregsons, they're about as cheerful as a couple of undertakers. I'm sure he'd love it—not only that, but it would be the perfect way to show him how sorry you were for being so rude this morning."

  Ben was paying no attention to her and had walked off, back to the cottage.

  "Well, I can ask him if I want to," she said to herself. "I don't need your permission, it's as much my garden as it is yours!"

  The girl gazed up at the windows of the house next door; perhaps Nathaniel had finished at the museum and was back already. Maybe he was watching her from behind the net curtains. Jennet hugged herself and let out a great, devoted sigh. "I'll nip round after tea," she said, "and see if he's free tomorrow. I'm sure he'll want to come if I'm here."

  For a while, she indulged in a delicious fantasy in which she and Nathaniel were standing close to one another. Orange firelight played over both their faces, dancing in their eyes and burning in their hearts as he took her hand in his and held it tenderly.

  "Spare me! Spare me!"

  Ben came out of the kitchen holding the guy before him as though leading it to a place of execution and, to help create the illusion, he was doing all the voices. "Spare him not!" he commanded, trying to speak in a deep voice. "To the stake with him! You must pay for your crimes." He shook the papier-mâché head then yowled, "No, no, I'll confess!"

  "What've you brought that out for?" Jennet asked, ignoring the painted face which was nodding wildly at her. "It'll only get damp if it rains tonight."

  "I want to see what he'll look like tomorrow," he explained. "I'll take him back indoors afterwards. See, I've put my old jumper on him too. Looks good, doesn't he? Mr Roper'll be pleased. Give me a hand sticking him up there, Jen, I can't reach."

  Jennet lifted the guy and placed him at the pinnacle of the bonfire. "You'll have to put a pole up his back," she said, "he keeps falling over."

  "I hadn't thought of that," admitted Ben, "pass old Crozier down again then and I'll..."

  "Ben!" snapped his sister. The boy gave an unrepentant laugh. "Well he looks a little bit like your boyfriend," he retorted.

  Jennet gasped. "Nathaniel is not my boyfriend!" she shouted.

  "Not yet!"

  "Benjamin Laurenson!" she bawled, making a grab for him, "You come here!"

  Afterwards, Ben could never remember if he heard the cries first, or saw the figures as they leapt into the garden. For, even as he darted aside to avoid his sister's hands, the air was filled by many voices and a series of jubilant whoops came clamouring all about them. The two children spun round and forgot everything else.

  "Get them!" screeched a horribly familiar voice. "Get the Cret and his stinkin' sister!"

  Over the back fence came Danny Turner, Mark Stribbit and a gang of four other boys. In a trice they vaulted over the raspberry bushes and flower borders, trampling the poor plants underfoot, and charged straight for the two children.

  "What do you think you're doing?" cried Jennet in astonishment. "Get out of here!"

  "Shut it, scabhead!" yelled Danny. "Mick, Terry—grab hold of her, Glen you take the Cret!"

  Before they knew what was happening, both Jennet and Ben were seized by the wrists and had their arms twisted behind their backs until tears sprung from their eyes.

  "Let go!" Ben cried, kicking back with his feet.

  His sister struggled with the two boys who held her but it was no use. "What do you want?" she cried.

  Danny swaggered up and sneered in her face. "Don't wet yer knickers," he jabbered, "us lads've only come a chumpin' fer firewood. We're gonna have a right blaze on the beach tomorrow." He pointed at the newly finished bonfire and called to Mark and the other boy. "Pull them matchsticks down, they'll do to light me ciggies wi'."

  "No!" Ben protested as the yobs began kicking and smashing. "Stop it!"

  Danny tittered and poked him in the ribs with a sharp piece of wood. "I'm sick of you, Cret!" he spat. "Yer always whingin' and whinin'. Well, here's summat to really skrike about!" Dragging Ben from the one called Terry, he threw him to the ground and kicked him savagely until the boy crumpled up with a pitiful wail.

  "Leave him be!" screamed Jennet, but before she could call for help, a dirty hand was shoved over her
mouth and it was all she could do to breathe properly. Then her head was pulled backwards so she could no longer see what was happening to Ben. The boys who held her were too strong and the more she struggled the more painfully they yanked on her arms.

  Danny left Ben clutching at his stomach and gasping into the damp grass. "That's right, Glen," he sniggered, "keep her snotty ladyship quiet, can't have her bawlin' her head off can we?" He came swaggering up to her, "Not so tough now are yer?" he snarled. "Well, you was lucky the other day that's all." He kicked her shin but her cry was muffled by the dirty hand still smothering her. Danny hooted and pranced before her like a lunatic. "Look at the smelly Laurensons!" he laughed, waving his arms above his head. "One's barmy, the other's a stinking cow! And the only person who'll have them is nuts too—ha, ha!"

  Jennet managed to tug her head forward, and the eyes that she turned on the Turner boy were filled with hatred. Using all her breath, she sucked at the hand that stifled her and bit down hard. Behind her Glen let out a shocked squeal.

  "Ruddy Nora!" he howled, blowing on his palm. "She bit me—the cow bit me!"

  Jennet seized her chance and squirmed round to free herself, pushing the other boy away as forcefully as she could. He went tumbling backwards like a skittle, and then she turned her blazing anger on the ringleader.

  Danny stopped his capering, dismayed to see his mates so easily overcome. He stared at the girl and his nerve wavered for a moment as he saw a peculiar glint shine in her eyes. Was it his imagination or was that insane gleam really a fiery red? Then Danny rallied, remembering that he was not alone, Mark and the other boy were still with him. He signalled for them to stop destroying the bonfire and they sidled up, large sticks in each of their hands.

  "Come on then, Laurenson," taunted Danny, "come an' get me—I dares yer."

  Jennet was breathing strangely, for a while her mind had become so flooded with hatred that she had forgotten all else—even Ben. Her one intention was to rush at that hideous boy with her claws ready to tear his face off. Now she recoiled from that awful emotion—bewildered and appalled. Her face turned pale at the memory of the all-consuming rage that had taken hold of her, and at the evil thoughts that had come unbidden to her mind.

  "Nathaniel," she whispered forlornly, "where are you? Help me please."

  Now that all traces of fight had left her Danny jumped forward and raised his hand. "Yer as mad as yer brother!" he guffawed. "Go back to the funny farm!" And his hand whipped down to deliver a resounding slap across the girl's face.

  Jennet staggered under the blow and had to clench her teeth to stop the inevitable cry.

  Danny snorted and shot an expert missile of green phlegm into her hair. "Right," he called to the others," let's clear off. Don't take the wood—it's too crappy to bother wi'."

  "'Ere!" shouted Mark. "What about this?"

  Danny giggled gleefully. "Yeah!" he snorted. "We'll have that!"

  One by one, the gang leapt back over the fence and ran off up the grassy slope of the cliff. Held aloft, like a trophy of war, the boys carried the guy.

  Ben lifted his head, his stomach felt cramped and bruised, but that was nothing when he discovered what they had stolen. He thought of all the hard work he and Mr Roper had put into making it, but no tears trickled down his face at its loss—for at the same time he remembered that there were other, more important concerns to worry about.

  "Jen," he said croakily, "are you hurt?"

  His sister was kneeling on the grass where she had fallen after that cruel smack. When she turned her face to him, Ben saw an ugly, livid mark burning across her cheek. She stared blankly up at him when he came over and, as he held her, he discovered that she was shaking.

  "Don't worry, Jen," he tried to reassure her, "they've gone now."

  The girl closed her eyes and shuddered, "It's not that," she mumbled, "but back then, something took hold of me—I lost control. I wanted to kill them all, and would have done too..."

  "I would have," Ben said, "if I were bigger. They're horrible bullies and deserve whatever they get."

  Jennet was looking almost white. "No, it was more than that," she told him, "it frightened me. I mean it."

  Ben stared at her. He had never seen her so affected by anything before—except of course the accident. Frowning, a more sinister thought came to him; could this be another result of the third guardian's destruction? Were the evil forces already leaking out so strongly that they had infected his sister? Or was it another power that possessed her? "Well it's all over now," he said consolingly. "Come on, let's go inside."

  Jennet slowly came out of her daze and unsteadily rose to her feet. "Oh," she said, "what about you? Did Danny hurt you?"

  Ben shook his head. "I'll live," he replied, trying to sound cheerful.

  She took his hand and her eyes stared out over the garden, falling on the wrecked bonfire. "Oh Ben," she said sadly, "how could they be so mean? And where's your guy—did they take that too? I'm sorry."

  He shrugged. "It doesn't matter," he said simply, "it was only some old clothes stuffed with paper."

  "But you spent so long making it," she sobbed, "it's just wicked, how could they?" Jennet took a deep, steadying breath then added in a determined voice, "Well I'm not going to let them get away with it, I'm going to tell Miss Wethers."

  "You'll only cause more trouble!"

  "I don't care," she said firmly, and with that they went into the cottage.

  Miss Wethers was sitting quietly in the parlour, still avidly reading her romance when they disturbed her. She took one look at Jennet's face and covered her own with her hands.

  "They did what?" she kept squeaking as they told her what had happened. "They did what?" The postmistress's mouth flapped open like a letter-box and she bristled with indignation. "The little brutes!" she exclaimed. "How beastly of them." Out came her tissue and it went dabbing about the girl's glowing face as she chirped her concern.

  "Most distressing," Miss Wethers declared when the tale was complete. "That Turner hooligan is a danger to everybody." She wrung her hands together for a few moments as though she were screwing herself up for some brave action. Then, plunging her tissue back up her sleeve, she stepped back into the shoes she had discarded whilst reading and said in a tone that neither of the children had heard from her before, "I'm not standing for this! If Alice were here, she wouldn't stand for this kind of bullying, cowardly behaviour and nor will I. I'm going straight round to that young villain's house and have one or two sharp words with his parents. He needs keeping in order and if they won't do something about it I shall go to the police station—I don't care if they pack him off to a Borstal. I will not tolerate such disgusting behaviour!"

  Into the hall she stormed and snatched her coat from the peg. "Jennet," she said, opening the front door, "you attend to your teas—I shan't be long!" The door slammed behind her and the normally meek postmistress went stomping off through the alleyway.

  The children stared at one another in surprise. "Who would have thought that from her?" whistled Ben. "She wouldn't say boo to a goose."

  "Must be made of stronger stuff than we thought," smiled Jennet. "But that doesn't mean you can keep frightening her like you have been doing. It makes you no better than Danny when you do that."

  Before Ben could answer, there came a fierce hammering on the front door. Both children jumped and looked at each other fearfully.

  "Perhaps it's Danny again," murmured Ben.

  "I don't think so, he wouldn't knock for one thing."

  "He might, just to trick us."

  "Well if we don't answer it we'll never find out," Jennet said, pulling the door open. She cast her eyes around the yard; it was dark and deserted. The November evening had fallen thickly, filling the place with silence and night shadows. "Strange," she murmured.

  "Who is it?" asked Ben trying to peer over her shoulder.

  Jennet moved back to close the door. "Weird," she said.

  "What is?" cried B
en, ducking under her arm.

  "There's nobody out here," she told him, "no one at all."

  Ben said nothing, for his sister was wrong. Standing on the step, leaning on his staff and glowering impatiently, was Nelda's grandfather.

  "'Bout time an' all," the aufwader grumbled, "ah were gonna gi' up on thee."

  The boy blinked in astonishment. Of all possible visitors Tarr was the last he had expected. "Hello," he began nervously, it was most unusual for any of the fisherfolk to call on a human and already he was wondering what this portended. "Is there something wrong?" he asked.

  His sister looked down at him and pushed on the door. "Of course there isn't," she answered, thinking he was talking to her, for she was unable to see or hear the aufwader. "Shift out of the way, it's too draughty to leave it open."

  But her brother did not budge and Tarr gave Jennet a curious stare. "Daft as owt!" he remarked. "Womenfolk are allus addle-pated. But aye, theer's summat wrong all right—very wrong."

  Ben tugged at his sister's sleeve. "Jen," he hissed, "there is someone here, it's Nelda's grandfather."

  "Oh," was all she could find to say. There were times when she completely forgot about her brother's "gift", as Aunt Alice put it. In fact, she would rather it was never mentioned, as it had only ever got them into trouble. She knew about the fisherfolk of course, but was never comfortable when Ben talked about them. "What does he want?" she asked.

  "I don't know."

  Tarr thumped his staff on the ground, rattling the terracotta flowerpots nearby. Jennet could not fail to see that. Then, the aufwader cleared his throat and coughed as though beginning a speech.

  "Hark up, lad," he began, "ah's come to thee with a purpose—and trust you me, ah wouldna have come fer any other than her. It's been many years since I set foot in this town and that's just the way it would've stayed too." He paused to suck his teeth and gaze at the surrounding houses. "Lobster pots an' crates," he sourly commented, "ah dunna ken how tha can abide such hutches."

  Ben stopped himself smiling. Tarr was extremely old and he didn't want to appear disrespectful. "So why have you come?" he asked.