Chapter 1

So there we were, the three of us, by the side of the stream that had turned into a river, raging with white water, in the near dark, in the middle of absolutely nowhere. And I hurt so much I thought I was going to vomit.

“You look … not good,” Kenny said.

“Why did you come down, Kenny?” I groaned after a couple of seconds – seconds I spent trying not to scream.

“I couldn’t leave you here on your own,” Kenny replied. “What would Dad say?”

I was still lying twisted on the rocks. I managed to sit up, but the pain made me whine and whimper like a whipped dog. It was even darker down here, almost full‑night, so I could hardly see Kenny.

“Kenny, you need to go and get help,” I finally gasped.

“No! I’ll help you. We can … I’ll carry you! It’ll be a piece of piss. Dad says he’s done farts that weigh more than you do.”

That made me laugh – I remembered Dad saying it when he swung me round as a kid. I couldn’t believe that Kenny remembered it, too. It’s funny what stuck in his head. But my laugh turned into a spluttering cough as the pain surged and raged again.

“You can’t carry me, Kenny. I’m bigger now, and my legs hurt too much. You’ve got to climb back up there. Can you do it?”

Kenny looked back up the side of the gorge. “I can try, but it’s very slidy,” he said. “You can slide down, but you can’t slide up.”

“Have a go,” I said. “You’ve got to be like Spiderman. But be careful. Then get to the road, fast as you can, and wave down a car. It’s the countryside. People are nice. They’ll stop. Tell them what’s happened. Tell them they need to call for help. Police and ambulance.”

“But I don’t want to leave you by yourself.”

“I’ve got Tina for company.”

“It’s nearly night time,” Kenny said. I don’t know if he was thinking about me here by the river or him being chased by the gytrash with its red eyes.

“Just stay by the river. It’ll take you straight to the road. And, Kenny …”

“You’ve got to go now. I’m hurt … my legs are all ruined.”

Normally, Kenny didn’t do hugs any more. When we were younger, he would hug anyone. But someone at his school must have told him hugging was for babies, so he stopped. But he knelt down next to me now and tried to give me an awkward hug. I kissed the top of his head. I don’t know why.

And then Kenny began to climb back up the side of the gorge. It looked easy at first, because there were broken rocks for him to scramble up. And then he slowed, and I heard his grunts of effort. Dirt and pebbles skittered down.

“Careful, Kenny,” I shouted, and the shout hurt like fire.

I saw Kenny leaning backwards in the gloom, and I guessed the rock must overhang there. I saw his legs kicking at nothing, moving in mid‑air. And then he fell back again. It was only two or three metres up, not even halfway to the top, but he grunted with pain when he landed.

“Kenny, Kenny, you OK?”

“Yeah,” he said, and got straight back up. “Try again.”

This time he slithered down before he even reached the overhang.

He didn’t pause, but tried once more, inching his way up. He made it to the overhang, but it was no good – only a professional climber could have got past it. Kenny was stuck, and I felt nothing but relief when he managed to scramble down again.

“Can’t do it, our Nicky,” Kenny said, no emotion in his voice.

I tried to get my head straight so I could think properly. But it was hard. My mind was all over the shop. Drifting forwards and backwards. And then I saw Kenny looking at me, calmly waiting for me to think of something.

He could go back along the stream, to where the banks were less deep and easier to climb up. But back that way the river went right up to the rock walls of the gorge, without any flat bank. Kenny would have to wade in the icy water, and I didn’t know how long for. We were both already frozen to the bone. Getting soaked might … Well, I didn’t want to think about it.

The other way, downstream towards the road, looked easier. The water flowed even faster, but there was a dry bit of bank in between the stream and the wall of the gorge, and rocks you could scramble over. If that carried on for a while, there was a chance Kenny might make it to a place where he could climb up.

The shock of the fall had made me forget how freezing cold I was, but now the chattering of my teeth reminded me. It was like when we were kids and I used to make the sound of a machine gun. It was hard to speak. But I got the words out.

“That way, Kenny,” I said. “Follow the stream that way, until you can climb up. The road can’t be far. You can almost hear it.”

And I did think that if I tried really hard I could pick out the sound of cars roaring somewhere in the distance. It was probably just the water thundering down the gorge, and the pain and the cold playing tricks with my head.

“I’m scared,” he said.

“Don’t be daft. I was just joking about the gytrash. It doesn’t exist.”

“Not of the monster.”

“What then?” I asked Kenny. “That you’ll get lost?”

“What?” That word came out more like w‑w‑w‑t‑t‑t because of the chattering.

“I’m scared you might … you might …” Kenny started saying but couldn’t finish. Then he hugged me again, and I felt his hot tears wet on my cold face.

“I’ll be fine, our Kenny,” I told him. “But you’ve got to move yourself.”

“I don’t want to be on my own.”

“You’ll never be on your own, Kenny. We’ll always be together. But to be together, you’ve got to leave me now. Please. Please.”

And then Kenny got up and walked away. Tina stood, too. She looked at Kenny and then looked at me. It really seemed like she was trying to work out who needed her more, but it was probably just her trying to decide what her best chance of surviving was. Anyway, Tina made her mind up and trotted off after Kenny. In a few seconds they had gone round a bend and I couldn’t see them any more.

I was about to let out a huge scream of agony and fear, the scream I’d been holding in ever since I fell. Then Kenny came running back.

“Here,” he said. “You need these.” He took the scarf and the gloves off.

“No, Kenny, you have them. I bloody hate Leeds United.”

“Put ’em on anyway,” Kenny said. “I won’t tell anyone.”

I think he’d forgotten he was wearing the hat, or he’d have given me that, too. I didn’t remind him. He wrapped the scarf around me and even stretched the gloves out while I slid my hands inside. The gloves were wet from his attempt to climb out, but they still felt good.

“I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” Kenny said, which was something my dad used to say when he was off out to the pub.