10

FRIENDSHIP LOST

Only a week later and my good spirits were destroyed.

We had just finished our first day of being scientists since our pact. Autumn had brought winds and rain which kept us off the cliff for days and the mud was such that our finds were few, even with my genius for discovery. We were going back nearly empty-handed and I was not best pleased.

Henry was running to keep up as I walked off homeward at my usual brisk pace.

‘Wait, Mary. There is something I must say. I want to thank you. I have had so much enjoyment and learned so much in the past few months and you’ve helped me to forget my grief. I am eternally grateful. More than you can ever know.’

‘Well, I am glad of that,’ I replied. ‘For grief is a sorry waste of time in my opinion. It does not bring back the dead nor does it entertain the living.’

He smiled a little at this for, even after so much time has passed, he still could not entirely accept my plain talk.

‘I want you to have this.’ He handed me the little leather-bound book of his sketches, and I leafed through the drawings: a fine record of our many hours of treasure-hunting.

‘Why are you giving me this?’ I asked. ‘There are still pages to fill and our studies have scarce begun!’

He looked downcast. ‘I have been keeping something from you, Mary. I did not want to spoil everything. But the day has arrived. My time here is at an end. I am to go to the Royal Military College in Great Marlow in January and Mother and I are returning to London to visit relatives and make preparations before I go. I must be fitted out with all manner of uniforms and accoutrements! I shall be quite the popinjay!’

‘But you are only a boy!’ For in truth, he looked a deal younger than Joseph even though he was two years older. Maybe it was his golden curls that made him appear like a child.

‘Joseph has been apprenticed and working for months. What is my excuse? I will be fourteen in a few months and the time has come. Besides, we are at war, Mary. I must do my duty.’

‘But you are to be a scientist! We are to be scientists! You cannot go to be a soldier! You promised! We made a pact! You promised!’

He looked away. Crying again, I supposed. ‘It’s not my choice. It is what is expected. Demanded. I am sorry. It was as big a shock to me as it is to you now. Even though it was always the plan. Life cannot be so carefree for ever. You know that better than most.’

I felt a terrible feeling go through me. I did not know what it was and I still do not. I felt as if I could be sick or faint or scream or shout or do something... something violent. Before I knew it, I had thumped him hard on the chest and sent him reeling, coughing and gasping.

‘Well, go, then. I shall be glad to be rid of you, for you are nothing but an encumbrance’ – this is a very good big word I have learned from my mother – ‘and a burden. Take your stupid scribblings too, for I’ve no need of them.’

I threw his book at him. He did not catch it, but just let it fall into the mud, where he gazed on it sorrowfully.

‘I will miss you, Mary. You have been a friend to me. I will never forget you. Ever. Mark my words, you will be a famous scientist one day. A celebrated geologist. You’ll solve the mystery of life on Earth and how these creatures came to be entombed in rock. You’ll find monsters, treasures beyond anything we have uncovered so far. Of that, I am sure. Please, Mary! Will you not shake hands? I want us to part as friends. Please.’

There was entreaty in his voice. I am not in the habit of being swayed by emotion, but I was gripped by such a storm of feelings myself that I barely knew what I was doing. I stuck out my hand, muddy and covered in scratches, nails black with Blue Lias clay and then snatched it away again.

‘You said we would be scientists together. You promised! A week ago! Just one week ago! You are a liar!’

I threw the few finds we had made to the ground where they joined his sketchbook. Then I gathered up my skirts and turned to run.

I could hear him shouting to me. Something about writing to me. I did not look behind me once and his words were lost on the wind and the rushing in my ears.

I ran as fast as I could, sometimes stumbling on the cliff path, sometimes slipping on the mud, and as I ran I felt a great hatred for the cliffs and for Henry and for all that wasted time making my first friend, only to lose him.

My mother tried to stop me as I tore through the kitchen but I would not be stopped. I threw myself on the bed and screamed into the blanket. I screamed and screamed and screamed and I did not know why I felt so much pain. I had no wound. I had no broken bones. I had pain, pain that made me scream so that I did not know how to stop.

But I did stop at last. I had screamed enough for a lifetime. I could scream no more. I slept. Wild dreams filled my head. Henry and me, buried beneath that landslip. Henry sucked out to sea, shouting to me. Me, sinking in mud, fighting to break free.

The next day, I went to Black Ven and found his sketchbook where it lay in the mud, a little dampened by the dew, surrounded by the scattered treasures. I hid the book in a hole in the graveyard wall where I had first met Henry De la Beche. Frenchie.

I already missed him.