Darkness fell, and the soldiers inched closer.
The children began a slow stir-fry, stirring the last of the rabbit into the vegetables. Aparna had brought tinned spinach, sweetcorn and a bag of lentils. They kept adding water, and the food kept thickening. After three quarters of an hour they had a huge pan of the sweetest-smelling stew they’d ever tasted.
‘You don’t eat meat,’ said Jeff suddenly.
‘Who doesn’t?’ said Mark. He was happy again, for the tent was warm. His long arms hugged his knees.
‘Aparna! She’s a vegetarian.’
‘Not today,’ said Aparna. ‘I can’t be – and I wasn’t yesterday.’
‘I thought it was a religious thing,’ said Salome. ‘Can you just . . . take a break when you want?’
‘I just decided there wasn’t much choice,’ said Aparna.
‘But you’re not going to throw up, are you?’ said Richard. ‘It must taste pretty disgusting – if you only do vegetables.’
Aparna smiled. ‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘It’s a bit like banana.’
‘Look, Aparna—’ said Rikki.
‘Here we go,’ interrupted Jeff. ‘Get ready.’
‘No, listen. I don’t want to be a bore, but we were arguing about this yesterday. Who smashed up that picture of yours? Because Richard thinks it was me, and I think it was Richard – and probably everyone thinks it was one of us. But it wasn’t.’
‘I still think it was Mr Barlow,’ said Eric. ‘He’s the real villain.’
Everyone laughed.
‘It could have been any kid,’ said Salome. ‘If Rikki and Richard say they didn’t do it, we ought to believe them.’
‘But I know,’ said Aparna. ‘It was me.’
The laughter stopped. Then Mark sniggered, and said, ‘Huh?’
‘How was it you?’ said Richard.
Jeff grinned. ‘She’s just trying to make everyone feel better . . .’
‘What do you mean?’ said Richard. ‘Let her speak.’
‘I think the girl’s serious,’ said Salome. ‘Are you serious, Aparna – or are you joking with us?’
Eric said, ‘That was about the nicest picture in the world. You won a prize for it. Everyone says you’re going to be an artist, if you’re not a dancer, if you’re not a lawyer. And you’re saying you smashed the glass and wrote all over it?’
‘Did you see what was written on it?’ said Mark.
‘Yes,’ said Jeff. ‘The word Rikki likes so much. It wasn’t you, Aparna – that’s crazy!’
‘I’d had enough of it,’ said Aparna softly. She stirred the meal. Mr Barlow made the hot chocolate, as quietly as he could. The hurricane above suddenly lashed at the tent-skin extra hard, and they heard the guy ropes groan. Jeff turned his torch off, and the only light was from the fire in the hole below, and a candle on the ledge. Nobody spoke, and the wind set up a high, sighing moan.
‘Tell them why,’ said Mr Barlow.
‘I don’t know if I can,’ said Aparna. ‘I’d just had enough of it, and I’d had enough of me. I wanted to get Rikki expelled, of course. I knew if I smashed it up everyone would think it was him, and I . . . I’m afraid I hated you, Rikki. Richard. I hated you so much I wanted to kill you. It was me that did all that to your locker too, and messed up your books. I stole all the planes. I cut up the wings-badge because I knew you loved it.’
‘What wings?’ said Salome.
‘What did you do to his locker?’ said Eric. ‘I’m not understanding this at all.’
‘We didn’t tell anyone,’ said Richard. ‘We didn’t know what to do, and—’
‘We didn’t have time,’ said Rikki. He looked around at the faces. ‘Someone threw stuff in our locker. Trashed it, tore everything up . . . I didn’t think it was you, Aparna, but . . . I’m so glad it was.’
‘How could you smash up your own picture?’ said Jeff.
‘I hate . . . everyone always going on about it,’ said Aparna. She was staring at her knees. ‘Going on about art and how clever I am.’
‘You are,’ said Salome.
‘No,’ said Aparna. ‘No. You haven’t met my sister.’ She laughed. ‘You haven’t met my other sister, who’s at medical college and has an offer to train at . . . I don’t even know where, somewhere famous. I’m not clever at all – all I do is . . . remember stuff. I’ve got a good memory. I’m not as clever as Eric. I couldn’t catch a rabbit.’
‘Oh,’ said Eric, ‘rabbits are just dopey—’
‘I can’t be nice, like Jeff. I can be dull. I can be quiet. I can’t say stuff, like Rikki. That speech you made, for the TV: that was so terrible and frightening, and brave. You were so angry – it was my dad who clapped you, by the way – he said you were a genius, which made me hate you even more. And anyway, the other thing about that picture was what someone said about Icarus, after Mr Barlow told the story. About why did it have to be a sad ending, and why was it always about punishment and death? I thought, Why am I doing paintings about death?’ Aparna paused, and everyone waited. ‘So I went into reception late, after my music lesson. And I hated you so much, Rikki. That must have been the main thing. I just smashed it with a stone. And in the morning, I’m so sorry . . . I did that to your locker. But I kept the little plane.’
‘It’s only stuff,’ said Richard. ‘Stuff can be fixed. I wish I still had the wings, though.’
‘They’re here,’ said Eric. ‘They were by your bed.’
Rikki stared.
Eric dug in his pocket, and out they came, damp and forlorn. A piece of sellotape had held them together, but it had come off, and they were in two pieces again. Jeff switched his torch back on, and they looked at the careful embroidery, and the gold thread fraying where Aparna’s scissors had sliced them in half.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again. ‘I wish they could be mended.’
‘They can be,’ said Salome.
‘Aparna,’ said Jeff. ‘Are you really sick of yourself?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s so weird. I’m sick of me.’ He laughed.
Mark smiled. ‘You imagine what it’s like being me, then,’ he said. ‘I’d rather be you, or Eric. I mean, look at me! Look. I’m just this bug-eyed zero who never says anything worth saying. I’m just this stupid body, in a bunch of clothes that don’t even fit me—’
‘That’s not true!’ said Rikki.
‘I’m even rubbish at football. I don’t care, most of the time . . . but sometimes you just think how nice it would be to be someone else. And be good at something. And be special.’
‘I don’t get my parents,’ said Jeff. ‘They never have a laugh. They’re so sensible – all the time.’
‘You try living with mine,’ said Salome.
‘Your dad was scary,’ said Richard.
‘He’s not. Not really. Mum’s the scary one. But all I do is train and train, and then I go and lose my temper . . . I nearly lost everything over . . . you know, over Rolo. And Dad won’t let me forget it.’
‘It was a good punch,’ said Rikki. ‘I’d like to box.’
‘I didn’t insult your grandad,’ said Jeff. ‘You told Mr Prowse I’d called him names.’
Eric laughed. ‘I remember your grandad,’ he said. ‘We used to call him Uncle. Everyone did. If you called him “sir” or “mister”, he used to pretend he couldn’t hear you – you remember? He’d put his hand by his ear and say, “What was that? What was that?” And remember him at football practice, shouting his head off! Did he get on your nerves, Mr Barlow?’
‘No.’
‘He had a hell of a loud voice,’ said Salome. ‘He was a boxer too, wasn’t he?’
‘He used to be,’ said Rikki. ‘He was a middleweight. He only got so . . . frail in the last few years – he was always going on about how skinny I am, but he was the one.’ He smiled. ‘He wasn’t active any more – you know, in the last years. He had some kind of arthritis, which slowed him down. Then diabetes, which Mum said he wasn’t really controlling properly. Then . . .’
‘I thought he’d forgotten something at first,’ said Richard.
‘When?’
‘The day he died. When he stopped. It was outside the newsagent – I thought he’d forgotten something. He just stopped. And he looked back behind him, or I thought he did. I thought maybe we’d left something in the shop, but then his face changed. I was holding his hand, and he let it go for a second. I said, “Are you all right?” It was that narrow bit of pavement, where the waste-bin is, and he held the wall for a moment.’
Rikki was nodding. ‘Yes. Then he went down on his knees, really slow. I got hold of his arm, but he kept going down, and his face was so different, like he was thinking really hard about something. Then this terrible . . . jolt. He was trying to breathe then.’
‘You wouldn’t believe how quickly he went cold,’ said Richard.
‘Yes. It was like someone had flicked a switch.’
‘I tried to get his collar open, but I couldn’t. He was half on his side, and there were people around. They called an ambulance, and then nobody knew what to do. Why don’t we learn first aid?’
‘Why don’t we?’ said Rikki. ‘We could have saved him.’
‘It was massive, though,’ said Richard. ‘The heart attack.’
Jeff said, ‘Do you think he felt much?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Richard. ‘I always wonder: what was he feeling and thinking? Did he know that it was all over? Does your life flash past again, or are you just too frightened? Maybe he was asking for help.’
‘He was thinking about us, probably,’ said Rikki. ‘Knowing him. He loved us.’
‘You think so?’
‘God, I miss him so much because . . . I mean, I know people have to die. I know that. We do it all in science: people die. But it was just me and him there, and I didn’t . . . I could’ve . . .’
‘Could’ve what? What should we have done?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘We couldn’t do anything.’
‘I know.’
‘What then? What?’
‘I just wish we’d said something he wanted to hear, and now we can’t. I just wish I’d told him I loved him, and said goodbye, because I could have done. Maybe it would have made it better for him, and then maybe I’d feel easier. There’s no heaven – I’m never going to see him again, and he was . . . I still can’t imagine . . . Did I love him enough? Did he know, Richard? Did he know we loved him?’
‘Yes,’ said Richard.
‘God, I hope so. I wish I could believe that.’
Mr Barlow told a story, then – another myth – about a woman who had wept so much in grief that the gods swept her up and turned her into a mountain. The mountain ran with mist and water for ever more.
Mark fed the fire, and after some time they blew the candle out. Then they listened to the weather hammering down, and they dozed. The earth turned, and they crawled into sleeping bags and heard some creature moan, out on the rocks. The moon came close, invisible behind boiling cloud, and pulled at the sea.
After some time, when the earth had turned a little further – Aparna said, ‘They’re coming for you.’
‘Who?’ said Jeff.
‘Wake up. They know where we are.’
‘Who’s coming? What are you talking about?’
She was on her feet, shaking the others. It was still dark, and the wind was tugging at the roof. Eric was in the doorway.
‘Where have you been?’ said Salome. ‘What time is it?’
‘Nowhere,’ Eric said. ‘I just had this feeling. We ought to move higher.’
‘Me too,’ said Aparna. ‘We’re not hidden at all, are we?’
‘I just scouted around,’ said Eric. ‘I didn’t see anyone. But I’ve got this feeling we should get Rikki and Richard upwards.’
They didn’t light a fire. They didn’t have breakfast. They struck camp, and did their best to bury all evidence of their stay. They were reluctant to use torches and they hardly spoke. They packed their bags and crawled into the rocks. Then they climbed as quickly as they dared. There was a thin, feeble light in the sky, and they could still hear the muttering of more thunder as it rained and rained and rained.
The top of the mountain was invisible, so they just kept climbing, looking only at their hands and listening to their own breathing.