Swarme let go of Lanthorne and used both hands to keep Edwin’s arms by his sides. He was much stronger than Edwin and no amount of wriggling and shouting could stop Edwin being pushed through the door of Auntie Necra’s house and taken down a dark passage.
Very quickly, he found himself in a small, dark room with the door locked behind him. He fell onto the floor, sobbing at the hopelessness of his situation. Lanthorne was outside shouting. He told Edwin he was sorry. He called his brother names and he started crying too. He must have been pulled away, because his voice became fainter. A door slammed and there was silence. In that silence, Edwin heard the only sound in the world that could lift his spirits at that moment—a baby crying.
Edwin sat up and did his best to calm himself. Mandoline was alive and she needed him. Rolling around on the floor like a six-year-old who has been told, “No more sweets,” wouldn’t help her.
Swarme had led them into a trap and Lanthorne knew nothing about it. That was clear. Unfortunately, nothing else was. Edwin could feel panic setting in. He removed his backpack and took the lighter out of his pocket. He flicked it on for long enough to see what was in the room, but apart from a low stool and a small unlit lanthorne on a shelf, there was nothing. Perhaps Auntie Necra regularly took prisoners, and this was where she kept them. He couldn’t make use of the lanthorne, because that would let them know he had the lighter and he couldn’t risk losing it. All he could do was to sit down on the stool and wait.
They can’t leave me in here for ever.
Yes they could. They could let me starve to death and invite all their friends in Morting for a share of Special Menu.
If I starved to death, there wouldn’t be much left of me to eat. That means they won’t leave me in here for ever.
Edwin needed to be prepared. He stood up and tried waving the stool about. It was certainly lighter than the meat cleaver he thought of using back at the inne, but it made an awkward weapon and he doubted whether he could wield it effectively. Still, it would feel very satisfying just trying to wallop the treacherous Swarme and the vile Auntie Necra with it.
They must have been reading Edwin’s mind, because when they finally appeared, each was carrying a heavy stick as well as a lanthorne.
“Stand back against the wall, little boy,” said Auntie Necra. Edwin had caught a glimpse of her when he escaped through Jugge’s front door, but now he had time to look the woman up and down. Although her lanthorne threw an elongated shadow behind her, she was quite little, which surprised Edwin. He thought he remembered her as tall and spiky, the kind of wicked person who looms over her victims and is prone to mad cackles. The fact that she was shorter than he was strengthened his defiance. Just let her try leaving pinch marks on his arms, the way she did with Lanthorne, her own nephew.
Auntie Necra was wearing a long brown skirt with stockings and boots of the same colour, and a muddy-brown and shapeless cardigan. Edwin wasn’t taken in for a second by her silly old granny outfit, but at least she wasn’t decorated with bloodstains. Her face was the customary grey, her eyes and lips dark and her hair was vertical as well as unevenly cut. Everyone had hair like this, so it was either what Nature intended, or the country’s only hairdresser was a madman.
Auntie Necra breathed in and prepared to say something, but Edwin got his insults in first.
“You arsing cow!” he yelled. “You’re both arsing cows!” He moved forward menacingly and the two sticks were immediately raised. Swarme and his auntie looked as if they knew how to use them.
“So sorry we didn’t light the lanthorne for you,” said Auntie Necra. There was an edge to her voice Edwin found very disturbing. It was like the sort of voice that might enjoy saying things like, “That must hurt a lot.”
“He’s a proper little Shiner, isn’t he, Swarmie? Much brighter than the baby.”
Edwin came out with more insults, expressions he was reluctant to use even at school.
“No supper for him, I think,” said Auntie Necra, as if Edwin was the one who was in the wrong. “Shall we let him have a bed?”
“Not sure he deserves it, Auntie.”
“Whatever you say.”
Edwin dredged up the filthiest words he could remember and shouted them all several times. He was shocked at himself.
“Someone we know is going to have to learn to be much more polite,” said Auntie Necra. “We’ll see if he’s a nicer boy in the morning.”
“I hope he’s not afraid of the pitch dark, Auntie,” Swarme added.
They were so taken with their little jokes, they didn’t think of confiscating Edwin’s backpack or searching his pockets. They were still giggling as they left.
Edwin sat on the floor for a while and took stock. Auntie Necra and Swarme weren’t likely to bother him until the morning, so he could safely light the lanthorne for a while and sort out a kind of bed for himself. If there were going to be fights tomorrow, he needed to catch up on more of his lost sleep.
He chose a spot as far away from the door as possible for his bed and had no option but to lie directly on the floor in his anorak, with his backpack as his pillow and his coat as his blanket. He ate his last two remaining cheese triangles, which meant there were none left for Mandoline if he had to feed her on the run.
A cold, hungry, uncomfortable and miserable night lay ahead, but he had heard Mandoline crying and that made up for a lot.