The Trouble with Perfect Page 10

  Violet tried not to laugh.

  “So, who have you seen down here?” she asked, to distract Beatrice, who was clearly upset with Conor’s continuous teasing.

  “Just Boy and the…the rag-doll man, sometimes. Boy talked about William too. Why? Are there others, Violet?” Beatrice asked shakily.

  “I’m not sure, I’ve only seen the nurse,” Violet replied. “I think Boy might be working for her. She used to work in the orphanage.”

  Violet took out the picture and tried to show it to Beatrice, though it was very hard to make out in the darkness.

  “But why would a nurse be keeping us here?” Beatrice asked.

  “Don’t listen to Violet,” Conor said angrily. “This is all Boy’s fault. He’s a No-Man’s-Lander and they were all locked up for good reason. Dad says so. The No-Man’s-Landers are all crazy. If Town had stayed Perfect, none of this would be happening.”

  “What?” Violet said, wide-eyed. “There’s nothing wrong with No-Man’s-Landers.”

  “Well, that’s not what Boy told us,” Conor exclaimed. “He said that the No-Man’s-Landers were put in No-Man’s-Land by the Archers for a good reason, because all of them are crazy. He said William wants to take revenge on all the Perfectionists, for keeping him locked up.”

  “The No-Man’s-Landers aren’t crazy!” Violet said angrily.

  “It is true,” Beatrice said quietly. “Boy told us that yesterday.”

  “William is going to lock us all up, Violet.” Conor’s voice was high-pitched. “We’re just the start of it!”

  Violet fell silent. What Conor said sounded a little like what Boy had told her only the night before, on the lawn outside her house. But Anna had met him the next day and he hadn’t said any of that. He had seemed normal, like the old Boy.

  William had gone missing too; her dad had told her as much. Were William, Boy and the nurse all working together to take revenge on the Perfectionists?

  None of it made sense, and lots of things didn’t add up. Boy had told her that the Child Snatcher was William’s invention, but in the graveyard the nurse said Hugo was her creation. Violet knew loads of No-Man’s-Landers too, and they weren’t crazy – well, at least not in a bad way.

  Although she hadn’t thought Boy was mad either, but he was beginning to prove her wrong.

  The three children sat in silence for a while, but Violet’s head was full of unanswered questions.

  “What happened after you met Boy at the footbridge, Conor?”

  “How did you know about that?”

  “I saw you. I asked Boy about it, but he denied everything.”

  “He would, wouldn’t he!”

  “He’s a liar,” Beatrice spat.

  “Boy asked me to go to the graveyard,” Conor continued. “He said he had Lucy’s bike and I pretended I wanted to see it so I could get it back for her.”

  “Yeah right, you were just upset you didn’t steal it first,” Beatrice barked.

  Conor glared at her before continuing.

  “Anyway we went in the graveyard gate and somebody hit me, that’s the last I remember. I woke up in this cell, with a sore head. It was bearable until she came along.”

  “Shut up, Conor,” Beatrice sniped.

  “How did you get here?” Violet asked her.

  “She likes Boy…” Conor teased.

  “Stop it, Conor!”

  “You told me you followed Boy into the tunnel,” he continued.

  “Because I was looking for you.”

  “Ignore him, Beatrice,” Violet encouraged, wanting to hear the rest of her story.

  “I found Boy in the Ghost Estate, after I’d talked to you, Violet.” Beatrice sighed. “I asked him about the bike, but he denied it, just like you said. I actually believed him. He’s a good actor. Anyway, then I met him in Town later. He said something had happened to Conor, he was stuck and needed my help, so I followed him to the graveyard…”

  “You went into a tunnel with a psychopath, and he didn’t even have to make you!” Conor laughed.

  “Boy’s not a psychopath,” Violet said crossly.

  “And we’re not locked in a cell, in an underground tunnel, left to rot,” Conor snapped.

  “Well, I didn’t know he was a psychopath then, did I—” Beatrice replied, but Conor cut across her.

  “And the best bit, Violet,” he laughed, “is that Beatrice walked into the cell all by herself.”

  “I didn’t!”

  “You did. I was just waking up as she came through the gate. I thought for a minute she was coming to rescue me, until I saw Boy close the door behind her. Idiot.”

  “Leave me alone,” Beatrice sobbed.

  “So he didn’t hurt you at all?” Violet asked.

  “As if that matters, Violet. Stop trying to defend him,” Conor snarled. “Boy locked us up – what more does he need to do?”

  “No, he didn’t hurt me,” Beatrice replied, “but he said something weird when he was leaving.”

  “What?”

  “Sorry. He said sorry.”

  “Really?” Violet sat forward a little. “Why would he say that?”

  “He’s not nice, Violet. We’ve been here for ages! If Boy was sorry, he’d have opened that gate and let us out!” Conor fumed. “Enough of your questions. What’s going on in Town? Is anyone coming to save us?”

  “They don’t know we’re here,” Violet responded.

  Just then the bulbs in the tunnel outside fizzed to life, and light trickled into the cell.

  “Someone’s coming,” Beatrice gasped, rushing back to hide in the dark corner.

  Violet and Conor followed her, and the threesome held their breath.

  Footsteps echoed down the flagstone floor. The sound got louder, until a shadow fell across the narrow, arched doorway.

  Boy walked through the doorway, to the iron bars of the cell. Gripping them, he leaned forward as if searching the darkness. Violet pulled further into the corner. She was hiding from the person who was meant to be her best friend.

  “Ahem…I…I hope you had a good night’s sleep, Conor and Beatrice,” Boy stammered, “because it will be your last.” He sounded stiff and silly, almost as if he’d stolen his words from a film.

  “Please don’t hurt us,” Beatrice cried out.

  “What do you think I’ve held you here for? Of course I’m going to hurt you. I used to hurt kids all the time in the orphanage. I’m good at it,” Boy snarled.

  “You never told me that before,” Violet said, crawling forward.

  Boy’s face stiffened as she emerged from the darkness.

  “Powick said you were here,” he muttered quietly.

  “I told her you caught me,” Violet replied, staring at him.

  She was hoping to catch a glimpse of her old friend in his face. He didn’t react.

  “Who is that woman, Boy? What’s going on? I saw you in the graveyard with her and the monster,” she continued.

  “How did you find the tunnel?” he whispered, almost to himself.

  She was about to tell him about how she’d fallen into the white room, when something stopped her. He wasn’t really her best friend any more; she couldn’t trust him.

  “I…I…”

  “What are you two whispering about?” Conor asked, walking out of the darkness. “Are you a spy for him or something, Brown?”

  “Shut up, Crooked,” Boy barked loudly, “or I’ll hurt you first!”

  “You wouldn’t hurt anyone, Boy,” Violet replied.

  “I’d hurt you too,” he snarled, poking his head through the bars.

  She saw it again, just like the night in her garden – a flicker of ice-blue showed at the edge of his black iris.

  “Your eye, Boy.” She pointed.

  He looked away.

  “What’s going on?” Violet pleaded. “First you tell me you’ve done nothing wrong, then you tell me you’re bad but tell Anna you’re good. You saved me from the Child Snatcher that night on my d
riveway – no matter what you say, I know you did. And you didn’t give me or Anna away to the nurse in the graveyard. I don’t understand. If you’re in trouble, I can help! Please, Boy. No matter what it is, we can figure it out together, just like we did in Perfect.”

  “Shut up, Violet!”

  “I saw you with the black bird, the raven. You were playing with it. Nobody really bad would be that nice to an animal! And I’ve seen the bird loads lately. Were you there every time it was? Were you following me? Maybe you were protecting me, like that night on my driveway?”

  Boy gripped the iron bars again. This time his expression was vicious.

  “Don’t tell anyone about the bird or I will cripple you. I swear I will,” he hissed.

  “I…I promise,” she stammered, moving quickly back from the bars. This time she really believed him.

  At that moment Violet heard footsteps in the tunnel, as if someone was running. Boy looked to the arched entrance.

  “He’s coming,” he whispered.

  “Who’s coming?” Violet asked.

  “LEAVE THOSE CHILDREN ALONE!” someone roared.

  Her heart skipped.

  Beatrice raced forward, clasping the black iron bars. “Help, help!” she cried.

  “I’LL SAVE YOU, CHILDREN!” the person shouted, their footsteps heavy on the stone-flagged floor.

  The sound grew louder. Strangely, Boy didn’t move.

  Moments later, a small, squat figure burst through the archway and attacked Boy. The pair fell to the floor, swapping punches. A set of keys flew across the room, rattling off the iron bars.

  “Open the door and get away, children! Wait for me in the tunnel!” the man bellowed.

  Conor dived for the keys, pushing them into the lock one by one until it clicked open. He was the first to escape.

  “Come on!” Violet called, pulling a petrified Beatrice towards the opened cell door.

  She dragged the girl out of their prison and shoved her through the archway, as Boy and the man continued to battle it out on the ground. Conor was waiting anxiously in the tunnel.

  “Which way, Violet?” he panted, looking left and right. “It was dark when Boy brought me here. I don’t want to run into the monster.”

  “That man said to wait for him,” Beatrice whimpered.

  “I don’t care what he said. We need to look after ourselves!”

  “But he’s rescuing us, Conor,” Beatrice stammered.

  Grunts and crashes filled the passageway. Violet’s chest pounded, as Beatrice clung to her elbow.

  “Maybe Conor is right – we should just go now,” Violet whispered.

  Something about their rescuer felt all wrong.

  Just then there was a loud groan, and everything immediately went quiet. Moments later the small, squat man walked out through the stone arch, dragging Boy behind him.

  Beatrice gasped. Violet felt sick.

  “Edward Archer!” Conor exclaimed, stepping in front of the girls. “I knew none of that stuff people said about you was true. You saved us!”

  “Stand back, young Crooked. Boy is dangerous.”

  Edward Archer had saved them? How could this be? Violet backed away towards the shadows, hoping the man hadn’t noticed her. She was sure she wasn’t exactly Edward’s favourite person.

  “Young Brown, how did you get here? I wasn’t…”

  “I caught her last night, and brought her here,” Boy interrupted, looking up from the ground.

  “Oh I see, young Archer even turned on his best friend! What a pity. I imagine you thought you were comrades, Violet. Now you know why No-Man’s-Land was a necessity and not a cruelty,” Edward said sternly. “It was to keep people like Boy away from good people like you and your family.”

  Violet didn’t respond. Her hands clenched in tight, shaky fists behind her back. Edward Archer had never thought she was a good person before.

  “But you turned everyone in Perfect blind,” she stuttered.

  “It was for their own good. But you didn’t give us time to explain that, what with your rebellion, did you? Let’s not go over old ground now. The main thing is you’re safe. I’m sure your parents will be relieved. How is dear Eugene?”

  Violet shivered.

  The last time Eugene Brown and Edward Archer had met, the stout twin hadn’t cared how her half-starved father was. If he had been so caring, he might have fed her dad, while keeping him captive to work on the eye plants.

  “I never doubted you, Edward,” Conor announced, “not once. Perfectionists for ever! Boy deserves whatever he gets for this. I’ll make sure Dad sees to it.”

  “Revenge is a dish best served cold, young Crooked. We shall leave matters of law to the Committee – they can decide what happens to Boy Archer. I hear that’s how Perfect is ruled these days, and it’s a welcome relief. Myself and George always endeavoured to do the best for our people, but it was a constant worry as to whether we were being fair. Let the people of Perfect decide for themselves, I say.” Edward smiled.

  “Town,” Violet said bluntly. “It’s called Town now.”

  “I’m sorry, Violet dear, of course it is. Town – what a…a…lovely name.”

  The stout man riffled through his pockets, pulling out a small tub. Then he poured four tiny capsules onto his palm and picked one up.

  “These work great for shock,” he said, swallowing a green pill.

  Then Edward walked forward and handed similar capsules to Conor and Beatrice. The pair quickly swallowed theirs.

  Violet shook her head as he tried to hand her one. “No thanks.”

  “It’s for shock, Violet. I promise you need it.”

  She shook her head again, remembering the yellow pills she’d been given in Perfect. The ones that almost made her fall under the Archers’ mind control.

  “I’m fine, Mr Archer,” she stuttered. “I’m not in shock.”

  “You are in shock, Violet. Anyone who can go through what you have been through and say they’re fine is quite clearly in shock.”

  “Take it, Violet,” Beatrice urged, her eyes a little glazed. “I feel much better.”

  “It’s good for you,” Edward encouraged, leaning threateningly over her.

  Reluctantly, Violet picked up the pill and placed it under her tongue.

  “Swallow,” Edward ordered.

  He didn’t look away until she’d done as instructed.

  The next thing Violet knew, she was standing in the drizzling rain on the footbridge into No-Man’s-Land.

  She shook her head, trying to remember how she’d gotten there, but everything between when Edward had rescued them and now was a blur, almost as if there was something in the pills he’d given them.

  As Violet rubbed the water from her eyes, a strong anger overcame her, and her mind raced with worry again.

  Conor and Beatrice were just ahead of her. Ahead of them, dismounting the bridge into No-Man’s-Land, was Edward Archer, dragging Boy roughly by his coat collar.

  A bright light flashed repeatedly across the sky on the far side of the river, dazzling Violet, as a figure danced around Edward and Boy.

  “Edward Archer – you’re back! How did you locate the missing children? Was William Archer there? How did Boy Archer react to your appearance? Are you ashamed of your nephew? Have you a message you’d like to share with the Town Tribune?” Robert Blot shouted excitedly.

  What was he doing here?

  The newspaper man was about Violet’s dad’s height, but he was very thin, his face was pencil narrow and dark circles rested under his eyes. Around his neck hung a camera which he was constantly flashing, in his left hand he held a notebook, and a pencil rested behind his right ear.

  “What day is it?” Violet asked Robert Blot, as he stopped to take some notes.

  “It’s Sunday afternoon, Violet,” he stated, his tone a little sharp. “Aren’t you a lucky girl? Reported missing in the morning, and rescued the very same day. You owe Edward Archer a great deal, darling!”


  Violet smiled awkwardly, unsure how to respond, when she noticed a low humming noise. It sounded as if something was taking place up on Edward Street.

  “What’s going on? What’s that noise?”

  “People have come out to welcome you all home, Ms Brown!” Robert Blot responded, snapping closed his notebook. “Give me a quote! Tell me, how do you feel about that?”

  “Erm…” Violet was annoyed and a little thrown by his request. “But how do people know we’re here?”

  “I received a tip-off this morning. A letter through my door informed me that Edward Archer had located the missing children hidden in the Ghost Estate, and would be bringing them and their kidnapper to the Town Hall this afternoon. Of course I printed the new revelations and, using my journalistic nose for a story, waited in No-Man’s-Land to get an early scoop! You’ll give me your story once you settle back, Ms Brown, there’ll be a pretty penny in it. ‘Good Boy gone bad’, ‘his best friend speaks openly’.” Robert Blot handed her a business card. “What a story. Boy Archer, confirmed kidnapper! Town has gone wild for it already. How was your ordeal, Ms Brown? Were you tortured? How indebted are you to your rescuer?”

  “But that can’t be right,” Violet said, confused. “Who gave you the tip-off?”

  Though her head was a muddle, she was sure she hadn’t fallen down the tomb until late morning – which would mean they weren’t rescued until long after Robert Blot got his tip-off.

  The low hum grew louder as they stepped into Rag Lane.

  “The tip-off was anonymous. When you’re a journalist, you know a good tip-off when you get one. It’s an instinct we’re born with. Writing is a vocation, you know, stories just find me.”

  “But don’t you want to know who gave you the tip-off? How did they know about the rescue? I’m not sure the times add up. Shouldn’t you find that out?”

  “Details equal delay,” Mr Blot huffed angrily, looking through his camera. “I want to get this shot – the victims led home by their rescuer, to Town’s applause. What a front-page winner!”

  “Asking questions again, are we, Violet?” Edward Archer hissed.