The Trouble with Perfect Page 8

The little girl stayed silent.

  “Please, Anna,” Violet said, trying not to lose her cool again.

  “Do you promise you won’t tell on him, Violet?” she asked, a few moments later.

  “I promise. I just want to help him…if I can.”

  Anna’s eyes were now rimmed with tears. “’Cause he didn’t do any of those bad things people are saying, and I think he’s scared.”

  “I believe you, Anna.”

  “But you have to believe him. Promise!”

  Violet was angry again. She grabbed the bottom of her jacket and pulled it tight, trying to stop herself from snapping.

  “I can’t promise. I want to believe him, but he told me something very different, just last night. Boy scared me, Anna. I still feel scared. But I can promise that I want to help him, if I can.”

  “Okay,” the little girl whispered. “I know you’re his friend.”

  Without another word, Anna darted across Splendid Road and up Edward Street. Violet raced after her, past the Town Hall, by the tea shop and into Archers’ Avenue, before ducking into Rag Lane.

  People tutted as the two girls ran through the wet streets of Town. No one seemed friendly this morning.

  Anna continued along Forgotten Road until she reached the door of the old orphanage, which, as an ex-orphan, used to be her home. She held up a hand, signalling Violet to stop a distance back.

  The little girl checked the coast was clear, then pulled a key from her yellow coat pocket and stood up on her tippy toes. After a little struggle with the lock, she pushed the door open and vanished inside.

  Unsure whether to follow, Violet waited until a small hand poked out between the double doors and waved her forward. Inside, Anna looked tiny in the cavernous entrance hall of the orphanage museum.

  “It’s closed today,” the little girl said, “but we still have to be quiet – sometimes the ladies who work in the museum come in to clean on a Sunday.”

  “Do you come here a lot?” Violet whispered.

  “Shush!” Anna scolded, shooting her finger to her lips.

  A little red-faced, Violet followed behind, down the hall to the side of the ornate wooden staircase.

  A small door was cut into the wall of the stairs, under the steps, barely noticeable. Anna knocked on the wood.

  “Boy, it’s me. Open up,” she whispered.

  Nothing stirred. Anna grabbed a small cream-painted knob and pulled it back. The door popped open, and she bent down a little and ducked inside. Violet got onto her hands and knees and crawled in after her.

  The space was dark and tight. The ceiling was low above Violet’s head, but grew higher as it travelled back, mirroring the stairs above. Most of the place was stacked with boxes, and a nest of blankets rested in amongst them, just out of sight of the door, as though somebody was sleeping there.

  “Boy’s gone!” Anna said, a slight whimper in her voice.

  A small cardboard box was open on the floor by the blankets. Violet crawled forward and peered inside it. It was full of photos of the orphanage and the orphans. Most of the pictures seemed old, a yellow haze of time shadowed them.

  “Boy must have been looking in the boxes. They’re normally all stacked up there,” Anna said.

  Violet was just putting back the photos when she noticed a loose picture poking out from under the box and pulled it free.

  Freeze-framed were almost thirty orphans, all looking a little ragged. In the middle of them was a tall, thin woman who grimaced more than smiled.

  Dark shadows rested under her cheekbones, as though she hadn’t eaten in weeks, and her wire-like hair poked out in all directions from beneath a strange white cap. The woman wore a white pinafore, hidden under a dark cape that was tied high at the neck. She held a young boy in her arms.

  Violet gasped.

  Though the picture was a little grainy, she was sure the child was Boy. He hadn’t changed much at all and had the same jet-black hair and pale complexion.

  Violet turned over the photo. There were two lines of handwritten text on the back. One was scrawled in an adult’s fancy joined letters and read: Nurse Powick on her retirement day. The other line Violet was sure was written by Boy. It simply said: Two of me?

  Violet sat in the semi-dark under-the-stairs cupboard, staring at the picture. What on earth did Boy mean by Two of me?

  The woman in the uniform had to be the Nurse Powick, though she looked a little young to retire. Violet was sure only old people did that. Lots of other kids filled the background behind the nurse. Violet recognized a few faces, but it was hard to make out anything clearly in the dim light.

  “We better go,” Anna whispered, “before anyone catches us here.”

  Violet put the photo in her pocket, then crawled out behind the younger girl, into the hallway. She pushed the door shut and followed Anna as she snuck across the hall and out the main door.

  “How did you get a key?” Violet asked curiously, as Anna locked the door behind them.

  “Mam always leaves her bunch of Committee keys on the table, and never notices when one of them is missing. I can go anywhere in Town!”

  As it was a Sunday morning, Forgotten Road was quiet. A pair of women passed quickly out of the laneway beside the orphanage and scurried across the road. They had linked elbows, and whispered nervously as they hurried along. A strange tension hung in the air.

  A child was playing with a stick, a little away, and Violet watched as a man rushed from his home, grabbed the girl by her wrist, and yanked her back inside, all the while scolding her for being out.

  Violet had just moved clear of the doorway when she noticed a raven perched on the lamp post opposite. Surely it wasn’t the same bird again? The creature was really beginning to give her the creeps.

  As she looked away, she saw a hooded figure moving quickly towards her from the bottom of Forgotten Road. He was trying to hide his head but she was sure it was Boy.

  He hadn’t noticed her as he ducked down the furthest laneway, towards Market Yard.

  Quickly the bird launched into the sky, diving for the laneway as if following after Boy.

  Violet grabbed Anna’s arm and the pair raced after him, stopping to watch as he emerged into Market Yard. The large, black bird swept out behind him, landing on his shoulder.

  Then Boy rubbed its head gently, before shooing the creature away. The bird flapped its wings and took off, landing on the roof of a house at the start of Wickham Terrace.

  Anna was about to speak, when Violet put her finger to her lips and shook her head. She waited for Boy to disappear across Market Yard before turning to the little girl.

  “Go home, Anna, your mam will be worried.”

  “But what are you going to do?”

  “I have to follow Boy.”

  “Why don’t we just talk to him, like you said?”

  “Something feels wrong. I want to see what he’s up to. I won’t tell on him, like I promised.”

  “But…”

  “Please, Anna. Go home!” she snapped, feeling her anger rise again.

  Violet didn’t wait for a response – there was no time. She left Anna in the laneway and had just reached the Rag Tree when she heard a noise behind her.

  “He’s my friend too!” Anna insisted.

  There was no time to argue.

  The pair slipped onto Wickham Terrace and were just nearing the footbridge when Violet caught sight of Boy again. He was far ahead on the tarmac road, almost at the entrance to the Ghost Estate.

  “We have to hurry!” she whispered.

  The pair raced over the footbridge, following his path. On reaching the estate, Violet stopped and pulled Anna behind one of its cement pillars, before peering round it.

  Boy was sat on the kerb of the footpath that lined the green. He rubbed his eyes vigorously before putting a small box into his trouser pocket. The large black bird was flapping its wings by his feet, as if excited. It looked like he was having a game with the creature, picking up
small stones and throwing them for the raven to fetch.

  But Boy didn’t have a pet bird. He liked animals and loved Merrill’s mouse friend, who lived in the shavings of his toymaking room, but he definitely didn’t have a pet of his own – especially not a big black bird.

  After a few more games, the raven flew onto Boy’s head and began to peck his hair. He laughed and pulled the bird back down before rubbing its crown playfully and placing him onto his shoulder. Then he stood up and headed for the hill to the graveyard.

  Violet’s dad had said ravens brought bad luck, but this bird seemed friendly. All it brought to Boy was a much-needed smile.

  “I wish I had a pet bird,” Anna said, looking longingly at the pair. “Would Boy let me play with his, if I asked nicely?”

  “I don’t know, Anna,” Violet answered, distracted, as she watched their friend mount the hill.

  Was it the same raven Violet had thought was following her? She’d seen it in her yard the night Boy turned up and she’d seen it now, just before he arrived outside the orphanage. A strange thought hit her. Maybe the bird followed Boy, and every time she’d seen the raven, Boy was there too, watching her. But why would he do that?

  “We better hurry!” Violet said, pointing up the hill as Boy neared the top.

  He stopped under the lamp post and shooed the bird away, before heading in the direction of the graveyard.

  Violet and Anna raced inside the Ghost Estate, heading for the hill. The place didn’t have its normal effect on her mind now, but maybe that was because she was feeling horrible anyway, worse than she ever had before.

  As they neared the lamp post, Violet heard a turnstile creak loudly. The hair on her arms stood up. Boy had gone into the cemetery.

  Though she’d visited many times in her nightmares, the last time Violet had physically been inside those walls was on the night of Edward Archer’s disappearance.

  She struggled for breath, as fear took hold. Anna tugged on her sleeve.

  “You told me before that the scary thoughts here weren’t real. Are they real this time?” the little girl asked, wide-eyed.

  “Of course not…of course they’re not real,” she stuttered, grabbing the little girl’s hand and squeezing it.

  Violet knew she was making herself afraid, believing all her scary thoughts, when she could choose not to listen to them. Edward was long gone; he wasn’t waiting for her in the graveyard.

  Anna stumbled bravely forward, heading for the turnstile.

  “Not that way,” Violet whispered, shaking her head, “he’ll hear us!”

  A loud gravelly sound, like crunching stone, filled the air. Violet froze. She’d heard that noise before, the night Edward Archer disappeared.

  She willed herself onwards, holding tight to Anna’s hand, then helped the little girl over the graveyard wall before following close behind. Using headstones as cover, the pair shadowed Boy as he moved through the mist.

  A muffled voice carried on the wind, and their friend stopped abruptly.

  Violet pulled Anna down behind a mound of overgrown weeds as two figures approached Boy. One seemed to be dragging one of its legs.

  “Put those back in, you fool!” a woman said, stepping forward.

  “But there’s no one around. It’s uncomfortable wearing them all the time,” Boy protested weakly.

  “You can’t be too sure and, I assure you, it’ll be very uncomfortable if you’re caught.”

  Boy pulled the same small box back out of his pocket, opened it and took something from inside. Then he began to fiddle with his eyes.

  “Good,” she barked. “Don’t let me catch you without them again.”

  The woman was tall and wide with thick arms and legs. Her hands were huge and her fingers were as fat, brown and crusty as fried sausages. Rose Brown would call them “working hands”.

  She wore a small white cap and grey wiry hair poked from beneath it. A navy cloak hung over her shoulders, sheltering a starched white uniform beneath.

  Violet reached into her pocket and pulled out the photo they’d found in the orphanage. She studied the image in disbelief. Nurse Powick, the woman who’d held Boy on her retirement day, now stood before him in the graveyard.

  “I’ve been looking for you.” Nurse Powick said to Boy. “You failed to capture that Brown girl, again, I see. I checked the cell. What are you playing at?”

  “Nothing! I promise I tried. She hasn’t left her room. People in Town are apprehensive, they’re not allowing their children outside,” Boy replied.

  “Nonsense. Don’t give me that – it’s not meant to be easy. You know he needs another child, to stir the fear that’s brewing in Town,” she snarled. “If they’re not allowed outside, then you should have gotten inside. Lateral thinking! Fail to prepare, prepare to fail. Have I taught you nothing all these years, or are you simply half-witted?”

  All these years? Violet was confused. Boy must have kept in contact with the nurse since she’d retired. But he’d never mentioned her before.

  “I’m not an imbecile,” he answered quietly. “It’s just taking time.”

  “Time? Time’s run out, young man – you know that well. If this goes wrong, all fingers will be pointing in your direction. You should have just taken the Brown girl when you were meant to the first time.”

  “I told you, I couldn’t. Her…her father happened upon us. He almost captured me,” Boy protested.

  “Imbecile” and “happened upon us”. Boy had never used phrases like those before, at least not to Violet. He sounded like Beatrice when she was trying to impress Mrs Moody by talking like she’d swallowed a dictionary. And why was he lying about her dad almost “capturing” him? Her mam had said that she was the one who found Violet unconscious on their driveway.

  Nurse Powick pursed her lips. “There is no redemption for liars! Deceit is not the language of the decent.”

  “I’m not being deceitful.” Boy quivered, lowering his head.

  “That better not be another lie on those lips, or I might have to cut off your tongue and give it to Hugo.”

  The nurse walked forward, so they were almost nose to nose.

  “I reared you as my own, because he sees things in you. You’ll make him great again, he tells me.” She wrapped her thick fingers around Boy’s neck. “But I don’t see anything! You’re cowardly. Sometimes I wonder if I took the wrong child.”

  A long, slow groan passed through the tombstones, as if someone were in pain. The nurse looked up and released her grip.

  “Hugo, where is he?” she called, anxiously scanning the graveyard. “Where is he? That dumb creature is always wandering off alone. You better find him,” she snapped, turning back to Boy. “He’s my greatest creation so far.”

  Boy began to search the graveyard, and Violet had just pulled Anna down a little further behind the weeds, when an awful stench grabbed her nose.

  A shadow moved across the top of the grassy mound that shielded the two girls. Something dripped onto Violet’s head. She patted her hair and a dense wet liquid came away on her palm.

  She willed herself to look up.

  Thick saliva dripped on her from a gaping mouth that was framed by greenish, cracked lips. Above the lips hovered two large hairy nostrils, either side of a partially eaten-away nose. Bloodshot eyes glared down at the pair.

  The Child Snatcher stood above them.

  Anna opened her mouth to scream, but Violet quickly muffled it. The monster looked down at the girls, unblinking, and his top lip lifted up at the side, like a dog mid-snarl. He raised a bony hand and reached towards them.

  “Hugo!”

  The monster stopped, and looked to his left. Boy stood metres away, glaring straight at Violet. As she held his gaze, her body turned cold.

  “Hugo, here, now!” Boy ordered.

  The monster grunted and stomped away towards their friend.

  Violet’s heart pounded, her eyes still fixed on Boy. She stayed deadly still, waiting to be given
up. But Boy turned away, as if he hadn’t seen them, and headed back to the nurse.

  “You ugly thing, don’t do that again!” Nurse Powick scolded the monster.

  Hugo winced a little.

  “Take him back to the Outskirts,” the nurse ordered, glaring at Boy. “He’ll need to recharge his batteries before the festivities begin.”

  “But what about the Brown girl?” Boy asked. “Don’t you want me to get her?”

  Violet froze.

  “So you’re interested in helping now?” Powick snarled. “Well, it’s too late. We’ll just have to do without her. The opportunity has passed.”

  Violet and Anna held their breath and watched as Boy walked silently to the side of a large, rectangular stone tomb just a few metres away.

  The loud scraping sound they’d heard earlier filled the graveyard again. The front stone of the tomb moved down into the ground as if it was slowly being swallowed by the clay.

  “Home, Hugo!” Boy pointed into the black hole that had opened in front of him.

  The Child Snatcher stomped ahead, Boy followed, and both disappeared into the ground, as if walking down a set of steps.

  The nurse surveyed the place suspiciously, then snorted and vanished into the tomb after them. Violet heard the scraping once more and the front panel of the tomb moved back up into position, leaving the two girls on their own in the graveyard.

  Speechless and alone in the mist, they stayed hidden for a while, unable to move a muscle.

  “He didn’t tell them we were here,” Anna whispered.

  Violet didn’t reply, her head was swimming again.

  “Is Boy working for that woman?” the little girl continued. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

  Violet stood up.

  “Neither do I, Anna, but I’m going to find out.”

  Goose pimples prickled Violet’s skin as she walked over to the tomb they’d all disappeared inside. There was something familiar about this spot. She trembled, trying to remember. Was it where Edward Archer had disappeared, all those months before?

  Quickly, her head filled with images of that awful night. Her weakened father; Edward Archer holding a gun; Macula at the window; Boy’s blue lips; the book. She had been sure Boy had died – that was why she’d chased after Edward, unthinking. She remembered her rage, how she wasn’t going to let the stout twin get away with hurting her best friend. It was the first time she’d thought of death as happening anywhere else than in a film.