Robert Swindells - Daz 4 Zoe

Noffing i sez, why?

2 guys grab me lars nite in the club, he sez. Arst hoo solt it me.

Wos 1 of em a littel guy wiv spex?

yea thats rite, and the ovver wos a big 1 wiv mussels.

Did you tel em?

Coudnt coud i – dont know yor name. Tolt em wot you luck lyke thogh.

Fanks.

Yea, well – they luck lyke thay mean biznis, know wot i mean?

I knew wot he ment alrite. i dint hang abowt. Set of hoam fast as i coud. Lornorders evrywear plus Cal gang lucking 4 me. O Zoe my lov, if i dont maykit wotl hapen 2 you?

Gotta maykit.

My sleep ended with a bang at eight fifteen as James came storming up the ladder and flung back the trap. In my fuddled state I thought it was DS and was trying to crawl into a corner when he barked, ‘You were out last night, weren’t you?’

‘Not out sir,’ I said, returning to my blankets. ‘I went down for a wash, and to empty the bucket.’

‘You should have asked me. I’d have emptied the damned bucket. Meant to anyway and forgot. I’d have brought soap and water too, if you’d mentioned it. I suppose you showed a light?’

Boy, was he mad! ‘Of course not,’ I said. ‘I’m not stupid.’

‘No? Then why are you here, living like a hunted animal and putting other people’s lives at risk when you could have stayed home and lived in comfort the rest of your life?’

I looked at him. ‘You live in Silverdale too. Why do you come here? You could teach in Silverdale for more money and less hassle, but you don’t.’

‘No, I don’t.’ He sighed. ‘Listen, Zoe. I’m sorry I blew up just now, but I don’t think you fully realise what’s at stake here. You came out of Silverdale because you didn’t want to move to Peacehaven with your folks. You wanted to stay because you believe yourself to be in love with Darren Barraclough, and for that you were prepared to put his life and that of his mother in jeopardy. But there’s more at risk even than that. You’ve heard of an organization known as FAIR?’

I nodded. ‘Yes, and you’re a member. Daz told me. And by the way I don’t just believe myself in love with him – I am.’

‘All right. So you know about FAIR, and you know I’m a member. Do you know any other members?’

‘No.’

‘You sure about that?’

‘Sure I’m sure.’ He was starting to sound like Pohlman.

‘What about your friend’s father, Wentworth?’

‘Oh – oh yeah. I forgot about him.’ I hadn’t. I just thought it’d be better not to mention him.

‘And the lady who wrote this – did you forget her too?’ He pulled a crumpled envelope from his pocket and handed it to me. I looked at it. ‘There’s nothing on this. No writing at all.’

‘Open it.’

‘Why – what is it?’

‘Open it, Zoe.’

I poked my finger under the flap, ripped it across and drew out a flimsy folded sheet which I opened and smoothed out in my lap. It was covered with tiny, cramped writing which looked familiar. I held it up so that light from the trap fell on it and looked at the signature.

Grandma, it said.

I looked at James. ‘You saw my grandmother? She gave you this?’

‘Certainly. Your defection has caused problems for us, Zoe. It has stirred up the authorities. Made them nervous. It’s difficult for an organisation such as ours to operate in such a climate. It’s particularly unfortunate that it comes hard on the heels of the Wentworth expulsion which rocked our Silverdale unit to its foundations. It was necessary to discuss your case – to try to find a way of defusing the situation before it gets completely out of hand. That’s why your grandmother and I met last night.’

‘Are you saying my Grandma’s involved with FAIR?’

‘Your grandmother is FAIR in Silverdale, Zoe. She founded the unit and ran it virtually single-handed for twenty years, till she decided she was too old and Wentworth took over. Think about it, Zoe – twenty years with a price on her head. Now Wentworth’s out and she’s back up the sharp end at the age of one hundred and four. Anyway there was this meeting and we think we have a solution. It’s not perfect, but it’s a lot better than your present predicament.’

‘What is it?’ I asked the question in a vacant sort of way – my mind was struggling to cope with the idea of Grandma as local head of an illegal organisation. I kept picturing her sweet old face on a wanted poster.

‘You’re to go to the Wentworth place. You leave tonight. The Barracloughs too, if you can persuade them. If you can’t, you must go alone.’

‘The Wentworth place? But I don’t even know where it is.’

‘Your grandmother does.’ He nodded at the letter. ‘It’s all in there.’

‘Do the Wentworths know about this?’

‘Naturally.’

‘But how – I mean, Tabby told me the place was miles away. How’d you get in touch?’

‘You don’t want to know that, Zoe. If you don’t make it – if DS get you, then the less you know the better. Read the letter, memorise your grandma’s directions and I’ll destroy it when I come after school.’

He left some food and went away. I was down. I mean really depressed. In fact I guess you could say I hated myself because he made me see what I’d done. All those people including my own grandmother in danger of their lives because of me. I didn’t touch the food – I had no appetite. I sat in the dark, thinking about Grandma and my parents and what it’d be like to see Tabby again. I thought about being caught by DS, too, and wondered what Daz was doing right now. After a while I switched on the torch and read Grandma’s letter.

It seemed Wentworth had built his refuge in a place Grandma knew quite well – a much visited beauty spot of sixty, seventy years ago, about thirty miles east of the city. Clanton Rocks, it was called in those days. She’d written detailed instructions about how to get there, and there was a sketch map done from memory. She warned that of course things would’ve changed a lot in the meantime, told me to travel at night if possible and wished me luck. At the end she’d put

‘We are members one of another.’

I guess that’s a quote but I didn’t get it at the time. I cried a bit because these were probably the last words of hers I’d ever have. Then I thought about what a tough little woman she must be to have done all she’d done, and I dried my eyes. Her blood was in my veins, wasn’t it? There’s a time to cry and a time to be tough, and now it was time to be tough.

When James came again, I’d be ready.

It was just after three when the cops arrived. I heard a siren but I’d been hearing them for two days, coming closer and closer, then fading as the cars went by.

This one didn’t. Its wail swelled till it was like the car was right there in the roof-space, then it cut out abruptly and I heard doors – car doors and school doors, mixed up with voices and footsteps and the sounds excited kids make. Chairs squealed on the plank floor and I pictured cops in the schoolroom, opening, probing, overturning. Terror held me rigid. Within seconds they’d ransacked the classroom and were directly beneath me. I heard the teacher’s voice raised in protest, and another I thought I’d heard before. There was some banging and cursing and milling around, and then somebody said, ‘Well – she’s gotta be here somewhere,’ and it was Pohlman.

I heard them go back to the classroom but I knew they weren’t leaving. No way. Not after what Pohlman just said. He’d obviously had a tipoff and I knew what he’d do. He’d post somebody outside in case I tried to run, and then he’d lead a far more thorough search. They’d start with the lobby and work their way through the building and nothing – not even the smallest spider – would escape their notice. And when they got to the washroom again Pohlman would see the trap, and smile.