The Facts of Life and Death

25

THE HEADLIGHT WAS only a bit of old plastic, but when Daddy told Mummy about it over breakfast, she cried.

Ruby had seen Mummy cry before, but never so openly. Before, she’d always tried to hide it; this time she cried like David Leather had cried when Shawn threw his violin on the toilet-block roof – with the tears running out of her eyes and down her face in shiny rivers, and making a proper boo-hoo noise, and the air going all wobbly whenever she took a deep breath.

It made Ruby uneasy.

‘Stop it, Mummy,’ she said, but Mummy didn’t.

‘Come on, now,’ said Daddy. ‘It’s only an old headlight. I’ll get one from the scrappy. And it’s just the one. I can still drive it.’

‘You can’t,’ sobbed Mummy. ‘The police will pull you over and give you a ticket and then I’ll have to pay for that and the headlight!’

Ruby looked anxiously at Daddy, who pursed his lips and spread out his palms. ‘It’s not my fault,’ he said. ‘Someone did all the boys’ cars while we were in the George.’

‘I know,’ said Mummy. ‘I know it’s not your fault. But it’s always somebody’s fault and I’m the one who always has to pay for it!’ Daddy got up angrily. ‘It’s always about the bloody money with you!’ He picked up his keys, then strode through the house to the front door and Mummy didn’t even try to stop him, so Ruby ran after him.

‘Can I come?’

‘No,’ he said and slammed the door behind him.

Ruby stared at it for a long moment, waiting for him to come back and say she could really.

When he didn’t, her nose tingled with hurt and anger. Why did Mummy always have to make Daddy feel so bad?

She started to pull on her coat and boots.

Mummy darted out of the kitchen, wiping her eyes and nose on a piece of screwed-up tissue.

‘Ruby! Where are you going?’

‘To the swing.’

‘Why don’t you play indoors today?’ Mummy was trying to stop crying fast. Trying to smile. ‘There are lots of fun things you could do right here,’ she went on. ‘Maggie can come round for tea if you want. I’ll do fish fingers. You could make a den in the garden.’

Ruby was suspicious. Usually her mother couldn’t wait to get her out of the house. She was always going on about fresh air and exercise and things being good for her. And the garden? She hadn’t played in the garden since she’d learned to walk.

‘Why?’ she demanded.

‘I just don’t want you running about in the woods all the time. It’s so wet and muddy, Rubes. Wouldn’t you rather be indoors? Where it’s s— dry?’

She’d been going to say safe.

Now Ruby understood: Mummy was scared of the killer. She wanted Ruby to be safe. She wanted something from her – and Ruby sensed an opportunity.

‘If I play indoors, can I have a biscuit?’

Her mother hesitated. Ruby knew what she was thinking – they’d only just had breakfast, and she wasn’t supposed to eat biscuits at all before teatime…

‘Just the one,’ said Mummy.

Ruby ate her biscuit while she tried out cushions for the next posse. She chose the blue tapestry one on the easy chair. It was small and hard, and would give her lots of extra height.

Then, when Mummy went upstairs to strip the beds, she sneaked out anyway.

Ruby sat on the damp bench next to the swing, and picked the bark off two new guns.

Beside her, Maggie painted her fingernails bright red. She had already done her toes, and now she sat with her dirty bare feet tucked up on the bench, spotted with scarlet, while her flip-flops lay empty in the mud.

‘You going to the Leper Parade?’ Ruby asked, even though Maggie was only seven, so it didn’t make any difference to Ruby what she did.

‘Yeah.’

‘I’ve got a sack to wear,’ said Ruby. ‘And I’m going to have bloody scabs all over.’

‘I’m going to be a fairy,’ said Maggie.

Ruby screwed up her face. ‘You can’t be a fairy. You have to be a leper.’

‘I don’t care,’ said Maggie. ‘I got the costume. It has wings and everything.’

Ruby made a noise that meant that Maggie was an idiot, just like all the girls at school with their secret lipstick and their pop-star crushes and their pencils topped with pink fluff. She must remember to tell Mummy to get Rice Krispies to make the scabs.

‘Look!’ said Maggie, and spread her left hand for Ruby to see. ‘Like a lady.’

Ruby grunted.

‘Mine,’ said Em, snatching at the nail polish. ‘Mine.’ She had only just started to talk but had already mastered all the useful words. No. Shut up. And, just lately, Mine.

‘No!’ said Maggie and slapped Em’s hand away. ‘You want me to do yours, Ruby?’

‘Nah. My Daddy says girls who paint their nails are slags.’

Maggie shrugged. ‘Just a thumb then?’

Ruby shook her head and Maggie started on her other hand. This one wasn’t even as good as the first. Out of the corner of her eye, Ruby watched Maggie’s left hand bend and twist awkwardly as she tried to control the little brush. The polish splodged over the edges of her nails and smeared down her fingers. Some even dropped on to her dress.

‘Shit,’ said Maggie.

‘Shi’,’ said Em. ‘Shi’ shi’ shi’.

Maggie laughed as she painted. ‘Listen to her! She only knows bad words, don’t you, Em? Shit and fuck. Shit and fuck.’

‘Shi’ an’ fuh!’ said Em, and then shoved a finger so far up her nose that Ruby had to look away.

She finished taking the bark off the second stick and held them both out like a gunslinger, twitching with recoil. Pow. Pow-pow. One was better than the other.

Voices floated up through the woods, and soon Adam and Chris followed them.

Ruby hadn’t spoken to Adam since he’d given her Lucky and wasn’t sure what to say.

‘Hi,’ he said, so she said hi back.

‘What are you doing?’ said Chris.

‘Painting our nails,’ said Maggie.

‘I’m not,’ said Ruby scornfully. ‘I’m making guns.’

Adam came over and she handed him the sticks. ‘This one’s good,’ he said.

‘I know,’ said Ruby. ‘The other one’s just the best I could find.’

It didn’t feel any different from the last time they’d spoken, and Ruby was relieved.

He handed both of the sticks back to her. ‘I’ll see if I can find a better one in the woods,’ he said, nodding his head towards the avenue of trees beyond the stile.

‘Are you going to Clovelly?’ asked Ruby.

‘Not today.’ He smiled, and Ruby blushed.

‘Look!’ Maggie waggled her red fingers at the boys and Adam laughed and said, ‘Very grown up.’

‘She’s going to do mine in a minute,’ said Ruby quickly. She was the eldest, not Maggie!

‘Mine,’ said Em, and snatched one of the guns. Ruby held on to it and didn’t let go, and then did – and Em fell backwards on to her bottom, squirting an invisible cloud of noxious fumes from her nappy.

‘Oh my God, it’s a stink bomb,’ said Chris, and both boys jogged away, laughing, and vaulted over the stile.

Ruby watched them until they disappeared around the turn in the path.

‘Ready?’ said Maggie.

Ruby turned. Maggie had the little brush out, ready for action. Ruby looked at it warily. It was so red!

‘Just a thumb then. And don’t go over the edges.’

Maggie did go over the edges, but only a little bit. Ruby held up her thumb. It shone like a sucked sweet. It was so gorgeous that it made her other nails look pale and naked.

‘D’you like it?’ said Maggie.

‘Sort of,’ said Ruby. She didn’t want Maggie to think she’d been right all along.

‘You wave it around like this and it will dry. This is the stuff that dries really fast.’

Ruby started to wave her hand.

‘You want them all done?’

Ruby screwed up her face. ‘How long does it last?’

‘Not long,’ said Maggie. ‘And it’s easy to get off.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. You just rub it with cotton wool. I seen my mummy do it.’ Ruby hesitated for ages, then said, ‘OK then.’

She held her right hand steady while Maggie leaned over it. When Maggie lifted her head away, Ruby regretted her decision. Five fingers was way too many to paint – especially badly. Instead of her single thumbnail looking like a marvellous and exotic jewel, her hand now looked as though she needed first aid.

‘You went over the edges!’

‘Only a little tiny bit.’

‘I don’t like it. Take it off.’

‘You have to rub it with cotton wool.’

‘Go on then.’

‘I don’t have any.’

‘Well how am I going to get it off then?’

‘Your mummy can get it off when you go home.’ Maggie got up and hung over the rope swing on her belly. ‘Don’t blame me,’ she croaked. ‘You wanted it done.’ Then she looked at the stile and wheezed, ‘They’re coming back.’

Ruby got up and walked over to the stile, but she couldn’t see Chris or Adam.

‘No they’re not,’ she said.

Maggie got off the swing and joined her. ‘I heard them.’

The path led away from the stile for thirty yards before curving sharply inland to skirt a gouge in the cliff. It was made of a narrow strip of compacted earth that softened at the first hint of rain.

Ruby leaned against the slab of slate that made the stile; it was cold against her ribs.

‘Hey!’ she shouted, and there was the sudden sense of something stopping. To listen?

‘They’re sneaking up on us,’ whispered Maggie.

‘Then I’m going to go sneak up on them,’ Ruby decided suddenly, and felt a dangerous thrill as she heard her own words.

She wasn’t allowed over the stile, but who cared what Mummy said? She’d been on a cowboy posse, hadn’t she? Hunting a killer. She could climb over a stile. She would hide and jump out at the boys right at that corner thirty yards off, before she even had to lose sight of the stile and the bench and rope swing. She’d give them a fright, and Adam would see how grown up she was, and they’d all walk back together.

‘You’re not allowed,’ said Maggie.

‘Shut up, slag,’ said Ruby. She swung a leg over the top of the slate.

‘I’m going to tell my mummy on you,’ said Maggie.

‘See if I care.’

‘Shut up.’

‘Shut up times a zillion times and no returns.’

There was no answer to that, so Maggie took Em’s hand and yanked her off down the path. Em started bawling – as usual – waddling after her sister with her muddy nappy showing under her dirty pink skirt.

As she watched them go, Ruby felt a flutter of excitement in her tummy. She clambered awkwardly over the stile and dropped down on the other – new – side.

She looked over her shoulder. She was only inches beyond the stile, but the little clearing already looked much smaller.

She turned and walked away from it.

With every step her confidence grew. She was doing it! She was over the stile and walking on the coastal path. If she kept going she would end up in Clovelly! If she wanted to she could go and find Granpa and Nanna’s door. They’d be so impressed by how she’d walked all the way by herself. They’d have tea and biscuits – not fruit – and then she’d walk back again and Mummy would never even know.

Ruby steadied the guns in her pockets and started to swagger. Up ahead she heard twigs and small branches snapping, but her own footsteps were silent in the mud.

The curve up ahead was the perfect place for an ambush.

She jogged towards it on tiptoe, careful not to make a sound. Then she dropped to her knees and inched forward until she could see around the thick hazel and ferns.

After the corner, the path straightened out and ran for another fifteen yards before turning to the right again.

Nobody was on it.

Ruby stood up, a little confused. But she had heard someone coming! Maggie had too. And the path was the only—

The back of her neck prickled as she saw a brief flash through the trees to her left. Heard the rustle of undergrowth.

Ruby held her breath and her right hand dropped to her gun.

There was no path there. Nothing but close-grown forest and ferns, and brambles that sent out runners in long, tripping loops. But something was moving through the dark woods – down the hill towards the village. Towards her.

The killer.

Ruby’s mouth went dry.

She turned and looked back at the stile and the clearing beyond. It seemed to be a lot further than thirty yards now. Could she make it?

Her legs decided for her.

She ran.

She almost wished she hadn’t. Running made everything more frightening. The thirty-yard dash; the scramble over the stile, banging her knees and falling on her hands; slipping and sliding down the muddy track into the village, now on her feet, now on her bottom. Ruby’s ears were filled with the sound of her own heart and lungs. Once she turned and saw something big between the trees. Not the boys, and not on the path. Something big was very close to catching her.

She thought she could hear it breathing.

Ruby’s chest burned for air. She wasn’t going to make it home. She wasn’t going to make it into the village.

The Bear Den!

She tumbled inside, headfirst and frantic, then reached up awkwardly and slammed the little door shut behind her.

It was utterly black and instantly cold. The dirt floor was lower than the pathway, and had turned to mud.

Shock hit Ruby hard and she started to shake and then sob. The dark took the sound and wrapped it around her like a thick marshmallow echo.

She had to stay quiet. She had to hold on.

She put her hands to her guns, but they had fallen out of her pockets, so instead she drew her knees up and clenched her fists at her chest, shivering.

It smelled. It smelled so bad.

Something brushed against her leg and she slapped it away. What was in here with her? She told herself: Nothing, don’t be silly.

She froze as she heard footsteps outside. Someone approaching, breathing in short, angry bursts. A chain rattled and she thought of the pedlar under the hearth, all bones and revenge.

Something stopped – right outside the door.

Ruby clamped her hand over her mouth. Her hot tears pooled along the edge of her finger as she looked up at the blackness where she knew the door to be. She had nowhere to go – nowhere else to hide. If she made a sound now, she’d be found. The something touched her leg again, and the smallest shriek escaped her.

Then there was an endless silence where she couldn’t even hear the beating of her own heart.

The door opened.

And a bear lunged through it. Lunged at the child who had invaded its home. Huge and snarling, its white teeth shining against its blood-red tongue—

Ruby screamed and screamed and screamed.

Long after she knew it was a dog.

Long after she could see it was attached to a policeman.

There were four dogs searching for the body of Jody Reeves. Two big German shepherds and two brown and white spaniels.

Ruby watched them from the front window, wrapped in a blanket and drinking sweet tea with a custard-cream chaser. Mummy had left the tin on the wide sill, so she could have as many as she wanted, but she’d been on this one for ages.

The dog that had scared her so badly was called Sabre. His handler had tried to get Ruby to shake his paw, to show her what a nice dog he was. Sabre had waved his paw again and again, but she had only cried and clutched at Mummy’s waist, while Maggie and Em and Chris and Adam stood in a worried knot along with the rest of the village, who’d run to see the hoo-ha.

She could see Sabre now, coming up the slipway, head down, ears pricked, bushy tail swinging. She hated him for scaring her so. She shivered for the hundredth time as she recaptured the fear for just a split second. That was plenty.

Once they’d come out of the forest, the dogs had moved through the village like panting, wagging pinballs, zigzagging their way up and down the lane and along the banks of the stream, and between the houses and around the cars. The men had told Mummy they were heading towards Westward Ho! and meeting another team that had started from there.

Now they passed the front gate and Mummy and Ruby went to the kitchen window to watch them clamber up the slippery steps of the Peppercombe path.

Just as the last dog and handler disappeared, the front door burst open and Daddy shouted ‘Ruby!’ and Ruby cried all over again while he hugged her and asked if she was OK and checked her hands, as if for injury. Then he hugged her again while Mummy rubbed her back.

And even through the crying, Ruby thought: This is how it used to be. All of us together. And she stayed there as long as she could, feeling loved and safe.

Mummy ruined it by saying, ‘What’s that smell?’

‘What smell?’

They stepped away from each other and Ruby sniffed. There was a smell. It burned the back of her throat and made her eyes water, the way the limekilns did.

Mummy gasped at the muck on the carpet.

‘Where the hell have you been, John?’

‘Must’ve been tar on the beach,’ Daddy said. ‘Sorry.’

‘Take your shoes off! It’s all over the carpet!’

Mummy got the bucket from outside the back door, making a lot of angry noise with it. She started scrubbing, then she looked at the clock. ‘I have to be at work in twenty minutes!’

‘I said I’m sorry, didn’t I?’ said Daddy. ‘I was worried about Ruby. That idiot Tim Braund told me she’d had her hand ripped half off!’

‘I thought it was a bear,’ said Ruby, welling up at just the memory, but nobody looked at her.

Mummy threw the sponge in the bucket and dumped them both in the kitchen sink with a clatter. ‘He’s not an idiot. She wasn’t bitten, but she was very frightened.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What do you mean, what do I mean?’

‘You said he’s not an idiot.’ Daddy followed her to the kitchen. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Nothing! I just meant he was mistaken. That doesn’t mean he’s an idiot. That’s all. It’s not important.’

‘It’s important to me.’

Ruby watched them anxiously.

She knew why Mr Braund wasn’t an idiot. As Mummy had led her home, shaking and crying, Mr Braund had seen her fingers, stained bright red with nail polish.

Did it bite her? he’d yelled.

She’s OK, Mummy had called as they’d hurried up the hill. She’s OK.

Then, while Ruby had stood and sobbed, Mummy had got cotton wool and something from under the sink and scrubbed her fingers and nails until they were clean and sore and smelled like decorating.

Mummy tried to leave the kitchen, but Daddy filled the doorway.

‘Just tell me what you meant,’ he said. ‘That’s all I’m asking.’

‘Nothing! I just said it.’ Mummy ran her hands through her hair and then put them on her hips. She looked at the wall. ‘John. Please. I need to get changed and I need a lift to work or I’m going to be late.’

He stared at her. She stared at the wall. And Ruby stared at both of them.

Finally Daddy stepped aside.

Mummy brushed past him, then opened the little white door and ran upstairs.

Daddy glared at the door as if he could still see her through the yellowing paint.

Ruby stood on the spider rug, unsure of what to do. She hugged the blanket closer to her. She’d like to go upstairs to bed, but following Mummy upstairs might look like she was taking her side.

Daddy turned to her. ‘You all right, Rubes?’

She nodded.

‘Good,’ he said, then he whispered, ‘I’ll get some biscuits and something to drink. Why don’t you go and put Panda to bed?’

They were going on a posse.

Ruby screwed up her face. The fear of the Bear Den was still fresh in her mind. It was too easy to revisit. To relive how quickly she’d turned from a swaggering cowboy into a scared little girl – and from that to a screaming baby, unable to stop crying even when Adam was standing right there with his father, watching her.

She wasn’t in the mood to hunt down a killer.

‘I’m so tired,’ she said. ‘Because of the dog and all the running and everything. Can you go? And I’ll come the next time?’

She was letting him down, she could see it on his face.

‘You scared, Rubes?’

‘No!’

‘It’s OK if you’re scared. You can tell me.’

‘I’m not. I’m tired.’ She’d battled so hard to get Daddy to allow her to go with him. What if he thought she was just a silly scaredy-cat girl now? He might never take her on another posse.

Or anywhere.

Daddy sat on the sofa and patted the cushion beside him. She sat down and leaned into the space under his arm that seemed to fit her so well.

‘You know how I got these scars, Rubes?’

‘You were bit by a dog,’ said Ruby. ‘Mummy told me.’

‘Did she?’ said Daddy. He stroked the scar that ran through his eyebrow and stared thoughtfully at the table.

‘Did it hurt?’ she breathed.

‘Hurt like billy-o,’ said Daddy.

‘Did you cry?’

‘Like a baby. Much harder than you cried today. And I was scared.’

‘Did the police take the dog away?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, it was my own fault. I was always winding the dog up. My mother always said it would bite me one day.’

‘Oh.’ Ruby nodded. ‘But I didn’t do anything to the police dog.’ He laughed without smiling. ‘You can’t trust the police, Rubes! They’re always out to get you – even the dogs.’

Daddy took her hand. There was a tiny speck of red at the base of her left thumbnail, but he didn’t notice.

‘The point is, I understand about being scared, you see, Rubes? But when that dog bit me, you know what I did?’

‘What?’

‘I got back on the horse.’

Ruby pricked up her ears. ‘What horse?’

‘When you fall off a horse, you have to get straight back on, or else you might start worrying about falling off again, and then you’d never get back on. See?’

Ruby nodded.

She could hear Mummy starting down the stairs.

‘So,’ Daddy said in his cowboy voice, ‘you all set for the posse, Deputy?’

Ruby hesitated.

‘Next time,’ she said. ‘I’ll get back on the horse next time.’