The Monsters of Rookhaven, стр. 18
There was always a moment when Freddie’s eyes met Alfie’s and Freddie would have to steel himself to say hello, hoping and praying that Alfie didn’t see the pity in his eyes.
Now, as Freddie watched, Alfie hovered outside the baker’s, seemingly considering whether to go in or not.
Freddie felt as if he had to do something. He readied himself, keeping his voice light and friendly.
‘All right, Alfie? You going in?’
Alfie turned and looked at him, looking slightly mortified.
‘All right, Freddie. Yeah, just thinking about what I might buy.’
There was an awkward pause, and Alfie gave an embarrassed smile. Through the glass of the door Freddie could see Amy Nicholson behind the counter. She was serving his neighbour, Mrs Arkwright. There was no mistaking her vivid white hair and faded pink coat. She was chatting away. Freddie could see her hands flapping in the air and her rapid nodding. ‘Mrs Arkwright could talk for England,’ his dad always said.
‘A sticky bun maybe?’ said Freddie.
‘Maybe,’ said Alfie, biting his lower lip as he watched Amy serve the old lady.
‘Right.’ Freddie smiled.
Alfie limped towards the door, and Freddie fought the urge to open it for him. He heard Amy’s voice as she greeted him, and the shy hesitancy of Alfie’s response.
Freddie walked on.
He was at Dr Ellenby’s front door minutes later. He knocked and was surprised when the doctor answered in rolled-up shirtsleeves, puffing on his pipe.
‘The key, Dr Ellenby.’
Dr Ellenby nodded in gratitude, his eyes twinkling. ‘Good lad, Freddie. Thank you,’ he said as he pocketed the disc.
Freddie blushed a little.
The doctor narrowed his eyes and looked at Freddie.
‘You all right, young man?’
Freddie swallowed and nodded. Dr Ellenby had this effect on you. Freddie was familiar with it. He was kind and disarming, and you always wanted to confess everything to him. Freddie didn’t want to say anything, though. He decided the best way forward was to distract him.
‘There’s something wrong with the Glamour,’ he said.
Dr Ellenby frowned. ‘So you saw it, did you? I thought Enoch might have fixed it by now.’
Freddie nodded.
The doctor sighed. ‘I suppose there’ll have to be a council meeting.’ He shook his head and muttered to himself. Freddie knew the doctor wasn’t too fond of the council, even though he himself was a senior member. It consisted of the few townsfolk people considered best suited to the task of liaising with Mirabelle’s family and ensuring the Covenant was observed. ‘Self-important stuff and nonsense for self-important men,’ he’d once said in Freddie’s presence, and then immediately apologized because Freddie’s father was also on the council.
‘I should get home,’ said Freddie.
‘Thank you for bringing the key back.’ With that, Dr Ellenby went back inside and closed the door. For a moment Freddie just stood there, feeling a sudden urge to knock on it again and tell him everything.
About Dad. About Mum. About how sad the world feels now. How sad it’s felt since . . .
Freddie shook the thoughts from his head, and headed towards the green. He stood on the corner for a moment and noticed something blue and red in the mud where the grass had become scarce.
He nudged it with the toe of his shoe and realized it was a small Union Jack that had been trampled into the mud. No doubt a remnant from VE Day when the whole village had gathered on the green to celebrate.
The whole village.
That wasn’t strictly true. He and his mum and dad had stayed at home. To Freddie it had felt as if they were separated from the world that day as the sound of celebrations carried on the wind, ghostly and faint, like something from a dream. Adults singing, children laughing as they ran around the green. He’d looked out of his bedroom window as people made their way home, smiling and laughing. He’d spotted Kevin Bennett walking with his parents. Kevin had only been five years old then. He’d waved up at Freddie and Freddie had waved back, smiling at Kevin’s shiny red cheeks and how breathless he looked.
Then Freddie had spotted Mr and Mrs Smith, stooped and tottering along almost aimlessly, their flags by their sides, both looking lost, returning to a house that would never see their sons walk through the front door again, and he felt that familiar sensation of something heavy weighing him down.
Later that same evening, Freddie had gone for one of his walks as dusk settled over the village. The streets had been eerily empty and, as he’d walked by the Smiths’ house, he’d heard sobbing coming from one of the front rooms.
Freddie had heard enough adults weeping behind closed doors to last him a lifetime.
He looked at the village green now, and tried to imagine those VE Day crowds, tried to imagine their joy. He tried most of all to imagine what that joy felt like, but he couldn’t.
Freddie took one last look at the empty green, then he turned and headed home.
Jem
They were in the main hallway when Mirabelle raised a finger in the air.
‘Shh, listen,’ she said.
There came a delicate tinkling sound of metal on metal. Jem followed Mirabelle’s gaze upwards to the iron chandelier that hung from the ceiling. It was hard to be sure, but she thought she saw something moving.
Whatever it was suddenly leaped from the chandelier and plummeted towards them. Jem shrieked and jumped in response. Mirabelle laughed, and Jem felt her cheeks flush with a combination of embarrassment and fear.
The thing that dropped from above had wrapped itself round Mirabelle’s neck. It had a tail. It was nuzzling under her chin, and Mirabelle was chuckling.
‘Stop it, Gideon.’
Curiosity finally overcame Jem’s fear, and she stepped closer to Mirabelle for a better look. The tiny, wiry, greyscaled creature was no bigger than an infant. It was wearing dark trousers that stopped just above its ankles, a dark jacket, and a