While the Storm Rages, page 15
Clem shrugged. She hadn’t a clue. ‘I tried to work it out, but like I said, without a ruler it’s a lot of guesswork. All I know is we’ve just passed Hampton Court and that was about halfway.’
‘So what does that mean? A day? Two days?’
‘I’ve no idea, and we don’t even have the map any more, do we?’ She looked to the river with regret, before sighing. ‘I’d say another day if the boat was still... well, you know. But on foot? I’ve no idea. Maybe a day or so if we follow the river. The boat wasn’t going much quicker than walking pace by the end, but it could be longer with all the animals to handle.’ As she said it, the kittens were terrorising Frank, who looked like he wanted to find a deep hole and hide in it.
Noah winced. How on earth were they going to manage such a journey with no food or water, never mind a map. And what if the police were actually looking for them? If they didn’t get down river quickly then who knew how long it would be until someone spotted them and dobbed them in?
‘We need to find a shop,’ Noah said. He couldn’t just sit and fret.
‘And leave the river? Is that a good idea when we know that Windsor sits right on it?’
‘Just for as long as it takes to find some food. Cos I’m no fisherman, neither are you, and I can’t see any fruit trees or bushes, can you?’
Clem couldn’t disagree with that, and besides, the rods had gone down with Queen Maudie. So they tied up Samson after giving him a good rub, and set off walking inland, the kittens wriggling and scratching at their arms.
But after only a minute or two, Clem thought of another obstacle too. ‘Money!’ she gasped.
‘Eh?’
‘Money. For the food. We don’t have any.’
That stopped Noah in his tracks. Winn walked straight into the back of his legs and barked her disapproval.
‘Oh.’ He rooted through his pockets, but found only soggy linings. ‘Best leave that with me then.’ Which was exactly the answer Clem didn’t want to hear. She knew that only meant trouble for all of them, and more pressure on her to rescue them from whatever hole Noah decided to dig next.
So they walked on, Noah distracted, kittens mewing and squirming with hunger, until they hit a town, or a village really, a narrow, cobbled street with shops dotted hither and thither.
It wasn’t quiet though, there was plenty of activity, nearly all of it around a large bronze statue of a soldier, rifle pointed, ready, at the sky. It made Noah shiver: a reminder of something he didn’t want to talk about.
‘Where are we?’ Clem asked.
‘Not sure it matters.’
As they neared the statue, it appeared that the soldier himself was being readied for war, or protected at least, as piled up to his waist were sandbags, with the mound growing by the second, fed by a human chain of villagers, postmen, bobbies and most importantly, people in aprons – shopkeepers.
Until that moment, Noah didn’t have a plan, but this activity gave him a glimpse of hope, as long as he grabbed it quickly. How much longer would it take them to hide the soldier entirely? He couldn’t be sure, but with a number of them helping so diligently, he saw his opportunity and went for it.
‘Stay here with Frank and the kittens,’ he said firmly. ‘If the shopkeepers head back towards the shops, give me a signal. Howl like a wolf or something.’
Before Clem had time to argue or question, Noah and his dog were already slinking off towards the nearest shop.
After checking it stood empty, they darted through the door before they could be spotted. Clem sighed. Both the kittens now scratched at her arms, and how on earth was she meant to howl like a wolf without drawing unwanted attention to herself?
Inside, the shop was exactly what Noah needed it to be. It seemed to sell everything, and though he felt guilty about stealing – he knew he had no choice.
He’d have to take as much as he could carry to see them through for as long as possible, but not too much to weigh him down if they were suddenly rumbled.
The first thing he saw that he wanted wasn’t even food, it was a newspaper, but he knew he had to have it. Was the story of their disappearance tucked away in there, behind all the war news?
Rolling it quickly, he shoved it down the back of his shorts before turning his attention to the truly important stuff: grub. Apples he found quickly, small enough to ram into his pocket, and bread rolls, which he grabbed in one hand. Damn! He only had one pocket and one hand left, and that wasn’t going to get him far, was it?
So, without hesitation, he pulled his stinking shirt over his head, and lying it flat on the floor, started piling whatever he could find on top of it. Tins of ham that came with their own key, condensed milk, a hunk of cheese that smelled just on the right side of sweaty, and biscuits, as many biscuits as he could fit on the material.
Was it enough? Not a chance. Could he carry any more? Probably not, so folding the material together, and using the sleeves to form a knot, he made for the door with the bundle over his shoulder, like an errant Dick Whittington.
But just as the outside beckoned, he stopped dead in his tracks. Drink. He thought. He’d not picked up a single thing to drink! But as he pondered how on earth he could fit it in his sack, his ears were filled with a strange, unsettling noise.
‘WHOOOO!’ came the cry. What on earth was that? Was it Winn? He looked to his dog, but it wasn’t coming from her. So if it wasn’t Winn, and it couldn’t be Frank – the noise was too throaty and loud to be the ageing dachshund, then who was it?
And then it hit him. It wasn’t a dog at all. It was a wolf in Clem’s clothing.
The shopkeeper was coming.
He was well and truly trapped.
40
Noah hid behind some sacks of potatoes.
Winn was less happy to do so, then for some reason became desperate to push her nose inside one, lord knows why.
‘Quiet girl!’ Noah implored, holding her jaw shut gently in case she tried to protest. He did it just in time, as the shopkeeper stomped in, blissfully unaware of the raid in progress.
Noah checked his exit. There was only one door, and to get to it, he had to pass the counter, where the man was now slumped, mopping his brow after his sandbag exertions.
The question was, did Noah think he could outrun the man? Could he reach the door without the man copping hold and dragging him to one of the bobbies outside?
Normally, he’d say yes, every time. But this wasn’t a normal time. He had a makeshift knapsack to carry for starters, he’d barely slept in two days, and his arms were raw with burns. It was hardly the kind of preparation that would help him set a new hundred-yard record.
He needed... what did he need? Yes! That was it, he needed a diversion. Could Winn provide one? She was easily quick enough to pull the man away from the counter and still escape herself, but would she manage it with so much food around to distract her?
There had to be another way. He surveyed everything, the rows of neatly arranged cans and packets, but saw nothing that could help him escape in anyway.
But as he searched again, he spotted something else. Something they needed, something perilously close to the where the shopkeeper was standing. A map! A folded map. ‘The Thames’, it declared, and Noah had a feeling it could lead them straight to the Duchess’ estate, whether they followed the river, or dared to drift inland. It would be stupid to leave the shop without it, which meant he absolutely HAD to tempt the shopkeeper away from his counter.
Not for the first time, it was Winn who came to the rescue, as her curiosity (and hunger) had overwhelmed her, and she had chewed a hole in the nearest sack, a potato sliding out on to the floor, with the gentlest of thumps.
That was all Noah needed, it sparked his brain to life, and after pulling a pretend pin from this most opportune of grenades, he lobbed it high to the back of the shop.
‘Get ready!’ he whispered to Winn, and as soon as the bomb landed, detonating cans and packets noisily all over the floor, they saw the man dash in its direction, forehead creased. That was all the pair needed, and they bolted, Noah whipping the map from the counter as they passed. Adrenalin kicked in and within seconds, they were out the door, eyes straining into the sunlight in search of Clem.
‘LEGGIT!!!’ Noah yelled, much to the shock of the villagers, who were too stunned to give immediate chase. Clem didn’t need encouraging, though it wasn’t easy for her to sprint with two kittens wriggling in her arms. Frank looked appalled at yet more drama, but had no option but to waddle stiffly behind them.
By the time Clem caught up with Noah, deep in the wood that led to the river, he was laughing uncontrollably, out of relief as well as gratitude. Now he’d stopped, his stomach was growling.
Clem and Frank tumbled to the grass, the kittens revelling in the freedom to make a nuisance of themselves again, solely at Frank’s expense.
‘What are you laughing at?’ Clem asked Noah, while trying to stop one of the kittens from scratching Frank’s left eye out.
‘Everything!’ Noah replied. ‘Your howl, the shopkeeper’s face when that spud went flying, and the fact that FINALLY, we can eat something other than fish!’ He unveiled his treasure, which delighted the animals, but not Clem.
‘You stole all this?’ she gasped.
‘Well, I hardly had time to leave an IOU did I?’
‘But, Noah, that’s... criminal.’
Noah couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
‘What’s criminal, is that they want to put our animals to sleep! Remember? We wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for them.’
‘Doesn’t mean you can just steal whatever you want in their name.’
He reached into the back of his shorts and recovered the crumpled newspaper.
‘Got you something to read though, didn’t I?’
He watched as her face softened a touch and she snatched the paper from him.
‘It doesn’t change a thing,’ she scolded, in a mother-like fashion. ‘You shouldn’t have done it. So the first thing you’ll do when we get home, is pay him back. Do you hear me?’
Noah hadn’t a clue how he was going to do that. His meagre savings had been taken by Mum last month to pay for the window he’d smashed. But it was pointless arguing with Clem. So he nodded, before passing her the map as well.
‘Thought this would help too,’ he added. ‘I know how much you love a good map.’
She took it from him, silently, resisting the urge to say thank you. She also looked down at the picnic laid out on Noah’s smelly, stained shirt, her stomach waking instantly. The first thing it told her was to forgive Noah. Just this once.
So Clem listened to it, and they all ate.
41
Restraint wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.
Neither of them knew how long it would be until their mission was over, and even though Samson could tend to his own hunger, there were still a lot of mouths to feed.
So, with great reluctance, especially on the part of the dogs, the group made themselves stop, bundling up whatever was left back into Noah’s shirt.
Now they just needed to find something to drink.
The food was of course, wonderful, a feast given the circumstances, but it did nothing to solve the dryness in their throats. The can of milk had been given to the kittens though all it had done was feed their energy for mischief.
‘Every moment I spend herding these darned cats makes me thirstier,’ Noah moaned.
‘And it’s only going to get worse you know. So we need to do something about it.’
‘What do you want me to do? A rain dance? Bit of a waste of time when we don’t even have a cup to catch it.’
‘I’m not expecting you to do anything. I’m just saying, I’m thirsty, you’re thirsty and we need to do something about it.’
‘The animals are fine though.’
‘Course they are, because they don’t object to drinking dirty puddles. But I don’t fancy risking doing the same, do you?’
Noah turned his top lip up. ‘Not much. Well, we found one shop didn’t we. We just need to find another, quickly.’
Clem lay back and opened the newspaper. Not surprisingly, most of the pages were dominated by the outbreak of war and the evacuation of children. There were articles too, on the killing of the pets in the cities as well, which did little for their digestion. It wasn’t until Clem reached page twenty-seven however, that she found the thing they feared, a headline that read: Mystery of Runaways and their Pets.
The article was brief, listing the full names and ages of Noah and Clem, plus the names of the dogs, and the fact that they had been missing for two days. There was no mention of Big Col.
Concern is growing for the safety of the children since their disappearance. It is thought they may have been distressed by the government’s proposal to end the lives of animals deemed to be at risk, as well as the prospect of their imminent evacuation. Neither child has relatives living nearby whom they could be heading towards and their mothers are very worried. Clementine is described as being highly intelligent and resourceful, while Noah, according to his mother is ‘young for his age’.
This description did not go down well with Noah. He ranted against the injustice, though it fell on deaf ears, as Clem was too busy revelling in her intelligence.
‘You’d better listen to me from now on,’ she crowed. ‘Cos everyone knows now how intelligent and resourceful I am.’ She let the words roll off her tongue several times, and each time they hit Noah like a mallet to his young and increasingly offended head.
There was one, key omission from the report however.
‘There’s nothing about Queen Maudie going missing,’ pointed out Clem.
‘Means we can keep walking along the river,’ Noah said.
‘Hmm, I’m not sure that’s a good idea now,’ replied Clem. ‘We need water for starters, and there won’t be shops on the riverbank. Anyway, just because the boat isn’t in the article doesn’t mean the police don’t know about it. Plus, this would have been written yesterday. A lot could’ve happened since then.’
‘So what you’re saying is that we should take a massive detour just in case?’ Noah wouldn’t acknowledge it, but his petulant tone did make him sound very young, and in Clem’s opinion, dim. Which she told him. Which started a whole new argument.
‘We wouldn’t have even got this far without my ideas!’ Noah argued.
‘Maybe, but your dad would still have a boat.’
‘Don’t you want to save the animals?’
‘Of course I do, and as we have a map now we can see it’s quicker if we go inla—’
But at that moment, there was a noise behind them, a snapping of branches, then a second, and a clumsy third.
‘What was that?’ Noah whispered.
‘I don’t know, but I don’t like it. Maybe someone’s followed us from the village. We need to get moving quickly.’ And before Noah could disagree, Clem chased down the kittens and held on for dear life. Then she took the path inland, leaving Noah to grumble and curse while peering, over his shoulder.
‘Hang on!’ Noah yelled. ‘You forgot the flipping donkey!’ And he dashed to retrieve him.
‘Come on, Samson,’ he said, grabbing his rope. ‘Her ladyship has spoken, hasn’t she?’
They made decent enough progress too, thanks entirely to Clem. Her map-reading skills were excellent, never dallying when paths met, or when they found an unexpected junction. She would merely turn the map one way then the other, her head turning counterpoint, before a quick nod and the point of a finger set them on the move again. If she ever got irate, it was simply down to her thirst.
‘Have they never heard of shops around here?’
Noah didn’t argue. He knew there was no point, despite wanting to remind her they had no money to buy a drink. Plus, he knew they hadn’t actually deviated far from the riverbank: most of the journey so far had been through adjacent woodland, hiding them from inquisitive eyes that might greet them on a road.
He did feel uneasy though. And it wasn’t a feeling that went away, even after half an hour of walking. Their thirst and the heat didn’t help. But he felt... watched. Like they weren’t the only people in the area. Every so often, he would stop abruptly and turn, swearing blind that on several occasions he saw foliage dance, as if to hide someone.
‘It’s just your mind playing tricks on you,’ said Clem. ‘Hardly surprising after everything that’s gone on and so little sleep.’
But he didn’t think so. His gut, his instinct told him otherwise. So, he thought up a new plan, to set his mind straight. He started tossing sticks behind them into the undergrowth, which sent Winn scampering back to retrieve them.
If there was someone or something back there spying on them, then Winn would sound the alarm, with a bark that Noah would recognise as Danger! Danger!
It went on for some time. Away flew the stick, and off scampered Winn, ecstatic that finally, finally, she was getting to play her favourite game.
He started to fling the stick a little further, watching Winn disappear completely into the brush, and smiled. If only his life were as simple as hers. But it also served as a reminder to him: that their mission was a good one, and true. His animal, all of the animals, they were worth saving. It had to be done.
He waited, still smiling, for Winn to reappear, jaws clenched down on her prize. But she didn’t come. Neither did a bark. The forest was still, and quiet.
Or at least, the area behind them was, as the silence up ahead was suddenly broken by a piercing scream. Noah turned on his heels.
Clem was in trouble.
42
‘CLEM!!!’ Noah roared, as he tore through the brush. The foliage was heavy up in front of him, so heavy that there was no sight of anyone or anything, not even a glimpse of Samson’s straw hat. More worryingly, there was no noise now either, and that scared him. A scream was an awful sound, but silence was worse.
‘Clem. CLEM!’ he yelled, ignoring the branches that whipped at his face in warning, until, he found her. But she wasn’t alone.
