The Secret Page 11

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘No such word as can’t. How about this then?’ She bent double and peered at Roy through her legs, rolling her eyes and making idiotic drooling noises. A faint smile appeared on Roy’s face. ‘That’s better!’ On all fours, Nicky became a sow, grunting and snorting and scratching herself, against the hut. Roy began to giggle, just a bit.

  ‘Come on,’ said Nicky. ‘We’ll go and see if there’s another train yet.’

  ‘The thing is,’ she explained, ‘you have to wait till someone’s talking to the man in the box. Then it’s easy to go behind, and he won’t notice. I seen lots of people do it. I mean – they probably had tickets all the time, but they didn’t bother to show them. It’s easy peasy to get on the train, you’ll see.’

  ‘How do you know which train is the right one?’ said Roy.

  ‘Well I told you. You don’t listen to anything just lately, do you? Platform eleven this time, it says it on the board. And on top of the board is the time it goes. We got ten minutes. . . . Come on, he’s busy now. . . . Come on, Roy!’

  But Roy’s shoe fell off as they hurried, and he had to go back for it, and by the time they reached the entrance to the platform, the enquirers at the box had moved on again.

  ‘Tickets, please,’ said the man in the box.

  ‘Oh, we’re not going on the train,’ said Nicky. ‘We’re just having a little look round . . . while our mum’s at the shop. That shop over there! Then we’re going on the train. Not now.’

  ‘Move out the way then,’ said the man in the box. ‘You’re holding up the traffic.’

  The children retreated.

  ‘Do your shoes up properly, can’t you?’ Nicky scolded. ‘You’re going to spoil it all. All right, don’t cry, don’t cry. I said, DON’T CRY! We shall have to be a bit careful now, though. Now the man noticed us already. . . . We shall have to wait till there’s lots of people going past the box, and make out one of them is our mum.’

  There was a surge of late arrivals, and Nicky pushed through under their cover. ‘You see?’ said Nicky, as they ran down the platform, weaving in and out of the legs and the cases. ‘Easy peasy. Come on, let’s get on the train quick.’

  Inside the train, they sat side by side. ‘Isn’t this fun?’ said Nicky. ‘Isn’t this great? Don’t you think this is great, Roy? Well I do, anyway!’

  The train on the opposite platform began to slide out of the station. ‘Isn’t it funny!’ said Nicky. ‘It seems like we’re the ones that’s moving, not them! Don’t you think that’s funny, Roy?’

  They waited a little time more, and Nicky began to fidget. ‘I’m sure it’s longer than ten minutes now.’ Neither child had a watch, and there was no clock visible from the train. ‘Don’t you think it’s longer than ten minutes, Roy? I thought we supposed to be going.’

  The carriage was still filling up. An elderly couple sat opposite Nicky and Roy. ‘Just made it!’ said the lady, beaming at Nicky. ‘You going to the seaside then? All by yourselves?’ She didn’t seem to think it particularly strange, not like some people, and Nicky smiled back, relaxing a bit.

  ‘We’re going to see our aunty,’ she said.

  ‘Didn’t anyone come to see you off?’ said the lady’s husband.

  ‘Our mum would have, but she couldn’t,’ Nicky improvised. ‘Because the baby’s sick.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ clucked the lady, ‘I am sorry to hear that.’

  ‘Our aunty lives in Southbourne,’ said Nicky. ‘So it’s lucky we can go and stay with her, until the baby gets better.’

  ‘Did you say you’re going to Southbourne?’ said the lady’s husband.

  ‘To stay with our aunty, by the sea.’

  ‘Not on this train!’ said the lady.

  ‘This train’s going to Brighton,’ said the lady’s husband.

  ‘The Southbourne train’s gone,’ said the lady.

  ‘Saw it pulling out as we came on the platform, didn’t we, dear?’ said her husband. ‘Platform eleven – that one just across. This is Platform twelve.’

  There was the sound of slamming doors.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said the lady. ‘I’m afraid you’ve got on the wrong train.’

  From the platform outside, a whistle shrilled.

  9

  Scatter!

  NICKY SCREAMED. ‘IT’S going, it’s going, we got to get off!’

  She grabbed at her bags and kicked Roy. ‘Roy! Come on. We got to get off the train!’

  The elderly lady and her husband were both looking very upset. ‘Don’t get off if it’s moving, you’ll hurt yourselves!’

  The train gave a little jerk. Nicky grabbed Roy with her free hand, and dragged him to the door. ‘I can’t open it! I can’t open it! Somebody open it for me!’ she shrieked.

  The train was moving. Not very fast, but definitely moving. ‘Go on then, hurry up!’ A young man was opening the door for Nicky, which was a most unwise thing to do, though he meant well.

  Nicky jumped, pulling Roy with her.

  They fell on to the platform, and Roy shouted as the shock of the fall brought him painfully into full awareness of what was going on. Nicky did not cry out, but her face twisted up as her knee struck the platform and she rolled over, still clutching her bags.

  The platform was empty of passengers – the two trains had taken them all. But from the far end a railman was running towards them and, worse, the guard had seen the children tumbling out. With a screech of brakes, the train shuddered to a halt.

  ‘Get up!’ said Nicky, yanking Roy to his feet. Her knee hurt so much she was surprised to find she could stand, but in fact it was only bruised. ‘Run!’ she shouted. ‘Run!’

  The railman was a good distance from them still, and anyway there were lots of convenient obstacles on the platform he needed to swerve around. But the guard, riding at the back, had climbed off the train and was lumbering towards them, consternation over all the folds of his fleshy face. And the guard was between them and the exit from the platform!

  Nicky seized Roy by the wrist and hauled him along with her, straight towards the guard, and away from the railman. The railman was young and lithe, he was the one to watch! The guard, poor man, was older and portly, with several rolling stomachs.

  ‘Dodge!’ Nicky shrieked, as they were about to run into his arms. She gave Roy a push to the left, while she herself shot off to the right. The guard lunged at air and hesitated, unsure which child to pursue.

  The boy was the smaller, – the boy would be the easier to catch. The guard gave chase – Roy was nearly at the exit by now. In blind panic Roy turned, and ploughed along the path which crossed the platforms, inside the barrier. The guard chased him a short way and then, winded, stopped to get his breath. He felt more than a little foolish, and hoped not too many people were looking.

  Nicky, meanwhile, was charging straight at the ticket man’s box. ‘Hey, you!’ said the ticket man, who had come out of his box to intercept her. ‘I remember you!’ He held her by the arms, and Nicky’s head whipped swiftly round to bite his hand. The ticket man swore, but let her go, and stood sucking his bitten hand, feeling almost as foolish as the guard.

  By now the railman also had arrived at the exit, and he was all for carrying on the chase, but the ticket man and the guard told him not to bother. Clearly no one was really hurt, no one had actually committed the crime of travelling without a ticket, and they all had better things to do than go after a couple of silly kids, playing silly games, who would certainly be too scared to do it again.

  Running away from the guard, Roy thought his legs were going to fold up underneath him, They were weak and shaky, but still he kept pushing them to go. There was a pain in his chest as well, and his heart was pumping madly. He ran blindly; round corners, bumping into people, crying quietly deep inside himself.

  There was a wall – he had come to the end! No, no, there was another barrier and people coming through, and beyond the barrier the main part of the station again. Head dow
n, following instinct rather than reason, Roy charged at the exit. ‘What a rude little boy!’ he heard someone say, as he rushed through.

  He was out, he was out! Still in this horrible station though; this station that was as bad as any nightmare he ever had in bed. Which way, which way? Ahead of him, and to the right, was the clamour and confusion that had battered him all morning. To his left was a bare alleyway, and through that alleyway, surely, an open street! With the last of his strength, Roy drove his trembling legs through the alleyway and up the road to his left – uphill and round a corner, on and on till each breath was like a knife slicing through his chest, and he could go no further, whoever might be chasing him.

  He half knelt, half sat, on a pavement against a wall, and his bottom was sore from where he fell out of the train. But there was no fat guard pounding after him, so that was one good thing. The shuddering gasps that were his breathing slackened and slowed. The sweat that soaked the limp curls, and streaked his face with salty rivulets, cooled in a day turned chill and sunless. Roy wore only jeans and a tee-shirt. He thrust his bare arms under the tee-shirt to warm them, and hugged his thin chest, while his eyes darted wildly this way and that, looking for Nicky.

  Less than two hours ago he had run from her, and hidden from her, and from the world, and from himself. But he wanted her to find him really, and she had; and he wanted her to find him now, and he knew she would look till she did. Only hurry up, Nicky! Hurry up! Hurry up!

  There was a tear in his jeans, he noticed, and blood soaking through. That was from where he fell, in the station. His thigh smarted from where the blood was coming through, and he felt sorry for himself about that, and he wanted to go to the toilet as well. That was easy, of course, though not very nice, and nobody took much notice of a small boy doing it in a corner. Afterwards he sqatted down again, and waited for Nicky to come.

  Suppose she didn’t, though? What about the fat guard, and the station man that ran after them, and the ticket man in the box? Did they catch her, and do terrible things to her, and stop her from coming to look for him? What would he do if she didn’t come? What would he do?

  It was cold. Clouds were piling, grey on grey; three large drops of rain fell on the pavement in front of Roy, and he shivered. The day had been so warm when they left, they hadn’t thought they would need coats. They would boil in coats, Nicky said, and coats would be too much nuisance to carry. Woolies would do, she said, and anyway it was going to be a lovely day, she just knew. But the lovely day had not lasted; it was freezing now, and getting more freezing by the minute, and there were goosepimples on Roy’s arms, and Nicky had his pullover.

  Why didn’t she come yet? Roy looked up and down the road, straining his eyes hopefully, his heart beating with sudden gladness when he saw a figure that might be her. But it was another girl after all, someone not a bit like Nicky really. The disappointment was crushing; he felt desolated, more alone than before, even.

  Should he go and look for her himself?

  No he couldn’t, he couldn’t! Not back to that terrible station! And anyway he wasn’t sure where the station was, except that it was round a corner. And down a road. He remembered that bit because he was running uphill that time, and his legs were all wobbly, like jelly, when he was trying to make them go.

  But perhaps Nicky was looking for him in the wrong place. Perhaps she was just going round and round, looking in the wrong places, and he must find her, and show her where he was really. He must hurry, and do it now, before she went farther away from him, perhaps, looking in the wrong place.

  Roy heaved himself up. He was stiff from sitting now, as well as cold, and the dried blood on his jeans had gone all hard, and crackly. His right leg had gone to sleep where he had had it doubled under him, and he stamped it weakly a few times, to make the pins and needles come. The sobs came as well as he trotted down the road – sobs of loneliness and fear, gathering volume until people were beginning to look. One kind-looking lady even put her hand on his arm, to stop him and ask what was wrong; but Roy pushed her away and stumbled on, swallowing the sobs now, because people mustn’t ask him questions. If they asked questions they might find out the secret.

  He ran down the road he had come up. The tears in his eyes made him miss the little alleyway into the station, so that he ran straight past it down the road, down, down, down, – and suddenly he knew where he was! It was the bus terminal, the bus terminal where they came in this morning; this morning that seemed like weeks ago.

  And they ran between the buses that time, to get to the train station. So the way in to the train station was just here. Just there, where all those people were going! And Nicky was in there, perhaps, looking for him.

  He was frightened to go in, and he was frightened not to go in, because if he didn’t go in he might never find Nicky at all. Cautiously, he trotted through the long entrance hall, and he was in the horrid place once more, with trolleys and luggage and people sitting about, and people pushing everywhere, and such a muddle he didn’t know where to go first. And he didn’t seem to recognize anything for certain, it was all mixed up from before. He didn’t know which end of the station he was at, if it was where they sat against the wall, or where they went to go on the train the first time, or where they got on the wrong train; and at first he forged a blind zig-zag path, too frightened to look properly.

  Suddenly he noticed the funny ticket place, where he had hidden underneath, and then he remembered it was Platform twelve they went on, or Platform eleven. Anyway it was the wrong one, wasn’t it, but at least there was something he knew now, and perhaps Nicky was looking for him under the ticket place, and he would see her in a minute.

  Only she wasn’t there. There were railway officials in uniform though, all over the place, and Roy didn’t know if they were the same ones that chased him before – he was just terrified of all of them. Sick with fear, light-headed almost, he turned and plunged out of the station.

  Buses again. And buses didn’t just carry people away from home, they took them back again as well. Somewhere amongst all those red buses in the station, there was a Number 52. And the Number 52 would take him home!

  But what was the use of going home, when Nicky was here, looking for him round Victoria Station? Unless she got caught by the railway people, which was a thought so terrifying his mind went all foggy, and empty, when he started to imagine it. He crossed over the bus terminal, and was glad when he got to the pavement on the other side. He looked around him, and was bewildered by what he saw. So many streets, so much traffic! Where was Nicky? He was never going to find her!

  Roy put his hand into the pocket of his jeans, and felt the secret coins he had hidden there. One pound and five pence. Enough for his fare and more. He ran round the buses, looking at the front of each one, till he found a Number 52. The door at the front was open, and people were getting in. Roy bought his ticket from the driver, and sat downstairs because his legs were too shaky to go on top. He twisted his fingers, and the bus rumbled, and shook, and moved. He wanted to get off then, and look for Nicky some more, but it was too late; the driver had closed all the doors, and they were on their way.

  What was happening wasn’t real. He was going to a home that wasn’t a home! So how could a rubbish like that be real? Anyway, if he liked, he could get off at the next stop. He could still do that, it wasn’t too late.

  But he sat through the next stop, and the next one, and the one after that, and by now it was too late, because he would certainly be lost if he got off; so he went on sitting there, staring blankly out of the window, and not seeing the streets and the shops and the park at all, not even seeing the rain, which sheeted down suddenly and made everything dark, though a clock they passed said it was still only twenty minutes to three.

  Roy rubbed his arms to warm them, and thought about going home, and thought this wasn’t real, any of it. Nothing that was happening was real. When he got home he would find he had dreamt it all; and Mum would be there, and Nicky, and
everything would be ordinary, like before. And Nicky would be sometimes horrible to him and sometimes nice, like always, and he wouldn’t care if she wasn’t always nice, he wouldn’t care about that at all. And they would tease him again at school, and he wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care about that either.

  He thought about school as he got off the bus, and he wondered briefly if they were out yet, and he hoped they weren’t because he wanted to get home quickly without anybody seeing him, and asking him why he didn’t go today; because he didn’t want to talk to them today, even if it was only a dream. Confused, and empty, and panicky, Roy ran through the dark, wet streets. The rain, still tipping down, soaked his hair and his tee-shirt, chilling him to the bone. But it was lucky it was raining really, because everybody was inside, weren’t they? Aunty Four-eyes, and Polly Pry, and everybody. There was nobody to see him, running home at the wrong time, and ask him why he wasn’t in school.

  Gilbert Road! Another minute, and he would be safe indoors!

  The only thing was, the only thing was – he didn’t have a key!

  The house was silent, blank. Even on the path you could feel the coldness coming from it, and the emptiness. Roy called to Mum and Nicky through the letter box, but they weren’t there. His voice echoed flatly in the little hall, and his voice was the only sound in the deadness. He didn’t cry; some things are too bad to cry about. Instead he sat on the doorstep, and pressed his back against the door. There was a tiny roof over the step, and that gave some protection against the rain but not much. And it was real after all, there was no getting away from it! The station was real, and the empty house was real, and he was really here, sitting on the doorstep in the rain. Cold and despair closed in on him from all sides. They squashed him; he felt himself shrinking. Soon he would be just a dot, sitting all alone, outside a house with nobody inside it.

  And it might be quite a good thing to be just a dot – then he could get through the letter box. Or the keyhole perhaps, like Alice in Wonderland when she drank that magic stuff. Or what about that space in the window, where it didn’t fit properly? If he was just a dot, he could get through that space. That space was why they had to be specially careful to keep the window locked all the time, because burglars could get in else, Mum said.