Fire and Hemlock. Diana Wynne Jones

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СКАЧАТЬ backed away into the shadow under the bush. Probably he did not credit that they were actually on their way to speak to him. By the time they reached him, he was flattened against the wall beneath the bush. He stared at them, and they stared at him. He was a good foot taller than they were. If it had not been for Mr Lynn’s letter, Polly thought she might have run away.

      “What are you spying on Nina for?” she said.

      Seb’s face turned from one to the other. “Which of you is Nina?”

      “Me,” Nina said in a scared, throaty way.

      “Then I’m not,” said Seb. “It’s you with the fair hair I’m supposed to watch. Now get lost, both of you.”

      “Why?” Polly said. And Nina was indignant enough to add, “And we’re not going till you tell us!”

      Seb hunched his shoulders against the wall and slid his feet forward across the pavement. He laughed at the way they backed away from his feet as they slid. It brought his face nearly down to their level, giving them a full blast of the scorn and dislike in it. “I’ve a good mind to tell you,” he said. “Yes, why not?” He nodded his chin at Polly. “You,” he said, “took something when you came to our house, didn’t you?”

      “It was given me!” said Polly.

      “So what? You took it,” said Seb.

      “I am not a thief!” Polly said angrily. “I didn’t even break and enter. The door was open and I went in.”

      “Shut up,” said Seb. “Listen. You didn’t eat and you didn’t drink, and you worked the Nowhere vases round first. Don’t deny it. I saw you working them. And I haven’t told my father that – yet. You owe me for that.”

      “I don’t understand a word of this!” Nina said. “And it was me you were following, not Polly.”

      “You shut up too,” Seb said, jerking his chin at Nina. “You only come into it because the two of you act like Siamese twins, trotting to her house, trotting to your house, trotting to school together. I didn’t know even little girls could be that boring!”

      “We’re not boring,” said Polly.

      “Yes you are – boring as hell,” Seb retorted disagreeably.

      “Hell’s not boring,” Nina said smartly. She hated not being the centre of attention. “There’s devils with forks and flames, and thousands of sinners. You won’t have a dull moment when you go there.”

      “I’m not planning to go there,” Seb said. “I told you to shut up. I’m planning not to,” he said to Polly, “and I told you, you owe me.”

      Polly was puzzled and scared, but she said defiantly, “Laurel’s not having it back! It’s mine.”

      “Laurel doesn’t know,” said Seb. “Luckily for you. Have you seen or talked to a certain person from the house since the funeral?”

      Polly thought of the varied sheets of Mr Lynn’s letter lying on her bed across the street, and her heart began bumping again. “Yes,” she said. “I’m talking to you now.” And she prayed that Nina had not chanced to notice who the letter was from – or, if she had, that Nina would have the sense not to say.

      “Very funny!” said Seb. “You know that’s not who I mean.” Nina, to Polly’s relief, looked puzzled to death. “All right,” said Seb. “You haven’t – and I should know, standing outside in all weathers, watching—”

      “Don’t you have to go to school at all?” Nina interrupted.

      Seb sighed. “Yes I do, you boring little girl, but it’s still half-term. Shut up. I’m talking to her.” He stood himself up and turned round to face Polly. “Now see, you – this is a warning. Don’t. Don’t have anything to do with a certain person. Understand? Come on – promise. You owe me to promise.”

      Polly stared up at Seb’s shadowy, orange-lit face. Since she could not pretend not to know what he was talking about, she thought rapidly for a way not to promise. She said rather vaguely, “It’s very kind of you to warn me.”

      “Kind!” exclaimed Seb. He stamped about in disgust. Polly stood back, gently holding her breath. It looked as if he was distracted. “Who’s kind? I don’t do favours. I only told you because I’m sick of standing outside your beastly home and your boring school every day for a week! My feet are killing me. Yesterday I got soaked to the skin…”

      He complained for quite a long time. Polly let her breath out and tried not to look smug. She could tell he was a selfish person. His own sufferings meant more to him than making her give promises.

      All the same, Seb was not a fool. Having grumbled until Nina was yawning and shivering, he gave Polly a bad moment by rounding on her threateningly.

      “Don’t forget,” he said. “If you break your promise, it won’t be me who sees to you. My father’s bad enough, but if Laurel gets to know, I wouldn’t be you for a billion pounds!” Polly believed him. She shivered as hard as Nina.

      “I won’t forget,” she said.

      “And good riddance!” Seb said. Polly watched him swing round and walk away. She watched him turn the corner by the pillar box. He was gone. Remembering, she thought, is not the same as promising. Good. I’ve won.

      For a moment she thought Seb was coming back round the corner, uttering shrieking shouts. But it was only Nina’s Mum, come to see where Nina had got to. “I was worried, cherub. If somebody really is following you—”

      “They weren’t,” Nina said crossly. “That was a mistake.” Her glasses flashed at Polly, puzzled and conspiratorially, as she was towed away.

      And that was a good thing too, Polly thought, as she went back across the road. Nina had not had time to ask things which it was beyond Polly to explain.

      Her own Mum met her at the front door. “Polly, what have you been up to now?” she said tiredly. “Door open, no coat.”

      Polly looked up at her, remembering those angry splashes of salt. It was such a pity, when Ivy was so much better-looking than Nina’s Mum. Polly thought, I am not going to be a selfish person like Seb. “Sorry,” she said. “What’s the matter, Mum?”

      “Nothing’s the matter,” said Ivy, drawing herself up stony and still. “Why should there be?”

      “You cried,” said Polly.

      “The idea!” exclaimed Ivy. “Go straight upstairs and don’t give me those stories!”

      Polly went upstairs, trying to shrug. Mum was in a mood, all right. It didn’t do to get upset about it. To prove she was not upset, Polly read Mr Lynn’s letter all through again. Then she drew the curtains – after all, Seb might come back – and fetched out her birthday writing paper with roses on, and her best pen. Kneeling on her bed, rear upwards, hair dangling, she wrote a reply to Mr Lynn in her best writing. His letter deserved a good answer, but she wanted it to be good because of Seb, and because of Mum too, though she was not sure why.

       Dear Mr Lynn, СКАЧАТЬ