Fire And Hemlock Part 3

''Here they are,'' Hero says, and puts the gla.s.ses into Mr. Piper's hand. As Mr. Piper fumbles them on to his nose, Hero explains, ''I picked them up and kept them. I knew you'd manage better if you didn't have to keep explaining you weren't really seeing a giant.'' Mr. Piper looks from the boy to the giant. It is indeed, monstrously and hugely, a giant, snoring peacefully among the litter. He feels rather sick.

They leave the supermarket the back way as the police come through the front. Edna, by this time, has taken her curlers out, put on her best dressing gown, and arrived at the shop door. She is watching when the police make the mistake of asking the fire brigade to hose the giant's face to revive him for questioning. The giant hates this. He has had enough anyway. Edna sees him burst out of the supermarket, shoving a police car one way and a fire engine the other. After which he rises to his full height of forty feet or so and runs away, shaking the ground as he goes. Edna is so amazed at this sight that she not only forgets to scold her brother for being covered with flour and yoghurt; she forgets to forbid him to take on a smart new boy a.s.sistant.

In this manner Mr. Thomas Piper and his asistant Hero began their careers as trainee-heroes. At least, I hope you agree that this is how it was.

With best wishes to my a.s.sistant trainee-hero, Thomas G. Lynn P.S. I seem to remember that all heroes have a special weapon of some kind. Don't I need to find a sword? And what about a horse? I tried to be faithful to your description of Edna. Did I get her right?

Polly put the letter down with a sigh. She thought the giant ought to have been killed too.

"Finished?" Nina said rather sourly. She was standing by the window. "If you can spare the time, come over here and look."

"Why?" said Polly, still seeing broken supermarket in her mind'seye.

"Because," Nina said with awful patience, "one of the people following me is standing across the road."

That fetched Polly across the room. Funny thing, she thought, as she pressed her forehead against the window in order to see into the dark outside, real life trumps made-up things every time-if this is is real, of course. "Where? I don't see anyone." real, of course. "Where? I don't see anyone."

"Under that person opposite's big bush. There," said Nina.

Polly could see the figure now. It looked like a boy humped in an anorak. While she looked, the person s.h.i.+fted, stamped feet, and began walking up and down. He must have been cold standing out there in the dark. He stopped before he got to the streetlight and turned again, but at that end of his walk there was enough light to show he had neat hair and a scornful set to his smooth face. And Polly had sharp eyes. Her heart thudded rather. She said, "He's called Seb. He was at the funeral."

"Why is he following me?" Nina whispered. "I'm scared, Polly."

Polly asked, feeling rather shrewd and detective-like, "Did the man following you have two sort of black lumps under his eyes?"

Nina nodded. "He's the scary one. He sits in his car and stares."

"He's Seb's father," said Polly. "Mr. Morton Leroy. Is he here now?"

"I told you!" Nina said irritably. "They take it in turns. But why?" why?"

Polly had just been reading Mr. Lynn's letter. Mr. Lynn obviously thought she was bold and bloodthirsty, and she wanted to prove he was right. "Let's go out and ask him," she said.

Nina replied with a shocked giggle. She could not believe Polly meant it. "Never speak to strange men," she said. "Your Granny said."

"He's not strange-I know his name," Polly said. "He's not even a man."

"He's big, though," Nina objected.

At this, Polly took great pleasure in saying, "Nina Carrington, stop being such a scaredy-cat or I won't be your friend any more." It worked too. As Polly marched to the door and downstairs, she heard Nina come stumbling after her, fighting her way into her coat to disguise her lack of courage. They went out of the front door and crossed the street together.

As they went toward him, Seb 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 given me!" said Polly. 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 was me you were following, not Polly." 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 h.e.l.l," Seb retorted disagreeably.

"h.e.l.l's not boring," Nina said smartly. She hated not being the center 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 not to," he said to Polly, "and I told you, you owe me." 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 b.u.mping 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 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." ." 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 not to promise. She said rather vaguely, "It's very kind of you to warn me." 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 favors. 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 s.h.i.+vering, 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 s.h.i.+vered 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 is following you-" following you-"

"They weren't," Nina said crossly. "That was a mistake." Her gla.s.ses 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 not going to be a selfish person like Seb. "Sorry," she said. "What's the matter, Mum?" 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 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 herbirthday writing paper with roses on, and her best pen. Kneeling on her bed, rear upward, 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. 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 herbirthday writing paper with roses on, and her best pen. Kneeling on her bed, rear upward, 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, Your letter is good and funny but you are not like Mr. Piper reely. You should have killed the giant like you said I said. Now I will anser your questiuns. You are right heros always have a weapun but you do not need a sord, you have your axe. You need a horse. St. Gorge had a horse for killing draguns. You got Edna right only not nasty enuff. She nags. She is so upposed to Mr. Piper reading books that the pore man has to rap them in the cuvers of yusefull books called "A short histury of nales'' for the big ones and "Iron list" for the small ones and read them secritally wile Edna waches the telly. I hope you are well.

Polly was going to finish here, when she remembered Seb again. A new thought struck her. She sucked her pen awhile, then wrote: Mr. Piper has a nefue, Edna is his Mum, called Leslie. He is a horrid boy and gets scaunfull every time Mr. Piper is nice to him. Leslie is ashamed of Mr. Piper, he thinks he is mad. He did not see the giant. That is all. By for now.

Polly She put the letter into an envelope and addressed it carefully. She went downstairs with it, intending to ask Mum for a stamp from her handbag. But since Ivy was sitting at the kitchen table pretending to read a magazine and showing no sign even of thinking of getting supper, Polly helped herself to a stamp and stuck it on. She went back to the kitchen. Ivy was still sitting.

"Mum," Polly said softly, "shall I go and get fish and chips for supper?"

Ivy jerked. "For G.o.d's sake, Polly, don't treat me as if I was ill!"

Then, as Polly was slithering away, sure that she had pushed Mum from a mood into one of her discontents, she heard Ivy saythoughtfully, "Chinese. I fancy Chinese. Or would you rather have Indian, Polly?"

Polly did not like curry, nor the severe man in the Indian Take Away. "Chinese," she said. "Shall I get it?"

Instead of fussing, as she often did, about Polly going out alone in the dark, Ivy simply said, "The money's in my bag. Cross the road carefully."

Polly found some pound notes and hid those and the letter in a carrier bag. She went out cautiously into a drizzling night. There was no sign of Seb. Nevertheless, Polly smuggled the letter into the pillar box on the corner, looking round everywhere as she did it, as if it was the guiltiest thing she had ever done. She had no doubt she was breaking the promise Seb thought she had made. Then she went on her way to the Chinese Take Away, thinking she was probably quite heroic.

4.

The steed that my true-love rides on Is fleeter than the wind; With silver he is shod before, With burning gold behind.

TAM LIN.

In those days Polly never quite believed that a letter you put in a pillar box really got where you meant it to go. She was astonished to get a reply to her letter a week later. She had almost forgotten Mr. Lynn by then, because she was so worried about Dad. Dad had been away so long that Polly knew he was not on a course. She thought he might be dead, and that somehow Mum had forgotten to tell her. The reason she thought this was that Ivy's mood seemed to be over and she was behaving the way she always did, but Polly could tell it was a disguise to cover the mood still going on underneath. Polly dared not ask her about Dad in case he really was dead. She almost dared not ask Ivy anything for fear of being told about Dad. But she had to ask about Mr. Lynn's letter. Mr. Lynn had scrawled it in big, crooked handwriting, and Polly could not read a word.

Ivy read the letter, frowning. "What's this? Asking you to drop in and have tea with him when you happen to be in London next. How old does he think you are? Things to discuss-what things? Who ishe?"

Polly went skipping round the room. "He plays the cello in the British Symphony Orchestra," she said as she skipped. "Granny's met him. You can ring Granny and ask her if you like."

But Ivy did not seem to be getting on with Granny. She stood, stony and doubtful, holding the letter.

Polly jumped up and down with impatience. Then she stood still and did some careful pleading. "Please, Mum! He's ever so nice. He wrote me that big letter-remember? It's because he's a trainee-hero and I'm his a.s.sistant."

"Oh," said Ivy. "One of your make-believes. Polly, how many times have I told you not to bother grownups to pretend with you. All the same-" She stopped and thought. Polly held her breath and tried not to jig. "I have to go to town anyway," Ivy said, "to see this lawyer I was told about. I was going to dump you at Nina's, but I think people are beginning to think you live there. If this Mr. Lynn really wants you, I could dump you there instead."

Ivy telephoned Mr. Lynn. While she was doing it, Polly remembered-with a jerk, like someone landing on her stomach with both feet-the promise Seb had thought she made, and his threats about Mr. Morton Leroy and Laurel. She was suddenly terrified that one of them could tap the telephone and listen in to Ivy talking to Mr. Lynn in her brisk, unfriendly telephone-voice. But nothing seemed to happen. Ivy came away from the phone, saying, "Well, he sounds all right. Wanted to know what you like for tea. Now, don't let him spoil you, Polly, and don't be a pest."

This was the thing she went on saying, almost mechanically, all the next few days and all the way up to London in the train. Pollylistened without really hearing. Now she had started being frightened, she was terrified. She was excited, but she was terrified too. They took a stopping train from Main Road Station, and Polly could think of nothing but Laurel's strange, empty eyes. It seemed no time before they were in King's Cross. Polly felt that Mr. Lynn must think very quickly to have made up the whole giant story on the way.

"Now, don't let him spoil you and don't be a pest," Ivy said as they got off. "Oh, come on, Polly, do! What do you keep looking round for?"

Polly was looking for Seb or Mr. Leroy. She was sure they were there somewhere, and that, even if they did not know where she was going, they would guess at once when they saw her all dressed up in her nice dress. The odd thing was that her very terror made her all the more determined to see Mr. Lynn. I must be quite brave after all! she thought.

Ivy took Polly's wrist and dragged her downstairs to the taxis. Polly's head was turned the other way the whole time. They took a taxi to Mr. Lynn's address because Ivy only knew that it was somewhere quite near the lawyer's. Polly stared out of the back window for other taxis following her with Seb in them. And for big, expensive cars with Laurel in them. Laurel, she knew, would have a chauffeur to drive. Laurel would be sitting beside him, wearing dark gla.s.ses. She saw a lady exactly like that, and she thought she was going to be sick. But it was a different lady entirely. Meanwhile, Ivy kept repeating the lawyer's address and making Polly say it back to her. Both of them talked like machines.

"And tell him to bring you there at five-thirty sharp," Ivy said again as the taxi stopped. "Now, don't-"

"Don't let him spoil me and don't be a pest. I know," Polly said as she climbed into the road. And she promptly forgot all that. She was too relieved to find herself in a quiet street, with no Seb, no Mr. Leroy, and, above all, no Laurel.

Mr. Lynn lived in a very Londony house, with steps up to the door, regular windows, and a stack of bell-pushes beside the door.

Polly found and pressed the one labeled lynn. The door wasopened almost at once by a very glamorous lady in tight jeans. The lady had a baby bundled onto one tight denim hip and she grinned so cheerfully at Polly that Polly was convinced she must be Mrs. Lynn. But it seemed not. The lady turned round and shouted, "Hey! Second floor! Visitor for Lynn!"

Mr. Lynn was hurrying down the dingy stairs. "Sorry to trouble you, Carla," he said. "h.e.l.lo, Polly-Hero, I should say."

"Not at all," said Carla. "I was just going out." She jerked a pushchair from behind the front door and b.u.mped away with it down the steps; leaving Polly, just for a moment, not at all sure what to say next.

The trouble was, she had been thinking of Mr. Lynn as a tortoise-man, or as a sort of ostrich in gold-rimmed gla.s.ses, the way he had described himself in his letter-anyway, as rather pathetic and ridiculous-and it was quite a shock to find he was a perfectly reasonable person after all, simply very tall and thin. And it was a further trouble to realize that Mr. Lynn did not quite know what to say either. They stood and goggled at one another.

Mr. Lynn was wearing jeans and an old sweater. That was partly what made the difference. "You look nicer like that-not in funeral clothes," Polly said awkwardly.

"I was going to say the same about your dress," Mr. Lynn said in his polite way. "Did you have a good journey?"

"Yes really," Polly said. She was just going on to say that she had been afraid of Mr. Leroy or Laurel following her, when it came to her that she had better not. She was quite sure she should not mention them. Why she was sure, she did not know, but sure she was. She chewed her tongue and wondered what to say instead. It was as awkward as the first day at a new school.

But it was just like that first day. It seems to go on forever, and it is full of strangeness, and the next day you seem to have been there always. The thing Polly thought to say was, "Is Carla your landlady?" Mr. Lynn said she was. "But she's nothing like like Edna!" Polly exclaimed. Edna!" Polly exclaimed.

"No, but Edna lives in Stow-Whatsis," Mr. Lynn said. Then it wasall right. They climbed the stairs, both telling one another at once how awful Edna was, and in what ways, and went into Mr. Lynn's flat still telling one another.

Polly thought Mr. Lynn's flat was the most utterly comfortable place she had ever been in. It had nothing grand about it, like Hunsdon House, nor was it pretty, like home. Things lay about in it, but not in the uncared-for way they did in Nina's house, and it was not nearly as clean as Granny's. In fact, the bathroom was distinctly the way Polly always got into trouble for leaving bathrooms in. She went over it all. There were really only three rooms. Mr. Lynn had a wall full of books, and stacks and wads of printed music, a music stand that collapsed in Polly's fingers, and an old, battered piano. There were two great black cases that looked as battered as the piano, but when Polly opened them she found a cello nestling inside each, brown and s.h.i.+ny as a conker in its sh.e.l.l, and obviously even more precious than conkers. Polly was delighted to recognize the Chinese horse picture on the wall, and the swirly orchestra picture over the fireplace. The other pictures were leaning by the wall. Mr. Lynn said he had not decided where to hang them yet. Polly saw why. There were posters and prints and unframed drawings tacked to the walls all over.

"It's a very ordinary flat," Mr. Lynn said, "and the real drawback is that it's not terribly soundproof. Luckily the other tenants seem to like music." But he sounded pleased that Polly liked the flat so much. He asked her if she liked music. "One of the things we never got round to discussing," he explained in that polite way of his. Polly said she was not sure she knew music. So he put on a record he thought she might like, and she thought she did like music. Then he let Polly put on records and tapes for herself in a way Dad would never let her do at home. They had it playing all the time. Meanwhile, Polly toasted buns at the gas fire, and Mr. Lynn spread them with far too much b.u.t.ter and honey, which Polly had to be careful not to drip on her nice dress while she ate them.

She ate a great deal. The music played, and they went on discussing Edna. Before long they knew exactly the pinched shape of her face and the sound of her nasty, yapping voice. Polly said that the stuffing was coming out of Edna's dressing gown because she was too mean to buy another, and she only let poor Mr. Piper have just enough money each month to buy tobacco. "He had to give up smoking to buy books," she said.