Giant, page 13
Minnie shook her head. ‘No. These don’t feel right.’
‘You’re still feverish. They are your clothes. Perhaps they’ve shrunk in the rain.’ He yawned. ‘What a night. You were talking all night long. Saying strange things. Begging someone not to take you away. Sounded like a nightmare.’ He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes.
‘I must have been dreaming about a No-Go giant stealing me.’
They were quiet for a while. Blue light inched its way under the rough curtains at the simple window, and Minnie saw the dark circles under Robin’s eyes. Twist paced around them, whining softly.
‘He’s been doing that for hours,’ said Robin, flatly. ‘Growling at me whenever I dabbed at your face with a flannel. Nipping my legs whenever I got close to you.’
‘Sorry,’ said Minnie. When she looked at him, the jackal heaved a huge sigh, as if with relief, and grinned. With the dirt and old blood washed off his coat by the rain, he gleamed quite golden in the room, like a small ferocious sun. Minnie realised suddenly that this humble room held two of the most unlikely friends she was ever likely to make, and both of them hated each other. She would miss them when she went back home. Whenever that would be.
‘How are you feeling?’ Robin said.
Minnie knew that behind this question was a bigger question. Are you well enough to leave my house? He had nursed her through a fever; she didn’t want to outstay her welcome, or get him into any trouble.
‘Much better,’ she said, realising as she said it that she really did feel stronger; and less jumbled up and squished down inside than she had in a while, too. She glanced at the jackal. ‘Can I have a quick wash – and give Twist a drink of water – and then we’ll both go?’
Wearily, Robin got to his feet. ‘There’s a water pump in the yard.’ He picked up a discarded rag from the floor. ‘But tie that round his neck first.’
‘Why?’
‘My chickens,’ he said, simply, with devotion.
Minnie did as he asked. The jackal strained and snapped at the makeshift leash, but thus restrained, he was led towards the back of the cottage into a simple dirt yard, where four scrawny hens pointedly ignored them.
Robin bent down over them, tenderly stroked their heads. He scattered them some food from a bucket, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, threw some chicken feed in the direction of Twist, who fell on it ravenously. ‘I don’t like to see a starving animal,’ he explained, bluntly, noting Minnie’s raised eyebrows, ‘even if it’s a total pain in the neck. Now for water. Can you see the water pump by the door? Push it down.’
Minnie saw a small water pump next to the cottage. She reached for it and it broke in her hand. Robin looked at her, then down at his broken water pump, now leaking into the yard.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Minnie.
Together they stared down at the broken-off handle.
‘Right,’ said Robin, carefully. ‘I’m going to make some tea, and in return for you breaking my water pump, and your friend biting my hand, and me not getting much sleep last night, you’re going to tell me exactly why you’re on the run. And you’re not to touch anything else.’ One of the chickens, who Minnie presumed was Feathers, gave her a look of warning and clucked.
‘Deal,’ said Minnie.
‘And then you’ll go?’
‘Then I’ll go,’ promised Minnie, to Feathers and to Robin.
ONCE SHE’D FINISHED explaining about the fast-tracking, and how giants could get trapped between stone and flesh if the ceremony went badly, and all about Papa’s futile attempts to get more investment, and how she couldn’t risk bringing any more disgrace to her family or they’d be fined, thrown in the dungeon and suffer social rejection for ever – Robin was rolling his eyes.
‘Talking to you is always so rewarding,’ she snapped. ‘You’ve such got a gift for sympathy.’
He took a gulp of his tea, stared at the chickens, then said, ‘Sorry. But. You’re not running away for your family.’ He reached into his pocket and threw more chicken feed on the ground for Twist, who gave him an elegant look of astonishment, before devouring it.
‘Yes I am,’ said Minnie.
‘No. You’re running away because you love … her. You’re not “saving your family from disgrace”. You just don’t want to lose your monster.’
Minnie stood up quickly, flushed. ‘Stop calling her that. Anyway, you’re wrong.’ She held her hands up to her cheeks to cool them. ‘I don’t – um – love her. I’m not allowed to. It’s against the rules in the manual. Any child can tell you that.’
‘You’re not allowed to run away either, but I don’t see that stopping you,’ Robin said. ‘Look, I understand. I’ve always thought it horrible – how people make giants look after children and then tell them both they can’t have any feelings for each other. It’s just one of the ways this island is such a mess.’
Minnie bit her lip.
‘You’re wrong. It’s not … not like that.’ She wished her cheeks would stop burning. ‘I’m just buying myself some time so I can do my ceremony properly. That’s all.’
Robin took a deliberate sip of his tea. ‘Sure. Time. Properly. Whatever you say.’
‘It’s true. I … I … will be able to turn her to stone, one day,’ said Minnie.
There was a long silence. Twist looked at them both and cocked his head. Truth crackled between them.
‘You just don’t want that day to come,’ said Robin.
Their eyes met. He was too sharp for her.
‘No. I don’t. Not ever,’ whispered Minnie. ‘Don’t tell anyone.’
His eyes widened, but his gaze was steady. She stared at the ground. ‘Me and my parents – we’d be in so much trouble if anyone found out,’ she whispered.
‘I don’t think anyone would believe it, anyway,’ he whispered back. ‘You must be the only islander in our history who cares so much about their giant they’ll run away to keep them safe.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘Makes no sense to me, of course.’
‘It’s hard to explain,’ said Minnie, stammering and feeling terrified. ‘She’s just –’ she struggled to find the right word. ‘She’s …’
Like my family.
Like a part of me.
She looked at him, wary of his scorn if she put any of that into words, knowing she was breaking an ancient island code, but, to her surprise, he gave a weary nod, as if he understood. Then he rubbed his eyes. ‘I’ve got no one to tell, anyway, Minnie,’ he said. ‘Your secret’s safe with me.’
He yawned so widely his face nearly split open. Minnie remembered her promise not to stay too long.
‘I’m going to go now,’ she said abruptly. ‘Thank you for the tea, and … and everything. Thanks for looking after me. I really do feel better. I’m so grateful.
Twist, who’d finished his food and had been lying in the sunshine, licking his wounds and generally looking happier for being fed, suddenly got to his feet, growling. Robin observed him, and Minnie thought she saw a tiny flash of affection on the boy’s tired face
‘Do you think that’s his way of asking for more food?’ he said, grinning wearily at the pup. ‘We need to work on your manners.’
But a second later, the cottage behind them was shaking in its foundations as a loud, forceful knocking on his front door began. They both got to their feet, startled. Twist bared his teeth.
Then a stern, angry voice reached them from the other side of the door. ‘Open up, Scragg. We’ve heard reports you’re hiding Minnie Wadlow. If it’s true, we urge you to give yourself up now, before we throw you in the dungeon—’
Minnie and Robin shared a terrified glance. ‘The hunters,’ she whispered. ‘How are they here? Who told them?’
Robin was deathly pale. ‘Any of my neighbours might have done it,’ he whispered back. ‘The one on the right has five mouths to feed. A thousand island pounds is a lot of—’ The knocking had turned to kicks and blows.
‘Minnie Wadlow’s ceremony is a day late, thanks to her little escapade,’ came the angry voice again. ‘We need her giant to repair the city walls.’
Bang, bang, kick, kick.
‘Bring her out immediately!’
Guilt for what she’d brought to his home flooded Minnie. Instinctively, she knew that neither she nor Robin could be there when the men came in. They wouldn’t harm her, she was sure of it – she was protected, because of where she came from – but Robin was in a huge amount of danger. They’d threatened him with the dungeon. Were they really just going to chuck him down on the floor with all the bones of old bad giants and leave him there? For a moment, she wondered what sort of island she was really living on.
Robin was shivering like a frightened mouse, unable to move.
‘Robin,’ she whispered. ‘Come on. We’ve got to go.’
Her words roused the boy. ‘Not out the front,’ he muttered.
‘Then where?’
She followed his glance towards the scrubland at the back of the tiny yard, beyond which could be seen the saw-toothed peaks of No-Go.
‘Please, not there,’ she pleaded. ‘Anywhere but there. That’s where the bad giants, who hunt children, live.’
‘We have to,’ urged Robin. ‘They’ll throw me in the forgetter if they catch you here – and they’ll force you to do your ceremony this afternoon.’
It was clear there was no other option. They were penned in on both sides by rubbler cottages, where betrayal lurked behind every tiny window. The only way out was through the scrub.
The battering resumed on the front door, followed by the sound of splintering wood. Minnie suddenly saw Speck, as if right in front of her, trapped in the city wall, all stone apart from her eyes, moving left and right as if to say: Why couldn’t you do this properly?
She ran to Twist, who had been writhing and snapping at the air, and untied him. Then all three of them scrambled into the scrub. Seconds later, there was a cracking, snapping sound, followed by squawking.
WITH THE SILENT stealth that comes from true fear, they raced barefoot through the scrub, thorns catching at their faces and clothes. Eventually they broke through to a narrow alley, bordered on one side by scrub and on the other by old wooden fences. They skirted the backs of these, stooping as low as they could to avoid being seen. Breathing raggedly, they looked over their shoulders repeatedly to see if the dogs and the men were on their tail.
Minnie couldn’t help thinking of the snarl in the men’s voices as they taunted Robin. Did everyone on the island speak to the rubblers that way, when there was no one to overhear them?
‘I need to stop,’ Robin said, wheezing. He looked dreadful.
‘I have some water,’ Minnie offered, reaching for her rucksack, before realising with a pang of dismay that she’d left it at Robin’s. ‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘My food – water – torch – I’ve left everything behind. Even the medicine!’
They looked at each other, now totally aware of how ill-prepared they were for their flight. Twist threw his tiny head back and gave a soft howl.
Robin flinched as sounds reached them of furniture being thrown around and glass breaking. ‘Come on,’ he urged. But Minnie was terrified – both of what was in front and behind them. If they were caught by the hunters, her giant would be stone and Robin would be dead. Yet if they ran on into the mountains, something even worse might happen to both of them. For a second, she understood why Robin seemed to hate the island so much. Outside Quake Quarter, life seemed to be made up of only bleak options, and men who spoke with hate in their voice.
On their left, the earth rose sharply, and all of a sudden the mountains were right there. The air around them was cold and forbidding.
They reached a series of large, flat, granite stones, the undeniable beginning of a mountain path. Minnie eyed it, nervously. Everything she had ever been told about the horrors that lay within the mountains started at that path. An entire lifetime of fear had suddenly taken shape in front of her. And she was meant to walk up it?
‘I’m frightened,’ she said quietly.
‘Me too.’ Robin rubbed his head. ‘But, listen: when I was an apprentice, just starting out, Dad said the most important thing for me to learn was this. If you hear a building complaining, groaning and stuff, you have to get out. You can’t sit around, waiting to see what happens next.’ He glanced up at the mountains. ‘Get it?’
‘Not really.’
A coughing fit overtook the boy. When it was over, he said, ‘I know what they’ll do to me back there. It’s dungeon time, no questions asked. But up ahead – I don’t know what might happen, and I’ll take my chances.’ He sniffed. ‘There’s a possibility of survival if you keep going. If you stay, you’re going to get crushed. Dad always said, once things start falling, don’t wait around hoping things will get better. They won’t. Get out when you can.’ Shadows of grief fell across his face, and Minnie saw he was half with her, half with his lost family. Then he lifted his chin. ‘So I have to keep going.’
As for her? She wanted to stay very far away from that stone path. And yet her feet were inching forward all the same. She had a dreadful longing to scramble up the mountain and plunge head first into the place that frightened her the most.
As if he could sense her hesitation, Robin said, thoughtfully: ‘Have you actually ever seen a giant from No-Go? In real life?’
‘I’ve heard their screams once they’re thrown into the dungeon. But I’ve never actually seen one.’ Minnie gulped. ‘You?’
‘I hear their footsteps,’ he admitted. ‘Late at night, as they walk over the bridge, and back again. But all the rumours about them snatching children – I know they get repeated a lot, Minnie, but it’s never happened where we live. We might be able to outsmart them. Maybe they can’t catch children very well. Maybe they’re stupid.’ He looked up at the dark peaks and set his jaw. ‘That’s my only option, anyway. You can go back, if you want.’
The injustice of life on her island finally dawned on her. Robin was right. She could always go back, and she’d be protected by the fact that she’d been born in Quake Quarter. But all Robin had done was look after her, and he was a fugitive for ever – no adult would fight for him.
Robin and Twist waited.
She glanced behind her. She thought about Speck. Then she looked at the boy and the jackal, both panting from their exertions, both grubby, loyal and utterly brave.
‘We’ll go up,’ she said.
Robin gave her a weak grin.
‘After you,’ said Minnie.
‘No, I insist,’ said Robin.
In the end it was Twist who first took the plunge, leaping up on to the first stone. When he’d gone a little way, he circled round to stare right into Minnie’s eyes, and dipped his head slightly, in a question.
‘Coming,’ she muttered. Minnie scrambled up the first large boulder, and then the next, pulling herself up as she went. It wasn’t as hard as it looked.
THE MOUNTAIN TRAIL was relatively smooth at first. But it wasn’t a pretty path. The land was barren – no plants, flowers or grasses grew on it. Instead, there were scorch marks, burned-out scrub and blackened tree stumps. These offered no shelter and worse, no cover from prying eyes. Yet the path was dry and easy, and within an hour they were roughly a thousand feet above ground, with still no sign of the hunters below them.
‘Perhaps they’ve given up,’ suggested Minnie.
‘Or gone to get backup,’ muttered Robin. ‘Why have you stopped?’
‘The path –’ stammered Minnie. ‘It’s vanished.’
Twist whined and paced in distress. He did seem extremely keen to go up the mountain, thought Minnie, momentarily distracted by his behaviour. For a moment, the three of them simply stood and stared in dismay. The route had … disappeared. All they were faced with was a sheer, vertical slab of smooth black rock, shiny and ruthless and as impossible to climb as ice.
‘As if the mountain is making itself as difficult to enter as possible,’ muttered Robin. They examined the slab, looking for any crevices to help them climb, but all they saw was flat and merciless rock.
‘Like it’s been carved,’ said Minnie.
‘Must have been done by the monsters to keep us away.’ Robin rubbed his eyes. ‘Perhaps they’re not stupid at all.’
Minnie still wished he’d stop saying that word. For here it seemed to carry a grain of truth. She craned her neck backwards. The sheer, shiny expanse of unpassable rock, as high as the city walls, looked down at them triumphantly, as if to say: Ha! Try finding a foothold on this! Minnie and Robin exchanged an uneasy glance.
‘We could start from the bottom again – see if there’s another route up?’ said Minnie.
A terrible coughing fit racked Robin. He looks dreadful, she thought, not for the first time. The climb had been long and his face was pale and clammy. Minnie knew how much the vigil he’d kept over her the night before must have cost him. ‘I’ll keep watch,’ she said, firmly. ‘You have a nap. Then we’ll decide.’
They sat, side by side, with the stone behind them. After a moment, Robin curled on to his side. Twist lay on the other side of her and, within minutes, both were asleep. The sun beat down on them all, and, exposed by her shrunken clothes, Minnie’s wrists and ankles began to burn. I forgot to pack my sun cream, she thought, turning her wrists this way and that, watching as they went pink in the sun. She tugged at her top, trying to make it stretch back over her skin as it used to, and her fingers brushed against the darn Speck had sewn in the left sleeve, only a week ago.
At the thought of her, Minnie scanned over the landscape beneath her, hoping she might catch sight of Speck somewhere below. What would be happening to her? And what would Mama and Papa be doing? Were they looking for her, too? She gulped.
To distract herself from her ever-spiralling thoughts, she stared at the island stretched out beneath them, swathed in an early-morning light that made it look beautiful. How small everything looked! Beneath the mist she glimpsed the small cottage they’d run from and, beyond that, just visible, lay the broken remains of the jackal-meat factory. Past that stretched the edge of the island, ending in black sand that tumbled into the ocean.
