The Grasshopper's Child Read Free Page B

,’ Heidi read aloud. ‘ Sino Ornata .’
    Sino means Chinese, she thought. She’d never seen a gentian, except in a picture. She thought of Switzerland, scattered jewels in fields of snow, and imagined a dragon’s sapphire treasure of pure, concentrated beautifulness—
    An idea coiled into her mind: a faint wishful thought.
    But she could see her breath, and it was getting dark.
    She made a lentil and vegetable soup, using red lentils from one of the cupboards, masur dahl that needed no soaking; an onion and a few carrots, salvaged from the silt in the vegetable rack. She served it with the end of a loaf that she’d found in a crock, sliced and toasted, rubbed with oil and a little garlic. For dessert there would be preserved apples from a jar, heated up and served with Condensed Milk.
    The cold kitchen was very quiet.
    While the soup bubbled she set the table in the breakfast room, cleaned a big bowl to serve it from, found a tray, and made a start on sorting out the table. It was lucky she’d charged her phone. The kitchen clock wasn’t working, but when she walked into the ‘breakfast room’
with her tray, on the dot of seven, Old Wreck was sitting there waiting, still in her dressing gown, at one end of the table. At the other end sat another Wreck, a scrawny old guy with mad straggly hair, a bristled chin and missing teeth. Neither of them said a word, to each other or to Heidi, until she brought in the apples, with the Condensed Milk in a little jug.
    Old Wreck Tallis picked up the jug and sniffed at it. ‘Cold; and tinned. Can’t you make custard? Proper custard. I won’t tolerate powder.’
    â€˜I didn’t want to finish the milk. And there are no eggs.’
    â€˜ No eggs? Nonsense! Why else do we keep hens?’
    â€˜Okay. I’ll make custard next time.’
    After she’d cleared out, and done the washing up, she carried on sorting rubbish into the kitchen recycle bins.
    Old Wreck Tallis came in, and looked at her.
    â€˜Working away. You’re like a little machine, aren’t you.’
    What else am I supposed to do? thought Heidi. Watch telly with you and your brother? I don’t think so. I bet you don’t even have a telly. She bit her tongue, and just nodded.
    â€˜The Studio Floor is kept locked. The Bedroom Floor is private. Here are your matches, and candles. Don’t ask me for more of either until the end of the month.’
    At 9pm all the lights went out, suddenly and silently.
    Heidi climbed the endless stairs by candlelight: unpacked her rucksack at last, and set the broken chair by her bed so she could put Rock Mouse on it, to have him by her. The Rock Mouse hadn’t looked like a mouse for years. He’d lost his plastic eyes and felt ears, and even his tail, long ago. But at least she wouldn’t be totally alone.
    A feeling of lonely adventure had been holding her up like water-wings, since Verruca disappeared. It held her until she’d brushed her teeth and had a cold wash in the Baba-Yaga bathroom. As soon as she got under the covers, and blew out her candle, the terrible scene in Mum and Dad’s bedroom got its claws in her again. If I hadn’t called the police. If I’d managed to get hold of Immy, if the ambulance had come sooner —
    She saw herself and Immy sitting in A&E, like often before. Each of them holding tight to one of Mum’s hands. The doctors found the pulse that Heidi was sure she had felt, flickering in Dad’s throat. He was very badly hurt, but not dead. Mum would have to go to hospital for months, and Dad was badly hurt. But it was okay .
    If only if only—
    The rusty curtains didn’t meet. A fang of moonlight clawed Heidi in the face. She couldn’t turn away, or she’d lose the sliver of body-warmth she’d created in the cold sheets. She just lay there getting clawed, and drifting off into a half-dream, in which Dad was behind that