up with him and suddenly there she was, walking out of an alley of broken stone and fireweed.
‘I saw you,’ he said. ‘At the upstairs window.’
She walked beside him with her head bent, looking at the ground.
‘Have you been living there?’ he said. ‘All this time? On your own?’
‘I don’t exactly live there. It’s too risky. I go there to get food and change my clothes. Sometimes I spend the night there. I sneak in round the back after dark so Mrs Hopkinson won’t see me. I don’t turn on the lights or make any noise and I keep away from the windows.’
‘Is that the nosy neighbour? She thought you were staying with relatives in Thornditch.’
‘That’s what Mark told her.’
‘Why?’
She shot him a strange look, half annoyed and half pitying. ‘Because we’re alone. There isn’t anyone to look after us, not now Grandpa’s in hospital. Mark’s OK, he’s sixteen, but I’m only fourteen and they’d take me into care if they knew.’
‘Right,’ he said. Face hot with embarrassment. ‘I think I’ve dropped you in it. I think your neighbour knows that I’m from Thornditch and she’s figured out that you can’t be living there as well, otherwise I’d have known about it. I’m sorry.’
Callie chewed her lip. ‘It’s OK,’ she said at last. ‘She’d probably have found out anyway, sooner or later. It’s better this way than if she’d just seen me sneaking in one night and called the police or social services. At least now I know to steer clear. Why did you come to the house anyway?’
‘I was looking for you. I thought you might know more about what Mark’s up to.’
‘He’s still camping in that wood, as far as I know.’
‘Yeah, I saw him there yesterday but that’s not what I mean.’
‘What, then?’
He looked away. He didn’t want to tell her about his encounter with Mark and the hound boys, Mark wearing the dead stag’s head and a cloak of dead birds. Not yet. Maybe never. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘He’s acting really weird. I don’t understand anything he says any more.’
Callie laughed. ‘And you think I do?’
They walked along in silence for a while, back on the high street now, voices and clatter and colour and movement, the air stale with exhaust fumes.
‘Where do you sleep when you don’t go to your grandpa’s house?’ said Ash.
She shrugged. ‘Out in the mountains, here and there.’
‘Don’t you have friends you could stay with?’
‘Yeah, a few. But if I stay with them, there’ll be questions, and next thing there’ll be social workers involved and I could end up anywhere, miles away. So I avoid my friends. It’s easier that way.’
‘Suppose they see you around? Like now, walking down the street?’
She gave a strange little smile. ‘When your mum’s dead and your dad’s hanged himself and your brother’s gone feral, your friends suddenly stop making much effort to be around you.’
‘Aren’t you afraid, alone out in the mountains at night?’
‘I’ve lived in the mountains all my life. Of course I’m not afraid of them.’
‘Maybe you should be,’ he said darkly. ‘There’s things out there.’
‘What things?’
Your lunatic brother, he thought. Ghosts, Bone Jack … The words hung in his mind, unspoken.
‘What things?’ said Callie again.
Before he could answer, footsteps closed in behind them, then Ash felt a heavy arm across his shoulders. A freckled, sunburned face glossed with sweat pushing towards his. Grinning, breath that smelled of burger and ketchup. Chris Brooker. Liam Tunney just a pace or two behind him.
Ash shoved Brooker away.
Brooker flung up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Whoa there, soldier boy! I’m just being friendly. I heard about your dad. Heard they had to send him home because he’d gone nuts.’ Still grinning, his eyes hard.
‘What do you want?’ said Ash. Backing away.
‘Just wanted to see how you are, like I said. Soldier boy, stag boy. How’s that
‘I saw you,’ he said. ‘At the upstairs window.’
She walked beside him with her head bent, looking at the ground.
‘Have you been living there?’ he said. ‘All this time? On your own?’
‘I don’t exactly live there. It’s too risky. I go there to get food and change my clothes. Sometimes I spend the night there. I sneak in round the back after dark so Mrs Hopkinson won’t see me. I don’t turn on the lights or make any noise and I keep away from the windows.’
‘Is that the nosy neighbour? She thought you were staying with relatives in Thornditch.’
‘That’s what Mark told her.’
‘Why?’
She shot him a strange look, half annoyed and half pitying. ‘Because we’re alone. There isn’t anyone to look after us, not now Grandpa’s in hospital. Mark’s OK, he’s sixteen, but I’m only fourteen and they’d take me into care if they knew.’
‘Right,’ he said. Face hot with embarrassment. ‘I think I’ve dropped you in it. I think your neighbour knows that I’m from Thornditch and she’s figured out that you can’t be living there as well, otherwise I’d have known about it. I’m sorry.’
Callie chewed her lip. ‘It’s OK,’ she said at last. ‘She’d probably have found out anyway, sooner or later. It’s better this way than if she’d just seen me sneaking in one night and called the police or social services. At least now I know to steer clear. Why did you come to the house anyway?’
‘I was looking for you. I thought you might know more about what Mark’s up to.’
‘He’s still camping in that wood, as far as I know.’
‘Yeah, I saw him there yesterday but that’s not what I mean.’
‘What, then?’
He looked away. He didn’t want to tell her about his encounter with Mark and the hound boys, Mark wearing the dead stag’s head and a cloak of dead birds. Not yet. Maybe never. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘He’s acting really weird. I don’t understand anything he says any more.’
Callie laughed. ‘And you think I do?’
They walked along in silence for a while, back on the high street now, voices and clatter and colour and movement, the air stale with exhaust fumes.
‘Where do you sleep when you don’t go to your grandpa’s house?’ said Ash.
She shrugged. ‘Out in the mountains, here and there.’
‘Don’t you have friends you could stay with?’
‘Yeah, a few. But if I stay with them, there’ll be questions, and next thing there’ll be social workers involved and I could end up anywhere, miles away. So I avoid my friends. It’s easier that way.’
‘Suppose they see you around? Like now, walking down the street?’
She gave a strange little smile. ‘When your mum’s dead and your dad’s hanged himself and your brother’s gone feral, your friends suddenly stop making much effort to be around you.’
‘Aren’t you afraid, alone out in the mountains at night?’
‘I’ve lived in the mountains all my life. Of course I’m not afraid of them.’
‘Maybe you should be,’ he said darkly. ‘There’s things out there.’
‘What things?’
Your lunatic brother, he thought. Ghosts, Bone Jack … The words hung in his mind, unspoken.
‘What things?’ said Callie again.
Before he could answer, footsteps closed in behind them, then Ash felt a heavy arm across his shoulders. A freckled, sunburned face glossed with sweat pushing towards his. Grinning, breath that smelled of burger and ketchup. Chris Brooker. Liam Tunney just a pace or two behind him.
Ash shoved Brooker away.
Brooker flung up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Whoa there, soldier boy! I’m just being friendly. I heard about your dad. Heard they had to send him home because he’d gone nuts.’ Still grinning, his eyes hard.
‘What do you want?’ said Ash. Backing away.
‘Just wanted to see how you are, like I said. Soldier boy, stag boy. How’s that
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