connected?
“Can you describe him?” James Farringdon asked, his claws flexing impatiently on the balcony. “Was he black?”
“Um... no, er, he was white. Short hair. Brownish.”
“Ah. That would be the nurse chap. Too bad, he was a bit of all right. Now, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m going to leave now and I don’t mean for us to meet again.”
If there was a right way to take that, I couldn’t figure out what it was.
“Why not?” I whined.
He narrowed his eyes at me – I thought I could sense another little smirk. “I generally avoid the Skulk. I don’t play well with others. Good morning.” With that he took up his little bag, turned and leapt off the balcony, sprang from fence post to car roof and disappeared into the darkness.
I stared after him for a few minutes, my mind racing.
He hadn’t mentioned the jewel. Could it be it had nothing at all to do with the shapeshifting? But then what was it? The man had been a nurse.
One of the Skulk.
CHAPTER FIVE
The next morning, Gail barged into my room to wake me up for breakfast at half past eight, even though it was a Sunday. The full strangeness of the night’s adventure came screaming back as I sat up to glare blearily at her, and I got my legs tangled in my blanket and faceplanted onto the floor. Then when she’d finished tutting at my gracelessness and left I made it to my chest of drawers only to find there was a spider in my bra.
The day only got worse from then on.
There are a couple of problems that shapeshifting into a fox just doesn’t solve. Lack of sleep is one. Replacing lost keys and Oystercards and mobile phones, without having to explain how the “mugging” also left you naked, is another.
And then there’s my mum.
“...ready by five,” she said, at breakfast. I blinked. She gave me a look as though, hangover or not, I was getting on simply her very last nerve . I’d been wolfing my muesli and not listening to her. “Margaret, will you please come back to planet Earth for just two minutes? The party starts at six, so I’d like you to be ready by five, understood?”
Oh God. What party? I crunched slowly on my mouthful of wholewheat grains to cover the fact I was racking my brains.
“I’ll have Gail lay out your outfit,” Mum went on. My heart sank.
“Mum, there’s no need–”
“No excuses, I won’t have you turning up in jeans like last time.” Her lips pursed and her thin fingers tightened on her knife as she spread a violently thin layer of jam on her wholewheat muffin. I braced for a rant – how she didn’t care if it was fashionable it had been so embarrassing and the people had been so important and how everyone was shocked and she was humiliated by my constant rebellion and...
Gail saved me, for once.
“Excuse me, Mrs Banks,” she said, taking a respectful loitering half-step into the room. “I have the Chief Whip on the telephone.”
Mum rolled her eyes, took a long and deliberate sip of her tea and then stood up.
When she was out of the room, I turned to my dad.
He was there too, depending on what you mean by “there”.
My dad was like the Invisible Man, if all the Invisible Man wanted to do was read the paper and not pay corporation tax. Once in Year Nine he came to a Parents’ Evening and met all my teachers, sitting and listening attentively as they went through my aggressively mediocre grades. I saw them shake his hand and make eye contact with him. And then I’d been summoned to the Year Head and told off for not bringing anyone.
He wasn’t mean. He never shouted. He was just a vague pinkish presence at the dinner table and in the hall, like a walking man-sized copy of the Financial Times . I used to think he wanted a son, but actually I don’t think he would’ve been much better with a boy. I don’t think he cared for children at all. Maybe if I’d been a better daughter he would have cared more – but far more likely he would have been vague and
“Can you describe him?” James Farringdon asked, his claws flexing impatiently on the balcony. “Was he black?”
“Um... no, er, he was white. Short hair. Brownish.”
“Ah. That would be the nurse chap. Too bad, he was a bit of all right. Now, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m going to leave now and I don’t mean for us to meet again.”
If there was a right way to take that, I couldn’t figure out what it was.
“Why not?” I whined.
He narrowed his eyes at me – I thought I could sense another little smirk. “I generally avoid the Skulk. I don’t play well with others. Good morning.” With that he took up his little bag, turned and leapt off the balcony, sprang from fence post to car roof and disappeared into the darkness.
I stared after him for a few minutes, my mind racing.
He hadn’t mentioned the jewel. Could it be it had nothing at all to do with the shapeshifting? But then what was it? The man had been a nurse.
One of the Skulk.
CHAPTER FIVE
The next morning, Gail barged into my room to wake me up for breakfast at half past eight, even though it was a Sunday. The full strangeness of the night’s adventure came screaming back as I sat up to glare blearily at her, and I got my legs tangled in my blanket and faceplanted onto the floor. Then when she’d finished tutting at my gracelessness and left I made it to my chest of drawers only to find there was a spider in my bra.
The day only got worse from then on.
There are a couple of problems that shapeshifting into a fox just doesn’t solve. Lack of sleep is one. Replacing lost keys and Oystercards and mobile phones, without having to explain how the “mugging” also left you naked, is another.
And then there’s my mum.
“...ready by five,” she said, at breakfast. I blinked. She gave me a look as though, hangover or not, I was getting on simply her very last nerve . I’d been wolfing my muesli and not listening to her. “Margaret, will you please come back to planet Earth for just two minutes? The party starts at six, so I’d like you to be ready by five, understood?”
Oh God. What party? I crunched slowly on my mouthful of wholewheat grains to cover the fact I was racking my brains.
“I’ll have Gail lay out your outfit,” Mum went on. My heart sank.
“Mum, there’s no need–”
“No excuses, I won’t have you turning up in jeans like last time.” Her lips pursed and her thin fingers tightened on her knife as she spread a violently thin layer of jam on her wholewheat muffin. I braced for a rant – how she didn’t care if it was fashionable it had been so embarrassing and the people had been so important and how everyone was shocked and she was humiliated by my constant rebellion and...
Gail saved me, for once.
“Excuse me, Mrs Banks,” she said, taking a respectful loitering half-step into the room. “I have the Chief Whip on the telephone.”
Mum rolled her eyes, took a long and deliberate sip of her tea and then stood up.
When she was out of the room, I turned to my dad.
He was there too, depending on what you mean by “there”.
My dad was like the Invisible Man, if all the Invisible Man wanted to do was read the paper and not pay corporation tax. Once in Year Nine he came to a Parents’ Evening and met all my teachers, sitting and listening attentively as they went through my aggressively mediocre grades. I saw them shake his hand and make eye contact with him. And then I’d been summoned to the Year Head and told off for not bringing anyone.
He wasn’t mean. He never shouted. He was just a vague pinkish presence at the dinner table and in the hall, like a walking man-sized copy of the Financial Times . I used to think he wanted a son, but actually I don’t think he would’ve been much better with a boy. I don’t think he cared for children at all. Maybe if I’d been a better daughter he would have cared more – but far more likely he would have been vague and
Similar Books
