Lizard's Leap: Chapter Two: The picture

Kerry’s face fell. She looked down with something akin to loathing at the purchases she had already made—a stuffed rabbit with a loose eye, a game of Mastermind which may or may not have all the pieces intact and a book on ancient Egypt. She was pleased with the book and looked forward to reading it but the other items had been bought just for the sake of having bought something. She neither liked nor wanted them and now they were going to cost her the beautiful picture frame. Kerry reached into her purse and took out the remaining money. She had just eighty-two pence.

‘Hey, Kerry,’ Mark shouted as he appeared at her side, startling her and almost making her drop the last of her money. ‘Wazz-up?’

‘Oh, Mark, I’m glad to see you,’ Kerry said. ‘Have you got any money left?’

Mark looked at his cousin with suspicion. She had just said two very worrying things. The first was that she was glad to see him. People weren’t generally glad to see Mark and if they were, they never told him so. Secondly, she asked him if he had any money left. Now, Mark wasn’t the brightest child in the entire solar system but he wasn’t daft either. He knew that when Kerry asked if he had any money left it was going to mean trouble.

‘Might have. Dunno.’

‘Look, stupid,’ Kerry snapped at him.

‘I do not look stupid. You look stupid wiv your hair up in…’

‘Look in your pocket and see if you have any money left, you imbecile.’

‘Oh well, if you’re just gonna start shoutin` at me, I’m gonna take my money and buy a cake or somefink.’

Kerry knew better than to lose her temper and start shouting at him. It wouldn’t do any good. So she set her features into what she hoped was her sweetest smile.

Mark checked his flies. He didn’t like this game. He didn’t understand the rules. Kerry was smiling at him. His flies weren’t down so she wasn’t smiling at him because she was going to tease him about that. She must be smiling at him because she wasn’t going to give up. Mark was ready to say goodbye to the last of his pocket money. He knew it was no good trying to argue with Kerry. She was smarter than he was and would just make him feel guilty until he handed it over anyway, so he might as well give up without a fight.

‘I’ve got thirty-six pence left. I was saving it for when they sell off all the leftover cakes cheap at the end of the fair but you can have it if you like.’

Kerry was not above using her determination to get her own way but she was also a child with a fair sense of justice. She knew that for Mark to give her the last of his money it was a pretty big sacrifice.

‘Thank you, Mark. Tell you what; I’ll swap you your thirty-six pence now for a pound when we get home.’ Mark still grieved the loss of the reduced price cakes but at least, after Kerry’s offer, it was a smaller ache than it had been.

Kerry had one pound eighteen. She still clutched the picture possessively. Vicki and Emma had ambled over at some point throughout this exchange.

‘How much do you need, Kez?’ Vicki asked. ‘I’ve still got twenty pence that you can have as long as you give me it back later. There’s nothing else that I want here, anyway.’

‘Thank you, Vicki. That means I’ve got one pound thirty eight pence. I’m still sixty two pence short. Can you help me please, Emma?’

‘Nope. No way,’ Emma had her, I possibly could help you, but I don’t see why I should, head on.

Emma was the eldest of the two sisters. She was ten and a very important three quarters. Emma had attitude, and yet, almost in contradiction to this she was a shy girl and the least self-assured of the four children. If she was in the company of somebody that she didn’t know well or feel comfortable with, she’d hang her head and mumble incoherently into her cardigan. But get the same girl on her own terms and she was a natural comedian. Emma was the one with the off-the-cuff, quick-as-a-flash, witty replies. She had an answer for everything and could be more sarcastic than most people three times her age. Emma was the clown of the four, always playing practical jokes on the others and always looking for the funny side of any situation. But she was also the one who could bear a grudge for all of eternity and then one week more.

‘Oh, Emma, please. I’m desperate. I really, really want this frame. Please, Emma, don’t be selfish.’

‘Well, I don’t want to buy a share of a rotten old picture of the rotten old Statue of Liberty. And, anyway, last time I wanted to borrow ten pence from you, you said no. So now—I’m saying no, tough talluda’s baby.’

This was true. Kerry hadn’t been keen to lend her sister some of her money. Now she felt sorry. Emma drove them all mad with her elephant memory. They say that an elephant never forgets. If somebody did something against Emma, she didn’t forget it in a hurry. She’d been sitting on this grievance for a long time, just awaiting her opportunity and this was her moment of glory.

‘Maybe I will lend you the money, but it’ll cost you.’

Kerry was getting desperate. ‘Anything. Just tell me what you want.’

‘Five pounds, please.’ Emma stuck her chin out in a stance of defiance.

‘Whoa,’ Mark said. ‘Cool.’ He was kicking himself for not thinking of that.

‘Aw Emma, that’s nasty. Don’t be mean,’ Vicki cut in.

Kerry had a brainwave. ‘If you let me have the sixty two pence that I need and as I’m already giving Mark a pound, I’ll give you and Vicki a pound each, too.’

‘Deal,’ Emma said. She wasn’t a greedy girl. She just wanted to teach Kerry a lesson.

Emma emptied her purse into her hand and counted out her money. But Kerry’s face fell when disaster struck. Emma only had fifty pence left. This meant that with all of them coppering up every penny that they had, Kerry was still twelve pence short of being able to buy the carved frame. Their mothers had left some time ago, arranging to come back for the children later so she couldn’t ask them. There was nothing else to be done.

Kerry felt tears stinging her eyes as she placed the picture back on the front of the stall. Mrs Poole came back over. ‘Changed your mind, Kerry?’

‘Yes, Miss.’

‘Oh, that’s a shame. It’s a beautiful picture.’

‘Yes, Miss.’

‘Have you gone off it now?’

‘No, Miss. Haven’t got enough money, Miss.’

‘Oh, I see,’ said Mrs Poole. ‘Well, how much have you got?’

‘One pound eighty eight, Miss.’

‘Well, you know, now that I look at it again it does look a bit dirty. I don’t think it’s worth two pounds, after all. I think I’d be very pleased if I got one pound eighty eight for it. So it’s yours if you want it, Kerry.’

Kerry’s face lit up like a tree at Christmas. She was delighted and walked away with the picture in a large carrier bag. She couldn’t wait to get home and clean up the frame. Her mind was racing with what she would put in it to replace the Statue of Liberty print that didn’t do it justice. She was ecstatic as she walked across the hall with the frame clutched tightly to her chest.

She felt strange. Her step faltered and she stopped in the middle of the room. Standing by the door was a strange looking lady and she was staring straight at Kerry. The others had carried on walking and Kerry looked around to see if there was somebody else near her that the lady could be looking at so intently. The strange lady was definitely looking at her. She felt uncomfortable and a little bit scared.

The lady did look very odd. She was quite old, sort of bent over and yet at the same time there was something about her that didn’t look old at all. She was a large lady, not very tall but quite round. Grey hair was pulled into a bun at the back of her neck and little wisps had come loose, falling over her face. She looked as though she had probably started the morning tidy and smart but as the day had worn on she had begun to come apart a bit.

On the top of her head was a floppy black hat that looked too small for her. Perhaps it had slipped, or maybe she had put it on at an odd angle that made her look comical. Whatever the reason, it looked out of place and funny. Her clothes were strange, too. She wore a purple skirt that had silver bells around the bottom and it was so long that it brushed the floor. The toes of scuffed, black boots stuck out from underneath her skirt and when she moved her foot Emma could see that they laced up the front like the old-fashioned boots that Victorian ladies wore. On her top half she had a long, flowing tunic in purple and dark red and around her neck was a bright orange silk scarf which circled her throat several times and still trailed almost to her middle on both sides.

Kerry had never seen anybody who looked quite that colourful or mismatched before. What really caught her attention, though, were the lady’s eyes. She stared straight at Kerry, and, as much as she wanted to, Kerry found that she couldn’t look away. The eyes fixed her with the most piercing stare that she had ever seen. She looked down and her arms were covered in goose pimples. She shivered; the lady was scaring her.

Vicki came bounding back across the hall and linked her arm though her cousin’s.

‘Come on, slow-coach,’ she said. ‘What did you stop for?’

Kerry finally managed to break the stare with the strange lady and she turned to Vicki. ‘Vicki, look at that funny woman over by the door. She keeps staring at me.’

‘There’s nobody by the door, silly. Come on.’ She pulled Kerry across the room.

Kerry looked up. The lady had vanished.

They went outside to wait for their mothers. The women would be here to pick them up any time now and they walked around the corner to sit on the wall and wait.

Kerry told the others about the strange lady. When she told them about the bright clothes and floppy hat, Mark and Emma laughed, but Vicki didn't.

‘Oh, you’re such a liar, Kerry,’ she said. ‘I think you’re just making it all up to get attention. I looked in the hall and nobody was there.’

‘I’m not making it up.’ Kerry said indignantly. ‘She was there and she was a witch.’

This time they all started laughing but Mark stopped very suddenly. ‘Oh oh,’ he said. ‘Here comes trouble.’

The lady who had scared Kerry was walking towards them. They all recognised her from the description Kerry had given. It was her, all right.

‘Flippin` heck,’ said Emma under her breath. ‘The sights you see when you haven’t got a gun.’ She had heard her Dad utter this little gem when a middle-aged, scantily dressed lady had crossed the road in front of the car. Emma thought it sounded cool so she had stored it in her mind to use at just such a moment as this. Mark smaned.

‘See, Vicki,’ Kerry whispered. ‘I wasn’t lying.’

Vicki just hummed nervously. One of her most annoying habits was her singing. Vicki sung. That doesn’t mean that Vicki could sing. It meant that Vicki did sing. She sang at breakfast and her mum told her off for singing at the table. She sang in class and Mrs Barnes told her off for being disruptive. She even sang on the bus until her dad shook his head and hid his face in his hands. Vicki sang and when she was nervous she hummed and clicked and sometimes just did ‘la la la…’

The lady was out of breath by the time she drew level with the children. Her face was red and she had a thin coating of perspiration on her forehead. Vicki felt sorry for her. The strange lady walked slowly and with a limp. She had a wide bottom that swayed from side to side as she walked and the beads on her skirt jingled like tiny bells as the bells at her hem kept time with the beads at her waist. She had a smile on her face and didn’t look scary but she was definitely coming over to them. Kerry began to rock backwards and forwards in time to Vicki’s humming. Mark and Emma just stared at the approaching woman.

‘Hello, my dears,’ the lady said as she drew close to them. She was smiling broadly and Vicki thought she looked rather kind. ‘I’m sorry to bother you on this lovely sunny day. My name is Sylvia and I just had to come and talk to you. You see, the picture that you have belongs to me, my lovelies. It was given to the fair by mistake and it holds great sentimental value, though it isn’t worth much in actual money. Please, will you sell it back to me? You seem like such nice children and I’m sure you’ll want to help a silly old woman. What are you all called?’

They were struck by the look on the lady’s face. She had the greenest eyes any of them had ever seen. They were piercing and bright and so, so green. Her body looked old but her eyes made her appear to be a lot younger than she probably was. Vicki thought Sylvia was a lovely name and decided that, if she was really a witch, she would be called Hilda or Greta--with a hard E--. Then she wondered if parents know that their child is going to be a witch when they name them. Through all of this deep thinking, she continued to hum.

The lady was still smiling sweetly, but somehow the smile never made it all the way up to her eyes. All four of the children felt nervous.

They looked at each other not knowing what to do or say. None of them told the lady their names. Mark kicked at some stones, scuffing his new trainers.

‘I don’t know nuffink about no picture,’ he lied, both unconvincingly and ungrammatically. The others looked at Kerry who clutched the picture more tightly to her chest.

‘I’m really sorry,’ Kerry said to the lady, politely, ‘but the picture isn’t for sale.’

The Lady smiled pleasantly at Kerry. ‘Oh, come on now. What can you possibly want with it? It’s only a foisty old picture. How much did you pay for it? I’ll give you double.’

Kerry was scared. She looked at the ground and muttered in a very small voice, ‘I don’t want to sell it. Sorry.’

‘Little girl, I need that picture back.’ The old lady wasn’t so nice. She wasn’t nasty, exactly, but the friendly tone had disappeared from her voice and the smile had faded. ‘I’ll give you five pounds for it.’

Kerry shook her head stubbornly.

‘Ten,’ the lady said icily, her gaze boring into the top of Kerry’s lowered head.

Kerry shook her head. She felt tears stinging her eyes. The lady was scaring her, but for some reason that she didn’t understand Kerry knew the picture was very important to her even though she had owned it for just fifteen minutes. She couldn’t let it go. Like the lady said, it was only a picture and yet she felt more attached to it than anything else she owned. It was as though the picture had some kind of hold on her. It made no sense.

Vicki risked looking up at the woman. She had been told many times not to talk to strangers. They all had. She looked away from the lady and back towards school. Maybe they should go inside and let a teacher sort it out, but that would mean pushing past the lady.

‘I would like you to give back my picture now, please, young lady. Or I will ring your parents and sort it out with them. I haven’t got time to be standing here arguing with you. Now, give me the picture, please.’

She took a step towards Kerry and held out her hand.

‘Go away, please, or we’ll call a policeman,’ shouted Emma. She looked frantically round for a grown-up to call out to.

It was all too much for Mark. ‘Run.’ he shouted and the next thing anybody knew he was off down the road as fast as his legs could carry him. Almost as a reflex reaction the others followed him; their feet pounded the road as they ran full pelt down the hill.

‘Steady on, legs,’ said Emma in her deep voice as her legs seemed to be going faster than her body could keep up with. They ran around a corner and leaned against the wall, panting.

‘Where’s Vicki?’ they all shouted in unison.

‘Oh, no, the Wicked Witch of the North has got her,’ said Emma.

Vicki had made a run for it with the others but, as always, she had been just a fraction of a second slower to catch on. The lady made a grab for her. She caught her by the upper arm and gripped her painfully. Vicki cried out and looked at the woman, terrified. The lady’s green eyes seemed to be even brighter than they had been a few minutes earlier. They flashed with anger and impatience. Vicki found that she couldn’t look away from them.

‘Don’t be silly, child,’ said Sylvia, ‘I’m not going to hurt you. You’re all being foolish. You should have given the frame back to me. You don’t know what you have or what you’re dealing with. I have to warn you to be careful. You could be in terrible danger if you aren’t very careful.’

Vicki was scared out of her wits. She twisted out of the crazy woman’s grip and stumbled to the ground grazing her knee. She was free and began to limp off towards the others with tears streaming down her cheeks and blood trickling down her leg. She heard the old woman calling after her, ‘I’m Sylvia Sanders, child. I live in Brampton Hall. Come to me when you need my help. Beware of the picture. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.’

The children ran all the way to Emma and Kerry’s house which was the closest to the school. They burst through the door just as their mothers were leaving to pick them up. Through tears and excited babble the children recounted their story. Vicki felt very important as she showed her mother the bruise on her upper arm and the ugly graze on her knee. Karen Forest and Debbie Taylor were furious. You heard of people approaching children at schools all the time, but you never expected it to happen to your children. They rang the school to make a formal complaint then rang the police.

The policeman who came out to interview the children listened to their story, making notes in his book and stopping them every now and then to ask questions.

‘Are you sure the lady said Brampton Hall, Vicki?’ the officer asked her.

‘Yes. Positive.’

‘Well, that’s funny,’ said the Policeman. ‘Brampton Hall has been empty and shuttered up for years.’ He left with a promise to look into the incident.

Later, at Granddad’s house where the children stayed every weekend, they were all in Kerry and Mark’s room. They had the frame on the bed in front of them but no matter how closely they looked at it, they couldn’t see anything special about the twelve-by-fourteen-inch picture. Maybe it was a masterpiece worth a million pounds.

‘Scary.’ said Mark.

‘As Scooby-Doo,’ replied Emma and they laughed for the first time since getting away from the creepy woman. Mrs Taylor said they should feel sorry for the strange lady because she obviously had some mental problems.

‘Yes, she’s nuts,’ Emma said.

But that night both sets of children slept with the lights on and their bedroom doors open.