Watching You, Watching Me (Back-2-Back, Book 2) Page 8

  I finished the pumpkin’s grin with a jagged row of teeth and searched the cupboard for a candle. Finding a night light, I lit it and lowered it inside. Then I put the kitchen light out. The candlelight glowed through its triangular eyes and toothy grin — orange and evil.

  ‘Ooooh,’ said Gemma’s voice from behind me.

  I turned and found her framed in the kitchen door. What on earth was she wearing?

  ‘I found it on top of your cupboard. It’s perfect — a proper witch’s dress,’ said Gemma.

  I stared. ‘No it’s not! That’s brand new! You’ve no right to go through my things.’

  It was a pretty fierce argument which ended with both Gemma and Jamie in tears. The two of them always managed to get the upper hand by crying.

  ‘All right. All right. I’ll go with you. Just don’t tell Mum about the dress, OK?’

  The tears dried up as if by magic.

  ‘And you will dress up, properly,’ said Gemma. Now that she was in a bargaining position, she was going to take full advantage of it.

  ‘I suppose so.’ If I was going to bear the humiliation of going out with them it would be best to be in disguise.

  By the time Mum got back, the dress had been stowed away again and I was resplendent in my old black mac, black gumboots, the famous witch’s hat and as a final touch. Gemma was busy sticking Rice Krispies on my nose for warts.

  ‘Oh, so you came round in the end, did you?’ she asked, shaking out sweets into the bread basket.

  ‘Mmm. Looks like it.’

  ‘Promise me, you’ll only go to people we know,’ said Mum, as we set off. This street only — and one hour is the absolute limit.’

  ‘Of course!’ said Gemma.

  ‘Huh!’ I thought. I knew they’d get totally out of line the minute our front door closed.

  We gave the Levingtons a wide berth and started down our side of the street. I hovered in the shadows keeping an eye on them and trying to restrain Jamie from using his can of shaving foam on people who’d actually come up with treats.

  The two of them weren’t content to stick to our street so I was taken on a long detour halfway round the neighbourhood. We were late back, and as soon as we got within striking distance of home they started running on ahead. That’s when I overheard Gemma excitedly saying something about “the spook house”.

  Oh no! I increased my pace but before I could stop them, they were banging on the door of number twenty-five. I looked on helplessly.

  Matt opened the door. He was standing there talking to them. They moved forwards over the threshold. He’d invited them inside.

  Then he leaned out of the doorway and said, ‘Hi! Any more witches outside?’

  ‘Look, we’re in a bit of a hurry as a matter of fact,’ I said, standing well back in the street trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

  He came out, took one look at me and cracked up. ‘Like the outfit. Come on in.’

  He could talk. He had a very realistic bolt stuck through his head.

  ‘What’s going on? There’s not more kids out there, is there?’ asked a girl’s voice.

  She came to the door. It was Matt’s girl. She was looking fantastic. She had an ultra-short skirt with torn fishnet tights and someone had drawn this spiders web all over her face like a tattoo. But the final touch was a chain suspended from a stud in her nose to a ring in her ear — on which hung a huge hairy spider.

  She said. ‘You with those other kids?’

  ‘No, yes. I mean, I’m looking after them. They’re my brother and sister,’ I said. If disappearing in a puff of blue smoke had been an option I would have taken it.

  ‘How d’you do the warts? They’re brilliant,’ said Matt.

  ‘Yeah, thought they were real for a moment,’ said the girl.

  ‘Rice Krispies,’ I muttered, wishing the earth would cave in. ‘They’re stuck on with Copydex.’

  ‘Cool,’ said the girl. ‘Let’s get some. Imagine what an entrance you could make at The Institution.’

  Jamie reappeared at that point. ‘What’s The Institution?’

  ‘It’s called The Institution ‘cos everyone who goes there is mental. Its a club,’ said Matt.

  ‘Do they keep them all chained up?’ asked Jamie — his only experience of mental patients had been our ‘Amadeus’ video.

  ‘Not as yet,’ said Matt. ‘Maybe we should suggest it.’

  ‘We’re late,’ I said between clenched teeth, and I grabbed Jamie and practically frog-marched him down the front path. ‘Come on Gemma.’

  ‘Don’t get sick on all those sweets, now,’ said the girl, staring condescendingly at me.

  I have never felt so humiliated in my entire life.

  Chapter Thirteen

  That last disastrous meeting with Matt confirmed me in the view that I would never, absolutely never, have a chance with him. I still came over hot and embarrassed at the very thought of it.

  My mood was noticed at home. Mum called me Grumpy-drawers, Dad kept on saying cheery things like, ‘Hey, where’s that smile gone?’ — a really annoying question at the best of times. Jamie whined about me not being any fun any more and Gemma was the worst of all — she kept giving me great soulful gazes like some love-sick labrador.

  I had given her a real talking-to when we got home on Hallowe’en. She’d actually admitted that the whole thing had been her idea and she was just trying ‘to-get-us-together’.

  ‘Get us together!’ I stormed. ‘If you ever try to interfere in my life again I’ll, I’ll …’ I couldn’t think of any threat bad enough.

  Inside, I silently fumed. It was all their fault. If I hadn’t had such a cringe-worthy family I would have been OK. But no — Matt always had to see me going on nerdy cycle-trips or kiddy-outings. I decided the time had come to keep my distance from the family. I would stay aloof, go my own way.

  It all came to a head the following Friday — Guy Fawkes night. Mum and Dad were going to take us to this big fireworks display which was held every year at the local park. The Council spent an absolute bomb on really massive fireworks and people came from miles around to see it.

  As darkness fell and the first few fireworks exploded in the distance, I came to a decision. I wasn’t going. I just knew Matt would turn up there with his cool friends and I’d be there with Jamie and Gemma and most probably get caught holding a sparkler or something.

  ‘I’m not coming tonight if that’s OK with you,’ I said to Mum.

  ‘Not coming? Why on earth not? You feeling all right?’

  ‘Fine … But, you know. You can grow out of fireworks.’

  ‘Well, I haven’t. You loved it last year. We’ve invited the Wellesleys back to have bangers and baked potatoes.’

  The Wellesleys would be there. They had four children a bit younger than us and they had the most cringe-worthy clothes. Mr Wellesley was incredibly tall and weedy and he always wore this bright orange bobble hat to Guy Fawkes. It made him look like a Belisha beacon. I couldn’t be seen with the Wellesleys. She’d totally confirmed my decision.

  ‘I’ve got loads of study to do anyway.’

  ‘On a Friday night?’

  Yes. I’ve made my mind up, so please don’t go on about it.’

  ‘But I’ve bought you a ticket.’

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Jamie, hopping up and down in the kitchen doorway with one gumboot on and one off.

  ‘Tasha has suddenly taken it into her head that she’s too old for fireworks,’ said Mum.

  Jamie looked at me doubtfully. ‘No more fireworks — for the rest of your life?’

  ‘There’s no need to be so dramatic about it,’ I said. ‘I just don’t feel like fireworks tonight, that’s all.’

  Gemma rolled her eyes at Jamie and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Oh I see,’ said Jamie, looking totally confused.

  So the family got ready without me. There was a great deal of fussing about boots and scarves and gloves. Whe
n Dad was told I wasn’t going, he just shrugged his shoulders and exchanged knowing glances with Mum as if I’d turned into a delinquent or something.

  ‘Well, if you’re not coming you can keep an eye on the cats,’ he said. ‘I’ve put their basket in the cupboard under the stairs.’

  Gemma appeared with Yin in her arms. ‘Found her in the airing cupboard. Where’s Yang?’

  No-one had seen him since tea-time.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I said, feeling terribly adult and noble. ‘You can go. I’ll find him. Leave it to me.’

  Gemma looked as if she was going to cry. ‘You’ve got to find him, Tasha. With all the fireworks going off, he’ll be petrified. He might run away.’

  ‘Or get burned up on a bonfire,’ said Jamie.

  Gemma’s lower lip wobbled.

  ‘Look, just go,’ I said. ‘He’s probably hiding under a bed somewhere. I’ll find him. Promise.’

  I went upstairs to Mum and Dad’s room — no sign of him under the bed. But what was that din coming from over the road? I went to the window. Matt had his open and this really heavy Drum ‘n’ Bass music was reverberating down the street. Jesus, don’t boys have really weird taste in music? Any minute now Dad would be complaining to the Council about noise pollution.

  I leaned against the window and watched the family go down the front path. With a gush and a hiss, the first stray rocket whizzed up into the air and burst with a massive detonation and a splash of gold above their heads. Well, I guessed this was the one night of the year when no-one would complain about noise levels.

  Jamie looked up at the window and beckoned to me. ‘Come on Tasha! It’s not too late to change your mind.’

  I felt a sudden pang of regret. They’d be lighting the bonfire any minute now. But I shook my head, telling myself firmly that fireworks were only for kids.

  I started systematically to search the house. Yang was not under the sofa, or under any of the beds or lurking in a cupboard or wardrobe. I even went up and checked the loft.

  I stood in the hall with a box of cat nibbles and shook it. That normally did the trick. But there was no rush of soft fur against my legs, no answering mew.

  Maybe he was outside. I tried the back garden. ‘Yang, Yang!’

  It was at times like this that I wished we’d called our cats something more normal. I listened for the sound of claws scrabbling along the top of the fence.

  Another massive explosion rang out from the park. The sky above the house splintered into a cascade of scarlet fire. It sounded as if the display had already begun. I was really worried now. Yang was absolutely terrified of fireworks. He might well run out into the road and get run over.

  I went to the front of the house

  The street was empty and silent. Everyone must have gone to the display. Over the road, number twenty-five was now in total darkness and silent too. I shook the box again. ‘Yang … Yang!’

  One after another in quick succession, rockets burst overhead in great fiery flower-heads of green, red and white. Time after time the street was lit up as the fluorescence reflected back from the windows. I could hear the distant oohs and ahhs from the spectators.

  I crossed the road and tried the far side. ‘Yang! Yang! Yang!’ I was rattling the box like a some crazed percussionist.

  The side gate of number twenty-five stood open. I made my way over and called out into the back garden, ‘Yang! Come on puss, puss.’

  Another thundering explosion rang out, drowning any sound that might have come back in reply.

  The back door of number twenty-five was off its hinges and propped up against the wall. The doorway gaped black and open. Obviously, any cat with any sense would have gone inside.

  I stood on the threshold and rattled the box gently. ‘Yang!’ I called as quietly as I could.

  There was a mew from above. He was inside. And probably petrified, the poor thing.

  Hesitating in the doorway, I wondered if Matt could possibly still be at home. I strained my ears. There was another mew. There were no lights on. It wouldn’t take a second. I could just slip inside, grab the cat and be back home again in minutes.

  I crept through the kitchen. Another firework burst, sending blue light through the room, eerily lighting up the stairway. I shivered. The house had been empty for ages. Old Mr Copps had died in here. All of a sudden my inventions about ‘the spook house’ didn’t seem so far-fetched. I stared apprehensively into the gloom.

  There was another urgent mew from above.

  I steeled myself. ‘No such thing as spooks,’ I told myself firmly.

  But my hands felt clammy all the same and shivers kept going up and down my spine.

  ‘Yang, Yang!’ I called gently as I forced myself to climb the stairs. The doors on the first landing were both closed. There was a rustle above me.

  And then rather a peculiar strangled: ‘Miaow.’

  ‘Yang!’ I called. Why didn’t that cat come down?

  Ahead of me there was an open door leading into an attic room. I tiptoed up to it.

  ‘Hi,’ said a voice. ‘Don’t jump!’

  Stupid comment! I jumped so hard I practically fell backwards down the stairs. With a splintering boom the room turned golden. Matt was standing inside the doorway holding the cat in his arms.

  ‘What on earth are you doing standing there in the dark?’ The shock had made me angry.

  ‘Watching the fireworks maybe? Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a fright.’

  ‘Well you did.’

  ‘I said I’m sorry.’

  ‘That’s my cat,’ I said, holding out my arms to take him.

  ‘Is it?’ he said, moving back so the cat was out of my reach. Well, you should keep a cat inside on Guy Fawkes night, you know. The poor thing was scared out of its wits.’

  ‘That’s why I’ve been trying to find him.’

  ‘I’ve managed to calm him down. Listen … He likes me, He’s purring.’

  ‘Sure. Thanks. Now please hand him over.’

  But Matt took no notice. He was tickling the cat under its chin. Yang was lapping it up.

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Yang.’

  ‘Original!’

  ‘OK, I know. It’s a really stupid name. It was Dad’s idea. We’ve got two you see — the other one’s white.’

  ‘Yin and Yang?’ he said really naturally. That figures.’

  ‘Mmm … When they curl up together at night, they look like … (why had I said that? I could feel myself blushing) the er … symbol for harmony.’

  ‘Cool.’

  ‘Mmm …’

  There was an awkward pause.

  ‘You’re trespassing, you know,’ he said casually, giving me a sidelong glance. (He was just so gorgeous.) ‘I really should call the police.’

  ‘I thought the house was empty …’

  ‘Doesn’t that make it worse?’

  ‘Look, just hand the cat over, OK?’

  Another burst of colour filled the sky, lighting up the entire room.

  ‘Hey look. We’re missing the fireworks. They’ll be over in a minute. I’ve got a really wicked view from here.’ He pointed at two upturned paint cans facing the window. ‘Why don’t you join me? The best seats in the house.’

  I smiled in spite of myself. Was he still sending me up?

  ‘I really ought to take the cat back.’

  ‘He’s fine. Look at him.’ Yang was lying on his back in Matt’s arms, purring like mad.

  The funny thing was. Matt seemed really easy-going and friendly. Away from those weirdo friends of his, he wasn’t so ultra-cool after all. He seemed a really nice guy. I started to relax.

  ‘OK. Just for a bit.’

  I sat down beside him. I could feel the closeness of his body. Almost the warmth of his skin. I could feel him watching me but I pretended not to notice, pretended to be absorbed in the fireworks. They were putting on a great show and we really did have the best view.

  ‘Hang on a minu
te,’ he said, and passed Yang to me.

  He disappeared for a moment, and then this music started playing. It was ghastly. The kind of music I really loathe. Masses of bass and odd random noises — no lyrics at all.

  ‘What’s that you’re playing?’

  ‘A tape I made. A compilation.’ He sounded proud as hell about this.

  ‘Oh really,’ I tried to sound impressed. Males are dead funny about music. Criticise their taste and they go all aggressive and huffy.

  ‘It’s really cool,’ I added.

  ‘You like it? I’ll make you a copy.’

  ‘Really? Thanks,’ I said. (Pity about the music, but I guess it was the thought that counted.)

  He actually went and turned it up. As he returned the last few massive rockets exploded with such force they shook the house. This was too much for Yang, and before I could stop him, he leapt out of my arms.

  ‘Oh no!’ I started to run after him down the stairs.

  ‘Not in there!’ shouted Matt. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back, then stood and barred the doorway of the room Yang had disappeared into.

  ‘Sorry — no floorboards.’

  ‘Oh, right …’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll get him for you.’

  He edged into the room, balancing on the joists.

  The firework display had finished. The family must be on their way back by now.

  ‘Look, I’ve got to go. He’ll find his own way back.’

  ‘No wait!’ There was a scrabbling sound. ‘I’ve got him.’

  He came back to the doorway stroking Yang and I reached out for him. Our hands touched through the fur. It was just the lightest touch, but I was sure it hadn’t been accidental. He moved a little closer. His lips were coming within inches of mine … when a car door slammed in the street below. There was no mistaking it. It was definitely my parents’ car.

  ‘Oh my God! I’ve got to go.’

  ‘What if he doesn’t want to leave?’ he asked, indicating the cat.

  ‘They’ll go mad if they know I’ve been over here.’

  I was already making my way downstairs. He followed me.