Chapter One - Inside the Ivy Cottage

Enjoy. Image is of Doctor.

Shadow hated being on money duty on the high street; he hated being seen and especially hated being noticed. But at least it was getting dark now and he had had a good day " being young and cute definitely had an advantage when getting peoples sympathies, or so he’d been told. He counted his money, £6.34, more than he’d expected, Boss would be so pleased.

          He began to make his way down the street, no one took a glance at him and wondered where his parents were, no old ladies eyed his long hair with distaste and definitely no one saw him turn into an alley and disappear between the dustbins. Just the way he liked it.

          As he walked down the alley, he looked around. People threw all sorts of things out, some of them even brand-new, but no such luck today.

          He gave in and carried on walking across the filthy slabs of rock, being careful to mind the puddles so that the water couldn’t find a way in though his well used (and not by him) plimsolls. Finally the darkness gave way to a green field and the setting sun. Someone was waiting for him on the other side. That someone was standing in the autumn leaves, throwing a pen knife into air and catching it again, almost at a rhythm. Their hazel eyes were looking out unto the sunset while their dark eyebrows scrunched together.

          “Hey, Knife.”

          The blade fell to the ground as the girl turned to face him, “Shadow, don’t do that,” she scolded, “You gave me a heart attack.”

          She bent her skinny body downwards to retrieve the knife and the guitar case, which had been hidden underneath the leaves until now, she put the knife into her pocket then began to walk though the fields, “What took you so long?” she asked, once Shadow had caught up, “I was waiting there for ages.”

          “I was looking to see if anyone had given us anything,” It was code for ‘scavenging through the trash’.

          “No, I already looked; found some new trousers for Eyes. His ones have a hole in the crotch the size of my fist.”

          Shadow smiled slightly; you could always trust Knife to find exactly what you needed... You could always trust Knife.

          “So how much did you make today?” She asked.

          “Six pounds thirty-four, you?”

          “Three pounds, three pence,” she must have seen the confusion on Shadow’s face because she then added, “When girls get to my age, people stop wanting cuteness and they start wanting something else.” She fingered her ebony ponytail nervously.

          “What do they want?”

          “Never you mind,” she said ruffling his hair, “Your sister will get it in a few years.”

          Shadow didn’t understand what she was talking about, but he was the youngest, he was used to people being mysterious around him. That didn’t mean he couldn’t try to find out, “So, do you have to fifteen to know?”

          “It’s not just something you know, it’s something you are,” Knife explained,  “And no, Brains is fourteen and she understands. It’s different for every girl, you see, I’m still a stick.”

          “Now I confused,” Shadow said, shaking his head.

          Knife laughed, “Never mind, let’s talk about something else.” She thought for a moment while Shadow waited, “How’s your maths coming on?”

          A sudden glee filled Shadow; he was good at maths, “Okay.”

          “Let’s work out how much money we have now. What’s £6.34 plus £3.03?” She waited as Shadow worked it out.

          “Nine pounds and thirty-seven pence.”

          “Okay, now add the money we all ready have - £7.51.” Again she waited, a little longer than before.

          “Thirteen pounds, eighty-eight,” he exclaimed feeling quite proud of himself.

          “Not bad, not bad at all.”

          “Not bad? Pretty dam good, if I say so myself.”

          Knife frowned, “You spend too much time with Cockroach.”

          They had reached the woods by now, so it was only a short walk to The Ivy Cottage. They’d been staying there for about two months, longer than they’d ever stayed in one place before and Shadow liked it here. At least this place had a roof. Shadow also liked the cover of the trees, whenever they played hide-and-seek he was always the last to be found. Knife, as though sensing his thoughts, said, “We can’t stay in the woods for long, Eyes saw something last night and Boss wants everyone home as soon as.”

          Shadow nodded and they carried on walking in silence until they reached the house.

          A few moments later they reached an old iron gate, seven foot high, with a hole big enough to let even Boss fit through - perfect to let a few homeless children in and out, easily.

          They stepped through into a courtyard covered with weeds and plants that had completely lost control, this place hadn’t been used in years. It seemed as though it had been utterly forgotten in time, who ever had lived here, however long ago, had left in a hurry, leaving all the furniture, books and even their clothes behind, but they were unusable.

          As they made their way up the cracked paving of the path, they began to here two raised voices emanating from behind the weak walls.

          “- ‘cause it smells like s**t!”

          “You don’t like my cooking, then go hungry, tramp.”

          “If you ain’t noticed, Doc, we’re all tramps.”

          Knife rolled her eyes and opened the door to see Shadows sister, Doctor and Cockroach arguing again, her large, moss green eyes glaring into his playful beaky ones. Then Boss entered, “What’s going on here, then? Roach, get out of the kitchen, Doctor, carry on cooking.”

          While Cockroach slouched out Doctor turned on Boss, “I could use a little help in here, it’s not exactly a carnival trying to make nettles edible,” Shadow thought it looked quite funny, his sister pulling on her short golden curls like she was trying to pull her brains out.

          “Calm down, Doc,” said Knife stepping forward, “I’ll help you out. Shadow, take my guitar and the money into the living room and the trousers to Eyes.”

          Shadow muttered an, “Okay.”

          “So, someone gave you trousers for Eyes,” said Boss to Knife, putting an affectionate hand on her shoulder, “I can always rely on you.”

          The guitar was heavy in the arms of Shadow, but he still noticed how Knife kept her eyes on the floor, while Boss pulled his hand back almost timidly. Another thing, when you are a master at not being seen, you know other people are trying to hide and Knife was wishing she could dematerialise completely.

          Dematerialise - a new word Brains had taught him and he was over the moon that he could use it.

          He put the guitar on the floor near the stairs, then gave the money and trousers to Eyes, who then went upstairs to change. Shadow then turned and sat on the ancient couch so encrusted with dust it never seemed to run out, when Brains suddenly said, “Oh, look! I’ve found a saying that describes us quite well.”

          She was sitting on the rug with her back against the wall, Roach’s head resting on her lap and a disowned book in her hand, “One man’s rubbish is another man’s treasure,” she read whilst stroking his ginger hair tenderly.

          Brains was Shadow’s teacher and he loved her almost as much as he loved his sister. She was extremely smart and had two puny plats which stuck out from underneath her dark woollen hat. Her large front teeth and chubby cheeks made her look kind of rabbit like, a part from her bright blue eyes. No rabbit has them, Shadow thought.

          “Shadow!” she called, “Time for your English lesson.”

          “Does that mean I have to get up?” asked Cockroach.

          “Um, no,” a slight pink tinge began to creep onto Brains’ cheeks, “You can stay there, if you want.”

          Shadow sat down in front of them and Brains handed him the book, “Read the first five pages of chapter three, without my help,” she said the last words dramatically as she took Cockroach’s hand.

          So, Shadow read to them, pretty sure neither of them were listening.

ab

“You should’ve kissed him!”

          “But, what if he doesn’t feel the same about me? That would be completely mortifying.”

          “Come again.”

          “Mortifying, it means embarrassing. Honestly Doctor, you should be the one having lessons, not your little brother.”

          We were standing in the kitchen; Doc had given me the task of cutting the mushrooms, while she had a go at me for not making a move on Boss, “You two have been like this for ages now, I’m finding it really... really... tedious.”

          I giggled a bit at that, but stopped after a while, “I’m not sure I even like him like that.”

          “Knife, you barely speak around him, you blush like a tomato if he talks to you and then you deny it. You like him,” I was used to Doctor’s discreet way of talking, she never hid anything and I liked her because of it, but sometimes I wish she’d speak a little quieter, “I don’t know why you’re ashamed of it, he’s not all that bad looking and, let’s face it Knife, rat face is right; we’re tramps. It’s not like we have that many options.”

          No, she was right; he wasn’t that bad looking...

          Whoa, I’ve got to stop thinking like that.

          “Wake up, Knife, and stop fantasizing, those mushrooms won’t cut themselves, you know.”

          “I wasn’t fantasizing,” but my blush gave me away.

          We started giggling and once we’d started, we couldn’t stop. We just carried on going until Eyes walked in wearing his new (to him) trousers, “I thought you might want to check they fit, since you usually hunt us down to see.”

          I rolled my eyes, knowing that he was right, I liked to know everything was perfect. Some called me reliable, called me annoying, “Yes they look fine. There not to tight are they?”

          “No.” He turned to leave.

          “Oi! Where do you think you’re going, Freckles?” Doctor shouted across the room to Eyes.

          He looked back, an almost hurt look in his honey eyes, I wasn’t his fault he was covered in freckles... and then some, “Going into the living room " watching Brains and Cockroach make gooey faces at each other is more fun than sitting in the dust alone.”

          “No,” Doctor corrected, “You’re going to go pick some apples from the tree outside.”

          Eyes sighed, but he headed outside nevertheless, “How do I know if they’re ripe?”

          “Well,” said Doctor, unsure, “Most people would check the colour, but you...” Eyes was colour blind and short sighted, but we didn’t have enough money to get him glasses, “Most of them are ripe anyway, just pick any.” She then proceeded to tip the mushrooms I’d cut into the soup.

          “Seriously though, why nettle soup?” Cockroach had been right; it did smell a bit like s**t.

          “Because Boss didn’t want to spend money this week, so I’m using our leftovers to make it taste-”

          “Digestible?” I asked innocently.

          “Yeah, something like that.”

          We sat in silence for a few minutes, Eyes came in with apples and then out into the living room. Another few silent minutes, with just the sound of the soup bubbling and occasionally Shadow’s voice would break through the walls and rotting door. I got bored and before I knew it I was humming the tune my mother used to sing to me when I was little. Then the words found their way to my lips;

“If I had words to make a day for you,

I would make a morning golden and true.

I would make this day last for all time

And make you a night deep in moonshine.”

          I thought, But you never did, Mum, did you.

ab

 

The Mayor of Mortelnie Cliffs was a rather podgy, bland man, moderately lazy and quite happy not to do anything. Tonight however something had to be done. It made Mr. Taylor cringe and want to dive under his covers just thinking about it. Getting something done meant having to make choices and decisions and that meant you could make mistakes.

He never wanted this job. His parents wanted this, not him, but who’s going to argue with a 6’10 man, who had legal clearance to use a shot gun and a tiny woman with a hard personality. I’ll tell you who wouldn’t; Mr. Samson J. Taylor, that’s who.

In the meeting a bunch of officials prattled for a while before a piece of paper was placed in front of the mayor, moments after, a pen. “It is sorted, sign here, Mayor Taylor,” said a man in an important looking suit, “The owners are dead, the place is a ruin and one cares about it. It can go.”

“Sure,” muttered the Mayor, signing without the foggiest clue what was written in bold font, it looked official, it had to be alright.

“You will of course be attending the event,” said another posh looking suited man.

“Yes, definitely,” answered the Mayor, trying to seem awake, “Wouldn’t miss it, with it being so important and everything.” cough, “So, is that it then?”

Nodding replied and people began to leave. Good. That was over and done with. Before the paper was snatched away again, Mayor Taylor managed to read some of what he had just agreed to:

          “- agree to safely demolish the building commonly known as “The Ivy cottage.

 

Signed Samson J. Taylor

It will be done.”

Reviews

[Millie]

Good Write, The story flows well.

It's has got a good story line so far

Keep going I'd love to see how this turns out

:)

Millie.xXx