haven’t they?’ She leapt out of her hammock, but Oak held her still.
‘He left Little Hollows, Moll. Of his own accord.’
Moll heard the words, but they sounded strange, as if they were falling apart at the edges. ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘No.’ But when Oak didn’t reply her shoulders slumped and her eyes grew large and sad. ‘He – he left?’ she said quietly.
Oak nodded.
‘But Alfie wouldn’t just leave like that. We were in this together . . .’ Moll’s voice collapsed and she felt hot tears welling behind her eyes. She shook them back. ‘Alfie wouldn’t leave without . . . without . . .’
She found herself thinking back to how they’d first met – how Alfie had kidnapped her from Oak’s camp in Tanglefern Forest to hand her over to Skull. Only Alfie hadn’t been what she’d expected. He hadn’t wanted to be at Skull’s camp any more than her . . . Alfie had secrets, yes, but Moll had learnt to trust him and together they’d escaped Skull’s lair and found the first amulet. He was her friend. How could he desert her now when she needed him most?
Oak tried to draw her close, but Moll stood, rooted to the ground in disbelief.
‘We found his patteran, Moll – he marked it into the sand by the fire.’
Moll’s ears snagged on Oak’s words and she felt a hollowness grow inside her. She hadn’t wanted to believe Oak, but a patteran – the sign every gypsy carves to show they’ve been here and settled – there was no arguing with that. She stormed past Oak, out into the cave. And there, before the embers of the fire, was Alfie’s patteran, dark shadows resting in the grooves: KUSHTI BOK. The old gypsy words for ‘Good Luck’.
The truth slid uncomfortably before Moll. She’d never have abandoned Alfie, no matter how bad things might have got. Never. A knot tightened inside her, half of it angry, the other half confused. She closed her eyes. Why had Alfie left when he’d been so desperate to find the amulet too? Something about his disappearance just didn’t make sense. She’d known he was keeping secrets from her about his past. But what secret was so big it had meant he had to leave Little Hollows without her? She forced the hurt down. Alfie had left her in the middle of their quest, after the camp had let him in and she had given him her trust. Moll pushed his face and his name and everything about him out of her mind.
‘We need to get moving if we’re going to make it to Inchgrundle in darkness,’ she said, trying to suppress the quiver in her voice.
Oak nodded. ‘I can’t understand what would’ve made Alfie leave. I’m so sorry, Moll.’
Moll turned to him as she walked back to her alcove, her eyes hard. ‘For what? He was never one of us – not really.’
She disappeared inside her alcove, drawing the sheet across it so that the entrance was covered. Then, once she was alone, the tears spilled down her cheeks.
Moll crouched inside the corridor of rocks by the entrance to the cave, her catapult and two small stones tucked into the pocket of her dress, then a cardigan and a duffle coat, the toggle fastenings buttoned up all wrong, hastily flung on top. Although not the comfiest of clothing, the coat was warm and would guard against the increasingly cold autumn nights.
Gryff waited beside her, his ears pricked to the slightest sound. Moll looked down, squinting through the dark, half wondering whether she’d be able to make out Alfie’s footprints pressed into the sand. She knew his and Sid’s tracks by heart now, but the night was dark, giving no clues as to which way he’d gone, and Moll knew that that kind of thinking wouldn’t get her anywhere. She clenched her teeth.
Siddy hung behind her, his duffle-coat hood pulled up against the night, his arm out of the bandage now – a large plaster covering what was left of the cut. Mooshie had tried to dissuade Siddy from going to Inchgrundle, but when Moll was out of earshot Siddy had pointed out:
Learning to Kill: Stories