Turquoiselle by Tanith Lee Read Free Book Online Page B

swimmer deep in the lagoon, to the thick soft mud of unconsciousness
below.
     
     
    Andy walked out
of Woolworths with the packet of toffees he had bought, the striped sort his
mother liked, and a tube of five coloured pencils in one of his jacket pockets.
In the other pocket was a small assortment of Woolworths delicacies, a rubber,
two biros – one blue and one red – a tiny gold action figure in a plastic
pouch, and a lipstick in a shade he believed was called Firebrand . This last was
also for his mother, and also bought.
    It
was her birthday on Tuesday. He had no idea if she would like the lipstick, but
she always effusively said how lovely and thoughtful it was of him to save up
for a present for her from what she called his ‘dole’ – the money, mostly in
coins, she gave him when she could.
    Andy
knew his mother, whose name was Sara, was not much interested in him. She had lost interest when
she and he got away from her boyfriend, his father, and the bullying and physical
violence ended. Not having to protect Andy anymore, however ineffectually,
seemed to turn off all maternal connection for Sara. But he had never been
close to her, or so it seemed to him, or would have done had he properly
considered it. He had never been close to anyone, except in the physical
proximity way – hugged and smothered, or thumped about, or – now – thumping in
turn, as Andy had been doing not long before, with Iain Cox. Cox was one of the
school bullies. One or two years older than Andy, thickset and thin-eyed, he
liked to take the piss, and/or take away your possessions. So Andy had used a
couple of techniques he had learned from watching his father with one of his
own weaker male cronies. Grabbing and twisting Cox’s balls, Andy had brought
him down, then knelt on his curled-over body, pummelling his thick-thin face
until Cox was whimpering. Andy, by now, did not often attend school. Cox had
been unlucky, and definitely wrong in his choice of victim.
    Andy
turned up the long house–lined road that led away from the shops, and towards
the station. You could get to London in just over half an hour from there. Andy
had done it. But he would not be doing it today. He wanted to go home and watch
the TV horror film he had got from Video Rodeo at the weekend. He might also
play with the golden action figure. He was not sure he was not already too old
for such a toy. At just on eleven it was difficult to judge sometimes. Not that
Andy would have put it in that way.
    Starting
up the station road, Andy realised, belatedly, somebody was on his tail.
    Cox?
It seemed very unlikely. Without needing hospitalisation, Cox had still been
in a mess.
    Andy
set his mind, his ears, his other senses, to suss out who it was that was
moving along, about two garden-wall lengths behind him.
    Not
the Law, he was pretty certain of that. The Law would anyway have got hold of him
before this. “Thieving, eh? Think you made it? You didn’t. Right, we need to
have a word.”
    Andy
shoved the improvised dialogue out of his brain. He had no real idea what a cop
would say, because Andy had never been apprehended by one, let alone a store
guard, or any of the shop cameras. His improv came from some old film he had seen,
probably, a feature long out of modern date. No, this follower was of another
sort– Abruptly the latening sun cast down a shadow on the nearest stretch of
wall. It looked most like a huge humanesque toad. That was simple then. It was
Heavy.
    Heavy,
about Andy’s own age, had arrived at the school when Andy was already often
going missing, and Andy had not seen much of him. But he knew the gist of
Heavy, including why he had been allotted the name. Heavy was ungainly and fat.
But some current policy had, it seemed, said no one must be called fat now. They were heavy . So, the fat
kid of about eleven years of age got that nickname. Which he seemed not to
mind, barely to notice as mockery and insult.  Whatever his given name was,
which Andy