Fire and Hemlock

The boy appears at Mr Piper’s elbow again.

“You didn’t kill him,” he says reproachfully. This is a very bloodthirsty child, Mr Piper thinks. Does she-sorry!-he want me to cut the giant into joints and pack him in the freezers? He does not like to admit that he cannot even kill flies. He replies with dignity, “I never kill a helpless enemy. Haven’t you heard of chivalry? What’s your name, by the way?”

“P – er – Hero,” says the boy. “There are police cars and fire engines outside. What shall we tell them?”

“Nothing,” says Mr Piper. “We’ll go out of the back door. I’ll move that freezer as soon as I’ve found my glasses.”

“Here they are,” Hero says, and puts the glasses into Mr Piper’s hand. As Mr Piper fumbles them on to his nose, Hero explains, “I picked them up and kept them. I knew you’d manage better if you didn’t have to keep explaining you weren’t really seeing a giant.”

Mr Piper looks from the boy to the giant. It is indeed, monstrously and hugely, a giant, snoring peacefully among the litter. He feels rather sick.

They leave the supermarket the back way as the police come through the front. Edna, by this time, has taken her curlers out, put on her best dressing gown, and arrived at the shop door. She is watching when the police make the mistake of asking the fire brigade to hose the giant’s face to revive him for questioning. The giant hates this. He has had enough anyway.

Edna sees him burst out of the supermarket, shoving a police car one way and a fire engine the other. After which he rises to his full height of forty feet or so and runs away, shaking the ground as he goes. Edna is so amazed at this sight that she not only forgets to scold her brother for being covered with flour and yoghurt; she forgets to forbid him to take on a smart new boy assistant.

In this manner Mr Thomas Piper and his assistant Hero began their careers as trainee-heroes. At least, I hope you agree that this is how it was.

With best wishes to my assistant trainee-hero,

Thomas G. Lynn

P.S. I seem to remember that all heroes have a special weapon of some kind. Don’t I need to find a sword? And what about a horse? I tried to be faithful to your description of Edna. Did I get her right?

Polly put the letter down with a sigh. She thought the giant ought to have been killed too.

“Finished?” Nina said rather sourly. She was standing by the window. “If you can spare the time, come over here and look.”

“Why?” said Polly, still seeing broken supermarket in her mind’s eye.

“Because,” Nina said with awful patience, “one of the people following me is standing across the road.”

That fetched Polly across the room. Funny thing, she thought, as she pressed her forehead against the window in order to see into the dark outside, real life trumps made-up things every time – if this is real, of course. “Where? I don’t see anyone.”

“Under that person opposite’s big bush. There,” said Nina.

Polly could see the figure now. It looked like a boy humped in an anorak. While she looked, the person shifted, stamped feet, and began walking up and down. He must have been cold standing out there in the dark. He stopped before he got to the streetlight and turned again, but at that end of his walk there was enough light to show he had neat hair and a scornful set to his smooth face. And Polly had sharp eyes. Her heart thudded rather. She said, “He’s called Seb. He was at the funeral.”

“Why is he following me?” Nina whispered. “I’m scared, Polly.”

Polly asked, feeling rather shrewd and detective-like, “Did the man following you have two sort of black lumps under his eyes?”

Nina nodded. “He’s the scary one. He sits in his car and stares.”

“He’s Seb’s father,” said Polly. “Mr Morton Leroy. Is he here now?”

“I told you!” Nina said irritably. “They take it in turns. But why?”

Polly had just been reading Mr Lynn’s letter. Mr Lynn obviously thought she was bold and bloodthirsty, and she wanted to prove he was right. “Let’s go out and ask him,” she said.

Nina replied with a shocked giggle. She could not believe Polly meant it. “Never speak to strange men,” she said. “Your Granny said.”

“He’s not strange – I know his name,” Polly said. “He’s not even a man.”

“He’s big, though,” Nina objected.

At this, Polly took great pleasure in saying, “Nina Carrington, stop being such a scaredy-cat or I won’t be your friend any more.” It worked too. As Polly marched to the door and downstairs, she heard Nina come stumbling after her, fighting her way into her coat to disguise her lack of courage. They went out of the front door and crossed the street together.

As they went towards him, Seb backed away into the shadow under the bush. Probably he did not credit that they were actually on their way to speak to him. By the time they reached him, he was flattened against the wall beneath the bush. He stared at them, and they stared at him. He was a good foot taller than they were. If it had not been for Mr Lynn’s letter, Polly thought she might have run away.

“What are you spying on Nina for?” she said.

Seb’s face turned from one to the other. “Which of you is Nina?”

“Me,” Nina said in a scared, throaty way.

“Then I’m not,” said Seb. “It’s you with the fair hair I’m supposed to watch. Now get lost, both of you.”

“Why?” Polly said. And Nina was indignant enough to add, “And we’re not going till you tell us!”

Seb hunched his shoulders against the wall and slid his feet forward across the pavement. He laughed at the way they backed away from his feet as they slid. It brought his face nearly down to their level, giving them a full blast of the scorn and dislike in it. “I’ve a good mind to tell you,” he said. “Yes, why not?” He nodded his chin at Polly. “You,” he said, “took something when you came to our house, didn’t you?”

“It was given me!” said Polly.

“So what? You took it,” said Seb.

“I am not a thief!” Polly said angrily. “I didn’t even break and enter. The door was open and I went in.”

“Shut up,” said Seb. “Listen. You didn’t eat and you didn’t drink, and you worked the Nowhere vases round first. Don’t deny it. I saw you working them. And I haven’t told my father that – yet. You owe me for that.”

“I don’t understand a word of this!” Nina said. “And it was me you were following, not Polly.”

“You shut up too,” Seb said, jerking his chin at Nina. “You only come into it because the two of you act like Siamese twins, trotting to her house, trotting to your house, trotting to school together. I didn’t know even little girls could be that boring!”

“We’re not boring,” said Polly.

“Yes you are – boring as hell,” Seb retorted disagreeably.

“Hell’s not boring,” Nina said smartly. She hated not being the centre of attention. “There’s devils with forks and flames, and thousands of sinners. You won’t have a dull moment when you go there.”

“I’m not planning to go there,” Seb said. “I told you to shut up. I’m planning not to,” he said to Polly, “and I told you, you owe me.”

Polly was puzzled and scared, but she said defiantly, “Laurel’s not having it back! It’s mine.”

“Laurel doesn’t know,” said Seb. “Luckily for you. Have you seen or talked to a certain person from the house since the funeral?”

Polly thought of the varied sheets of Mr Lynn’s letter lying on her bed across the street, and her heart began bumping again. “Yes,” she said. “I’m talking to you now.” And she prayed that Nina had not chanced to notice who the letter was from – or, if she had, that Nina would have the sense not to say.

“Very funny!” said Seb. “You know that’s not who I mean.” Nina, to Polly’s relief, looked puzzled to death. “All right,” said Seb. “You haven’t – and I should know, standing outside in all weathers, watching—”