The Darkest Unicorn Page 5

  Madam Tilbury insisted her house was not an orphanage. She said the word made her think of rows of beds and children scrubbing floors. Hers was a home – her own home – and she had just made room for a few more. There were only four children and they each had to share a room with just one other: Thandie with Hetty, and Finch with Tib. They had three meals a day, which is more than some children ate in poorer families.

  The others all called her “Ma Tilbury” but Thandie stuck to “Madam” however fond she grew of her. She had her own mother, after all, even if her mother happened to be missing right now. That was the big difference between Thandie and the others. Finch, Hetty and Tib all knew the sad stories of what had happened to their parents, but Thandie did not. As far as Thandie, or anyone else, knew, her mother was still out there somewhere.

  They drank their milk quickly, glancing at one another over their cups. She could tell that the others wondered how she’d got home so quickly, but no one could ask in front of Madam Tilbury. Thandie would tell them all about it later, but as far as Madam Tilbury was concerned, for now they were all ready for bed.

  Thandie’s bedroom was small and simple with a dark wooden floor, a rag rug and a double bed, which she shared with Hetty. She threw on her nightdress as quickly as possible, leaving her clothes in a tangled bundle on the floor, and jumped into bed. She and Hetty had made the bed this morning as always, but Madam Tilbury must have changed the sheets that day because they were stretched tightly across the bed in the way that only she could manage. The sheets smelled the way all Madam Tilbury’s washing smelled, like a cross between lemon and lavender.

  Hetty came into the room and got into her nightclothes in silence, carefully folding any clothes that she would wear again the next day and putting them into her trunk. Hetty was giving out the sort of signals that showed she wasn’t interested in speaking to Thandie. Thandie knew what Hetty could be like; she was annoyed with Thandie for leaving the city after them and probably would ignore her for a week now.

  No matter, she would use the peace and quiet to write in her diary. Thandie reached over and took her worn book from the pocket of the tunic she’d been wearing that day. She kept it on her at all times, as she would hate to lose it. Today’s account was half a scribbled page about tricking the guards.

  “What are you writing?” asked Hetty, looking over at the book as she slid between the sheets next to Thandie.

  Now Hetty wanted to talk. Some people seemingly found nothing more interesting than someone quietly jotting sentences into a small book. Thandie angled the pages away from her. “Nothing much.”

  “Are you writing about me?” asked Hetty.

  “No.” Thandie finished writing her sentence and snapped the book shut.

  “Why not?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean … you see me every day, we share a room, a bed and a breakfast table. I am virtually your sister, so why don’t I make it into your diary?”

  Thandie sighed and put the diary on her nightstand. “You’re not my sister.”

  “I know that,” said Hetty, rolling over on to her side to face Thandie. “That’s why I said virtually.” She sighed. “When I was growing up, I always wanted a sister. I thought I might have a younger sister with curly hair and gaps in her teeth. I certainly never imagined someone like you. But sometimes life turns out differently to the way we imagined, doesn’t it?”

  Thandie put out the light and lay on her back, staring into the darkness. “I don’t mean to be impolite but I am not looking for a sister. I have my own family. My mother. For all I know, she’s still out there somewhere. Until she returns, I’m on my own and I don’t answer to anyone else.”

  Hetty sighed again, ostentatiously. Thandie couldn’t see her expression but she could hear that she was trying to keep her voice calm. “Look, I’m not trying to start another fight. And I wasn’t earlier, either. I was just worried that something might happen to you – I wasn’t trying to tell you what to do.”

  “I should hope you’re not trying to tell me what to do, seeing as you are approximately six weeks older than me!” Thandie knew she shouldn’t react but sometimes Hetty rubbed her up the wrong way.

  Hetty sighed again. “I’m just saying that they are the rules and we don’t want to get into trouble. Or into danger.”

  Thandie’s eyes began to grow accustomed to the darkness and she watched the shadows from the trees outside flicker on the ceiling. Shadows that could be anything: dragons or damsels or dancers. She grinned to herself. “And all I am saying is that we could have some real fun with this curfew.”

  DARES IN THE DARK

  Thandie

  Just half an hour later, when Madam Tilbury had gone to bed, the girls snuck into the boys’ room as they often did. Finch and Tib’s room had a low window that opened up on to the shallow-sloping roof over the back of the house. The ground behind the house ran uphill to meet the forest so that on the roof, they were level with the bottom trees and didn’t feel that high up. It was quiet and private as well as picturesque.

  Finch had been the one to discover the spot. He was a keen birdwatcher (he had no choice with a name like that), and found it a useful place for watching for birds and other wildlife. Tib had soon followed him out there and eventually the girls had joined them too. The location had the advantage of being at the back of the house, far away from Madam Tilbury’s room. She couldn’t hear them out here as long as they kept their voices low. As a result, the roof became the place where they had shared their hopes and dreams and sometimes their secrets.

  Tonight was a perfect roof night. The air was stifling inside and none of them would be able to get to sleep until it cooled down. But it was too hot to go exploring anywhere else. Finch sat sideways under their bedroom window and Tib sat next to him on the windowsill, his legs resting on Finch’s knees. He didn’t like going too near the edge, even though it was a comparatively low roof. Hetty and Thandie didn’t mind and sat with their legs dangling off the edge. The sun was down but the moon was out and the night sky looked more orange and grey than black, sprinkled with tiny white stars. The longer they sat, the more Thandie could see. The trees and houses in the distance were black silhouettes and the occasional bat emerged from the trees and performed its unique fluttering display before disappearing again. Thandie turned to the others. They seemed to be watching the night sky too and were much quieter than usual.

  Tib was particularly quiet. He had a secret, she could tell: he was sitting in an unnatural way, with one arm crooked at the elbow, hand resting lightly in his pocket. Every so often he took his hand away and had a quick peek inside the pocket.

  It was Thandie’s guess that he had something living in there – a snail or a mouse. “What have you got there, Tib?”

  “Nothing.”

  She smiled and didn’t probe further, but after a few moments he brought his hand out of his pocket and showed them all anyway, smiling proudly: an egg. A large white egg, but bigger than a hen’s.

  “Yum! Is that for my breakfast?” asked Finch, making to take it from him.

  “No!” said Tib, huddling over it protectively. “I found it by the river. It was still warm. It must have rolled from the nest and the mother duck didn’t come back. I’m going to hatch it. I’ll keep it by my body in the day and in a box of straw at night time.”

  Hetty peered at the egg. “I really wouldn’t keep it in your pocket if I were you. You don’t want to break it. And I'm afraid it's not at all likely to hatch without its mother.”

  The hopeful look on Tib’s face fell a little. Thandie felt for him. Hetty was right and the egg probably wouldn’t survive. She’d brought eggs home herself when she was small and they’d never hatched, even if they were warm when she found them. Still, there was no need to be so negative. There was always hope, and maybe Tib’s egg would hatch. “You’ll make a wonderful duck father, Tib,” she said kindly. “You had better practise your swimming!”

  Finch had
been teaching them all to swim in the river and Tib was learning fast.

  “And learn to speak duck,” added Finch.

  Tib quacked loudly, and Hetty shushed him. “Let’s not wake Ma Tilbury,” she said.

  “He wasn’t that loud,” said Thandie.

  Hetty sighed. “Why do you always have to do that? If I say something to Tib, you always stick up for him and argue with me.”

  “It’s because you sound like this,” said Thandie, making a quacking sound back at Hetty and moving her hand like a beak.

  Tib giggled and Finch interrupted, obviously keen to avoid another argument between the girls. “Maybe a giant duck has been stealing people for her ducklings. Quack, quack!”

  It seemed that whatever subject they chose, the conversation would always come back to the stolen ones and the curfew.

  “It’s not a duck that’s taking the people. Thandie seems to think it’s a dragon,” said Hetty. Thandie could tell that Hetty was still cross with her.

  Finch turned towards Tib, his face animated. He was still trying to lighten the mood. “I think so too! I heard that a fire-breathing dragon has demanded a fresh human sacrifice each month, and if he doesn’t get it … he will burn the whole city down” He winked at Tib, whose eyes had gone very wide.

  “Is it really a dragon?” he asked.

  Thandie smiled at him and shook her head. She didn’t want the poor boy to have nightmares. “Maybe a fire-breathing duck,” she said, and he laughed.

  Hetty shuffled closer. “I heard people are disappearing because of a new dancing plague, like the one that happened in the Western Isles. People hear imaginary music and their feet won’t stop moving. They dance themselves off cliffs, into the ocean and even dance themselves dead from exhaustion.”

  Hetty was trying to impress Tib, which niggled at Thandie. She shook her head. “It’s not that.”

  “You sound very sure,” said Hetty.

  “I am.”

  Thandie couldn’t understand why people assumed the stolen ones had even been stolen, unwilling. To Thandie, the scariest option was the one that the others hadn’t considered: maybe all these people had wanted to go. Perhaps they longed to get away. Perhaps there was just no one around here that they cared enough about to stay. Perhaps that is what had happened to her mother – she had received an offer of a better life.

  But Thandie kept these thoughts to herself – she didn’t think they’d understand. Instead, she said, “I don’t know why everyone’s so frightened. I’m sure there’s no dragon or dancing plague out there. People are just trying to spoil our fun and make us keep to the curfew. And, as I explained earlier, the curfew means nothing to me, whether it comes from the royal council or not.”

  “You might say that but you actually kept to the curfew just like the rest of us,” said Hetty. “We were all back in by nightfall.”

  “Yes, but I stayed inside the city walls after the guards told us to go.”

  “That was quite easy, though Thandie. Any of us could have done that,” said Hetty.

  Finch looked at the two of them wearily. Hetty was beginning to get under Thandie’s skin as she always did. “You couldn’t have done it, Hetty,” sneered Thandie. “You’re always whinging and playing by the rules. If it was up to you we’d probably stay inside and work on our tapestries all day.”

  Tib laughed. Hetty’s face flashed a dark red. “Everything’s so easy for you, isn’t it, Thandie? But you’re just as scared as the rest of us. You wouldn’t want to be wandering around after curfew if there are monsters out there.”

  “It really wouldn’t bother me.”

  “Do it then.”

  “I shall.” Thandie stared at Hetty defiantly.

  “When?”

  “Now, if you like.”

  Finch leaped to his feet. “Let’s not do this. Why don’t we play a game of something? Merels? I’ve been meaning to learn that for an eternity.” But they all ignored him.

  “What’s the monster game called?” Tib asked.

  “Dares in the dark,” said Thandie, standing up. “Where would you like me to go?”

  Hetty pursed her lips. “Breaking out of the city is easy. Like you said, all the protected people live inside the city walls. They are more concerned about somebody breaking in. Why don’t you try to get inside the city walls?”

  Finch looked concerned. “Not in the dark, Hetty. Let’s leave it until tomorrow.”

  But there was no stopping Hetty now. “She says the dark doesn’t scare her and it’s just as safe as the daytime. So in that case, Thandie, I dare you to break into the castle tonight. Go through the forest and up to the city walls and past the guards. What’s stopping you?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” said Thandie. She brushed herself down, ready to go. “I’ll do it now.”

  “Please don’t pay any attention to Hetty,” said Finch, putting his hand on Thandie’s shoulder. “You could be walking into real danger.”

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?” Thandie shuffled to the edge of the roof and dangled her feet over the side. She wasn’t remotely scared, mainly because she doubted she would run into anyone on such a mission. Nasty things always took you by surprise, didn’t they? You didn’t just run into danger when you went looking for it.

  She held on to the roof with arms bent behind her and lowered herself even more. Her feet were still a little way from the ground but she had done this enough times to trust that she could make the jump. She dropped down to the ground, knees bent, managing to stay upright.

  The others all rushed to the edge to watch her go. Hetty began fussing, as usual. “You don’t have to go tonight. You could go tomorrow. Or, do something different. We could all go—” Thandie could tell that she was wishing she’d never suggested it. But Thandie wasn’t going to go back on her word just to make Hetty feel better.

  “No, I accept your original challenge”

  Tib just grinned. “Thandie is brave. She can do anything.” He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a catapult that Finch had helped him make from a Y-shaped stick. He passed it to Finch, who handed it down to her. “Take this weapon in case you need to fight any monsters.”

  “Thank you, Tib,” said Thandie solemnly, taking the catapult and a couple of walnuts that he had saved for ammunition. She doubted that she would be likely to slay any monsters with these. Still, it was a kind thought. “I shall give it back when I return.”

  Finch and Hetty carried on arguing up on the roof.

  “Come on, tell her you didn’t mean it, Hetty,” said Finch.

  Hetty lay on her stomach and looked down at Thandie. “I was only joking. Thandie, I didn’t mean it! Come back!”

  But Thandie was already striding out into the moonlit darkness, Tib’s catapult in her pocket and a smile on her face.

  Luckily, Thandie didn’t have to sneak past any other houses on the way to the forest, as it was so close. She strolled towards the trees with her head held high. Finch, Hetty and Tib would be watching her for as long as they could, and she refused to scurry off like a frightened mouse. She couldn’t have Hetty thinking that she was just talking about being brave. That wasn’t Thandie at all. If she wanted to do something, then she did it. She had nothing to lose. Besides, adventures were few and far between around here and she meant to enjoy this one.

  It was dark and quiet outside – the sort of darkness that was hard to ignore and the sort of quiet that drew attention to ordinary sounds. Thandie was strangely aware of her own breathing and footsteps on the ground. But darkness itself was not a frightening thing. People were only really scared of what the darkness could conceal, and Thandie was sure that there was nothing lurking tonight. Still, she felt in her pocket for Tib’s catapult just in case.

  She walked through the woods, using the well-trodden pathway that folk took from the cottages to the city walls. She had walked this way with the others on a near-daily basis and knew every twist and turn, so it hardly matter
ed that it was night-time. She kept up her confident gait, as she knew that if there was someone hiding in the darkness this evening they would be less likely to approach someone who looked brave and self-assured. And she felt brave. Or to be more accurate, she felt as though she had nothing to lose.

  She left the darkness of the woods and emerged once again into the moonlight, where she joined the main dirt road. She planned how she would get past the watchmen at the gates. She could use a distraction like last time, but as Hetty had correctly explained, the guards would be much more alert to people trying to get inside the city walls than those trying to get out. She would be better off talking to the guards and trying to trick them. She could tell them that she was a member of the royal household who had been delayed on a journey that day, or that she was a messenger with an important piece of news.

  She had reached the city walls now. This would be easy. Once she’d had a quick chat with the guards, she would turn around and walk back to Madam Tilbury’s. Then Hetty would be proven wrong.

  Just as she neared the gates, her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. There was someone: a lone figure lurking by the city walls, under the trees.

  THE FIGURE IN THE SHADOWS

  Thandie

  Luckily, Thandie’s instincts were sharp and instead of crying out, she only gasped quietly and flattened herself against the wall. It was a boy. Had he seen her? It appeared not. His face was turned away.

  He was definitely hiding, in a perfect place to see but not be seen. Yet, right now, Thandie could see him and he could not see her. The thought made her want to burst out laughing and she clapped her hands over her mouth. Why was he out roaming in the dark when the rest of the city was shut away through fear? He was either, like her, rebelling against the rules, or he was new to these parts. He turned, still not looking in her direction, and she got a better look at him, although she was not close enough to see his features in detail. He was youngish and wore a pointed hat and a raggedy coat. She couldn’t see much more, but she was fairly sure she didn’t recognize him. He could not be from around Essendor.