Victoria dashed into the shelter of the first trees, nearly knocking
over the silver fox, which stood in the centre of the half circle that
the other foxes made. Their fat sides heaved with the unaccustomed
effort, and Victoria was panting too.
The big red fox tipped its head to one side and looked past
Victoria's silhouette at the figures on the other side of the fence.
Its voice filled her head, deeper than the silver fox's, and now
anxious rather than threatening. "Did they see us? Are they coming?"
They all looked terrified, ready to bolt straight off into the
forest's depths. Victoria didn't say anything, but turned and gazed
back from the darkness of the forest at the bright, cold world from
which she'd come. The air was frosty-still and she could hear every
word.
All three were standing in the doorway of the henhouse with their
backs to her. Turnip again almost filled the gap, and The Hag and
Sludge leaned around his bulging bulk to peer at all that silent
desolation.
Behind them, the sludge-pits steamed, and the lorry with its grimy
tank wrapped round with fat and spattered coils of corrugated
sucker-pipes sat silent, waiting patiently to slurp the soggy
sludge-pits dry.
"Bloody hell!" said Sludge. "Well, that's a mess! I'll have to get
my other truck! It'll take all day to shovel all that up! And I'm
supposed to get around to Slaughter's place. He called me up this
morning, shouting down the phone. There's something up - I couldn't
make out half of what he said. Ranting on about that bloody fence and
all them bloody foxes gone berserk. I expect he's fed them bits of all
them cows they had to shoot when Brinton had that fallout thing because
them bloody pipes blew up that Slaughter's brother Mick put in the
power station what he'd got from when the steelworks had to close." He
stopped to breathe.
Turnip swung round. Victoria could see his unshaven face, all red
and blotched with fury. "That bloody girl!" He pushed Sludge aside.
"I'll murder her!" Victoria flinched and she could hear the foxes
moving uneasily behind her. Turnip swiveled wildly round. "Where is
she? What's she up to? What's she done? I'll bet she's gone bananas
like her mum and chopped them chickens up! There'll be hell to pay when
I get my fingers round her neck!" He roared and squeezed his eyes tight
shut and his fat fingers found his sister's skinny neck. She squawked
and choked.
"Here! Steady on!" said Sludge. "Get a grip!"
Turnip opened his eyes. He blinked and shook his head from side to
side. Vic could see his cheeks wobble. He looked down at the Hag, who
dangled helpless, clawing at his hairy wrists, and blinked again. And
then he let her go.
"It's all right," said Victoria. She turned. The foxes stood tense
and waiting. "They've no idea where we are."
She looked back out again into the light. The Hag had staggered limp
against the wall, and Turnip strode purposefully out along the narrow
path. His eyes were on the fence and Victoria shrank back into the
darkness of the wood as though his little piggy eyes could see her
standing there beside the ancient trunk of that big tree.
"Go back into the house and see if that bloody child has hidden
there!" he yelled at The Hag. Sludge had leapt to catch her as she fell
and they stumbled, Sludge slipping on the damp ground as he tried to
hold her up.
The sticky bit of eggshell glowed bright orange like the sun against
the dull, dark red of the red-brick path. Turnip didn't see it and
never knew that it was there. His boot crunched down and then slid
suddenly sideways. His arms flew out and Victoria's hands rose to her
mouth. She pressed her fingers hard against her lips and she leaned
sideways, willing him to fall with all her heart.
His arms were windmills and she saw with joy his gleaming boot slip
off the path and dive into that awful steaming pool.
The Hag and Sludge stood, frozen, aghast, their fingers pressed like
hers against their lips, eyes wide with horror as his enormous bulk
sent a thick brown wave across the pond to splash great gouts of gunge
against the truck's back wheels.
Victoria stood on tiptoe: he was gone. There was a delicious, still
moment that seemed to stretch for hours. And then something horrible
rose up up into the air. It was as though the shallow pond had come
alive and risen in a human shape. The Hag and Sludge cowered against
the henhouse wall as Turnip staggered to his feet. His mouth was wide
and red against the brown; his great paws slapped against his face and
tried in vain to drag the filth from off his eyes. He roared. His
tongue stuck out and in the morning sun Victoria clearly saw a drop of
sludge plop off his upper lip onto that fat raw slab of flesh.
Turnip spluttered, spat and pawed his eyes and staggered blindly to
the side. Neither of the two against the wall could bear to help.
Victoria grinned and brought her body straight again. She felt
against her leg the fur of foxes and their sharp scent rose. She was
glad she wasn't in the yard to smell the Turnip's stench as he
struggled in the pool.
He roared again: "I can't see! Get me out of here, you stupid cow!
I'll murder you as well!" He slumped against the edge of the pond and
his fingers scrabbled, trying in vain to drag his heavy bulk out of the
pond.
Sludge reached out his hand and closed his eyes as the Turnip's fat
fingers squelched against his own. He leaned back against the weight
and Turnip came up out of the pond with a terrible slurping sound.
And then the voice was there again, between Victoria's ears, warm
and urgent. "Come on! Let's go!" She saw the foxes move like silence
into the darkness of the wood, looked briefly back at three filthy
forms that staggered round the yard, and then she too was gone among
the trees.