Page 28 of The Lost Future of Pepperharrow

‘You think I’m a woman being worried about woman things,’ she said wryly. ‘I know Kuroda and Mori must look harmless to you from up there, but that isn’t what I’m talking about it all.’

‘Well,’ he said. He smiled a bit, annoyed with himself for having been rude before. ‘Thanks for the warning, then.’

She opened her hands to say she wasn’t going to push any more.

The blue light flickered again over Fuji. They both watched it for a while. The air felt stormy, but there was still no rain.

She called something to the other women. He didn’t catch it. A march of bright sleeves and sashes later, and snatches of conversation about the Russian fleet, they were all past him and he was alone on the narrow road.

Somewhere close by, little bells rang. He couldn’t tell where from. It must have been some kind of signal, because one of Kuroda’s guards hauled himself down from where he’d been perched on the fence about fifty yards away from Thaniel, and started to trudge towards what must have been the back gates of the grounds. He stabbed at the radio.

Still got him?

Pause. Thaniel listened, just idly.

Yes all well. Wish Suzuki had put him in something brighter though, red and black is bloody difficult to keep track of. Every second person’s tack is red and black.

Thaniel frowned, because he could have sworn Kuroda had been in green. It sounded like they were talking about Mori.

THIRTEEN

Between the stables and house was a long, pretty greenhouse. The glass roof traced two curves like a temple to match the old house, each pane fitted at odd contours to make the shape. Wanting to breathe warmer air for a minute, Thaniel let himself in. It faced what must have been the temple grounds at the far end, because it looked out onto a graveyard. On the way, some overladen pear trees made an archway over the little path. There was a bench at the end. He sat down carefully to give his lungs time to soak up the humidity and the green smell of water on leaves.

It all helped. Even after half a minute, breathing was easier. He stole a pear for later. Beside the bench was a beautiful glass terrarium, full of fat and happy caterpillars. A couple of them were already spinning their cocoons. It was mesmerising. He sat bent towards the glass, wondering how a caterpillar recognised its friends once it was a moth, or if you had to start again as a moth and reintroduce yourself.

To windward, the glass panes bumped. The weather had turned blustery. Dark clouds had gathered over the sea and the light was struggling through them. There was still no rain, not even in the distance, just more fog, rolling in from the north.

A child shrieked. It was a horrified primeval sound and he jerked upright in case it was Six. He followed the vivid white after-tone of it down the hill to the graveyard.

It wasn’t Six. It was the little garden boy. He had a scarf over his face, because he had been shovelling quicklime over a shallow grave. Just beside him was a crate full of dead birds. Crows, mainly.

‘What happened?’ Thaniel asked.

‘I saw a ghost!’ He sounded panicked.

Puzzled, Thaniel went to the grave to look in. There were a couple of crates’ worth of birds already there, half covered by the powdery lime. ‘Where …?’ He trailed off, because the boy had begun to cry. ‘What’s your name?’ he said, more softly.

‘Hotaru,’ the little boy managed. ‘Yoshida.’

Thaniel picked him up. He was probably older than he looked, but he was tiny and buttony, and he was so light he was easy to carry back towards the house. He suited his name; he was a little firefly of a person. ‘Where’s your mum, then?’ Thaniel said quietly.

‘At the salt, the salt works down the beach,’ the boy said, still sobbing in uneven gulps. ‘But Mr Suzuki won’t like me to go …’

‘Mr Suzuki will live with it,’ Thaniel said. ‘Come on, let’s find him.’

The boy was right; Suzuki didn’t want to let him go home.

‘For heaven’s sake, you can’t send staff home whenever they take some silly fancy—’

‘How old are you?’ Thaniel said to Hotaru.

‘Seven.’

‘He’s seven, Suzuki, I’m taking him to his mother. Unless you think he’d be more productive in a weeping heap behind the greenhouse.’

Suzuki sighed. ‘The salt burners are vulgar people, Mr Steepleton, superstition is only to be expected. The boy will grow out of it sooner if you don’t pander to it.’

Thaniel took the little boy down to the beach. They passed one of Kuroda’s bodyguards at the gate, looking out to sea, bored. The man didn’t even bother to nod. Above them, despite the grey weather, the lighthouse sat on its leaning rock, unlit. But there was a washing line with a white shirt pegged on it, fluttering.