Losing the Plot (10 page)

Listening to Brice has this numbing effect on your brain. After a while you want to give up, the way people fall asleep in the snow.

“You know what’s tragic?” he said. “Chance can’t believe Nick would hurt him. That’s his fatal flaw.” He shook with silent laughter.

On the other side of the room, Chance and Nick were coming to the end of their talk.

“Funny,” Brice mused. “Chance would be dead if it wasn’t for you. And by the time this is over, he’ll wish he was.”

“Why are you doing this?” I said angrily “If he’s such a nobody, why go to all this trouble to destroy him?”

His eyes glittered. “Sweetheart, you’ll never know!”

And his mocking laughter followed us out into the night. I knew I should be thankful I was still in one piece. Brice could have finished me, if he’d wanted to. He appeared to be saving that treat for later. As if Chance and I were both such sad little pawns that he could do what he liked with us.

Eek!
I suddenly realised that I hadn’t been listening to Nick and Chance “discussing business”! I’d been too busy listening to that toe rag, Brice. What was going to happen now?

A fine guardian angel you’re turning out to be, Mel Beeby
, I thought glumly.

I followed Chance down dark smelly side streets, until we reached the river. He must be off on some evil little mission for Nick, I realised with a lurch of my stomach.

“The palace, Greenwich,” he told a passing ferryman, who took him on board.

The palace! This was getting fishier by the minute!

It was pitch black out on the river, except for glints and flashes where the ripples caught the moonlight, and the orangey flicker of the boatman’s torch.

Sometimes a ferryboat slid past like a ghost. Most carried only one passenger, shadowy shapes in cloaks. I found myself shivering, and wondered if these were the evil conspirators Brice was talking about.

When we reached the other side, Chance gave the ferryman some coins. “Wait for me, and you’ll have the rest when I return,” he promised.

As soon as we left the river, he went zooming off into the undergrowth, making his way through the trees until we came out in some kind of park. Finally, we arrived at the rear of a huge building, which I assumed was the royal palace. Like everything else, it was in total darkness.

Chance tapped softly at a side-door. It opened slightly and he handed a crackly roll of parchment to whoever was on the other side. I saw a green silk-gloved hand give him another in exchange. The instant the door closed, Chance went racing back through the park. His thoughts jumped out at me. So much money for so little work! I’ll just take this to Don Rodriguez and I’ll get my first payment!”

As we sped back across the Thames in the dark, I could feel Chance smiling beside me. It made me want to cry.

“Wake up!” I whispered. “I don’t know why Brice has it in for you, but you’ve got to be ready for him, Chance. You’ve got to fight back!”

The next few days were the most stressful of my angel career.

Chance was leading a double life, and unfortunately I had to lead it with him. Lola and I mostly had to catch up via Angel Link.

“So when am I going to see you?” she said in despair one afternoon, her voice bouncing back at me like a bad mobile connection.

“I wish I knew.” I was talking from the playhouse. Two actors in holey tights were leaping on and off boxes, practising sword fighting skills.

“I’m not saying Chance has like, criminal tendencies,” Lola was saying. “But I do think he gets a buzz out of this cloak-and-dagger stuff.”

I felt completely despairing. “Lollie, I don’t think I’m the right person to help him. Maybe we should swap.”

Lola’s voice crackled over the Link. “You’re doing fine. Oops, gotta go!” And she’d gone.

“I am SO not doing fine, Lollie,” I whispered miserably.

The trap was closing in. I knew it.

I sensed it as Chance went snaking between the trees in the dark. I knew it from the way I leapt out of my skin at the slightest twig crack. Details jumped out at me, like clues in a thriller. I didn’t know what they meant, but I passed them on to Chance just the same.

“Don’t you think it’s suspicious, how they always wear the same gloves?” I told Chance one night. “It might be just the one glove, actually. You only see one hand after all. Don Rodriguez’s is wine-coloured.

Though you’d think a Spanish nobleman could afford nicer leather. Hers is icky green silk. In my century we associate that colour with poison, hint hint.”

The brainwashing was Lola’s idea. “It’s the dripping tap technique,” she explained during one of our chats. “Repeat the same thing over and over and it’s got to get through eventually.”

So I badgered Chance non-stop. “How come such a noble lady only owns one pair of gloves? Come on, Cupid, how likely is that? She’s probably just a maid. I bet Nick and Brice are paying her to pose as a lady in waiting. If you ask me, this lovesick lady thing is pure fiction.”

By this time, we were at the house with the grand gates where Don Rodriguez lived.

“Chance, would you please stop being Robin Hood for one
minute
and check out the gloves!” I pestered. “Because if the Don is wearing cheap wine-coloured leather tonight, I think you should open that letter and see what’s inside. Wake up and open your eyes, Chance. Open your eyes!”

I can’t say for sure that Lola’s technique worked. I can only tell you what happened.

At first it was business as usual. Chance went through a little side-gate, and tapped at a leaded window. I hated that window. It always stuck. And tonight it seemed to grate open with an especially edgy sound. As usual, a leather-gloved hand appeared.

And suddenly Chance’s expression changed. He looked,
really
looked at the glove, as if he was seeing it in huge cinematic close-up.

Then he and Don Rodriguez exchanged crackly letters in the usual way, and Chance set off through the dark. I heard him muttering. “Those gloves. Always the same colour and the leather is such poor quality…”

“Oh, finally!” I cheered.

But once again Chance was arguing with himself. “I ferry their letters from one side of the river to the other, and I have no idea what is in them. But Nick would never betray me. Would he?”

A solitary linkman passed by. London streets were dangerous after dark, so people hired linkmen, big tough blokes with lamps, to make sure they got home safely. Chance called out, “May I borrow your lamp?” followed by the usual chink of coins. “Could you hold it up?” he asked. “I have to read this important letter.”

The linkman grinned. “A love letter, no doubt.”

Chance broke the seal on the parchment and scanned the letter frantically. “It can’t be true,” he whispered.

The linkman looked sympathetic. “Given you the cold shoulder, has she? Oh, steady now, young sir, steady, lean on me!”

But I’d snooped over Chance’s shoulder. And I knew the message in this letter was far deadlier than some teenage brush-off.

When Chance and I finally reached the Feathers, it was almost dawn. He stood throwing stones up at Cat’s window for ages, but I think she must have been in a really deep sleep. In the end I called Lola up on the Link and told her to wake Cat up. Finally Cat appeared at the door, dazed and blinking in her nightshift, a stump of candle flickering in her hand.

“They have betrayed me!” Chance gasped. “This letter says I am involved in a Spanish plot to kill the queen!”

Lola peeped out from behind Cat. “Mel, what’s going on?”

“The dripping tap,” I said feebly. “I think it worked.” Lola threw her arms around me and we gave each other a big hug.

A burly, weatherbeaten man joined us in the doorway.

His beard had sprouted a few more grey hairs since I last saw him. Otherwise Cat’s dad looked exactly the same, even down to the pearl earring.

He gave Chance a shrewd and very thorough looking-over.

“Catherine,” he said. “This boy needs a shot of rum.”

I don’t condone piracy obviously, but there are definite advantages to having a pirate in the family. Assuming they’re on your side, that is, and once Cat’s dad had heard Chance’s story, he was
totally
on his side. Plus he came up with some v. colourful suggestions for getting Nick back, mostly involving gizzards and slitting of various kinds.

In a funny way, I think it helped Chance come to terms with what had just happened. It showed him that even though his best friend had betrayed him, there were people who really cared about him.

Though his eyes were still shocked, they weren’t vague or foggy. Actually, I got the definite sense that old foggy Chance had gone for good.

And all at once he said in a totally steady voice, “Cat, could you fetch me some paper and ink? I’m going to write a letter.”

Chapter Ten

T
his is the most long-winded, luke-warm, lily-livered revenge in the entire history of revenges!” Cat’s father fumed. “You’ve been sitting at that table for hours, like a mouse scratching at a wainscot.”

“Hush,” said Cat. “Or he’ll smudge the ink and have to start again.”

Lola and I edged forward invisibly to get a better look. That boy was constantly surprising us. Who knew he’d turn out to have a talent for forgery!

“Why not just run the booby through with a cutlass and have done?” Cat’s dad sighed.

Chance sounded exhausted. “Because I want him to have a taste of his own medicine. And because I am sick and tired of being Nick Ducket’s fool.”

Cat’s dad shook his head. “You think too much, boy, that’s your trouble. Forget this treacherous knave. Go to sea, get some salt air into your lungs. That’s a real life for a man.”

Chance looked startled. “I’d never considered going to sea.”

“You should,” said the pirate. “It’s a golden time for English seamen. And if you should happen to sink a Spanish galleon or two, you could make yourself filthy rich, and become the master of your own ship like me.” And then he dropped a total bombshell. “Cat’s coming with me this time, aren’t you?” He smiled fondly at his daughter.

Chance blinked. “I - I didn’t know.”

“I’m only thinking about it,” Cat said. “I haven’t decided.”

“She has decided,” her dad said calmly. “I know my daughter and the sea is in her blood. Who knows, you might take to it too. You make a handsome couple, to my mind,” he added slyly.

Chance had finished forging his letter. Now he held the original in the candle flame, watching its edges slowly blacken and crumble. His eyes grew dreamy.

“Maybe I could do it,” he murmured. “Maybe I could leave England and start a new life.”

His face hardened. “I can’t think about that now. I have a letter to deliver to Greenwich. But this time I’ll do it in broad daylight.”

“I’m coming with you,” said Cat at once.

He shook his head. “No, I’ve got to go alone.”

Lola smiled mischievously at me and hummed a bar of Reuben’s little tune. I knew what she was saying.
You’re not alone, Chance. Not now. Not ever.

Chance had explained his plan to Cat and her pirate dad, which of course meant that me and Lola were also in the know. It was simple but stunningly brilliant.

The old letter named Chance as a conspirator. The new letter, also signed by “Don Rodriguez”, named Nick instead, stating that Chance was an innocent pawn who had no idea what he’d got himself into.

He was still taking a terrible risk. Chance might not be believed, which meant he’d be arrested for conspiracy and probably hung, drawn and quartered. Like Michael said, the Tudors were into revenge in a big way. Merely
hanging
criminals was far too tame for them. They preferred to split their wrong-doers down the middle and expose their internal organs as well.

Chance looked so scared as the ferryman rowed us upriver to Greenwich, I truly thought he might be sick. I didn’t feel too good myself.

At least this time we didn’t have snake through the trees like commandos. Chance walked right up to the palace guards, where he stood peering anxiously from face to face, as if he didn’t know which one of these poker-faced heavies to address. He really was a brilliant actor.

“Excuse me, sirs,” he said in a timid little voice. “Don Rodriguez gave me a purse of gold to deliver this letter to a lady at the queen’s court. At first I wanted his gold, but now I’m scared I might be doing wrong. What if he’s plotting to harm our Royal Grace? Should we open the letter, do you think?”

As it turned out, this was the easiest part.

The hardest part was when they made Chance take them to Nick’s lodgings, then having to watch as they marched his ex-best friend away to the Tower, and hearing their boots tramp away over the cobbles. “I fear your recklessness will kill you,” Cat had told him. And she was right. I’ll never forget Nick’s face when he realised Chance had succeeded in turning the tables. His chin quivered like a little kid.

“I thought you were my friend,” he said. “And all the time you hated me.”

Chance’s voice shook with emotion. “I never hated you. But when I was with you, I sometimes hated myself.”