The Exiles

Grandma’s deathbed?’ said Rachel suspiciously.
    ‘Oh, all right.’
    Convinced by this awful oath, Rachel and Phoebe set off with the bucket, leaving Ruth and Naomi regarding Graham cautiously, wondering if he was impressed, what else he knew, and if he had any books that he might lend them.
    ‘How d’you know Big Grandma?’ asked Ruth at last. ‘Do you go up to the house ever?’
    ‘I go to help in the garden now and then. Why?’
    ‘Well, do you know anything about it?’
    ‘What she means is,’ Naomi put in, ‘is it haunted?’
    ‘Might be,’ replied Graham. ‘Lots of places round here are.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘Churchyard.’
    ‘Is that haunted?’
    ‘Bound to be,’ said Graham, who hated conversations like this. ‘All those corpses! Bound to be … Is that what you told them to do?’ he added, looking towards Rachel and Phoebe on the water’s edge, and then getting hastily to his feet as he saw them hurl the last of the knives in the bucket and set back to rejoin the party.
    ‘Yes,’ said Naomi complacently, ‘told you we could manage them.’
    ‘You got a lot of work to put in yet,’ commented Graham. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to be off. Tell your gran I’ll be coming up to your place with the eggs tomorrow.’
    ‘Bother,’ said Ruth looking after him as he hurried away, ‘I wanted to ask if he’d lend us some books. Look at him! Almost running! It’s Phoebe’s fault! I know Rachel’s pretty awful too …’
    ‘I’m not!’ said Rachel, overhearing this last remark.
    ‘But Phoebe’s awful on purpose!’
    ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ asked Phoebe cheerfully.

    Ruth had a brilliant idea when it came to packing up to go home.
    ‘We’re bound to want this stuff again,’ she pointed out. ‘We’ll leave it here. We can’t keep carrying it up and down with us.’
    ‘Somebody will steal it or it will wash away,’ said Naomi.
    ‘Not if we bury it!’
    ‘Big Grandma will kill you,’ remarked Rachel, but was overruled by the majority. Using the knives and the frying pan they dug a deep hole under the rocky bank that Graham had slid down to save their lives. The knives and smaller things went into the bucket, and they left the saucepan handle sticking out to mark the spot when they came to dig them up again.
    ‘Better bring back Big Grandma’s knapsack,’ said Naomi. ‘She’ll go mad if we bury it.’
    ‘She’ll go mad anyway,’ said Rachel with prophetic gloom.

    It did not take long for Big Grandma to spot the empty rucksack and make her attack.
    ‘What have you done with everything?’ she demanded.
    ‘They buried it,’ said Rachel, who wanted no part in the matter.
    ‘Half wits!’ stormed Big Grandma. ‘Go back and dig it up again!’
    ‘We’re fed up of you calling us names,’ said Naomi resentfully. ‘You told everyone in the village we weren’t fit to be let out!’
    ‘Well, you’re not,’ snapped Big Grandma. ‘Look at you! Buried it! I’ve a good mind to make you go back and fetch everything right now! I would do if it wasn’t teatime. I don’t suppose you’ve had anything to eat all day. Did you bury the food as well?’
    ‘We ate it,’ said Rachel. ‘Me and Phoebe cooked it and it was lovely. We’ll cook some for you tomorrow if you like.’ She yawned. ‘Perhaps.’
    ‘Did you have the sense to mark the place?’ asked Big Grandma.
    ‘Yes,’ answered everyone, thinking of the saucepan handle sticking up out of the sand.
    ‘Well,’ said Big Grandma, dropping poached eggs onto slices of toast so hard that they burst on impact, ‘well, it had better be there in the morning. Or else.’
    ‘Or else what?’ asked Phoebe.
    ‘Or else you’ll be sorry,’ said Big Grandma.

Chapter Eight
    Postcards arrived for the girls the next morning, one each (to avoid quarrels), but all sent in the same brown envelope, so as not to waste stamps. Mrs Conroy wrote to Rachel:

    Rachel Darling,
    Thank you for your nice letter. You KNOW you change your clothes every day, don’t you, except for jumpers and big things. And pyjamas every three or four days perhaps. And take the grubby ones down for Grandma to wash. Yes, we do miss you, very much!
    Lots of love, Mummy and Daddy

    and she wrote:

    Hello Phoebe!
    You will have to get someone to help you read this. Thank you for your letter. We wondered what the picture was, but your writing is getting nice and neat. Hope you are being VERY GOOD! Of course you are! Ask Rachel to show you her postcard.
    Bye