BooksBarbecue
Back The Trickster Save as PDF
Chapters (74)
  1. The Trickster
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Contents
  5. Preface to the 20th anniversary edition
  6. Introduction
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. Keep Reading
  70. FURNACE
  71. Acknowledgements
  72. About the Author
  73. ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
  74. About the Publisher

They stopped by the glass-cased model of the Corkscrew Tunnel and Margaret leaned forward to the big red button. ‘Okay, sweetheart. Do you want to press the button for Auntie Margaret and make the train go?’

Jess looked down at the model that without fail had always made her scream with delight, then looked silently and solemnly up at her mother. She opened her little mouth into a great big mouth and started to bawl.

Margaret made a mock face of friendly surprise and, holding Jess close, looked over the little girl’s shoulder at Katie. Her boss looked crumpled, defeated, old. Margaret hitched the wailing Jess higher in her arms and spoke in that kind, soft voice she used for children, this time for Katie.

‘Let me take her down to the office and give her some toasty fingers. You need some space.’

Katie didn’t respond, but watched gratefully as Margaret walked carefully down the stairs again with the screaming child and disappeared into the back room where she kept her cherished kettle and toaster.

Nothing was the same. Even Jess didn’t like the train any more. Katie was too tired for tears.

She knew Billy had gone after Sam, but where was Sam?

Katie crouched down beside the model and pushed the red button absent-mindedly. The tiny train started its shuddering journey over the spiralling track, in and out of the hollows cut in the papier-mâché mountain. There was the front of the train pushing its way out of the upper tunnel, and there was the end of the train looking like it was going the other way.

She thought of Billy and his dollars, that dumb game he and Sam played every minute they had, dogging off domestic chores to spend hours sitting by that railroad.

She would have given anything in the world at that point just to see the two of them again, stepping into the kitchen, ruddy-cheeked and guilty, those big shiny saucers in their hands like trophies. Anything. Just to have things the way they were.

The train came round one more time and stopped. Katie punched the button again, and watched it make the same journey in reverse, shaking up towards those ludicrously long tunnels that so fascinated her husband and son, and until today at least, her daughter.

The tunnels.

Long dark tunnels.

Tunnels that could shelter and hide someone.

By the time the model had completed its second journey of the day, and came to a halt at the top of the papier-mâché mountain, there was no one there to clap their hands in delight and press the button to make it do it again. Because there was no one there at all.

59