The Serpent Dancer Chronicles

Chapter 2 - in which Anna discovers what's really going on

School’s OK. I mean, it’s not brilliant, but it’s school, right? I hated my last school, but I think everyone there hated me more. There were good parts – it was in the middle of the countryside, which meant I could get out and breathe a bit. The school also had horses, which I loved. I wasn’t quite sure why a school would have horses, but one of the teachers was in charge of them, and we could go and help, and ride sometimes. That was good.

But apart from the horses, it was just a school. Me and schools, we don’t generally see eye to eye. It wasn’t as if I ever do anything really bad, but I can’t seem to stop myself from getting into trouble. Some of the other kids were much worse than me, they were into all sorts of stuff. But for some reason, when there was trouble to be had, I always seemed to find myself somewhere near the centre of it. My friend Stacy said that it was because I was too thick to know when to get out. She might well have been right.

Ultimately though, I just didn't want to be there, and I think they knew that. By the end, I don’t think they wanted me to be there either.

From time to time I would be called in front of the teachers, that was normal. Then it was the head of year, and then the headmaster. Twice. Then they got my carers involved. But none of it made any difference: what nobody seemed to understand was that I was just me, being me.

They gave me punishments, and then they started taking away my privileges. Eventually they stopped me going to see the horses, when I just did one wrong thing too many. And when I tried to sneak in, they banned me from going outside at all.

So I ran away. It felt like the most normal thing in the world to do. I’d already been trying to avoid school however I could – skiving particular lessons, or ‘accidentally’ missing the bus and hanging around in town. When my foster couple, Sheila and Rob caught me at it, they started to take away things like TV and computer time as well.

I headed for the station one morning, bought a ticket and got onto the next train to London. I had absolutely no idea what I was going to do when I got there, but as it turned out, it didn’t matter as the police were already on the platform when I arrived. Apparently someone at the station had thought it strange that someone in local school uniform was getting on a ‘commuter train’.

I felt really stupid when I heard that, pretty obvious really.

That’s when they all said something like, "We can't do this anymore." Not the school, not my carers, not anybody. So, I moved. A fresh start they called it, new beginnings and that. I was pretty sad to leave my friends behind, but these days with the Internet and everything, I thought I wouldn't miss them. I didn’t, but not for that reason – as it happened, nobody seemed that bothered that I’d gone.

Everyone's ok at the new school, but after the initial flurry of attention I can't say anyone is a BBFL – best friend for life. Perhaps that will come, but I’m not too worried. The only thing I really miss is the horses.

So here I am. That's why I didn't have anything to do last weekend, which was why I ended up going down the garden centre with Tamsin. Get it?

---+++---

Saturday came, eventually. I’d managed to get through the whole week without getting into trouble - there was no way I was going to mess up my first day at work. I had to get there pretty early, half past seven they said. Normally I wouldn’t surface before ten or eleven, and then I would generally hang around in my dressing gown until I actually had to do something. But I was up at six, mainly because I had woken even earlier, and I couldn’t get back to sleep.

I even caught Tamsin on the hop. There she was, all ready to do her I’m-not-nagging-but-I-just-thought-I’d-better-say routine, but I was already getting my things together.

“Have you had some breakfast?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“But something filling? You know how important…”

“Big bowl of cereal and two pieces of toast. Mmmm.”

“Well, don’t forget to clean your teeth.”

“Done.”

“Oh. You’d better wear something warm…”

“I’ve got an extra t-shirt on underneath.”

“Oh.”

Tamsin was obviously, determinedly trying not to be patronising by saying “well done” or anything, so she just went quiet instead. Eventually she asked me, “Would you like a lift? Not that you’ll need one.”

“Yes please,” I said, feeling relieved. I hadn’t wanted to ask.

I hadn’t a clue what I’d be doing once I got there – would they want me to stack shelves, or man the tills, or put plants in pots, or whatever else people do at garden centres? I had no idea, and I felt slightly silly that I hadn’t actually asked. I was obviously needed for something, but I wasn’t sure it was going to be anything quite so mundane as actually doing work. I mean, they couldn’t have been waiting just for me, as Mr Van Heugens said, so I could stack shelves? That didn’t make any sense.

Just after seven o’clock, we set off in Tamsin’s shabby Volkswagen. I knew we’d be far too early, I’d probably be hanging around outside for a while. But I was getting agitated, and Tamsin was getting agitated watching me.

The journey only took about five minutes, so it wasn’t even ten past the hour when we arrived. I needn’t have worried about having to wait, however. The gate was open, and the sails of the windmill were already turning. Tamsin dropped me off and drove away quickly, as if she thought I might change my mind. No chance, I thought, heading towards the automatic doors.

To my surprise three people were already standing there, like they had been expecting me. There was Mr Van Heugens, the kindly-faced Janet and a tall, scary looking man I hadn’t seen before, standing in overalls. One of his eyes was milky white and it seemed that he had to stare extra hard with the other one. He also had very, very big hands, which looked like they could crush tin cans.

“No time to lose, Anna, no time to lose,” said Mr Van Heugens hurriedly. “Bernard, if you could take Anna to the preparation room, and I shall meet you there.” And with that he was gone, leaving just me, Janet and scary Bernard. If anyone thought I was going to go off with him, they had another thing coming.

“You don’t need to worry,” said Janet, reading my mind. Bernard may be big, but he’s ever so gentle, aren’t you Bernard?

“I am that, Mrs Shilling,” he said. “I am that.”

You know what I said about always being at the centre of trouble? The thought passed through my head as I weighed up the options, realised that I would be mad to go with these people, and almost immediately chose to get on with it.

“Come on then,” I said, taking the initiative. Bernard looked at me, then at Janet, pulling his face back like he had bitten on a peppercorn. Whoops, I thought. I didn’t quite know what I had done. You know that feeling when you think someone’s making a decision about you, but you don’t know what they’re deciding? Well, that’s exactly how I felt.

“Right,” said Bernard, a bit nervously. “I suppose we’d best get on.”

The big man moved very smoothly given that he did look, to all accounts, like a lumbering oaf. How unfair is that – but he did, to me, the first time I saw him! I followed him out of the garden centre, and round into the greenhouses. I suppose I should say I was surprised when we turned up at the little brick building, but a little bit of me was expecting it. You could call it intuition, or maybe it was just what I was hoping to happen. Either way, there we were.

Bernard pushed open the door and waved at me to enter, before shutting it behind me. Okay, I thought, this is where he gets the axe out and chops me into bits, if he’s going to. Well, he didn’t: instead, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a big key on a chain. In front of us was the blue door, and feeling how warm it was again, I gasped involuntarily. I don’t think he noticed: he had his back to me already, turning the key in the lock.

As the door swung inwards, Bernard reached past me and flicked on an old brass light switch. In fact, it all felt very old – the door, the stairs, the single, glowing bulb half way down, the musty, warm draft coming up from below.

“Does this go down to the boilers?” I asked.

“Something like that,” he said, smiling. How could it be something like boilers? I must have looked puzzled. I knew there was something I was missing, and I didn’t like that much. What if he was an axe murderer after all? I was pretty stuck. Perhaps I could run, like I did last time? I knew I shouldn’t worry – Tamsin had been through all the background checks and the authorities gave the place a ‘clean bill of health’, so she told me – but I couldn’t help feeling apprehensive.

“Down you go then,” he said after a moment.

Instinctively, I glanced back at the main door, which looked a long way away.

“Don’t worry,” said Bernard. “You’ll not get hurt, as long as you keep your hands to yourself.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn’t sound like the sort of thing an axe murderer would say. In my pocket, for a little comfort at least, I put my hand on my mobile.

“Not going to get much of a signal down here,” said Bernard. I have no idea how he knew. Common sense, I suppose.

“You need to go. Mr Van‘Eugens is waiting for you.”

In for a penny, I thought to myself as I took a deep breath and headed down the steps.

We descended into a big, wide cellar room, empty apart from a wooden bench in the middle. On the wall were hanging a number of big brown leather coats, thick leather gloves tied together in pairs, and a row of gas masks that looked like they’d been there since the end of the war. Not a torture chamber, at least. Bernard started putting on a coat and signalled at me to do the same.

At the other side of the room from where we came in was a big, black, metal door. Everything seemed to be about doors, a whole series of doors that was separating me from whatever it was I was going to find out. “Are we going through there?” I asked.

Bernard just nodded and passed me some gloves. He then chose a gas mask for me and handed it over, though as he didn’t put his on, I didn’t put mine on either. It was very warm down here, no doubt because of the boilers, which I was pretty sure must be in the next room. Suddenly I had another thought – was I going to be spending my Saturdays shovelling coal?

“Let’s go.” Bernard was smiling again.

I stuffed the gloves into the pockets and we went through the large doors. Sure enough, there were the boilers – enormous black cylinders, all in a row. The strange thing was, they were very quiet.

“I always thought boilers made a big noise,” I said to Bernard.

“These haven’t been switched on for thirty years,” he said, smiling more broadly.

Ooooh, I thought, he was really annoying me now!

I was getting very warm. The big coat didn’t help, but it wasn’t just that – things were definitely getting hotter. At the end of the row was another big metal door, the edge of which was glowing. Perhaps there would be more boilers, this time switched on.

“In you go then,” said Bernard.

I lifted the latch, and pulled the door open.

---+++---

The heat in the room was astonishing. Almost immediately I could barely breathe, and my eyes were stinging like I’d stuck my head in a bucket of swimming pool chlorine. I would have fallen over if Bernard hadn’t grabbed my arm and steadied me.

“Think you should put your gas mask on,” he said, in a muffled voice. I looked round as best I could and, through the blurry brightness, could just about make out that he had his on already. I lifted my mask to my face and struggled with the straps before Bernard came to the rescue. Even once it was on, I still couldn’t see – but at least I could breathe.

Someone, whose outline looked vaguely like Mr Van Heugens’, was looming in front of me.

“Ah, there you are,” said the Mr Van Heugens shape. I think it was smiling, but I could barely make out his head, never mind his face. “Do sit yourself down. We have a lot to cover.”

Bernard led me to a bench, where I sat down gratefully.

“Now,” said the shape – though it was starting to look a bit more like Mr Van Heugens now – “You may wonder what on earth this is about. All is not quite what it seems.”

I was sort of listening, but I was also sort of wondering whether I would ever get my sight back. I did try to push my hand under the mask to rub one eye, but that only made things worse. It wasn’t just the heat – there was a heavy smell in the air, really strong, like something rotten. But I couldn’t work out what it was.

“These chambers have been here for a very long time, longer than the greenhouses in fact. As have I, and indeed Bernard.”

I glanced around and found I could see Bernard more clearly. The gas mask wasn’t helping: I had to make sure I didn’t breathe through my nose otherwise the lenses just steamed up again. Mr Van Heugens was wearing a pair of goggles but had nothing over his mouth. Very odd, I thought.

It was only then that I looked past him and saw the rows and rows of tables beyond. This chamber, as he called it, stretched as far as I could see. Each tables was covered with trays, each holding a number of pots, each of which… I chuckled. “They look like giant eggs!”

Mr Van Heugens looked at me calmly. “Anna, as you can see as you look around you, it’s not just plants we’re growing.”

I stood up and walked over to the table nearest to me. They did look like giant eggs, in fact, almost exactly like the sort of egg you’d get for Easter. Only these ones weren’t made of chocolate, they were sort of scaly and just a bit scabby.

“What are they?” I asked.

“I think you know the answer to that, don’t you, Anna?” said the old man, chuckling gently to himself.

I looked at him with my best you’re-not-going-to-fool-me-with-all-this-nonsense look, but he just looked back at me, eyebrows raised, as if he was still expecting an answer.

“Umm… eggs?” I said. “But what are they from?”

“Dragons.” said Mr Van Heugens.

Personally I blame the heat, which must have finally got to me. Whatever was the cause, I passed out.

---+++---

When I woke, I found myself lying on a sofa, surrounded by cushions. My eyes were still sore but I recognised the cluttered manager’s office from the week before. Slowly I shifted my feet and sat up, feeling strangely awake. I’d had enough of not knowing what was going on, that was for sure.

It took me a while to realise that Mr Van Heugens was in the room with me, but from where I was sitting, he was almost completely hidden by the desk. I coughed.

“Ah, there you are,” he said.

I took a deep breath, and with it I felt a whole new set of emotions start to rise up my throat. I was done with the confusion, that was for sure – but equally, I was done with resentment. Whatever I had seen down there had been very old, and it appeared, very important. This was no time to start complaining, but I did want some answers. My eyes narrowing, I looked straight at the garden centre manager, if that was indeed what he was.

“I realise this might all be a bit of a surprise to you, Anna, so please bear with me,” he said. “It’s not going to be what you want to hear but can’t tell you everything, not just yet. Perhaps I thought you were more ready than you are, and we can’t afford to take any more risks.”

I frowned, but kept my mouth shut.

“I do need to ask one favour of you. You must not tell anybody about what you have seen. Is that okay?”

“I suppose so,” I said.

“You have to be sure,” he said, a bit testily I thought.

“Yes, okay! Of course I won’t.”

“Good. Then we shall see you back here next Saturday then. There’s still plenty to do, plenty to do. Off you go.”

While I had a thousand questions to ask, I was pretty sure from his tone that I wasn’t going to get any joy out of him, not this week. I glanced at my watch and found five hours had passed, and I quickly worked out I had been asleep for most of them. Tamsin would be wondering what had happened to me and I didn’t want any more complications. So off I did go, and quickly.