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The twins immediately warmed to her, even though the attention she paid to the charm Grandma X had given Jaide made her feel momentarily uncomfortable, forcing her to lie about it, saying it was from her mother and that was all she knew.
But she was comforted that Zena dropped her enquiry immediately, seeing it made her uncomfortable. She was clearly much more perceptive than her husband. Or maybe just kinder.
Zena was different all round in fact. Where Martin McAndrew’s smile felt forced, Zena Lin’s was warm and natural. She was tall and he was almost short. Her hair was thick and styled; his was thin and carelessly parted over a slight bald spot. She seemed at least ten years younger. How they had ever got together, Jack couldn’t guess, unless perhaps it was The Evil at work again.
‘Are you sure it’s OK for both of us to stay over?’ asked Jaide.
‘Of course. We have more beds than we know what to do with. Martin’s always wanted a room for a gym, but of course he never exercises and didn’t have time to buy the equipment, so we’ve turned it into a playroom. You’ll be able to run amok all you want, as late as you want.’
‘Great,’ said Jack with heartfelt enthusiasm. Grandma X was always making them go to bed early, even earlier than their mother did.
A customer came into the shop. ‘Excuse me,’ said Zena. ‘Work beckons! You’d better not keep your father waiting too long. And don’t eat too many doughnuts – we’ve got roast chicken for dinner!’
Tara and the twins walked back to the car park where Tara’s father was leaning against a van, texting or emailing away, his fingers flying across his phone.
‘Your mother seems really nice,’ Jaide told Tara.
‘She’s all right,’ admitted Tara. ‘They’re both so busy. I barely ever see them.’
Jack hardly heard her. He was staring at the van. This was their first chance to see what lay beyond the MMM logo.
‘Sorry we’re late, Dad,’ said Tara before her father could say anything. ‘We went to see Mum.’
McAndrew didn’t look up. ‘Was she busy?’
‘Doing OK. Can we go?’
‘Yes. Hop in. I’ll only be a couple of seconds.’
Tara opened the side door and ushered them inside. Behind the rear seats, the van was full of promotional posters, flyers and stickers, all featuring MMM Holdings’ ominous slogan.
BUILDINGS TO LIVE IN.
McAndrew took more like five minutes to finish his email, but eventually the twins were on their way to Tara’s home. Their new friend chattered as they drove, pointing out landmarks as they flew by, but Jack and Jaide were more interested in the van itself. As casually as possible, they looked over every inch of its interior for any sign of The Evil, without really knowing what to look for. If there had been dead rats, moths or cockroaches, maybe that would have been a sign, but there was nothing like that at all.
The drive was short, just three corners and two short stretches of paved road from the station. Ahead of them they could see the roof of the mall that Tara’s father had helped build, and then, at the end of a winding driveway, a large white blocky house that looked as if it was made out of wedding-cake icing. The windows were narrow rectangles; the garden was as tidy as a supermodel’s hairdo. It looked ostentatious and modern – exactly the sort of thing Grandma X hated – but again there was nothing about it that said The Evil was involved.
Jaide felt her first real twinge of uncertainty. Maybe Grandma X had been right. Maybe Martin McAndrew was just a property developer with dubious morals, not a monster, and everything they had connected him to was some kind of misunderstanding.
That thought lasted only until they walked in the front door and a hideous creature leaped on Jaide, throwing her against the wall.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Scarborough Has Monsters Too
Jaide reacted instinctively, reaching for her Gift. A gust of wind rushed down the hallway, slamming doors in its wake, and the light above them went out. By then it was all she could do to stop herself being covered in drool.
‘Fi-Fi! Fi-Fi, stop!’ Tara cried, tugging at the collar of a very large and slightly shaggy grey-haired dog that weighed at least twice as much as she did. Jaide managed to get out from under its paws and stagger away.
‘This is Fi-Fi?’ gasped Jack. When Tara had said puppy, he had imagined something more like a Pekinese.
‘Yes, and she’s very naughty – aren’t you, you bad girl! Oh yes, you are. Yes, you are!’
Scolded, but also lovingly scratched between the ears for a moment, the dog turned round and ran up the hallway and back again with claws scrabbling madly on the floorboards. She skidded to a halt just inches before them, and Jaide realised that the wild light in the dog’s eyes was joy, not bloodlust.
‘She’s . . . big,’ Jaide observed.
‘Irish wolfhound,’ said Tara proudly. ‘Her full name is Feliciana Adelaide Waterford Champagne the Second. She’s a champion, but we got her cheap on the condition we don’t breed her.’
Jack reached out with a tentative hand to pat Fi-Fi’s head. It was easily as high as his. The dog leaned affectionately into him, almost pushing him over.
‘Come on through,’ said Tara, brushing past Fi-Fi in order to lead them down the hallway. ‘I’ll give you a tour.’
This was exactly what the twins wanted, and they paid close attention to everything Tara showed them. The house was L-shaped on a big plot, with numerous bedrooms and bathrooms, a shiny metallic kitchen opening on to a huge family area, a study and an entirely separate entertainment area. Jack’s eyes lit up at the sight of the giant television, Jaide’s at the swimming pool in the back garden.
‘How was the train?’ Tara asked them as she poured them soft drinks from the cavernous fridge. ‘I find it a bit lame, but better than waiting for Dad sometimes. Come and see my room. Mum’s set up a bed on the floor there for you, Jaide. Jack gets a whole room to himself.’
Tara’s bedroom seemed almost as big as a whole floor of Grandma X’s house. She had two different hand-held games consoles, a laptop, her own hair straightener, an MP3 player and a mobile phone. A doll’s house sat on a pedestal in one corner. Clothes lay scattered in drifts across the floor, corralling four or five footballs. There were two bookcases, each filled to the brim with movies, trinkets – such as the moth she had brought home from Portland, still in its jar – and of cours
e books, all of them well-thumbed. Jack scanned the spines: Tara owned a lot of novels about werewolves and vampires. He doubted any of the stories were remotely connected to real shapeshifters or the work of the Wardens.
A space had been cleared on the floor and a fold-out bed was ready for Jaide. She put her bag on it, only half-listening to Tara, and peered through the windows of the doll’s house. There was miniature furniture inside, and a miniature family, complete with miniature dog.
Tara showed Jack to the next room along, which was much smaller, containing only two single beds and another bookcase, this one filled with crime novels and spy thrillers.
‘They’re my mum’s,’ Tara said. ‘Dad doesn’t like reading. Now what would you like to do first? Go for a swim, check out the mall or watch a movie?’
The twins exhibited identical looks of indecision. It was too much to choose from. Visiting Tara was going to be work as well as fun after all.
In the end, they went to the mall, where they had another soft drink and an ice cream each, which they ate while checking out the shops. There were other kids doing the same, but the groups didn’t talk to each other much.
‘Out-of-towners,’ said Tara. ‘I mean, I’m new here myself, but they’re only in Scarborough for the day. They’ll be gone before nightfall, and won’t come back until next time the weather is nice. You must see them in Portland too.’
Jaide shook her head. ‘I think Portland is too small for tourists.’
‘And the locals are too weird,’ Jack added. ‘I think they scare visitors away.’
‘I think the people in Portland are interesting,’ said Tara. ‘Everything here is boring. I’ve seen it all before. Malls and shops . . . they’re all the same.’
‘But that’s what your dad does for a living,’ Jack pointed out.
‘And my mum too. We’d be broke without places like this, and out-of-towners to sell things to. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. I’d love to live in Portland, with you.’
