Is Read online

  Then I started worrying about my chances of getting down from the hay loft in the morning – of ever getting down from it again in fact. The cows certainly showed no intention of moving. They just carried on munching and mooing and plopping and splashing. It was really more than I could bear.

  Those next few hours were sheer hell. I couldn’t do anything but lie there. I couldn’t sleep. There was nothing I could do. I finished the last of my Swiss roll and waited. Then I wanted to go to the toilet myself. That was the worst thing of all. I couldn’t do it here and there was no way I was going to push past those cows in the dark. I just hung on. It was torture.

  But then, just when I was feeling I would burst, the cows suddenly moved away. With mournful moos they upped and went, without any warning. I could hear them trampling through the mud somewhere over the other side of the farm. It was such a relief.

  I might have been relieved in one way, but not in the other. I scrambled down the bales as fast as I could and found a hidden corner behind the barn.

  I looked at my watch again.

  Five past six. Time to get to the tunnel.

  12

  Towards the Light

  I shivered slightly in the early morning chill as I made my way up the lane back to the main road. When I got to the bridge I looked over and could see the vague shape of the tunnel mouth a few hundred yards in the distance.

  The sky was an odd pale-grey colour and the trees showed as shadows against it. It was a strange sensation being up that time in the morning. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been up this early.

  There was no sign of Is, but then I couldn’t have expected to see her in that early morning light even if she had been there. I decided to go right down to the railway tracks themselves even though I knew that was against the law and very dangerous.

  I crossed the road and got to a gate. It was locked with a big padlock on it and barbed wire on the top. The fence on either side of the gate was also barbed wire, but on one side the middle wire had sagged, leaving a gap large enough to scramble through.

  I was very nearly clear before I managed to snag my coat. There was a horrible ripping noise and I could just imagine what Mum was going to say when she saw what I’d done.

  On the other side of the fence there were some steps which led down to a ramp underneath the road bridge.

  The sky was lightening by the minute and was now a very very pale bluish colour. The tunnel was more distinct and I could see the grass banks on either side, and the shapes of other trees in the distance. Birds were singing now, welcoming the dawn.

  Carefully I went down the last few steps, right down to the side of the track itself.

  Is wasn’t here at all, that much was clear. I had been wrong. It was nearly dawn proper by now. I didn’t feel quite so cold by this time; I’d probably adjusted to the shock of being up so early.

  It was very strange, watching the tunnel mouth become lighter and lighter as the day began. I think I’d expected dawn to happen all of a sudden somehow but here it was, just creeping up on me. There was no sign of the sun either. Is’s story about the tunnel was obviously just a myth. It had to be.

  But where was she? Where on earth could she be? I had felt so sure that this was where she’d have come. After all, it was Brunel’s birthday.

  I stood still and listened for the slightest movement. Nothing. Only the chirping of birds and a light breeze blowing in the trees.

  Every now and then a car went over the bridge I was standing underneath, someone on the way to work probably. I felt such a fool. I’d left home without telling my parents where I was going and by now they’d be as worried about me as everyone had been about Isabel.

  I’d hitched all the way down here to stand in the cold, staring at a tunnel in the middle of the countryside for no reason at all. Now I was going to have to try to get lifts all the way back home again and face my parents’ anger. All for nothing.

  It was really quite light now. I could see the hillside on the other side of the tracks clearly, and even the fence that ran along the top. I hadn’t noticed that before. The tunnel mouth itself has a sort of balustrade along the top too: really quite ornate.

  I decided to walk right up to the tunnel to make quite sure that Is wasn’t around somewhere, hidden in the shadows behind a bush or tree.

  Surprisingly, there was really very little room between the tracks themselves and the steep banks which rose up on either side. I was careful to stay as far away from the rails as I possibly could.

  I crept towards the tunnel mouth, looking around me as I went. No, nothing. It was practically dawn. The sky was really very light and even though I couldn’t see the sun there was certainly no sign of anything unusual coming through the tunnel.

  I felt thoroughly miserable. I had had it with Is. I kicked a piece of ballast and went to turn round, to make my way home.

  And, just as I did, a tiny speck of light appeared down in the depths of the tunnel, in the blackness.

  I stared, amazed, as first one beam then another joined it and grew in size. There was now what looked like a small pinpoint of light suspended way, way in the distance.

  It was a small, cold, yellowy light at first. But in no time at all, it grew more and more intense.

  It was happening, it really was happening! Just as Is said it would!

  The sun was rising through the great tunnel at Box!

  There were now shafts of brilliant white light and in them I caught sight of something else. A black speck, as if I’d held up my thumb to the light. I couldn’t make it out.

  The speck moved. And it dawned on me what it was. It was Is, standing with her back to me, there in the middle of the tracks, some way down inside the tunnel.

  I couldn’t believe it. What was she doing? She was mad.

  ‘Is! Is!’ I yelled.

  I could see her clearly outlined now as the sun burst through the tunnel.

  ‘Is!’ I screamed. ‘Come back out here. What on earth are you doing in there? You’ll be killed!’

  She turned to look at me, and her face seemed pale and completely expressionless. It was as if she hadn’t seen me at all. There was no recognition in her face. She had simply turned in the direction of my voice.

  Is didn’t say a word and then, unbelievably, she started walking away from me.

  I hadn’t seen a train all the time I’d been here, but there was bound to be one soon. This was complete, absolute madness.

  ‘Is! Come back!’ I yelled again, screaming at her. ‘Is! Is!’

  She walked away slowly into the tunnel, towards the light, towards the sun.

  There was only one thing for it: I tore into the tunnel. Part way towards her I tripped on a sleeper and fell headfirst on to the track.

  I looked up and she was still just walking slowly away as if she hadn’t even noticed.

  I got up and rushed after her again.

  ‘For God’s sake, Is! Come back!’ My voice was choking and there was a stinging in my eyes. I knew I was about to start crying so I bit my lip. I felt terrified. It was only blind panic that pushed me on.

  Is continued to ignore me as I pounded along the track.

  Just as I reached her the sun disappeared. It had gone above the tunnel mouth at the other end to rise into the sky.

  Inside the tunnel it was black again. But I was close enough to make her out.

  Catching hold of her sleeve, I spun her around. ‘Go away, leave me alone!’ she cried.

  ‘Is, come out of here! You’ll be killed, we’ll both be killed!’

  She threw her head back defiantly. ‘I don’t care. I don’t care.’

  ‘You – are – coming – with – me,’ I said, trying hard to control my anger at her stupid behaviour. For such a small girl she was surprisingly strong.

  I had to drag her back along the tunnel by the arm.

  I pulled her towards the pale outline shape of the tunnel mouth we had come from.

  ‘Come on, you�
��re coming with me,’ I said firmly. After a while she resisted less and less. But when we were nearly back to the tunnel mouth, she turned around again.

  ‘Oh, look!’ she said in a far off sort of voice. ‘The sun. It’s come back!’

  I turned to see what on earth she meant. There was a light, getting bigger again but not in the same way the sun had.

  ‘It’s a train!’ I yelled. ‘It’s the light on the front of a train! It’s the headlight. For God’s sake, run!’

  I pulled, dragged Is towards the safety of the circle of daylight in front of us.

  This time, as we emerged from the tunnel, it was Is who tripped. She fell headlong right in the middle of the tracks.

  I pulled her to her feet, her knee was bleeding but we managed to hobble over the tracks and threw ourselves on to the grass bank.

  A second later, with a tremendous roar, the train came bursting out into the day. Lights from its windows went flashing past us as we lay there petrified just inches from the deadly steel wheels, slicing along the rails with a terrifying screeching sound.

  As quickly as it appeared, it vanished. It had all happened so fast neither of us could believe it. Seeing a train go past that quickly and that close left us both terrified out of our wits.

  We were both shaking and it wasn’t from the cold.

  Minutes passed before either of us said anything. We stared ahead looking at nothing. There was not a whisper of the train now. It had long gone. The only sound was the chirping of birds, as before.

  Finally I forced myself to speak. ‘You okay?’

  Is turned her face towards me. There were tears streaming down, drawing patterns in the dirt on her cheeks.

  ‘Yes – I think so,’ she replied through sniffs.

  ‘We could have been – killed.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘But why? Why did you do it?’

  ‘Don’t ask.’

  ‘That’s what you always say.’ I felt myself getting infuriated with her again. She’d nearly got us both killed and there wasn’t as much as a word of thanks from her.

  I sat looking at her, wondering what was going on in that brain of hers. She did look a sight.

  Her face was filthy and her hair was all straggly, strands of it stuck to her face with dirt and tears, her coat was ripped (as mine was, I remembered) and her knee looked a right mess.

  ‘Your knee’s still bleeding.’

  ‘What?’ She looked down at her bruised and scraped leg. ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘Here.’ I produced a handkerchief from my pocket. What I was doing with what was apparently a clean handkerchief I shall never know. I never usually carried one at all, let alone a clean one.

  I tied it around her knee as best I could. ‘There.’

  ‘Thanks.’ At last she thanked me, wonders would never cease.

  ‘Are you going to tell me what all this is about then?’

  ‘What what’s about?’

  ‘You know, why you ran away?’

  ‘I would have thought that was obvious.’

  ‘No. Just because of that bust up with Mr Phillips, you mean?’

  ‘It was more than that. I felt I was becoming some sort of, I don’t know, some sort of freak. Do you know what I mean?’

  ‘You were going on a bit,’ I admitted.

  ‘How’d you find me then?’

  ‘Easy!’ I managed a small laugh. ‘It’s Brunel’s birthday isn’t it. When I thought about it, I knew this was the only place you could possibly be.’

  ‘I didn’t think you’d remember.’ She looked in a distracted way towards the tunnel. ‘I had to be here. I had to. He was a genius, wasn’t he?’

  ‘Isambard?’

  ‘Who else?’

  ‘And you still think you’re – him?’

  ‘I’m not so sure now.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief.’

  ‘When I was in that tunnel, walking towards the sun there, I felt I was Isambard stronger than I ever had before. Even stronger than when we had that stupid lesson with Mr Phillips about ships.’

  ‘He was worried too, you know.’

  ‘Who was? Mr Phillips? You’ve got to be joking!’

  ‘No really, he was quite upset. I think he blamed himself for you disappearing.’

  ‘Serve him right.’

  ‘Oh come on. Anyway, I’m glad you’re feeling better.’

  I’d done it again. I’d gone and said something really stupid without thinking. Isabel glared at me, shooting daggers from the depths of her dark eyes. ‘Feeling better? What do you mean “feeling better”? I haven’t been ill I’ll have you know, Robert Morgan! Do you hear me?’

  ‘You know what I mean…’

  ‘No, I don’t know what you mean. You think I’m mad, don’t you, that’s what you think.’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’

  ‘“Don’t be daft”,’ she mimicked me. ‘I am not mad as it happens, despite what you might think. You may not believe in reincarnation and things like that, but it happens. People’s spirits carry on. I was Isambard Kingdom Brunel in a previous life. I know it.’

  ‘You said you weren’t so sure a few minutes ago.’

  ‘I KNOW IT!’ She screamed at me so hard that spit covered my face. ‘I am Isabel Williams only in body. I really am Isambard Brunel.’

  She stood up awkwardly. Then, standing with her injured leg held out stiffly in front of her, she shouted out at the very top of her voice for all the world to hear:

  ‘I AM ISAMBARD KINGDOM BRUNEL!’

  I looked up at her, feeling rather scared. Then over her shoulder I saw something else. On the top of the road bridge, leaning over the parapet, a dozen or more people had gathered.

  Not only that, but, making their way along from the bridge down the side of the tracks were a policeman and a policewoman.

  We didn’t have to bother with hitching lifts back home. We had a ride in a police car. Someone had noticed us down there by the tunnel mouth and called the police.

  By the time we got back home, everyone knew what had happened. There was quite a reception committee waiting for us at the police station. Mum and Dad were there, and Mrs Williams. A reporter from the local paper and loads of others. They all kept asking us questions all the time. Is sat there, stony faced, and said nothing. All I wanted to do was sleep. And, without warning, that’s exactly what I did there and then, in the police station: fell asleep.

  * * *

  When I finally woke it was like I’d had a bad dream. I was back home in my bed. I rubbed my eyes and sat up. It was late Sunday afternoon. My mum came in with a cup of tea as soon as she heard me stir.

  ‘Here you are,’ she said and sat on the edge of my bed with a smile.

  ‘How’s Is?’ was the first thing I said.

  ‘Oh, she’s fine, I think. None the worse for wear. How about you?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Mum…’

  ‘Yes, Rob?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘We won’t say another word about it. I’m just glad you’re safe and sound. And glad Isabel is as well.’

  ‘Can I go and see her. I’d like that.’

  ‘I expect so. Tomorrow. But just you rest for a bit first, eh?’

  But when tomorrow came I didn’t see Is. And, to be honest, I don’t think I had really expected to. Mr Gregory swept into the class in his usual bull-like fashion and started going through the register. But, when he got to Williams, he stopped. ‘Isabel Williams, I have to tell you,’ he said solemnly, ‘will not be returning to us at St Leonards School. Her mother has wisely decided to take her to another school. In Devon, I understand, where she has relatives.’ And that was that.

  * * *

  All this happened more than thirty years ago.

  A lot can happen in that time. Is’s mum sold the house in Walton Road a few months after they moved to Devon. Originally they had gone to stay with Is’s Aunt Kate – her dad’s sister (I didn’t
even know she had an aunt) who lived in Plymouth. But, when the house was sold, her mum bought a little cottage on the edge of Dartmoor.

  Is wrote to me to tell me all about it. It was quite small, she said, with tiny windows and a little winding staircase – but quite lovely and built from local granite. ‘It’s been here for centuries and I doubt it’ll ever fall down,’ she wrote, ‘it’s as if it were carved right out of the hillside itself.’ It was no surprise that she went on to say that Ashburton itself used to be at the end of a Great Western Railway branch line, built of course to Brunel’s 7- foot wide broad gauge. A preservation society was apparently running steam trains along some of the old line, so no doubt she was happy about that.

  She also said she’d been to see what she described as ‘Brunel’s last and greatest bridge, completed the year he died’: the Royal Albert Bridge across the River Tamar, separating Devon from Cornwall. I must say I was pleased to hear her talking about Brunel as another person and not herself. Perhaps she was finally accepting that she was Isabel Williams, plain and simple.

  We exchanged quite a few letters and she sent me some photographs once, including some of the small terrier dog she called ‘Brandy’, which she used to take out on the moors. I kept her up to date with what was happening at school, especially the great news that old Phillips had got sacked for losing his temper good and proper one day and hitting one of the boys in the first year really hard. Serve him right – Phillips, that is, not the boy.

  But then, in the way these things do, the letters became fewer and eventually stopped. The last I heard she was going to move again but she didn’t say where. ‘Going West’ was all she said.

  I haven’t kept in touch with anyone else much from Class 2F. Although I did get invited to Veronica Biggleswade’s wedding a good few years ago, but I couldn’t go – I can’t remember why. And I bet even as you read this, someone, somewhere is being bored stupid by Clever Trevor.

  One incredible bit of news I did pick up was that Kevin Ryder actually managed to become famous (for all of a week). He formed a band called the ‘Electric Shavers’ some time in the 80s, which was a sort of post-punk band, a bit like the Psychedelic Furs so people said. Since I had no idea who the Psychedelic Furs were that wasn’t a very useful comparison. But (difficult to believe, I know) the Electric Shavers had a record that actually scraped into the top forty.