Penguin Books Australia

1

Fugitives in the Hills

Emily Miniver lay on a rock in the sunshine, looking out across the tops of the trees. It was a curious situation for her to be in. She was so very small and the sky above so very big. The forest in front of her seemed to stretch on without finish. Emily had never before been anywhere she could not see buildings. For the first time in her entire famous life, she felt insignificant.

The rock under her tummy was warm from the sun. Emily was sweaty and dishevelled from climbing, but in a funny way she felt good about it. Her clothes were dirty, her once glossy dark hair was dull from lack of washing, and her perfectly manicured nails were torn and broken. Emily even suspected she was smelly, but after three weeks on the run she was surprised to find how little these things mattered. She was simply glad to be free.

A lizard scuttled over the rock. Birds flew overhead and Emily shaded her eyes and looked up at them, wondering what they were. The only birds she had known before coming to the forest were city crows and sparrows, and the ducks in the palace ponds back in Artemisia. Emily screwed up her eyes and tried to focus on something flying low over the trees in the far dis­tance, but the sun dazzled her, and before she was able to work out what it was, she was distracted by a shout from below.

'Emmie?'

Emily sat up. Her older sister, Rosamund, was pick­ing her way doggedly through the scrub in the gully below, her two-foot high figure looking tiny against the trees, holding up the hem of the oversized T-shirt she was wearing as a sort of dress. She looked very different from the Rosamund of a few weeks before, who had been the miniature idol of the Artemisian pop charts, and the beloved foster daughter of Papa King, Artemisia's ruler. That Rosamund would never have been seen in public without make-up, designer clothes and an escort of security guards all three times her own diminutive size. Now, even Rosamund's long black hair had been cut short like a boy's in an attempt to disguise her identity, and her face, which had looked confident and in control, was drawn and worried. Feeling slightly guilty, Emily went running down to meet her.

'There you are!' said Rosamund, when Emily reached the gully. 'What on earth were you doing up there alone? You know Gibraltar told us not to go off by ourselves.'

'I'm sorry, Rose.' Emily tried hard to sound as if she meant it, but Rosamund wasn't fooled. In the days when they had been celebrities and the stars of their own TV show, they had gone to the same drama teacher.

'You're not sorry at all,' said Rosamund. 'You were positively enjoying yourself. Emmie, don't you realise being here's dangerous for people as tiny as us? It's bad enough having to sleep in that cave, without you falling down a cliff, or being eaten by wild animals -'

'What wild animals?' Emily burst out laughing.

'Come on, Rose. There's nothing here but foxes, and they only come out at night. As for falling, I wasn't anywhere near the edge. I was perfectly safe.' As she spoke, a noise in the background, which until now she had scarcely noticed, started growing unexpectedly louder. It silenced the creaks and rustles of the trees, the soft call of the birds, and the gurgle of the creek flowing through the gully. Emily looked up. She knew this sound, had heard it a thousand times before, but in this quiet setting it was so completely out of place she could not at first work out what it was.

'What's that?' Rosamund lifted her eyes in panic. At that moment, belated recognition punched through Emily's confusion.

'Quick!' she shouted. 'Run! Back to the cave!'

Emily seized Rosamund's hand and dived into the near­est bit of scrub, dragging her sister after her. Rosamund too, had recognised the sound now for what it was. It was a helicopter, approaching very low, and its driving, mechanical beat cut through the air and sent vibrations shuddering over the rocks. The trees bent their branches over the Minivers' heads. Their dark hair ruffled wildly about their faces and they were surrounded by a stinging whirlwind of leaves and dirt.

'It's too far!' Rosamund yelled. 'We'll never make it back. Quick, follow me!' She dragged her hand out of Emily's and started leaping across the wet rocks to the other side of the creek. Emily followed, her sneakered feet splashing and plunging in the shallow water. On the last rock she lost her footing and fell, only to be caught by Rosamund and pulled onto the muddy bank. Drip­ping and panting, the two girls crammed into a hole in a hollow tree trunk and cowered inside.

The helicopter was lowering over the creek. It hovered for what seemed like forever, ruffling the surface of the water and sending fine droplets spraying like rain over the creek banks. The noise of its engine was deafening. Emily felt the wind from the rotors on her dripping legs and buried her face in Rosamund's shoulder. Rosamund put her arms around her and squeezed her own eyes tight shut.

'Oh, no,' she whispered. 'Not again!'

The Minivers shrank against the rough inside of the trunk. A splinter dug into Emily's arm and she bit her lip to stop from crying out. Then the beat of the rotors changed its note. There was a flash of metal in the sun­light, the stink of exhaust fumes, and the helicopter headed up the creek and flew away.

Several minutes passed before Emily and Rosamund dared stir inside the hollow tree. At first they simply stood, holding onto each other, both lost in terrible memories. Rosamund remembered her disastrous birthday party on the last night of their old life, an evening that had ended with her being dragged from her bed by kidnappers. Emily thought of the terrify­ing week she had spent on the run, and of the sinister Vice-President of the Minivers Fan Club, Titus, who had hunted her and almost caught her. Both of them thought of Madame. It was Papa King's daughter Karen, known as Madame, who had turned against the Minivers and tried to destroy them. She had driven them from their home and imprisoned their beloved housekeeper, Millamant. The helicopter did not need to have Madame's name written on it. There was sim­ply no one else who could have sent it.

'Is it safe to go outside yet?' whispered Rosamund.

Emily listened intently. The helicopter had gone, but it seemed to her that they were not alone. She could sense, rather than hear, the sound of footsteps, crunch­ing on the gravel down near the water. Rosamund whimpered, and pressed her hand quickly over her mouth. The footsteps grew louder and closer until there was no mistaking them. Finally they reached the tree and stopped.

'Rosamund? Emily?'

At the sound of the familiar voice, Rosamund let out an inadvertent shriek. There was a brief tangle as both girls tried to bolt through the narrow entrance at the same time, and then Emily shot out into the sunlight. Rosamund tumbled after her and the two of them landed in an undignified heap at the feet of a tall swarthy man. He was dressed in torn jeans, a khaki shirt and heavy hiking boots, and carried a backpack. It was their friend Gibraltar, who had helped them escape from Artemisia and found them their hiding place in the forest.

Rosamund picked herself up and flung herself at Gibraltar's legs. 'Gibraltar! What are you doing here? We weren't expecting you back until next week!'

'There's been a change of plan,' said Gibraltar. 'I'm not here with supplies this time. I'm here to take you away, and not a moment too soon, from the look of that helicopter. If it had landed, neither of you would have stood a chance.' He pointed to the muddy ground, where dozens of miniature footprints led straight to the tree where they had been hiding.

'Oops,' said Rosamund. Emily looked shamefaced, but Gibraltar only smiled.

'No harm done,' he said. 'But there's lots to tell you, and that helicopter's still searching. Let's get back to the cave as quickly as we can.'

The cave where Emily and Rosamund had been camping was only a short distance uphill. Gibraltar, who seemed to know the whole area very well, had chosen it for them because it was close to water, and because it had more than one exit in case of emergency. He led the way swiftly through the trees, and the Minivers had to hurry on their short legs to keep pace.

'What's been happening?' Emily asked.

'Things are changing in Artemisia,' said Gibraltar. 'I don't know what it is, but there's definitely some­thing brewing. The search for you has spread beyond the city, so you can't hide here any longer. But there's something else happening, too. In the last few days, all Minivers products have vanished out of the shops. Minivers advertising has disappeared, your TV show's off air and Radio Artemisia has stopped playing your music. You're not even in the news any more. It's as if the two of you have suddenly ceased to exist.'

Emily and Rosamund stopped in their tracks and stared at him.

'What do you mean?' said Rosamund. 'That's impossi­ble. Emily and I are the Minivers. Everybody in Artemisia knows us. We're famous.'

'No, Rose,' said Gibraltar. 'What I'm trying to tell you is that you were famous.'

An unpleasant silence followed this remark. Emily glanced at Rosamund's face and thought she looked as if somebody she knew had just died.

'I don't understand,' said Rosamund, in a small flat voice.

'Neither do I,' said Gibraltar. 'But I fully intend to, and that's why I've come to take you back.'

The three of them started walking again, Emily and Rosamund now silent and thoughtful. In about a minute, they reached the cave and slipped under the overhang­ing rock that hid the entrance.

Inside was a small, round space, filled with sleeping bags, storm lanterns and camping gear. Gibraltar and their other friend, Livia Wallace, had done their best to set things up as comfortably as possible, but it was still far rougher than anything they had known before. Rosamund looked around. She had not been happy here, yet she felt strangely reluctant at the thought of leaving. Night after night she had lain in her oversized sleeping bag, poring over Minivers articles in the old magazines Livia gave them and crying about everything they had lost. Rosamund had told herself that it was all a huge mistake; that sooner or later someone, some­where, would put things right so she could go home. Now the longed-for moment had come, but it was not the return she had wanted. What was the point of going back if she could not be famous? If she was not to be Rosamund Miniver, the celebrity almost-princess, then who on earth was she to become?

'Pack your things up quickly,' said Gibraltar. 'We don't have a lot of time. I've arranged for Livia to meet us with her car on the old Artemisia Road at seven tonight. It's a long walk, so only take what you absol­utely need.'

Reluctantly, Rosamund started gathering up her pos­sessions. She filled her water bottle, found her hat, and helped Gibraltar hide the camping gear behind some boulders at the back of the cave. Emily put on her back­pack and went to wait by the entrance. She stood for a moment, looking down the hill towards the creek. It seemed to her that something was moving among the trees and she squinted, trying to make out what it was. A flash of light blue, the colour of the sky. . .

'Gibraltar!' Emily shot back into the cave. 'There are Minivers security people down in the gully. They must have come in the helicopter! '

'Our footprints! They'll see them!' Rosamund started running for the entrance. Gibraltar grabbed her by the shoulder.

'Not that way. Out the back.' Gibraltar hustled both girls towards the darkest part of the cave. 'Remem­ber, they can't know for certain that we're here. Keep calm and quiet, and do exactly as I say. Everything will be all right.'

He pushed Emily and Rosamund into a narrow crack in the back wall of the cave. They emerged into pitch darkness. Emily stretched out her hands and felt noth­ing in front of her; she turned back, but could not find Rosamund either. Then a torch switched on and she saw her sister's face illuminated palely by its wan light. Gibraltar was squeezing through the gap behind her, blocking the light and air from the cave behind.

'Straight up,' he said, nodding, and Emily saw that there was a sort of slope before her, covered with dirt and gravel. She started to climb, feeling, rather than see­ing, where she was headed, and ignoring Rosamund's complaints as the gravel showered down. After a minute or two, the slope narrowed to a shaft like a chimney and she came to a halt.

'I'm stuck!'

'It's not far now.' Gibraltar came up behind her and gave her a boost. Emily reached up. Her arms snagged in what felt like a tangle of roots, and she grabbed them and started to wriggle upwards. Dirt showered down on her face and she coughed and screwed up her eyes. Gibraltar gave one last shove from underneath and she popped up into a clump of bushes like a rabbit out of a hole.

Emily rolled aside quickly to make room for Rosamund, and then Gibraltar. The three of them crouched in the bushes, looking down the hill in the direction of the creek. A line of men in blue Miniver House security uniforms was moving stealthily up the slope towards the cave. Emily bit her lip at the sight of the familiar faces. She glanced at Rosamund and saw that her expression was grim.

'Come on,' whispered Gibraltar. 'There's nothing we can do here.'

He slipped into the trees and Rosamund followed obediently. As she stood up, Emily paused and looked out across the treetops. On the other side of the creek she could see the rock where she had lain and thought she was free. It had been a marvellous feeling. Emily could not help wondering if she would ever know it again.