CHAPTER IX
The single spots of rain that Nab had felt before now turned into a downpour; great sheets of water seemed to be falling from the sky and the Urkku were running across the fields, each holding one of his hands and pulling him with them. The rain was beginning to seep through his bark and his hair was dripping down his back. Soon Nab saw, through the rain, a group of buildings clustered together on the near side of a gently sloping rise. He guessed that these were Urkku dwellings and that this was where they were heading. They came to a gate and, opening it, were now on a rough stone track which hurt his feet as they raced along. There were buildings now on either side and Nab could hear the heavy breathing and constant shuffling of the cows inside; occasionally one would moo loudly as they heard the clatter of the Urkku’s boots on the track. Then suddenly they rounded the comer and the front of the farm faced them; racing up to it, the men stopped in the shelter of a porch.
‘Take your boots off before we go in, Jeff; Ma will only grumble if we trail muck in. Damn rain, I’m soaked. Come on then, bring him in.’
They opened the door and Nab was met by a wall of heat and greasy cooking smells which made the air so heavy that he immediately began to gasp for breath. He was amazed to find it brighter than daylight in the room and he was forced to screw his eyes up to avoid being dazzled. Everywhere was full of a cacophony of noise; he could see two more Urkku and these two were shouting excitedly with his two captors, who were still holding an arm each. Much of the heat seemed to be coming from a great red crackling glow in one wall of the room; Nab guessed that this was fire from the description Bibbington had given him and he was both frightened and fascinated by it. Steam began to rise from his bark as it began to dry and he could see the same thing happening to the clothes of the Urkku. They were all looking at him now, eyeing him up and down and turning away to talk to one another before turning back to him. Nab felt both exposed and trapped and he looked around desperately for a way out but there was none; he felt crushed by the weight of the walls around him and the thickness of the air. The woman began to speak. ‘Get on with your dinner, Father; it’ll go cold. Come and sit down, boys, and I’ll put your supper out and then I’ll see about him. You found him in the wood, you say, and he can’t speak English; and look at his clothes and his hair. Jeff, go and wash your face and put some ointment on, you’ve got a nasty gash there, and look at his nails. He could do with a good wash. I bet he’s starving, poor little mite. Father, get me a plate and I’ll put some stew on it for him.' The two brothers let go of him; one of them went out of a door at the back of the kitchen and then upstairs and the other sat down next to his father at the long table that ran down the middle of the room. Nab stood shivering with fear in a pool of water that had come from his hair; he stayed where he had been left because there was nothing else he could do. The woman went over to the range and opened the oven door to take out the pot of stew. She put a spoonful on a plate with some potatoes and sprouts and set it down on the table next to where she had been sitting. She then walked across to Nab.
‘Watch him, Mother, you’ve seen what he did to Jeff,’ said the brother.
‘I know. He’ll be all right with me. Come along, come and have a bite to eat,’ she said, putting her hand gingerly on Nab’s arm, and trying to pull him gently towards the table.
Nab felt from her tone of voice that the woman meant him no harm and he allowed himself to be led. He was then pushed on to a chair and found himself sitting, like the rest of them, at the table. His fear was now beginning to give way to curiosity; he gathered by the way the woman was pointing to the stuff on the table and then to her mouth that he was meant to eat it. He bent down to sniff it and heard laughter coming from the Urkku. Quickly he raised his head and the woman, still laughing, bent over him and put a hand on his shoulder.
‘It’s only a stew, ’ she said. ‘It looks like he’s never seen proper food before, Dad. Look at him. He doesn’t know what to do with it. Well, I can’t understand it, I’m sure. It’s a funny business; I don’t think he can understand a word I’m saying. After he’s had a bite to eat, I must go and get some clothes for him. He must have lost his own somewhere and put together this affair with bark; it’s clever though. Look at the way it’s threaded through with bramble briars to keep it together. ’
The woman gave Nab two implements, one in each hand, and once more pointed to the plate and his mouth. He was at a loss as to what to do with the things in his hands so he put them down where they had been before and picked up the only thing that he could recognize in any way. It was a sprout and, being green, was at least similar in colour to the leaves and plants which he was used to eating. He put it in his mouth and was surprised to find it warm but he chewed it and there was no denying that it tasted good. He smiled with satisfaction and was surprised to hear laughter once again. Slowly he picked up all the sprouts and ate them one by one. Then he turned to the mashed potato and began to scoop it up with his fingers. When he had finished he turned to the stew and picked a lump of something brown from the mixture on the plate. Again he placed it in his mouth as he had with the rest and chewed, but this tasted foul and the consistency was unlike anything he’d ever had before. He quickly spat it out to the obvious consternation of the Urkku.
‘He must eat his meat; it’ll do him good,’ said the woman and she Put a lump on a fork and, crooking her arm around the back of his neck, tried to insert the meat into his mouth. Nab clenched his teeth shut and shook his head from side to side in an attempt to escape the pungent greasy smell.
‘No, he won’t have it. Pity, it would have built him up,’ she said.
Just then the other brother, Jeff, came loudly through the door; the sight of him reminded Nab of all the terrible events of that night and he jumped up suddenly from the table and leapt back, coweringinto a corner. His chair went flying and the plate crashed on to the floor.
‘He doesn’t care for you much,’ said the father. ‘What have you done to him?’
‘I paid him back for my scratches – he won’t attack me again,’ the brother said, staring aggressively at Nab.
‘Well, sit down and eat your supper. Here!’ and the woman put a plate in front of him at the table. ‘I’d better take him upstairs and get him to bed. Father, will you phone the police and tell them what's happened. Come on, son, you and me’ll go upstairs and find you some pyjamas.’
Nab got up from his crouching position in the corner by the fire as the woman took his hand and led him towards the door through which Jeff had just come. When she opened it all Nab could see was darkness but suddenly everything was lit up again and he could see another room opposite which was lit only by the red glow of a fire. Lying stretched out in front of the fire he saw, to his utter amazement, a familiar sight. It was the dog, Sam. Nab looked again in disbelief; he was certain that he was not mistaken; he could make out, in the flickering firelight, the golden coat and long bushy tail that he had seen so often making its way across to the wood. The dog suddenly raised its head and looked up. Sam was as surprised to see the boy as Nab had been overjoyed to see him but he quickly overcame his initial shock, and, leaping up, he bounded across the room and down the three stone steps into the hall where the woman was about to lead the boy upstairs. Nab squatted down and stroked the dog whose tail was going furiously from side to side. He put his mouth against the dog’s ear and spoke quietly in the language of the wood.