The Great Blue Yonder

by Alex Shearer

  Arthur fumbled desperately for the button. As he did, I looked at the pretty, young woman in the old-fashioned clothes, and you could see that on her blouse was a line of pearl buttons – not real pearl, but pearly ones, the sort that Pearly Kings and Queens used to sew on to their clothes in the old days.

  And I saw that there was a button missing, there at the top, and at her neck her collar was held together with a pin.

  Arthur stopped fumbling. He’d found it. He’d found the button, buried somewhere in the deep recesses of his pocket. He held the button out flat on his hand, and he looked from it to the buttons on the lady’s blouse. And it must have been the same, it must have been just the same. Because he took a step forward, still holding the button out, holding it for the lady to see.

  ‘Mum?’ he said. ‘Mum, is it you?’

  And the lady stepped towards him too, and she picked up the button from his outstretched hand, and she held it next to one of the pearly buttons on her blouse. And you could see they were the same, just the same, the very same buttons. And I knew then that they had found each other, after all those years of roaming the Other Lands. After all those years of wrong turnings and near-misses, they had found each other at last.

  ‘Mum?’ Arthur said. ‘It is you, isn’t it? It’s really you.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘it’s me, Arthur, it’s me.’

  I turned away. It only seemed right. I didn’t think it was my business. It only seemed proper to give them some time alone together, after all the years they’d been apart. They had a lot to catch up on, after all, all the news and the rest.

  But after a while I started to make clearing-my-throat noises, until eventually they had to notice me. And when Arthur saw who it was, he called me over and introduced me to his mum. And he seemed dead proud of her and pleased with her, even if she did have a button missing. And I felt a bit envious in a way, that he had his mum with him and I didn’t have mine. Just for a moment I wished that I’d been able to introduce my mum too. Then I realized that in order for that to happen, she’d have to be dead as well. And I didn’t want that to happen, so I stopped thinking about it.

  I asked Arthur and his mum if they were thinking of going on anywhere else, now that they’d met each other at last. They said that they thought they might as well go on to the Great Blue Yonder now, as there was no further need to go wandering the Other Lands like lost souls. So I said that I was thinking of going that way myself, and would they mind if I walked along with them? And they said no, it would be a pleasure to have the company. Which was what I’d been hoping they’d say all along.

  So on we went, on towards the everlasting sunset, the eternal twilight which never got brighter or darker but which just always was.

  There was quite a crowd of people going along in the same direction now. All sorts and sizes and all ages too. And none of them seemed sad, and while none of them looked happy exactly, they all seemed to be at peace. It was like they had all reached a decision, and their minds were at rest.

  I started to ask a few people what exactly we might be going to, and just what lay beyond the Great Blue Yonder. Not many seemed to know, exactly, but Arthur’s mum said that it was like becoming part of life again, and I asked her what she meant.

  ‘It’s sort of like a leaf, Harry,’ she said, ‘a leaf in a forest. You know, the way it falls from a tree. Because what happens to it then?’

  ‘It dies, I suppose,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, that’s true,’ she said. ‘It does. But it doesn’t really. Because it becomes part of the soil again, part of life, and new trees grow, with new leaves. And we’re like that too.’

  I started to get all excited then.

  ‘You mean I’ll get to go back?’ I said. ‘You mean I’ll get to have another go? That I’ll come back as another leaf – I mean as another Harry?’

  She gave me a bit of a smile and shook her head.

  ‘No, not really, Harry. Not quite like that. You will come back, but not as you are. It’s more that, well – it’s the way the leaves return to the ground – you’ll be in everything and everyone. Just the way that everyone and everything was once part of you.’

  ‘Was it?’ I said, a bit mystified.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I think so.’

  And then there we were. I don’t know how to describe it, really. We just sort of came to the end of the Other Lands, and there we all were, watching this glorious sunset, and the sun was setting over the bluest, clearest, greatest sea I had ever seen.

  We stood there on a headland and there the sea was below us. And yet it wasn’t really a sea, not as you know them when you’re alive. It wasn’t water, just a sort of force, just, well, like a great ocean of – life, I suppose.

  I stood there a while and thought about what Arthur’s mum had said. So I’d come back. I wouldn’t be a ghost for ever. I’d come back. I’d live on, in people’s thoughts and memories, and everything I’d ever done and everything I’d ever been would have made a difference. Not necessarily a big difference, but a difference just the same.

  And when I waded in now, and became part of that great blue ocean, I wouldn’t be me any more, but I’d be part of the stuff that made new life, and I’d all go into making new thoughts, and new people.

  And I thought that maybe that wasn’t so bad.

  I thought of Mum and Dad then. I remembered Dad in the kitchen saying to Mum how he wished they’d maybe had another baby. And I thought that when some time had gone by, maybe they would.

  And maybe – if I became part of the great blue ocean now – some of me would go into that baby too. I mean, I didn’t expect all of me to go into it. Obviously the baby would be a person in its own right. But maybe there’d be a little bit of me there, just a little, just a dash of Harry.

  And you know what I imagined then? Well, I imagined that baby as he (or maybe it would be she) grew up, along with Mum and Dad and my sister Eggy. And I imagined how, as the baby got older, as he started to crawl and to walk and talk, that every now and again he would do something, and my mum would turn to my dad and say, ‘You know – you know who he puts me in mind of when he does that?’

  And my dad would nod, and he’d know straight away, and he’d say, ‘Yes, you’re right. I’ve thought that myself too. He puts you in mind of Harry.’

  And when he was older, and better able to understand, they’d tell him about this brother he had but who he never knew. And they’d say, ‘You’d have liked him, and he’d have liked you. You’ve got the same sense of humour, you two. Yes, you’d have liked your brother Harry. You would.’

  And he would.

  And I’d have liked him too.

  Arthur and his mum seem to have gone.

  I can hear the sound of seagulls, but I can’t see any. Maybe I’m just imagining it.

  I think I heard Arthur and his mum say goodbye a moment ago. I think I even called back and waved. I was a bit lost in my thoughts. And then they were off into the Great Blue Yonder, just like birds taking off into the sky.

  So here I am. I’m right here on the headland, looking out towards that deep, beautiful blue.

  I’m standing here and I’m thinking as hard as I can. As hard as I did when I moved the pencil in Eggy’s room and told her I was sorry. I’m thinking my thoughts as hard as I can think them. I’m trying to broadcast them out, the way a radio transmitter sends out its signal, and I’m hoping that someone will be on my wavelength, and that I can put my thoughts into their mind.

  I would like someone to tell my story. No one ever does, do they? Not for most ordinary people. People live and people die, and no one tells their story. They think that just because you’re ordinary, you can’t be interesting. But I don’t think that’s so. So I’m hoping that someone will hear me, that’s all.

  So I’ll say goodbye now. Goodbye to you all. And if you’re going to ride a bike on a busy road, you will be careful, won’t you? Double careful if you can. And remember to check the laces on your tra
iners before you set off, OK? Though accidents can happen no matter what you do, and that’s the truth.

  Anyway, I’ll say goodbye now. Goodbye to Mum and to Dad and to Eggy, to Alt the cat and to all my friends. I didn’t have a bad life. I know it was short. But don’t feel sorry for me. I’m OK. I’m just sorry for the people I left behind, that’s all, because they’re so sad that I’ve gone.

  But listen, one last thing. You know, you mustn’t be afraid – of being dead I mean. Because look at me. I mean, to be honest, I know I act all tough sometimes, and I bet you think I’m a real hard-case, but deep down inside you won’t get a bigger scaredy cat or a bigger cry-baby than me. But I’ve been all right. I’ve managed. So honestly, it’s nothing to worry about, not once it’s happened. And once it has happened, what can you do about it anyway? So don’t be afraid. It’s OK. Honestly. We’re all right. Don’t worry. Don’t be sad for us. We’re OK. And don’t be afraid when it’s time to join us, because that’s all right too.

  Bye then. Thanks for listening. That’s almost the end of my story now. And any second, it’ll be the end of me. I’m going off now, off into the Great Blue Yonder, just like a leaf becoming part of the soil, just like Arthur’s mum said. I’m off to become part of everything that gives us life. And I won’t be Harry any more. But that doesn’t mean you won’t see me. I’ll still be there. I’ll be there in the school and the park and I’ll be there on the football field and I’ll be there in all the photographs and memories.

  Anyway, I’m just rambling now, just going on for the sake of it, just to put it off a moment longer. Just like I did that day I dived off the top board. Anything but go.

  OK.

  OK.

  That’s it. I really mean it this time. My mind’s made up. I’m away now. Away into the Great Blue Yonder.

  Bye, Mum, bye, Dad, bye, Eggy. I miss you. I love you all. I love you all so much. I love you all so very, very much, more than words can ever say.

  Here I go then. Here I go. The great blue ocean lies beneath me.

  So here I go.

  Here I go now. I’m really going to do it this time.

  Watch me. Watch this now. I’m going any minute.

  And remember, don’t worry. It’s OK. We’ll be all right.

  So I’m going now.

  I’m going this time.

  I’m going.

  I really am.

  I am.

  I mean it.

  Here goes then.

  Wish me luck.

  The Great Blue Yonder

  Alex Shearer lives with his family in Somerset. He has two children. He has written more than a dozen books for both adults and children, as well as many successful television series, films, and stage and radio plays. He has had over thirty different jobs, and has never given up trying to play the guitar.

  ‘This humorous and deeply moving book . . . explores bereavement, transience and healing in a way which is both entertaining and reassuring’

  Books for Keeps

  ‘A sensitive, gentle exploration of the saddest thing that can ever happen . . . very moving indeed’

  The Times

  ‘This is book of the year for me – and I don’t think a child over the age of nine could fail to be smitten’

  Sunday Telegraph

  Books by Alex Shearer

  The Stolen

  The Speed of the Dark

  Bootleg

  The Lost

  The Hunted

  Tins

  The Invisible Man’s Socks

  to my father

  First published 2001 by Macmillan Children’s Books

  This edition published 2002 by Macmillan Children’s Books

  This electronic edition published 2010 by Macmillan Children’s Books

  a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited

  Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR

  Basingstoke and Oxford

  Associated companies throughout the world

  www.panmacmillan.com

  ISBN 978-0-330-53204-4 PDF

  ISBN 978-0-330-53051-4 EPUB

  Copyright © Alex Shearer 2001

  The right of Alex Shearer to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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