by Pauline Fisk
‘Well, you’ve come to the wrong place!’ Mad Dog said, marching to the kitchen door and holding it open.
The strangers headed for the door as if they couldn’t get out fast enough. But then right at the last minute, one of them – an elfin-faced young woman with sharp, sparkling eyes – said, ‘Hang on. We haven’t made a mistake. The decoration’s different, but remember drying our things on that stove? And our trunk opened out there in the middle of the floor? And look on that shelf. Look up there. Those are our cups.’
Mad Dog looked where the woman was pointing. On Aunty’s top shelf, where she kept the things she never used, sat a stack of white porcelain cups that had been there so long that he’d all but forgotten them.
‘What do you mean, your cups?’ he said.
The woman crossed the floor and got one down. Inside it, beneath a thick coat of dust, she found a fifty-pound note, which she handed to her companion.
‘Remember this?’ she said.
He said he did. ‘It was this house,’ he said.
‘What house?’ Mad Dog said.
‘And you must be Ryan,’ the man said. ‘Little Ryan Lewis, all grown up. Don’t you remember us?’
He smiled at Mad Dog, but Mad Dog glared back. He didn’t know any Ryans, he said, and most definitely didn’t remember these strangers. They weren’t like anyone he’d ever known, and any even remotely passing resemblance to sailors he remembered from years ago was a coincidence. Those sailors had been old, and battered by the sea, but these ones were far too young for the sorts of stories that Mad Dog remembered them telling him, keeping him on the edge of his seat. They weren’t hardened mariners like those other sailors had been. And they didn’t have the ocean in their eyes.
But then the woman stepped forward and held out her hand, and it was a sailor’s hand, seasoned by all weathers, and her eyes – when she fixed them on Mad Dog – were full of secret things that set his pulse racing.
‘My name’s Abren,’ she said. ‘I can’t remember if I ever told you that. And he’s Phaze II, which is a funny sort of name, I grant you, but there’s a story behind it, and maybe you’ll get him to tell it one day. I don’t see why not – you’ve heard half his other tales, as I’m sure you will remember.’
She looked at Mad Dog as if willing him to remember. And, yes, there was something about her that he recognised, and it came to him that, if she’d seemed older once, it would have been because he’d seen her through the eyes of a much younger child.
‘You’re not … I mean … you’re not the sailors?’ he said.
She laughed at that. They both did. ‘Well, I always dreamt of being a seafarer,’ the man said. ‘It had a ring to it, I seemed to think. But sailor will do, at least for now. It’s as good a word as any, and better than some.’
24
Broken
That night, Mad Dog ate supper in the sailors’ cabin on their boat. They sat on one berth and he sat opposite them, scoffing as if there was no tomorrow. All around them, the harbour was still and quiet, not another soul in sight. Mad Dog felt as if the three of them were bound together by some strange twist of fate that had brought them together, against all odds, just when he needed it.
All he could think about – apart from food – was the sailors taking him away with them. He’d dreamt about it when he was a little boy, imagining life on the open seas. And now that Aunty and Uncle had betrayed him, it was the only thing he wanted.
Before the subject could be broached, however, there were questions that had to be answered. What had he been doing, the sailors wanted to know, since they’d last met? And Aunty, Uncle and baby Eric – how were they? And why was No. 3 empty? Why was it for sale? And what had Mad Dog been doing there, all alone? And why was he so hungry?
Mad Dog laughed when they asked that – and took another helping. He told them all about Aunty inheriting the Falls Hotel from the Aged Relative, and about her betraying him by selling No. 3. But he didn’t tell them about Plynlimon or the strange procession he had seen, or the feather in his pocket or anything like that.
Finally the subject came round to parents. The sailors said they hadn’t realised that Aunty and Uncle were any other than Mad Dog’s real mum and dad.
‘We never picked up that you were adopted,’ they said.
‘I’m not adopted,’ Mad Dog said.
‘So what’s your story, then?’ the sailors said.
What was his story? Mad Dog shrugged. It was the most natural question in the world, but he didn’t have the answer.
‘All I know,’ he said, ‘is that one day I had parents just like everybody else, and my name was Mad Dog Moonlight. And the next I didn’t, and my name was Ryan Lewis and I lived with Aunty and Uncle in a house I’d never seen before. I don’t remember anything before I got there, only what I was told, which is that the police had found me. I remember them bringing me to No. 3, but I can’t remember where I came from, or anything like that. And mostly I feel fine about it, but sometimes – especially recently – I don’t.’
Mad Dog paused and looked up. The sailors were sitting absolutely still. There was a concentration about them that was total, as if they were hanging on to his every word. When he’d finished, Abren said that she too had lost her memory once but that, in the end, it had come back.
‘There’s something very mysterious about the things we choose to forget,’ she said. ‘And the process of remembering is even stranger. But these things happen when they’re ready. You can’t rush them. You have to wait.’
Mad Dog said he’d waited long enough, and asked what had brought back Abren’s memory. She said that, strangely enough, it had been a mountain.
Mad Dog felt himself go cold all over. ‘What mountain?’ he said – but it didn’t take much to guess.
‘Plynlimon Mountain,’ Abren said. ‘Why are you looking at me like that? What’s the matter? Do you know it?’
Mad Dog didn’t answer, not at first. Then, haltingly, he tried his best. Not only did he know Plynlimon, he said, but he also knew that it was tied up with his past.
‘I can’t explain how,’ he said. ‘And I can’t explain why. But there’s a secret on that mountain waiting to be found, and I’m a part of it. I know I am.’
If the night had seemed quiet before, it was deathly silent now. The sailors leant towards Mad Dog, listening intently, their faces grave but giving little away. He told them about the dancers, but didn’t show them the feather. He told them about getting lost on the school trip, and Plynlimon casting its spell on him, and he even told them about the ruined cottage, and the hillock and the crossroads between valleys. The only time that either of them interrupted him was when he told them what the Ingram sisters had said about people going up Plynlimon and never coming back.
‘Some people come back, but they never really get away,’ Abren said – but she didn’t explain what she meant by that.
Mad Dog shivered.
‘You’re frightened of Plynlimon, aren’t you?’ Phaze II said.
Was he frightened of the mountain? Or was it something on it that frightened him? Mad Dog wasn’t sure, but he told the sailors about his long flight with Grendel in tow, imagining being chased.
‘I wouldn’t be so sure that you were imagining it,’ Phaze II said.
‘What do you mean?’ Mad Dog said.
‘You’re not the only one who’s been chased across Plynlimon,’ Phaze II said. ‘I have too, and so has Abren.’
Mad Dog stared at them, wondering what strange fate had brought the three of them together. The sailors looked back as if they were wondering the same thing. Then, as if this conversation had gone quite far enough, thank you very much, Abren got to her feet. Storms couldn’t shake her – wild seas, broken boats, nights of peril on the ocean couldn’t shake her. But this talk of Plynlimon could.
She started clearing away dishes, and put a kettle on the stove. Phaze II made a pot of hot black coffee and suggested that they might like to drink it under th
e stars. Mad Dog followed them up on to the deck where the night looked perfect for running away to sea. Silvery and bright. A mermaid night. An anything-could-happen-and-I’m-up-for-it night. A new beginnings night, where Mad Dog could put Plynlimon behind him, just like the sailors appeared to have done, and never talk about it again.
He braced himself to ask the sailors if he could go with them. ‘All these years, I never forgot you, you know,’ he began, wanting them to agree that their meeting again was no coincidence.
‘We’ve never forgotten you either,’ the sailors replied. But they didn’t say anything about being bound together or having a future, and they definitely didn’t say anything about him going with them. Instead they started on about wonderful Aunty and Uncle were and how lucky Mad Dog was to have them for foster parents.
This conversation definitely wasn’t going the way that Mad Dog wanted. Abren said that Uncle and Aunty must be worrying about where he was, but Mad Dog insisted that they didn’t deserve to know.
‘Whatever they’ve done,’ said Abren, ‘and however you feel about them, they need to know you’re safe. You could always use our phone. Or we could even hire a taxi and take you back. It would be for the best. Don’t you think?’
Mad Dog thought that no way, ever, was he going back. ‘You don’t understand,’ he said. ‘You haven’t heard what I’ve been saying. I’ve got to be free. Free for adventures, just like you. I’ve always known that you’d come back. I want to go with you.’
The sailors smiled as if it was a nice idea, but simply not possible. Abren agreed that it was a strange coincidence that had brought them back, just when Mad Dog needed them. But they would always be friends, she said. It wasn’t something that depended on his going with them.
While she was speaking, Phaze II got on the phone to the Falls Hotel. Aunty’s relief could be heard right across the harbour. For a moment, she couldn’t think straight and wanted to come and get Mad Dog. Then she said that perhaps it would be better if he spent the night at one of her sisters’ houses, as it was so late. Then she said she wanted him back anyway, late or not, and never mind her sisters – the sailors should put him in a taxi and she’d pay for it when he arrived.
After that, everything happened very quickly. A taxi was called for and suddenly it was time to go.
‘You don’t understand,’ Mad Dog protested as the sailors tried to coax him into it. ‘I’m not trying to pay anybody back. It’s just that I’m not Aunty and Uncle’s Ryan any more. I’m someone else. Plynlimon changed me. It turned me back into my old self and, if you send me back, I’ll never be that self again. There’s a Mad Dog Moonlight in me, trying to get out. And, if you don’t take me with you, it never will. You’ve got to take me, or else I’ll be Ryan Lewis for ever! Please, oh please!’
The sailors put Mad Dog into the taxi. He could see that they weren’t happy about it but that they felt they had no choice. Again Phaze II offered to accompany him, but Mad Dog put his hands over his ears.
‘You can still be yourself,’ Phaze II said, ‘wherever you go and whatever happens. You stand and fall by your own efforts in this life, you know. Someone told me that when I was not much older than you, and I’ve been learning the wisdom of it ever since.’
Mad Dog hated him. He hated his smugness and his stupid words.
‘You haven’t seen the last of us,’ Abren promised. ‘We’ll come and see you soon. We promise you.’
Mad Dog slammed the door in her face. He was fed up with empty promises.
At the last minute, Abren opened the taxi door again and handed something in to him. ‘You nearly forgot this,’ she said, pressing his ffon upon him.
Mad Dog stared at it. ‘Where did you get that from?’ he said.
‘You brought it with you,’ Abren replied.
‘No I didn’t,’ Mad Dog said. ‘I didn’t bring anything. That’s not my ffon. Take it away.’
He tried to give it back, but Abren wouldn’t have it. ‘Of course it’s yours. It’s certainly not ours,’ she said.
‘It must be,’ Mad Dog said.
‘You were waving it at us in the kitchen of No. 3.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘Why would I do that? Why won’t you believe me?’
Fuelled by anger, Mad Dog took the cane, broke it in half and threw it back at Abren. ‘It’s not mine!’ he shouted. ‘Stop playing games with me!!’
All the way home he raged about people, mountains and even walking canes playing games with him. He was still raging when the taxi driver pulled up outside the hotel. Aunty paid him and he let Mad Dog out, saying to her, ‘Rather you than me,’ before driving off fast. Aunty tried to get Mad Dog indoors, but he fought like a wild dog being taken into captivity. Uncle came running out to help and Elvis stood in the background, wide-eyed with shock.
‘The boy’s gone crazy!’ Uncle said. ‘He needs a doctor to sedate him!’
‘He doesn’t need sedating,’ Aunty said. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. He’s simply overwrought. And exhausted. I mean, look at him. Look at the state of him. All that boy needs is his bed.’
25
Aunty’s Birthday
Aunty was right. Getting Mad Dog to bed was difficult, but the minute his head hit the pillow he was asleep. He slept all night and half the next day too, and the first thing he thought about, when he awoke, wasn’t what had happened over the last few days. It was his ffon.
Mad Dog went to check the wardrobe where it was kept, anxious to prove that it was still there. But, to his horror, it was gone. He searched under the bed. Searched all the other cupboards and drawers. Searched the living room, kitchen and bathroom, and ended up taking the whole vardo apart.
But Abren had been right, it seemed. Mad Dog mightn’t understand how the stick she’d given him could have been his ffon. But reluctantly he had to admit it was – and then what he’d done to it finally sank in.
‘The only thing I’ve inherited from my past – and I’ve broken it in half and thrown it away!’
When Uncle came to see if Mad Dog was awake, he found him in bed, hidden behind a massive barricade of furniture.
‘We’ve got to talk,’ he said, ‘so you’d better come out of there. I’ll tell your aunty you’re awake.’
She left the kitchen to Ruth and Kathleen, and came over straight away. Together she and Uncle put back all the furniture, leaving Mad Dog exposed. Elvis came in from playing, as if he didn’t want to miss out. Mad Dog sat on his bed, watching them getting ready for the big showdown.
‘Look, I’m sorry. All right?’ he said.
‘Oh yes? What for?’ Uncle replied. ‘Sorry for running off, or sorry for being sent back?’
Mad Dog had never seen Uncle more angry, even when he’d called him a child-thief. He wasn’t shouting this time, and he didn’t go stomping off, but this was worse somehow. There was something worn about him, as if he’d had enough. Really had enough.
‘I’m sorry for upsetting you,’ Mad Dog said.
‘Upsetting us?’ Uncle said, giving a short laugh. ‘Is that what you call it?’
Aunty frowned at him, as if to say enough. ‘Why did you do it?’ she said. ‘Why did you go off?’
Mad Dog shrugged.
‘Especially after you promised,’ Uncle chipped in.
‘When did I do that?’ Mad Dog said.
‘You promised years ago. On the family Bible,’ Uncle said.
Mad Dog flared up. ‘That’s rich,’ he said, ignoring Uncle but looking directly at Aunty. ‘Am I the only one who breaks their promises? I think not!’
Aunty flushed. ‘If you’re talking about No. 3 –’ she began.
‘I’m talking about you promising that we’d move back down there in the autumn!’ Mad Dog shouted at her, glaring as if to say get out of that.
Uncle took a deep breath and said, ‘God give me strength!’ He also said – slowly so that even a fool would understand it – that sometimes, with the best will in the world, certain promises
did have to be broken.
‘And the sale of No. 3 is one of those times,’ he said. ‘It’s for your good, although you don’t seem to be able to see it. We’re not just thinking of ourselves here. If we can find a purchaser for No. 3, then we can afford all the little extras that we don’t have at the moment – including building ourselves a family apartment at the back of the hotel.’
‘Why do we need that?’ Mad Dog said.
‘Well, it’s obvious. We can’t go on for ever working out of a caravan!’ Uncle said.
‘What’s wrong with caravans?’ Mad Dog said. He could feel his temper rising to dangerous levels.
‘Are you kidding me?’ said Uncle. ‘The way we’re living now we couldn’t even swing a cat!’
‘Oh, is that right?’ Mad Dog said. ‘Well, my parents’ van wasn’t half this size but it was good enough for us!!’
He didn’t yell, but he didn’t have to. Uncle and Aunty stared at him, their surprise obvious because never, in all their years together, had he mentioned anything about his old life.
‘You didn’t tell us your parents lived in a van,’ Aunty said.
‘Why should I tell you anything? I don’t trust you,’ Mad Dog said.
For the rest of the day, he refused to say another thing. He also refused to get off his bed except to go to the toilet and fetch his meals. Every time Aunty came anywhere near him, he glared at her and, when she told him that she loved him, he called her traitor.
That night in bed, Mad Dog heard Aunty crying. ‘I know, I know,’ he heard her say. ‘I’ve brought this on myself. I never should have put No. 3 on the market without discussing it with all of us. You warned me there’d be trouble, but I wouldn’t listen. I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Rushed in without thinking. It’s what I always do. But what’s done is done, and I can’t put it right.’
Next morning there were no signs of tears. Uncle drove down to work in Aberystwyth as usual, and Aunty said she’d got a business to run. Elvis went out to play with his friends and Mad Dog got on the PlayStation and zapped aliens as if his life depended upon it.
