‘The apple-lord awoke, roused by the change he felt even in the depths of his dreams. He looked out over his trees and felt their empty deaths deep down to his roots. “You killed me,” he said to the cat, who had slunk back between the posts of the fence, sniffing at the broken leaves. His voice was calm, but surprised. Death was something he understood, something that was part of Nature, part of him, but still … perhaps he was hurt, even.
‘“I have,” said the cat, “but my words were true – the star is gone.”
‘“Was that the only way?”
‘“That he should see every star in every apple? No,” said the cat. “No, it wasn’t.”
‘“I offended you.”
‘“Know better, next time, apple-lord, before you meddle with a cat.”
‘“No,” said the king with the voice of wind through the branches, “there is no next time. The orchard is dead.”
‘“There’ll be mice in the empty trunks.”
‘“I can’t feel sorry for that,” said the apple-lord, in a voice like the rustle of dead leaves. The stars overhead blinked out as the morning sun rose.’
Em gave a tiny bow and curtseyed, holding the hem of an invisible skirt. ‘The end!’ she said, nodding happily and putting down the bowl. Takeru and I threw the poles to the ground and picked up the last few apples from the ground.
‘That whole story just because an orchard died?’ Takeru asked.
‘Apparently they really found all the apples one day, cut up and showing their stars. I think they thought it was a curse, and burned the trees. Imagine! The old apple-lord burning in the copper flames, red-specked beard all crispy and smoking in autumn…’
Takeru laughed. ‘Seriously, though, you’re good at telling the stories. You should be an actor.’
Em blushed and smiled. ‘No, no … but it’s fun. You should try it. I bet you could think of a great one!’
‘I think…’ I said, louder than I meant to, ‘I think we should do something with these apples. Now, yeah?’
‘Em, I think you spooked Oli,’ said Takeru.
‘Whatever,’ I said, trying to keep my voice cool. I was desperate to get inside, away from the glare, to silence the thoughts that bounced and echoed round my head. Eren’s here, he listens, he hears, the stories …
The attic window glistened in the sunlight.
FOURTEEN
I watch him as he sits in the twilight, his eyes shut fast, his breathing shallow. He’s humming to himself, or to me, or to nobody. Maybe he isn’t really humming. I look around at where we are, but my focus slips from the corners as if they were black ice. I squint but I can’t see. Eren sits and hums, or dreams. I move around, feeling out for the edges of the attic, moving towards the window that watches the world. It’s just too far. Just a little beyond my reach …
This room isn’t a room. I can’t work it out. And then Eren is standing next to me, his eyes like tiny suns floating in black water.
‘It’s more of a thought,’ he says, ‘than any room you would recognise.’
THERE WERE birds flying overhead. They looked like nothing more than scratches in the sky, but I heard their cries, wild and crazed, shattering the silence of the open fields. I was running through the empty spaces of a lost world. A hungry sun blazed fiercely in the sky. Shadows passed under my feet, dark smears and stains on the ground around me. I called out to Eren. I ran until I heard waves crashing and then saw an ocean of grey, hard water open up in front of me, filling in from rivers on all sides.
‘Eren!’ I shouted, scrabbling down the shingle onto the beach. All stones, white and black and fist-sized. No sand yet – that would come later. The sun fizzed like the static on television and crackled into darkness. A thousand stars fell from the sky, turning the beach white and milky with fog. There was a boy ahead of me. ‘I cannot find my way,’ he said, but I pushed past him, chasing the black haze that darted and ran ahead of me. ‘Eren, wait!’
Why was Eren running away? I had to tell him something. Something too important to wait. From the sea a sad, silent woman stepped up and danced with the stars, her wet black eyes searching their twinkling faces.
‘I search for a king!’ she cried as she spun and twirled.
From the distant forest a cat’s meow rippled like laughter. ‘The kings have gone to the stars!’ it purred. ‘The stars have gone to the dogs!’
I ran on, following Eren, reaching out for him. There was nothing but burnt orange earth under my feet now, my soles clapping and cracking as I pounded on. High above me, the birds soared and span.
‘Eren … stop!’ I shouted.
He did, finally, skidding to a halt, his blur turning solid, his wings, his snout, his eyes, merry, hungry.
‘Who commands me like that?’ he asked. I walked forward. The dull, young earth spat dust onto my trainers.
‘Eren,’ I said.
‘Ahh,’ he said, as if he’d suddenly understood something, something he hadn’t even thought about. ‘Oli. So we’re meeting here too, now.’
‘Eren, I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘Oh yes? Hmm?’ He raised a cynical eyebrow. His sharp pointed teeth hung over his lips when he smiled.
‘I…’ Why was it so hard to remember? I was sure there was something … something vague and slippery. My mind wouldn’t focus.
‘In dreams there are very rarely answers,’ he said, ‘but you can’t really be surprised. It’s not what they’re for. Questions, now that’s what you get from dreams. Questions and … how can I put this? Hints.’
‘Hints?’ The sound of the waves was coming nearer. I turned and saw the ocean pushing over the beach, racing over the parched land.
‘Cheats,’ he said. ‘Dreams are where … where advice can be given, if things are right. But you had something to tell me?’
‘No, I guess – no – I just saw you and—’
‘Wake up, Oli.’
‘What?’
‘Wake up! And look out of the window when you do.’
* * *
I sat up with a grunt, staring around, trying to see. Darkness hung like a fog in my room, and I reached out groggily for my clock. 12:16. My eyes were still half closed, but I turned around and groped at the curtain with an arm as heavy as lead, my skin sensing the rush of cold off the glass like a tiny sting. I mumbled to myself, nothing in particular, and pulled myself up to sitting. The warmth of my bed called me back, but I sighed deeply, cleared my throat, and reached forward to rub mist from the glass. What was I looking for?
I gasped. In the high branches of the tree outside, a dark-grey cat was staring at me, his fur glowing almost purple in the gloom. He nodded, blinked, and flicked his tail. I stared at him as he nodded again and pawed the air between us.
‘Open the window?’ I asked. Stupid, I told myself, talking to a cat, but … the cat bowed its head again, nodding once. Yes. The window was an old one, and slid up instead of swinging out, but I managed it quickly enough. The cat licked its paw and the pinkness of its tongue was like a splash of blood in the dark tree’s branches.
‘It was not as hateful as it seemed,’ it said, in a voice that rasped like a grandfather’s. I froze, wide-eyed and shivering.
‘Oh, don’t look at me like that, puh-lease. Insults are insults – it’s one of the basic laws, the rules of things like us.’
‘Us?’ I managed to croak. I rubbed my eyes, looked at my clock. 12:18. The wind rustled the curtains and brushed my neck. I was awake, at least.
‘Old things. Natural things. Real things. That fruity lord – the apple guy – him, too. Me. Us all.’
‘You’re … from the orchard?’
‘I must say, I thought you’d be faster than this. I was told you were inspiring. The exact words. Yes, I am the same. And as I said, there are rules, for our kind. Insults are insults, and are heavy, serious things. It’s like … blood for blood. Bowing to the orders of boundaries. Don’t cross water to catch your prey. Rules,’ said the cat.
>
‘The story, that was you,’ I said.
His eyes flashed, thin and bright, and he turned his head to one side, yawning wide and pink and slow. ‘Yes, indeed. And it’s important you understand why I did it.’
‘You killed the orchard?’
The cat sighed, arching his tail high over his back and down again. ‘You see? I did not do that. That’s what you remembered. What’s the point?’ He sounded annoyed. ‘It was all within the rules. What I told the star was true. And the apple-lord – between you and me, what kind of lord sleeps for hundreds of years at a time? – insulted me.’
‘Where have you come from?’ I said. My voice sounded high and panicked. A noise in my head was welling up, growing round, repeating over and over.
‘Oh, fine,’ said the cat, ‘just ignore my defence, then. Fine. Where have I come from?’ His purr had turned into something darker now; a growl, basic and primitive, more like an animal. He lowered his head and then looked up at me with narrowed, amused eyes. ‘Where do you think I’ve come from?’
‘You were in a book, about the orchard. Em told me…’ I spoke quickly, jumbling the words together. The cat did the best it could to shush me.
‘Puh-lease. It’s all simple, really. I’m here because of him.’
‘Eren,’ I said. There was no hint of a question in my voice. From above me, a small laugh floated on the wind.
‘Eren!’ I hissed, worried that someone else would hear. ‘Eren, what is this?’
‘What are dreams, and waking, and stories, and imaginings?’ asked the cat. ‘They’re all, very much, the same thing, seen from different angles in different lights. Now, boy. Sleep. Sleep and do not wake until the light has returned. I’ll go and take care of the star-boy again…’
Something deeper than fear made me move back inside, made me reach up and pull down the window, and even as I tried to look back again, to call to the cat – or to call out at all – my head was on the pillow. The air felt dense, heavy, crushing me onto the bed. I had no choice, I knew. I slept, a dead dreamless nothing.
* * *
Look, I’m on your side! You know that!’ Uncle Rob’s voice was loud, strained.
I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but they hadn’t realised I was outside the door. I stopped, curious, and listened.
‘Oli’s a bright kid, Judy.’
I pressed myself closer.
‘What is this about, Rob?’ My mum’s voice was quiet and polite. That was never good.
‘I’m just not sure if you should keep him in the dark like this.’
‘I appreciate that we all have our own views, and of course I’m more grateful than I can say that you’re letting us stay here, but—’
‘Listen to me. I wonder if he doesn’t already know. You must have noticed how ill he’s been looking lately. He’s pale, he’s distant. What if he found some newspaper, or saw something on the TV at one of his friend’s places?’
‘Is this a rebellion, Rob? Is that it? You’d all rather make things easier for yourselves and ignore me and everything I’m trying to do…!’ Her voice had got louder and higher and from the sounds in the kitchen Rob had rushed over to hug her. He made soothing noises, like he was rocking a baby to sleep.
‘Judy, this will work out.’
‘And what if it doesn’t?’ asked my mum in a tiny, cracking voice. ‘What will I tell Oli then about his dad? That he’s a traitor? That he’s being denounced in Parliament? That the papers would love nothing more than to see us in rags, on the street? He’s innocent!’
My dad? I pressed my ear close to the door, moving my feet slowly on the carpet, trying not to breathe.
‘You think I considered him guilty for even a second? For heaven’s sake,’ Rob’s voice grew louder again, ‘I might not agree with James’s politics, but he’s no criminal. I never thought that. The thing is, someone, somewhere, is responsible for thousands of lives ruined, millions of pounds just … just gone from the pensions. They want someone to blame. James is caught up, but he will be freed in the end.’
‘But what if he’s not?’
‘He will,’ said Uncle Rob. ‘You’ll see. Listen to your brother, for once. We won’t say anything to Oli, if that’s what you want. At least you finally came here. That’s one good thing already.’
‘Never could with James,’ said Mum in a small voice. ‘I don’t think he ever forgave you the protests.’
‘We were young and proud. George, too.’
‘George thinks he did it, though, doesn’t he?’
Rob sighed. I heard something scrape against the floor – a chair being pulled out to sit on. ‘George doesn’t want to see you or Oli put through this hell. But George doesn’t matter, in the end. Only the truth. James will come home.’
Mum’s voice was almost a whisper. I held my breath to listen. ‘Oli adores his father. I couldn’t cope with him hearing such horrible things. Did you read what that nasty little woman said? The lawyer, the one with the cheap blue suit. Said that he had stolen from the very heart of the country itself! She said that.’
‘I heard,’ said Rob.
‘How can she say that? How can that be allowed?’
‘It’s an accusation,’ said Rob. ‘Not a fact.’
‘They’re making him a monster, Rob. They’re making him into a monster. I can’t – I can’t—’
‘Shh, Judy. We won’t say anything to Oli. Not me or Bekah, not George, not anyone.’
I backed away from the door, my mind numb, and moved silently back upstairs. Counting five minutes, I came bounding down the stairs, noisy as I could be, calling out to Jasper as I saw him, and stroking his belly as he flopped onto his side. ‘Good dog!’ I said, making my voice sound happy. ‘Yeah, yeah, you are!’
‘Oli! Morning!’ said Uncle Rob, appearing from behind the kitchen door. ‘Come on, lad. Have some toast.’
I let him ruffle my hair as I went past, and went to give Mum a hug.
FIFTEEN
Eren grins at me, leers at me, and then, like a clucking hen, pushes his chest out. ‘Haven’t felt this good in many a year, my boy.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Course you don’t. I’d call you a liar if you said you did! Anyway, what is there to understand?’
Everything is hazy. Nothing seems important. Where’s Eren gone? I’ve lost him. I turn my head around, looking for him, calling out his … he’s standing right in front of me, eyes flashing like steel blades in the dark.
‘Hey up,’ he says.
‘I’m caught in a web. You’re the spider. This is wrong.’
He looks bored, almost, and picks at his teeth with a long, sharp finger. ‘Aye, well, there’s nothing doing being all complainy. You can’t really do much more now.’
He’s right, I know – more than I’ve known anything else. Pain is bad, food is good, and I am here, and Eren is right. I try to cry, to kneel down and hide my head, but I just stare at him.
‘Tell me,’ he says, in a high, put-on voice, like a man acting as a king, ‘what stories are.’
‘They’re just … no, they’re not just anything, are they? They’re everything.’
‘Oh, yes, you’re very good. What is the end of a story?’
I manage a dry laugh. ‘A beginning?’ I ask. I’ve started to understand his games, at least. He’s singing to himself, over in the corner, a song I can hear but a song not for me.
‘A tale I know, de dum, de dum, I know of many a tale! To catch a boy, a cunning ploy, and one that never does fail!’
I wonder how long I’ve been here. I really, really don’t know.
I MET UP with Em with the idea in my head. She was wearing a green straw hat, faded and crooked, and she beamed when she saw me and jumped down from the wall. ‘Hey, stranger!’
‘Morning.’
‘Busy days, eh?’
‘Yeah. How was that apple pie?’
‘Tasty! You should come to mine and try some…’ She looked down, awkward for j
ust a moment. ‘But maybe when my dad’s not around. He … doesn’t like the smell,’ she lied. I scuffed the heel of my shoe on the pavement. I knew her dad wasn’t a big fan of mine. He probably didn’t think much of me, either.
‘Listen, Em, is there, like, a library around here?’
She looked at me and scratched her chin. ‘Uh, yeah, sure. Local library? How come?’
‘I want to find some stuff. About stories.’
‘I could lend you some books I have. I just finished this one about a secret group of—’
‘No,’ I cut her off. ‘No, not a story. More like … them all. How they work. What makes them.’
‘Ri-i-ght,’ she said, uncertain. ‘Well, we can go to the library down by the council house. It’s not great from the outside, but it’s fine inside. I’ve been loads. We had a school trip when I was younger, and you had to find out about your own road using the histories and stuff.’
‘Can you show me?’ I asked, and she smiled and nodded. We caught a bus into the centre of town, a place I’d never been before, and all the while Em chatted and joked about nothing and everything. The clouds overhead turned darker, people around us got on, got off, read papers, chatted, sat and stared out of the windows at the passing world. It was good, I thought. It was normal, like a distant memory of a life I’d had. It made me think more of London, of getting the bus to school, being around my mates, being dumb and free and happy. Em kept prattling on and I laughed at her stupid jokes, not because I found them funny but because I wanted her to know how glad I was that this was normal, that this was safe. We got off at one end of a bustling high street. Em shot a dark look at the sky. ‘Going to rain,’ she said. ‘Ah well! Come on, it’s this building here.’
She pushed open a glass door built into an older stone frame. ‘They did it all up new last year,’ she said. ‘Actually, I preferred the older library. It had cool corners to crouch in and books that never ever moved. They made it lighter, more fancy and electronic, but it’s not as nice as the old one.’
‘Shame.’
Tell the Story to Its End Page 9
