Tell the Story to Its End

by Simon P. Clark

  ‘A hiding place

  You’ll never find,

  Just stare ahead

  And turn behind!’

  A tiny, singsong voice spun through the air. A kid? I tried following the noise but nothing made sense. The towering trees were silver and grey.

  ‘Follow your nose

  To find your bread!

  Stay on your toes

  To keep your head!’

  ‘Who are you?’ I shouted out, and my voice echoed like a dull, forgotten bell.

  ‘We run and sweep and jump to bite!

  We sing and dance and kill and fight!’

  ‘Where are you? Cowards!’ I called. In that moment, something changed. I hadn’t realised the woods had been noisy, but suddenly, and completely, everything was silent. Had there been so much noise before? I didn’t know, but now there was none, and my own breathing rang in my head like a rattle, every cracked twig became loud to me as a gunshot.

  ‘You should beware insults, didn’t I say?’ said the cat, licking its paw absent-mindedly. ‘There are places where they mean a lot more.’

  ‘You!’ There was a name I should remember. Something, someone … something like a bat …

  ‘Be careful, in the low places, not to insult those you can’t see,’ he said, and turned away, flicking his tail, and was gone. In the silence, a rustle of bracken echoed over and over. I jerked awake with a dry gasp.

  ‘Who’s there?’ I said.

  I was in my bedroom. The room was a deep, late-night blue and I rubbed at my eyes to focus.

  A faerie tapped on the window.

  ‘Spices from beyond the world!’ he said. ‘Prices from beyond the grave!’

  ‘Eren,’ I said, looking up, looking out at the stars, then at the faerie. He was playing games again.

  ‘Will ye no’ buy some?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Warm those buns, baffle those loaves. Buy my fruits, eh, eh?’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘There’s no telling,’ said the faerie, his voice dropping into a growl. ‘Who knows how I end up? Mebbe I just start lashing out.’

  ‘I don’t—’

  ‘How’s it end, eh?’

  ‘What? End? I—’ I stopped, suddenly understanding. Was he serious? Now? I could barely focus enough to talk. How could I finish a story with no ending?

  ‘Give us a hint, eh?’

  ‘Fine, fine, just … wait, OK? Wait.’

  I took a breath. I opened the window. The night air stung my lungs.

  ‘The faeries had given the baker their spice on one condition: he had to swear that the spice would never touch his children’s blood. Well, he thought he didn’t have any children, so he agreed without a second thought. But now, everything changes. He panics. He can’t risk his secret being discovered: no one can know he is a magician, he thinks. He has only one choice: to save his secret, he has to kill his own daughter – dead. So he does. A single drop of her blood falls and lands right in the bread dough, a red splash in the white bowl. He loses everything – his spice, his magic, and his daughter. The end.’

  The faerie did some sort of jig on the branch, hopping from one foot to the other like an impatient, eager kid. ‘That’s it?’ it said, raising a thin eyebrow. ‘Aw!’

  ‘Let me sleep,’ I said. ‘The story is over.’

  It stopped its dance and leaned forwards, both hands resting on its legs. ‘Just beginning!’ it sang, high and joking, and then with a rustle of leaves and a whirl of dust it was gone, blinked away into air and empty space. I heard Eren’s voice in the creak of the trees.

  ‘I’ll get the book!’ I hissed and rolled over, shutting my eyes tightly and waiting for sleep.

  * * *

  Bekah brought me breakfast in bed. She hadn’t woken me up since that very first morning. ‘Rise and shine, chuck!’ she said. I sniffed, cleared my throat and sat up groggily. ‘Oli, you look sick,’ she said, her face suddenly more serious. ‘You feeling OK? What happened to your cheek?’

  She made to move her hand to my face.

  ‘I’m fine, don’t worry. Tired.’

  She frowned. ‘Not much sleep?’

  ‘Last few nights,’ I said. ‘Lots to think about.’

  She bit her lip slightly and put the tray down. ‘Your dad,’ was all she said. I looked down, then back to her. She was glancing at the open door, listening for Mum.

  ‘It’s not that, really. That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, trying to smile naturally again, then stopping, catching herself. ‘You’re too old to patronise, Oli. You’re not dumb. You’re a good kid not to push your mum, but you know something’s up and you’re not even asking…’

  Not now, I thought. Not Dad. It was easier not to think about it. She passed me some toast and a cup of juice and took a triangle slice for herself, chewing small pieces, cupping her hand to catch crumbs. She ate like a mouse, I thought, in tiny bites and dainty nibbles. I ate my slice in four bites. I hadn’t even realised I was so hungry.

  ‘You should talk to your mum, Oli. Sometimes adults are scared as well and we all just want a hug as much as you might. Talk to your mum?’

  ‘Did he do something bad?’

  For a moment her face was blank as she looked at me, then around the room. ‘No,’ she said, ‘he didn’t, but some people are saying that he did. There’s a lot of money missing, and the government’s involved, and it’s all got a bit … confusing.’

  ‘Missing? From where?’

  ‘You know the government looks after money that certain people save up for when they retire. Soldiers, doctors, loads of others. Well, they found out that a lot of that money’s gone. It’s been stolen.’

  ‘Dad’s not a thief,’ I said.

  Bekah nodded. ‘No, honey, of course he isn’t. But a lot of people are angry. When money goes away, people notice. And somehow your dad got caught up in it all. He had to stay – to clear things up with the police, with everyone.’ She sighed and looked at the door again.

  ‘I’m not a kid,’ I said. I could feel Eren shifting in the loft, nodding, smiling, watching.

  ‘You’re not, really, are you?’ said Bekah. ‘So, talk to your mum, eh? But go easy on her. She’s trying to protect you. It’s complicated, but it’s because she loves you. She doesn’t want you to be worried, you see? It’s coming from a good place.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘Sure.’

  ‘Good,’ she said, nodding and finishing her toast. She licked the butter from her fingers. ‘You know your dad and Rob had some spat years ago and they never see each other now, but we are so glad you’re here. You could visit more. Maybe we’ll come down to London when this is – when – timings work out.’

  ‘What spat?’

  ‘Ancient history,’ said Bekah. ‘Your dad was doing a different kind of job then. He organised a new project nearby, some sort of building work, but there was a chemical plant involved. A few people got upset and thought it would ruin the area, pollute the environment. There was a campaign, and protests. Rob and Em’s dad, George, headed the whole thing up. They did a good job, you know. The project failed. I think it cost your dad a lot. He never forgave them, really. It all seems so stupid now, doesn’t it?’ said Bekah. ‘What’s past is past. We have to stick together. OK?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said. I ate more toast.

  ‘Now that you’re awake, a boy called round – Takeru? He wanted to know if you’ll be coming out later.’

  ‘Takeru? He’s here?’

  ‘He was, sleepyhead. It’s past ten. I told him you’d call back.’

  ‘Thanks, Bekah. Really. Thank you.’

  ‘Sure. Any time. You’ll be all right, Oli,’ she said, and walked out of the room.

  Shaking the crumbs from my sheets, and trying to do the same with all the thoughts in my head, I got up and dressed. With just one last look up at the loft door, I went downstairs.

  SEVENTEEN

  ‘The emotions you felt then,’ sa
ys Eren. ‘They were … complex.’

  ‘Emotions are complex things,’ I say, surprising myself. They don’t sound like my words.

  ‘Hmm. Yes. It’s like a good meal. All things mixed together, for a sophisticated taste. You get bored of plain things, after a while, eh, smidge?’

  I feel less and less like I want to answer. Less and less like I can.

  ‘A question!’ he announces. ‘A riddle! How do you know a story is over?’

  Over? Over? How could I know that? I run through all the stories I know in my mind, flicking through from tale to tale, looking for the clue. Eren’s eyes burn.

  ‘Happily ever after,’ I say, but he waits for more. What more does he want?

  ‘A story ends,’ I’m saying, ‘when everything has happened.’

  ‘Hmm. And how would you know when that is?’

  The blackness around us is like smoke. It wafts lazily to its own beat.

  ‘Tick tock,’ says Eren. ‘Tick tock.’

  ‘MAN,’ SAID Takeru. ‘That’s heavy!’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘I mean … wow,’ he said

  ‘I’m not sure how big a story this is,’ I said. ‘I think Mrs Barson knew.’

  ‘It must be pretty big. This is cool!’

  ‘Doesn’t feel very cool,’ I said quietly. Takeru looked at me and started to apologise.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘It’s just … weird.’

  ‘We could find out more,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ I said, as firmly and as certainly as I could. ‘No, I don’t want to. I don’t care what people think. I want to know what’s real. I’m sick of stories and lies. I don’t want to read what might be happening, what might be lies. Don’t tell me, OK? If you hear things. OK?’

  He looked serious as he nodded, just once, and offered his hand. ‘Deal. And if you need help, just yell.’

  ‘I’ll make my way through the Portal,’ I said. ‘Seems as good a place to hide as any. Behind a bush by a fence. It’s good, that. No troubles…’

  We were both sitting on a wall overlooking a small, grubby playground. The swings were old and the paint was peeling off the metal, the roundabout looked too stiff to move, the seesaw sat sadly in the concrete. A minute, maybe two, passed before Takeru said, ‘Heavy stuff, man.’

  ‘Pretty much.’

  He sucked in his breath and shivered, just slightly, in the pale sun.

  ‘So your mum hasn’t actually told you?’

  ‘Bekah did,’ I said. ‘I think she felt bad about it.’

  ‘Think your mum will?’

  I looked away, looked up at the sky, squinted as the sun flashed out. Mum wasn’t going to tell me. She thought that she could make it all not be true if she just pretended it wasn’t. I sniffed and spat on the ground.

  ‘My dad,’ said Takeru, ‘he’s not around much either.’

  ‘I haven’t seen your dad yet,’ I said. He shrugged.

  ‘Yeah. He and Mum have kind of been fighting for a long time. He’s always at work. He stays away for days. And Mum pretends it’s all a big party when he’s away, like we can do whatever we want. But then she goes out and the house is empty – well, apart from me.’

  He stared down at the ground. I picked at my nails.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said.

  ‘No biggie,’ he said. The swings squeaked when they rocked in the breeze.

  ‘Sorry your dad’s in trouble,’ said Takeru.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about Em’s dad,’ he said. ‘He’s always in a mood. When I was younger I broke one of their windows with a tennis ball. You have no idea how scared I was! I thought he’d go mental. His face got all red and he started shouting even before the ball had stopped moving. I called him The Volcano until Em gave me a bar of chocolate to make me stop.’

  I laughed. ‘The Volcano! That’s good. Quiet, normal, but any moment—’

  ‘He could erupt!’

  We jumped off the wall, laughing, feeling lighter.

  ‘It might be time to bring it back,’ I said.

  ‘I can’t. I’ve been bribed,’ said Takeru. ‘Chocolate, remember? But you’re free still. Volcano’s all yours. And if Em gets to you, I’d name a higher price.’

  ‘Sure thing. I’ll strike a mean bargain, and split my rewards with you,’ I said.

  ‘Sweet.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  We quietened down, wandered the playground, kicked at the dirt.

  ‘We should do something,’ said Takeru. ‘Take your mind off it all.’

  ‘Anything,’ I said.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We can head to mine. You any good at shoot ’em ups?’

  ‘I’m all right.’

  ‘I need someone to beat. Em’s too easy. She doesn’t really get it. Says the stories don’t make sense and then she gets shot in the head and sulks.’

  ‘Stories,’ I said, spitting the word out. ‘Last thing I need.’

  ‘What you need,’ said Takeru, ‘is to stay alive in the face of imminent alien invasion. Come on.’

  We headed back to his house. The driveway was empty, the lights turned off. ‘See?’ he muttered. ‘Out.’

  Inside he offered me a drink and we headed up to his room. It had a good view of the garden below, and through the trees I could see Em’s house, and the roof of Uncle Rob’s. The loft window was black and still. I looked away. Takeru noticed.

  ‘Yeah, I see Em coming a lot,’ he said, flicking on a TV and choosing a game from a bookshelf. ‘We built that door years ago. We used her dad’s tools, did it in the evenings, after school, on Sundays. We felt like spies. We were so scared our parents would find out and go mental, but they never cottoned on.’

  ‘It’s cool, though,’ I said.

  ‘Saves a bit of time,’ he said. ‘Now, red or blue?’

  ‘Uh, blue,’ I said. I’d never played the game he’d chosen, but the goal seemed pretty basic; alien invasion of earth, and only us left to save mankind. The aliens – growling, many-legged monsters – made a very satisfying splat when you shot them. It was clear pretty quickly that Takeru was winning.

  ‘Aim for the eyes,’ he said. ‘But the big grey ones – there, like that – you have to take the legs out, and they have these babies – no, that’s a mine! Yeah, that’s right, sidestep – who run faster so you have to use the machine gun with the laser or they suck your health.’

  ‘I need a bazooka!’ I said. Takeru nodded.

  ‘That,’ he said, ‘we can do.’

  We spent the next few hours saving the world from various threats, while eating pretty much all of Takeru’s parents’ supply of crisps and chocolate-covered raisins. I felt right again. I felt almost normal. Takeru opened the window to let some air in, asked me if I wanted a Coke, went to find some ice. I paused the game – I wasn’t about to win, but I’d managed to nuke two entire planets, which has to count for something – and lay back, leaning against the foot of his bed. He had posters on his wall, of mountains, a desert, a dark, blue ocean. He came back in, two glasses packed with ice.

  ‘Where is that?’ I asked, pointing to the mountain. He looked up, smiled.

  ‘K2,’ he said. ‘Second highest mountain on earth. Cool, right? It’s the most dangerous mountain there is. More difficult to climb than Everest.’

  I pushed myself up and took a glass. ‘K2. You into that kind of thing?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, looking down. ‘Maybe. It would be cool. Think about it – the most difficult mountain in the world. There’s, like, three hundred people who have ever made it. It would be something special.’

  ‘Adventure,’ I said.

  He nodded. ‘Yeah. Get away from Coxborough. You know?’

  ‘If you want to see London,’ I said, ‘when I’m back, I mean, I could show you. You could come and stay.’

  His face lit up. ‘Really?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I mean, we don’t have any mountains—’

  ‘That would be
awesome,’ he said. He lifted his glass. ‘Adventure!’ he said. I drank my Coke.

  Half an hour later, Takeru had saved the universe. I’d died – eaten by some sort of space worm – just before the end.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘That bit’s always hard. What do you fancy now?’

  The wind moved the curtains. A bird cried out. Something rumbled in my mind, images of trees and fiery red hair. Something smelled like spices and bread, and an old, sour smell of apples rotting in a field.

  ‘I … I want to go back to the society,’ I said slowly, picking my words one by one. ‘You up for it? We should go back. I want to go and look around that room again.’

  Takeru looked at me with a puzzled face, holding my stare for the smallest of moments, then chuckled once. ‘Sure thing. Remember where it is?’

  ‘I don’t really know this place yet.’

  ‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘I think I can find it. Shall we call Em?’

  Did I want to call Em? It would be more distracting to have three people – more convincing for us to go together, but then, another pair of eyes to watch me – to catch me out. Takeru seemed to decide without me. ‘Yeah, we’d better. It’d be a bit weird to go, otherwise.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘But … best not mention about my dad. You know. The Volcano and all…’

  ‘Got you,’ he said. ‘Come on, let’s get Em and go and see the crazy lady. I mean, that’s kind of the same thing anyway.’

  He laughed at his own joke. I smiled. We made our way downstairs, and he locked the house back up. The driveway was still empty, his parents busy somewhere else.

  * * *

  ‘You want to go back? Really?’

  Em was standing in her doorway, one arm still hidden behind the front door. She turned to me with her hands moving to her hips, as if we were somehow insulting her.

  ‘Seriously,’ I said. ‘I want to see more. But it’d be better with you. We don’t know her, still.’