‘And then, over a period of time, the sun seems to glow stronger in the sky, and brighter, and almost unbearable. The crops dry and wither and the river flows low in its bed. But it isn’t the sun that is causing the drought; without warning a golden, flame-breathing dragon suddenly swoops down out of the sky and seeks to destroy everything with flame. The people cry out in terror and are amazed to see the river rush up from its course to help them.
‘A battle commences between the dragon and the river, but all the people can see of the great fight are vast swathes of mist that churn and swirl all around them. There is a deafening roaring and the noise of water rushing and hissing, that goes on all day, and at night the sky and surrounding countryside is lit-up by glowing lights that move and dance slowly all around; now to the north, then to the south, then east, then west …
‘And then suddenly all goes quiet and the people are at a loss to know exactly who had won—the dragon or the river. It takes days for the mists to clear, and the people fear the worst. Finally the mists thin and they can see that the dragon has disappeared. The river, though is only a fraction the size that it had once been. It has won, but at a great cost to itself.’
Jason’s story was finished, and I realised that there were now another five or six children in the passageway with us. We all clapped Jason and insisted on another story, but he said that the next story would have to be on another night. He explained, as though he understood my situation, that I had to go back into my grandparents’ house. The other children ran off and I said goodnight to Sarah and Jason. I closed the door after them and then slid back the bolts on my side; I didn’t want my grandparents to discover that I’d opened the door. I listened, but couldn’t hear Jason and Sarah do the same with the bolts on their side of the door.
The next night the children were waiting for me, and I opened the door without thinking about it. Straightaway Jason closed his good eye and told us another story. As he talked I found myself staring at his strange eye. It was very hard making myself look at something else in case I appeared rude.
‘This time I can see a very old lady who is living in a very old house with a thatched roof that hides most of the upstairs windows, as though the place was in need of a haircut. It is a big house, and as the old woman doesn’t want to live there on her own she looks after children who don’t have any parents. They are all living together very happily when, one day, a large man in expensive clothes comes and knocks loudly and rudely at their door. He tells them that he’s bought the land that their house is built on and that they will have to leave.
‘The poor old woman tells the man that she has nowhere to go. The big man, though, says that he doesn’t care. He says that their house is old and ugly and falling apart, and that he plans to knock it down and build something ugly and new in its place. And then he will find people to live there who’ll pay him much more rent than the old woman could ever afford. He says that they have to leave the very next morning.
‘Well, the old woman and the children don’t know what to do. They go to bed and cry themselves to sleep. The house, though, is not sleeping. It never really sleeps; it just dozes year after year. It breathes in once at night, and out in the morning, which is when the people inside hear its timbers creaking.
‘The old house waits until everyone inside is in their deepest sleep, and then it gets up. It lifts its walls at the edges like a girl might lift a dress that she doesn’t want to drag along the ground. The night is at its darkest and the house walks as carefully as it can, as far as it is able, so as to be off the land that the horrible man has bought. When it feels that it is safe the house lets down its walls and sits back down again. As it does so the creaking of its timbers are especially loud and the old woman wakes up. She looks out of the window and there is just a little light appearing in the east. As the sun makes its way up to the horizon she can see that the view from her window has changed and she rubs her eyes in disbelief. By the time the sun creeps over the edge of the earth she knows what had happened.’
Once again I was enthralled by Jason’s story, but as soon as he had finished my nerve began to desert me and I insisted I had to go back.
‘No. Come with us,’ Jason said. ‘We’ll go downstairs and out into the street. We’ll play games and I might tell another story.’
I shook my head and he turned to the others:
‘You go on out. I’ll see you all in the street.’
Once they had gone he turned to me:
‘I’m going to tell another story that I can see through my funny eye.’ He closed his good eye again. ‘It’s going to be about flying on the back of a giant dragonfly, and going down to a garden and discovering that either the flowers and the grasses are as tall as trees, or…’
‘But I can’t come and play,’ I said. ‘It’s late and I’ll get into so much trouble if I’m caught out of bed.’
Sarah was still in the passageway, waiting for Jason, and had been listening.
‘But tomorrow,’ she said, ‘You will have to come down and play with us outside.’
‘I can’t,’ I replied. ‘But it would be great if you’d come up here again.’
‘No,’ said Jason. ‘Tomorrow we’re having a party. You’ll have to come down.’
‘What time will it be?’
‘After you’ve gone to bed, I expect,’ he said, and there was a mocking tone in his voice.
‘It will be a proper party,’ Sarah said. ‘You’ll be formally invited.’
‘Well, that’s different,’ I replied. ‘If it’s a proper party then I’m sure I’ll be allowed to come. As long as it’s not too late.’
I closed the door after them and slid back the bolts. Once again I listened but Jason and Sarah did not lock the door on their side. In my room I hung my dressing gown up on the back of the door and took off my slippers before getting into bed. As I lay there, feeling sleep approach, my great fear was that the party would be starting too late and my grandparents would forbid me to go. As I lay there worrying I could hear the other children out in the street again and I didn’t dare look out of the window at them.
When the morning came the first thing I thought of was the party. I got myself washed and dressed and downstairs in time for the post to arrive, but there was nothing addressed to me. When I came home from school that afternoon there had been nothing in the second post either, and I told myself that the invitation would probably be delivered by hand. It was a shame that it would not give my grandparents much time to make any arrangements, but I would only be going next door, after all. We had dinner, and soon it was time for me to go up to bed. My grandparents could tell that I was upset about something, but I didn’t feel able to explain what the problem was. I couldn’t tell them that the children next door were inviting me to a party because I would have had to explain how I’d met them, and that would have resulted in trouble for me. I was upset with my new friends because they seemed to have forgotten all about inviting me.
I had been in bed for a few minutes, feeling sad and angry, when I heard them in the street again. At first I refused to get up and look out of the window; I hid under my bedclothes, but I couldn’t stop imagining them out there without me. I wondered if there was actually a party, or whether they were simply playing as before. Perhaps, I thought, it had been cancelled. I made myself get up and look, knowing that either way I would still feel thoroughly wretched.
I was distraught. They were having a party. The children were all dressed up in outlandish costumes and were playing games and dancing. There were many coloured lights, like little lanterns, and there was bunting and streamers, and some of the children had sparklers. It seemed amazing that they were actually having a proper, organised party out in the road!
It occurred to me to check the door between my grandparents house and theirs. I put on my dressing gown and slippers and, once I was sure that there was nobody about, I crept out into the passage. Behind the curtain I was surprised to see that the door was wide
open. I didn’t have time to wonder how it had been opened from my side, because in the light from their passageway I could see an envelope on the floor.
I picked it up and felt the thick textured paper it was made from. The envelope was the colour of cream and I noticed that it was addressed to me in very flowing, violet handwriting. I opened it as carefully as I could, not wanting to tear it too much, but eager to get inside.
The invitation was written in the same script and as I ran my finger over it I could feel that it was raised, like the company name on my father’s business cards. It looked as though they had actually gone to the trouble of printing my name on it! And I wasn’t just invited to any old party; it was a ‘Special Fancy Dress Party’. I was overjoyed, and looked up to see Jason in the passageway before me, with Sarah standing just behind him. He was dressed as a kind of clown, but in black and white. Today I’d probably recognise him as a Pierrot, but then he just looked very odd. He also had a patch over his good eye which seemed, somehow, to even up his odd eyes. Sarah was dressed as a princess, wearing a large gauzy dress and a tiara in her hair. She had an animal on the end of a lead, but I couldn’t tell if it was a dog or a cat.
‘So you’re coming down?’ asked Jason, as though he was worried I might not agree to do so.
It was the invitation in my hand that persuaded me it would be all right. I was about to walk forward when I thought, ‘But I don’t have a costume!’
‘Come in your pyjamas and dressing gown,’ said Jason with a laugh. ‘There are already half a dozen princesses, and three cowboys, but nobody has thought to come as though they’re dressed for bed!’
We went down the passageway of panelled, polished wood which reflected the lights from the chandelier on the landing. When we were under it, at the head of the stairs, I could see that lights were blazing through the open doors of all the bedrooms. Inside them I saw more polished wood, patterned wallpapers and heavy, coloured materials. It was such a beautiful house that I wanted to explore it all, but Jason and Sarah were already bounding down the stairs and calling me after them.
I followed them down the richly-patterned stair carpet that flowed to the hall where there was another chandelier, but this time all the lights in it were different colours. A grandfather clock was chiming the hour in a slow, even, mellow tone, and I was surprised to be able to count all the way up to ten. I hadn’t realised what time it was, but I decided that it was now too late to return.
I walked with the children into a kitchen where there was a table laden with sweet-looking party food. The room was lit by numerous little candles that reflected and danced off copper pans that hung from the ceiling, and from real crystal glasses that were presumably set out for us to use. An open fire burnt in a grate and I wondered that anyone would have such a thing in a kitchen today. It seemed so old fashioned, though comfortably so.
We went out the door and though there was a small garden, the party had been organised, as I had seen, out on the street itself. The children looked around and saw me and there was a cheer that made me feel quite important. A couple of them lit roman candles and sparks cascaded out and onto the road where they bounced away. I was worried that my grandparents would hear them, and come and investigate, but I had an invitation in my hand that actually had my name printed on it.
I joined in the game they were playing, although I wasn’t sure I understood what it was and I was pleased to see that it was coming to some kind of an end. Then a new one was started and Jason explained it; we all stood in two long parallel rows with a partner opposite. Between us we held a long willow stick and the couple at one end lifted theirs high and ran down the outside of the rows holding the stick above our heads. The taller children had to duck to let them past and there was a lot of laughter. The first two joined on the end and we all moved forward until it was our turn to do the same. When the smaller children ran back with their willow stick over everyone else’s heads we all had to duck and there was yet more laughing. And then there was more than one pair running back down the outside as we moved forward, and it all sped up until we were all running forwards and backwards, under and over, in one great ecstatic movement. When, eventually and inevitably, somebody tripped over, the whole thing fell apart and we collapsed on top of each other, screaming with delight. The fact that we were all rolling about in the middle of the road did not seem to be a problem at all.
There were street lights at even intervals, but the party was really lit by a moon that I was sure was now absolutely full, and seemed to get bigger and bigger as the party progressed. The next game was one I knew; musical statues. Then word went around that we would be eating the party food after a game of Blind Man’s Buff. I was pleased that I thought I knew that game as well, but theirs was different from the version I had played before. In theirs, we played within a large oval that was drawn on the street in chalk by Jason. We were all told that we must not cross the chalk line or we would be out of the game. A child was blindfolded and ran around trying to catch the rest of us, just as I expected. However, when they had caught someone, that child had to stand still while the blindfolded one kissed them on the lips and had to identify who they had kissed. If they were right they went and chose a prize from a table laden with brightly coloured parcels and could leave the game. If they were wrong everyone chanted ‘Blind eyes, blind lips, never again will you be kissed’, and they left the oval but didn’t get a prize. Whatever the result, they had to pass the blindfold over to the person they’d caught and it started again.
I started to play the game quite light-heartedly and then realised that I only knew Jason and Sarah, and that if I was caught and blindfolded and managed to catch anyone it was unlikely that I’d be able to correctly identify them. This worried me, as did the possibility of catching a boy and having to kiss them, which hadn’t happened yet but filled me with dread. I imagined there would be some horrible chant attendant upon that outcome.
I must not have appeared to be enjoying myself as much as the others, because I was grimly determined not to be caught. I played the game well and the numbers of participants decreased, but each time another chalk line was drawn within the ones before the oval became smaller and smaller. Whenever the blindfolded person was close to going over the line they were pushed back inside by those who were out, accompanied by the bizarre shout ‘Indigo!’
Inevitably I was caught, despite my best efforts. I was glad that at least the person in the blindfold was a girl. She was tall and pretty and though embarrassed, I didn’t mind her kissing me. She guessed my name incorrectly and left the oval sadly. I was now very worried, and I decided that my only hope was not to catch anyone…I stumbled around ineptly. I swept my hands out before me slowly enough, I hoped, to let anyone close get away. Twice I nearly left the oval and was pushed back in with cries of ‘Indigo!’ And then I managed to catch another child.
I was sure it was a girl; my hands had touched the generous material of a dress. As the others had done before me I felt for her face, we drew closer and I kissed her lips. I remembered long afterwards that they were soft and that she smelt of honey. I only knew Sarah’s name and so I said it out loud, and there was a cheer. I removed the blindfold and I was so relieved to see that she was standing there before me. My heart leapt and I passed her the blindfold. I ran happily over to the table and chose a gift; a large one wrapped in red paper.
I was about to open the present, as all the other winners had obviously been doing, when I looked back and saw Jason deliberately allow Sarah to catch him. It was quite obvious, and I thought it very strange until I realised that all of the catching, despite appearances, was probably arranged; all of the children, apart from myself, had allowed themselves to be caught by a friend they liked (or, perhaps, objected to least.) It worried me that I hadn’t understood any of this, but I was pleased that somehow I had got through it.
Back in the oval Sarah kissed Jason and shouted out my name. There was a great deal of laughter from the other children, a
long with the chant ‘Blind eyes, blind lips, never again will you be kissed!’ Now I was very confused; how could she have forgotten that I was already out? I mean, I was the one who had caught her!
Sarah walked out of the oval, apparently quite happy, leaving Jason standing there looking angry.
Sarah came up to the table and I wondered if she had misunderstood the game and was hoping to take a present as well. I was about to explain the rules to her but she said with a determined smile: ‘You must leave now.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Jason will want revenge. This is his party.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘No, and don’t ask me to explain because I can’t. Jason’s the only one who knows everything. It’s his party.’
I turned and looked up at my bedroom window, which was dark. There were no lights in any of the windows of my grandparents’ house.
Leave Your Sleep Page 6
