Toby Fisher and the Arc Light

by Ian McFarlane

  ‘How do I get there?’ said Toby sulkily. It didn’t sound much like a question because Toby really didn’t want to know the answer.

  ‘With me, sir,’ said the messenger, as he stepped aside and allowed Toby to look into the driveway. A large, old-style motorbike leant against its own side stand. It had one small seat behind a long, sleek, shiny chrome petrol tank. Toby gulped.

  ‘How do I . . .’ said Toby, pointing at the bike and not finishing his sentence. The man stepped inside the house and closed the door. He undid his tweed jacket and unfolded the flaps to one side. Underneath was a tweed waistcoat with a column of buttons down the centre. He pressed the middle one. There were a few metallic clunks and clicks and then amazingly a square door on the front of his chest opened wide, revealing a dark space within. It looked like an opening to a very uninviting cave. The messenger was a full-sized human-like robot. It continued to smile at Toby mechanically.

  Soft clunking noises echoed from the dark cavity, followed by a black-haired head that miraculously popped out: a human head! The head grinned joyfully as it placed its hands on the edges of the hole. It didn’t make any effort to try and escape. In fact, it seemed very happy to be inside the chest of this robot. Toby didn’t know whether to sigh in relief or run in fear.

  ‘Ah, good morning,’ said the human head. ‘You’ll be Master Toby. My name is Caruthers. I’m the admissions clerk for Tintagel village. I’m pleased to meet you,’ he said in a polished voice, as he smartly held out his hand.

  Toby gingerly stepped forward and shook the hand, uncertain whether he would be sucked into the hole or something equally as hideous.

  ‘You want me to go in there?’ questioned Toby nervously.

  ‘There’s plenty of room,’ he said. ‘It’s nice and warm inside. We have some big arm chairs and about thirty of the latest movies to watch: Clark Gable in Gone with the Wind and, erm . . .’ he dithered a little, ‘uhm, and there’s Charlie Chaplin, he’s my favourite, and we have some cakes and tea ready and waiting for you too.’ Caruthers smiled as if he was trying just a bit too hard. Toby hadn’t even heard of Clark what’s-his-name, or Charlie Craplin for that matter. He shook his head vigorously.

  ‘Thank you, Caruthers. Plan two,’ instructed the silver messenger. He closed the door on the hole in his chest and buttoned up his coat. There was a muffled ‘How rude’ from within. The messenger walked out to the motorbike and pressed a button on the handlebars. A small leather-covered pad and a second set of handlebars shot out from under the seat and arranged itself above the chrome tank. The silver messenger swung his brown shod foot over the motorbike and sat upright, clearly waiting for Toby.

  Toby had never ridden a motorbike before and the thought of sitting on a skinny and very slippery-looking petrol tank was far beyond anything he was comfortable with. He shook his head vigorously and walked back into the depths of the house without another word.

  Charlie sighed. Toby felt she wasn’t doing a very good job of seeing it from his point of view. Toby’s beloved uncle, his father figure, had disappeared without so much as a goodbye in potentially violent circumstances, and she, his best friend, was trying to ship him off to somewhere far away from his home where she wouldn’t be either.

  Toby was feeling abandoned.

  The boom of a motorbike reverberated from outside as it roared off up the road leaving Toby behind. Toby sighed with great relief. Unfortunately for Toby, Charlie had not given up yet.

  Charlie sucked on her teeth thoughtfully. ‘Toby. I am under strict instructions to get you to the village for your own safety.’

  He didn’t look up. Instead he flipped a chair upright and slumped down with an exaggerated huff. He crossed his arms. He tried to squeeze a tear out but failed abysmally so he concentrated his efforts on looking miserable instead. He was already feeling angry so the last part wasn’t too difficult. He hoped it was enough to convince Charlie that sending him away was the worst idea ever.

  ‘If you were to move to a new school what would you want in that school?’ said Charlie, with a devious twinkle in her eye.

  Toby shrugged his shoulders in a perfect display of thirteen-year-old disappointment.

  ‘Nothing,’ he mumbled.

  ‘How about a school with no lessons? And no teachers? And maybe a cottage of your own to live in?’ she offered mischievously.

  Toby grunted. His eyes jumped up towards Charlie and quickly dropped down again. He was trying to appear completely uninterested – after all, he hated school. But his curiosity had been nudged. ‘Is it in London?’ he mumbled with restrained interest.

  ‘It’s by the seaside. And it has other people that have gifts like yours.’ She seemed to be choosing her words carefully. Toby looked up. He forced his bottom lip down. It gave the appearance it was tied to the floor. Charlie bit her lip, stemming a brief smirk. She turned away for a second, and then cleared her throat.

  ‘Okay, listen, Toby. I want you to go to a place that can protect you whilst I find answers, whilst I look for your uncle. This village is like no other you will ever experience. There will be no Nasty Nicks or boring teachers who make the Notting Hill Carnival sound like a trip to the dentist. I have been to the village, and I have seen who lives there. It’s an incredible place, Toby.’ Charlie knelt down and looked him straight in the eye. She held his hands. ‘In time the village will allow you to completely embrace who you are. For the last three years you have explored the falcon in you. Now it is time to learn more about who you are. You have nothing to fear. I’m actually rather jealous. Maybe when all this is over I might just have to join you there,’ she added with a warm smile.

  Toby’s depression disappeared instantaneously. ‘Really, when, when can you come?’ he shouted in excitement.

  ‘In time, but first we need to get you there.’ Charlie sighed quietly. There was no time to waste.

  ‘I promise you I will come and visit you. I promise you I will let you know about the professor when I have some news,’ she said with determination. She cupped Toby’s chin in a motherly way. The gesture was full of warmth. ‘Toby, you are my best friend and have been a big part of my life for some time now. It breaks my heart to have to do this but I strongly believe it is for you own good.’ She suddenly threw her arms around Toby and gave him a very big and, unfortunately, a chilly hug. Toby shivered from the rapid loss of body heat. Charlie reluctantly let go. ‘Right, I have a better way to get you to Tintagel village, okay?’ offered Charlie. Toby nodded. ‘But first how about you and me have a race? I reckon you haven’t got a chance now I’ve got Black Bess,’ she said with a large goading grin.

  ‘Where are we going?’ he said as the last vestige of sadness disappeared.

  ‘Seven Dials.’

  ‘Covent Garden?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  ‘How do I get to what’s-its-name village from there?’

  Charlie grinned even more widely than before. ‘All in good time.’ She mounted Black Bess with the expertise of an accomplished horse rider. ‘Ready? Oh, and one rule: You have to fly along the streets. You can take any route you want but you’re not allowed to fly over the buildings. Agreed?’ She laughed.

  ‘Easy!’ shouted Toby, immediately captivated by the prospect of a race with Charlie and Black Bess. Seconds later he was standing on the arm of the chair. His falcon talons gripped the cloth lightly as his beady eyes trained on Charlie. His confidence brimmed as he waited for her to make the first move.

  Seven Dials wasn’t much further than Trafalgar Square but the route was very different. He thought he might even be able to have a little fun in Covent Garden with the tourists. Toby reckoned Charlie would be slower on Black Bess; she looked bulky and clumsy. He suddenly had a mental picture of Black Bess pulling a farm plough. He thought she was better suited to that than racing the streets of London. Toby was already visualising the roads he would fly along. He was determined to get there first. He could already see the place where he would land. It was the pe
rfect spot to watch Charlie arrive. Toby chuckled – which was just a simple squawk in Falconese. Charlie couldn’t speak Falconese and she apparently took that as the signal to go.

  ‘Yahh!’ she shouted as she bent over Black Bess with the reins held tightly in her hand.

  Black Bess dug her hooves into the wooden floor and powerfully sprang forward. They vanished through the closed door. It took Toby by complete surprise. He was already behind and there was no way out for him. All the doors and windows were closed.

  9

  Seven Dials

  Charlie and Black Bess were through the closed door and long gone before Toby could ask Charlie to open a door or a window for him. He was trapped. To change back to human, open the door and fly off would lose too much time, but in all the haste Toby had not even given that idea a thought. He swore in alarm and surprise. Fortunately it was in Falconese – Preattt. It almost sounded like pratt in English but was considerably ruder in Falconese.

  Toby sprang off the arm of the chair and beat his wings in double time. He headed up the stairs. All the doors were closed on the landing. For a moment it looked like the race was over before it had started and he was going to be beaten by Charlie. Toby was feeling a little angry with himself.

  He screeched with relief. The hatch to the attic room was open and the roof light was open too. Toby sped past the abandoned Arc Light and was outside without further delay. Charlie was nowhere to be seen.

  Toby headed straight across the rooftops heading for Battersea Power Station. He could see the famous four towers in the distance. He was flying again and he loved it. He hadn’t forgotten about the one rule Charlie had insisted on, he had just decided he wouldn’t say anything if the falcon didn’t. Toby thought that was funny and screeched in Falconese. He was high in the London sky and could see for miles. He was directly over the high street and heading east when he saw Charlie and Black Bess. Unfortunately, Toby had grossly underestimated the big beast. She was running so fast and so powerfully she was leaving a wild wind in the air behind her. Papers were being ripped out of people’s hands as they sat sedately on a roadside bench; leaves were shaken from the trees and pedestrians protected their faces as mini dust storms swirled around like small tornadoes.

  Toby turned into a steep dive to gain speed. He beat his wings hard, skimming across the rooftops before rejoining the main road. Charlie and Black Bess were still ahead and nothing was slowing them down. As ghosts, nothing got in their way. They rode straight through a dustbin lorry that exploded in a cloud of banana skins, used nappies, and crushed plastic bottles, showering the streets like a blown water pipe. The smell was awful and Toby wondered whether it was the dustbin truck or whether it was Black Bess. Can ghost horses fart? According to Toby it was one of life’s little mysteries. He squawked a falcon chuckle. He was definitely enjoying himself.

  Toby gained a little height, zipping over some old telephone wires and bunting that had been left from a celebration. He dropped back down underneath a large road sign and immediately swerved to the right, curving around a red bus that cut across his path.

  ‘Preattt,’ he squawked angrily.

  Charlie was tearing down the streets in good time but Toby was gaining ground. Black Bess looked as strong as ever but so was Toby as he started to glide in between two or three beats of his wings. He was planning to make a sprint at the end and wanted to make sure he had some strength left to do it.

  Charlie looked back and saw Toby. She laughed. Toby squawked. Charlie tucked herself in tighter behind Black Bess and they picked up the pace a little. And then she did something that was most unexpected. As soon as the roundabout at the Elephant and Castle appeared she headed for the underground station, disappearing into the pedestrian tunnel.

  Toby couldn’t believe it. He overshot the tunnel accidently. He couldn’t decide whether to follow or carry on. Suddenly it clicked – he knew why she was doing it. The Tube tunnels were more direct than the roads. Without thinking Toby instantly turned a tight circle and dived into the very same pedestrian tunnel Charlie had disappeared down, over the electronic turnstiles and straight down the elevator tunnel, following the signs for the northern-bound Bakerloo Line.

  The tunnel was full of tourists and business people picking themselves off the floor, brushing down their clothes and re-assembling their handbags and briefcases. It looked like Charlie ‘the tornado’ had passed through here not seconds earlier as men and women scratched their heads in bewilderment. But it was still hard going for Toby turning tightly from left to right to avoid a rising human head or flailing arm. Someone squealed as Toby whisked by their head. The contents of a handbag were jettisoned skyward. With some incredible close-quarter flying skills Toby managed to miss the lipstick, mascara, and a plastic tray of peanuts that thickly peppered the air like gun-shot blast.

  With one final very tight turn Toby was following the rail track. He could hear Black Bess as the close confines of the brick-walled tunnel echoed in time with her breathing. Toby thought he could hear tiredness in her harsh snorts.

  Charlie and Black Bess hogged the centre of the track. Toby could see two sharp lights ahead in the distance. It was a speeding train. Toby knew he had made a massive mistake. He should have stayed above ground. The train was heading towards him. Charlie continued forward at full speed. She didn’t need to stop – she and Black Bess were ghosts. She could ride straight through the train without any harm. Toby thought about trying to glide along the side as the train passed but somehow he knew that would be fatal. The pressure of the passing train would be so great it would simply crush the falcon against the wall. Toby would be dead.

  And so the race was over.

  Toby knew he had to land by the rail track for his immediate safety. He was almost neck and neck with Charlie as well; it was sickening. She clearly hadn’t realised the danger Toby was in. She was still tucked in behind Black Bess’s neck and racing hard.

  Toby was just about to flare his wings, slow down and break his flying speed when something caught his attention. There was a second source of light and it was moving very close to the approaching train. With great relief Toby realised it was moving in the opposite direction, away from Toby. It was another train, which meant the tunnel was opening up to the left. This knowledge spurred Toby on and he flapped his wings as hard as he could. The lights from the approaching train were blindingly bright as it continued to approach at high speed. It was going to be close. His muscles began to sting with the extra effort.

  Charlie was still riding with her head tucked behind Black Bess’s neck heading straight for the middle of the train.

  Toby was beating his wings with all the strength he could muster. He was marginally ahead of Charlie now. The train to the left had cleared the tunnel. It was nowhere to be seen. The oncoming train was lighting up the immediate tunnel, but it was impossible to see when the second tunnel started. The lights were now blinding and nothing could be seen. Toby had to rely on his memory – what he thought he saw.

  Toby had seconds left. He pushed hard, beating his wings as fast as he could. They were burning with fatigue. Suddenly Toby saw a grey shadow to the left of the speeding train. He had time for one more powerful burst of energy. Done! He folded his wings in tightly against his body trying to make himself as slim as possible. He couldn’t bear the suspense. He closed his eyes and held his breath. The lights from the train were unbearably close: three, two, one—

  Bam!

  Toby was hit. The force smashed the air out if his lungs.

  He was tossed, spinning to his left. He opened his eyes. His body was full of pain. His wings unfolded instinctively, catching the air. His right wing dropped down stiffly and he automatically curved through the air to the right. He lifted his right wing as his body glided parallel to the ground. He was still flying – Toby was flying. His muscles continued to burn with intensity, with pain, but it was okay; Toby knew he was okay. He realised it had been the air in front of the train – like gas being
forced down a tube. The air pressure had hit Toby milliseconds before the train, forcing him over to the neighbouring track. It had hurt but he was otherwise unscathed. He flapped his wings to maintain height. The pain in his muscles eased.

  Toby looked across the tracks; he had lost ground. He could see Charlie tearing her way through the middle of the train carriages as the wind-like force she created pushed people to one side. Passengers shouted and screamed. Two sets of opposing football supporters squared off against each other. Toby flew on. He had no spare time to watch.

  The train had passed and Charlie was in the lead. Toby spurred on, driven by the delirious pleasure of surviving his exceptionally close shave. He was catching Charlie and Black Bess again. A station was rapidly looming ahead and Charlie was edging over to the left. She was preparing to leave the underground.

  There was another train entering the station at the other end but Toby had nothing to fear. This was Waterloo Station. The Bakerloo Line veered too far west beyond here to be of any use. It was time for him to leave too. Toby had to get above ground and Charlie had the same idea. This time Toby was thinking smartly. He let Charlie go first into the pedestrian tunnel. As expected she cleared the way with a tornado-like wind. It was so strong it carried Toby along in its wake. He rested his wings and held them out, gliding. He didn’t lose any ground at all.

  The tunnel opened up to a large wide escalator tunnel. Toby broke free. Charlie and Black Bess went left and Toby went right. Within seconds they were on the main platform of Waterloo Station and heading straight for the exit. They were neck and neck as they dived under the adjacent brick-built arches and headed for the River Thames.

  Charlie sprinted down the centre line of the road as the Thames flowed underneath Waterloo Bridge. Toby was right by her side. On the other side of the river they headed directly for Covent Garden. Toby was still letting Charlie take the lead. He was preserving energy flying in her wake but it seemed Charlie had a small surprise for Toby. She suddenly veered sharply to the left into Russell Street, which caught Toby out completely. He had to bank very hard to the left, feeling the brick of the corner building lightly brush his under feathers. Charlie seemed to be aiming for the centre of Covent Garden, racing for the congested restaurants and cafés; she looked as if she was out for a little fun with the tourists. In all the haste Toby had forgotten he was going to do the same but then he had also expected to be far ahead of Charlie by now. Toby was about three seconds behind after his mistake at the corner. When he finally flew through the old covered market area it was absolutely chaotic, nearly beyond words . . . but not quite!