The Tunnels Below

by Nadine Wild-Palmer

  Luke laughed. He managed to spit out the words “Nice dress” in return and Mrs Hoots clapped.

  “Here you go,” said Mrs Hoots as she handed Cecilia a small rucksack designed and stitched in a similar way to her dress.

  “Oh, now this is cool. My friends would be super jealous.” She beamed.

  “What friends?” teased Luke.

  “It matches and it’s practical!” Cecilia folded all her belongings neatly in her rucksack, checking she still had everything: the marble, her remaining Cherry Drops, an Oyster card, a handful of buttons, a ten-pence piece and the papers Jasper had made her, as well as the programme from the Ride or Sigh competition. In the meantime, Mrs Hoots added a tinfoil bow tie to Luke’s look.

  “Thank you for everything, Mrs Hoots. I feel like a million bucks… I mean, buttons!” Cecilia said chirpily.

  Luke picked up his old trousers and took out a handful of brass buttons and gave them to Mrs Hoots, who smiled with gratitude.

  “My pleasure, darlings,” she replied.

  “Yeah, cheers, Mrs Hoots!” He picked up his hoody and jeans and stuffed them in Cecilia’s bag.

  “Urgh,” she remarked, refolding them properly and putting the rucksack on her back.

  “Wait! Just one more thing,” Mrs Hoots said as they made to leave for the colourful lights of the lanes. “You’ll need these.” She handed them both a pair of gorgeous jet-black wings. She looked like a proud mother. “And my work here is done!”

  “These wings,” said Cecilia, admiring them. “They’re beautiful.”

  “Yes, they’re exquisite, I know.” Mrs Hoots flattered herself.

  “Why do we need them?” asked Cecilia, looking up at Mrs Hoots standing by the door.

  “Usually I’m all about trying to look your best and stand out from the crowd…” Mrs Hoots approached them and gathered them both into a huddle, Luke under one wing and Cecilia under the other. “But you never know when you might need to fit in.”

  “Right,” said Luke. “A tad cryptic.”

  “Now scoot! The work is never done for Mrs Hoots!”

  “Thanks again, Mrs Hoots!” said Cecilia.

  Luke and Cecilia looked completely different to when they first entered the shop. They were filled with confidence and walked with a proud bop in their steps. Cecilia turned to Luke, smiling, and asked, “Right, where do we go now?”

  “Hold on a sec, I’ve got an idea. Stay put!” Luke bolted into the crowd. Cecilia tried to follow but her dress slowed her down. She called out, “Luke! Where are you going?”

  He was back in a flash and he replied, “To get that guy!” he said, pointing to a dog-face walking slowly towards them with a sad look about him. The dog-faced chap looked very sorry for himself indeed and Cecilia tried to work out what was going on. He had wisps of coarse brown and white hair all over him, a stubby snout-like brown nose, big pointy triangular ears, hazel eyes, and a red cravat and a name badge that read WILLOW.

  “Where to then, you lot?” he grumbled.

  Cecilia paused a moment, looked at his heavy shag-pile rug and whispered in Luke’s ear: “Luke, I thought we needed the sighs to ride? I think this guy is a bit loopy.”

  “You’ll see,” said Luke as the old dog flicked out the rug and laid it on the ground. Under the back end there was a small black box that looked like a tape deck. He flicked a button and the sound of sighs began murmuring below the machine. A little cloud of blue and violet began to hang around the carpet and they were ready to go.

  “Oh, it’s like a taxi!” Cecilia clapped and giggled, climbing onto the back.

  “It doesn’t go very fast,” said Luke. “Recorded sighs don’t have quite the same power, especially now Zephira has moved on, but at least he’ll get us to where we are meant to be. Anyway, it’s not far. Just thought it would be fun to arrive in style!”

  “OK, where to, cowboy?” said the old dog-face.

  “El Porto Fino, please, sir,” said Cecilia and Luke excitedly.

  “Might have guessed, the way you two are dressed. You’ll turn a few heads for sure! Lovely. El Porto Fino it is then. Toot-toot!” And off they went with a lot of huffing and puffing to fuel the way. It didn’t take long but on the way Luke pointed out the sights.

  A bright lime green, pink and blue neon light shouted EL PORTO FINO above a crowd gathering outside; people buzzed around the entrance in their finery. Cecilia was certainly glad they had got dressed up and she glanced down at herself to check that she hadn’t already messed up her dress. In the old days she’d usually be covered in jam or glue or toothpaste by now and her teachers always had something to say about that! Luke paid the old dog-face, who barely paused before gliding on and shouting back, “Don’t want to run out of steam! There’s still life in the old dog yet!”

  As they drew nearer to the entrance Cecilia felt butterflies in her stomach. What if they didn’t turn heads, what if they didn’t get in? All this trouble would be for nothing!

  “Oi, numb-nut, snap out of it, yeah, or they won’t let us in!” Luke said, practically reading her mind.

  “That’s just what I was thinking,” said Cecilia.

  “Well, don’t. Jasper always tells me when I have any doubts about things that, at the end of it all, you’re the one in control of yourself and your thoughts; you decide how to behave. Please decide to look like you’re really excited about a night out, OK? So, fix up and look smart!”

  Cecilia straightened herself, and checked her hair, squeezing the buns on each side.

  “You’re right. We’ve got this,” she said.

  A young rabbit-face turned to look at them and nudged her guinea-pig-faced friend standing next to her. The nudging travelled through the queue until almost everyone in it had turned to look at them.

  A strapping horse-face stallion nodded to them and Cecilia and Luke were ushered into the line. He handed them each an entry ticket as they passed, ripping off the stubs. “Nice dress,” he remarked to Cecilia as they walked through the archway into the entrance hall.

  “Thanks,” she replied coyly as she turned her head towards a gentle floral haze of incense that came wafting from within.

  17

  Another Place and Time

  Hester had been asleep. She woke up with her head on her dad’s lap and within seconds the world around her came flooding in. There was the gurgle of radios and lots of people in uniforms walking around with a real sense of purpose. A dishevelled man at the reception counter in front of her was dripping with water and speaking in a very loud voice about his bicycle and how much it was worth, saying things like, “Well, what are you going to do about it then, mate?” and “Who’s in charge here, I mean, really in charge!” The man on reception was listening patiently and scribbling things down on a form but he clearly wasn’t his “mate”.

  Hester sat upright and looked at her dad, who was resting. Instinctively he opened his eyes and whispered in a hush, “Hester, darling, it’s OK, we will find her. She’s only been gone a few hours, she can’t have gone far.”

  At that moment the colossal world of the unknown climbed onto Hester’s back, and under the weight of it all she burst into tears.

  “I know she’ll be home soon, Dad. I know it, I know it,” she sobbed, heavy drops falling from weary eyes.

  “I know it’s scary, Hess,” he said, extending his arm and folding her into him. “All we can do now is wait and let these guys do their job.”

  Hester’s mum walked over with a tray of hot drinks and Hester noticed that there were four drinks in the cup holders. She smiled in a way that held back some pain but not all of it. She put the tray down, and handed Hester a packet of prawn cocktail crisps.

  “I thought you might want these, Hess. You haven’t eaten in hours, chicken.”

  The three of them looked at the tray of hot drinks.

  “I thought, you know, just in case she suddenly shows up. I didn’t want her to feel left out.” Her mum began to sob. “Where is she, Lyle?
Why on earth can’t they find our baby?”

  Hester watched her dad fold her mum into his free arm and she rested her head on his shoulder as a policeman walked over with a man who was wearing normal clothes and looked a bit like a detective off the TV.

  “Now then,” he said in a serious but uplifting voice, “let’s start again from the beginning, shall we? Then we had better get back to the train station and retrace your steps.”

  18

  One for Sorrow

  Cecilia stood under the dome ceiling of El Porto Fino in an utterly heavenly world. She felt she had been caught between sunset and the stars. There were small pieces of mirror twinkling above, collecting the rainbow of surrounding light and reflecting it back as though she were standing under a stained glass window on a sunny day. The colours dappled the ground and lit the menagerie of animal faces dotted around her and Luke. There were a lot more Corvus Community members among the crowd than she’d seen before, but there were other dwellers too, some of them wearing wings, beaks and badges to show their support for Jacques d’Or and the Corvus Community as well. Now it seemed even more likely that he would make an appearance.

  “I think it’s time to put on the wings Mrs Hoots gave us, Luke.”

  “Not a bad call. I think Mrs Hoots was right: we don’t want to stand out too much now we’re in,” Luke replied. “It’s wicked though, isn’t it? I’ve heard about it but I’ve never seen it before. I can’t believe we got in!”

  A muffled horn sang out, soothing the crowd to a hush, and they stood waiting for something to happen. The lights faded to a spotlight on the centre of a stage a few feet in front of them, and Cecilia and Luke saw a beautiful brown bird-faced woman with a golden beak saunter onto it. Cecilia fell immediately under her spell.

  “That’s Lady-Bird,” Luke muttered to Cecilia, not taking his eyes off where she was standing onstage. Waiting for Lady-Bird to do something sent shivers running down Cecilia’s spine, like when someone hits the tickly spot just behind your ear with their breath. Gasps and whoops were thrown out from the audience sporadically, and Lady-Bird acknowledged these with grace, a slight nod of her head, her bronzed beak glowing before she opened it to release a flute-like call into the dome. It reverberated off the roof and into the ears of the audience, who were instantly lulled by the soaring tone of her voice that brought the taste of the sweetest tears to their lips.

  “This is my one for sorrow…” Lady-Bird said to the audience in a soft, sultry voice, but before she began to sing three more spotlights fell upon the stage, revealing a cow-face on the marsh-cello, a sheep-face holding a set of brushes to play the bubble-drum and finally, a face Cecilia recognised: there was Rosie standing on the stage, trembling hugging her fruitolin tightly to her chest. Lady-Bird began:

  “This is my one for sorrow…

  Because I’ve found no room for joy

  I was just a girl

  Back when I met my boy

  And as my threads turn slowly silver

  All I have is this tune to hold

  Cos love’s dream is worthless

  In a world made of glitter and gold

  And so I’ll always keep my secret and swear,

  it’s never to be told

  For this, is my one for sorrow…

  And the only friend I’ll ever know.”

  There was utter silence when Lady-Bird finished singing and a stilling of time took place before applause rose up around the room like a fierce fire. She bowed and her dress, Cecilia now noticed, was entirely fashioned from… rusted ring pulls and old milk-bottle tops like the old-fashioned ones Granny ordered from the milk man! Aghast and pointing, her voice raised from a mutter against the din of the crowd…

  “Her dress… Luke, we have them back home! It’s made from old milk-bottle tops… And ring pulls from drinks cans!”

  She tugged on Luke’s jacket; his face was in rapture. “I know, isn’t she mesmerising?” he said, nodding furiously.

  Cecilia made to push herself forward but Luke grabbed her and held her back, “Where are you going?”

  “The show’s over. We need to get to her, don’t we?” Cecilia said, her voice just above a whisper.

  Then it dawned on her that the crowd was extremely full of Corvus. All around them the other dwellers began putting on pairs of jet-black wings—those who weren’t wearing them already or who hadn’t had them since birth, that is. It was then Cecilia really understood how important it was that Mrs Hoots had given them the wings to wear: because everyone else was wearing them to show their support and without them they might have been seen as opponents.

  “Cecilia, I’m sorry. It’s not safe, just look around you,” he whispered. “You can’t just wander off, this is about to get serious. We will find Lady-Bird after. It looks like something is about to happen right here, right now.”

  “You’re right. Thanks, Luke. I just feel so awful—I want so much to help Kuffi.”

  “I know you do,” said Luke, “but one step at a time, OK?”

  A band of bird-faced figures stepped out from the shadows and lined up on the stage while Lady-Bird was escorted off into the wings by a grumpy-looking goose-face.

  Abruptly a violent cawing call broke out, shattering the peace left by Lady-Bird. A rhythmic crackling cackle and a fervent flapping of wings moved the air around the room in a flurry. Fear washed over Cecilia, and she broke a sweat as if waking up from one nightmare to find herself in another. Through the band of crows emerged the magnificent and unmistakable form of Jacques d’Or.

  As he came into view Cecilia’s jaw gaped a little. She realised Jacques d’Or wasn’t made of gold; he was an albino magpie, with beautiful ruby-red eyes. Cecilia could tell he was a magpie from his shape. She’d always loved magpies! However, he was unlike all of the rest of the dwellers that Cecilia had encountered on her journey through the tunnels: Jacques d’Or had no other human body parts apart from his arms—it was as though they had just been stuck onto him under his wings—other than that he was a man-sized golden bird. No wonder everyone thought he was special; he was a very rare and wonderful sight to behold. He shone against his dark shadow, a giant stretched out behind him on the back of the stage. His voice commanded:

  “Brothers, sisters and friends among us here today. They said it couldn’t be done, but I have never believed in the impossible. If I can imagine it, if I believe it, then the nothing can stand in our way! We possess the true power of darkness: FEAR!

  “We have the dwellers under our command now and for ever! Join me!” He roared, his voice ricocheting off the ceiling, shaking the heaven above their heads as he began to chant, the crowd joining in with him:

  “Fear is no foe,

  He’s a friend of mine,

  Who keeps the weak in check and the rebels in line!”

  Cackling broke out all around the room. It sounded like the poisonous laughter of scores of witches in the scary movies that Cecilia wasn’t really allowed to watch. She stood rooted to the spot. Jacques d’Or shot into the air and wafted over the crowd, extending his strange lanky arms to high-five the crowd below him. They exploded into a cacophony of encouragement. He returned to the stage, composed himself and, grinning and with grand gestures, he continued.

  “Many of you in attendance here today have come to me at some time of need and asked me to ease your pain, your suffering, to help you feed your family or to wet your mouths. You’ve asked me to bring about change. But I am not the one who’ll line your pockets. I’m not the worms on your table. I cannot continue to be the shoulder to catch your tears! If you want us to expand as a community, the Corvus Community, you must learn to stop your snivelling and come to me with ambition and ideas. We have to continue to be the driving force that leads the way in the darkness. Carpe noctem!”

  The whole room exploded in response, “Carpe noctem!”

  Cecilia realised she was gripping Luke’s hand very tightly. There is nothing quite like an unfamiliar rowdy crowd to make you feel ou
t of place, like when you sit in the other team’s stands at the football, she thought. The crowd settled and when Jacques d’Or’s voice rose once again, she wished he would stop.

  “We must build from the bottom up. It is important that you all understand that the state of having little or nothing is actually a blessing, not a curse. You see now we can design our new future! What we need to do now that we have harnessed the power is to control it. But how? Let me introduce our honorary speaker, Violet.”

  A big hunched crow shuffled slowly forwards from the Corvus Community banner lining the stage behind Jacques d’Or. Cecilia had not noticed her before. Her feathers were tattered and patchy, reminding Cecilia of when she found her favourite jumper had been munched by moths over a particularly warm summer. Violet’s presence hushed the crowd and she began.

  “The Corvus Community has worked tirelessly at trying to find ways to bring more light through to the furthest reaches of this great intricate network of tunnels in which we dwell. And the system we have come up with has not only proved to be a success, but we have found new ways to generate more light and keep the growth of the Black Forest circulating clean air around our system. However, as the lake below Polaris—the lake of light—continues to shrink, it has become even more important to encourage a sombre tone among the dwellers so that they will increase their production of tears to refresh the supplies that support the function of Mr Sparks—our generator.”