Melody's Unicorn

by Richard Swan

  She drew a deep breath, and thought. She remembered her experience with the unicorn, her realisation that time didn’t affect it in the way it did other creatures. And it had touched her. Perhaps, in doing so, it had transferred its ability to control time, or evade time, to her. She concentrated, and willed it to be the same time in the human world as before. As if casting a spell, she prayed inwardly that no time at all should have passed between entering Faërie and leaving it. She wanted it to be like a science-fiction film or a dream, where everything happened in the blink of an eye. Holding that thought firmly at the centre of her mind, she stepped forward.

  Return

  In the flat on the first floor of the house in Green Street, Tamar sat and brooded. Since Melody’s disappearance four years before, he had changed in many ways. He’d become more thoughtful – sulky was how his sister described it – and rarely spoke without a long pause beforehand. His body had filled out as he’d changed from being a slender child to a well-built, solid boy on the brink of adulthood, less fiery and driven and more inclined to think before he acted, ready to consider the consequences of a step before he took it. Whether this was the result of his age, or his experiences, Alwyn didn’t like to say. She’d given up trying to engage him in ordinary conversation, and moved around the flat as if he wasn’t there.

  On this particular morning he was slumped in an armchair, ignoring both his sister and the third occupant of the room, a neat young man whose relaxed manner proclaimed him to be Alwyn’s boyfriend, and very much at home. Alwyn sat on the sofa with her partner and paid no attention to her brother. Whenever Tamar visited, which was frequently, he tended to sit in the chair and focus his mind far beyond the walls.

  He’d searched for Melody everywhere he could think of. Alwyn had never asked why he felt so responsible, and perhaps she didn’t need to. Melody had disappeared after walking out of this flat, had vanished without a trace in this or any world that Tamar knew about. Yet he felt that in some way it was his doing. He’d doubted her, he’d challenged her, he’d tried to drive her away. It seemed he’d succeeded beyond anything he might expect.

  His sister had tried to help him in his quest. He’d begged her to use her powers, to see or to foretell what was happening to Melody and where she might have gone, but she had nothing to tell him. Melody was a blank space, a nothingness, and although she had an idea what that might mean, she didn’t dare transmit the thought to Tamar. All she would do was to help him as he sought Melody in the streets of London, and all along the straight track that led out to Ealing and beyond. Tamar was convinced that Melody had tried to follow the track, and he traced it both ways, to Tower Bridge in the east and as far as Ealing Common in the west. They were the points that marked, as far as he could see, the poles between which she would have travelled.

  Tamar and his sister avoided Hyde Park. They’d searched there initially, had asked everyone who seemed like a regular visitor, but nobody could remember seeing a girl in a black top and skirt, with black boots, at any time around when they spoke of. Eventually they gave it up, and moved their search farther afield.

  Corann and Ruric had been little help. Corann had seemed unperturbed when Tamar brought the news to him, and simply said that he thought Melody would always find her feet. Ruric was silent, although he looked as if the news was half expected, half dreaded. ‘Where is she, then?’ Tamar had demanded, but if Ruric thought he knew, he wouldn’t say.

  Reluctantly, Alwyn gave in to Tamar’s request to contact the police. They made a perfunctory search, but didn’t have the resources to look for people who had just disappeared. As they explained, on average five or six children and young people arrived in London every month who then just dropped out of sight, either because they’d gone home or because they didn’t want to be found. Most of them turned up again, a few didn’t. The police had little chance of tracing a girl who had simply walked out of a flat and vanished.

  Finally Tamar had contacted Melody’s father. It was possible, of course, that Melody had just gone home, but Tamar didn’t think it likely, and he dreaded her father’s reaction when he heard the news. In the event, the reaction was muted and bafflingly calm. Melody was always disappearing, her father explained, always wanted her own way. That’s why she’d gone to London in the first place. She’d come back when she was good and ready. It was unlikely she’d met with disaster, and Melody was a girl who could take care of herself.

  In the end, Tamar had had to give up any active search. He didn’t believe Melody had left the flat without a word and just gone off across London for no reason. There were only two possible conclusions. Either Melody had been abducted and murdered, her body dumped in some forgotten corner where she’d never be discovered – or she’d gone across the boundary into the other world. For a long time Tamar had resisted this idea. ‘She would have said,’ he insisted, over and over again. Alwyn wasn’t so sure. Melody had struck her as someone who would automatically be attracted to Faërie and its powers. She’d drawn the attention of the wolves, and a dryad had come straight to talk to her. Her fear was not that Melody had chosen to enter Faërie, but that the feys themselves had taken Melody or tricked her into entering their realm. The girl was young and knew nothing of what they might do. She kept her thoughts to herself, but gradually drew Tamar round to the idea that Melody must have entered the other world of her own accord, although she couldn’t explain why it should have happened so suddenly. Tamar wanted to see if he could follow her, and he and Alwyn argued.

  ‘You can’t follow her, even if you want to,’ she said harshly.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because you don’t know where she’s gone. If you enter Faërie yourself you’d never find her, unless you knew what took her there. And anyway, you don’t know how to get in.’

  ‘Yes I do. We know the entrance is somewhere in Hyde Park, and we know that if the desire is strong enough the way will reveal itself. That’s how magic works.’

  ‘Not for you. It’s too dangerous. If you went in you might never come back, or a hundred years might have passed. Your will to seek Melody isn’t great enough to overcome that fear.’

  She was right, but Tamar hated her for being right, and for saying so. He swore to himself that he would follow Melody, that he’d find the way in, that he’d bring her back. He took to walking in Hyde Park on his own, cautious always in case of wolves, wary as he looked to see if other creatures were there. But there was nothing. Nothing happened to him, nothing appeared. Melody was lost.

  Time passed. He continued to study with Ruric and Corann, and came to control his powers more deliberately, although he wondered if there was any point. He didn’t feel the same strength that he’d had in Hyde Park when Melody needed him, and he felt aimless without her. He was more skilful, able to focus his mind, able to make fire as and when he chose, but it seemed a waste of time. He hardly admitted it even to himself, but Melody’s arrival had meant the beginning of purpose for him. She had a purpose to fulfil, and he could be part of it. Now he had the power, and no reason to use it.

  Still he sat brooding in the chair he had made his own, wondering if there was any worthwhile future. Then behind him, Alwyn spoke.

  ‘She’s back.’

  Tamar didn’t need to ask who ‘she’ was, or how his sister knew.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In the park.’

  Tamar didn’t hesitate. He was out of the door and down the stairs before Alwyn could say a word, or warn him about what he might find. He ran out of the apartment block and turned left along Green Street, where the railings of Hyde Park were visible at the end of the road. Within a minute he’d crossed Park Lane and entered the park itself, not stopping for a second to think what he was doing. Only as he turned into the path that led towards the Serpentine did he begin to wonder what awaited him.

  He saw Melody before she was aware of him. She was walking very slowly, as if idling, but he could see that she was trying to adjust to being back in the
ordinary world. He recognised her instantly because she was unchanged from when he’d last seen her, and she matched the picture in his mind perfectly. The black top and skirt, the boots, the severe hair almost like a boy’s. But there was something different about her too. Something in the way she walked, as if the ground wasn’t solid and she might fall through it without warning. He began to wonder whether she really knew where she was, or whether part of her was still trapped in the other world, wandering among marvels he could only imagine.

  He stopped and let her draw near him. He didn’t know what he could say to her. He felt he’d changed completely since she’d disappeared, and he could see that her own experiences had brought back somebody who looked the same, but might be a complete stranger. He started to wish he hadn’t run so impetuously from his sister’s flat. He was even wondering whether it would be better for him to quietly turn round and walk away, to let her re-discover the world at her own pace, when she looked up and saw him. There was no going back now.

  ‘Hello, Melody,’ he said.

  For Melody, the return to her own world was very hard. She felt disorientated, uncertain. It wasn’t just that time had passed, although she sensed that immediately, in the season, the ways the trees had grown, the strange quietness of her surroundings. It was more that she no longer felt at home here. The grass, the trees, the air itself all seemed unfamiliar, as if she was experiencing them for the first time. She breathed deeply, and her senses were overwhelmed by the detail and the variety of the world around her. She smelt the grass and plants growing, the depth of leaves as the trees gathered their strength. She heard the gulls calling from the Serpentine, the pigeons cooing by the water. And stronger than anything she smelt the human world, the people and the cars and the buildings, closing in on the park and threatening it. She tossed her head and moved out across the grass, instinctively avoiding the asphalt path. Pale eyes watched her from the shadow beneath a fir tree. A wolf, she thought, and glared, and the eyes disappeared.

  She stopped, and wondered for a second whether to return to Faërie. She could sense it still behind her; could feel its call and lure. But the choice to come back had been hers, and she wouldn’t change that now. She moved on, slowly, as if wading through the sea, towards the park gate. She was cautious and suspicious, checking each pace before she took it, always alive to the reaction of the creatures and plants around her.

  There was a man watching her. She could feel it long before she was properly aware of him. He was on the path off to her right, and seemed to be staring at her intently. She wasn’t sure she was ready to meet anybody yet. No, she wasn’t sure she was ready to meet anybody at all. She was alarmed by the thought of people, wasn’t certain how they would behave or react. But there was no help for it. She would have to face them eventually, and might as well start with this stranger. He was between her and the gate, and short of turning and running away there was nothing she could do. Calming herself, she looked up and met his eyes.

  ‘Hello, Melody,’ he said.

  For a moment she stood in shock. It wasn’t so much that he knew her name as that his voice seemed so familiar. It belonged to someone she knew, and after a second she could put a name to him. But it took her seconds longer to realise that the young man in front of her was the same person, was how that person might look if years had passed, as if he’d grown up.

  ‘Tamar? Are you Tamar?’ she asked uncertainly, trying to read the features and see if they were the same as the ones she remembered.

  ‘Yes, it’s me,’ he said quietly, as if trying not to alarm her. ‘Do you remember me?’

  ‘Remember?’ asked Melody in puzzlement. ‘How do you mean? It’s only been a few hours since I saw you last. Or at least it has to me. How long is it for you?’

  She could see Tamar hesitate. He either didn’t want to tell her, or feared her reaction.

  ‘Tell me. How long?’ she insisted.

  ‘Four years,’ he said reluctantly. ‘You disappeared four years ago.’

  Melody nodded, unable to speak. She’d known this was going to happen, had feared it might be infinitely worse. A century could have passed while she was in Faërie, and she might have emerged into a world she couldn’t understand. Four years! And suddenly she wondered whether this was the worst of all. If no time had passed, or a hundred years, she’d have known how to think about it. But four years! The people she’d known would all still be alive, but they’d have changed, in ways she couldn’t predict. Tamar here, what had become of him? What had happened in those years? What had he done? And what would he be like now? She was afraid of him, not because of who he was, but because of what he was, or might be. She wished she’d met any other human being first rather than him.

  He clearly sensed her thoughts. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think. Alwyn told me you were back, so I came running. I didn’t realise how it might be for you. I haven’t given you a chance to come back in your own time.’ And he smiled wryly as he realised the grim humour in what he’d said. ‘I’ve waited for you, looked for you every day for four years. I couldn’t help myself.’

  Melody wanted to smile at him, wanted to tell him it was all right, that she understood. But it wasn’t all right. She couldn’t get used to this older boy, almost a man, speaking with Tamar’s voice but with none of his anger and pride. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, trying to adjust. I knew it would be like this, she kept telling herself, but it wasn’t true. She’d been told about the perils of entering Faërie, knew what might happen when she returned, but she still couldn’t begin to accept the reality. She needed time to think. She broke away from him and started running across the grass, only to turn and run back to where he stood. He hadn’t followed her.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I can’t help it. You’ll have to give me time.’

  He nodded, not speaking. Her anguish was clear, and he couldn’t help her. She would have to find her own way forward.

  ‘Leave me alone a while,’ she said at last. ‘I need to walk in the park, then I’ll come and join you. Are you at your sister’s?’

  He nodded again, not trusting himself to speak.

  ‘I’ll join you there then, a bit later. Go and tell her you’ve seen me.’

  He didn’t want to leave her, she could see that. She’d only just returned, he’d been looking for her for four years, and she was asking him to go away. But she did want that. She couldn’t face him, couldn’t face his sister, until she’d had time to think, to adjust in her own way.

  ‘Go on,’ she said, and reluctantly he turned and made his way towards the distant gate.

  Four years. What had she expected? She’d known the risks when she entered Faërie. She could have emerged to find that everybody she knew had died years or centuries before, and the world had become an unknown and alien place. In the rational part of her mind she’d been aware of that, but the emotional shock was a different matter. She was lucky that it wasn’t longer than four years – but four years was long enough. Tamar was older, he’d changed. And it meant that everybody else was four years older too – Corann, Ruric, Alwyn, her father, all the people she’d left behind when she came to London. Everything was four years older too. How might the world have changed in that time? It seemed the same, but there might have been wars, or disasters, or disease. People could have died without her knowing, people who, as far as she was concerned, were alive yesterday.

  Then there was herself, and her purpose. She’d entered Faërie to follow a unicorn, but she’d left behind a mystery and a purpose. How would that have changed? Would there still be a task for her to do? And how had she changed in herself? She could sense that she wasn’t the same person who had walked through this park such a short time ago, and she wondered how other people would see her. Would they recognise that something profound had happened to her, or would they imagine that she was the same girl that they remembered, even if their memories were four years out of date?

  There was
only one way to find out the answers to any of these questions. She would have to go, firstly to Alwyn’s flat, to see how Alwyn and Tamar would react once she’d had time to talk to them. Tamar’s initial response didn’t count. He’d been looking for her every day, he said, but he must have expected time to pass for her as for him. It would be as difficult for him to accept her age as it was for her to accept his. He would need time to adjust, like she did. She decided to walk in the park a while longer, to calm her own feelings and to give him a chance to tell his sister and to prepare to meet her again.

  As she walked, she became aware of other figures around her. In amongst the trees were shadowed shapes, which she realised were dryads. The spirits of all the trees in the park were there, watching her. They made no attempt to move towards her, but they were intent on her in a way which made her feel awkward. It was almost as if they were in awe of her, unwilling to come forward but not wanting her to move out of sight. She thought of going over and trying to speak to one of them, but her mind was too full and she still preferred to be alone. There would be time to talk to dryads, later.

  At last she made up her mind and starting walking towards the gate, leaving the trees and dryads behind and crossing the open spaces, where more people were visible. She looked at them closely, to see if four years had produced differences in the way they dressed and walked. But they looked much the same, most of them in jeans and loose coats just as they’d always been. If the world had changed, it hadn’t changed so much she wouldn’t recognise it.

  Shadow

  When Melody reached Marble Arch she was reassured. The traffic was as heavy as usual and it took her time to cross. Buses, taxis, cars, vans and people swirled past her in their usual hurry. She took comfort from the fact that life seemed to be continuing much as normal and nobody paid any attention to her. Her life might have been transformed, she might have seen and experienced marvels, but the human world was going about its business as if nothing remarkable had happened.