Maddigan's Fantasia (2 page)

Two of their men, injured and left behind, crawled for cover, but all the Fantasia people cared about – all Garland could see – was her father … her fallen father.

‘No!’ she screamed again, as she began pelting down the hillside, briefly losing sight of the Fantasia as she twisted down into the trees, feeling them stretch out branches to catch and claw at her. She could hear the sound of those motorbikes roaring away into an unknown distance, and imagined Maddie and Yves gently drawing Ferdy back into the shelter of the caravans. Other men and women would be running to protect them, even though the Road Rats were skilfully melting away. As for their stolen van – it was already becoming part of the world beyond the road. Ferns would be leaping up around it like green jagged flames, and no one would be giving pursuit, for the Fantasia people would be too overwhelmed by Ferdy’s fall. And Bailey had fallen too. She must not forget Bailey.

‘Thieves! Mongrels!’ she screamed, sliding and stumbling down the slope, imagining the Road Rats, now lost in the shelter of the bush, transforming, turning into twigs and leaves, stretching towards the sky or melting into the earth. And, as these pictures rushed incoherently through her mind, something struck her violently. Her feet slid from under her and her head exploded with zigzagging lights.

Just for a moment she could feel dead leaves under her hands and under her cheek as well. In her panic she had smashed blindly into the low branch of a tree. She got up. One step
forward
… another step … then out of the bush and into the cupped hand of the little plain. But she was going to fall. Her head was whirling and singing a strange wild song that was all its own. Pitching forward Garland knew she must rest – she absolutely
must
– rest her ringing head on the ground.

As she lay there, staring sideways and struggling to hold the dizzy darkness at bay, something strange happened somewhere to her right. A thin line of light, sharp and shining as the blade of a polished knife, cut the world in half. Two figures stepped through the gap … a tall boy, not just fair-headed like Boomer,
but golden-haired like the prince in a fairy tale, and a smaller boy who looked like a child of the trees, wild and brown and tangled. The taller boy was holding a great doll. No! That doll was waving its hands. It must be a baby. Electric streaks seemed to dance around them. Garland tried to push herself up on one elbow, but then conquering darkness swept in over her, and she collapsed down into the leaves and twigs once more.

‘Garland!’ a voice was exclaiming. ‘There! Garland! You’re waking up, aren’t you?’

Garland was indeed waking up. But even before opening her eyes she knew she had been rescued. She had been found and carried back into the inner circle of the Fantasia. She could smell it. She could
feel
it. Byrne, one of the stilt walkers, was kneeling beside her, and she was embraced by the magic circle of the Fantasia vans and tents. She was safe – as safe as was possible for any member of a Fantasia travelling the dissolving road. Men were still guarding the slots between one van and another. Other men stood around behind the women who were bending over the fallen figures of Ferdy and Bailey the
mapmaster
. Garland could see her father’s blue shirt and her mother’s red skirt as she kneeled beside him. She could see old Goneril kneeling there too, directly opposite her mother, touching Ferdy’s chest, then his forehead, then looking up and shaking her head. She could not see her mother’s expression but she heard herself crying out yet again. ‘No! No!’ as she swung herself over onto all fours, forced herself up onto trembling legs, and then, supported by Byrne, who understood her urgent mood, staggered towards her mother.

Maddie turned, then held out one arm to her. Under her streaking tears her face was calm.

‘Garland!’ she said, ‘Garland! I know! I know! But we’ve got to be tough. Tough! We’ve got to hold in there. It’s what he
would want. This is Maddigan’s Fantasia and we – you and me, that is – we are Maddigans.’

Garland flung herself against her mother, as if she might push right into her – as if they might somehow become the one person with the one grief. She couldn’t be bothered with being brave and wept for Ferdy Maddigan, lying there dead, while the rest of Maddigan’s Fantasia stood around being tough just as Ferdy would have wanted them to be.

A voice broke in on her grief. It was Yves, standing tall behind Maddie, though stained with blood from a knife wound that had cut down his left cheek and across his chest.

‘Move on,’ he said urgently. ‘We must move on. If we move on now we can make the Horseshoe by nightfall. We’ll have a bit of space there – space to bury them.’

‘Mum …’ cried Garland again but, though her mother’s arm tightened around her, Maddie was looking away from Ferdy, past Garland and nodding at Yves. When she spoke her words were plain and determined but her voice was shaking.

‘And Bailey’s hurt …’ she began. Her voice trembled then faded. Garland could feel her taking a deep breath, making herself strong.

‘And Bailey’s hurt, too,’ she repeated, turning to look over at Goneril, now busy with Bailey. ‘He won’t be able to read the maps, will he?’ Goneril shook her head. ‘So! Who’ll read the maps?’

‘The road holds true as far as the Horseshoe,’ Yves said. ‘At least it used to. We’ll think about directions then.’ The
Horseshoe
– if it was still there – some miles down the road, was a place where they could camp in against a bank and would be partly protected by the curve of the land.

‘Get there first and then we’ll stop, take a breath and work things out,’ said Yves, and once again Maddie nodded her agreement. Tears were still running down over her cheekbones,
but the face under those tears was stern and determined. She was trying to be a true Maddigan. Garland knew this. She knew Maddie had to be calm and strong. Yet at the same time she wanted to see Maddie crumpling and crying so that she could crumple and cry along with her. ‘Get there first!’ Maddie repeated, patting the horses, which snorted and shifted uneasily, probably disturbed by the scent of Ferdy’s blood Garland thought, and then thought, ‘Horses care more than people do.’ She pulled a scarf up over her head and climbed up into the seat beside the driver’s seat … beside her mother … knowing she was an entirely different girl from the girl she had been only a few minutes earlier. As they moved on she looked back over her shoulder thinking she would never forget that place … the hill, those broom bushes, the trees which had struck her down, that begging hand of a plain at the bottom of the hill and the tangled forest which had hidden the Road Rats and had then swallowed them once more.

And suddenly there they were again. She had imagined they must be dreams but they were real after all … that tall
golden-headed
boy holding the baby, and the smaller brown one, scruffy and wild. Longing to be distracted, Garland stared at them and took a breath, planning to point them out to Maddie. But then the two shapes … the tall one and the smaller one stepped back and disappeared into the scrub and there was nothing to point out to anyone else, and nothing to distract Garland from her savage sadness, which seemed as if it would be devouring her forever.

Crouching on the hillside
, on that unshaven chin of land, rough with scrub and wiry grass, looking down across the trees that clustered at the bottom of the slope two boys stared after the retreating vans of the Fantasia – one about fifteen years old, the other about eleven. The older boy carried a small child, little more than a baby, riding in a sling that held the child against his chest, while the younger was encumbered by a curious pack slung across one shoulder, and a belt so hung about with things it looked as if he had wrapped a kitchen shelf around his waist. He held a book open with his left hand, while the forefinger of his right moved carefully across the page in front of him.

‘The words have changed,’ he said incredulously. ‘They’ve changed since last time.’ He read aloud, pointing as he read. ‘He is dead … my father is dead.
The Road Rats came out of nowhere and attacked us. They wounded Yves just a little and Bailey quite badly. But they killed my father. Writing this down I feel as if I am making up a story, but it is true. Ferdy is dead.’

The boy looked up from the page. ‘It didn’t say that this morning.’

‘Dead!’ said the older boy. ‘We’ve arrived at the wrong time. If he’s already dead we can’t save him.’

‘If we’d worked it out better … if we’d got here earlier …
do you think we could have altered things?’ asked the younger boy. The older one shrugged.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I mean, face it! We don’t really know what we’re doing.’

‘Yes, we do,’ said the younger one. ‘We’ve shifted through time. We rode through on a time pulse. We wanted to change things back here so they’d work out well for us in our own time. But we’ve got it wrong. Can we go back to our own time and have another go?’

‘Eden!’ exclaimed the older boy impatiently. ‘Wake up! We’ve been through all that. We can’t just walk through times as if they were rooms. It’s too dangerous. We’ve got to line things up and …’

‘Timon!’ said the younger boy, copying his brother’s impatient voice. ‘Wake up! It looks more dangerous
here
than it was
there
.’

‘It’s our job to …
hide
I suppose … to protect the Talisman,’ said the older one. ‘Back in our own time we wouldn’t be able to do that … we’d be run to ground … torn to bits by the Nennog.’

‘But we’re not even sure what the Talisman
is
,’ said the younger boy, Eden, speaking in a half-hearted way as if he did not quite believe what he was saying. ‘Talisman is just a word for something – something powerful.’ As he spoke his hand crept up to the medallion that hung around his neck. Timon nodded.

‘Right!’ he said. ‘We know the Talisman is something our mother gave us and she gave you
that
. So that’s what I
think
it is. What I think it might be. But what we do know for sure is that the Nennog is determined to get that Talisman, and he doesn’t care what he does as long as he gets it. He wants all the power in the world and the Talisman is powerful. We do know that. And we do know that even if we’ve got here at the wrong
time we’re still – we’re
safer
here.’ He leaned forwards and touched the medallion gently. ‘It strengthens you, doesn’t it?’ Eden nodded. ‘We don’t know how, but it does. We don’t know just what powers are locked into it, but we
do
know that we mustn’t let the Nennog get his claws on it. So let’s follow that circus down there. I mean – a circus always needs tricksters, and you’re a definite trickster. We might just edge ourselves in with them.’

‘All right,’ said Eden. ‘After all we’ve got to hide somewhere. And even if they move on a bit faster than we can they’ll still leave signs won’t they?’

‘Yes, they’ll drip blood and leave echoes of people laughing,’ said Timon in a dark voice. Eden looked at him apprehensively. But then Timon laughed himself. ‘Joking! Joking! Only joking!’ he cried and Eden nodded, echoing his laughter rather
uncertainly
.

He looked down at the book and shook his head in wonder, then held it out to his brother.

‘Look!’ he said. ‘Changing. Always changing.’

Eden bent towards the book.

Dear Ferdy
, he read,
Everyone behaves as if you have gone, but I know you’re still here. I know you’re still with me. I can feel you inside this page waiting for the words I’ll be putting down on it. I know you want me to tell you everything that is going on with Maddigan’s Fantasia, and if I write it all down you’ll know it too. In some funny way you’ll soak it into yourself.

‘She’s going to tell him everything,’ Eden said. ‘I suppose it’s, like, a way of keeping him alive.’

‘Let’s go,’ Timon said, carefully sliding that strange shifting version of Garland’s diary into one of the packs that hung over his brother’s shoulder.

So, as the Fantasia made off down the road, the two boys began to follow its slow but determined tracks, while the baby
Timon was carrying stretched out her hands to the sunlight, trying to pull brightness out of the air, laughing as her fingers were stained with gold.

The world had changed. The sky, the trees, the road – everything was still in its usual place but, looking around the tumbled, temporary camp they were setting up there in the semicircle of the Horseshoe bank Garland felt alteration in everything … everything she saw no matter how huge … everything she touched no matter how small. Mostly she felt alteration in herself. She was no taller, no older – still twelve almost thirteen. People were still calling her by the same name, but she was not the girl she had been a few hours ago. No way! So who was she now? Who was she
really
? The Fantasia children – Boomer – Lilith – other children too – were looking at her sideways with serious expressions … looking at her as if they no longer knew what to say to her.

They had wrapped Ferdy in one of the Fantasia flags so that when they shovelled earth over him his face was hidden. And then he was gone. A fold of the flag showed through the dirt for a moment and then that was gone too. It was strange how quickly he had disappeared. Disappeared forever. Standing beside Maddie, with Maddie’s arm around her, Garland watched him vanish under the earth. Gone. Definitely gone. Yet, as they moved away she caught herself feeling he might leap up at them at any moment, scattering the earth and leaves around him and laughing (‘Fooled you that time!’) before shouting orders (‘Move those vans further out. We’re going to need more room.’). But of course there was no leaping up and out. Not this time. Never again! The Fantasia had changed, and she must change with it.

‘Hey! Sorry!’ said Boomer, in a strange gruff voice, touching her arm as he brushed by. It wasn’t much to say or do, but she
knew he meant it. After all, a few years ago Boomer had lost both his parents although he did not remember them in the way she would always remember Ferdy. Perhaps he would have tried to say more, but they had to hurry. ‘Life hasn’t stopped for us,’ said Maddie, using that new, tough voice. ‘Ferdy’s gone. Bailey’s injured and – well – it looks as if he might not recover. We have to plan what to do next. I mean we’ll certainly need a new mapreader – a good reading man because the maps we have are so old and battered. They’re coming to bits and they take a bit of untangling. But right now we have to have a Fantasia parley.’

A parley was the name given to the meetings when all the Fantasia people collected around the fire in the centre of the circle of vans and tents and talked about what they would do next. The fires were already burning up, and there they were – all fifty of them, wrapped in coats and scarves for, in spite of the fires, the night wind had frost in its breath. She could see her very best friends, Goneril, Penrod, Tane, Byrna, Nye, old Shell and Bannister with a book tucked under his arm as if he might lose interest in the parley and need to do a bit of secret reading. There was Maddie with Yves at her elbow and all the others too. Everyone! Everyone except … Garland looked down at the ground as Yves stepped forward, being the
man-in-charge
, taking a stand in the middle of the circle, acting as a sort of Ferdy. She hated the fact that he was moving so quickly – so easily – into Ferdy’s place.

‘We’ve got to move on,’ Yves was saying. ‘No break-up! No dissolving! Maddigan’s Fantasia must hit the road – what road there is, and, of course, as you all know, our map reader isn’t – isn’t feeling so great. Of course we’re going to have to change our plans, because Road Rats have stolen our store van which means we’re short of things we’re going to need – food mainly – so either we’ll have to swing out sideways, or we might have to
cut this trip and go back again. Back to Solis! What do you think?’

Solis! Just for a moment Garland found herself longing for that city … the city that counted as her home city, a city where everything was closed in, safe and comfortable. All roads ran to Solis, which was far too strong to be attacked by mere Road Rats.

‘We
can’t
go back,’ said another voice. Maddie. Everyone looked at her. Some faces were pitying; some were questioning. ‘Even Solis has its problems,’ said Maddie. ‘How much power do you think it takes to run a city like Solis?’

People immediately began guessing … echoing the
question
, then muttering as if they were secretly working things out. Maddie spoke out again.

‘It takes a lot of power, I’ll tell you that. They get power from the wind. They get it from the river – that dam across it
generates
electricity. But not enough for what Solis is becoming. They need power from the sun too … if they can get it, that is.’

‘How can you get power from the sun,’ cried Byrna. ‘I mean the sun’s up there and we’re down here. And it
is
winter.’

‘In the old days – those days before the Destruction – back before the world fell to bits – they had ways of turning sunlight into power – taking it in, then somehow compressing the energy of the light and then compressing it again – saving it in cells and then saving the cells in batteries.’(Maddie sounded as if she were a storyteller telling them an old tale.) ‘The batteries are energized by what they call a “converter” and then, little by little, the power is changed into a form people can use in a whole lot of ways. There are people in Solis working their way towards learning about the whole process, but in the meantime they have to buy the cells in from the place that
does
have part of the secret … from Newton. Remember Newton? The people there call themselves a city of scientists. Well, we’re not scientists,
but we’re the ones who stitch the land together … we’re the ones who carry the news … the ones who unravel the roads, who make people laugh and feel at ease with the world, even if it is only for a single afternoon or evening. And this time –
this
time we’ve been given the job of calling in on Newton and buying a converter and then carrying it back to Solis.’ She looked from face to face, seeing a kind of suspicion written there over and over again. ‘Look! Solis sent off a committee of its own a few months ago to wheel and deal with the Newton people. But …’ Maddie stopped again.

‘So?’ Tane asked.

‘Well, you know how it is for people who don’t know the ways of the road. Those men have never been heard of again. But we
do
know the ways of the road, don’t we? There’s no one able to come and go like Maddigan’s Fantasia.’ She fell silent again.

‘Oh wow! Send in the clowns,’ said Tane.

‘Well, why not?’ asked Maddie. ‘Look! If Solis gets a converter it will be able to make its own solar cells, and if someone doesn’t bring a converter back to Solis, it seems part of the city will begin to close down. We’ve been given the job of bringing that converter back to Solis, and if we don’t – well, I’m not sure that we’ll ever be welcome in Solis again. We can’t go back without trying. We just can’t.’

There was yet another moment of silence. Then the whole Fantasia began talking … exclaiming, arguing … all discussing what Maddie had just told them. Some people wanted to go back to Solis and face the music. Others said the Fantasia must go on to Newton immediately. Some people did not care about Solis (‘Solis can look after itself. It can send another committee.’). Garland watched Maddie, leaning forward and gesturing just as if she were practising one of her acts.
How can she
? Garland found herself thinking.
What does it matter whether we come or go. What does anything matter? Ferdy is
dead. My father … my father is dead
. The voices surged around her in a curious sea of sound, but she was alone on her shore of sadness.

‘How long is it until the power begins to fail in Solis?’ Yves was asking.

‘The summer solstice is a deadline,’ Maddie said. ‘Ferdy promised we’d deliver the converter by then. That’s why we’re setting off in the winter.’

‘How could he promise anything like that?’ cried old Shell. ‘You know what Fantasia life is like. Everything’s uncertain for us.’

They argued on and on, frowning, discussing, nodding and shaking their heads.

Maddie did not know – Garland did not know – none of the Fantasia knew – that they were being watched and followed.