Sky Run (15 page)

So on we sailed. When you've somewhere to reach, what else can you do? You just keep on moving and moving gets you there in the end.

I liked the travelling, but I had mixed feelings about the getting there. I didn't know if I was going to like City Island or not. And what was going to happen to Peggy? Was she really going to turn around and go home, and make the whole journey back on her own?

Meanwhile we carried on with the usual routine, taking turns with the cooking and cleaning and keeping watch. Or we took a turn at the helm and got the hang of reading the sky-charts. Because one day everyone has to make their own way around the world, and it helps to know which direction to sail in and how to read the good signs and the bad omens.

One late watch, when I was up by the prow, and everyone else was sleeping – or so I thought – I heard this stifled sobbing noise, and when I went looking I found Angelica hiding away, rolled up in her sleeping bag by the stern.

‘Angelica – are you all right?'

It took her a while to emerge, but when she did she said, ‘Gemma, I'm homesick. I miss the island and I miss my dad, and I know you'll think it's stupid, but I miss the sky-rats too.'

I sat down and put my arm around her. She was shivering, but it wasn't from cold.

‘I don't,' I said. ‘I don't think it's stupid at all. I miss home too, and it wasn't much, just a rocky island with a few bits of green, but I miss it like I had toothache.'

‘It's not that I don't want to go to the big island and go to a school …'

‘I know.'

‘I just miss everyone.'

‘I know. And everyone does. We all miss people.'

She stopped crying and wiped her eyes.

‘Do you miss your dad?'

‘Yes, I do. And I miss that I never really knew him, nor our mum either. We were both so young when we lost them. I can barely remember them or picture their faces. I don't know if Martin can remember them at all.'

I realised then that there was something else rolled up by the sleeping bag with her, and Botcher's fat face appeared.

‘So this is where he goes.'

‘He sleeps next to me. I don't mind.'

‘Good. You'll stop him from feeling lonely.'

‘That's what I thought. Gemma –'

‘Hmm?'

‘How can you miss someone you never really knew?'

‘It's like a hole, Angelica, like a great big hole in you that nothing can ever fill. And it doesn't really matter how nice and how kind other people are, that hole's always there. You don't always think about it; it's not that you're sad all the time – it's just that you know it's there. And people who don't have that hole in them, they don't really understand … but someone else who does – you kind of recognise them …'

‘Like you and me!' she said. ‘We're sensitive, aren't we, Gemma?'

‘Yes,' I said, to keep her happy. ‘We are. I think there's a secret society of people who've got holes in them.'

‘And Martin too,' she said.

Which was news to me.

‘Really?' I said. ‘Martin?'

‘Yes. He misses your mum and dad really badly.' And of course he must have. But we'd never really talked about that, even though we were brother and sister. We'd never spoken about it at all. ‘He told me,' she said. ‘And I said I understood.'

‘That was good of you, Angelica.'

‘And you can talk to me too, Gemma, if you ever feel sad.'

‘Thanks,' I said. ‘I'll maybe do that. You going back to sleep now?'

‘I'll try.'

‘OK. Goodnight then.'

‘We say goodnight but it's hardly ever dark.'

‘Put on your sleep mask.'

‘I will.'

I gave her another hug and left her. She wasn't so bad. And you don't feel so bad yourself when there's someone you can comfort in some small way. Though maybe all you are really doing is comforting yourself by feeling useful and wanted.

I went to the helm and checked the charts and the autopilot, then completed the remainder of my watch. Alain took over from me, and I lay down and slept. When I awoke everyone was up and moving and fish were frying in the pan. There were a few sky-crab catchers in the offing, who waved as they passed us by. Then we were in empty sky again for a while, with islands in the distance beckoning us on.

And then I heard Martin's voice from across the deck, repeating one of his favourite phrases.

‘Peggy! What is
that
?'

And looming down from above us was the most extra-ordinary craft I'd ever seen. It was shaped like a long, cylindrical tube and didn't have a single porthole in it. It appeared to be flying blind, and whoever was inside it – if anybody was – couldn't be seen.

‘Peggy – do you know what that is? Have you seen that before?'

‘I've seen pictures of them.'

‘What is it?'

‘They used to be called submarines.'

‘It's a USO,' Alain said. ‘Never thought I'd see one, but it's a USO.'

‘What's a USO?' Martin asked.

‘Unidentified Sailing Object,' Angelica told him. ‘My dad sees them all the time.'

‘Yes, and so does old Ben Harley,' Peggy said. ‘Especially after a session with the private stash.'

‘Where's it from? And what's it doing here?' I said.

The thing was heading for us and it slowly came alongside.

‘How can it see where it's going? Where's its eyes?'

Just as I said that, part of the roof opened and a long swivelling pipe came out, with a gleam of glass at the end of it, and it turned itself around until it was pointing directly at us. And then it stopped.

‘Are there people in there? Or does it do that all on its own?'

‘There's someone in there,' Peggy said. ‘But they can't be like us.'

‘Then where are they from?'

‘Up there, I guess,' she said, and she pointed up at the myriad distant islands that floated above us in the upper atmosphere.

‘And they've come down here? What for? To gawp at us?'

‘The spirit of scientific enquiry, no doubt.'

‘So you mean there are – well – aliens up there?'

‘I suppose that would be one word for them.'

‘So it's an alien sky ship?'

‘More or less.'

‘They're not going to abduct us, are they?' Martin said. ‘And stick probes up our –'

‘Martin –'

‘Noses.'

‘Don't be ridiculous. Where did you get that from?'

‘One of Peggy's old books.'

‘So why are they hiding in there?'

‘The atmosphere and the heat here would probably kill them,' Peggy said. ‘We couldn't survive at their level, and they can't live at ours.'

‘Shall I wave at them?' Martin said.

‘How do you know waving means the same to them as it does to us? Waving could be extremely rude to them for all we know – a provocative gesture – even a declaration of war,' Alain said.

‘Well, I'm going to risk it,' Martin said. ‘I'm going to wave. I don't see why you have to assume that aliens are nasty and out to get you.'

‘You were the one going on about the probes,' I reminded him.

‘I'll take a chance.'

He waved at the sky-sub's periscope as the vessel floated by. The lens stared at us, and then the front of the sky-sub tilted, and down it went to greater depths.

‘Look, it's diving! I'd love to go down there, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you like to go exploring?'

‘Martin, you haven't even explored this level yet, never mind the depths.'

‘I caught an ugly-fish once,' he said. ‘On a two-kilometre line. Pulled it all the way up. Had a face like a bag of lumps, didn't it, Peggy?'

‘It wouldn't have won too many beauty competitions.'

‘Skin like you wouldn't believe. Ten times as thick as ours, to keep the sun off.'

‘What did you do with it?' Alain asked. ‘You threw it back, I hope?'

‘Well, I would have,' Martin said. ‘But it died first.'

‘Probably the sight of you that killed it,' I said.

‘The sight of someone round here …' Martin said, looking pointedly in my direction.

‘It's too cold for them,' Peggy said. ‘And the air's too thin. The shock killed it.'

‘But we gave it a decent send-off,' Martin said.

Alain didn't say anything in reply. I don't think he approved. Cloud Hunters don't like waste. He leaned over the deck rail and watched the sky-sub disappearing. Its rudder spun and down it went, until we could no longer properly see it, and it was just one more speck in the sky, inclining towards the heat of the sun.

‘Peggy –'

‘Not now, Martin.'

‘No, Peggy –'

‘I've got to navigate.'

‘No, Peggy, what's that? Please.'

‘What's what, Martin? What is it now?'

‘Over there. On that big island we're coming to. What's that?'

We were just turning out of the deeper sky and re-crossing the Main Drift. Here some big islands lined the way, like houses down a street, but set far, far apart.

Visible on the island nearest to us was a huge gleaming structure, glistening in the sun.

‘What is it, Peggy? What's it for?'

‘It's a stadium,' she said. ‘That's what it is.'

‘But what's it for? What do they do there?'

‘They play games.'

‘What kind of games?'

‘Games that people like to go and see.'

‘People go and see games? I thought you played games.'

‘You do. But some players get really good at games so people like to watch them playing.'

‘But what do they play? In a big place like that? What do they do? Alain, what do they play there?'

‘I don't know, Martin. Football, probably, I would guess.'

‘Football? What's football, Peggy?'

Alain straightened up from peering over the hull. He turned and looked at Martin with an expression of total disbelief on his face.

‘Are you serious?' he said. ‘You cannot be serious.'

‘What?' Martin said. ‘What's the matter? Have I done something wrong?'

I met Peggy's eyes. She just sighed and turned the wheel and we changed course for the island.

‘OK,' she said. ‘We'll go and look at it. But just look. And not for long. I suppose it's all part of broadening the mind.'

‘And I do need a new toothbrush,' Martin said.

So we headed in to Football Island (which is what I had christened it, whether that was its name or not – though it turned out to be right.) And it looked as if we had picked the right time too, for the jetty was busy, and the streets were teeming with people, and there was music and singing, and half of the population seemed to be dressed in red and the other half in blue.

And every single one of them appeared to be heading for that big stadium in the centre of the island.

‘Does that mean there's a game on?' Martin said, as we sailed into harbour.

‘Looks that way.'

‘Then we might be able to see it!'

We tied up and got off the boat and hurried to join the throng. But no sooner were we mingling with the excited crowds than I realised that everyone we saw was staring at us. We were walking among them like five sore thumbs. Everyone else was in red or in blue. We were the only ones without affiliation or visible loyalty, the only ones without a team.

Gemma said she just wanted to turn around and get out of the place as it was making her feel uncomfortable with all the crowds and everything, but I didn't see why we always had to do what
she
wanted. I wanted to stay and look around, because it was amazing.

All the people. I'd never seen so many.

‘Where do they all come from, Peggy? All these people here?'

‘You'll cover biology and reproduction at City Island.'

‘Is City Island as big as this?'

‘Bigger.'

‘With more people?'

She laughed.

‘Martin, this is just a drop in the sky.'

‘Well, I don't like crowds,' Gemma said.

‘Me neither,' Alain agreed. ‘I like individuals. Not masses.'

‘I might go back to the boat.'

‘Oh don't, Gemma – I mean, you can if you want …' Peggy said. ‘But let's look around. Just for a while. It's an experience.'

Well, the crowds were everywhere, and all heading for the huge stadium, and it was impossible not to get swept along, like a piece of flotsam on the solar tide. The currents of rippling red and blue took us with them.

‘Hey, where's your shirt, kid? Where's your colours?' someone called to us.

‘You've got to be visitors, right?' someone else said. ‘Where you from?'

‘You come to see the game, have you?' the first man asked. ‘Well, why wouldn't you? Football Island's famous across the whole system! People come from all over, huh?'

And they were all so proud of their island and so pleased with what went on there that I daren't open my mouth to tell them that up until a short while ago I had never even heard of football, never mind Football Island. I didn't want to sound like an ignoramus.

‘Pies, pies, get your pies!'

‘Hot drinks! Get your hot drinks here. Chilled ones in the freezer.'

‘Souvenir programmes!'

The swelling crowd swept us along past street traders and stalls. The traders were all dressed in team colours too, and the blue-shirted traders got blue-shirted customers, but not a single red one.

‘Armbands! Shirts! Coasters! Key rings! Pennants! Flags!'

‘Team pictures! All your team pictures!'

‘Signed photos of Genaldo! Guaranteed genuine!'

‘Who's Genaldo, Peggy?' I asked as we walked by. A man in a blue shirt overheard me and started to laugh.

‘Hey, you hear that? Did you hear that? The kid don't know who Genaldo is! The kid ain't heard of Genaldo!'

And everyone around him within earshot – people in red shirts as well as blue – all began to laugh along with the man, and they looked at me until I was as red as the red shirts, and some of them even pointed me out to their own kids, and said, ‘How's that for ignorant? The boy doesn't know Genaldo!'

Then somebody turned to Peggy and said, ‘Hey, granny – you in charge of these kids here? Well, you're not doing right by them. You want to see they get clued up. Fancy not knowing who Genaldo is. Shameful.'

‘Yeah, fancy not knowing that,' someone in a red shirt agreed. ‘That'd be like asking who Stellingham is. That'd be unbelievable.'

‘Who is Stellingham?' I said. ‘I don't know him either.'

Whereupon the man let out a long, low whistle.

‘My, oh my. Have we got some ignorance here? Are these kids growing up stupid or what?'

‘The world's bigger than your little island and what goes on in it, my friend,' Peggy told him. ‘Maybe you ought to teach your own kids something along those lines.'

But the man was already gone, hurrying to join his friends, who had started up singing a chant of some kind as they moved on towards the stadium.

‘
Reds! Reds! Alive or dead! Reds are winners! Reds! Reds!
'

No sooner had their voices died on the air than the blue-shirted supporters around them picked up a chant of their own.

‘
Blues are best! Blues are best! Blues are better than all the rest!
'

And on they all went, and on we followed. They were all chanting at once now, each group of supporters trying to drown out the others, but unable to. It was as if exactly one half of the island supported the reds and the other half didn't.

‘Peggy, what makes you a red supporter rather than a blue one?'

Before she could answer me, another passer-by butted in.

‘Hey, don't you people know nothing? Don't everyone know that the port side of Football Island is red jerseys and starboard side's blue? Don't the whole world know that? Cheeses! Where you been keeping the kid all these years?'

Peggy just kept her temper, shook her head and I heard her mutter, ‘No point in arguing with the ignorant. Especially the ones who think they know something.'

The passer-by was a woman this time. She had on a blue shirt, which looked a couple of sizes too small.

‘Excuse me,' I said. ‘So does that mean if you move from one part of the island to another you have to change your team?'

She looked shocked.

‘Whoever would do a thing like that, boy?' she said. ‘Why, that would be turncoat treachery of the worst kind. You'd be shunned by your own family to do a thing like that. I never heard of such a suggestion. Who's been putting notions like that in your mind? They should wash their mouths out. And why aren't you wearing your shirt?'

‘Don't have one. We're just visiting.'

‘Visiting or not, you should still be dressed properly. Or it's disrespectful.'

At that she strode off, kind of haughtily, like she'd somehow snatched the moral high ground away from right under our feet and was now marching away with it, leaving us without anything solid to stand on.

‘Why are they all so … fired up, Peggy?' Gemma said.

‘You'd have to live here to know.'

‘But I mean – if all it depends on is which side of the island you're born – that's just so random, an accident of birth, right? I mean, if you'd been born a kilometre away, you'd support the reds instead of the blues. Or vice versa. Why are you supposed to care so much, all over a little bit of geography?'

‘Maybe not everyone does. Perhaps they just put their shirts on and go along with it for an easy ride.'

‘Get your hats! Get your scarves! Get your banners now! All your badges! Get your rosettes!'

The current of people was still bearing us along and the high walls of the stadium were getting nearer.

‘Peggy, I want to go back,' Angelica said. ‘I don't like all the people.'

‘Just take my hand. I don't think we can turn back now, darlin'.'

And she was right. There was no way we could have turned back to the boat. There were thousands of people pressing us on. Soon the turnstiles were visible ahead. People were forming into two lines to go in – Reds to the left, Blues to the right.

‘Hey, you there. You people. You strangers!'

A man in uniform called us over.

‘Here! Step out of the crowd!'

He beckoned us aside to where he stood, sheltered by a pillar.

‘Where you going, friends?' he said.

‘We wanted to see the game,' I said. ‘We've never seen one. We want to go inside.'

‘Not dressed like that you're not,' the official said. ‘It's Blues one end, Reds the other. Where do you think you're going to sit?'

‘Can't we sit in the middle?' Peggy asked.

‘Middle? There is no middle. There's no halfway or sitting on the fence here. It's Reds or it's Blues. You've got to choose a side. You can't go in there with no colours. There'd be outrage – could start a riot.'

‘Then … Blues –'

‘Reds, Peggy!'

‘Does it matter, Martin?'

‘Just thought red looked nicer.'

‘Red, blue, I don't mind.'

‘Then you need to get your shirts on.'

‘We don't have shirts.'

‘Follow me.'

He led us towards some lockers at the back of the pillars.

‘Keep them here for visitors,' he said. ‘Courtesy of the city. There you go. Bring them back, would you, when the game's over?'

He handed us five musty-smelling red football shirts.

‘You get many visitors?' Peggy said.

‘A few. Not so many. But then, we're a long way from the next football-playing islands. It's a two-week journey at the very least. We don't get many other teams coming.'

‘So who do you play?' Peggy said.

The official looked puzzled.

‘Who do you think? Reds play Blues. Blues play Reds.'

‘What, every week?'

‘Twice a week. Wednesday nights. Saturday afternoons.'

‘They play each other? Over and over?'

‘Hey, it's Football Island, lady. It's how we do things. If you don't like it here –'

‘No,' Peggy said, ‘we love the place. Just trying to find out a little more about it. How much are the tickets?'

The official looked perplexed once more.

‘How much? It's free. You just go in. It's all paid in the taxes. Why, it's a citizen's civic duty to attend all matches.'

Peggy pulled her football shirt on over her head. She looked kind of funny, an old lady in a football shirt. But then I must have looked funny too, as my shirt was so big it was down to my knees.

‘Tell me,' she said to the official. ‘Do you have any religions on this island?'

The man narrowed his eyes.

‘We have football, lady,' he said. ‘That's what we have. We have football and we have the finest stadium this side of the Main Drift and the whole Southern Sky Line.'

‘It's certainly something,' Peggy agreed, looking up at the high walls and the statues of, no doubt, famous players, and a great sculpture of a football perched on a plinth. ‘It reminds me of a cathedral –'

‘It's famous throughout the whole sky world,' the official said proudly. Though up to a short while ago, I'd never heard of the place.

‘OK. Just follow the other folk in the red jerseys there,' the official directed us. ‘You'll find a seat. Plenty of room for everyone. And enjoy the game.'

‘Thanks. We will,' Peggy said. ‘Or we'll try, anyway,' she added, when the man could no longer hear her.

So in we went, following the stream of red shirts to the left and then up into the banked stands of the stadium. It was immense, a great theatre of a place, with a band on the pitch playing music and cheerleaders twirling pom-poms and throwing batons into the air, while vendors prowled around selling drinks and snacks and programmes and souvenirs. We found seats and sat down. None of them were reserved. You just took any ones that were free. No matter where you sat the view would have been terrific.

Up on a huge scoreboard were some facts and figures.

THIS SEASON'S RESULTS TO DATE:

BLUES: 6 WINS REDS: 6 WINS

DRAWS: 6 DRAWS

I nudged Alain, who was next to me.

‘Alain – you see that? All the results are exactly the same. They're neck and neck for everything. I bet that doesn't happen often, huh?'

But he just looked at me like I was pathetic.

But how was I to know?

The stadium filled and the partisan chanting and singing and flag-waving began. Before I knew it, I was up on my feet too, and waving a flag someone had given me, and I was chanting along with all the other Reds supporters.

It was great. I mean, I didn't know what it was all about exactly, but just standing up shouting and waving your flag was tremendous. Angelica was on her feet too. But Peggy and Gemma and Alain just sat there, and they even looked a bit glum. I mean, I felt that they were letting the side down a bit, to be honest, and they could at least have tried harder and demonstrated where their loyalties lay.

Then the Blues started singing, across on the other side of the stadium. So we started chanting again and we drowned them out. And our cheerleaders, down at the front, were going wild.

And then the teams came on, running out from different entrances but at exactly the same time. And other chants went up. The Blues began it.

‘
Genaldo! Genaldo! One in the net. One in the net
.'

While the people in red around us sang: ‘
Stellingham! Stellingham! Does what no other striker can!
'

And then the game seemed about to start.

Before it did, a singer appeared down on the pitch, and the band struck up a kind of anthem, and the players bowed their heads, and everyone in the stadium stood up, both Reds and Blues, and they all sang a song about what a great place their island was, and how lucky they were to live there.

And then the band and the singer left the pitch, and the teams took their positions, and the referee tossed a coin, and then the captain of the Reds took a short run up and kicked the ball, and the game was under way.