The Various (17 page)

Then more important considerations entered her mind. The Royal Forest, and what was about to happen there, seemed more urgent than Tojo’s antics. She felt sure that the winged horse was connected to the forest somehow. And now the woods were to be cut down! Tomorrow she must speak to Pegs, and learn more.

Something else niggled at her. So much was happening that it was hard to keep track of her own thoughts. The sink – yes,
that
was a strange thing. She had meant to go back there and look again, but had forgotten about it. Her hand had touched something when she was searching for the torch. A bundle of rags, or dusters maybe – but it had felt . . . odd. And the strange thing was that she had been looking under there earlier that morning, when she was deciding what to use to clean Pegs up – that was how she
remembered
the whereabouts of the torch. There were no rags or cloths there then. So what
was
that beneath the sink? She shivered slightly. Maybe it was best not to know. No, that was silly. The more she thought about it, the more she felt she
had
to know. It was no good. There would be no sleep until she had put her mind at rest.

Midge put on her dressing gown once more and tiptoed from her room. Now that she was out of bed she wasn’t so sure that this was a good idea. The dim landing light had been left on, and that was a comfort, but standing at the top of the stairs and peering down into the dark hallway made her feel a bit nervous. It looked creepy down there. Don’t be silly, she thought, Phoebe would be snoring away at the foot of the stairs and everything was as it should be. She remembered her mum telling her something when she was little: ‘There’s nothing there in the darkness that isn’t there in the daylight.’ And Mum would briefly switch on her bedside lamp and say, ‘See? There are your books, there are your toys, here’s Bobs, and I’m just next door.’ Bobs was her toy rabbit. She still had him – most of him anyway, for he had been loved to bits.

She gingerly put a bare foot onto the first stair, and instantly jumped. There had been a slight noise down in there in the darkness – a faint double click. Not the sort of noise that Phoebe would make, it was more metallic, or mechanical. Right by the front door. Maybe it
was
the front door. No, that wasn’t it. She suddenly realized what it was – the cat flap. Definitely the cat flap. And that was
very
strange because no cat
ever
used the cat flap. She knew this was so because she had tried to help the Favoured One through it one day, and Uncle Brian had said, ‘Sorry, Midge. No cats in the house. The flap was put there when Katie was younger, against my better judgement. She wanted to keep one of the kittens as a house pet but Phoebe just wouldn’t have it, I’m afraid. Can’t say I blame her. It was never used in the end, and I’m not going to upset the old girl now. Play with the kitten outside if you like, but don’t encourage her to come in. I keep meaning to unscrew the thing – spoils a good oak door.’

But now
something
had gone out through the cat flap – or come in. Maybe it was Tojo. At that thought, her nerve finally broke. She scuttled back to her room and shut herself in. Whatever it was, it could wait till morning.

She had slept in later than she had intended. Uncle Brian was already in the kitchen, talking to someone on the phone – or rather he was listening to someone talking at the other end while he munched a piece of toast and marmalade. He waved the toast cheerily at Midge as she entered, and rolled his eyes. Midge gathered that whoever was on the phone to him was a bit of a talker. ‘Mm . . . fine,’ said Uncle Brian. A long pause. ‘Excellent . . . couldn’t be better. No, no, it’s no prob . . .’

Midge took a cereal bowl down from the dresser, and noticed the heavy red and black rubber torch standing on the main shelf.

‘Absolutely . . .’ said Uncle Brian. ‘Really . . . it’s . . .’
He
bit off another piece of toast, and looked around to see where he had left his coffee.

Midge put down her cereal bowl and picked up the torch. Glancing surreptitiously at her uncle and seeing that he was preoccupied, she took the torch and casually walked over to the sink. She lifted the little curtain, and replaced the torch beneath the sink, pretending to tidy up a few of the things in order to make room for it. Her eyes scanned the clutter of objects quickly and thoroughly. There were no rags or bundles of cloths there – nothing but the same few bottles and boxes that had been there yesterday morning. Midge straightened up, the curtain still raised in her hand, and gazed thoughtfully at the confined space.

‘Don’t give it another thought,’ said Uncle Brian. ‘Four thirty. Yes . . . yes . . . OK. OK, Pat. I’ll be there. Don’t . . . don’t worry. Yup. OK. Bye.’ He put the phone down, and grasped the table as though for support. ‘Ye Gods, can that woman talk. Sheesh! Gets it from her mother of course. Now
there
was a woman with a tongue. Miss Whiplash, I used to call her. Morning, Midge – all well? What are you looking for – cornflakes? We keep ’em in the cupboard, sweetheart, not under the sink.’

‘Oh . . . no, it’s OK,’ murmured Midge, absently. ‘Just putting the torch back.’ She let the curtain fall and walked over to the food cupboard. ‘Who was that?’ she said, more to distract her uncle than anything else.

‘Well, it was . . . actually, no, perhaps it can wait till later,’ said Uncle Brian. ‘Bit of a surprise.’ He had
intended
to sound slightly mysterious, but Midge had hardly heard him. ‘You all right?’ he said, looking at her solemn little face. She forced a half smile, and brightened up a bit.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Didn’t sleep very well, that’s all.’

‘No surprises
there
,’ said Uncle Brian. ‘Which reminds me – I think I’ll round up the bantams and count heads. And if there’s so much as a
feather
out of place . . .’ he gulped down the last of his coffee, ‘ . . . I’ll be reaching for the twelve-bore, swear to God I will. See you later.’

Pegs was looking much better. His head was already raised as Midge sidled in through the doorway of the pig-barn, and his eyes had lost much of their former pain.

‘I’ve brought water,’ said the girl, kneeling beside him on the sheet, ‘and you really ought to try to eat something.’ As an afterthought she added, ‘What
do
you eat?’

What do Gorji horses eat?
Again there was humour in the voice that moved, so strangely, through the colours she saw in her mind.

‘Well, grass, I suppose,’ Midge replied. ‘Um . . . hay. Oats, I think. I live in a city. I . . . don’t know very much about horses.’

And I know little of . . . cities. We may learn from each other. But yes, I thank you, some grass would be good
.

Midge stepped back out into the sunshine and pulled up a few handfuls of fresh green grass. She returned and propped herself up beside the small
white
creature, so magical and mystical – and yet so real and alive. She loved the warm animal smell of his coat, still mixed faintly with the soap she had used to wash him down. She gently inspected the wounded wing, and was gratified to see that it seemed no worse – better, she thought, though she was no expert in such matters. The soft mouth ate the fresh greenstuff that she offered, a little at a time, and she could feel Pegs’ breath, warm, on her pale hands. Her fingers were the same colour as the delicate shell pink around his nostrils. She gave him water, from a plastic bottle as before, wiping the clear droplets from his mouth with the chequered teacloth she had brought.

When he had taken enough, she said, ‘Pegs, I have to talk to you.’

The deep eyes looked into hers, waiting.

‘The Royal Forest . . .’ she began, and noticed the immediate wariness, the slight stiffening of the muscles on the horse’s neck. ‘ . . . The wood, which I call the Royal Forest – and I think perhaps you do too, though I don’t know why – well, it belongs to my uncle. The land is his. I’m not sure if you can understand that. But it means that he can do what he likes with it – the land, I mean, and the forest. Well, he told me last night that he means to sell it. The forest, I mean and . . . oh I’m not explaining this very well, but he’s going to get rid of it. The forest will be cut down. It’ll be gone, and then where will you . . . I mean if that’s where you live, where will you . . .?’

Hush, maid. Let me try to understand you. Your kinsman, as you said before, has charge of this land – and the
forest
too?
Midge nodded.
And he would destroy it? Why?

‘Well . . .’ Midge was about to say ‘money’, but didn’t feel equal to trying to explain what money might be. She tried a different tack. ‘The forest will be cut down so that new houses can be built,’ she said.

Houses? Is this a word for . . . dwellings? For new Gorji dwellings?

‘Yes,’ said Midge.

So he would root up the forest in order that . . . But when?
The voice became more urgent now.
When will this be?

‘Soon,’ said Midge, earnestly. ‘Just a few weeks from now, I think. What will you do?’

Weeks? What are weeks?

‘Well, there are seven days in a week,’ said Midge, ‘so . . . I don’t know . . . maybe in a month, um, thirty days? You know what days are?’

Thirty days? One moon?

‘That’s right,’ said Midge. ‘One moon. Perhaps.’

Are you sure of this, child?
Pegs was attempting to struggle to his feet.

‘Well, that’s what he
said
. I’m as sure as I can be. What are you doing?’

Help me maid. Help me to rise. I can lie here no more. I must leave
.

‘But you can’t! You’re not strong enough.’ Midge nevertheless tried to assist the animal in his struggles. Finally he stood, very shakily, on the polythene sheet. He looked so fragile and helpless on the unstable surface of the polythene, the thin legs barely able to support the weight of his body, the wings half extended in a vain attempt to gain balance, that
Midge
could see that she had been right. Pegs was unable to go anywhere of his own accord. She put her arms beneath the animal’s chest in support as he sank on to the sheet again, exhausted. Pegs lay down with a sigh, and looked at Midge. The dark eyes were filled with pain once more. There was a long moment of thought.

Maid, have you the strength to carry me?

‘Pegs,’ said Midge, ‘I don’t know if I can carry you. I’ll try, of course I will. But you’ll have to tell me where you want to go – and why. And who you are, and what you’re doing here. You have to trust me. A little more than you do.’

Yes. It is so. You have shown kindness, and faith, and you have earned my faith in return. But all that I know, I cannot tell you. I have not the power – it is not in my gift. There are others to . . . protect
.

‘Others like you? Other horses?’

No. There are none like me. But what do you know of the . . . little people?

‘Little people? You mean . . . leprechauns, and pixies and things? Fairies?’

The same
.

‘Well, not much.’

Then you may learn much, before this day is out. But more I cannot say, until I have returned to the forest. Trust me, Midge, and forbear my silence a while longer – for I shall indeed put my trust in you. I must
.

‘Is that where you want to go then? To the forest?’

Aye. Back to the forest – the Royal Forest
.

* * *

She found that once she was upright, she was able to carry the horse, slung around her shoulders, without too much difficulty. She was small for her age, but she was no weakling and she had a determined nature. Pegs, moreover, was light – so slenderly built and so fine boned, that he was no heavier than a tiny deer. Under Pegs’ direction they had made their way diagonally up the slope from the pig-barn, working round the hill towards a point, a few hundred yards distant, where there was a small gully in the hillside. Along this gully, from a spring in the forest, water flowed – a stream in winter, although at this time of year it was merely a damp trickle.

Follow the gwylie up to the edge of the forest
.

Midge carefully walked sideways down into the hollow of the gully, and then said, ‘I’m going to have to stop for a moment.’ She was getting tired and thirsty, and her shoulders were aching. She leaned forward and bent her knees, slowly lowering Pegs to the ground. Pegs found that he was able to stand, now that he was on a firmer footing than the polythene sheet had provided, and was even able to walk a few paces. He shook his head, to loosen the stiff muscles in his neck, and glanced about him nervously, his silvery mane and tail shining in the sunlight. They had been very exposed on the open hillside, and he felt slightly safer in the hollow of the gully. He stared up towards the forest, anxiously scanning the high branches of the beech trees. Midge sat down for a moment. She had brought water with her in a plastic
bottle
. The bottle dug uncomfortably into her hip, but to retrieve it would mean standing up again. She looked up the path of the gully. It became narrower, and deeper towards the forest’s edge, and she could see that the soil had been washed away to reveal the bluish local stone. Most of the houses around were built of this material. Mill Farm, unusually, was built of the honey coloured stone quarried from Ham Hill, some fifteen miles south. The gully ran right up to the edge of the forest, where its source was buried beneath a thick overhanging curtain of dense brambles.

‘Is that where we’re going?’ she said to Pegs.

It is where I am going. Carry me just a little further, if you are able, good friend, and then I shall ask you to rest awhile and wait for me
.

So Midge crouched down once more, tucked her head beneath the horse’s body, and stood up straight – holding on to the slim legs. She walked up the long grassy gully, picking her way carefully as it grew more stony and wet. The sun was higher now and she was hot. She glanced at her watch, shifting her grip on the horse’s fetlocks in order to do so. Ten-fifteen. It felt later. As they drew closer to the forest, she noticed that Pegs kept raising his head and looking intensely up at the trees – as if searching for something.