Authors: Garry Kilworth
‘More than,’ she replied. ‘I came up here when I was at a Board School. But they used to tease me a lot, because I didn’t know who my father was, so I stayed up here. Been here ever since.’ She looked over her shoulder. ‘I could go back. It would be as if I never came in the first place. But I don’t want to be teased again.’
‘But a hundred years!’
‘I know.’ She sighed, adoring him for his sympathy. ‘I know you think it’s horrid. A hundred years in a dusty attic. But it’s my home and I love it here. You wouldn’t understand.’
Alex blurted, ‘But I do.’
‘I
might
go back, one day.’
‘You should. Your mother will be missing you.’
‘Not really. That’s the beauty
of it. I’ll only have been gone a few seconds. Strange isn’t it, this
time stopped
. You think there would be a great hue and cry the length and breadth of the land.’ Her voice suddenly changed to a falsetto. ‘Where is Amanda? Oh, where has she gone, my darling girl?’ Then back to her normal tone, ‘But no one calls, no one knows, because no time has passed since I left. Here we are in a place stuck between two minutes, not moving, still as dust in a box.’
‘Amanda. That’s a very nice name.’
She hugged her knees. ‘And what’s yours?’
‘Alex. Alexander.’
‘Alexander, don’t you miss your parents? Why do you want to stay up here?’
He shrugged. ‘Oh, I don’t know. It’s exciting, isn’t it?’
‘Will you stay? Will you?’
He became almost as deflated as one of those bagpipes he had pierced earlier with his sword.
‘I really don’t know. I think I want to. I thought I did.’
She smiled. ‘It’s not all magic dust and moonbeams, you know. It’s very, very lonely.’
‘I’m beginning to learn that.’
‘Loneliness can gnaw away at you, or come up on you suddenly and suck all the spirit out of you, so you feel hollow and wasted.’
He shuddered and nodded. ‘I guess it can.’
‘You should think about it very carefully. If you
wait too long to make a decision, it becomes so that you can’t go. The attic increases its hold on you. It grips you with soft unseen hands. Firm hands. You’re speaking with one who knows, Alexander. It seems to me I’ve been here almost as long as the dust. If it weren’t for my collection …’ Her voice had grown very dreamy. ‘… I might go home tomorrow.’
The pair of them spent the next few hours together. Amanda said there would be no attack from the Organist’s regiments for some time to come, because of the heavy defeat the pair of them had inflicted on them. Thus they had time to enjoy each other’s company, which was wonderful for the board-comber and would be remembered forever by the novice bortrekker.
‘Can you sail?’ she asked him.
‘Sailed all the way here,’ he answered.
‘Yes, but on a raft you said. Can you sail a small boat?’
‘Never tried.’
‘Come with me.’
She took him out on the waters of the tank in a small sailing boat. Probably in order that Amanda could move about swiftly and without hindrance, the owl left her head for once and perched on the bowsprit. Once on the great lake, however, Amanda became a tyrannical captain, yelling at Alex to pull this sheet or reef that sail. He might have guessed he would become a slave to her commands in such a situation. When he complained that he was being treated like a drudge, she explained that unless he
obeyed orders to the letter and very quickly, they might capsize.
‘You are the deck hand. You have to learn to react quickly. Now jump to the jib …’
He jumped, wondering what the heck a jib was, but Amanda was not a girl to be ignored.
Nevertheless, Alex enjoyed her company, and so far as he could tell, she enjoyed his. But as the days progressed he began to seriously consider whether this attic life was for him. Even though it was a thousand times better than being completely on his own, he grew bored. He was not content within himself. It was no wonder the bortrekker he had met and who had influenced him kept moving. Just as all bortrekkers were restless souls. They had to be in order to interest themselves. New landscapes, new adventures, new horizons were necessary to ward off that corrosive boredom.
‘There are those who’re born to the attic and those who hope to grow into it,’ she told him one day, after looking into his eyes and seeing emptiness there. ‘You are the second kind. Oh, I do not doubt you’re sincere about wanting to stay, and perhaps if you did you’d come to grow into it. But you’re not like me. I can spend a thousand years up here and still not lose interest. I am one of those people happy in my own company. I have my owl of course, and he’s enough for me.’
The owl blinked and climbed down from her head, to walk up to Alex and stare him directly in the face. Alex found this very disconcerting and tried to ignore the bird, but it was difficult when you were the sole object of some-one’s attentions. The owl continued to peer at him with unwavering intensity.
‘Look somewhere else,’ he muttered at the owl. ‘Go on, shoo!’
The three
of them were sitting together on the edge of the water tank, looking out over the wavelets that had gathered purple light to themselves. Technically the bird was standing, but it seemed as if he were squatting, since he was all hunched, with feathers fluffed.
‘A hermit,’ Alex stated, continuing their conversation. ‘Is that what you want to be?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t like that word. It sounds old and stuffy. I’m not old and stuffy.’
‘No, you’re not,’ he said bravely, ‘you’re the most exciting and interesting person I’ve ever met.’
The owl nodded, as if satisfied, then climbed back on to his perch on Amanda’s head.
Amanda glanced at Alex quickly. ‘Oh, dear – Alex.’
‘No, no – I’m not saying I want you for a
girlfriend
,’ he added. ‘I just think you’re – you’re really cool.’
This was not the first time he had used phrases or words which meant very little to her.
‘I hope I am your friend, even though a girl.’
‘Well, yes, I didn’t mean that …’
‘And I don’t mean to be cool towards you, but you must understand a young woman like myself has to maintain some distance, some decorum. The Organist didn’t understand that.’
‘What I meant was,’ he said desperately, ‘is that I like you and I think you’re great company.’
She gave him an elfish grin. ‘Thank you, that’s a very nice compliment.’
A fresh draught suddenly caught Alex unawares. It ran its invisible fingers over his face. On its back it carried many scents and fragrances, as well as a few less pleasant odours, but one in particular made him sit up and take heed. There. There was a faint whiff of curry. Was it curry? Yes, surely it was. All of a sudden he missed his mother’s cooking. Dipa could whip up a curry that would have you drooling before a single mouthful was taken. If he stayed in the attic he would never taste his mother’s curries again, would he? And with the thought of that loss a thousand others came crowding in, things he missed about home and family, things that would be out of his reach for eternity if he remained a bortrekker. He loved his mother and sister, was growing fond of Ben and Jordy, and he needed Marmite on toast for breakfast like people needed to breathe air.
‘Will
you ever go home, do you think?’ he asked Amanda, as the owl turned a complete circle on her head. ‘You might want to one day.’
‘No,’ she replied. ‘I cannot. I have been here too long.’
‘Does it hold you then?’
‘In a strong grip – of which I approve,’ she added hastily. ‘This was my choice, to stay up here. You are not yet in its thrall, but the longer you stay, the less likely it is you will be able to go back. You must make your choice soon, you know. To remain, or to return. Ah, I see a new light in your eyes, Alexander the Great, you have made up your mind.’
‘Yep.’ He stared out over the waters of the tank. ‘I can’t do it. I thought I could, but I can’t. I need to go home. I know you say time has stopped for me and them, but I’ve got this image in my head, of my mother crying, putting notices in the newspapers, searching for me. I can’t get hold of the idea that nothing is moving down there. It’s got to, somehow or other, and when it does I won’t be there. I can accept that time has stopped for me, but I can’t get the idea that it’s stopped for them. It just doesn’t work in my head, no matter how many times you tell me it’s true.’
‘It is a difficult concept to grasp,’ she admitted. ‘It doesn’t hold with the science we’ve learned in the schoolroom, does it? Well, if you have to go, Alexander, you should do so very soon. I know of a way to get you back quickly and easily,
without a great deal of danger.’
‘I can’t do
hang-gliding,’ Alex said, ‘if that’s what you’re thinking.’
Judging from her expression that wasn’t what Amanda was thinking.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she replied. ‘What I mean is, I can sail you across the Great Water Tank much swifter than you can travel on your raft. Then I can lead you through the attic on the safest and quickest paths, avoiding horrible mountains and the scissor-birds.’
‘You would do that for me?’ Alex said, surprised. ‘Don’t you have to stay here and guard your watches?’
On the mention of the word ‘watches’ the owl swivelled its head, first 360 degrees one way, then the same the other way. Two complete circles. It seemed disappointed there were no watches on view. It gave Alex a hard stare, as if it believed the boy had been trying to trick it.
‘Oh, I have to go sometimes. There are more watches out there to collect. It would be a poor collection, Alex, if I didn’t seek to enlarge it, to make it the best collection the attic has ever seen. I usually go after I’ve beaten back an attack by the Music Makers. That brattish Organist takes time to reorganise and regroup, before attempting another assault.’
‘What
if he stole some of your watches and hid them?’
‘He’s tried that. I always find them again. They tick, you see.’
Alex said, ‘Why doesn’t he just smash them?’
She blinked several times then stared hard at him as if he had just told her he approved of murder.
‘That would be such a terrible wanton act of destruction,’ she said, ‘which no sane person would even contemplate. In any case, a thousand watches? How would he carry them all away? How could he manage to smash them before I got to him and scratched his eyes out?’
‘How long has it been going on like this?’
‘Oh, years and years.’
‘Well maybe this Organist has become so obsessed with the idea of getting rid of you he’s not sane any more.’
She said, ‘I can’t even
think
like that.’
They were quiet for a while, during which Alex thought he heard something, in the far distance, that he recognised.
But she soon interrupted his thoughts.
‘Now, Alexander the Great, we have to plan our passage. I’m a very good pathfinder you know, Alex. It’s not just the bortrekkers who can find their way across the world. The board-combers are good at it too. Perhaps not quite so good as bortrekkers, but nearly. How soon can you be ready? Shall we set out tomorrow morning?’
‘You want to get rid of me that quickly?’
The owl nodded thoughtfully.
‘Alex,’ said Amanda, looking him in the eyes (it was very difficult to take her seriously with an owl on her head), ‘I’ve told you, if you don’t go down quickly, you’ll never get down at all. Every day counts. The attic is working on your soul every moment you’re here.’
‘But
I haven’t found Mr Grantham’s watch yet.’
‘It’s not over this side of the tank, Alex,’ she told him. ‘I’ve covered every inch of this territory, believe me. We’ll have to search for it on your way home – and if we don’t find it, why, then it’s truly lost, for the other side of the Great Water Tank is a vast landscape. No one has ever explored all of it to the eaves. It seems to go on for ever. I’m sorry.’
He sighed. ‘That’s all right.’
There it was again, that familiar sound. Faint music. A tune from a folk song. Was it in his head? Or was it really out there somewhere? Perhaps he too was becoming obsessed. Obsessed with the idea of finding Mr Grantham’s watch. Now it had stopped. Very spooky.
The owl screeched loudly, shattering his reverie.
Amanda dashed forward and leapt on someone sneaking around out in the darkness. She struggled for a moment, then returned into the evening gleam of the skylight. She had a village boy by the ear, one of those mercenaries who had ridden the bagpipe-spiders in the attack. His face was screwed up into a tight wad of indignation.
‘A spy,’ said Amanda, satisfied with her own detection. ‘I thought I heard something out there.’
The boy was about half her size. He had stopped kicking and struggling and now stared at the ground. Amanda began to speak to him. To Alex’s ears she sounded like a creaking gate, but he had heard the language before and knew it to be Attican. The boy answered her, defiantly it seemed, glaring at her. He kept pointing back into the darkness, in the direction where the Music Makers had come from. He seemed adamant about something. Finally Amanda let go of his ear. The Attican youth remained for a few more moments, still creaking away, then he ran off.
‘Well?’ asked
Alex. ‘What was all that about?’
‘Fireworks.’
Alex raised an eyebrow. ‘Fireworks? You mean bonfire night fireworks?’
‘That brat,’ she waved a hand at the departing child, ‘said the Organist had made a firework. A very big one. I don’t believe him.’
‘Why not?’
‘Why make a firework? They had a box up here that went off once. The Removal Firm dealt with it, but it was terrible. It started a great fire which spread over a large area of the attic. They managed to put it out but if it hadn’t been close to a water tank the whole attic might have been destroyed. You can go to the place now and walk for three days over charred wood with charcoal beams overhead. Now the Removal Firm seek out any boxes of fireworks that are put up here and throw them in a water tank.’
‘But one firework – I doubt that would do much harm.’