Mad Dog Moonlight (13 page)

Mrs Heligan stood up and announced the obvious. ‘We've arrived.'

Everybody tumbled off the bus, eager to explore, only to find themselves buffeted by strong winds that tugged at bodies and whipped hair across faces. For a moment all pairings were forgotten as they struggled into waterproofs and heaved on knapsacks. Mrs Heligan clapped her hands and called them all to order. She lined them up in their designated twosomes to be ticked off on a clipboard and handed out maps, information sheets and questionnaires that had been prepared for them by Mrs Anwen Jones, never intending them to be instruments of torture – but that was what they were now!

‘You might have finished working on your projects,'
Mrs Heligan announced. ‘But that doesn't mean that you can't learn more. I shall test how much you've discovered when we stop for lunch. And again when we get back to school. Mrs Anwen Jones would expect nothing less from me. I expect all your questionnaires to be completed by the end of the day. And no sections left out, if you please. Oh, and tidy handwriting, of course, and
mind your spelling
.'

Everybody shivered and started heading for the track that wound up the valley, parallel to the lake. But again Mrs Heligan clapped her hands. She hadn't finished with them yet.

‘I expect you to keep your eyes on each other, and not go astray,' she called after them. ‘You've been put in pairs to take responsibility for each other. So mind where you go and what you do. And keep your waterproofs close to hand because there may be rain. And your sunhats, in case the weather changes – although it doesn't look very likely. And Ryan Lewis, that walking stick of yours is for
walking
, not
sword fighting
. If I catch you doing anything else with it, it's detention for the rest of the week.'

There were sniggers all round. Mad Dog brandished his
ffon
and played it for laughs. Grendel rolled her eyes. Luke asked what would happen if the weather turned any worse. But, as if it wouldn't dare – not on her watch – Mrs Heligan ignored the question and dispatched parents and dinner ladies to man the various checkpoints along the track.

The class was to be at checkpoint three by twelve o'clock, she said, prior to walking up Plynlimon together, following the river until they reached Llyn Rheidol near the top. There – and
not
before – they'd
eat their packed lunches together, then they'd return to the lake at Nant y Moch at three on the dot, where the bus would be ready to take them back to school.

With a final
make sure you keep your eyes on the time
, Mrs Heligan sent the class off to find the answers on their questionnaires, waving her hands as if they were a cloud of mosquitoes she was trying to get rid of. Grendel tried to join up with her gang, but Mrs Heligan shouted
partners please
at her and she flounced off in a pair of kitten-heeled pink boots that she'd chosen to wear despite everything Mrs Anwen Jones had said.

Mad Dog decided he'd better stick with her – not because he wanted to but because he was aware that Mrs Heligan was watching them with eagle eyes. He flung on his knapsack and started along the track, following the line of the lake. The two of them walked in silence. Rhys was just in front of them, partnering the post office lady's niece whom he had always fancied, which was great for him.

Mad Dog kept turning round, but Mrs Heligan was always right behind, her head down against the wind, her expression sour as if she wished that she, not Mrs Anwen Jones, was the one tucked up in bed nursing food poisoning. They'd only just started walking but she looked fed-up already. Mad Dog couldn't think why she'd volunteered to replace Mrs Anwen Jones. She plainly had no interest in where they were going.

‘What happens when we reach the end of this valley?' Rhys asked as the end of the lake came into sight.

‘Work it out yourself. You've got a map. Use your eyes. You children are so lazy,' Mrs Heligan snapped.

Mad Dog knew she didn't have the answer. ‘We're going up there,' he explained to Rhys, pointing to the biggest crag in sight – Plynlimon Fawr – which rose above them to a lofty height.

‘What,
up there
?' said Rhys, looking shocked. ‘Are you sure? There must be some mistake.'

Mad Dog grinned. He said there was no mistake. That was where the river was leading them. It was obvious, even without a map.

‘I thought this was meant to be a
walk
,' Rhys said.

‘Now who's the old woman?' replied Mad Dog.

For as long as Mrs Heligan was still behind them, Mad Dog stuck to Grendel like a puppy in training classes. But, as soon as she decided to see what the class was getting up to further along the track, he was off.

‘What do you think you're doing?' Grendel called as he left the track and everybody else, and started picking his way down to the place where the Rheidol flowed into the lake.

‘I'm doing us both a favour,' he called back.

‘You'll get us into trouble.'

‘See if I care.'

Grendel stomped off, shouting, ‘See if I care,' too. Mad Dog turned his back on her. When he reached the lake, he skimmed stones across its surface until she'd disappeared from sight. Then he started picking his way upriver, guessing that the track which the rest of the class were walking along ran parallel to him. It was nicer down here than up there with everybody else. The landscape all around him made him feel alive, and his
ffon
was all the company he needed.

Mad Dog walked alone for ages, the wind whipping up the valley and beating him on the back. Only when he remembered about the twelve o'clock checkpoint did he leave the river and cut up the side of the valley, looking for the track. It was a tougher climb than he'd expected, and took longer too. He passed three tracks
on the way, and they all looked pretty much the same, but none of them had parents on them, or checkpoints or any sign of classmates.

Mad Dog crossed a fourth track, and finally decided that he was lost. By shaking off Grendel he hadn't intended to shake off the rest of the class, but that was what he'd done. Mad Dog looked around, trying to work out what to do next. Grendel had their map but, reckoning that he could manage without it, he abandoned all thought of following tracks and started straight up Plynlimon Fawr, heading for the Rheidol's source, where they'd be meeting for lunch.

Mrs Heligan was going to be mad at him but, by taking the difficult but direct route, Mad Dog reckoned he ought to be able to get up to Llyn Rheidol ahead of her. He tried phoning Rhys to explain what he was doing but discovered he had no reception. Not that it mattered, he told himself. Rhys and the others would find him soon enough. And,
even
if he did end up in trouble with Mrs Heligan, there was nothing he could do about it now, so he might as well enjoy himself.

‘At least I've got no one telling me what to do,' he said out loud. ‘No stupid questionnaire to fill in, and no Grendel to argue with. And look what a day it's turned into!'

By now the wind had dropped, the grey clouds had rolled away and the sun had come out. Mad Dog peeled out of his waterproofs and stuffed them into his knapsack. Above his head, the sky was a bright, clear blue, and he remembered what Mrs Anwen Jones had said about Plynlimon being unpredictable. Behind him he could see the reservoir at Nant y Moch,
sparkling like a jewel in a ring of golden mountains. All around him, for mile upon mile, there was not a tree or house or road or car or person in sight.

‘If I had to get lost anywhere,' Mad Dog reckoned, ‘I couldn't have chosen better than this beautiful wilderness.'

Not that he was
really
lost, of course. Mad Dog pressed on up the mountain, eyes fixed on the cliffs of Plynlimon Fawr, which never seemed to get any closer but he couldn't somehow bring himself to care. All around him, turquoise gadflies, bright pink foxgloves, silver cotton-grass and dots of yellow celandines wove a web of bright colour. A red kite wheeled overhead. A strip of bright blue ocean revealed itself on the horizon.

Mad Dog marvelled at it all. He could pick out the Rheidol running round the foot of Plynlimon Fawr, and it
was
a magic river like the post office woman had said. In fact, more than merely magical, this place felt holy. Mad Dog wasn't quite sure what he meant by that, but
holy
felt like the only word big enough to cover it. Almost without his noticing, his pace slowed down. He was still looking for Llyn Rheidol, but getting there before Mrs Heligan no longer seemed important. This climb was his to enjoy. It was meant for savouring. In a place like this, time didn't matter. In fact, in a place like this, no matter how many detours he took there was no such thing as
lost
.

Finally the path levelled out and a string of ponds appeared ahead of Mad Dog like pearls in a necklace, set on a bed of velvety moss. He passed the first pond, which was full of cotton-grass and orange butterflies. Then he passed a second one, covered with yellow
lilies and huge green pads. Finally he drew level with the third pond, whose waters looked as clear as cut-glass, and he couldn't resist stooping to drink.

The water had a taste of Aunty's mulled Christmas wine about it, although that was warm and this was ice-cold. Mad Dog watched circles radiating out from his cupped hands and could have stayed for ever, watching them growing and drinking handful after handful of clear crystal water.

But then a red kite wheeled overhead, crying out loud and casting a shadow over him – and Mad Dog looked up and remembered his classmates. He set off again, checking his phone, but still he didn't have reception. He turned back once, and the ponds shone again like pearls, and he could see the blue waters of Nant y Moch below them and, in the distance, he could see the ocean.

After that, the great cliffs of Plynlimon Fawr started closing in and Mad Dog's walk – though not so steep – was cast in shadows. The red kite soared away and silence seeped into Mad Dog. Once streams had run beside him, but not any more. No springs rose out of the ground and the path ahead of him became increasingly stony and rough.

Mad Dog started wondering if he was heading in the right direction. For the first time since heading up Plynlimon Fawr, he began to doubt what he was doing. Surely he'd never find Llyn Rheidol up here. No river could have its source in such a dry and stony place as this.

Mad Dog pressed on all the same, but the cliffs continued to close in around him until it was obvious that anything but turning back was completely crazy.
But still Mad Dog carried on, and suddenly the cliff on one side of him dropped away and he caught a glimpse of water. There it was at last – a sudden, stunning blackness forming a stark contrast to the bright blue sky.

The Eye of the Rheidol!

Mad Dog started running. Cliffs fell behind him on the other side as well, and he came out of the shadows and felt the sun on his face. Suddenly the whole lake was spread out before him. It had grasslands on one side of it, and a rock wall on the other, covered with wild flowers and a network of cobwebs set alight by the sun.

For a moment, the view was so beautiful, opened out before him in the folds of the mountain, that Mad Dog started laughing. He was still laughing when he reached the lake. He couldn't stop. Ignoring a battered old sign that said NO SWIMMING, he tore off his clothes and waded straight in. It was a hot day, but that wasn't why he did it. He did it because something inside him wanted to possess the lake. To even be a part of it. To get up close.

Mad Dog swam across the lake with strong strokes that would have astonished anyone who'd ever seen him swim before, then pottered back at a more recognisable pace. Only when he climbed out did he finally realise that Mrs Heligan and the class had long-since come and gone, leaving flattened grass behind them and a couple of crisp packets.

Mad Dog picked them up. He was really in trouble now, but so what? If the others weren't here, he didn't care. In fact, if they
had
been here, everything would have been spoiled.

Without bothering to put his clothes back on, Mad Dog flung himself down in the long grass to eat his picnic lunch and enjoy the sun on his skin. He should have been worrying about how late it was, but Plynlimon had cast a spell on him and the only thing that mattered was being here.

When he'd finished eating, Mad Dog went searching for what he'd come for in the first place – the
ffynnon
of the Rheidol. He found it at last in the long grass at the top end of the lake, shivering its way out of darkness into daylight. Here he flung himself face-down on a slab of sun-baked rock to watch the little trickle of newborn water starting its long journey down through the lake to Aberystwyth's harbour.

Mad Dog closed his eyes and listened. Suddenly it seemed to him that he had the power to hear the river pass through every place along the way, from Nant y Moch and Devil's Bridge, to the Gap, No. 3 and finally the sea. He pressed his face against the sun-baked rock. Everything else felt small and passing – Grendel, Mrs Heligan, his classmates, even Aunty and Uncle. Here on Plynlimon, he felt caught up in something bigger than himself. He tried to imagine Plynlimon a hundred years ago … a thousand years ago … a million …

Hours later, Mad Dog awoke. By now the slab of rock had cooled down and shadows had fallen, bringing with them a thin veil of evening mist that hung over the lake. Mad Dog shivered, and got up. The sweep of sunlit grassland that surrounded the lake had turned a cool grey and a little bit of night breeze blew his way.

Mad Dog found his clothes and pulled them on.
Then he packed his knapsack and, making sure to leave no litter behind, started heading down the lake. He was in big trouble, wasn't he? By now the school bus would be long-since gone, but there'd be people left behind, he had no doubt. People looking for him – and they were going to be furious when they found him!