Is (6 page)

It was also shatteringly noisy – so much so that, for several minutes, she stood with her eyes shut and hands clapped over her ears. Then, opening her eyes, she took careful stock of her surroundings.

She found that she was standing in a large, high hall. Far above her head, the domed ceiling appeared to be made of glass, which threw back reflections from rows of gaseliers giving light along the walls. These walls were painted in gaudy colours with crude pictures of birds and trees, dancers, toys, colourful goodies and cakes piled in dishes, also trumpets, drums, ribbons and flags. Here and there, man-sized capital letters proclaimed:
HUZZA
,
YOU ARE OFF TO PLAYLAND! HAPPY JOURNEY! NOW YOU WILL HAVE ALL THE FUN IN THE WORLD! GOLD KINGY IS WAITING TO WELCOME YOU
!

Gold Kingy! thought Is. Aha! Then we are going to Blastburn! The north country must be Playland. But how are they a-going to get us there?

Now her dazzled eyes, slowly adjusting to the brilliance of the light and the shifting, excited crowd of children round her, became aware of what lay alongside the crowd, and was the source of the deafening noise, topping the shrill voices of the expectant travellers.

A train, like an immense red-and-gold snake, was drawn up along one side of the hall, stretching far away into the shadows at the distant end. Upon the train’s side were written in fiery letters the words
PLAYLAND EXPRESS
, over and over. Two gigantic engines, one at the front and one at the rear, emitted fierce whistles, jets of sizzling steam, and sulphurous smoke.

Men in red jackets were already busy hushing the children, moving them forward, and marshalling them on board.

‘
Plen – ty
of room for all – don’t shove – just move along this way – pass along the platform
if
you please. Don’t push, don’t shove, there’s
plen – ty
of seats for everybody. Easy does it! Gently does it!’

Is hung back, watchfully. Loitering at the near end of the platform, she thought, once I’m aboard that train there won’t be
no
way of sending back a message about all this.

She glanced behind her, but the entrance through which she had come was already closed. One of the red-coated men slammed a door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket.

Is said to him urgently, ‘Mister! Listen! I was waiting for me brother. He ain’t come yet. Could you take back a message for him? To say I’ve gone on ahead?’

He said, ‘Can’t be done, kid. It’d be as much as I’m worth. I won’t tell you a lie; I couldn’t do it. Your brother can come next month.’

She stared at him, dismayed by the look on his face. He was pale and haggard, with black rings under his eyes. Like a picture of a monkey, Is thought. In his red jacket he looks jist like the toy monkeys Penny makes.

‘You’d best hop on the train now, missy,’ the man said hoarsely. ‘They’ll be ready to start in a minute.’

Is made her way, not hurrying, towards the rear of the train, where the second great engine steamed and hissed and chuntered to itself. She was impressed by its size; she had never seen such a thing before. There were two drivers on it, she saw, standing by the footplate and talking; one of them was short, lame and one-eyed, the other tall and red-headed. They wore frock-jackets and black velveteen caps. One held something in his arms.

  

  

There was a freight car next to the engine, just one. Wonder what they carry in it, Is thought. Men were dragging trolleys loaded with sacks across the platform, and hurling the sacks through the open doorway of the baggage van.

As one of the trolleys rolled towards her, screeching and grinding over the stone-paved floor, Is was astonished to notice a small yellow cat come scampering in her direction, visibly panicked by all the noise and confusion. Narrowly avoiding the iron wheels of the trolley, it swerved towards her; instinctively, Is knelt and grabbed it, and it clung to her with all its claws, terror-stricken; she could feel its tiny heart pounding against her own. It was hardly more than a well-grown kitten, with soft, ginger-coloured fur, thick as lamb’s fleece.

Thinking of Figgin, she hugged it reassuringly, then looked about her, wondering if it had an owner somewhere among the throng of children now piling on to the train. Their voices were all around her:

‘Mind your silly self, don’t shove so! – Coo-er, I can’t wait to get on board, can you? See what’s there! – D’you think they’ll give us dinner? Breakfast? I’m something hungry! – How long does it take to get there? – Mum, Mum, I don’t want to go, I want to go home, I want Mum! – Don’t be a stupid crybaby, you know Mum don’t want us at home. And you can’t go back to the workshop, now you’ve run off, Mrs Poss ’ud beat you till you couldn’t stand up.’

In all this chatter and hubbub, Is, unused to crowds, felt very much alone.

‘I like
you
better than all of them,’ she told the ginger cat, still looking about for its owner. ‘Which one of them do you belong to?’

‘Hey – you – young ’un!’ shouted a harsh voice behind her. ‘That’s my Ginge you got there!’

Turning, she saw one of the men jump down from the engine cab. He was the tall carroty-headed driver. He came towards her, scowling.

‘This kitty – yours?’ said Is distrustfully, still cradling the little cat protectively inside her crossed arms. But there was no mistaking the way in which, as soon as it saw the red-haired man, the kitten greeted him joyfully, leaping across on to his shoulder, then burrowing down into what was plainly its regular place, an inner pocket of his black jacket.

‘If he’s yours, you oughta take better care of him, mister!’ snapped Is. ‘That trolley nearly flattened him.’

‘One o’ the kids knocked him off me shoulder, time they all come scampering in,’ said the man defensively. ‘I was on the look-out for ’im. Anyway, you best get on board. We’ll be starting in a brace of shakes.’

He added after a moment, in a lower voice, ‘Thanks, anyway, kid. I’d not want to lose him, he brings me luck. And he sure wouldn’t ha’ took to everyone the way he done to you – ’ glancing past her warily as if to make sure they were not overheard.

‘I got one too, called Figgin,’ said Is. And then, as she clambered on to the step of the last car before the freight wagon, she turned and asked, ‘Hey, mister – you go back and forth on this train? Any chance of sending summat back – a message – about
my
cat?’

He shook his head quickly, violently, then leaned closer to her and murmured – while his eyes still continued to dart about the crowd – ‘Can’t be done, young ’un. There’s spies everywhere. The only cove I heard on what took back a message, he fell off the footboard while the train was goin’ acrost the Wash bridge – that was the end of him. I dassn’t do it, see, kid?’

And he quickly walked away from Is, back to the engine and his one-eyed mate.

Very thoughtful indeed, Is pulled herself up the steps and entered the train.

Inside, she saw, the passenger car was gaily decorated in the same style as the station hall – in gaudy reds, blues, yellows and greens, with pictures of palm trees waving, dishes of greasy-looking tropical fruits, golden crowns and butterflies.

YOU ARE ON YOUR WAY TO PLAYLAND
said a sign. There were brass fittings and pink-shaded lamps, and the seats, set in alternately facing rows with an aisle down the middle, were covered in red canvas. On the floor was a red Turkey carpet, very much worn and spotted with grease.

Is, who had never seen a train before, let alone travelled on one, found everything remarkable.

‘Why ain’t there any windows?’ she asked one of the red-coated men as he passed by, making sure that everybody was fitted into a seat somewhere.

‘Why,’ he replied, looking somewhat startled, as if no one had ever asked such a question before, ‘it’s because – that is to say – this train only travels by night – in the dark – so there’d be no point in having windows.’ And he went quickly on his way.

‘How long does the trip take?’ she called after him, but got no answer.

Is found an empty seat beside a shabbily-dressed, dirty-faced, yellow-haired girl, who looked pretty, knowing, and stupid. She was already giggling and winking at the two boys in the facing seats opposite.

‘What’s yer name?’ the girl asked Is.

‘Is.’

‘Is?
That’s
a crummy kind o’ monacker! Mine’s Mary-Ann. What did you work at? Where’re you from?’

‘Blackheath,’ said Is, not bothering to answer the first question.

‘Blackheath? I never been south o’ the river,’ said the girl, as if this was a virtue. ‘I was a milliner’s ’prentice in Spitalfields. My mum ’prenticed me when I were six, cos there’s ten of us at home. It was crool long hours, I can tell you: start at eight, most nights we wan’t done till two or three. Stitch-stitch-stitch, all day long, only bread and taties to eat, an’ not much o’ them. So I made up me mind to cut an’ run. How d’you hear tell of Playland?’

‘From a fellow in the street.’

‘One o’ the other gals told me,’ went on Mary-Ann, paying little attention to what Is said. ‘It’s a reel prime place, she sez; all you want to eat all day long, no work to do unless you fancies workin’, fun an’ frolic an’ dancin’ every night, every gal has a room of her own with her own
bed
. Ooooh! I jist can’t wait to get there.’ And she hugged herself and wriggled joyfully on her seat.

‘What about the girl who told you?’

‘Susie? She went off three weeks ago an’ I never saw her no more.’

‘If nobody works in Playland, unless they want to,’ said Is doubtfully, ‘how can they make it pay?’

Mary-Ann stared at her. ‘
I
dunno! I don’t worrit me head about stuff like that.’ And she tossed her yellow head which did not, indeed, look as if it were capable of worrying much about anything. She caught the eye of the boy opposite, gave him a grin, and said,

‘What’s your name? Mine’s Mary-Ann.’

‘Abel,’ he said. ‘And my friend’s Tod.’

With a gentle jerk, the train started on its way. Once it was rolling along, it made remarkably little sound, above a regular thud-thud-thud from the engine.

‘Ain’t it quiet,’ said Is.

‘That’s acos they got the wheels wrapped in felt,’ explained Abel with a knowing nod. ‘I noticed that, time I got in. And they say the train runs mostly below ground, or anyways in a deep cutting. That way it can’t be seen, see? It’s a secret train.’

‘How often does it run?’ asked Is.

‘Once a month, Susie told me,’ said Mary-Ann. ‘The night afore new moon. I reckon she was right. So, when owd Ma Walters give me the stick for crumpling the pink sarsnet last night, I reckoned I’d up and hop it, fust chance I got. An’ she sent me out today on an errand, to get some more pink worsted, so I jist prigged the fourpence and scarpered.’ She giggled. ‘If this train was to be searched by the rozzers, I bet they’d find a deal of prigged stuff aboard.’

The boys nodded.

‘I run off from a candle-factory,’ said Abel. He exhibited a bag of fat wax candles.

‘Who’ll want
them
in Playland?’ said Mary-Ann scornfully.

‘Oh, you never can tell. They must have dark there, same as everywhere else.’

‘Oh, you! Think you’re mighty clever, don’t you!’ said Mary-Ann. She and the boys began to exchange a great many jokes, which meant little to Is, unused to this kind of talk. She found them boring, and moved across the aisle to a vacant seat on the other side. Mary-Ann, she could see, would not miss her in the least; in fact she was already beckoning to Abel to come and sit beside her.

Opposite Is now were two girls, younger than herself; one might have been eight, the other nine. They puzzled her because their faces were identical, with pointed chins, triangular mouths and neat little noses, but their colouring was completely different: the bigger one had thick dark hair and brown eyes, the smaller was red-haired and blue-eyed.

‘You two sisters?’ asked Is. They nodded, shyly.

‘How come you’re so different, then?’

‘We got the same mum,’ said the elder one, ‘but we got different dads. My dad took and died, and Mum married again. I’m Tess, she’s Ciss.’

‘And my dad is allus horrible to her,’ explained the younger sister. ‘He clobbers her all the time, and won’t let Mum give her enough grub, and said he was going to send her to the ’formatory. So we reckoned we’d run off.’

‘Mum’ll cry, though,’ said Tess, looking rather miserable about it. ‘We was a help to her, lookin’ arter the little ’uns.’

‘We’ll write her a letter from Playland,’ said Ciss consolingly. ‘She ’on’t grieve so when she knows what a real prime time we’re having there.’

The two girls hugged each other in joy at the prospect.

Now the train was sliding along soundlessly at what seemed a very rapid rate; Is could feel its gentle vibration as it carried them farther and farther north. After a while the passengers began to grow restless – they laughed and shrieked and chattered and bounced in and out of their seats – but the red-coated attendants worked extremely hard at keeping the noise level down by dashing to and fro every few minutes with trays of tit-bits and sweets. This kept the children from larking about too much, in case they missed their turn for a treat. There was never anything very substantial, but always something to nibble, so nobody was ever satisfied, but always ready for more.