Noah Barleywater Runs Away (11 page)

‘No, I have a much better plan that that,’ she said. ‘Since we can’t go to the seaside, I thought we
should bring the seaside to us. What do you think of that?’

Noah sighed and shook his head. ‘We live on the edge of a forest, Mother,’ he said. ‘I don’t think we’ll find any beaches around here.’

‘If you think I’d let a little thing like that stand in my way, then you don’t know me at all,’ she said, sticking out her tongue at him and making a face. ‘You do realize that I’m the most amazing mother in the world, don’t you?’ Noah nodded but said nothing. ‘All right then,’ she said, clapping her hands together twice, and quickly, like someone in a television programme about to cast a spell. ‘Grab your swimming trunks and a towel. I’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes.’

Noah did as he was told, wondering what on earth could possibly have got into her. This was the second time she had taken him away for the day on an unexpected treat. The first time, the pinball time, had been the most terrific fun, and if that was anything to go by, then this would be even better. She never used to do things like this, but now, out of the blue, they were all the rage. Although he couldn’t imagine how she could possibly bring the seaside to the forest. His mother was many things, but magic she was not.

‘Where are we going?’ he asked when they were sitting in the car, driving along with the top down for once. (In the past, Mrs Barleywater had said she didn’t like to do that in case she got a cold, but she
didn’t seem to be worrying about that any more, and seemed happy to enjoy the fresh summer breeze.
You only live once
, she’d said as she pulled it down.)

‘I told you,’ she said. ‘The seaside.’

‘Yes, but in real life,’ he asked.

‘Noah Barleywater,’ she replied, turning to look at him for a moment before turning back to watch the road, ‘I hope you’re not suggesting that I would let you down. You told me that you loved going to the beach.’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but that’s hundreds of miles away. We’re not driving hundreds of miles, are we?’

‘Oh no,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘No, I wouldn’t have the energy for that. No, we should be there in about fifteen minutes.’

And sure enough, fifteen minutes later, having driven away from the forest and in the direction of the nearby city, they arrived at a hotel that Noah had never seen before and pulled into the car park. ‘Don’t say anything,’ said Noah’s mother, noticing the sceptical look on her son’s face. ‘Just trust me.’

They went inside, and Mrs Barleywater waved at one of the receptionists, who immediately came out from behind her desk wearing a broad smile on her face and handed her a key.

‘Thanks, Julie,’ said Noah’s mum, winking at her, and Noah frowned in surprise, for he was sure he knew all his mother’s friends and this Julie was a new one on him. He followed her as she walked on,
however, only turning round for a moment to glance back at the receptionist, who was now standing with one of her friends, watching them walk away. She seemed to be shaking her head as if she was very sad about something, and she spoke to her friend, whose mouth fell open as if she’d just been told a terrible secret.

‘Just down here,’ said Noah’s mother, holding his hand as they walked along the corridor. ‘And through here. Do you want to press the button?’

Noah sighed and shook his head. ‘You do remember I’m eight, don’t you,’ he asked, for when he was younger he always wanted to be the one to press buttons in lifts, ‘not seven? Still, it needs to be pressed, I suppose.’

‘B,’ said his mother, and he pressed the button marked ‘B’, the doors closed and the lift slowly descended with a great many creaks and whistles.

‘Where are we going?’ he asked after a moment.

‘Somewhere good,’ she said.

When the doors opened again, they walked along another corridor, and Mrs Barleywater opened a door to an empty changing room. ‘Run in there and put your trunks on,’ she said. ‘I’ll change into mine next door. Quick sticks, now! Meet you out here in five minutes flat.’

Noah nodded, did as he was told, and five minutes later the pair of them were walking down another corridor until finally his mother stopped outside a door and turned round, smiling at him. ‘
I’m sorry we couldn’t go to the beach this year,’ she said. ‘But I didn’t want you to miss out just because of me.’

‘What do you mean
just because of you
?’ he asked, but instead of answering she simply unlocked the door with the key she had been given and they stepped through into the hotel’s swimming pool area. Noah had been in pools before but never one like this. For one thing, there was no one else around, which was a big surprise in a hotel like this. Usually the pool was filled with middle-aged men splashing around in the water like whales as they powered their way through their lengths, or terrified-looking children bouncing nervously in the shallow end in case they lost their footing and the ground went from beneath them. But instead there was just the two of them, Noah and his mum.

But if he thought this was unusual, it was nothing compared to the way the swimming pool looked. Half a dozen small piles of sand had been brought in and built into dunes, and although it looked nothing like a real beach, it was probably the closest thing you could find at a swimming pool. Noah’s mouth fell open in surprise and he looked up at his mother in wonder.

‘All right, it’s not
quite
the real thing,’ she admitted. ‘But we have the place to ourselves and we can pretend we’re at the beach, can’t we? One more beach holiday together. Let’s make the best of it, shall we?’

‘
Well, it’s not just
one
more,’ he replied. ‘I mean, we can always go to Auntie Joan’s next Easter, can’t we? Or even later in the summer?’

Mrs Barleywater opened her mouth to reply but it seemed to take her an awful long time to find the words. She swallowed and looked away, and then leaned down and hugged Noah to her so tight that he thought she had gone mad.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked nervously, pulling away from her. ‘Why are you acting so strange?’

‘Me? Strange?’ she said, clearing her throat and turning away from him. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, how about we take a swim?’ she asked, walking over to the side of the pool. ‘Race you to the other side.’

And with that, the two of them dived into the cold water and reached the other side almost neck and neck but it was finally agreed that Noah’s mum had just edged it, although it was the only race she won for the rest of the afternoon, for Noah was a very strong swimmer and his mum seemed to get very tired quite quickly. Sandcastles were built, more swimming took place, and at just the right moment a picnic of sandwiches and fizzy drinks was served by a young man from the hotel staff, who seemed entirely unimpressed by what was taking place there.

‘Well?’ asked Noah’s mother, throwing a few grains of the sand in his sandwich so it would taste even more like they were at the beach. ‘Did you
have a good time?’

Noah nodded quickly and looked at his mum, smiling widely. He wondered whether maybe she had some sort of allergic reaction to the chlorine in the water though, for her eyes seemed to be very red around the edges, as if she had been crying while she was in the pool. He was going to tell her that she should wear a pair of goggles in future, but his mouth was so full of egg sandwich at the time that he couldn’t get the words out without spitting it all over her, and a moment later, when it wasn’t, he’d already forgotten.

‘We have to make the most of days like this, Noah,’ she said quietly then, trying to pull him close to her again, but this time he pulled away because her swimsuit was too wet, and instead he jumped back into the water for another swim. He liked this new side of his mother, these unexpected days out. It was almost as if she was a different person.

‘Well, I’ve heard some things in my life,’ said the old man, putting his chisel down for a moment. ‘But I’ve never heard of a mother who made a beach out of a swimming pool before. What an extraordinary thing!’

‘I told you she was full of surprises,’ replied Noah.

‘You did indeed. But I suppose it just makes me wonder why you’re running away from her, that’s all.’

Noah thought about this. ‘Well, I’m going off to see the world and have a great adventure,’ he explained. ‘I don’t think I need to go to school any more, do you? I’m very bright. In fact, I’m the seventh smartest in my class.’

‘And how many are in your class?’

‘Thirty,’ said Noah, sounding quite pleased with himself.

‘Well, that’s something, I suppose,’ said the old man quietly. ‘But even adventurers need an education.
And even
great
adventurers like to go home once in a while.’

‘Well, perhaps I’ll go back one day,’ said Noah, considering this. ‘When I’m grown up, I mean. And when I’ve made my fortune.’ He stood up and walked over to the mantelpiece, picked up a picture and stared at it. ‘Is this your father?’ he asked.

‘It’s a drawing I did of him when I was a boy,’ said the old man. ‘I keep it there so I won’t forget what he looked like.’

‘Does it look very much like him?’

‘Not really, no,’ admitted the old man. ‘But I think I capture something of him around the eyes. Of course I don’t really need it there. I feel he’s here all the time.’

Noah frowned. ‘Here?’ he asked. ‘In the toy shop?’

‘Not physically, of course,’ said the old man. ‘But everything here reminds me of him in some way. He’s a part of the place. It makes me happy to remember this.’

Noah put the picture back without a word, and when he looked up he found himself staring at his own reflection in a mirror. At least, he thought it was his own reflection, but after a few moments his face began to change. It grew a little longer, then wider, then better looking, then he had the beginnings of a beard, as if he hadn’t shaved, then the beard was gone. A moment later he was wearing glasses and he looked quite handsome. Then he
looked a little less handsome and there were wrinkles on his forehead. Then his eyes grew a little more damp and he had a moustache and his hair started to thin out and disappear. And finally, the face looking back at him in the mirror smiled for a moment before dissolving into nothingness and being replaced by his own eight-year-old face again, staring back in astonishment.

‘How extraordinary,’ said Noah Barleywater.

‘What’s that?’ asked the old man, looking up from the table.

‘The mirror,’ said Noah. ‘First it was me, then it was me looking a bit older, then it was a man, then it was an old man. Is it some sort of a game?’

‘Not a game, no,’ said the old man, walking over and looking at his own reflection, which didn’t change at all; he remained an old man. ‘Stop it, Charles,’ he said, talking to the mirror. ‘You’ll frighten the boy.’

When he stepped away again Noah looked at his reflection once more, wondering what would happen next, but nothing did. It was just his own face, just plain old Noah Barleywater, nothing special, nothing dreadful, nothing to write home about.

‘You still haven’t told me why you’re leaving though,’ said the old man, sitting down again. ‘Did your parents mistreat you?’

‘No!’ said Noah quickly, his face flushing red. ‘No, it’s got nothing to do with that.’

‘
Then I’m afraid I simply don’t understand,’ said the old man. ‘After all, when I left my father, it was because I wanted to be a great runner and, well, time rather ran away with me. But you? You’re not a runner, are you?’

‘Well, I can run,’ said Noah, mildly offended. ‘I won the bronze medal in the five hundred metres at our school sports day last May.’

‘The bronze, you say?’ asked the old man. ‘Third place, you say?’

‘Third place is good!’ snapped Noah. ‘Out of thirty! There’s no shame in third place.’

‘Of course not,’ said the old man. ‘It’s just not a position I’m accustomed to, that’s all.’

‘Well,’ said Noah, looking away and feeling uncertain whether he wanted to tell the old man everything or just sit quietly in a corner and bury his face in his hands. ‘My parents were never mean to me,’ he said, trying to control the painful feeling that was spreading through his body and looking for a way out. ‘I didn’t like it when you said that.’

‘Then I apologize for it,’ said the old man, sitting down now on a three-legged stool that appeared behind him just in time to stop him from falling directly onto the floor. He picked up his chisel again to continue work on his latest puppet.

‘It’s all right,’ said Noah, looking up and smiling a little before letting a great sigh escape. They stared at each other for a moment, their eyes locked together, before Noah looked away and
pulled the craftsman’s box over to him again. He reached inside and pulled out a puppet. It was of a handsome, slightly nervous-looking young man, wearing a golden crown on his head.

‘Who’s this?’ asked Noah, looking up.

‘A chap I once knew,’ the old man said. ‘A prince, if you can believe it. Of another country. A long time ago, of course. Back when I was a boy.’

‘And your father made a puppet of him? Were they friends?’