P.N.E. (The Wolfblood Prophecies Book 4) (20 page)

He shrugged and took a drag. ‘Your choice, babe. Believe what you want. Stress out or chill out.’

Their eyes met as he handed her the spliff. Jo sensed the tension and the challenge that lit the spark between them. She knew Quinn was totally besotted, but he had the good sense to hide it.

Lethe was reluctant to surrender the upper hand. She waited an extra beat before relenting, then with a sigh she rolled her eyes theatrically, placed the joint between her lips and inhaled deeply. She pointed to the tobacco tin. ‘I meant him, dingbat.’

Quinn studied his painting of Bob Dylan thoughtfully. ‘He’s the man,’ he said slowly and reverently, then he turned Lethe’s face to his. ‘But you’re the one…’ He sang a line from a Dylan song. ‘All I really want to do…’ then whispered softly in Lethe’s ear. She blushed and laughed, then Jo studied the sky as they kissed passionately.

Jo really wished she was somewhere else. She felt extremely uncomfortable. She was considering making a run for it when she saw another couple walking hand in hand towards the grove. Hardly able to believe her eyes Jo realised she was looking at her mother and father. Coming up for air Lethe spotted them as well, and groaned. ‘It’s little Goody Two Shoes,’ she scoffed, and she provocatively pressed herself closer to Quinn.

Jo stared at her parents. Paul had hair to his shoulders and a moustache like a Mexican bandit. His denim jeans had floral patches and inserts so they flared and billowed round his ankles. His tie-dye T-shirt was a rainbow sunburst on a purple background. Round, blue sunglasses and a twelve-string guitar completed the outfit.

Fascinated, Jo turned to study Ali. With a shock she realised that the long cream-coloured cheesecloth dress she was wearing still hung in Ali’s wardrobe. A floaty rainbow scarf, capacious patchwork bag, bare feet and huge Jackie Kennedy sunglasses reminded Jo that her parents always joked about being hippies before hippies were hip. She’d seen old black and white Polaroids of their college days but it came as a surprise to see how vibrant and full of life they were in the flesh.

Lethe raked her sister from head to toe. ‘Well, if it isn’t Little Bo-Peep,’ she sneered. ‘I assume you are aiming for the shepherdess look?’ She wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘And what is that frightful smell? Has someone lit a joss stick?’

‘It’s patchouli,’ answered Ali defiantly. ‘Chanel Number Five is so predictable, I think.’

Lethe was unfazed. ‘I think you mean classic and divinely expensive.’ She continued her catalogue of disdain. ‘And where on earth did you get that appalling scarf? It looks like it was woven by half-witted hobbits in Middle Earth. I wouldn’t be seen dead wearing it.’

‘Well, that’s a first. Something that belongs to me that you don’t intend to steal!’

As the sisters traded insults Paul and Quinn eyed each other warily, then Quinn shrugged, grinned, passed the joint and Paul started strumming his guitar. Jo recognised the familiar chords of
Mr Tambourine Man
.

‘Heard him play it at the Festival Hall in May,’ said Quinn nonchalantly.

‘Hey, man – me too!’ said Paul excitedly and they talked nineteen to the dozen about set lists, chord changes and backing musicians until Ali and Lethe abandoned their sniping and joined in the discussion; Ali enthusiastically, Lethe less so.

After a while Lethe sighed theatrically. ‘Fascinating as this undoubtedly is,’ she drawled, I simply must drag myself away and do something that really matters.’

‘What are you plotting that’s so important?’ teased Ali.

‘That’s for me to know and you to find out,’ replied Lethe loftily and she strode away to a chorus of cheerful banter about being a woman of mystery.

As the others strolled happily away, Jo watched them go with a heavy heart, knowing that the future held bitter rivalry, betrayal and worse.

Matthew saw her looking glum. ‘Come on, Jo,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a little time to kill. Let’s have a look round the fairground, and see if we can find Titus and Lethe’s secret laboratories.’

Matthew and Jo joined a crowd of people heading to the
Lost Funfair of Forgotten Dreams.
Jo felt quite put out as she and Matthew were jostled far more than seemed necessary. She glared and used her elbows but it made no difference. People were too excited to notice or care.

They crossed a smartly painted wooden bridge to the entrance booth. As Jo looked down, remembering her last visit, when the bridge was damaged and dangerous, she realised the funfair had been built in the huge crater left behind after the explosion that killed her grandfather. The woman behind the counter waved everyone through. ‘Free admission today, folks! Have a great day!’

Jo recognised a door just ahead, and for a split second wondered whether to surprise Matthew.
Better not. Don’t want him having a heart attack,
she thought, and whispered, ‘It’s a Helter Skelter!’

‘I know,’ he whispered back, and with that they were through the door and whooping with delight as they descended at breakneck speed, landing with an almighty thump in the middle of the maize maze.

‘You’ll be telling me next you know the way through the maze,’ laughed Jo.

‘Indeed I do, Carruthers!’ He laughed like a schoolboy. He seemed exhilarated by their descent.

‘How about the Mirror Maze? It’s fiendishly difficult.’

‘Copy that!’

Jo stared at Matthew blankly. ‘Copy what?’

Matthew blushed. He rarely used slang. ‘Um, it means
Understood
. Radio jargon.’

‘Oh. OK. Roger and out, then.’

‘Indeed! Although, strictly speaking, the
and
is redundant… Jo gave him a look. He coughed apologetically, then with a ringing cry of ‘Follow me!’ he set off purposefully.

In a remarkably short time they were at the entrance to the maze. Ahead of them were the sideshows and rides. Jo remembered the enormous Ferris wheel and the macabre carousel, with its skeleton horses and eerie purple and green lighting. When Jo had first seen it, it looked sinister and terrifying. Today the riders screamed – but they were screams of delight.

She looked back at the Helter Skelter, marvelling at how high it was. It dominated the skyline. Instead of the normal candy stripes it was painted with red, orange and gold flames. The artwork was so realistic, Jo was shocked. Unwelcome recollections flooded her mind.

‘You’ve gone quiet, Jo,’ observed Matthew.

‘It all burned like wildfire.’ She shuddered. ‘I don’t have many good memories of this place.’

‘Understandable. But we have a golden opportunity to find out more about Titus and Lethe’s plots. You think the secret laboratories are in the Tunnel of Love and the Mirror Maze. Jo nodded. ‘Right. Let’s reconnoitre!’

Jo felt distinctly unenthusiastic, and it showed. ‘Can’t we just mooch about first?’ she asked. ‘Try some of the rides that aren’t connected with my worst nightmares?’

Matthew checked his watch. ‘I have to be somewhere else in forty minutes,’ he said firmly, ‘so we don’t have much time.’

Jo pulled herself together. She saw the entrance to Mirabel’s Dream, festooned with pink and red fairy lights and crimson hearts. As a golden gondola floated slowly past Jo heard again the familiar schmaltzy music and resigned herself to a headful of uncomfortable recollections.

‘It’s going to be really weird,’ she sighed. ‘Pretend you’re my grandfather.’

They joined the queue, waiting patiently for the next spare gondola. As Jo scanned the people milling around the fairground, she spotted a familiar face. ‘Hey,’ she whispered excitedly, nudging Matthew. ‘Look! There’s younger you!’

Matthew looked at the man chatting with a group of students. ‘So it is. Interesting… and disturbing. Best not to bump into him - me, I think. It might set up ripples in time and space that change everything.’ He looked very uneasy.

Jo teased him gently. ‘I thought you didn’t hold with that theory?’

‘I don’t. Not exactly. But…’ His voice trailed off.

‘Matthew! It is not like you to dither!’

‘I find myself torn. Despite my scepticism, it just might be possible to affect the future, and I don’t want to risk it for something trivial such as coming face to face with myself.’

‘But for the mysterious task you’re planning you might make an exception?’

‘Who taught you to be so persistent?’

‘Well, you, for starters!’

‘Touché. Sometimes a million to one chance is all there is. Now please desist from probing and trying to read my mind!’ His face cleared and his voice sounded relieved. ‘Look – here’s our gondola. Hop in!’

As they took their places Jo was surprised when a young soldier and his girlfriend clambered in with them and started kissing passionately, ignoring them completely.

Jo raised her eyebrows at Matthew and he grimaced sympathetically. The romantic music played softly, and the perfume of roses filled the air. Jo tried very hard to forget how, years into the future, in this same place, Smokey turned to Beth for comfort instead of her. She concentrated instead on spotting the narrow jetty Hawk had described. To avoid disturbing their deeply engrossed travelling companions, she emped Matthew.

There. That’s the jetty. Titus’s laboratory is through a door behind the curtain.

Roger, Carruthers. Location noted. Next stop, the Mirror Maze!

As they approached the Mirror Maze Matthew studied the posters lining the entrance.

ROLL RIGHT UP AND SEE THE FREAKS!

NATHAN SLAUGHTER – INDIAN KILLER!

REAL SCALPS ON DISPLAY

THE MIDGET AND THE GIANT

A MARRIAGE MADE IN HELL

‘Fascinating,’ he breathed. ‘How times change. Or do they? I suspect that P.T. Barnum would be completely at home in the modern world.’

Jo resisted asking who P. T. Barnum was. She sensed an imminent monologue on the history of freak shows, and sidestepped neatly. She wanted to get this over with. ‘It’s nearly time for your mysterious appointment with destiny,’ she reminded Matthew.

With a wrench he dragged himself back to the present. ‘Of course. We’ll just, um, case the joint then I will have to go. Oh, and for your information, P.T Barnum was an American showman. He is best remembered for hoaxes, pranks, circuses and so-called freak-shows…’

‘You just couldn’t resist, could you?’ Jo grinned.

Matthew had the grace to blush. ‘
An investment in knowledge pays the best interest
. Benjamin Franklin said that.’ Jo sighed. Matthew smiled ruefully and corralled his wide-ranging thoughts. ‘Meanwhile, the Mirror Maze awaits!’

Jo took a deep breath and opened the black, chrome-spiked door.

‘Here we go,’ she said to Matthew, and they went into the hall of mirrors.

The dazzling brightness took her breath away. She and Hawk had been so busy rescuing Smokey there had been no time to really appreciate the intricate maze of silver mirrors; the gleaming white marble pillars; the glittering fairy lights.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she whispered, then gasped with shock as she stared into a mirror. ‘I can’t see my reflection!’

‘It’s just a trick of the light,’ reassured Matthew. ‘Smoke and mirrors – an illusion. Now where’s the door you mentioned?’