Sky Run (19 page)

City Island was hard to miss, even long before you set eyes on it. You just followed the traffic. First there was us, sailing alone, and then we found we had company; a couple of craft appeared, heading in the same direction. And then, after a few more hours, there was real traffic, and the sky was filling with boats of all sizes and kinds – gunboats, garbage barges, cruise liners, factory boats, whalers and deep-sky trawlers, towing nets of writhing sky-fish. There was everything. I even saw a tiny rowing boat, which I'd never seen before. No solars, just one person and two big-bladed oars, with which you paddled your way across the sky.

Small satellite islands appeared. On one tiny isle sat a storage container, the kind you see on cargo ships. Somebody had given it windows and painted it green. Writing on its side read:
MADAME ACUSHLA: FORTUNES TOLD AND FUTURES READ.

‘Peggy,' I called, seeing her emerge from the hatch after her nap, ‘shall we get our fortunes told?'

‘At ten Units a pop? I'll tell you your fortune for free.'

‘What is it then?'

‘If you don't start cooking soon, we'll all go hungry.'

‘That's not proper fortune-telling, Peggy.'

‘It's as good as anything they'll sell you.'

‘OK, I'll start cooking in a minute.'

‘What do you know? The boy can take a hint now. Well, that's progress.'

I went and put a stew on and left it on a slow boil, then came back up on deck.

It was amazing. There were little islands all around us now, and on each one people had set up stalls and shops, or they were hopping from boat to boat on tiny craft, peddling whatever they had to sell.

‘Peggy – what is it? What's going on here?'

She was leaning on the rail, watching the free show, as were the others too.

‘Market,' she said. ‘Must be market day.'

‘They all traders?'

‘Of one kind or another.'

‘Oh, look!'

Perched on a rock was a statue – a silver statue. But then, as I watched it, it came alive with abrupt, mechanical movements, changed its position, and froze again.

‘Angelica, did you see that?'

‘It's just a sky-performer,' Peggy said, unimpressed.

‘Can we give the statue some money?'

‘You got any?'

I flicked a couple of cents towards the statute. Its mechanical, robotic hands moved in flashes, snatched the coins from the air, made a gesture of thanks then froze again, and we sailed on.

A rowing boat drew up alongside us and without even asking, hitched on a tow line.

‘Oh great,' Peggy said. ‘A busker now. Hey, you. Get that grappling iron off my deck.'

But the man in the boat ignored her. He picked up a small guitar and cleared his throat.

‘A little song, ladies and gentlemen, of my own composition. One to bring the tears to your eyes.'

And he started to sing. But he was so out of tune and off-key that he didn't just bring the tears to your eyes, he brought quite a lot of pain to your eardrums too.

‘That's it,' Peggy said. ‘You're going.'

And she unhitched the grappling iron.

‘How about a sign of your appreciation, folks?' the busker shouted. ‘Something in my cap?'

‘Try sticking your head in it. Goodbye!'

And off he drifted to annoy somebody else.

‘Useless,' Peggy said. ‘He can't play and he can't sing. Why is it people are always attracted to professions they're no good at? And the things they are good at, they don't want to do.'

‘Yes. Why is that, Peggy?' Gemma asked.

‘The perverseness of human nature, I guess,' she said.

The busker, meanwhile, had latched onto another boat, and I heard his voice fade behind us, sounding as if he were strangling cats.

The market went on for two kilometres or more, full of colours and produce and sky-flowers and everything you could ever need. There was a boat with caged singing sky-fish, which warbled and whistled, and fluttered their fins.

‘Cruel,' Angelica said. But there were people buying them, cruel or not.

It was quite a spectacle, and you didn't need to spend a cent to enjoy it; it was enough just to see it and to be there.

‘Dust babies. Dust babies. Come and buy a dust baby. Never needs feeding. Never grows up and leaves you. Never breaks your heart. Never needs feeding or changing. Never cries or wakes you up. Sleeps through every night. Buy a dust baby.'

‘Peggy, what's a dust baby?' I asked.

‘I have no idea. A baby made out of dust, I suppose.'

‘Who'd buy a dust baby?'

‘Nobody I know.'

But the woman went on crying her wares, and there her dust babies were, set out for sale, with painted smiles on their faces, and wrapped in bright cloth. And a boat stopped, and somebody bought one. Then off they went, with their dust baby, looking pleased with their purchase, though I didn't know why.

Then we came to a corridor of sky-boats bearing red and white painted poles.
Haircuts
, their signs read.
Teeth pulled. Ears cleaned. Nails trimmed. Corns removed. Blisters burst.

And down from them was a big sky-ship flying a red cross flag.
Private Hospital. Free Initial Consultation. Cosmetic Surgery. Remodelling. Cloud-hunting Scars Removed.

‘Never seen that before,' Peggy said. ‘Thought it couldn't be done.'

‘It can't,' Alain said, his fingers touching the scars on his face. ‘They might fade a little, but they never go. And even if they did go from your skin, they'd still be there inside you.'

And then we were by the food stalls, and the smell made your mouth water.

‘Shall we stop and get something, Peg?' I asked.

‘I thought you were cooking,' she said.

I was, but my stew didn't smell as good as this. Still, it would have been a shame to waste it.

Eat at Joe's. Drink at Pete's. Chow Down at Ibrahim's. Finest Delicacies at the Souproom Mush – Gourmet Roadside Dining.
There was food for every taste and palate, from around the whole sky-world.

We bought a few snacks to eat with the stew that was simmering down in the galley, then drifted on.

We passed a boat full of actors, who were putting on a play, staging it on the upper deck, while their audience watched from boats floating in the sky around them.

Next we came to Speakers' Rocks, where people commandeered a sky-rock each and tried to drum up an audience while they ranted and raved and expressed their views on the state of the world and what should be done about it.

On we went. The market stalls were fewer and further between now. We came alongside boat-building yards, where luxury sky-yachts were being constructed for wealthy owners. Then we heard the thumping of electric music, and we passed Night Club Island, which was shrouded inside an artificial globe that kept it in permanent darkness. Some people were leaving, making their way to sky-cabs, blinking in the light, while others were just arriving, all dressed in fine clothes, many looking weird and wonderful, and they nodded to the doorman, passed the approval test, and went inside to join the party that never came to an end.

‘I've never seen anything like this, Peggy. This is unbelievable. Is this what we've been missing?'

‘Martin,' Peggy said, ‘believe me, you haven't been missing anything. Those people in there right now –' and she pointed to Night Club Island – ‘are haunted by the feeling that somebody, somewhere else, is having a better time, and something's happening that they're missing out on. And that's how it goes. Once you start thinking you'll be happier somewhere else, you'll always think it, no matter where you are.'

And she went down below to rest.

But I didn't agree with what she'd said. Life had to be better elsewhere sometimes. Or why were we going to City Island? That had been her idea, not ours. I hadn't even wanted to go there to start with. Though I did now. In fact, I was getting quite excited.

And then finally, there it was. We could see it, actually see it, in the distance, its towers and skyscrapers, its minarets and mosques, its churches and cathedrals, its temples and memorial tombs, its harbours and coastlines, its jetties and sky-marinas. Moored there were thousands of sky-boats, with more coming in, and many leaving. The sky was dense with traffic, and shimmering light danced in the sky, reflected off structures of glass and of shining, polished stone. City Island just gleamed like a jewel in space, some great, multi-faceted diamond. And as we approached, its colours changed in the light, iridescent and luminous, as if the island was inside a kaleidoscope, being turned by an unseen hand.

I'd never even imagined anything like it. It was like sailing through a long, empty sky, and suddenly stumbling across paradise.

We had arrived at the promised land.

And there it was. We gathered at the prow, staring at the sights, with Martin almost falling over the rail from curiosity. But how were we ever going to land? I'd never seen so many boats. There were floating signs in the sky.
KEEP RIGHT. KEEP LEFT. NO ENTRY. THIS WAY FOR DOWNTOWN. THIS WAY FOR C.I. HARBOUR. COMMERCIALS ONLY.

‘Peggy –'

She'd come back up on deck.

‘All right, I'll take it.'

She took the wheel. I was fine with sailing in the open sky, but not with this congestion.

‘Where are we going to land?'

‘We'll find somewhere.'

We followed other boats like our own, the small, private ones.

CITY ISLAND DOWNTOWN SKY-BOAT PARK: 20 UNITS A DAY.

‘How much?' I said, when I saw that sign approaching. ‘We'll only be able to stop for about five minutes.'

‘That's for rich people who can't even be bothered with a short walk. We'll go to the public moorings. They used to be free.'

‘How long since you were last here, Peggy?' Martin asked her.

‘About ten of your lifetimes,' she said.

‘Oh, let me work that out …'

‘Just call it a long time and save yourself the trouble.'

‘Has it changed?'

‘Near unrecognisable,' she said. Then, ‘Ah – there.'

Two signs mounted on a headland directed us to either
MOORING: SHORT-TERM
or
MOORING: LONG-TERM.

‘Which are we, Peggy? How long's long and how short's short?'

‘Now there's a question to keep the philosophers busy. I don't really know. I'm only tying up long enough to drop you all off and see you settled, then maybe get some supplies, then back home.'

‘Aren't you going to stay a while?' Martin asked.

‘Yes, stay longer,' Alain said.

‘Yes, please,' Beth, his sister, said.

‘Stay forever,' Angelica told her.

‘Why don't you, Peggy?' I said. ‘Why not?'

She gave one of her sad old smiles.

‘Well, maybe I will a few days, but I've got an island to take care of, and greenhouses that need tending, and who's going to put old Ben Harley in his place and save him from his follies and his private stash, if I'm not there to do it?'

‘But who's going to look after us, Peggy?' Martin said, and he sounded four years old again, just like years ago.

‘Marty, I don't know if you've noticed, but you and Gemma – as we've been sailing along now – you've learned pretty much to look after yourselves.'

‘Have we?' Martin said, sounding surprised. Then he went quiet and got thoughtful. Because Peggy was right. We could look after ourselves. But it was thanks to her that we could do it.

‘Peggy,' Alain said. ‘Look there.'

There were more signs.
SHORT-TERM MOORINGS: UP TO 3 DAYS. LONG-TERM MOORINGS: OVER 3 DAYS.

‘Short-term should do it,' Peggy said. ‘Three days is fine.'

So we turned to port and followed some other small craft towards the short-term mooring park.

As we did, I looked behind us. Just turning to starboard was a large sky-ferry, a brand-new, real comfortable-looking one. And I saw that the decks were lined with children, many of them our ages. There had to be a couple of hundred of them at the very least. They saw us and started shouting and waving, so we waved back. Then they headed off for the long-term moorings. As the boat levelled off, I saw its name on its side. It was called
ARTEMIS
. And along its hull, in bold letters, under its name, there was painted:
CITY ISLAND SCHOOL. FREE BUS. SERVING ALL THE OUTLYING ISLANDS AND SETTLEMENTS.

And I just went cold.

‘Peggy …'

‘Uh huh?'

She was making out like she hadn't seen it.

‘Peggy – did you see that?'

‘What's that, darlin'?'

‘Peggy – there's a bus. There's a school bus. Serving all the outlying settlements …'

‘Really? That so?'

‘Peggy, you can see it. Look. There it is. Just turning. Right there. It's huge. It doesn't even look full. There's a bus, Peggy. We could have come on the bus!'

‘Oh … well now … yes … I guess you could.'

‘Martin and I could have just got here on the school bus!'

‘Ummm …'

‘What's that?' Martin said, overhearing me. ‘What are you saying? Hey, did you just see that big school bus?'

‘We saw it, thank you. Peggy –' I said.

‘What is it, Gem?'

‘You knew –'

‘What's that, darlin'?'

‘About the bus. You knew, didn't you?'

‘Well, I forget things. It's my age. What with the arthritis and the cramps, and I've been getting a touch breathless too recently …'

‘Peggy, why didn't you just put us on the bus?'

She sighed.

‘Gemma –'

‘Well?'

‘So many reasons, darlin'. I wanted to take you myself. And I wanted to see City Island one last time –'

‘Why should it be the last time?'

‘Shh, darlin'. Don't be angry now.'

‘I'm not angry, Peggy, I just don't understand – I mean – this journey – everything we encountered – we could have sunk – been killed – you could have been killed – the minefields, the troll, that motel with those maniacs … We could have avoided all that. So, why?'

‘Well – the school bus – what would you have learned on that?'

‘Learned?'

‘You'd just have been a passenger, darlin'. But on this boat, you've been crew, and captain too, sometimes. All of you. And the boy there –' she nodded towards Alain – ‘and the two little ladies – where'd they be? One would still be a lonely soldier, and one'd be rat-skinning, and the other would be cloud-hunting and getting ready for her scars.'

‘They could have got the bus too.'

‘But they never would. It was meeting us that brought them here. Serendipity.'

‘What's that?'

‘Look it up in one of the big dictionaries they'll have in that school library there. Sometimes it's best to make your own way, darlin'. You can't beat your own steam for getting there. In my old opinion.'

I watched the big school ferry sail off towards its moorings, with all those children up on deck. I'd bet they'd all had comfortable berths on board, and catering, and showers, and organised activities, and all kinds of pastimes and amusements to keep them occupied on the long trip to City Island, as the ferry stopped off picking up its passengers for the term ahead from all the tiny and remote one-boat islands like our own.

But then they'd not seen what we had, or done what we had. And it was true what Peggy said. It had been an education.

‘You don't mind, do you, darlin'?'

‘No. I don't mind. I'm glad we made our own way.'

‘It was fun, wasn't it?'

‘Well … some of the time, Peg.'

‘Well, that's only right. If it was fun all the time, it wouldn't be fun at all.'

‘What?'

‘Just think about it. We're here.'

A frantic parking attendant on a sky-bike was dashing around between the boats giving directions and pointing out moorings. We followed his instructions and tied up at a floating pontoon.

‘Remember the number on the post or we'll never find the damned boat ever again.'

‘G27.'

‘I'm going to write it on the back of my hand,' Peggy said, squinting. ‘Anyone seen my glasses?'

‘Peggy,' I pointed out, ‘you don't wear glasses.'

‘Then maybe,' she said, ‘it's time I did.'

Well, I don't know about the others, but I certainly felt like some country cousin from the out-sticks as we made our way through the streets of City Island and headed for the enrolment at the school.

There were people so fine and elegant and dressed in such fashions and styles as I'd never even imagined, let alone seen. And they had such ways about them too, ways of walking and talking, and gesturing and standing. You felt a little crushed just seeing them, like you were a simpler, less complicated being, and would never attain their dizzying heights of sophistication.

Peggy must have read my mind, because she said, ‘Gemma, don't go getting taken in by the posers now.'

‘What's a poser, Peggy?'

She nodded at the people in the wild, extravagant clothes.

‘They are. Scratch 'em and they're no different to you and me. All veneer and no substance. Flesh and blood, that's all. I think we're down this way now.'

It wasn't hard to find the way, you just followed the other parents, the other guardians, the other children, the other families – which is what we were too – a family of a kind.

ENROLMENT

Peggy led us up to a desk. I looked around me. Some of the other people were arriving with big suitcases and luggage on wheels. All we had was a bag each. Alain had next to nothing.

‘Don't you worry about that,' Peggy said, mind-reading again. ‘All's provided. And I'll be leaving you some money.'

‘Peggy, we haven't got any money.'

‘Ben Harley's not the only one with a private stash. I've been saving it up for you – you and Marty. To tide you over.'

‘Peggy –'

‘No, I don't want it. It's for you. We're going to put it in a bank account later where it'll be safe and you can use it as you need.'

‘Peggy –'

‘Now don't go thanking me or I'll be getting embarrassed.'

We shuffled along in the queue, then we were next.

‘Names, please.'

‘Piercey,' Peggy said. ‘Gemma and Martin Piercey.'

The woman at the desk checked her list.

‘OK. They have places reserved.'

‘And could you take three more?' Peggy said.

‘Three!'

‘If you can?'

‘Ages?'

Alain, Beth and Angelica gave their ages.

‘Are they Pierceys too?' the woman asked.

‘In spirit,' Peggy said.

‘OK – just let me check …'

‘Government does say free schooling for any child as wants it …' Peggy said.

‘Yes, it's just whether we have the places at this particular – oh yes. That should be all right. Yes. They're accepted. Here are your name tags and your form numbers. You'll find monitors in the next room holding cards up. You find the one with the card number matching your age and just join them for now.'

‘Then thank you kindly,' Peggy said.

‘Thank you. Next!'

‘This way, Peggy. In here.'

But she didn't follow.

‘No, I'll be leaving you to it now, darlin' –'

Sudden shock filled me. I felt trembly, a bit sick. This couldn't be it, already, so abruptly, so absolute.

‘Peggy, no –'

‘There's no one holding up a sign in that room with my age on it, darlin'.'

‘But, Peggy –'

‘You can't just go, Peggy –'

‘No, you can't –'

‘You can't –'

‘No –'

‘I'm not just going. I'm going to be waiting here. You go and find your rooms and get settled and then you meet me back here and we'll all go out for dinner. How's that?'

So that was what we did.

We went out for dinner to a restaurant in City Island, and Peggy ordered wine, and she said we all had to try it, even at our age, though she did water it down a little. She made a toast.

‘To getting educated,' she said.

‘To Peggy,' I said.

So we drank to both.

It was strange leaving her. We all walked her back to the marina and made sure she got on board OK, as she'd drunk most of the wine, to be honest, and was a little unsteady on her old feet.

‘Thank you, darlin's – that was wonderful. Couldn't have had a better send-off.'

‘But you're not going yet, Peggy? You're not sailing now?' I said, panicking again.

‘Oh, no. You come and see me tomorrow. We'll say a proper goodbye then. Oops! Who left that step there? Oh my.'

‘And we'll be back for the long holidays, Peggy,' Martin said. ‘You don't have to come and get us. We'll take the school bus. And we'll write –'

‘Sky-post ain't exactly regular –' she said.

‘We'll still write though –'

‘That'll be lovely, darlin' – I'll look forward to that. Gemma, Martin, you say goodnight to your great-great-grand – whatever – you say goodnight to me now.'

And we did. We each gave her a hug and a kiss.

‘Thanks, Peggy. For everything – for looking after us – bringing us up – giving us a home –'

‘Oh no – I've got to thank you – the pleasure was all mine – I have to tell you – the day you arrived and those Cloud Hunters brought you – I was in more than two minds – but I wouldn't have done without you for the world – nor all the islands in it.'

‘I love you, Peggy.'

‘I love you too, of course I do, why wouldn't I? But don't keep saying it or you'll make me cry.'

‘Love you, Peggy –'

‘My Martin, my little boy – only not so little now – my Gemma – my little girl –'

It took us a while to all dry our eyes and get disentangled. Alain, Beth and Angelica were tactfully waiting out of the way. Then they all said goodbye to Peggy too. But not too seriously. After all, we were coming back to wave her off tomorrow. School didn't start properly for another two days, so we wouldn't be missing anything important.

‘What time shall we come tomorrow, Peggy?'

‘Oh, not too early. I shan't be sailing before noon at the earliest.'

‘Will you be all right on your own?'

‘Sure I will. I'm tough as old boots by now.'