Sky Run (7 page)

‘Only looking.'

‘Get the winch over.'

There was a winch fixed to the deck. It had an arm that could swivel around and was generally used for loading. We swung it about and got some ropes and nets connected under the shark and then used the winch to hoist it up. Then we moved the winch, released the ropes, and dropped the carcass over the side.

‘Look –'

Martin was at the rail, face down, head poked over, watching it fall. It hadn't gone far before all the local predators were after it, chasing it down through the sky, hoping to get a couple of bites in before it fell into the sun.

‘Oh wow … And that could have been us.'

‘And look at this. Just great. Just what we need.'

Peggy was standing looking down at the solar panels, every one of them broken.

‘Any of them working, Gran?' I said.

‘I don't think so. Some might be repairable – if we had the parts. But I don't carry that many spares. The rest, they'll need replacing.'

Martin looked at the wreckage.

‘Oh dear,' he said.

‘Yes, Martin,' Peggy said. ‘Oh dear.' And that was about as near to reproaching him as she got. ‘Oh dear, indeed.'

‘Sorry,' Martin said. ‘About the leftovers. I never thought … I didn't realise for a moment that they'd attract –'

‘Well, we know now.'

‘So what are we going to do, Peggy?'

‘Head for land, I guess. Not much choice. Try and make some repairs.'

‘We've still got the wind sails.'

Peggy wet a finger and held it up.

‘Got the wind sails, but don't have the air to fill them, do we? Wind sails alone won't get us there, Gemma. Not this side of half-term. Limp in on wind sails, and by the time we get to City Island another set of holidays will have begun.'

‘Sorry, Gran …'

‘It's all right, Martin. You weren't to know. But you know now, right? You've learned something. OK?'

‘I suppose so,' he said, but he said it reluctantly.

‘OK. Let's get this mess cleared up and then we'll get started.'

‘Where'll we head for?'

‘I'll look at the charts. The nearest friendly island.'

I got a broom and Martin got a pan and a brush and we scraped the bits of sky-shark off the deck and tidied up the shattered solar panels.

‘There's an island about eight hours' sailing away,' Peggy said. ‘According to these charts. Might take us longer if we're just using wind sails. And it's out of our way. But never mind. Can't be helped.'

Peggy changed the charts around and propped the new one up by the wheel. She altered course and adjusted the sails and we set off from our bearings at about ninety degrees to port.

‘Sorry, Peggy.'

‘All right, Martin. Don't keep apologising. Too much apologising makes things worse, not better.'

‘Anyone want a cup of green tea?'

Which made her smile.

‘OK, Martin. Yes. Thank you.'

He went down to the galley. Botcher followed him. Whenever anyone went down to the galley, Botcher always went there too. He didn't necessarily get anything, but he must have felt it was worth a try.

Ten minutes later Martin was back with three bowls of green tea and a bowl of water for you-know-who.

‘Thank you, Martin.'

‘So what's the name of the island, Peggy?' I asked.

She was reluctant to tell me.

‘I can't really read what it says on the chart,' she said. ‘Old eyes. I need a test and new glasses. Not had one in more than ten years. I'll get them done at City Island.'

‘Want me to look?'

‘No, it's OK. I mean, I can make out what it says. I just think it's a mistake or something.'

‘Why? What's it say?'

‘Well … it says here …' She pointed at the shape of a small island on the sky chart. ‘Says here that it's called Ignorance.'

‘Ignorance?'

‘Ignorance. But that can't be right. Maybe a misprint or a misspelling. I think what they really meant is Innocence.'

‘Innocence. Yes. That's a nice name for an island,' I said, getting warmed to the place already. ‘Innocence – kind of sunshine and a few trees bending in the breeze, and a natural rock spring with sweet water.'

‘That's it.' Peggy smiled. ‘That's the one. And that's where we're heading. We'll get the solar engines fixed in no time.'

‘Be a weird place if it really is called Ignorance,' Martin chimed in, peering over Peggy's arm to see the map.

‘It's a mistake,' Peggy said. ‘They copied it down wrong.'

‘I mean, who'd call an island Ignorance? Calling a place Ignorance, that's just well … downright ignorant, if you ask me.'

‘It's a mistake, Martin. There's nowhere called Ignorance, believe me. No one is going to call an island Ignorance.'

So we drank our green tea and let the slow hours pass as the soft, poor breezes carried us interminably along through the sky. The wind was just a ripple really, not properly blowing at all, more just breathing gently, like someone asleep.

We dozed, we played I Spy – but that sure is hard in the middle of nowhere when there is nothing much to see, and so Martin started cheating and being stupid and I got fed up with the game.

Then, at last, we saw a distant island to which we drew ever nearer, until eventually we could make out signs of habitation; there were clusters of ornate buildings and fine houses on one side of it, but on the other there was a kind of shanty town of makeshift, temporary-looking structures and banged-together homes. These were patchwork and multicoloured and crowded in close together. It was a
barrio
, a ghetto, a township – so Peggy said – the kind of place where poor immigrants might live as they waited for opportunity to come their way and to get a handhold on a better life.

‘There's the harbour!' Martin called. He was at the prow, holding Peggy's old telescope up to his eye. ‘And there's the name sign.'

And there it was too. Proud and tall, standing up on the hills, visible for a long way.

IGNORANCE,
it read.
NO FINER PLACE TO BE.

‘Peggy,' I said. ‘It is called Ignorance. It looks like the chart was right after all.'

‘Yes,' she said, with a sour note to her voice. ‘Doesn't it though?'

She didn't sound at all happy about it.

‘Take the sails in, will you, Gemma?'

I went and lowered them, and we drifted in to land. Some people were gathered on the jetty; they were short and squat, but friendly-looking, dressed in tattered clothes. Some didn't even have sandals, just a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

We threw them a line and they helped us tie up.

‘Thank you!' I called.

But as I did, a slim, elegant and finely dressed woman appeared. She was a head or more taller than the labourers on the jetty and was beautifully manicured and had highlighted hair. Her arms and fingers and ankles and throat were laden with bracelets and jewellery.

‘It's all right. There's no need to thank them. They're only Drools. But do step onto our island. You're very welcome. It's not often we get visitors.' And she took us in with her eyes, and weighed us up in her estimation. ‘Of any description,' she added. ‘Guests are quite a novelty here. So please, do join us.'

She indicated the jetty. So we followed the sweep of her hand and got down from the boat and joined her.

‘And are you all the people on board?' she said, as if she expected us to have a few servants along to carry the bags and stir the tea.

‘We are. I'm Peggy,' Gran said. ‘And these are … well … these are kin. Great-great-grand-niece and nephew. Gemma and Martin. We need to make some repairs to our solar engines. I was taking them to City Island, but we ran into trouble.'

‘Oh, City Island! What fun. I haven't been there in ten turnings or more. Were you going for the shopping? Or the opera?'

‘We're going there so they can get an education,' Peggy told the woman, who clapped her hands together at this news, as if it were all great fun and so frightfully amusing.

‘Education!' she said. ‘How quaint! Oh, wait until I tell the others. They will be entertained. But anyway, do come along. Come on up to the house and let me introduce you.'

‘Erm, but how about –?'

‘No, don't worry about your boat. The Drools will look after it. They'll do all that. You won't need to do anything. They'll fix the solar engines for you. They're ever so clever in their way, at practical things and so on. So good with their hands, you know. Just maybe not so much up top. We leave all the manual work to them.'

‘I can fix it myself,' Peggy said. ‘I just need the –'

But the woman wouldn't have it.

‘Oh, no, no, no,' she said. ‘I won't hear of it. No, you can't possibly get your hands dirty. That's a Drool's job. They don't mind it. They enjoy it, really.'

‘We're not afraid of getting our hands dirty,' Martin piped up. ‘We can get them dirty as you like. Peggy's never been against working and getting your hands dirty. Honest toil, right, Gran?'

The tall woman let another flow of golden, tinkling laughter spill from between her perfect teeth and out of her rosebud mouth.

‘Oh, isn't he just so cute,' she said. ‘Isn't he such an absolute darling?' And she actually ruffled his hair, which if I'd done it, would have been suicide. But Martin could hardly kick her, so he just glared.

And I thought to myself, is that really my brother Martin you're talking about? Cute? Darling? Martin?

How ignorant can you be, lady? I thought.

But I was about to find that out.

‘We can walk it,' Peggy said, as we left the harbour and saw the houses up on the hill.

‘Oh no,' the lady said. ‘Really. You can't possibly.'

‘It doesn't look far. And we've been cooped up on the boat. It would be nice for us to stretch our –'

‘No, really. It's what the Drools are for. They'd be upset if you wouldn't let them transport you. Just take a chair each and they'll carry us up the hill.'

Sedan chairs, Peggy told me later, is what they were called. Two poles, a chair, one Drool at the front, one at the back, up they lift you and away you go.

Our little convoy set out, following the sedan chair carrying Tania, which turned out to be the lady's name. Peggy followed her, then Martin, and I was last.

The two men carrying my chair were like the ones we had seen on the jetty – short, squat, and poorly dressed. But their eyes were bright and alert, and to me, far from being mere drudges, they appeared keenly intelligent. Calling them Drools seemed nothing better than a deliberate insult. They were friendly and cheerful too, but I had the sense that they were watching and waiting and biding their time. But for what, I didn't know.

They carried us along through the small town and up the hill in the direction of a large villa which surely had to have a fine view of the coast. I could see the back of the man at the front of my chair; the muscles of his neck were knotted; sweat soon began to appear on his skin.

On we went. We passed more tall and elegant people. Tania knew and greeted them all, and called that we were visitors, and everyone and anyone was invited to her villa for drinks.

Her friends regarded us with curious looks and smiles. And every single one of these tall, elegant people had a couple of Drools alongside, carrying the shopping, or waiting to move the people on in their sedan chairs. I noticed as we passed that the Drools were behind the shop counters, that they worked in the restaurants, and that they swept the streets. In fact, it was the Drools who did everything, while the better-off people did nothing. The rich-looking ones were completely idle. But the Drools were all business and industry.

‘Who lives there?' I heard Peggy ask, as we went on up the hill. The road narrowed and began to spiral. To our left, at a distance, was another shanty town.

‘Oh, the Drools,' Tania answered languidly. ‘They have their space. We have ours. But it all works frightfully well. They know how to run everything and we let them get on with it. I couldn't even iron a pillowcase, myself. But then, I don't need to, not with the Drools about. Do you have many Drools on your island?'

‘None,' Peggy said, rather curtly too.

‘Well, good Lord! Then who does the work?'

‘We do,' Peggy said.

‘Oh, how marvellous! How awfully original. No Drools? How frightfully old-fashioned. I don't know how we'd manage without our Drools. And doing things for yourself, isn't it just so tiring?'

‘It's better than sitting there,' I heard Peggy mutter. ‘On your butt all day.' But I don't know if Tania caught what she said, as Peggy followed up her comment with a question. ‘What's going on there?'

At the edge of the shanty town a building was going up. It was a good-sized villa, it seemed to me, or it would be when it was completed.

Tania's eyes glanced across to it; her expression registered mild distaste.

‘Oh, yes –' Her face (
patrician
and
aristocratic
, I was later to discover, were the words that applied to it) clouded briefly, with perplexity and slight annoyance. But these clouds soon vanished. ‘Yes, it's a Drool, apparently. Building himself a villa. Casper, he's called. Top Drool or something. No idea where he gets the money from. Yes. Odd really. They seem to be getting better off, the Drools. Not uppity. We wouldn't have that. Reynold, my husband – whom you'll meet – he'd speak to them if they got uppity. But they do seem to be getting better off.'

And then we were at the villa. The Drools set down the sedan chairs they had carried us in and wiped the streaming perspiration from their faces.

‘Well, do come in and have some refreshments,' Tania said, leading us into the shade of the villa. ‘You must all be so hot and thirsty from that trek up the hill.'

So we followed her into the villa, leaving the Drools out in the bright, hot sunlight.

‘Don't they get a drink?' Peggy said.

Tania looked at her, surprised.

‘Who?'

‘They just carried us up the hill.'

‘Oh – the Drools … why, yes … they'll have some water somewhere. Well, come on in and meet everyone. It's so rare that we have guests.'

We passed some more Drools who were sweeping the floors; others were carrying produce. I glanced into the kitchen and saw Drools at work.

‘Reynold …' He was even taller and more languid than she was. ‘We have visitors. A lady and her two … sort of grandchildren. Their boat's being repaired.'

And we were introduced.

‘Very pleased to meet you,' Reynold said. ‘And welcome to Ignorance.'

‘I've got a question,' Peggy said, ‘to ask you about that.'

‘It's all perfectly simple really,' Reynold said. By now we all had long cool drinks in our hands – a Drool had brought them in – and plates of fresh fruit and snacks. ‘Are you at all familiar with the old world poets?'

‘Not as familiar as I would like to have been,' Peggy answered, keeping an admirably straight face and not letting a single crinkle of sarcasm crack the veneer. ‘And the memory does go a little at my age.'

‘It's Shakespeare I'm thinking of,' Reynold went on.

‘Never heard of him,' Martin said. ‘Was he any good?'

‘You'll hear plenty about him at City Island,' Peggy said.

‘He did coin one or two memorable phrases,' Reynold continued. ‘Ignorance being one of them.'

‘Ignorance?'

‘“When ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise.” Correct, Tania?'

‘Absolutely, darling.'

‘That one we're familiar with,' Peggy said.

‘And that was the basis of my father's entire philosophy,' Reynold told us.

‘That you're better off being ignorant?' Peggy said.

‘Exactly.' Reynold smiled. ‘Or happier, anyway. If you don't have a clue how to do the unpleasant and laborious things in life, you won't be expected to do them, will you, darling?'

‘You will not, dear. More to drink? I'll ring for a Drool.'

More cool drinks appeared. A Drool came and went.

‘My father made his money in mining,' Reynold continued. ‘In the Uranium Islands. Made billions. Then he sold up. And when he died, he left the money to me, and we bought this island, moved in with some like-minded people, christened the place Ignorance – in a tongue-in-cheek, ironical sort of way – and we've been here ever since: lotus eaters.'

‘Lotus –?' I said.

‘It means, young lady, that we do nothing but enjoy ourselves, all day long. We neither reap nor sow, nor toil, nor spin. We simply enjoy life, don't we, Tania?'

‘To the full.'

‘We don't know how to do anything practical and we don't get our hands dirty and we don't do anything we don't want to.'

‘We leave all that to the Drools.'

Peggy was looking as sour as the lemon slice in her drink. I knew from old that if there was one thing Peggy did not approve of, it was doing nothing.

‘And so where did
they
come from?' she said. ‘The workers?'

‘The Drools? We brought a few with us. They had their own little island but couldn't make a living there – terribly barren, terribly poor place. And the rest of them just followed later. And they do seem to breed at quite a rate. But they're marvellous little people really. No resentment or envy in them. Do anything for you.'

Peggy looked at Reynold.

‘And you're sure about that?' she said.

‘I'm sorry?'

‘No resentment –?'

‘Oh, absolutely none. It's not in their character. Just love looking after you. Born to serve, you see. That's Drools.'

‘And what if the money runs out?' Peggy went on. Our hosts plainly didn't like her questions, which seemed to be making them uncomfortable.

‘Well, I don't think that's about to happen any time soon, is it, dear?' Tania said. And Reynold let out a hearty, if somewhat forced and artificial, laugh.

‘No. It is rather hard to get through a few billion,' he said. ‘No sooner have you spent some than your interest and dividends come in, and you wind up with even more. In fact, what people don't realise about an awful lot of money, is that it just multiplies, all on its own. It's quite impossible to spend it all. So, run out of it – no, I don't think that's about to happen. Ah, that sounds like the door, darling. Our first guests must be arriving. I'll ring for a Drool to bring some drinks.'

The villa began to fill up with more fine and elegant people. Whether they were also wealthy or whether they too lived on Reynold's billions, I didn't know and felt it would be rude to ask.

We were quite the celebrities at that gathering – or quite the novelties anyway. I did wonder if all these rich, elegant people, with no work to do, were not more than a little bored with their lives. But maybe not. There were stylish sky-yachts moored up at the coast, some of them bigger than mansions; perhaps they travelled, went sky-skiing, went deep sky-fishing, or amused themselves in any of a hundred expensive ways.

‘I don't like it here.' Martin came over to me. ‘Do you like it?'

‘No.'

‘There's something creepy about the place.'

‘I know.'

‘What is it?'

‘Menace,' I told him. ‘Unease.'

‘No, it's not that.'

‘What then?'

‘I don't know. Something in the air. And how can they stand having nothing to do? And not knowing how to do anything, or how anything works. I like knowing how things work. Don't you?'

‘Yes, I guess I do.' Though I hadn't really thought of it before.

Peggy got away from a conversation she plainly didn't want to be involved in.

‘We'll go soon,' she said.

‘What about the boat?'

‘They'll have done it by now. It's a couple of hours' work at most.'

But Reynold overheard her.

‘Oh, I really don't think so. Your boat won't be ready for days. Smashed solar engine, wasn't it? That'll take a week to fix at the very least.'

‘It'll
what
?' Peggy stared at him.

‘Oh yes. Had a small meteorite land on our yacht, smashed a solar, got my top Drool on the case, took him a week and cost a small fortune. But don't worry about the cost of yours. You're our guests. Put it on my tab.'

Peggy bristled.

‘I pay my way,' she said. ‘Always have, always will. When I get to be a charity case, that's when you can start stitching up the winding sheet.'

‘Really, Peggy, it's not a problem. I've told a Drool to get your rooms ready. You can stay with us.'

‘Thanks, but I don't think we'll need to. We'll be on our way shortly. I'll just go down and check on progress.'

‘Very well. If you insist. If you want to go and look at it, I'll order the sedans.'

‘We,' Peggy said, ‘will walk.'

Reynold looked at her as if she were mad.

‘Walk?'

‘Yes, walk. Back down to the harbour.'

‘But you can't do that.'

‘Why not? It's downhill, isn't it?'

‘Only Drools walk.'

‘We're walking too.'

‘Why?'

‘We like walking.'

‘But – that's not how we do things here. You don't
need
to walk.'

‘I
want
to walk,' Peggy said. ‘I want to feel the ground under my feet and stretch my old legs.'

‘But –'

‘What?'

‘The Drools might think … that you're Drools too.'

‘Let them think it.'

‘They might try to strike up a conversation with you.'

‘Fine by me. I'll talk to anyone. So'll they. Won't you?'

She turned to us. Martin and I just had to nod.

‘Well, really … I don't know what to say …' Reynold spluttered.

‘Thanks for your help and hospitality. We won't break up the party. We'll just slip out. Say goodbye to Tania for us.'

‘Your boat won't be ready. When you've checked on the progress, just come back here.'

‘It'll be ready.'

So we had to put down our long, cool drinks in the tall, crystal glasses, and slip out into the heat and dust of the day, and we took the track that descended through the dusty town of Ignorance and led us to the harbour.

It was weird. People stared at us, both the ones in the sedan chairs and the Drools. The occupants of the chairs just looked baffled, or slightly offended, at our appearance. They tugged the curtains shut, to keep the insects and the dust and the sight of us out.

The Drools made me uneasy. They weren't like they had been when we were with Tania and being carried around in sedans. They looked sly now, more than clever; cunning, rather than intelligent. They seemed like opportunists, just waiting for a chance to come along. And while before they had appeared kind, now they seemed to have a latent brutality, as if they boiled inside with simmering resentment and a sense of long-harboured injustice.

Once or twice we were jostled and shoved. These incidents could have been accidents, but I didn't feel they were. Martin was the same height as most of the Drools, only he was still growing, whereas they were done with it. They didn't seem to mind him; it was as if he was one of them; but I was elbowed and pushed, and so was Peggy; there was no respect for age.