Tell the Story to Its End (11 page)

‘What's a good thing for a portal to lead to?' he called over his shoulder.

‘New worlds!' cried Em. ‘Dream lands. The past!'

‘Monsters,' I said, running after him.

We ran madly, wildly, back down into town, dodging between parked cars and shrieking like loons. Cats joined us as we tore down the road and threw ourselves into the alley beside Takeru's house. At the end of his garden we stopped, and Em cast a searching glance back at the house. ‘Parents aren't in, are they?' she asked.

‘We're clear, don't worry.'

Takeru led us through the bushes until we found the fence and the thin, almost invisible line that marked the Portal. ‘Got to pull it from this side,' he said, and pushed two fingers into the soil beneath it, feeling for the door until he felt it give, and a space opened up.

‘Into the magic!' said Em as she pushed through into her own garden. I followed, brushing cobwebs away from my face, and Takeru came last, letting the door fall neatly back into place.

‘Amazing, eh?' he said, turning to me.

‘Best portal I've ever been through,' I said.

‘Ha!'

Em led us into the orchard. The trees, bent and twisted, seemed almost dragged down by the apples covering the branches. My eyes flicked up to the attic window of Uncle Rob's house. I knew, I
knew
, he was in there.

‘Eren, the watcher,' I said under my breath. It seemed right. ‘Eren, the waiter.'

‘What's that?' asked Takeru.

‘Nothing.'

‘The crow's gone,' said Em. ‘The dead one. Dad got rid of it. Said it'd attract cats. I said, so what? Cats are great!'

‘I like dogs,' said Takeru.

‘Cats,' said Em, in a whisper to me like she was sharing a secret, ‘are where the real magic lies. What are dogs? They're just pets. Cats are noble.'

‘Wolves are noble,' said Takeru. ‘They're hunters, they're prowlers, all teeth and fangs and a sudden red spurt in the night! Cats are just pillows.'

‘Cats are whispers and silk. Help us out here, Oli?' said Em.

‘Oli?' said Takeru.

They both stared at me, waiting for me to settle the argument, but the only eyes I could feel were his. He was there.

‘Bats,' I said.

Em frowned. ‘Eh?'

‘Bats are night-time. They're velvet dark and diamond light. Bats are … they're glistening dew on dark lakes. Bats fly and crawl, burrow and hang. They feed.'

‘Never seen a bat,' said Takeru. ‘You make them sound … strange.'

I shrugged. I didn't know. ‘There you go. We picking apples, then?'

Em rushed inside. I could hear her banging and clattering through cupboards. I looked up at the trees. The apples didn't look that great – they were yellowed, marked, strangely shaped, some eaten by worms, some browning as they grew.

‘Believe me, they make a good pie,' said Takeru.

Em came back with three bowls and two long poles – broom handles with the heads cut off. ‘Whack and catch!' she explained as she saw my puzzled face. ‘You can't climb up these branches too far – they're old, and they'd just snap off. So, to get the apples before they actually just fall and splatter in the grass for the worms and the crawly-creeps, we give them a gentle bash.'

‘If you hit them too hard they just splatter in mid-air!' said Takeru. ‘Covers the catcher with apple sauce.'

‘Apples go best in pies,
not
hair. So, you beat –
lightly
– and I will catch. And if you want,' she said, fixing Takeru with a cold stare, ‘I
can
tell you another story from that book. A story that just
happens
to have apples in it.'

‘You set all this up!' said Takeru.

‘Bash the apples, Tak, or I bash you.'

‘I want to hear it, Em,' I said, trying to keep my voice calm. ‘Tell us the story.'

‘Well, all right, then.'

She handed me a pole, and Takeru another, and stood underneath holding the largest bowl. ‘Ready?' she asked. ‘Go!'

I lifted the stick up to pat the apple nearest me, and Em began her story.

 

THIRTEEN

‘Look out of the window,' he says. I look. The forest, the road, the sky, the moon. All hazy and far away. ‘Could you tell me what they look like, in such detail, in such vivid colour that I could paint them, and not be a hair off reality?'

‘What? No … how could I ever remember…?'

‘Could you tell me what your face looks like? You've had it long enough, ugly mug that it is! How big is your nose, how far from your mouth?'

‘I don't get—'

‘I know you don't, puddle,' he says. ‘Is it this hard for you people? Details ain't what matter. I tell you there's a moon, you imagine a moon. You make up the way it looks 'cause you know what a moon looks like.'

‘Telling a story – hearing a story – is like making up your own…?' I say. He nods for a moment, then points out the window again. A grey cloud spreading over a grey sky.

‘That's all yours,' he says. ‘You made it, even if you can't tell me right now what a moon flippin' looks like.'

‘I didn't make this, Eren, we're—'

‘Where are we?' His voice is hard, a knife cutting through the darkness and the cold.

‘We're in the loft,' I say.

‘Then tell me this, if we really are still there: how many panes of glass make up that window?'

Turning, I frown and start to count. One, two, three, then across the top and … No. I must have stopped paying attention. One, two, then at the side there are one, two, four and then … my eyes are slipping away from the corners. I can't focus on how many edges the window has. I try to force myself to touch them one by one, but it seems so impossible, so ridiculous. I can't see where the window starts and stops.

‘We left this place a while back,' says Eren, putting a hand on my shoulder. I shiver. ‘You've done a good job on making this new 'un, this new world, but you're trying to count something that isn't there, boy. Whispers and dreams and shows. Nothing here is real, any more, nothing here is solid and countable. Do you know where we are, boy?'

I can't believe him. I try to run, away from him, away from here, down to the house, but the floor, grey and bare, isn't moving even though I'm running. The window behind me is throwing dead light into the corners of the room, so near, so far away, and then gone. I can't leave.

‘What is this?' I shout. A flutter of wings and shadow move in the space in front of me and Eren is standing over me, wrapped in velvet and silence.

‘You know where we is, boy!' he says, a high laugh curling his lips. ‘We're in your story, now.'

We're in your story, now.

He's in my story.

It's all a story.

How long have I been here?

‘O
NCE UPON
a time,' said Em, ‘there was a moonlit orchard. Not this one, but one nearby – the field is still there, but the trees are all gone. This is the story of what happened. There was an orchard, and it was doing well – they made cider every year, really good stuff, fruity and dark, enough to make all the people's heads spin. The farmer – he's long since dead – was growing rich and happy with that land. But one night something happened to change the fate of that place. The moon was a slim twist of white in the sky, no more than a slice of light you could barely see. The stars were flashing and dancing, and then – whoosh! – something fiery and huge fell down, scorching the ground where it lay, cooking all the apples on the trees nearest it, turning the grass black and the soil to clay. A fallen star! Silver lightning crackled in the air and golden dust fell like rain. The orchard was silent, and then …

‘“What's this, what's this?” said a voice in the gloom. The farmer? No, he was in bed. A stranger? Not in this place. It was someone older. It was the apple-lord, woken from his sleep by the shudder of the fall. The fallen star was something
real
, you see, the first real thing to happen in a while, enough to wake him up more than any storm or party or machine made by men could. He was shaken awake!'

Takeru and I listened, glancing at each other as we tried to reach the higher branches. An apple fell onto the ground beside Em with a gentle thud, and she stooped to pick it up before going on.

‘“What's this? What's this?” he asked in his old, woody voice, and he walked towards the cindering hole. He looked like an old man, all ruddy and healthy, an autumn man, with a fiery red beard and deep, piercing eyes.

‘“Help me,” said a tiny, silvery voice. The apple-lord leaned forward to see what was talking.

‘“Who asks help of the orchard?” he asked, booming and bellowing.

‘“Help me,” said the tiny voice again. He peered in, and gasped, surprised to see something far wilder than all his deepest dreams. The fallen star, a tiny boy, looked up at him and reached out his arms. “Help!” said the boy-star. “I'm lost!”

‘“I should think so,” said the apple-lord. “You're on earth, in my orchard, and you've woken me by your falling! You should be up in the night sky, son.”

‘“I fell from my mother's ship, as I leaned over to see the earth-beneath-the-water.”

‘“Not water, but the sky itself,” said the apple-lord. The star, the boy, shone silver and white in the dark soil and looked up at him.

‘“What can I do?” he asked. “How do you get back up?”

‘Now, apple-lords are Kings of Trees, and their reach is only as high as their branches. The apple-lord knew nothing about the sky, and nothing about the night – his power reached only to the edge of the orchard. Beyond that, even earth and soil weren't his to command. He sighed a big, woody sigh. “I can't help you, little star,” he said. “I have no power to do so.”

‘The boy-star sucked at his fingers and looked into the ancient eyes of the apple-lord. “Bring me a cat,” he said. “Can you do that? I was always told to ask a cat for help, if I fell.”'

As Em told the story she moved the bowl from side to side and walked around the tree, catching the fruit we knocked down. I knew that Eren would hear what she said. I hit the apple branches a little harder.

‘The apple-lord searched through his orchard, from fence to fence, from root to leaves, and found a cat to call. On padded feet as silent as a grave, it came to his side and waited. “This boy is a fallen star,” said the apple-lord, “and he asked to speak to you. He wants to return home.”

‘The cat flicked its head sideways and whipped its tail in the grass. “Indeed?” it asked, ever so silkily.

‘“You're in the orchard,” said the lord, “and you have to respect that. I command you to help him.”

‘“I was sleeping under a tree, resting, so I could hunt for mice later,” said the cat, “and I didn't agree to this.”

‘But the cat knew he was stuck. He knew it was true – the orchard was the apple-lord's world, and if he slept there, he was his servant. What bad luck to be here on the night the star fell and the king woke up! The cat jumped down to the boy.

‘“What do you want, star-child?” he asked, angrily. Cats are clever and proud and independent, and he was insulted by the apple-lord's words, no matter how right they were.

‘“I fell,” said the boy-star. “I fell from my mother's boat above the clouds and above the sky. I was told, though, that being a cat, you might know a way back – I was always told, ask the cats, they know things.”

‘The cat purred and whipped his tail. “Yes, oh yes, we do.”

‘The apple-lord looked down on them, down there in the hole. “Is there a way? I can't have a star smouldering in the orchard, even a baby one! Look at the trees, look at the fruit, they're burned and dead already!”

‘“I can get you home,” said the cat. “It's something I know all about.”

‘Imagine how happy the star was! He laughed and thanked the cat, and it purred but stared daggers at the apple-lord. The cat leaned close to the star and whispered over to him, ever so smoothly, so that no one else could hear. The cat told the secret of how to return to the sky, how to fly up and up and then splash out to the surface of the stars, and not to fall back down. The apple-lord watched the star's face twist in surprise, and shock, and joy, and happiness. He saw the cat's tail swish, swish, swish and felt uneasy.
Something
, he thought,
is coming
.'

‘Let's move on to the next tree,' said Takeru. ‘This one's almost done.'

‘Yeah, leave the highest fruit for now,' said Em. ‘Start again at the low ones. They'll come off easy, one hit.'

I tapped on the yellow leaves and an apple fell into the bowl. Em smiled and went on.

‘The cat wandered off, and left the orchard that night. The star-boy was silent, staring at the lord with empty, shining eyes. Hours passed – it looked like morning would come before the star would do anything. “Well,” said the apple-lord, “I will sleep, even if you won't. I have given you help, and allowed your trespass into the orchard. That much is over – you're on your own, I fear!”

‘He slept, then, the deep, natural sleep of the Tree Kings, a long sleep, one that would not normally end for many years. As the apple-lord slept, the star-boy stood, and went to work, carrying out the cat's words. Do you know what he did?'

‘No,' I said, and Takeru shook his head, our poles hovering in mid-air.

‘He did what the cat said – and cut off every apple from every tree, slicing them neatly in half, the top from the bottom, and peering inside. What did he see?'

The darkness of the attic window twitched like an evening shadow.

‘What?' said Takeru.

‘
Stars
,' said Em. ‘An apple cut in half'll show a star – and an orchard cut in half will show a sky full of them. The more apple-stars he saw, the stronger the star-boy felt. And the stronger he felt the brighter he shone – brighter and brighter until he thought he could see his mother, far above. He waved, and she reached down to take him. The orchard was silent, empty, and broken – not a single apple left.