Winter Wood (50 page)

As Pegs hauled her through the parting fronds of foliage, Midge saw in the brightness of the moonlight that Royal Clearing had been transformed. Wicker . . . a great wall of wicker surrounded the Rowdy-Dow tree . . . the wreckage of many pods and shelters, bits of basketwork, all piled high, and strewn with rags, oilcloth, scraps of clothing . . .

A gap had been left in the circular wall directly in front of her, and within that huge wicker compound Midge could see that the Various were gathered, hundreds of them, all huddled in silence. The crowd had divided, so that a loose pathway had been formed between them, leading to the Rowdy-Dow tree. And at the foot of the Rowdy-Dow tree stood Una, with Maglin and Tadgemole to either side of her. All were looking directly towards the entranceway to the wicker circle, awaiting their arrival, it seemed. Midge tried to pick out Little-Marten and Henty, but could see no sign of them amongst the hundreds of moonlit faces.

Pegs threw himself forward again, and Midge felt herself being dragged towards the gap in the wicker wall. She saw that all eyes were upon her, and felt foolish that she couldn't walk of her own accord.

Una was beckoning her towards the Rowdy-Dow tree, her arm lifted in welcome, but Midge could walk
no further. The effort was too much, and in any case she didn't want to come any closer. This was far enough.

‘I . . . I can't.'

Midge let go of Pegs' mane, and knew that she was releasing him for ever. She watched him walk between the lines of the Various. He reached the Rowdy-Dow tree and turned to face her. Una swung herself up onto his back, her movements light and easy, like those of a young girl – and from this distance her features were also those of a girl, perfect and unlined. A sister.

Sister . . . the word that had come to her in her dream. Midge felt dizzy, heady with the suffocating fumes of lavender oil. She watched as Una raised the Stone and Orbis, one in either hand.

There was a shuffle of movement as all around linked arms, held hands, hoisted their children up onto their shoulders – each making contact with their neighbours. The pathway between the crowd had closed now, the arena a solid mass of little people. Excited faces looked up at Midge, and small hands reached towards her, ready to draw her into the circle. Midge could do nothing but allow her fingers to be held. She could move neither forward nor back. Nor could she take her eyes from Una.

She saw flickers of light, fiery brands, carried by two of the archers . . . running . . .

Whooomff
– a soft explosion of volatile fuel – and flames immediately shot up behind the Rowdy-Dow tree, the crackle and spark of burning wicker loud upon the still night air.

The flames rapidly spread from either side of the tree, raging around the circle at frightening speed, great clouds of white smoke billowing across the arena and rolling down over the heads of the crowd.

‘To Elysse!' Una's voice rose above the roar of the fire, a single cry, and Midge saw her pale arms bring together the Stone and Orbis. A jagged streak of blue sprang across the gap between the closing objects, joining metal and jasper in an arc of electricity – and in that moment Midge let go of the hands that held hers. She jolted backwards, away from the gap in the wicker walls, as the flames met before her, and she raised an arm in order to shield her eyes.

‘Pegs!' She called out his name but could see nothing beyond the wall of fire. White smoke enveloped her, choking her, the heat of the flames forcing her further back yet. Midge stumbled away from the fire, and saw the shooting sparks that erupted into the heavens, the rising clouds of ash, swirling grey flakes that fluttered like wings . . . yes, like the wings of moths . . . gypsy moths, flying upwards into the night.

She was melting in the heat, rivers of perspiration trickling down her neck and chest. Soon there would be nothing of her. She must get away . . . away from the fire . . .

‘
Fire?
What do you mean – fire?'

Midge sat up in bed. She'd heard her mother's voice out on the landing.

‘Better come and look.' Uncle Brian, shouting from
the top of the stairs. Footsteps, hurrying past her door.

Midge swung her legs out of bed. Her nightie was drenched in perspiration, and she could feel her hair sticking to the back of her neck. She stumbled across to her bedroom door, opened it, and looked out into the corridor.

‘What's going on?' She was shaky, barely in control of her movements.

‘It's OK, darling. Brian thinks there's a fire.' Mum and Uncle Brian were at the top of the stairs, her mum struggling to pull back the makeshift curtains that covered the little landing window.

‘What? Where?' Midge started to walk down the corridor towards them, but had to keep her hand on the wall in order to steady herself. She felt hardly able to stay upright.

Mum and Uncle Brian were both fully dressed. Was it morning then?

‘See it?' Uncle Brain was peering through the window, his hands cupped against the glass.

‘Well I might if you'd get your great head out of the way.'

Midge stood behind her mum, craning her neck in order to see.

‘What fire? Where?' She heard the sounds of her own voice speaking but it felt weird, as though she was listening to herself from miles away.

‘Blimey, I think you're right,' Mum said. ‘Up there on the hill. What's going on?'

Midge wriggled around her mum and looked out of the window. She could see a faint glow at the top
of Howard's Hill, a smudge of orange against the night sky.

It was true, then. All true. She hadn't been dreaming after all.

‘What are we going to do, Brian – call the fire brigade?'

‘Well, I suppose we should. Though I don't see how it'll help. They're hardly going to be able to get in there with fire hoses and whatnot. And it certainly isn't going to spread. It looks like it's dying away in any case.'

‘But I just don't understand. It
can't
be a brush fire. Everything's soaking wet at this time of year.'

‘Lads,' said Uncle Brian. ‘It'll be lads mucking about.'

Midge said, ‘Mum, I don't feel very well. What time is it? Do I have to get up?'

‘Get up? We haven't even gone to bed yet. It's only about half-ten. Come on, sweetheart, you're just really tired, I expect.' Her mum put an arm about her shoulders as she walked her back to her bedroom. ‘Mind you,' she said. ‘You do feel a bit hot – your nightie's really quite damp. Maybe I should get you a couple of paracetamol.'

IN THE MORNING
she felt dreadful. Her head was all spinny, and her legs and arms ached as though she'd swum the Channel during the night. And her dreams . . . she just couldn't get them out of her mind. Falling through the skies with Celandine and Una . . . and then flying up to the forest with Pegs . . . and then that terrible fire . . . and the moths . . .

Midge padded over to her window and pulled back the curtains. Howard's Hill looked normal enough in the dull grey light of dawn. The woods were still there. No plumes of smoke or charred and blackened trees that she could see.

But they were gone. She knew beyond all doubt that what she had seen in her dreams had really happened. The Various were no more, and she would never see any of them again. How could she get dressed and go toddling off to school after all that she had witnessed? How was she supposed to feel?

Relieved. As Midge looked at her grey-blue eyes in the bathroom mirror, she realized that despite her dizzy head and aching muscles she actually felt as
though a huge weight had been lifted from her. The Various had gone, back to wherever it was that they belonged. To Elysse . . . or to another world . . . or another time. But to somewhere other than here. And yes, her first reaction was one of relief.

Her mum was sitting in the kitchen, writing something in a ledger, and there was a boiled egg waiting for her on the table. Usually she just had cereal.

‘Thought you could do with a proper breakfast,' Mum said. ‘You'll only get a sandwich for lunch today, as it's that steam trip thing. Your money's on the dresser, by the way – don't forget it.'

‘OK. Thanks, Mum.' Midge sat down and looked at her boiled egg. Just about the last thing in the world she felt like eating. ‘Um . . . what happened last night? Did you call the fire brigade?'

‘What?' Her mum glanced up from the ledger, half smiling, half frowning. Even with her glasses on she always managed to look pretty somehow. Midge often wondered why she wasn't better looking herself. It did seem unfair.

‘The, er . . . fire, up on Howard's Hill. Did you do anything about it?' Already Midge had the sense that there was something wrong here.

‘
Fire?
What fire?' Her mum obviously hadn't a clue what she was talking about, and Midge felt her shoulders go cold.

‘We . . . Uncle Brian said there was a fire. I thought he did. We all stood out on the landing and looked at it through the window. Up on the hill.'

‘Um . . . sorry, dear. You've lost me completely.
When was all this then?' Mum put down her pen, and the look on her face was quite concerned now.

‘It's OK . . . it's OK.' Midge tried to wave the subject away. ‘I must have been dreaming, that's all. Just a dream . . .' But now her whole world was somersaulting around her, slipping away from her grasp. ‘I had these dreams . . . really weird dreams. But I thought that bit was real, at least. The bit with the fire. Mum . . . Mum, I'm really scared . . .' Midge stared at her boiled egg, convinced that if she blinked it might disappear before her eyes, or that things might start popping out of it . . . ugly things with bows and arrows . . . moths . . .

‘Midge – poor sweetheart. What on earth's the matter? Tell me.' Her mum, coming around the kitchen table, crouching beside her, hugging her shoulders.

‘Have you been having nightmares? Tell me.'

‘Yes . . . nightmares. Really scary dreams . . .' Midge felt the hot tears rolling down her face. ‘I don't know any more what's . . . what's
real
. Oh, Mum, I'm so . . . I'm so . . .'

‘Hey-hey-hey. Shh, darling. It's OK. Everything's OK. Now
I'll
tell you what's real. You are, and I am – that's what – and nothing else matters. You're my baby and I love you. That's what's real. So.' Mum grabbed a tissue from the box on the dresser beside her. ‘Here's what we'll do. First we'll dry your eyes. Such lovely eyes you have, darling – beautiful eyes. Wish they were mine. There. And then we'll take the day off and spend it together. Yes? We'll say blow school, and blow
work, and we'll go off somewhere just the two of us, and have a proper day out, and talk. Hm?'

‘Oh, Mum. I can't. It'd be really nice, but I just can't. I have to do this trip – and I'm OK really. I just get scared sometimes, that's all.'

‘I know, love, I know. And I know what this is all about, deep down – and it's my fault, not yours. We need to be together more. You feel like you're on your own all the time, because I'm so wrapped up in work. And you think that you have to deal with all your problems by yourself. Well, you don't. You're more important to me than any of this other nonsense, and I'd drop it all like a shot if I thought it was affecting you that badly. Look. We'll compromise. Go on your school trip this morning, if you really feel up to it, and then come home at lunchtime. I'll pick you up from the station, and I'll tell your form teacher you've got a dental appointment or something. It won't hurt just this once. What time are you due back into Taunton?'

‘About . . . about eleven o'clock, I think.' Midge blew her nose on the tissue. ‘It's only like a half-hour train ride or something, there and back.'

‘Then it's settled. I'll pick you up at eleven, and we'll take the rest of the day off. Go out and have lunch somewhere – do some of the things we
should
have done together over half-term. OK?'