Part 13 (1/2)

Two hours later, in the back of a truck parked on the side of one of the few remaining European motorways, Magdalen and Aneba read the letter from Charlie. Magdalen managed to unfold it, and Aneba wriggled into a position where he could read it aloud. A lone streetlight sent its weak gleam in through the grubby window of the truck.

”It's upside down,” Aneba said very quietly. He didn't want Winner overhearing. ”Turn it to the left a bit so it's in the light.”

Darling Mummy and Daddy, Darling Mummy and Daddy, It was really good to get your letter. Everything's going okay for me. Brother Jerome is taking me to visit Rita's sister, and I know you are expected there too. If you get there first, try not to leave too soon, as I hope I can see you there. I am doing a project on pet cats. I wish I could ask you about it. Please tell me all you can when you reply. I am being a very good little boy like you said. Hope to see you very soon. I will bring some friends-bigger kids-to Rita's sister's. It was really good to get your letter. Everything's going okay for me. Brother Jerome is taking me to visit Rita's sister, and I know you are expected there too. If you get there first, try not to leave too soon, as I hope I can see you there. I am doing a project on pet cats. I wish I could ask you about it. Please tell me all you can when you reply. I am being a very good little boy like you said. Hope to see you very soon. I will bring some friends-bigger kids-to Rita's sister's. Lots and lots of love from Charles Lots and lots of love from Charles ”Rita's sister!” said Aneba. ”What's that about?”

”Rita's sister is named Paris,” said Magdalen, smiling broadly in the dimness. ”Clever little blighter.”

”So that's where we're heading. How does he know?”

”Cats,” said Magdalen. ”It's got to be. And the project on pet cats . . .”

”Yes,” said Aneba.

Magdalen folded the letter up again and held it firmly in her fist.

”He's finding out about the whole thing, presumably,” she murmured.

”I suppose. I suppose the cats are telling him.”

”The Allergenies and everything?”

”I suppose,” said Aneba quietly.

”We were right not to tell him, though, weren't we?”

”Of course. What do you think they'd do with him if they thought he knew about it? And if they knew what he can do?”

”I hate to think,” she said very quietly.

”Sorry,” said Aneba.

”Yeah,” she said.

They sat in silence for a moment.

”You know,” she said. ”I wrote out the formula-the basic formula-and told him that if he ever had to go anywhere, he should take it with him.”

”You WHAT! WHAT!” shouted Aneba, so loud that Winner wondered for a moment what was up in the back. ”You what? what?” More quietly and intently.

”I don't know why. I suppose so that . . . if anything happened to us, at least one honest person would have that knowledge.”

”One honest child, child,” hissed Aneba. ”One honest ignorant kid, who if they knew what he had would be totally at the mercy of these people. And if they knew what he can do as well . . .”

”Yes.” She sat miserably. ”Should I not have?”

”No, you shouldn't have,” he whispered furiously. ”Now not only is he the only Cat-speaker, he's also got the formula-did he take it with him when he set out into the world, all alone, totally unprepared? We don't know, of course. Oh, G.o.d . . .”

Magdalen was crying, softly. Aneba didn't hear because he was too angry.

”Keep your voice down,” she murmured. ”Don't tell everybody. It's bad enough.”

”He's out there, on his own, with the formula and and the language, and he doesn't have a clue about the Allergenies or how they came about, or anything.” the language, and he doesn't have a clue about the Allergenies or how they came about, or anything.”

”No,” said Magdalen. ”But we we don't know how they came about either. And he's learning. Remember? His 'project on pet cats'? He's a clever kid, Aneba, and he's finding out what he needs to know, and telling us he's doing it. We must get a letter back to him telling him as much as we can. But how's that cat going to find us again? And where don't know how they came about either. And he's learning. Remember? His 'project on pet cats'? He's a clever kid, Aneba, and he's finding out what he needs to know, and telling us he's doing it. We must get a letter back to him telling him as much as we can. But how's that cat going to find us again? And where are are we?” we?”

”Heading to Paris,” murmured Aneba. ”If Charlie's right.”

But they weren't. They had pa.s.sed Paris, and as soon as Winner had had his breakfast they would be moving on again. Not with Winner and Sid, though. Three large men from the Personnel Department arrived, punched Sid and Winner, just because they could, and then bound and gagged Aneba and Magdalen, who, being handcuffed, couldn't fight back. Magdalen had hidden the note in her boot, so that was all right. Not much else was, though. ”You have an appointment with the Chief Executive,” was all the men would say, and they said it with a sneer. ”He'll tell you all you need to know about the position.”

Rafi was getting very frustrated. He'd had no luck with the zoos. No luck with the waterways. No luck in the city.

He decided to go back to the fish stalls to bully Mr. Ubsworth. He felt like hitting someone, and in the absence of Charlie, Mr. Ubsworth would do.

By noon, the great crimson s.h.i.+p was swanning slowly along the Ca.n.a.l St. Martin in the warm suns.h.i.+ne. It would have been a graceful sight, but for the noise it was making: The Calliope was in full voice. What a racket! It had been loud enough the time before, on the river in London, but here, with the buildings all around, it blared and farted out like a troupe of carnivals on a summer's day, a noise full of fun and nostalgia at the same time-an irresistible noise. Charlie noticed that a lot of the circusguys were down on the banks of the ca.n.a.l, handing out fliers with the details of the circus on them. The people were looking at the s.h.i.+p, laughing at the Calliope, reading the leaflets and putting them in their bags and pockets. They all wanted to come to the circus.

Then there were four more locks to negotiate on the Ca.n.a.l St. Martin. Charlie was again amazed by how snugly a s.h.i.+p fits into a lock: like a fat man in a bath, it's a wonder there's any room for the water. But there is-just enough to allow that curious, staggering, slightly nauseating motion as the boat tries to keep still and not bang against the edges. The locks sprayed their smelly foam as the water tumbled and flooded in and out, the metal bars set in the lock walls gleamed beneath their green weed, the lock-keepers called Bonjour! Bonjour!, and the lock bells rang. Pale green footbridges arched over the water, so high that the people who stopped at the top to admire the circuss.h.i.+p seemed to be standing on the branches of the trees, in among their sweet green leaves.

Charlie was just getting used to it all, knowing that they were nearly at their destination, when the Calliope, which had been cranking away, suddenly wheezed and hiccuped to silence, and the s.h.i.+p drew into the Temple lock. The smell of her fumes wafted back over them as she drew to a halt and idled. It was here that a cat called out to Charlie from the bank.

”You're to be told they've gone on!” she called.

”What?” called Charlie. ”Come here-come on board!”

The cat shrugged. With a great rush and tumble the water began to flood out of the lock chamber, and the Circe Circe began to sink down beneath him. Charlie rushed to the side nearest to the cat and cried back: ”Gone on? When? Where to? Is it Venice?” began to sink down beneath him. Charlie rushed to the side nearest to the cat and cried back: ”Gone on? When? Where to? Is it Venice?”

”Bof,” said the cat. ”I suppose. Only you're to be told they have gone on. I don't know more.”

Ahead, the s.h.i.+p was facing a brick wall. At the top of it Charlie could see the back of a statue's head, with a pigeon sitting on it, and a formally clipped dark green hedge. At the base, he noticed, way down beneath him when he peered over, a low stone arch.

”Come here,” he called to the cat urgently. ”Please! Come and tell me more. When did they leave?” If only he knew how they were traveling and for how long, perhaps he could work out how to catch up with them.

”Please!” he called. Hissing, so that he wouldn't be noticed.

”I don't know nothing more,” said the cat, and as the s.h.i.+p sank down into the lock, she sauntered off.

Cursing the cat, Charlie spun on his heels. Julius was giving him a most peculiar look.

”Why were you yelling and spitting at that cat?” he asked.

”For luck,” said Charlie quickly. Then: ”Oh, my-look! What's going on?” He found himself looking down at the tiny arch ahead of them. They were heading right for it.

”We can't go in there!” he cried. ”It's tiny!”

It wasn't so much tiny as far away, far down. It looked like a manhole. Charlie had a moment of panic. It was too steep! How could they go down so far in such a short distance? They seemed to be tumbling and sinking into the bowels of the earth.

Even when the lock chamber was empty and the gates at the other end opened, the s.h.i.+p was still way too big and the arch still way too low. It would be like crawling into a small cave, a dark little entrance to the Underworld. But as they edged out of the lock chamber, he realized they were just entering another. This was a double lock, a steep set of watery stairs, and they were now going even deeper into this dark, wet hole. Charlie couldn't help thinking about the story of Orpheus, who went down to the Underworld to get his wife, Eurydice, back from the land of the dead. But his parents weren't here to get. They'd already left.