‘There was no need now to be quiet so Peter screamed for his brother, “James! Where are you?”
“This way!” called James. “Quickly, Peter, I can hear the Furry Man coming!”
“He’s right behind me!” called Peter. “I don’t think I can get away.”
“Yes, Peter. Yes, you can. Keep thinking of all the things we’re searching for. I’ll think of them too. When you’re near enough I’m going to tell you to do something and you must do it the very best you can. OK?”
“I will, James. I’ll do it the very best I can.”
‘Peter could hear the Furry Man snorting behind him. He could smell the smell of dead little boys in the Furry Man’s stomach. He thought of all the things that he and his brother had been searching for and ran as fast as he could. But Peter hadn’t eaten anything for a long time and his legs were tired and heavy. He started to believe that he was going to end up eaten by the Furry Man. Just then a crack appeared in the mist and from somewhere very high above a thin shaft of light penetrated. As Peter ran through the light he felt all his strength return. He pushed a little harder and felt the Furry Man’s hand swish through the air behind him. It just missed him.
‘And then he heard James’s voice very loud and very near, “Jump, Peter, jump as far and as fast as you can.”
‘So Peter jumped with all the strength he had left and he took off into the air.
‘He looked down and saw that he was over a black hole that seemed to go on forever. James had told him to jump to his death. But Peter didn’t give up even then. He thought about what it would be like to be with his brother somewhere safe and for them both to be happy. He thought about it as hard as he could.
‘The next thing he knew, James had caught him in his arms. He was standing on the other side of the black pit.
‘They both looked back and saw the Furry Man rumbling through the mist. He saw them too. Two lovely, tasty little boys ready to roast alive on a spit.
“AAAARRRRGHH! SUPPER!” shouted the Furry Man as he got closer and closer.
‘And then, very suddenly indeed, the Furry Man dropped out of sight.
‘They heard him falling for a long, long time because he shouted all the way down.
“AAAARRRRGHHH…”
‘They never heard the Furry Man hit the bottom.
‘Well, Peter and James were so pleased to see each other again and know they were safe that they both sat down and cried happy tears. And then they both lay down, snuggled close and fell asleep because they were so, so tired.
‘When they woke up the mist was gone and in the distance they could see the house where the Furry Man had lived. They went to have a look at it. Outside, the pile of bones of all the little boys that the Furry Man had eaten was gone.
‘They walked into the house and it was dusty and quiet as though no one had lived there for many, many years. All the rooms were empty. They walked all the way through the house and then they found another door at the back. They opened the door and found themselves looking at something that neither of them had ever seen before.
‘It was a garden. In the garden were many trees and all the trees were heavy with different kinds of fruit. All around the garden there were wild plants growing with flowers of every colour and even colours the boys had never seen before. Stranger even than that, they saw many little flying people that buzzed and flickered from one flower to another collecting nectar.
‘But the best thing they saw were all the little boys the Furry Man had eaten. Not only that, there were little girls too, all restored just the way they’d been before he’d caught them. And now the Furry Man would never chase or eat any of them again and Peter and James would never ever be lonely or hungry or sad. Not then and not forever.’
Usually his stories put the girls to sleep long before he finished them but tonight he’d glanced at them from time to time. They were intent, wide-eyed and very far from sleep. Telling the story the way he had was a risk. If Maya had been listening she’d have put a stop to it long before the end; the story verged on blasphemy for so many reasons. But the more of it he made up the more sense it seemed to make to him and the more obviously the tale unfolded in his mind. He found a kind of rhythm in the telling of it and the rhythm carried him through to the end.
Now the girls sat staring at him, each clutching a doll to their chests, their faces intense. He could almost hear the questions before they came. He didn’t know how he was going to answer them.
‘Why didn’t the boys have a mama and papa?’ asked Hema.
‘I think their mama and papa had died and left them all alone in the world.’
‘Does that really happen?’ asked Harsha.
‘Yes. Sometimes it happens. When a child is left with no parents or if the parents are too poor to keep the child and have to give it away, the child is called an orphan.’
‘Are there orphans in Abyrne?’ asked Hema.
That was a tough one. He decided to turn it around.
‘Have you seen any?’ he asked.
They shook their heads.
‘None in your school?’
‘No,’ they both said.
‘I guess that’s your answer then.’
The girls looked at each other and appeared to agree on the next question without exchanging a word. Hema asked it.
‘What about the Furry Man and the little flying people, papa? Are they real?’
‘What do you think?’
Hema considered.
‘Just because we haven’t seen them, it doesn’t mean they aren’t there, does it? Maybe they’re hiding.’
He smiled.
‘Maybe they are.’
‘The Furry Man wouldn’t come to our house would he, papa?’ asked Harsha.
He hadn’t set out to be cruel. That wasn’t the point. At least the idea of the Furry Man took their attention away from the more dangerous themes of the tale.
‘I don’t think the Furry Man would ever come here. Too far for him to walk. I wouldn’t worry about it. Now that’s enough chatter for one night. If you’re very good, I might tell you another one tomorrow night. But you’ll have to go to sleep right now with no complaining or there’ll be no stories at all. Come on, into your bunk Harsha.’
They’d both been on the bottom bunk for the story. Now that it was over it was time for Harsha to get back into her own. Reluctantly, she scooted past her sister and climbed the ladder. Shanti gave her a kiss on the forehead and gave another to Hema.
‘I’ll leave the door open a crack for light, but I don’t want to hear a single noise. If I do, no more stories, all right?’
‘All right, papa,’ they sang.
‘Good. Now you two sleep tight.’
He left them alone then but an hour later was back to check on them before he went to bed himself. Harsha was back down in the lower bunk and they were snuggled together as tight as two clingy monkeys. He wasn’t about to wake them just to separate them. He watched them sleeping for a few moments and then crept away.
From his deserted tower block, Collins could signal for his closest aides, Staithe and Vigors. He lit a gas lamp and took it out to the small cold balcony where the changed wind was smearing the town with the rotten smells from Magnus Meat Processing. He placed the lamp on the balustrade for a count of sixty seconds knowing at least one of them would be watching. Then he took the lamp inside and sat down on the cushionless sofa.
It was less than ten minutes before the gentle series of coded taps came at his front door. He pulled the hinged steel bar back – the only locking mechanism that still worked – and opened the door. Both of them stepped past him. They sat on the floor in front of his sofa. The lamp gave out a feeble yellow light. He hated to use anything that required gas but, whilst he was perfectly capable in the dark, he had to provide something for Staithe and Vigors.