'The moon?' said Michael. 'Now I know you're making it up. The moon?'
Jack nodded. 'Uh-huh. He flies all the way to the moon. It takes them three days just to fly there, travelling faster than any car or plane ever did, on top of a giant rocket, and when he gets there, do you know what he finds?'
'Aliens?' asked Michael.
'No,' said Jack, laughing. 'He finds nothing. Just rocks, and a big black sky. You know, the moon is so small that when the first men are just standing there they can see its curvature, so that everywhere they look, it's curved, like they're just standing on this cold ball of rock in the middle of a black void. But do you know what else they can see?'
Michael shook his head.
'They can see the Earth,' said Jack. 'They can look up at the sky, and they can see the Earth, and they can blot it out with their thumb. Everything they know, every country, every single human being alive except themselves, and it can be blotted out with their thumb. But other than that, all they can see is black sky and that cold little rock.'
'So what's the point?' asked Michael. 'I mean, if there's nothing else up there. Why go?'
'Because they don't stop there. In a couple of hundred years there are ships, like the ships that you saw in the docks, only bigger, floating through the black sky, finding other places, and those places are much more interesting. Believe me… Boy, some of them are very interesting.'
'Hey…' said Michael. 'You told me I couldn't tell you anything about the future, and now you're telling me this.'
'I told you you couldn't tell me anything about my future,' said Jack. 'That's different. Nobody should know what's waiting for them. If you knew your future, why… it would take all the fun out of living.'
'But what about Sam? You asked him questions about the future.'
Jack frowned, looking up at the sky for an easy answer. Then he smiled and ruffled Michael's hair.
'Well, sometimes you have to cheat a little,' he said.
It was starting to get dark when they arrived on the inaccurately named 'Island' at Barry-in reality a peninsula that had long been linked to the mainland with the construction of the docks. A chilled late-summer breeze passed along the promenade, where Jack and Michael sat, looking out at the sea.
'Is it like this?' Michael asked. 'When you're looking out at space, I mean? Is it like when I'm looking at the sea?'
Jack nodded. 'Yeah, I guess,' he said. 'Depends what it's like when you're looking at the sea.'
Michael looked back at the ocean and frowned, deep in thought.
'It's like I can go anywhere,' he said after a while. 'Sometimes, when I was working, I'd be up on one of the cranes, looking at the sea, and it was like you could see for ever. I kept thinking maybe, if I squinted my eyes, I'd be able to see America, on the horizon, but I couldn't.'
Jack laughed. 'No,' he said. 'Well, America's a few thousand miles thataway.' He pointed out toward the horizon. 'And the Earth is round, so you won't see it.'
'Are you making fun of me?'
'No,' he said, laughing again. As if I would.'
'But that's what it was like,' said Michael. 'That's why I always wondered whether I should just join up with the Merchant Navy, get on a boat and go out there, go anywhere. I could see America, and China, and Japan. I could go places where I wouldn't feel so…' He shrugged. 'I don't know… different.'
'Yeah,' said Jack. 'I know that feeling.' He looked at his watch. 'Ten to nine,' he said. And it's already getting dark. Summer's almost over, I guess. Another summer, anyway.'
'How many summers have you seen, Jack?' asked Michael.
'A lot of summers,' said Jack. 'Too many to count. Some good, some bad. And on lots of different planets.'
'Really? You've really been to lots of different planets?'
Jack nodded, and Michael laughed.
'You know, a few days ago I'd have said you were gone in the head, but now… I don't know…' He looked up at a moon that was almost full, hanging on the darker edges of the sky. 'Two years?' he said. 'Two more years and man's walking on that thing?'
'Walking,' said Jack, 'playing golf, looking at the rocks. It's a start, at least.'
He looked at Michael with a soulful, almost apologetic gaze.
'I've got to go,' he said. 'To see people.'
'I'll come with you,' said Michael.
'Oh, no. You're staying here. I won't be long.'
'But you said you were going to ask questions and get answers,' said Michael. 'What if I've got questions? I'm tired of not knowing anything, Jack. I'm tired of running away from things, from people, and monsters. I'm tired of being on my own.'
Jack nodded.
'OK,' he said. 'But stay out of trouble. If anything happens, you run, OK? Don't worry about me.'
'I said I'm tired of running,' said Michael. 'And I meant it.'
They walked up an embankment towards the funfair. It had, Jack supposed, seen better days; rickety rollercoasters and a decrepit Ghost Train decorated with painted images of Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi. The whole place was illuminated by the flashing lights of the rides and the amusement arcades, its soundtrack one of howling sirens, ringing bells, and the chaotic strains of 'Surfin' Bird' by The Trashmen. Any other night and Jack might have been able to cut loose and enjoy it for what it was worth, take in the sweet smell of hot dogs and candyfloss, and take it on its own terms, but not tonight. Tonight there was something sinister about the noise and the lights and the shuffling crowds.
'We came here once,' said Michael, 'when we were kids. Dad said we couldn't afford to come every year.'
But Jack was no longer listening; he was scanning the faces of the crowd, looking for… looking for…
Hugo.
Hugo Faulkner stood beside the dodgem cars, still dressed immaculately in a pinstriped suit, holding an oversized lollipop. He'd been watching them the whole time.
Jack paced across the funfair and Michael followed.
'Jack!' said Hugo, smiling. 'And you've brought a little friend with you. How nice. Though that wasn't a part of our arrangement.'
'He's OK,' said Jack. 'He's with me.'
'Yes. I can see that,' said Hugo, and then, turning to Michaeclass="underline" 'Are you enjoying all the fun of the fair, young man?'
Michael didn't answer.
'Ah,' said Hugo. 'Silent and subservient. Just your type, eh, Jack?'
'OK,' said Jack. 'Now what?'
Hugo laughed, and took one lick of the lollipop, mashing his tongue against the roof of his mouth as if it tasted bitter. 'I never was one for sweets,' he said. 'Always more of a savoury person.'
'Cut this,' said Jack. 'I'm here, just like you said. What do you know about me? About who I am?'
'Hmm,' said Hugo. 'Not very gentlemanly or polite, Jack. I don't respond well to such blunt questioning. Follow me.'
They followed Hugo out of the funfair and back along the promenade, past holidaying families and elderly couples, until they came to the crumbling façade of the Empire Pavilion. A sign above its entrance announced a concert for a singer who had died some years ago, and the framed posters had all faded and curled in the sun. The doors were chipped and peeling, with broken windows boarded up by sheets of plywood.
'Beautiful building, don't you think?' said Hugo. 'A crying shame it's in such disrepair. Its days are numbered, I feel. Progress hates a ruin.' He reached inside his jacket and produced a small bunch of keys, checking each one in turn before holding one of them up. Ah,' he said, 'this one. Follow me.'
'We're not going in there,' said Jack. Anything could be in there.'
Hugo nodded sagely. 'Quite,' he said. Anything could, indeed, be in there. Answers, for example, could be in there.'