‘I don’t know, princess. Help me on with my shoes, would you?’
‘And why is that boy sitting next to the empty seat talking to it as though someone was there?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe he’s got an imaginary friend. As long as they both laugh when I come on, I don’t care.’
‘Clowns. You don’t have the sensitive nature of a dancer. For me, an empty seat is like a thorn in my soul as I strive to personify grace and beauty in the arena.’
‘But you perform your act blindfolded.’
‘Like I said. Clowns. No sensitivity.’
‘Shhh. We’re on in a minute.’
Theo could feel the envious stare of half the kids in the arena trained on the back of his neck. It was bad enough that he had one front-row seat – but two? And he wasn’t even using the other one! Only the children too young to speak could see Bozo, and they gurgled happily when he waved to them. Their mothers instinctively held them closer.
Bozo kept his eyes on the darkened stage excitedly. He trembled slightly in anticipation of the show to come and squirmed in his seat to get comfortable. He hoped there would be a clown. The Storyteller had told them that clowns were as close as could be found to Bloons anywhere in the Story. He turned to ask Theo but saw that his friend was deep in thought, his face set in a frown as he concentrated. Where did the kid get it from? Whatever good came from thinking about things? Bozo asked himself. He thought about it. By the time he came up with an answer, he’d already forgotten the question. He gave up and poked Theo in the ribs. ‘Hey, kid. What gives?’
Theo turned and, feeling a little conscious of the people in the seats around them, whispered, ‘There are so many pieces of the puzzle to put together. I was thinking about the Enemy. Back in the hospital, I thought all the evil in the world could be found in Dr Bunsen. Then we had the police on our trail and that terrified me. Then the Enemy attacked us with the desert winds…. It makes me wonder what more he’s capable of?’
‘Nothing your average Bloon can’t cope with,’ Bozo smiled, puffing out his chest and patting Theo on the back. ‘Just stay close, old pal, and you’ll be OK.’
Theo smiled gratefully. ‘It is great to have you with me. I couldn’t go on alone. But, Bozo, can you protect me from myself?’
‘What the Bloon do you mean?’
‘Remember what happened to Omar – how he almost turned us in? I think it was the Enemy trying to convince him to go for the reward. Omar didn’t think he was doing anything wrong, because his family needed the money.’
‘But he came through for us in the end.’
‘Only because the amulet reminded him of the values he believed in,’ Theo insisted, sweating a little. He hesitated and added, ‘I have strange thoughts sometimes.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like sometimes I feel like giving up.’
‘What?’
‘No, really. I mean, you saw what the crystal ball showed us in Paris. What’s the point of the Story living on if it’s so full of pain and horror?’
‘Because there’s a planet full of Bloons who depend on it!’ Bozo yelled, unable to believe his ears.
‘But only because they never hear the bad stuff. I expect the Story is a lot of fun when you see the edited version featuring all the beautiful and funny bits. Think of all the wars, the mad religions. Think of Mustafa rejected by everyone because he had one extra finger.’
‘Hello, Bloonland calling Theo. I’ve seen the whole picture and I’m still here.’
‘But what choice do you have? How would you ever get back to Bloonland anyway?’
Bozo opened his mouth to reply and closed it again. Truth be told, he’d been having so much fun that he’d barely given a thought to the return journey. He liked it here in the Story, on this big adventure and all, but the thought of never going back to Bloonland was too awful to consider. So he didn’t. ‘Enough already! That’s exactly why we have to track down the rest of these dumb AOs and save the Storyteller.’
‘So you don’t really care about me or the Story at all. You just want to save your own blue backside,’ Theo sniffed, his voice turning bitter and distant.
Bozo gaped at him. He had never seen his friend like this. ‘What’s going on with you? Stop listening to the fears inside your head and hear me. So there’s lots of bad stuff going on inside the Story – enough to make you want to cry an ocean. So it might all come down to dust in the end, like the Sandman said.
‘But remember Nurse Sandra back at the hospital? She wasn’t evil or corrupt. Remember Pierre, who smuggled us to Paris and then sacrificed his bicycle to help us escape?’
Theo trembled as he listened and Bozo pressed home his point.
‘Think of Michelle, Simon and Lou. The Sandman and Cynthia. They risked all they had to help us. Us, Theo, think of us! I left my friends and home behind to travel with you through this Story, and it’s been the best few weeks of my life.
‘And you know what else? When we asked the crystal ball what was the Cure for the Storyteller, I don’t think it was broken at all. It showed our reflection. We are the Cure. Or at least, we’re the ones who are going to find it.’ Bozo collapsed on his seat in exhaustion. It was probably the longest speech he’d given in his life. He looked up to see how it had gone down.
Theo stared at him as though delivered from a spell. His face trembled like a rain cloud and then he burst into tears. He wept on Bozo’s shoulder, not caring what anyone thought of him.
‘That’s good, kid. Let it all come out,’ Bozo murmured, patting Theo on the back. ‘Just remember to turn it off afterwards: the sea level is high enough as it is.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Theo sobbed. ‘Sometimes it all gets too much and I lose hope.’
‘Ah, don’t worry about it. Just sit back and enjoy the show.’
For at that moment a spotlight illuminated a circle two metres wide on the arena. Theo sniffed back some tears and his heart calmed as he became absorbed in the circus.
Into the spotlight stepped a tall, gangly man in a suit, holding a mop. At first it seemed he was dressed normally, but something seemed to be wrong. Then the crowd noticed that his trousers were too baggy, the jacket too short and the shoes a few inches too big. The hair was an unruly carrot top mess and the face was painted white with a red nose. A clown.
He waltzed into the light, apparently focused on mopping the ground. He paused to wipe the sweat from his brow, and jumped back in fright as he looked up and discovered the crowd. This won a small titter from the back rows, and his confidence returned a little. He gave a small wave and then pointed at his mop to indicate that he had to get on with his work.
He walked off to the right, mopping the ground before him. The spotlight followed. He paused for a moment to scratch his head but the spotlight kept on going and he had to run after it. Once back in the light, he relaxed and began to mop the stage to the left. This time the spotlight stayed still and the clown walked off into the darkness. He marched back indignantly, but now the spotlight jumped in fright to the centre of the stage. The clown exchanged looks with the audience and then tiptoed towards the spotlight – but as he made a final leap, it shifted back to the left of the arena. Now he lost his temper and began chasing the spotlight around the circus, up and down the aisles between the audience, and then back down to the arena.
Finally, the clown stopped to gather his breath. He looked up at the audience as though he’d just had an idea. He leant on his mop and whistled to the circle of light as though it were a dog. The spotlight twitched uncertainly. The clown whistled again and slapped his thighs in encouragement. Cautiously, the spotlight crept closer and, when it was just inches away, he leapt on it and beat it into submission with his mop.
Back in the spotlight and exhausted, the clown swung the mop upsidedown so that the working end rested on his shoulder. He sighed happily and then gasped as he glanced around to his left: the fronds of the mop hung down exactly like the hair of a woman and it trembled suggestively. The clown gulped and leant forwards to kiss the mop but it moved away modestly. A violin began to play backstage as the clown took his mop in his arms and danced away out of the arena, madly in love.
‘Just like the Storyteller told us,’ Bozo laughed merrily amid the general applause. ‘That clown would fit right into Bloonland.’
He would have said more but a trumpet sounded, and to a resounding cheer an elephant marched into the arena. The elephant had short tusks and long, silky ears that flapped at its side. Its trunk was held aloft and there was a merry gleam in its eyes. Behind the elephant’s head sat an Indian dancer dressed in thin silk shawls. There were golden bangles around her ankles and wrists, and she was blindfolded with a black sash.
The dancer was a beauty and she carried herself with the air of someone quite at home in the limelight. She raised herself and, as though fainting, did a forward roll down the elephant’s trunk, up into the air, and landed after a double somersault. She seemed to take her bearings from the applause of the crowd and began cartwheeling around the edge of the arena, still blindfolded.
She made a full circuit and then concluded by throwing herself backwards to be caught by the elephant in the fold of its trunk. It flipped the acrobat up on to its back. Then the elephant began to stamp its feet to a drum beat. It turned and marched out of the arena while the girl balanced on one hand on the back of its head.
After that, the clown came out again and demonstrated his daring by walking along a tightrope laid flat along the ground. He then performed a complete juggling act with one ball, and for the finale he rode a unicycle (with stabilisers) along the tightrope while juggling the ball.
The last act was reserved for a small, fat man, who introduced himself as Marvello the Marvellous, Man of Mystery and Magic. With a triumphant smile, he pulled a bunch of flowers from his sleeve. He received only the faintest applause. He then took off his top hat and out popped a small rabbit. While he took his bow, the bunny began to eat the flowers and the crowd gave a loud cheer.
Marvello’s face turned bright red with suppressed fury as he realised what had happened. He kicked the rabbit out of sight and snapped his fingers for his assistant. The dancing-girl tumbled out in a glitzy showbiz dress with so many sequins that it blinded to look at her.
‘I, Marvello the Marvellous, will now demonstrate the amazing powers of hypnosis. A volunteer, please!’
Theo felt the urge to step up but felt shy in front of so many people. Come on, Theo, he urged himself, you’ve got to make contact with these people somehow. Before he could find his nerve, however, a young Israeli boy had bounced down the steps. The dancer led him to the centre of the arena.
Marvello drew from his waistcoat pocket a silver watch that hung on a gold chain. He began to swing it back and forth in front of the boy’s eyes. ‘Watch the watch,’ Marvello droned. ‘Watch the watch. It makes you feel sleepy, so very sleepy.’
Moments later, the crowd was amazed to see the magician fall asleep on his feet. He had succeeded in hypnotising himself.
The boy took a bow to a round of enthusiastic applause. He headed back to his seat while the dancing-girl tried to revive Marvello. Finally, she walked off stage and returned with a bucket of water, which she dumped over his head.
‘What the…’ Marvello cried, and then turned red again, trembling with anger at the laughter of the audience.
He snapped his fingers and his assistant wheeled out a large wardrobe. ‘Another volunteer – and no wise guys this time,’ the magician yelled.
Before Theo knew it, he was stumbling down the steps with two blue arms pushing from behind. Marvello grabbed hold of him, pushed him rather rudely into the wardrobe and closed the door. Theo heard him say, ‘I will now demonstrate the amazing Disappearing Boy trick. I simply turn the wardrobe around like so, tap on the front three times and, abracadabra, the boy has gone!’
The door swung open and the crowd fell apart with laughter to see Theo still sitting inside the wardrobe, looking confused. Marvello scowled and stuck his head inside the wardrobe until his moustache bristled inches away from Theo’s face. ‘Kid, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll pull that lever next to you this time. Got it?’
Theo turned and saw a handle that read Pull me. He nodded and Marvello closed the door again. ‘Just a little joke, my friends. This time we really will make the little brat – I mean, boy – disappear into thin air.’ He swung the door open and the crowd was rather disappointed to see that Theo had actually gone somewhere. It was much more fun when it all went wrong.
Theo pulled the red lever and a thin sheet of wood fell down in front of him, trapping him in the back of the wardrobe. He felt himself being wheeled off somewhere and then heard the end of the circus being announced by the trumpeting of the elephant. The wardrobe door swung open, the sheet of wood slid back and Theo saw Marvello smoking a cigarette. ‘Go on, kid,’ he said. ‘Beat it. Go back to your family.’
‘But I don’t have any,’ Theo pointed out.
‘I’m heartbroken.’ Marvello scowled, spitting on the ground. ‘Just go home, will ya? We got a lot of packing up to do.’
‘I haven’t got a home, either. Couldn’t I just come along with you?’
‘Kid, do you see a sign saying “Home for Runaway Orphans” here?’
‘No.’
‘Do you want to know why you don’t see it? Because it’s not there, is why. Now beat it.’
‘You don’t have to be so rude about it. He’s just a kid, Marv,’ the dancing-girl said, as she came over dressed in a long silk gown. ‘Come on, dear. You don’t want to join a bunch of losers like us.’
‘Losers? Who are the losers?’ Marv bellowed, his chest puffing up.
‘We are!’ she screamed back. ‘You promised me fame and fortune, you cheap trickster. Your name up in bright lights, you said. And where am I? Stuck in the lousiest three-person-and-one-elephant show in the world.’
Theo slipped away unnoticed while the argument escalated. He trudged through the backstage area and ran into a breathless Bozo. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere,’ the Bloon puffed. ‘I’m glad to see you, kid. I thought you’d been vapourised.’
‘No. Just shouted at, as usual. I tell you, Bozo, we don’t have to travel the world to see what’s wrong with the Story: it’s all around us. Look at those two going at one another.’
Bozo glanced back at the magician and the dancer, who bared their teeth as they tore into each other with insults and screams. ‘So what to do now?’ he asked.
Theo shrugged. ‘I guess we’ll have to find a way to India by ourselves,’ he said.
They strolled thoughtfully past the tents and the trailers until they saw the elephant tied up to a post. It was chewing on some straw and eyed them carefully as they passed.
‘Pssssst.’
They turned and saw the clown standing in the shadows. He extended a finger of his white gloves and beckoned them to approach. ‘Do you really have no home to go to?’
‘No,’ Theo replied truthfully. ‘But I was hoping to find someone in India.’
‘Whoa! That’s like looking for a drop of water in an ocean. Who are you looking for?’
Theo hesitated. ‘I suppose he’s some kind of a teacher.’
‘Ah, that’s a different matter,’ the clown sighed in approval. ‘As we say in India, when the student is ready, the guru will appear. And what may be his name?’
‘I’m not exactly sure. I know he used to be called Jadooji. He used to do magic in the streets.’
The clown slapped his forehead in disbelief. ‘But that is my godfather! Ah, the strange twists of fate! As Jadooji used to tell me when I was young: Buntee, all the plotlines of a story must cross somewhere.’
‘Then do you know where he is?’ Theo asked excitedly.
Buntee frowned. ‘Not exactly. He pulled a disappearing act of his own a few months before we began this crazy world tour. But if anyone can find him, I can.’
‘Can we – I mean, can I – come with you?’ Theo asked hopefully.
The clown looked him up and down as he considered the situation. At last he nodded carefully. ‘When I was young, I also ran away to join the circus. How can I refuse you? But it won’t be easy. We’re returning to Bombay tomorrow by ship, and I’ll have to smuggle you aboard with Raj, the elephant. Don’t worry, he’s a great friend of mine.’
‘We’re going with the elephant,’ Bozo whooped. ‘Oh, boy! The Storyteller told us that they never forget – which blew our minds, because Bloons never remember anything.’ He danced off to get a closer view of the elephant.
Theo smiled and continued talking to the clown as they walked over to a large trailer filled with straw. ‘You were very funny tonight,’ he complimented Buntee.
‘You think so? Sometimes it feels like Marv gets bigger laughs than me.’
‘He had the crowd laughing too,’ Theo agreed. ‘The angrier he got, the more they laughed and the worse his magic became.’
‘Clowning is all about the art of failure,’ Buntee explained. ‘Most people want to be a success, but for a clown the point is to be spectacularly bad at what we do. Look at Marv – a worse magician you won’t find anywhere – but he fails so badly that his act has a comic magic of its own.’
‘Why did you become a clown?’
‘Even as a kid I couldn’t do anything right.’ Buntee grinned. ‘I tripped over my own shoelaces ten times a day. I would fart or burp at the worst times imaginable. And if there was a basket of mushy fruit within 20 yards, I was destined to tumble into it. People came to watch for kicks while I electrocuted myself trying to change a bulb or a fuse. Or when I got shut out of my house for hours while I fumbled with the key in the lock.
‘Finally, my godfather, Jadooji, advised me to transform my curse into a blessing. He invited me to work with him and I learnt my trade as a clown on the street as a warm-up to his magic show. It was strange, though: he never accepted any payment from the crowd. Only food and shelter for the night. Eventually, I wanted to make some bread, so I joined this circus,’ Buntee concluded, leaning back on some empty crates, his face dissolving in horror as they collapsed under his weight. The clown disappeared head over heels with a resounding crash.
‘Can’t you do the simplest thing without blundering it, you incompetent fool?’ Marv yelled angrily from around the corner.
‘Leave him alone!’ the dancer cried. ‘The poor darling might be hurt.’
‘Don’t worry. I’m all right,’ Buntee yelled back. He emerged from the wreckage with blades of straw lodged at ridiculous angles in his hair. ‘That was Parvati, the dancer. Marv wants to marry her for her family’s money, so she likes to wind him up by doting on me. She only joined the circus because Marv told her he had big connections in Bollywood. She claims to have royal blood. Leastways, she acts like a princess most of the time.’
Theo grinned appreciatively. It had been a while since he had met someone who was so nice to talk to. It seemed like he had to say goodbye to everyone he met along the way, but he hoped that he might be travelling a while with Buntee.
‘Now, we have to get you on board the ship,’ Buntee said, leading Theo into Raj’s trailer. The elephant was eating outside but watched them closely while Bozo whispered into his ear. Buntee set down some fresh straw on the floor for Theo to sit on. ‘Do you think you’ll be all right here?’ he said.
‘I’ll be OK,’ Theo replied, forcing a smile, but his heart beat in trepidation at the size of his new roommate. The straw smelt of elephant sweat and dung. Theo gazed at the sagging skin of the enormous beast. What if it rolled over in its sleep?
Buntee patted him on the back. ‘I have to get moving – when you’re in a three-person circus, you have to do the packing up and driving too. We set sail for Bombay tomorrow morning.’
Buntee slipped off and Theo could hear Marv begin to bully him again about something. Then he heard Parvati leap in to defend the clown and another furious row broke out. Bozo stuck his head into the trailer with an impressed look on his face.
‘Some pretty squashed Palabras flying around out there,’ he observed.
‘Palabras?’ Theo asked, puzzled but sensing another the-Story-according-to-Bozo lecture coming on.
‘Palabras are all the words you have in your head,’ Bozo explained patiently. ‘The air is thick with them and they’re dying to be spoken. The thing is, they have to be invited into your head by the thoughts that you have.’
‘So you mean that if I start to think about dinner, then all the Ffood Palabras will come rushing into my mind?’
‘Yep. So you can imagine that those ones get around a bit. And when they’re spoken, they multiply by lodging in the heads of whoever hears them. But Palabras to do with stuff like abstract mathematics have to wait quite a while before they find a home.’
‘What about joint words like “school trip” or “free lunch”?’ Theo asked.
‘Oh, Palabras are very social creatures,’ Bozo laughed. ‘They’re always trying out new combinations like “tulip fantasy” or “boredom science”. If they don’t find a matching thought, then they split up and try again.’
The idea appealed to Theo. It would certainly explain why sometimes he couldn’t find the words to express himself – sometimes there just weren’t the right Palabras hanging around. ‘So what did you mean by “squashed Palabras”?’ he said.
‘Back in Bloonland, our brains are much closer to our lips, so we usually say stuff before we know we’re thinking it. You Hoomans, though, have this strange valve that separates your mind and your mouth, and the Palabras don’t always get through. The weaker ones die out pretty fast, but the Palabras attached to strong feelings get mangled under the pressure of being shut up in your head. They get bent out of shape and, by the time they come out, they’re bound to hurt.’
A large grey trunk came around the edge of the trailer and lifted the Bloon high up into the air. ‘Of course, some creatures don’t need to speak to express themselves,’ Bozo laughed, as he tried to squeeze his way free. ‘Old Raj here makes do with his eyes and his trunk.’
Raj swayed into the trailer. It was clear from the gleam in his eyes that he was in a good mood.
‘Put me down, you fat, grey monster! What do you think I am – a blue banana?’ But Bozo was giggling and Raj tossed him on to a pile of straw. Then the enormous creature advanced a few paces to examine Theo more closely.
Raj had small white tusks but it was his trunk that took centre stage: like a gigantic snake, it wriggled forwards and sniffed Theo from head to toe. Huge ears like silk twitched at the elephant’s sides, and for a moment Theo was reminded of the Storyteller. It was the eyes, though, that truly revealed the majesty of this mighty creature. For all the tons of flesh and muscle that could have crushed Theo like an ant, the eyes of the elephant were glistening and tender, pools of memories both pleasant and painful.
Theo felt very small and afraid, but he lifted a trembling hand to Raj’s head. The skin was smooth and warm. Raj lifted his trunk to blow softly on Theo’s head.
‘He likes you,’ Bozo announced. ‘He says you’re welcome in his trailer and hopes his snoring won’t keep you awake.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I’m a Bloon. I already told you: I understand all the languages in the Story.’ Raj snorted in agreement and let his head droop a little. ‘Now he says that he’s sorry, but it was a long show and, as he’s an old elephant, he could do with a rest.’
Raj knelt down on the floor and let himself flop to his side, his legs facing Theo like grey logs. Just then, Buntee stuck his head in the door and smiled: ‘I see you guys are getting on well. Here, in case you get hungry on the way to the port.’ He tossed in a large bundle of bananas. ‘I’m going to have to close the door now. Once we get you on board, you’ll be able to move around a little. Till then, mamaji is the word, right?’
Theo nodded and smiled in gratitude. Without the help of the likes of Pierre, Mustafa and Buntee, how would he ever have come so far? Not to mention the courage and wisdom of the AOs. And, of course, his faithful and loving friend, Bozo, ever ready to help and share…
‘Hey! Leave some bananas for me, you overfed Bloon.’
After a feast of bananas, they drifted off to a well-deserved sleep. The sounds and jolts of the trailer being towed barely entered their dreams. Sometime later, Theo woke to complete darkness. He had no idea whether morning had arrived or if it was still the middle of the night. Theo knew that many children were afraid of the dark, but he loved it: it left his mind free to think things through in peace.
It was only a few hours ago that he had let despair take hold and begun to doubt even Bozo’s good intentions. He remembered what the Sandman had said about the Enemy’s ability to stir the jinni of desire in people’s minds. He wondered whether the Enemy was also capable of inciting doubt and despair. Did he have his evil will set on Theo even now?
The Enemy had certainly tried very hard to kill Theo in the desert: why had he been so quiet since then? Perhaps the two sides of the Storyteller’s mind fought for control, and the balance of power swayed from side to side. After urging the desert winds to raise a sandstorm, and the attempt to corrupt Omar, the Enemy had grown weak. If so, then surely he was gathering his strength to attack again. But how would he strike this time?
If Theo had any more thoughts on the matter, they were lost to another bout of deep sleep. He would have slumbered for half the day but for a blast of hot air in his face some hours later.
‘He says, “Good morning, sleepyhead.” ’ Bozo translated. ‘Incidentally, I think we’re flying.’ A jolt of the trailer seemed to confirm that they were swinging in midair. They could hear the mechanical grunts of a crane and the trailer tipped a little as it swung around. Raj got to his feet and began to pant nervously. The king of the jungle was not used to being treated like a crate of bananas.
Finally, they were set down and they heard large doors close behind them. The shouts of the workmen and the grinding of the crane engine grew dimmer. Not long after, a long steam whistle sounded and the trailer began to pitch around from side to side.
They were at sea.
Half an hour later, the door of the trailer swung open and a sudden rush of daylight poured in. It blinded them and it took a few seconds before they recognised Buntee at the entrance, dripping from head to toe.
‘I slipped off the gangway when we were leaving the harbour,’ he explained, blushing slightly. ‘Anyway, welcome aboard! We’ll be in India in five days if all goes well.’