This time, as they fled through the Fair, they were glad that Timmy followed them. They just needed to get away from the angry, scary Wander Palm and back to the safety of the Weightys’ Whole Truth tent. For a few moments Jack and Hezekiah thought that their adventures might be over; that at any moment they would round a corner or slip through another narrow tented alleyway and find the splash of colour that was the Weightys’ stall. And this time they would have Timmy with them.
But when they did stop it was not at the safety of the Weightys’ stall. They had reached the outskirts of the Fair, the tents and caravans and stalls were now behind them, and in the distance, through the haze, they could see the rooftops of the town of Wishy-Washy. Timmy came running up behind them and slid to a stop, panting heavily and staring at them both. For a moment they all looked at each other in silence; for a moment it seemed that Timmy had forgotten why he had been chasing them.
“I ought to give you both a sound beating,” he said at last.
“Your friends are gone,” said Hezekiah.
“I could deal with you very well on my own!” said Timmy.
“There are two of us,” said Jack.
For a second it seemed as though Timmy was going to launch himself at both of them, but his expression subsided into something like weary acceptance.
“Ms Palm has probably put a spell on you for what you did,” he said darkly.
“She certainly looked like a witch,” said Jack. “But I don’t think she knew much.”
Timmy looked annoyed at that and Hezekiah hastily intervened.
“Anyway, we really were looking for you, you know,” he said.
“I can look after myself,” said Timmy.
Indeed, he didn’t look as if he had done too badly since he had left the Wallops home very early that morning. He wore a new light-weight rain jacket which had the logo ‘Love Yourself’ on the pocket and new ‘designer’ trainers too. He still had Hugo’s old rucksack slung on his back and it appeared to have plenty inside it; but Timmy had nearly run out of money now.
Jack looked at Timmy. “What are you going to do now?” he asked.
It had never seriously occurred to any of the Wallop children that Timmy might refuse to return with them to Aletheia; only Jack had wondered how and if they would be able to persuade him to return. Timmy looked around them, at the distant rooftops of Wishy-Washy in the mist ahead, and behind them at the Fair. They had not noticed it until now but the mist which had been light and hazy earlier had turned thick and damp and grey. The sun had vanished and a light drizzle of rain was beginning to fall.
Hezekiah was in no doubt what to do next. “We’ll go and have tea with the Weightys!” he said.
Surprisingly Timmy, perhaps through lack of any other ideas, or maybe with the hope of tea in mind, followed the two smaller boys as they began to walk vaguely in the direction that they thought must lead to the Weightys’ stall. They were surprised to see that the Fair appeared to be over and that tents were being packed away. Streams of people were leaving the Fair and the three boys joined the mass of moving people and trudged through the increasing gloom and steady drizzle of rain. It seemed that at any moment they would reach the side of the Fair where the Weightys had their stall.
“I think the Weightys’ stall was on the side of the Fair near Apathy Road,” said Hezekiah.
“This is stupid,” grumbled Timmy. “They’ve probably gone home by now!”
Jack approached a lady who was walking close by and seemed to know where she was going. “Excuse me, is this the way to Apathy Road?” he asked.
“Oh, I dare say it is if you want it to be,” the lady said.
“What does that mean?” asked Timmy. But the lady had passed by and was quickly lost to sight through the mist and rain.
“Excuse me,” Hezekiah tried to stop a man who was hurrying on his way, no doubt anxious to get home and out of the damp. “What is the way back to the main Apathy Road?”
“All roads will lead there if you follow them for long enough,” he said vaguely. And then he politely excused himself and hurried on.
“Doesn’t anyone around here give a straight answer?” demanded Timmy. “Hey you!” he called to a young man who was rushing by under an umbrella. “Can you tell us the way to Apathy Road?”
“Keep going straight ahead and you might reach Compromise,” the young man called back. “You never know, they might tell you the way!”
“Honestly!” said Timmy. “What’s wrong with the people around here?”
“I don’t think they can give a straight answer,” said Jack. “Most of the people at the Fair couldn’t either. I think that’s what happens when you’re…well, wishy-washy and don’t really know what to believe.”
“That’s what Mr Weighty would say,” said Hezekiah.
Timmy scoffed at that notion. “Anyway,” he said, “my stomach hurts and I’m starving hungry! Isn’t there anything to eat around here?” It was true that Timmy looked a bit pasty. Despite all the food he had consumed, none of it seemed to have done him much lasting good.
“Look,” said Jack, and pointed at a sign. It read: ‘Compromise: the Town for Everybody’.
“That’s not the way to the Weightys’ stall,” said Hezekiah. And now it was abundantly obvious that they had left the Fair altogether and were heading away in another direction entirely.
“Who cares about the Weightys’ stall,” said Timmy. “We’ll see if we can get something to eat in Compromise!”
The mist grew even thicker, the rain continued to fall, and the dull daylight of late afternoon began to fade. There seemed nothing left to do but to keep walking somewhere even as the crowd around them thinned and vanished into the trees and the mist. All the other people were probably safe and dry at home. Jack and Hezekiah and Timmy were left alone in a land of marshland and trees.
And ahead, for good or ill, lay Compromise.
Somewhere they missed their turn to Compromise. There were no further encouraging signs or roads to show them where the town of Compromise might be. Even the road signs were not definite in this part of Err and, as they followed the narrow road onwards and the trees grew thicker around them, they knew that they were lost. Occasionally they saw someone or heard the voices of people going home. Timmy shouted out that they were lost and he had a loud voice that carried far and wide, but no one appeared to rescue them.
At last they saw a strange vehicle slowly approaching them. It had three wheels and seats like large armchairs facing front and back. It was slow but it had a roof to keep the rain off and looked sturdy and comfortable. Hezekiah said it was an Atob.
“That’s a stupid name,” said Timmy as they all watched it approach.
Hezekiah looked surprised.
“What does it mean?” asked Jack.
“Atob?” asked Hezekiah, clearly puzzled that they didn’t understand. “Well, it means A to B of course. It takes you from A to B!”
They moved across to the edge of the road as the Atob came closer, hoping it would stop as they waved it down. Then through the mist and the gloom they saw the words ‘Wander Palm: Prophetic Mystery Teller’ painted boldly on the side.
“Hey!” Timmy leapt out and waved his arms wildly. “Hey! Remember me? Can you give me a ride? Stop! Please!”
Ms Wander Palm looked nothing like she had earlier. She was seated in one of the armchairs that faced backwards towards the three boys. She spoke to the driver and the Atob stopped, and the three boys moved closer, thankful for any help, even that of Wander Palm. That’s when they realised that she looked normal and uninteresting in a faded skirt and knitted jumper. She looked very tired too; and old; she had wrinkles that she didn’t seem to have earlier; and most discouraging of all, she looked distinctly annoyed.
“It’s the three pranksters, is it?” she said, and there was something quite nasty in the way she said it, as if she was glad that they were out there in the rain looking wet and miserable.
“Not me!” said Timmy. “It was them, not me! I paid you money…!”
Wander Palm looked at Timmy and then at Jack and Hezekiah, one by one, as if they were horrid little bugs that she might enjoy squashing under the wheels of her strange chariot.
“I’ve got more money to pay for a ride!” said Timmy, and he put his hand into his pocket and brought out his few remaining coins, holding them out to Wander Palm.
Wander Palm looked at them hesitatingly, and then, before she had the time to move, the coins unfurled delicate wings and, with the swiftness of the blink of an eye, they soared far out of reach up into the grey, misty sky.
Timmy stared stupidly at his empty hand. “But they were normal money,” he said in an awestruck, horrified tone. Only Jack knew what Timmy meant: that the coins were from England, not from Err at all.
Wander Palm seemed unsurprised at the flight of the money and looked at Timmy with the greatest disdain. “This is what becomes of naughty boys,” she said.
“Jack! You give her money!” demanded Timmy as Wander Palm prepared to go on her way.
Jack remembered the five pence piece that he still had in his pocket and he slowly removed it. He did not attempt to stop it from flying, despite Timmy’s panicked remonstrations to hold it tightly. He looked at the small five pence which was unmoving in his hand, and it lay there without protest and without wings – until Wander Palm leant forward suddenly and plucked it from his hand, securing it quickly in her pocket.
“Can you take us to a town?” Timmy asked eagerly.
“To Aletheia?” asked Hezekiah.
“I have only accepted payment for your disgraceful behaviour,” Wander Palm said with a horrible smile. “I would never give you a ride! You deserve all that is coming to you! You deserve the dire punishment that will come to you this night!” She gestured to her driver to move on, and, with Timmy proclaiming his innocence after her, the Atob moved slowly, steadily away and was at last swallowed up in the misty gloom ahead.
“This is all your fault!” said Timmy, furious with Jack and Hezekiah. “If you had never interfered and been so stupid with the Palm lady, we might have been rescued by now!”
“If you had never run away to start with…!” retorted Hezekiah.
“You interfering little brat…!” Timmy went to grab Hezekiah. “I didn’t want you to come after me! I was doing very well on my own…!”
Hezekiah ducked away from Timmy. “Anyway,” he shot back, “what do you think Auntie Wander Palm would do to help? She’d probably take you away to her witch’s house and tell you lies about how great you’re going to be…!”
“She didn’t tell lies! How dare you… She’s not a witch!”
“Well, she’s certainly not an angel! Is she Jack? In fact, she’s a thief! She even took Jack’s money!”
Jack ignored the altercation. He was standing very still, looking around them into the grey shadows and darkness that was pressing closer. He was almost certain that he saw flickering, glittering eyes watching them where they stood by the deserted roadside. Jack thought of the Snares he had heard about and touched his head, thankful to feel the soothing helmet on his head that kept the worst of his fears away. He touched the Bible in the pouch at his side. And then he looked at Hezekiah. “Where is your Bible, Zek?” he asked.
Hezekiah stopped his ducking and diving and Timmy turned to stare at Jack.
“We’re about to die of cold or starve to death in a foreign country and you want to know where his Bible is?” said Timmy. “You would think it’s enough that I’m lost at night with you two, without you both going completely mad!”
“My Bible!” exclaimed Hezekiah in dismay. “Jack! We didn’t put on all our armour when we left the Weightys’ tent!”
Timmy groaned. “You’re not still playing the game about war and armour, are you?” he sneered.
“I left behind my body armour and shield,” Jack said in a subdued voice. “And my school rucksack too. I still haven’t eaten my marmite sandwiches.”
“Utterly mad!” said Timmy.
“I haven’t got my helmet and Bible,” Hezekiah said with a sort of strangled sob in his voice.
“Umm…Hellloooo!” said Timmy. “Is anybody thinking about food and perhaps somewhere warm and dry to spend the night? Let’s get our priorities right here!”
But Jack looked into the shadows again and he knew what his priorities were.
They needed to escape the Snares.
They found a dry spot under a big tree with spreading branches which saved them from the dripping rain. As far as they could tell they were in a thick forest but at least it was some shelter from the unpleasant damp around them.
“It’s dry here,” said Jack, trying to be cheerful. “If we clear away these stones…”
“What are we going to eat?” demanded Timmy. He had lapsed into silence for the last while; he complained of tummy ache and Hezekiah, who generally did not have the knack of soothing Timmy, informed them it was because Timmy had eaten Wishy-Washy food.
“If you don’t stop saying stupid things I’ll gag you!” exclaimed Timmy.
“If you hadn’t run away and eaten the wrong food…” retorted Hezekiah.
“Shhh…” hissed Jack.
There was sudden silence amongst them. Jack turned slowly and searched the forbidding forest behind them. He had heard a snigger; a horrible, nasty laugh of something that was out there. He wished he had a light, any light at all. But did he really want to see what it would reveal? Were they really at the mercy of cruel and shadowy Snares that might take them captive?
“What?” asked Timmy.
“What is it, Jack?” said Hezekiah.
“Nothing,” muttered Jack. He sincerely hoped that he was right.
They all leant back against the big tree, staying close together.
“What was it Wander Palm said about ‘punishment this night’?” Hezekiah asked in a subdued, shaky voice. “Do you think she has powers to make things happen…?”
“No,” said Jack. “We know she was just saying things. It’s just the way she speaks.”
For once Timmy didn’t disagree. For once he hoped that Jack was right.
They were all sleepy now, Timmy in particular, and he was the first to fall asleep. Hezekiah murmured to himself and Jack thought he was praying; but then Hezekiah, too, fell asleep. Jack stayed awake a little longer. He thought one of them should keep watch: what for he still wasn’t sure. But he knew that something was out there, watching and waiting, just beyond the poor evening light that was fading…fading away to night.
