A Place Called Perfect (6 page)

CHAPTER 12

No Mans Land

“Come on they’ll be coming on duty soon and if they catch us we’re in trouble.” Boy said, when Violet joined him downstairs.

“Who are they? I’m not going anywhere until you tell me, especially if they’re as scary as you’re saying.”

“Ssh keep your voice down Violet,” Boy said, gently opening the main door, “they’re the Watchers of Perfect. They make sure people like me don’t turn up places we shouldn’t be.”

“Are there more like you?”

“Lots more,” Boy smiled slipping outside.

Violet followed him out onto the dark doorstep.

“But it wouldn’t matter, we can’t see you anyway,” she whispered.

“What if someone’s glasses fell off in the middle of the day and suddenly they could hear all these invisible people talking?”

“Well maybe they’d just think they were going mad. I think everyone in this town is mad.”

“Maybe you’re the one who’s mad,” Boy smiled crossing the gravel to take a short cut through the lawn.

“I’m not mad.” Violet snapped.

“That’s what all mad people say!”

Violet shoved her elbow into Boy’s side.

“Hey what’s that for?”

“For all the mad people,” she laughed and ran ahead.

Boy gave chase and before long they found themselves on the edge of town. Suddenly he grabbed Violet’s hand and yanked her back.

“You have to be careful,” he whispered, looking around, “we can’t get caught.”

Violet was scared but not wanting Boy to think she was a girly girl she followed him silently into the town. Perfect was eerie in the darkness and not half as neat as it looked in the daylight. Paint was chipped and worn from buildings, hanging baskets weren’t as full or colourful and rubbish even w
histled past her feet down the empty street.

“It doesn’t look like the same place,” she whispered, sticking closely to Boy’s side.

“It’s not the same place really. Well it is and it isn’t,” he replied.

A chill ran up her spine as they passed through the town square and onto one of the smaller side roads. She stopped suddenly. A figure moved on the ground just up ahead.

“Don’t be such a chicken,” Boy laughed.

Nobody would call her a coward! She moved shoulder to shoulder with Boy.

“You know you can’t be out this far Paddy,” Boy said gently nudging the feet of the slumped figure.

An ancient man looked up and into Violet’s eyes. He had a long beard, which was matted and black with dirt. His clothes fell loosely from his scrawny frame and a battered hat clung awkwardly to the side of his head.

“I don’t care ‘bout them Boy,” he said waving a dismissive hand at the pair, “what more can they do.

Now be gone with ye and don’t be hasslin me.”

“He’s always like that,” Boy whispered, as he nodded and walked past, “doesn’t ever obey rules. That’s the thing with my people, rules don’t really exist.”

“What do you mean your people?” Violet asked.

“The outcasts. The exiles. The unwanted, we’ve lots of names,” Boy smiled, “we’re the mayhem of Perfect. You’ll see.”

As they walked further down people began to fill up the lane. They were carrying all sorts, rushing this way and that as if it were the middle of the day and not the dead of night. Violet clung to Boy’s sleeve afraid she’d lose him in the crowd.

“What are they doing?” she whispered.

“Working of course.”

“But at night?”

“Your night is our day. It’s the only time we can walk through Perfect. Once daylight arrives the Watchers are on strict patrol. Then no one is safe.”

“What do you do then?”

“Me? Well I follow you.”

“What do you mean you follow me?” Violet snapped.

“Ssh,” he laughed, pointing ahead.

Violet followed his finger until her eyes landed on the strangest gates she’d ever seen. They were huge, in both height and width. Made from barbed wire, which was twisted and wrapped to form the enormous pillars, they looked angry. The steel was rusted in places so hints of orange and gold decorated the grey metal. The words: No Man’s Land made from more twisted wire rested proudly above the pillars forming the gateway.

Bits and bobs of everything were skewered to the barbed teeth. Paper, material, flowers and ribbons wrapped the gates in colour taking the edge off their scary image. Some of the items were worn and torn like they’d hung on the pillars forever, while others looked shiny and new. A faded red ribbon caught Violet’s eye fluttering in the gentle night breeze. Words were delicately sewn into the material. For the memories I lost to Perfect. I will never forget you Mam. Your loving daughter Pip.

“Pippa Moody,” Boy whispered.

“Mrs. Moody?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Pip was your teacher’s daughter. We call these the Rag Gates. The people of No Man’s Land leave messages on them for the ones they’ve lost. I think they hope that some day their families might come looking for them. I think it’s stupid. Nobody’s coming for us.”

“But?”

“There are lots more like Pippa. She’s not the only one lost to Perfect.”

“What age was she?”

“I think she was twelve when they brought her here. She’s a lot older now, like twenty or something.”

“But why do they take children?” Violet asked, “what about their parents? Don’t they notice they’re gone?”

“No. Like you said it’s almost as if they’re not their parents anymore. Something happens to them in Perfect. I don’t know what but I think it has something to do with the glasses.”

“What happened to Pippa?”

“She was disobeying the rules. Nothing serious, but you know small things are big in Perfect. One night they came to her house and took her. She went back loads of times to see if her family would help but she was invisible to them. Soon they forgot all about her.”

“But what if that happens to me?” Violet stammered, “Is it only children they take? Maybe they took my Dad.”

“It won’t happen to you, well not yet,” Boy smiled, “I don’t think your Dad is here anyway, there are adults too but most were taken as children. Adults fall under Perfect’s spell a lot easier. They seem to like the rules.”

“Why?” Violet asked, as they walked through the gates.

Boy shrugged and sprinted ahead.

“Too many questions Violet. Let’s have some fun. Come on there’s lots to do here and not very much time to do it.”

Violet looked around. She’d passed through the gates into a different world, a circus world.

Straight in front of her was an overgrown park, the grass was about knee high and full of daisies and dandelions. Surrounding the park was a jumble of odd houses, some tall and wobbly, others short and squat. Made mostly of wood and cardboard, they crowded each other out so windows sat against neighbours walls and rooftops touched off rooftops. Large nails dotted the houses like rusty patterns holding whole streets together. Around the base of the tightly packed buildings ran poky laneways.

Violet’s foot hit off something solid. A man sprawled unconscious on the road in front of her was blocking the path. His shirt had no buttons and hung loose exposing his hairy bare belly. As she was jumping over him, another man pushed by her in a hurry. He was dressed in a top hat and tails over a pair of red and white striped pyjamas. He held a cane in one hand and an enormous branch of a tree in the other. Just behind him a lady wearing a bright blue ball gown puffed and panted as she pedalled a tricycle over the pot holed road.

“Excuse me, late for the theatre,” she roared, as
she raced past.

Violet jumped out of the way and hit off the side of one of the houses. It wobbled above her. Quickly she darted down a nearby laneway after Boy hoping that the building wouldn’t fall. They spent the rest of the night exploring the madness of No Mans Land.

It was definitely madness. Every turn they took something was happening. Some streets were lined with rundown shops, the glass so cracked and dirty that Violet couldn’t see what they were selling. Others were packed with stalls where dodgy men and women gathered to sell all sorts. Winks and nods passed between the stall owners like their own silent language. Dirty children ran barefoot through the crowds without any adults to mind them. Some were in gangs while others hung round on their own. A thin girl stole an apple from a stall in front of them. When the owner spotted it, he gave chase through the lane knocking over everything in his path.

“What will happen to her?”

Violet pointed pulling on Boy’s shirt sleeve.

“There are some rules here, they’re street rules. They’re not written down or anything but everybody knows them. If he catches her, she’ll get what she deserves.”

“He won’t kill her will he?”

Boy laughed sprinting ahead. He skimmed his hand over the stalls as he passed and when they rounded the corner up ahead he stopped and picked two buns from his pocket.

“Let’s hope they don’t kill thieves,” he laughed, scoffing down one as he handed the other to Violet.

“But that’s stealing Boy. You can’t steal from people!”

“You sound like a Perfect girl,” Boy mumbled.

“I am not!”

“Well eat it then,” he laughed.

She looked at the bun then back at her friend. Wiping the smile from his face she bit deep into the spongy core.

“No one’s gonna take care of you here Violet,” Boy said, “You have to look out for yourself. Come on. I’ll bring you home. The Watchers will be out soon and if they catch you here there’ll be real trouble.”

CHAPTER 13

The Watchers

Violet grabbed Boy’s hand and they raced back through the narrow streets in the direction they had come. The sun was just rising over the dilapidated rooftops when they reached the gates. Everyone was making their way back into No Man’s Land. Boy stopped at the edge of the street that led into Perfect and signalled Violet to stay back while he peered round the corner. Then he put his finger to his lips and called her forward.

“You have to be quiet,” he whispered, “We’re a little late.”

Violet tiptoed after her friend. She’d never seen a Watcher but if Boy’s stories were anything to go by she definitely didn’t want to. As quietly as possible, they slipped through the morning shadows up the narrow laneway and out onto the main street of Perfect. All was quiet and Violet’s thumping heart relaxed as they reached the edges of the town. They were just passing the Archers when suddenly Boy wrestled her into the nearby bushes.

“Blasted early mornings,” a gruff voice said, “he’s always late. Expects me to be waiting around for ‘im!”

It came from the direction of the Archers. A man paced back and forth outside the front door of the brothers shop. He blew air into his giant, cupped hands to warm them against the morning cold. He was average height and wore black, from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. He was wide and square and not at all perfect.

“Ah what took you so long? You’re the last one in!” he shouted over his shoulder.

Another man walked towards the shop from the direction of Violet’s house. This man was solid like a brick, very short and was also dressed head to toe in black. He was weighed down by a strange machine strapped tightly to his back and carried a leather notebook under his arm. He looked worried and shook his head from side to side as he handed over the book.

“What do you mean ‘no show’?” the waiting man roared as he stared at the opened page.

“I’m sorry Fists, she just wasn’t there. I waited for hours!”

“How could she not be there? SHE LIVES THERE! You know what the brothers will say when they hear about this. She’s top of the list; get your thick head around that. She needs to be zapped!”

“I know but she wasn’t there, I couldn’t do anything about it. I swear. I got her mother though. Please don’t tell the brothers,” the other man pleaded.

“Give me the zapper. If you want a job done right you have to do it yourself!” Fists said as he grabbed the strange backpack from the other man.

“But, but it’s almost daylight…”

“Shut up and get home. I don’t give a damn what time it is. I’ll get her, you mark my words and then we’ll see what the brothers have to say about this!”

The smaller man stood shivering outside the door of the spectacle shop as he watched Fists stride away from the town.

“Watchers?” Violet whispered.

Boy nodded.

“We need to get you home Violet,” he whispered a few moments later, “I think that’s where Fists is headed.”

“To my house?”

“Yes. Come on.”

Quickly he pulled Violet off the ground and they raced from the bushes.

“I’m going to cause a diversion,” Boy panted as they sprinted along the road. “Don’t worry about me, you have to get into your house but don’t go to bed. Put on your uniform as if you’re ready for school then go downstairs and act as normal as possible. Make sure you put on your old glasses. Don’t worry, if Fists does pay a visit you won’t notice a thing.”

“Why would he pay a visit?”

“Just do it!” Boy said sharply pulling her faster along the road.

They were just around the corner from her house when they spotted Fists a little ahead. The pair jumped over a low wall and followed him as quietly as they could through the cover of the trees that lead into Violet’s garden.

“Right. Go. Now,” Boy whispered.

Suddenly he turned and raced towards Fists. Violet sprinted for her house. A painful cry echoed behind her but she didn’t look back. Her legs were on fire. She darted through the trees, across the gravel and up the stone steps. She scrambled for the keys her mother always left under the potted plant, opened the door and rushed up the stairs to her room. She threw on her uniform and ran two steps at a time back down to the kitchen. Trying to catch her breath, she opened the fridge door to get milk for her breakfast.

Just then there were footsteps in the kitchen. She froze. All air flew from her lungs. Act normal, act normal. As calmly as possible she picked up the milk, closed the fridge door and turned to walk back towards the table. He was there. Right in front of her. His black eyes bore into hers. Her heart beat at rapid speed. The glasses. She’d forgotten to take off the glasses. It was too late, if she took them off now he would know. She had to pretend she didn’t see him.

Looking straight ahead she walked towards the table. He was in her way but she couldn’t veer around him. Keeping on course she prayed he would move. Just a step away from a crash, Fists slipped aside, his eyes still firmly fixed on her. She tried to hide her relief as she sat down and shakily poured a bowl of cereal. For distraction she picked up the cereal box and studied the back. Her eyes scanned the words but didn’t take in a single one as Fists moved his face so close she could smell his stinking breath.

After a while he stepped back and, as if remembering something, quickly left the room and headed upstairs.

He was light on his feet and Violet strained to hear what room he entered. A few moments later he was back in the kitchen. Again she acted as normal as possible, cleared up her place and took out some schoolbooks. Looking frustrated, Fists left the house a little later. Waiting a few minutes to make sure he was gone, Violet ran as fast as she could up the stairs and into her mother’s room.

“Mam, Mam, are you alright?” she stuttered, shaking her mother’s lifeless figure.

“Violet, for goodness sake. What time is it?” her mother slurred sleepily.

“You’re alright,” Violet sighed, throwing her arms round her.

“Violet dear off course I’m alright, whatever has gotten into you?”

“Nothing Mam, I just em…I just had a bad dream.”

“You and your imagination,” her mother smiled, rubbing her hair. “Are those new glasses pet?”

“Oh yeah. I em… I got them free in school. I’ll…I’ll make you breakfast.” Violet said, quickly running out the door.

Back in her bedroom she found her old glasses and put them on. Placing the new ones in their box she shoved them back into their hiding place in the mattress and returned downstairs to make her mother’s breakfast.