Little People (40 page)

Uncharacteristically, she didn't finish her sentence. Which may have been because I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the circle.

CHAPTER TWENTY

‘
H
ere we are,' I said.

Apparently, the Elfland equivalent of a police station was a farmyard. There's probably a perfectly rational explanation: either the only place on their side of the line where living creatures are detained in a confined space is a hen-coop, or it's something to do with the fact that we ended up standing next to a trough full of swill.

‘Where the hell,' Cruella demanded, ‘is this?'

‘Same place that we were a moment ago,' I said wearily. ‘Only different.'

‘Elfland?'

I nodded.

‘Thank God for that,' she replied with feeling. ‘For one awful moment I thought I'd died and gone to Ambridge.'

I realised we weren't alone. There was someone standing right behind us; a tall, slim, golden-haired girl with shining blue eyes, an angelic expression and pointy ears.
Oh snot
, I thought.

‘There you are,' she said. ‘We were wondering where you'd got to.'

Not really the most helpful thing to say, after I'd spent a fair bit of time and energy persuading Cru that there wasn't a tall, slim, golden-haired, blue-eyed, pointy-eared babe waiting for me at the end of the rainbow. For her part, Cruella jumped a foot in the air and said, ‘Eeek!'

Oh well
, I thought. ‘Cruella,' I said, ‘I'd like you to meet Melissa. Melissa, Cruella. I don't suppose either of you are going to be happy about this, but you've both got a lot in common.'

Melissa's eyes opened wide. ‘Gosh,' she said. ‘You mean, this is her? I mean me?'

Just goes to show; thinking things can't possibly get worse is pretty much an infallible way of proving yourself wrong. ‘Mike,' Cru hissed loudly at me, ‘who is this strange woman and why is she staring at me? I'm not the one with deformed ears, for crying out loud.'

Sisters under the skin, I thought, yes, well. ‘Cru,' I said, ‘you remember me telling you that everything and everybody on our side – except me – has an equal and opposite over here?'

Cru made a small, bewildered noise in the back of her throat. ‘You mean,
that
—'

‘Yes,' I said unhappily. ‘Over here, that's you. And Melissa, um, likewise. OK?'

Melissa was goggling at Cru with the most extraordinary expression on her face. The closest I can get to describing it is: imagine how Sir Lancelot would've looked if he'd finally managed to find the Holy Grail, and he'd pulled off the lid and looked inside and found a small, fresh dog turd. ‘This is extraordinary,' Melissa said. ‘You see, none of us has ever met our other half before, at least not on this side. Really, this is quite—'

‘Yes,' Cru growled, ‘isn't it? But don't worry, it's purely temporary, because we're going back again now. Straight away,' she added pointedly.

‘Um.' Melissa's face clouded over. ‘Actually,' she said, ‘I'm not sure that's going to be possible. At least, it's possible but I really don't think it'd be terribly wise. I'm sorry,' she added, with perhaps a tad more feeling than necessary.

‘Mike, what's she talking about?' Cru snapped. I winced. If this was going to turn into one of those please-tell-your-friend conversations, I'd rather have stayed in the nick.

‘It's rather complicated,' Melissa replied, ‘and we aren't terribly sure of the details, because of course nothing like this has ever happened, and we didn't dare do experiments, even virtual simulations, for fear of what might happen. But—'

‘And tell her to stop waffling,' Cru interrupted.

‘But,' Melissa went on, ‘the theories say that if one of us meets his or her opposite number on this side of the line, there'd be a terrific build-up of latent transdimentional potential energy, a bit like matter and antimatter. Obviously just bringing the two together isn't enough to cause any problems—'

‘Matter of opinion,' Cru growled.

‘But we're very much afraid that once the two opposites have come together, any attempt to separate them would cause a quite dreadful fracture in the phase interface, which in turn would set off a multiphasic chain reaction releasing enormous quantities of differentially charged paranexal particles into the resulting fissure—'

‘What's she talking about, Mike?'

‘Boom,' I explained. ‘Very loud, followed by the world coming to an end. That's right, isn't it?'

Melissa nodded. ‘That's what we're afraid of,' she said. ‘Effectively an interface meltdown followed by a complete annihilation reaction. It could be—' She hesitated for a moment. ‘Very awkward,' she said. ‘And we'd rather it didn't happen.'

Cru's jaw dropped so fast it nearly burned up in the atmosphere. ‘Now just a minute,' she said. ‘Mike, is she trying to tell me that unless she follows me about wherever I go for ever and ever, the world will blow up and we'll all be killed.'

I thought about it. ‘I think so,' I said. ‘Something like that, anyhow.'

‘And if I go back to our side and she doesn't come with me—'

Melissa coughed very softly. ‘Actually,' she said, ‘we're fairly sure that if you went back to your side, even if I came too, the ensuing repolarisation of the latent geomagnetic field—'

‘You mean I'm
stuck here
?' Even with all this weirdness to contend with, I couldn't help being just faintly amused to see that the shock had jarred Cru into recognising Melissa's existence. ‘I'm stuck here in
Fairyland
and I can't ever go home? Bloody hell, Mike—'

Another very faint cough, this time with overtones of shock and extreme distaste. ‘Actually, Cru,' I whispered, ‘if you could possibly avoid the B word while we're over here—'

‘What?' She blinked twice. ‘You're saying I'm marooned in a world populated by Disney characters and I can't even
swear
?' She shook her head vigorously. ‘Sorry,' she said, ‘no way. No deal. I'm getting out of here, and if it means the world gets blown up, it'll just have to be an omelettes-and-eggs job.'

I shuddered a little. Of course I loved her, passionately and with all my heart, but there were times I couldn't help wishing a tree would fall on her head or something. Not a big tree, of course, and it'd have to be appropriate. A lilac or a flowering cherry, something like that.

‘Cru,' I said. ‘Shut up.'

I think it was probably just the shock, not my commanding personality or my newly acquired self-confidence. Worked, though. ‘And you, too,' I added, as Melissa opened her rosebud cakehole. ‘Be quiet, both of you. I'm trying to think.'

Of course, when you say that, your mind immediately goes blank. You could've projected movies on the inside of my skull. Still, the silence alone made it worthwhile.

‘All right,' I said, ‘I think I know what we're going to do.' I was lying, of course – clueless as a blind detective in an isolation chamber. But it was imperative that we did something, before Cru and Melissa both started talking simultaneously, rapidly and at length. ‘The way I see it,' I went on, ‘personality's got to be at the root of it. Must be. Because,' I went on, and this time I knew I really was on to something, even if it turned out to be the extreme edge of my gourd, ‘of everything being the same, only different. Where's Daddy George, do you know?'

Melissa looked at me, as if asking for permission to speak. Hard to say which of them was more irritating, her or Cru.

‘I'm not absolutely sure,' Melissa replied. ‘I think they're building a little house for him on the village green, so he's probably around there somewhere.'

‘Village green,' I repeated. ‘Right, take us there. You,' I added, turning to Cru, ‘keep up, for crying out loud.'

‘Yes, all right, there's no need to shout.'

So, off we went; and for all her brave words about omelettes, eggs and Armageddon, I noticed that Cru kept so close behind Melissa that another cigarette-paper's breadth would've constituted assault.
Good
, I thought,
one less thing to worry about
– which goes to show, I guess, how the fear of death can really skew the way you stack your priorities.

We had to walk, of course; I recall that it was a long and exhausting trudge, up stony hillsides and across treacherous marshes, through dense briar thickets and over rickety, swaying, canyon-spanning rope bridges—

‘What happened?' Cru demanded. ‘And where the hell are we?'

‘The village, presumably,' I replied (and if this was the village, I thought, bags I be Number Six).

‘But we haven't moved,' Cru protested. ‘About two seconds ago we were in that farmyard—'

I sighed. ‘I'll explain later. Think about it, and you'll remember the whole thing.'

‘What whole thing?'

‘Doesn't matter,' I snapped, ‘we're here now. Where's—? Oh, right.'

We were on the edge of a large-ish triangle of immaculately tonsured grass, neatly trimmed at the edges with substantial black-beamed thatched cottages, all of them heartbreakingly quaint to the point of nausea. The cold, rational part of my mind pointed out that if you were to superimpose a sketch of the green over a similar-scale plan of Victoria Square in Birmingham you'd most likely get an exact match. ‘Excuse me,' I asked Melissa, ‘but what's this village called?'

‘Littleton Snowdrop,' she replied.

‘Ah,' I murmured, ‘right. Thanks, I won't ask again. So where would this little house be?'

‘Over there, look. Just next to the duck pond.'

She pointed. The duck pond was easy to see, and beside it there was a huge, exceptionally fine statue of a reclining water nymph. Victoria Square, I thought; the same but different. Well, it's always nice to have some idea of where you are.

And, sure enough, when I looked more closely, there was the little house. It was a
little
little house, and I don't suppose I'd have noticed it if it hadn't been for the substantial mob of elves crowded around it, necks craned. It took a fair bit of sidling and shoving to get to the front.

Did you ever play with Lego? I did; and I used to build these ambitious, if rather unsound, red-white-andblue plastic castles, like a pre-teen Mad King Ludwig. My castles weren't thatched, but that aside, the little house could've been one of them; in which case, I sincerely hoped that any life form inside was wearing a hard hat.

‘Excuse me,' I asked an elf, ‘but is this where they've put the midget? You know, the one from the other side of the line.'

The elf nodded. ‘He's in there right now,' he replied. ‘Hope he likes it, it's very nice in there. He's got his own little table and chair, and we're going to make him his own tiny miniature dinner service as soon as Rhydichen gets back with some acorn cups.'

‘Thanks,' I said. ‘All right, coming through.'

Fortunately, both Cru and Melissa had stayed at the back of the crowd (for fear of getting separated, presumably) so I didn't have to wait for them. I leaned over and lifted off a small detachable section of roof.

‘Hey,'
said a tiny voice from inside.
‘What's going on?'

‘It's OK,' I replied, ‘it's only me.'

‘Oh. Please go away.'

‘I want to ask you a question.'

‘Do you really have to?'

‘Yes,' I replied. ‘Where are you?'

‘In the toilet, actually. If you could possibly see your way to coming back in five minutes—'

‘That's all right,' I said, ‘I don't need to bother you any more, you've told me everything I need.'

‘Ah. That's all right, then.'

‘Cheerio.'

‘Be seeing you.'

Just as I'd thought, I reflected as I slid my way through the elf cordon. The trip across the line had changed his personality out of all recognition – just like it'd changed mine, if you remember. But Cru had come through with all of her considerable reserves of personality unchanged. Strange, I thought, but pretty much what I'd expected. Anyway, it gave me the answer I'd been looking for. Didn't have a clue what it meant, of course; but you don't have to know how something works in order to use it. Mercifully.

‘Well?' Cru demanded.

‘It's awful,' I told her, with a slight involuntary shudder. ‘It's got sweet little lace curtains on the windows and a teensy-weensy three-piece suite with darling little pink satin cushion-covers and a tiny scale-model dustbin and everything. It's the sort of thing Dante might've dreamed up if he'd had a really serious LSD addiction.'

‘Not the house,' Cru said irritably. ‘What did he say? Have you—'

‘I think so,' I said. ‘The crux of it seems to be, he and I experienced a major personality change when we crossed the line; I became all assertive and brash and a real pain in the bum, and he's turned timid and shy-woodland-creaturish. You, with all due respect, are still the same.'

‘Good,' Cru said firmly. ‘So what?'

‘Ah,' I said, ‘I'm coming to that. Interestingly, the elves in the shoe factory were all miserable as hell and un-elflike. So was Melissa, when she was over our side. Everybody changes, in fact, except you. All right so far?'

She shrugged, while Melissa stood perfectly still and attentive, the model listener. I found that extremely annoying, though I can't really explain why.

‘So,' I went on, ‘what's different about you? Any ideas?'

Cru thought for a moment. ‘I'm not a snivelling pointy-eared freak?' she suggested.

I nodded. ‘Yes,' I said, ‘but right now you should be, that's the whole point. Now, what's different about our crossing the line, as opposed to all the others who've done it?'