don’t they’ll cut off his hair. You know what they’re like.
‘Good for you. How?’
I know where there are lures.
‘Lures? What, you mean like trout-fishing flies?’
Yes. Mannequins can’t resist them.
‘Why would they want trout flies?’
Not flies. Something else.
‘What? What could a mannequin possibly want?’
You’ll see.
Chloe felt like falling down and weeping. To her credit she didn’t. She stayed on her feet and kept searching. Being a castaway in Attica, a strange land with strange creatures in it, was not so terrible when she had company. However, she discovered that it was quite a different place when she was alone. With no one to talk to, no one to comfort and exchange ideas with, the attic became a place of horror. Every little creak made her whirl in panic. All her thoughts turned in cycles, haunting her every moment with doubts and concerns. The solitude was unbearable and all those experiences she had read about, of lonely shipwrecked mariners in the days of sailing ships, meant more to her now that she was going through the same thing.
‘I must keep my head,’ she kept telling herself. ‘I mustn’t let things get out of perspective.’
But even the sound of her own voice, now that she was alone, frightened her.
When night came it was even worse. She found a cardboard box and curled up inside it, hoping that by blocking out the attic she would be safe from anything out there. She slept fitfully, waking at every tiny noise. In the night even ordinary things seem threatening. By the time morning came she was ragged with grey thoughts and lack of rest.
Nevertheless, she continued to do her ever-widening search. At one point she found Nelson trailing along behind her. Never a lean cat in the past, Nelson now looked sleek and dangerous. She picked him up and stroked him until he struggled to be let down. He stayed with her for a while, accompanying her on her search, then drifted off into some shadows. Chloe did not mind him deserting her. Cats were like that. She knew he’d find her again, when he was ready for company.
He lays his lures on the boards not far from the village and waits.
‘You think that’ll bring ’em out?’
Just you watch.
A mannequin is tired of taunting the human and leaves to wander just outside the village. Once outside, however, the shop-window dummy halts in its tracks. It lifts its head and arches itself towards an area which looks like a patch of coloured grasses. What is that out there? Could it be …? Yes, it could very well be. Well then, should it go and fetch them in itself, or should it rouse the other mannequins to accompany it?
The patch is quite a way out from the village.
The mannequin decides it needs company to venture so far from safety in numbers. It goes back and brings the attention of the other dummies to that peculiar patch out on the boards. Soon the mannequins are streaming out of the village, all eager to claim one of the treasures.
I knew the wigs would bring them.
‘Well, you were right: here they come.’
They can’t resist wigs. You should see them primping and parading themselves in front of a mirror, once they have a wig on their head. Hair. They crave a hairpiece to make themselves look more attractive. I’ve never met a mannequin yet that didn’t want to cover its baldness.
‘Let’s get to the boy before they realise the village is empty.’
But the board-comber does not need to worry. The mannequins are delighted with the wigs. They have forgotten about their captive. They put on the hairpieces and dance around in that jerky fashion, swinging long golden curls, black straight locks, blue tight curls, even green plaits with blue ribbons. They point to each other and rock from side to side, as if passing approval on their companions. What a delightful thing, to find these wigs scattered just outside their village. Everyone is happy.
When they return to the village, however, they become enraged.
Their human captive has gone. A pile of clothes attests to the fact that he has either melted or run away. Since there is no pool of liquid the mannequins conclude that he has indeed absconded. Still, they have the wigs. They have become beautiful. They are now wonderful.
They begin to dance again, freezing every so often for that peculiar five seconds, then springing back into motion once more.
Alex wanted someone to thank, for setting him free, but there was