nothing in sight but a pile of stinking old clothes. Perhaps the owner had shed them in flight? Had there been anyone at all? Who knew what strangenesses this Attica would produce next? After a while he convinced himself that he alone had been responsible for his liberty. Something had drawn the mannequins out of their village, but he – Alex – had managed to escape while they had been thus preoccupied. That’s all there was to it.
He felt relieved to be shot of the mannequins of course, but he also felt rather light-headed and triumphant. It was frightening to be a prisoner, but it was exhilarating to escape and put one over on your enemies. It was exciting to be travelling through an unknown, unexplored land. Out there in the real world everywhere had been discovered and seen by someone. In here there were surprises to be had, new discoveries.
Alex sat down and took off his backpack.
Someone joined him, sliding up to his side.
‘Hello, Nelson! What have you got there?’
His three-cornered cat had arrived with a dead bird. A pigeon. It must have been roosting in the eaves. Even with three legs Nelson was good at killing things: lightning-fast once he had crept up to his victims. There was nothing wrong with his back legs, which launched him into his leap. Now that the pigeon was a dead weight, he was having trouble dragging it along. He deposited it at Alex’s feet and looked up, obviously pleased with himself.
‘Oh dear, Nelson. Mum wouldn’t like it.’
But the bird was quite plump. Alex studied the carcass with new eyes. The eyes of Alex the explorer and adventurer. It had a good layer of meat on it. He suddenly remembered his cooking stove. Hunger clawed at his belly. He’d never plucked a pigeon before, but he did so now, under the approving eye of a lopsided ginger tom. It took him a while but he managed to get rid of most of the feathers. He decided the last few bits of fluff would burn off.
‘Got to do something with the innards, I think.’
With his newly found penknife he cut the bird open and scraped out all the messy bits. Then he lit the camping stove and roasted the pigeon over the flames on a spit fashioned from a metal tent peg. The cooked item was not what you would call cuisine, but it was edible, despite the burnt bits. Alex was very pleased with himself. He gave some to the waiting Nelson, then ate the rest himself, only later feeling guilty for not saving some for the others.
‘Chloe wouldn’t like it anyway,’ he told Nelson. ‘She’d go ape if she knew.’
He decided not to tell her.
Alex stroked his cat’s head and fondled his ears. Nelson purred like the engine of a very expensive car. At last one of his gifts had been accepted. ‘You’re a three-legged ginger wonder. The king of cats. The lion of Attica.’ His purring increased.
Alex felt like a conqueror of the elements and the landscape. He was Doctor Livingstone, he was Sherpa Tensing, he was Gautama Buddha. In his small frame was the ability to traverse the unknown and even perhaps become rich in the process, for there was treasure here. If not diamonds or gold, then postage stamps and old coins.
He moved on, back towards the place where he had left Chloe and, miracle of miracles, found the treasure he was seeking. It was wrapped in an oily rag and left just where he would come across it. Surely someone had put it there for him? Not the shop dummies, that was certain. Someone else. Someone wishing to make friends, perhaps? Somehow he knew before he peeled away the oily rag, that there was an object of great beauty and desire beneath. He sensed it. He smelled it.
It was not coins or stamps, but a model steam engine. He had always dreamed of owning one – a Mamod or a Wilesco – and here it was, green, red and black, with a brass wheel that gleamed as if it had just been polished. But these were very expensive toys. He’d been promised one at some time, but what with the expense of moving house Dipa and Ben had been honest with him in saying they didn’t know when they could deliver.
‘Next birthday – or maybe the one after …’
And this one was no ordinary traction engine. This was a showman’s engine. They were the best, the most