At that moment there was a sound, out on the fringes of the attic. Both children peered into the gloom, but could see nothing. What was it, an Attican villager? Something else? There were always small noises present: the attic woodwork creaking its joints like a galleon under sail; the birds in the eaves, especially the pigeons cooing in their boring fashion; mice and rats scuttling around, looking for water and food, and each other; the draughts lifting the edges of plastic bags; the steady drip of water in water tanks. Noises of all kinds, some identifiable, others more puzzling. This noise came under the puzzling heading. Soon it stopped, however, and the two children were able to relax again. If there was anything out there, it had halted.
‘I’ll get some water,’ said Alex, standing up. ‘We passed a tank a little way back.’
‘No – no, don’t, Alex.’
‘We need water, Clo. I’ll be all right.’
‘You always disappear.’
Alex said, ‘I won’t this time. I promise.’
He took some bottles and marched back to the water tank he’d seen earlier. When he inspected the surface of the tank it was much as he’d expected, a bit insecty and with a film of scum. But he dunked the bottles deep under the water and allowed them to fill, watching the bubbles come up to pop on the surface. Once both bottles had been filled, he turned to go back.
‘Oh, good grief!’ he cried. ‘Another one.’
It was a single treasure. It stood there as if patiently waiting to be seized. A model steam car. Not quite as magical and entrancing as his showman’s engine, but at one time Alex would have sold his soul for such an engine. And here it was, for the taking. How many more were there in the attic? It was a land of treasures.
He rolled it around for a while with his hand, again wishing he had some methylated spirit handy, but eventually put it carefully under his shirt. For some reason he didn’t want Chloe to see it. He didn’t know why, because there was no reason why she should disapprove of him gathering steam engines to his bosom. But he decided to hide it. On the way back he came across an old army overcoat, man-sized, and put it on. He found it hid the bump under his shirt very well in its many folds.
Chloe was waiting anxiously for his return.
Predictably she cried, ‘What are you wearing that thing for?’
‘I just feel like it.’
‘Take it off, Alex, it’s dirty.’
‘No.’
‘But look at it. It’s filthy. And it doesn’t fit anyway. Get something that fits if you feel cold. You look lost in that musty old coat.’
‘I like it,’ he replied stubbornly. ‘I’m keeping this one.’
‘Honestly, you make me so mad.’
‘I don’t care, Clo. I like it. I like the coat, I like the mask and I’m keeping them both, whatever you say. They’re me.’
She looked weary and gave up on him.
‘Oh, have it your own way. Who cares? Let’s stay here for a while,’ suggested Chloe. ‘I’m tired. There’s nothing to hurry for. We don’t know where Jordy is and we might be heading in completely the wrong direction. We might be going in circles for all I know.’
Alex looked at his compass. They were heading directly west.
‘Nope – we’re still going in a straight line,’ he said. ‘I’ve been checking my compass every so often.’
Chloe was impressed. ‘That’s clever of you. At least we’re going somewhere then, and not just where we’ve been.’
‘Exactly.’ Alex put down the compass and went to pick up his mask, but Chloe said, ‘Would you mind not putting that on?’
‘Why?’
‘Because he scares me.’ She whispered, ‘I think he wants to take you over.’
‘I heard that.’
‘What, you mean like aliens invading the earth?’ said Alex. ‘Nah, he’s not going to harm me.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I can feel it when I put him on.’
Chloe said, ‘How do you know that’s not him making you feel safe and secure, so that it’s all the easier to control you?’
‘I wouldn’t do that. I am Makishi, Most Sacred, Most Feared, but those who tremble before me are my enemies, not my friends. Alex is my wearer and he I would never hurt. Do you not understand the laws of becoming? When Alex puts me on he becomes me. Therefore he is me and I would never hurt myself. That would be foolish.’