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The wind had started his lamp moving, and when he turned back the whole room seemed to be swinging around. One moment the light was blazing in his eyes, the next it was flooding the opposite wall. But in between the blaze and the flood it lit the middle of his room, and standing there – shaking the rain off his hat – was a stranger.
He looked harmless enough. He was no more than six inches taller than Harvey, his frame scrawny, his skin distinctly yellowish in colour. He was wearing a fancy suit, a pair of spectacles and a lavish smile.
‘Who are you?’ Harvey demanded, wondering how he could get past this interloper to the door.
‘Don’t be nervous,’ the man replied, teasing off one of his suede gloves, taking Harvey’s hand and shaking it. ‘My name’s Rictus. You are Harvey Swick, aren’t you?’
‘Yes …’
‘I thought for a moment I’d got the wrong house.’
Harvey couldn’t take his eyes off Rictus’ grin. It was wide enough to shame a shark, with two perfect rows of gleaming teeth.
Rictus took off his spectacles, pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his waterlogged jacket, then started to mop off the raindrops. Either he or the handkerchief gave off an odour that was far from fragrant. The smell, in truth, was flatulent.
‘You’ve got questions, I can see that,’ Rictus said to Harvey.
‘Yeah.’
‘Ask away. I’ve got nothing to hide.’
‘Well, how did you get in, for one thing?’
‘Through the window, of course.’
‘It’s a long way up from the street.’
‘Not if you’re flying.’
‘Flying?’
‘Of course. How else was I going to get around on a foul night like this? It was either that or a row-boat. We short folk gotta watch out when it’s raining this hard. One wrong step and you’re swimming.’ He peered at Harvey quizzically. ‘Do you swim?’
‘In the summer, sometimes,’ Harvey replied, wanting to get back to the business of flying.
But Rictus took the conversation in another direction entirely. ‘On nights like this,’ he said, ‘doesn’t it seem like there’ll never be another summer?’
‘It certainly does,’ said Harvey.
‘You know I heard you sighing a mile off, and I said to myself: “There’s a kid who needs a holiday.”’ He consulted his watch. ‘If you’ve got the time, that is.’
‘The time?’
‘For a trip, boy, for a trip! You need an adventure, young Swick. Somewhere … out of this world.’
‘How’d you hear me sighing when you were a mile away?’ Harvey wanted to know.
‘Why should you care? I heard you. That’s all that matters.’
‘Is it magic of some kind?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Why don’t you tell me?’
Rictus gave Harvey a beady stare. ‘I think you’re too inquisitive for your own good, that’s why,’ he said, his smile decaying a little. ‘If you don’t want help, that’s fine by me.’
He made a move towards the window. The wind was still gusting against the glass, as though eager to come back in and carry its passenger away.
‘Wait,’ Harvey said.
‘For what?”
‘I’m sorry. I won’t ask any more questions.’
Rictus halted, his hand on the latch. ‘No more questions, eh?’
‘I promise,’ said Harvey. ‘I told you: I’m sorry.’
‘So you did. So you did.’ Rictus peered out at the rain. ‘I know a place where the days are always sunny,’ he said, ‘and the nights are full of wonders.’
‘Could you take me there?’
‘We said no questions, boy. We agreed.’
‘Oh. Yeah. I’m sorry.’
‘Being a forgiving sort, I’ll forget you spoke, and I’ll tell you this: if you want me to enquire on your behalf, I’ll see if they’ve got room for another guest.’
‘I’d like that.’
‘I’m not guaranteeing anything,’ Rictus said, opening the latch.
‘I understand.’
The wind gusted suddenly, and blew the window wide. The light began to swing wildly.
‘Watch for me,’ Rictus yelled above the din of rain and wind.
Harvey started to ask him if he’d be coming back soon, but stopped himself in the nick of time.
‘No questions, boy!’ Rictus said, and as he spoke the wind seemed to fill up his coat. It rose around him like a black balloon, and he was suddenly swept out over the windowsill.
‘Questions rot the mind!’ he called back as he went. ‘Keep your mouth shut and we’ll see what comes your way!’
And with that the wind carried him off, the balloon of his coat rising like a black moon against the rainy sky.
II (#ulink_0688a98f-ebf2-5665-8d47-4f0022410edd)
The Hidden Way (#ulink_0688a98f-ebf2-5665-8d47-4f0022410edd)
HARVEY SAID nothing about his peculiar visitor to either his Mum or his Dad, in case they put locks on the windows to stop Rictus returning to the house. But the trouble with keeping the visit a secret was that after a few days Harvey began to wonder if he’d imagined the whole thing. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep at the window, he thought, and Rictus had simply been a dream.
He kept hoping nevertheless. ‘Watch for me,’ Rictus had said, and Harvey did just that. He watched from the window of his room. He watched from his desk at school. He even watched with one eye when he was lying on his pillow at night. But Rictus didn’t show up.
And then, about a week after that first visit, just as Harvey’s hope was waning, his watchfulness was rewarded. On his way to school one foggy morning he heard a voice above his head, and looked up to see Rictus floating down from the clouds, his coat swelled up around him so that he looked fatter than a prize pig.
‘Howya doin’?’ he said, as he descended.
‘I was starting to think I’d invented you,’ Harvey replied. ‘You know, like a dream.’
‘I get that a lot,’ Rictus said, his smile wider than ever. ‘Particularly from the ladies. You’re a dream come true, they say.’ He winked. ‘And who am I to argue? You like my shoes?’
Harvey looked down at Rictus’ bright blue shoes. They were quite a sight, and he said so.
‘I got given ’em by my boss,’ Rictus said. ‘He’s very happy you’re coming to visit. So, are you ready?’
‘Well …’
‘It’s no use wasting time,’ Rictus said. ‘There may not be room for you tomorrow.’
‘Can I just ask one question?’
‘I thought we agreed—’
‘I know. But just one.’
‘All right. One.’
‘Is this place far from here?’
‘Nah. It’s just across town.’
‘So I’d only be missing a couple of hours of school?’
‘That’s two questions,’ Rictus said.
‘No, I’m just thinking out loud.’
Rictus grunted. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’m not here to do a great song and dance persuading you. I’ve got a friend called Jive does that. I’m just a smiler. I smile, and I say: come with me to the Holiday House, and if folks don’t want to come—’ He shrugged. ‘Hey, it’s their hard luck.’
With that, he turned his back on Harvey.
‘Wait!’ Harvey protested. ‘I want to come. But just for a little while.’
‘You can stay as long as you like,’ Rictus said. ‘Or as little. All I want to do is take that glum expression off your face and put one of these up there.’ His grin grew even larger. ‘Is there any crime in that?’
‘No,’ said Harvey. ‘That’s no crime. I’m glad you found me. I really am.’
So what if he missed all of the morning at school, he thought, it’d be no great loss. Maybe an hour or two of the afternoon as well. As long as he was back home by three. Or four. Certainly before dark.
‘I’m ready to go,’ he said to Rictus. ‘Lead the way.’
MILLSAP, THE TOWN in which Harvey had lived all his life, wasn’t very big, and he thought he’d seen just about all of it over the years. But the streets he knew were soon behind them, and though Rictus was setting a fair speed Harvey made sure he kept a mental list of landmarks along the way, in case he had to find his way home on his own. A butcher’s shop with two pigs’ heads hanging from hooks; a church with a yard full of old tombs beside it; the statue of some dead general, covered from hat to stirrups in pigeon-dung: all these sights and more he noted and filed away.
And while they walked, Rictus kept up a stream of idle chatter.
‘I hate the fog! Just hate it!’ he said. ‘And there’ll be rain by noon. We’ll be out of it, of course …’ He went on from talk of rain to the state of the streets. ‘Look at this rubbish, all over the pavement! It’s shameful! And the mud! It’s making a fine old mess of my shoes!’
He had plenty more to say, but none of it was very enlightening, so after a while Harvey gave up listening. How far was this Holiday House, he began to wonder. The fog was chilling him, and his legs were aching. If they didn’t get there soon, he was going to turn back.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ said Rictus.
‘I bet you don’t.’
‘You’re thinking this is all a trick. You’re thinking Rictus is leading you on a mystery tour and there’s nothing at the end of it. Isn’t that true?’
‘Maybe a little.’
‘Well, my boy, I’ve got news for you. Look up ahead.’
He pointed, and there – not very far from where they stood – was a high wall, which was so long that it disappeared into the fog to right and left.
‘What do you see?’ Rictus asked him.
‘A wall,’ Harvey replied, though the more he stared at it the less certain of this he was. The stones, which had seemed solid enough at first sight, now looked to be shifting and wavering, as though they’d been chiselled from the fog itself, and piled up here to keep out prying eyes.
‘It looks like a wall,’ Harvey said, ‘but it’s not a wall.’
‘You’re very observant,’ Rictus replied admiringly. ‘Most people just see a dead end, so they turn round and take another street.’
‘But not us.’
‘No, not us. We’re going to keep on walking. You know why?’
‘Because the Holiday House is on the other side?’
‘What a mir-ac-u-lous kid you are!’ Rictus replied. ‘That’s exactly right. Are you hungry, by the way?’
‘Starving.’
‘Well, there’s a woman waiting for you in the House called Mrs Griffin, and let me tell you, she is the greatest cook in all the world. I swear, on my tailor’s grave. Anything you can dream of eating, she can cook. All you have to do is ask. Her devilled eggs—’ He smacked his lips. ‘Perfection.’
‘I don’t see a gate,’ Harvey said.
‘That’s because there isn’t one.’
‘So how do we get in?’
