The wheels squeak and grind and they still have so far to go. Nick and Lenny let the cart out through the gate while Martha was working in the cellar, so she did not notice anything. Nick turned the key in the lock and Lenny stayed behind, watching sadly through the bars as Lampie and Edward disappeared into the forest.
“It’s bumpy,” says Edward. “And this blanket stinks. Where on earth did you get it from?”
Lampie needs all her breath to pull him.
“Ouch, mind where you’re going!” says the boy. “You have to go around the stones. And that wheel’s wobbly. I think it’s about to come off.”
Lampie stops for a moment. “Be quiet,” she says. “Someone might come along.” For a while, there is silence.
“Is she beautiful, this mother?” Edward asks very quietly.
“She looks like you.”
“But she’s more… whole. You’re half and half. And she is completely, um, mermaid.”
“And her hair is green.”
“Yes.”
“And her legs are…”
“Yes.”
“Was she nice?”
“I don’t know, she didn’t actually say anything.”
“I bet she isn’t.” Edward stares into the distance. “No one’s nice.”
“I’m nice. I’ve pulled you all the way here.”
“Then turn around. Take me back home.”
He says it, but he is not sure that it is what he really wants. He dreamt about her last night, about this mother, or whatever she is. He does not understand how it is possible; he has never dreamt anything like that before.
He sees her for the first time and he already knows her so well.
Her face is his and his face is hers. Their tails are the same and their hair fans out in the same way.
Laughing suddenly feels so easy. It comes out of their mouths in bubbles. And there is suddenly so much to laugh about.
Then she takes his hand and pulls him along. They shoot forward, into the deep water, deeper than he could ever have imagined.
Big shadows of whales swim in the distance; smaller fish dart past in shoals. All around him everything is waving and glittering and rippling, and she strokes his cheek and swims past him, laughing, and he finally belongs somewhere.
“Forget it,” says Edward. He is cold and all that bumping has made him feel sick. The road is full of potholes. “Forget it,” he repeats. “I’ve changed my mind. We’re going home.”
Lampie turns around and stares at him. “You must be mad!”
“We’ll go another time. I need to think about it first. I have to practise walking. I want to—”
“We can’t! The fair will be gone,” says Lampie. “They never stay for long. They might not even be there tomorrow. If it’s your mother, then we have to find out now.”
“I don’t need a mother,” says Edward. “I’ve never had a mother. I’m used to not having a mother. So just take me home.”
“No,” says Lampie. She is absolutely certain that she must not do that.
“I am your boss!” Edward says in an angry whisper. “My father is—”
“Fish,” Lampie suddenly says in a strange voice. “You need to get back under your blanket. Now. And you have to be quiet and not move at all.”
Someone is coming around the corner, heading towards them, and Lampie immediately sees who it is.
She looks around. The undergrowth is thick to the left and the right, and there are bushes full of thorns. Can they quickly find something to hide behind? Do they still have time? But the tall figure is swiftly coming closer. Lampie has not forgotten how steadily she always strides.
Her? Again? she thinks. What is she doing here again?