26
Mystery Tour (I)

They set off early one morning at the end of August, and it was a brand-new sensation for Pip and Hannah to be rumbling and bumping and flying along the road, with the sunroof down and their hair streaming behind.

There wasn’t much room in the car – a Spider, Jack called it – so Pip and Hannah squeezed together in the passenger seat, which Pip was more than glad to do. They carried little luggage, except for Pip’s book in his satchel and a couple of bags in the trunk. With every mile they put between them and Dead River, Pip felt more and more relaxed, and when Jack tuned in to the Jazz channel, the world seemed a kinder place to be.

Shortly after dawn, when Pip and Hannah had arrived at the white bungalow, they had found Jack fussing about how Finnegan would manage while they were away. Zachery was certainly not one of life’s natural cat-sitters, and besides, the old man hadn’t stopped grumbling about having to care for Lilybelle while they were gone. In the end Jack had simply piled up a couple of bowls of food and left a window ajar at the back of the bungalow. After all, Finnegan was a very independent kind of cat.

The seats in Jack’s car were set very low, so it felt almost like flying on a magic carpet, just a few inches above the ground. This kind of travelling felt ten times faster than the old brown truck in which Pip had arrived at Dead River, and on top of that, there was the excitement of a mystery destination.

‘Jack, Jack, why won’t you tell us where we’re goin’?’ he pleaded for the hundredth time.

But Jack would say nothing except that it was a surprise, and that Morrow’s Mystery Tour would be something to remember. The only other thing he told them was that it would be a long journey. ‘So we’ll stay in motels for a night or two. Now, just relax and enjoy the ride. You all right, Hannah?’

She nodded, and for a moment she seemed awfully young to Pip. He found himself wondering how often she had ridden in a car – or perhaps this was the very first time.

When they left the town, Jack opened the throttle and the engine roared. All around them lay America in its glory, with mountains and swamps and forests and plains.

‘I’ll tell you this!’ shouted Jack. ‘To an Irishman, your country is a huge and beautiful place! All right, hold tight, everybody . . .’

They zipped down the highway, the little car eating up the miles like a hungry tiger, and by mid-morning they had forgotten their cares, as if Erwin and his ghost-men and the orphanage and all those terrible things had been discarded on the roadside somewhere far, far behind. Hannah and Pip were jiggling to the music and for the first time Pip heard Hannah laugh; it was the sweetest, wildest sound he had ever heard.

He noticed her response to the radio with fascination. The wild girl seemed attuned to every note, especially the powerful voices of female blues singers like Nina Simone and Billie Holiday, and she mimed silently to every lyric, with a look of absolute bliss on her face.

The three travellers rolled on past pine forests and breathtaking waterfalls that leaped from crazy crags. When they stopped to stretch their legs, Jack studied his maps while Hannah and Pip ran along animal tracks, whooping and shrieking with joy.

But Jack would not let the journey hinder their studies – in fact he took the opportunity of having his pupils confined at his side to launch into long discourses on every theme imaginable, from literature to psychology to music and movies, and more than anything, he held forth on politics and issues relating to human rights. Pip was particularly stirred by the powerful story of Rosa Parks, a brave Black woman who had been arrested for refusing to give up her seat to a White man on a segregated bus; he pictured the woman as his own mother, silent and proud in the face of indignity. Pip noticed that, over the months, the manner of Jack’s teaching had changed: he no longer talked to them as if they were kids; now he treated them like students in their own mini university, and if Pip didn’t understand every word, it did not matter – his mind was hungry to expand.

There was only one unusual incident on that first stage of the journey. On an endless stretch of deserted highway Jack told them that a state trooper was following them on a motorcycle. Pip looked in the wing mirror and saw him too, hovering steadily behind, faceless behind white helmet and dark glasses. Jack warned Pip and Hannah that the police in that part of the world were notoriously authoritarian, especially to people of Colour. In fact, Jack said, he had heard that non-White drivers were continually harassed for dubious traffic violations, and the ironic phrase used to describe these offences was ‘driving while Black or Brown’.

For fifteen minutes Jack took the greatest care to control his speed. But the presence of the sinister figure on their tail created a feeling of deep unease – Pip had grown up with the knowledge that the law was not there for people like him and Hannah.

Mile after mile, the cop buzzed like a fly on their tail. At last Jack became so irritated that he slowed the vehicle to a crawl. At this point the cop shot past, stabbing the air with his leather gauntlet to indicate that Jack should pull over.

The officer kicked out the stand on his bike and removed his helmet. Then he slouched arrogantly, chewing gum and waiting for Jack to join him. Jack had told Pip that the police seldom carried guns where he came from, but this fellow had an armoury strapped to his waist – a nightstick, handcuffs and a large revolver, as well as a rifle on the side of the bike.

Huddled side by side in the low-slung seat, Pip and Hannah watched Jack walk towards the man. The cop was built like a bulldog, with a neck as thick as a tree trunk, which made the Irishman appear smaller than ever. In the silent afternoon Pip could hear every word.

‘Y’all new round here?’

‘Just passing through, Officer.’

‘See your licence . . .’

Jack handed over the document. The cop glanced at it and stared at Jack through reflective lenses.

‘Ah been watchin’ fer some taime, an’ it seems yo’ carryin’ aliens in that vehicle.’

‘Aliens?’

‘Them kids ain’t yo’ kids. You got persons o’ Colour in your car an’ that sets me wondrin’ . . .’

‘I’m their tutor . . . their guardian.’

‘Lemme git this straight. You’re a Whaite male – a foreigner too ’less ah’m mistaken – an’ you the guardian o’ these minors? Summat don’t stack up, mister. Jes’ don’t feel raight. Y’ know ah’d be failin’ in my duties if ah didn’t take you in.’

‘Officer, we’ve done nothing wrong and we’re trying to get to—’

‘The town up ahead is a Sundown Town, y’ know that?’

‘A Sundown Town?’

‘Tha’s raight. You know wha’ that means, don’cha?’

‘I’m sorry, the term is unfamiliar—’

‘Oh, the term is unfamiliar, is it? Wal, it’s real simple – a Sundown Town is an all-Whaite neighbourhood. That means decent folks ’preciate law an’ order. People o’ Colour ain’t permitted after dark. That ain’t so hard, is it?’

In his head Pip pleaded with Jack not to argue. He knew this cop had the power to do anything he pleased. Pip felt sure he would love an excuse to pull his gun, and a terrible picture came to him of Jack sprawled bleeding on the roadside.

‘I appreciate your advice, Officer, but I can assure you we have no intention of stopping in your “Sundown Town”. We’ll drive right through and out the other side—’

‘Let’s git somethin’ straight – ah don’ like you; ah don’ like yo’ car; ah don’ like the fact that you got Negro children in yo’ car. Mos’ of all, ah don’ like yer goddam eyes. An’ tha’s why ah’m arrestin’ you right here an’ now.’ He reached for his cuffs.

‘My eyes? You can’t arrest someone because of their eyes – but now that you mention it . . . I’ve got something in my eye, Officer – an insect or something – would you mind just looking for me?’

‘Insect? Yo’ ahs? Wha’ . . . Ah ain’t . . .’

‘Thank you . . . It’s in there somewhere – would you mind if I just raised your sunglasses . . .?’

‘Tha’s a . . . it’s a goddam violation . . . Ah mean, thar’s a law . . .’

‘There’s no law against the wind, is there . . .? You see, my voice is the voice of the wind in the trees . . . I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re feeling a little tired . . . a little drowsy and confused . . . Maybe it’s the heat . . .’

‘Ah . . . ah am taired – how d’you know that, mister? Who the hell are you anyway?’

‘The name’s Jack – Dr Jack Morrow, to use my full moniker. But you won’t remember that . . . People call me the Hypnotist . . . I wonder if you can guess why . . .’

As they pulled away, Pip turned in his seat and was amazed to see the state trooper curled like a child with his thumb in his mouth, sleeping sweetly by his motorcycle at the roadside.

Pip had a thousand questions about what had just taken place, but Jack would not talk about it. He simply cranked up the volume on the radio and pushed his foot to the floor.

Although they had done nothing that day but stare at the countless miles of asphalt and the patchwork countryside, Hannah and Pip felt exhausted by the journey.

In the late afternoon, Jack pulled over at a sign saying: ‘KOZY KABINS MOTEL. Children welcome. Pets allowed.’ They purred up a tree-lined drive, beside neat lawns, towards the reception office. From his low seat, Pip watched happy White families playing tennis or easing away the fatigue of their journey in a glistening turquoise pool. He felt like an interloper. He knew this place was not for him.

As Jack fastened the folding roof of the Spider, Pip said, ‘Jack, we can’t stay here. You know that. Hannah an’ me gonna sleep right here in the car. You go on ahead an’ get a bed . . .’

Jack ignored him. He strode purposefully past the NO COLORED sign and in through the office door. Pip watched the little man’s silhouette inside. There was a brief discussion; then the receptionist reached behind and handed over some keys.

When he returned, Jack was smiling in that mysterious way he had. All he would say was that the gentleman had seemed a little fatigued, but he realized that Pip and Hannah were such important guests that he had given them three of his best rooms at the quiet end of the site. They were the ‘Kwality Kabins’, he was informed.

Carrying his bag, Pip scuttled nervously after Jack and the moment the door was unlocked, he darted furtively inside.

But this place was amazing! This place was a wonderland! These cabins were tiny palaces, with smoothly whirring fans and iceboxes crammed with soda. For half an hour, the children ran back and forth excitedly comparing their rooms. They threw themselves onto the soft beds, inhaling freshly laundered linen; they ran into the en-suite bathrooms and blasted steaming jets of water. Then they found the greatest wonder of all – individual television sets on rotating shelves in front of each bed. And unlike Lilybelle’s snowstorm TV, the children discovered a whizzing world of crazy colours!

But suddenly Pip was shocked back to reality – as he charged towards Hannah’s cabin, he ran headlong into a heavily freckled young woman of about seventeen. ‘Pardon me, miss,’ he said.

The snub-nosed girl barely glanced at him. ‘Boy, my daddy needs fresh towels right this instant, y’hear?’

After she had gone they retreated to the safety of Pip’s room, where they lay side by side on the bed, chins resting on arms, wide-eyed in front of frenetic cartoons. A little later, when Jack returned from the on-site diner, carrying pizzas and apple pies, he found the children exactly as he had left them, mesmerised by the TV.

Later that evening, when Pip was alone, he took the first hot shower of his life, then collapsed into a luxurious sleep. He woke once, bewildered by the neon glow of the ‘Kwality Kabins’ sign outside and the chattering of television sets from all around. His door opened quietly and Hannah slipped inside. She crept across to where he lay; her lovely face bright with excitement about the whole adventure.

All she did was smile at him in the half-light. All she did was kiss him gently on his forehead before melting into the night.

Then Pip slept peacefully until dawn.