CHAPTER TWENTY

A little earlier that same afternoon, Max had met Abi as she climbed off her bus. After the art college he’d gone back to school to collect his bike and now he was pushing it, with Esmé’s enormous portfolio balanced on the handlebars.

‘You got it!’ Abi exclaimed as soon as she saw what he was carrying.

‘Yep.’

‘Didn’t Esmé mind?’

‘I didn’t see her. She’d already handed it in to Danny’s mum, so I had to . . . had to nick it!’

‘Nick it?’

‘What else could I do? We’ll just have to put it out of sight when she comes back with Louis.’

‘You were right to take it,’ admitted Abi. ‘We have to have it. And we’ve got to think quickly of a way to use it, before Iffen comes again.’ She looked nervously over her shoulder as she spoke. All at once the street seemed very long.

‘Would it . . . he . . . come if Louis wasn’t there?’ asked Max.

‘I don’t know,’ said Abi, walking more quickly, almost running. ‘Perhaps.’

‘Let’s not put any lights on when we get in.’

‘Why not?’

‘So it doesn’t look like anyone’s home if he’s watching the house.’

The thought of Iffen watching the house was so uncomfortable that Abi began to talk very fast to distract herself.

‘I’ve been thinking all day about how we could get him to go back. Iffen, I mean. I’m sure it’s possible, because it happened with an animal once before.’

Max stopped pushing his bike to look at her in amazement and ask what she was talking about.

‘Do you remember I told you about the raft in the book? There was a parrot on that raft, a tame parrot. I saw it clearly. It flew towards me, just as Louis called my name, and then swerved away again. I think Louis saw it, just for a moment. I remember he asked me, “What was that green?” So if the parrot could come out of a book, and then go back in, Iffen should be able to do the same . . . I hope. What colour eyes do lions and panthers have in the dark?’

‘What?’

‘I just wondered if you knew.’

‘No I don’t. Why are you scaring yourself?’

‘I’m not.’

‘Well, you’re scaring me! Hurry up! Let’s get inside.’

They had reached the house. Abi fumbled for her door key. If she’d taken a minute longer and looked back, she’d have seen Louis behind them, just turning the corner. But she didn’t do that. She found the key quickly, unlocked the door and stood aside to let Max go in with his bike.

‘You first,’ said Max calmly, but he followed behind her fast enough, and closed the door very swiftly.

‘Dump your bike and bring Esmé’s book into the rocking-horse room,’ said Abi. ‘We’ll have some light from the street lamp in there.’

Max obeyed, and followed her into the room, pale in its dust sheets, lit from outside, not dark but not light, with its shadowed grey walls.

A cave of a room.

Together, he and Abi put the book on the sofa, and had already opened it, turned past the maps and the bison, and the outlines of the bears. They had come to a page of horses when the pounding began on the door.

For a moment they stared at each other in shock. Then Abi spun round to go to the window, and Max grabbed her back.

‘Don’t show yourself!’ he whispered, and then went quickly forward, slipping around the room until he reached a place where it was possible to see out to the doorstep.

The hammering came again, with shrieks.

‘It’s Louis!’ exclaimed Max suddenly, and ran to the front door.

Louis shot inside, slammed it shut, and leaned on it. ‘Iffen, Iffen, Iffen!’ he gasped between sobs.

‘Louis, don’t!’ said Abi, dismayed. ‘Iffen’s not here. It’s OK. Why isn’t Esmé with you?’

Louis wept on.

‘Louis, stop it!’ said Max, taking him by his shoulders. ‘Look at me! Talk to me! Did you come back on your own?’

Louis nodded.

‘All the way from After-school Club?’

He nodded again.

‘They’ll be going mad!’ said Max. ‘They’ll call the police if we don’t tell them he’s OK . . .’

‘I’ve got their number,’ said Abi. She was already texting Louis Valentine home safe to Theo, the After-school Club and Esmé. ‘There! Sent! Louis, what frightened you just now?’

Louis blubbered and snuffled into his sleeve.

‘You have to tell us what happened, Lou!’ said Max, but Louis shook his head and wouldn’t, until Abi, inspired, said, ‘Come into the rocking-horse room. I’m going to jump you up on to Rocky.’

That stopped the floods. Louis wobbled for a moment, rubbed his eyes and looked up at Abi in surprise.

‘You said I couldn’t.’

‘I’ve changed my mind,’ said Abi. ‘Blow your nose properly . . . That’s a dust sheet! Oh, never mind. There! Hold on tight! OK?’

Louis managed a shaky smile as Abi started Rocky moving, his street-lamp shadow rocking too, huge against the white-sheeted sofa.

‘Now tell us why you were in such a state,’ said Max. ‘Howling and hammering on the door like that. What frightened you?’

‘Did you see Iffen?’ asked Abi.

‘No,’ said Louis, feeling much better now that he was home with Abi and Max, and actually riding Rocky at last. ‘Why’ve you got Esmé’s book?’

‘Louis, you know how Iffen isn’t ordinary? He’s real, like the snow and the shell, but he’s magic too. The way Theo can’t see him. The way he grew so quickly. We talked about it, didn’t we?’

‘Yes.’

‘And I said I thought he’d come out of a book and said you hadn’t read any books.’

‘I haven’t.’

‘But books have pictures as well as words. You remember Max in your room yesterday? All covered in chalk dust? After he got you down the ivy, and we pushed the door open, and Iffen jumped out of the window?’

Louis nodded.

‘That chalk dust was from the world Esmé drew in her art book. Max saw it. He was there. He told us about seeing the animals running.’

‘Yes,’ said Louis.

‘Louis,’ said Max, joining in. ‘It was a big herd of bison, young ones and old ones, so close I could feel the ground shaking. The track was dry and there was chalk dust like a cloud and after they’d passed me I saw why they were running like that.’

‘Why were they?’

‘There were three big cats hunting them. Two running alongside, one behind, I saw them just for a moment, outlined in the dust. Big cats, lion-sized, like Iffen.’

‘Like Iffen?’ repeated Louis in a suddenly husky voice.

‘Yes. Big, like him. Powerful. Not spotted, but big cats like him.’

‘Were you scared?’

‘There wasn’t time to be scared.’

‘You’ve seen Esmé’s art book dozens of times,’ said Abi. ‘That’s where he’s come from, I’m sure. And he’s got so big. You’ve got to let him go back, Louis.’

Outside and alone, Louis had been terrified at the thought of Iffen in the dark. Inside, his fear had faded. ‘I love him big,’ he said obstinately, not ceasing to rock. ‘When he gets bigger, I love him bigger.’

‘He’s wild,’ said Max. ‘He’s meant to be wild. This is his world. Look!’

He began turning the pages of Esmé’s portfolio. In the dimly lit, pale room, Louis’ shadow rocked across an outline of a stag, a bison with a lowered head, more horses, a herd of running antelope.

‘That’s where he belongs,’ said Max. ‘Abi’s right – you know she is. You have to let him go. We’ve only got Esmé’s book for a little while. I’ve got to take it back. Listen, I’ve been thinking, if we put it in your room, with the window wide open, maybe with some food around . . . Will you do something really brave?’

‘What?’

‘Call him.’

‘Call him?’ Louis’ voice went very high and not at all brave, and his rocking became suddenly frantic. ‘Call him? On my own?’

‘No! No!’ said Abi. ‘We’d stay with you, right beside you.’

‘And as soon as we hear him coming we’ll get outside and block the door,’ said Max. ‘Wedge it. We’ll have things ready. There’s that blanket chest . . .’

Max’s voice stopped, like a radio switched off. He stood quite still, staring at the window. Nothing about him moved except the pupils of his eyes. They dilated into wideness.

‘What?’ asked Abi, puzzled, and then she saw as well.

Iffen.

Iffen had arrived.

Iffen’s wild, watching face was staring in at the window. Exactly where Max had first seen Esmé, but ten times larger, filling the whole space. His great amber eyes were gazing into the dimly lit cave of a room, at the huge image of running deer and the rocking shadow over them. It was an alert, hunting gaze.

Terror gripped Max, and it held Abi, too, with her heart flopping like a caught fish, hard against her ribcage.

Only Louis moved.

Louis forgot all plans and all fears, and saw only his dear Iffen, shut out in the night, and he jumped down from Rocky so quickly he left his shadow still rocking behind him, and pushed open the window wide in welcome.

‘Iffen!’ he exclaimed in delight.

Tcha!’ said Iffen, and for the last time Louis felt the rough silken fur, the lithe, muscled warmth, and then Iffen surged past, and in a lion spring sailed clear over Rocky and streamed in dark outlines and charcoal blots and gold and grey amongst the running herd and the rocking shadows, and vanished.

‘Wait!’ screeched Louis, and he plunged after Iffen, and tumbled through thirty thousand years, and after him came Abi and Max.

Then the room was empty. Iffen was gone, and Louis was gone. Max and Abi were gone. There was nothing left except the smell of green magic, and Rocky and his shadow moving more and more slowly.

Max and Abi landed in a heap amongst long grass. Frightened crickets sprayed away like an explosion of green sparks. A little distance from them, Louis stood on narrow white track, squinting into the sunlight. Much further away, where the chalk cliffs rose, a great spotted cat leaped from ledge to ledge, higher and higher, until it was almost out of sight.

Suddenly Louis began running, heading across the valley.

‘Louis!’ shouted Abi. Her voice was thin and empty, like a voice in a dream, but Louis must have heard, because he hesitated long enough to give Max time to sprint and grab him. It seemed to Abi then that Louis’ shrieks of protest woke the whole sun-flooded landscape. There were movements, just out of sight, and there was the feel of watching eyes. Most of all there was the knowledge of being in a place they should not be.

And, Abi realized, as she ran to join the boys, they had left behind an empty house.

There was no one at home to call them back.

‘Iffen!’ screeched Louis, and the tiny, moving shape on the distant chalk cliff seemed to pause.

‘Louis, no!’ said Abi. ‘Please be quiet! Hold my hand! Max, there’s no one home!’

But even as she spoke, a noise grew all around them, faint, and then louder, a familiar sound: the rustling of green ivy.

Then a great crash, Max’s bike tumbling down in the hall.

Wind above the chimney in the rocking-horse room.

Rocky’s slow rhythmic creak . . . creak . . . creak.

The house was calling them back.

It was as if the landscape withdrew. The ground felt insubstantial. The colours leached away, and with them the heat and the cricket sounds. It seemed to Abi that, above all things, she must hang on to Louis. Max had hold of him too, and with his other hand he was gripping the top of Abi’s arm so tightly that it hurt.

Rocky came to rest, a painted shape in the thin light from the lamp outside in the street. Cold December air blew through the open window. They could smell the ivy and the dust sheets and the soot from the chimney, and it was over.

Max was the first to move, and he was very fast. He let go of Abi and Louis, grabbed Esmé’s book, closed it shut and gathered it up – antelope, bison, dust, ancient chalk, bears, lions, great spotted cat and the small bright prints of Louis’ hand.

‘I’ve got to take it back,’ he said.

‘No!’ begged Louis. ‘Not yet! Not yet!’ but Max was already gone, and Abi and Louis were alone. They gazed around like travellers after a great journey, half bewildered, limp, blinking to see once more the unbelievable familiar doors and walls and windows of home.

‘The window,’ said Abi, and closed it shut.

‘I wish I hadn’t opened it,’ wailed Louis. ‘Iffen! Iffen! Why did I open it?’

‘Because you loved him,’ said Abi. ‘That’s why.’

Max reached Danny’s house in record time, texting on the way. Danny was watching out for him from his bedroom window.

‘Can you come and get this without your mum seeing?’ called Max in a hoarse sort of whisper.

‘Mate,’ said Danny, who had been waiting for this moment, ‘I can do better than that.’

Then from the window fell Danny’s old Spider-Man duvet cover, attached to a knotted rope made entirely of socks. All Max had to do was post the book inside and watch as it was hauled up, and out of sight.

‘Impressed?’ asked Danny, reappearing. ‘Now bash on the door, and when she answers keep her talking while I sneak down and put this in the kitchen with the rest. She’s got them all piled up on the table.’

He gave Max a double thumbs-up and disappeared. Max obediently bashed on the door, there were footsteps and then Danny’s mother exclaiming, ‘It’s Max! Don’t stand there in the dark, Max! Come in this minute! I’m making soup. Danny!’ she called over her shoulder. ‘Max is here! Have you all got on well with my lovely Esmé, Max? Isn’t it a shame she’s leaving so soon? I bet Louis will be pleased to have Polly back, though! Are you all rushing around tidying?’

‘Tidying?’ asked Max weakly. ‘Yes. I suppose.’

He did suppose returning a thirty-thousand-year-old full-grown spotted mountain lion to its rightful place in time might be called a sort of tidying.

‘I don’t know why Danny’s taking so long! Now, Max, could you manage a Christmas tree? One of Danny’s brothers is selling Christmas trees this month, and we’ve got all the not-quite-straight ones stacked up by the wheelie bins. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with them. It does seem a waste. Could you carry it, do you think? Oh, here’s Danny at last!’

‘Stop trying to give everyone who knocks on the door bent Christmas trees, Mum,’ said Danny. ‘It’s embarrassing. All right, Max?’

‘All right,’ said Max. ‘I just came to say thanks for the . . . for . . . for the sock thing.’

‘Sock thing?’ asked Danny’s mum, and then there was an erupting, hissing sound from the kitchen. ‘Soup!’ she cried and ran.

Danny and Max sighed with relief.

‘The book’s back in the pile,’ said Danny. ‘Did you get whatever it was fixed where it should be?’

‘Yeah. In the end. Thanks. Danny?’

‘What’s up?’

‘I had a text from Esmé just now, on the way here. It said, Can you manage without me?

‘Mate, you do know she was probably, almost certainly, talking about babysitting your brother?’

‘Yeah, she was. I do know that. Because he left school without her and we had to message to say he was safe home. It’s what I replied I wanted to ask you about.’

‘Shoot!’ said Danny, sticking his thumbs in his belt and leaning back like a cowboy.

‘I sent back, Yes, but not forever. In French.’

‘In French?’

‘Yep.’

‘How’d you manage that?’

‘Google Translate. So d’you think it was a bad move?’

‘I think it was brilliant,’ said Danny. ‘Google Translate! Saves all that messing about with dictionaries.’

‘I mean saying it.’

‘I think that was brilliant too.’

‘Thanks,’ said Max, and meant it. ‘I’d better go. Thanks.’

‘Wait!’ said Danny, and pushed something into his hand.

It was Max’s lost Nike trainers in a carrier bag. ‘Cleaned,’ said Danny. ‘Washed the laces, even. OK?’

‘OK,’ said Max, quite overwhelmed, and on his way out he chose the biggest bent Christmas tree, balanced it on his shoulder, took the bag in his other hand, and set off for home.

It was a long and prickly journey, but at last he arrived, wrestled his tree through the front door, dragged it into the rocking-horse room, propped it silently in the window and slumped down beside Abi and Louis, now both fast asleep on the sofa. He thought he would wait quietly until they woke up, but after the day that had just happened and the night on the stairs before, it wasn’t very long until he was asleep as well. He woke up to the smell of hot chocolate and Theo folding dust sheets and humming. ‘Hello, Max. Abi. I see we have a Christmas tree. Louis, I need a word . . .’

‘Not now,’ said Louis, and closed his eyes again.