The Midnight Carnival (20 page)

Grace thought she’d soon be crushed by grasping hands of granite. She writhed against them, but she was only hurting herself.

Remember your training
, that’s what she had told Una.
Relax. Just think
.

She couldn’t fly, glamouring and cloaking would do no good, mind-hopping was useless and…

It was a little nuts, but it was the only idea she had. She focussed on a section of the wooden floor that she could see through the throngs of stone shapes. It was wood, she could use it as a life template. She concentrated and pulled a creature out of thin air.

It was massive, with thick square lips and two formidable horns on its snout, one longer than the other. The hunch above its neck and tough grey skin made it look armoured, and its sheer bulk was terrifying. Grace had seen a real-life rhinoceros only once at the zoo, but many times in books and online. She was impressed by how authentic her originated animal looked.

It snorted, blowing blasts of air from its large nostrils, and stepped back and forth, restless on its thick legs. She sent the animal encouraging thoughts before losing sight of it behind a maze of stone bodies. She felt the impact of its charge before she heard it.

Suddenly statue fragments were flying in all directions, and smashing to the ground. She directed her animal’s behaviour as best she could without being able to see it. She needed it to break through the stone wall, without crushing her or her friends in the process.

Over and over the rhino charged. She could see it now, the grey head ploughing towards her. The statue holding her arm shattered, jerking Grace backwards and leaving just a stone hand in place. The jolt dragged at the woman’s arm still secured around her waist, and Grace cried out in pain; her ribs and hips would be terribly bruised. The arm was broken by the next blow though, and the statue fractured in several places, allowing her to escape from its grip.

She could now work herself free of the remaining hands, giving her rhino a rest while she clambered over the remains of her captors and searched for her friends. Breaking Rachel and Una free was easier; she could see exactly what she was doing. Again and again, the rhino’s horn slammed against the granite figures, demolishing the stone crowd. Her friends emerged from the rubble.

‘Just a few bruises,’ Rachel assured her. ‘We’ll be grand.’

‘Fair play, Grace,’ said Una. ‘That is one awesome rhino.’

‘Thanks,’ Grace said, giving the exhausted animal a grateful smile before dismissing it with a wave. It popped into nothing, and the girls were left alone with sad statue remains in piles of rubble.

They crept into the hallway. A second door was open just a crack.

‘I vote we don’t open the door offered,’ said Rachel.

‘I second that emotion,’ said Una, rubbing a bruised leg.

Grace moved quickly along the hall, trying to get into
any other room.

‘They’re all locked,’ she said. ‘Fused like the front door.’

‘Girls?’

The voice came from behind the door that was ajar. It opened by itself and there stood Mrs Quinlan. But she was backing away from the doorway, like there was something dangerous between her and them.

‘Girls, get out!’

The door slammed shut. Grace rammed it with her shoulder, and it opened again without trouble. She nearly fell into the room, which wasn’t a room anymore. It was a garden, at night, with stars twinkling in a clear sky.

‘Mrs Quinlan!’ Una yelled out, wandering across the grass. ‘Mrs Quinlan!’

‘She’s not here,’ Grace said, turning with a knot of apprehension in her stomach. ‘And the door we came through? It’s gone.’

19

In the Night Garden

It was cold. The grass was ankle-deep and nighttime dew was seeping into their socks. There were trees everywhere; tall ones, short ones, ones with prickly leaves, ones with big star-shaped leaves, horse-chestnuts with hanging conkers in spiky green cases, oak trees with little acorns waiting to fall. Rachel rose into the air, turning slowly.

‘Greenery in every direction. It doesn’t seem to end. Want to fly for as long as we can and see if it runs out?’

‘I can’t stay in the air as long as you guys,’ Una said, pouting.

Rachel dropped back to the grass.

‘That’s okay, we can walk it.’

They trudged on and on, searching for a way out, but couldn’t seem to make any headway.

‘That’s what’s odd,’ Grace said, after some time. ‘The trees are all different.’

‘
That’s
what’s odd?’ Una replied. ‘We’re in a giant garden at night, that’s actually inside a house during the day, we got here via a door that’s disappeared, we appear to be going round in circles even though we never change direction… oh, and our magic teacher was here but she’s not really. Or maybe she is. But do you know what’s
really
odd? The trees are all different.’

‘Thanks for the sarcasm, Una. I get your point.’

‘Good.’

‘What I meant was that there’s a sycamore tree there, a conifer right next to it, then a big willow. Trees don’t grow like that. Look at that horse-chestnut tree, with the conkers about to fall off.’

‘So?’

‘So you would expect some new ones to be growing near the old one. But all these trees are completely different. How did they all get clumped together?’

Una stared at her in the moonlight.

‘Do I have to tell you the facts again? See, this whole thing is mental. This garden, all of this,’ she gestured with her hands, ‘is inside a house–’

‘Alright, alright, I’m sorry I mentioned it.’

‘You should be. We’ve more important things to worry about than ornithology.’

‘That’s the study of birds, not trees.’

‘This is what I’m talking about, Grace; context. In the context of our impending death – probably – trees and birds and study-related things are not what’s important.’

‘Shh!’ Rachel said. ‘Do you hear that?’

In the silence of the night there was faint whistling in the distance. It wasn’t the wind through the trees, but a cheerful melody that seemed out of place. It came closer and closer, until Grace could make out a figure in the dark, pushing a wheelbarrow.

‘Should we run?’ Rachel said, grabbing Grace’s arm.

‘If we do, I think we’ll just keep on walking in circles until we can’t walk anymore. Let’s just wait here. But everyone be on guard, okay?’

Rachel and Una nodded. They could hear the squeak of the barrow’s wheels now, and make out the tall man pushing it. He wore a loose-fitting shirt tucked into brown trousers, muddied boots and a small scarf wrapped around his neck. He whistled the same few bars over and over again, and his approach felt ominous.

‘Evening, ladies. Enjoying my garden?’

He didn’t seem surprised to see them, but greeted them with a bow.

‘We’re looking for a friend,’ said Grace, watching his every move. ‘She was here before, but now we can’t find her.’

‘Oh, my place is full of friends,’ the man said. ‘Just look
around. Any shape, any size, whatever you fancy.’

‘Who are you?’ said Una.

‘I’m the gardener.’ He leaned close to her and grinned. ‘Aren’t you a lovely little thing?’

Una’s lip curled.

‘And haven’t you a lovely little wheelbarrow? How about you tell us where our friend is. She’s old and cranky and got grey hair.’

The man stood straight and reached into his barrow, pulling out a spray bottle.

‘Oh, you’ll fit in lovely here.’

In one sudden movement, he squirted the bottle in Una’s face, and then turned it on the others. Grace’s hands flew up. The droplets stopped and hovered in the air for a moment before disappearing.

‘Huh,’ the man said, shaking the bottle as if it were at fault. ‘Not to worry. We’ve all the time in the world here. Enjoy the garden, ladies.’

Grace was ready to fly into him with as much power as she could muster, but one look at Una told her the girl wasn’t hurt. She spat and wiped her face, but she was more annoyed than injured.

‘Forget him,’ Grace said as the gardener wandered off, whistling his tune. ‘Was it just water, Una?’

‘No,’ Una said, spitting again. ‘But I don’t think it was weed-killer or anything. What a git.’

‘Was that you, Grace?’ said Rachel. ‘Stopping the drops in mid-air?’

‘I think so.’

‘That was worthy of Adie. You’ll have to tell her when we get out of here.’

‘
If
we get out.’

It was getting colder and colder in the night garden. The girls trudged on, shivering, until Rachel stopped and pointed.

‘We’ve passed that tree before,’ she said. ‘It’s got that crooked long branch, look.’

‘We’re still going round in circles,’ Una huffed. ‘My feet hurt.’

‘You’ve got something on your cheek,’ Grace said, reaching out to scratch at a brown patch on Una’s face.

‘Ow!’ the girl cried.

‘Oh, sorry. It’s… it’s attached.’

Grace fingered the little bump while Una winced. It was dark brown and hard, with a darker bump in the middle.

‘Oh God, Una,’ Rachel gasped. ‘I think it’s a giant wart.’

‘On my face?’

‘It can’t be a wart,’ Grace said. ‘It wasn’t there a minute ago.’

‘What if it’s a magic wart,’ said Rachel, ‘from that spray bottle?’

‘I’ve got magic warts?’ Una looked panicked.

‘Stop it, Rach,’ said Grace. ‘I don’t know what it is, Una.
Don’t start worrying yet.’

‘When would you like me to start worrying?’ Una’s voice rose. ‘When I’m covered in warts? When an army of toads arrive and make me their queen? Get it off me.’

She scratched mercilessly at the brown bump until the skin around it turned raw and bled a little.

‘Stop it!’ Grace forced Una’s hands down, then stared at her friend’s fingernails in shock.

Several of them had turned brown, a lighter shade than the bump, but rough and grainy, like bark. As she watched, the bark spread slowly down Una’s fingers.

‘It’s a knot,’ Grace said, gently touching Una’s cheek again, ‘like in the bark of a tree.’

Grace ran to the nearest tree – a young sycamore with bright green leaves – and examined the trunk. She tugged at the lowest branch and thought she felt a tremor that came from beneath the bark.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, and pulled on the branch as hard as she could, almost enough to crack the wood.

Seeeeeeeeeeee
! The sound was high-pitched and strange, and the tree definitely trembled.

‘What are you doing?’ Una called. ‘Can we please get back to the fact that I’m turning into a warty toad?’ She held her hands up at eye level, gazing at her brown fingernails. ‘I don’t want to be a warty toad.’

‘You’re not turning into a toad, Una,’ said Grace, taking a
deep breath. ‘You’re turning into a tree.’

Una’s grey eyes registered nothing.

‘I’m sorry, can you say that again, please?’

‘These trees,’ Grace said, ‘they’re all different because they’re
not
trees. They didn’t really grow here. They’re… I think they’re people. That gardener is collecting people. And you’re next.’

Rachel and Una stood in silence, staring at Grace like she’d just given them a complex equation to be solved. Eventually, Rachel spoke.

‘How long will it take? How do we stop it?’

‘Why are you asking me?’ said Grace.

‘Because you seem to know all about it.’

‘I don’t know anything, but I can see her skin’s turning to bark.’

‘You must have some idea how long it will take.’

‘Rachel, I don’t know. What do you expect me to–’

‘Owwwwww!’

Una hopped back on one heel.

‘What’s wrong?’ said Grace.

‘My shoe, my shoe, my shoe, my shoe. My shoe’s too tight. Get it off!’

Grace and Rachel scrambled to pull off Una’s shoe as she howled in pain. What they saw made them recoil.

Una’s toes had lengthened into woody roots, and the skin of her foot had taken on the same roughened, barky quality
as her fingers.

‘Aaaaaah!’ Una screamed when she caught sight of it. ‘My toes! Oh my God, my toes are gross. They’re so gross. Please cut them off!’ She poked at the roots with her fingers.

‘Una, we’re not cutting off your toes,’ said Grace.

‘Pleeeease!’

‘No. Look, you’re going to be alright. We’ll find a way to fix it.’

‘I want my mum.’

‘Your mum can’t help.’

‘I don’t care. I want my mum.’

‘If we ever get out of here, I’ll give her a ring. In the meantime, you better take off your other shoe.’

‘I don’t want to see it,’ Una sobbed.

‘That foot’s going to start hurting soon, and if you don’t get the shoe off quick it might get stuck on. And that’ll really hurt.’

Una woefully removed her other shoe, a little whine escaping her lips when she saw the toes curling into more pale brown roots.

‘We have to find the gardener,’ Grace said.

‘Then what?’ said Rachel.

‘We kill him,’ Una said, sniffling.

‘I’m not in the mood for murder, Una,’ replied Grace. ‘Let’s try reasoning with him first.’

‘He didn’t strike me as the reasonable type,’ said Rachel.

‘Yeah, he seemed like an evil-madman-scientist-ornithologist to me,’ said Una, following the others with some difficulty on her woody, clown-sized feet.

‘That’s still birds, Una,’ said Grace.

‘Really?’ Una said, sticking one foot in the air to point with her rooty toes. ‘Is this the time, Grace?’

‘Shhhh! Listen.’

At the distant sound of whistling, they all froze. That same awful, cheery tune.

‘He’s not going to turn Una back just ’cos we ask nicely, Grace,’ said Rachel. ‘This creep collects people. We’ll be next, you know.’

Grace stared through the moonlit garden, her mind whirring.

‘How good is your glamour, Rach?’

Rachel smiled.

‘It’s good.’

‘Can you be a tree?’

Rachel’s brow furrowed, but she was still smiling.

‘Haven’t tried that before.’ She shook out her arms. ‘But there’s no time like the present.’

The night sky seemed to echo the gardener’s tune as he pushed his wheelbarrow slowly through the grass. The trees shuddered as he passed, the
shushing
sound of their leaves following 
him along the garden. He stopped short of a weeping willow, its long, slender leaves hanging over a crooked black trunk like golden hair. He set the barrow down and approached with his hands on his hips.

‘Well now, aren’t you beautiful?’ he said. ‘I told you you’d fit in lovely here. Where did your little friends get to?’

He had his back to the barrow. Now was Grace’s chance. She hovered about twenty metres in the air, the muscles in her sides aching from holding the position.

I’ll have to start taking more exercise
, she thought to herself, ignoring the pain.

Silently swinging upside down, she dove. The gardener noticed a second too late, as she snatched the spray bottle from the barrow. Wrenching the spray top off completely, she threw the bottle’s entire contents in his face. He snarled and fell backwards, spluttering and rubbing his eyes.

It started almost immediately. His head was pulled back as bark crept swiftly up his neck and knots appeared on his face.

‘No!’ he cried, scratching at his skin. ‘No.’

But his fingers were already turning. He clawed at his arms, but quickly stopped, his gaze turning to the barrow. Like a cat pouncing, he shot forward, but two of the willow’s branches melted into human arms and grabbed him as he ran. Rachel’s porcelain face appeared in the bark.

‘It’s in the barrow, Grace,’ she hissed, her glamour continuing to melt away as the gardener struggled in her grip.

Grace raced back to the wheelbarrow, sifting through the tools and junk inside.

‘It could be anything,’ she cried.