Black Maria

by Diana Wynne Jones

  Chris pushed up to Antony Green. “Elaine let me go when they were hunting me,” he said.

  “I know,” Antony Green answered. The image of Larry got even more upset, if anything. Antony Green was staring gravely. Antony Green must have been talking to other people, besides Chris and Mum, or maybe he saw some of the things while he was projecting himself from the mound. There were so many of them. People unhappy, desperate, guilty, bewildered, dozens for each lady. There were orphans crying. I saw Dad greyly several times, standing swaying up to his knees in sea, looking at death’s door. I think he really did go over the cliff in some way. I even saw myself, rather to my surprise. I suppose Antony Green was trying to show me being got at by Aunt Maria, but he had done me like that picture in the book that Hester Bayley gave me, as a girl being pushed and pulled underground by horrible shadows.

  I knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to force the truth of what they had done on them. But I don’t think it worked, any more than when he had tried to force Naomi to be trustworthy. Some of the Mrs Urs were as upset as Elaine. But most of them just stood there letting the visions roll around them and trying to make us feel guilty instead. Benita Wallins sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the Parade, crying and yelling. But I think that was really a defence. And Aunt Maria sat turned sideways in her wheelchair, looking sad and stern and teddy-bearish.

  Antony Green made a last effort with her. Images poured about her. Chris, me, the orphans, Dad, a terrified, grey old lady dwindling into a terrified, grey cat, hundreds of things, even a crushed, suffocating image of Antony Green himself. And as a final aftermath, there was the great grey slavering wolf again, only this time when it was shot, it dissolved into a lady with her black hair spread around her and became an almost solid image of Naomi as Antony Green must have known her.

  Aunt Maria just went on looking sternly out to sea. “No,” she said, as the image of Naomi dissolved away too. “Upon reflection, I have nothing in my life to reproach myself with, young man.”

  I think the images upset Antony Green far more than the people they were aimed at. He was pale and scarecrowlike. “Very well,” he said quietly and shut the green box with a snap. The Mrs Urs gasped.

  Aunt Maria froze into place. Then suddenly she did not seem to be there any more. Antony Green turned round to me and held out the green box with something balanced on top of it.

  “Will you hold this steady a second, while I take my coat off?” he said.

  I took it carefully. Everyone, including me, made a long groaning “O-Oh” as we realised what was balanced on top of the box. It was a little tiny old lady in a fox fur and a tall hat, sitting in a little tiny wheelchair. She didn’t move. I couldn’t resist prodding at her with one finger, and she was hard, like a toy, but freezing cold.

  Antony Green slung his green coat over his shoulder, hooked by one finger, and held out the other hand for the box. As I passed it carefully back, Mr Phelps arrived. He was pushing Miss Phelps, who was all tiny and hunched up, in another wheelchair. This one must have come out of the ark, I think. It was made of basketwork and it had peculiar wheels. Mr Phelps was trying to pretend he had nothing to do with it and not really pushing it.

  “Populace all gathered in the square as directed,” he said in his most soldierly manner. Then he and Miss Phelps saw Aunt Maria balanced in miniature on the top of the green box. They both stared. Mr Phelps’s throat slid up and down. “I didn’t know that was possible,” he said.

  Miss Phelps said, “I wish you’d thought to give me back my wheelchair first.”

  “Oh, was it yours? I’m sorry,” Antony Green said. He gave his longest smile. “Let’s go to the square now,” he said.

  We went there, us and the Mrs Urs, in a crowded, muddled procession. Antony Green walked at the head of it, smiling slightly, with his coat hung on his shoulder and the green box balanced very carefully so that the little wheels of the wheelchair did not roll the miniature Aunt Maria off the edge of the box.

  The whole of Cranbury was in the square. People were sitting on the roofs of cars, and crowded into the middle space, standing on benches, and rammed into doorways. I hadn’t realised so many people lived in the place. None of the men had gone to work that day. I could see zombies in suits everywhere, in among women I had never seen before. Quite a lot of these pointed and made surprised noises when they saw the orphans pushing through the square behind Antony Green. I saw the clothes-shop lady, the booted porter, Dr Bayley and Mr Taylor the chemist, while Antony Green was pushing his way through to the war memorial in the middle, carefully holding the green box up high. Mr Phelps and Larry followed him, pushing the orphans. And Elaine, who obviously just has to have someone to look after, trundled Miss Phelps through in her extraordinary wheelchair and made sure she had a good place near the steps of the memorial.

  Chris and I got left at the edge of the square, though, because Dad was there too. Mum spotted him in a doorway in the distance and set off diving and fighting through the crowd to get to him. I saw her get there. But all my secret hopes of a happy ending went when I saw how horribly embarrassed Dad was to see her. He almost went backwards in through the door he was leaning on to get away. He recovered a bit when Mum started speaking to him. But then Zenobia Bayley pushed up from the other side and grabbed his arm possessively. Mum spoke to her as well as Dad. Then she came pushing back to us, looking surprisingly pink and happy.

  “Well,” she said. “I don’t know what went on, except that he does seem to have had some kind of accident. He says he remembers crawling out of the sea now. I suppose he lost his memory. But he’s agreed to sign all the lawful documents, so that’s all right.”

  No it’s not, I thought. But Antony Green had started to speak then, from the steps of the memorial. He speaks rather quietly, so everyone had to stop making noises to hear.

  “Thank you all for coming,” he said. He dropped the coat on the memorial steps so that he could hold Aunt Maria steady on the green box with both hands. “That’s better,” he said. “I have three things to say to you. First, the question of what to do with this lady.” He held the green box up with Aunt Maria on it. “The last of the Queens,” he said.

  There were roars and yells all over the square. “Lock her up! Bury her! Kill her!” and some voices shouting, “No, no. She’s such a character. Let her go!” Beside me, Chris was screaming, “Jump on her! Let me jump on her! I’ll do it!” and Mum, in typical saintly fashion, shouted, “Don’t be too hard on her, Antony!”

  Antony Green looked round until everyone was quiet again. “Most of you seem to favour punishment,” he said. “But you realise it won’t be punishment, do you?”

  Everyone was puzzled at this. The way we all looked made Antony Green grin. “As far as this lady herself is concerned,” he explained, “she was in the right all along – all her life. Nothing is going to make her see she was wrong. And the only point of punishment is to make someone see the error of their ways. If they don’t see it, then what you are doing to them is vengeance, not punishment. Right? I daresay a lot of you do want vengeance. But if you do take revenge, that makes you as bad as this Mrs Laker herself. I want to stop the wrong in Cranbury. So I am not going to take revenge. I’m simply going to put her away quietly. She probably won’t even realise I have. Is that understood?”

  There were grudging murmurs and finally everyone growled that it was up to him. Antony Green grinned around at them and shoved the green box into one trouser pocket. While he was ramming Aunt Maria into his other pocket, he looked round absent-mindedly. I think he had forgotten what he wanted to say. Mum says his time underground has made him forgetful, but Chris thinks he was always that way.

  “Oh yes,” he said. “Here’s what comes next.” He pointed his thumb at the orphans. “Some of these children must belong to some of you. Who claims them?”

  All the people who had pointed excitedly at the orphans earlier shouted, “Us! We do!” and came thrusting their way up to t
he orphans. Two-thirds of them were snatched away and hugged and hung on to. They looked pretty bewildered about it. The orphans who were left looked sad, until Mr Phelps and Larry climbed up the steps beside Antony Green. They began holding a kind of auction. “This pretty little girl!” Mr Phelps barked. “Any offers? How about this interesting little boy? Take that sling off your arm, boy. You’re not injured. Now this fine upstanding girl.”

  A surprising number of people offered. As fast as one orphan was taken off, beaming and bewildered, Larry fetched another up the steps. If more than one set of people offered for the same orphan, they turned to Antony Green to settle it. He looked at each of the offerers, in a humorous sort of way, with one upside-down ‘V’ eyebrow raised, and pointed a vague thumb. He seemed to be concentrating more on how hot he was. He kept flapping at his shirt and I could see his face was shiny with sweat. It wasn’t that hot, but all the people made it hotter, and by now a silvery sort of sunlight was breaking through the fog. But I think he chose the adopting parents right, for all that. He let Mr Taylor and his Mrs Ur, Adele, have the boy with the sling. That seemed to fit, somehow. And he gave several to just one man or one woman, over the heads of married couples. And you could see it might work, in spite of that. And he didn’t let Benita Wallins have a single orphan, though she kept offering.

  Then the last was a little black girl with her hair in about two hundred plaits. Larry said, “No need to put her up, Nat, that’s the one I want.” That was surprising. For one thing, all the orphans were so alike you had to look at this one hard to notice she was black. For another, Larry was obviously defying Elaine.

  Elaine sprang forward from beside Miss Phelps’s wheelchair. “Larry! That’s absolutely out of the question. I hate children.”

  “But I love them,” said Larry. “Oh, come on, Elaine. Give it a try.”

  Elaine hovered and spluttered and almost refused outright, until she suddenly glanced up at Antony Green sweating on the steps above. “Oh, all right, ”she said, and even smiled. Although it was only a one-line smile, Larry let out a yell and hugged the little girl. She looked the most bewildered of the lot.

  “Is that all, Antony?” asked Mr Phelps.

  “No,” said Antony Green. “There is the third thing.” And when all the orphan-hugging had died down, he said, “I’m giving up the green coat and leaving you today.”

  Everyone groaned. Somebody yelled out, sounding horrified, “Not going back into the earth?”

  “Oh no,” Antony Green said, with a real shudder. “After twenty years underground like a turnip, I’m more likely to go on the road and sleep out. And you’ll agree I’ve got to catch up with the world. But the really important reason is this.”

  He stood up and pulled the glistening, shining green box from his pocket again. We could tell it really was important, what he wanted to say. “I never wanted to take the box,” he said. “I know I was right. It divides people a certain way. Maybe it didn’t once, but nowadays the ones who don’t have it seem to think they’re not proper people without it, and then they have to go to hideous lengths to prove they are. So—” He seemed to lose the thread then and stood staring down at the meaningful shining shapes on the box, while we all waited. “So,” he said, “I’m going to give back what’s left of it to all of you.”

  He opened the box wide, until it was flat across both his hands. The stuff in it rolled out over the square in a huge trembling whirl. A lot of people crouched down to get away from it. But I think it rolled through and over anyone whatever they did. I felt it roll through me, and I saw Mum surrounded in a tight coil of it, and looking very surprised. The shimmering around Chris gave him wolf’s ears for a moment. Everyone round us was gasping from it – it does fizz – and I noticed the orphan, who got the bird-like bit of it the first time, had another and was holding it in his open hands, laughing like he did before.

  In the midst of it, Antony Green went down the steps and quietly walked away.

  We only caught up with him because Chris happened to notice him going down the road to the sea front with one of the boatmen. Mum said, “Chris, he wants to be with his friend!” but Chris took no notice and pelted after him.

  Antony Green didn’t seem to mind us coming out in the boat with him. It was the first time since we had been in Cranbury that we’d had anything to do with the sea, really, and it was lovely. The sea was salty swellings with silver sparkles and so gentle that even Mum couldn’t be seasick, though she tried. She went pale and said it was the smell of the engine chugging away in the middle of the boat.

  But Antony Green did obviously want to talk to the boatman. He was called George and he was a friend of former days. The two of them did a lot of laughing and gossiping up at the steering end of the boat, while Antony Green’s hair mysteriously blew out into a mane again. George sternly kept his hair under a weathered cap and rolled cigarettes for them both and steered with his elbow and grinned.

  So I asked Chris about how Elaine had let him through the line of beaters when he was a wolf. I thought it was just luck, but it wasn’t quite. Chris said, “I’m not a fool, you know. You think wolf-way, but you can still think.” He had tried to go inland to get away, early that morning, but someone in a farm had shot at him and he had bolted back into the woods before he was aware. Then he was even more scared to find people assembled in the fields up at the top.

  “I was only in the edge of the woods,” he said. “I crawled along, keeping an eye on where you were all spreading out to. I was looking for you, actually, Mig, because I knew if I hid in your path you’d pretend I wasn’t there or something. But when you formed up, there was a Mrs Ur on one side and a gunman behind you. So I crawled on till I found Elaine and took a risk on her. I lay downhill beside a log and hoped. And she stepped over the log and said, ‘Keep there. Nat Phelps is hunting Germans again. Don’t go uphill till he’s gone past.’ Then she patted my head and said, ‘Good luck!’ and went on downhill. I waited until Mr Phelps had gone charging past shouting, and crawled up to the meadow again and hid in a bush there.”

  I suppose Elaine is not so bad really – if you are a boy.

  Then Mum told us a bit about how she and Antony Green had gone round and round the woods, calling Chris. “I know every tree by now,” she said. “I think I would have run about screaming, but luckily Antony needed someone sane to talk to. So I hung on in and just got more and more tired. So Antony said I could sleep in the barn while he tried a stepped-up sending for Chris. I think that’s what fetched you in the end, Chris.”

  “Maybe,” said Chris.

  By then we had got right far out beyond the bay. We could see Cranbury at the edge of the sea, like a white toy village, in half-circles of little houses.

  “This will do, George,” Antony Green said.

  George stopped the boat’s engine and we drifted. Then Antony Green fetched the empty green box out of his pocket and floated it on the gentle rising slapping waves, all opened out into two green squares with sides. He took the tiny figure of Aunt Maria in her wheelchair out of his pocket and balanced her on one half of the box. Then he gave the lot a push to send it gently floating away.

  “Good riddance,” said George, starting his motor again. We curved round back to Cranbury.

  “Does she know? At all?” Mum asked, looking after the small floating box.

  Antony Green nodded and spread his wide mouth wryly. “She thinks she’s in Cranbury, going on just as usual.”

  “But surely,” I said, “couldn’t Cranbury start up again – sort of in her mind? So we’d all be figments of her imagination there and have to do what she wanted?”

  Mum looked defeated at this. It was as bad as time-travel to her. Antony Green nodded again. “I have to take that risk,” he said.

  “And what was the stuff in the green box?” I said.

  “You know,” he said. “It’s not easy to describe.” But I didn’t know, so he said, “Well – everyone has some anyway. It was that which made Ch
ris understand my sending or your mother understand I was buried alive.”

  “Oh,” I said. And I broke down and howled. Everyone stared at me, except George, who turned away looking Mr Phelpsish. “I’m not a genius!” I yowled. “I thought I was – I know it was the stuff of genius in the box and I haven’t got it, or I would have understood your ghost too! It’s the power of the mind, isn’t it?”

  Chris made derisive groans. It’s all right for him. He’s sure he is a genius.

  Mum said, “Mig, do stop being silly!”

  “She’s not being silly,” Antony Green said. “You didn’t see my projection’s mouth move?” he asked me. I shook my head and snorted sobs in all directions. “And you expect to see a mouth move when someone talks,” he said. “Sometimes what is really there gets covered up by what you expect to see. That’s all.” And he stopped my effort to cry louder than ever by saying, “So now you know, you won’t very often be deceived by your expectations. People who understand instantly might be deceived a second time, but not you.”

  George changed the subject then by saying, “Got much of the stuff left yourself, Tony? Always seemed to me you didn’t need a green box.”

  “Let’s see.” Antony Green ran his hands thoughtfully along the sides of the boat. Where his hands had been, the white plastic sort of boat broke out in multicoloured glitters. It seemed to have coloured glass stuck into it. He looked at it carefully. “Diamonds mostly,” he said. “Emeralds, rubies, sapphires and so on.” He looked at George’s face. “I kid you not. It’s been building inside me for twenty years, George.”

  “Take it off, darn you!” George shouted. “What do I do with a bloody tiara for a boat – pardon my language,” he added to Mum.

  Antony Green scooped his hands along the edges of the boat and rattled the glittering stones in two handfuls down into the green mouldy bottom of the boat. “That better?”