Toby Alone

by Timothee de Fombelle

  Of course, there were still a few beautiful wild places that were unpopulated, but the villages were all under siege from the Joe Mitch Arbor housing projects, which were turning the branches into sieves.

  The leaves were few and far between, even though autumn hadn’t yet arrived. The famous hole in the layer of leaves discovered by Professor Lolness was no longer the delusion of an old madman. The Tree’s climate was warming up, the risk of flooding during the summer, the gullies being formed in the bark – these were real dangers. Toby finally understood why his father had been so obsessed by these factors.

  When evening came, the Lolness family couldn’t rely on anybody for hospitality. In the course of their previous journey, years earlier, they had been turned away from the refuges and barns where they sought shelter.

  “I could understand it in those days,” said Sim, “because people genuinely believed I’d made a mistake. But today, they reject us for no reason, except that they don’t know us. They won’t open their doors to anybody here.”

  In the distance, they sometimes saw convoys of weevils, which made Maya shudder. They also came across men in hats, leading red ants on leashes with big studded collars around their necks. The Lolness family turned their heads until they had passed by. They were travelling incognito.

  One night, they stopped and pitched their tent at a dead end on a branch. A bit further off, a man was having a nap. The sun had barely risen all day. They lit a fire and invited their neighbour to share some grilled toast.

  “I don’t have anything to give you in return,” said the man.

  “Of course you don’t,” Maya replied. “We’d just be happy to share with you.”

  “I don’t have any money, so there’s no point.”

  The Lolnesses didn’t understand.

  “I don’t have any money,” the man said again, refusing the piece of toast.

  Sim Lolness rummaged around in his pocket and gave him the only coin he could find as well as the piece of toast. The man stared at him, then grabbed the piece of toast and the coin and ran off.

  This kind of encounter happened again and again. The Lolness family no longer understood how this world worked.

  On the sixth day, when they were getting close to their goal, Sim, who had brought his new glasses with him, asked Maya to show him the letter.

  “I didn’t even get to read it, in all that fuss…”

  The truth was, Sim had been fretting about the letter for several days. Could there be a link with the letter from the Grand Council, mentioning Joe Mitch’s Neighbourhood Committees? He had even wondered if it might all be some kind of trap that had been set for his family. He took the letter out of its envelope.

  The signature alone put his mind at rest. The letter was signed by Zef Clarac Esquire, the Treetop lawyer.

  “Good old Zef…” he whispered, grinning.

  Zef was Sim’s oldest friend. They were born on the same day and had grown up together. Along with El Blue, they had formed an inseparable trio. Zef Clarac was a hopeless student and an oddball, but everybody was incredibly fond of him. He had made himself an exemption card, which he flashed at all his teachers. As a result, he was let off every subject, and he stayed in the playground, from morning until evening. Huddled over his exercise books, young Sim would watch Zef through the window. The two friends had been inseparable until Sim met Maya. From that day on, Sim Lolness chose not to see young Clarac any more.

  Sim was frightened. For Maya.

  He found it hard to admit the truth – Zef was an absolute charmer. Everybody fell for him. He could have made a patch of black ice blush red. And because he was worried, Sim had never told Maya about Zef Clarac.

  One day, Zef had sent a note to Sim, saying he didn’t blame him for keeping his distance.

  “If I had a friend like me,” he wrote, “I wouldn’t have introduced him to my wife either.”

  Sim wasn’t proud of his behaviour, but he did at least keep up with what was going on in his friend’s life. Zef Clarac had become a lawyer by mistake: a silly story of a sign carved in error by a craftsman. Zef had ordered a sign saying WIPE YOUR FEET, but in a mix-up he had received a smart LAWYER sign instead, which he hung above his door anyway. It was shorter, but just as useful for keeping his house clean.

  His friends referred to him as a lawyer for a joke to start with, but then passers-by began to knock on his door. He answered them politely. And since the passers-by were mainly female, he became a lawyer of some repute in the Tree.

  On 15 September, at eight o’clock in the morning, Maya, Sim and Toby Lolness were trying to catch a glimpse of a house through the bars of a gate. They were in the Heights and the house was called The Tufts. They had made it. They walked all the way round the fencing. Everything was locked up.

  On a hook, near to the door, Maya noticed the soft shape of Sim’s beret, which hadn’t been moved in six years. In her memory, she replayed the scene of the young Sim turning up one evening in the knitting class, with his thick glasses and beret.

  Next, they headed to their appointment with Clarac, in the winter greenhouse at the bottom of the park belonging to Grandmother Alnorell. The greenhouse was at the end of a branch, some way from the house. Lit only by the light above the door, the greenhouse resembled an empty theatre. Everything had stopped growing a long time ago. A few empty pots stood in corners. A fine leaf dust covered the floor.

  Presiding over this scene and laid out on trestles was a long box fastened with two chunky padlocks. Even Mrs Alnorell’s coffin looked like a safe.

  A footstep rang out at the end of a corridor. Sim recognised the tottering gait of Zef Clarac. The professor shuddered. He looked at his wife. Would she be able to resist? Zef appeared in the doorway.

  He certainly wasn’t physically attractive. Any normal woman would have preferred a long intimate waltz with a woodlouse grub, rather than shaking hands with Zef Clarac. He looked like – it was difficult to say – like an old cheese, but less firm.

  Zef was extraordinarily ugly. Exceptionally ugly. In an ugliness competition he would have wiped the board.

  Toby, who had heard the story of Zef’s exemption card from Sim, couldn’t help thinking that he should have been exempt from being born, from living. He should have been exempt, full stop. He must have suffered so much, from his earliest childhood, when he had to show himself to others or walk in public.

  Maya looked discreetly away, so as not to be sick, but Zef Clarac opened his arms wide.

  “I was expecting you.”

  And suddenly the decomposed mushroom turned into Prince Charming. When his face lit up, Zef was a demigod. He gave off all the warmth, generosity and sparkle you’d ever hope to find in a person.

  “It’s a joy to meet you, Mrs Lolness,” he added with a dazzling smile.

  Maya walked towards those arms and buried herself in them. She would probably still be there, if her husband hadn’t given Zef a warm hug.

  “My old friend Zef!”

  Maya was ejected like a tiny insect being flicked out of a bowl of soup. Next it was Toby’s turn to shake Zef’s hand. The eyes Mr Clarac fixed on him were bright and lively. For that specific moment in time, Toby felt he mattered to this stranger more than anyone else in the world.

  Sim intervened again. He was already regretting ever having come.

  Luckily, Toby and his mother remembered that Grandmother Alnorell was there too. Walking further inside the greenhouse, they went to gather around the coffin.

  Maya was thinking about her mother.

  Toby was thinking about Maya.

  Sim was thinking about leaving.

  “There are certain times in one’s life…” Zef began.

  This banal opening was made with such conviction that it was coated with a fine veneer of gold. Zef was a magician. The three visitors turned towards him.

  Zef moved swiftly on to the practicalities, which lowered Maya’s and Toby’s heart rates again.

  “Well, the
re we go. I felt it was a good idea to write to you straightaway. Mrs Alnorell died the day after the departure of her accountant, Jasper Perlush.” he explained.

  “He left?” asked Maya.

  “Temporarily,” Clarac explained. “He spends a fortnight in September dealing with ‘awkward customers’. He travels round the Tree with two great beanpoles of men, Venge and Losh. Two excessively violent, burly men. Venge has enormous fingernails that make his hands look twice as big, and which he sharpens to a needlepoint. Losh hasn’t got any teeth left. He lost them in a brawl. He’s got razor blades instead. When he smiles, everybody laughs too…”

  It was Zef Clarac’s turn to smile now. And it wasn’t a pretty young girl’s smile. His teeth were scattered randomly around his gums, like a handful of seeds. But Zef’s eyes were so clear you could see his soul laughing at the same time.

  “Big Mitch lends those two, Losh and Venge, to Perlush. Every year, in September, the three of them set off to confiscate the property of your mother’s debtors. It’s a sordid trip that gives them a lot of pleasure. The Fortnight of the Awkward Customers…”

  Maya shuddered. Her mother hadn’t behaved any better in her absence.

  “No, dear lady, please don’t think your mother turned into a monster. Perlush manipulated her. She was just an unhappy old woman.”

  He dabbed his tearful left eye and carried on in a serious tone of voice.

  “Perlush is due back tomorrow, and he’ll want to get his hands on the Alnorell fortune—”

  Sim interrupted, “Good for him – thank you, Zef. We’ll leave you now…”

  He was already pushing his family towards the exit.

  “Thank you for everything. Delighted to—”

  Suddenly, Sim felt a heel on his toe; his wife’s forceful side was coming out again.

  “Could you let Mr Clarac finish, Professor?”

  Zef coughed and hesitated in front of his friend, who was hopping from one foot to the other. Toby looked at his mother. She continually surprised him. He adored her.

  “At least let me explain how she died,” Zef went on.

  He took a tiny object out of his pocket.

  “She choked on this.”

  “Poor woman,” said Sim flatly. “Why don’t you give it to us – it’ll be our inheritance. See you later…”

  “Yes,” said Zef. “Your only inheritance.”

  The Lolness family, who had no desire to inherit anything, were nonetheless astonished.

  “Perfect, it’s all worked out perfectly,” blurted Sim. “We’ll take this … object, and we’ll head back. Agreed, darling?”

  Sim walked up to Zef and held out his hand to collect the tiny object. When he had it between his fingers, he gave his glasses to his wife and collapsed like a piece of clothing falling off its hanger. He was out cold, a small white heap in the greenhouse dust.

  Zef, Maya and Toby rushed to him. But Zef didn’t seem to be surprised by Sim’s reaction. He slapped him gently, saying, “I’ll explain… Wake up!”

  Maya held out her hand. Sim’s fist was firmly closed around the object. Little by little, the colour returned to his cheek. His eyelids twitched.

  “The Tree Stone…”

  His hand relaxed and his palm uncurled. There indeed was the Tree Stone.

  19

  The Tree Stone

  There was nothing magical about the Tree Stone. It couldn’t grant you eternal life or make you clever. It didn’t make you invincible or invisible. It didn’t give you special powers to see through a wall, or a dress, or into someone’s brain. It didn’t help you fly, or talk to insects, or shout out things such as, “The Force of the Tree is with me!” It didn’t turn into a goblin that hopped from foot to foot, or a plump fairy, or a sword, or a dragon, or a lamp, or a genie. Its only power lay in its price: the Tree Stone was very expensive.

  It was expensive because it was rare. The only stone in the whole Tree. It was kept in the Council Chamber, tucked inside a splinter of wood where it had always been. It belonged to the Tree.

  The Council was responsible for keeping it safe, and the reason was very straightforward. The Stone guaranteed the Tree would always be the richest and nobody would ever seize control of it. It was the Tree’s treasure, a guarantee of its freedom.

  “But it’s priceless!” exclaimed Sim.

  “Dear friend,” said Zef, “our friendship is priceless, and so is your son, but the Stone has a price, a very specific one. Four billion.”

  This time, none of the Lolness family fainted or felt shocked. As far as they were concerned, money was like Mano’s tie collection. They couldn’t care less about it.

  “This is what happened: Perlush convinced Mrs Alnorell that her fortune was in danger, with bandits likely to strip her of it. She needed to be able to keep an eye on it, to sit on top of it in order to keep it safe. So Perlush advised her to buy the Stone.”

  “Buy the Stone…” repeated an incredulous Sim.

  “She had exactly four billion and twenty-five cents in her coffers. The Council agreed. Mrs Alnorell bought the Stone and sat on top of it.”

  Sim frowned as he handed back the Stone that had been incubated by his mother-in-law.

  “Of course, Perlush is under Mitch’s thumb,” Zef the lawyer went on. “And he was banking on getting the Stone back when the old lady died. But Perlush and Mitch had forgotten that Mrs Alnorell loved money. To the point of distraction. She had gone along with Perlush because the Stone was a sensible size that would allow her to put her plan into effect.”

  “Her plan?” asked Toby.

  “The day after Perlush’s departure, your grandmother heard a noise. She thought it was the robbers that she was so afraid of. She picked up her Stone, intending to swallow it.”

  Toby’s eyes were as big as saucers now.

  “That was her plan, young man – to carry her fortune to her grave. A fortune that could be swallowed. The noise she heard was just my friend Doctor Pill, who dropped by every evening to give her an injection in the left buttock. She was in terrible pain from sitting on the Stone, so the doctor treated her with injections. Pill heard a choking sound. He forced the door open. Too late! The Stone was jammed in her throat. She died without suffering.”

  Zef left a respectful silence.

  “The doctor extracted the Stone with a pair of tweezers. He came to find me. I preferred to settle the matter discreetly by informing you.”

  Sim was thoroughly perplexed now. He was chewing a ball of gum nervously. The money didn’t interest him, but the Tree did. Allowing Mitch to gain possession of the Stone meant giving him absolute power over the Tree, condemning it to the worst kind of destruction.

  Maya had taken the Stone. It was very beautiful, like a button-sized ball of sap, and perfectly transparent, with all the colours merging as gleefully as a group of children splashing about in the water. Toby went over to have a look.

  A few minutes later, the family had made their decision. They had to leave straightaway. Nobody would ever know they’d been there. Zef Clarac Esquire would take care of Mrs Alnorell’s funeral by himself. They slid the coffin inside the stem of a feather, in keeping with the traditions for important families. A dignified death for an old lady who didn’t deserve it.

  The plan was simple. When Perlush, Venge and Losh turned up the next day, the lawyer would welcome them with his big smile and tell them the old lady had died from choking on an unidentified object, and that her body was now floating somewhere above the clouds. He wouldn’t mention the Stone. Zef would undoubtedly have to spend a very unpleasant fifteen minutes but, as he said, what’s a quarter of an hour out of a whole lifetime?

  The Lolness family had to set out immediately. They shouldn’t stay a second longer. Sim slipped the Stone into his pocket.

  “I ask only one thing of you,” said Zef Clarac. “Pass by my place before you leave. I’ll give you some provisions for the journey. And, Mrs Lolness, you’re welcome to use my bathroom to fresh
en up…”

  Here we go, thought Sim, indulgently, the worm charmer is on the offensive. Run for cover! Women and children first!

  “You’re too kind, my good friend Zef,” he said as calmly as possible, “but we have to get going. Thank you for everything.”

  “Please,” Zef persisted. “I live just two twigs from here. Please do me the honour. You can’t set off again just like that.”

  “No, really, I mean it,” repeated Sim, who was starting to get irritated.

  Zef turned to Maya, “Mrs Lolness, may I call upon you to exert your authority?”

  “That wouldn’t be appropriate,” she answered.

  “Gracious lady…”

  Zef had released his last two arrows and they struck their target. He held his hand to his heart, and his gaze made the beholder impossibly dizzy. Mrs Lolness surrendered. He’s irresistible, thought Maya. He’s incorrigible, thought Sim, starting to chew his ball of gum again. He had always known that Zef’s devastating charm would lead to his own downfall.

  So after paying their final respects to Mrs Alnorell’s remains all four of them set out together. Sim followed at a distance, dragging his heels. The neighbourhood had changed a lot. Before, the Summit had been one of the most beautiful places in the Treetop, with plenty of fresh air circulating between its tender branches. The plots between the houses were gangrenous now, swarming with busy people, and there were passageways randomly carved out on every side.

  Nobody really noticed the four of them, because nobody really noticed anybody any more. The world had changed.

  “Things don’t change without a reason,” grumbled Sim.

  Toby could see small posters on the walls: GRASS PEOPLE = DANGER.

  They soon arrived at Zef’s home. There was his well polished LAWYER sign. Clarac spent rather a long time looking for his key under a piece of bark. He found it in the end.

  “That’s strange – I never normally put it there.”