Winter Magic

by Abi Elphinstone

  Maya glared at him: he certainly was from a different century.

  ‘But I’m not the one asking for help,’ she reminded him.

  He smiled again, which made him look slightly less mad, and – in a way Maya couldn’t put her finger on – almost familiar.

  She shook her head. No, she wasn’t going to smile back or encourage him. She’d walk away, that’s what she’d do. Get on with what she was here for and not be dragged into his problems. The trouble was, she didn’t know why she was here, in the past. She only knew that she wanted to go to the frost fair. And that she was still standing here, rooted to the spot, not walking away from the boy at all.

  3

  Over the boy’s shoulder, Maya glimpsed the river again. She couldn’t see much beyond the bank, but heard whooping and laughing, and music from somebody’s fiddle. Dogs were barking. Horses neighed. A whole world was going on out there on the frozen Thames: a strange, magical world. More than anything, she wanted to – had to – be part of it.

  ‘Listen,’ she said, looking the boy firmly in the eye. ‘I don’t know how much help I’ll be to you . . . Oh.’ The boy held up two small silver coins between his thumb and forefinger.

  ‘Shillings,’ he said. ‘You need to pay to go on the ice.’

  ‘So I found out.’

  She didn’t especially want to get mixed up with this boy. Being chased by a man in a black cloak didn’t sound much fun, either. But that shilling glinted at her temptingly.

  ‘You’re offering to pay?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course.’ The boy gave a little bow. ‘These frost fairs don’t happen that often, you know – once every twenty or thirty years, I’ve heard. So I pulled out all the stops to get here tonight.’

  Me too, Maya mused. Two hundred and twenty-eight years of stop-pulling to be precise.

  ‘I wouldn’t miss tonight for the world,’ the boy gushed excitedly.

  ‘Me neither.’ Maya was glad they agreed on something.

  ‘But as soon as they know I’m missing, they’ll come looking for me,’ he explained, his mood darkening. ‘They won’t be searching for a boy with a girl, though. You’ll be my cover, you see.’

  Maya chewed her lip. The idea of being followed made her uneasy. But if she wanted to get onto the ice, she needed him as much as he needed her. And, she had to admit, this boy was a bit, well, intriguing, like he had too much life stuffed inside of him and it kept spilling out. To go to the frost fair with him might actually be fun.

  ‘So if we could hurry, that would be wonderful,’ said the boy. ‘I’ve escaped—’

  ‘What d’you mean escaped?’ Maya interrupted. It made him sound like a mad person or a criminal, and with his edgy appearance he could easily pass as both. She had a rush of second thoughts.

  ‘The door’s always locked, but he’s not so careful with the window. That’s how I got out.’

  She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Were you in prison, then?’

  ‘You could say that. Not a public one, though. I’m not dangerous.’ His smile returned. ‘Anyhow, I’ve come here for the frost fair, not an interview. Let’s not waste another minute.’

  ‘All right, I’ll come with you,’ she said. ‘But any sign of trouble I’ll be off.’

  The boy’s grin stretched until, like his eyes, it was too big for his face.

  ‘Here, catch!’

  He flicked a shilling up into the air. She caught it squarely with her palms.

  ‘What’s your name, by the way?’ the boy asked.

  ‘Maya,’ she said, pocketing the coin.

  ‘What’s yours?’

  ‘Eddie.’

  Once they’d paid their shillings and stepped down off the riverbank onto the ice, excitement took over. Maya was desperate to see everything, all at once. The ice wasn’t smooth like a rink. It was ridged and rippled where the river had frozen mid-flow, which made it less slippery than she expected. Yet despite the fire baskets that burned at intervals along the ice, it was also quite dark so they had to tread carefully.

  ‘Where first?’ she asked Eddie.

  He grinned. ‘The terrier races. Come on!’

  They followed the sound of yammering dogs to a spot right in the middle of the river. A large crowd had already gathered, standing in two long lines facing inwards. The strip of ice in the middle was the track.

  ‘What happens now?’ she asked, straining to see over people’s shoulders.

  ‘Folks bet on the dog they want to win,’ said Eddie. ‘It’s often the stumpy-legged ones that go fastest.’

  As they watched, a dozen or more manic little dogs tore down the middle. What they were chasing, Maya couldn’t see, but it sent them all crazy. The race ended with a pile-up of wriggling, squirming dogs. The winner, as Eddie predicted, was a tiny white terrier that panted so much it seemed to smile. Maya laughed hard, and so did Eddie, though it set him off coughing.

  ‘It’s the cold air,’ he explained.

  Funny, but she wasn’t even shivering. All she felt was a tingly sort of excitement, and a sense she was right to be here.

  ‘Where next?’ she asked, once the dogs were back with their owners and the race declared over.

  Standing on tiptoes, Eddie scanned up and down the river. There was so much to choose from: skittles, card tricks, skating and dancing. His gaze finally came to rest on something to Maya’s right.

  ‘We absolutely HAVE to go on those!’ he cried. ‘Come on!’

  Linking arms, they hurried over to a spot where a circle of torches stood upright in the ice. Inside the lights was a pair of brightly painted swingboats. Crammed full of squealing people, they swung back and forth in opposite directions. They made Maya think of old-fashioned fairgrounds – the sort with helter-skelters and candyfloss that Gran used to take them to every summer.

  ‘Are you ready?’ She turned to Eddie, but he’d already found his way to the front and was waving madly at her.

  ‘Quick! We’re next!’ he cried.

  Moments later, they squeezed into what looked like a rowing boat. The seats were wooden benches, the floor slushy-wet wooden planks. There wasn’t a safety harness or seat belt in sight. Not that Maya could move: she was jammed in on all sides by people.

  ‘Hold on tight!’ Eddie cried, as they started to rock.

  The movements were gentle at first. Then, with more force, they swung backwards. The swingboat went high into the air, so high Maya feared they’d flip right over. Her stomach bounced. The swinging stopped and for one long second they hung in mid-air. She sensed the people sitting beside her stiffen. Easy laughs became squeals as they plummeted downwards. Someone’s long, smoky hair streamed against Maya’s face.

  Down and down they went. Then up and up and up again. At the top of the arc, the swingboat tipped backwards. She saw the inky dark sky above. Then a blur of white as they swung towards the ground once more.

  When the swingboat finally slowed and stopped, Maya was one of the first to get out.

  ‘I’m glad that’s over,’ she said, clutching her stomach.

  Eddie swayed as he stood up. ‘Me too. Crikey, that was wild, wasn’t it?’

  But the look they shared said neither of them had had enough.

  ‘Come on, let’s try along here,’ said Maya, indicating a row of stalls that seemed to be selling everything from hot ale to roast pig to newspapers with their ink still wet.

  There was so much to look at. And plenty to laugh at, like the hairy-snouted roast pig and the man serving it whose thick black nose hairs Maya couldn’t stop staring at.

  After the stalls, they played skittles very badly. Then, on stopping to hear a fiddler playing lively, toe-tapping tunes, they joined in by singing along. But Eddie’s voice was so terrible, Maya had to plug her ears, and in the end someone in the crowd complained: ‘Whoever’s strangling their cat, do us a favour and take it somewhere private, will you?’

  Which set them both off laughing so much, they sloped away to the next stall. There,
when they’d finally stopped sniggering, they tried to guess for a penny how many buns were in the jar. Maya hadn’t had so much fun in ages. Back home in the twenty-first century, her parents rarely let her out after dark. Yet here she was, with a boy she barely knew, having a great time. She was glad she’d followed that gut feeling about coming to the frost fair.

  And Eddie had turned out to be pretty decent, too. She needn’t have worried about him – though it did make her wonder why he’d been locked away, when he seemed so easy-going and good-natured. That part of things still didn’t add up.

  Once they’d lost another penny on the buns-in-the-jar game, Eddie fell suddenly quiet.

  ‘What’s up?’ Maya asked. ‘Have we spent all your money?’

  He didn’t answer. Swiftly, he tucked his arm through hers and hurried her away. He didn’t stop at the next stall. Or the next. He ploughed on through the crowds.

  ‘Hey! What’s the rush?’ she cried, tripping and sliding just trying to keep up. Reluctantly, Eddie slowed to a walk. Guessing what this was about, she felt her stomach go into knots. So much for being Eddie’s cover: it hadn’t fooled the man in the black cloak after all.

  She swallowed. ‘You’re being followed, aren’t you?’

  ‘I think so. If I’m right, things could turn nasty so you’d better go.’

  ‘Go?’ she said, startled. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

  Eddie gave a weary sigh. ‘You said you wouldn’t stay around if there was trouble, and there will be, I promise you.’

  She didn’t like the way he said it. But she was determined not to be scared. Something had changed between them in this last hour or so. They’d become, she supposed, sort of friends. And friends didn’t leave each other when the trouble started.

  So they kept walking. Then, just as they reached a stall selling coffee, Eddie stopped dead. He’d spotted someone nearby in the crowd.

  ‘Maya,’ Eddie said quietly. ‘Don’t look. Don’t point. Just stick with me. And RUN LIKE MERRY HELL!’

  4

  Eddie charged straight for the crowds. Maya kept on his tail as best she could. But as they dodged people and darted around fire baskets, her trainers slipped on the ice. Once or twice, she went down on her knees, feet scrabbling to get a hold.

  They took a sharp right between two food sellers. It brought them out at the back of the main row of stalls. Instantly, it was quieter. Darker. The ice was spread thinly with straw. Maya caught the waft of onions being fried, and another smell not as appetizing, like toilets and animals all mixed together.

  Eddie didn’t stop until he’d reached the opposite riverbank. There were stone steps leading up off the river, the type used by people getting on and off boats. Maya half expected Eddie to bound up them onto dry land. But a fit of coughing caught him. He stood doubled over as Maya skidded to a halt beside him.

  ‘Have we shaken him off?’ she gasped.

  Eddie nodded, unable to speak. He kept spluttering till she wondered if she should get him a drink. Now, for the first time, Maya noticed how skinny he was. He looked flushed, like he had a temperature. There was definitely something more to this than he was telling her. But then he hadn’t actually told her very much, had he? And she hadn’t wanted to know, until now.

  ‘What’s this all about, Eddie?’ she asked. ‘Who are we running away from?’

  He shook his head. His face was closed. It was a look that said very clearly he wasn’t going to talk about it.

  ‘Well, you shouldn’t be out here dressed like that.’ She gestured to the soaking-wet slippers on his feet. ‘Or running about like a crazy person. You’re ill, aren’t you? So you should be in bed.’

  Wearily, Eddie rubbed a hand across his face. ‘That, my dear Maya, is exactly why I’m here.’

  ‘But you’re free now, aren’t you? You can do whatever you want.’

  ‘I can. I am. And having freedom makes me feel so much better – people need freedom to breathe.’

  To Maya, though, he looked very pale. ‘I still think you should go home,’ she muttered.

  Home.

  Thoughts of Dad and Jasmine suddenly flashed into her mind. She didn’t know how this time-travel business worked exactly. Often in films, no one noticed that you’d gone. But this was real life and she just hoped her family weren’t two hundred-odd years away, wondering how she’d disappeared from the back of a stationary taxi. They’d be worried sick, and probably phoning Mum who – in her different time zone – would be just going to bed. And it made Maya feel awful.

  ‘Eddie, perhaps we should—’ She stopped.

  Standing, not five feet away on the ice, was a man in a long black cloak. He was tall and thin-shouldered. Maya couldn’t see his face; it was hidden under the shadow of a triangular hat. All around him, the crowd ebbed and flowed, oblivious. Yet he stood completely still, his eyes fixed on Eddie. It made Maya think of a cat stalking its prey.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ she muttered under her breath.

  The man took a step towards them.

  Maya didn’t know what to do. I could leg it, she thought wildly. I could stay and fight. I could shout MURDER at the top of my lungs.

  But her feet didn’t want to move. Neither did Eddie. He swayed a little and shut his eyes, and for one desperate moment Maya thought he was giving up. ‘No,’ she pleaded. ‘You’ve made it this far. We have to keep going.’

  Grabbing Eddie by the arm, they dodged round the man so fast it took him by complete surprise. Then they plunged back into the crowds. The sheer number of people swallowed them up. They’d lost him for the moment, but Maya sensed he wasn’t far behind. Whatever it was that he wanted Eddie for, he didn’t look the type to give up easily. She could almost feel him, hot on their heels, snapping and snarling. Her heart boomed in her throat.

  They ran past another row of stalls. More makeshift tents. A rowdy game of skittles. Then the fire baskets ended. There were no more stalls, no more crowds. Up ahead, Maya could see the outline of the bridge itself, its buildings perilously overhanging the river.

  ‘Where now?’ she asked.

  Eddie was seriously short of breath. ‘Back towards the swingboats. Keep moving.’

  As they wove between the stalls this time, she was the steady one; he kept stumbling and slowing down. Finally Eddie begged her to stop. ‘Just till I get my second wind.’

  Another coughing fit tore through him; it pained Maya to watch. Jiggling nervously from foot to foot, she wondered how much longer they could keep running. A strange sensation grew in her chest – anger, sadness, frustration – all mixed together. Any sign of trouble I’ll be off, she’d said to Eddie. Yet she was way past doing that now. How funny it was that though they’d only just met, she felt this connection, this bond, that she couldn’t explain in words.

  At last, coughing fit over, Eddie straightened up.

  ‘Better?’ Maya asked hopefully.

  He smiled, though even that was fading fast. ‘You can’t come to the frost fair and not buy a souvenir.’

  ‘But we need to keep moving,’ Maya reminded him.

  ‘The seller’s right there,’ he said, pointing to a nearby stall surrounded by customers. ‘It won’t take a moment, I promise.’

  The stall sold gingerbread. And not just any old gingerbread, either.

  ‘Made to a special Arctic recipe,’ Maya read from the board above their heads. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It’s a gimmick to make people buy it, that’s all. But we have to have a piece, Maya, as proof that we’ve been here. A memento, if you like, of this evening.’

  Maya pictured Gran’s house, stuffed full of all the things she’d collected on her travels over the years. Souvenirs were important to her, too.

  ‘It’s bringing a little bit of magic home with you,’ Gran once explained. ‘Years later, you’ll look at that object, and remember – just like that – the very day you bought it.’

  Not that Maya could imagine gingerbread lasting that long. Yet plenty her
e tonight wanted a piece of it, for the stall was very popular. Though they had to wait their turn to be served, the crowd, four people deep, hid them from view. The closer they got, the stronger the smell of spice and sugar grew. It made Maya’s stomach growl.

  ‘The best gingerbread in the whole of London!’ the woman serving it shouted. ‘Get your slices here!’

  Finally, it was their turn.

  ‘How much you having, then, ducks?’ the woman asked him, knife hovering over a tray of cake. The cake smelled delicious – toasty and fruity. But the look of it made Maya start. It was square-cut, dense, brown and familiar-looking.

  ‘A brick-sized piece, if you please,’ Eddie said. He gave her some coins – Maya didn’t see how many. Behind them, the crowd shifted a little. Glancing round, Maya caught sight of a man in a black triangular hat. Her chest tightened in panic.

  ‘We need to go, Eddie,’ she muttered. She worried again that the fight had gone out of him, that once he’d bought his souvenir, he’d hand himself in rather than keep running.

  ‘You want it wrapped? And there’s to be writing?’ the woman asked him.

  Eddie nodded. Deftly, the cake was wrapped in blue paper and tied with string.

  ‘Come on, come on,’ Maya hissed. Her glances were becoming more frantic. The man was advancing towards them.

  Then the woman handed the package over, with a pen.

  ‘We haven’t got time!’ Maya cried. ‘Hurry!’

  But a sort of calmness had come over Eddie. As she hovered at his shoulder, he took the pen and wrote on the package. She glanced at the man. Then at the pen moving over paper.

  The man.

  The pen.

  The man.

  Back and forth her eyes darted till it made her dizzy. She couldn’t bear it.

  ‘Hurry up, Eddie! Please!’

  He was done. She grabbed his arm. And then her feet were sliding. And not in the right direction. Someone else had hold of Eddie now, dragging him away with such force she couldn’t fight back.

  The crowd, like traitors, parted. And it was just the three of them.

  ‘I’ve found you,’ the man said. ‘At last.’