“Yes.” Jonathan opened it. “Yes, it’s one of his journals. He always took one with him.” He turned a few pages. “This is hardly used, though. A few scribbled notes, and what looks like a list.”
Flick leaned over the desk to see. “A list?” she asked, curiously.
Jonathan showed her. “A list of worlds. There are crosses next to some of them.”
There was a silence. And then their eyes locked at the same time.
Flick’s heart quickened. “Do you think—”
“It’s possible.”
“This could be where—”
“I suppose he—”
“He could have gone to all of the worlds on that list. And got stuck in one of them. We could find him!”
“Maybe,” Jonathan whispered. “Maybe…” He stared at the list, apparently lost in a world in his own head.
Flick, on the other hand, was bursting with excitement. She wanted to dive into another suitcase immediately and begin the search, but Jonathan seemed to be having some sort of crisis, so first things first. There was only one thing to do: make some more tea, and do it properly this time.
It gave her hands something to do, but the gears of her mind took the opportunity to start grinding away twice as fast as usual. That strange, empty world. What could Jonathan’s dad have been doing there?
When she brought the tea back through on a tray, Jonathan was staring into space, eyes glazed over. Flick cleared her throat and he jumped. He came and sat down in one of the armchairs by the hearth and Flick sat in the other.
They sat and drank their tea without saying much, and slowly the color came back into Jonathan’s cheeks. Flick watched him sit up as the sugar hit his system. She relaxed slightly, feeling the comforting hug of the case-lined walls, the stained-on black of the grate, the misty leaded windows with their fading gilt letter-work. The fear and discomfort she’d felt in the lighthouse was already fading, replaced by a sharp thrill of adventure.
“What shall we do?” she asked at last. “Do you know where all the suitcases are for those worlds? Can we search for him?”
Jonathan had to smile. “Anyone would think he was your father. Look…” He passed Flick the notebook again. “The list has crosses on it, here, here and here. Not in order, though. Places he went to, do you think?”
“I’d say so.” Flick nodded, happy to be consulted. “But we don’t know where he went next?”
“No, but surely someone must have seen him,” Jonathan insisted. “He might have told someone where he was going.” He frowned. “I wonder why these places are on his list. There doesn’t seem to be any real correlation between them.”
Flick read down the list.
The City of Five Lights X
Tam’s Forest X
Snowmore
The Break
Coral City X
Desert of Dreams
Flick handed the book back. “They’ve got to be linked somehow, or they wouldn’t be on the same list,” she said. “Could it have been something to do with being a Custodian?”
“That seems likely. He always took his duties very seriously.” Jonathan looked up at the wall of suitcases. There was still one missing. “It’s a lead and I should follow it.”
Flick shifted on the chair. “Just you?” she asked.
Jonathan shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be just me. In fact, I’d prefer if it wasn’t.”
It was as though he was dangling the future in front of her like bait. Flick’s desire for adventure—which had sat in her chest like recently kindled fire ever since she’d walked into the agency for the first time—fought against her lifetime of ice-cold cautious responsibility. That feeling of wrongness she’d felt in the lighthouse still sat in the pit of her stomach and it made her hesitate. But then she thought of the brilliance of the crystal world and the possibility of dozens of suitcases quietly waiting for her to step into. The fiery desire for adventure burned more brightly and won.
“What do you think?” Jonathan asked softly. “Because I really should investigate this.”
“We should investigate,” Flick corrected him. “I’m not going anywhere, yet.”
Flick hurried home, back to the cooking and smell of baby teething biscuits. And found herself stuck in and around the house for the next week. She tried to keep herself, and her mind, occupied, until the next time she could get back. With the chaos of moving finally over, things were back to normal in the Hudson family—that meant Flick doing the laundry, going to the corner shop to put money on the gas card, trying to make meals that included something green, and tackling the mountain of summer homework that Byron Hall School had sent her through the post.
It wasn’t easy; every time she had a moment to herself, she started thinking about Strangeworlds Travel Agency. The place was even invading her dreams, twisting ordinary thoughts into mysteries, colorful worlds, suitcases, and travel. Whether she was taking Freddy to be weighed, or doing the ironing, sitting in the bank whilst her dad got their address changed, or riding the bus that made her teeth rattle—all the while she was thinking about the agency.
Flick had never really understood what people meant by “itchy feet,” unless it was something they’d caught from the swimming pool, but she really did itch to go back to Strangeworlds. It was as though someone had an invisible part of herself on a string and they’d tied one end of it to the travel agency.
She tried to be content at home. The new house was starting to look lived-in now, and there were fewer boxes around to fall over. Freddy had already learned to scale the child gate at the bottom of the stairs. Flick had suggested tethering him to a steel ring set into the ground, like a horse, but for some reason her parents hadn’t gone for it.
It was rare enough for Flick’s mom to get a day off during the week, and Flick had been looking forward to them “going out,” as had been promised the evening before. Only it turned out that “going out” meant going to the Big Tesco to buy Freddy enough diapers to sink several ships. Flick being allowed to choose what was for dinner apparently constituted a treat.
They’d just unpacked the cart, and her mother handed her baby brother over, and Flick held him aloft to keep biscuit-flecked-drool off her sleeves. “Don’t forget,” her mom said, “you’ve got to give him his dinner tonight. Your dad’s at that training course, and I’ll be at work.”
Flick almost dropped her brother in surprised annoyance. “Mu-um,” she whined.
“Oh, give it to me.” Her mom sighed, wrestling the stroller (which was putting up the sort of fight an octopus would be proud of) into the back of the car. “You never know. One day you might have one of your own and think of all the practice you’ll have had.”
“I am definitely not having one of my own.”
“You’ll change your mind.” The stroller finally gave up and collapsed into an unrecognizable pile of metal. Her mom hefted it into the car.
Flick shifted Freddy in her arms. “If I’ve got to live in the same house as something small and dribbly, it’s going to be a miniature sausage dog called Simon.” She glared down at her brother.
Freddy gummed happily at her coat. Flick often wondered if her brother was part goat. He never seemed to eat real food; he preferred chewing on objects, people’s clothes or car keys or chair legs.
“We’ve got a chap coming over to install the house alarm, tomorrow,” her mom said, when they’d finally buckled Freddy into his car seat and set off, Disney songs blasting out of the old stereo. “You’ll have to make yourself scarce.”
“Yeah, I was going to go out,” Flick said, delighted to have an excuse to run to Strangeworlds land right in her lap. “Is Dad going to be back in time for that?”
“He says he is, yes.…” Her mom made a rude gesture at a car that jumped the line at the roundabout. “Make sure he gives you the code before you go out, in case. I’ll be the last home.”
Flick looked out of the car window. She’d been letting herself into her home since sh
e was about seven, when her mom had started balancing the registers after hours at work. She remembered walking past all the waiting parents when she was coming out of school, head held high because she didn’t need anyone to come and take her home—she could take care of herself. She was much more grown up than the other kids; she had her own key and knew how to do things like turn the gas on and use the oven timer.
But the novelty of it soon wore off, and there were times when it was raining hard and her friends were getting into warm cars, and she had to walk back to the flat alone, arriving cold and wet. She’d sit wrapped in one of her nanna’s old blankets and place her uniform on the radiators, watching as it fogged up the windows. The steam would cause dampness, and her dad would have to paint the ceiling again to cover the mold spots that speckled the corners. It wasn’t Flick’s fault—the dampness came back every winter when all the clothes were dried indoors—but she knew that if she was taken home in a warm car, the rain hitting the window instead of her head, the problem wouldn’t be as bad.
“Is Freddy settled in at his new day care, then?” Flick asked, grappling for a topic of conversation she thought her mother would be interested in.
“Yes, he seems to have.” Her mom’s smile sagged a little. “You know, when you were born, I had a year off. I would have liked to do the same for Freddy, but…”
Flick’s chest ached with something like guilt. “Stuff costs more now,” she said.
“That’s very true. And it wasn’t exactly a career, what I did before. It’ll be a lot easier when Freddy starts school; he can come home with you.” Her mom pulled up at the lights. She turned and looked at Flick. “I’m very proud of you, you know. You’re so grown up.”
Flick made her mouth stretch into a smile-shape. The truth was, she hadn’t always felt grown up. The first time she let herself into the old flat, she’d hidden in her room afraid of burglars. She’d rung her nanna several times, once to ask her how you knew when milk was still good to drink. She used to make up stories about what the people in the flats around her were doing in order to feel less alone.
She wasn’t a grown-up person by nature.
She’d had to become one.
And until she walked into Strangeworlds, she hadn’t even realized that she had been so busy trying to be responsible that she’d forgotten how to have fun.
She blinked as the car started moving again. “I’ll make sure I’m out early tomorrow,” she said. “Get out of everyone’s hair. I’ll do some stuff in the village.”
“That sounds good,” her mother said. “What did you have planned?”
Flick looked out of the window and smiled to herself. “Just a bit of sightseeing.”
When Flick got to Strangeworlds the next day, Jonathan was sprawled on the floor on his belly in front of an open suitcase.
“Good morning. Close the door,” he said without turning around.
“Are you okay?” Flick asked, shutting the door behind her.
“Perfectly fine, thank you for your concern. Though some tea wouldn’t go amiss, if you’re heading in that direction. Ah.” Jonathan reached into the suitcase and grabbed out of it a large metal hook with three prongs. He clipped it onto the edge of the suitcase and shouted down into the swirling depths: “All right, you’ve got a decent hold now. Pull yourself up.”
“Thank heavens for that,” a voice groaned. Only he didn’t say heavens. He said something much shorter. “I’m getting a cramp here, Mercator. And that’s without mentioning the frostbite on me extremities.”
“No one wants to hear about that, thank you, Mr. Golding.” Jonathan stuck a hand into the case. It came back out joined to another, which was in turn attached to a man with a huge orange mustache. “You’ll be fine. Keep moving your toes.”
“Damned cloud storms…”
Flick watched in amazement as a man stepped out of the case, snow clinging to his boots and trousers. His coat was damp and had several slashes on one sleeve, but he nevertheless seemed rather pleased with himself. He lifted a cracked pair of tinted goggles to reveal two tiny eyes hidden under eyebrows like twin ginger kitten tails.
The man harrumphed. “Not exactly pleasant scaling a frozen waterfall just to have to hang about at the top because you can’t see the damned suitcase. Hope that won’t be a regular occurrence.”
“Don’t lose your luggage,” Jonathan said, his voice as clipped as a privet hedge. “Take the case with you, if you don’t want to lose sight of it. You’re old enough to remember that.” He sniffed disapprovingly at the melting snow dripping onto his floor.
The man opened his mouth to retort, then seemed to notice Flick for the first time. He did a small double-take that made his mustache flap. “You’re real, are you?”
Flick shrugged. “Pretty much.”
“Hm. Fair enough. Children I can cope with. It’s the adults that cause all the damned bother in this world. And the others.” Only he didn’t say damned, either. “That one’s a good one.” He nodded at the case. “But don’t annoy the yeti. Beast’s got a right temper.”
“I did tell you not to mention his haircut,” Jonathan sighed.
“Well, I got away, didn’t I?” The man grinned. “Oh, before I forget, this is for you.” He pulled a journal out of the inside of his coat. The pages were curled up on the edges, but Jonathan looked very pleased to receive it.
“Oh, excellent. Did you notice much?”
“Difficult to say, with the storm. But the landscape’s the same. Didn’t even need my map.”
“Thank you, Mr. Golding,” Jonathan said. He nodded at Flick. “This is Felicity, by the way. She’s a new Society member.”
Flick smiled, feeling a bit sheepish.
Mr. Golding, however, beamed. “Oh, excellent. Nice to meet you. Just what this place needs, Mercator. New blood.” He slapped his hands together. “Now, you mustn’t let me keep you. I’ve got places to be in this world.” He gave Flick a nod of friendship and blustered right out of the shop.
Flick stared at Jonathan, her eyebrows so high she thought they had probably floated right off her face.
Jonathan smirked. “Busy day. Now, what happened to that tea?”
* * *
Jonathan put the snow case back in its slot on the wall once Mr. Golding had left and clapped his hands together. “And now for you, Felicity, a trip.”
Flick nodded. A stir of excitement was beginning to fizz in her chest.
“I thought we could multitask,” he said. “Since this is your first official trip. Somewhere that takes you somewhere truly amazing, the finest that Strangeworlds has to offer, and was on my dad’s list.” As he spoke, he reached up to one of the higher openings and pulled out a popcorn-yellow suitcase bound in what looked like snakeskin. It had a candy-pink trim running around the edge and sparkling gold catches. “This is somewhat of a crowd pleaser.”
Flick came forward. “What’s inside it? Where’s inside it?”
“A rather interesting take on the laws of physics.” Jonathan pushed the gold catches. They popped open and the scent of strawberry laces and sticky sugar floated out, as well as the sound of birds chirruping.
“It… it’s a fun place?” Flick found herself smiling.
“It is. You’ll see.”
* * *
Flick clambered out of the case and stood on the ground. Except it didn’t feel much like the ground she was used to. It felt soft yet bouncy, almost like she was standing on a bouncy castle whilst it was only half-inflated. She kept her arms out to the side slightly as she shuffled forward to keep her balance.
Jonathan stepped out behind her like a tweed-wearing flamingo and took a moment to pull the case through behind him. “Oh, nothing changes,” he said, looking up.
Flick followed his eye. In the lavender-colored sky, a warm sun glowed and cotton-candy-pink clouds skirted overhead on the wind. In the distance, a gleaming city of polished marble, or coral, rose from behind the lush teal hills. There were towers and spires th
at twisted and disappeared into the clouds, and the sun shone from every polished surface.
“Where are we?” Flick breathed in awe.
“On the outskirts of Coral City,” Jonathan said. “We’ll head into the city soon, but…” He rocked on his heels. “Notice anything unusual about this place?”
“The ground is all… squashy.” Flick pressed firmly with her foot and felt the soft ground spring back. The grass rippled outward from her foot. “It’s like elastic.”
“Exactly.” Jonathan’s eyes glittered. “Like a trampoline. Watch.” Jonathan put the case down. And, with an uncharacteristic look of glee on his face, he bent his knees slightly and gave an experimental sort of bob on the ground.
“What are you—”
“This!” Jonathan bounced. He bounced off the ground, going straight up into the air like a cork in water.
Flick gasped, ready for his inevitable crash to the ground… but it never came.
Jonathan’s bounce peaked and then he came back down again as though he had an invisible parachute—slowly, straight down, and with more elegance than anyone ought to have if they’ve leapt clean off the dirt.
“What on earth?” Flick gawped.
“On Earth?” he scoffed. “We couldn’t be farther from it. Like I told you—an interesting take on physics. Low gravity and semi-flexible ground; for us that equals a great deal of bounce.” He grinned. “Have a go.”
Flick examined her shoes. “Um…”
“You’re not embarrassed, are you?” Jonathan said. “It’s just physics.”
Flick imagined herself falling back to the ground in a tangled heap of arms and broken legs. “Is there… a technique?”
“Felicity,” Jonathan sighed. “There is no wrong way to do this. Go ahead.” He bobbed a little on the path. “Give it a try.”
Flick rolled her eyes. This was ridiculous. She felt herself blushing and looked away from Jonathan, before giving a small, experimental jump. Her feet bounced off the squashy ground, and she went up.
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