The Tunnel of Dreams

by Bernard Beckett

  ‘You’d be feeling sorry for yourself too, if everybody was laughing at you,’ Harriet replied, but her voice was quiet, as if she had actually listened to what he said.

  ‘They’re laughing because they can see you getting angry with them,’ Stefan reasoned. ‘And if you get angry, it will make you much less use in the competitions, and that means they will have a better chance of beating you. Whoever Madame Johnson picked on today, they would have laughed at.’

  ‘But she knows!’ Harriet complained. ‘She knows some of them have cheated, and she’s just letting them get away with it.’

  ‘Perhaps she isn’t,’ Stefan said, although he didn’t quite understand how that would work. ‘Perhaps she has a plan. And that’s the thing. I think we need to have a plan too. I think we need to stop worrying about what other people are doing, and how unfair it all is, and we need to think of a way of beating them.’

  ‘But you saw me,’ Harriet complained. ‘I couldn’t even get off the ground.’

  ‘Perhaps you won’t need to,’ Stefan smiled, because in fact the most brilliant idea had just come to him, and it was exactly the sort of crazy impossible idea that sometimes worked.

  ‘Have you lost your mind?’ Harriet demanded. ‘You think I can get through a flying challenge without actually flying?’

  ‘Yes,’ Stefan said. ‘I think there might be a way. I have a plan. But I can’t tell you, and I can’t explain why. But I do have a plan, and I think you don’t need to worry quite as much as you have been.’

  Harriet looked closely at her friend. It was obvious she wanted to believe him, even though she was finding it very difficult.

  ‘Just try your best in flying class and stop worrying,’ Stefan told her. ‘Worrying will only waste your energy.’

  To his relief, Stefan saw Harriet smile, the first time she’d done that all day.

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ she said. ‘Let’s get these dishes finished so we can get back to the dorm.’

  ARLO WOKE WITH a start. He realised immediately what he should have done the night before. Regret flooded through him. How could he have been so stupid? He’d found a talking bird and he hadn’t talked to it. Not properly. He hadn’t asked it about anything that mattered. He turned to Alice and shook her sleeping shoulders, as he would have if it had been Stefan next to him.

  Alice’s hands shot out, grabbing both his wrists so tightly it was painful. Her eyes sprang open, wide and watchful. ‘What is it?’ she demanded, looking all around for signs of danger.

  ‘I just,’ he paused, trying to make this sound important. ‘I think I know how to find out more about this place.’

  Alice relaxed, let go of his wrists and sat up. She nodded for him to continue.

  ‘Well, this is going to sound strange, but last night, when I went out to pee, I discovered a talking pukeko.’

  Alice frowned, clearly disappointed. ‘A talking pukeko?’

  ‘Have you never heard animals talking to you here?’ Arlo asked, beginning to doubt his own story. ‘I think it might be part of the magic.’

  Alice considered this for a moment. She didn’t seem to dismiss the possibility. That was the thing about this place. Nothing could be dismissed as impossible.

  ‘I haven’t heard any myself,’ she said. ‘But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. Let’s see if we can find it.’

  They went out into the daylight, to the place where he’d seen the strange bird, with its helmeted red head and its comical bobbing white tail. ‘Ah, hello?’ he tried, feeling ridiculous. ‘Little bird? Hello.’

  He waited, and when there was no response, repeated the call. Still nothing. Alice shrugged and the look of doubt on her face cut at him.

  ‘Oh well, I’m going to go hunting for mushrooms,’ she said. ‘Be back soon. You stay here and talk to the birds.’

  Arlo sat on a log, despondent, and passed the time throwing small stones into the stream. It was another half hour before the annoying bird showed itself.

  ‘Bad day?’ The pukeko’s red beak pushed out from behind a clump of ferns. ‘Want to tell me about it?’ The bird jumped up onto the log and stared silently into the water, beside Arlo, the way a friend might.

  ‘No hurry,’ the bird told him. ‘We’re very patient. We’re known for being good listeners.’

  ‘I called for you,’ Arlo protested. ‘Didn’t you hear me calling for you?’

  ‘Of course I heard you.’

  ‘But you didn’t show yourself,’ Arlo complained.

  ‘I’m choosy about who I talk to,’ the bird replied. ‘That’s how you stay alive when you’re a bird. You don’t take risks.’

  ‘Alice won’t hurt you,’ Arlo said.

  ‘Have you seen what she does to eels?’ the pukeko replied. ‘I’m good eating, I am. Don’t think I don’t know that. And anyway, she wouldn’t be able to hear me. Not everyone has the touch.’

  Arlo wanted to stay grumpy, but the thought of sitting on a log having a conversation with a pukeko was so ridiculous he couldn’t help smiling.

  ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

  The pukeko let out a long low whistle.

  ‘I don’t think I can say that,’ Arlo told him. ‘Don’t you have a name in English?’

  ‘It’s not my name,’ the pukeko replied. ‘I was just whistling.’

  ‘Well you should have answered my question,’ Arlo said. ‘It’s bad manners not to.’

  ‘I was just surprised,’ the pukeko said. ‘No human has ever asked me my name before. Most of them wouldn’t even stop to think I might have a name.’

  ‘So what is it?’ Arlo asked.

  The pukeko tilted his head to one side, thinking hard. It bent its head to the ground and pecked at it a couple of times. ‘What’s yours?’ the bird finally asked.

  ‘I’m Arlo.’

  The bird hopped from one leg to the other in an excited little dance. ‘Me too! My name’s Arlo as well!’

  ‘You don’t have a name do you?’ Arlo said.

  ‘I might have,’ the pukeko replied. ‘Perhaps I’ve just never heard it.’

  ‘Then I’ll name you myself,’ Arlo said. ‘You can be called Piwi.’

  ‘What sort of a name is that?’ Piwi demanded.

  ‘It’s a cross between pukeko and kiwi,’ Arlo explained. He thought he’d been clever to think of it.

  Piwi didn’t seem so convinced. ‘It sounds as if you’re making a joke about peeing on me,’ it said crossly.

  ‘Well I wasn’t,’ Arlo said, although now he thought of it, it would have been funny.

  ‘So,’ the newly named Piwi asked, ‘why were you calling for me?’

  ‘I thought you might be able to tell us something,’ Arlo replied, immediately aware how complicated this was. If Piwi could talk to him, then could he talk to others too? So was talking to it even safe? He wished Alice was still here, so he didn’t have to decide this alone.

  ‘What sort of something?’ Piwi asked.

  Arlo paused. Fear got the better of him. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘It’s nothing.’

  Piwi jumped off the log and strode bobbing to a point directly in front of Arlo. He looked up at him. ‘I know what you’re thinking. You’re wondering whether it’s safe to talk to me. You’re scared that if you tell me you came here through the tunnel I’ll tell someone and you’ll be captured.’

  Arlo’s mouth fell open. But his surprise quickly turned to fear. Should he try to find Alice? Should he run? Should he try to kill this bird who knew too much? The trouble was, although he could clearly hear the bird’s words, he had no way of reading its face. He had no way of telling what it was thinking. The reverse, apparently, was not true.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Piwi told him. ‘We have a pact. The animals of this world will never interfere in the business of humans. So I couldn’t tell even if I wanted to, and I don’t, because actually I have been watching you and you are kind and you mean no harm, and so I wish you well in your quest.’
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  ‘But you can’t tell me anything about—’

  ‘About anything,’ Piwi agreed. ‘That is the pact. I probably shouldn’t be talking to you at all, but I get bored. Other birds don’t seem to mind, spending their day pecking at food and keeping an eye out for predators, but I’ve always wanted more than that.’

  Arlo thought about this. Perhaps Piwi could be tricked into talking more. ‘You’re in a bad mood tonight, aren’t you?’ he said.

  ‘Perhaps I have a good reason,’ Piwi answered.

  Arlo waited for more, but Piwi returned to silence.

  ‘Why are you in such a grump?’

  ‘I can’t tell you,’ Piwi answered, pecking anxiously at the root of a fern.

  ‘I think you’re just trying to annoy me,’ Arlo said.

  ‘Sometimes we are annoying even when we don’t mean to be,’ Piwi replied. ‘Sometimes we are most annoying when we are trying to be helpful.’

  ‘I don’t see how you’re trying to be helpful,’ Arlo said.

  Piwi turned his back, thrust his white bottom into the air and wiggled it angrily a few times before heading back to the undergrowth.

  A few moments later, Arlo could hear it muttering curses to itself.

  Eventually the cursing stopped, and a sad voice spoke from the bushes. ‘Aren’t you even going to ask why I’m upset?’

  ‘I already have,’ Arlo pointed out.

  Piwi emerged from the bushes. ‘I can’t tell you,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, not this again.’ Arlo rolled his eyes.

  ‘No,’ said Piwi. ‘You don’t understand. That’s what’s making me sad. I’m sad because of all the things I’m not allowed to tell you.’

  ‘What do mean, not allowed to tell me?’ Arlo turned to look at the bird more closely.

  Piwi turned away, refusing to meet Arlo’s gaze.

  Arlo knew that look. It was the look of someone trying desperately to keep a secret he wanted desperately to tell. ‘Come on. You can tell me why you’re not allowed to say. That’s not the same thing as saying it. Not at all.’

  Piwi thought about this for a moment.

  ‘You’re right. I suppose it isn’t. And you’re not like the others, are you? Perhaps, technically, talking to you isn’t really talking to a human, because, you’re not, well, you’re not from this world.’

  ‘How did you know that?’ Arlo demanded.

  ‘Everybody knows it,’ Piwi answered. ‘Not the people, of course.’ Piwi gave a little laugh that was almost a snort, a most unusual sound to hear coming from a bird. ‘People don’t know anything. But the animals know. We talk to each other, you see. It’s how we pass the time. You people like to spend your time sailing ships and building things. We prefer to gossip.’

  ‘And you won’t ever tell people what you know?’ Arlo checked.

  ‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you,’ Piwi said. ‘We made a pact, hundreds of years ago, all of the animals. We made a promise never to get involved in human affairs.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ said Arlo, although he didn’t, not at all. ‘And why did you do that?’

  ‘There was a time when things were different here,’ Piwi told him. ‘When the animals and humans were equals. But then the humans became greedy. They wanted more, and they started telling themselves that they deserved more. That we were just stupid animals. Then they started to pretend they couldn’t hear us talking. It was only a small step from there to treating us cruelly. We didn’t fight them. But we didn’t forgive them either. We made ourselves a promise, to never again involve ourselves in human affairs. And we have kept that promise ever since.’

  They sat together in silence. Arlo needed a moment to think about what he had heard. He could imagine it happening and that fact made him feel ashamed. He looked at Piwi again, and this time, instead of feeling annoyed, he felt sorry for the bird.

  ‘Thank you for telling me that,’ he said. Arlo was fairly certain Piwi wanted to tell him more. ‘It would help me, you know, in what I have to do here, if you could tell me some things. But I understand it if you can’t. I understand you’re bound by your promise.’

  ‘Yes, yes I am,’ Piwi agreed, nodding his head in sad agreement. ‘I am sorry.’

  ‘But if there was a way of helping me understand something, without actually telling it to me,’ Arlo tried. ‘Would you be able to do that?’

  The bird thought about it for a moment. ‘Perhaps. How would I do that?’

  ‘I was hoping you might have an idea,’ Arlo said. ‘You know this place better than I do.’

  The bird said no more. It walked to a rotten branch and scratched at it with its claw.

  ‘Actually,’ it said. Its head jerked up and its small eyes shone bright. ‘We could perhaps take a walk deeper into the forest. I mean, dogs walk with their masters, don’t they? That’s not against the rules.’

  ‘And the place we walk to. Might that help me understand?’ Arlo asked.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Piwi said. ‘Yes, perhaps it might.’

  Piwi was quite excited now, and did a little dance that included bouncing around in circles and flapping its nearly useless wings as if even it didn’t quite believe it could fly. ‘All right then. No time to waste. Follow me, before I change my mind,’ it said.

  Arlo hesitated. Alice wouldn’t know where to find him. Then again, it was why he was here, wasn’t it? To find a way of freeing Jackie. Wouldn’t she do the same? Up ahead, the bird hopped impatiently, from one foot to the other.

  Arlo put his head down and followed. ‘How long will it take us?’ he asked.

  ‘Only a couple of hours,’ Piwi answered. ‘If you’re quick.’

  At first they followed the stream, moving gently uphill through the thick bush. It was much easier going for Piwi, who could duck beneath vines and fallen logs and avoid the snagging tendrils of creepers. Arlo spent most of his time climbing, crawling, untangling himself and avoiding large obstacles.

  ‘You’re very slow,’ Piwi scolded.

  ‘I’m not made for the forest,’ Arlo answered. ‘I do better on roads.’

  It became even harder when the hill grew steeper. Arlo had to scramble up on all fours, grabbing at tree roots and rocks, while Piwi hopped and flapped up ahead, making no effort at all to encourage him.

  ‘It’s no wonder you people find yourselves in so much trouble, when you can’t even do something as simple as climbing a hill,’ the pukeko teased.

  ‘If you weren’t so skinny I’d pluck your feathers and cook you on my camp fire,’ Arlo answered.

  ‘You don’t even know how to start a camp fire,’ Piwi replied, nervously.

  About fifteen minutes after Piwi had finally allowed Arlo to stop and drink from a stream, they first heard the strange sound. It was a very small sound, full of hollows and echoes, as if it had travelled to them over a great distance, and there was a haunting sweetness to it. Arlo thought he could make out moments of ringing percussion, and parts of it sounded like a choir of tiny voices joined together in song. Arlo might have thought it was a trick of a wind coming down the gully, or the playful echoing of a mountain stream, but he could see that Piwi had heard it too. The bird’s head had dropped to one side and one foot was raised slightly off the ground in a listening pose.

  ‘What is it?’ Arlo asked.

  ‘We’re just going for a walk,’ Piwi answered. ‘If we see something we see it. That’s all I can say.’ But the bird’s head was swaying from side to side, as if enchanted.

  ‘Is it because of the promise that you can’t mention the music?’ Arlo asked.

  ‘What music?’ Piwi replied, his voice lifting in mischievous delight.

  ‘Do many people come into this part of the forest?’ Arlo asked, thinking another approach might work better.

  Piwi took a moment to consider the question. ‘No. There’s every chance you are the very first.’

  Arlo stopped.

  ‘Why aren’t you moving?’ Piwi asked.

  ‘Why haven’t o
ther people been here?’ Arlo asked.

  ‘I can’t tell you.’

  ‘I think we should go back,’ Arlo told the bird. ‘I don’t think I should be out here. It’s too dangerous.’

  Piwi looked all around him, as if checking to see nothing was listening, then hopped closer.

  ‘Everything you do here is dangerous,’ Piwi whispered. ‘Coming here was dangerous. Getting out will be even more risky. You can’t avoid danger here.’

  Arlo felt a coldness creep over him. He felt suddenly small and vulnerable. ‘I want to go back now, please,’ he said.

  ‘Think of the girl,’ Piwi said to him. ‘Think of the girl in the cage.’

  Piwi was right. Whatever was waiting for them over the next ridge, Arlo couldn’t walk away from it. Not if it might help Jackie. He thought of his brother and the danger he had put himself in by going to the Academy. ‘You’re right, Piwi. Let’s keep going.’

  The bird nodded. ‘One more drop, then up to the next ridge, back down again and we’re there.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Nowhere,’ came the infuriating reply. ‘We’re just going for a walk, that’s all.’

  ‘You’re very annoying,’ Arlo told him.

  ‘But don’t worry,’ Piwi replied. ‘We’ll soon be on a walking path.’

  The idea of a walking path cheered Arlo greatly, after what had now been three hours battling through thick bush. Then a worrying thought occurred: if no people had ever been here before him, who or what had bothered to make a walking path? Arlo decided it would be better not to think about this, and concentrated instead on moving forward.

  With every footstep the swooping swirl of the beautiful music grew louder, and by the time Arlo and Piwi crested the final ridge it was clear they were listening to singing, and the clapping of hands, the banging of percussion and the wafting notes of what Arlo imagined was some kind of flute. As Piwi had promised, they soon found a path, which ran along the ridge before going down into the trees. It was narrow but carefully maintained: the dirt was even and compact, there were no weeds and even the smallest stones had been swept to the side. At the point where the path crossed a shallow stream, rocks had been placed as stepping stones, even though the stream was so narrow Arlo could easily step across. On the other side, the track turned briefly to mud, and in it Arlo could make out the footprints of what looked to be extremely small boots.