I was going to attempt an answer, when my train of thought was interrupted by a loud wailing sound behind us.
08
Mr Peterson had lost it.
Just seriously lost it.
When we got back to the stage we found him on his knees, head in his hands, making the horrible sound we’d heard. His face was red and his cheeks were wet with tears. His head was bowed, revealing a sunburnt bald spot in his greying hair.
Mrs O’Donnell was bent over, trying to comfort him, but he thrashed her away with wild, windmill arms. There was spittle around his lips.
‘What happened?’ I asked her.
Mrs O’Donnell shook her head.
‘I don’t know. He’d stopped the rocking and was sitting there in his seat, looking around. And then this…’
Lilly approached him warily, keeping her distance in case those arms struck out again.
‘Mr Peterson?’ she asked soothingly. ‘Can you tell us what is wrong?’
There was no reply, just an increase in the volume of Mr Peterson’s wailing. A thin, high-pitched noise that sounded more like the voice of Mr Peebles than his own.
Suddenly it hit me: just how much trouble we were in. Everyone on the village green had been inexplicably, completely immobilised, by some force or sickness that we couldn’t guess. Only the four people who’d been hypnotised as part of Danny’s act remained unaffected by the event.
We were alone.
But where did that leave us? What could we do?
‘We need to get help,’ I said. I turned to Mrs O’Donnell. ‘The Happy Shopper is open today – how many people are working there?’
‘Just Tony,’ she said. ‘Tony Jefferson. Shop Manager. Everyone else is here.’
‘Let’s go and see how
Mrs O’Donnell tried to get Mr Peterson on to his feet, but he wasn’t having any of it. He just made that horrible wailing sound and then collapsed into tears. They were the kind of tears that made a person’s whole body shake. Mrs O’Donnell couldn’t get close to him without him striking out at her.
‘You two go,’ she said to Lilly and me. ‘Go and see if Tony’s OK. I’ll stay here and make sure Rodney doesn’t do himself any harm.’
‘Rodney?’
Mrs O’Donnell pointed to Mr Peterson. I’d known him all my life and never knew his first name.
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Rodney.’
‘And I’m Kate,’ Mrs O’Donnell said.
I gave her as close to a smile as I could manage, and nodded my head.
‘We’ll be back as soon as we can,’ I said.
Lilly and I made our way through the rows of stationary people, across the green, out on to the high street, past the shed, and towards the Happy Shopper.
The high street itself was deserted and strangely quiet. There were no cars driving down the road, which is – like – unheard of on a Saturday afternoon. Millgrove is a common alternative to the main carriageway and there’s
We hurried as fast as we could without actually breaking into a jog.
‘What’s causing this?’ Lilly asked me. ‘I mean, something’s got to be doing it.’
‘I’m afraid that, in the words of a certain science teacher, “We simply don’t have enough data to form a conclusion.”’ I used a rough approximation of Mr Cruikshank’s voice.
Lilly started to laugh, then seemed angry with herself for showing humour in such bizarre circumstances. I thought there might be a large measure of guilt behind it: we were walking around while Simon was frozen to the spot.
‘So where do we get more data?’ she asked.
I pointed to the bright windows of the shop ahead.
‘Here will be a start,’ I said.
The Happy Shopper was just like any other Happy Shopper anywhere on the planet.
Except smaller.
Millgrove didn’t do anything big, except maybe that idiot talent show.
I pushed open the advert-papered shop door.
The bell above the door rang. It wasn’t an electric buzzer or beeper; it was a genuine, old-fashioned brass bell.
I walked in with Lilly following close on my heels.
There were two other people in the shop: Tony Jefferson, standing behind the counter, and Eddie Beattie over by the drinks cooler.
Tony had been freeze-framed in the act of refilling one of the displays of Wrigley’s gum that stood on the counter, strategically placed for those last-minute buys.
Eddie Beattie was choosing a can of high-impact cider from the fridge, and he looked like he’d just made up his mind and was reaching towards a shelf in the cooler when…
When whatever happened, happened.
Up until that moment I had been thinking that the state of the people on the green had something to do with Danny and his hypnosis. I know it wasn’t a likely idea, but it was a lot more comforting than any other I could come up with.
But Tony and Eddie hadn’t been present at the green.
Whatever this was, it wasn’t restricted to the talent show audience.
‘Is it just Millgrove?’ Lilly’s voice quavered. ‘Or is it the whole world?’
I shook my head.
‘There’s only one way to find out,’ I said.
I popped the catch on the shop counter, just like I’d seen the staff do for years, and I lifted the flap that let me in. I ignored Tony, located the radio he kept behind there, flicked the
A harsh shriek of static tore through the still air.
‘Sorry,’ I said, turning the volume down a few notches so the noise didn’t
Any signal.
All I found were variations on the same general theme of ear-splitting interference.
‘Is it broken?’ Lilly asked.
I tried to remember if it was playing earlier when we’d stopped in for cold drinks, but if it had, it hadn’t registered.
‘I guess it could be,’ I said. ‘Or something could be jamming radio signals. Or, I suppose, I could be finding no stations because there
Lilly’s suddenly panicked face told me that maybe some of my ideas ought to remain inside my head, and not be just thrown out at someone unprepared for them.
‘Or maybe it’s sunspot activity, electromagnetic storms, UFOs, or the well-planned revenge of the dolphins,’ I said, trying humour instead.
‘How can you make jokes at a time like this?’ Lilly demanded and I felt about an inch-and-a-half tall. ‘It’s not as if you have a particularly good history as a comedian.’
‘Actually, I’m just trying to find a way to deal with all this,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry if it sounds like I’m not taking things seriously, I honestly don’t know what else to do.’
