The One Who Is Two (Book 1 of White Rabbit)

Chapter 4

  Driven by wild panic, he stumbled in potholes and slipped on patches of loose stones on the broken tarmac. Towering trees and sinister hedges slid past in a blur of movement and menace, whilst gates and stiles beckoned innocently towards malign fields and predatory paths.

  He stopped, panting for breath, and heard a menacing roar echoing between the dark hedges, distant but getting quickly closer. Another beast, thirsty for his blood! He leapt onto the verge and scrabbled desperately to get through the hedge as the monster veered into sight – and then tore past, ignoring him. A woman inside stared blankly ahead, oblivious to the turmoil she had caused.

  For it was a car, an ordinary domestic car. Trembling with relief, he stepped back into the road with as much dignity as he could muster and started brushing loose twigs and leaves from his jacket. It was then that he saw that there had been a witness to his mistake.

  The little girl watched silently as he approached. Although he was trying to look as nonchalant as possible, he could feel his cheeks burning, a blatant act of betrayal. She was standing in the driveway of a white bungalow which was set well back from the road in well-trimmed gardens, with two cars parked in front of the house. Her ginger hair was gathered into two fuzzy bunches and she wore a frilly pink dress.

  'Hello,' he said with exaggerated good cheer. The girl watched him blankly and did not return his smile.

  'Um – there was something in the hedge, something I wanted to look at.' Still she just stared.

  'You don't think I was scared of the car, do you?' he said with a little laugh. No response.

  'I mean, a car – what's to be scared of, eh?' he continued, displaying his sangfroid with a shrug.

  'My name is Peony,' she said, 'What's your name?'

  Then she gave him a hard stare, clutching her Barbie doll close to her chest. He opened his mouth to answer – but nothing happened.

  'You don't know who you are,' she said.

  'Of course I do!'

  But when he tried again, still nothing came. He grinned sheepishly, half-hoping she would enlighten him.

  'You're silly,' she said, in a matter-of-fact voice.

  'That's not fair! I am not silly!'

  'You are silly. You're silly because you don't know who you are.'

  'I do know who I am,' he said, trying to sound emphatic.

  She looked at him suspiciously.

  'I'm – I'm – ,' he stuttered.

  She turned away with a haughty toss of her bunches. Then something popped into his mind, appearing from nowhere like a magician's rabbit.

  'I'm Loofah!' he cried.

  She turned back, frowning with doubt.

  'Yes, that's who I am,' he went on, with growing confidence, 'Loofah!'

  'That's a silly name. Like a bath sponge,' she said firmly, 'Anyway, I know who you are – you're The Seeker.'

  'The Seeker? What does that – ?'

  'Hold Chantelle,' she interrupted, holding out the doll. It was Loofah who now looked blank, stunned with confusion.

  'Hold Chantelle!' she commanded. And then added, in a softer tone, 'You can play with her if you like.'

  'Thank you,' he said, taking the proffered doll, 'But I don't know how to…' she turned and walked purposefully across the lawn to her swing '…play with dolls,' he trailed, into the empty air.

  The girl started swinging, humming to herself and kicking out her legs to gain height. The Seeker: what on earth did she mean by that? Hi-tech missiles came to mind, and a magic dragon called 'Puff'. Then Loofah remembered his tee-shirt – that baleful garment which seemed to be playing a persistently and uncomfortably prominent role in events – and the enigmatic logo she must have read.

  Something tickled his hand, a movement. He looked down at the doll. And it looked at him, with huge china-blue eyes. Then, smiling lasciviously with a flutter of spider-like eyelashes, it wriggled its tiny plastic buttocks against his palm.

  'Ooh, big boy,' it said in a sultry squeak, and with tiny hands pushed his finger up to touch its breasts.

  'What – ?'

  'Take me, I'm yours,' it simpered, pulling up the hem of its absurdly short dress.

  'Look, I don't think – .'

  It wriggled again, purring and taking hold of its skimpy white knickers in its minuscule hands.

  'Please, don't do that.'

  It smiled and started to ease the knickers down over long anorexic legs of orange plastic.

  'Stop!' Loofah grabbed at its hand, but it pulled free, wriggling angrily and again grabbing for its panties.

  'No!' Pushing its hands away, he tried to pull the hem of the dress down. The doll struggled furiously, opening its legs.

  'What are you doing to Chantelle's dress?'

  Loofah looked up. Peony was standing directly in front of him.

  'Nothing, nothing at all,' he said, trying to force the plastic legs closed. The doll squeaked in distress.

  'You're hurting her!' It squeaked more loudly. 'What are you doing? What are you doing?' cried the girl.

  'Nothing. Really. Here, you can have her back – take her.'

  Loofah held out the doll. It was whimpering now, with its dress rucked up and its knickers half-way down its plastic thighs. The girl's eyes widened with horror.

  'It wasn't me,' he began, 'It was her…'

  The girl began to cry, backing away from him. He stepped forward, holding out the whimpering doll.

  'Daddy!' the girl shouted and turned to run.

  'No, please, come back,' he said, 'It's alright, I haven't done anything.'

  As she fled up the drive a man appeared round the side of the house, carrying a set of electric hedge clippers.

  'Oh my God,' muttered Loofah, backing towards the road.

  'She Who Looks Both Ways.' The squeaked words clicked into his consciousness.

  'Uh?' he said, holding up the doll.

  'You must find her,' it squeaked. Then, with a lascivious leer, it pushed his thumb under the hem of its crumpled skirt. Loofah looked up; the girl was standing next to the parked cars, sobbing her heart out, and the man with the clippers was storming down the drive towards him. With a curse, he dropped the doll onto the grass verge and ran.