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

The transition from hill of dark mansions to high street was brutally abrupt; one minute he was floating through the ominous though quiet realm of the fortresses of opulence, the next he was at the epicentre of an artillery bombardment of motor car noise, angry faces and dazzle. Staggering like a pole-axed steer, he was sucked into the insane mêlée, carried by a momentum that wasn't his own.

  He passed shop fronts, all ablaze with reflected dazzle that carved into the soft jelly of his brain like broken glass, then teetered for a moment on the kerb, gazing in blank horror into the river of death beyond, where cars screamed to and fro in a manic hunt for stray pedestrians. People clutching carrier bags pushed past him, bellowing fury into his face as they rushed desperately from one purchasing experience to the next, driven by the deadly certainty that their lives would end if anything should hinder this enterprise.

  A fat man grunted angrily and barged into him, sending him reeling into a sheet of hot glass. For a minute he stared into the shop, watching rows of print dresses undulating to themselves like headless dancing girls. Then a young woman pushed him away, sending him back out into the pavement where two housewives bounced him from one to the other like a rugby ball as they raced each other to the door of a chemist's shop which was offering discounts on selected items of oral hygiene care.

  Soon there was nothing except the screaming blur of noise and colour and light that whirled around him in an endless hurricane. Occasional faces emerged from the manic swirl, leering at him with twisted fury before blending back in the mayhem. He was out of control, a leaf in a storm, a human billiard ball cannoning from collision to collision.

  Then suddenly something crystallised out the whirling mess; an ornamental black metal sign pointing up a side road on the opposite side of the street. Loofah narrowed his eyes to make out the tiny gold letters, but somehow he already knew what it said: 'To the Cinema'.

  As he stared across at the ominous sign, an icy anaconda coiled around his intestines and squeezed. He shook his head slowly; he would not obey, he was a free man and non-one could force him – but the snake squeezed tighter, twisting itself into a hard knot. Mustering every fibre of determination he turned his back on the sign, and nearly collided with a mother leading a little girl by the hand. He began to stammer apologies, but stopped; both mother and daughter were glaring at him with the same, and all too familiar, puff-angry face. As he looked quickly around, he saw he was in a sea of them, some in business suits, some with children's bodies, some carrying shopping bags, others pushing prams – but all staring at him with the same porcine eyes set in the same corporate manager's irate face. He slumped down into his jacket and the anaconda relaxed – it had won. With the resigned torpor of a condemned man, he turned slowly and stepped into the road.

  With a roar of naked fury a metal beast loomed out the manic blur and hurtled towards him, baring in its snarling radiator grille. Loofah leapt back to the safety of the pavement, tripping on the curb as chrome teeth snapped closed inches from his left thigh.

  'That was very, very foolish.'

  A huge pelican was standing over him, looking down on him with solemn reproach and shaking its head from side to side, its bill-pouch swaying like a flabby yellow udder.

  'It was, wasn't it?' agreed Loofah, getting to his feet and feeling every bit as foolish as the bird clearly thought he ought.

  'Remember the Highway Code,' the pelican continued, in its officious monotone, 'You should always use a designated crossing. Why do you think the Parish Council bothers to employ me?'

  It was odd being reprimanded by a pelican, particularly one dressed in a neat green jacket with 'Parish Council Highways Dept' embroidered on its breast pocket. But he tried not to smile; this was clearly a bird that took itself very seriously indeed.

  'I am sorry,' he said, 'I just… forgot.'

  'We'll say no more about it for now, but please don't forget again. Now, if you'll just climb aboard, we'll soon have you safely across.'

  With this the pelican squatted down, clearly intending for him to climb on its back.

  'Gerraway from that fuckin' bird,' slurred an angry voice from behind, just Loofah was about to mount.

  This was a zebra that was trotting – rather unsteadily – up the pavement towards him.

  'Oh no, not again,' muttered the pelican.

  'Don't trust him,' slurred the zebra, stumbling up to Loofah and breathing whisky fumes in his face, 'Bloody Johnny-come-lately. Couldn't cross a fuckin' – a fuckin' – a fuckin' something that's easy to cross.'

  The zebra was also wearing the green council jacket, though its was distinctly grubby and frayed at the sleeves.

  'What do you think you're doing?' said the pelican, in a frosty tone, 'You've been warned about this sort of thing – on more than one occasion.'

  'Trying to keep the fucking roads safe, aren't I? Before you useless new boys get everybody run over,' said the zebra, leering threateningly at the pelican with its bloodshot eyes.

  'You have no right to wear that uniform and you know it. Let me remind you that impersonating a council official is a criminal offence. Now take off that jacket and go home.'

  'No, I won't go 'ome. Got to keep the roads safe. Got to get this bloke across. On you get, mate, I'll look after to you.'

  'The gentleman will do no such thing.' The pelican turned to Loofah. 'Forced to take early retirement two years ago,' it said, speaking in a confidential tone, 'Reduced competence. Very sad, very sad indeed. Became a danger to pedestrians – a pensioner and her poodle crippled for life. Lucky no-one was killed.'

  'That wasn't my fault!' bellowed the zebra, 'That was a drunken driver!'

  'It was the drinking that did it alright, though the driver was sober. No go home before I call the authorities.'

  The zebra blinked at Loofah with swimming eyes and then burst into tears.

  'Thirty years,' it sobbed, 'thirty years of tireless service I've given this town, man and foal, getting people across the road through rain and shine. And then along comes this overgrown seagull with its fancy new ideas and I'm out, tossed aside like a piece of used toilet paper.'

  'Come along now, don't make trouble. The gentleman hasn't got all day…'

  'Well, I'm not having it, I'm not! Get up, sir, I'll show you how to cross a road – properly, like it used to be done,' blubbered the zebra, stumbling unsteadily towards him, dipping its back for him to mount, 'We don't need this puffed up penguin.'

  'Pelican!' corrected the pelican, 'Now please come away from this dreadful creature, sir,' it continued, taking Loofah's jacket sleeve in its beak, 'and we'll get you safely across.'

  'Pelican! Pelican!' mocked the zebra, imitating the bird's pompous voice, and then pulled at Loofah's other sleeve with its teeth.

  For a few moments he was pulled to and fro between them, like a disputed morsel of food.

  'I'm warning you,' said the pelican, releasing the jacket, 'As an official of the Parish Council I order you to leave this pedestrian alone.'

  'Fuck off, big mouth.'

  As this the pelican huffed angrily and pecked at the zebra's head, catching it just above the left eye. With a whinny of fury the zebra reared up, kicking out with its front legs. As the pelican spun round to aim another peck, Loofah backed away, watching the fighting animals with bemused alarm.

  'Go on, go for it, my son,' hissed a voice by his shoulder, 'You don't need that pair of wankers.'

  A jay – an ordinary-sized jay – was perched on a parking meter beside his left shoulder.

  'Sorry? Go for what?'

  'Across,' hissed the jay, 'To the other side. Go on, my son, you'll be alright.'

  'You mean… just run across?'

  ''Course I do. You'll be fine: trust your old china here.' It winked at him, an evil glint flashing in its black little eye; 'trust' was not the word that immediately sprang to mind.

  'That's a bit dangerous isn't it? What about all the cars?'

  'Who's scared
of a few cars?' it sneered, 'You a pansy or something?'

  'No, of course I'm not. But I still think I ought to – .'

  'Go with one of them?' interrupted the jay, nodding towards the pelican and the zebra. These were now brawling openly on the pavement, as passers-by, tutting with disapproval, skirted round to avoid flying hooves and wings. It was not a re-assuring sight.

  'Go on, my son,' continued the luridly coloured avian wide-boy, 'Show us what you're made of.'

  Loofah glanced anxiously at the road, into the manic river of screaming cars.

  'I'm not so sure…' he said hesitantly.

  'Pooftah!' hissed the jay, 'Great frilly party frock of a big girl's blouse!'

  'Look, just because – .' Loofah began, bristling with indignation.

  'You're yellow, aren't you?' sneered the jay, 'I knew it when I first saw you.'

  For a long moment Loofah just glared at the bird, jaws clenched. Then, deep inside, something snapped.

  'Yellow?' he spat, 'Yellow? I'll show you who's bloody well yellow.'

  And with this he stepped off the curb, striding out between two parked cars. Behind him, as the jay cackled with delight, the pelican and the zebra yelled a desperate 'stop' with a single voice – but Loofah ignored them and, fixing his eyes on the cinema sign, marched resolutely into the traffic.

  A wild howling of brakes and skidding wheels shredded the air, followed by the rhythmic thump of metal on metal, the crunch of crumbling headlight assemblies and the agonised scream of fender mountings tearing free. Chrome radiators, snarling with shocked fury, screeched to a halt either side of his path, forming a smouldering guard of honour. Enraged motorists bellowed and pedestrians shrieked from the pavement.

  Loofah looked neither to right nor to left, he did not hurry and he did not flinch. As he stepped onto the pavement a crowd of onlookers parted to let him through, watching him with silent wide-eyed amazement. Yellow? – pah!