‘And yet you achieved both and have now delayed me. What time is it anyway?’ Noah looked at his watch, but before he could reply the man let out a tremendous wail. ‘Oh, tell me it’s not that time,’ he cried, his voice filled with fury. ‘Oh my stars, we had an appointment at the vet’s and he never treats late-comers. He kicks them right out onto the street instead. And if that happens, my cat is sure to die. And it will be all your fault. You really are a monstrous little boy.’ His voice grew deep and loud as he said these last three words and his face turned the colour of an overripe turnip.
‘I said I was sorry,’ said Noah, a little surprised, for if the man was going to be late for his appointment, then he could hardly be blamed for it. He’d only stopped him for a moment, after all. And if the cat was going to die … well, cats died, and that was the end of it. His own cat had died a few months before and they’d given her a funeral and felt very sad about it but got on with their lives afterwards. His mother had even written a song on her guitar about the cat and played it as they covered the grave back over. She was good at doing things like that, Noah thought, smiling to himself. Not allowing sad things to ruin a day.
‘Who are you anyway?’ asked the man, leaning forward and sniffing the boy carefully, as if he was a bowl of whipped cream that had been left on the sideboard for too long and might have gone off. ‘I don’t know you, do I? What business have you got here? We don’t like strangers in our village, you know. Go back to where you came from, why don’t you, and leave us all in peace!’
‘I’m Noah Barleywater,’ said Noah, ‘and I was only passing through because—’
‘Not interested!’ snapped the man, taking a firm hold of his wheelbarrow again and hurrying on his way, complaining loudly as he went.
The people don’t seem very friendly here, thought Noah as he watched the man scurry away. And I really thought this might be the right place for me to start over.
But the incident left a sour taste in his mouth and from then on, as he walked through the village, he became convinced that everyone was staring at him and preparing to lift him clean off the ground and throw him in jail. And just then he caught sight of another man, of regular height, sitting on a bench reading a newspaper and shaking his head sadly, as if the continuing business of the world was a source of great disappointment to him.
‘Heavens above!’ cried the man suddenly, crumpling the edges of the newspaper in his fist as he stared in disbelief at the article he was reading. ‘Oh my giddy aunt!’
Noah stared at him, and hesitated for only a moment before walking over and sitting down beside him, wondering what the man found so astonishing.
‘That’s shocking,’ said the man then, shaking his head. ‘Absolutely shocking.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Noah.
‘It says here that a quantity of apples was stolen from a tree in —’ Here he named the first village that Noah had passed through that morning. ‘The tree,’ read the man, ‘was taking up its regular morning position when a young ruffian appeared out of nowhere and threw himself upon it, stealing three apples and causing a fourth to fall off a branch and become bruised upon the ground. Both tree and apples are being taken into hospital while their injuries are assessed. Doctors say the next twenty-four hours will be crucial.’
Noah frowned. Although this news report bore a curious resemblance to his own adventure earlier in the morning, that had taken place no more than a couple of hours before, so it could hardly be possible that it was already being reported in the papers. And was it even news? His father said they printed nothing in those rags anyway, just a lot of pointless gossip about a bunch of people nobody really cared about.
‘Is that today’s paper?’ asked Noah suspiciously.
‘Yes, of course,’ said the man. ‘Well, it’s the evening edition but I got an early copy.’
‘But it’s only morning time,’ said Noah.
‘Which is what makes it an early copy,’ said the man testily, turning his head to look at the boy, before putting his glasses on for a moment and then taking them off again. ‘Good heavens!’ he gasped, his voice catching in fright.
Noah stared at him, unsure what had made him appear so frightened, but as he did so he caught sight of a drawing that was placed beneath the story of the apple thief. An eight-year-old boy, short for his age but with a fine head of hair. Taking a great bite out of an apple. But how? he wondered. There hadn’t been anyone around to see him. A large block of text was printed in a bold font under the picture:
FOR MORE ON THIS STORY, SEE PAGES 4, 5, 6, 7, 14, 23 AND 40. PLEASE NOTE: THIS BOY IS A MENACE TO SOCIETY AND SHOULD BE APPROACHED WITH GREAT CAUTION OR NOT AT ALL.
I’ve been called worse, thought Noah, but the man beside him was having none of it because he let out a great cry at the top of his voice.
‘It’s him!’ he cried. ‘Stop him, someone. He’s a thief!’
Noah leaped off the bench at that and looked around, sure that he would be apprehended at any moment, but fortunately for him, no one seemed particularly bothered.
‘Stop him, someone!’ the man shouted again as he ran away. ‘Stop him! He’s getting away with it.’
And that was the end of the second village, as far as Noah was concerned. He ran and ran until it had turned into nothing more than a great clump of buildings fading away in the distance behind him, and then it disappeared altogether and he couldn’t remember what all the fuss had been about in the first place.
Chapter Three
The Helpful Dachshund and the Hungry Donkey
Things became a little more muddled after the second village. The path seemed to grow uncertain and the trees merged in front of him, then parted. The light finally broke through to allow him to see his way, then grew dim again and forced him to narrow his eyes to make sure he was walking in the right direction.
He looked down at his feet and was surprised to see that the crooked path had now disappeared entirely and he seemed to have wandered away from his original trail into a part of the forest that felt very different from everything that had come before. The trees were greener here, the air smelled slightly sweeter, the grass was thicker and more springy beneath his shoes. He could hear the sound of a running stream nearby, but when he looked around in surprise – for he knew that there was no water source anywhere near the forest – it became immediately silent again, as if it didn’t want to be found.
Noah stopped and stood very still for a moment, glancing back in the direction of the second village, but it was impossible to see anything that far away. In fact, it seemed to have disappeared altogether, leaving nothing in its place but rows and rows of trees, which appeared to crowd together and block his view of what stood behind them. Somewhere through there, he was sure, was the path that he had been following since leaving home that morning. He had only veered away from it once, and that was when he had to run behind one of the trees because he was bursting to go. He thought about it for a moment and remembered that when he was finished and had turned round again to resume his journey, he couldn’t remember whether he had approached the tree from the left- or the right-hand side, and so had simply chosen the direction that felt correct and continued on his way.