how I do it, my boy. Blindness, you see, has forced me to do my readings by touch and your boney little hands are not giving much away. Sorry, dear, but the only way to get the proper measure of you is through your face.”
“What? You’re blind? So when you cut my hair just now you—”
S L A P !
The next ten minutes were extremely uncomfortable for Ned. Kitty repeatedly slapped, pinched and prodded his cheeks, nose, ears and neck. Never hard enough to actually hurt, but always enough to shock him. The strange thing was, with every slap, pinch and prod came a squeal of joy from the old woman, even at one point an attack of the giggles that made her snort through her nose.
“I think I want to go home now,” Ned scowled as soon as she paused.
“Sorry, dear, I just haven’t had such a fun reading in ages, and your skin is so very soft, isn’t it? Now let me see,” she said, continuing her strange exploration, “interesting, not keen on homework … and not that good with a football either. Face not entirely remarkable, but not by any means plain. Something of a blank canvas on which to paint.”
This was the part Ned was dreading. If Kitty really could read his mind and was hoping to discover anything exciting about him …
“Not really the rising star, are we? Oh yes, I see … a bit cross with dad, but some new friends and a longing to grow roots. Hang on, I sense … Oh dear, a little sadness. We’ll have to see if we can’t fix that …”
Ned was already feeling increasingly uncomfortable when Kitty’s fingers pressed down particularly hard on his forehead.
“Oww!”
“Interesting,” she whispered.
“What? What have you seen?” Ned asked, trying to sound casual but secretly praying that she’d found something about him that was worth remarking on. “And if you prod me like that again, I’m leaving, clowns or not.”
Kitty smiled. “There’s no reason to get all snippy, my little powder-keg. Nearly done, pinky promise,” squeaked Kitty. “Just close those eyes and breathe …”
Suddenly he felt a pressure in the back of his mind. It was the same feeling he’d had outside the big top and again at the end of the show. It was as though someone, or something, were in there with him. “Heyyy, you’ve … bin here … bef … orrrr,” he slurred.
“Yes, dear, I did have a little peek or two. Now pipe down, I’m trying to think.”
In the darkness of his mind, Ned saw a pinprick of light a million miles away from his troubles. It was disorientating and strange, as though he were in the room and somewhere else at the same time.
“Kitteee … moy stomach … feeeeels …”
“A minute more … OK, just as I thought. Open your eyes, that’s enough for today,” said the old woman.
Ned felt strange and very slightly sick, as the room came back into focus.
“What just happened?”
“Yes, Kit-Kat, what did just happen?” came a deeper voice from the bus’s doorway.
Ned looked up. There, framed in the doorway, was the huge figure of the Circus of Marvels’ Ringmaster – Benissimo.
Ned felt a mix of awe and hope. Perhaps he was finally going to get some answers. This was the man his father trusted, the man who would get Ned’s life back in order.
“It’s unclear, Bene. On the one hand, something … on the other, most definitely nothing,” answered Kitty brightly.
“Hell’s teeth, Kit-Kat! What kind of answer is that?”
“It is the only answer you’re getting till you mind your manners and ask the right question,” she retorted, now in the deeper voice of an elderly but formidable woman, all traces of giggly girlishness gone.
“I just did!” snapped the Ringmaster, his bushy moustache twitching irritably.
“Not to me, you fool, to the boy.”
The great tower that was Benissimo changed, his face shifting from irritation, to new-found understanding.
“I see … yes, yes, of course.”
He raised one of his large eyebrows, then lowered it and raised the other, before studying his subject more closely.
“So this is him and here he is. Not much to look at and very young, Kit-Kat, too young,” said the Ringmaster, now drawing uncomfortably close.
Ned’s shoulders tensed again. Benissimo may have seemed saner than the rest of the circus crew but he was also slightly terrifying and he was staring at Ned so closely it was as if he was trying to read the pores of his skin.
“Err, sorry, but too young for what?”
“Too young for us, pup,” said Benissimo, “for the Circus of Marvels and the road we travel. Tell me, did your father explain anything about what we do here and where it is we come from?”
Ned shrugged. “He garbled a lot of stuff, none of it made much sense though …”
Benissimo did not look impressed.
“Just as I thought. Underaged, unprepared and frankly … underwhelming.”
The brutish Ringmaster was intimidating, but he was also rude and Ned had had enough.
“Look, I don’t know who you lot are or what my dad’s mixed up in, all I know is you’re supposed to help me, and right now you’re not being very nice, so what I want to do is … call the police, or something, so if I can use your phone …”
“Help you?” said Benissimo with a snort. “That’s not it at all. You’re here to help us – though I seriously doubt a josser like you will be anything but a hindrance.”
Ned didn’t know what Benissimo meant by “josser” but by now he was somewhere between the salty welling-up of tears and outright anger. His dad had told him to trust Kitty and Benissimo, and one of them was mad – and clearly a, well, witch – and the other was rude, bordering on foul. What was his dad thinking and how could he possibly help anyone when he didn’t actually know what was going on?
“Why don’t you tell him about your little box, dearie?” cut in Kitty’s singsong voice.
Ned suddenly remembered the birthday present and how it had slipped through his fingers the night before.
“How do you know about that? Dad said I should give it to you, but I think I lost it last night …”
“Fear not, lamb chop, George found it when he scooped you up off the floor,” said Kitty, pulling the box from her pocket and handing it to Ned.
He studied the cube and for the first time noticed a tiny O embossed on to one of its sides.
“Yes, this is it. It’s a puzzle box I think. I’m usually pretty good at stuff like this, but I can’t figure out how it opens.”
Benissimo’s eyes grew wide.
“Jupiter’s beard! That’s no puzzle box, boy, that is something else … entirely.”