Puddlebrain

Chapter Twenty One

Nobody sprang on them as they stepped out. No rocks were thrown and no one started yelling at abuse. Shadowmoss Lane, from their position at the bottom right up to Windermere's house at the far end, was deserted. An eerie silence had descended, like a spider on a thread in the darkest night, that seemed somehow different to a normal quiet day. On a 'normal' day, like yesterday for example – though yesterday felt as if it was at least week and a half ago – you could still feel life in the air. Even if you couldn't actually hear anything, there was still a sense of activity, the knowledge that someone, somewhere, was doing something. Now there was nothing. Even Puddlebrain's breath seemed flat and listless, the substance dissolving as it exited her body.

"Hello?" Billy whispered.

He was feeling it too. He wasn't speaking to anyone in particular, but wanted to hear a voice, even if it was his own. He sounded as lifeless as the air, as if the energy was being sucked out of his words the second they left his mouth. Witch and gnome shuddered at the same time. Whose stupid idea was this?

"Come on," whispered Puddlebrain. Now they were out, they may as well get on with it.

The pair had left the house by the front door and now moved around to the back of the house. They went carefully, but with their pace matching their anxiety – they were not going to dawdle. It wasn't simply that they felt the need to hurry in their rescue attempt, but also that they didn't want to stay in one place for any length of time.

They felt as if they were being watched without anyone being near.

Turning right, they crossed over to Perryville Lane. Houses lined the road like soldiers standing to attention, preparing to attack the witch and gnome if they so much as dared to cross the threshold of the street. Having no other choice, they did just that. It occurred to Billy that they should, perhaps, move carefully, taking to the back gardens of the homes so as not to be seen.

"Listen," said Puddlebrain, her voice sounding almost comatose in the still air. "I don't think there's anyone left."

"I know what you mean," said Billy. "I don't think there's anyone left either, at least none of the villagers."

Puddlebrain looked at him, reading the intent in the gnome's words. No, Mrs. Mead wasn't baking any pies and no, Mrs. Burrows wasn't taking notice of everyone else's business except her own. Mr. Burrows wasn't asleep in his armchair either and nor was Ethel Ribblesbottom tending her cats. But that didn't mean the shadow that had taken her sisters wasn't coming after them or even if there were more of the creatures.

But what if there were?

It had found them hidden away in their cellar. Skipping from back garden to back garden wouldn't throw whatever it was off their scent and they ran the risk of running into rampaging villagers at every turn, so they couldn't hide from that either. The only real option, except to turn and run (but run where?), was to bite the banjo and walk right down the middle of the street. Beggar the lot of them. At least if they were in the open, they could see any trouble coming.

So, the middle of the street it was. Open and vulnerable and scared. They could feel eyes boring into them from every window, but knew the houses where empty. They expected to be charged at from every angle but no attackers appeared. A smothering sense of being alone only served to increase their wariness.

Small, unsteady steps. It was all they could manage at first. The boldness had washed out of both the witch and the normally brash gnome like dirt from a cloth, leaving them feeling limp and decidedly wet. Puddlebrain kept looking behind them to make sure they weren't being followed while Billy's head looked like it wasn't connected to his stumpy neck properly the way it was swivelling this way and that so much.

"This is ridiculous!" hissed Puddlebrain. "We'll never get anywhere at this rate. If we're running scared, how are we meant to stand up to whatever is going on?"

"Right you are," agreed Billy, "but you don't just pick up courage whilst walking down the street. It's not lying in stinky little piles, left by wandering horses who needed a little relief. And it doesn't drop on you from the sky like sparrow poop."

"Then let's pretend! Let's just pretend we're brave and just get on with it!"

Pretend? An interesting idea. Could they imagine they weren't scared and that would make them not be afraid? Could they wade on in with magic fingers a-blazing and fool the world into thinking they were alright with all of this? Billy doubted it. The problem was, up until now, he had been the strong-willed one. It had been he who had figured out the witches' problem. It had been he who had kicked some guts into Puddlebrain to get her started. Maybe he had gone too far. Perhaps he'd given her so much nerve, she had somehow soaked some of his up too, like an emotional sponge. Maybe, though, Billy simply wasn't as brave as he liked to think he was.

Nah. As if?

"Right," he said, holding his head up high (or as high as a gnome could anyway). "Away we go."

Puddlebrain smiled, although she had, deep down, hoped he might have suggested turning back. The pair walked purposefully along Perryville Lane. They stared straight ahead, partly to feign courage and partly because they knew if they kept looking around they might actually see something – something they really didn't want to see. The feeling of being under some malicious scrutiny stayed with them as they walked, but they did their best to ignore it. Why worry? If they were going to be taken, it was going to happen. Worrying about it didn't change the inevitable, it merely messed with your head until the inevitable arrived – inevitably.