Is by Joan Aiken Read Free Book Online Page A

question.
    ‘Blackheath? I never been south o’ the river,’ said the girl, as if this was a virtue. ‘I was a milliner’s ’prentice in Spitalfields. My mum ’prenticed me when I were six, cos there’s ten of us at home. It was crool long hours, I can tell you: start at eight, most nights we wan’t done till two or three. Stitch-stitch-stitch, all day long, only bread and taties to eat, an’ not much o’ them. So I made up me mind to cut an’ run. How d’you hear tell of Playland?’
    ‘From a fellow in the street.’
    ‘One o’ the other gals told me,’ went on Mary-Ann, paying little attention to what Is said. ‘It’s a reel prime place, she sez; all you want to eat all day long, no work to do unless you fancies workin’, fun an’ frolic an’ dancin’ every night, every gal has a room of her own with her own bed . Ooooh! I jist can’t wait to get there.’ And she hugged herself and wriggled joyfully on her seat.
    ‘What about the girl who told you?’
    ‘Susie? She went off three weeks ago an’ I never saw her no more.’
    ‘If nobody works in Playland, unless they want to,’ said Is doubtfully, ‘how can they make it pay?’
    Mary-Ann stared at her. ‘ I dunno! I don’t worrit me head about stuff like that.’ And she tossed her yellow head which did not, indeed, look as if it were capable of worrying much about anything. She caught the eye of the boy opposite, gave him a grin, and said,
    ‘What’s your name? Mine’s Mary-Ann.’
    ‘Abel,’ he said. ‘And my friend’s Tod.’
    With a gentle jerk, the train started on its way. Once it was rolling along, it made remarkably little sound, above a regular thud-thud-thud from the engine.
    ‘Ain’t it quiet,’ said Is.
    ‘That’s acos they got the wheels wrapped in felt,’ explained Abel with a knowing nod. ‘I noticed that, time I got in. And they say the train runs mostly below ground, or anyways in a deep cutting. That way it can’t be seen, see? It’s a secret train.’
    ‘How often does it run?’ asked Is.
    ‘Once a month, Susie told me,’ said Mary-Ann. ‘The night afore new moon. I reckon she was right. So, when owd Ma Walters give me the stick for crumpling the pink sarsnet last night, I reckoned I’d up and hop it, fust chance I got. An’ she sent me out today on an errand, to get some more pink worsted, so I jist prigged the fourpence and scarpered.’ She giggled. ‘If this train was to be searched by the rozzers, I bet they’d find a deal of prigged stuff aboard.’
    The boys nodded.
    ‘I run off from a candle-factory,’ said Abel. He exhibited a bag of fat wax candles.
    ‘Who’ll want them in Playland?’ said Mary-Ann scornfully.
    ‘Oh, you never can tell. They must have dark there, same as everywhere else.’
    ‘Oh, you! Think you’re mighty clever, don’t you!’ said Mary-Ann. She and the boys began to exchange a great many jokes, which meant little to Is, unused to this kind of talk. She found them boring, and moved across the aisle to a vacant seat on the other side. Mary-Ann, she could see, would not miss her in the least; in fact she was already beckoning to Abel to come and sit beside her.
    Opposite Is now were two girls, younger than herself; one might have been eight, the other nine. They puzzled her because their faces were identical, with pointed chins, triangular mouths and neat little noses, but their colouring was completely different: the bigger one had thick dark hair and brown eyes, the smaller was red-haired and blue-eyed.
    ‘You two sisters?’ asked Is. They nodded, shyly.
    ‘How come you’re so different, then?’
    ‘We got the same mum,’ said the elder one, ‘but we got different dads. My dad took and died, and Mum married again. I’m Tess, she’s Ciss.’
    ‘And my dad is allus horrible to her,’ explained the younger sister. ‘He clobbers her all the time, and won’t let Mum give her enough grub, and said he was going to send her to the ’formatory. So we