The Journey by John Marsden Read Free Book Online

until he found a drinking-fountain, twenty minutes later, that he was able to clean himself properly and bid farewell to his first ice cream.
    For the rest of the afternoon Argus roamed the streets and enjoyed the sights of the town. He saw a dog being wheeled along on a large red trolley by an old man who was apparently its owner. He saw a stall full of enormous orchids and was as staggered by their blatant beauty as he was frightened by their fierce mouths. He saw a caged bird singing a song that Argus knew was one of despair. And he saw other sights that he did not understand: a clock with numbers in the wrong sequence, a woman walking quickly along the street talking to herself, a man dressed in wedding clothes standing alone on a street corner.
    As he passed one building Argus was accosted by a middle-aged woman with dark hair and a golden collar around her neck. ‘I know what you’re doing,’ she said to the boy. ‘And you’ll find part of it in here. There are a lot of answers in this house.’ She put her arm on his shoulder, in a familiar but over-intimate gesture. ‘Come on in,’ she said. ‘Have you got some money? It won’t cost much. And you’ll have a good time. Don’t you want to be a man?’
    Argus instinctively shied away from her touch. ‘No, no,’ he stammered, unsure of what he was being offered but unable to trust the woman. ‘I’m in a hurry.’ He started to move away but the woman tried to detain him.
    â€˜Oh, come on,’ she said. ‘Don’t be frightened. It’ll be the best afternoon of your life.’
    When the boy kept backing away the woman lost interest in him and he was able to make good his departure. Yet he felt humiliated by the encounter: it made him feel smaller and younger than he believed himself to be.
    A few blocks further on Argus came to a high wire fence which seemed to separate one part of the town from the other. Try as he might, he could find no break in this fence, and eventually he was forced to abandon his search. He stood for quite a time looking through the mesh. In the distance he could see figures moving, people going about their business in, apparently, much the same way as the people on his side. Yet none of them came close enough to the fence for him to speak to them; so the function of the barrier remained a mystery.
    It was getting late in the afternoon and Argus realised it was time to start back for the fair. Suddenly he felt such a rush of weariness that he doubted whether he had the strength to walk all that way. Yet he knew he had no choice, and he forced himself to call up reserves from the bottomless pit of energy that had never failed him in the past. With a determined lifting of the head he began walking.
    The stalls were closing as he passed through the market areas once more. From one that was still open he purchased some food; it appeared to be a mixture of cheese and fruit, wrapped in unleavened bread. It was delicious and he ate it hungrily. It freshened his body somehow, and after that he found the walk easier.
    On the edge of the market area he recognised a House of the Past. He had not been in one since Random but he entered it with gratitude, and sat in its peace for half an hour or so, before resuming the journey to the common in the quickening dark of twilight.
    The event of the day that gave him the greatest pleasure, however, was the warm welcome he received from Mayon and Jud and Demy and Parara and others who were cooking around the main fire when he returned.
    â€˜Here’s the farm boy, back from the big city,’ gurgled Ruth, the friendly fat woman. ‘Find any cows to milk dear? Seen all the sights? Here, sit down next to me and have a bowl of soup and tell me about all the temptations you gave in to.’ Argus knew he was back among friends and his heart warmed to them. When the fair moved, the day after next, he went with them.

Chapter Eight
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