mean he’s still here!” Vivian said.
“You’ll see,” said Sam, with his largest two-toothed grin.
The way to Faber John was at the bottom of the old tower, below the lawn. There was a dark doorway down there, with a lady in the dimness inside who demanded to see Jonathan’s credit. When Jonathan pressed his belt stud and held out his hand, the glowing green numbers on his palm changed quite noticeably as the lady punched a machine in front of her. This was expensive. Vivian understood now why Jonathan had been so careful to buy a cheap lunch.
After that, they went down a flight of steps with a rope railing, down and down, under little balls of blue light fixed in the rocky ceiling, until they came to a muddy floor deep under Time City. They could hear laughs and shrieks from a few tourists ahead of them, but those were nearly drowned by a noise of water pouring and dripping. Round a rocky corner, there was a notice.
FABER JOHN’S WELL: A Drink brings Health and Luck, it said, in letters almost too strange for Vivian to read. Beyond that, water came gushing from a groove in the roof and spilt into a small stone basin that was obviously made naturally from the water wearing the rock. A few coins glittered under its dark ripples.
“You don’t need to pay,” said Sam.
All the same, Vivian dropped a big round penny with 1934 on it into the strange little well. She felt she needed some luck to get her back home. Then she took one of a stack of jewelled goblets from one side and held it under the running water. The goblet was really only papery stuff, but it looked so real Vivian decided to keep it. The water tasted fresh and slightly rusty, both at once.
She followed Sam and Jonathan along the bends of the mud-floored passage, clutching her goblet, hoping it did mean luck. They went past cunningly lighted rock-formations, like folded cloth and like angel’s wings, and one beautiful one that was a dark unmoving pool with a rock growing out of the middle of it that was just like two cupped hands, fingers and all. All the time, there was the sound of water pouring and raining and gushing. At first Vivian thought it was the sound of Faber John’s Well, but it grew steadily louder, until they entered a wider part of the passage with an iron railing down one side. Here it was warmer, and a little steamy, and the sound of water was a thunder with loud pattering in its midst.
“River Time rises here,” Jonathan shouted, pointing to a deep crevice beyond the railing, where much of the thunder seemed to come from. They went round another corner and found the tourists they had heard before were just going on ahead. “Good,” Jonathan said. “We’ve got it to ourselves. Look.”
Beyond the rail and beyond the dark crevice, there was a smooth oval cave many yards long in the wall. Water poured and dripped inside it. But lights had been placed to shine through the sheet of water into the cave. Vivian saw a shape inside. It was long and high and it reminded her of—She had a sudden vivid memory of sharing a bed with Mum once, on holiday at Bognor Regis, before Dad could get there from work. In the morning she had woken up to find Mum lying on her side, facing away from her, but looking very near and large, so that Vivian saw Mum’s rather thin back and shoulders like a cliff in front of her. What was inside the cave looked just like that. For a moment, Vivian could have sworn she was looking at part of a giant’s back, with the giant’s head hidden inside the rock to the left and the rest of him stretched out to the right under the City. There was a shoulder-blade, and the knobby dent a person has down the middle of his back. But the shape was a shiny clay-colour. It looked like rock. Water pattered and poured on it perpetually, showing it must be hard as rock too.
“It can’t be a person, can it?” she said. “He’d be huge if he stood up! It must be rock.”
“We don’t know,” said Jonathan.
“But surely somebody’s climbed in there and made sure!” Vivian said.
Jonathan took a quick look up and down the passage to make sure nobody else was there. Then he took hold of the iron handrail and twisted a length of it loose. People had done that often before – Vivian could tell by the easy way the bar came out. He handed her the long piece of iron. “Lean over and poke him,” he said. “Go on.”
The bar looked as if it would just about reach. Unsteadily, with her paper goblet in one hand and the bar in the other, Vivian leaned across the steamy wet space and prodded the bar at the cave. And as soon as the end of it reached the sheet of pouring water, it refused to go any further. Vivian shoved, as if the bar was a spear, and the railing bounced back again so hard that she almost overbalanced into the black gap where the river rose. Sam and Jonathan both caught hold of her by her shirt.
“Why? What’s stopping it?” Vivian demanded.
Jonathan took the bar out of her fist and put it back in the railing. “It’s some kind of forcefield, but nobody can discover what kind,” he said. “Ongoing Scientists have tried to find out for centuries. And it can’t be there for nothing, can it? It does look as if that really is Faber John, doesn’t it?”
“It does rather,” Vivian agreed. She was surprised at how sober and awed this made her feel. She took a last amazed look at the giant’s back under the constantly pouring water and followed the boys slowly round another corner. There was another long flight of stairs there, and then a way out, where a man checked them off on a screen.
Then they were blinking about at a wonderful view of the City. “There,” said Jonathan. “Don’t you think this place is worth saving?”
The mysterious stone giant had upset Vivian. “Yes, but what’s that got to do with me?” she said snappily. “I don’t want London to be bombed either.”
“I’ll have my next butter-pie now,” said Sam.
Jonathan pressed a belt stud and flashed the clock-face quickly to his wrist and away. “Later,” he said. “I must show V.S. Millennium now. That’s it, at the other end of the Avenue of the Four Ages. You mustn’t miss seeing it. It’s got all the greatest pictures in history in it.”
He pointed. Millennium was vast, glittering with rows of windows and twisted glass spires and a gigantic blue glass dome. Vivian quailed. “Oh, no more buildings, please!” she said. “My mind’s got indigestion!”
“Then perhaps we ought just to go quietly back to the Annuate,” Jonathan suggested, with great sympathy.
Vivian almost believed the sympathy for a second, until she saw Sam looking up at Jonathan with his mouth slightly open as if he had that moment caught on to something. “Great idea!” he said, much too heartily. “I don’t need a butter-pie really.”
That last touch overdid it, to Vivian’s mind. She knew they were up to something. What is Jonathan planning now? she wondered, as she followed Sam’s flapping shoelace down a cobbled alley. Another unreal adventure?
Jonathan checked his clock-face several times on the way back through the City. Sam never mentioned butter-pies once. Back they trotted, across Aeon Square, through the archway and up Time Close, and Vivian followed, quite certain that they were up to something. Her legs were aching as she went up the steps to the glass doors of the Annuate.
I want some peace, she thought. I want to read a film magazine and listen to the wireless. But I don’t think there’s such a thing as a wireless in this place!
The
