Mariana

Timmy stared up at the fairground poster, bold lettering on a swirly
bright background.

"What does it say, Archie?" he asked.

Archie scowled. "Can you not even read that?"

Timmy looked at him with serious brown eyes.

"Please?"

"Alright then," Archie sighed. "It says: Mr Mckenzie's Amazing Puppet
Show. Lifesize Marionettes Perform on Stage. Fun For All The Family."
Archie was a champion reader- ten yellow stickers he had to his name.
He stumbled over "marionettes", however.

This was the first time the three of them had been to the fair on their
own. Usually their mother came with them, but bad memories of screaming
children, cheap ice-cream made warm and sticky by the sun, a field
thick with mud, crowds on all sides and the general chaos of the
fairground, added to the discomfort of a bad back, had contrived to
keep her away this year. As she explained to the next door neighbour:
"I said to myself, 'sod it, Archie's turned nine now and responsible
for his age. I'm not going through that again.'"

In fact, her offspring were delighted. They were used to looking after
themselves- they'd been going to the Odeon cinema together since Archie
was seven and Beth was five.

"Ooh, can we go?" said Beth, their sister, after Archie had finished
reading.

"Well, have you got any money left?"

Beth scuffed her foot on the ground.

"No. How much is it?"

"Thruppence for us three, unless we can pass Timmy off as a baby on
knee."

"Nah, he's too big now. He's nearly four, you know. I worked it out.
And he gave me pins and needles last time we tried it."

Timmy looked at the ground. They were right, he was Too Big, he
remembered vividly the discomfort of having to sprawl on Beth's bony
knees the last time they went to the Odeon. He complained almost as
much as she did, and Archie refused to take turns.

"Have you got any?" asked Beth.

"Yes. But I wanted to save some for myself."

"Aww, Archie! How much?"

Archie frowned. "Why should I tell you? It's my money. Mam gave you
just as much."

Timmy was still looking at the ground, and it was at that moment that
he spotted something shiny, nestled in the grass. He picked it up. A
penny! He was rich.

"Beth, look!"

"Ooh, a penny! Now Timmy can pay for himself. Give us a penny,
Archie."

Archie grudgingly handed one over. "You'll have to buy me something
next time we're out."

But Beth was already running up to the ticket man. Archie sighed and
followed her into the large, mushroom coloured tent, frowning darkly,
and holding Timmy firmly by the hand.

The show was about to start. As they took their seats, Timmy stared at
the curtained stage in front of them, above which there was a platform
where shadowy figures stood. They scuttled to and fro across the
platform, like huge black spiders in the half light.

"What are they?" he asked, his eyes wide.

Archie laughed at the fear in his voice. "People, of course."

"What are they doing up there?"

"I dunno do I? Oh. I think maybe to get above the puppets and pull the
strings."

Suddenly there was a blare of music, and the curtains on the little
stage opened.

Timmy shrank back into his chair, terrified. Behind the curtains stood
four children, in a perfect line. Their loose, bobbing heads smiled
fixedly at Timmy, and their shiny button eyes stared back into his.
They stood strangely limp; pale, ghoulish faces framed by ragged
hair.

Archie stared at the child-size marionettes. He was impressed- they
were very realistic.

Beth sucked a strand of her blonde hair. The glinting eyes scared
her.

There was a long moment of silence. Then the music began again, and the
puppets began to dance.

Timmy stared at the strange children through his fingers. The way they
moved was all wrong. Their feet went clunk-a-clunk-a-clunk on the
stage, and their legs were all jerky.

Archie looked round and saw how scared his brother was.

"What's the matter, Timmy?"

Timmy looked up at him, and back at the stage. His eyes were bright
with tears.

"What's wrong with them, Archie?"
Archie looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Why do they move like that?"

Archie laughed. "They're not real, Timmy."

Timmy stared at the dancing marionettes.

"But they look real," he whispered.

"Poor Timmy, don't cry," said Beth, and hugged him.

"The strings are very hard to see," said Archie. "But they're there all
the same."

"They aren't alive," said Beth.

But this just made Timmy cry even more. It seemed to him unbearably
sad.

"Poor things," he said sorrowfully. "Poor dead things."

He watched as the puppets jumped and clapped their stiff wooden hands
together, feet tapping the stage. Then they stopped, bobbed funny
little curtsies and bows, and the curtains were drawn once more.

The show wasn't over yet. Almost as soon as the curtains had closed
they opened again, revealing a beautiful girl-doll. Her hair was long
and blonde, and she had an exquisite china face, with painted lips and
eyes. Her fixed expression was serious, almost sad. She had china hands
too, and a floaty white tutu. She was a ballerina-girl-puppet.

Balancing delicately on her forever pointed toes, she danced, with slow
grace, to the music of Swan Lake. Timmy watched her, entranced.

"Is she not real, either?" he asked his sister.

"No?" said Beth slowly, even a little doubtfully.

Sometimes, the movements looked almost human. And there was a moment,
when the puppet's pale face seemed to look straight at them, when Beth
almost, almost thought that the solemn doll smiled at her. Timmy saw it
too. Her black eyes looked into his, and, just for a second, he thought
he saw the painted lips move, open, twitch into a smile.

"She smiled at me, she did! Her mouth moved!" he said, his voice almost
hysterical.

Archie told him to shut up and stop imagining things.

"She's alive," said Timmy, with conviction.

"Stop it, Timmy," said Beth nervously.

"She is alive, and I'm going to save her!"

"Shut up," said Archie.

"What's her name?" persisted Timmy.

"She doesn't have a name, and she isn't alive," said Archie
shortly.

"Yes she does, it's written on her dress," said Beth.

"What is it? What does it say?" asked Timmy urgently, tugging at
Archie's sleeve. Archie squinted at the lettering, sewn into the bodice
of the tutu with red thread.

"Mariana," he said, eventually.

"Mariana?" said Timmy.

"Here, don't- don't do anything will you?" said Archie, suddenly
worried. "I've told you, she's not alive, she's a puppet."

Timmy stayed silent for a moment, watching the dancing figure.

"Maybe puppets are sometimes alive too," he said in a small
voice.

Archie sighed in exasperation. "I've told you, she's not alive! She's
made out of, um, wood, and things. You're imagining it."

Timmy stared defiantly into space, then, when he was sure Archie
wouldn't hear him, said quietly to himself: "She is."

He knew exactly what he was going to do.
Mariana folded into a neat curtsy, and the curtains closed on the
Puppet Show.

There was a huge round of applause, and a man (Mr Mckenzie, presumably)
got up on stage to take a bow. The people on the platform bowed,
too.

Then everybody started to leave, the grown-ups talking in wonder about
how beautiful the puppets were, and how expensive they must have
been.

It was only once Beth and Archie were out in the open that they
realised Timmy was missing.

"Oh, no?" muttered Archie. "Where is he?"

"I think it's Mariana," said Beth. "He said he wanted to save
her."

Archie groaned. "I told him? Come on, we've got to find him, or mam'll
kill us!"

But Timmy had no intention of being found yet.

He was searching for Mariana. If he didn't save her, she might not even
be able to smile anymore. She'd go stiffer and stiffer, until
eventually she'd be just like the other puppets, dead for ever more.
She looked so sad. Maybe if he saved her she'd turn into a proper girl,
with skin that wasn't hard and eyes that looked right. She could be his
sister.

They had seen the last showing of the day, and the puppet show was
packing up. Soon Timmy had to leave the stage because it was being
taken to pieces. One of the men looked quite friendly.

Abandoning secrecy, he approached him.

"Where's Mariana?" he asked.

The man frowned.

"Who's Mariana? Your sister?"

"No. Not yet. She's the girl-doll, with the yellow hair."

"The ballet-dancer puppet, you mean?"

Timmy nodded.

"It's packed up in its box now, ready to go. But where's your mother,
lad?"

He looked round, but the boy had gone. The man frowned.

"'Not yet'? Strange thing?" he muttered, and searched for the little
boy for a minute or two before going back to his work. There was a
determination about Timmy that had worried him.

Now Timmy knew what he was looking for. A box! He ran off around a
corner to look for one. There were many boxes, but soon he saw one that
caught his attention. It was brightly painted, and made out of wood.
There was writing on the side. Timmy frowned. He could read some
things. It was much easier to get Archie to read them for him, but he
knew his letters.

M?A?R?I?A?N?A.

He said the sounds aloud: "Mar-i-an-a. Mariana?"
He smiled, ran up to the box and opened the lid. Mariana looked back at
him.

"Hello," he said. "You're alive, aren't you?"

He lifted her out of the box awkwardly. She hung limp in his arms. Her
china face was cold to the touch.

"Wake up," he said quietly. "Wake up."

He sat on top of the box and cradled her. Her face was so perfect that
he expected it to move any minute, and her hard little chest to rise in
sudden breath, like Sleeping Beauty woken by the Prince's kiss.

"Please?" he said.

Maybe that's what she needed, a kiss.

He lifted her clumsily and placed his lips on hers. They were like
bone. He pulled back, suddenly frightened. Her eyes were flat and
lifeless. He could see the hooks on her legs where they attached the
strings.

It wasn't long before Archie and Beth found him, clutching Mariana to
him and weeping like his heart was broken. His tears ran down her
cheeks, so it looked like they were both crying. It took a long time to
persuade him to leave her.

"You're a strange one, aren't you," said Archie, afterwards. "All that
about a puppet."

Timmy stared at the ground, and tried to stop the sadness coming.

"I wish she was alive," he said quietly.

Archie looked at him, and thought of a sister born in stillness, buried
in an unmarked grave.

"Me too," he said.