Mrs Coulter

I has no ideas what she means. My eyes is fine.

'Harold,' I says. 'Go and join the line of kids. Find Stan and bring him over here. Tell him you've got a nice surprise for him, but he's got to be very calm and quiet about it. Maggie, don't let him make too much fuss or we'll be nabbed. Don't you, neither.'

Harold does as he's told. 'What is we going to do?' says Maggie.

'Play it by ear. That's all we can do. We can't break out of here – there's all that fencing and wires and miles of ice and snow, and we wouldn't know where to go anyway. Somehow we've got to stop the Gobblers and their horrible experiments and stay alive as well. We might have to kill some of them, Maggie.'

'I've never done that.'

'Neither have I. Shush, here comes Harold. And look who's with him!'

Harold comes back over to our table with a tray loaded with sausages and chips and pudding and lemonade. With him is a little fair-haired boy, carrying another tray. He sees Maggie and he nearly drops his tray. We catches it and puts it on the table in front of us.

Maggie and Stan is both looking so happy that Harold and me can't help smiling too. Stan sits next to Maggie and they hugs each other tight, while Harold and I screens them from the grown-ups at the counter. They whispers to each other and little Stan's eyes grows huge and round while his big sister tells him her adventures and how she's come to take him away from this awful place just as soon as she can.

But how? I wishes we knew. It looks impossible, but we knows, we knows, that there must be a way. The golden light has told us.

We becomes aware that ours is not the only table where there is whispered conversations. Over at the girls' tables there is heads put close together and every so often one of them goes and talks to the kids at one of the other tables. It's as if they're spreading the word about something.

A boy comes over to our table. 'Hello Harold, Stan,' he says, and stops short. He don't know if he can say anything in front of me and Maggie.

'Go on, Roger,' says Stan. 'This is my sister Maggie and her friend Arthur. They're on our side.'

'All, right. Now look,' says Roger. He takes a chair and pulls it up close to our table and sits down. 'You see that girl over there in the far corner? Fair hair, ermine-formed daemon?'

We looks across the canteen. There she is. Funny, we is sure we recognises her from somewhere.

'Lizzie,' says Harold. 'The new girl.'

'That's her. Only her real name's Lyra. I knew her in Oxford before I came here. She's got friends, see. Close by. They're coming to rescue us!'

'How—' says Stan, and 'Where—' says Harold, and 'Lyra?' says Maggie and me.

'Very close, she says. There's gyptians and an aëronaut from the Republic of Texas with a balloon. And an armoured bear!'

'You're pulling my plonker,' I says. 'There's no such things as armoured bears. They're just stories.'

'If Lyra says it, it's true. Sometimes, anyway,' replies Roger, blushing for some reason. 'I know she means it this time!'

'When's this marvellous rescue going to happen, then?'

'Dunno. Soon. You'll know, 'cos the fire alarm'll go off.'

'It went off this afternoon. There was no rescue then.'

'This is different, Harold. You'll see. When the fire alarm goes off, you've got to grab all your warm things and run for the compound. Lyra's friends'll be coming in through the gates.'

'Wait a minute,' says Maggie. 'Your precious Lyra, she's all mixed up with Mrs Coulter, ain't she? She was living in her flat in London. How do we know this ain't a trap?'

'She ran away from her, though, didn't she? When she heard about the Gobblers.'

'Yes, we supposes so.'

'Just be ready for when the alarm goes off, that's all.'

Roger leaves us and starts talking to the boys at the next table. The whole room is buzzing now; kids looking excited, talking loudly. We is afraid the grown-ups from behind the counter will notice and tell someone, but no, they is collecting trays and washing up and wiping tables and paying us no attention at all.

Maggie is looking at me in a curious way. 'What's got into you, Arthur? You're different, somehow. What's happened to your eyes? They've gone a funny colour. Has you been drinking or something?'

'No Maggie, we has not been drinking. We has seen something, we can't tell you now, and we is feeling better and stronger than we ever has before. We is all going to be all right. I knows it.'

We believes it when we says it, we really does.

- 0 -

When we has finished eating and talking and handed in our trays we all goes to the common room where there is a few books to read and some toys and games to play with. The younger kids is getting ready to go to their beds. Lizzie/Lyra is nowhere to be seen. Maggie sticks with Stan and they chats in the corner – all about Lambeth and home and that, we supposes. Sal and me hasn't got a brother to talk to – we never had – so we sits in the corner and flicks through the pages of a book we finds. At the Back of the North Wind, it is called and it is a very weird and wonderful book indeed, but we likes it very much. You read it and you'll see what we means. Harold and Mike has been sitting by themselves as well, so we goes over to their corner and talks to them, and shows him the book, and he says it's one of his favourites and one of the older boys shuffles past us and mutters 'queer bastards' as loud as he dares and if things had been different I'd have decked him for his stupid big mouth. But the strong anger inside me knows that his ignorance doesn't matter now. Only one thing matters – getting us and the kids safely out of here.

All this time we supposes that Mrs Coulter and the experimental theologians and the doctors are having meetings. She is probably scaring the living daylights out of them right now. We understands that the fire practice that afternoon, before we arrived, was a shambles, so they'll probably want to have another one. We is worried that this will be a false alarm for the escape that is being planned and that if it does happen no one will believe it. We even finds it funny that we is slightly narked that this little Lyra kid has got an escape attempt set up before us, even though we is much older than she is and we should be the ones telling her what to do. Comes of being an aristo I expect – she's used to being the one handing out the orders. She's probably very good at it.

- 0 -

An hour or two later, sure enough, the fire alarm goes off. And from here on, if you gets confused by what I says, just remember how confusing it was for us. If I gets mixed up with our story, and all the things that happened, be gentle with us, won't you? 'Cos it was very confusing for us – so many things seemed to be going on at the same time and sometimes it was loud and bright, and then it was quiet and dark and there was shouting and panic and fear and cold and . . . we'll do our best. That's all I can say.

I jumped up to my feet. 'Harold, grab hold of Stan and don't let go of him. Maggie, you and me'll go to the dorms and get all the young kids dressed and ready to go. See you in the compound!'

Maggie nods and rushes out of the common room. I shouts to all the kids in there, 'Come on, you lot. Move! That's the fire alarm – shift yourselves, get your warm stuff and your daemons and get the hell out of here! Go!' And I kicks the backside of the mouthy kid to get him moving.

When I is sure that they is all knowing what to do I dashes out into the corridor, Sal flying ahead of me. Down to the boys' dorm and inside, where frightened kids in pyjamas are running around frantically looking for their things. I chooses the two most awake-looking ones and gets them to help us sort out the others and it's not too long before we has them wrapped up in their warmest clothes and pouring out of the dorm and down the main corridor to the entrance of the Bolvangar buildings. As we passes the kitchen doors we smells smoke and sees a red flicker behind the glass. Has we made a terrible mistake? Is this a real fire and there's no rescue coming at all?

We gets the first lot of kids out of the front door and into the compound and rushes back inside. There's a bunch of girls wrapped up in coal-silk coats running out as we goes in. There is also a number of panicked grown-ups scuttling backwards and forwards, looking as if they could do with a bit of Arthur Shire-style sorting out. 'Fire!' we shouts. 'In the kitchens!Help!' That should get them milling around nicely.

Meanwhile, we dashes through all the corridors we can see, looking for lost kids. We hasn't seen that Lyra – perhaps Maggie has. There is a smell of smoke that is growing stronger and stronger and it is now very clear that there is a real fire in the place. Even as we looks around us we wonders about where we will all go if the building burns down and there's no rescue. We will all die out there in the cold and dark. We even thinks about the Santa Maria. She must have cast off by now and be thousands of feet up. The captain won't want to keep her down here where there are flames and sparks, so there's another escape route cut off.

The fire is spreading fast, we sees, and it seems to be jumping about randomly and starting up again somewhere else. The buildings is very modern, as we says, and they're not made of brick or stone or anything we recognises. They has gaps in the ceilings and the flames is licking around them and leaping from one part of the building to the other. These theologians must be very clever people to make a building that burns down so easily and so quickly. They is running around with buckets of sand and shouting to each other and they really doesn't seem to have the slightest idea what to do. We can't see Mrs Coulter among them, which is funny. You'd think she'd be there, giving orders and that.

We sees no more kids in the building, so we goes back outside again, into the compound. There are lots of them there and we can see Roger and the girl Lyra trying to organise them and get them out of the gates, which is open. We can see things, people maybe, outside the gates, so something may be going on after all, like the rescue they was talking about. Sal and me catches sight of Harold and Stan, but we can't see Maggie anywhere. We runs up to them. 'Where's Maggie? Has you seen her?'

'No. We thought she was with you.' says Harold.

Oh no. Oh Holy Magdelena, no. Not that. Don't let it be that way. Don't make me have to lose her now.

'Stick together! Go with Lyra and the others! I'm going back to find Maggie!'

'You'll get yourself killed!'

'I've got to find her!'

Sal leads the way, flying so far ahead of me that I can feel the link between us is stretched tight, as far as it will go. Back into the door, where smoke is billowing out. We can see that the flames have burned right through the roof now and are lighting up the clouds above us.

Down the main corridor, looking to left and right. Into the dorms – 'Maggie! Maggie!' Not there. Keep going. Work back along. The smoke is stinging in our eyes and we can hardly see. The sound of burning is growing louder and louder, roaring in our ears. She must be on the floor somewhere, maybe choking to death on the smoke and fumes.

Try all the doors. Holy Spirit! The flames shot out of that one. Be more careful. Open them slowly. That's better. Wait; here's a way we haven't tried yet. Through the door. There's a narrow passage with a turning at the end. It's quieter in here and the air is clearer – the fire hasn't got here yet. Maggie's smart; perhaps she's come in here. Wait, what's that? Is that her voice? No; it's…

'Get out of my way, you filthy little slut!' It's Mrs Coulter. We runs round the corner at the end of the passage. And stops dead.

Mrs Coulter is standing there. She is blazing, furious. Her face is red and her teeth are bared and she looks like a wild animal. Her monkey-daemon is wrapped around her shoulders, glaring, howling with rage. Between her and me, with her back to us stands… Maggie. She's holding a broom-handle in both hands and she's blocking the way. 'Maggie!' I cries and she doesn't turn round, but says 'Arthur! We was wondering when you'd turn up. Got a spot of bother with this nasty old baggage here. Give us a hand?' She's trying to sound casual, bless her, but her voice is high and strained.

'Maggie, the whole place is burning down! Get out of here! She ain't worth it!'

'Oh no?' and she takes a swipe at Mrs Coulter with the broom-handle. 'I'm going to kill this wicked woman. She stole our Stan away from us. She hurt all those poor kids and their daemons!' We wonders why Maggie hasn't smashed Mrs Coulter's face in with the broom-handle yet. Perhaps it's because she ain't as cruel as her. She's too good – she hasn't got it in her to kill her. That must be it.

But then we feels it. A force – an evil force that's pressing against Maggie, scorching her soul. We can smell something with it, even though the air is full of smoke. Something rotten. This must be what Mrs Coulter did to Adèle in London. We only gets the backwash of it at first, but it makes us feel as ill as we felt in the dorm with Harold.

Maggie turns to us, and we can see the ferocious pain she is suffering in her face. 'Arthur, get away now. Me and Jimmy'll stay here and we'll die with this foul bitch if we must. There's no need for you to die too. Go back to Harold and Stan, Arthur!'

'No! No, I'm staying with you!'

And for the first time, Mrs Coulter sees me properly. Her eyes flash in recognition. 'I know you, boy,' she snarls. 'I let you go once before, in Tottenham. I was a bloody fool. I won't be such a fool again.' She turns the full force of her hatred onto me and my spirit is blasted by it. We can feel ourself melting away in our pain. We is dying. We don't know how Maggie resisted it so long. She must be even fiercer and stronger than we thought.

As we feels our mind slipping away from us, and we falls to our knees in the passageway, we tries to say goodbye to Maggie, but it's too late; we can't speak any more. Darkness is falling across our eyes and a buzzing sound fills our ears. We sees a great pit of darkness. And in it there's a figure, falling out of the light. Again and again, we see it fall and our dying eyes sees that it is three people, clinging together. We doesn't know who two of them is, but the third is Mrs Coulter. Again and again and again, falling, falling, falling. We looks up, through the darkness and the falling people and a voice that is, and yet isn't, ours calls to her:

'Marisa Coulter! We see your death! The Void! You will fall, Marisa Coulter. You will fall out of the worlds for ever. There will be no end to your end and the torment of your fall and your death. Death, and Falling, forever and ever and ever! The Void! The Void will be your torment and your death!' I stares at her. I looks straight into her eyes and they turn red – red, and crazed like broken glass.

Mrs Coulter screams aloud, again and again. The volleys of hatred stops battering against Maggie and me. The darkness falls from my eyes and I can see again. The buzzing fades. Mrs Coulter is crawling on the floor; drool is slobbering from her mouth, she is staring wildly. She has become vile, ugly and disgusting. Maggie is gasping. 'What did you do, Arthur? What did you do to her?'

'We doesn't properly know. We saw her dying, Maggie. She fell into a great dark pit.'

Maggie drops the piece of wood. 'Leave her to die, the evil hag.'

We turns to go. And as we does, with an awful screech, the beautiful vicious golden monkey-daemon leaps up at Maggie and rakes its claws across her, ripping her right across her cheek; three deep bloody slashes. Maggie cries out in agony, a dreadful sound for us to hear, and falls fainting against us. Jimmy hisses and spits and cuffs the hideous monkey-thing hard against the back wall. We picks Maggie up and carries her, how I don't remember, through the smoke and flames and out of the burning ruins of Bolvangar.