Chapter Two - Bandersnatch
"I never ask advice about growing," Alice said indignantly.
"Too proud?" enquired Humpty Dumpty.
-----
(Lazytown, 4th November, around one o'clock)
Robbie opened the door crossly.
"What? Oh, for God's sake, it's you. Must you? It's only just gone one. I haven't had the chance to sleep this late since David moved in…" he leaned against the door and yawned. "Or did you just want to see me in my dressing-gown?"
"I need to ask you a favour," said Sportacus intrepidly.
Robbie stared at him incredulously.
"You need to - you need to - you have to be kidding me. Okay, let's see if I can guess." He stroked his chin. "You got a parking-ticket for that air-ship of yours and you want me to help you make it go away. You need some help with your ironing. You lost your house keys. You want me to kill someone for you - oh, no, sorry, that's probably not all that funny, really, is it? You've finally realised that sitting on the couch watching TV is more fun than coaching stupid small children on Sunday afternoons and you want to invite yourself round to my place…"
"I want you to take care of Stephanie for me."
Robbie laughed very loudly, then stopped.
"That sounds rather serious and alarming. Why can't you do it yourself? And what makes you think I'm the best person to ask?"
"I can't do it myself because I need to be…out of town for a while. And I'm asking you because…"
"Because you've never trusted me around her, and that makes you think maybe I might have a soft spot for her too," said Robbie, smiling. "Oh, I just love it when I manage to touch a raw nerve like that…astonishing. You're on the doorstep of the house I share with my boyfriend, and you're still doubting the purity of my intentions. When will you learn that I am not interested in your wife?"
"When you stop behaving as if you are."
They stared at each other.
"All right," said Robbie unexpectedly, and yawned. "You got a deal. And I won't even ask for anything in return. I must be losing my touch."
"Thank you. I'm grateful."
"Don't be. I'm only agreeing because I want to go back to bed. Now go away. I'm tired."
-----
"Can I come in?" Ziggy stuck his head around the door of Six Thousand Ideas offices.
Sophie smiled. "Ziggy! It's lovely to see you. Who were you looking for?"
"Pixel," said Ziggy, looking shifty.
"Well, he's in there with Stingy. They're having a - "
"Big row?"
"I was going to say meeting, but yes, big row probably covers it," sighed Sophie. "They got into this huge fight about some new…thing…Pixel's built…I've been wondering whether I ought to go in there and break it up, but I don't like to get in the way."
"Which thing is it?" asked Ziggy, trying to seem casual.
"I don't know," said Sophie vaguely, then remembered her conversation with Pixel that morning. She looked at Ziggy and gave him a huge wink. "Or maybe I do. Don't worry, Ziggy, I'm sure he'll still give it to you."
Ziggy tiptoed across the office and opened the door to Pixel's lab.
"I'm just saying," shouted Stingy -
"You're not just saying!" protested Pixel. "You're shouting! And threatening me with physical violence!"
"Okay, so I'm just saying loudly, because if I say it in a normal voice you don't seem to hear me, that I don't want you messing about in people's heads! It's just - it's - it's just a terrible idea, okay?"
"I don't see why! It could help make things better!"
"What things, Pixel? What things could it make better? Tell me, because I'd absolutely love to hear! How is the world a better place because you now have a device that allows you to see into people's dreams? Hmm? What did you dream about last night? Anyone you know? Anyone I know? Anything you want to share with the world?" He paused for breath. "Why did you build it, anyway?"
By the door, Ziggy looked apprehensive.
"I just thought it would be interesting," said Pixel crossly. "Why does it matter?"
Stingy sighed.
"Look," he said, trying to soften his voice. "I know you don't mean any harm. You never do. You're just about the nicest man I know. It's just that - just that - look, you remember the colour-change t-shirts?"
"I thought they were great."
"And they would have been, if everyone was as sweet as you. But - oh, Pixel, you gave a load of girls' t-shirts to the surfer dudes and told them they could surprise their girlfriends by making it change colour at the touch of a button, what did you think was going to happen?"
"How was I supposed to know that see-through counted as a colour?" muttered Pixel.
"That's the point. You're just not nasty enough to judge. You have to show stuff to me, okay? And you have to get used to the idea that sometimes, I'm going to say no." He paused. "And I'm saying no to this - whatever it is you're calling it."
"The DreamWeaver 6000," said Pixel proudly.
"That's such a great name," said Stingy wistfully. "I wonder if…maybe for medical applications…no. Sorry. Forget I said anything." He glanced at his watch. "Oh, hell, now I'm late…I have to - go out for lunch, okay? I'll see you later. Did Sophie call Red Giant?"
"It's sorted," said Pixel, looking evasive.
"Already? Good. When have they rescheduled for?"
"I don't know, we'll talk about it later. Go on, you'll be late. Where are you going, anyway?"
Stingy blushed a fiery red.
"Never mind."
"Why are you looking so guilty?" asked Pixel curiously. "Oh my God, you're not having an affair, are you?"
Stingy laughed.
"Even if I wanted to, I don't think I've got the energy. See you later." He opened the door wide, ran out and cannoned into Ziggy, hovering behind the door. "Jesus, what now - oh, it's you, Ziggy. Hello. Were you looking for me? You're not borrowing my Aston again, by the way, not after last time."
"Hiring your Aston, you mean. And I said I was sorry - "
"You filled it with toffee wrappers! And I don't even want to think about what you did to get the upholstery in that state - "
"I wanted Pixel, actually," said Ziggy with dignity. "But…actually, since you're here…how did you propose to Trixie, Stingy?"
"In a suite at the Carlton in New York." He winced at the memory. "She turned me down. Then again in the old castle, when she was too hung-over to refuse. Why?"
"No reason," said Ziggy, sighing, "Bye, Stingy." He ducked when Stingy tried to ruffle his hair. "I wish you wouldn't do that, I'm - "
"See you later," said Stingy absently.
" - actually a grown man, now, you know," said Ziggy to Stingy's retreating back. "Hey, Pixel. Did you - did I hear Stingy telling you off for making that - thing that I asked for?"Pixel smiled conspiratorially and took something that looked like a miniature DVD player out of a drawer.
"Just one thing," he said warningly. "If you find that all she dreams about is George Clooney…well, just try not to take it too personally, okay?"
"You're a star," said Ziggy, fervently. "I'll do your dental check-ups for free for the next twenty years."
Pixel followed him out into the hallway. Waiting in the reception area were a smiling, oily-haired man in a blue suit and a tall, elegant woman.
"Mr Wright," said the man, holding out a hand. "Good to meet you at last. I'm Nick Smith, the licensing manager for Red Giant, and this young lady is Ruby Harding from our engineering team." He looked around the room. "Is - is Mr Hughes not joining us?"
"Not today," said Pixel airily. "Don't worry, I can speak for both of us."
There was a fractional pause, then Nick smiled widely. Pixel thought of sharks, and swallowed.
"No worries," said Nick, showing all of his sharp white teeth. "Absolutely no worries at all."
-----
Ziggy wandered aimlessly across the town, frowning ferociously. He was so focused on the toes of his battered sneakers that he walked straight into Sportacus, coming out of the Mayor's office with an uncharacteristically harassed expression on his face.
"Sorry," said Ziggy automatically. "Hey, it's you! Hello! How are you?"
Sportacus smiled, but Ziggy could see that he was worried.
"I'm doing fine, Ziggy. How are you?"
Ziggy shrugged.
"Oh, I'm okay," he said gloomily, hoping the other man would ask more questions. But Sportacus simply smiled absently and patted his shoulder.
"Glad to hear it. If you'll excuse me, Ziggy, I have to be somewhere - "
"Is everything all right?" asked Ziggy, jolted out of his mood of self-pity. "Hey, what happened to your crystal? And your uniform? God, I've never seen you without your uniform, that's so weird…"
"I have to be out of town for a couple of weeks."
"Really?" Ziggy stared. "Why?"
"I - it - something from home," he said. "Nothing to worry about, I hope, but - I can't afford to be distracted while - I hate having to leave the town without protection, but unfortunately there really isn't any other way - "
"You left Stephanie in charge once," said Ziggy, trying to be helpful.
"So I did…but not when she's - " he stopped, and bit his lip. "Not this time. But thank you for the thought." Sportacus turned to leave.
Ziggy looked at him blankly.
"Not this time? Is she all right?"
"I'm very sorry, Ziggy, I would love to talk, but I am already late - "
"I could do it," said Ziggy hopefully. "I've got nothing on this afternoon. I could get some time off from college."
Sportacus looked at him and smiled kindly.
"That's a very generous offer, Ziggy, but I don't think so. I'm sure the town will be fine just for once." He patted him on the shoulder again. "Have a wonderful day. Maybe I'll catch you when I get back, okay?" He vaulted lightly over the bench. "Ladder!" he called, and disappeared up into the airship.
"Sucks, doesn't it," said Robbie, suddenly appearing from behind a wall.
"I don't know what you're talking about," said Ziggy crossly.
"Even he doesn't take you seriously, does he? And he's easily the nicest man in town. He sees the good in everyone…so what does it mean that he still acts like you're six years old?"
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"Oh, yes. That's what I'm famed for, isn't it? Making people feel better. How long have you known me? Good God, no wonder that you're not making much progress with that pretty little minx you hanker after, like the mooncalf you are…"
"She's not a minx." Ziggy paused. "And I'm not a mooncalf! Stop it, Robbie! You're completely horrible!"
"She is, I am, and you are. Cow-eyed look on your face, still a bit skinny and lacking in muscles, weighed down by the tragic burden of your virginity..."
"You're in no position to talk," said Ziggy with spirit. "You're just as skinny as I am. And you're funny-looking. And older than me. And not in a cool way, either, you're older like someone's dad. And just for the record, I am not - not that it matters, I wouldn't be ashamed if I was, but since you ask - anyway, let's just say that I know more about women than you do, all right?"
"I seriously doubt that," said Robbie calmly.
"Ha. You're gay. What would you know?"
Robbie smiled wickedly.
"The difference, young mooncalf, is that I could if I wanted to. Whereas you've been hankering after her for years, and you only managed to finally put it to her this past summer... I've seen glaciers that made more progress over time than you did. Admit it. If I made a serious play for that sleek little kitten of yours, I imagine I'd get further in twenty minutes than you got in months."
Ziggy looked at Robbie, long and lean and charming, confident and at ease in his skin, and sighed to himself. He's probably right, he thought to himself. Even a gay man in his forties has more pulling power than I do…still can't believe she's with me…what the hell does she see in me, anyway?
"Is there something you want?" he asked wearily, feeling all the fight drain out of him.
Robbie shrugged.
"Just passing the time with an old friend. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry."
"You're what?" Ziggy looked at him incredulously.
"You heard. Don't worry, I don't mean it. I'm only saying it to get under your guard. Want a toffee?" He held out a crumpled paper hesitated, then took one.
"Thanks."
They sat down side by side on the bench and waited for their jaws to unglue so they could speak again.
"Aren't you going to lecture me about cavities?" asked Robbie indistinctly.
"Would you listen if I did?"
"Of course I wouldn't. No-one ever listens to you. In fact, most of the time no-one even notices you." Robbie offered Ziggy the bag of toffees again. "No-one apart from me, of course, but then I notice everyone. So, why don't you let me give you some advice?"
Ziggy tried to protest, but found his teeth were glued together with toffee.
"I know you're getting ready to propose to your girlfriend," continued Robbie. Ziggy's eyes bulged. "I also know you got that idiot-savant in there to build you a really rather fabulous little device to let you see into her dreams, although I can assure you you're in for a tragic disappointment if you think there's going to be anything useful in there. George Clooney, nakedness in public places, and a whole lot of nonsense about shoes and flying, I think you'll find. When it comes to proposing, I'd just stick to the basics. Get her drunk and wave a large diamond under her nose. Works every time." Robbie stood up and stretched.
"Why are you giving me advice?" asked Ziggy, frantically swallowing toffee.
"Because I feel guilty," said Robbie with a brilliant smile.
"Why? What have you done?"
"Check your pockets," advised Robbie, sauntering off down the street. Ziggy looked after him blankly, then put his hand in his pocket.
"You utter bastard!" he screamed in frustration. From the other end of the street, Robbie waved the DreamWeaver victoriously over his head, and disappeared hastily. Ziggy considered trying to catch him, but decided it was a waste of time.
I'm a total failure, he thought moodily, and returned to kicking his sneakers restlessly along the pavement. I'm so stupid even Robbie can fool me without even trying. Maybe Sportacus could - oh wait, he's not here, is he? Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn…
-----
Stephanie and Emma were curled up in a chair in Emma's room, slowly turning over the pages of Where's Spot?
"Is he under the stairs?" asked Stephanie, kissing the top of Emma's head.
"No," said Emma. "Dat's a lion."
"That's right…good girl." She yawned. "Are you tired yet, baby? Shall we go for a nap?"
"No!"
"No? That's a shame."
"Read Spot," commanded Emma.
"All right, I'm sorry. Is he…under the bed?"
"No…"
"You didn't answer when I knocked," said Robbie, putting his head around the door, "So I invited myself in. I hope you don't mind." He smiled at her. "I gather your husband's out of town for a couple of weeks. How convenient for me. Here you are, all on your own, apart from your vile and precocious offspring, of course…and David is out of town for a two-day gig in Metropolis, so I'm all on my own, too…what shall we do to keep ourselves amused?"
Stephanie smiled back at him.
"How are you, Robbie?"
"Bored. He's only been gone for half an hour and already all the fun's gone out of the town. Who am I going to make a nuisance of myself to now? Looks like you're next in the firing-line, Barbie. Sorry, and all that." He looked her up and down. "You look tired."
"I'm fine," she said defensively.
"You don't look it. Has the brat been keeping you up at night?"
"Her name is Emma, and she can hear you perfectly well."
"Can she? So she can." Robbie looked at Emma severely. "Brat, have you been keeping your mother up at night?"
"No," said Emma solemnly.
"In that case maybe you're not eating properly. I've been telling you for years, healthy eating will kill you in the end. More sugar, that's what you need." Robbie rummaged in his pocket and offered a crumpled paper bag. "They're probably a bit warm, I'm afraid, but they should taste fine…"
Stephanie turned away hastily from the smell of warm, half-melted toffee, but it was too late. Without apology or explanation she thrust Emma into Robbie's arms and dashed into the bathroom to throw up.
As she bent over the sink, she felt someone draw her hair away from her face and put a comforting arm around her waist.
"Now, Barbie, I know I'm not the prettiest sight in town, but that's really not a nice way to greet your guests," said Robbie gently. "Good God, that's disgusting, what have you been eating? And they say fruit is good for you…" she staggered a little as she stood upright again, and he held her steady. "Take it easy now. Here, clean your teeth, you'll feel better. That's a good girl. I suppose this means you're pregnant again?"
Stephanie sighed.
"If you tell anyone - "
"Why not? I know it may still come as a shock to your aunt that you have sex with your husband, but least you're married this time. Besides, it's about time something ruffled her feathers again, she's been quite unbearably serene since she became Mayor."
"I just don't want everyone fussing and worrying and…"
"Holding your hair out of the way while you throw up in the sink? You're welcome, by the way, Barbie. Well, since it's you asking, I'll keep my mouth shut, but I imagine they're going to notice eventually, don't you?"
"It was just those disgusting toffees, that's all. I'm fine."
He snorted.
"Clearly. You should see yourself right now. Go and lie down. I'll watch the brat."
"Why?"
"Can't a man do something nice for an old friend once in a while?" He half-carried her into the bedroom.
"She's supposed to have a nap soon," said Stephanie doubtfully. Robbie smiled."A girl after my own heart."
"If you're sure - "
"I tell you what. I'll make a deal with you. I'll keep your secret if you promise not to tell anyone I babysat the brat for you. Apart from anything else, it would cause a hideous amount of heart-searching from your partner and mine…I'm surprised he didn't warn me to stay away from you while he's out of town."She smiled.
"Well…okay then. Just for half an hour. Thank you so much, Robbie. I know you don't like to advertise it, but you're lovely." She closed the door of the bedroom.
"Well, I wouldn't go quite that far," said Robbie thoughtfully. He went into Emma's room and put the DreamWeaver on the floor under her bed. "Your father," he said to Emma, who was watching him from the doorway with her finger in her mouth, "is up to something. There's something brewing up back home. And I want to know what it is. And, little Emma, I bet you've got some idea of what, haven't you? Do you dream about waterfalls a lot, I wonder? And stars that aren't exactly like the ones we have? People with ears just like yours?"
"Read dis," commanded Emma, passing him the copy of Where's Spot? Robbie took it and shuddered.
"Not a chance, brat. Let's have a look and find something a bit more stimulating." He ran a finger along the bookcase. "I don't suppose your unenlightened parents have bought you a copy of Strewwelpeter…no, I thought not. Ah, here we go. Alice. My very favourite Victorian Lolita. Come here and let's go through the looking-glass together. Oh, for God's sake. Must you sit on my knee?"
"Yes," said Emma. She looked at the illustration of the Jabberwocky, and her eyes widened.
"What's dat?" she asked.
Robbie smiled.
"Oh, little Emma. My word, now you're asking…"
