Kate Atkinson: Started Early, Took My Dog

‘Me,’ Courtney said when she saw her reflection. Little hands making stars, ‘Twinkle, Twinkle’.

‘You look lovely,’ Tracy said.

‘I do,’ Courtney agreed.

They walked down Main Street towards the hallowed walls of Sleeping Beauty’s castle. Le Château de la Belle au Bois Dormant . ‘That’s French,’ Tracy said to Courtney. Everything was in French, because unlike other countries the French refused to compromise on that. What were those planning meetings like? All those Disney executives, the Mouse’s men, sitting down to coffee and croissants around a table with French officials insisting that there would be no translation ( Non ) and the Americans trying to imagineer that.

Tracy wondered if Disneyland Paris was technically American soil and if she could throw herself on the mercy of Mickey and ask for asylum. They could move to the States, somewhere quiet, away from the public eye, Oregon, New Mexico, a small town in the Midwest, somewhere no one would look for them.

All the bright shiny places. Long way from the starlight and the firelight. Long, long way. They queued. And then they queued again. And then after they had queued they queued some more. They queued to see Sleeping Beauty’s castle, they queued to see Snow White’s cottage, both, frankly, rather disappointing. They queued to fly with Peter Pan into Neverland, which they both liked. They queued to ride around in the Mad Hatter’s teacups and on Dumbo’s back. They queued for the Voyages of Pinocchio which was rubbish and for Pirates of the Caribbean which was good and, they both agreed, just a little bit scary. They stood for an eternity corralled between railings in a queue that was like a fat snake, waiting to be loaded on to boats on a shallow artificial waterway before being carried away on the current, borne helplessly into the terrifying animatronic vision of ‘It’s A Small World’. When they finally escaped back into the big world they spent another lifetime in the pythonesque grip of a queue in order to ride on the Disneyland Railroad.

Kid was a heroic queuer.

They stood on Main Street and watched the parade go by and ate ice cream. By the end of the day Courtney had that stunned look again, the one abused kids wore. Tracy expected that if she looked in a mirror she would see the same look on her face as well. The music from ‘It’s A Small World’ was lodged in Tracy ’s brain. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to get rid of it.

‘And we can do it all again tomorrow,’ she said, as they staggered into the hotel through the back entrance.

This was what you did if you had a terminal illness, wasn’t it? You packed the days, took the helicopter flight over the Victoria Falls, the boat down the Nile, the train to Venice, the elevator to the top of the Empire State Building, You went on safari in Africa and played the slots in Vegas because you were suddenly greedy for the world you were about to lose. Or you just rode round in giant teacups taking endless photos of a kid giving you the thumbs-up. Wondering how long it could last.

When they returned to their Sleeping Beauty suite an envelope with the Disneyland logo and Mme Imogen Brown written on it had been pushed under the door. Tracy thought it would be information about activities in the park but inside the envelope was another one, one word, ‘ Tracy ’, handwritten on it. She’d been found. Her hand trembled as she opened the envelope. Another envelope. This was ridiculous. Again, her name written on it, a hand she recognized as Barry’s. It was like Chinese whispers, was she just going to keep on opening envelopes that grew smaller and smaller until what, a final message? Gotcha! or The treasure here is you ? When she turned over the third envelope she found a message written on the flap. A message from Harry Reynolds. Perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised he’d been able to find her.

Tracy- Barry asked me to send you this. I owe him a couple of favours. Don’t know if you heard but Barry’s dead. Killed his daughter and then topped himself. Left a fucking mess behind. Len Lomax went under a train and Ray Strickland’s being done for a prozzie murder decades ago. Thought you’d like to know – yours, Harry .

Turn your back for a minute and the world shifted on its axis. There was a PS from Harry – Took the money you owed round to the Pole like you asked me .

She put a cartoon on the TV for the kid and read Barry’s letter, finally found out the truth about Michael Braithwaite. He had a sister. Tracy ’s heart dropped ten floors. First thing the kiddy had said to her. Where’s my sister?

‘What was your favourite thing?’ Tracy asked Courtney as they queued to go into the restaurant.

‘My dress,’ she said without hesitation.

The waiter led them to a table by the window where they had an excellent view of Sleeping Beauty’s illuminated castle. They toasted each other with wine and Coca-Cola. Tracy drank a modest half bottle of red although she could have drunk a vineyard. She thought of the kid, sitting next to her while they flew to Neverland. The feeling of cherishing someone small and helpless. Made her think of Michael Braithwaite, all those years when nobody cared what happened to him. A Lost Boy. She was grateful to Barry for providing her with the happy ending. Poor old Barry, never got to have his retirement do after all. She raised a silent toast to him.

Mickey did the rounds of the tables. As did Goofy and Pluto. The kid liked Pluto best. Thumbs-up all round. Tracy took photo after photo. Terminal illness.

After dinner Courtney got dressed in her new Minnie pyjamas, bought in the hotel shop, and they ordered hot chocolate on room service, watched a DVD in bed. Disney obviously.

Kid had her chattels laid out on the bed:

the tarnished silver thimble

the Chinese coin with a hole in the middle

the purse with a smiling monkey’s face on it

the snow globe containing a crude plastic model of the Houses of Parliament

the shell like a cream horn

the shell shaped like a coolie hat

the pine cone

Dorothy Waterhouse’s sapphire engagement ring

the filigree leaf from the wood

the links from a cheap gold chain

the light-up Virgin Mary from the Saab

the silver star from the old wand

Another couple of years of this and they would need a truck to carry the kid’s cargo around. Another couple of years . Tracy couldn’t imagine she would be able to hang on to that future because although this was the beginning of something it felt like the end. Always had. Always would.

From now on Tracy would forever be looking over her shoulder, waiting for the knock on the door. Cameras had tracked them everywhere, if somebody was looking for them they would find them. Harry Reynolds had. And if the bad didn’t get them then the good ones probably would.

When she bought the kid she made a covenant with the devil. She could have someone to love but it would cost her everything. She thought of the Little Mermaid, every step torture, a pain like the piercing of sharp swords. Just to be human, to love.

Kid dipped her wand in Tracy ’s direction. Granting a wish or casting a spell, hard to tell which. Courtney had knitted herself into Tracy ’s soul. What would happen if she was ripped away?

This was love. It didn’t come free, you paid in pain. Your own. But then nobody ever said love was easy. Well, they did, but they were idiots.

Her phone rang. New phone, new name, new number. No one had the number. Perhaps it was her service provider with a courtesy call. Perhaps it was another mysterious caller, or even the same one. Or something more sinister. She switched the phone off, watched the DVD instead. Tinker Bell was looking for lost treasure. Wasn’t everyone?