The Tunnels Below by Nadine Wild-Palmer (have you read this book .txt) 📗

“I’m not sure you understand,” Cecilia said. She still felt compelled to try to convince him one more time in case he’d misunderstood. “I can’t tell you where I am now but before I ended up here, I was on a train and before that I was walking down the road with my family. There was a sky above my head and the sun kept popping out from behind the clouds. The birds were singing in the trees and it was a lovely day out we had planned for my birthday.”

“Sun, what’s a sun?” Kuffi said to Cecilia plainly.

How can anyone live without sunlight, she thought.

“You’re joking, right?” Cecilia asked.

“Of course not,” he said, settling into his seat to listen to her.

“OK. Well… it’s a big ball of gas burning really, really far away from this planet—Earth. It helps things to grow and live, it keeps us warm and helps us know when to be awake and when to sleep,” she said, willing him to give in and say it was all a big joke, a birthday prank like on those TV shows that trick people for everyone else’s entertainment.

“I see.” Kuffi seemed to be taking it in as a frown crept across his brow and his whiskers twitched involuntarily.

“Cecilia, that’s a marvellous story. The sun, what a fantastic imagination you have!” And just like that, he smiled and pushed aside what she was saying.

Cecilia was so frustrated. Why didn’t he believe her? She was about to burst as she stood up from the armchair. “You have to believe me, Kuffi. I’m from up there, from outside!” She pointed up towards the crumbly ceiling.

But the more Cecilia tried to convince Kuffi of the outside world, the more fantastical and ridiculous her words began to sound. She got carried away, trying to explain her lush green world with its rolling oceans and snow-capped mountains, gesticulating and describing things in detail, and with each word she saw his pity grow through the expression on his face. She slowed down as it began to sound more and more like a fantasy world she had conjured up.

They shared a moment of silence before Kuffi said kindly, “It sounds beautiful, Cecilia. I’m not sure what happens out in the Black of Beyond but the few fellows that do return to the tunnels—all, I’m sorry to say, have similar stories. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, though.”

Cecilia went to sit back down and found she was sitting uncomfortably on the marble Hester had given her. She got up and took it out of her pocket.

“What’s that you have there?” said Kuffi curiously.

“It’s just a marble, a birthday present from my sister, Hester…” she said, her words tailing off.

“What is a marble?”

“This,” said Cecilia, thrusting the object towards him.

“Me, oh, my,” Kuffi exclaimed. “Well, I never. A marble, you say? You are lucky to have been gifted such a thing.” His eyes were bright and fiery.

As Cecilia plopped it back in her pocket, Kuffi stood up. He seemed excited and smiled widely, smoothing out his rather snug-fitting navy suit and smart pillbox hat, he walked over to the kitchenette, picked something up and returned to where Cecilia was sitting. He held out a sharp, shard-like piece of broken mirror that gleamed as it caught the light.

“I’m sorry to have to do this to you, Cecilia,” he said gravely, brandishing it like a knife.

4To Market, to Market

Kuffi moved closer to Cecilia, flashing the slice of broken mirror. She looked up at him, terror stricken. He recognised the picture of fear on her face, looked at the shard he was holding and stopped himself. “Oh dear,” he chuckled. “It’s OK,” he said reassuringly. “I would never hurt you, it’s just very rare to see someone walking around with buttons used as adornments or fastenings. I don’t know where you got that coat but we need to remove the buttons; you can’t walk around with all that wealth stuck to you now, can you?” Kuffi held out his hand for the coat and Cecilia took it off and gave it to him.

Cecilia watched as Kuffi went to work. The coat had several buttons down the left hand side—six, to be precise—and two smaller ones on either side on the top pockets. Kuffi explained that only those held in high esteem adorned themselves with buttons; he personally thought it was quite vulgar. Buttons were best used in exchange for goods at Market Square. Kuffi’s own clothes—he demonstrated by adjusting his top collars—were fastened with little hooks. “Clever, huh?” he said, tidying his green polka-dot cravat. Cecilia knew it was a cravat because her grandpa had worn one, and he had explained that it was neither a scarf nor a tie but something in between.

Kuffi collected the buttons together and handed them to Cecilia. “You’re going to need these to feed the monster in your stomach,” he joked. “Come on then, enough idle chat. Let’s go and get something to eat!”

Kuffi checked all the doors and switched on a red neon sign in the window, which read OUT, and they exited the room through a back door.

The two walked for some time along a dimly lit narrow passage. The ceiling was low and seemed to be made of compacted dirt. They came to an opening and it became quite bright. The space before them was flooded with orange light thrown out from a criss-cross of fluorescent tubes overhead. At the centre of the clearing there was a vehicle on two parallel tracks pointing towards an opening. The vehicle was similar to a dune buggy but had bicycle wheels with no rubber on the tyres. It had a small engine in the undercarriage and motorbike handlebars. Kuffi was clearly very proud of this piece of equipment. He walked around it, examining it and polishing up the badge.

“What is it?” asked Cecilia.

“What is it!” Kuffi exclaimed. “Only the best track rider you can get. What is