Mr Anders viewed the "special tag". He raised a quizzical eyebrow and then he laughed. 'Toys will be toys,' he said. 'And this one, you say, is your friend?'
Jack nodded. 'My bestest friend,' he said.
'Nice,' said the toymaker once more. 'Everyone should have a bestest friend. And a bear is as good as any to have. But this little bear is all but gone. Perhaps I should empty out his head and give him a complete refill.'
'No, please don't do that. He's Eddie, let him still be Eddie.'
'You really do care, don't you?'
'Very much,' said Jack.
'I'll leave his head alone then and just re-stuff the rest of him.'
'He needs a new growler,' said Jack.
'He's lost his growler? What a careless little bear.' The toymaker shook his kindly white-haired old head. 'Well, you go and sit yourself down in that comfy-looking chair and I'll see what I can do to save your Eddie.'
'Thank you, sir.' Jack took himself over to the comfy-looking chair and sat down upon it.
'You can't sit here,' said the chair.
'Oh,' said Jack, leaping up.
'Quiet, you,' the toymaker told the chair. 'He's my guest. Sit down again, my boy.'
‘Jack,' said Jack. 'My name is Jack.'
'There'll never be a shortage of Jacks in this city,' said the toymaker, and he set to work upon Eddie.
Jack sat down once more. The chair made a grumpy sound and did what it could to make itself uncomfortable.
Jack watched the toymaker at work.
So this was him: the man behind it all. The man who somehow brought toys to life. The man with the Big Secret. And here he was in his workshop, putting Eddie back together. And being so kindly and loveable and white-haired and everything.
And then it all hit Jack. All of a sudden. Like.
The toymaker didn't know, did he? He had no idea at all about what was going on out there in Toy City. He didn't know what a ghastly dystopia of a place it had become. He was all cosseted away here, guarded by the knocker on his front door.
'How are you doing?’ Jack asked the toymaker.
'It will take a bit of time. Perhaps you'd better come back in the morning.'
Jack thought about this, but, no, he had nowhere to go. He was a wanted man. The police were after him. And the wild woman with the winged hat. She'd probably know by now that he'd escaped, and stolen her car.
Til stay here, if you don't mind,' said Jack.
'Then get yourself some sleep,' said the toymaker. 'That chair is very comfortable.'
'Thanks,' said Jack as the chair made rocky fists beneath his bum. 'I am rather tired, as it happens. And rather hungry too, as that happens also.'
Til wake you for breakfast then,' said the toymaker.
What a nice man, thought Jack and, even with rocky fists under his bum, was very soon fast asleep.
15
Jack did not enjoy a lot of restful slumbering. Jack spent the night assailed by terrible dreams. And they really were terrible, filled with murder and mayhem and him running and running, pursued by all manner of monstrous nasties. Jack tossed and turned and fretted and mumbled and finally awoke to find that he had been thoughtfully covered by a colourful quilt, but had the silly big face of a bear grinning down at him.
'Waaah!' went Jack, leaping up.
'Easy, chap.' The silly big face vanished as Eddie Bear fell to the floor.
'Eddie, it's you. You're fixed.'
'I'm as good as.' Eddie fairly beamed.
Jack looked down at Eddie. Eddie looked up at Jack.
'Eddie,' said Jack.
‘Jack, chap?' said Eddie.
'Eddie,' said Jack. 'That isn't your voice.'
'New growler, chap,' said Eddie. 'Posh, ain't it?'
'Very posh,' said Jack. 'But I don't like the chap business.'
'Sorry, chap. I mean, sorry, Jack. And thank you. Thank you very much.'
'My pleasure,' said Jack. 'And oh, I smell breakfast.'
Jack and Eddie took their breakfast with the kindly loveable white-haired old toymaker. It was a banquet of a breakfast; a belly-busting beano; a guzzling gourmand's groaning-board blowout. It consisted, amongst other things, of creamed crad, honeyed ham, devilled dumplings and grilled greengages, not to mention the sauteed salmon, spiced spinach, parboiled pumpkin and peppered persimmon. Nor indeed, the caramelised carrots or the fricasseed frog.
And during the course of this eclectic and alliterative breakfast, Jack did his best to engage the toymaker in conversation.
'Sir,' said Jack, 'I'm so very grateful to you for saving my friend. If I had any money, then I'd gladly pay you. But if there is anything I can do for you, please tell me and I'll do it.'
'There isn't,' said the toymaker, munching on marinated mallard.
'Anything at all,' said Jack, toying with his tenderised tit.
'Nothing,' said the toymaker, skilfully spearing stuffed starfish with his filigreed fork.
'I'm very good with clockwork.' Jack diddled with a deep-fried dogfish. 'I was apprenticed.'
'Where?' the toymaker asked as he pursued a pickled pea around his plate.
Jack told him where.
The toymaker raised a snowy eyebrow. 'And you left there to come to the city?'
'It's a long story,' said Jack, 'but if there's anything I can do... if you need an apprentice or an assembler or—'
Eddie kicked Jack under the table.
'When I've finished the work I'm presently engaged in, of course.' Jack scooped up and swallowed a sliver of scuffled sugar beet.
'And what work is that?' asked the toymaker.
'I'm—'
Eddie kicked Jack again.
'Ouch,' said Jack and he glared at Eddie.
Eddie put his paw up to his mouth and made shushing sounds.
The toymaker looked from Jack to Eddie and then back at Jack once more.
'It's lowly work,' said Jack. 'Compared to what you do, it's absolutely nothing.'
'I don't consider what I do to be work.' The toy-maker pushed a portion of potted plums onto his plate. 'What I do is fun and games. Everything I do is fun and games. The fun for me is in the game. The game is in the fun.'
'Right,' said Jack, 'but, sir—'
'Call me Anders,' said the toymaker. 'Anders Anders is my name.'
'Mr Anders, then. Can I ask you a question?'
'I don't know,' said Anders Anders, 'can you?'
'May I ask you a question?'
'You may.'
'Then please will you tell me, how is it done?'
'How is what done?'
'The toys, how do you bring them to life?'
'You can't ask that.' Eddie, whose face was full of flambeed flamingo, spat much of it all over Jack.
'Steady on,' said Jack, wiping himself.
'You can't ask Mr Anders thatl Bad chap!'
'He can,' said Mr Anders. 'He can ask.'
'Then how do you do it?'
'I said you could ask. I didn't say that I would tell you.'
'And so you won't?'
Mr Anders shook his kindly loveable white-haired old head. 'No,' he said.
'Then please just tell me this,' said Jack. 'Is it magic?'
The toymaker shook his head once more. 'Not magic,' he said. 'Science. And that is all I will say. One day I may well take on an apprentice. And one day, perhaps, that apprentice will be you. But not today and not for a long time yet to come. So, for now, would you care for some more of this frazzled falafel?'
'Yes please,' said Jack.
'Me too,' said Eddie. 'And another of those bevelled brownies.'
When the breakfasting was finally done with and Jack and Eddie, big-bellied both, bade the toymaker farewell, Jack offered his hand and the ancient fellow shook it.
'I'm very grateful, sir,' said Jack. 'I really truly am.’