“It’s complicated,” said Eddie. “I’ll explain it to you sometime, but not now. And see, just up ahead, where the street lamps end – we’re almost there.”

The street lamps ended at the top of a hill. Jack drew the car to a rather unnecessarily sharp halt and he and Eddie climbed from it. Jack peered out and down at a moonlit landscape. “Oh,” was all he could find to say for the moment.

Jack stood beside Eddie, who peered in a likewise fashion, and a little shiver came to Eddie, which wasn’t caused by the chill of the night.

There was something about Toy Town that haunted Eddie. It haunted all toys in Toy City to a greater or lesser extent. Toy Town represented something, something that had been but no longer was: paradise, before the fall. In truth, few toy folk ever ventured there. Toy Town was almost a sacred place. A place perhaps for pilgrimage, but somehow, too, for reasons that, like going to see P.P.P. biopics, were too complicated to explain, a place to be feared. An other place. A place not spoken of.

It was complicated.

“Looks pretty dilapidated,” said Jack, “but in a romantic kind of a way. The way that ancient ruins sometimes do.”

“Hm,” said Eddie, and he shivered a little bit more.

“What’s that up there?” asked Jack, and he pointed.

“Ah,” said Eddie. “The sign.”

The sign rose above the hilltop. Great white letters, standing crookedly. Great white letters spelling out “TO TO LA.”

“‘To to la’?” said Jack. “What does that mean?”

“It originally spelled ‘TOYTOWNLAND’,” said Eddie. “That was the name of the original development. Seems as if some of the letters have fallen down. It’s a very long time since I’ve been here. And I think I’ve now been here long enough again. Let’s come back in the morning, Jack. Or perhaps you might come back on your own.”

“On my own?” Jack looked at Eddie. “What’s the problem?” he asked. “Eddie, are you scared of something?”

“Me?” said Eddie, straightening what shoulders he had. “I’m not scared of anything. We bears are brave, you should know that. We’re as bold as.”

“Right,” said Jack. “But you do seem to be trembling somewhat.”

“It’s cold,” said Eddie.

Jack, having eyebrows, raised them.

“Yeah, well,” said Eddie, “there’s something about this place. Something I’m not comfortable with.”

“Well, I’m not altogether comfortable myself. I’m not too keen on getting blasted by a space alien death ray, you know.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in the concept of space aliens.”

“I don’t,” said Jack, “but something zapped the monkeys and the clockwork musicians. And whatever it is, I don’t want it to zap me as well. Nor you, as it happens.”

“We shall proceed with caution, then. I’ll lead the way, you go first.”

Jack said, “Eh?” But Jack led the way. “Where am I leading this way to?” he whispered to Eddie as he led it. Down and down a hillside, through gorse and briars and unromantic stuff like that.

Eddie battered his way through nettles. “Keep a low profile,” he counselled. “And keep an eye out for anything that looks like a landed spaceship.”

“As opposed to something that actually is a landed spaceship?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

Jack, keeping the lowest of low profiles despite the heightness of his height, did furtive glancings all around and continued in the downwards direction. At length, and one too long for Jack, who was now somewhat briar-scratched about in the trenchcoat regions, and who now had Eddie riding upon his shoulders due to Eddie being briar-scratched about in more personal regions, the intrepid detectives reached a bit of a road, a bit of which led into the romantic ruination of Toy Town.

“They’re pretty little houses,” Jack whispered, “but they’ve got holes in their roofs and everything. Do you really think anyone lives here any more?”

“We bears have almost mystical senses,” Eddie whispered back. “We can sense things. And I sense that we are being watched.”

“By spacemen, do you think?”

“There’s a tone in your voice,” said Eddie. “Put me down, please.”

And Jack put Eddie down.

Jack said, “I don’t see any landed spaceships. But then perhaps landed spaceships have some kind of advanced camouflage and can look like ruined houses. In which case, I can see lots of spaceships. Which one do –”

“Stop it,” said Eddie. “We are being watched. And I don’t like it here.”

“I’ll protect you,” said Jack. “I have my gun.” Jack patted his pockets. “Oh no,” he said. “I don’t have my gun – one of the laughing policemen confiscated it.”

“We’re doomed,” said Eddie. “Do you still have your watch?”

“I do,” said Jack, holding his wrist up to the moonlight. “It’s nearly two-thirty. Time travels fast when you’re having a good time, doesn’t it?”

“Turn it in,” said Eddie. “You’re as scared of this place as I am.”

“I’m afraid of no man,” said Jack.

“There’s something out there,” said Eddie. “And it ain’t no man.”

Which rang a distant bell, somewhere.[15]

“Which way do you want to go?” asked Jack.

“Home,” said Eddie.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“It’s what I mean,” said Eddie. “I used to live here. I’d like to see my old home.”

“Oh,” said Jack. “Right. Lead on, then.”

And Eddie led the way.

He led the way to Toy Town Square. There were ruined shops all around and about: a butcher’s, a baker’s, a candlestick maker’s, a cheese shop and a dolls’ hospital.

Jack peered through the grime-stained window of a tailor’s. “This really is a proper ghost town,” he said. “There’s still a display in this window and suits of clothing hanging up.” Jack moved on through the square. “Same in the cheese shop,” he said. “It’s full of old cheese. How come when the traders moved away they left their stock behind?”

“They moved away fast,” said Eddie. “In a single day. All at once.”

“But I thought you said –”

“I know what I said. I didn’t say how fast they all moved to Toy City.”

“What happened here, Eddie? Something bad, was it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it now.”

Jack shook his head. “Are we still being watched? What do your special senses tell you?”

Eddie nodded. “We’re still being watched. Come on, this way.”

And so they moved on, across the moonlit square, into a side alley that wasn’t really lit very well at all, into worrying darkness, then out into some small light.

“Ah,” said Jack. “I see.”

Before them stood a little house. A pretty little house. It was a man-sized pretty little house. A flaky painted sign upon the aged front door spelled out the name “WINKIE” in archaic lettering.

“Bill Winkie’s house,” said Jack. “The house of Wee Willy Winkie. And you were his bear.”

“I was Bill’s bear,” said Eddie. And he produced a key from his trenchcoat pocket. “Would you care to let us in, Jack?”

Jack took the key from Eddie. “You have the key with you,” he said, “but you didn’t know we were coming here. I mean –”

“I’ve always carried it, one way or another, and the another way wasn’t very comfortable,” Eddie said. “I carry it as a kind of good-luck charm, or something.”

“Oh.” Jack said no more, but tried the key in the lock. After some struggling, he turned it. “Are you sure about this?” he asked Eddie. “Sure that you want to go in? It might be painful for you. I know how much you loved Bill.”

“It will be painful,” said Eddie, “but I have to. There’s something I have to know.”

“All right.” Jack drew the key from the lock, returned it to Eddie, then pressed his hands to the door, which opened, silently.

“There should be a candle box on the wall to your left,” said Eddie. Jack felt around to his left, found the candle box, located candles within it and a tinderbox, fumbled about with the tinderbox, drew sparks, then fire from it, lit a candle. Jack held up this candle.