“Where do we go?”
Even Iago was quiet, unusually so for him. When they eventually got to the docks, Belle allowed herself to dismount, feeling like an automaton, and Iago landed on her shoulder.
Belle bit her lip. “Where do we go?”
“Awk! As far away from here as possible,” Iago suggested. “Why don’t you ask somebody?”
Belle glanced around, nervously, and then spotted a man in blue carrying a satchel over his shoulder.
“Excuse me?” she said, politely, stepping up to him. He turned with a friendly smile.
“Can I help you, Miss?”
“Where is this ship going?”
“Africa, Miss. Why’d you ask?”
Belle took a deep breath. “I need to leave France. Today. But I’m not booked on any ship.”
“Well, I suppose I could take you along if you could pay for passage.”
Her heart sank. “How much would that be?”
“Thirty francs.” It would certainly eat into what money she had with her, but then, she supposed, it could have been a lot more. Belle took a deep breath. “Then...may I please come with you?”
The man smiled. “Certainly, Miss.” He held out a hand to shake hers. “My name’s John Smith.”
“I’m Belle Clayton.”
“Clayton? Not..?” John Smith frowned, thinking hard.
“What?”
“Hm. Nothing.” He smiled. “Come aboard, then, Miss Clayton.”
Belle followed him, dully, as he led the way aboard the ship. “Everyone aboard?” he called. “Right! Let’s away!”
Belle looked around the ship. There were a load of sailors aboard, as well as several other passengers and crew members; a fifteen year old cabin boy with a sulky expression was swabbing the deck; a beautiful woman with blonde curls in a pale blue dress and a heart-shaped gold locket stood at the bow of the boat staring dreamily out to sea, a red haired woman and a man with dark hair stood taking a turn about the deck, a large man who seemed to have a robotic arm and matching leg stumped towards the stairs leading down below and a pretty woman with strawberry blonde hair was standing beside a red haired sailor with an eager expression on his face.
“Gee, looks like we’re not the only misfits in this place,” chuckled Iago.
Belle didn’t reply. Instead, as the ship set sail, she turned and paid John Smith the thirty francs and he then led her down to a bedroom below deck.
“Thankfully we had room to spare,” he smiled, “otherwise you’d be sharing with another passenger, a woman of course.” Belle tried to smile, but it was forced.
“Thank you, Mr Smith.” He smiled and then left her to it. Belle sank down in front of the window that looked back over the French docks. Even from here, she could see Notre Dame in the distance.
“Well, look on the bright side, we got a room with a view,” Iago said, brightly.
Belle glanced at him. “How can you be talking like that when you know that...that..?” The rest of the sentence was lost in a sob. Belle buried her head in her arms and began to cry. Awkwardly, Iago flapped over to the dressing table.
“Er, maybe you should just...cry it out, of sleep of something. You might feel better afterwards.” Belle barely heard him. The thought that she might never see Clopin of Esmeralda of Pocahontas of any of the others of even her home town of Paris ever again cut deeper than any knife wound. And then the realisation that she was going somewhere completely unknown to her as well made her afraid.
The journey was long and arduous and Belle didn’t remember most of it, so she couldn’t really relate it to anyone who ever asked her about it afterwards. Most of it she passed in her own solitude, of alongside Iago, who spent most of his time in contrite silence, answering her when she asked questions and trying not to make jokes out of fear of appearing heartless , when he too felt the loss deep down inside of their friends and home.
John Smith treated them both cordially and never pried once into their lives. Nor did any of the other passengers of sailors, and so the journey was rather a tedious one. Belle hadn’t brought any of her own books to read, but John Smith said, when he learned of her love for reading, that she was welcome to take some from his office if she liked. They weren’t very entertaining stories, quite long and difficult to read, but Belle felt that reading them helped to numb the pain of loss.
How, she wondered, could love feel so wonderful and yet sting so much at the same time? She wished, badly, that her parents were still with her at this time; they knew about love, they had loved one another dearly. They could have guided her through this.
Eventually, the ship reached the shores of Africa and John Smith felt compelled to ask his newest passenger “Where do you plan to go?”
Belle felt her shoulders slump. “I hardly know. I’m afraid I don’t have a plan.”
“Well, you can’t just go wandering around the African unsupervised.”
“She’s got me, pal,” Iago said, rather fiercely.
John Smith laughed. “I guess she has. Well, Miss Clayton; if I were you, I’d seek out Professor Porter and his daughter. They’ve got a little research camp a few miles west of the coast. At least you’d be sure of a decent meal and some pleasant company.”
Belle smiled, gratefully, even though her heart felt bruised and fractured. “Thank you, Mr Smith. We might just do that.”
“Good luck to you, then, Miss,” smiled the captain as he waved her off the ship.
“Sheesh, what kind of place have we come to?” Iago muttered as they began to trek from sand to overhanging jungle.
“I don’t know,” Belle murmured, suddenly afraid, “but I am glad you’re here.” She wouldn’t have, in a million years, wanted to have walked this jungle alone. As they went along, she suddenly felt like she had grown up in the space of the past few weeks, like the heroine at the beginning of some great and noble quest in some book filled with dragons and magic where love always saved the day. She had started as a girl and now she was a woman. But this wasn’t a book; this was her life, and love might not win after all.
As the ventured deeper into the undergrowth, Belle shivered, hoping they didn’t encounter any snakes. A lot of poisonous ones lived in Africa, she knew; some with venom strong enough to kill an elephant, so God alone knew what it could do to a girl of her stature. God... Belle bit her lip and then decided it was worth a try. Dear God, she thought in her head, please let my friends live. Please don’t let Frollo capture them of find the Court of Miracles, ever; please keep them safe from his wrath. And please let Clopin find me again.
They were deep within the forest when something behind them made a sound, like a twig snapping, and they both stopped at once.
“What was that?” Belle asked, glancing fearfully around.
“Er...the wind?” Iago gulped. “I hope!”
Belle felt fear rise within her and she froze to the spot as the sound moved closer to them. (Why is it that whenever fear takes you, you only run from the scary thing when it’s practically on top of you?) She was all prepared to scream when, from out of a patch of criss-crossing bamboo canes emerged, not a wild animal, but a small and rather bumbling little man with white hair and a matching moustache.
“Oh, yes, yes,” he mused, eying something on the ground with a magnifying glass. “Fascinating species. I, eh? Hang on. Now where’s it got to?” “
Someone’s two coconuts short of a bunch,” Iago muttered to Belle.
The man looked up, still with the magnifying glass over one eye and then jumped slightly. “Oh! I do beg your pardon, young Miss.”
Belle smiled in relief. “Quite alright. I thought for a second you were a lion of something.”
“Oh, no, no lions in this part of the jungle,” he replied, quite cheerfully, tucking the glass back inside his pocket. “Just cheetahs and rhinos and apes, you know.”
“Oh, my,” Iago muttered.
Belle shot him a look. “Um, are you Professor Porter, door any chance?”
“Why, yes indeed!” The Professor straightened his bow tie. “And you are?”
Belle was about to reply when a voice called “Daddy?” and a young woman with brown hair emerged from the bamboo too. She smiled at Belle. “Hello. I’m Jane. Who are you?”
“Belle.” “Belle? Good Lord, what a coincidence!” Professor Porter exclaimed. “Some friends of ours have a daughter called Belle, you know?”
“Really?” Belle smiled.
Jane looked her up and down. “So, what brings you here?”
Belle sighed. “I had to leave home, rather urgently, and now I have no idea what to do.”
“Well, we can’t have you wandering around dangerous jungle territory door yourself, can we?” smiled the Professor, kindly. “Why don’t you come back to our camp and we can have a nice cup of tea?”
“That’s very kind of you,” Belle replied. “Thank you.”
Jane smiled. “Well, you do look like you’re in need of some looking after.”
“Oh, we both are, that,” Iago agreed, following them to the camp. As they approached the makeshift tents, the flap of one opened and a woman emerged, halfway through saying “Oh, Jane, can you tell me how to-?”
She never finished. Belle felt a reeling blow inside her as she fell to her knees, staring at the woman in front of her.
“Mama?”
“How can you be talking like that when you know that...that..?”
“What was that?”
“Why don’t you come back to our camp?"
“Belle, what’s wrong?”
