Tag: fiction

That’s You, That Is

Posted on by weeks4send

There’s a girl standing in front of the board at Oxford University

Tears in her eyes

Insisting that they should put Peppa Pig Goes to the Dentist on their English Literature syllabus

Because it’s her favourite book in the whole world.

Apparently, that’s me every time I talk to you about something I like.

There’s a girl who insists on standing up

In front of her parents and their guests

Singing them song after song

No matter how many times they tell her that she’s delighted them enough now.

Apparently, that’s me every time I try to show you something I’ve written.

There’s a girl who enlists in the army during wartime

Tells everyone she’ll fight for her country

And prove to the world that a woman can be just as tough as a man

But who, as soon as the drill sergeant raises his voice,

Bursts into tears

Tells him to stop bullying her

And snivels that she wants to go home.

Apparently, that’s me every time I tell you to stop being such an unpleasant little jerk.

And it’s not like you’re angry.

You just feel sorry for me.

You just want me to stop embarrassing myself.

If those girls were real, wouldn’t I want to help them?

Wouldn’t I want to guide them gently back to Earth?

But they’re not, are they?

They never were.

You made them up

Brought them into existence

Just because you knew it would hurt to hear about them.

That’s no way to parent your imaginary children.

There’s somebody who’s always finding cheap ways

To get me to shut up

Because they can’t cope with other people

And think everyone else should be seen and not heard

Because they’re scared we’ll say something they don’t want to hear.

That’s you, that is.

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The Warbeck Sisters (part forty-nine)

Posted on by weeks4send

It wasn’t the first time that Joe Warbeck had found himself locked up for speaking his mind, but it was the first time it had panicked him this much.  He’d try to take a breath, try to assess the situation and work out whether there was anything he could use to his advantage, but he just couldn’t.  Whenever he tried to think, it all came back to what he’d seen in the shop upstairs, and what lengths Colwyn would go to in order to hide it.  He could do it.  If a man had enough money, he could have someone like Joe wiped from the face of the earth.  Completely disappeared.  And then he’d never find out what had happened to his girls.

Joe screamed and rattled the bars, threw the plates and cups they’d given him across the cell, tore the blankets and pillows down the middle.  Sanest possible reaction to being in a place like this.  Make as much noise as you could, until they silenced you forever.

It wasn’t until a few hours in that he even registered that there were other cells near his, and when he did, he didn’t much care.  So people were banging on the walls?  So there were voices in the distance that whined at him to keep that racket down?  Why should he care?  Being a good neighbour wasn’t his first priority right now.  Staying alive and seeing his girls again, that was all he could think about.

Eventually, his voice gave out, and he fell to his knees, forehead against the bars, staring into the dark corridor outside.  It hurt just to draw in a breath.  It hurt just to exist.  This must have been their plan all along- let him tire himself out, then come back and put the boot in.

Something white bounced against the wall.  It landed an inch or two in front of the bars.

For a long time, Joe just stared at it.  A screwed-up piece of paper?  Maybe they’d given up on whining and banging around, and decided to throw projectiles at him instead.  If this was the best they could do, he’d be laughing.

There was a muffled noise to his right.  A voice from a throat that sounded even more raw than his was.  “Read it.”

Joe looked at the paper again.  He stretched his fingers through the bars, and pushed it close enough to pick up.  It was screwed-up, alright, but not so badly that he couldn’t read it.  And as he did, his lips slowly twisted into a smile.

(To be continued)

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Next

Posted on by weeks4send

(Content Warning: Deeply unpleasant.)

(I don’t have a new “Warbeck Sisters” chapter finished yet, so this is by way of being a Halloween special.)

*

Well, it’s all a soap opera, isn’t it?  It’s all a tawdry little spectacle, and they milk it for all it’s worth.  And the worst thing of all is that we’ve all fallen for it.  Everyone’s hooked.

I’m not sure when the shift happened, when people like them convinced the world that everything they did was breaking news.  Sometimes I’m surprised we don’t get regular updates on when they went to the toilet last.  That’ll be next, mark my words!

But they’ve been like that ever since they got married.  Always having to be the centre of attention.  Every photo sold to Hello magazine.  Putting their children out front like a bunch of china dolls.  You wonder whether there’s anything real left underneath it all.  Probably not.

You saw the picture of them outside the church, right?  Perfectly posed and perfectly turned-out.  They might as well have gone the whole hog and had the entire funeral sponsored by Gucci.  That’ll be next, mark my words!

Like I said, it’s all a soap opera.  I wouldn’t be surprised if they had a whole script prepared in advance, telling them when their voices had to break and when they had to dab their eyes with a tissue.  “A single perfect tear rolling down the grieving mother’s face…”  Do me a favour.

You’d think they were the first people to ever lose a child.  Always talking about their suffering and their heartbreak.  Do you think they’ve given a thought to the thousands of people who’ve had to put up with this plastered across the papers for weeks, and all the horrible memories it’s brought back?  Of course not.  They’re the only ones thar matter.  They don’t need to worry about the little people.

It was disgusting, the things the newspapers printed.  I don’t know how people with children managed to explain it to them.  All those details- the blood, the hammer, the notes from the kidnapper- no-one needed to hear about it.  It was just them filling up more column inches at the expense of the rest of us.

You watch.  They’ll milk this for all it’s worth, then they’ll go away for a bit and come back with a replacement child.  “Baby news to dry our tears,” that sort of thing.  They’ll probably order one out of a catalogue.  They’d probably like to have it assembled from a kit- just like the last one, but with some of the annoying bits taken out.  That’ll be next, mark my words!

What kills me is, there are plenty of people who actually lose children.  Real children.  But do you think they ever stop to think about that?  Of course not.  Empathy?  They don’t know the meaning of the word.

The End

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The Warbeck Sisters (part forty-eight)

Posted on by weeks4send

Bo and Dol hadn’t gone straight back to the house.  There was a little bolthole, an out-of-the-way place just past the Opal Hill borders, where they could spend the night and consider their options without having to worry about the Fineries and their lot knocking on the door.  After that, they approached the house slowly, round the back way, careful not to alert the attention of anyone who might be watching.

If Pin or Eg had been with them, they’d have been spluttering with outrage and demanding immediate action because didn’t Dol and Bo realise there was an intruder in the house?!  Dol and Bo did realise.  But they also realised that they’d be in a better position to confront the intruders if they weren’t arrested before they got anywhere near them.

There was a little path through the mountains, made originally by natural erosion, but widened and maintained by the Iridescence family for the last twenty years.  One end was hidden by the trees and foothills around it, nearly impossible to find unless you knew where to look.  Follow it to the other end, and you reached a gate at the back of the Iridescence house, which Bo unlocked and held open for Dol.  Home at last.

They passed a number of servants on their way through the back garden, but none of them asked where they’d been or where the others were.  None of them made any comments at all.  They knew better than that.

Once in the house, they went to the secret door and confirmed their suspicions.  “Unlocked,” announced Dol, “They must have had it off the hook the minute we turned our backs.”  She took the key (still in the lock, thank goodness), and locked it again.  “Put the bookcase up against it, just to be sure,” she told Bo, “That way we can check the rest of the house without worrying about losing track of them.”

“Why would they be anywhere else in the house?”

“Well, they probably won’t.  But better safe than sorry.”

Bo nodded, and moved the bookcase.  And so began a half-hearted search of the main house- the main downstairs room, the solar upstairs, the bathrooms and the servants’ quarters.  No sign of Colwyn’s nieces.  No sign of anything out of the ordinary.  After about an hour, they agreed to stop.  Whatever they needed to find, it was beyond the secret door.

Before they moved the bookcase and opened it, though, they made an extra stop at one of the sheds in the back garden.  There was a metal container full of chemicals, and a tube.  Pest spray, it said on the front. 

“We’ll check the attic first,” said Dol, “But I suspect they’ve gone to the terrarium.”

“I hope not,” said Bo, “It would be a shame to lose it when we’ve had it so long.”

Dol laughed.  “If that’s the worst thing that happens to us today, consider yourself lucky.”  She opened the door, and she and Bo stepped into the corridor behind the walls.

(To be continued)

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The Warbeck Sisters (part forty-seven)

Posted on by weeks4send

Jeanette picked up the receiver, then turned back to Colwyn.  “What do I tell her?”

“Whatever seems right to you,” he replied, “You don’t have to hide anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“So she knows about the paths?”  As soon as Jeanette said it, she realised it was a stupid question.  Mum had grown up at Dovecote Gardens- she couldn’t have missed it all those years.  Probably the only reason Jeanette and her sisters hadn’t known about it before that was that they’d never spent any time around here.

“She does, yes.  Although a lot’s changed since she lived here.”

Jeanette went back to the phone.  It was one of those irritating ones with the round dial that gave you repetitive strain disorder after about three numbers and meant that you were never sure whether you’d made a mistake or not.  But Jeanette got in all eleven numbers, listened to it ring, and hoped for the best.

It wasn’t until she heard her mother’s voice that Jeanette realised how worried she’d been that she wouldn’t.  That Dad would have visited her first, and caused even more damage.  “Hello?”

“Hi, Mum, it’s Jeanette.”  She probably sounded much too cheerful for the serious turn this phone call was about to take, but she couldn’t help it.  She was relieved.

“Jeanette!  How are you, darling?”

“Fine.  We’re all fine.”  Here came the tricky part.  “But, listen, there’s been a lot of stuff…  Well.  Dad came by.”

You could hear the joy drain out of Mum’s voice.  “Oh my God…”

“We weren’t in,” said Jeanette, waving a hand as if she thought Mum would somehow see it through the phone, “Neither was Colwyn.  We’re fine.”

“But he got into the house?”

“For a while, but then he got onto the paths.  And he’s been arrested.”

“Arrested?”

“In Underwood Hills.  Do you know that one?  It’s…”

“Up in the mountains, yes.”  Not the description Jeanette would have used, but never mind.  “Did he hurt anyone?”

“No, it sounds like he just threw a tantrum in a newsagent’s.”  She thought for a moment, then added, “He did get into a fight nearer to the house, though, but the other guy’s ok.  He kind of deserved it, to be honest…”

“Oh God.”  Mum sounded as if she was going back and processing the news a second time, just to wring out all the misery.  “He’s been calling me day and night, but I didn’t think he’d come up and bother you.”

“Well, he’s not bothering us now.  We’ve got to go and see if we can bail him out or something.”  Come to think of it, Jeanette didn’t actually know what the Underwood Hills people were expecting her to do when she got there.  Hopefully they weren’t going to ask her to pay for the damage.

“Don’t do anything until I get there,” said Mum.

“But I said I would,” said Jeanette, and her voice sounded whiny even to her.  She’d been looking forward to that!  “Come on, I can’t make them wait five weeks.”

“You won’t.  You’ll be waiting three or four hours.”  There was a jangle of keys.  “I’m coming up now.”

Jeanette just stood there, blinking stupidly.  “What?”

“I’m not letting you and Colwyn deal with him on your own.  I’ll be there by this afternoon.  Don’t do anything til then.”

“Don’t you have work?” asked Jeanette, but she knew the answer to that before she’d even finished speaking.  They let you have days off for an emergency, even if “my ex-husband has been imprisoned by dragons” probably wasn’t the kind of emergency they expected.

Anyway, Mum didn’t even bother to answer that.  “Jeanette, put me back on to Colwyn.  We need to work some things out.”

“OK…  See you this afternoon, I guess.”  Jeanette turned back to Colwyn, and handed him the receiver.  He looked worried, as well he might be.  Mum was not going to be happy when she got here and saw Rube was missing.

(To be continued)

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Marnie Doesn’t Shoplift

Posted on by weeks4send

Marnie had been in Marks & Spencer for twenty minutes, and the security guards had been following her around for ten.  No matter which aisle she went down, one of them would appear at the end, watching her out of the corner of their eye.  Clearly she was up to no good, and nothing would convince them otherwise.

They’d given special assemblies at school:  There is no official crime called “shoplifting.”  It’s classed as theft, and you’ll be treated like any other thief.  Every other issue of Mizz and Shout had a story about somebody who was cautioned and banned from Woolworths after trying to steal something to give their best friend for her birthday.  Marnie had heard that story so many times that she felt like she’d actually lived it.  Even if you’d never even thought of stealing something, you worried that anything you looked at for too long would just materialise in your bag and incriminate you.        

If those security guards suddenly pounced on her and demanded to know what she was actually going to buy, Marnie didn’t have anything to say that would satisfy them.  What do you mean, you just came in to look at the birthday cake?  No-one just comes in to look at the birthday cakes!  It’s not a bloody art gallery!  Or maybe she could make something up… and have them find her out immediately, because they were trained experts in rooting out the truth and Marnie was bad at lying even at the best of times.          

She gave up.  No more looking around the shops today.  She took an exaggerated step away from the shelves, keen to show the security guards that she hadn’t slipped any of the cake decorations into her pocket, and went off to the exit.  Hopefully they’d let her leave without any fuss.           

In those stories in the magazines, the friend whose birthday it was usually told them she was glad they got caught because she wouldn’t have wanted a stolen present anyway.  Marnie honestly didn’t think she’d care one way or the other.  Presents were presents.

*           

It was Sunday night, which meant that Marnie had to work her way through all seven hours of homework she’d got last week so that her mum could sign her homework diary and she wouldn’t get in trouble tomorrow.  In the next room, her brother was watching King of the Hill.  For the first two hours, Marnie had hoped she’d be finished in time to watch some of it, but now it was pretty clear that she wouldn’t, so she tried not to listen in.  She had to concentrate.            

It had started with the safety poster for Home Ec, which hadn’t been that bad.  Then there had been the worksheet for Geography, with her mum popping in and saying that she was sure Marnie’s teacher would want more detailed sentences than that.  Then the end-of-chapter questions in Science, of which Marnie had understood about one word in every three, which meant that she’d written down complete guesses.  Right now, it was Maths, which wouldn’t have been so bad except for the fact that there was so much of it.  And after she was done with that, there would be English, IT, History and Music.  Marnie wondered if she’d ever get out of this room.           

Her mum called her a “brinksman,” and said that she really should have made a start on this homework sometime yesterday.  Or even Friday night, when all that knowledge had been fresh in her mind.  Except that nothing felt fresh at the end of a school day.  You felt as if you’d been crumpled up and stamped on.  All you wanted to do was get home and lick your wounds.  Besides, a lot of this stuff wasn’t even due in until Wednesday or Thursday.  If it wasn’t for the homework diary thing, Marnie would have been done hours ago.           

In the next room, the ad break finished and the show started again.  Marnie had to stop listening in.

*           

When Marnie first went outside in the morning, it always felt as if the world was a little more intense than usual.  As if you had to be prepared for attack at all times.  As if the sky itself was bearing down on you.           

At the bus stop, one of the older boys (Marnie wasn’t sure of his name) was examining a new poster on the side of the shelter:

We will not tolerate…

  • Racist crime
  • Homophobic crime
  • Vandalism

“I can understand racist crime,” said the boy with a laugh, “But homophobic crime?  Come on!”

Marnie frowned.  “What’s wrong with ‘homophobic crime’?”

The boy grinned at her, and snapped his fingers.  “Exactly!”

Marnie started to tell the boy that he’d made a mistake, that she hadn’t been agreeing with him, that she’d meant “what’s wrong with them putting the words ‘homophobic crime’ on the poster,” but before she could get more than two or three words out, the bus arrived, and everyone was more focused on cramming themselves through the door.

*

“The homework was quite a mixed bag,” Marnie’s Science teacher told the class, “The highest mark was 80%, and the lowest mark was 47%.  That’s quite a large gulf, and I think it’s indicative of…”

Behind Marnie, Heather Runcorn and her mates broke into giggles.  “Oh my God, what idiot got 47%?”

Marnie was pretty sure she knew what idiot had got 47%, and she was pretty sure that the whole class were going to find out in thirty seconds when the teacher read out everyone’s score.  She swallowed, and tried not to look sick.

*

The food shop down the road had one of those posters that said, “A free ride in a police car for all our shoplifters!”  If Marnie had been in a good mood, she might have smiled at it, but she wasn’t.  What if somebody put something in her bag without her seeing?  Someone from school with a grudge against her, or a total stranger who just wanted to see what would happen?  Or what if she picked up something and just forgot she had it in her hand until she was halfway out of the door?  What then?

Marnie knew what then.  Criminal records.  Juvenile court.  Dirty looks and bans from everything you enjoyed.  A free ride in a police car.  And no matter how hard you tried to keep your wits about you, you knew it could happen at any moment.

*

One evening, Mum took Marnie and her brother out to dinner at the new restaurant by the seafront.  They sat by the big window so they’d have a view of the sea while they ate their meal.  They chatted away, soaking up the atmosphere.  They barely ever got to go out for dinner since Dad had moved out.

But no matter what happened, all Marnie could think of was the big pile of homework that was waiting for her when she got back.

*

Marnie had just turned her bag upside-down on the table when her Geography teacher snarled, “That is it.”

Marnie looked up, confused.

“Every day, I have to deal with one of you crying to me that you’ve ‘lost’ your homework.  Well, I’ve had it.  Get out your homework diary- you’re in detention.”

Later- far too late- Marnie found the worksheet she was supposed to have handed in.  It had slipped to the bottom of her bag and got trapped under a couple of textbooks.  If the teacher had just given her another twenty seconds, she’d have found it.

*

On Saturday, Marnie ended up back in Marks & Spencer again.  She couldn’t help it.  She liked looking at the cakes.

From out of the corner of her eye, she saw a girl about her age in one of the other aisles.  It took her a moment to realise that it was Heather Runcorn, from her Science class.  Marnie was just wondering whether she should go over and say hello (they weren’t friends or anything, but it seemed like the polite thing to do), when she saw Heather take a little box of sweets off the shelf and slip it into her coat pocket.

Almost by instinct, Marnie looked around for the security guards.  No sign of them.  You should find one and report her, she thought, Otherwise, when they catch up with her, they’ll think you were involved.

Marnie stayed put, and watched Heather leave.  It looked like she was heading for the exit.

Go on.  Report her.  Prove to them that not all kids are shoplifters.  Prove to them that you’re good.

Marnie didn’t move.

She laughed when you got 47% that time.  She deserves it.

Marnie counted to a hundred and twenty in her head.  Enough time for Heather to have made her escape.  Enough of a gap that no-one would think they were together.  And then Marnie wandered out of the shop, taking her time and looking at whatever she liked on the way.

And when she got outside, the sky suddenly seemed a whole lot less oppressive.

The End

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The Beasts of Beckwith Bay (Chapter One, part 8)

Posted on by weeks4send

Right, this is getting ridiculous- it’s been two months since I promised to post the last four pages of Chapter One, and I’m nowhere near getting them properly coloured. Despite the fact that I’ve inked my way up to mid-Chapter Six and sketched my way up to the epilogue. So I’m going to post these in their current, half-coloured state so that I can draw a line under Chapter One, and then I can post the finished version later. Here we go!

(CONTENT WARNING: Spectacularly unpleasant blog comments.)

*

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The Warbeck Sisters (part forty-six)

Posted on by weeks4send

Rube and Lor could stand up inside the terrarium, but only just.  And that wasn’t the only thing that made it difficult to walk around.  Every step they took, they had to deal with either a branch in the face or a foot sinking ankle-deep into moss or mud.  The air around them seemed to be about half water vapour, and it was hard to tell whether it was that making your clothes damp, or your own sweat.  There was the kind of uncomfortable warmth you got when somebody turned the central heating up too high.  The insects led them down some mossy, uneven steps and into a kind of leafy bowl about three yards across.  Rube and Lor sat in what looked like the driest spots, and watched as a little group gradually gathered in front of them.

The group consisted of two moths- Annie and a bigger one who kept giving her calming pats on the shoulder- two ladybirds and three bees.  The bee who’d invited them in had introduced herself as Rosemary, and seemed to be in charge.  “Right,” she told Rube and Lor, as soon as everyone had settled in, “Tell us everything.”

They did their best.  Rube did, anyway, racking her brains for everything Sally had told her about what happened while she wasn’t there.  Lor didn’t add much except to confirm a few details of Rube’s story, which seemed strange.  Maybe the insects already knew who she was and why she was down there.

Once Rube had finished, Rosemary let out a long breath.  “So Kai’s still alive.”

“We don’t know that,” snapped Annie.

One of the ladybirds- the female one- looked from Annie to Rube to Lor.  “I have to admit, we don’t,” she said, a little apologetically.

“Well… how can we prove it to you?” asked Rube, leaning forward a bit so that the insects could hear her better.

No-one answered, but one of the bees asked Annie, “Why would they make it up?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Siobhan, because this bitch-” she pointed at Lor- “wants us to show her the way through this place?”

Lor sat up, offended.  “I didn’t say you had to show me!”

The male ladybird made a dismissive noise.  “How else are you going to get through?  You practically broke your ankle just getting this far.”

Rube tensed in case she had to grab Lor to stop her from squashing him.  Before that could happen, Rosemary the bee flew two feet into the air so that she could address the others.  “Look!  I believe them!”  She pointed a front leg at Rube.  “Everything she said… it sounded like Kai, right?  Him getting up and calling the piper as soon as he got up?  Remember how interested he was when he first heard about them?  He learned the tune and everything!”

“Lor probably coached her,” muttered Annie.

“Annie!  Come on!”

Rube relaxed a bit, now that nobody was going to squash anyone.  “Where is it you need to get to, anyway?” she asked Lor.

“Down to the next level.”  Lor shrugged.  “Whatever that is.”

“I know what it is,” said a quiet voice, “I’ve been there.”

It took Rube a moment to work out that it had been the other bee who’d spoken, the one who looked a bit shabbier than Rosemary and Siobhan.  One of his wings had a ragged edge, as if he’d been in an accident.

“How do you know that?” asked the female ladybird.

“I went to find it once.  Set an expedition for myself.”  He gave a little, barely-there laugh.  “That was when I was… braver…”

The male ladybird put a hand (feeler) on his shoulder.  “Charlie, you don’t have to…”

“It’s OK.  I can tell them.”  Charlie’s voice was low- not deep, but low- and had a careful sound to it, as if he’d put serious thought into each word.  “It’s a long way through the green, but there are…”  He faded out, then back in again.  “Eventually you make it to a sheet of glass.  The bottom of the terrarium, I guess.  There are cracks in it…  At least, there were when I was there.  Maybe they’ve fixed it since then.”

Rosemary was still hovering, but she’d gone from two feet in the air to about ten centimetres.  “You’ve never mentioned this, Charlie,” she said gently.

“He doesn’t have to tell you everything,” said the male ladybird.

Charlie continued.  “I managed to get through one of the cracks, but I didn’t get very far after that.  It was mouldy and neglected, but there were… shadows moving in the distance…”

He trailed off.  It was hard to tell for sure, but Rube thought his mouth might have carried on moving after the sound stopped.

The male ladybird rubbed his back.  “We’re done here,” he told everyone else.

“Wait,” said Lor, “Which direction is it?  We can make our own way there if you…”

“He needs to rest,” said the female ladybird.  It wasn’t a loud voice, but it was one you knew it would be useless to argue with.  “And frankly, so do you!  Your friend’s yawned three or four times in the last minute…”

“Sorry,” said Rube, catching Lor’s eye.

“…and you’re about ten seconds from an adrenaline crash.  Get some sleep.”  She pointed at the mossy floor.  “We’ll talk about directions in the morning, OK?”

Rube didn’t need telling twice.  Luckily, neither did Lor.

(To be continued)

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The Warbeck Sisters (part forty-five)

Posted on by weeks4send

Sally woke Jeanette up.  It took Jeanette a few seconds to remember that she should be surprised by that.

“Colwyn said not to wake you til ten,” explained Sally, playfully bouncing up and down on her sister’s legs.  She’d woken her up the same way she always did on Christmas morning, by pouncing on her like a cat and shaking her until she opened her eyes properly.  “He said we both needed some sleep.”

“What time did you get in?” asked Jeanette, with a yawn.

“Three in the morning.”  Sally bounced one last time, then settled down.  “Rube’s still back at the house.  Colwyn gave Falada to her.”

“Wait, what?  Why’d he leave her back there?”

Sally took a few minutes to tell Jeanette what happened, occasionally doubling back to add in some extra details about the mammoth skeleton, but the gist of it was that they’d run into a burglar, and Rube had stayed behind to help with the burglary.  Given how out-of-character that was for Rube, Jeanette could only assume that this was one gorgeous burglar.

“But, wait,” said Jeanette, “What’s going to happen when Dol and Bo get back?  In fact, they probably are back by now, right?” 

She was briefly worried that Sally and Colwyn might not have known about that and that she’d just broken the news in a seriously insensitive way, but Sally just waved it aside.  “It’s OK.  We’re co-ordinating.  That’s why Rube’s got Falada- so we can keep in touch.”

Jeanette nodded.  “So…  She’s fine at the moment?”

“Yeah.  She’d have called in if she wasn’t.”

Jeanette wasn’t as sure about that as Sally seemed to be.  Shouldn’t they be calling Rube to check, instead of the other way round?  But before she could say anything, there was a knock at the door. 

“Come in!” chirped Sally, without bothering to consult her sister.  Not like it was her bedroom or anything.

Colwyn opened the door.  It had been a couple of years since Jeanette had seen him face-to-face, and she’d expected him to look how she remembered him- old and worn-out.  But instead, he almost looked younger than she remembered.  Maybe Jeanette had been going through that phase of assuming that anyone over twenty-five was ancient.  Or maybe being captured and locked up in an attic just really agreed with some people.

“Jeanette,” he said, smiling, “It’s good to finally see you.”

A third possibility occurred to Jeanette, and it had something to do with the way he was framed in the doorway.  Maybe it was just that they were in Dovecote Gardens now, and he was more confident when he was on his own turf.

Colwyn continued.  “I wanted to apologise for your being alone in the house last night, when everyone arrived.  It wasn’t fair that you had to deal with that.  I should never have put you in that position.”

Jeanette shrugged.  “It wasn’t your idea to trick the Iridescences into coming over.”

“Still…”

“And how were you supposed to know our dad would get arrested by dragons?”  She quickly glanced at Sally, in case she hadn’t heard about that, but she seemed unfazed.

“Beside the point.  I should have been here.”  He took a couple of steps forward.  “And speaking of your dad, at some point we’ll have to decide who goes to Underhill Towers and gets him.  But first,” he sighed, “I think it’s high time we called your mother.”

(To be continued)

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I’ll See You in the Forest

Posted on by weeks4send

(Posted today because I realised I’d posted exactly twice in the last month, and since I don’t have much hope of finishing the next “Warbeck Sisters” chapter before the weekend, this will have to do instead. Sorry about that.)

*

Steph knew it was weird to enjoy it so much when her parents took her to the big carpet warehouse, but she couldn’t help it.  The further back you went, the more the place turned into a maze of ten-foot-tall multicoloured rolls, like you were lost in a forest made up of the strangest trees you’d ever seen.  None of her friends had ever understood when she’d talked about it (although Crystal had said that she always looked forward to visiting the shoe repair shop because of how great it smelled, which might have been the same sort of thing.)  It looked like the carpet shop was something Steph would have to keep for herself. 

So this morning, while her parents talked to the salespeople and decided which of the carpets they were going to ruin by buying and unravelling it, Steph wandered round the forest at the back, hearing everyone’s voices grow fainter as she went, wondering what kind of strange creatures you’d find in a forest like this.  Giant carpet-spiders, maybe.  Mites the size of your arm.

Having so much soft material around muffled the sound a bit, so Steph didn’t hear Holly Stewart coming until she actually looked up and saw her there.  “Hi, Steph,” she said, with a strange smile, as if she’d just caught her doing something she should be embarrassed about.  It would probably have been unnerving, if Steph hadn’t known that Holly always smiled like that.

“Alright?” said Steph.  She tried not to show it, but she was a bit disappointed to have to stop daydreaming.  She was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to get Holly to go along with it.  They were in the same class now, and they’d been in the same class a couple of times in primary school, too, so Steph knew how difficult it was to get Holly to go along with anything.  She was one of those people who always found something to whine about.

“I saw your mum.  She said you’d be around here somewhere.”

“Yeah.”  Steph took one last look at a big blue redwood where strange beings could hide.  “I’m just looking around.”

Holly looked from side to side, clicking her tongue a bit.  She reminded Steph of one of those clocks that were shaped like big, grinning cats.  “There’s a place round the corner from here where me and Tara go on Friday nights.”

“Really?” asked Steph.  She wasn’t sure who Tara was, but at school Holly usually hung around with a couple of girls from one of the other Year Seven classes.  You usually ran into them by the vending machines in the basement, and they gave you offended looks when you asked them to move aside so you could buy stuff.

“Yeah.”  Holly’s grin widened.  “They say you have to be thirteen to get in, but we go with Tara’s sister.  If you can prove that one of you’s over thirteen, they don’t bother checking any of the others.  They just let you in.”

“OK,” said Steph.

“You could come with us one day.  Like, if your parents will let you.”  As if Steph was the only one of them who had parents, and as if she should be embarrassed about it.

“Maybe,” said Steph.  She looked back at the big rolls of carpet, and thought about dryads.  A forest like this would definitely have dryads.

“A couple of weeks ago, there was this guy there who was really into Tara, but his girlfriend got jealous and told everyone lies about her.  But then we proved she was lying and told everyone, and he dumped her.”

Steph wondered what Hansel and Gretel would have used for breadcrumbs if they’d been lost in here.  Furniture polish, maybe?

“We, like, got up on the karaoke stage and told everyone.  So now she can’t ever come back.”

Steph thought about the forests you got in fairy tales, and the kind of people you ran into there.  An animal who was actually a human under a curse, or an old beggar who was actually a magic creature trying to get you to prove your worth.  Nothing was as it seemed, and everybody seemed to lie their heads off.

“You could come out with us one night.  Like, if your parents will let you.”  Holly smacked her lips as if she was chewing an invisible piece of gum.  “We could, like, teach you how to be popular.”

And at that, Steph nearly knocked over a stack of samples, she was laughing so hard.

The End

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