Magic Parcel Page 10

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Tommy,” came a whispered voice somewhere nearby, “where are we? I can’t see anything in this fog. It is foggy, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is foggy,” came the reply, “and I don’t know where we are. Have you still got the parcel?”

  “Yes, it’s under my arm,” Jimmy said, after a moment or two’s hesitation. “Which way do we go? I don’t ... what was that?”

  The younger boy stopped, his eyes peering into the clinging gloom, trying to put an object to the noise he had heard.

  “There it goes again!” he continued.

  “Yes, I heard it that time,” Tommy agreed. “It sounds like ... like ... voices, whispering.”

  “Hello ... who’s there?” Jimmy’s voice quavered with more than a little fear. The whispers continued and grew gradually in number and intensity until they were surrounded by a constant wheezy, hissing noise like the air escaping from two or three dozen leaky bagpipes.

  “I don’t like this at all,” Tommy observed.

  “I wish we were at home,” whined Jimmy, somewhat put off. “Tom, are you still there?”

  Silence. No answer.

  “Tom,” urged Jimmy, a note of panic rising in his throat. “Tom, answer me ...”

  “Shut up a minute!” came Tommy’s voice from the other side of his brother. “I’m trying to hear what they are saying.”

  “You are in the Foggy Land of Four,” wheezed a voice almost inaudibly.

  “Who are you?” Tommy asked, not really expecting to get a reply.

  “We are the Long-undead,” came the whispered reply after a short pause. “We, like you, were caught in travel before the time strands parted to let us through. You will stay here.”

  “Not on your life!” yelled Jimmy. “My mum’s waiting and my tea’ll be ready by now. I can’t stay, thank you very much.”

  With that, he struggled forward as well as he could, which wasn’t very well. They seemed to be held by a thick blanket of foam, making walking rather like trying to swim through a lake of treacle. As the voices grew in volume and clarity, so too were the boys able to see what forms were making the sounds. The faces and forms closing in on them were those of old, grey and haggard people with grasping fingers, coming ever nearer. They tried to move but couldn’t. They were trapped! They would become Whispering Voices like all the others!

  The ghostly forms, not a foot away from them, and now clearly defined, were about to grasp the hapless boys when they were blinded by the intensity of brilliant sunlight - yellow sunlight! The boys were relieved to feel gravel under their feet and the scent of lavender in their nostrils - Reuben’s garden; they were in Reuben’s garden!

  Jimmy spun round on his heels to catch sight of a small, silver-handled door slowly closing in the fence, with a rapidly dispersing carpet of mist on the soil before it. Jimmy gulped, looked across at Tommy, then turned again to find the fence was just a fence, and they were home.

  “Well now, old chaps,” came a deep, familiar voice from behind them. “Back I see.”

  It was Uncle Reuben.

  “Are we glad to see you, Uncle!” Tommy blurted out.

  “We were nearly gonners in there!” Jimmy joined in.

  “Did you ever doubt you’d get back?” Uncle Reuben asked, the same smile playing around his mouth. “Had an adventure or two, I’ll be bound!”

  “This parcel certainly...” Jimmy started, looking down at his hands.

  “But it’s not there!” he went on. “I could have sworn I brought it back! Did Seth...?”

  Uncle Reuben shook his head slowly, smiled even more, and winked a long, slow wink which both silenced any further questions and told the boys all they wanted to know.

  “Tea and ice cream are on the table,” he went on. “Come on, we can talk later.”

  “That cherry cake was good,” said Tommy still mentally licking his lips on the top deck of the bus home.

  “I wonder what mum’ll say,” Jimmy mused. “Do you think she’ll be cross?”

  “She will to start with,” replied Tommy, “but she’ll mellow. She always does.”

  Silence fell over the two boys. They were alone on the top deck, with only the rattle of the engine and clanking of the cracked bell for company.

  “What do you make of this?” Jimmy asked his brother after several minutes’ fumbling in the inside pocket of his anorak. Slowly, and very gingerly, he pulled out a grey circlet, the circumference of which was a little greater than his two fists.

  “Where on earth did you get that from?” Tommy gasped. “That’s the head circlet of that boss Senti who nearly got your parcel!”

  “Yes, I know,” sighed Jimmy. “I grabbed him as the time strands cracked, and he sort of seemed to come with me into the Foggy Land of Four, but then he disappeared. Shall I throw it away?”

  “Not on your life!” exclaimed his brother. “Keep it. It might come in useful - one day.”

  They had been so engrossed in their conversation that they didn’t see their stop loom up and begin to recede until Tommy grabbed his brother and hurtled down the stairs and on to the pavement. They ambled along the pavement and up the front path of their house, not really wishing to be met by mum’s initial outburst. It had been known to put out the fire across the room it was so violent.

  Tommy, being the bigger of the two, pushed Jimmy through the front door ahead of him. He tried, in vain, to turn and regain the door, but the hall was too narrow and a shrill voice stopped him in his tracks.

  “Hello, boys,” came the voice.

  It was mum.

  Both boys expected the usual “and where do you think you’ve been?”

  Jimmy nudged Tommy to say something and he looked most uncomfortable whilst mumbling his apologies.

  “Er, sorry we’re a bit late mum,” he muttered, “but we sort of got held up. You see...”

  “How do you mean ‘late’?” she asked, rather puzzled. “This is your usual time home from school.”

  School? Tommy shot a profoundly puzzled look across at his brother who shrugged his shoulders and looked back at his mum.

  “What’s the matter with you two?” she asked again. “You should be happy. You’re usually much more cheerful than this on the last day of a school term. Come on, brighten up, it’s the first day of your holiday tomorrow.”

  Jimmy’s jaw slowly but surely sagged until it nearly ended in his coat top pocket. Had it all been one long fantastic dream?

  He was beginning to doubt, when his fingers strayed onto the circlet, deep in his pocket...

  Tea was something of a subdued and quiet affair with their mother enquiring after their health because of their silence. Jimmy didn’t seem to have much time to reflect with his family constantly on top of him. Very quickly this little house had become so claustrophobic, shut in, and inert after the activity, excitement, and open space he had experienced in Omni. He still couldn’t understand how they could have ‘lost’ all that time whilst there; something to do with somebody called ‘Einstein’ Tommy had mumbled through a mouthful of food once mum was out of the room. He’d no idea who he was at any rate, and conversation was so stilted and hurried as mum flitted in and out at crucial points of their discussion. So they drifted into an uneasy silence. Perhaps they might get the chance to talk at bed time.

  “Well, what do you think about that?” Jimmy asked Tommy in a hushed whisper, in their shared room, that night.

  “Think about what?” Tommy replied absent-mindedly once in their bedroom, genuinely seeming to be oblivious as to what he was talking about. Jimmy was surprised and annoyed that Tommy could put on this front of almost confused ignorance, when he knew full well what Jimmy was talking about.

  “Why do you do that?” Jimmy asked, with barely suppressed annoyance. “You know what I mean! Omni; what do you make of what happ
ened to us earlier today?”

  “Oh, that!” Tommy answered, dismissively, whilst paying greater attention to his Gameboy than to what Jimmy wanted him to say. “Just another day out, really. I think you need to accept it for what it was – another day out – and move on. It’s not going to happen again; it was a one off, and I’m not sure what happened at all. Now, if you don’t mind ...”

  Jimmy usually knew his brother quite well, and he remembered that he could be awkward and unco-operative, but this wasn’t like him at all. Why was he being so off-hand and non-committal? Could it be that he was finding, at his grand old age of thirteen, that it was all a bit too much to take in and that he was feeling a bit overwhelmed by what they had experienced, or was he just a little bit embarrassed by the whole fantasy of it all? Generally, Tommy was not given to fantasy, being a sporty and a practical person, and this current attitude might be his reaction to what he usually called “airy-fairy” stuff. Jimmy realised that there would be no gain from pursuing his line of thought, and, disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to share their experience, he decided he would have to work through it all by himself.

  The following days saw Jimmy spending much more time on his own, and Tommy disappearing off “somewhere” with his mates, all of whom had been to the same school as Jimmy and had known him since he was able to be known. However, to them he had become almost persona non grata, probably because of Tommy’s attitude, and the fact that they were teenagers who did not associate with anyone so young.

  Jimmy spent such a long time on his own with no-one to share the experiences with, he began to internalise more of his thoughts and feelings to such an extent that he spent hours each day in sometimes deep reveries. Once here, it became increasingly difficult for his mother to cajole or even threaten him out of them. Of course, he spent much of his time mentally in Omni, where the sights, sounds and smells evoked the more exciting and adventurous periods of his recent young life.

  He walked with the Wandering People under the dappling shade of the Shifting Forest, where he was happy to be confused by the ever-changing pathways and undergrowths. He even imagined that headlong fall to oblivion he almost experienced the first time he encountered Great Gaping Ghyll, taking him further and further within himself.

  Sometimes he allowed his consciousness to be invaded by the living nightmare, of when Seth interrogated him endlessly in his stronghold; excruciatingly, mind-probingly frightening, but all part of the day dreaming which was in danger of taking over his life. The peril in this was for him to ‘live’ in Omni so much that he would find great difficulty separating fantasy from reality, and for one so young, that could spell disaster.

  For mum, the one redeeming feature of this interminably long summer holiday was its end, an end which promised, she hoped, a solution to Jimmy’s day dreaming inattention. That game at the Last Chance saloon would come in the form of a return to school, and the care of his teacher, Mr Bolam. He had always been good for Jimmy, had Mr Bolam, keeping him from wasting his talents which, throughout his school career, might have been squandered had it not been for Mr Bolam. She hoped beyond all hope that it wouldn’t be too late, and that school would be the cure for this growing concern she held.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Scoggins! Jimmy Scoggins!” sighed Mr Bolam, his transparent patience allowing a tangible irritation to peek through. “Now where have you been? I’ve seen nothing but the whites of your eyes, and the inside of your eyelids since we came back from the summer holiday. Scoggins!”

  The last riposte shot from his lips and struck Jimmy’s eardrums like a ricocheting bullet. This time the result was startling. Jimmy Scoggins jerked his head backwards from his supporting hands, and the two chair legs he was balancing on became none, spread-eagling him on the threadbare classroom carpet tiles between his desk and Peter Chambers’ in the row behind.

  The ensuing uproar from his classmates brought a resigned hands-on-hips stance, and a look of capitulating resignation from his teacher.

  This had been the continuation of a deep reverie, which had started mid-way through the holiday, and had interrupted frequently his every waking hour. The only peace he had from it were his hours of unconsciousness in bed, where his mind was entirely blank, or so he thought.

  Constantly, the very real images of Omni, and his adventures there, infiltrated his days wherever he was, whatever he was doing. Sometimes they were wondrous, taking him to the highest pinnacles of breathless excitement. Other times, he wished they would go away and leave him alone to become an ordinary boy again. This, unfortunately, was not going to happen any time soon.

  “Mr Scoggins, either pay attention to your work, my words, and this lesson, or I will send you to explain yourself to the headmaster,” Mr Bolam interrupted his thoughts again, this time with more than a little real annoyance in his tone.

  It was at times such as this, and other confrontational occasions that Jimmy’s hand strayed to the Senti circlet he always kept in his pocket. Touching this somehow seemed to settle his confidence, as he felt a slight surge of power course through his body. Whilst he had no desire to show defiance towards his teacher’s insistence, he did feel able to weather any storm, which might gather about him.

  He bowed his head and pretended to concentrate on the work in front of him, but images of his time in Omni at best flashed past his inner eye, and at worst flooded his consciousness. To his teacher, Jimmy’s daydreaming, whilst an irritant and nuisance before the summer holidays, was now becoming a serious problem; a problem which would need attention sooner rather than later.

  A sudden sharp pain to the side of his head just behind the ear, dredged Jimmy out of his reverie. It wasn’t a Senti barb but a wet, rolled piece of paper, which stuck momentarily to his head and then slithered from his shoulder onto his book, causing a wet stain to ooze into what little writing he had accomplished. A reflex action clapped his hand to his head, drawing sniggers from two boys two rows away. Jimmy swung around to catch that evil smirk on the face of Dwayne Davis, the class bully, who had decided that it was time he paid Jimmy Scoggins some attention.

  Dwayne Davis was that perennial classical bully who found delight only in causing discomfiture to those smaller than himself. Large for his age by any standard, his bulbous body was topped by a round, deeply freckled face, which was framed in bright ginger spikes, shaved close to the head above the ears. No one ever challenged him, or complained to the teachers, because they were afraid of size and consequence. Jimmy had always shied away from contact, and had stayed off Dwayne’s radar, until now. Because of the constant attention he received through his inattention, Jimmy’s blip had suddenly appeared on Dwayne Davis’ screen.

  The act of unwarranted aggression, along with a covertly shaken fist had a strange effect on Jimmy. That directionless, daydreaming mind, which, like a rudderless Senti, had drifted aimlessly on a sea of inaction, now acquired sharp focus. The fuzziness in his brain, which had plagued his every conscious hour, dissipated as the mist at noon on an early autumn day. This was behaviour no longer to be tolerated.

  “OK everybody,” Mr Bolam said, “time for break. Pack everything away and line up at the door.”

  The general excited hubbub of a classroom of ten year olds preparing for freedom, if only for fifteen minutes, in an otherwise busy day, was surprisingly muted. The day was bright and sunny and would allow them to run off some of that pent-up energy most children of that age possess in profusion. In the line at the door, the engine was ticking over ready for that tap on the accelerator which would allow the machine to surge into life. Fifteen minutes at full throttle would be enough to burn off some of that high octane activity, to allow them to sustain another hour and a half’s physical inactivity before lunch time’s next energy burst.

  The bully Dwayne and his buddy Billy were at the head of the line, having shouldered their way in whilst Mr Bolam’s back was turned. Billy Jones was a muc
h smaller boy than Dwayne; shifty-looking with close-cropped black hair, who had not been any trouble in school until the middle of the previous year. This had coincided with his association with now-bosom-buddy Dwayne. Billy had suffered at the hands of bullies in his previous school, so his policy had been actively to seek out the bully in his present school, curry favour, and play a supporting if minor role. This would ensure protection both from Dwayne and from any other like-minded thugs. Their being the first out into the playground would allow them to pick off Jimmy as he emerged.

  As he set foot over the threshold, a hard thwack to the back of the head from a rolled comic caught him off-balance, and pitched him forward onto his hands and knees, grazing both. Jimmy was up in an instant, to an attempted guffaw from his now childish antagonists. Expecting a follow-up, Jimmy spun on his heels, ducked under the anticipated wild swing, and delivered a sharp kick to Dwayne’s knee. The result was startling, if somewhat unexpected. A tearing screech destroyed the surrounding airs, rather reminiscent of the boss Senti when Jimmy relieved it of its circlet, as Dwayne collapsed to the ground clutching his knee. Billy remained rooted, fear swimming in his eyes, expecting the same treatment.

  Jimmy stood up, fists clenched, but on seeing Dwayne’s demise he relaxed, straightened his back, and held both Dwayne and Billy with his eyes. The fat bully stopped squealing, and rose unsteadily to his feet. The playground noise gradually faded away, and all movement from the other children slowed as if all action had been paused. Even birds stopped in mid-flight, and smoke from nearby chimneys came to a halt. The three boys were the only ones moving in real time, as Jimmy rounded on the other two. Not a word did he utter as he engaged their minds.

  “Your bullying ways will stop!” he commanded in a way, which left their minds in no doubt about the consequences of disobedience. As the two bullies shrank away from him, Jimmy seemed to grow in stature both mentally and physically. “From now,” Jimmy’s mind continued, “you will bully no one else. If you disobey, retribution will be swift and harsh. I call on a higher power to be my witness.” His thoughts boomed in their heads, strengthening their resolve to mend their ways.