Chapter 12
I came round finding the sun blazing brightly. Brian sat opposite watching closely, much amused.
“Good morning young fellow. No need to ask how you slept. ‘twas like watching a new born baby sleep for the very first time. I have never seen such a peaceful sight in life. Seems there are more things you are capable of here than you should allow.”
“Possibly,” I agreed sleepily. “Do you sleep uncle?”
“Yes, but by choice, not through tiredness. And you may call me Brian.”
“How long?”
“Three days, Sam, three days. That’s quite some feat,” he mused.
“And you’ve been sitting here all this time watching?”
“Mostly. Sounds silly - we just wanted to make sure you were alright.”
“Well that’s very considerate of you, I feel much refreshed.”
“Good. Now come along old bean, Rose is waiting at the square. Elsa wishes to meet you.”
“At the square?”
“Well, it’s more of a rectangle nowadays work we’ve been putting in lately.”
“Walk this way,” he said, clowning around and leading the way at a fair lick down his front lawn. Folk who walked like him normally ended up being arrested. Brian turned left out the tiny gate, comically opening and closing it carefully, forging a way ahead. His long, thick, tree trunk legs gave him an unfair advantage over a slight youngster like me. The peculiar fashion in which his legs and feet pounded the dry forest ground, in conjunction with the forward swinging motion of his arms meant his body succeeded in granting him a forward leaning, almost ape like gait.
Enormous number and variety of flowers and plants adorned the trail’s sides alongside the talkative brook. This fresh young chap was a remarkable specimen, whose clear waters could scarce be found in the highest of mountain streams. His spine was a combination of fine, rich sand and golden nuggets topped with tiny polished crystal shards.
The dapper gentleman had been dressed in a rich blend of moist, luscious moss and delicate ribbons of purpled grass that danced delightfully for the pleasure of the noon day sun. Many of their colourful friends met in the middle, providing a magical playground for silvers of fish that darted and leaped through the miniature reeds. In a fit of joy I cupped a handful of the sparkling liquid, letting it trickle slowly between my fingers. Yes, perfectly clean and chilled.
Surrounding this meandering water spirit lived an eclectic mix of trees; healthy specimens thriving in harmony alongside others I couldn’t place. Small, freshly dug holes sat at the side of the path. Some stood out in the open between fresh green ferns and wild grasses. Others were hidden beneath sneaky plant roots or clumps of shimmering silver bracken. Sadly it seemed their inhabitants were strictly nocturnal or just plain shy.
“Marvellous isn’t it? Plants change most every week, always some new arrangement, it never gets boring here,” Brian said, glancing back.
Following some outstanding sightseeing we started down a slight incline. At the bottom stood a very impressive hedge, taller than the big man himself. Its thick leaves stretched off for miles in either direction. Brian paused, counting from the bottom upwards. Around three quarters of the way up the face there grew a purple flower boasting a faintly spotted centre. Brian’s giant fingers moved her delicately to one side and reached past, pulling gently at the velvety green stem beyond. A large section creaked outwards. The hedge had been grown into a natural gate. Fresh supple branches formed the hinges and locking mechanism.
“Good eh?” he stated proudly. “If I’d have melded the two styles together on earth, I’d have been a very rich man indeed and a far happier one,” he confessed, ushering me through.
We now stood on a cobbled square where alterations were well underway to transform it into a wondrous work of art. Brian explained the idea was to take the existing square shape, spin it around to the left a few degrees to form an offset circle, then build a larger rectangular structure all around it. The brickwork, flaring outwards in an ever increasing spiral looked absolutely fabulous.
“Sam, this is your great grandmother Elsa,” Rose said. Elsa was a hard faced, weathered woman. Tall and thin, her grey hair parted widely at the front was kept secure using a large decorated peg at the back. This rigid style only accentuated an abnormally long neck. Her keen, hawk like eyes shrunk to a dot, sizing me up for faults. She certainly looked like one of ours.
“You’ll do,” she decided finally in a slight southern American twang, extending a long bony hand in friendship. “Welcome Sam.” She paused, looking me over once more a little longer.
“I fancy you’ll be back,” she nodded. “Grab a spade boy, let’s get this lot finished first,” she cried, starting work again.
“Glad to help,” I blustered, picking a spot close by. I shifted some soil and glanced around. Some truly unique works of art stood here. These homes for one, which were mostly from the last century, but marvellously kept. Without doubt the most beautiful and complex work was the large golden angel figurine perched high on a marble pedestal, looking down protectively on the workers. She boasted a magnificent silver harp. Noonday sun sat proudly behind, shining a dazzling gleam through the harp strings. I broke off work to gaze intently, expecting the guardian to rise of her marble stand and challenge me at any moment. I wondered whether she was sentient; if she knew I was here, whether her golden eyes could see me, or if the entity could read feelings. What was her function? ‘twas no ordinary garden ornament for sure.
Another mystery was the lack of people. I counted ones I knew so far - Aunt and uncle, Elsa, Jacob, Jolly James, whoever that was, and his partner Mary. Between acute bouts of fatigue on my first night there’d been mention of one or two others. But besides those, that seemed to be the present inhabitants of this world - a strange quandary for a place that didn’t seem to have any limits.
“We don’t let just anyone in here boy. Places have to be earned,” Elsa croaked. I nodded thoughtfully. Elsa moved closer. Why I posed such a personal question at such an odd time I cannot explain.
“Where is Jacob’s dad, why isn’t he here?”
“No doubt he is where he belongs. An exceedingly selfish man who abandoned me with child before the poor boy was born.”
“Elsa, I’m so sorry to hear that. I had no idea your life was so difficult. Things must have been terrible for you back then.”
“One finds ways to survive.”
“Yes, needs must,” I agreed. A light breeze brought salty seaweed wafting over the area. Elsa kept silent for a time.
“You remind me of him. About the same age too.”
“Oh, really?” I said, finding this frank admission a trifle disconcerting.
“Purely in looks, it doesn’t seem to be present in your eyes.”
“Well that’s a relief. One likes to think they have a tad more responsibility than that.”
“Perhaps so.”
Talk petered off. A time later work was deemed over for the day, so we adjourned to Elsa’s house for further discussions. Elsa’s home sat at the northern edge of the village, nestled between stunning grassland and a small tributary of the northern sea.
A dramatic example of very early American wooden homes, it boasted an open plan garden, complete with fully functional water wheel attached to the northern side. A sturdy rope bridge set further up the river spanned the divide. Lush green flowering vines sneaked their way leisurely up brilliant white walls, rose, ebony and ivory planks made up the roof, and chocolate plants stood proudly on each outside windowsill. It was such a strange contrast of colours, yet worked perfectly.
Elsa obviously liked to cling to the good old days, where life was harder, tools were solid and bulky, but reliable. She could have had any home she liked. Some folk are perfectly happy with the basics in life and good for them I say. Our family certainly were back in the twenties, despite being poor. As you’ve probably guessed an antique spinning wheel was perched on the front
veranda, set up to run in conjunction with the water wheel outside, as were most of her home comforts which we take for granted nowadays.
Inside the charming home compromised two main levels with a large dusty attic accessible only via a strong wooden storage box beneath the trapdoor labelled: ‘R H Boone trading company.’ After the exciting tour we sat together in the spacious front room. Chatting pleasantly whilst trying to commit the place to memory and mulling over exciting discoveries proved no easy task.
Over in the kitchen in front, one of the old wooden blinds over the window happened to be partially closed. Light streamed through the thin slats, highlighting dust particles that are always present in the air. This was uncanny. Similarities to my own world were simply staggering. Why, even ascending the stairs had revealed the customary squeaky step. To my delight it creaked just as loudly on the way down as well. If I’d been allowed longer in the dusty attic, I bet I could have found signs of mice! This marvellous house had been lived in for generations, silently gathering memories and carefully storing sounds. ‘twas a beautiful, timeless piece, filled with extraordinary treasures, mysterious objects and never ending surprises.
A large timber fan spun above, slowly gaining momentum in the hot, thick atmosphere as Elsa idly toyed with its rope controls on the wall. While we chatted of familiar things, I noticed she was staring at me from time to time, just as intently as before. Her lips were pursed tightly and her hawk like eyes narrowed. I wrestled with myself whether it would be good manners to try and engage her in direct conversation when Rose spoke up. “So, what do you make of it all gran?” Brian had been recapping my story so far, along with his own interpretations, which took quite some time.
“I’m sorry, but I really can’t tell Rose. I just can’t work him out,” she admitted.
“I am who I say I am Elsa,” I said kindly.
“Of course you are Sam,” aunt and uncle agreed immediately, “We should know straight away if it weren’t so gran.”
“I agree you are no imposter. You would not be here if you did not belong. I can’t put my finger on it. I find it very difficult to read you. Past experience tells me when I can’t read someone it normally transpires they are hiding something. It’s hard to dismiss such a strong feeling because it kept me alive for so long.”
Naturally our chat quieted for a time. A glittering butterfly glided smoothly between the fan’s sluggish strokes, taking refuge on the top of the door frame, nudging a delicate shaving that floated silently to the polished floor. At the open window two songbirds warbled sweet love songs to each other. Just behind me the fire crackled back to life, showering golden sparks over the wicker hearth. Drips of sunlight drizzled through imperfections in the floorboards above, creating tiny havens between the shadows and carving enchanting little shapes on beautiful timber beneath our feet. Brian glanced upwards as a golden beam caressed his forehead. I watched closely. Twinkles of light darted between his mischievous eyes. That very same colossal smile arrived back, directed at us all.
“Gran, your senses are working as well as they always have. What we haven’t taken into account is that Sam is here as a guest well before his time. Thank the lord our saviour he has not passed. One cannot possibly expect to be able to read him as easily as any of us. To do so would defy all logic. His intellect, his spirit is here, but only part of it. Where his soul actually lies we could debate for all eternity.”
Brian left a dramatic pause. “That gran is why you wonder, that is why you cannot read him, that is why his future and intentions are beyond you, and that is why Rose married me,” he cried triumphantly, rising to his feet and dancing a comical jig. He finished off the hilarious performance with a charming little bow and asked donations be sent to his favourite charity.
“Alright Brian, no one likes a boaster!” Rose laughed.
“That explains it then,” Elsa accepted at last, sighing with relief. “I apologise Sam. I should have put more thought into the situation.”
“Forget about it Elsa. It really doesn’t matter,” I waved dismissively.
The front door swung open, sticking slightly at the last soft nudge. In rolled a big, brightly coloured ball, followed by a lively little boy and an even livelier little puppy. ‘twas an incredibly cute, loyal little creature that could have snuggled perfectly in the palms of your hands. She let out an excited little yip and sat down patiently, looking fervently at each of us in turn as if awaiting orders.
“Hi Auntie Rose, hi Uncle Brian.”
“Hullo Sam,” Jacob said, bowing in jest. “Auntie Rose says you’re special.” Flakes of soil dropped from a mop of ginger hair, whilst thick tar stains hid most of the tiny brown freckles adorning his grubby, plump cheeks.
“I don’t know much about that Jacob,” I replied, smiling broadly.
“No? I guess not then,” he shrugged with the naked candour only children can possess.
“So what have you and Jess been up to Jacob my lad?” Brian asked eagerly.
“Been training her to fetch on the beach, just like you showed me. Just came to get some more of those treats from the kitchen.”
“Good for you lad. Now remember what I told you, if you look after her, then she’ll look after you. There’s an effective method to training men and beast alike.”
“Yes, thanks Uncle Brian.”
“Oh mamma, Auntie Mary says the angel is glowing again,” he threw casually over his shoulder as he chased the delightful puppy into the kitchen.
“Expecting someone Elsa?” Brian quizzed.
“Oh yes, Aida Bell,” she replied with a beautiful smile. “I do hope it will be her. This will be the third time. I thought it wouldn’t be too long. What a lucky girl, she must have reached a hundred by now. We’d better go up there and help her. Jacob will be fine here by himself. Bless her, she can sometimes get a little confused. What with the strange experience of coming through, who knows what she’s thinking.”
I understood the idea of someone coming through, as in through the strange, warping door, but was lost as to the relevance of the gorgeous angel statue. There was little opportunity for questions as everyone rushed off and headed up past Aunts house to where I’d first landed. The new arrival was expected shortly. I rounded the corner first, met with the bleak picture of an extremely elderly lady. The poor woman’s back was bowed and bent. Her stark white hair moved in all directions while she scratched around on the ground.
As I drew closer she picked an object up, placing it on the bridge of her nose. Now her vision was somewhat restored she straightened up as best she could and gazed around her, looking very confused. The rest of the party arrived. Peering intently at me her slender neck strained, stretching forwards. I noticed her wrinkled hands and face shook. She croaked hoarsely, “Danny, is that you?” I stood deathly still, shocked into silence at such a distressing sight.
“No Aida, I’ll explain later, it’s me Elsa, your daughter.”
“Elsa?! Really? My, my, really? Is it? It can’t be. No, no. Who, Elsa? Come closer little one. Oh yes, I can see you a little better now. You haven’t changed a bit my child,” she said, bursting into tears. “But you’re gone Elsa,” she sobbed, “I lost you. This is just some wonderful dream and I’ll wake up soon all alone. Can’t I stay, just this once. Oh, please do tell me I can stay. I will be as quiet as a mouse and promise not to get in anyone’s way. Things have become dreadfully strange of late,” she continued mournfully.
“Of course you can stay ma, for as long as you want,” Elsa replied, almost breaking up herself. “But first you need to rest. You know how you get when you don’t get enough sleep. Here, take my hand,” Elsa offered in complete devotion.
“And then I can stay?” Aida entreated with the wide eyed, hopeful expression of an expectant child. “You can stay,” Elsa nodded, smiling sweetly. Barely a moment later the old dear placed a trembling hand inside Elsa’s and their spirits joined together tenderly for the last time. Both dissolved instantly
in a sheet of blinding white light.
“Crikey, will she be alright?!” I said, “I mean, there’s a terrible touch of dementia there.”
“She’ll be fine son,” Brian said, patting me reassuringly on the shoulder. “Absolutely fine, I promise.”
“So, where’ve they gone? How did they just vanish like that? Can you two do that?”
“To Elsa’s house. I wondered who she was making that bedroom up for. That’s all she seems to have done recently. Elsa will be making sure she gets enough rest. You’ll be able to visit her in a few days if you like. By that time all earthly aliments will be gone forever,” Rose explained.
“Well that’s a relief. I was worried she may be stuck that way forever for some strange reason,” I confessed. We headed back home, Brian saying it was good manners to leave them to their reunion in peace.
“That was a singularly odd experience,” I thought out loud.
“It’s a great deal to take in,” Rose admitted. Elsa made them vanish. I don’t understand how she does it, neither does she. As far as I’m aware it’s only happened once before under very specific circumstances. We can’t do it, but Elsa’s been here for a long time now we must remember, and as I told you at the island on your first night, things would become very boring very quickly were great gifts so easy to come by.”
“So you did. Yes, I remember it well. Well I shall look forward to meeting Aida later if I’m still here,” I admitted truthfully. “Why didn’t Elsa tell us she was expecting her mother?”
“I should imagine she couldn’t be sure it was going to be her. It’s not always who you think it is, but always a beautiful surprise all the same. Gran probably didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, let alone hers.”