***
After everyone had left, Stella and her dad started to clear up. Helix had been let out of the bedroom and was helping by sniffing out and eating the bits of crisps and cake that had fallen on the floor. Her mum sat in a large armchair, with a folded tea towel full of ice-cubes pressed against her forehead.
“I thought that went quite well,” Mr Mayweather said brightly, but he was silenced by the look his wife gave him.
“Never again,” she groaned. “I don’t know how I’m going to get some of those stains out of the carpet, and if I find out who put that big scratch on the table, I’ll… the things I do to make you happy, Stella.”
Stella was speechless at the unjustness of this. She hadn’t wanted a party at all. She knew that she hadn’t any friends at school and hadn’t wanted to invite anybody. It was her mum who’d insisted on contacting all of the parents she’d used to speak to on the way to school. So the guest list had been made up of people who called her names or thought she was a bit odd.
“You did enjoy yourself, Stella, didn’t you?” her mum asked.
The look in her mum’s eyes was so hopeful that Stella couldn’t say what was on the tip of her tongue: ‘Thank you for the birthday party from hell!’ so she just said, “It was great, Mum, thanks.”
Her mum beamed at her.
“Why don’t we leave the tidying up till tomorrow,” Mr Mayweather started to say, but was interrupted by a loud rat-tap-tap on the front door.
“One of your friends probably forgot something,” Mrs Mayweather sighed, and Mr Mayweather went to see who it was.
From the hallway, a deep voice boomed, “Hullo, Bill, I’ve come for Stella’s birthday.”
The voice was totally unfamiliar to Stella, but the effect it had on her mum was incredible. Tea towel forgotten; she stood up suddenly from the chair, and her face went very white. Even Helix caught the mood. He had been contentedly ripping up a paper hat under the table, but at the visitor’s arrival, he leapt up with a yelp.
Mr Mayweather came into the room, looking just as shocked as everyone else. “Jill, it’s… your uncle Dodds.”
The man who followed Stella’s dad into the room was one of the most extraordinary-looking people she had ever seen. His face was covered with a large, bushy moustache that made him look a bit like a walrus. He took off his battered hat to reveal a bald dome of a head – browned, like old leather. He peeled off his black overcoat. Underneath, he wore a faded maroon jacket and a worn, yellow waistcoat. He handed his overcoat, hat and umbrella to Mr Mayweather, who absentmindedly propped them on the nearest thing to hand: a large potted plant in the corner of the room, which had already taken a battering during Stella’s party. The visitor’s eyes were so dark, they were almost black, and their fierce gaze scoured the room until they rested on Stella.
“Ah! Stella Mayweather,” he bellowed, holding out his hand for Stella to shake.
Helix’s fur started to bristle, and he growled softly.
“No need for unpleasantness,” Dodds addressed Helix directly. “I’m here as an old friend.”
Helix calmed down, but warily kept his grey eyes on the man.
The stranger grasped Stella’s hand in a warm grip and shook it vigorously. “Doctor Wilberforce Dodds, at your service,” he said.
Stella looked up to her mum for an explanation.
“Stella,” her mum said nervously, “this is my uncle, which I suppose makes him your great-uncle Dodds.”
With a nimbleness surprising for a man of his size, Dodds span round to face Mrs Mayweather. “Hullo, Jill. You seem surprised to see me?”
“Yes…well…we haven’t heard anything from you for over ten years!”
“Oh, you know how it is. Busy times at work. I’ve had quite a lot of travelling to do.”
There was a pause after that, an uncomfortable silence that Stella’s mum seemed unable to fill, and one that Stella’s newly discovered great uncle seemed oblivious to. He started to look around the room, peering with curiosity into the television, even going so far as to give the screen a little tap with his fingertips.
“Would you like anything to drink, Wilberforce?” Mr Mayweather asked hesitantly. “Tea perhaps? Or maybe something stronger?”
“Do you have any Mercurial Spirits?” Dodds asked.
“Just scotch, I’m afraid,” Stella’s dad replied, already pouring a very large glass of it for himself.
“A pity,” Dodds said with a sigh. “Well, this is only a short visit, I suppose.”
Stella’s great uncle started rummaging through his jacket, mumbling to himself about keeping too much in his pockets. Finally, with a cry of, “Gotcha!” he fished a crystal pendant out of his waistcoat.
“I am really here to give Stella her birthday present,” he said, offering the medallion to Stella.
It swayed in front of her face, swinging from a delicate silver chain.
Light seemed to slip off the surface, glinting in a rainbow of colours. The design was peculiar: a seven-pointed star held together by an ‘S’ shaped carving across the middle.
“What is it?” Stella asked.
For some reason she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the pendant. It seemed familiar to her. She tried to remember where she’d seen it before.
“Don’t know,” Dodds said slowly. “I’ve only got guesses.”
Stella felt a bit odd: a little dizzy. There seemed to be a rushing sound in her ears, and whenever she blinked, stars seemed to whirl into her vision.
“Stella, are you okay?” Mrs Mayweather asked, but her voice seemed to come from far away.
The familiar surroundings of her front room looked somehow altered next to the sight of the glistening medallion. Everything seemed a little smaller, and even the concerned faces of her mum and dad appeared to blur a little. It was as if everything were a little less solid and certain. Although everyone was waiting for her to take her present, she felt a queasy sensation fluttering in her stomach.
“I’m not sure…” Stella said.
She felt as if she were floating from the floor and tried to anchor herself by staring straight into Doctor Dodds’s unfathomable eyes.
“The pendant is yours, Stella. But if you like, I can keep it for a while longer?” Dodds said.
His voice had lost some of its gruffness and sounded almost gentle. He started to put the star back into his pocket.
Stella felt as if someone was shutting the curtains on a sunny day. The sudden sense of loss drove away the strange nervousness she’d been feeling, and she quickly thrust out her hand. The seven-pointed star was hers, and she felt she should take it.
“Please, Uncle Dodds. I’d really like it. Thanks.”
Dodds paused thoughtfully for a moment and placed the pendant in her hand. Stella studied the medallion in her palm. It felt heavier than it looked.
“You should take care of it, Stella. It’s probably quite valuable,” Dodds said.
“Are you sure she’s old enough for jewellery?” Mrs Mayweather asked. She seemed quite cross.
“I’ll take care of it, Mum,” Stella said, offended. She wasn’t a baby.
“I’m sure that if Stella was too young to look after it, she wouldn’t have taken it, Jill,” Dodds said. His voice was curiously gentle again.
He pulled yet another device out of his pocket: a small old-fashioned carriage clock that didn’t seem to have any hands on it.
“Ah! I must be getting along. The moon will have set soon.” He turned back to Stella. “If things move along as they should,” Dodds picked out his notebook again and rifled through the pages, “I should see you in about…seven years’ time.”
His gaze passed thoughtfully from his notebook to Stella.
“If things move along as they should, that is,” he murmured. “Well, it was nice to see you all,” Dodds said, shaking Mr Mayweather’s hand and giving Mrs Mayweather a bristly peck on the cheek.
He then plucked his hat, coat and umbrella from the plant p
ot and strode out of the house, seemingly unaware of the astonishment he was leaving behind.
***