by James Erith
‘I tell you what,’ Kemp continued, ‘I’m going to do you a favour, and put you out of this ridiculous weather preoccupation once and for all. I’m going to spin this tube thing like a spinning top. You do know what that is, don’t you? By the time you get over here, it’ll either be in bits on the floor, or, by some miracle, you may have grabbed it. But, if and when this happens, I’ll be long gone out of the door. Then you can go and do what everyone else does, and watch the weather forecast on the box.’ He grinned. ‘You’ll find it comes directly after the news.’
Kemp, with the test-tube in the palms of his hands, drew them quickly apart. The tube spun fast and straight, and, while the girls fixated upon it, Kemp strode through the door, turning the lights off after him.
The sound of the latch clicking seemed to accentuate the wobbling of the glass. In an instant, the girls rushed over in near darkness, but, in their haste, they careered into the lab furniture. The noise of scraping chairs and upturned tables filled the room.
As the crashing sounds receded, the test tube wobbled to its conclusion, followed, moments later, by the tinkling sound of breaking glass.
Thirteen
Genesis Considers The Task Ahead
The large dreamspinner studied each of her delicate, long, slender legs one by one, as if paying homage to them for their service. For the first time she noted the wear and tear; the way so many had turned grey when once they were bright white and how her slender slithers of knuckles and joints were now worn thin.
As Genesis seamlessly morphed each leg from a pincer, to a needle, then back to a long leg again, a deep sense of foreboding filled her.
What if these Heirs of Eden do not understand?
She shivered at the possibility. Putting the thought aside, she sent vibrations from her rapidly moving legs to the waiting dreamspinners, the Elders of the dreamspinner population: Gaia, Juno, and Asgard.
‘The Tripodean Dream comes with a gift for each Heirs of Eden,’ Genesis said, as she dipped three long legs into her maghole and withdrew some microscopic granules, studying the ends. ‘These gifts are physical talents designed to assist each one to whom the prophecy has been given. They are known as the Gifts of the Garden of Eden.’
‘Then the stories are true,’ Gaia vibrated.
‘Yes. These crystals were passed to me by my mother, as once they were handed to her. If the Heirs of Eden succeed in the tasks set before them they will open the planet of the Garden of Eden to life once more,’ she said. ‘Dream powders will be replenished. Wondrous times may begin afresh for all life.’
A strong vibration cut through the air.
‘Why do we meddle?’ Asgard said, his fingers moving quickly. ‘If you had not spun the Tripodean Dream, who is to say that life would not have continued just as before. Besides, the Tripodean Dream has been given to Heirs of Eden who are but children of man. They are not equipped to tackle what lies ahead; the storm alone will tear them to pieces—’
‘The riddles and tests were prepared by Adam the Great when he was a wizard at the height of his powers in the Garden of Eden. It is ancient magic—’
‘But these children do not seek it. They do not even know of the consequences—’
‘It is not the time to argue the rights or wrongs. The sequence of the Tripodean Dream has begun. Only the Heirs of Eden can interpret because they represent the Soul, the Heart and the Ego of Earth—’
‘Even though they have no training—’
‘The time has come for change,’ Genesis said, her vibrations overriding his. ‘That is the lore of the universe. It is natures will.’
Asgard scoffed, his vibrations slowing. ‘They are not equipped—’
‘Enough!’ Genesis said. ‘They are the ones who are protected by Adam—’
‘But Adam does not know it. He does not even know his name—’
‘He will remember,’ Genesis said, the vibrations from her fingers singing through the air. ‘He must.’
The old dreamspinner slowly dipped her hands into the blue electrical hole that filled her midriff.
‘Juno,’ she said, addressing a younger dreamspinner. ‘Have the last dream powders from the Garden of Eden been dispersed?’
‘Yes, Mother. The Atrium is clear.
‘Good. Then the final part of the Tripodean Dream will be given to the Heirs of Eden this Earth night, as they sleep. Afterwards, I will give them the Gifts of the Garden of Eden. On the giving of the Gift of Strength they will have seven days to solve the riddles and unlock the key.’
‘But they will die,’ Asgard said. ‘It is a waste. The suffering will be immense—’
‘I will hear no more of your objections, Asgard,’ Genesis snapped, as she lifted her wiry, opaque outline up.
‘The journey for the Heirs of Eden to find the tablets and fulfil the prophecy is about to commence. Regardless of what you may think, these children of mankind are the Heirs of Eden. The universal energy that combines the living in all corners of the universes has reasons for these things. Nothing can change it. When the gifts are given, life on Earth will be in the Heirs of Eden’s hands and theirs alone.’
Fourteen
A Broken Promise
‘Now then, now then!’ Kemp said, flicking on the light. ‘What’s going on here?’ he said, in a mock, policeman-like voice. He looked around to see an empty room and then, slowly, Sue got up. Her hair covered her face like a veil.
Then Isabella rose, too, rubbing her head.
Kemp’s eyes were on fire. ‘Brilliant. Blooming gold.’ He pulled his phone out. ‘Smile at the budgie.’ The camera clicked and flashed. Kemp inspected the image. ‘Lovely. You two look gorgeous. I’m gonna post this everywhere.’
Archie stood up, brushing splinters from his jacket.
‘Archie!’ Kemp exclaimed, his expression changing. ‘Shit! Where did you come from?’
‘I’ve been here all the time, you idiot.’
Kemp’s manner changed immediately. ‘Are you all right?’ He pointed at Archie’s sleeve. ‘Is that…?’
Archie looked down at his hand. Blood was oozing from a gash at the base of his thumb and running over his hand.
‘Satisfied?’ Isabella said, as she tiptoed through the glass fragments towards him. ‘Happy now?’ she held Archie’s arm and inspected it. ‘Kemp, get the first aid box; we need to stop the bleeding. And Kemp, be useful and find a dustpan and brush.’
Isabella led Archie to the tap.
‘This might hurt, Archie.’
He winced.
‘There’s a fragment in here. Sue, I need a towel, tweezers, and then we’ll need to compress the wound.’
Archie gritted his teeth as she plucked out the tiny slivers before applying pressure on the wound.
When they had finished, Archie turned to Kemp who stood frozen to the spot. Archie looked him hard in the eye.
‘You SWORE, on your life, that you wouldn’t do this kind of thing,’ Archie said. ‘You swore—on—your—life,’ he yelled. ‘I held my side of the deal, but at the first opportunity you couldn’t resist it, could you? It’s now entirely clear to me that you value your life as pretty much worthless. What would your parents think? Do you reckon they’d be proud?’
Kemp’s face fell, and the colour drained from his cheeks. ‘Sorry, Archie,’ he said. ‘I... I didn’t realise...’
With Archie’s words ringing in his ears, Kemp fled for the door.
After a long silence, Sue turned to Archie. ‘Right, Archie. Where is it?’
‘Uh?’ Archie cried, feigning shock.
‘Where is... what?’ Isabella said.
Sue tutted. ‘Oh, come along, come along, Sherlock Isabella. The storm glass, silly.’
‘In fragments in the bin?’
Sue bit her lip. ‘That isn’t test-tube glass. That’s beaker glass fragments, isn’t it, Archie?’
‘Beaker?’ Archie replied, the corners of his mouth turning up.
‘You’ve got it, haven’t you?�
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Archie couldn’t contain himself any longer and laughed. ‘Indeed, I have!’ He slowly moved his gaze towards his trousers and pointed at his crotch. He began to unzip his fly. ‘It’s right here.’
‘No way!’ Sue exclaimed. ‘Oh… my… God!’
Archie reached in and teased it out. ‘DA-NAH,’ he said, his eyes sparkling.
He held the test tube up in the air. ‘Sorry, couldn’t think of anywhere else quick enough,’ he said. ‘Then, when I crouched down, I lost my balance, and knocked over the beaker.’
Sue clapped her hands at Archie’s story but Isabella looked horrified.
‘Well, well, Archie. A storm in your pants. First time for everything, eh?’
Archie slipped the tube neatly into the rack.
‘One thing, Archie. Do everyone a favour. Please go and give it a proper clean.’
Fifteen
A Pointless Experiment
By the time the de Lowes returned to the stone courtyard of Eden Cottage, the charcoal colours of dusk lay sandwiched upon the buildings and the landscape. Archie and Daisy immediately set about kicking a football. The scuffing, sandpapery noises of their feet, and the ball doffing back off the grey stone walls, roused Mrs Pye. She waved enthusiastically from one of the two windows in her flat opposite the farmhouse.
Isabella’s mind tracked back to the conversations with Solomon and Kemp, who had both been so rude about their house.
It wasn’t that bad.
She studied the exterior. So, it was a bit of a mishmash of an ancient moors farmstead, but it wasn’t too unusual, was it?
Constructed from irregular, Yorkshire-grey boulders, and old, thick timbers, its slate roof was covered in moss and lichen that hung over too far, as though badly in need of a trim. Looking at the blackened, slightly crooked chimneys, the higgledy-piggledy stone arrangements, and the odd sections of glass and brick intermittently nestled into the walls, Isabella was reminded of a bag of loose sweets squished together and charred until they were all the same colour.
As Isabella entered the kitchen, she realised that this was definitely the heart of the house, a place that oozed warmth, love, happiness, and appreciation of fine foods. Bunches of rosemary, lavender, thyme, and dried, cured hams and fruit dangled from a row of black hooks. The smell intoxicating.
Even the stone slabs, laid out in great squares, had a warm, glossy sheen from years of wear. As she looked up, grey, oak timbers fanned out in clean lines above their heads, protecting those within.
Down the middle of the kitchen ran a long, chunky, dark brown oak table fit for a banquet. Next to the table stood a pleasing, red-brick, inglenook fireplace where the old wood-fired cooker sat.
Kemp was wrong. Even if the kitchen was a bit of a curiosity, it wasn’t entirely archaic. Two waggon wheels suspended by three heavy chains had spotlights beaming down from the rim and, on the far wall, was Mrs Pye’s pride and joy; a fifty-inch flat-screen telly.
‘Well, come on then,’ Daisy said, slinging a bag on her bed. ‘Show me this amazing thing that’s been holidaying in Archie’s pants.’
Isabella unwrapped the test tube from her scarf and leant the glass between two books on the table. Three pairs of eyes stared down at it.
‘Bit foggy, isn’t it?’ Daisy said. ‘So, does that mean it’ll be foggy?’
Archie raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t be silly, Daisy. This is serious science.’
Daisy giggled and elbowed Archie as they continued to stare.
‘Ooh,’ Daisy cooed. ‘Look at those little stars. What does that mean?’
Isabella pulled out her crib sheet. ‘Tiny stars means that it will be stormy,’ she said, and then read from her crib sheet. ‘A cloudy glass with small stars indicates thunderstorms.’
‘Wow,’ Archie said, sarcastically. ‘Impressive.’
Daisy spluttered. ‘And... is that it?’
‘What do you mean, is that it?’
‘Well, it’s very pretty, but you know, as an award-winning scientist, I thought it might be a bit… cooler,’ Daisy said, glancing to Archie for support. ‘I mean, if you wanted to know thunderstorms were coming all you had to do was watch the forecast on TV.’
Isabella shot up. ‘That’s what that moron Kemp said.’
‘Well, maybe he’s right? Have you gone to all this trouble to find out something we already know?’
‘There’s going to be a terrible deluge,’ Isabella fumed. ‘Sue and I both dreamt about it. All I’m trying to do is prove it scientifically.’
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Daisy said, picking it up and turning it round in her hands, ‘but how will this crappy thing help?’
Isabella sat down slowly, took the storm glass off her sister, and twisted it through her fingers.
‘To be honest, I had hoped for something a little more dramatic, like the crystals speeding up or something.’
‘But how would that change anything?’
‘I don’t know,’ Isabella shrugged. ‘It might give us a warning, or...’ she shrugged. ‘Actually, Sis, I give in. I haven’t a clue. But I had to try something.’
Daisy handed it over to Archie.
‘This must be the worst scientific experiment ever,’ he said. ‘If Kemp realised how poor it really was, then he’d rip you to bits.’
‘Then don’t tell him.’
‘I’ll never say anything again after what he did today—’
‘Children!’ Mrs Pye’s strange voice screamed up the stairs. ‘Hurry! Tea’s on the table.’
On the kitchen table sat four bowls, brimming with noodles in a thick, soupy broth. A Mrs Pye "Ramen" experiment. The children slipped into their chairs and began sniffing like curious cats.
‘Have you heard?’ Isabella said, taking a small taste. ‘Mum and Dad aren’t coming back for half term.’
‘What!’ she cried. ‘No. Well, I’m blown apart—oh deary!’
‘Can’t you say something to them when they get back?’ Archie asked. ‘They’re never here.’
‘Don’t eat with your mouth full, little Archie,’ Mrs Pye said, before sighing. ‘It isn’t proper for me to tell your folks what they can or cannot do. If they choose to be away, then it is for good reason. I know you won’t think it’s true but I promise they miss you twice as much as you miss them.’
Mrs Pye said this with as much conviction as she could, but she read the disappointment in their eyes and wondered what on earth it was that so completely occupied their parents’ time.
In any event, she wouldn’t have a bad word said about them. She only had to raise her left arm above her head or try and touch her toes to remember.
Old Man Wood had found her in the woods, miles up in the depths of the forest, on the verge of death, so they said. Her face and shoulder smashed, her clothes ripped to bits. Hardly breathing. He’d carried her all the way home, singing and keeping her going. She still sang that funny song, especially when she was lonely or tired.
And over the years she’d picked it up:
O great Tripodean, a dream to awaken
The forces of nature, the birth of creation.
Three Heirs of Eden with all of their powers,
Must combat the rain, the lightning and showers.
In open land, on plain or on sea,
Survive ‘till sunset—when their lives will be free.
But the Prophecy has started—it’s just the beginning.
And it never seems to end, and it never seems to end.
For several months, Old Man Wood and the children’s parents nursed her, built up her strength, and tried to help her recover… and remember. But her memory never returned. She had no name, no address, no family, no lovers, no pets; nothing and no-one she ever recalled laughing with, or crying to.
Instead, she had had to learn everything again; although some things came to her quite naturally, like, strangely, making puddings.
The first time she recalled laughing was when the babies crawled to her and gurgled in
her ear, especially little Archie. Isabella, on the other hand, would scowl and point at her scars, and continued to do so until she saw past the damage on Mrs Pye’s face and into her heart.
These were her first memories, and cherished ones too.
After a while she didn’t want to go anywhere else. Why should she? She loved the children. She loved the quiet remoteness of Eden Cottage, with its ballooning views over the Vale of York towards the peaks in the far distance. She felt safe being close to Old Man Wood, who, although he came and went, seemed not to have a harmful bone in his body. It felt right that she should care for the children while their parents were away, for a nurturing instinct ran deep within her.
As far as her name went, Isabella called her, affectionately, “The famous Mrs Pye”, and it caught on. She’d been Mrs Pye ever since, living in the apartment on the top half of the converted barn across the courtyard.
Sixteen
Headmaster Visits
‘Evening, All,’ Old Man Wood said, popping his head around the door. ‘Smells marvel-wondrous.’
Daisy got up and wrapped her arms around him.
Old Man Wood hugged her back, closing his eyes. ‘Now then, littluns. I must say, I can’t remember such strange weather. Feels like a storm is brewing right bang on top of us. An appley-big one at that. I can feel it in my old bones—’
Isabella slammed her fists on the table. ‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell everyone. No one believes me; Solomon, Kemp, you two—’
‘Whoa! Chill, Bells,’ Archie chipped in. ‘Your experimentation is a bit... bonkers.’
Mrs Pye piped up, ‘That nice man the weather forecaster on my television said there might be a bit of a storm. Localised—’
‘Arrggh!’ Isabella cried. ‘NO! NO! NO! Not you as well!’
