‘Now step lively, apprentices. Unlike Old Father Time we haven’t got all the time in the world!’ exclaimed Omnigus Prattles, the Master Clock Repairer, as he checked his fob watch then checked his pulse to make sure they were both keeping perfect time. The two apprentices climbed their stepladders as if in a race with one another and started to polish what they imagined was the glass roof of the world.
Then a chugging, whirling, clicking sound was heard from inside the clock – tick tock, tick tock, BANG! BANG! Putt, putt, whirl, whizzzzzz-BANG-BANG-CRUNK!
‘What is going on? I turned off the mechanism of the watch before we came up here!’ The Clock Master huffed and puffed in dismay as the hands of the clock started to shudder into motion. From where the apprentices were standing for a moment they thought Omnigus Prattles was going to combust like an old Victorian steam engine on its last legs, not that a train had legs but a steam trolleybus that clanked through the waves in Victorian England did. But once again that was a train that ran upon another timeline and not this one.
‘Watch out, watch out!’ shouted Tippy Handle as the little hand of the clock swished around the dial at breakneck speed – SWISH, SWISH, SWISH!
Wilbur turned his head just in the nick of time as the hand sped towards him. A second later and he would have been scythed in half or at the very least decapitated like Marie Antoinette! Right now it didn’t seem to the apprentices as if they were standing on the face of a watch, it felt more like they were strapped to a medieval torture device like a Catherine wheel!
‘What the…?!’ Wilbur exclaimed, ducking as the second hand of the clock knocked the ladder out of the way and he was dumped onto the clock face in an unceremonious manner. This time there was no safety net or truck full of bags of wire wool to break his fall.
‘Lay down upon the ground and keep your heads down, I’m going back into the watch to turn the mechanism off. Whatever you do don’t move, for if you do it may be the last time you ever do,’ bellowed old man Prattles as he disappeared back into the mechanism.
The second hand continued to scythe its way over the head of the two apprentices who lay there scared to move a muscle, almost too scared to even breathe.
‘I don’t believe this. What on earth are you doing, Charlie?!’ exclaimed Omnigus Prattles as his colleague appeared to be in some sort of trance.
‘Get, get off me,’ the man replied as if he were in the midst of a nightmare.
‘Charlie, wake up, you’re sleepwalking again!’ Omnigus exclaimed shaking his friend violently.
‘What’s, what’s going on?’ stuttered Charlie still in somewhat of a daze.
‘You’ve turned the mechanism of the watch on while the apprentices were cleaning the glass dome. Apprentice Wigglesworth was nearly cut in half by the little hand!’ the Clock Master replied. ‘We’ve got to turn the mechanism off. I don’t want to train another apprentice from scratch, it’s a time-wasting business training apprentices!’ The Clock Master was beginning to think that sleeping on the job was catching.
And so together the two men pulled back the levers that controlled the mechanism, working up quite a sweat as they toiled until the giant wheels came to a grinding halt…
‘Thank goodness for that, the hands of time have stopped!’ Apprentice Handle exclaimed breathing a huge sigh of relief as she turned over and looked up to see the big hand hovering directly above her. For a few seconds the hand clicked as if about to move on again but then the clicking ceased as the clock remained as quiet as a giant mouse. ‘Hickory dickory dock, the giant mouse ran up the clock, the clock fell down making quite a sound and that was the mouse’s lot. Hard cheese I say. I thought, I thought my time had come,’ the boy spluttered as slowly he got to his shaky feet.
‘Sorry about that, it was old Charlie Fastbender, he was sleepwalking again. I think in future we’re going to have to tie him down at night like Gulliver in Lilliput. The two of you aren’t related, are you? As old man Codswallop says, you’re a bit of a dreamer, Wigglesworth,’ the old man laughed. ‘With a surname like Fastbender you’d think he’d be running around like a blue-arsed fly. Instead he’s as slow as a pregnant tortoise. Not that I’ve ever seen a tortoise sleepwalking, not that I’ve seen a pregnant tortoise either for that matter, not that it does matter. However, it does matter if he’s constantly walking in his sleep putting a spanner in the old works. Perhaps we should get him to change his surname to Slowbender and be done with it,’ mumbled Omnigus Prattles over his breath, living up to his name admirably by prattling on and on and on.
The two apprentices, although shaken, knew they had to return to their duties and finish the glass dome, as the outside of the glass needed to be cleaned as well and the last thing they needed was Omnigus Prattles prattling on, bending their ear this way and that like the Shadow Wind, a story often told to the young to put them off wandering too far from the mechanism.
‘Who is Gulliver and where did he put Lilly?!’ Tippy exclaimed looking at her fellow apprentice with a puzzled look upon her pale face.
‘Just a story about giants and little people. The old man’s always telling stories, tells more stories than a child, my mother says. Gulliver’s Travels is the book he’s referring to, although Mother says the story will go right over my head like the giant pendulum in clock heaven,’ Wilbur replied rolling his eyes as he repeated another tall tale often told to the apprentices out of the gospels in the Clock Bible. And yes there was a church house in the clock but not at the top of the watch – closer to heaven as one might have imagined but at the bottom closer to hell on earth.
‘You mean like the hands of the clock!’ Tippy laughed more in relief than at the standard of the joke.
‘Yes!’ Wilbur replied as he too burst out laughing.
‘Less of the old chat and more of the old elbow grease, but don’t let any of that elbow grease get on the glass as it’s a devil’s own job to remove grease from glass,’ shouted old man Prattles smiling to himself.
‘Like most men he thinks he’s being humorous, or so my mother says,’ Tippy muttered under her breath as she cleaned the glass with a feather duster.
‘Elbow grease – at least the old man does have a funny bone in his body, unlike old Codswallop. He’s just funny in the head probably due to being stuck in a clock all his life. That is something we’ve all got to look forward to – going funny in the head or stone deaf or both,’ replied Wilbur grimacing.
‘Oh well, back to the grindstone,’ Tippy sighed looking at Wilbur who was no longer listening as he was away with the fairies.
Tick tock, tick tock, tick, sometime later…
‘Good job, apprentices, I can see the stars now,’ old man Prattles chuckled jarring his own funny bone. In truth he could not see the stars, although he could imagine them, as he had once seen the stars one night many, many moons ago when the watch had been left on an open windowsill.
Glass magnifies so the objects in the room appeared bigger, but not so big as to turn one of the little people into a giant. You see, the boy was daydreaming again although it was the middle of the night and in his mind’s eye he saw a giant peering at him through the glass. With all this dreaming and daydreaming going on it was a wonder the clock ever ran on time!
‘Come on, boy, there’s no time for daydreaming. Bad enough we had some dreamy watcher who wasn’t watching but was dreaming, dreaming up a nightmare for us all,’ Omnigus Prattles snapped seeing the glassy faraway look in the boy’s eyes.
The dome was opened and closed by using a crank handle. The owner of the watch was not aware of this hidden mechanism designed by the great clockmaker Cuthbert Cratcher. The yearly spring clean of the watch almost took a whole year to complete. It seemed to the Clock People that no sooner had they finished spring cleaning the fob watch and its many follets, cogs, wheels, hammers and springs than they had to start again. The inside of the dome had been polished so you could
see your face in it, which meant it was now time for the face of the watch to be cleaned, which was a far more dangerous job for it meant venturing outside the confines of the watch.
‘Wow, this is more fun than sitting on the back of a cuckoo in a cuckoo clock in flight, and it will get the job done in half the time. And furthermore it’s no longer back-breaking work. You should be pleased!’ Wilbur Wigglesworth exclaimed skidding along the glass and nearly disappearing off the end of the world – or their small world – as the world was unimaginably big, even for two bright apprentices with more imagination than they knew what to do with. Wilbur Wigglesworth Apprentice Second Class was often caught clock-watching in the mechanism, although naturally he imagined he was first class at everything he did, which wasn’t quite the case.
‘You’ll fall off the edge of the world if you’re not careful!’ shouted Apprentice Handle as she followed suit and slid along the surface of the glass as easily as if she were skating on ice. Tippy Handle had been given the title of Apprentice Watch Repairer Second Class, one step down from an Apprentice Watchmaker Second Class – a job often given to girls. Apprentice Handle did not imagine for one second she was anything but a second-class citizen in this small world as were the girls she imagined in the big world outside the mechanism. The children’s names were not chosen out of the heads of their parents or from a book of baby names, but from a book called The Watchmakers & Chronomats Almanac Volume 7. This weighty book featured all the great and not so great watchmakers in the history of horology and chronometers. It also made a good mountain for young apprentices to climb so as to keep them fit for the daily rigors that working inside the mechanism required of all workers.
‘I’ll be pleased when this job is finished and we can get back to the safety of the clock. A few years ago I was chased by a spider and nearly eaten alive. Luckily it couldn’t keep its eight spindly feet upon the polished glass, otherwise I would have clocked off permanently!’ old man Prattles said almost raising a half smile although it looked to the young apprentices as if it were a grimace.
‘Hold your horses,’ Wilbur replied as he took a long run up and skidded across the glass for the second time in as many minutes.
‘Horses’ hooves on glass, perish the thought,’ Omnigus Prattles spat, getting down upon his knees to see his face reflected back at him in the glass. ‘Ah, as clear as moonstone, a job well done. I’d say time we got back to the real world.’
Suddenly a terrible grumbling sound shattered the silence.
‘Where on earth is that terrible sound coming from?!’ the old man exclaimed clasping his hands to his ears. In truth it must have been quite a racket as Omnigus Prattles was almost as deaf as a post, which was marginally better than being stone deaf – the fate of all gargoyles perched high on the walls of a Gothic church.
‘It’s, it’s coming from over there!’ Wilbur Wigglesworth cried moving towards the sound as if being drawn by a magnet. Common sense told the boy he should not be drawn to the loud grumbling, mumbling noise but rather he should draw away from it with great rapidity. But the boy was a boy and so common sense was not something he had much time for. Common sense was one of the senses the boy associated with the Clock Elders who seemed not to have any time for anything other than long boring meetings. These meetings to the boy made little or no sense other than the sense they were nonsense, and nonsense was a sense he had a lot of time for, even if the Clock Elders, Clock Watchers, Foreman Cornelius Carbuncle Codswallop and Master Watch Repairer Onmigus Prattles did not!
‘I imagine God sounds like that or at least the Clock God!’ Omnigus Prattles said shaking in his boots as the vibration of the sound almost knocked them clean off their feet.
‘Sounds, sounds like my father’s belly when he’s hungry,’ Tippy stuttered trying to fight fear with humour. Some fear did disappear as if by magic thanks to the power of humour but most, I’m afraid, did not.
‘No, come back, Apprentice Wigglesworth, it’s not safe. You’ll offend the Clock Gods!’ old man Prattles shouted as he picked up his candle holder and stepped backwards away from the terrible noise. But Wilbur was not listening. His curiosity had already got the better of him, although that probably should be the worst of him!
‘I thought you said the Clock God singular not Clock Gods plural!’ Tippy exclaimed as her fear of the worst just got cranked up another level.
‘It’s best to be on the safe side of the gods, which in all honesty would be behind a giant wall of moonstone glass. I’m glad they are teaching you something in clock school. Good English, and maths is another subject you’ll need in life as a Clock Apprentice. And watches are nothing if not full of numbers and one of those numbers includes calculating the possibility of doing something rash, which will increase the chance that your number will be up sooner than you had imagined!’ replied Omnigus Prattles living up to his name admirably.
‘It’s, it’s a giant. Look, the stories were true and he’s snoring!’ Wilbur cried gesticulating wildly at a man in bed snoring his head off.
The curiosity of Wilbur Wigglesworth was far from being piqued, so ever so slowly he crept forward towards the man mountain like an animal out on the hunt. Then Wilbur slipped and tumbled through the air like an acrobat but one out of control rather than in control. ‘Help, help!’ cried Wilbur as he fell like in a nightmare, a fall that seemed to take a lifetime when in reality it had taken no more than a split second. Tick…
6
Clockwork Guardian Angels
Tock… Wilbur crashed back down to earth, not with a thud as one would have imagined but like a feather on a bed. You see, as luck would have it Wilbur Wigglesworth had landed upon a folded-up handkerchief that had been laid out on the bedside cabinet. Once again it seemed Lady Luck was looking out for him – either that or his guardian clock angel. A clockwork angel, now that was an imagining well worth filling one’s head with, even if the real thing may soon lose its shine when it failed to run like clockwork. Falling from the clock heavens its wings tore asunder as it lay rusting in some forgotten broken-down ironworks along with some steam horses that had run out of steam a long time ago.
The thing Wilbur did not seem aware of, because he was letting his imagination carry him off on a flight of fancy with a broken-down clockwork angel, was that the fob watch was resting not on a bedside cabinet but a cabinet of curiosity. The owner of the fob watch was a fastidious man who lived by the clock, a man who had almost made time-keeping into an art form. The owner of the watch had taken it out of his waistcoat pocket and placed it on the handkerchief as he did every night before he went to bed. Every night on the striking of the midnight hour the man carried out this simple routine then lay down in his bed listening intently to the ticking of the clock as it gently lulled him off to sleep.
The man in the bed then turned his head to the side in a restless manner and mumbled something indecipherable. The noise was so loud it almost shattered Wilbur’s eardrums, so much so he was forced to put his fingers in his ears.
Wilbur was now so close to the man he could almost touch him. He was frightened that the giant might wake and his days would be numbered. Wilbur froze with fear. He could not move a muscle, it was as if his legs were stuck in black treacle. He knew one breath from out of the mouth of the giant would feel as if he were caught in a hurricane or a tornado.
‘I’m going to get him,’ Tippy cried going to the rescue.
‘No, Apprentice Handle, it’s too dangerous, I’ll go,’ replied old man Prattles but he was far too frail and unsteady on his feet to slide down the glass. By this time Tippy had disappeared over the side of the fob watch as her curiosity also appeared to be piqued, so all Omnigus Prattles could do was watch on and pray to any gods he could think of and hope at least one was listening. But the gods had no time for the people of the clock or the people of earth who had created the watch the Clock People now called home. The gods had done their job at the v
ery beginning of time by winding up the universal clock. They had played their part and it was no small part they had played, in fact it was the biggest part of the universal clock. All the tiny parts of that great clock had to do their job, do their duty to keep the universal clock ticking over until the day finally came when it was time to stop that great clock. This was a day even the gods feared, for it was that day that even the gods of the clock had to clock off for the last time.
But that time was a long, long way off as was the time the two young apprentice watchmakers would one day have to clock off, or so they hoped. Omnigus Prattles, the Master Watch Repairer, was not hoping this was the case as he was still down on his knees praying this was the case. But what of the Clock God? Had he deserted the Clock People too? Only time would tell on that score.
‘It’s like bouncing up and down on my bed,’ Tippy laughed as she sprang up and down upon the handkerchief as if it were a feather mattress.
‘Thank God it appears the gods are not needed at this point in time,’ sighed Omnigus Prattles, his prayers answered for the time being, or so he imagined.
‘Wilbur, where are you? You’re missing all the fun and games,’ Tippy hollered looking all about her.
‘Both of you, come back here right this moment!’ old man Prattles cried, waving his hands wildly in exasperation as finally he stopped praying and started wailing. ‘Spitting in a watch is not to be tolerated under any circumstances and wailing is not becoming of a Master Watch Repairer either!’ the old man added under his breath, ticking himself off.
‘Not so loud, you’ll wake the giant up and we can’t come back right this minute as the moment has passed!’ hissed Wilbur as he put his finger to his lips.
The Clock People Page 4
