The Clock People

by Mark Roland Langdale

  ‘Be quiet, be quiet or all is lost,’ Tippy grunted, a muted cry falling from her lips as she did not want to wake the clock people from their extended slumbers.

  ‘Oops, it seems I’m no prima ballerina. Could do with a counterweight like in a clock to help my balance, or a dance partner!’ Wilbur spluttered as he saw stars that were not in the heavens but in his eyes as he almost toppled off the top of the iron mountain. ‘Steady, boy, steady as she goes, half steam ahead not full steam, now pass me the hourglass and let’s see how much time I have to play with.’ Here Wilbur appears to imagine sailing on a glass sea in a crystal ship along with a ship’s boy holding an hourglass which he imagines he is using as a lifeboat.

  Wilbur leaned against the inside of the jacket pocket and peered over the edge of the iron mountain. It was now almost eight thirty and the street was bustling with people, horse-drawn carriages and omnibuses. His eyes almost popped out of his head with the wonder of it all. The last time he had seen the outside world he had been inside under a glass dome and, in truth, with his eyes adjusting to the fierce light everything was a bit of a blur. This time things were as clear as a cut-glass crystal chandelier hanging in the Hall of Mirrors in the Palace of Versailles. The heat from the sun no longer magnified by the glass of the fob watch wasn’t anywhere as intense as it had been before and for that he thanked all the gods under all the suns, both real and mechanical, as he thought of the mechanical orrery solar system in Greenwich Observatory. For Wilbur the orrery and the astrarium would make a nice little home for him and the Clock People. The Elders could live on Earth and they could live on Saturn or Jupiter or both, giving the sun a wide berth!

  As Wilbur Wigglesworth surveyed the landscape below he could not believe the size of everything. He had presumed everything was larger because the glass dome magnified objects. Now Wilbur could see with his own eyes that everything in this world was big and it made him feel very small, so much so that he felt himself shrinking to the size of General Tom Thumb, the freak show midget, or Thumbelina, and truth be told if he shrank much more he would disappear completely! What he really wanted was to grow to the size of nine-foot-tall Alice but that was wishful thinking on a scale grander than the clockwork universe.

  Wilbur’s grandfather had always told him old folk got smaller with each passing year but he was inclined to think his grandfather was over-egging the old story pot. Once upon a time Major Tom Thumb, the freak show midget, was a giant until he shrank to the size of a mantelpiece clock, according to his grandfather. This was indeed a highly unlikely tall story, thought Wilbur shaking his head as he recalled the tale.

  Wilbur looked up and saw the giant whose pocket he was still trapped in, not that he could see much, just the shadowy outline of his face on the pavement below. To his mind, the face of the giant jutted out like the chiselled features of the presidents of the United States on Mount Rushmore, pictures he had seen in an old book in the Clock Library.

  ‘I must be careful not to overbalance and fall,’ muttered and mumbled Wilbur, giving himself a small pep talk. Then he heard a loud buzzing sound as a beautiful flying creature passed his eyeline. It was a miniature dragon. Truth be told it was a dragonfly but Wilbur had only seen pictures of dragons in books, so presumed the dragons in this world were miniature like his good self. He felt like an elf or a fairy sprite and if he had wings then he would have flown, but wings he did not have no matter how much he imagined he had. Oh, he flew alright in his dreams, flew like a bird, and in his nightmares he crashed like an overweight prehistoric dinosaur or Icarus, ending up like a broken-down daddy longlegs decaying on the windowsill of the house where a giant lived. Wilbur had seen a coin lying on Mr Potts’ writing desk with the face of George VI on it and a dragon named George, or so he imagined wrongly. He further imagined the dragon would break free of the golden sovereign and fly free. Perhaps this was possible but only a magician of the greatness of Merlin could make it happen.

  ‘Tippy must see this, she must,’ Wilbur cried looking down into the pocket of the giant. It was hard to tear himself away from the street theatre, but without sharing the experience with someone you knew it wasn’t half the experience he felt it should be. He imagined Tippy pointing this way and that as the attraction passed them by as if at a fair and him doing the same, both with eyes as wide as giant saucers, then laughing so much they almost fell out of the giant’s pocket. In his mind’s eye Wilbur could see the hands of the clock going anti-clockwise as he climbed backwards down the iron mountain until he was standing next to Tippy. Doing this task in the mind seemed as easy as counting 1, 2, 3, the magic numbers according to Pythagoras, whereas in reality this climb would not be so easy, unless your name was Merlin the Magician!

  Wilbur carefully climbed back down the iron mountain but slipped… tick… tock… tick… Time appeared to slow down as Wilbur fell through the air. ‘Hold on a tick, I’m coming!’ Wilbur cried, his voice echoing through the chamber as if in a Gothic cathedral. Tick tock, tick tock, tick, tick… the clock was ticking. It was as if the tock had got left behind, perhaps had even clocked off for good so now the clock only ticked and didn’t tock!

  11

  A Most Illuminating Experience

  Wilbur threw out his hands in sheer desperation, grasping at thin air, and in doing so just managed to grab onto one of the grooves. ‘Whew, just in the nick of time!’ grunted Wilbur as he hung on for dear life. Once again time seemed to stand still before eventually restarting. Gradually, bit by bit, he heaved himself back up so he was standing upright. With a sharp intake of breath he steadied himself before trying again. This time, much to his relief, he succeeded in managing to climb back down the iron mountain until he reached the pinhole. It seemed for Apprentice Wilbur Second Class his timing was first class as he clambered back into the glass dome just in time to catch the second hand as it came into view. Wilbur allowed himself a half smile. He was making it sound like he was catching an omnibus or one of the train carts that ran on rails around the mechanism inside the watch, carts that carried people, heavy tools and clock parts to wherever they needed to go. ‘Sorry, got no time to stop, don’t want to miss the omnibus!’ As the hand came by Wilbur instinctively grabbed the hand and held on for dear life as it carried him back to his friend. He saw Tippy standing below the number six and instantly let go of the hand and dropped to his knees. ‘Thanks, driver!’ Wilbur cried as the imaginary omnibus drew away, or the second hand of the watch if you want the true story.

  ‘You’re back!’ Tippy exclaimed, hugging Wilbur so tightly she almost crushed his vertebrae.

  ‘Yes, it appears I am. It was easier than I expected but then I have learnt a lot of tricks working in the mechanism. It seemed working there wasn’t such a waste of time after all,’ Wilbur smiled finally drawing breath. There was so much excitement in his head he felt it might explode, but if he didn’t let it out soon it definitely would explode. A case of spontaneous human combustion was not something he wanted to experience ever! At first Wilbur couldn’t get the words out fast enough. His tongue was wiggling and waggling so much it could just as easily have been a snake. And then when he did they came out so fast he kept tripping over his tongue!

  ‘Take deep breaths then talk s-l-o-w-l-y.’ Tippy spoke the words, annunciating the letters slowly one by one as if Wilbur were stone deaf.

  ‘You must see what I have seen, it will take your breath away,’ Wilbur gushed trying to control his breathing.

  ‘I’d rather like to keep my breath if it’s all the same to you!’ replied Tippy hands on hips.

  ‘I’ve got an idea, I’ll stand on your shoulders again, grab hold of the second hand then pull myself up and then hold onto the hand with my feet and dangle my body so I can pull you up. That way we can both see the wonders of this new world of ours,’ Wilbur said gabbling so much that a small part of the face of the moonstone glass began to steam up.

  ‘What, are you mad? No, scratc
h that, I know you’re mad and you obviously think I am too,’ Tippy exclaimed clasping her hands to her face in horror.

  ‘Mad I may well be but I’m not as mad as a hatter, or at least I don’t think I am, and I’ve seen you climb the mechanism jumping from wheel to wheel and cog to cog as if you were a monkey. Come on, Tippy, I promise you you’ll have the time of your life!’ Wilbur exclaimed, his eyes sparkling like diamonds. It seemed a waste to some of the women in the clock that diamonds and rubies were used to make bearings in the watch so as to minimise friction. Getting one’s bearings in this brave new world would not be easy for the apprentices, and there would be friction between the apprentices and the Elders if the Elders ever found out they were disobeying orders.

  ‘It seems you have hypnotised me again,’ Tippy replied as she felt herself nodding, when what she really wanted to do was shake her head.

  ‘Here we go again,’ Wilbur cried as he climbed onto Tippy’s back and then grabbed the second hand as it passed overhead. Within no time at all Wilbur had performed his acrobatic manoeuvre and was hanging upside down from the moving hand of the watch like a chimpanzee swinging from a monkey puzzle tree.

  ‘Quickly, the blood’s rushing to my head. If I don’t get you first time I think, I think, I might just, just pass out,’ gasped Wilbur struggling for breath as he reached out his hands as far as he was able. Tippy bent down on her haunches, coiled her body like a spring, then with all her might she sprung up like a jack-in-the-box, grabbing onto Wilbur’s outstretched hands.

  ‘I’ve got you, I’ve got you!’ both Wilbur and Tippy cried as one. Wilbur used all his strength to pull his fellow apprentice up onto the top of the hand of the watch until they were both sitting on the hand as it span around the dial.

  ‘Quite a view from up here,’ Tippy said blowing out her cheeks.

  ‘Not bad but not a patch on the view from up there!’ Wilbur panted as he pointed upwards.

  For a split second Tippy thought Wilbur was referring to being up in the gods, the Clock Gods, but then came to the little sense God had been kind enough to give her. ‘Then we’d better not waste any more precious time,’ Tippy grunted, puffing out her cheeks as the hand rushed towards twelve, as if the hand thought it was late for some important date with destiny.

  ‘When I say jump, jump and whatever you do for God’s sake don’t, I repeat don’t, look down,’ balled Wilbur as he crawled along the hand so he was as close as possible to the pinhole he had previously climbed through.

  ‘Okay, I’m right behind you,’ Tippy replied looking as white as a ghost pumpkin.

  ‘Jump, j-u-m-p!’ Wilbur cried as he sprang like a frog into the hole followed closely on behind by Tippy.

  ‘Whew, just made it by a whisker. Now only the small detail of climbing this here gold mountain and we can both see the Seven Wonders of the World, although in this world I imagine there to be far more than seven wonders,’ said Wilbur once again pointing upwards.

  ‘Easy,’ Tippy grinned meaning the exact opposite.

  ‘You go first. I’ll give you a push and then if you fall I can catch you,’ said Wilbur sounding more confident than he actually felt.

  Tippy did not reply, she simply nodded and gulped down hard. The climb would be over in no time at all. It certainly would if she fell, she thought, a thought she wished hadn’t entered her head at that precise moment in time. Tippy needed to take a leaf out of Wilbur’s book of daring-do and just do rather than think of doing. The more you thought about something the harder it became. If she started looking up at the gold mountain too long it would start to grow and grow so high it would touch the sky and by that time she would lose her nerve. For the adventurers of this world, mountains were not for waxing lyrical about, that was the poets’ job. They were for conquering, like life. So Tippy put her best foot forward which was infinitely better than putting her worst foot forward and started to climb.

  ‘Don’t look down and you’ll be fine,’ said Wilbur confidently, who, by this time, was right by her side as Tippy looked for a safe handhold before climbing higher.

  ‘Good advice,’ sniffed Tippy, instinctively glancing down as for a second she developed a wobble something like the tick but nothing like the tock of a grandmother clock, which to the ears of a little person was so loud it almost burst the eardrums! But as long as the wobble did not turn into a full-on collywobble she would be all fine and dandy, probably!

  ‘Steady as she goes,’ Wilbur cried steadying Tippy until the wobble passed.

  ‘Sorry about that, almost got a bad case of the collywobbles, I’m afraid. Luckily it soon passed!’ Tippy smiled sheepishly.

  ‘Made it, that’s twice I’ve scaled this mountain. Next, the Clock Mountain, I mean Big Ben!’ Wilbur laughed more in relief than because the joke was that funny.

  ‘Once is enough for me and as for Big Ben that will take you ten years to climb, if not longer,’ wheezed Tippy nervously trying to keep her pecker up as she took Wilbur’s hand and stood shakily up on top of the gold knob that was the winding mechanism of the fob watch. The golden knob, when pushed downwards, doubled up as the means to flip the protective lid of the watch open, which in this case was no longer there, lost to time, a story that perhaps would never be told.

  ‘What’s that above our heads? It looks like a golden arch!’ Tippy exclaimed in awe and wonderment, looking upwards towards heaven as she stood on what she imagined was a giant clock tower.

  ‘It’s the ring attached to the watch,’ Wilbur replied unintentionally taking the magic out of the story.

  ‘Oh,’ replied Tippy sounding crestfallen.

  ‘Take a look at that view, it’s u-n-b-e-l-i-e-v-a-b-l-e!’ Wilbur exclaimed peering over the jacket pocket of the gentleman’s coat.

  ‘Oh my, oh my,’ Tippy cried, blowing out her cheeks like a bellow as she grabbed hold of Wilbur’s lapels to steady herself.

  ‘Yes it looks like we have both gone up in the world and like I said before, the view does rather take the breath away. Not sure I can ever go back to living in a stuffy old clock after this,’ Wilbur said as his eyes darted in every direction at once.

  ‘Is that our giant?’ Tippy enquired pointing up at the gentleman as he walked along the street.

  ‘Not sure we can call him “our” giant but I suppose, in a way, he is. Not sure if he’d see us as “his” little people. Not sure if he is able to see us, we’re probably no bigger than an ant to him,’ Wilbur muttered, not sure about anything right now other than he felt on top of the world and as free as a bird. But now was not the time to get carried away, now was the time to sit in awe of the wonders this big world had to offer. They could get carried away some other time, and both Wilbur and Tippy felt sure something or other would carry them away from home, but what that something or other was, at this moment in time, they had not the slightest notion.

  The gentleman then stopped to look at his reflection in the window of a shop. It was as if he were gazing into a looking glass as he casually combed his jet black hair back into place with his left hand.

  ‘Look, it’s our giant!’ Wilbur shouted pointing at the reflection of the man in the shop window.

  ‘So it is. I must say he does look very dashing. A gentleman of refinement and culture, I would imagine,’ Tippy crooned twiddling her hair into ringlets with her fingers.

  ‘Tippy Handle, I do believe you’ve got a crush on a giant!’ Wilbur exclaimed as Tippy turned crimson then whispered, ‘A gentle giant, I would imagine.’ The truth was Tippy was proud of their giant and proud that their home was nestling safely inside his home. She was making it sound like their home was furniture in a dolls’ house or a grandfather clock in a dolls’ house, if that made any sense whatsoever.

  Then another face appeared in the window a way back from where the gentleman was standing and he was no gentleman in any respect. This man had a mean look upon his face. He also
had a jagged scar down the side of his left cheek which looked like it was made by a knife. The gentleman turned around as the other man appeared to try and step out of his way. The truth was he was deliberately stepping into the gentleman’s path.

  ‘Sorry, I really must look where I’m going,’ the man replied as he brushed past the gentleman, causing his hat to topple off, after which the man casually strolled off down the street like a dandy who appeared to have all the time in the world.

  ‘Quite alright,’ the gentleman replied bending down to pick his hat up off the ground before walking on. For you see a gentleman never walked down the street without his top hat on. To do so was deemed ungentlemanly behaviour, that of the common man in the street.

  ‘Help!’ Tippy cried as she and Wilbur were propelled upwards then tumbled in the air like acrobats before falling down to earth. You see they both fell out of the pocket of the gentleman as the two men bumped into one another. All these acrobatics might get them seen by a talent spotter for a circus act – well, a flea circus act if he had a keen eye for talent-spotting and a magnifying glass to hand!

  Thud, thud, two tiny bodies fell onto something which was both hard and soft. This was not solid ground, as the ground was moving. The ground was in fact a small boy’s head. Of course he did not feel a thing, although as Wilbur and Tippy picked themselves up he started to scratch the crown of his head as if he felt a fly or a flea had landed there. Insects using his head as a landing strip was all fine and dandy, thought the boy, as he had suffered from flea bites before, but he hoped this time round the fleas did not set up home on the top of his head.