by Chrys Cymri
I was glad I was sitting down. My legs felt weak at the thought of meeting my favourite Doctor and companion combination. ‘Wow.’
‘I hope you can take the Sunday off,’ Fred said.
‘I’ll make sure of it,’ I said. Morey, however, had feathers fluffed in annoyance. Whether that were from my choice of Doctor or his continued distrust of Fred Wiseman, I couldn’t be certain. ‘This is all a bit much.’
‘Nonsense.’ The diamond in his gold signet ring glittered as he waved his hand. ‘Who knows what would have happened to Susie if you hadn’t found her? Although it is hard to imagine how anyone could become lost in Badby Wood.’
‘Any forest can become confusing.’ My fingers were desperate to open, carefully and gingerly, the cover of Lungbarrow. I placed the envelope into the box and put the cover back on.
‘And there’s so little of our countryside left,’ Fred mused. ‘Oh, I know, it looks all green and open. But we’re farming pretty much all we can. And it’s the same all over the world.’
‘Earth reached seven billion people in 2012,’ Susie said quietly. ‘A lot of that growth is in countries which can’t feed their own children.’
‘And a lot of land is getting tired,’ Fred continued. ‘I guess you could say that companies like my own haven’t helped. We put in fertilisers to boost crop outcomes, and didn't let the soil rest between crops. But I hate seeing pictures of starving children. That’s not how the world should work in the twenty-first century.’
‘Jesus said we would always have the poor with us,’ I said cautiously. ‘I sometimes wonder if that were a prediction, or an indictment.’
‘But does it have to be that way?’ Fred gave me a sad smile. ‘What if we found new land, fertile soil which has never been cultivated? Land which no one is using or needs?’
‘We have to end the food shortfalls,’ Susie said strongly. ‘Move into new areas so we can feed the starving people in our world.’
Morey was standing upright, tail quivering. ‘Lebensraum.’
I just managed to stop a shiver. How and when Morey had learned about Nazi Germany was something I’d have to ask some other time. ‘Isn’t that what companies like yours are doing in Africa and South America?’
‘There’s only so much we can do here.’ Fred sighed. ‘Penny, don’t you lie awake at night, thinking of all the children going to bed hungry every night? I know I do.’
‘He knows,’ Morey said unnecessarily. I’d come to that conclusion myself. Now I had to figure out what to do about it.
I decided to play for time. ‘I can suggest some good charities, if you or your corporation wants to help,’ I said brightly. ‘There are children in England who go hungry out of term time, when they’re not getting their free school meals.’
‘I’ve told him,’ Susie cut in. She shifted in her seat as I gave her a glare. ‘He’s right. We need to think of how we’re going to feed seven billion people. And there’s all that land, just lying there, unused.’
‘It is being used,’ Morey said indignantly. ‘By us, the natives of Lloegyr.’
Susie, I suddenly realised, had not reacted once to Morey. She had lost the Sight, and Fred had never possessed it. Or, as least not yet. I was starting to get an idea. It wasn’t a pleasant one, and it would mean lying to a man whom I felt did care about his employees. And who might actually mean what he’d said about starving children. But I had to protect Lloegyr. ‘Told him what, Susie?’
‘About what I saw.’ She jutted out her chin. ‘The green fields. The unicorns.’
‘Really. Unicorns.’ I glanced at Fred. ‘And you believe all this?’
‘She’s one of my best operatives,’ he said steadily. ‘I believe her. She fell through to another world, and has come back to tell the tale.’
‘Without any proof.’
‘I did take photos on my phone.’
‘Of unicorns?’
‘Yes.’ Then she sank back into the sofa. ‘Although I must’ve done something wrong. All you can see is the fields. And a weird forest.’
‘Then they have nothing,’ Morey declared. ‘Who’s going to get excited over photos of grass and trees?’
‘Maybe unicorns vanish after awhile.’ I picked my words carefully, hoping that Morey would understand what I was asking of him. ‘It’s kind of hard to believe that they exist, after all. Unless you’re actually touching one.’
Morey turned his head to look at me. I felt my head ache as I kept my gaze on Fred, and tried to gauge the gryphon’s reaction at the same time. His pointed ears were flicking from side to side. I continued, ‘I mean, that would be rather much, wouldn’t it? You think you’ve seen something, but later you can’t. Sounds rather odd to me.’
‘If you want me to touch them,’ Morey said quietly, ‘raise your right thumb.’ I did so. ‘Okay. I hope you know what you’re doing.’
The gryphon made an elegant leap onto the coffee table. He swiped his tail across Susie’s hand, then rubbed his head against Fred’s arm. ‘Surprise.’
They both jerked back, startled at what was, to them, the sudden appearance of a small gryphon. ‘Did he come with you?’ Fred demanded of me. ‘Where have you been hiding him?’
I widened my eyes in surprise. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘This, here.’ Susie pointed a shaking hand at Morey, who had sat down and curled his tail over his hind feet. ‘What is it?’
‘What is what?’ I demanded. ‘I don’t see anything.’
Morey’s tail drummed on the table, then fell still. I could see him accepting my ruse, although it was obvious he didn't understand the reasons for it. ‘Ignore that woman,’ he said grandly. ‘I’ve seen her bookshelves. Full of Doctor Who DVDs. She isn’t worth your time.’
It took all of my self control not to react. ‘What are you looking at?’ I asked again.
Fred obviously decided to follow Morey’s advice. ‘Are you from this other world?’
‘Where else?’ Morey dipped his head in a nod. ‘And you’re right. A green and lush world. Lots of room for development. We haven’t bred ourselves out of house and home like you humans.’
‘When you two want to stop playing around,’ I told Fred and Susie, ‘let me know.’ And I opened the box to delve into Lungbarrow. Or, at least to pretend that I was.
‘It’s unfortunate,’ Fred agreed. ‘But we can’t expect everyone to follow China’s example. And even they’ve relaxed their one child policy. In the meantime, we need to look at feeding everyone.’
‘The country you visited is inhabited by the unicorns.’ Morey pointed his beak at Susie. ‘Look again at your photos. You’ll see that they have sharp hooves. And even sharper horns.’
Susie’s gasp as she checked her phone almost made me look up. I managed to keep my head down in the book, although I couldn’t actually start reading it. ‘They’re back!’
‘They were never missing,’ Morey retorted. ‘Do you really expect the herd to move aside for your convenience?’
‘Grazing fields is so inefficient,’ Fred said. ‘Intensive farming can produce much more grain for their needs. I’m certain we can convince them to allow us access to their lands. We can build them barns and dig wells.’
‘And if they don’t agree?’
‘Let’s not worry about that,’ Fred said mildly. ‘I’ve dealt with many a tricky negotiation. You only have to offer the right incentives to the right people.’
‘Like you’ve done with the Global South?’ Morey laughed bitterly. ‘But this is nothing new. Read Eduardo Galeano’s Las venas abiertas de América Latina. Even in translation, Open Veins of Latin America is a masterful study of how Europe and the USA have exploited South America for centuries. Your company would introduce an agricultural system directed purely for the accumulation of more capital for the already wealthy.’
‘We can feed more people with monoculture--’
‘But you’re not,’ Morey snapped. ‘Small farms have much higher yields than plan
tation farms, and the crops go directly into feeding the local people. Whereas transnational corporations such as your own prefer to grow crops for export. And often those crops aren’t even edible. How much of your business is dedicated to biofuels, for example, or to animal feed? And after the intensive industrial agricultural practices, with the land never given time to rest, the only way to maintain yields is to constantly increase the input of agrochemicals. You’ve succeeded in polluting your water, you’ve exhausted your soil, and now you want to do the same in my world? Never.’
I turned a page in my book, but it was getting harder and harder not to look at Morey. So I put Lungbarrow down, rose to my feet, stretched, and went to the window. By angling myself carefully, I could catch Morey’s reflection in the window. His claws were scarring the wood of the coffee table, and I found myself torn between guilt and fierce pleasure. I did hope that Fred wouldn’t confiscate either the books or the bottle of Talisker.
‘Our investment has lifted thousands of people from poverty,’ Susie retorted. ‘I’ve visited several of our international farms. We take good care of our workers. They’re happy.’
‘The ones who gain from your exploitation are happy, I don’t doubt that. But as Simone Weil wrote, “Human beings are so made that the ones who do the crushing feel nothing; it is the person crushed who feels what is happening. Unless one has placed oneself on the side of the oppressed, to feel with them, one cannot understand.”’
It was much easier to enjoy Morey’s intelligence when I wasn’t the victim. But I had to bring this exchange to an end. I could only keep up my pretence for so long. So I turned from the window. ‘Fred, Susie, I’m grateful for all this.’ I spread my arms to indicate not only their gifts but their hospitality. ‘But I need to go. It’s a busy day tomorrow.’
Fred glared up at me. ‘You can see this gryphon. I know it.’
‘What’s a gryphon?’ I tipped my head. ‘Oh, that’s right, half bird and half cat. Sounds like the worst combination of two species, both flighty and smug.’
‘It’s obvious that you plan to keep up this ruse.’ Fred stood, and Susie followed him a moment later. ‘Very well. I’ll be placing this evidence before our board. I’m certain they’ll agree to invest resources into exploring this new world.’
‘And I’d like to be there,’ Morey said. ‘To argue against your expansion.’
‘Of course.’ Fred smiled at me. ‘Will you come to the board meeting, Penny? I’m certain the members will appreciate hearing from someone else who’s crossed over.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I said calmly. ‘But you’ve been generous, and I’ll do what I can to help. When’s the meeting?’
‘We shut down for the holiday season. So not until January 4th.’
‘Fine. I’ll come.’
‘I’ll have my secretary send you an invitation.’
We shook hands, ignoring our differences, as required by the British code of conduct. Morey played his part well, flying behind me to land on the receptionist’s desk, then onto the floor of the lift when it arrived. ‘I bet you have CCTV cameras all over this place,’ I said casually to Sam as we rode down to the ground floor.
‘Certainly,’ was his response. And so Morey continued to avoid my shoulder as we left, timing his flight through the entry doors to perfection. This meant, of course, that he had to perch on the car in the rain, rather than ride over on my shoulder where he would have had protection by the driver’s umbrella. When we both slid into the back of the Bentley, the smell of wet cat filled the air.
I breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Okay, break out The Macallan.’
Morey glared at me. ‘“Flighty and smug”?’
‘“Bookshelves full of Doctor Who DVDs”?’
‘Mine was a statement of fact.’
‘What makes you think mine wasn’t?’
He studied me for a moment. Then his feathers smoothed. ‘Whisky. Then we’ll talk about what we’re going to do at this board meeting.’
And I reached out, retrieved the bottle, and poured out two double measures of the golden liquid.
Chapter Seventeen
I woke up on Christmas Eve in a bad mood, which wasn’t unusual. A day full of services, attended by people who had no interest in church for the rest of the year. The same carols, over and over. ‘Bah, humbug, manger,’ I muttered to myself as I dragged myself off to have a shower and to see if I could locate where I’d put my smile.
The house was very quiet. James had left yesterday. Morey was nowhere to be seen, so I assumed he’d already flown off to be with Taryn. I released Clyde so I’d have some company while I made some toast and extra strong coffee.
First service was in the morning, our annual ‘Scratch Nativity Play.’ Children simply turned up, and were fitted out into the costumes of the various characters. Despite the careful instructions, plastered on our church noticeboard, written in the village magazine, and mentioned at school, several children still turned up already in character. So the first Mary was appointed the mother of Jesus, and I decreed that the additional Marys were actually bridesmaids. The Superman was paired with the star. I figured he might as well help guide the Wise Men to the manger. I couldn’t help my grin at the young girl who turned up as the Eleventh Doctor, complete with bow tie and fez, and decided that she could help to deliver the narration.
Then, after the families had departed, I helped Holly clean up the debris and ready the church for the crib service. The four hour break between events gave me time for lunch and to finalise my sermons. The afternoon crib service featured readings, carols, and children bringing the various nativity figures up to rest them in straw under the altar. One child was sobbing because he’d accidentally broken off the donkey’s ears. ‘Don’t worry,’ his mother told him. ‘Put the donkey by baby Jesus. Baby Jesus has magic, like Harry Potter. Baby Jesus will make the donkey all better.’
I had to restrain myself from giving an impromptu theological correction. But I had visions of the child being confused at Easter when Jesus didn’t wave a wand and shout out ‘Expelliarmus’ when the soldiers came to arrest him in the Garden of Gethsemane.
The debris left behind from this service was even greater than the last. Holly and I tried not to think about what might be wrapped up in the tissues which we removed from pews and floors. A half-eaten ham sandwich was thrown into a bin liner along with a mound of sweet wrappers. All empty, of course.
Clyde was in a good mood when I returned home. I’d left the radio on for him, and he was singing along with the carols. ‘Christmas!’ he told me excitedly as I entered the study. ‘Tree! Presents!’
I lowered myself onto the study chair. How could I leave Clyde behind on Christmas Day? While I enjoyed myself with turkey and wine, he would be sitting all alone in his tank. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. ‘We’re going to Peter’s for Christmas Day,’ I told him. ‘But you need to be a good snail, Clyde. His parents will be there. Don’t let me down.’
As ever, I wondered how much the snail shark actually understood. ‘Good snail,’ he said, and I hoped he wasn’t simply echoing my words.
At 11pm, I bundled up and headed out into the cold. Christmas lights were flashing on houses as I drove back to the church. Holly looked as frazzled as I felt. ‘I’m getting too old for this,’ she told me as we prepared the altar.
‘I feel that way every year.’
‘Nonsense. You’re only half my age.’
The regulars who felt able to venture out so late on a winter’s night filed in. There was a sudden increase during the first carol, as the drinkers from the pub suddenly decided to make their annual trip to church. I watched them drift off to sleep as I preached about trying to herd geese into a barn. They woke at the end of the service, and the forty of us in the church did a passable version of ‘O, Come All Ye Faithful’, although we were fighting the organist’s best attempts to wrench every last bit of sound of out of her instrument.
And yet a
gain Holly and I cleaned the church. At least no one had been ill, which had happened the previous year. I finally crawled into bed at 1.30am, too tired for even a ‘Bah, humbug.’
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After all that, I’d hoped for a lie in. My only morning service wasn’t until 10am. But shortly after dawn, a weight bounced up and down on the bed. ‘Morey, stop that,’ I muttered, and tried to bury my head further into my pillow.
‘“It came upon a midnight clear, that glorious song of old,”’ a perfectly pitched tenor voice sang in return. ‘“From angels bending near the earth, to touch their harps of gold.”’
There were many ways I could have hoped to wake up on Christmas morning. Maybe with a nice bottle of Talisker lying across the foot of my bed. Or the news that peace had broken out all over the world. A snail shark belting out carols had not even been on the short list. ‘I got to bed long after midnight,’ I groaned at Clyde.
‘Santa! Presents! Tree!’ Each word came out between a bounce.
This is what you get, I told myself, for not making sure the lid to the terrarium was firmly secured. ‘Okay, I’m getting up. You’re as bad as James was when he was your age.’
The memory of James as a boy, excited as any child on Christmas morning, made me smile. And I suddenly wished that he were with me, instead of visiting friends. We hadn’t spent a Christmas together for several years now.
Clyde seemed pleased with his presents, particularly the bottles of beers from Welsh microbreweries. Of course, he wanted to sample them immediately. ‘Not until later,’ I told him firmly. He was going to have to come to church with me, and I didn’t want to have to cope with a drunken snail on top of everything else.
At 9.30am I placed Clyde into his tank and carried the heavy object to my car. I wondered if there were any sort of better travel cages for snails, and made a note to check after Christmas. There were some strange looks from people already in the church as I struggled into the vestry with what appeared to them as an empty glass terrarium. ‘I’ll come back for you after the service,’ I told an annoyed looking snail. ‘No, you can’t come out. I don’t have Morey here to look after you.’
