The Jack Brenin Collection

by Catherine Cooper

  ‘Follow the pathway through the yew trees and you’ll arrive at your Grandad’s garden. Whenever you want to visit, come back the same way. I’ll look forward to seeing you again.’

  Jack stepped through the arched gap into a tunnel. The narrow pathway snaked away into the distance through the dense trees. The yews’ fine needle-like leaves seemed to quiver as he brushed them with his arm. He turned round to say goodbye but Nora had gone. He couldn’t even see the hole anymore. There was nothing else to do but follow the path.

  It wasn’t long before he came to another gap. He stepped out into the sunshine at the bottom of his Grandad’s garden. Jack wasn’t sure he’d be going back through the trees again to Nora’s in a hurry. Even if he wanted to he’d probably never find the way in again. The yew trees were so tightly packed together that as if by magic the path he’d come along seemed to have completely disappeared.

  Jack sighed as he made his way towards the house. He wasn’t looking forward to spending the rest of his life living here. He’d gone out to try and have a game of football and ended up spending the afternoon with an old woman. She’d been kind but there was something strange about her. He’d never met anyone like her before.

  After his narrow escape from the boys, he was reluctant to go back to the field. His Grandad wasn’t expecting him back for a while. It would be better if he didn’t have to explain why his hands were bandaged. He decided to go back to the lane and try the other direction.

  The hedgerows were thick and high on either side of the single track. It was impossible to see through them. The earthy smell of newly turned soil meant his Grandad’s vegetable plot was on the other side of the hedge. He could hear him whistling somewhere in the distance. It was hot and stuffy in the lane and Jack wished he’d brought a drink with him. A slight rustling from behind made him turn quickly. He thought he saw someone duck back behind one of the trees. Was it one of the boys from the field? Jack felt uneasy. The air was still. He got ready to run. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Perhaps all the boys were behind the trees waiting to jump out at him. He stood still, undecided what to do. Should he carry on or go back to the safety of the garden? Was his imagination playing a trick on him? There might not be anything behind the tree at all. The only way to find out would be to go and have a look but Jack didn’t feel brave enough to do that. He decided to go back to the house. As he turned he felt a sharp blow on the back of his head.

  ‘Ow!’

  Something hard had hit him and bounced off into the grass. Jack rubbed his head. He span around expecting to see the jeering faces of the boys from the field but the lane was empty. What could have hit him so hard, and who could have thrown it? There were lots of pebbles and stones on the path; it could have been any of them. Jack stood very still and listened. There wasn’t a sound apart from a slight rustling of leaves. For the third time today he could hear his own heart pounding. He didn’t like being alone in the lane. He got the feeling he was being watched. Next time he went for a walk he’d go with Grandad.

  He was about to turn and run when he saw a gleam of light. Something underneath the hedge glinted in the sunlight. He bent down and pulled the grass apart. A small shiny object lay on the ground. Where had it come from? Jack looked around before he picked it up and examined it more closely. It was a golden acorn, not quite like any acorn he’d ever seen before. It was beautifully carved, big and heavy and warm in his hand. Jack put it in his pocket then searched around to see if he could find any more.

  INTRODUCTIONS

  Jack wasn’t a morning person. He lay in the strange bed hoping the last few weeks of his life had been a bad dream. He desperately wished he were back in Greece in his own bedroom. His hopes faded when he heard Grandad making breakfast downstairs.

  The first thing he saw when he eventually opened his eyes were the contents of his pockets on the bedside table. Two bandages with their middles stained green lay in a crumpled heap and there on top was the shiny object he’d found. He groaned. So the events of the previous afternoon had really happened. Whatever Nora had put on his palms had worked.

  Would today be better than yesterday? He turned over and pulled the sheet back over his head. His meeting with Nora was still on his mind. He hadn’t told Grandad about it, he hadn’t wanted to. He decided she was just a batty old woman and best avoided. He could see why the boys from the field called her Nutty Nora.

  His thoughts were interrupted when Grandad called from downstairs.

  ‘Hurry up Jack. Breakfast’s ready and you’ve got a visitor.’

  He groaned again and reluctantly got out of bed. He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of a visitor and would rather have known who it was before he went downstairs. He’d no idea who it could be or how long they would want to stay. He went over to the window and pulled the curtain open a fraction. Sunlight streamed in through the crack making him squint. Trees surrounded Grandad’s garden, Nora’s trees. The chimneys he could see beyond them belonged to her house too. Avoiding Nora wasn’t going to be easy. Before going down he looked in the mirror and tried to comb his dark unruly hair but it just sprang back into its own chosen style. He sighed as he put the bandages in the bin and stuffed the acorn in his pocket.

  When he entered the kitchen he saw a girl with long chestnut hair sitting at the table chatting with Grandad. She had an olive complexion like his own and freckles on her nose and cheeks. She looked towards Jack and smiled.

  ‘Jack, this is Elan, Nora’s niece.’

  ‘Oh… er… hello,’ was all he could manage.

  He could feel his cheeks burning. He had no idea what to say to her.

  ‘I’m staying with my aunt for a while and she wondered if you’d like to come round and have tea with us this afternoon?’

  Jack gave his Grandad a pleading look. This wasn’t the sort of thing he was used to. Girls didn’t invite him for tea, especially not the kind of tea he imagined this was going to be, with real china cups and small neatly cut sandwiches. The thought of going back into Nora’s house again sent a shiver down his spine.

  ‘I won’t be able to come. I’m going to the Cricket Club with Grandad this afternoon.’

  Jack felt pleased he had a good excuse.

  ‘Nonsense!’ Grandad exclaimed, ‘we’ve only got to set out a few chairs for the match. We’ll be finished in no time.’

  Jack felt his cheeks burning again.

  ‘When do you want him to come round?’

  ‘As soon as you’ve finished,’ Elan replied giving Jack an especially big smile, ‘Nora has something she wants you to see.’

  ‘I… I… I… er…don’t…er…’ but before he had time to think of another excuse Elan was already out of the kitchen door. She turned when she reached the bottom of the garden and waved before disappearing through the hedge.

  ‘Elan tells me you met Nora yesterday.’

  Jack nodded.

  ‘Do I have to go?’

  ‘It would be rude not to. You must have made a good impression. Not everyone gets invited to Ewell House.’

  ‘Couldn’t you come with me?’

  ‘When we’ve finished at the Club I’ll walk with you as far as the front gate but then you’re on your own.’

  After lunch Jack walked back down the lane, only this time with Grandad. As they passed the field the same boys were playing football again. Jack kept well hidden behind Grandad so they wouldn’t see him. He took the opportunity to look around as they made their way towards the Cricket Club. A large hill loomed above the hedge in the direction they were travelling. In places the trees had grown together to form a kind of archway, a green tunnel, which gave some shade from the afternoon sun. It wasn’t long before they reached the gate to the Club.

  Once inside the ground Jack noticed a large black bird sitting on top of the pavilion clock. It cocked its head on one side and cawed loudly.

  ‘Is that a crow?’

  ‘Too big for a crow, more like a raven,’ replied Grand
ad as he unlocked the shed where the chairs were stored.

  For the next half hour Jack helped take the flat chairs over to the pavilion and arrange them in rows for the afternoon’s game. He could only manage one at a time. He was hot and thirsty by the time they’d finished.

  ‘Get yourself down to the kitchen, tell the ladies who you are and they’ll give you a drink. You might even get a piece of cake. I’m going to make sure the changing rooms are clean.’

  Jack went inside the pavilion. He could hear the chinking of cups and saucers coming from a room at the end. He’d only taken a couple of steps when a heavy hand came down on his shoulder.

  ‘Got you!’ the man holding Jack exclaimed. ‘Down ‘ere with you. Let’s see what you’ve got in your pockets.’

  Jack was marched down to the end of the corridor and thrust into the kitchen. He didn’t dare look around and wasn’t sure what he was supposed to have done. He tried to tell the man who he was but his voice only came out in a high-pitched squeak. By now the man was speaking to the ladies in the kitchen.

  ‘I’ve got him, caught him red handed, sneaking in he was. Here’s your thief.’

  The two ladies turned and stared at Jack.

  ‘OK laddie, empty your pockets,’ ordered the man as he released his hand from Jack’s shoulder.

  ‘I haven’t stolen anything. I’ve been helping my Grandad.’

  ‘A likely story.’

  Suddenly Jack felt very guilty. He remembered the shiny acorn in his pocket. Was it stolen? How would he convince the man he’d found it?

  ‘I’m still waiting,’ growled the man who now stood with his hands out in front of Jack.

  If he ran they’d think he was guilty. There was nothing else to do but empty his pockets. Jack placed a crumpled tissue, a piece of string, half a packet of mints and the heavy acorn in the man’s hands.

  ‘And the rest.’

  ‘I haven’t got anything else.’

  Jack hung his head. Tears were welling up in his eyes.

  ‘Perhaps there’s been a mistake,’ one of the ladies began. ‘Are you sure he’s the thief? He hasn’t got anything valuable here.’

  ‘He’s small enough to have come through the window,’ the man continued as he pointed up to an open skylight. ‘He was lurking about in the pavilion. What’s he doing here anyway? Up to no good if you ask me.’

  ‘I’ve been helping my Grandad, Sam Brenin.’

  ‘Sam Brenin!’ exclaimed the man.

  ‘Did I hear my name?’ asked Grandad as he entered the kitchen.

  Jack rushed over to him.

  ‘They think I’m a thief but I haven’t taken anything. I found the acorn yesterday.’

  ‘What’s missing?’ asked Grandad.

  ‘All the small change from the tea money,’ replied the older woman. ‘We thought it was probably a youngster because nothing else was taken.’

  ‘And when is Jack supposed to have stolen this money?’

  ‘Sometime last Saturday night. It was there in the afternoon; by Sunday morning it was gone,’ replied the man grumpily.

  ‘Jack’s not your thief,’ Grandad assured them. ‘He only arrived here on Friday. Give him his things back Don and go and do something useful.’

  Don reluctantly handed back Jack’s belongings but he didn’t apologize as he left the kitchen. Jack didn’t understand why no one had questioned him about the golden acorn.

  ‘Here you are Jack,’ said the younger woman kindly as she poured out a glass of orange, ‘and help yourself to some cake.’

  Grandad sat down at the table.

  ‘After I’ve had my cuppa we’ll get over to Ewell House.’

  ‘Can I wait outside?’

  ‘That’s fine. I won’t be long.’

  Jack wasn’t worried how long his Grandad took. He wasn’t in any hurry to get to Nora’s house. He went over to the trees opposite the pavilion and sat in the shade. It really was a hot afternoon. As he looked around he saw a cricket ball half hidden by a clump of dandelions. He was just about to go over and pick it up when a sudden movement, a flutter of wings, distracted him. From the corner of his eye he saw the big black bird he’d seen earlier. It landed on top of a dustbin which was underneath the open kitchen window of the Club House. He watched in fascination as it leaned in and helped itself to a rather large sandwich. Once it was securely in its beak it dropped back down onto the grass. With a hop, skip and a couple of jumps the bird made its way towards Jack with its prize. The snatch hadn’t gone unnoticed and the alarm had been raised from inside the kitchen.

  ‘Shoo him off Jack!’ shouted the older woman as she leaned out of the window. ‘Shoo that thieving crow away!’

  Jack stood up and started flapping his arms as he ran towards the bird. It didn’t fly off or look in the least bit frightened.

  ‘You’ll never fly like that,’ it said through a beakful of sandwich, ‘and I’m not a crow.’

  It skipped unhurriedly across the field, finally taking off and landing in one of the large trees opposite the cricket ground.

  Jack stood rooted to the spot. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the bird. He was stunned. Had he imagined the whole thing? Birds don’t talk. Maybe the odd word and a few squawks but not proper sentences. Perhaps he was coming down with a bug, he did feel a bit hot; maybe he’d got a temperature. From the pavilion he could still hear the women complaining.

  ‘Put his head right inside the window, if you please! Bold as brass! Took that sandwich right off the plate.’

  ‘Never seen anything like it,’ the other replied. ‘Better close the window. He might try it again.’

  As the window slammed shut Grandad appeared in the doorway.

  ‘He was a cheeky chappy,’ he laughed.

  Jack was still worried.

  ‘Can ravens talk, you know, like parrots?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Grandad replied. ‘Why don’t you ask Nora? She knows a lot about birds. She knows a lot about everything.’

  The front garden of Ewell House was a blaze of colour. There were flowers everywhere. Grandad opened the gate and gave him an encouraging smile.

  ‘I’ll be off now. See you later, have a good time.’

  Jack hesitated, took a deep breath, then closed the gate and set off down the path. On the wall by the front door was a green circular plaque with a large tree embossed on it. Ewell House was spelled out above it in capital letters. Jack looked for a bell to ring but could only find a knocker. It was decorated with three oak leaves and two large acorns. Apart from the colour, the similarity between the two acorns and the one in his pocket was unmistakable. His heart began to beat rapidly; his hand trembled as he lifted the knocker.

  Elan opened the door. Jack felt a bit better knowing he wasn’t going to be alone with Nora.

  ‘Come in, it’s this way to the kitchen.’

  He followed Elan down a dark passage. It was an old house like Grandad’s. The floors, walls and ceilings were all uneven. At the end of the hallway they entered a large kitchen. The smell of freshly baked bread was still in the air. Nora stood by a large range, stirring the contents of a pot. Sunlight streamed in through the windows lighting the whole room. He liked it better than the strange place he’d sat in yesterday afternoon. There were more bookshelves full of the same kind of leather-bound books he’d seen in the herborium. Two large patio doors were open and Jack could see the garden beyond.

  ‘Before we have tea,’ Nora began, ‘there’s someone I’d like you to meet.’

  Jack looked around the kitchen expecting to see another person.

  ‘No, not here,’ laughed Elan.

  ‘We’re going to have to go into Glasruhen. It’s not too far.’

  Jack looked puzzled as Nora continued.

  ‘Glasruhen begins just beyond the hedge you went through yesterday. It’s a very old forest. You might see and hear some strange things this afternoon but I don’t want you to be frightened. Nothing will hurt you.’

  Jack wasn’t
sure he liked the sound of strange things but before he had time to worry about anything Nora continued.

  ‘Now, I believe you have something which belongs to me.’

  Jack shook his head. He’d put the bandages in the bin; what else could he possibly have that belonged to Nora?

  ‘If you haven’t brought it, you’ll have to run along home and collect it because you’ll need it once we get to the middle of Glasruhen forest.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ replied Jack.

  ‘Something you might have found yesterday afternoon? It’s probably in your pocket?’

  Jack felt uncomfortable.

  ‘The acorn?’

  ‘Yes, the acorn. You do still have it don’t you?’

  Nora and Elan looked expectantly at Jack. He brought the acorn out of his pocket and offered it to Nora.

  ‘No, I want you to have it for now but you must keep it safe. It’s the only one we’ve got.’

  ‘What do you see Jack?’ Elan asked.

  It seemed like a stupid question but Jack answered politely.

  ‘A golden acorn.’

  ‘I knew it!’ Nora said as she took Jack’s other hand and shook it vigorously. ‘I knew you were The One.’

  ‘Er…. I don’t understand.’

  ‘There’s a prophecy, which was given to us. It tells of a mortal boy who can see the Druid’s Acorn,’ explained Nora.

  ‘That’s you Jack,’ continued Elan. ‘No other mortal can see it’s made of gold.’

  ‘You’re The One. I knew I was right. You’ve been chosen,’ continued Nora.

  ‘Chosen to do what?’

  ‘Help me,’ said a voice from the doorway that Jack thought he recognised.

  As he turned around his mouth dropped open. There in the doorway was the raven from the Cricket Club. He looked at Nora, then Elan. Could they see and hear the talking bird too?

  ‘Is it real?’ he asked nervously.

  ‘Of course I’m real,’ the bird croaked.

  ‘I believe you two have already met,’ said Nora.

  The raven gave a rather loud caw as it made its way across the stone floor. There was a lot of wing flapping as it passed Jack but his head never moved and he watched Jack with a jet black eye.