Sir Ian Peters

by Kevin P Pearson

  Chapter 11

  One flashing instant later I lay on a dry sand bank at the fringe of a sprawling wood. Picking myself up, I became overwhelmed by warming orange light streaming from deep blue sky. My form pulsed slowly, till what luck - I became quite solid! In moments I felt invigorated, frightfully optimistic and truly alive. A flash of movement from brush to the side brought a gasp of astonishment and sheer joy.

  “Good lord! Sam, is that you?! It is, it is, young Sam! Why heavens, look at you! But surely not, please...you’re still so young.”

  “No, I’m not. Well, pretty sure I’m not... yet,” I replied in sheer delight. Here was my favourite Aunt Rose! Everyone remembers dear old Aunt Rose. A more genuine loving, selfless soul you could never dream to meet. Beautiful flowing locks of blonde and the sweetest aura of kindness danced around her gentle brown eyes. My fondest memories of Rose were the infinite well of love her heart contained. Father always said the fairies must have brought her, for she’d enough for every living soul on the planet with more to spare. I used to think if I could marry one girl it would only be one with the same selfless heart as Rose.

  Behind her the ornate door wobbled, flexing and creaking as if giant hands pulled it from all directions. Its elaborate framework shook violently to the most extraordinary mix of high pitched beeps and deafening crashes.

  “What?!” I gasped nervously, flinching as the whining cacophony ended, and the door folded up in on itself and vanished.

  “Oh, it always does that,” Rose said, shrugging.

  “So glad to see you aunt.”

  “I’m awfully glad too!” she bubbled, standing back in admiration and clasping her hands together in boundless joy. “Sam, there’s something different about you, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

  “Well I wish someone would.”

  “Quick now, I don’t know how long you’ll be allowed to stay. Hope there’ll be time for answers later. Come now, stay close. Tonight you’ll dine with us,” she cried, grabbing my hand.

  “You do realize I’m twenty now?”

  “Of course dear, but you’ll always be that cute little ten year old to me, for none of us truly grows up, my special little friend,” she laughed, tipping me a beautiful wink. “Oh, your uncle’s face when he sees you, we shall tease him so!”

  We walked together hand in hand alongside a small babbling brook. Amidst bendy trees the air turned crisp and thin and sweet smells of fresh lavender permeated the delightful atmosphere. Twigs crunched softly beneath our feet and fresh apple blossom petals floated around as two happy souls leisurely meandered down the winding woodland path towards the centre of town.

  Aunt explained carefully arranged planting of nutritious vegetable matter provided villagers with sustenance. Whilst unnecessary, some felt better in the knowledge there was an inexhaustible supply of luscious wild berries, healing herbs and flowering plants. Seasons were similar to our own English climate, but more traditional black, depressing ones were surprisingly less dense and of a much shorter duration.

  “I’ll take you down to her wonderful place first. You’ll love it, everyone does,” she gushed.

  “Oh, Jacob’s mother Elsa dreamt that one up,” she cried, anticipating my next question, “Partly for him, partly for her, mostly for all. It was one of her greatest dreams as she travelled the plains. Elsa and your great grandfather were some of the very first pioneers you know, when the American west was truly old, long before others came bringing selfish greed. But we do not dwell on the past here. So this was one of the scenes she always wanted to build. For her it represented peace and true harmony with nature. When their family finally settled down to roost, survival reared its head. Crops had to be sown and defended, while hungry little mouths were begging to be fed. Wasting precious time and resources on flights of fancy by creating a portion of paradise could not be justified.” Our path became more detailed, welcoming and really quite delightful.

  “Ah, we’re nearly there. This is the perfect time as well. At sunset it never looks more adorable. Sneak a look through the trees Sam. See it?” she whispered earnestly.

  On the outskirts of the village where all paths converged lay a green grassy mound dotted with miniature bushes and shrubs, and nudged by a family of larger trees. Surrounding this heavenly knoll flowed a miniature moat. Its crystal clear water slipped back into a charming little stream where rainbow coloured fish gurgled, jumped and swam gracefully. At one side a tiny wooden bridge garnished with strange symbols and topped with exotic balustrades crossed the water. The inviting walkway faded away into growing shadows, leaving a shimmering moonlit rainbow spanning the banks. Rising from the glittering brook, low musical hums bounced between trees and spun around our heads.

  I watched intrigued as dusk fell on this strange and lovely paradise. Tiny nameless forms leapt, darted and flitted amongst the silky grass. From tree to tree phosphorescent creatures buzzed and clicked serenely, lighting the background with a magical glow. Just above the treetops swirls of energy mixed in dazzling flashes of colour and floated to the ground.

  Rose whispered that on rare, unusual nights the atmosphere became infused with happiness, love and villagers’ thoughts for a wonderful future. At those special times sharp, tiny noses appeared off in the background, poking their way carefully through the scrub, playfully retreating from dappled rays of pale moonlight that strobed the isle. She named them the keepers. No one knew their story.

  The sunset, the beautiful scene, the tiny little animals, and the tranquil lullaby of those dreamy, placid waters allowed my heart to gently slip away into the sweet serenity of it all. Their effect combined, became healing and hypnotic. There was something more here, some indescribable force carrying the isle on slowly towards some unseen goal. A world within one, that was itself evolving, that only did so because of the presence of these extraordinary souls sharing its vision. I became instantly transfixed, attempting to coax answers out the isle.

  “See, I knew you’d feel it,” Rose squealed, studying me as a doting mother watches an excited child. “I come here every day with Brian, and every day we notice something new and even more exciting. Sometimes it’s just a colour on a leaf, others it’s the behaviour of the endearing little ones. Once we got so swept up in the atmosphere we didn’t notice any changes till we were back at home. It’s growing Sam, right before our eyes! Your great gran’s a clever lady, born well before her time. There was always something special about her, she can do things other folk can’t. I realised that the moment I met her. You’re the only other I felt that way about. Remember?” she said, cuddling in.

  “Yes, I remember it well, but I was a little too small to understand.”

  “Oh, Sam. I knew you were different, but didn’t know how to explain, you were far too young to understand. Studies weren’t for you, they weren’t part of your future, for others absolutely, but not for you. You’d have been so much happier escaping in an exciting book. But never mind all that now. You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

  “So, how did she do all this?”

  Rose’s answer was drowned out by thunderous cannon fire and the subsequent arrival from behind the island of a small flotilla of miniature battleships from days of yore. Each had been meticulously crafted to represent a vessel of some distinction. I recognized one as Admiral Nelson’s ship ‘The Victory.’ The second ‘The Mary Rose,’ a fearsome looking vessel armed to the teeth executed a perfect flanking manoeuvre. I made out the grinding noise of her battery of cannons shifting, heard the sudden rush of flooding waters and she started listing dangerously on one side. Another mighty craft displaying skull and cross bones, bearing the moniker ‘Queen Annes Revenge’ took the opportunity to sneak through the party leaders.

  “Battle stations!” came the excited haroo as a thrilled child hurtled past.

  “Hiya Auntie Rose. Can’t stop. Forward men!” I only caught a fleeting glimpse of him as his navy proudly sailed past. Their twinkl
ing mainsails left strange recurring images flickering in the iridescent twilight.

  “Who the dickens was that?” I laughed.

  “Young Jacob, your great grandmother’s child. He’s been here since he was very young, eighteen eighty three. A trifling illness, something doctors nowadays are able to treat in an afternoon. Elsa looks after him now.”

  “Can’t he... Well doesn’t he realise that he...doesn’t he understand, he’s well, you know...”

  “Of course he does Sam, everyone here works that out in their own way.”

  “Why is he still a child? Isn’t he allowed to grow up and experience other ways, as a teenager or an adult?”

  “Of course. Gran has explained all. He’s chosen to stay that way for the foreseeable future. Having such a short and painful life the boy wants to experience everything he missed out on before he takes such a path. And who can blame him? I mean just look at him Sam, he’s in childhood bliss here - Living in the moment. There’s no stress for him, no limits either, nothing.”

  I must admit, ecstasy just doesn’t go any way towards describing the tiny little fellow’s immense delight in his games. I delighted in watching him run the length of the stream and laughed at his wild shrieks of joy. There was no more struggling for him, nor hardship or pain, only unadulterated bliss, which only got better with each passing moment.

  “So, what’s it like Rose? The passing, er, being here?” I said, watching Jacob closely till he faded away.

  “Beautiful, simply beautiful.” Her mind wandered a little, as it reminisced, lost in a series of ever happier dreams. “One never has to be scared to say the word,” Rose whispered. “’tis only a word. Besides, it’s only our bodies that failed, not our imaginations; they were let loose and are now in a completely free and natural state. When Brian and I first came here, he thought the whole thing was some crazy dream. I think a tinsy little part of him still does. Now having mellowed a bit, he says even if it is, ‘tis one he never wants to wake up from.”

  “Oh, yes, Uncle Brian,” I said, “’twas strange I never met him. Mother said she found him a trifle brusque.”

  “Yes he was at times, he had a lot on his mind then, all of us did. Married to work many would say, but I think you’ll find he’s quite the card nowadays. That’s what generally happens here, it brings out the best in all of us.”

  “I can see that. And may I say you yourself look truly remarkable.”

  “Why thank you young Sam, quite the knight in shining armour you turned out to be too.”

  “Those creatures, are they real? Are they solid? Can you reach out and touch them?”

  “Your gran has once. She says they’re as real and solid as you or I,” she answered, tapping me playfully.

  “What of the others?”

  “Oh, they’re just shy. Give them time. I bet they’re just as curious about us. Existence would quickly get so dull if they all became our friends instantly.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “Aren’t they simply gorgeous?” she gushed, sighing blissfully.

  “I’ve never seen anything quite like them,” I confessed wistfully.

  “Nor are you likely to any time soon, thank the lord.”

  As the sun drifted into quiet slumber, we tarried a while talking of life, love and secrets of the universe. Aunt Rose and I sat under moonlit stars, watching three moons playfully jockeying for position across the purpling sky. Further on moved three smaller companions, different colours, but not shining as intensely. “Their babies,” Rose pointed out confidently.

  “Everything’s so intense,” I remarked. “Colours, lights, creatures, emotions. How on earth does all this happen?”

  “Sam,” she said thoughtfully, “We don’t know for sure yet, perhaps we never will. We just help it along a little with our thoughts and leave it at that. As long as it makes us happy, that is all we really need to know.”

  “Yes, I can see that now. Things are a little clearer.”

  “Good. Oh, your uncle, the tea. Come along now,” she cried, jumping up and taking to her heels at high speed. “Follow the road,” she added, smiling over her shoulder.

  Rose and her husband Brian passed together very quickly in their mid forties, but here she possessed the speed and stamina of an Olympic runner. I only just managed to keep her in sight by carefully keeping to shifts in ground levels whilst rounding each corner. Woodland passed by in a crazy blur faster and faster. Up, down, a left, a right, then another. Soon the tall, towering shapes of trees either side melded together with the scrub, bushes, grass, flowers, and the far off sounds of a soothing piping, till all I felt was the gentle, calming whoosh of wind rushing past my face. The faster I moved, the more exhilarated and energized I became.

  “You see how amazing it is?” she said, rounding the final corner, “And neither of us even out of breath!”

  We’d arrived at a quaint country cottage, thatched with finest gold heather. Thin wispy puffs of smoke drifted from the neat chimney pot and colourful plants dripped down the walls. A white, knee high picket fence enclosed the front garden. Hung over a garden gate ‘Westbury Lodge Welcome to our home’ was highlighted on a little sign.

  “It’s exactly what we’ve always wanted,” Rose confessed proudly, opening the gate quietly.

  “First let’s see what Brian’s really up to.” Tchaikovsky’s uplifting nut cracker suite drifted from the slightly ajar ground floor window.

  “Oh, look at him go! I knew it, he can’t resist – its Igor the Russian dancing bear!” she giggled. “I’ll be having a quick nap he says - my bum!” Nudging me to see the spectacle, I peered through the window, catching one of the most amazing sights ever witnessed. A giant of a man with full beard, moustache and wizard’s top hat perched on his head at a slant seemed to fill half the room. With hands clasped tightly to an imaginary partner, he whirled them round crazily to the addictive tune. When the melody reached certain memorable parts he left her momentarily to prance about on his tip toes like a playful little mouse.

  “Ah ha, caught you!” Rose exclaimed, throwing the front door open.

  “Almost,” said the fellow, sitting down clumsily. He pretended to be sheepish for a moment, then burst into laughter.

  “Guess who’s come to visit?” Rose cried. “I shall grant you three chances.”

  “Oh, dear me,” he laughed again, “Chances such as these are never to be wasted. It couldn’t possibly be gran again?”

  “No.”

  “Then, James, yes, Jolly James Jodphur the Judicious Japer from Sutton Coldfield?”

  “Don’t be so silly Brian. Besides, I told you he’s gone visiting.”

  “Yes, you did, so you did. Well, that can only leave...um...Jacob,” he said, after a lot of mock thought. “Come for your new toy son? It’s in the library drawer lad, all finished. Hop in and fetch it, bring it through, I’ll show you how it works.”

  I stepped inside. He looked up from his chair with a probing start. “Why, I know you. How could I forget? Your aunt used to show me pictures all the time. It’s, that’s right, it’s your Margaret’s lad isn’t it Rose... Sa...”

  “That’s right, Sam,” I beamed.

  “But you’re so youn...” he started. As his mind whirred his wide grin faded.

  “It’s okay Brian, everything’s fine, he’s not here to stay,” Rose stepped in.

  “Well thank the lord for that. You had me worried for a second.” Brian let out a huge sigh of relief and his enormous smile grew even larger than before. “Then come in lad, come in,” he boomed. “You are most welcome, take a seat. Here you are sit down, sit down,” he fussed, patting me soundly on the back many times. “Tell me what you’ve all been up to. Not too tired are you?” he inquired kindly.

  “No, I’m fine so far, considering,” I said, gladly taking the offered seat.

  “Considering? Sounds ominous. Problems lad?” he said, raising his eyebrow shrewdly.

  “Well young fel
low, you’ve dropped in at the right time. I’m looking to outline a new project myself and would be grateful for a few warm up exercises. I was and still am an inventor you know. Your aunt tell you that did she?”

  “Stop fussing Brian. Let the lad breathe. He can tell us all about it as and when he likes while we have tea. I promised him that much, and what sort of an aunt doesn’t make good on her promises?” she winked.

  “Rightio Rose. Just thought we could have a bit of a chat, man to man, make up for lost time.”

  Our party moved into the dining room where a grand oak table had been set with dazzling tableware.

  “We don’t have to set it you know, or wash up, though sometimes I do just for the experience,” Rose remarked. Glancing down I realised that food I’d always dreamed about, but could never afford was there waiting patiently. Succulent, delicious, those heavenly aromas wafted tenaciously everywhere. Needless to say all had been prepared and cooked to total perfection. I knew I’d never taste another meal quite like it, so savoured each bite.

  “Not too bad, eh son?” uncle questioned knowingly.

  “There are no words,” I nodded, enthusiastically trying dish after dish. In between mouthfuls I told all as well as I could possibly remember. Everything from the age of ten when my tender eyes naively thought they’d spied Rose for the last time, to the undeclared war with the evil General Davis, my work life, the arrival of Ian, everything. My recall in this place was vivid and animated. Fine details seemed much crisper, whilst reasons for certain people’s actions appeared much less annoying and rather less obtuse.

  I told them all. Nothing was to be left to chance, as craftsmen cannot work without tools. I’d only promised Ian I wouldn’t tell a soul on earth. That promise has still been kept to the letter. Brian’s expressed genuine amusement at the thoroughly embarrassing toilet incident. Throughout the winding tale his enormous brain rapidly digested and analyzed all the facts, putting them into logical order for further evaluation.

  Brian worked mainly physically, using his mind in conjunction with his hands. He thought things through logically, whereas Rose worked mainly with emotions, using deep inherent spirituality and feminine intuition. Naturally their respective solutions to most scenarios were going to turn out slightly differently. But that in itself was no bad thing. For I’ve learnt its best to listen carefully to all points of view before making final judgements.

  Rose grew emotional at my memories of her death, remarking she only wished she could have done a little more, but having just arrived here it can take an awfully long time to influence people back on earth.

  “I sent dear Gregory to that end, remember? He was the only person near you whose brain was open enough in that way. I knew in my present state I couldn’t break through your pain to reach you. I whispered orders to him as he dozed in his broom cupboard between shifts. Bless his little cotton socks, I think he thought I was a teacher talking to him as I passed his room. I wasn’t strong enough then to do much else, none of us were.”

  I remembered Gregory Basil our school caretaker alright. Unfortunately the poor chap suffered from what society now calls learning difficulties. A thin, gaunt, stick of a fellow with the mind of a confused young teenager who always wore a long, scruffy tartan scarf throughout the year, regardless of the temperature, because his mother told him he may get a nasty chill. Gregory alone guided me through the heartache, whether he was aware of it or not.

  Instead of allowing me to mope alone, he’d chase me outside to play football in the sun. Once he gave me a toy rabbit he’d found in the lost property box, claiming, ‘Miss told me to give you this.’ Luckily one thing he excelled at it was good old fashioned determination and loyalty, which lots of folk twice his intelligence hadn’t mastered. Incidentally that last message passed way over my head at the time. It was only years later I realised that rabbits had always been aunts firm favourite.

  Rose found Ian a bit of a meddler, though overall there for the greater good. Brian said he understood his humour, suggesting it granted him character and thought his behaviour, particularly the self indulgent jokes smacked of boredom. Neither could say for certain why Ian chose me, what he was really up to on earth or how I got here. Both agreed soundly Ian wouldn’t let any harm befall me, but in the same instance remained puzzled as to why he appeared to have abandoned me in this state.

  “Sounds like a damn fine chap to have on your side. If he cannot get to you, you can bet your bare behind there must be damn good reason for it,” uncle said, sitting back in his chair and lighting yet another delicious vanilla pipe. Outside the brilliant moon crested the tops of the olive tree in the garden. A tiny speck of moonlight crossed from one gleaming eye to the other. Then he remarked stoically, “So Sam, it seems you’re stuck for a time. Ordinarily I’d have said that was no bad thing, but...” he continued slowly, choosing his words especially carefully, “Sam, you are a singular case. One can eat all one likes here; you may take that to the bank. However, our food only nourishes the senses and spirit - surely it cannot do the same for your physical body, wherever that may lie.”

  Frightful tingles of electricity raced up and down my spine as his statements true significance sunk in. Aunt Rose felt it too, for she looked at me aghast for a fleeting moment.

  “A quick and practical man you are Brian, one of the many reasons I married you.”

  “I wish that it were not so on this occasion. Nevertheless, these matters must eventually be given the credence they deserve.”

  “Granted,” Rose and I agreed, wondering why we’d failed to think of such an important point before.

  Allowing a pregnant pause, Rose pursed her lips. “That Sam, if it happens will be in the far future. We must concentrate on the present. We’ll ask gran tomorrow what her feelings are on this. Elsa’s been here the longest. And there will be another opportunity at the return of James. Jolly James’ japes and jokes are merely a way to disguise his great intelligence.”

  We moved back into the sitting room, chatting gaily long into the early hours of times gone by, speculating on the meaning and future of it all.

  Some time passed when my host’s voices gradually moved slightly out of synch with their mouths; fading away into the distance. I leant back against the soft cushion, beginning to truly relax and let go of all troubles thus far. My shoulders tensed and sunk for the last time.

  Rising sun sent her first gleaming rays skipping across the brightening sky. Deep orange fingers dove down to play amongst golden meadows. In the woods talkative shadows melted before hazy spots of light, where strange creatures slipped into existence. Finally a thin, solitary beam trickled through the cottage window, warming air to an intensely relaxing daze. My eyes grew heavy and weary. By degrees the couples calming voices grew softer, till their images faded out of focus and the room spun softly in thick shades of black.