Chapter 14
Several wonderful days passed which were spent exploring, eagerly attempting to map the area. I always like to gain a good understanding of prominent landmarks for future reference. Back home it made me feel a little safer. One never knows when the lie of the land may prove useful. Moonlit nights were mostly spent gawping in awe at the island, making mental notes and trying to make out new constellations under strange stars. Then early one morning came the invite, thrown neatly through the open sitting room window by a passing young boy, who had a far more important engagement.
“Am meeting Henry, see you later,” he said, speeding off up the track.
“Who’s Henry?” I asked Rose.
“Oh, er... Henry the tree. Henry the hazelnut tree,” she coughed.
“Henry the Tree? And he chats to him as if he were real?” I said, much amused. “Surely that boy has a fine imagination. We could make a promising writer out of him.”
“Apparently so. I’ve never heard Henry talking when I’ve been there, but stranger things have happened,” she declared, pointing at me, herself and the magical world.
“True,” I agreed, picking up the rolled note tied neatly with a dainty red ribbon.
We were cordially invited to celebrate my favourite aunts great, great grandmother’s mother’s ‘first day.’ ‘First day’ meaning the day she became fully aware and conscious of her new existence. The first few days didn’t count, because she remained asleep for most of them.
When we arrived I found her transformation incredible. Aida was alive in practically every sense of the word and spoke with such depth, lucidity and passion it was hard to believe this was the same person. Her face had changed too, no glasses for a start. Skin was tighter, plump, and far less wrinkly, suggesting during her slumber she’d been fully hydrated and pumped with nourishing food and vitamins.
Hair was noticeably straighter and darker. The lady’s back was no longer bent, and she happily sat up straight without pain. I wasn’t currying favour when I remarked her appearance was of a much younger woman, and that it was extremely difficult for me to acknowledge the fact she was one hundred and eight!
My word Aida could talk! Nonstop, always using energetic gestures to express her astonishment at this fact and that one, this person and the other. Every so often excitement would build up to such a degree she’d leap to her feet and hug everyone, taking them by surprise.
One couldn’t mistake her family connection on Aunt Rose’s side. Eventually Brian could contain himself no longer. “Hey watch it girl, tea stains you know!” he joked, provoking her to more laughter and more hugs. Talk on her travels here was short and sweet. Apparently she never passed through the same stages as the rest of them. She remembered being in a hospice, feeling a little woozy, then slipping into a dream. Her next memory was our bewildering meeting in the woods. Since then she’d been steadily improving beyond her wildest dreams.
“So you got a by. You probably deserved it,” Brian piped up.
Our party nodded in agreement, so Brian decided chancing his luck. “So, tell me Aida, who is Danny? Got yourself a younger fancy man I shouldn’t wonder!”
“I honestly don’t know. I don’t rightly remember knowing anyone by that name, worse luck!” she said, gamely entering into the spirit of things.
“That’s a shame. Looks like I’ll have to start making all the juicy gossip up before long,” he pouted. As much as I cared to stay, a quick check of the clock revealed that time was pressing.
“Sam, the things I can tell you. Come by later before you go, I’ll give you pointers that will stand you in good stead,” Aida promised amiably. I nodded enthusiastically. One hundred and eight years is an unimaginable amount of time to accumulate useful information, so it would be awfully wise to listen to her. I left the happy little company to it in the end, slipping quietly out the back door, while they giggled like naughty schoolchildren. I had an important engagement to attend.
For the past week James had schooled me daily, emphasising the importance of my forthcoming trip out of here. Today would be my tenth lesson. After the third tap on James door the happy fellow shouted ‘enter!’ in a deliberately assertive, yet playful manner.
“Ah ha, there you are Sam!” he cried, moving over to his work space covered with many large maps listing dozens of destinations, some connected with orange ink and accompanying highlighted red stars.
“Going somewhere James?”
“You can bet your freshest pair of underpants I am. Will be taking Mary with me this time. ‘tis most enriching to find a partner who shares ones passion for exploration. If you should find such a girl Sam hold on to her with both hands. Frees the soul from doubt you know, knowing ones enthusiasm for a certain topic isn’t boring them. Out there the sand is soft and golden, the water blue and warm, and Mary, bless her, just adores friendly dolphins. This is going to be perfect for the both of us!” he beamed, gazing far off into the distance in contentment, rubbing his hands together vigorously.
“Sounds amazing James, where is this Lake Titicaaca?” I asked, peering at his map a touch closer. “Ah, ah!” he replied, waggling his fingers. “You’ll find out when you’re supposed to, not a moment before. I’ve agreed to help you get out of here, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. I’m sorry Sam, but if I filled your head with endless stories of entire new worlds, how could I be sure some other piece of key data would not exit? And if that were to happen my young friend, I should never forgive myself.”
“Sam, I get the feeling this will probably be our last full session, so feel free to ask me anything you please, as long as it’s relevant to the situation at hand. And I’ve formed a hypothesis, not yet complete, but a working one nonetheless. Sit down, let me run it by you. Having thought long on this singular matter, here’s where we are so far. Our very good friend the angel who watches over every one of us is a big part of our path into here, and from what I can gather for you the heavenly girl is also a way out. Give me a moment to explain further. Being a mischievous, prying young imp, in your dream you found that the miniature in the garden well had a working instrument. The fact that it was crushed, leaving a lasting bruise suggests its importance. I also imagine someone wanted us to know that in certain circumstances the full version could be coaxed to play.”
“I’ve studied that magnificent lady much myself, but then Sam, you have access to various other areas we do not. For instance the mysterious hum you spoke of which was present at the midnight walk with Ian on earth and the weird shape shifting door. We cannot hear it, but none of us have had the pleasure of Ian’s company. And that my good man is precisely my point. When Ian took you on that wild walk in the woods, he inadvertently left you with this extra auditory sense, presumably one of many he was born with. ‘tis only a faint shadow of its former self though, explaining why you hear it louder at some times than others. He has already confided in you that being around him has bestowed upon you the great gift of longevity. Perhaps he hasn’t realised this extra souvenir yet. I always like to cover all eventualities, but know this Sam - If we can find a way to accentuate and augment this endowment, even temporarily, then it shall boost your ability to pick up clues that are beyond us.” I agreed, happy things were making a little more sense.
“What I propose is you take yourself off on a journey around town to soak up our atmosphere. True, sounds a bit casual, but I’m counting on a positive outcome to complete a theory I’m currently working through. You see, when a person is by themselves for an extended period free from outside influences, their senses can become vastly more acute. Ascetic’s round the globe swear to this. In the meantime I’ll be trying my best to create a miracle. Over the past two weeks I’ve been attempting to recreate a working miniature musical harp.”
“Sounds like a big undertaking.”
“Things are progressing as projected. I hope to have it with you before the end of the week, with full instructions. The poor fellow will only live lo
ng enough to serve his purpose, which is all we need. You see to my mind, our solution lies with sound waves. Much as a singer of a certain pitch may shatter a glass, I attest an exact replica of our angel’s harp will resonate at the precise frequency necessary to produce the desired effect. Bear in mind I cannot predict what that effect will be just yet. However, once the frequency is in the bag, I don’t expect any outcome other than favourable.”
“I can see why folk flock to you for help,” I murmured, much impressed.
“Thank you Sam, ‘tis always great fun when they do too. And just what else were you wondering about?” he asked, catching a strong whiff of uncertainty still tainting the air.
“Why do I keep getting strange tingling sensations in my fingers and tips of my toes?”
“Pins and needles my dear boy,” he answered emphatically.
“Oh, yes!” I agreed, feeling a tad foolish.
“Now, I have some work here to complete. Love to show you round, but first things first you know.”
“I’ll leave you to it, will see you nearer the end of the week, and thanks again for the lessons. If they don’t help me get home safely nothing will.”
“Child’s play. It’ll be like you never left!” he assured me.
What a most agreeable chap. I shall always remember him I thought, letting myself out.
Sir Ian Peters Page 14
