Chapter 19
Late June melted into a stifling early July. Tuesday the sixth to be more specific. In our reality life in the Johnson household settled down, going on pretty much as normal. Ian was still here now and then as he fancied, whenever he felt the need to use me as a sounding board for outlandish theories, ridiculously farfetched stories and silly jokes.
Father had been working many extra hours, hinting he was out having oodles of fun with old friends, but I knew ‘twas so he could purchase the family a single gift each for the festive period. I was on my way to work, when who should return? One who nobly knighted himself the king of kings. Not even bothering to say hello, he piped up with, “I’ve been thinking. This James fellow, I should very much like to meet him.”
“That can be arranged,” I smiled, surprised with my new found gallows humour.
“Crude jokes simply don’t suit you Sam.”
“Never claimed they did.”
“Never said you did,” Ian replied, saying, “Oh, this is tiresome.”
“You started it all.”
“Didn’t.”
“Did so.”
“Did not. Oh, yes, I see what you mean; I did didn’t I, good eh?”
“If you say so.”
“Thanks Sam, a joker cannot live without his audience.”
“I’m just glad you’re finally growing up Ian.”
“Here, found this,” he said proudly, dropping a new pencil. How clever of him. An object falling from thin air, yes, that would prove incredibly easy to explain! As far as I was concerned he was becoming far too complacent, flying too close to the wind for comfort, and once more before I was able to call him on these points he disappeared, leaving the statement, “Don’t be a stranger!” and cheerfully deserted me once more. It was an ordinary pencil sure enough, of good quality with the letters J B stamped near the top. At that point it wouldn’t have surprised me if he’d stolen it. Ian really was getting stranger and stranger all the time. I vowed to be ready for him next time, continuing into the building.
“Ah, Samuel, right on time as usual.” Checking his watch was Mr Davis - proprietor of ‘Ariana P Davis Financiers.’ He was an old, sprightly gentleman, who chose the name to grant his dear wife a part in his business and wore a monocle pressed precariously against his eye. His zeal for business and working numbers perfectly matched my own.
His company existed purely to provide secured loans to big business, but more recently to carefully vetted individuals who’d demonstrated an instinctive ability to grasp a promising project with both hands and wring every last idea out of it. The man was canny indeed, possessing an unfailing predator’s eye for such people.
Recently he’d hinted he may retire soon and had grand plans for the lucky predecessor. To say my views were mixed on this after the past six months would be moot; but I’d given a level of commitment with respect to a certain period’s service. In return the kindly fellow had promised assurances of fair conduct, and in writing. In those days this was quite rare. So it was with great reverence I shook his outstretched hand as vigorously and sincerely as I could muster.
A youth even younger than me stood by his side looking sheepish, whom Mr Davis suavely introduced as his wife’s cousin, one Julian Brisket. “Julian will be staying with us for a while Samuel. I wanted to introduce you two in person.”
“Pleased to meet you Julian,” I said, extending a warm welcome.
“Thanks Ssssam,” he stammered, nervously mumbling something along the lines of ‘get up to speed.’ His feet constantly shuffled to and fro almost independently.
“Julian, Mrs Stahl is expecting you upstairs in accounts, I’ll fill you in later.” Off the jumpy character went. “The boy’s got a highly logical brain I’m told, despite the erm, other problems, which I’m sure we can work through. I promised we’d look after him for now. I trust you’ll keep him on the straight and narrow. Sam show the lad the ropes, see if he has any real promise.”
“I shall introduce him to the chains we keep in our dungeon as well if I may sir.”
“Show him whatever you like as long as it’s during break,” he laughed out loud, granting me a friendly nudge.
“Well, must be off. Time waits for no man a wise philosopher once said.” “Never met my wife,” he mumbled, walking straight out the main door, half turning on the hoof. “Oh, Sam, get on to maintenance will you, it’s getting awfully cold here at nights - middle of blooming July as well.” “God’s work is never done,” he added, lowering his voice. “Have another word with Ged as well, those hairy little buggers footprints are all over the back yard again,” he confessed, touching his nose conspiratorially.
“Will do sir.” This could prove a godsend. After all that had happened so far I had future plans which didn’t involve this office. If Julian was half the brain he was cracked up to be, this could prove my ticket out of here. Life wouldn’t be easy of course; slogging up to the good parts rarely was. Extra hours would have to be worked to compensate for the increased workload, but I could have him up and running at my speed in six months. Mr Davis could have his new manager, and I could have a new life.
I trotted up to work on a high. Two hours later I was toiling on the new Parson’s account. Seems the poor chap had finally got his act together. He must have done to convince shrewd Mr Davis to finance him I can tell you. Who the devil calculated these projected figures though I wondered, flabbergasted at such obvious errors. Seems they just plucked them out of thin air, jumbling them up a few more times for good measure. No wonder the amateur didn’t have the good grace to sign their names to it. I’d have been ashamed to too. A sudden draught caught the top page, spiralling it perilously close to the open window. It was lucky I now had my own little office off the beaten track where Ian’s childish outbursts were unlikely to be observed. I flew over there, determined not to let the document escape unchallenged, and there he was stood right in front of me - Mr Julian Brisket. “Er, you’re a sneaky one, didn’t see you come in.”
“Mr Davis needs the Peterson account,” he said, betraying none of the previous nervousness. He’d been with Esther all morning. I bet she’d been mothering him I thought. She was like that with all new starters, the old dear.
“Have it right here,” I replied, checking my heavy filing cabinet behind. “Oh, the bliss of the English alphabet, ‘tis such a time saver,” I joked, “Here you go fellow.”
“There’s something missing,” he said dully, thumbing through the thick file at an incredible pace. There’s no way he could have read it that quickly, unless he really was some sort of prodigy. “Really? I don’t think so Julian, I’m normally very thorough.” I turned back round to the cabinet to investigate further, only to be struck heavily from behind. I came to balanced unnaturally against the cabinet. In between thick menacing fog rolled a terrifying guttural hissing, as if a creature’s windpipe were being used for the first time. Words formed after what seemed an age, in two echoing voices before gaining any semblance of meaning.
Julian dragged me to my feet, thrusting my face into the open cabinet drawer, squeezing my throat tighter and tighter. “Sam, tell of her.”
My mind fell utterly blank and a terrific pounding in my head grew worse. “Who? You’re mad,” I screamed wildly.
“Where is she Sam?” the voice hissed again.
“I never ask more than once,” grated the second.
“Leave now and I won’t inform Mr...” I gasped weakly, hopelessly caught in the grips of temporary amnesia.
“As you wish. Will find her the painful way,” they sighed together, squeezing even tighter. Julian whirled me round away from the wall, throwing me over the table. I heard a dangerous crack and knew I was seriously injured and helpless.
The next second a blast of wind pinned me to the back wall, picked Julian up and tossed him like a rag doll through the window, which exploding outwards like a bomb, taking half the wall with it. The sickly crack of bone echoed dully from th
e pavement far below. My poor, innocent office lay in tatters. Debris and brick dust were scattered everywhere, whirling round in weird, confusing cones. Desperate, deafening screams echoed over and over. Later I knew they’d been mine. Where the window once lay drifted Ian’s adrenalin charged voice. “Sweet baby Jesus and the orphans, look at them go!”
“Ian, what the hell?” I screamed, knowing my life was now over.
“Will speak later Sam, am off to see the wizard!” he giggled insanely. When the room cleared everything was back to normal and I was sat at my desk shaking uncontrollably, doubting any wizard in his right mind would want to see him. What sort of weird madness was this? What had the crazy fool just done? I wanted out and fast. The clock struck twelve and I nervously made my way downstairs, very worried about a repeat incident.
On my way there Mrs Stahl assured me Julian had been with her all morning and was very fast at her tests. At lunch I sat thinking deeply. In the meantime most food made its way down my freshly pressed shirt. Whilst changing into it a spare in the toilets I whispered uselessly to Ian for an explanation, but his silence lay unbroken, so I trudged back to work. That hot, muggy July afternoon, instead of working I thought. Yet this only led to more unanswerable questions cropping up, like strange verbal torture.
Home time arrived and I rushed outside, dodging youths playing street soccer. An unfortunate looking young fellow inquired as to the time, as the rusty tin can passing for a football trundled over my newly polished shoes.
Later I sat in my bed chamber staring mindlessly out of the window, blind to the picturesque summer scenery and gazing deeply into the mirror, unhappily hoping some older legends were true, and one really could find answers to such odd questions, even ones hearts desires if only one looked into the glass at certain precise angles. It worked for a chap in a book I once read when very young, but there were consequences, and that was just a book wasn’t it?
I sat and waited, then waited some more. The hour touched three am and a brilliant yellow moon still hung high over the misty dew dressed meadows. Her gorgeous beams trickled silently across a starless sky, slowly forming a gleaming golden arch over the woods. I looked closer, intrigued.
Smatterings of thick grey smog rolled up languidly from hidden valleys yonder, yielding the startled lowing of steaming black and white beasts taking shelter under the wise old oak tree. Out there the air itself parted, allowing an immortal spirit to return. Gentle whistling noises behind pulled my head bolt upright to ‘face him.’
“Still up? Thought you’d be fast asleep dreaming of friendly giants, mischievous imps, defeating mighty dragons and rescuing beautiful princesses’ now the world’s back to normal.”
“Hardly back to normal though is it?”
“What d’ y’ mean kind sir?”
“Besides the incident at work and ignoring me afterwards you mean? Those points don’t quite sit right.”
“Er, the incident?”
“Forgotten already have you? Figures.”
“Oh, you mean the incident?” he said, mocking my emphasis.
“Dealt with Sam. Is that what you’ve been up half the night worrying yourself to death for? Forget about it.”
“Fine bedside manner you’ve got. And just how would you suggest I forget about it Doctor Peters? It happened didn’t it?”
“Well, it happened sure enough, you were there. But then again, it hasn’t, d’ y’ see?” he said mysteriously.
“Yes, thanks again for letting me in on the plot Ian. I suppose ‘tis only fair seeing as I’m the target,” I threw sarcastically. “If you’re ready to answer one thing, just tell me what you did to those two characters when you were giggling at the window. Surely you remember that much?”
“Just... just chased them around a bit,” he admitted in odd blank intervals, just like a naughty schoolboy.
“Chased them around a bit? How old are you - three?!” I cried, bewildered and strangely amused. I bit my tongue, trying not to laugh - such odd behaviour shouldn’t be encouraged. I’d stake my future if I’d asked where he’d been I’d have faced the equally vague answer ‘out.’
“So there’ll be no trouble later?”
“Not from them fellows.”
I drew a deep, cleansing breath. “Good.” Edward, I now formed a small idea of how fatherhood may work. Realising it was going to take extensive planning and boundless patience, I vowed to start research that very day.
Ian coughed deeply and rain fell just outside my window, leaving mysterious little trails meandering down the lane. The odd fellow wasn’t any more forthcoming than that on this subject that morning. I surmised his long, tiring hunt, coupled with the traumatic loss of his precious energy served to affect him in more ways than were apparent too. It seemed even spiritual beings such as him could suffer forgivable patches of forgetfulness and eccentricity like most of us. He’d found the clue with the pencil sure enough, though no wonder he couldn’t put it all together so neatly like in the past.
Still, despite this developing problem we talked long into the night like old friends. Finally Ian fell quiet. Outside rain ceased, dawn finally broke, and as I slipped into a happy dream I heard sleepy chirps somewhere in the distance, weird faint cries fading across the way and the far off chime of a lonely church bell.
Sir Ian Peters Page 19
