Rona giggled.
“Don’t laugh at me! I’m serious. I have no idea.”
“I’m sorry, Sarina. I had visions of heads spinning around 360 degrees and eyes popping out of their sockets. I think you’ve read too many horror books.” Rona twisted around and looked Sarina in the eye. “Mental afflictions are nothing to laugh about. I’m sorry. But to answer your question, there are many varieties—probably as many varieties as there are people diagnosed with a mental illness. Goodness knows, if they tested me thoroughly, those men in white coats might be tempted to take me away too.” She sighed. “It’s complex, Sarina. You might never know that someone isn’t quite right in the head. It could be simple obsessive behaviour, it could be they see things we don’t, it could be an inability to relate to other humans.”
“Oh.” Sarina sat back. The whole thing sounded very mysterious to her. She had visions of men and women in white coats diagnosing people using special gadgets strapped to their heads. A memory of her walking down the street with an intense expression of determination, wearing one of the Professor’s shiny headshields and carrying a powerful rem-collider wrapped in a sack, popped into her head. She burst out laughing.
Rona looked back at her again with a deadpan expression. “Sudden bouts of involuntary laughter are also typical characteristics you know.”
Sarina stopped laughing. “Really—Oh! You’re teasing me.”
“You were the one who started laughing first. But it’s good to see you laugh. You’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders since that panel.”
Sarina smiled and nodded, relaxed back into her seat, and watched the countryside flash past as they drove. A thought niggled at her and she tried to prise it loose. Something Rona had said? She sat bolt upright. “Wait!”
The car lurched as Sarina’s mother touched the brakes. “Sarina! What are you doing? ‘Wait’ what? Can’t you see I’m driving?”
“Sorry. But something Rona said reminded me.”
“Do go on.” Rona glanced back.
“Men in white coats’.”
Sarina’s mother looked up in the rear view mirror and narrowed her gaze. “What about them?”
“That woman at the record’s office said some eggheads had wanted information about my great-aunts. Eggheads. Men in white coats. Scientists. Why were they interested in your aunties?”
Rona nodded slowly. “Now that is a very good question. I suppose we might find out very soon.”
Sarina wondered if that was the case. Dratted meddling scientists! Everywhere she went. At least this time she’d managed to get something they couldn’t. But where it was leading ... who knew?
~ 6 ~
Experiments
They arrived with half-an-hour to spare before the Archival Unit was due to close. George—a much younger man than Sarina had imagined from his name—had been well-briefed, since he greeted them by name in a rather pleasing Irish brogue. Sarina scratched her head and tried to think. Had June Bradfield known all their names? She didn’t think so. Probably Agent Blanchard’s doing. She shook the thought free and focused on the tall Irish man now leading them down a musty corridor and into a small, sparsely-furnished and brightly lit room. In the centre was one large trestle-style table, upon which was a cardboard box. An old cardboard box.
George motioned to them to take a seat, and he pulled away a chair so Rona could wheel herself in. “So, I’m instructed to tell you, so I am, that you can ignore the five o’clock closing time and stay as late as you wish. I’ll be here for you as long as you need, so I will. Don’t feel as if you need to rush now. I’ll be—”
“Can I ask a question?” Sarina interrupted.
George’s face broke out into a huge smile. “Why of course you can, my lovely. Now what will it be you’d like to know?”
“Why would scientists be interested in my great-aunts?”
George’s smile grew bigger. “That would be on account of their famous experiments—famous in their day, to be sure.” He leaned close and whispered. “Only now the department’s put a stop to that, and pulled all the records into high-level security.” He straightened and scratched his chin. “In the last couple of years, if I remember meself rightly.”
“Why would they do that?” Rona said.
George grinned again. “It’d be you that’d know the answers to that, or at least, that’d be my reasoning.” His brow creased. “Or are you telling me you don’t know about your own aunts’ experiments?”
They shook their heads in unison.
His grin split his face wide. “Why then, I’ll leave you the pleasure of discoverin’ that for yourselves then. I won’t rob a young lady of a bit of a surprise. Suffice to say you should be asking your dad all about a certain Albert Einstein when you get home.”
Sarina’s stomach lurched, and an image of her father—from the photo her mother carried around in her purse—flashed into her mind. “I don’t have a dad. He died before I was born.”
George’s grin dropped and he looked embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Miss, so I am. Puttin’ my foot in it again. Please accept my apologies.” He bowed and backed out of the room. She caught her mother looking at her.
“I’m sorry too, sweetie. If he was here, he would have told you all about Einstein, I’m sure.”
Sarina drew herself up. Her father had died while her mother was pregnant. She’d had plenty of occasions when she’d had to tell someone something similar to what she’d just told George. Why had she felt that pang in her tummy this time? A reaction to the name Einstein? Goodness knows, Nathan had talked about the man enough. She shrugged it off.
“Doesn’t matter, Mum. I’ve got you and Rona. Who would want more?” She flashed a smile at them both, took a deep breath and lifted the lid off the box. “Now let’s see if we can discover what mysterious secret these old ladies are hiding, since George seems to think there is one.”
Sarina’s mother pursed her lips. “They weren’t old when they were institutionalised, Sarina. I was thinking about that, and according to my rough calculations, Wendy must have been about nineteen and Samantha twenty.”
Rona sighed. “So young. Sarina, pass me that first file and we’ll dig in. Shout if you think you’ve found George’s little secret. Famous experiments? Whatever next?”
They spent the next forty-odd minutes sifting through quite a history of creative endeavours—albeit in reverse, since the most recent files were at the top.
Great-Aunt Wendy had blossomed into a fabulous soprano singer—though due to her condition, which, so the files said, consisted of frequent blackouts and moments where she had claimed to see into other worlds—meant she’d been unable to travel. Sarina saw one newspaper clipping where a critic from the time had written, ‘Wendy Masterton has managed to do what no other artist has done to this leathery old critic: she made me cry. Five times in one evening.’ Rona let out a low whistle when Sarina read the article out. “Creativity runs deep in your family, Sarina.”
“It must have missed me then. But look at this.” Sarina’s mother held up a pastel sketch of a thuggish looking man with wild hair and a crazed look in his eyes.
“Wow!” both Sarina and Rona exclaimed in unison, and laughed.
“Stimulates quite the reaction, doesn’t it?” Rona said, wheeling across to peer at the drawing. “Just looking at his eyes sends a shiver down my spine.”
Sarina’s mother nodded. “She certainly had a talent.”
“Was that Wendy again?” Sarina asked.
“No. This is Samantha’s. There’s more like it too.” She pulled out a sheaf of colourful sketches and passed them across to Sarina, one-by-one. More ugly and vicious-looking characters, as well as men in wigs wearing black robes; what looked like a doctor behind some kind of pulpit; a long bench-like seat with two rows of men and women seated overlooking a low wood-panelled barrier.
Sarina pored over the vivid images, moving from one to another, soaking in the detailed lines; the
blended colours; the stunning lifelike faces. Her great-aunt’s art was outstanding. She may well have created them with skilful sweeping pastels and precise pencil-shading, but these sketches were much more than mere sketches. They were alive. She looked up at Rona. “She was a court sketch artist.”
Rona nodded. “And a brilliant one by the looks of it. I had a regular customer at the shop who was a court sketch artist—she came in to buy my home made pastels. This type of artist is a dying breed I think. It’s all done electronically now, which is a shame. She told me in the 60’s and 70’s they were in huge demand—all the newspapers wanted juicy pictures of criminals splashed over the front pages. But you’re not allowed to take photos or even draw in a courtroom in England, even now, so they have to recreate them from memory. She told me they often had to sketch them out in as little as twenty minutes because of the paper’s deadlines for the next day’s edition.” Rona pulled out a single image from the file. “See what I mean? Look at this: your Great-Aunt Samantha has had to study this person in court and memorise their features.”
Sarina moved around to look at the sketch. “That’s amazing. How did she do that?”
“Indeed,” Rona murmured. She pointed to the sketch they were looking at. A young woman, with straggly black hair, a pale face and crooked teeth. But that was not what Rona was pointing to. It was the eyes. They were hollow and wide; giving the impression of moving in panic. “How she captured that emotion is quite brilliant. Very tricky to do—and all in the eyes.” She looked at Sarina. “And she wasn’t just sketching from memory, but sketching with life pouring out of her. Such talent.” She shook her head. “What a shame.”
“Shame?” Sarina’s mother gave Rona quizzical look.
Rona nodded. “For such talent to be locked away. Though by the look of some of these files, she was still employed by some courts until her old age. I wonder if they knew she was stark-raving mad?” She poked her tongue out at Sarina.
Sarina slapped Rona’s shoulder. “Rona! You’re frightful. Have some respect for my aunts!”
Rona smiled. “Respect is what I have, my dear. These girls were talented—no—they were gifted.” Her face screwed up in thought. “But why did they end up locked away?”
“Bad genes?” Sarina’s mother said.
“Maybe. But even though we’ve seen their considerable skills, we still haven’t found anything about these experiments George mentioned.”
Sarina pulled out the last file. “I guess it’s in here then. Which means whatever these famous experiments were, they were carried out when they were both young.” Going through the papers had immersed her in the lives of her unknown relatives, lived in reverse. Great-Aunt Samantha had also been involved in sketching wanted posters: composite images created from witnesses’ descriptions. She’d come across a few examples in the file—they looked like real people. Rona was right, the eyes were what stood out.
The records had also brought the women to life—she’d learned of Wendy’s love of fresh strawberries, demanded both before and after any concert. And Samantha’s odd comments she’d jotted on some of her sketches: ‘The fire that lives within’ and ‘I see him, and he doesn’t see me.’ The journey through their records had fascinated her, and she was a little disappointed to have reached the last file.
“Go on then. George’s secret must be in that one. Open it.” Rona flicked her eyes at the last file.
Sarina opened the cardboard outer protecting a ream of papers thicker than any of the others, and laid the contents on the top of the table.
The first item she saw was another newspaper clipping. This one had a photo of a friendly-looking older man with glasses gazing out at her. The headline read: ‘Famous Scientist Visits The UK.’
She looked under the photo at the caption, and felt her stomach plummet at the same time as she held her breath. She made a strange sound in her throat that sounded like a gargle.
“Sarina! What is it?” Her mother moved to her side.
Sarina pointed to the photo and let her breath out in a rush. “George’s secret.”
Her mother and Rona looked at the clipping, then back at Sarina, both puzzled.
“I don’t understand,” Rona said. “What’s so upsetting about that? The report says he was here working with exceptionally creative young people. Obviously that’s why he was put in touch with your great-aunts.”
“Look. At. His. Name.” Sarina spoke through gritted teeth.
Rona read it out and then stared up at Sarina. “Dr Nathan Rosen? What’s so special about him?”
~ 7 ~
Trains And Limos
Sarina’s mother had taken her and Rona to the railway station, and they’d just had time for a few tearful goodbyes when it was time to get on board for the trip back to London. Her mother had watched and waved to them as they eased away from the platform.
Now the train lurched and tilted on its high-speed mission. Her friend sat opposite, nestled into a special alcove with her wheelchair. She looked back at Sarina and raised her eyes. “You’re still certain it’s the same man?”
“Yes. How could I forget that boy’s incessant bragging about his famous great-great-grandfather?”
“Nathan is ‘that boy’ now, is he?” Rona smiled. “I thought he was one of your best friends. The two of you have shared an experience that no one else on this earth has. Why is he out of favour now?”
Sarina heaved a big sigh. “I suppose he’s not. It’s just ... it’s all these pompous scientists pretending to know more than we do.”
“And you think they don’t?”
Sarina gave Rona a suspicious look. “After what happened to my great-aunts? You read the papers too. That dratted Dr Rosen must have been experimenting with something very similar to Professor Harrison’s rem-particles. It’s obvious to me what happened—it fried their brains. No wonder Wendy kept claiming to be seeing into other worlds. It’s probably because she was!” Sarina folded her arms. “I’ll be having something to say to Nathan when I see him next.”
“He can’t be held responsible for his great-great-grandfather, Sarina, and you know it.”
Sarina pouted. “I can shut him up from ever mentioning his name though.” A smile lit up her face. “He’ll be very surprised to find my great-aunts worked with his great-great-grandfather. He’ll never live it down.”
Rona said nothing, but looked thoughtful for a few minutes.
“What is it?” Sarina said.
Rona chewed her lip. “There’s something odd going on. You might not be old enough to get what I mean—but did you see any reason why any of Dr Rosen’s experiments should be classified under the Official Secrets Act?”
Sarina shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. But it didn’t seem like it. Just some boring old brain experiments. Why? What do you think is odd about it?”
“Why would someone go to all those lengths to protect something that isn’t worth protecting?”
“George thought it was fun, hiding some secret from me. He—”
“That’s it!”
Sarina was puzzled. “That’s it? It was George?”
Rona shook her head and laughed. “No. ‘Hiding’. When you said hiding, it dawned on me. There’s nothing secret about those records—I think they were archived with a ‘classified’ tag on them so someone could bury them. They didn’t want the information accessible.”
Sarina frowned. “Now I’m really lost. Why?”
“That’s the thing, isn’t it. I have no idea.”
Rona looked out the window, then back at Sarina. “We’re only another half an hour or so from the station. Why don’t you tell me how you can incorporate these unexpected revelations into your work next week?”
Sarina sat back and thought for a while. The idea of going away to uncover some family history, to learn something about herself, and to take a break from the intensity of art school; it all seemed so long ago now. She’d been thrown by the discovery that her great-aunts had not gone mad be
cause of their genes flicking some bad switch in their brains, but because of yet another meddling scientist. She’d been angry, and taken it out on her biggest supporters, and even lashed out at Nathan in his absence. What was there to learn? That she still had a temper? That she hated science? But something had touched her about her great-aunts. So creative. At least she’d enjoyed uncovering the strong thread of artistic skills running in her family. And those beautiful court sketches, in vivid pastel. How she would love to be able to capture the essence of a person like that. She nodded to herself.
“Well?” Rona had a mischievous look. “Has some momentous change occurred in that busy head of yours?”
Sarina pulled herself out of her reverie. “Um ... yes, actually. I was surprised they were both so creative. I think I could learn something from Great-Aunt Samantha’s court drawings. They were brilliant. I think I need to study people more. You know—their personalities?”
Rona burst out laughing.
“What?” Sarina said.
“So you can paint angry pictures of evil scientists looking like criminals?”
Sarina couldn’t help but see the funny side of it, and joined in the laughter. “I’ll ask Nathan to model for me.” She barely got the words out before the giggles took over again. They proceeded to come up with image after image of famous scientists in court for outrageous offences, until they were unable to speak, holding their stomachs and wiping tears from their cheeks.
The train gave a final lurch and came to a halt.
“We’re here!” Sarina wheezed, still laughing, and stood up to steer Rona to the exit.
“Oh dear.” Rona wiped her eyes and tried to compose herself. “That was good.” She turned around and smiled at Sarina. “Just what we needed—a good laugh.”
Sarina nodded and pushed Rona off the train and onto the platform, and had to stop when a man stepped out in front of them holding a sign.
“Ms Metcalfe?” He pointed to the sign, which said ‘Ms Sarina Metcalfe’. He looked down. “And you must be Rona?”
The Dreamer Chronicles Trilogy Boxed Set Vol I - III: A Sci-Fi Parallel Universe Adventure (The Dreamer Chronicles - Science Fiction For Kids And Adults) Page 70
