by Hughes, Rhys
Gran invited Jenny into the living room, where a comfortable sofa was waiting for her. “I trained rooks to fly through your window, snatch you up and bring you here,” she explained, “but when they got to your house they were frightened by a scarecrow.”
“By a scarecrow! Really?”
“That’s what I said,” said Gran.
“That’s a bit suspicious, isn’t it? They were rooks, not crows,” pointed out Jenny, but Gran explained that they belonged to the same family and that such birds are very trustworthy.
“But we don’t own a scarecrow,” said Jenny.
“I think they went to the wrong window and saw the matchstick model of your Mum in the attic,” replied Gran.
“Yes, I suppose that was traumatic for them. Too bad! But what other plots did you formulate to rescue me?”
“I started digging a tunnel. If you go into the cellar, you can see it for yourself, but it’s difficult judging direction underground, so I veered off course and when I surfaced I found myself in the basement of the Town Hall, which was full of giant spiders.”
“Did they attempt to eat you?” Jenny asked.
Gran made a disgusted face. “Yes, but I fought them with my shovel and bashed one of them dead. The others had more respect for me then, I can tell you! When I was young we didn’t have shovels. We just had big flat hands instead, but they all shrank.”
Jenny shifted herself on the sofa and smiled at Gran. “I’m touched by the efforts you’ve made on my behalf.”
Gran returned the smile and said:
“You’d be even more touched if I still had a pair of those big hands! I could touch things all in one go, without having to run my fingers along them. Life was much better back then.”
“I thought you said the old days were worse?”
“Yes, yes, Jenny, but worse things are sometimes better. The name for this contradiction is a ‘paradox’. Anyway, we can’t sit here gossiping all day. We must get down to some work!”
“What do you mean by that?” Jenny cried.
“Have you forgotten that we pledged to travel into space and conquer the stars together? To rule the galaxy?”
“Oh!” gasped Jenny in relief. “For one horrid moment I thought you meant unpleasant work, like delivering newspapers or washing cars or pulling up weeds in the garden. Phew!”
“We didn’t have gardens when I was your age. Weeds lived indoors like pets and most cars had square wheels and newspapers were printed on boulders,” said Gran with a deep sigh.
Jenny frowned. “You still haven’t told me about the successful scheme that finally resulted in my freedom…”
Gran tapped the side of her nose with a wrinkled finger. “I forged an official letter and sent it to your parents. I pretended to be a professional psychologist and told them to let you go.”
“Sir Doctor Professor Narg, Ph.D? That’s you!”
“Yes, I simply reversed my real name, which is Gran, and thus came up with a cunning alias,” beamed Gran.
Jenny whistled through her teeth in appreciation. “Narg=Gran. That is pure genius! It fooled them totally!”
Gran grinned but then adopted a more sombre look. “Jenny, I’ve been racking my brains for weeks but I still don’t see any way we can get into outer space with our limited resources.”
Her comment soured the atmosphere. Gran was reminded of the fact that the atmosphere was always sour when she was a girl, partly because oxygen tasted of lemons back then.
“I wish I had started a space program when I was the dictator of this realm,” lamented Jenny, “but it’s too late for those kinds of regrets now. I do have something that may help us.”
“Really? What’s that, dude?”
Jenny told Gran about what had happened with Boris.
Gran listened very carefully.
Then she said, “He only had geometric shapes in his food cupboards? And he was purple with five eyes and a mouth on a string? I’m fairly sure this means he’s not from Carrington.”
“That was exactly my thought!” cried Jenny. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “In fact, I don’t think he’s even from planet Earth, but when I asked him about his origins, he just kept repeating that he was a vegan. I already knew that! It’s quite strange.”
“You didn’t tell your parents about any of this?”
Jenny shook her head. “Absolutely not! I remained chatting with Boris until midnight, which is when Mum and Dad always go to bed, and then I sneaked back home. I don’t think Mum knows that Boris is scaly, despite the fact he’s her current illicit lover.”
Gran said, “This gives me food for thought.”
Jenny rubbed her chin. “What kind of food? I hope it’s not cubes and pyramids? It came as a surprise to me to learn that vegans only eat shapes like that. They can’t be very tasty…”
Gran went into another room to fetch a book.
She brought it back and opened it on the coffee table that stood before the sofa. It was an atlas of constellations.
She turned the pages until she found the right one.
“Look Jenny! Please note that star.”
Jenny leaned forward. “It’s called Vega.”
“In a constellation that is called Lyra,” added Gran. “Don’t you see? Boris isn’t a vegan. He’s a Vegan!”
“So diet has nothing to do with his identity?”
“Not really. He’s an alien. An alien from a star that is 25 light years distant from our own sun. And he’s been living in disguise all this time! Maybe he crashed here and is stuck.”
Jenny rubbed her nose. “What shall we do? Report him?”
“Report him to whom, my girl?”
“To the authorities,” said Jenny innocently.
Gran laughed loudly. “But we are going to be the authorities soon, if our ambitions succeed! We can hardly report him to ourselves, can we? No, I’ve a much better idea than that.”
She rubbed her hands together and began explaining.
Jenny was marching up and down her bedroom, jutting her chin at a very insolent angle. It was important to prepare for the day when she would be in power again. She saluted herself in the wardrobe mirror a few times. It wasn’t quite perfect yet, but not bad.
Today was the wedding anniversary of Mum and Dad. They had been married for one decade and a half precisely. Some peculiar person in the past had decided that crystals should symbolise a marriage that had lasted fifteen years. So it was Mum and Dad’s Crystal wedding anniversary and the mood in the house had been tense.
But everything was calm and settled now.
Jenny had suggested to Dad that he take Mum to a restaurant. He was very reluctant at first to spend so much money on something he regarded as pointless, but she kept nagging him until he agreed, warning him how furious Mum would be if he didn’t submit to the occasion and waste his cash on her. Jenny even chose the restaurant for him, picking one on the far side of Carrington that never closed.
She needed her parents to be out of the house for as long as possible. It was essential to have privacy for her work. Parents tend to get in the way when toffee or history is being made…
A few minutes after Mum and Dad drove away, Gran knocked on the front door. She had been hiding behind the bushes in Mr Zosimus’ front garden. “The coast is clear!” hissed Jenny.
“No, it’s not. Fog is expected.”
“Not that coast,” corrected Jenny. “It’s a figure of speech.”
“Back in my day, speech didn’t have figures. Nor did numbers. They were both just amorphous blobs.”
“What does ‘amorphous’ mean?” asked Jenny.
“Do you remember when we punished Mr Paracelsus for his stinking treachery and squashed him into a formless stain on the road? His outline was ‘amorphous’ after that point, but this doesn’t mean that amorphous shapes always look the way he did.”
“I’m rather confused now,” admitted Jenny.
“Don’t worry about it. Details like that
aren’t important. The thing that really matters is the big picture…”
“There is a map of Carrington on my bedroom wall. I don’t have any pictures bigger than that,” said Jenny.
“It’s a figure of speech,” sniggered Gran.
Jenny considered this statement, then shrugged her shoulders. “Let’s get to work. Have you got the props?”
Gran shook the bag she was carrying. “In here.”
“Very well, you know what to do. I’ll prepare myself and do what is necessary when the time comes,” said Jenny, as she reached into the bag and extracted something. “I’ll be waiting in the lounge. As soon as I hear voices in this room, I’ll join you.”
Gran nodded as Jenny left the dining room. Then she reached into the bag and pulled out the remaining object that it held. A mask in the shape of Mum’s face! Gran had spent many long days making it, reacquainting herself with skills she had learned in the Congo a century earlier. Her job had been to make tools out of rubber back then, she couldn’t remember why. No matter. She pulled the mask on.
It was a tight fit, but she was able to breath easily enough and that was the main thing. The narrow eyeholes restricted her vision but she hobbled to the kitchen door, opened it and stepped into the garden. Leaning on the fence, she called softy, “Yoo hoo!”
There was no response. She tried again. “Boris?”
The neighbour came out into his own garden. “What are you doing at home? I thought you were busy tonight.”
Gran found it surprisingly easy to mimic Mum. She stood with a hand on her hip and pouted. “Our anniversary was cancelled at the last minute. I have the house all to myself at last.”
Boris arched his eyebrows. “Really! Well, hop over the fence and I’ll see how I can best keep you amused.”
“We always conduct our secret affair in your home,” said Gran with a rubbery wink. “Come into mine instead.”
“Are you sure? But what if we get caught by—”
“Don’t worry about him,” crooned Gran and she crooked a finger and made ‘come hither’ motions with it. Boris leaped the fence without even taking a run up. He was a very fit alien.
Gran led him into the dining room and said, “Don’t worry about small talk. Let’s down to kissing immediately!”
“You don’t want me to compliment your hair first?”
“It’s not needed on this occasion…”
He grasped her around the waist with his phoney arms and was on the point of applying his face to hers, even though both were made of rubber and no one knew if it was safe, when Jenny burst into the room and cried in a gruff voice, “What’s going on here?”
Boris whirled around and saw her standing there, but she was wearing a mask that was a replica of Dad’s face.
“It’s my husband. He has caught us!” wailed Gran.
“But you said you had the house to yourself!” objected Boris, trying to free his arms and systematically failing.
“I accidentally lied,” said Gran.
“I’m going to slaughter you!” roared Jenny.
Boris looked at her in terror.
Jenny fumbled in her pocket. “Yes I am!”
“Please don’t!” screeched Gran, and then she hissed, “It’s next to the sink. You forgot to take it with you.”
“Ah yes.” Jenny stepped around the pair of them and went to the sink, snatching up the cleaver that lay there and approaching Boris. “You have been smooching with my wife red handed. I didn’t marry her just so that vegans could steal her from me, buster!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” whimpered Boris.
“Yeah, well you sure as heck will be when I’m finished with you, you sap!” cried Jenny, swinging the cleaver.
“I’ll do anything if you spare my life!” croaked Boris.
“Anything?” growled Jenny.
“Yes, yes, yes! I give you my word!”
“The word of a vegan?”
“If you like, yes. The word of a vegan!”
Jenny lowered the cleaver.
She exchanged glances with Gran, who said, “I think we stitched him up good and proper there, my girl.”
Boris frowned. “What’s going on? Your voice—”
“Has changed,” confirmed Gran with a curt nod. With some difficulty she pulled off her rubber mask. “That’s because I’m not who you think I am. You’ve been cleverly tricked.”
“By me too!” added Jenny, yanking off her mask.
Boris stared at them both.
“I thought you looked too short to be her husband,” he admitted with a groan. “But I still don’t understand.”
“What’s the word of a vegan worth?” Jenny asked.
“As much as you care to name. We’re an honourable people. We don’t break our promises if we can help it.”
“Fine, fine!” said Jenny, grimacing. “But now comes the real question. What’s the word of a Vegan worth?”
The jaw of Boris fell open in astonishment.
“How do you know the difference?” he finally managed to stutter.
“We aren’t stupid,” said Jenny.
“When I was young,” added Gran, “stupidity was something so rare it had to be dug up from mines. It was so expensive I never managed to get hold of any. As a result, I’ve always been clever. And Jenny, who is my direct descendant, is almost my equal.”
Boris collapsed into the nearest empty chair.
“I could have been from any star in the sky, but no, I have the luck to be an inhabitant of the only planet in the known universe where it’s not just immoral to break promises but biologically impossible. If I give my word, I have to keep it. Vegans are even more reliable than vegans. This means that I am now your slave…”
Jenny laughed and poured herself a glass of lemonade.
“Listen closely,” said Gran.
Boris leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.
Once they were inside Boris’ house, he peeled off his mask and body suit, revealing his true form. “Such a relief!” he gasped. “I always feel like I’m a prisoner when I wear that disguise.”
Gran inspected him and whistled appreciatively.
“Four tentacles! That must be much more useful than just two arms. It seems a shame that we aren’t like you.”
“The human shape has its advantages too,” he said.
“Does it? How, for example?”
Boris frowned. “I can’t really think, but it must do!”
Jenny interrupted the banter.
“There’s no time for friendly chatting. We must get down to business. You made us a promise and we intend to make sure you keep it. We are chiefly interested in your spaceship.”
“My spaceship? But I crashed it ten years ago…”
“Can it be repaired?” asked Jenny.
“Do you mean the hardware or the software?”
Jenny frowned. “The solid bits.”
“Yes, there’s no problem with that. Just a few wires need soldering, a few dents need to be hammered out.”
“And then it will be fully functional, will it?”
Boris waved one of his tentacles.
“Absolutely. I mean, it will fly you right to the edge of the cosmos if that’s where you want to go. But the automatic guidance system has been damaged and there’s no way to fix that on Earth. It’s a software problem and it means that the spaceship must be operated manually, which is very difficult to do properly. I can’t do it without a crew. And there aren’t any other Vegans on this planet right now.”
“Can’t we help you to fly it?” Jenny asked.
Boris dipped his mouth on the end of its tube into his cup of tea and noisily slurped a few pensive mouthfuls.
“No. There are eight separate controls that must be operated together with perfect timing and no fumbling.”
“That does sound complicated,” admitted Jenny.
But Gran wasn’t so easily dissuaded.
“You have four tentacles and we h
ave two arms each. According to my calculations that makes eight limbs, one for each control. So there’s nothing to stop us flying your ship…”
“Your reactions just aren’t fast enough, I’m sorry. Humans have very slow reflexes compared with Vegans and fast reflexes are essential for the task of navigating my spaceship safely.”
Gran stroked her chin in thought. “If I found a way of overcoming this difficulty and we launched ourselves into space, would you be willing to guide us to the centre of the galaxy?”
“I’ve already given my word, the word of a Vegan!”
“So that’s a ‘yes’ then, is it?”
Boris nodded in the affirmative, but he was sad.
“What’s at the centre of the galaxy, Gran?” wondered Jenny, pouring a cup of tea from the teapot for herself.
“I bet that’s where the rulers dwell,” Gran said.
Boris shook his purple head. “The centre of the galaxy is an enormous black hole, nothing more, and we have no proper rulers, only a federation of peaceful planets working together.”
Gran made a disgusted face. “Sissy democracy!”
Boris was upset by her comment.
“Each civilised world makes its own rules that govern its own affairs, subject to Federation law. No one on any planet is allowed to bully, tease or torment anyone else and all living things have equal rights. I think it’s a superb system. We prefer to settle our differences through compromise. There hasn’t been an interstellar war for thousands of years. Humans are an aggressive warlike race and that is why your planet hasn’t been asked to join the Federation yet. So there!”
Gran asked in a low voice, “But if someone tried to become sole ruler of the galaxy, who would stop them?”
“If someone did try that,” replied Boris, “the inhabitants of the settled planets would send a delegation to politely request him or her to go away and not come back. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious,” said Gran with a mocking leer.
Jenny had been scratching her head.
Now she turned to face Boris with a quizzical expression. “Where do you keep your spaceship, by the way?”
“Out there.” Boris pointed through the window at the garden. Jenny and Gran peered through the glass.
