by Chris Hawley
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
The next morning was Sunday and the library would not be open. I decided to get on with the book on Mars. But first I had to try to meditate again. I had a feeling that Michu was sending me thought waves that were going in one side of my head and out of the other, like water through a sieve. But I had no more success than I had had the day before.
Mum made delicious scrambled eggs on toast again. Dad always had a cooked breakfast on Sundays. We sat at the kitchen table and sipped tea out of brightly coloured mugs.
‘Oh, I forgot to tell you, son,’ said Dad, putting down his mug. ‘Those two friends of yours from school came in the afternoon yesterday.’
I looked at my father in surprise.
‘They were enquiring about your spaceship.’
‘Ben and Tim,’ I prompted.
‘The very ones. I said you were not at home. They asked to see the spaceship, which I thought was a bit queer, seeing as you’d told your mum you’d sold it to them.’ He looked at me intently and then went on. ‘They went down the garden and looked in the shed. They asked me if you’d sold the thing and I said I had no idea. They examined the scorch marks for a bit. I left them to it. They stayed in the shed for ten minutes and then left.’
‘I sold it, not to them, to someone else.’ was all I could say.
Just then the doorbell rang and Mum went to answer it.
‘Who can that be on a Sunday morning?’ Dad said.
‘Someone for you, Bill,’ she said, coming back into the kitchen.
I went to the front door and found a small, thin man standing on the doorstep. He cannot have been more than one metre fifty. He reminded me of some of the men I had met in Similaria, but without the pale skin. He had dark eyes and dark brown hair and was clean shaven. He wore a well-cut dark grey suit and a blue tie. There was something about his face that reminded me of someone. He held a small parcel in front of him with two hands. I must have stood staring for too long because he shuffled his feet and cleared his throat.
‘Hello Bill, may I come in?’
‘Sorry Sir, of course. Come into the sitting room.’ I led him into the front room and we sat down in the two armchairs facing each other. He passed the parcel to me.
‘It’s from Michu,’ he said.
At the sound of her name, my heart missed a beat and I jumped.
‘Open it,’ he said.
I unwrapped the parcel, breaking the cello tape and removing the brown paper. There was nothing inside! The hairs on my neck stood out and my heart beat fast. I looked enquiringly at the small man opposite me.
He smiled at me. ‘In case you should ever need to come to Mars.’
I was nonplussed. Then I understood. It was a bubble!
‘Cool!’ I breathed.
‘You cannot see it but it is there. Just feel it.’
I felt the bubble. He was right. I could feel it but not see it.
‘Keep it safe. One day you may need it.’
‘And Michu? How is she?’
‘She is well.’
‘Do you live in Similaria then?’
‘No. I am Michu’s father and I live about 200 kilometres away.’
I realised then why I had found him familiar.
‘Where shall I keep the bubble?’ I asked.
‘Somewhere you know where to find it quickly. Don’t worry, no-one will ever know it is there. No-one but you can feel it. To all others it does not exist.’
‘Wow!’
‘It will only work for you, Bill,’ continued the man. ‘If one day you need to escape to Mars, just hold it with two hands and shake it gently. It will inflate itself. But make sure you are outside the house otherwise you will never get it through the door. Pass into it and you will be guided to Similaria. It is programmed and there is nothing more you need do.’
‘Thank you Sir,’ I said. I was completely overwhelmed.
‘By the way, my name is Priam, P.R.I.A.M, Priam.’
‘Can I offer you tea, Mr. Priam?’
‘Martians don’t care for tea, but thanks for the kind offer.’ He paused. ‘Now, I expect you would like a message to go to Michu.’
‘Can I?’ I exclaimed, delighted.
‘Send an e-mail to this address,’ he said, handing me a piece of paper with an e-mail address written on it in bold letters. After the address, write that code and only Michu will be able to read it.’ He pointed to the letters which followed the address.
‘I understand, Sir,’ I said.
‘Good, now I must be off.’
‘If I want to contact you, how do I do it?’ I asked him.
‘Just think of me and I will know. I have to go to Russia tomorrow, but I will be back on Friday. Good luck!’
He stretched out his hand. I wondered again why his complexion was different from Martians I had met.
‘We use a cream to make our skin look like yours, available from Boots, 3.99 a tube.’ He smiled and pulled up his sleeve to reveal his natural colour.
He stretched out his hand once more. I was surprised because I had believed that Martians don’t shake hands.
‘When in Rome, my boy,’ he said laughing
I shook his hand warmly and saw him to the door. I watched him as he disappeared down the street and round the corner, the little man called Priam. I nipped up to the bedroom and stashed the bubble into the top drawer of my cupboard and then went back down to the kitchen.
What did that funny little man want?’ asked Mum, as I sat down again at the kitchen table.
‘Oh, nothing much Mum,’ I said nonchalantly.
‘He stayed a long time considering he didn’t want much.’
I said nothing but Dad looked at me with an anxious expression.
‘Too many strange things are happening for my liking,’ he said. ‘Maybe one of these days you’ll tell us what it’s all about.’
‘I met him in the library,’ was the only thing I could think of to say.
I took up my mug and drained the rest of my tea, which had gone cold. I excused myself and went up to my room. I intended to write to Michu and I was excited about it. After that I would take a long walk. I had things to think about.
