“What on Erf are you on about, Roger?” Mr. Briggs said with some disdain, looking down at his imploring nuisance of a boy.
“Well,” said Roger conspiratorially, “I’m really sorry, sir. I know I haven’t behaved as well as I should … but I am trying, sir, really I am!”
“What the blazes are you saying boy, speak plainly, will you?”
“Well, I haven’t been able to go out to the shops, but I know that mother has a real fondness for these sorts of Gypsy wares. She was saying how it’s all the fashion these days, and well, I meant to get her some for her birthday.”
“Her birthday! Really, Roger? I must have forgotten, oh dear me, er … well yes, I now see what you mean.” What his father was actually thinking though was, “Oh Gawd, she’ll kill me, I’ve only gone and forgotten her bloomin’ birthday!”
The Gypsy having heard all this wasn’t going to be put off easily either. She stepped closer and addressed the Master of the Manor directly and pushed the point home. “Well, I think the young Master of the house would be interested in seeing my wares, yer Lordship. After all it is Madam Briggs’s birthday very soon, Sir, and I’m sure Master Briggs would want to get something special for his sweet, darling mother.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure your right,” Mr. Briggs replied faintly. He found that his mind seemed to be in some sort of a fog and he couldn’t think straight. “Think I’ll go and have a lie down, Jenkins. Let Roger get something for his mother though, we can’t have her upset on her birthday, now can we? You deal with this Jenkins, right?”
And with that he was gone, leaving the disgruntled Jenkins alone with Roger and the Gypsy. The Gypsy seemed to wink at Roger and stepped nearer, holding out the tray of goods for Roger to look at. At the very same time Regor once more piped into Roger’s mind, urgently telling him, “Roger, it’s Mary’s Gran, it’s Gwannie Madden, she weally needs to talk to us!”
Roger realized this must be important and came closer, peering round Jenkins’ elbow. He nodded and winked his secret recognition of Grannie Maddam and brightly said to them both. “Oh yes, what a very good idea, eh Jenkins?”
Jenkins was not happy. The Gypsy woman was looking at him keenly though and her eyes were twinkling and dancing like two bright stars. He felt somehow compelled to agree with this old hag, despite his better instincts. He at last drew himself up and in his smarmiest voice replied, “Yes, Sir, very well, Madam, I will allow you to purvey your wares, but not here. Please remove yourself from the front entrance and present yourself at the back door forthwith.”
“Verily I will kind sir, verily I will. Thankee kindly!”
A few minutes later Grannie Maddam was at the back door and Jenkins had allowed Roger to see her there. He gave a final “harrumph!” and then left them to it.
When he was sure Jenkins had gone Roger gushed his rush of questions in a hushed voice to her. “What’s going on, Grannie Maddam? How is Mary? What are you doing here and why are you in disguise? Is Mary OK? I haven’t been allowed off the premises. She isn’t mad at me, is she? She’s alright, isn’t she?”
“Calm down, my boy,” Grannie Maddam replied, her face crinkling in a smile. “Mary is fine, dear, and she sends her love. As fer me disguise, well juss puts it down ter some skills I have. Now pretend you’re looking through my tray of wares. There is much to discuss, so listens up.”
Grannie Madden then explained to Roger what was about to happen regarding Mary and herself, with them both to be put away in respective Government Homes that coming Monday.
“Oh no!” cried Roger. “We can’t allow that, no way!”
“That’s what Mary said,” Grannie smiled. “But listen, Roger, there’s more. You’ll just have to trust me on this, dear, but the fact of the matter is, I’m a Witch an’ I knows all about you an’ our Mary’s adventures in the Bad Wood an’ I knows all about your Dragon’s Egg too!”
Roger gulped in astonishment, hardly knowing what to say. Then he realized they really didn’t have time to dawdle around the houses. He instinctively knew he could trust Grannie Maddam, implicitly. Grannie and Mary must know about the dastardly plot he and Regor had uncovered.
He quickly told her what they had overheard only that last night. He explained how he’d decided that they, he and Regor, had to escape and warn the peoples of the Bad Wood before it was too late. He had been torn by uncertainty on how to do it though. And also how he’d been hurting from not being able to talk to Mary and tell her all about it as well.
Grannie Madden frowned and rubbed her chin and pursed her lips at this news.
“Well, my boy, I’m not surprised. A war’s been a long time a-coming. The ancient ways have been locked up and hidden away in the Great Forests for too long while all these busy-bee Humdrums buzz away at their factories and machinery an’ such, polluting poor ol’ Mother Erf.”
“So what are we going to do then?” Roger asked. “I’m locked away here 24/7 and there’s no way my Father will let me visit Mary … and anyway, we just don’t have the time.”
“Well, yer right, my boy, it’s ups to us to do sumfin’ about it! We have to be bold an’ brave, Roger. An’ from what Mary says, I believe you can do that, isn’t that right, my dear?”
Roger felt a flush of embarrassment rush to his face.
“So, this is what we’ll do. Seeing as it’s the three of us now, all scarperin’ an’ makin’ a run for it. What we’ll do is ….”
“Hold on Pleesh, Grannie!” squealed out Regor in both their heads, “don’t you meensh the four of ush? I’m cummin toos you know!”
“Well hello to you, young Prince!” Grannie laughed and thought warmly in reply. “I was wondering when we’d get to be introduced! I am very pleased to meet you.”
“Very pleeshed to meets yous too!” Regor replied politely.
“Now after leaving here I will be visiting Mary at the Hospital as usual,” Grannie continued, “and I will tell her exactly what we planned and for when; so we’re all singin’ from the same song sheet, OK?” Roger nodded his agreement and Regor mentally telepathed his too. “Right, then what we do is this. After seeing Mary I’ll get home an’ pack some supplies an’ send some messages. Then tomorrow I’ll come to the Manor House and meet you an’ Regor by the back gate at the bottom of the garden at Midday exactly, then we’ll go over at 1 o’clock, lunch time, to the Hospital, juss when everyone’s busy. I’ll sneak Mary out as one of the visitors. I’ll use me powers of ‘fluence an’ disguise as needed; an’ then we’ll all high tail it out o’ here to the Bad Wood. Make sure you’re all packed an’ ready an’ at the back gate here by 12 Noon OK? Then we’ll all just vanish! All four of us. Understood?”
“Understood!” said Roger.
“Understoosh!” said Regor.
“Good!” said Grannie Maddam. “Let’s all be brave an’ save the day then, eh!”
“Yes, indeed,” thought Roger wryly, “let’s do that – for with such a simple and straightforward plan, what could possibly go wrong?”
CHAPTER 4:
THE GREAT ESCAPE!
Sunday morning at last arrived. Roger was feeling very nervous and agitated as he went down stairs to breakfast. It was 9 o’ clock and there were still 3 whole hours to go. He had been up for hours though and had already packed, unpacked and repacked his old, school rucksack three times. He knew he was being silly about it, and Regor in his own babyish way had told him so, but he just couldn’t help it; after all, so much depended on the next few hours.
One of the things that Roger had to do was to decide on what to do with his favorite pet, his big, hairy spider, Hercules. He’d been in this position before of course, with his fleas, and once again he’d decided that he had to let his old friend go. But not here, he’d take Hercules with him and then let him go free at some point in the Bad Wood, just as he had with his fleas. So Hercules was safely packed away as well now, in a suitable tin in Roger’s rucksack.
Roger sat down at the table quietly and nibbled at
his Weetie-brix and tried not to look at the clock every thirty or so seconds.
“I’ve got to act normal,” he told himself, “mustn’t show any sign of there being anything different about this Sunday morning from any other one.”
“Good morning, Roger, and how are you today?” his mother enquired from one end of the table while his father just read his morning newspaper and sipped at his coffee at the other.
“I’m very well, Mother, thank you,” he replied, not daring to look up.
His Father then suddenly took an interest in him, put down his paper, slurped at the dregs in his cup and then boomed across the table at him. “Well, my boy, it’s good to see you’ve been behaving yourself like I asked. Our little dinner engagement on Friday night went off very well I must say. So, true to my word I think it’s time we restore some of your privileges, so what do you say to that then, Roger, eh? Think you may deserve a few perks again now, eh?”
Roger gulped and took his time to answer very carefully. “Mustn’t give them any cause to be suspicious,” he thought.
“Th-th-thank you very much, sir, that would be very n-n-nice,” he replied gratefully.
“Oh, I wish you’d grow out of that silly stammer you have,” his Father moaned. “If you do insist on maintaining such an unmanly affectation we’ll just have to call in a Child Specialist Psychonomist and get you treated for it, you hear me, Roger?”
“Yes Father, s-s-sorry. I’ll try harder.”
“Well see that you do. It’s not proper for a son of mine to sound so weak and whiny. Now, as to your privileges. I think we can allow you to have two trips into town this coming week, accompanied of course, with Jenkins or your mother. Would you like that, Roger?”
“Thank-you Father, that’s very kind.”
“Yes, well I think it is, but a politician should keep his promises, eh son? You may like to know that I now have very important backing from some very powerful men. I think I can dare say that you are now in the presence of the next Prime Councilor for Under Lundun. So what do you think of that then, boy, eh, what do you think of that?”
Roger wanted to say that he thought it sounded very much like cheating and that his Father was being over-presumptuous as the actual election hadn’t even been held yet! But he knew better and held his tongue. Instead he said, “That’s very good news, Father. I am pleased, and I give you my congratulations.”
“Yes, well … thank you, my boy. Now, where were we? Oh yes, your privileges. Now I know you haven’t been out of the house for a fair while so I thought we should change that and get you out with the family. Show your face in decent society, you know, that sort of thing.”
“Oh yes, I see” said Roger trying to sound enthusiastic but really starting to feel sick in the pit of his stomach. Just what had his criminal and corrupt Father got planned for him now? “Yes, Roger, so I thought that this morning we’d all trot off to the Church and attend the Sunday Service at 11am. You know, sort of show ourselves off as the good and decent, morally wholesome family we really are. Bound to be good for votes too you know. What do you say?”
Roger froze with shock. This couldn’t happen! Not on this morning, of all mornings. He couldn’t be sat trapped in church when he should be out with Grannie Maddam rescuing Mary and helping to save the planet. What could he do? What could he say?
“Er, erk …” he started to squawk, but then his Mother suddenly and unexpectedly cut in, directing her feminine wrath at his Father.
“What do you mean, Brian? You know I can’t go traipsing off to Church this morning. I have the Women’s Flower Arranging Guild arriving at Midday. Have you forgotten? Oh, how could you, Brian? You know that we meet on the third Sunday in every month.”
“Er, do you, dear? Well, yes dear, sorry, it had just slipped my mind. Of course. Well, we will arrange it to go next Sunday then, does that suit you better, dear?”
“Yes, next Sunday will be fine, Brian. We’ll all go to church together next Sunday.”
Roger’s bacon had been saved by his Mother’s silly Flower Arranging Classes. “Whew!” he thought. “By Newton’s Nasty Nappies, that was a bit close!”
After breakfast, Roger had returned to his room but had soon started to pace the floor up and down, his eyes continually flicking up to the clock on the mantel. “This is no good at all,” he thought. “A watched pot never boils as they say and the more I keep looking at the clock just isn’t going to make it tick any faster.”
After an hour of wasted time worrying in his bedroom he thought of a new strategy. He picked up his well-packed rucksack and went downstairs again. It was now nearly 11am. Still over an hour to go. He found his Father in his study and gently knocked on his door.
“Come in,” his Father called out. He did and then in his politest manner, asked him, “Father, I have a Biology Exam later this year and I thought I’d best conduct some experiments, with your permission of course. I can do them in the potting shed at the bottom of the garden, if that’s OK. It would most definitely help me get top marks again this year.”
“Yes, yes, OK Roger, go ahead. Just don’t make a mess. And no bangs and bad smells, OK? We don’t want any more disturbances going on around here, do we? I’ll let your mother know what you’re up to so she doesn’t worry. Now be off with you.”
“Great,” thought Roger, “I’ve now got some cover established and it’ll be easier to sneak out through the back-garden door when it’s Midday and Grannie Madden has arrived.”
Roger made his way through the kitchens and out into the back gardens. He telepathed to Regor as he went. “Are you ready for another Adventure, Regor? I’ll be by the potting shed near to your pond so be ready for collection at Midday and we’ll be off at last.”
“I’ll be weddy, Wodger, don’t yoos wowwy yorself. We’ll getsh away alwight.”
Roger reached the potting shed that leaned against the rear garden wall that was also quite close to the door in the wall they’d be sneaking out by. He now got out his big Magnifying Glass and started to self-consciously study some algae on some nearby rocks. He tried once again to not keep looking at his wristwatch and instead give the impression of not having a care in the world.
After about half an hour or so, his pseudo-scientific studies were interrupted. Bob the Gardener came ambling up the path toward the potting shed. “Oh dear,” he thought, “I hope he’s not going to hang around here long. I can’t have the Gardener seeing me collecting Regor from the pond or us slipping out through the back door either.”
“Morning Master Briggs,” Bob called out in greeting, “what be you up to here in me old potting shed then? Hope you won’t be upsetting any of me pots an’ prize seedlings now.”
“No, don’t worry, Bob, I’ll be careful,” he cheerfully replied, “I’m just doing some of my experiments, for my school work, that’s all. I won’t be any bother.”
Roger hoped that with this explanation Bob would move on and leave him in peace, but unfortunately, this fervent hope was not to be. Old Bob the Gardener wanted to chat. The minutes ticked on by as Bob went on and on about his seedlings and what plans he had for this year’s Gardening Prizes at the Annual Gardeners Fête next month. He then wanted to show Roger some prize tomatoes he was growing at the side of the potting shed. Then he moved on to his newly-furrowed lines of runner beans and what great hopes he had for those too this year. As if Roger cared a King’s shilling about his rotten tomatoes and beans and silly prizes!
Roger at first nodded politely and interjected with the odd and hopefully appropriate, “yes and no, I see, and well I never.” Old Bob seemed to want to talk forever though. The truth was that he didn’t really have anyone else to talk to and he’d found Roger to be the kindest soul in the whole household. Usually, Roger was quite happy to listen to Bob, prattling on about his plants. Today of course was very different.
Soon there was only 15 minutes left to go before it was Midday. Roger was getting more and more agitated. He wished that Bob would jus
t shut up and go away, but no, he seemed intent on boring the baggy trousers off of him! For the life of him, Roger couldn’t think of a good way to get Bob to leave; but he had to; he had to be free to do what he had to do, no matter what. He looked at his watch yet again. Ten minutes to twelve.
“Oh, my Holy Hoyle, just when is he going to go?” Roger thought in grim desperation. “Why does he have to choose right here and now to want to chat with me?”
“Are yer feeling alright, me boy?” Bob suddenly enquired. “Looks to me as yer might be coming down with something or other. Are you in pain, young Master, yer seems t’be twitchin’ an’ twirlin’ about like there’s a pint of ants in yer pants!” he chuckled.
“No, I’m fine, Bob, really I’m fine. Just got these experiments to do for my homework is all. Quite tricky they are too, but I’ll be alright.”
Roger looked at his watch again. 5 to 12! “Oh, by Suffering Socrates’ Smelly Socks!” he thought, “Grannie Madden is going to arrive any minute now. What am I going to do?”
Roger was now in a near total panic and unable to think or talk clearly at all.
Old Bob though, suddenly raised an eyebrow and took hold of Roger’s hand and said with a twinkle in his eye, “Well I’m sure you knows best, Master Briggs, you knows best. I’ll be off ter kitchens now an’ gets me some lunch. I’ll let ‘em knows ter not disturb you, all right? Yer do well on yer, ahem, experimentation thingummyjigg’s then, eh?” He winked and then sauntered off towards the house leaving Roger puzzled but sighing with relief.
“I wonder if ol’ Bob knows more about what’s going on in this house than what we think he does?” Roger muttered, as he watched the Gardener disappear down the garden path.
He looked at his watch a final time. “Just coming up to Twelve. Midday. Time to get Regor and get out of here at last!” he thought.
He walked over to the nearby pond, ready to scoop up the Dragon’s Egg, still disguised as a smooth, oval stone. He thrust his arm in the green water right where he’d last placed it and found … nothing! The Dragon’s Egg wasn’t there!
Dragon's Flight Page 4
