The Artist and The Yeti

by James Hemmington

  Tracey immediately hid her irritation and beamed a big smile at Paris. “Don’t worry, we’ll think of something else to help you remember.” Tracey had no intention of doing that. She had now thought through her plan for Paris. That was the next thing on Tracey’s mind; she was beginning to see Paris as a tool for her own gains, rather than a young girl that had come to her for help. Boris had the Rolls Royce ready when Tracey and Paris walked back from the oak tree, in the now steady rain. On the journey back there were smoothies and chocolate biscuits, nicely chilled. They chatted as they went, but Paris was now talking more about going home. She told Tracey how kind she had been, but she was missing home and wanted to go back tomorrow, two days earlier than the week her parents agreed.

  “OK, let’s make a deal,” said Tracey smiling, putting her hand on Paris’s arm, her best shot at being sincere. “Give me two more days, a few more rounds of hypnosis following the memory jog from today’s trip. I’m confident we can get you to remember. That will tell us the secret to your powers. What do you think?” Paris slowly nodded, “OK.”

  26

  When they arrived at Tracey’s mansion, the weather had lifted and Tracey suggested that Paris had a swim in her huge pool.

  While Paris enjoyed what was now a warm sunny afternoon in the pool, Tracey summoned Boris and Eric to the study; a large book filled room with a massive chandelier dangling from the centre.

  “Boys, you need to listen to me and you need to listen good. Tomorrow we are going to report Paris missing. But she won’t be missing, she’ll be with us.” Tracey could see by the vacant looks on their faces that Boris and Eric were completely confused. Tracey drew a deep breath; she herself was anxious about her plan.

  “I’m going to go through this bit by bit. Eric, you’re going to put a ladder up against the south wall, you’re going to take one of Paris’s tops from her room, rip a piece off it and snarl it in a notch of the ladder. It needs to appear like she’s escaped, - I mean run away!”

  Tracey turned her glare to Boris, “Boris, you’re going to help me prepare the hidden room behind the fireplace here in the study. It’s not been used for years and we need to make it really comfortable. We’re going to hide Paris in it while the police search the mansion. Once everyone’s convinced that Paris has run away, we bring her out.”

  Boris looked sad; his mouth formed the classic emoji downy-turny-face. “Miss Tracey, that seems a bad thing for Paris, she wants to go home.”

  Tracey scowled. She went as red as a tomato, instantly angry,

  “Don’t you ever, ever question me Boris. Paris will have a luxurious life here. OK she’ll be hypnotised most of the time. But Boris, at some point I’ll let her go, of course I will. If I send her home now, she’d be treated like a freak. Is that what you want, really?”

  Boris said nothing; he just nodded his head slowly.

  Tracey shot a look at Boris and Eric that was so stern, they both gulped. They stood side by side in front of her, a good foot taller than her, but they were terrified of Tracey. She pointed to the door. “Right, Eric go and sort the ladder, get it in position ready for the morning.”

  Eric left the room, feeling like a reprimanded teenager.

  Tracey instructed Boris to pull back the sill of the huge ornate fireplace that dominated the study. There was a click and the whole fireplace began to move forward slowly, making a loud rumbling sound as it did, to reveal behind it a massive room. A bit dusty, but with a thorough clean, it could be a comfortable place to chill out.

  Paris spent so much time in the pool, her skin was pruning like a turtle’s. She was tired and after a light dinner, went to bed. Eric had prepared a glass of warm milk.

  That evening Tracey’s four big Doberman guard dogs were roaming the grounds surrounding the mansion. It was big, but the grounds around it were massive, covering acres and acres of land. Most of the grounds were neat flower-packed gardens, with odd shaped hedges and the occasional bush styled into some kind of bird. All the bird sculptures were different, but not very recognisable as bird shaped hedges go.

  There was also a wood to the south of the mansion with a gravel road running through it leading down to huge metal gates, as high as a double decker bus. A wall which must have been miles and miles in length, spanned out from either side of the gates bordering the entire grounds. It was like a fortress, imposing gates and high walls. The peace and quiet of those sprawling grounds was suddenly interrupted by a loud sound coming from the direction of the gates; they were being shaken by something. The dogs heard the sound and set off sprinting down the meandering gravel road towards the gates, which were several bends away, barking as they tried to outrun each other.

  Tracey was enjoying a quiet dinner on her own. Paris was tucked up asleep. The secret room was ready and in the morning after breakfast, Tracey would take Paris to the room and there she would stay, until Tracey was certain the police were convinced that Paris had run away.

  The antique circular table where she was sat was set for a place of one, although the array of cutlery seemed enough for a family. Eric had prepared the best beef curry Tracey had ever tasted. Boris on the other hand created the lightest of lemon soufflés, Tracey’s favourite dessert. He was not going to be outdone by Eric and placed the dessert on the table, so gently as if he were worried it would fall apart.

  No sooner had Boris left the dining room, Eric suddenly barged in, looking highly stressed.

  “Madame,” he blurted, “we’re under attack!”

  Tracey slowly put down her fork and casually enquired, “What do you mean Eric - attack?”

  “The cameras, they show someone - I mean something, smashing the gates. The dogs have scooted, terrified.”

  “Eric; don’t be silly, that’s impossible!”

  Tracey quickly got up and headed for the small room next to the dining room, they called it the control centre. Here were banks of TV screens displaying the output of more than thirty well-placed cameras dotted throughout the grounds.

  From one of the cameras Tracey had a clear view of the huge metal gates; they had been spread apart as if they were made of paper. To her horror Tracey saw some kind of huge creature walking towards the mansion, and it was now just a few metres from the main door.

  The control centre had other features as well as TV screens. Tracey flipped a switch marked, ‘Defence Mode.’ Metal shutters dropped down over every window, and the main door, designed to protect from the most determined of intruders. Tracey was trembling. “Nothing will get through that,” she desperately tried to assure herself. “Let’s go to the study, it’s the safest room, no windows and huge bolts on the door.”

  27

  Boris and Tracey ran to the study and bolted the heavy door behind them. Eric was going to stay in the hallway, ready to stop whatever was attacking them in the unlikely event that it broke in. Eric was over six foot six; he was the strongman at the circus where he first met Tracey. He could bend metal bars and lift any person above his head. He had no fear and was going to protect his mistress at all cost.

  All was quiet. Eric started to think that they were over-reacting; all that heavy security could stop a wild stampede, let alone one bear, or whatever it was. Then came a huge bang at the main door, it rattled, but stayed firm. Eric smirked; nothing was going to get through that.

  Then came another huge bang, the door buckled and sprang off its hinges like it was made of cardboard. In came Titus, looking angry and imposing. It was a frightening sight.

  Eric looked absolutely shocked, but he stood his ground and roared at Titus, with all his might. He was threatening to say the least; his teeth were almost as impressive as Titus’s, who was about to roar back. He wasn’t given the chance, Eric dived right onto him, punching as hard as he could, as he pushed Titus back out through the doorway. The two tumbled with a heavy thud onto the fine shingle of the driveway. They looked like they were cuddling each other.

  Tracey literally hid behind the sofa in the study and
instructed Boris to let nothing through the door. Then came a bang at the study door. Titus was still coming! He smashed through the door. In almost the blink of an eye Boris had been lifted up high towards the ceiling. Titus hooked him by the back of his collar onto the chandelier and there he stayed, dangling to and fro. Titus swept aside the sofa where Tracey was hiding. He looked down at her and grunted disapprovingly. Tracey put her hands over her head, waiting for the worst to happen. Nothing did; the study was suddenly deserted.

  Titus seemed to instinctively know where Paris’s room was. He gently twisted the door handle and peeped in. Paris was sitting up on her bed, almost expecting Titus to appear. As soon as she saw him she immediately remembered him, “Titus, Titus,” she shouted. He smiled and came over for a hug. “I’ve come to get you home, this human female is nasty, she will hurt you. I could sense you were in trouble and I came.”

  They sat on the edge of the bed. The memory of her time with Titus was back instantly, fully restored. Paris was so, so pleased to see Titus, it was as if a great mist in her head had been lifted. He looked at her smiling softly; he missed her company.

  As they sat on the edge of the bed Paris asked, “Why have I just now remembered everything since the crash, and why do I have these powers? You know, don’t you?” She was a little accusing in her tone. Titus looked guilty, if it wasn’t for his fur, Paris was sure she’d see him blushing. He explained that his special marbles were to blame and he was sorry they had caused her so much trouble.

  When he used the blue marble when she was very poorly, it apparently passed Yeti powers on to her - the ability to see things before they happened. She had adopted this talent especially well; Yetis rarely used it. He also explained that he used the purple marble, which he called the ‘forget me marble’, to make her forget him and help her get back to normal.

  She smiled and put her hand on his huge furry arm. “You weren’t to know that humans have trouble handling people that are different.”

  He reached into the small leather satchel that he wore across his shoulder and took out a screwed up ball of white linen cloth. He unravelled it to reveal the blue marble. Titus offered it to her. “If you take this and hold it for a moment, the power you have will disappear completely, forever. If you want it to go.”

  Paris stared at the marble for a moment feeling hesitant. Suddenly there was a temptation to keep this power; she could do so much with it. But she feared the thought of being so different from everyone else. Not to mention all the trouble it got her into. She took the marble and gently wrapped both hands around it. Paris felt dizzy for a moment, dropped the marble and in an instant the feeling passed. Titus picked it up, wrapped the marble back in the piece of linen and put it in his bag. “There it’s done.”

  Paris immediately tried to think about something in the future. She couldn’t. She grabbed a book from the bedside table and tried to read the first line of chapter one through the cover. She couldn’t. She retrieved a deck of cards from the drawer of the bedside table and failed to guess any of the cards she turned over. Paris sighed, definitely back to normal.

  Titus then became quite animated, “We must leave, now,” he said urgently, gesturing towards the door. “But I need to put things right here.” He pulled another bundle of linen from his satchel to reveal the purple marble. “Alas to get three humans to forget altogether, I can use this only one more time.”

  Titus instructed Paris to wait for him on the driveway. From his dramatic entrance earlier, he had trapped Eric in a cupboard in the hallway; Boris was still dangling from the chandelier in the study and Tracey managed to sneak into the secret room behind the fireplace, hoping the beast would leave soon. Titus knew exactly where they all were. He took the purple marble and held it high above his head and with one swift and powerful swing threw it to the floor. It smashed and as it did it radiated the brightest of lights, so bright to Paris waiting outside; she thought all the lights in the vast mansion flickered momentarily. Titus emerged from the entrance.

  “We go now.” He took Paris’s hand and led her towards the gravel road running down to the twisted metal gates. “Where are we going?” asked Paris breathlessly as they almost sprinted off the estate.

  “To find that lovely female that helped you last time.”

  Tracey Truman emerged from the secret room, wondering what she was doing there in the first place. She was shocked to see Boris trying to free himself from the chandelier; he was swinging frantically as he got more and more frustrated. Then Tracey heard a muffled noise coming from the hallway, it was a constant hammering. She cautiously peered out the door into the hallway; the noise was coming from the cupboard.

  After she freed Eric from the hallway cupboard and Eric freed Boris from the chandelier, the three of them tried to remember what had just happened. The last thing they could remember was dinner. They quickly discovered that Paris was gone.

  28

  It didn’t take too long for Titus and Paris to make their way cross-country to the little village of Narrowcombe. It was late when they arrived and very quiet. The general store was locked up, but the lights were on in the flat above.

  Before Titus handed Paris over to Poppy Tucker for her to once again reunite Paris with her family, he sat her down on a low wall opposite the general store. He took her hand and looked into her eyes, his expression sad. He whispered, “You’ll be safe now, but I must ask one thing of you.”

  “What,” said Paris, her eyes beginning to water, “You can’t tell anyone about me, no one.”

  “I won’t, I promise.”

  He reached into his satchel and this time pulled out a small leather pouch. In it was the green marble.

  “Take this, if you are ever in trouble you must take it out and hold it, just like you’ve done with the others, and I will come. But only use it if you are in trouble – I call it the ‘rescue marble’. Our bond will weaken as time goes on.”

  Paris took the pouch. Now tears were streaming at a pace down her cheeks.

  Titus lifted her off the wall, “Now we must call the female. I need to get back and sort out those hunters.”

  Poppy Tucker was in her dressing gown; it was a plain light pink one with no frills, nothing like Tracey Truman’s. No one called at this time of night, but she was sure she could hear the voice of a girl, in between the knocks at the door. She opened the door cautiously; Paris looked up at Poppy and burst into tears. “You poor thing,” exclaimed Poppy. She grabbed her and gave her a huge cuddle.

  Tracey Truman was being investigated by the police; on a charge of kidnapping; and Poppy Tucker had become a close friend of the Palmer family.

  Paris, Skyla and Toby were eating chips in the local park sitting on the grass, just people watching. The summer holidays were almost over, new uniforms were purchased ready for the new term and things were pretty much back to normal.

  Toby impressed the girls with his impersonations; he was getting really good at them now and thinking of going on Britain’s Got Talent.

  Once Paris had lost her abilities, the media lost interest almost overnight. All that was old news now and although the mystery of her reappearance in Dartmoor remained unexplained, it was accepted by all concerned that it wasn’t worth dwelling on anymore. Paris had told no one about Titus. She was worried he’d be hunted. She was also worried that everyone would think her bonkers, even Skyla.

  An ice cream van pulled into the car park and Toby got onto his feet and joined the queue that formed so quick, you might think ice creams were being given away! As Paris and Skyla sat watching Toby’s slow progress through the queue and getting impatient for their soft-whipped cornets and double flake, Paris decided now was the time to tell Skyla what really happened to her in Switzerland.

  Skyla was not sure what to make of Paris’s account of her time with Titus. A Yeti - really! A cave where he lived - really! The rescue of hunters from a freezing pond - really! Then perhaps the most far-fetched thing - apparently teleporting from a cave
in Switzerland to one in Dartmoor - unbelievable!

  Eventually Skyla burst into laughter. “P, you are having a laugh aren’t you?” She could see Paris looked dead serious. “You are having a laugh, right?” Skyla repeated, realising by her expression that this was indeed what Paris really believed to be true. They chatted more. Paris tried hard to convince Skyla she was not bonkers. It was not a dream, it actually happened. She was saved by a Yeti and he brought her home.

  As Toby began to make his way back with three large cornets, Skyla suggested they kept this conversation between themselves for now. After all they had only just got away from all that media attention.

  Skyla’s phone pinged; it was one of those news flash texts from the BBC. Normally she ignored them, but one word caught her eye. The word was ‘Yeti’. She immediately focused on the whole message: A real live Yeti had been captured in Switzerland.

  Skyla was speechless; she passed her phone to Paris, who let out a very loud and desperate “OH-MY-GOD!”

  29

  Titus woke up in a cage, it wasn’t very big but he could stand at least. The cage was in a large room, the walls and ceiling were white and apart from the cage there was nothing else in it, not even windows, just a single white door. He tried to prise open the bars. These bars were made of extremely strong metal. No matter how hard he pulled, nothing budged.

  It was a good hour before he heard the door open. In came three men, two were soldiers with rifles. The third was carrying a deep rectangular stainless steel tray. It was filled with dead mice. The man pushed it carefully into the cage through a small slot at the bottom.

  Titus peered into the tray, he was sad and disgusted and gently picked up one of the mice. It was definitely dead. He then looked at the three men, stood his full 9 foot 6 inches (2.9 metres if you prefer metric) and roared. The three men jumped back altogether, looking like they were rehearsing some kind of weird dance move. The soldiers pointed their rifles, you could here them shaking against their shoulders.