The Trouble with Perfect

by Helena Duggan

  “Some feelings are too strong to be controlled, pet,” her dad replied.

  Rose cupped her daughter’s face, and moved so close they were nose to nose.

  “Macula’s gone, Violet,” she whispered. “She’s gone to the stars.”

  The approaching summer skies were hazy blue as Violet and her dad headed up Splendid Road on the way to that evening’s Committee meeting. Rose had gone to her new music class, so Violet, still not allowed to stay at home alone, was made to go to the Town Hall with her dad.

  The birds were singing in the evening sun, and she felt happy as she looked at the huge bunch of colourful flowers in her hands. They were from her mam.

  Town felt nice these days – calm and normal and nice.

  “Are you looking forward to the summer holidays, pet?” Eugene asked.

  “I think so, Dad. No more Mrs Moody for months!”

  “Oh that sounds great!” he laughed.

  “Did they find anything in the Outskirts yet?” Violet asked, a little nervously.

  “No, pet, still nothing.” Eugene shook his head. “That’s what we’ll be talking about again tonight. Madeleine is adamant the whole place is empty – the cottage, the stables, everything. Hugo’s transmitter was disconnected from the Brain and there was no sign of him or those other monsters anywhere either.”

  “They were zombies, Dad – you saw Hugo!”

  “They were some sort of mechanical construction, Violet, I saw that much. There’s no such things as zombies, pet.”

  “But what about that road, Dad, the one that went past Powick’s cottage? Did they try down there? Maybe they’re hiding in the forest.”

  Sometimes, Violet toyed with the idea of going back to the Outskirts to explore for herself. She knew kids would do a much better job than adults, but she wouldn’t do it without Boy, and he wasn’t ready to go back there yet.

  “They checked everywhere, there was nothing, pet.” Her dad sighed. “But Madeleine assured the rest of the Committee they’d keep looking. I told you, they did find your white room a few days ago. Madeleine is going to fill us in more on that tonight. Robert Blot was like an excited child over the finding, though he can’t report on it now he’s taken Vincent’s place on the Committee. What a piece of genius on the Archers’ part, though, making clouds like that.”

  “Dad,” Violet corrected, “you can’t call the Archers genius, that’s just wrong!”

  “I’m only admiring their intellect, Violet, that’s all.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Their brains, pet.”

  “Oh, Boy told me William’s got all the eye plants blooming again. He said it took his dad a while to be able to even think about planting them, but now they’re back and watching again,” she said excitedly. “We probably don’t need to use the Brain, though, because both Edward and George are locked up.”

  “Better safe than sorry, Violet,” Eugene said, waving at Mr Hatchet, who was just closing up his butcher’s shop for the night. “And it’s helping William – he finds work helps keep his mind off things.”

  Violet stopped opposite the road up to her school. “I promised Mam I’d drop these off, Dad,” she said, holding up the bunch of flowers.

  “Okay, pet, I better head on, before I’m late. I’ll be checking the viewing platform to make sure you’re there though, Violet. So don’t delay. I know how much you love these meetings!” he joked.

  The setting sun hung low, making the road look yellow as she walked up the hill, past her school, until the low wall and small wooden gate came into view.

  Violet hadn’t realized there was a graveyard in Town, having had no need to visit it before. Now, as she looked at the flowers in her hand, part of her wished she still didn’t have to know about the place.

  This graveyard was nothing like the one in the Ghost Estate, though. There were no crumbling stone tombs with names like Quintus Horatius Flaccus engraved on their sides, or towering grey monuments broken and cracked with age.

  The graves here were all marked with simple wooden crosses, and covered in colourful wild flowers. Wild flowers also ran all along the inside of the low stone wall that surrounded it. And, as it was almost summer, the evening was filled with birdsong and the sound of hovering bees as they busily buzzed for food. There were wooden benches dotted around too, and sometimes people just sat there reading. Her mam said they were keeping their loved ones company.

  Violet had just opened the latch on the wooden gate, when she looked up and spotted Boy sitting cross-legged at his mam’s graveside ahead, almost like he was chatting to Macula.

  “Hey,” she called, walking towards him. “Are you trying to avoid the Committee meeting too?”

  Boy jumped up and stumbled backwards. Violet would have laughed, had she not caught the fear in his ice-blue eyes.

  She stopped still on the pebble-stone path. Her heart was thumping.

  “Your mam would love that you came, Tom,” she said softly.

  “Violet!” a voice called behind her.

  She turned quickly to see the real Boy approach the low stone wall of the graveyard. “I saw your dad on the way to the meeting, he said you were here.”

  She swung back around, but Tom was gone.

  “They’re nice.” Boy smiled, glancing down at the flowers as he reached her side.

  He didn’t seem to have noticed his brother.

  “You okay, Violet? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

  “Not funny, Boy,” she said, trying to discreetly look round the graveyard.

  She didn’t mention Tom. Boy wasn’t willing to talk about him. He blamed his brother for everything that had happened. Sometimes, Violet tried to convince her best friend that it wasn’t Tom’s fault; she knew Macula would want that, but Boy never listened.

  The pair stopped at Macula’s graveside, and Violet bent down, placing Rose’s flowers amongst the array of giant daisies William had planted.

  “Do you think she’s around? Mam, I mean…” Boy asked.

  “I don’t know,” Violet said, standing up. “Maybe… My mam believes that stuff, anyway. She sees signs everywhere. She says it means Macula’s watching out for all of us.”

  “Yeah, I think so too.” Boy smiled. He seemed happy, happier than she’d seen him in a while. “I keep seeing butterflies everywhere. Dad says they’re Mam. And…”

  He stopped speaking, and looked down at the grave.

  “And what?” Violet encouraged.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “You can’t kind of tell me something, and then stop!”

  “Well, I think Mam follows me sometimes.”

  “Follows you? What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know, really. You’ll think I’m crazy, but this bird has been following me for a while now. I see it everywhere, especially if I’m lonely, like it’s watching out for me. I told Dad, and he said it was Mam.”

  “What kind of a bird?” Violet asked, goose pimples prickling her skin.

  “Look, there it is again!” Boy beamed, pointing.

  A coal-black raven was perched on the arm of a bench by the wall, its shiny coat gleaming greens and blues in the evening sun.

  Violet’s breath caught. What with everything, she’d never mentioned Tom’s bird to Boy.

  “Maybe,” she said, turning to walk back down the path. “But don’t you think Macula would be a robin or an owl, or something pretty instead?”

  Boy shook his head. “No. She’d be something smart and mysterious and strong. She’d be something magical. I know she’d be a raven.”

  I didn’t write an acknowledgement for A Place Called Perfect. It was forgotten amongst the moments of madness during the lead up to publication. Anne, my editor, asked if I wanted to include one this time round and, though there are still many moments of madness, there are equally as many people I wish to thank:

  Firstly, everyone that helped on my self-publishing journey before Perfect found its home with Usborne. The
teachers, librarians, booksellers and children of Kilkenny proudly promoted a local writer and I was overwhelmed by the support received from my home town.

  Then there’s Josephine Hayes and Lauren Gardner. Jo found Perfect and Lauren nurtured it and Trouble. Both played a huge part on my road to becoming a published author and my tentative first steps in this industry. I would have sunk pretty quickly without them.

  Having dreamed of publication, meeting Anne Finnis was daunting. My nerves were wasted energy. She was warm and welcoming, immediately putting me at ease. As an added bonus Anne possesses the super-human ability to turn my gibberish into readable books and can hold many the serious conversation about the exact mechanics of a walking zombie. I am forever grateful to her as both an editor and friend.

  Everyone at Usborne for taking me on a trip in their hot-air balloon. Sarah, Stevie, Jacob, Katarina, Kath and Tilda are just a few names that set my emails alight and add excitement to my inbox.

  Karl James Mountford and Katharine Millichope for making both Perfect and Trouble objects of beauty. Luckily people do judge books by their covers.

  The booksellers, teachers and librarians who took Perfect to their hearts. I’ve been on a whistle-stop tour through the north of Ireland meeting booksellers in love with stories and words. I’ve interacted online with teachers devoted to their students’ learning and talked to librarians who get genuine joy when a child reads their suggestion. These people are filled with passion for their work. Theirs is not a job, it’s a vocation.

  Children – they know they’re far more intelligent than us adults. I sweat over plot points aware that if I make a mistake it will be spotted. They twirl on the spot until they get dizzy or go on treasure-seeking adventures. Children know how to have fun, they’re the life and soul of every party and I’m so flattered they’re reading my stories.

  I’ve needed quite a bit of propping up this year. Trouble was born in a storm and all below steadied the ship:

  My friends – girls, I hope you remember what I look like when I crawl out from behind this laptop!

  My writing group – the most talented people I know. Two of us have struck it lucky so far – who’s next?

  My multitude of relatives for rallying round – I will forever remember our sing-song at the campfire last August. How the saddest of moments can be the sweetest of times.

  Mam, the original dreamer – you believed in me before I could chew my own food. If I told you I wanted to be an astronaut you’d have hounded NASA. You’re the perfect balance of strength and kindness. Without you, Mam, none of this would exist.

  Willie, Emer, Monica, Donal, Carmel, Mick and Bernie – I couldn’t have come up with a better crew if I’d written you myself. The finest bunch of No-Man’s-Landers I’ve ever met.

  The Heffernans – even though I didn’t take your name you still took me in, silver spoon and all. Your kindness and caring never stops.

  To Robbie, Jo and Tinker – my life. Nothing I can type will ever be enough. We have all the best adventures. Thanks for finding me.

  And finally, Dad – it was always going to be your name on the dedication, I just never imagined you wouldn’t read it. You gave each of us every bit of your enormous heart, your conviction made us believe that we were something to believe in. Because of you I want Jo to grow up with confidence and feel intensely loved. That way she can do anything.

  Just like Rose, I see your signs. You’re still a man of magic.

  Thank you for everything. Love, Hel.

  A Place Called Perfect is available on the iBooks Store

  A Place Called Perfect is available on the Kindle Store

  More praise for

  Winner of the Redbridge Children’s Book Award, North East Book Award 2018 and Hillingdon Primary Book of the Year.

  “Your heart is in your mouth and you’re knee deep in adventure.” M.G. Leonard

  “The perfect choice if you’re looking for a brilliantly spooky, wildly imaginative story.” Ruzaika, The Regal Critiques blog

  “An unusual, creepy story.” Primary Times

  “My new favourite. This is honestly the greatest book I have ever read. I adore the characters, plot twists, action, and all round brilliant adventures.” Molly

  “Amazing. I love this book so much! I couldn’t put it down and even afterwards I read it again.” Katy

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  A Darkness of Dragons is available on the iBooks Store

  A Darkness of Dragons is available on the Kindle Store

  In a world of dragons, song-spells, pipers and battles, Patch Brightwater is a boy in disgrace. Thrown in jail for playing a forbidden spell, he is no one’s idea of a hero. But only he knows a deadly truth – the evil Piper of Hamelyn is on the loose.

  With the help of Wren, a girl cursed to live as a rat, and Barver, a fire-breathing dracogriff, Patch must stop the Piper sparking the biggest battle of them all.

  Three accidental heroes versus one legendary villain… An epic adventure is born.

  First published in the UK in 2018 by Usborne Publishing Ltd., Usborne House, 83-85 Saffron Hill, London EC1N 8RT, England. www.usborne.com

  Copyright © Helena Duggan, 2018

  The right of Helena Duggan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  Cover illustration by Karl James Mountford © Usborne Publishing, 2018

  Map and A History of Perfect illustrations by David Shephard © Usborne Publishing, 2018

  The name Usborne and the devices are Trade Marks of Usborne All rights reserved. This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or used in any way except as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or loaned or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  EPUB: 9781474958530 KINDLE: 9781474958547

  00988/06