“But what about me? Why didn’t the glasses work on me?” Violet asked.
“Well I’m not sure but I do have a theory. It happens sometimes, my brothers just can’t control some people no matter how much they try. Those people always end up here in No Mans Land. I imagine given a little more time you would have been thrown here too. Needless to say they would have told your family some story or other and they would accept it…”
“Like they did with Dad,” Violet interrupted, “the Archers told Mam he’d gone away on business and she believed them. Dad would never do that without telling us.”
“Exactly Violet, your mother is a Perfect citizen so to speak.”
“But I still don’t understand, why didn’t it work on me?” she said again.
“Well I believe some people just have too much.”
“Too much what?” Boy asked.
“Too much imagination. They either have vast stores or they can regenerate it. I’m not sure which. The majority of people just have a set amount and when it’s gone, it’s gone.”
“Bet I have more than you Boy,” Violet smiled, proudly.
“I suppose you are a freak,” he laughed.
“My studies have shown it could be genetic.” William continued, “You said your father was also taken to No Mans Land Violet- which proves my point.”
“No I didn’t,” Violet replied, “they took my Dad to the Ghost Estate. We were just there. He’s a prisoner and the Archers are forcing him to carry out experiments. They’re growing eyes but we don’t know why.”
“Growing what?” William coughed, spitting out some of his tea.
“Eyes,” Boy replied, “just like this one.”
Boy pulled the half dead plant from his pocket leaving it down in front of William Archer. The creature wriggled and squirmed for a moment then stopped. A clump of congealed blood spewed out onto the table from it’s severed vein. The eye looked from Violet to William finally resting on Boy then shuddered once more and died.
William’s face lost all colour as he took up a pencil and poked the specimen.
“Did you really…” he stopped mid sentence and rose quickly to look out the window.
“You two into the back now,” he said urgently, “Follow down that way there’s a door. Go through it and wait until I come get you.”
He was stiff and stern; William Archer had suddenly come alive.
“What is it, what’s wrong?” Violet said.
“The Watchers, they’re searching the street, probably looking for you two. I’ll try get rid of them.”
Violet and Boy did as they were told and slipped into the shadows in the direction William Archer pointed. The place was pitch black and they had to put their arms out so as not to bump into anything. Boy hit the door first and grunted.
“Not a sound!” William barked, across the room.
Searching in the darkness, Violet found the handle and turned it as quietly as possible. Taking care not to utter a sound, the pair slipped in through the door closing it silently behind them.
They were standing in an office of sorts. Judging by the mess it was definitely a man’s office. A single bulb, dirty with dust, clung to a wire in the middle of the room casting a faint yellow glow around the space. There was a table by the far wall overflowing in loose papers and piles of notebooks. They were also covered in dust as if they hadn’t been looked at in a very long time. Violet had just picked a notebook from the pile when Boy called her.
“Come here,” he said, his ear stuck to the door, “Listen.”
She took a space next to Boys.
“They ran past about half an hour ago,” a voice growled.
“Well as I said I haven’t seen them. I’ve been shut up in my office all day.”
“Working on your experiments I suppose,” one of the Watchers laughed.
“I gave that up years ago boys you know that. Happy to tow the line these days.”
“That’s what you say alright. So you don’t mind if we come in for a look then?”
Violet’s eyes widened. Quickly the pair scurried around the room for somewhere to hide. In her haste Violet tripped over a solid lump in the carpet. She bent down to inspect the threadbare rug. There was something underneath. She pulled it back to reveal a trap door.
“Boy, quickly,” she whispered, heaving at the solid block of wood.
Within seconds he was at her side and had yanked open the door. A ladder reached up from the darkness below. Violet quickly descended. Boy followed pulling the carpet back on top of the trap door before closing it above him. They held their silence as footsteps entered the room above.
“Do you think they heard us?” Violet whispered.
“No I don’t think so,” Boy replied, breathless.
Something brushed off Violet’s ear and she jumped. It was like a piece of string, she reached for it in the darkness and pulled. There was a quick click, a small sizzle and suddenly the room flooded with light. The place looked like the inside of her cousin’s hay barn. The walls were made from stones of all different shapes and sizes mixed with thick beams of dark brown wood. Thinner wooden beams striped the ceiling and the floor was slabbed in even more stone.
Sheets and sheets of paper covered the walls. They were mainly drawings of glasses with arrows running from one picture to another. Hand scribbled notes covered the drawings. Some of the writing was small and in black while other words were large, in red and looked very important. William Archer had been experimenting with different ways to make his own glasses. All the notes were dated and the most recent was about ten years old. He also had lots of notes on the imagination, his theories worked out across the yellowing pages. There was a diagram titled the “Reimaginator”. It was a strange contraption made up mainly of what looked like lots of bagpipes. There were dials and buttons sticking out all over the odd looking machine.
“Violet,” Boy whispered.
Engrossed in the “Reimaginator” she ignored her friend.
“Violet,” he said this time a little louder.
Still there was no response.
“Violet you have to see this!”
“What Boy!” she snapped, turning around.
Violet gasped. Boy was standing in front of a crooked wooden table on top of which sat the “Reimaginator”. It was exactly like the drawing. Lots of pipes snaked round the machine off in different directions; each pipe was connected to a leather bag. Seven leather bags like giant lungs stuck out from the side of the machine. A gold-framed glass cabinet sat in the middle of the “Reimaginator”. It was empty at the moment but in the drawing it was full with coloured gas.
“What is it?” Boy whispered.
“I think it gives people back their imagination,” Violet slowly replied.
Suddenly something shuffled above. Boy dived for the light plunging the place back into darkness.
CHAPTER 23
Welcome to Adequate
“I see you found my den,”
William Archer peered down from the trap door.
“Yes,” Violet replied, “It’s amazing.”
“Oh it was all a long time ago,” William said, brushing off the compliment, “Now come on you better get out of here. It took a lot of persuading to get rid of those Watchers and I am sure they’ll be back.”
Violet and Boy did what they were told and climbed out of the basement.
“How did you get rid of them?” Violet asked, when she was back in the room.
“Oh years of compliance,” William smiled half-heartedly; “If it had happened ten years ago they would never have believed me.”
“Why?”
“Well I didn’t exactly tow the line when I first came here as you can see from my experiments,” he laughed remembering, “but I’ve been a good boy since. You might even call me perfect.”
“Why did you stop?” Violet asked.
Boy gave her a warning look.
“There was no reason left to fight,” William repl
ied, closing the trap door and replacing the carpet. “Now you two better go. I don’t want to get into any trouble.”
“But please,” Violet said, “you could help. I saw the “Reimaginator”. We could fix Perfect.”
“Violet,” Boy warned.
“Please,” Violet said again, “Please Mr. Archer, I know we could do it. Now that we know about the tea and we have your invention and all your research. I know we could save Perfect. We could save my family.”
“Violet let’s go,” Boy said, pulling her away.
“Please Mr. Archer?”
“Enough Violet!” William snapped, “Perfect is fine as it is. I gave all that up long ago and I’m happier for it. I am sorry about your father but I am afraid I can’t help. You will have to suffer the faith of the rest of us and get used to No Mans Land. The quicker you do that, the better for you.”
“But you can help I know you can. I know you’re not happy.”
“Violet. You’ve gone too far now. You don’t know me. Now please both of you leave. I have helped you enough.”
He herded the pair across his shop and out the door leaving them alone in the laneway. Violet was devastated. William Archer was meant to be nice, he was meant to be different.
It was now late morning and though they were both tired they had to spend the rest of the day hiding from the Watchers in No Mans Land. Boy knew a lot of secret places and they avoided danger sometimes only by the narrowest of margins. As darkness set in, both exhausted, Boy led the way in silence through the streets coming to a stop outside a stark grey building.
“We’re here,” he said, “you can stay for the night and tomorrow we’ll figure out what to do.”
“Where are we?” Violet asked.
“My home,” Boy smiled, “It’s the orphanage. I’ll sneak you in and you can sleep in the playroom. It’s better we don’t tell anyone yet just in case the Watchers are still looking for you. After a few days, when it’s all blown over, I’ll tell the nurses. They’re used to kids turning up from Perfect so I’m sure they’ll give you a bed.”
“But I don’t want to live here Boy,” Violet panicked, “I live with my parents. I want to go home!”
“Ssh Violet please,” Boy said, hugging his friend, “we’ll figure something out. Tonight anyway you’ll stay here.”
He led her in through gigantic wrought iron gates that dwarfed the pair. There were grand carved double doors round the side of the imposing building and Boy gently pushed them open. Checking the coast was clear; he tiptoed down the enormous hallway through another set of double doors.
“In here,” he whispered, his voice echoed in the space.
Violet followed. The room on the other side was sparse and cold, the ceiling stretched right to the sky. The walls were covered in plain white wallpaper, which was torn away in places revealing years of chipped paint. A rickety bookcase holding a tiny collection of aging books and a small box of broken and tattered toys rested in one corner. Violet was overwhelmed, the room was huge and lonely not like her home where she was safe and loved.
Boy left to get some blankets. Seeking out a small space Violet crouched onto her honkers and nestled down deep into the far corner of the room. She was wrong. She wasn’t safe at home anymore. She wasn’t loved either. Tears watered her vision and Boy was a blur as he tiptoed back into the room.
“Violet,” he whispered.
“Over here Boy.”
“What are you doing here?” he laughed, finding her curled up in the corner.
“I don’t know,” she half smiled, “it felt safer.”
“Don’t worry. They don’t let us play in here much, so you won’t be disturbed. I’ll come down early in the morning to get you up. Take these.”
He handed her a worn old duvet and pillow. He also had a cup of hot water and an apple in his hand and he left them on the floor beside her.
“Are these yours?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine,” he replied, “I never get cold anyway.”
“No, I can’t,” Violet insisted, handing back the blankets.
“I’m a boy,” he laughed, running over to the door, “unlike girls I’m tough, I can take the cold.”
Violet smiled as her friend snuck quietly out of the room. Even though she pretended she didn’t; she secretly liked his teasing.
Spreading the duvet out on the floor she lay on top, grabbed the corner and rolled, wrapping it tight around her narrow figure. Making sure there were no air holes, she pulled the pillow into place and fell asleep exhausted.
The morning sun warmed her cheek pulling Violet from a restful sleep. There wasn’t a sound in the huge house so it must have been early. She lay listening to the dawn chorus as her breath formed circles in the space above her head. Bored she scanned the room.
There was a small bookshelf in the corner. On the count of three she raced across the freezing tiles, grabbed a book and sprinted back to the warmth of her blankets. The book was old and worn, tattered round the edges. A History of Adequate it was called and a picture of what looked like the main street in Perfect sat on the cover. Biting into her apple, Violet opened the book.
Welcome to Adequate, our perfect little town.
She flicked through the pages. Adequate was definitely Perfect. The streets, the shops even some the faces were the same except for one thing. Nothing looked perfect in Adequate. Adequate wasn’t glossy, it was nice, even lovely but some of the flowerpots were cracked, paint was chipped here and there and the people looked normal, good normal, not shiny at all.
She flicked onto a picture and her heart stopped. It was a wedding scene. A beautiful couple stood centre, behind them was the square in Perfect and either side their families. The caption read “Macula Lashes and William Archer, son of Iris and the late Arnold Archer residents of Adequate, surrounded by family on their wedding day.”
“Boo!”
Violet leapt from her bed.
“It’s only me Violet,” Boy laughed, “can’t believe I scared ya. Hey, I didn’t know you could read!?”
“Boy,” Violet snapped, catching her breath, “what if I’d screamed or something.”
“Your face was hilarious,” Boy laughed.
Violet forced a smile and sat back down on the duvet.
“You have to see this,” she said, “I think I know how we’ll get William to help us.”
“No Violet,” Boy said, quickly becoming serious, “he doesn’t want to. You can’t force him. We’ll find another way.”
“But I know he’ll want to Boy. I’m telling you,” Violet said, pushing the book under his nose.
“Oh, it’s him, William,” Boy said, rubbing the picture, “He’s getting married? He looks much younger. And there’s George and Edward, they don’t look too happy.”
“Where? I didn’t see them. Anyway, it’s not them I’m on about, it’s her,” Violet said, pointing to William’s bride.
“What about her?”
“Well I met her.”
“What do you mean you met her?”
“When you were in the house and I rescued you…”
“I rescued you too you know.”
“It’s not a competition Boy. Anyway when I rescued you, she was the woman in the room across the hall.”
“Really? You sure? What would she be doing there if she’s William’s wife?”
“Well how do I know but it was definitely her. Maybe the Archers kidnapped her. William said they took everything from him and that’s why he won’t fight. Maybe she’s everything they took.”
“That still doesn’t mean he’ll help us.”
“Well he’ll have to ‘cause I’m sure he wants to rescue her and we’re the only people who know where she is.”
“Violet that’s blackmail,” Boy whispered, “you can’t do that.”
“I know,” she smiled, “I wouldn’t anyway, but I have a feeling he’ll help us. I think he really wants to. He just needs a little push to get brave again.”
Violet elbowed Boy sharply in the ribs then climbed up from the floor.
“Come on Boy. Let’s get William brave again!”
CHAPTER 24
The Persuasion
“Not you two again,” William Archer sighed, as he opened his door a crack.
“Please Mr. Archer can we come in?” Violet asked, “I have something I need to tell you.”
“Violet I told you yesterday I am not interested in helping you. Now please leave me a…”
“It’s about Macula.”
William’s face changed. He glanced down the street in both directions then quickly ushered the pair inside. Closing the door, he paused against the wood then turned to face them.
“What do you know about Macula?” he asked, his tone firm, “this better be good children because you have worn my patience thin.”
Violet looked at Boy then pulled the book from under her jumper.
“I found this,” she said, handing it over, “I’ve marked the page.”
William took the book, walked to the table and sat down. His body slackened as he opened it at the mark. Unconsciously, he thumbed the paper.
“You looked beautiful that day,” he whispered.
Violet walked over to the table and sat down. Boy followed her lead.
“I found it in the orphanage,” she said “is Adequate now Perfect?”
William nodded.
“When did it change?” Boy asked.
“A long time ago,” William sighed, lifting his head from the page for the first time, “You see Adequate was a lovely town. It had its good and bad points but on the whole it was a happy place. Balanced.”
“So what happened to it?” Violet asked.
“My brothers,” William replied, his anger visible, “they were always too big for their boots you see. They were perfect in school and perfect at home but they didn’t get the praise they thought they deserved. I wasn’t perfect, I was a bit of a joker but I was popular. I had loads of friends. I was also my mother’s pet.”
A Place Called Perfect Page 10
