by HR Moore
*****
Alexander sat at Philip’s desk, pondering the recent developments. Anita had been distant since they’d returned to the house and he had no idea what to do about it, or indeed if he should try to do anything at all. Maybe a healthy distance between them would be a good thing, although he couldn’t think of anything worse. Then there was the key he’d found that was still bugging him, mostly because he didn’t know where to look next. He got up and started pacing (difficult as this was given the piles of books everywhere), to try and channel his frustration, but the books in his way frustrated him further, until he was so wound up he kicked a stack over. Needing something else to vent his anger on, he grabbed hold of the curtains and yanked them open; stupid idea not to let any sunlight in anyway. Bloody Philip, he thought, as light poured into the room for the first time in an age and the true extent of the mess became apparent. For someone that had harped on about the ‘illuminating power of light’ and how wise the one who came up with the Spirit motto ‘look to the light’ must have been, he seemed to be quite a hypocrite.
Alexander’s frustration abated a little as a result of his reckless acts, so he stooped down to reassemble the pile of books, then turned to redraw the curtains; it seemed disrespectful to overturn Philip’s wishes so soon after his death. As he snuffed out the last chink of light, he froze, an idea finding root in his mind that grew to become an epiphany. ‘Look to the light’. Alexander reached for the lamp on the desk and turned it over; what if the key unlocked a real light? Philip had always loved it when the literal and metaphorical collided, so what if he’d taken the motto literally and the key unlocked an actual light? Unfortunately, the lamp on Philip’s desk had a smooth base with no key hole to be seen, however, undeterred, he inspected all of the lights in the study. When none of them produced a result, he went to Philip’s old bedroom and inspected each of the lights there, but again, nothing. Finally, he tried the garden sheds; Philip had loved his garden, but here again, no success; there were only single bulbs dangling dejectedly from the ceiling and nowhere to hide a hole for a key.
Feeling deflated, Alexander returned to the study and sat back down in his Grandfather’s leather chair. ‘What does the key unlock you old sod?’ Alexander asked out loud, pulling the desk lamp towards him once more, hoping for some light-related inspiration. He rested it on its side and re-inspected the base, silently questioning how else a lamp could hide a keyhole. Finding no inspiration, he set it upright, however, as he was doing so, his fingers felt a tiny, almost invisible seam running around its base. He paused before turning it onto its side once more and carefully inspecting the seam. The line ran all the way around and looked like nothing out of the ordinary, except, on closer inspection, the colour of the base was very slightly different from the rest of it. He tried to slip a finger nail into the seam to prize off the bottom part, but the join was too tight, so he tried twisting instead. To his amazement, the base swung smoothly outwards from a point near the edge, exposing a second layer of brass below. Alexander’s heart almost stopped as his eyes made out a perfect, key-shaped hole in the centre of the newly exposed metal. ‘By the Gods,’ he said out loud. He reached into his pocket, retrieved the small key and inserted it into the hole. He twisted lightly and the key turned easily in the lock, making a delicate clicking sound as a panel in the top of the lamp sprung open. He gently swung the panel cover back, noting the exquisite craftsmanship that must have been required, and delicately retrieved the piece of folded parchment that was sitting inside.
Unable to contain his excitement, Alexander quickly unfolded the paper and held it up to the light, moving his face closer to the paper to make out the words he found there. There were several lines of text, and, to his surprise, the first contained only one word, his name.
Alexander,
Remember the lessons from Philip & Fred.
Be a good scholar.
Jeffrey will help you unlock the light.
Destroy this note when you have memorised what I have said.
I have faith in you.
Philip
He felt suddenly a bit sick. How had Philip known he would find this? Why had he written it? What did it mean? And why had he gone to such pains to hide it so that it would be so difficult to find? As far as he could see, there was nothing here that could be considered contentious. Philip & Fred were nicknames that Philip had used for two famous children’s authors. They’d written a book of fairy tales that Philip had read to Alexander when he was young. The stories were varied, but usually contained a moral message, similar to most other books for children. Philip’s favourite story had been about a princess who’d been banished by her father, the King, as he’d gone mad when a group of powerful sorcerers had come to court. The story was about the princess’ quest to retake her rightful position and rid the land of the evil sorcerers, which, of course, she did. As in every other fairy story, in the process, she found her prince and the story finished, as usual, with them living happily ever after.
Alexander stiffened as Austin’s final words to Christiana came flooding back to him, ‘we are the only two left that know the truth now that Philip has gone’. Philip had known the truth about Christiana’s bloodline. Was that what Philip was talking about here? Could Anita be considered the princess in the story? Was that the point Philip was trying to get across?
The second line was clear enough; Philip had often used the words ‘be a good scholar’ and had always meant that one should question everything as good scholars do, even the facts we think we know for certain. What Alexander was supposed to ‘be a good scholar’ in relation to however, he had no idea. The third line was confusing. Who was Jeffrey and why, or more to the point, how, would he be able to help ‘unlock the light’ and what did that even mean anyway? Alexander racked his brain, but could think of no one he knew called Jeffrey, either in the real world or in a story book.
What Philip meant by ‘I have faith in you’ and why he wanted Alexander to destroy the note seemed to Alexander cryptic and possibly a little melodramatic, however, reasoning it was probably for the same purpose that Philip had hidden it so well, Alexander thought it prudent to follow his instructions. He picked up the note and took it to the fireplace, making sure that he both remembered what it said and that he hadn’t missed anything. He then picked up a match from the mantelpiece, lit it and set the paper alight. He held onto the parchment for a few seconds before placing it in the fireplace, waiting to ensure there was nothing left but ash before turning to one of the shelves and picking up an old, worn book. This seemed a good moment to remind himself of the stories of Philip & Fred.
