“Ooh quick Emma, over here! It looks like a lake or somethin’!”
Luke rushed ahead laughing and calling her to follow. Cautiously, she did. It was such a lovely hot day that Luke couldn’t resist getting into the clear, cool water.
“Come on, it’s ok, it’s not deep,” he called, “come in with me, it’s fun!”
Emma tentatively dipped her trunk into the water and had a good long drink. Luke grinned.
“Yeah, that’s it! Now come all the way in and play with me.”
He laughed and sloshed about and splashed her so that soon she wanted to join in. She reached out her trunk to him and he put his hand out to her and she trod heavily, slowly, down into the lake. She drew up a big trunk full of water and showered it all over herself, and Luke. She splashed and she played and felt free. And so did Luke. It was just the best afternoon.
When they got out of the water Emma laid down on the warm grass to be dried by the sun, and Luke sat with her, leaning against her chest. Eventually, reluctantly, he looked at his watch. 4.32.
“I have to go now,” he told her sadly, “but I will come back if I can.”
He didn’t know when that might be.
“You do like it here don’t you?”
He knew she must and was satisfied his outlawing had paid off again – she’d be much happier here than in that concrete enclosure. She’d have freedom; she’d have space; he only wished she wouldn’t be on her own.
“There’s prob’ly rabbits here,” he told her, “rabbits make good friends. The thing with rabbits is, you ‘ave to be patient. They might seem a bit stand-offish at first but once they get to know you they’re very friendly.”
He stood up and said goodbye, confident she’d understood.
He slipped back in to the zoo and locked the gate so that everything, well, almost everything, was as he’d found it. He decided it would be a good idea to hang on to the keys – he’d need them next time he visited Emma.
It was 4.57 when he arrived at the coach so he was in good time for Mrs Tebbut’s prompt 5pm departure, but for some reason she was crosser than he’d ever seen her.
“Luke Walker! Do you have any idea what you’ve put us through? You have disrupted the day for the whole class! You are a selfish, thoughtless child and I will be sending a letter home to your parents!”
Back in the hubbub of the zoo, Luke kept a low profile. It felt good to be outlawing again. He saw plenty of zoo workers but there was no way of knowing whether they had keys without asking them. Then he heard a familiar jangle.
“I know what that means,” he thought, triumphant, “that man’s got keys on his belt!”
The man was alone. At a grassy, low-fenced enclosure inhabited by small, furry animals Luke didn’t know the name of, he caught up with him. The man seemed engrossed in what he was doing, or perhaps lost in his own thoughts. Luke could see the keys dangling against his hip and crept up so close behind him he could almost reach them through the wire fence. Just as he was about to touch them a loud voice, crackling from the man’s walkie talkie, startled his hand back. The voice sounded impatient.
“Brinley! Can you hear me? I need you to open the Goods Entrance – the delivery’s just arrived.”
“I heard you! I’m on my way.”
The man, and the keys, hurried out of the enclosure. Luke followed him at a discreet distance. He went past a sign which said ‘STAFF ONLY’ and up to a big gate. No one else was around. The walkie talkie shouted at the man again.
“HURRY UP BRINLEY! It’s that bad tempered lorry driver!”
“I’m coming! I’m coming!” said Brinley.
In his rush he left the keys in the gate after unlocking it and hurried up the track. He would probably only be gone for a moment or two. But that was enough.
Luke ran as fast as he could to get back to the elephant. It was easier to go unnoticed than it had been on the way out because there was some kind of commotion on the other side of the zebra enclosure. He overheard something as he passed through which assured him it was nothing to concern him. The elephant was waiting right where he’d left her.
“I got it! I got the key! Sorry it took so long.”
He unlocked the gate and led her out.
“That’s it, out you come,” he encouraged her, “I don’t know your name so if you don’t mind I think I’ll call you ……… Emma.”
Emma seemed as happy as he was about her outing and she trumpeted with joy.
“Shhh shhh,” Luke looked up into her big, dark eyes, “we’ve got to be sneaky, remember?”
He pointed to a gate behind Emma’s enclosure beyond which he could see a wide open space – a meadow bordered with woodlands.
“Let’s go this way,” he suggested, “don’t worry, no one’ll see. They’re too busy lookin’ for a lost little boy. Hope they find ‘im.”
In a few short minutes Luke and Emma were crossing the meadow side by side, heading for the woods. Luke chatted away non-stop while Emma swished her tail and listened contentedly.
“Truth is Emma,” he explained, “I’d love to take you home with me but I really don’t think me dad’d let me. Honestly, you should ‘ave ‘eard the fuss ‘e made over a couple o’ rabbits.”
On the other side of the wood was another meadow, even more beautiful, with trees here and there and, to Luke’s delight, something else.
******
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A long long time ago, long before you or I, or our great grandparents, were born, the world was ruled by a powerful witch called Ermendrud.
Ermendrud was respected and feared because she saw everything and punished those who disobeyed her law. There was only one. For a whole millennium only one was needed. No one broke it. Well, one or two did, at the beginning, but when people saw what happened to them, they were careful, very very careful, not to make the same mistake. So life in those days was very harmonious. There were no wars. There was no murder. There was no stealing. There was only co-operation, and kindness, and health and happiness.
After a thousand years of being quite content to live alone, Ermendrud decided she wanted baby. So she went out into the poppy field to look for the tallest poppy. She found two that were very tall, more than a head taller than the rest. A red one and a yellow one. She watched them for several minutes but it was impossible to be sure which was the tallest, swaying in the wind as they were. Finally she settled on the red one, for red was her favourite colour. She placed a lock of her hair inside it, folded the petals on top and sealed it with a kiss.
*
*
The following morning, as soon as the sun rose, Ermendrud hurried back to the poppy field where she found not one, but two babies. They were both girls. One had bright red hair, the other’s was golden yellow. Ermendrud realised that some of her hair must have blown onto the yellow poppy after she left, and she was very happy it had.
She bent down to kiss the red haired baby. “Welcome to the world baby Bertha,” she said. Then she kissed the yellow haired baby. “Welcome to the world baby Brynja.”
The little witch twins grew up happy and strong until, on their sixteenth birthday, their mother called them to her. “This world is yours now, my loves,” she told them, “watch it carefully and remember the spell. My time is done.” Tears pricked their eyes but they didn’t argue. They knew that if their mother said something was true, then it was. Ermendrud faded away in her sleep that night, leaving nothing behind but a handful of poppy seeds.
Autumn came and went. Winter settled in and seemed to last forever. The young witches, mired in grief, were not keeping an eye on the world. One day they were both hit with a short sharp pain between the eyes.
“Aaaagh!” Bertha rubbed her finger over the skin above her nose, “What was that?”
“The sharp pain!” yelled Brynja, jumping to her feet, “someone’s broken the law!”
“Oh no! What do we do?”
“The spell! Mother said we have to do the spell!”
“But we’ve never done it before! I thought we’d be able to watch Mother do it …”
“Well no one broke the law while Mother was here, but now she’s gone they think they can get away with it. We’ve got to show them they can’t!”
“I don’t know …”
“Yes you do! She taught us a hundred times! We have to do it! If we don’t do it in the next four minutes it’ll be too late.”
Brynja rushed to her mother’s room for the ingredients. Bertha waited. Brynja went to the stream behind the house. Bertha followed. Brynja sprinkled lavender into the water, held a seed of Black-eyed Susan in each hand, and recited the spell.
“There is one who did not heed The law of good and of good deed. They broke the law, did something bad, Selfish, cruel or making sad. So find the one who did offend And make their ill deed twist and bend Back on them so they will feel it, What they gave they now receive it.”
Brynja dropped the seeds into the water and looked at Bertha. “Did it work? D’you think it worked?”
Bertha scanned the sky. “I can’t see a rainbow.” She turned back to Brynja and shook her head.
Three and a half minutes had passed since the pain.
“Your hair!” Bertha pointed frantically, “you forgot your hair!” She grabbed the scissors from her apron pocket and passed them to Brynja.
Brynja cut a curl from her beautiful yellow hair and dropped it into the stream. A rainbow formed over the water for a few seconds, and then dissolved.
“You did it!” cried Bertha.
Brynja’s face flushed and she closed her eyes. She felt vibrant. Full of energy. Wide awake.
She smiled at her sister. “Yes I did.”
*********************************
Story continues tomorrow but if you don’t want to wait you can read the whole fairy tale here now 😀
Simon Butler read aloud from the board on the fence.
“They’re Bengal tigers; well known for their power and strength; one of the most feared predators in nature. In the wild they scent mark large areas of up to 100 square kilometres to keep their rivals away.”
“Very good Simon,” Mrs Tebbut smiled.
Luke didn’t think there was much to smile about.
“The wild ones live in massive places, prob’ly bigger ‘n Bournemouth, and this cage is smaller ‘n my back garden. No wonder they look fed up,” he thought.
They moved on. Luke lagged behind with diminishing enthusiasm. Mrs Tebbut drew everyone’s attention to another enclosure.
“Can anyone tell me what these guys are?”
“They’re penguins,” said Anna.
“That’s right. Does anyone know what type?”
“They’re bored penguins.” He knew the moment he said it that he’d said it too loud.
“Luke Walker! I am tired of your attitude! If you can’t enter into the spirit of things with a smile on your face and some genuine effort then kindly do not participate at all.”
That was fine by Luke.
“Why do teachers ask you what you think if all they really want you to tell ’em is what they think?” he grumbled to himself.
When Mrs Tebbut was distracted by Katia getting a splinter, Luke decided to take her at her word and ‘not participate at all’. He was better off on his own anyway. He wandered around the zoo, looking at the animals and feeling sorry for them.
“Don’t seem right to lock animals up when they ‘aven’t done nothin’. It’s like the Sheriff of Nottin’am all over again.”
He noticed an empty bench in front of a line of trees, away from the busier zoo paths, and decided to have a sit down.
“It’s a shame about zoos,” he thought, disappointed.
While he sat there he looked around. Over his left shoulder, behind the trees, he saw another enclosure. It was off the beaten track and smaller than the others. It was concrete and contained nothing of beauty or interest except its occupant. There stood the biggest, most breath-taking, awe-inspiring individual Luke had ever encountered. An elephant. All on her own.
“All on your own,” Luke sympathised, as he made his way to her, “another damson in distress.”
He climbed up on the fence so that he could talk to her over the top of it and she walked towards him to get a closer look.
“I’m on me own too,” he continued, “not stayin’ with the group if I’m not wanted!”
Then he had an idea.
“Would you like to come out an’ play with me?”
The elephant seemed interested so he went on.
“ok, listen, we’ll have to be a bit sneaky. You wait here while I find a key; then I’ll open this gate and you can slip out before anyone sees.”
It was a brilliant plan!
It didn’t take long for Luke to work out where he might find what he was looking for.
“Somebody what works here will have keys!”
It never occurred to him that he would need a particular key for the particular lock he wanted to open but, as it happened, that wasn’t going to be a problem. When the zoo was built over thirty years earlier, it boasted the largest number of animal enclosures in the country. It was deemed impractical to have hundreds of different keys so the same three locks were fitted to everything: one for animal enclosures; one for outer gates; and one for buildings. Each key-holder carried the same three keys. That was all anyone needed. It was all Luke needed.
******
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***************************
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Joe’s sixteenth funny face was not easy to maintain as it was beginning to hurt. With eyes wide, tongue sticking out and skin pulled tight around his cheek bones by his fingers, it was difficult to speak.
“I’m sorry!” Luke said, “It’s not working. I pressed the button four times but it didn’t take a picture.”
Joe retracted his tongue and massaged his face.
“Gis a look.”
Luke handed him the camera.
“It says MEMORY FULL,” Joe explained, “how many pictures have you taken?”
“I dunno,” said Luke as he put Dad’s camera back in his bag, “are we nearly there yet?”
They wouldn’t be there for another half an hour but the boys had already finished their packed lunches. Joe had suggested they save some for later but Luke thought it wisest to eat everything now so they’d have less to carry.
“How much longer ’til we get there?” Luke asked no one in particular.
It really was too much to expect people to sit still for two whole hours. And Mrs Tebbut’s insistence that the coach would not be making any stops along the way did not allow for the fact that some people’s need to quench their thirst with a lot of lemonade might lead to other needs. He tried to think of something else.
At 11.03 the coach pulled in to Parking Zone B at Dillingsgate Zoo.
“Ok, class 4, pay attention!” Mrs Tebbut called everyone to order. “You may leave whatever you don’t need on the coach but remember that once you’ve left it you won’t see it again until home time. So, if you think you might want it at any time during the day, take it with you now. You must stay in your allotted group, with your allotted adult, at all times. You must be back at the coach by 4.45 so that we can leave promptly at 5pm. Ok, have a nice day everybody.”
Glad that his teacher had finally finished her speech, Luke hurried to the front of the coach. He was in Mr Eden’s group, with Joe, but he couldn’t line up yet because he had urgent business to attend to. He told Joe to tell their group to wait for him and then ran towards the zoo entrance, looking for the toilets. When he returned, six minutes later, Mr Eden’s group was not there. Mrs Tebbut’s group was. Mrs Tebbut’s arms were folded.
“Luke Walker. What did I tell you not ten minutes ago?”
“Erm, something about if you leave it you can’t have it ’til you go home.”
“What else?”
“Can’t remember.”
“I told you to stay in your allotted group with your allotted adult at all times.”
“Oh yeah, I know but I jus’ had …”
“But nothing. If I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it.”
Luke looked at his shoes. There was no point trying to explain about the lemonade. He knew that the less he said, the sooner he’d be able to catch up with Joe. His mind started to wander. He wondered if he’d be able to play with the monkeys; and swim with the polar bears; he wondered where the gift shop was and whether he’d be able to get a souvenir pack of cards, or badges with animals on. He could certainly do with a few more badges.
“Luke! Did you hear what I said? You will be in my group instead of Mr Eden’s so that I can keep an eye on you.”
Luke’s eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. He was supposed to be in the same group as Joe. They’d been looking forward to going round the zoo together. This was a very annoying turn of events.
But, it was nice weather, and anything was better than being stuck in a classroom. Luke decided he might as well try to make the best of it.
Mrs Tebbut pointed at two big tigers.
“What can you tell me about the tigers in this enclosure?” she asked the group.
Luke was shocked. He put up his hand.
“Are they criminals?” he suggested.
“Don’t be silly Luke, of course they’re not criminals.”
“Well it don’t seem fair to put innocent animals in prison.”
******
You’re so right, Luke! Click here to read the rest of the chapter now, or come back tomorrow for the next instalment.
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Violet’s Vegan Comics – creating funny, exciting and sometimes action-packed vegan-friendly children’s stories since 2012.
He tucked her safely into his shirt and hurried back to the hedge. The rabbit wriggled and squirmed uncomfortably, her heart beating hard and fast.
“Ow! Stop scratchin’ me!” hissed Luke before regretfully adding “I’m sorry to tell you off, but it’s for your own good. I’m bein’ firm but fair,” and he crouched down to exit the way he’d come in.
As his left foot followed the rest of his body out of the Butler garden it knocked over a rake, which struck a gnome, which fell from its pedestal and broke with a crash. Mrs Butler opened the back door.
“Who’s there?” she shouted.
But no one was.
In his own back garden, Luke headed for Dad’s vegetable patch.
“Here you go Scratcher,” he said to the white rabbit as he closed the gate, “this is your new home.”
He placed her gently among the lettuces.
“There’s plenty to eat ‘ere see, we don’t mind sharin’. Dad’s always tellin’ me to share.”
Scratcher hungrily and gratefully tucked in. Nearby, between the carrots and the peas, a reddish brown rabbit and a grey rabbit watched with moderate interest as they nibbled and chewed. Luke made introductions.
“And there’s friends for you to play with. I rescued Rusty yes’dy but Ash just come today like you. They’re quiet but I think you’ll get on alright with ’em.”
It transpired that Luke, though quite new to outlawdom, was not one to procrastinate. As someone who hated being confined to his room, he sympathised with anyone imprisoned alone and was determined to help them. Ash and Rusty had been housed similarly to Scratcher in two different back gardens adjacent to the playing field. Spotting them during ball retrieval operations, Luke had decided that those damsons needed rescuing and was certain he was the outlaw for the job.
Luke kept his new friends company for the next ninety-eight minutes until the sound of his mum’s voice calling from the house reminded him that it was nearly tea time.
“I’ve got to go in for me tea now,” he explained, “but I’ll see you tomorrow,” and he showed Scratcher where she could sleep when she got tired.
Ash and Rusty didn’t need to be shown, being already aware of the small hole in the side of Dad’s shed made by Luke with Dad’s hammer. He had been very considerate in making the hole, ensuring that it was at the back so as not to look untidy to the casual observer; and making it just rabbit-sized. He was confident he’d thought of everything.
“Dad on’y uses it at weekends,” he concluded, “so you won’t be in nobody’s way in there at night.”
Feeling very satisfied with his first week of outlawing, he said goodnight and went inside. Mum had her back to him when he stepped into the kitchen.
“Is tea ready?”
“Yes, just about. You’d better go and wash your hands,” she said as she turned to face him. “Luke!” she gasped.
“Whaaat?” said Luke, frowning at his frowning parent.
He wondered what on Earth he’d done to deserve such a reception as he stood, with muddy face, muddy hands, muddy knees and muddy shoes, at the end of the trail of muddy footprints on the tiled floor.
Being considerate in all things, Luke complied with Mum’s vehement suggestion that he wash more than just his hands, and came to the table in clean clothes. Jared, his older brother, looked at him curiously as if wondering what he’d been doing and Luke returned the look without enlightening him. Mum served up their tea but, as usual, didn’t sit down with them. She would wait for Dad to get home and eat with him.
Luke was dismayed to see bacon on his plate again. He had recently discovered what bacon really was: not food at all but slices of dead piglet. He was horrified. The fact that his parents, who had always told him to be good and kind, would choose to eat it was very confusing. He thought at first that they must not be aware of what it actually was, but when he explained it to them they were not surprised. They told him that people need to eat meat but that he shouldn’t worry because the animals were killed humanely (which they said meant ‘gently’ ). Luke was unconvinced.
“Killed gently! So they don’t mind you killin’ ’em then, is that what you’re sayin’? They like it do they? They look forward to it I suppose because their murderers are so gentle!”
After some lengthy discussion in this vein, during which Luke’s parents failed to persuade him to see reason, his mum effected his silence by sternly insisting that she knew best and Luke must eat his meat. Luke said no more at that time but was determined not to.
Again faced with the need to be rid of his bacon, Luke discreetly took a rasher and held it below the table for Dudley. Dudley, his dog, very obligingly took it from him. At that moment Mum reappeared in the doorway.
“What did you just do?” she demanded angrily.
“Whaaat? Nothin’. I dint do nothin’.”
“Luuuke.”
“I was on’y feedin’ someone what was hungry,” Luke explained innocently, “jus’ bein’ generous, that’s all.”
“You know very well that Dudley has already had his dinner and if you keep giving him yours he’s going to get fat!”
Dudley ate fast. Mum went on.
“Don’t ever do that again! You’re a growing boy Luke, you need to eat your meat!”
Luke stuck to his guns.
“I don’t want it! I’ve got Prince Pauls!”
He’d heard the vicar talking about living by one’s principles in the school assembly that morning. It meant having values and putting them into practice; it meant actions speak louder than words; it meant if you love animals you don’t eat them. Luke had never heard of Prince Paul before but knew he must have been a good bloke.
“Prince who? What on Earth are you on about?”
Mum had obviously never heard of him either.
“I’ve got veggietarian Prince Pauls.”
Mum was not impressed.
“Oh give me strength!” she said, “well, you can explain that one to your Dad.”
“But he won’t be home ’til after bedtime right?” asked Luke, hopeful that he wouldn’t have to have that conversation tonight.
“He’s already home. I just saw him walking down the garden. Checking on his lettuces no doubt.”
Luke, suddenly not so confident that he’d thought of everything, became pale as it dawned on him that Dad might not understand that it was a good idea for the damsons to live in the veg patch. He felt sure that, in time, his new friends would be welcome additions to the family, but knew that his dad was not one to take to something right away and it would be better for everyone if they did not meet just yet.
“LUKE!” His dad’s booming voice reached the house before he did.
“How did he know it was me?” Luke wondered.
******
That’s the end of Chapter 1! Click here for Chapter 2
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Violet’s Vegan Comics – creating funny, exciting and sometimes action-packed vegan-friendly children’s stories since 2012.
Simon was a smarty-pants who always did his homework and always got good marks. He was good at sports and he was good at maths. He was always the first to put up his hand in class and his shoes were always clean. Irritating though all of that was, Luke could have let it go if Simon hadn’t done something unforgivable.
Luke’s best friend, Joe, was not very fast and he was not very clever. He was last to be picked for every team game and first to be told off in every lesson for not knowing the answer. But he always took it on the chin. He shrugged it off. Sports weren’t his thing. Maths wasn’t his thing. He wasn’t especially enamoured with science or history either but that didn’t worry him. He was the best friend Luke had ever had and was totally reliable. He had kept his mouth shut when Luke tripped over his shoe laces and knocked Mrs Tebbut’s mug of tea all over her desk; he had kept it to himself when Luke accidentally cracked Mrs Tebbut’s windscreen with a cricket ball. He was the kind of friend who could always be depended on.
So when Smarty-Pants told Mrs Tebbut that Joe had copied his test and Joe got sent to the Head Master for cheating, Luke was very cross. Simon Smarty-Pants Butler was a tell-tale and a liar. He could never be trusted. And he didn’t like Luke any more than Luke liked him. It was vital that Luke didn’t get caught.
He crawled across the lawn feeling like Robin Hood or one of his band of outlaws, risking everything to save the innocent.
“I don’t care if Mrs Tebbut don’t think I’m Robin Hood material, that jus’ means I’m doin’ a good job foolin’ ’em,” he rationalized as his knees slid through the mud. “It’s good that I’m goin’ to be Sheriff of Nottin’am’s Guard Number two – then no one will guess that I am actually an outlaw in real life.”
When he reached the hutch he glanced towards the house to make sure he wasn’t being watched. The windows looked dark so it was impossible to tell. He’d have to be quick and hope for the best. He opened the hutch and reached for the rabbit.
“Shh shhh, it’s ok, I’m not gonna hurt ya,” he whispered reassuringly, “I’m savin’ ya, like Robin Hood savin’ damsons in distress from the Sheriff’s dungeon.”
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Come back tomorrow to read the next part of Luke Walker Chapter One, or read it right now here.
Violet’s Vegan Comics – creating funny, exciting and sometimes action-packed vegan-friendly children’s stories since 2012.
Ow! That was a thistle. Luke poked and scratched at it with a stick until it broke away from its roots and could be pushed aside. He then rubbed his grazed wrist and forged ahead, emerging moments later on the other side of the hedge. Simon Butler’s back garden.
It wasn’t the first time Luke had gained illegal entry to Simon Butler’s garden but if all went well it might be the last. He’d been eleven times before, to visit the rabbit. Simon kept his rabbit in a small wooden hutch at the end of the garden, near the dustbins. He used to let her out to play when he first got her but after a couple of months, when the novelty had worn off, he only visited his pet for five minutes once a day to refill her food and water. Luke felt sorry for her. He could see the hutch from his bedroom window next door. When he borrowed his dad’s binoculars he could even see the rabbit.
“She must be so sad and fed up. And bored,” he said to the Robin Hood poster on his wardrobe door, “I’m going to visit her.”
A couple of times a week for the last month and a half, Luke had endured scratches and scuffs, and the hedge had endured bends and breaks, so that the rabbit could have a bit of company. He always took her something from Dad’s vegetable patch – a bit of lettuce, or a carrot maybe – and after the first few times she seemed pleased to see him. She put her face close to the wire and eagerly tugged at the treats he pushed through to her. But he had to be careful not to get caught.
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Come back tomorrow to read the next part of Luke Walker Chapter One, or read it right now here.
Violet’s Vegan Comics – creating funny, exciting and sometimes action-packed vegan-friendly children’s stories since 2012.
“Michael Carter. That’s right.” Fran waited while the office manager at The Trade Clearance Company talked to a colleague. “Right. I see. We’re trying to get – great. Thank you.” She scribbled onto her jotter and put the phone down. “The TCC says he only helps them out occasionally. Last time was January.”
“And?”
“He did work the carpet warehouse clearance two years ago!” She keyed a number into her desk phone, “and he’s got more than one phone!” It rang five times.
“The person you are trying to call is not available at the moment. Please leave -”
“Not answering.”
“Maybe he’s got no signal. Or his battery’s dead,” Bonner suggested. “What were you going to say to him anyway? Please come to the police station, we’d like to talk to you about a few murders?”
Fran flashed a sarcastic smile. “I was going to ask him if he was available to do a factory clearance.”
“If either of those numbers made or received a call or a text on the day of the murders, we’ll be able to find out where they were.” Toby pointed out.
Fran could hardly believe she’d forgotten that. She left to update Ann.
Toby smiled. Bonner threw a packet of crisps at him. “Don’t get smug.”
Fran returned a moment later. “I want to know who this guy is. What’s he like? Where does he go? Who does he hang out with?”
“Back to the neighbours?” Toby asked.
“I don’t want to spook him. Let’s just see what we can find out from here. He doesn’t have a criminal record, but does he belong to a group, a political party, a gym? Get his vehicle registration and see if it’s been caught on any ANPR cameras. Put a marker on it.”
“Right.”
Bonner retrieved his packet of crisps from the floor and went to put the kettle on.
****
Wednesday 22rd April
*
“Looks like he wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Toby commented.
“If murderers looked like murderers we could all work half days,” Bonner chuckled as he wandered lazily to the gents.
“I wish you’d work half a day.” Fran grumbled. She looked at the face in the photos. “You knew the camera behind Marvin’s wasn’t working; and that the carpet warehouse was empty. May well have had a key to it. Now we find out you’re a medical courier.”
“Used to be.”
“So you know how to transport organs without damaging them. Are you selling them?”
“This is too sick!”
“Sicker than cutting them out for no reason?” Fran followed her train of thought. “Medical couriers keep organs fresh for transport. For transplants.”
“Murder to harvest organs? For money?”
“What else?” Fran tapped a few words into the search engine. “Look at this – a heart is worth over a million dollars for transplants and research. And livers can fetch $157,000.”
Toby shook his head. “I guess people have murdered for a lot less. But what about the feet?”
“There’s no mention of feet on this list, erm, oh, they’ll pay for bones and ligaments though. $5,000 per bone! We need to get an arrest warrant.”
“On what grounds? This is all circumstantial.”
“I don’t know. Failure to update address on driving license!” She marched into the chief’s office.
***
“We need an arrest warrant.”
“What have you got?”
“We’ve got a self-employed electrician who knew about the empty warehouse and the camera not working behind the superstore.”
“That warehouse has been empty for two years. Plenty of people knew about it.”
“Do plenty of people have a key for it?”
“Does he?”
“He might have. He worked for the company that cleared it out. They say he would have had one when he did the job.”
“And he didn’t return it?”
“The point is, he had it that day. He could have copied it.”
Wicket frowned. “That was two years ago. Did he plan the murders a year in advance?”
“No one else knew that camera wasn’t working at the back of the superstore. Except the night manager and he was on camera inside the building the whole night.”
“So, maybe the night manager blabbed to someone else and forgot. Or maybe the electrician did.”
“No, I know it was him. I know it! Oh – and he used to be a medical courier! They know how to transport organs.”
This new information gave him pause. “Hmm, that does make him a person of interest. Okay, we’ll issue a BOLO for him and I’ll get Collins and Shaw to watch his house.”
“Discreetly.”
Wicket nodded.
***
When she returned to her desk, Fran was handed a sheet of paper by Bonner.
“From Ann,” he told her.
She took it from him. “DNA results?”
He nodded gravely. “From the autopsies.”
It only took a moment to read the first line. “The warehouse victims were twins.”
“Read on.”
She read on. “And they were siblings of the first victim, from last May.” Her jaw dropped and she stared at Toby. “Three victims from the same family. What does that mean?”
“The mother must be in on it.” Bonner spoke almost inaudibly.
Fran shook her head slowly. “Have you ever been pregnant Jim?”
Bonner tutted. “Oh yeah, couple o’ times.”
“Didn’t think so,” she stared at him, her mouth drawn tight around her words. “I could tell because someone who had been pregnant wouldn’t have said something like that. Someone who had endured months of discomfort followed by hours of agony for the purpose of bringing a tiny, precious, helpless baby into the world,” the words caught in her throat, “wouldn’t give them up to be butchered. Not for anything!” Tears pricked her eyes as she suppressed her simmering fury.
“Not all mothers are good mothers.”
“True. But she’d have to be a hell of a lot worse than ‘not a good mother’ wouldn’t she? She’d have to be pure evil.” Fran looked at him in silence for a moment. “Were any of the other victims related?”
“No.”
“So that means there are at least six different mothers. How likely is it that Carter found six evil mothers who were willing to help him?”
Bonner shook his head. “If they’re not evil they’re still negligent,” He blew his nose on a ketchup-daubed hot dog napkin, “letting their tots get snatched.”
“You can’t watch them every second!” Fran snapped defensively.
Bonner didn’t usually bother to get caught up in serious arguments but he was irritated. “Three? Three taken from the same mother? Don’t you think most not-evil mothers would keep a closer eye on her other children after she’d lost the first one?”
For once Fran heard him and she sat down to go over her notes again. Jim was right. If they didn’t know anything else the mothers must know their children are missing. They must be desperate to find them. Yes, there are terrible mothers in the world but not these. She was sure of it. These mothers weren’t perpetrators. They were victims.
“They’re being held captive,” she said quietly to herself.
“What?” Bonner pulled the semi-colon and comma keys off his keyboard and removed the half peanut that was hindering their movement. “Who’s a captive?”
“The mothers. They’re being confined, raped, impregnated, and then robbed of their children. They are his baby factory. His organ factory.”
“Oh my God,” Toby felt sick.
“As soon as one pregnancy ends, he impregnates them again.”
Toby pushed his fingers through his hair. “There must be another explanation. This can’t be -”
“It is.” Fran clenched a black marker in her fist and hammered it onto her pad until it and her hand were covered in ink.
****
Thursday 23 April
“Run this down will you?” The inspector handed Fran a page from the Action Book. “Might be nothing.”
Fran scanned the notes, “or it might be something.” She nodded eagerly, returned to her computer and logged in.
*
“It’s 11:05 on Thursday 23rd of April. Present in the room are DS Trent,”
“DC Melton.”
“And -”
“Caroline Smith, solicitor.”
“And -”
“Alistair Kerdy, 5.4.84.”
“Your occupation?”
“Bit of this, bit of that.”
“Meaning?”
Kerdy raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Meaning, I am what you might call: Self. Employed.”
“Doing what exactly?” asked Toby.
Kerdy grinned. “If I told ya I’d have to kill ya.” His solicitor frowned and shook her head at him. “I was joking!” he said with exasperation.
Fran pushed a sheet of paper towards him. “Your fingerprints Alistair.”
“Yeah. What about ’em?”
“We found them at a crime scene. Burglary on Fisher Street.” Kerdy said nothing. “The occupant has been on holiday. Came back yesterday afternoon to discover a broken window, an open back door and a missing laptop.”
Kerdy remained silent.
“She called us as soon as she got in, explaining that her burglar alarm was linked to her old phone, the one she’d left at home, so she didn’t see the text alert until she got back.” Fran took a sip of her tea. “The alert was sent at 4.11am, on Wednesday the 15th of April.”
Kerdy stared at mark on the floor. “No. Comment.”
“The thing is Alistair, we believe that alarm spooked another offender nearby, and we’d rather have him than you. So, if you help us now, we might be able to forget about what you were doing.” She tore up the photocopy of his prints. “Tell us what happened Alistair, after you left the house on Fisher Street. Did you go straight home?”
Alistair looked at his solicitor and then back at Fran. “I don’t trust you lot, or your fake promises.”
“Look at it this way,” said Toby. “We already have you for the burglary. We know it was you. So why not take a chance? What have you got to lose?”
Kerdy was tempted but knew he did have more to lose.
Fran glanced at his rap sheet. “Looks like it’ll be a custodial sentence this time Alistair.”
Kerdy knew she was right. “Will you let me off everything that happened that night?”
Toby and Fran looked at each other. “If it’s nothing serious,” Fran told him.
“You don’t have to say anything,” his solicitor reminded him.
“It was an accident! Wasn’t even my fault!” Kerdy was determined to make sure he was safe before he told them anything. “So if someone told you it was my fault, he was lying!”
“Well, we did wonder.”
“Should have had his lights on!”
“Alright Alistair, go on. Where was this? What happened exactly?”
Kerdy took a deep breath and started at the beginning. “When the burglar alarm went off – it was really loud – I got out! I grabbed the laptop off the kitchen table, ran out the back door, down the garden and over the fence at the bottom. Fisher Street backs onto the industrial estate and that’s where I leave – left – my car, in the empty PlayDome car park.” Without realising it, Fran was holding her breath. PlayDome was two doors down from the old carpet warehouse. “There’s no one around and I get in the car and drive off. Turn out of the car park into Billings Road, then – bang! He was on the wrong side of the road and didn’t have any lights on!” Relieved that both detectives made a note of that, Kerdy continued with more confidence. “I got out, like you’re supposed to, to see what damage. My bloody radiator grille was all mangled, and his right headlight was smashed. But he didn’t get out. Just kept trying to start his engine – he must have stalled when we hit. He tried a few times before it started, and all the time I’m shouting – telling him he’s gotta pay for the damage – then he took off. ”
“Which way did he go?”
“Down the old road to Little Rollingham.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah! I wasn’t gonna let him get away with that! I followed him.”
Fran took a deep breath and tried not to show her excitement. “What kind of car was it?”
“Medium-sized hatchback. Dark colour.”
“Make?”
Kerdy shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Where did it go?” Kerdy didn’t respond. Toby asked again. “So you followed it down the old road, – did it go through Little Rollingham or turn off before that?”
“There is no turn off before that! You new around here?” Toby didn’t respond and Kerdy hesitated before continuing. “You said, if I told you what happened, you’d let me off the Fisher Street thing. So you can’t take that back if I don’t tell you what you want to hear – they can’t take that back can they?” he asked his solicitor.
“Alistair,” Fran spoke in an unusually gentle tone, “unless we discover that you have been dishonest in this matter, we will not be pressing any charges for the burglary on Fisher Street.” Kerdy nodded. “We believe that the vehicle you followed belongs to a very dangerous man.”
“Er,” Toby’s eyes widened and he tried to stop Fran from saying too much. “Did you see the car stop anywhere?”
“We need your help to catch him, Alistair.”
Kerdy wished he could help. “I don’t know where he went,” he admitted, “but he did stop, for a second, when a car that was coming the other way stopped next to him. Then he drove off again but, when I tried to follow, the other car,” he paused to look at Toby who was taking notes, “it was a van – did a three point turn in the middle of the road so I couldn’t get past. Then it didn’t even turn round. Went the same way as it was facing before, back up the old road towards town. By the time the van got out the way, the other car was gone.”
“Where was that? Where did he stop?” Fran asked eagerly.
“I don’t know! It was dark. In the middle of nowhere!”
“Before you got to Little Rollingham?”
“Yeah.”
“Before you passed the quarry?”
“No. I think it was after the quarry.”
“Do you remember passing anything else?”
“No. I don’t think so. It all looks the same down there at night.”
“What about the station?”
Kerdy thought carefully. “I could see the level crossing sign.” His face lit up slightly. “It was just before the station. Just this side of it!”
“What kind of van was it?” Toby asked.
“A smallish one.”
“Colour?”
“Black, or dark blue maybe, and yellow. It had a phone number on the side.”
“I don’t suppose you can remember it?”
“Of course I can, just call me Rain Man.” Kerdy shook his head. “But it wasn’t a landline, I remember that. It was a mobile number. And there was a picture under it.” He suddenly resembled a child eager to please his teacher. “Looked like a rounded square with short fat oblongs sticking out on one side. And a curved line on the other side.”
Fran gave him a pencil and a piece of paper. “Can you draw it?”
Kerdy nodded and did his best. “Something like that. The middle line was longer. I remember that. The top and bottom ones were shorter.”
*
Toby turned the paper around to look at it. “Looks like a plug.”
“Does it?” Kerdy tilted his head to one side, “yeah, maybe. Is that good?”
Room 4 of the Atlantis Hotel was occupied by Ms Finnian, who could not remember what she was about to do. It was raining, and she had on two pairs of trousers but her legs were still cold. She said:
“I’m wearing two pairs of trousers, why are my legs still cold?”
“Perhaps you have a circulatory problem,” came a voice from behind her.
Ms Finnian gave a little shriek, which was not unusual for her, when startled. She turned around to look at the voice, and saw a woman in a green jumper, stirring a cup of tea.
“I thought I was the only one in here,” she said apologetically, embarrassed by her shriek. “But this is my room, isn’t it? How did you get in here?” she asked. She only paused briefly, before continuing: “It is my room, isn’t it?” She looked around. “Who are you?”
The other woman calmly considered the string of questions posed to her, answering: “This is your room, and I don’t know how I got here, I’m Myrtle Fielding.” They shook hands. “And you are?”
“I’m, um, I’m…”
“Don’t you remember your name?” asked Myrtle, smiling.
“No, I do, it’s Celia Finnian,” said Ms Finnian, smiling. “I was distracted by your name, you see, I’m reading this book,” she held up a paperback, “which has a character called Myrtle Fielding in it.”
“Oh,” said Myrtle Fielding. “That’s probably where I came from then.” She sipped her tea, and sat down in a comfortable chair. “If your legs are cold, you should get under the duvet.”
“I, well, thank you,” said Celia, “You say you probably came out of my book?”
“Yes, and I must say it’s refreshing to get out and do something else for a change!” Myrtle exclaimed, beaming, and wiggling from side to side in her chair. She sipped her tea.
“I’m sure it is,” said Celia Finnian, wondering if she was asleep, or just insane.
“Do you have any plans for today?” asked Myrtle, smiling.
Celia considered the situation. If she was dreaming, then she could do what ever she liked, and if she was insane, it was probably a good idea to go out in public, where someone would notice and call an ambulance. If that’s what you do when someone is noticeably talking to a character from a book.
“I don’t have any plans,” said Celia.
“Excellent! Let’s go for a walk when we’ve finished our tea. That will be good for your circulation.”
Celia put on her hat, scarf and coat, and Myrtle borrowed Celia’s spare hat, scarf and coat, and they went out in the snow.
They walked past the florist, and the chemist, and the shoe shop. When they went past the craft shop, Myrtle was delighted by all the ornaments in the window, created by the artisans.
“Wow! Look at that tea cosy!” she exclaimed.
Celia thought it was rather nice, it was knitted to look like a fox in a waistcoat, arms spread out, as if he was excited to see you. She said,
“Yes, that’s beautiful. I’d buy it but it’s thirty pounds. That’s expensive, especially since I don’t have a teapot.”
Myrtle nodded.
“I see. Well I suppose if you -” she said, vanishing into thin air.
“Huh,” said Celia. “That was weird. I suppose that means I am insane.” she said to herself.
She decided to go back to the hotel and see if her spare hat and coat and scarf were still there. And then she remembered: “I haven’t got a spare hat, coat and scarf.”
“That’s the end of the story,” thought Edna, putting the lid back on her pen, and blinking. “I like writing short stories, because they don’t need to go anywhere, and they can end whenever I like.”
Edna brushed her teeth and put on her shoes and left the house. She said “hello” to her neighbours who were walking their dogs on the common, and they said “hello” to her too.
She arrived at work a few minutes early, which she always did on days she wasn’t a few minutes late. She was greeted by her supervisor, who told her to restock the homewares department.
Edna carefully placed the candles on the shelf, two at a time. It was a tense operation, she would be glad to finally get through them all, and move on to restocking the cushions and blankets, unbreakable items.
“It does smell nice though, doesn’t it?” a voice behind Edna said, as though reading her mind.
“Yes it does, I love the smell of the … candles,” Edna replied, as she turned around to look at the woman who was speaking. Just before she said “candles,” she recognised the woman: it was Celia!
“Celia! What are you doing here?”
“Smelling the candles,” she replied, amused by the question.
“Yes but you shouldn’t be, you’re imaginary. Now go back to -” she stopped in mid sentence. She had been planning to say “my room,” since that was where she had left her, but really, she needed to go back into Edna’s imagination. And how would you go about something like that?
“Ooo, this one smells gorgeous, how do they get them to smell so nice?” cried Celia.
“Sh, someone might hear you,” whispered Edna.
“Are you ashamed of me?” asked Celia, raising her eyebrows. “Do you suppose that you really are insane, since I’m here after all?” she asked, sniffing a candy-floss scented candle.
“No, I don’t. I’m not. You are an anomoly, and I don’t know, but I’m not insane.”
“Neither am I. I don’t like being written off like that, just “the end.””
“It’s just the end of the story, it’s not the end of you.”
“Well, obviously,” said Celia, pointing to herself.
“And you’re not insane in the story either, that’s just a verbal way of saying that you’re shrugging that whole incident off.”
“When we get home, can we watch Columbo?” asked Celia.
“You’re staying with me?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you stay at your hotel?” said Edna.
“The Atlantis? I assumed you made it up.”
“No,” said Edna, “It’s a real hotel, I could take you to it.”
Celia picked up a pumpkin spice candle and breathed in the fragrance with her eyes closed.
“No,” she replied dreamily. “I want to say with you.”
Edna wondered if the real Atlantis hotel would have a reservation for Celia. Was her imagination coming true? That was the only explanation. Unless of course, she was some sort of psychic. Though that wouldn’t explain Celia’s visiting her like this. Unless Celia was psychic too, and they were connected through a spiritual realm, connected yet discombobulated.
She watched Celia, dreamily enjoying the candles. She supposed it wouldn’t do any harm if she came to stay, really. Something crashed behind Edna, and she jumped and turned around to see Myrtle cringing apologetically, next to smashed ceramics.
“Sorry,” she said, “I just like breaking things.”
“You mean that wasn’t an accident?” asked Edna.
Myrtle took a deep breath in through her nose, before saying:
“No, … I did it on purpose,” she gazed calmly at the shards of vases on the floor.
Edna went to get a dustpan and brush. While she walked she considered what was happening. Celia was smelling the candles, which was something Edna loved to do, and Myrtle had broken all the pottery, which was something Edna daydreamed about doing, sometimes, as she walked down the aisles, it seemed like such a satisfying prospect, to just lean down and sweep everything off the shelf onto the floor.
“So you think we’re manifestations of your impulses,” concluded Celia thoughtfully.
“Oh my gosh!” shrieked Edna, who had no idea Celia was right beside her. It was unsettling to discover that Celia could really read her thoughts.
“Unless,” said Celia, “it is just a coincidence.”
“Exactly,” said Edna, who was preoccupied with the confusion of her imagination, at the same time as worrying that she would get the blame for the smashed items. She didn’t break anything, but she was nearby when it happened, and the real assailant was a figment of her imagination. She closed her eyes and rubbed her face with her hands. She wondered if anyone else could see Celia and Myrtle. If they could, then it was just a customer, and the customer was always right. So that was fine. If not, then it would have to be put down to a faulty shelf, just tipping its contents away.
Luckily Edna did not get blamed for anything, nobody else seemed to notice anything Celia and Myrtle did. Nobody talked to them, and they talked to no one but each other and Edna. They squabbled and giggled and played in the shop, and only broke a few more things, while Edna got on with her work. She began to relax and enjoy their company after a while.
On the way home from work they walked up the street single file, following Edna like ducklings. Edna silently pondered the reason for Celia and Myrtle’s arrival, eventually she developed a theory that perhaps they were here simply because they were unhappy with the way she finished their story, and if she wrote them another ending, they would go away in peace.
When they arrived at the flat, Celia and Myrtle made some tea, put the television on and watched Columbo, which made it easy for Edna to quietly get on with rewriting the story. She wrote that Celia visited all the shops in town, bought tangerines, grapes and bananas, and began to miss Myrtle very much. She wrote that when Celia arrived back at her hotel room, she found Myrtle there, in the comfortable chair, watching Columbo. “There you are,” they said to one another cheerfully. Celia sat down in the chair next to Myrtle’s. “Would you like a banana?” she asked.
“Perfect,” whispered Edna. “The end.”
She looked around and saw that Celia and Myrtle were gone from the living room, the television playing for empty seats.
“It worked!” she exclaimed. “They’re gone!”
She felt very pleased with the success of her plan, if a little bit sad not to have had time to say goodbye. They really were good company, she was going to miss them. She brushed her teeth, and went into her room to find Celia and Myrtle asleep in her bed.
“Would you like a banana?” Celia murmured in her sleep.
The Dragons of Durga is an epic novel by Simone Spearman.
It’s a slow, gentle tale, beautifully told with detailed, poetic descriptions that transport you to a magical, imaginary world. The story takes place in an ancient time. Long before anyone can remember, long before history was recorded, back when magnificent dragons still walked the Earth.
Spearman describes the different species as tribes – the Human tribe, the Dragon tribe, the Feline tribe, – all of whom live in co-operation and harmony. The Dragons have a special relationship with Human children whom they teach and mentor, but this only lasts until they come of age. Humans of age only get to commune with Dragons at the Midsummer celebration, to which every tribe of Durga is invited. The picture is wonderfully idyllic until the unthinkable happens and a vision of the future reveals a world without dragons.
A myriad of characters – Dragons of all shapes and sizes, a winged Cat, an unpredictable Rat, a Human girl who can change into any animal, a Human boy who blames the Dragons for a past tragedy – embark on an epic adventure, all working together to ensure the survival of the Dragon tribe.
And it’s a big hunk of a book – 538 pages!!! It took me a good few weeks to finish it because unfortunately I only have time to read at the end of the day, just before I go to sleep, but it certainly made me look forward to bedtime. I loved this book. It’s wonderful to have quality literature in which the protagonists are plant-eaters who fight for peace, harmony and equality among species. I love the dragons, I love the children, I love the weird and wonderful names they had and the innovative use of capital letters. Thank you Simone L Spearman.
children’s story, vegan children, comic, vegan comic, humour, imagination, vegan children’s story, eccentric story, detective story, mystery, suspicious plotters plotting their schemes, In the library with the elastic band, looking for clues, trust no one, you might get a look at their dastardly plans, imaginary, funny, a shoe, a pen, and an elastic band, impossible, steal a train and take it to Scotland, convert it into a space rocket, that’s why they need maps, that’s why the woman in yellow keeps shaking her head,
The Wicked Witch’s Plan To Get Rid Of Everyone, a new version of the fairy tale The Wicked Wicked Witch and the Ruinous Manipulation by Maud Earnshaw, illustrated by Beatrice Wilberforce, includes instructions about how to break the witch’s spell at the back 😉
Available from Amazon in the UK, Europe, USA and Canada
*********************
vegan children’s book, vegan fairy tale, vegan children’s story
At ten forty-five on Tuesday morning, Luke and Joe climbed aboard the school minibus and grabbed two of the back seats. Tania and Isabel grabbed the other two.
“This should be good,” said Isabel.
“Yeah, I need to get something for my mum and something for my grandad,” Tania replied.
“Is that all?” Isabel was impressed, “I’ve still got to do all mine.”
The engine started.
“Okay everybody,” Thomas shouted from the front, “seatbelts on. Off we go!”
Luke and Joe pulled their lunch boxes out of their bags. Isabel laughed.
“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” she said, “you shouldn’t spoil your appetites – I bet there’ll be some delicious Christmas food at the market.”
“Nah, we’d rather eat now,” said Luke as he bit into his blueberry muffin.
Tania looked over at their lunches and it reminded her of something she’d been meaning to tell them.
“Thomas is a veggie.”
“Is he?” said Joe.
“I think so. I saw Mrs Tebbut offer him one of her homemade mince pies yesterday and he asked if they had vegetable suet in them. She said she wasn’t sure so he said no thank you.”
“He’s cool,” said Luke approvingly.
“Yeah,” Joe agreed, “it’s good he works in our class and dint stay with Ms Robinson.”
***
The Christmas market was really crowded. It stretched the whole length of Fish Street which had been closed to traffic. Mr Beardsley told everyone to make sure they were always in sight of himself or Thomas. They were not to go off anywhere by themselves.
There was a Christmas tree at the car park end of the street, huge and covered in twinkling white lights. Next to it the Salvation Army band played Christmas carols and the whole atmosphere was happy and festive. The first stall sold reindeer food at a pound a bag, for anyone who wanted to leave a treat for Santa’s friends on Christmas Eve.
At the second stall, if you weren’t short of cash, you could buy a hand-calved Buddha.
The third stall looked more fun – they were selling robots playing snooker. Luke thought he wanted one but forgot about it as soon as he saw the bird whistles on the next stall. He’d always wanted to be able to communicate with birds.
The fifth stall sold snake-length marshmallows; the sixth sold Turkish Delight; the seventh had models of owls and elephants in jars; the eighth sold rock crystal lamps; the ninth had reindeer-shaped planters. Before long the market lost its charm for two boys with no money.
“Let’s go over there,” Luke suggested, pointing to an empty bandstand on the lawn behind the stalls.
“Mr Beardsley said we’re s’posed to stay in sight,” said Joe.
“We will be,” Luke assured him, “we’ll be able to see everybody from up there.”
The boys squeezed between the chocolate scissors stall and the cannabis incense stall and climbed onto the raised platform of the bandstand. They sat comfortably with their feet dangling and tucked into their sandwiches while they watched the merry throng.
“This is good,” said Luke smiling, “I don’t mind shoppin’ if I don’t have to actually shop.”
By the time they’d finished their lunches their classmates were out of sight and Joe felt they should try to catch up. Luke disagreed.
“No, we might get lost. We should wait coz they’ll have to come back this way. Look, I can see the minibus from here.”
“That’s not our minibus. Ours doesn’t have a green stripe down the side.”
“Doesn’t it?” said Luke, a little thrown. “Oh, well, they’ll still have to come back this way. I think we should wait.”
They only had to wait for another quarter of an hour before they saw a couple of familiar faces. Tania and Isabel were hurrying across the lawn towards them.
“There you are!” said Isabel, gasping for breath.
“Luke! – You’ve got to come! They’re selling reindeer skins!” said Tania.
“And reindeer burgers!”
Luke and Joe, crestfallen, climbed down from the bandstand and followed the girls to the far end of Fish Street, where all the food stalls were. Luke was sad but not surprised to see what looked like hundreds of people eager to indulge in deep fried flesh foods, jostling to hold their positions in the queues.
“Say something!” Tania implored.
“What d’you want me to say?” Luke asked.
“Tell them they’re despicable to kill reindeer! Tell them it’s sick to sell reindeer burgers at Christmas!”
In addition to the stalls selling reindeer, there was one selling inferno cheddar (cheese laced with chillies); another was selling turkey sausages spiced with chilli and paprika; another was using a cute-looking model pig to sell pork scratchings.
“You can tell ’em that if you want,” Luke said, loud enough to be heard by anyone who wanted to listen, “an’ I agree with you, but it won’t do any good. Not while there’s so many stupid people who want to buy this stuff.”
“Who’s stupid?” said a large man in the spicy sausage queue.
“You lot,” said Luke unapologetically, “all you lot in these queues.”
“Is that right?” he said slowly, turning to face Luke with eyes narrowed.
Tania and Isabel blushed and took a step back. Joe looked at his feet. Luke didn’t move.
“Yeah,” said Luke, “Don’t you think it’s stupid to pay for somethin’ what’s killin’ the planet?”
A few more people turned to listen. Luke went on.
“Well, I call it stupid coz animal farmin’ kills the sea and the rainforests and makes more greenhouse gases than cars an’ planes an’ all transport put together!”
“Says who?” asked the man sceptically.
“Said the United Nations. Over ten years ago.” He paused briefly to let them absorb it before concluding. “Yeah, it’s pretty stupid to spend your money on killin’ the planet you live on. You’re killin’ yourselves. An’ your children. An’ your children’s children.”
Luke was surprised and disappointed to get almost no reaction to his shocking revelation, but he didn’t give up. He had more.
“An’ I should say it’s pretty stupid to let people starve coz you paid for their food to be given to seventy billion farm animals, just so you can eat meat an’ cheese. Yeah, anyone who pays for that is pretty stupid alright. And selfish.”
The large man laughed stupidly.
“But it tastes so good!” he scoffed and turned back to wait for his sausage.
In the silence before the conversational hubbub rose again, three or four people walked away from the food stalls. Luke turned back to Tania and Isabel.
“See, there’s no point tellin’ people they’re horrible for sellin’ horrible things. They don’t care. They’ll sell anythin’ if people’ll pay ’em for it. It’s the people what pay for it who make it happen. If they didn’t buy it, no one would sell it.”
The girls nodded. Isabel looked guiltily at the half-eaten bag of pork scratchings in her hand and quickly tossed it in the bin. All four children walked back to the bandstand to look out for the rest of their class returning to the minibus. When they were back in their seats on the bus, Tania made a declaration.
“I’m going to make an early new year’s resolution,” she paused for effect before announcing, “I’m going vegan!”
“Me too,” said Isabel, smiling.
Luke looked wonderingly at Joe. Joe nodded.
“D’you want to join our secret society?” they asked.
“Good Spirit, your nature intercedes for me, and pities me. Assure me that I yet may change these shadows you have shown me, by an altered life! I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!”
******************************
Christmas is just around the corner, for Luke as well. Join us tomorrow for the beginning of a Christmassy final chapter of the second Luke Walker book😀
Chapter Ten: Luke Walker and the allergic reactions
Luke was hesitant. If he made a mistake now it could cost him the game. Janeway was a good card. She had a lot of Starfleet Authority and was also very cunning. But which to choose, that was the important question.
“Come ohn,” said Joe, “it’s borin’ when you just sit there. Choose one.”
“Okay, erm, I choose …” he hesitated again.
He really needed to win this round. He took a deep breath, looked Joe in the eye and said,
“Janeway. Cunning: 45.”
Joe looked at his next card and smiled.
“Worf. Cunning: 49.”
“Blast! I knew I should have chosen Starfleet Authority! What’s Worf’s Starfleet Authority?”
“I’m not telling you that!” said Joe, laughingly holding his cards close to his chest.
“Well, it can’t be higher than Janeway’s. She was Captain. Worf wasn’t captain was he?”
Luke consoled himself with the notion that he would have won if Joe hadn’t rushed him. If he’d just been able to think about it for a bit longer he would certainly have chosen Starfleet Authority instead of Cunning. Joe really should learn not to rush people, it’s not sportsmanlike. Luke had one card left. It was Joe’s turn to choose the statistic.
“Neelix. To Boldly Go: 20.”
“What?!” Luke looked at his card in disbelief. “Neelix can’t be better than Spock at boldly goin’!” He sighed and handed it over. “Spock. To Boldly Go: 15”
“Yesss! I have triumphed! The cards are mine, all mine, ha ha ha haaa,” Joe revelled in his rare victory.
“I’m hungry,” said Luke, pretending not to care.
“Me too,” his friend agreed and they took out their lunch boxes. Joe peeked apprehensively between the two slices of Hovis Best of Both which made up his sandwich. Sadly the peanut butter he’d hoped for was not present. Luke was adding crisps to his Marmite and beetroot sandwiches.
“The crunch makes ’em extra good,” he explained. Then, “uh oh, has she done it again?”
Joe nodded as he removed two slices of ham and bit into his plain bread and margarine.
“You’ve got to tell ‘er,” said Luke, tipping a few of his crisps into Joe’s lunch box.
“I have told her, she won’t listen!” Joe complained, “I said I’m not eatin’ meat or cheese no more and she said, ‘course you are!’ and that was that! She won’t listen. It’s okay, I just put it in the bin when she’s not lookin’.”
“What about your dad – you could tell ‘im to explain it to ‘er.”
“He won’t. He just says ‘ya mother knows best’ and ‘listen to ya mother!’. I’ll just have to be vegetarian in secret ’til I leave home.”
Luke frowned.
“That doesn’t sound like a good idea. It’ll be pretty borin’ jus’ livin’ on bread an’ marg..”
“That’s okay,” said Joe as he took another bite, “thanks for the crisps,” he added.
“That’s it! That’s what we’ll do! Outlaws have to help each other!”
“What?”
“I’ll tell my mum I’m more hungry and I need a bigger packed lunch, with an extra sandwich an’ an extra bag o’crisps an’ an extra cake an’ an extra apple … then I can give half of it to you!”
“Read that and if you agree, write ya name there, under mine, and then put ya thumb print there,” he said, pointing to the designated pages.
He uncapped the bottle of black poster paint and squirted a dollop into the saucer while Joe read the pledge.
“D’you agree?” he asked him when he’d finished.
Joe nodded.
“Are you sure? Do you solemnly swear?”
Luke knew he could not over-emphasize the gravity of this decision. Once you became an outlaw there was no going back.
“I’m sure,” said Joe, picking up the Biro and writing his name on the line under Luke’s.
Luke was very happy. He ceremoniously pushed the saucer across the carpet to Joe who dipped his thumb into the paint a little too enthusiastically. Thankfully he avoided messing up the book by wiping off the excess on his trousers before pressing his thumb onto the page alongside Luke’s handwritten pledge:
When Joe passed the book back, Luke forced himself to purse his lips and simulate a frown as he turned to the next page. It was vital that Joe had no illusions about the seriousness of the commitment he had made.
“These are the rules we live by,” he said gravely as he spun the book around and pushed it back to Joe.
“Do I get one now?” asked Joe when he’d finished reading the rules.
Luke thought he was getting ahead of himself.
“Do you agree to the rules?” he asked.
“Yes. I do. That’s why I want to be in the club.”
“It’s not a club, it’s a secret …” he paused suddenly, “shh, someone’s out there!” Luke swiftly closed the book and slid it under the bed. He silently got to his feet and crept to the door. He listened. He could hear breathing on the other side. He yanked the door open to reveal his brother, standing frozen stiff with his mouth open.
“Jared! What are you doin’? This is private!”
Jared laughed.
“Nobody cares about your stupid secrets. I’m going to Mike’s, Mum told me to tell you it’s your turn to do the drying up.”
Luke slammed the door and waited until he heard Jared go downstairs.
Joe raised his eyebrows.
“So, do I get one?”
Luke shrugged.
“I s’pose it would be good if you had one, but you’ll ‘ave to get it yourself. I made this one out of my Maths book. You can use any subject though coz it don’t matter what colour it is, as long as it’s got plenty of blank pages left. Just tear out the used ones.”
Joe nodded.
“But the most important thing you need is a code-maker,” Luke went on, “this is mine.”
He revealed two circles of cardboard fastened together, that he’d secreted between the pages of his Batman annual.
“Look here,” he said, pointing to another page in the notebook, “I’ve done diagrams to show you how to make one. When you’ve done it we can send each other coded messages that no one else will be able to decode.”
continues tomorrow 🙂 but if you want to read the whole chapter now, here it is 🙂
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vegan, vegetarian, veggie kids, vegan children’s story
While Cedro continued to ponder, Grandpa walked behind him, into the kitchen.
Grandpa picked up the biscuit tin, rattled it, put it back down and trudged back to the living room.
“That’s it!” thought Cedro, “Grandpa’s got a sweet tooth! I’ll make him a birthday cake!”
Cedro washed his hands and gathered together all the ingredients he would need. They were flour, baking powder, sugar, sunflower oil, water and vanilla essence. Then he carefully switched on the oven and set it to 160° centigrade.
continues tomorrow 🙂
but if you don’t want to wait you can read the whole story here now 😀
“Come in boys and take off your coats, dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”
Auntie Joan smiled as she waved to Mum and Dad and closed the front door. Luke and Jared sat down quietly in the living room and looked at their hands. Auntie Joan disappeared into the kitchen and nothing happened for three or four minutes until the front door slammed. Uncle Brian was home from work. He burst into the living room loudly.
“Hello boys! I forgot you were coming! Ready for a re-match Jared?”
Jared grinned shyly.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Great. We’ll set up after dinner. Hey, where’s Amelia? She must be in her room. Why don’t you go and see what she’s up to? We’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”
The boys looked at each other uncomfortably and then quietly did as they were told. They knocked on Amelia’s door and entered when she said ‘come in’. Their six year old cousin was dressed in a pink tutu with pink tights and wire-framed white lace wings on her back. She had a pink plastic tiara on her head. She was bent over a colouring book, colouring butterflies.
“Hello,” she said, without looking up.
“Hello,” said Luke.
“Alright?” said Jared.
Jared sat down on the bed and picked up two of Amelia’s soft toys.
“Ah, pink pony! Today you will fight blue dolphin to the death! And whoever wins will fight yellow kitten to the death!” he said in a fake evil voice while making the toys wrestle.
“Stop it! You’ll spoil them,” said Amelia.
Jared laughed and continued tormenting her. Luke shook his head at his brother’s predictably boring behaviour and browsed Amelia’s bookshelves. Colouring books, colouring books, colouring books. He wondered how she hadn’t got tired of them. He took one from the shelf at random and flicked through it. It was full of pictures of sea creatures and shells and seaweed. Under each one was its name and a brief description. Amelia had coloured it in very neatly, Luke had to admit, and she’d ended up with a full colour encyclopedia of the sea. He picked out another one – it was about birds. Every other page had a drawing of a different bird to be coloured in, with the name, description, habits and location of the bird on the opposite page. There was another one about fish, another about wild flowers, another about trees. There was Animals of the British Isles, Jungle Animals, Arctic Animals; Space, Planets, Stars; Fruit and Vegetables; People from History. There were also quite a few with fairies but Luke had seen enough to know that he had misjudged Amelia. Not all colouring books were boring.
So the visit to Auntie Joan’s turned out to be not so bad after all. Luke was given beans on toast with tomatoes and leeks for dinner, which went down very well. And Amelia kindly let him do some colouring in her History colouring book from which he learned that Albert Einstein, who was famous for being a very clever man, was a vegetarian like him. He showed that page to Auntie Joan.
****
Monday morning Luke sat in awe, watching Joe draw a brilliant picture of Mrs Tebbut. It looked just like her. He was especially impressed with how Joe had captured her eyebrows, the way they each did their own thing when she was angry.
“Joseph Carter put down your pen!” Mrs Tebbut shouted from behind her desk.
Luke looked at her and then at the drawing.
“Amazing!” he breathed.
As she stalked towards them, it dawned on Joe that it would have been better to have drawn it on paper so that he could tear it up. He licked his finger and tried to rub it off but the ink had already sunk into the wood.
“Headmaster’s office! Now!” she boomed when she saw his handiwork.
Joe was already on his feet. He knew the routine. Luke tried not to smile.
“And you, Luke Walker,” Mrs Tebbut still had some rage to vent.
“What did I do?” asked Luke incredulously.
“You two are as bad as each other. Move to the front where I can keep an eye on you!”
“There’s no room at the front,” said Luke with relief.
“Katia, Shania, swap desks with Luke please.”
She had an answer for everything.
“I didn’t do anything,” he said plaintively.
Joe was gone until after playtime and when he did come back he had to stand in the ‘naughty corner’. Luke sat alone in a haze of Lily of the Valley, trying not to make eye contact with his teacher. At least Joe was allowed to sit with him after lunch. Well, sort of.
“Luke and Joe, sit at either end of your desk, facing each other. I’ll have no more whispering and conspiring.”
The boys moved their chairs, turning sideways to the white board.
“Great,” muttered Luke, “now I’ll get a stiff neck twisting round to look at the board.”
“And I’ll have no muttering either,” said Mrs Tebbut, quiet enough to let him know that, at this distance, she could hear everything.
While the class got themselves settled in for afternoon school, Mrs Tebbut directed Miss Shaw, the new classroom assistant, to the photocopier.
“Just make 30 copies – I don’t want spares cluttering up my desk – and then put the Master Copy back in here,” she said, indicating her desk drawer.
Miss Shaw went to the staff room, where the photocopier was stationed, and Mrs Tebbut wrote on the board: The Eatwell Guide
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