 
Wizard

Of Dreams

## Myrddin's Heir, Book One

# ROBIN CHAMBERS

  Robin Chambers 2015

First printed in the United States of America by BRIGHT CHILDREN PRESS

The wizard appearing on the front cover is from an image by JAMES FARLEY, a wizard photographer and a generous friend. www.jamesfarley.co.uk

Cover Typography by WRITE DREAM REPEAT

Book Interior Design by ROBIN CHAMBERS

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorised electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

Please visit https://myrddinsheir.com for further news, views and feedback contact details.

This edition published in 2017 by Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing

Also Available

Myrddin's Heir Book 2: Amazing Grace

Myrddin's Heir Book 3: The Quality of Mercy

Myrddin's Heir Book 4: Gifts from the Gods

Myrddin's Heir Book 5: When the Cat's Away...

Myrddin's Heir Book 6: In the Nick of Time

## Contents

Copyright

Also Available

Dedication

Warning

Foreword

Chapter 1: THE DANCING BEAR

Chapter 2: TEN YEARS LATER

Chapter 3: AN UNCANNY RESEMBLANCE

Chapter 4: THERE OUGHT TO BE A LAW

Chapter 5: THROUGH THE LOOKING-GLASS

Chapter 6: LET ME IN!

Chapter 7: THE LADY'S NOT FOR BURNING

Chapter 8: IT RUNS IN OUR BLOOD

Chapter 9: TIME FOR REFLECTION

Chapter 10: WALKING ABROAD

Chapter 11: THE EVIL EYE

Chapter 12: A NIGHT TO REMEMBER

Chapter 13: THE HALL OF MIRRORS

Chapter 14: THE TUNNEL OF LOVE

Chapter 15: MY SIXTEEN GREATS GRANDMOTHER

Chapter 16: WHAT SORCERY IS THIS?

Chapter 17: FORENSIC EVIDENCE

Chapter 18: HOME AT LAST

Chapter 19: KEEPING IT QUIET

Chapter 20: THE KEY TO MABON'S CAIRN

Chapter 21: A WIZARD OF DREAMS

Chapter 22: HIDE AND SEEK

Chapter 23: A MIND OF ITS OWN

Chapter 24: IT'S JUST A MATTER OF TIME

Chapter 25: TALKING THE TORQUE

Chapter 26: HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Chapter 27: LEFT HOLDING THE BABY

Chapter 28: THE SORCERER'S APPRENTICE

Chapter 29: A LEAP OF FAITH

Chapter 30: THE FIRST MEETING

Chapter 31: WE MEET AT LAST

Chapter 32: THE LAKE OF TEARS

Chapter 33: THE WANDERER RETURNS

Chapter 34: HEALING THAT WOUND

Chapter 35: AMAZING GRACE

Chapter 36: THE MIND READER AND THE CLAIRVOYANT

Chapter 37: SETTLING IN

Chapter 38: GO GET 'EM SHERIFF!

Chapter 39: AN IMMACULATE CONCEPTION

Chapter 40: INTO THE WOODS

Chapter 41: A DIVINE DECREE

Chapter 42: OVER-EXPOSED

Chapter 43: KNICKERS ISLAND

Chapter 44: PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT

Chapter 45: TO TELL OR NOT TO TELL?

Chapter 46: TAKING IT ON BOARD

Chapter 47: THE HEART OF THE MATTER

Chapter 48: FOREWARNED IS FOREARMED

Chapter 49: MIND WHAT YOU THINK

Chapter 50: A CLOSE ENCOUNTER OF AN UNUSUAL KIND

NOTES

-To Note ...

About this author

Book 2 Chapter 1

_For Amy, who makes me happy,_

For Linda, who kept in touch,

And for all children who were or are abused

by anyone, anywhere

WARNING

This book will challenge you

## HELPFUL HINT

There are notes at the back

## SOUND ADVICE

Love Learning

Respect Difference

Protect Your Planet
Foreword

Before beginning this story, Amy and I spent three years in Belize, where we met and became firm friends with a Taiwanese philosopher and his wife. Their English names were Jason and Christine.

Jason was developing a scheme designed to promote the philosophy he had been working on for 20 years to help make the world a better place. I helped Jason with the wording of his philosophy for the English-speaking world.

My three pieces of sound advice -

Love Learning

Respect Difference

Protect Your Planet

– were distilled during the process he and I underwent in finding the right words for his "Three Obligations of Wisdom" in English.

The wording in his final version, when it is published, will be a little different to my choice of words above for this series of books, but the key concepts are the same.

I was convinced that the "Three Obligations of Wisdom" point out a simple way to a better world, and I am happy to help promote Jason's philosophy.

Robin Chambers

June 2013

# Chapter 1

The Dancing Bear

All mothers think their children are special, but Gordon's mother had proof.

"Ma-ma," she heard him say when he was just five months old. He was lying on the living room carpet at the time, his rather large head supported by a comfy pillow. "He was looking right at me when he said it," she told everyone afterwards, with understandable pride. She had dropped to her knees in front of him.

"That's right, Darling!" she cooed in delight. " **Ma-ma**." She pointed to herself: to be sure he grasped the link between those sounds and the loving parent in his line of vision. "Who's a clever boy, then?"

Gordon beamed back at her. "Da-da," he announced.

This was too much! Tears of joy welling, she rushed to the sideboard and grabbed a picture of his father. "Yes, Precious!" She held the picture where he could see it clearly. " **Da-da**."

Gordon went on smiling. "Zack!" he said. His chubby little left arm came up and smacked into the pillow beside his head. Most of his hand was bunched in a fist, but his index finger pointed at the pillow. "Zack."

His mother was taken aback for a moment. "No, Sweetheart, PIL-LOW."

The smile faded from Gordon's face. "Zack!" he said again, very distinctly. It was as if he was trying to explain something to her, something that should have been obvious. It clearly wasn't, and he had no idea why.

Well, that was enough progress for one day. "All right, Darling, Zack it is!" After all, there was plenty of time for him to learn to say 'pillow'.

The smile returned to Gordon's chubby face. "Zack," he said again, and chuckled with delight. He turned and gazed fondly at the pillow next to his head.

Edith drifted happily into the kitchen to put the kettle on. What would all the other mothers say when she told them? "How old is he now? Five months! Goodness, he's very advanced, isn't he?" She would smile modestly, and say something like: "Well, they all go at their own pace, don't they?"

The water in the kettle began to rumble. She dropped the tea bag into her cup and waited for boiling point. She could hear her son squealing and clapping. He was such a happy child! And gifted and talented, that was obvious.

In the living room, Gordon's teddy had sprung into the air. It hovered in front of his delighted face, and gave him a cheery wave before breaking into a vigorous version of the can-can.

Zack always knew where Edith was. When she came back with her cup of tea, Teddy would be safely back on Gordon's pillow. There was no point in worrying her before she had to be.

NOTES

GORDON BENNETT – THE EARLY YEARS

# Chapter 2

Ten Years Later

Gordon's birthday was in August – the 7th, to be exact. Edith and Victor had got into the habit of taking their family holiday around that time and celebrating his birthday while they were away.

In his first five years, involving other children in his birthday had been pretty impossible. There had been no way of not inviting Zack.

It was curious how real Zack had seemed, back in the day. Her son was always asking him questions out loud and apparently getting a reply. It was uncanny how often he replied to something Zack had apparently said. It was like having two sons: one she could see and the other she couldn't. Downright spooky at times, if she was honest.

But gradually, Zack had faded away, as imaginary friends always do. He'd gone altogether by the time Gordon first went to nursery school, at the age of four and three quarters. Goodness knows what the other children would have made of Zack! She hadn't wanted anyone thinking her precious son was ... _weird_.

Once he was in Junior School, she'd asked Gordon from time to time if he would prefer to celebrate his birthday at home, where he could have a party with his friends. He'd always said no thanks, he liked things the way he was used to having them. The pattern had been established and they had stuck to it.

They normally set about planning their summer holiday once Christmas was out of the way. This year, Gordon had a specific request to make. Could they go to Cornwall please, and could they spend his eleventh birthday visiting _The Eden Project_? He wanted to know what it felt like to be in a rainforest. He didn't know when he would get the chance to experience it in real life.

Victor and Edith were happy to oblige. They decided to rent a cottage within reasonable distance of St Austell. Edith researched available properties and shortlisted some for consideration. They sat down together early in January to look at the little photos and the write-ups, and it was curious ...

As Gordon looked down at his mum's compilation, one particular cottage moved off the page. It expanded in his mind's eye. He could see the overgrown hedge, and a narrow wooden gate. It wasn't as it appeared in the picture. It was covered in snow.

" _Are you doing this?"_ he asked Zack. Zack had taught him telepathy when he was four. It made things a lot easier.

"No," Zack replied, "you are, and I don't know why."

The gate in the hedge was opening. He was moving through it. The cottage had a curving timber frame and wattle-and-daub walls. There was a thatched roof. Smoke curled from the brick chimney. There must have been a fire burning in the old black grate. He could hear it crackling. He could smell the woodsmoke.

"... not a lot to choose between them," his mum was saying. "It depends what we think we want to go for: 'olde worlde' charm or modern and probably more comfortable."

"Come back, Gordon," Zack warned him. The picture faded. He looked up from the paper to see his mum and dad looking at him expectantly.

"I'm sorry?" he said.

His dad grinned. "You were miles away."

"About 250 miles away," Zack said. "I'd like to know what happened there."

" _Me too,"_ Gordon told him.

"Your mum and I were thinking either this modern bungalow with two bedrooms and en suite bathrooms, or this tiny cottage with loads of character, but only one bathroom and no en-suite." He grimaced. "It probably also comes with creaky floors, draughty windows and ceilings low enough for me to bang my head on the beams."

Edith laughed. "No prizes for guessing which way you're leaning," she said.

"It has to be this one!" Gordon said. He pointed at the indistinct little picture on the page. It was calling to him. Urgency and longing welled up from deep inside him.

"Whoah," said his dad, "Where did that certainty come from all of a sudden?"

Gordon looked at him. "I don't know Dad, but it has to be this one. PLEASE!!"

The strength of his son's appeal took Victor by surprise. It wasn't like Gordon to be that definite. He was normally only that certain about the need to preserve endangered species. Victor was in favour of en-suite bathrooms and all mod cons himself. He was, however, open to persuasion.

"OK," he said. He peered at the photo. "What makes you so set on this one?"

Gordon decided on the truth. It was normally best, and his parents deserved it. "It invited me," he told them.

"Not quite son," his dad said, correcting him gently. "It didn't invite you. You found it inviting."

Gordon looked at him and took Zack's advice. It was equally true, after all. "I found it inviting," he said.

His mum was staring at the picture. "I'm finding it inviting as well," she said slowly.

Victor raised his eyebrows and then grinned again. "Well, as this is a democracy, by a majority of 2-1," he looked down at the details again, "Oaktree Cottage it is."

Edith booked it the next day.

NOTES

**WITHIN REASONABLE DISTANCE FROM ST AUSTELL;** TELEPATHY; **WATTLE** - **AND** - **DAUB WALLS; MOD CONS.**

# Chapter 3

An Uncanny Resemblance

Gordon looked out at the world that was passing them by at that particular moment. The sun was shining strongly, as it had a perfect right to do in August. The trees were heavy with summer foliage. Sheep grazed safely in the fields stretching away on either side of the road. Their lambs looked sturdy and well-fed.

"Not far now," Victor said. "'Little Melling 2 miles' that last signpost said."

It was just like any other piece of countryside really, so why had Gordon's spine suddenly begun to tingle? It was the strangest feeling. _"Can you feel it, Zack?"_ he asked.

"I feel ... what you feel," Zack told him. That wasn't quite the same thing. Gordon frowned and tried to concentrate. He'd never had a feeling quite like this one. He knew it had something to do with what he could see out of the window.

The road curved, and the land to his left dropped into a smooth sloping valley. Had he known it would do that?

"I've never been here before," Zack told him, to save Gordon the trouble of asking.

There was a steep, wooded hill on the other side, about half a mile away. Near its top, in a large clearing, stood an old manor house. Gordon stared at it and shivered suddenly. His mother turned to look at him.

"What's the matter Darling, are you cold?" she asked. Gordon shook his head. He made a brave attempt to smile.

"Somebody just walked over your grave," Zack said, sombrely.

Gordon was shocked. _"That's a weird thing to say."_

"Sorry," Zack said. "People say it sometimes when they shiver like that."

" _I don't like it,"_ Gordon told him.

"What, the saying or the feeling?"

" _Both."_

Edith smiled back at him, with a hint of anxiety in her eyes, and Gordon turned his attention to the manor. The square turrets on each corner gave it the look of an old fortified house. Its gleaming windows were large and rectangular. It faced west, and on a day like this the rooms behind those windows would be bathed in a warm glow until the sun sank.

A grand doorway imposed itself on the central section. The lawns in front of it stretched for a considerable distance down the wood-fringed slope. It had probably looked just like that for centuries. A feeling of resentment welled up from somewhere deep inside Gordon.

"Whoah," Zack said, "What is going on?"

His mum glanced at the map. "That must be Mellingford Hall," she said, "the ancestral home of the Davenports. It's been in their family for centuries. They're still living there, according to the Guide Book."

Mellingford Hall, the Davenports. Gordon did not remember ever having heard of either before. Given Gordon's incredible memory, that meant that he hadn't. So why had his feeling of resentment turned into something like rage? He hated that house. He despised those people. "This isn't you, Gordon," Zack said suddenly. "You don't do rage. This is something else."

" _If this is what possession feels like,"_ Gordon told him, _"I don't like it. Don't leave me."_

"Don't you worry, mate," Zack assured him. "I'm going nowhere. Our privacy is being invaded. That's a skipload of animosity."

Gordon suddenly had a whole new understanding of hate. It was corrosive.

The road ran down the hill towards a cluster of houses and a small parish church. Gordon didn't recognize the houses, but the church was familiar. A picture flashed through his mind. It was of the same church surrounded by a different cluster of houses: timber-framed, wattled-and-daubed and thatched. There was smoke curling from their chimneys.

"That," said Zack, thoughtfully, "is probably how this place looked in Elizabethan times. Or maybe Jacobean." Gordon clenched his teeth and willed the hateful feelings away. They subsided, becoming a dull ache in the pit of his stomach. Victor drove on, oblivious.

The road swung left, making its way across the valley towards that wooded hill and the manor house. Edith turned around to smile again. Gordon felt sadness, an old sorrow, tears shed long ago. She turned back and the feeling went away.

"This is a roller-coaster," said Zack on full alert. Gordon was so glad he had Zack looking out for him. He didn't really feel up to looking out for himself. It was a bit like being attacked by a virus. He'd been robbed of most of his energy.

They passed a sign warning them that the road was about to get even narrower. His father steered them carefully round a tight bend. The trees on either side were now so close together that they shut out most of the late afternoon light. They were in the fringes of the wood that Gordon had seen from the other side of the valley.

"Let's hope we don't meet anything coming the other way," Victor said cheerfully. "These roads are living up to expectations. What do you think of Cornwall so far, Gordon?" Not getting a reply, he half-turned to glance at his son in the back; and in that moment, Gordon saw a young woman in a long black dress standing in the middle of the road, right in front of their car. She must have stepped out from the trees.

For a splintered second, Gordon saw joy on her face. Her arms were spread wide in welcome, her mouth open as if in greeting. She was looking straight at him.

"LOOK OUT DAD!"

Gordon jerked his head away in horror, his eyes tight shut. Victor slammed his foot on the brake and the car came to a slithering, screeching halt. He'd been somewhere near the speed limit. He **must** have hit her!

"It wasn't your fault, Dad!" Gordon stammered, his eyes still tight shut. "She stepped out right in front of you. Nobody can blame you!"

His father rested his head on the steering wheel. "What," he asked slowly, "was **that** about?" His wife tightened her grip on his arm.

Gordon opened his eyes. "That woman, Dad!"

"Take it easy Gordon," Zack whispered.

"She was right in the middle of the road!" From somewhere behind the panic came the realization that he hadn't felt any kind of bump. His father breathed out heavily. He put the car in neutral, applied the handbrake, opened the door and got out. He walked all round it, squatted down in front of it, stared underneath it. Then he stared through the windscreen at Gordon. Gordon had never seen that expression on his face before.

" _Zack, do you mind?"_ Gordon was strapped in, so he couldn't turn around to look out of the rear window.

"No problem," Zack assured him. "Just relax. Breathe deeply." Zack knelt up on the back seat so Gordon could get a clear view of the road behind the car. It was deserted. Not a soul.

Victor shook his head slowly, getting a grip on himself. His heart had slammed up to maximum when he'd hit the brake. His hands still had the imprint of the steering wheel on them. "It must have been a shadow, trick of the light," he muttered. His son was ultra-sensible. He wasn't given to scaring his parents with imaginary ... Well at least, not since ...

Victor walked back up the hill, past the tyre marks. He looked from side to side, just to make absolutely sure. Zack was shedding no light, which meant he had no light to shed.

Edith held her hand out to Gordon. "Tell me what you saw" she said gently. It had been a long time, as far as she knew, since her amazing son had seen something that nobody else had been able to see.

Gordon began to cry, another incredibly rare event. It was relief, really, that nobody was lying dead in the road. "She seemed to know me," he told his mother, "and so glad to see me."

His mother nodded slowly. Suddenly there were tears in her eyes too, even though she was smiling. "What did she look like?" she asked softly.

"She knows something," Zack whispered. "I wish I did."

Gordon looked at his mother in wonder. What was happening? Who had he seen, out there in the road?

"She looked almost exactly ... like you," he said.

NOTES

LITTLE MELLING; ELIZABETHAN TIMES, OR MAYBE JACOBEAN.

# Chapter 4

There Ought To Be A Law

Five minutes later, the road ran over a pretty stone bridge and collided with a village street. Little Melling was a tiny village at the foot of Mellingford Hill. It boasted a village green, a fine old inn and some beautiful, half-timbered houses.

"Best stop at the pub and ask," Victor suggested. "The directions are a bit vague from here. Locals will know where it is." He steered the car into an empty spot between a shiny new Range Rover and a muddy old jeep and hopped out. "Back in a tick" he promised, and disappeared inside the pub.

"Nearly there" Edith said. She was trying to get the holiday back on track.

"It's certainly pretty," Zack commented. He nipped out to stretch his legs and give Gordon a better view.

The ancient building's thatch was pristine. Its window boxes were full of pinks and pansies. Somebody had spent a lot of money doing it up. It was in _The Good Pub Guide_ , and probably did a roaring trade, especially in the peak holiday season.

" _It didn't always ..."_ Gordon said. Zack was back in the car in a flash. Somebody had walked over Gordon's grave again, though his mum didn't seem to notice this time. Anyway, here was his dad, back after less than two minutes.

"You should see it in there!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "It's like stepping back in time. There are some real characters."

"They've got a log fire going in the big black grate." Gordon said.

His dad stared at him. "Yes, they have," he said. "How did you ...?"

"I can smell the woodsmoke." Gordon told him.

"Did they know?" Edith asked.

Victor was back in the driver's seat, fingers flicking the key in the ignition. "Oh yes, they knew all right. Knew a bit more than they let on, if you ask me." He backed the car out carefully. Clipping that Range Rover would put a dent in their holiday funds.

"What do you mean?" Edith asked him.

He swung the car back on to the main street. "About 200 yards up here on the left. It's an unmarked turning - no road surface, just a dirt track. 'Hob's Lane' the Landlord called it."

"Whoops!" Zack exclaimed.

" _What?"_ Gordon asked him.

"Oh, nothing," Zack replied evasively.

" _No secrets,"_ Gordon reminded him.

"It's nothing, really," Zack assured him. "Just a bit of local superstition I expect. "Hob" used to be a term for the devil, or an evil spirit. It survives in 'hobgoblin'.

" _Fantastic!"_ said Gordon. The situation cried out for sarcasm.

"What do you mean, 'more than they let on'?" Edith asked again.

"Here it is!" Victor exclaimed. He steered the car on to a pockmarked track only a little wider than their vehicle. It ran on for several hundred yards, well past the backs of the houses on the main street, getting grassier and decreasingly disturbed while becoming more pot-holed and bumpy. It was impossible to avoid the ruts. There was no room for manoeuvre.

"We're here," Edith said suddenly.

Victor stopped the car. He would have had to in any case: they had come to the end of the track. It dwindled into a footpath ahead of them, and stumbled on for a few more yards before winding its way into a murky wood.

Somehow, Edith had spotted the tiny gate, almost entirely hidden within a vast thicket of thorny briar and tangled hawthorn. _Sleeping Beauty_ might still have been in there, somewhere on the other side of that hundred-year hedge. Gordon fought a hysterical urge to giggle.

"This cannot be it!" Victor declared.

"Trust me," said Edith.

They got out of the car. The gate gave a monstrous creak of protest but yielded to some determined pushing. Victor never travelled far without his toolkit. There was a small can of WD40 in it. He made a mental note.

They walked slowly through the overgrown garden. Someone had mown a pathway through the dandelions and daisies and the overgrown grass. It had been done recently; the smell still lingered. There were discarded little heaps of cuttings drying out on either side. Victor tutted: it was a shoddy job, done by someone in a hurry. Gordon noticed again the drifting reek of smoke. It stung his nostrils. His dad sighed. "I think I see what they meant now."

"What who meant?" Edith demanded. She was still waiting for an answer to her previous question.

"At the pub. Looked at me a bit sharply when I asked where 'Oak Tree Cottage' was. Landlord said he'd never heard of it. When I told him what directions I'd been given he said: 'Oh, so **that's** what they're calling it now, is it? That won't make no difference.'"

Victor grinned. "He told me how to find it. As I was going out I heard one of the locals say: 'There ought to be a law!'"

"Against what?" Edith asked.

"I didn't like to ask."

The little cottage was certainly picturesque. It looked harmless enough. The key was where the instructions had said it would be, under the urn of purple pansies to the left of the front door. Gordon hung back, suddenly hesitant.

"What?" Zack asked him.

" _I don't know,"_ Gordon said. Then, suddenly he did know. "Can I have a look round the back?" he asked.

His dad snorted. "You'll be lucky!" he declared. "If the path to the front door is anything to go by, you'll need a chainsaw and a strimmer round the back. Don't you want to see what it's like inside first?"

No, he didn't. He definitely didn't.

"I'll come with you," his mum offered.

"Oh, right. I'll just be getting all the luggage in by myself then, will I?" said his dad. Victor was a dab hand at sarcasm himself, when the occasion demanded.

Gordon knew his dad was right. The obvious things to do next were to explore inside and to bring in the luggage. He had no idea what was tugging away inside him, pulling him into the garden at the back of the cottage.

"Do you want me to nip round and have a look for you?" Zack asked. That was how they normally got around difficulties of this sort.

" _No; but I want you to come with me,"_ Gordon told him.

"Don't you worry," Zack assured him. "I'm wherever you are on this holiday."

"I just have a feeling that the garden at the back might be ... inviting," Gordon said. "Why don't I have a little look while you two get the luggage?"

"Because," said his dad, "I want to be sure you make it to your eleventh birthday in one piece. There might be something dangerous hidden in all that undergrowth, just waiting for you to tread on it or fall into it."

"Let him go, Victor." Gordon's mum said suddenly. "He won't do anything silly. I'll help you with the luggage."

# Chapter 5

Through The Looking-Glass

The ground at the back of the cottage was indeed more overgrown than the scrubby patch in front. The grass and weeds came up to Gordon's waist. Brambly bushes tangled in heaps higher than his head.

"I think we might come across Dr Livingstone in here," Zack said. "How are you feeling?"

"Ok," Gordon assured him. "In fact, better than ok. I feel amazing!"

"It's a roller coaster," Zack reminded him. "We're on full alert."

Gordon pushed his way through the bushes and the long grass while Zack drifted in an arc in front of him, on the lookout for hazards. You couldn't call it a garden. It was a neglected patch of ground, grown to seed. They were soon near the bottom of it. A tall hedge stretched between two oak trees. There was more of that murky wood at the back, sloping steeply upwards.

Gordon's foot met the edge of something hard and smooth. He raised himself a fraction off the ground for fear of breaking whatever it was.

"Nice use of The Force, Luke," Zack called over to him. "You're really getting the hang of that." They'd recently been working on his floating.

" _Thanks,"_ Gordon beamed back. He put himself into reverse, glided backwards a foot or two, and set himself down again. _"You got a second?"_

Zack was back in a flash. "What is it?"

"Don't know," Gordon admitted, but he knew somehow that it **was** 'it'. He made a parting-of-the-waves motion with his hands. The grass in front of him obediently bent away to either side, and they got a glimpse of what it was he'd trodden on.

It was a large mirror in an ornate gilt frame, very old and worn. Even so, it was far too grand for a humble cottage like this. It was more like the kind of mirror you saw in a stately home. The frame was still intact, as was the glass. It was caked in debris, which suggested it had been out in the open for a very long time.

"Curiouser and curiouser," Zack muttered. "Forget Dr Livingstone. Watch out for a white rabbit with a pocket-watch."

"Forget Alice," Gordon advised him. "We need something to clean the looking-glass with."

"Your wish is my command, oh Master," Zack intoned, switching rôles. He was back in seconds with a dripping cloth. Gordon raised his eyebrows. "Nearest washing line and a rain butt," Zack confessed. "I'm sure they won't miss it. All in a good cause."

"You can put it back again afterwards," Gordon said.

Zack grinned. "So I can. Shall we get to work?"

"Let's," Gordon agreed. They watched the cloth do a very good job. First it cleaned the grot off the glass, then it wiped down the frame.

"GORDON! His mum was calling him, a little anxiously, from the side of the house."

"COMING MUM!" he yelled back.

"Don't be long. It's lovely inside."

"OK, just a minute."

"I'll go and rinse the cloth," Zack decided. It was looking the worse for wear.

" _Be quick,"_ Gordon said. Two seconds later Zack was back, holding out the freshly rinsed cloth. "That quick enough for you?" he asked.

They directed the clean cloth over the mirror, squeezing it gently into the swirling scrolls. The cloth was excellent at getting into the crevices. Fingers would have stopped it getting its tongue into the grooves.

" _OK,"_ Gordon said. He was in a hurry, knowing that one of his parents might come looking for him before he had had a chance to dry the mirror. _"You get that cloth safely back on its line."_ He whipped warm air over the mirror like a Dyson _Airblade_ , and the frame began to glow in the sun. The glass shone. He floated it up into his hands. The silvering on the back must still have been intact. He could see his own reflection quite clearly. He had his back to the cottage so he could see that as well.

There was a face at the attic window. More than a face, he could see the whole head and shoulders of a man. Gordon switched to his bionic lens and zoomed in on the reflection.

Whoever it was wore a green velvet jacket with the collar turned up. An elegant white cravat was knotted at his neck. He looked as though he had just stepped from an oil painting hanging on the wall of a stately home. He stared back at Gordon, and brought a handkerchief up to his eyes. He was crying.

Gordon pulled back to everyday, wide-angle mode and turned to look at the cottage. His eyes widened in astonishment, not simply because he could no longer see the weeping man but because there wasn't even a window in the cottage roof.

"GOR-DON!"

This time, his mum was calling from the open back door. He and Zack made their way back up the garden. Edith's eyes lit up when she saw the mirror. "Oh, that's lucky. I was just saying to your father there doesn't seem to be a mirror in the whole house. Where did you find it? Down there?"

Gordon nodded.

"It can't have been there long. Look how clean it still is!" She took it from him and admired it. "Oh, my goodness, it looks like a really valuable antique! Come and look at this, Victor!" she called out. "See what Gordon's just found in the garden."

Gordon's dad was tapping walls and nodding knowingly. The restricted living-room space was crammed with furniture. A small but serviceable kitchen was clearly a modern addition, as was the tiny toilet and basin in a misshapen cubicle at the far end of the ground floor.

An ancient, black grate took up almost all of one wall. The windows were very old too - small, slightly misshapen and lead-lined. The outer walls of the cottage were impressively thick.

The late afternoon sun still shone quite brightly, but inside, the light had begun to droop and drowse. Victor put the kettle on while Gordon and his mum went upstairs to decide who would sleep where. A narrow corridor had been squeezed between the old roof timbers. There were two low-ceilinged bedrooms off it. Each had a dormer window looking out over the front garden.

"Can I have this room?" Gordon asked his mother. It was the one furthest from the stairs.

"If you like," his mother agreed. There didn't seem to be anything to choose between the two.

"Why this room?" Zack asked him.

" _It's_ _our_ _room,"_ Gordon told him.

"TEA!" his dad called up the stairs. Gordon badly needed time to think. He did his best thinking with Zack, but after tea his mum would be helping him to unpack. Their thinking would have to wait.

NOTES

**DR LIVINGSTONE; "NICE USE OF THE FORCE, LUKE"; ROLLERCOASTERS AND TONGUES IN GROOVES;** GORDON'S BIONIC LENS; **"THE LIGHT HAD BEGUN ...TO DROOP AND DROWSE"; DORMER WINDOWS.**

# Chapter 6

Let Me In!

Gordon was sleeping badly. He was too hot. Images and voices were coming and going. He felt himself turning. Where was Zack?

" _Whur's she cum fraam I'd like to know?"_

" _Wouldn't we all, my dear?"_

" _I know oo she thinks she is. Queen of England, thaat's oo she thinks she is, with 'er airs and graces. Lookin' down 'er nose at the rest of us, never taalkin' to nobaady."_

" _And just whaat is a fine lady like thaat doin' in Old Joseph's caattage? Bin stood empty for yeers it 'as, since 'e paassed on. Squire never found no further use far it. It be on 'is laand, when all's said an' done."_

Gordon woke with a start. It was pitch black in the room, and he was soaked in sweat. _"Zack!"_ he beamed urgently, and got no reply.

Something was tapping at the window. He felt the skin tighten on his scalp and the sweat cold on his forehead.

Tap ... tap ... tap ...

Could it be the branch of a tree? There wasn't a tree near his bedroom window. His fingers found his bedside lamp and switched it on. The room was curiously empty. Zack wasn't there. 'It', on the other hand, was - outside the window.

Tap ... Tap ... Tap ...

Slowly, trying not to make any noise, he got out of bed and tiptoed to the window. Holding his breath, he drew the curtain ...

There was absolute blackness beyond the window. He could see nothing out of it. It had become a mirror, into which he could see quite clearly. There was his bed, and the light by it, but instead of his own reflection he saw the figure of a woman facing him in the glass. It was the figure he had seen in the windscreen. There was the same joy on the woman's face.

"My child" she said softly, holding out her arms. "You have come at last. I have waited so long."

Gordon stared into the window, unable to move a muscle. It was as if he was staring at his own mother.

"You will bring us together at last." The woman's smile lit up her face, but sadness was etched in her eyes. "I must find peace. Let me in."

Gordon thought he could see tiny reflections of himself in those haunted eyes. He couldn't tear his gaze from them. They seemed to be drawing him into the glass. "How can I let you in?" he whispered. Tell me how!"

The face glowed in the warmth of a great love, long remembered. "He came at last, when it was too late. In life, he could not keep his promise; but death lasts longer. He kept it in death; he is here still. Let me in, child, quickly. Let me IN!"

"How? Tell me HOW!" Gordon called out to her. He grasped the window catch and tugged hard, but it wouldn't budge. He had no strength.

The warm glow round the woman's face grew brighter and redder. Her expression turned to one of horrible pain and anguish. She was surrounded by flames! She was burning alive! His mother was burning alive.

"Too late! Too late!! He promised! Why has he not come?! TOO LA-A-A-TE!!!" She threw back her head and screamed, a terrible, sobbing scream that hung and echoed in Gordon's skull. It went on and on ...

The skin on her arms and shoulders was shrivelling and melting. Her hair was on fire now, her flesh roasting on the bones. Beads of blood sprang out of her forehead. And there was that smell, the revolting reek of scorching meat ...

Gordon stared helplessly at this image of suffering beyond anything he could have imagined. He couldn't tear his eyes away. Somehow, his brain directed his hand to the curtain and he pulled it shut, cutting himself off from the torment in the glass.

And the power that had held him upright was cut off too. He crumpled to the floor, his eyes shut tight, trying to deny the terrible reality of that ghastly spectacle. From somewhere outside himself he heard a voice calling out: "No! Oh NO!! OH **PLEASE**! NO!!"

He realized it was his own voice about the same time that he heard Zack calling to him urgently from somewhere in the distance. "GORDON! GORDON!! COME BACK, COME BACK TO ME!" He heard a door open and felt a comforting arm around his shoulder.

"DARLING, sshh! What is it? Whatever's the matter?!" His mother knelt down beside him. She gathered him into her arms, rocking him as if he were a baby again. He had never had a nightmare before.

Gordon clutched at her, eyes still shut tight. His breath came in shuddering gasps. Suddenly Zack was there too. He could feel him, hear him. "I'm here, I'm here! I couldn't find you. I looked everywhere!"

"Oh, my poor darling," his mum whispered, stroking his hair. "It was a nightmare! All right now. All right now. It's over."

In Gordon's head, it was far from over. "Don't leave me!" he sobbed. The plea was addressed to them both. "It was so real! Too real!! I can still see it! It's too horrible!!"

"Sshh! Sshh!"

"It was that woman, the one who looks just like you! She was outside the window, wanting to come in. I tried to open it, but I couldn't. And then she started ... burning!" The horror still gripped him, wrenching at his guts. He heard himself retching. He was going to be sick.

"Open your eyes!" his mother demanded. "Look at me, Gordon! Do it now!"

"Come back, mate," Zack whispered, "you can do this. We're with you. Open your eyes!"

Gordon forced his eyes to open. There was his mum, all safe and sound, putting a cordon of sanity around him. And there was Zack, his best friend in the world, care written all over him. Edith took her son's face in her hands, and replaced the image that had been haunting him.

"It was a nightmare. It wasn't real. It will go away. You're awake now. I'm here. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you, now am I? **Am** I, Gordon?"

"I'd kill anyone before I'd let them harm you," Zack promised him. Gordon had never seen that look in Zack's eyes before. It was convincing, reassuring. A large part of him knew he was safe now; but even so ...

He shook his head and felt the shudders dying down. He was light-headed, but the terror was receding. It was such a relief to let it go. Somewhat unsteadily, he got to his feet and fell back into bed. His mum climbed in with him. "I'll stay with you, "she murmured. "Your dad could snore for England. Did you know that?"

Gordon smiled. He loved his mum so much. She'd always been there when he'd needed her. But so had Zack. He had never had the smallest doubt that he was safe with Zack around. "Oh no, Gordon," Zack had said to him softly, six months ago on Christmas day. "I will never leave you."

He was glad his mum had left the light on. She went on talking, keeping his mind off that awful dream. That hadn't been one of **his** dreams, or one of Zack's. Someone else had been dreaming **him** , in a place where Zack had not been able to find him.

"Your father said there was a big notice outside the pub, advertising a Summer Fair on the Village Green tomorrow afternoon. That should be fun. There'll be fairground stalls, I expect, and arts and crafts ..."

His mother's comforting voice talked on about ordinary, pleasant things. It untangled Gordon's nerve-ends and soothed his senses. In a little while, without realizing it, he drifted again to sleep.

And this time, Zack was ready. Only hours ago, he had made Gordon a promise, and something had had the power to stop him keeping it. Gordon had been spirited away from under his nose. That would not be happening again. Gordon would not be going anywhere else on this holiday without him. Not if Zack could help it.

Especially not back to wherever he'd just been.

NOTES

SIX MONTHS AGO ON CHRISTMAS DAY

# Chapter 7

The Lady's Not For Burning

People had come for miles. It was perfect weather for it too, a beautiful sunny day. The village green was ablaze with life and colour and movement. There were brightly painted caravans. Travellers were selling donkey rides to the children of house-dwelling folk. Tinkers and pedlars plied their wares along the whole of one side. A tide of people swirled and surged around them: families, couples and groups of men and women, old and young.

There was livestock to be bought, sheep, pigs and geese mostly. The travellers always had a horse or two for trading. Best look them in the mouth though, they weren't giving them away. They ran them up and down, showing off their energy and spirit. Passers-by watched out for flying hooves.

Gordon and Zack drifted, taking in the amazing detail of the scene as it unfolded. This wasn't their dream. Zack hadn't been invited, but he'd involved himself with Gordon and held on tight. Now they were being carried along, wherever the dreamer willed them.

Outside the inn, groups of men stood idly chatting. They were smoking long clay pipes and downing great jugs of ale. There were fairground stalls: 'Test Your Strength', 'Try Your Luck' and 'Tell Your Fortune'. A sweating man in his shirt sleeves heaved on a great wooden handle, turning a beautiful old roundabout.

Excitement hung in the air like smoke. It wafted on the breeze and twitched in the nostrils. The talk was of witches and the Devil's work. It wasn't every day that you got to watch a witch being burned alive.

A great stake had been fixed into the ground, right in the middle of the Village Green. Good oak that was. Last a long time that would. A small platform had been fixed to it, well off the ground, six feet or so from the top. That was to make sure everyone would be able to get a good view. Tinder-dry brushwood had been gathered in a huge pile underneath it.

It was the appointed hour. People had taken up the best positions for an unrestricted view around the unlit bonfire. The crowd was standing twenty-deep round the tiny clearing as the church bell tolled three times.

Around the corner and on to the green came a tiny procession. It creaked and trundled towards the centre of attention. An executioner, head swathed in a black hood, led the gentle horse which pulled the cart. A priest walked in front with his bible open. He was asking his God in Latin and a loud voice to have mercy on the soul about to be sent most painfully into His keeping.

A woman was standing in it, straight and proud, her hands gripping the wooden rail in front. She stared ahead over the heads of the multitude. Her dress was fine, though dirty and crumpled. Her hair was unkempt, but her pale face was beautiful. She had an air of authority, some power that stilled the crowd.

Gordon found himself at the front of the crush of people, where it parted to let the cart through. He stared up at the woman as the cart drew level. Surely they couldn't be about to burn her?! The woman looked down at him. It was his own mother.

"No, it's **not** , Gordon!" Zack told him. He felt Zack's hands on his shoulders, anchoring him. "This happened a long time ago."

With sudden recognition and a look of great joy, the woman let go of the handrail. She stretched both hands down towards Gordon, not in fear, but in happiness and welcome. "I knew you would come," her eyes seemed to say. The sun shone out of a clear blue sky and seemed to surround her in a warm glow. Gordon started forward, reaching out to take her hand ...

... and sat straight up in bed. His curtain had just been drawn and the sun was streaming in through the window. His mum was standing there, surrounded by the same warm glow. She was smiling at him. He smiled back and held his hand out to her.

This lady was definitely not for burning.

NOTES

TINKERS AND PEDLARS; LOOK THEM IN THE MOUTH; INVOLVED WITH GORDON

# Chapter 8

It Runs In Our Blood

Gordon got dressed. When he came down the unbelievably creaky stairs, his mum was standing in front of the mirror. She turned sideways to check her profile and seemed very satisfied with what she saw.

"This mirror is very flattering, Gordon. I can't think what it was doing out in the garden. I'm certainly glad it's in here now."

His dad was laying the table for breakfast. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall ...," he said, grinning. He walked up to his wife and grabbed her round the waist, looking over her shoulder at their reflections.

"No, but don't you think it makes me look younger somehow. Almost like when you first met me?"

He kissed her neck. "You look exactly the same as when I first met you." He looked critically at the mirror. "That hook is a little on the low side. People were shorter centuries ago. You've only got to look at the height of the doors."

"And the ceilings, dad," Gordon piped up. He sat at the table and grabbed the cereal packet. His mum came over and reached for the teapot. There is nothing quite like that first cup of the day.

"It's odd. There are hooks all round this room at the same height," Victor said as he sat down. "I only noticed them because I was looking for a place to hang that mirror." He rattled some cereal into his bowl and reached for the milk. "They're evenly spaced all around the ground floor, even in the bathroom and kitchen. That tells me they've been there a long time, way before this cottage was modernised."

"How many are there?" Zack asked. "How many hooks are there, dad?" Gordon asked, innocently.

"I didn't count them," his dad said, "but that's an interesting question. Let's find out." He pushed his chair back.

"Finish your breakfast," Edith suggested, but Victor's curiosity had been aroused.

"It'll only take a minute," he said. "One, two ..." He held his arms out to measure the approximate distance between them and help him spot each one. "Hmm, odd," he said. He rejoined them at the table.

"How many?" Gordon asked again, spooning the last of his cereal into his mouth.

"Thirteen."

After breakfast, Edith cleared the table and Victor went to his toolbox for his can of WD40. He couldn't do anything about the creaking stairs and floorboards but at least he could silence the hinges on some of the doors. He could also give that reluctant front gate a seeing-to.

Gordon wanted to reflect on yesterday's - and yesternight's – events. He was hoping that he and Zack might get a chance to do so during the morning. The family plan was to visit the fair on the green after lunch. Gordon had mixed feelings about that, given what he now knew. At least one terrible event had taken place there, albeit centuries ago.

That mirror had its part to play in whatever it was he was now involved in. It had called to him from the garden. It had shown him a face at a window that no longer existed. It also seemed to be working some kind of magic on his mother. She was getting real pleasure from looking into it.

" _That mirror means something,"_ he murmured.

"Yes," Zack agreed. With his dad outside oiling the gate, and his mum washing up in the kitchen, they had the room to themselves for the moment. Gordon went over to the mirror.

Because of its size and the height of the hook, he should have been able to see his full reflection; but instead, he discovered that according to the mirror he wasn't there. Instead, the woman in the black dress was standing just where he was standing. He could see the reflection of the table and the window behind her. She was smiling and looking directly at him. "I have been waiting for you, Edmund," she said softly.

" _You see her too, don't you Zack."_

"I see ... what you see," Zack assured him.

"Who is Zack?" the woman asked. She was uncannily like his mother. He felt no fear. It was like being in a light trance. Zack extricated himself from Gordon and stood beside him. He put his arm protectively round his shoulder.

"I am Zack," he told her.

"Ah, an attendant spirit. You have the gift, child. It runs in our blood."

" _How can I let you in?"_ Gordon asked.

The woman smiled encouragement. "You have begun well; but I must follow old ways."

" _Just tell me how!"_

Her image had begun to fade, and her voice dropped to a yearning whisper:

"Bring them from their present place.

They lie above your sleeping head.

Hang them where their saving grace

May unite lovers long since dead."

"Gordon!" His mother's voice broke the trance. He turned to see her looking at him quizzically from the kitchen doorway. "I called you twice. You didn't hear me. You were in a world of your own there, in front of that mirror."

She walked over and stood behind him, taking the opportunity to look into it again. Gordon looked back and saw a perfectly normal reflection of himself. His mum was standing behind him, her hands on his shoulders. "What were you thinking about?" she asked dreamily. That mirror certainly made her look more beautiful than she ever remembered looking before. Somebody must have thrown it out, or left it in the garden and forgotten about it. Could she get away with taking it home?

"I was thinking," said Gordon, "of asking Dad if we could have a look in the attic."

NOTES

THIRTEEN; IT HAD CALLED TO HIM; ZACK EXTRICATED HIMSELF; QUIZZICALLY

# Chapter 9

Time For Reflection

"The **attic**!?" his mum said. The strangeness of his response broke the mirror's spell over her. "How do you even know there **is** an attic? What gave you that idea?"

"You can't tell her!" Zack advised him urgently.

A trick of the light through trees along a shadowy road is one thing. Gordon had probably just been dozing off. Cars rock you to sleep and the mind plays tricks when you're only half awake. Having an awful nightmare in a strange bed in a creaky, old house is perfectly understandable.

Very few people get through life without bad dreams, and many children suffer night terrors; but he couldn't tell his mother that he needed to look in the attic because the lady in the mirror had just told him to.

"I've never been in a house this ancient. I think it would be really interesting to see inside a roof that's centuries old. I bet Dad would be interested to see that as well."

"Well, maybe," his mum admitted, "and maybe we shouldn't go poking around in someone else's house."

" _Zack, can you find the way into the attic?"_ Seconds later, Zack was in Gordon's bedroom and it was clear why that particular room was theirs.

There was a small hatchway set into one corner of the ceiling. It was hidden by a coincidence of oak beams. Gordon hadn't noticed it because it wasn't visible from the door, and he'd had no reason to pay attention to that corner of the ceiling until now. The hatch was secured by an old iron bolt.

"There's a little hatch in my room," he told his mum, "with only an old bolt holding it shut."

"Where is there an old bolt?" his dad asked. He'd just come back in, having turned the rusty nightmare of a front gate into a well-oiled, smooth-functioning piece of kit. He was ready for a fresh challenge. The can of WD40 was still in his hand.

"Your son was just explaining to me," his mum said, "that he thought you might be interested in showing him what the roof space in a very old house like this looks like." She plainly considered Gordon to be displaying tendencies inherited from his father.

"Absolutely," Victor said, immediately keen on the idea. "Not every day you get a chance to see how these old craftsmen put together a roof that has lasted 400 years. Fat chance of your 21st century roof lasting even a quarter of that time."

Gordon could see the enthusiasm in his dad's eyes. "Do you know, son, they didn't even use nails?! It'll be jointed and fastened with thick oak pins. That way, the roof beams and the fastenings expand and contract at the same rate. The movements don't loosen the separate components."

"Right. I'll leave you master craftsmen to the fascinations of crawling about in an old roof space. I think I'll stroll as far as that pub and see what's on the menu for lunch. As we're on holiday, I thought we might treat ourselves."

"I like the sound of that," Victor said enthusiastically. He was already looking forward to a pint of whatever classic brew they still fermented around here. He fetched the old stepladder he'd seen leaning against one end of the building. "That's beech that is, Gordon. Your classic wood for ladder-making, beech." With the WD40 in one pocket and the torch from his toolbox in the other, he was a man on a mission.

Gordon led the way to his bedroom. The ladder was easily long enough to get his dad level with the bolt. The surface of the ceiling was only about seven feet from the floor. He gave it a liberal spray of WD40 and grasped its handle with both hands. "Here goes," he said, and started working it loose.

With Gordon standing innocently below and Zack standing invisibly beside him, the bolt slid open so quickly that his dad was nearly dislodged from the ladder. "Whoops," he said. "That was easier than I thought."

"You don't know your own strength, Dad," said Gordon, encouragingly.

The hatch fell open. Warm air from below sighed through the opening. It pushed dust-specked swirls of colder air from the attic down into the bedroom. Victor climbed to the top of the steps and stood with his top half in the attic space. He shone his torch around and gave a low whistle of surprise.

"What can you see, Dad?" Gordon asked eagerly.

His dad hoisted himself all the way in and then crouched by the hatch. "Climb up the ladder carefully, and see for yourself." Gordon was so keen, it was all he could do to stop himself levitating straight up through the hole. Instead, he did as he was told and scrambled up the ladder.

His dad reached down to grasp his hands and found he could lift him straight up through the space with almost no effort at all. "I **am** stronger than I thought," he thought.

Zack had taken the shortest possible route and was already in the attic. "You were hoping for time to reflect," he muttered. "Now's your chance." Victor shone the torch around the cramped space.

It was full of mirrors, exactly like the one he'd found in the garden. They leaned dustily against the sloping underside of the roof. "How many are there?" he asked his dad, knowing what the answer would be before his dad had finished counting them.

"Twelve."

Victor knelt beside one of them. He wiped away the dust with the cloth he had used to catch excess drips of WD40.

" _Zack, I need your help again,"_ Gordon beamed.

"I'm on it," Zack promised. He stood behind Victor and stared into the reflection of his eyes in the mirror, while Gordon poured all his powers of concentration into the message. _"I bet these mirrors used to hang on those twelve hooks downstairs."_

"You know what, Gordon?" his dad said dreamily. "I bet these mirrors used to hang on those twelve hooks downstairs."

"Of course, Dad; I never thought of that. _There is something special about them._ "

"Your mum's right," his dad said. His speech was getting noticeably slower. "There **is** something special about them. I look younger, somehow."

" _Why don't we surprise her and hang them up again?"_

"Why don't we surprise her and hang them up again?"

"That's a great idea, Dad!" Gordon said enthusiastically. _"We can easily put them all back up here before we leave."_

"We can easily put them all back up here before we leave."

"I think that's enough, Gordon," Zack advised. "We don't want your dad going into a complete trance."

" _I'm going to count down from three,"_ Gordon beamed. He'd seen a hypnotist do that on the television once. _"When I do, you're going to take these mirrors downstairs, clean them up and hang them on all the hooks. Three, two, one ..."_

"Right, young man," his dad said enthusiastically. "I'll get back on the ladder and you hand me the mirrors one by one. Can you do that?"

"No problem, Dad" Gordon told him. "I lifted that one in the garden, remember? They're all the same."

"Great!" said his dad. He hadn't felt this excited about a project in a long time. "Let's get on with it. Your mum is going to be amazed when she gets back."

"You can say that again," Gordon agreed.

"Your mum is going to be amazed ..."

"It's all right, Dad, you don't need to say that again."

"You're right, I don't. Come on, we're wasting time."

An hour later, the mirrors were lined up in the living room, their surfaces spotless and gleaming, almost as though they were new. Victor began hanging them, and in five minutes he had hung them all, except one.

"Let me hang that last one Dad," Gordon said.

"You hang that last one, Gordon," his dad said. I'll go and put the torch and the WD40 back in the toolbox. Your mum is bound to be back soon. I want everything to be ready."

The room glowed in reflecting sunbeams. Gordon placed the last mirror on its hook. "Now we'll see," he murmured. Zack took the precaution of involving himself again, which was just as well - because when Gordon turned around, he was standing in a different cottage altogether.

NOTES

A COINCIDENCE OF BEAMS; LEVITATING

# Chapter 10

Walking Abroad

It was of a similar design to the cottage he had been in a moment ago, but different in a number of respects. For one thing, there was bustle and noise outside. It sounded like a busy village street. For another, the floor was made of big stone flags. The furniture, such as it was, was different too. A well-scrubbed oak table was placed close to one wall, with low benches on either side. There was a sideboard with a two-door cupboard underneath it against the opposite wall.

The air was smoky, as if the chimney needed a good sweep. A wood fire was burning in the old grate. A big iron kettle hung over it, suspended from a bar embedded in the walls and festooned with big hooks.

" _What do you make of this, Zack?"_

"Place and time transfer," Zack said, admiringly. "Neat trick in daylight when you're awake."

Two women sat on stools either side of the fire. They were lighting long-stemmed clay pipes with straw spills poked into the fire. Puffing contentedly, they added to the general fug in the well-smoked room. Their simple clothes belonged to a past century. Gordon had seen pictures just like them in a history book. They were talking with thinly disguised glee about someone of great interest.

"It wur Meg Kershaw saw 'er first, wuren' it Jeannie?" the younger of the two women asked.

The older woman shook her head. "No, Annie, naat strickly. Cummin' baak from Melton, Meg wur, an' takin' the short cut rown' th'edge of Squire's Wood. She saw smoke cummin' from the chimbley." Jeannie's eyes reflected the flames. "Well, you know 'ow long thaat caattage bin empty. Yeers it's bin since Old Joseph wur took from us, God rest 'is soul. An' by nex' marnin' the roof mended as if by maagic. No, 'twur Molly Arkwright aakchly saw 'er first."

"Ow wur thaat then?" Annie asked. She seemed as eager to hear the story as Jeannie was to tell it.

"Well," Jeannie said. She leaned forward, and used the stem of her pipe for emphasis. "T'wur a day or two later. Molly Arkwright wur goin' to visit 'er old aant - you know, 'er as lives out on the Melton Road."

Annie nodded eagerly. Knew how to make a good story last did old Jeannie.

"On the way, Molly notices all the windows in Joseph's caattage bin mended! The garden wur tended, an' a new coat of whitewaash on the walls. Well it ne'er looked thaat good all the days Old Joe wur in't, an' thaat's further baak than most folks remember. She remembers thinking "Whaat's all this then?"

Annie nodded wisely. "Staands to reason, doanit? Squire be up to summat."

"SO," Jeannie continued, "on the way baak, she goes very slow like, dawdles paast the front gate; an' whaat should she see but a fine-lookin' woman in a blaak dress of very best claath, drawin' water from the well! "Good day!" Molly calls out, all friendly like."

The old woman leaned forward and lowered her voice. It didn't do to speak of such things out loud. Her young companion bent obligingly towards her and placed her ear close. These were the best kind of stories - the ones that could send a shiver up your spine.

"An' 'er swings rownd," the old woman whispered, "an' looks right through Molly, like she wuren't there. Grey-green eyes, but they wuren't seein' nuthin'. Molly reckoned 'er spirit 'ud left 'er baady and gaan sumwhures else."

"Walkin' abraad," Annie breathed, her eyes shining with excitement. She'd heard there could be some right carryings-on when spirits walked abroad. Course, it was normally at night, when the moon was full.

"Molly says a shiver went right through 'er, like somebody walked over 'er grave. She felt a "presence". It wuren't no farce for good neither."

"I'd 'a' wet mesself, I reckon" said Annie.

Jeannie sniffed dismissively. "Anyways," she continued at a more normal volume, "Madam 'Igh-An'-Mighty picks up 'er pitcher and sweeps into the 'ouse without a word nor a baakward glaance." Gordon had to concentrate really hard at first to catch most of what was being said. Zack was better at it than he was, which was helping.

The mention of a pitcher reminded Annie that her mug was empty. She stood up as if to stretch her legs, but let it dangle to show there was nothing left in it. Her eyes strayed to the pitcher of dandelion wine sitting invitingly on the sideboard.

"Molly wur lucky I reckon," she declared. "The Evil Eye must 'a' bin with the witch from 'afore she ever cursed this paarish with 'er lah-di-dah presence."

"Very like," Jeannie agreed. Her shrewd old eyes had caught the other woman's glance at the pitcher. Her own mug had been drained a while back. "Seein' as 'ow you're on them young feet o' yourn, why not fetch us both another draaft of thaat daandelion wine you've got yer eye on. It is a good brew, if I says so as shouldn't." She held her mug up.

Well-known for her superior dandelion wine, old Jeannie was. Her young friend grasped it readily and took the two steps needed to cross the stone-flagged floor and reach the pitcher. Gordon was standing right next to the sideboard, directly in the woman's line of sight.

"Good morning!" he said loudly. It was as if he'd just dropped in and his presence in their cottage was the most natural thing in the world. The woman looked right through him, giving no indication that she had seen or heard anything out of the ordinary.

She poured two generous measures into their mugs and carried them carefully back to her seat, intent on not spilling a drop. She handed Jeannie hers, then took a deep pull out of her own, lessening the chances of losing any, before lowering herself into her chair.

"How weird," Gordon said. "Is this what it feels like to be you?"

NOTES

STRAW SPILLS; "IT WUR MEG KERSHAW ...

# Chapter 11

The Evil Eye

"'Twurn't long aa'er thaat," Annie said, "little Jacob wur struck down, as I recall." She smoothed out some creases in her long skirt,

"No, 'twurn't," Jeannie agreed, "no mar'n a week aa'er. Sneaked up to 'er winder 'e did, brave little mite. Did it as a dare, with the other kids crouched be'ind the 'edge at a safe distance."

She gazed at the imagined scene, her mind's eye filling in the details. "'E saw the finest furniture, like up at the 'all. Graand mirrors everywhere. Silk an' velvet, an' a table laid with silver." She shuddered with dread. "But she saw 'is little 'ed she did. 'Er face turned to thunder, eyes the colour a' smoke an' steel, an' a tongue as sharp as a sword."

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "'E could see 'er lips movin' but no sownd wur cummin' owt. 'E felt a staabbin' sensation in 'is leg, like sumwun wur stickin' needles into 'im." She gestured at the straw spills in the hearth. "Light me one 'o they spills, Annie, there's a dear," she wheezed. "I'm a-talkin' so much, me pipe's gaan clean owt."

Annie came to the obvious conclusion. "She set a curse on 'im thaat day." She held the spill in the fire and waited for it to sputter into flame. "Told 'im she'd teech 'im a lesson 'e wouldn't forget." She handed the spill to Jeannie, who poked the burning end into the bowl of her pipe and sucked generous mouthfuls of smoky air through the tobacco.

"Aye," she said, her head partially obscured by the clouds of smoke. "All them other kids 'eard 'er. Standin' in 'er doorway with 'er arm stretched owt and 'er finger pointin' straight at 'im. 'A lesson you will not forget.' Them wur the words all right."

She shook her had sadly. "An' 'im not 'avin' the sense 'e wur born with, an' a cheeky little bugger to boot, 'e calls owt: 'Caan't caatch me with a belly full a' tea; you got a face like a bumble bee.'"

Annie was replenishing her pipe from an old pouch that hung off her belt. "'E'd needed 'is little baakside skelped fer a while afore thaat," she declared, "but all the same, 'e didn't deserve to be struck down." She took the spill from Jeannie and applied it to the bowl of her own pipe.

"Do you think we should have a look around?" Gordon asked Zack.

Zack extricated himself. Why don't you keep listening while I look out the window? I'm not going far. I don't want you whisked away without me."

"The very nex' day it wur," Jeannie said, taking an appreciative swig of dandelion wine to sweeten the taste of the tobacco. "Woke up with the fever on 'im, an' nuthin' anywun could do 'bowt it."

"'is poor mother," Annie said. Her nose was in the mug of pleasantly intoxicating liquor. "Whaat she must've gaan through." She swallowed loudly and burped. "It doan' bear thinkin' 'bowt."

"'Course, she went to the witch an' begged 'er," Jeannie said, waving the long stem of her pipe as if it were a magic wand. 'Please lift the curse! 'E's only a little mite. I'll do anythin' you waant! I know 'e did wrong, but it wur only a little wrong. Take the evil eye off of 'im, I beg you!'" She took another pull on the pipe. The tobacco glowed obligingly.

"'Eart 'a' stone," Annie said. She drained her mug and felt rather unsteady. "Wunce the devil gets into 'em."

Gordon thought he'd try it. He leaned over and tried to tap the older woman on the shoulder. His hand went right through her. She shuddered violently.

"You all right Jeannie?" Annie asked her anxiously. It didn't do to talk out loud about the devil's doings. She looked around doubtfully. Her gaze swept through Gordon, whom clearly, she could not see.

"Sumwun jus' walked over my grave I reckon," Jeannie said. "Mebbe all this talk a' witches an' curses doan' do nobaady no good. An' thaat poor lad with 'is withered leg. Never run again, will 'e, not if 'e lives to be an 'undred, which doan' seem too likely."

Annie patted the old lady's knee comfortingly. "Doan' you pay no mind" she told her. "Today we'll see the witch gaan for good, an' good riddance!"

NOTES

SKELPED

# Chapter 12

A Night To Remember

The house they were in faced directly on to the village green. It was ablaze with life and colour and movement. One corner was taken up with brightly painted caravans. Tinkers and pedlars were crying their wares all along one side. Everywhere was thronged with people.

Zack gazed out of the window, and it was to the middle of the green that Gordon's eyes were drawn. He zoomed in. A great stake had been sunk into the ground. A small platform was fastened to it about six feet above the ground. A thick pile of brushwood was stacked under it.

It was big enough to stand a witch on, with her hands tied round the stake above her head. A stout nail had been driven into the back of the stake - to stop the rope from slipping down when the victim's knees gave way. That way everybody could be sure of a good view to the very end.

The terrible cruelty of it went through Gordon's heart like a knife.

"We doan' waan' no more nights like thaat wun we 'aad on All 'Allows E'en, year afore laast," Jeannie was saying. "I never saw nor 'eard nuthin' like thaat night." She drained her mug and smacked her lips with relish. "Doan' mind if'n I do" she told Annie, holding the mug out for a refill.

Annie leapt to her feet with relish. As she poured, the old lady reminisced. "If ever the devil came down to earth," she said slowly, slurring her words ever so slightly, "'e came down thaat night. My door wur bolted and my winders shutter'd. The lightnin' flaashed an' 'issed through the cracks an' the thunder fair aaddled my brain."

Her voice moaned at the memory. "No God-fearing soul dared walk abraad thaat night. The wind 'owled like an 'undred demons."

"'Ad the answer by the followin' Spring though, din't we?!" Annie said triumphantly. She handed Jeannie her third mugful. That would definitely have to be the last; the ground had started to sway as if they were on board ship, sailing to goodness knows where. "Molly again it wur oo saw 'er, in the caattage doorway. Five months gaan with child."

The room was nodding in agreement, so Jeannie kept her head still. "An' 'er never with no visitor by day, nor none by night neither. Some of the bizzybaadies rownd 'ere would 'a' seed 'im cummin' or goin'."

"Thaat's very true," Annie agreed, "though I 'ave 'eard tell a' lamps burning an' voices raised in argument in the dead 'o' night, when decent folk're safe in their beds."

"I 'eard thaat", said Jeannie, not about to admit she was in the dark about anything. "But I never pays no 'eed to gaassip, you know thaat."

Annie began to nod vigorously - to indicate that indeed she did know that - but decided it was a bad idea. She settled instead for pointing the stem of her pipe at a particular puzzle. It was one that had bothered her for some time.

"You know it vexes me," she said. She paused to allow a moment of silence to add weight to what she was about to say. "Squire Daavenport never took no 'aand. It be 'is caattage aa'er all. She wur on 'is laand."

"Never took no hand!" echoed a scornful and significantly more refined voice behind Gordon. He jumped and whirled around. Zack melted back into him as breath into the wind. Standing behind him was the woman he had seen in the windscreen and in his bedroom window and in the mirror. Her eyes flashed anger and contempt.

"Ignorant harridans," she exclaimed, "knowing no more of this world's affairs than do the cows they milk each morning!" She walked over to where Jeannie was pouring dandelion wine down her throat and deliberately stood in her space. Gordon could quite clearly see the shape of this woman and that of Jeannie blending together.

The old woman began to shake violently. The pewter knocked against her teeth and the wine dribbled down her chin. "Whaa'ever is it Jeannie?!" Annie cried.

She put down her pipe and mug and reached over to Jeannie to comfort her. As soon as her arms entered Jeannie's space, she too fell to shaking and trembling. She tugged at the old woman's arm, and what was left of Jeannie's dandelion wine splashed out on to the floor as she was dragged up out of her seat.

"Cum away Jeannie!" You could hear the rising panic in Annie's voice. "There be some evil presence in this room! May God forgive us our trespaasses and deliver us from evil, aamen!" She made a sign of the cross as the pair of them tottered towards the front door of the cottage. "Cum away!"

The woman smiled at Gordon. "You have done well, child," she said softly. "Take my hand." Gordon reached out and took her hand. It felt warm and reassuring. He found he was standing again in the front room of their holiday cottage. His mother was just coming through the door.

NOTES

ALL 'ALLOWS E'EN; AS BREATH INTO THE WIND; HARRIDAN

# Chapter 13

The Hall Of Mirrors

"My Goodness!" Edith exclaimed, looking around the room. "Where on Earth did you find all these? No, don't tell me," she added as her husband opened his mouth. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat. "They were in the attic."

"Well spotted, Miss Marple," he said. "What do you think? Gordon and I thought they'd brighten the place up."

"You and Gordon were right," Edith said. "It's so much brighter. All this reflected sunlight! But how weird is that? No mirrors at all in the cottage living spaces, with an attic stuffed full of them and one in the back garden."

She walked slowly from mirror to mirror and stopped when she noticed something. "Look, this mirror lines up with the one on the opposite wall. I can see reflections of myself going back and back into the distance." Her voice was slowing and becoming dreamier as she reached the end of the sentence.

Gordon grabbed her hand and steered her to one of the armchairs. "We thought we'd enjoy them while we're here. We can put them back before we leave," he explained.

His mum nodded. "I don't suppose anyone can mind really," she agreed. "Thirteen hooks and thirteen fine old mirrors in a tiny country cottage! I bet there's a story behind that somewhere.

"You'd better believe it," Zack murmured.

They set off shortly afterwards. The plan was to explore the village, have lunch at the pub and go to the fair when it opened at 2pm.

Little Melling had a medieval church. The pub was the original Tudor, timber-framed building with a thatched roof. The whole area had a long history and bucketsful of olde-worlde charm. It attracted thousands of visitors in the summer months and a steady stream throughout the year. There was an Arts, Crafts and Souvenirs shop, a small post office and several food outlets specialising in local produce.

Gordon felt sure that events would unfold in their own good time. The story had come to him so far, just like it did in his dreams. If anything more were required of him, the story would come to him again.

The pub's interior was cheerfully busy, but there were plenty of tables outside. They were able to find a free one with an umbrella to keep off the strong, summer sun. Its grounds backed on to the Village Green, giving them a good view of the final preparations for the Summer Fair.

There were tents with striped awnings, roundabouts and Try-Your-Luck stalls. Lots of cars were unloading local arts and crafts. There were ice-cream vans and toffee apple vendors. It was all bustle, noise, and growing excitement.

After a hearty Ploughman's and a pint of "Beheaded", Victor's thoughts were turning towards an afternoon nap. It was a good thing that the fair opened on time and got them moving again.

People were pouring on to the Green. They must have come from miles around. Everywhere there was life and colour and movement. There were babies in prams and pushchairs, and old people in wheelchairs and power-chairs. Gaggles of teenage girls squealed loudly enough to be noticed, while groups of teenage boys tried to look worldly-wise and pretended not to notice. Add to that the couples and the parents, the stallholders, St John's Ambulance, local cadet, scout and guide groups, visiting church and coach parties ...

Gordon wanted to stand, as near as he could judge it, on the very spot where the woman who looked exactly like his mother, and who talked to him as if he were her own child, had been burned at the stake as a witch. That was easier said than done. The Green had been swallowed up by all the fun of the fair, and it was difficult to judge distances from all four sides in order to find the middle.

His parents kept being sidetracked by stalls, but eventually he manoeuvred them to a spot as close to the middle as he could reasonably get. Zack zoomed up another twenty feet to give him a bird's eye view. It was quite weird looking down at himself.

Above the cheerful din of the fair came the unmistakable toll of the church bell. ONE ... TWO ... THREE ... "Both time and place do now adhere," Zack murmured, back where he belonged at Gordon's side. He pointed at a small, red and white striped tent, three or four metres from where they were standing. The sign over the entrance flap said "HALL OF MIRRORS".

"Can we go in the _Hall of Mirrors_ please?" Gordon asked.

"Tell you what," Victor suggested. "You and your mum go in there while I go and get us some ice-creams."

The tent was shaded and empty. There was a line of full length mirrors placed around its wall. Gordon and his mum stood for a moment and counted them. There were thirteen. Edith shivered suddenly. "It's OK, mum," Gordon said. "We're meant to be here, just you and me."

"And Zack," his mum murmured. Her voice had slowed. He could see that far-away look in her eyes. They walked over to the first mirror and looked in. A perfectly ordinary reflection looked back at her. Look how tall Gordon was getting. "These mirrors make me look ... I don't know," his mum said, as much to herself as to Gordon. "When I look into them, I feel completely happy to be me."

"Hold on to that feeling, mum," Gordon said, squeezing her hand.

"Wouldn't that be nice?" his mum said dreamily. "Oh, wouldn't that be nice?" They took two paces to look into the next mirror, and Edith gave a little cry. She let go of Gordon, and her hands flew to the sides of her face.

Her mother and her mother's mother were smiling back at her. She had lost her mother to cancer shortly before Gordon was born. It still hurt that her mum hadn't lived to know Gordon. He had never had a chance to know and love his gran.

"Look Mum, look Gran," she said, the tears running down her cheeks. "This is your grandson, your great grandson. He's a wonderful boy. You'd have loved him." Gordon waved at them, and they both looked out at him affectionately.

"Oh Mum!" Edith sobbed. "I miss you so much!"

Gordon took her hand. "They're together, Mum, and they look happy."

Edith managed a smile through her tears. "They do, don't they." She lifted her free hand and gave them a sad little wave. "Love you, Mum," she whispered, "Love you, Gran. Wait for me." The image faded.

They moved to the third mirror. Edith had no memory of her gran's mum, but the family resemblance was unmistakable. The style of clothing identified the period, and the mirror showed her as a woman about the age Edith was now. With her was an older woman who was clearly her mother: Gordon's great, great, great grandmother.

They passed slowly from mirror to mirror, moving back in time with each reflection. The clothes changed, the hairstyles changed, but the faces remained very much alike. The occupants of each mirror responded to their waves and smiles with waves and smiles of their own.

In mirror seven they found just one ancestor; in mirror eight the same, and in mirrors nine to twelve. Edith said nothing, moving from mirror to mirror, caught up in thoughts that lay too deep for tears ...

They came to the thirteenth. Gordon had been counting, and if he'd got it right, it was his sixteen-greats-grandmother that now looked out at him. She smiled her welcome. This was their fourth encounter of the extraordinary kind.

Again, he was struck by just how much like his own mother she was. Perhaps six inches shorter, and dressed quite differently, but otherwise identical. He looked up at his mother to confirm this perfect match, and then back at the mirror. This time it was his mother in the mirror, smiling back at him.

" _It's all right."_ He heard her voice clearly in his head. _"I'll wait for you."_

"Whoah!" muttered Zack. He was keeping a very low profile.

Gordon dragged his eyes from the mirror. He looked at his hand, still warmly clasped, and saw the black lace sleeve. He looked up into the smiling eyes of his sixteen-greats-grandmother.

"Come, my belovèd son," she said. "Come and see how the poor fool makes amends at last."

NOTES

A HEARTY PLOUGHMAN'S; A PINT OF 'BEHEADED'; "BOTH TIME AND PLACE DO NOW ADHERE"; HE COULD SEE THAT FAR-AWAY LOOK IN HER EYES; THOUGHTS THAT LAY TOO DEEP FOR TEARS.

# Chapter 14

The Tunnel Of Love

They stepped out of the tent. It was late evening and the Village Green was deserted. There was a smell of burning. Ash and fragments of brushwood smouldered and crackled around a stake almost eaten by fire. The charred remains of a woman's body still hung helplessly from it, her terrible ordeal at an end. Gordon recoiled in horror.

"Don't be afraid, child" said his sixteen-greats-grandmother. "Look where he comes."

On to the Green came a small carriage drawn by one black horse. It was driven by a young man in a green velvet jacket. His collar was turned up. There was an elegant white cravat around his neck. He drew level with the remains of the bonfire and reigned in the horse. "Oh no!" Gordon heard him cry. "Oh NO, PLEASE NO!" He felt the man's heart break and his own tears trickling.

His sixteen-greats-grandfather leapt from the carriage and ran over to the stake. The executioner's steps were still to one side of the pyre. He dragged them into position and mounted them. Pulling a knife from his pocket he cut through the blackened remains of the rope binding the scorched wrists to the stake. He held the ruined corpse in his arms. "Dear Heart," he sobbed. "I was deceived! Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me!"

"Had I three ears I'd hear thee," said the spirit of his SGGm. "I was thought by many to be a great beauty, but by none so much as Edmund Davenport." Still holding hands, they stood by the carriage as Edmund carried the body gently towards it. He passed by them but could not see them, so closely that Gordon heard his whisper.

"I came as quickly as I could, my darling. I had to be about my father's business. It was but a little while. I thought only of you and our child."

"His father knew," she told Gordon. "Of course, he knew. He had his spies in the village. He knew how many nights his eldest son was not in his own bed."

"But you had a child," Gordon said, "his grandson."

"A bastard out of wedlock," his formidable ancestor said grimly. "Remember the times child. I was not of high birth, nor was I wealthy enough to become the wife of any son of his."

Her mouth twisted with contempt. "But he was cunning. He knew how headstrong his son could be. He sent him abroad on business for two long months. In that time, he conspired with the priest and these ignorant villagers to rid the world of me."

"It's all too terrible," Gordon said helplessly. "What happened to your child?"

The spirit laughed triumphantly. "I got you safely away, where the old squire could not harm you. I knew you would grow and return to right this wrong!"

His SGGm seemed to have no idea how much time had passed since these terrible events took place. Maybe time worked differently in her dimension. But why had she had to wait for him? Why not any of the other children and grandchildren that had lived and died in the intervening centuries?

" _That's obvious, isn't it?"_ Zack told him. _"She said so herself. You have the gift."_

" _Thank you for reminding me,"_ Gordon thought back, _"Attendant Spirit."_

These were thoughts and questions for another place and time. His SGGf placed the body tenderly in the carriage, climbed back into the driver's seat and turned the horse around.

"He goes now to the cottage," the spirit said, "the first time ever he came by road."

Gordon felt the warm squeeze of his ancestor's hand, and they were back in the downstairs room of the cottage. It was elegantly furnished, with chairs and a table fine enough for any of the stately homes Gordon had visited with his parents. The curtains were velvet, and the plate on the table was of silver. Thirteen fine, gilt mirrors hung all around the room.

"Mirror, mirror, on the wall ..."

His SGGm let go of his hand and twirled around, catching her reflection in many of the mirrors. "Ah yes," she sighed, with evident satisfaction, "a great beauty. All these trappings came from Mellingford Hall, where never I set foot." She turned to face her sixteen greats grandson. "But the time is upon us. I **will** live there, in death if not in life. Look where poor Edmund comes."

The door opened and the young man entered, carrying the body of his belovèd. He laid it gently down, knelt in the corner of the room and prised a small square stone the size of a man's fist out of the floor. Putting his hand into the gap, he grasped a metal ring and heaved. A large flagstone swung upwards to rest against the wall.

Gordon walked over and saw a steep flight of stone steps descending into the darkness. Tenderly, Edmund Davenport gathered the pathetic bundle of charred remains and began his heavy descent. Gordon heard his footsteps echoing in the damp darkness.

A light flared from below - a storm lantern, left there for the purpose. His SGGf climbed the steps again for a final time. He replaced the small square stone and pulled the large flagstone back into the space above his head.

"It is time." His SGGm said softly. "We will wait here for you."

Gordon looked into her eyes. "We?" he asked.

"Your father and I. You brought us together when you let me in. Now we can all go to Mellingford Hall, just as I had planned." His mother many times removed smiled back at him. She reached out lovingly to stroke his cheek. "My only child," she murmured.

Gordon found himself on the Village Green once more. He was holding his mother's hand, standing on the spot where the tent had been. Looking down, he noticed the patch of ground was brown and bare. Grass bloomed all around it. The fair was in full swing around them, and his dad was coming back with three large 'Mr Whippy's'. Each had a chocolate flake stuck in it.

After all, they were on holiday.

NOTES

"HAD I THREE EARS I'D HEAR THEE"; SGGM; A BASTARD OUT OF WEDLOCK

# Chapter 15

My Sixteen Greats Grandmother

"Here," said Victor cheerfully. "Grab them quickly before they melt." He looked into their faces and his mood changed to one of concern. "What's happened?" he said in alarm. He looked round fiercely, ready to confront whatever or whoever had upset them.

Edith put her hand on his arm and took one of the ice-creams. "We're fine, we're fine. Gordon and I have something to tell you. It's something you are going to find very hard to believe."

Another family obligingly chose that moment to vacate the nearest park bench, and the Bennett's collapsed gratefully on to it to eat their ice-creams. Edith told Victor about seeing her mum and her gran in one of the mirrors, then her Gran's mum and her great gran's mum, and so on from mirror to mirror, further and further back in time.

Victor remembered that the striped tent with the _Hall of Mirrors_ sign had not been there when he got back with the ice-creams. If it was a hallucination of some sort, then it was a group one. "And you saw all this as well, Gordon?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Yes, Dad," Gordon assured him. "The woman I saw yesterday on the road in front of the car was my sixteen-greats-grandmother." He could tell his dad was struggling. This was outside the realm of his reality. Understandably he was finding it hard to take.

"You know me, Darling," his wife said. "I'm the one who doesn't believe in ghosts \- didn't believe in ghosts." She suddenly smiled brilliantly. "It was so good to see mum and gran together like that. I knew I had roots in Cornwall."

"It's a big jump for me, this." Victor admitted. "Maybe there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in my philosophy."

"That's deep, Dad," said Gordon. "Who said that?"

"Lots of people," his dad told him. "It's a saying."

"Can we go home now, please?" Gordon asked. "'Coz if you thought that roof space was interesting, wait 'til you see what I've got to show you now."

NOTES

IT'S A SAYING

# Chapter 16

What Sorcery Is This?

Victor opened the door and they filed back into their cottage. The ancestral spirits were waiting. Gordon could see them quite clearly. "They're here," he announced. "Can you see them?"

"No," his mum whispered, a little fearfully, "but I can feel ... something." She shivered apprehensively.

"There's nothing to worry about," Gordon said reassuringly. "They're glad to see us. I'm doing them a really big favour, apparently."

"Who are 'they' Gordon?" his dad asked. He'd thought talking to an imaginary friend all those years ago had been a bit weird, but this ...

"My sixteen-greats-grandparents," Gordon told him, patiently. "She was married to Edmund Davenport. His father didn't approve and thought she'd bewitched him. He had her burned as a witch on that Green about 400 years ago. Now they're going home to Mellingford Hall."

Victor sucked in a deep breath. "WAIT, wait, wait, wait, wait," he said. "We are not about to barge in on the aristocracy with some story ..."

"Dad, this is really important," Gordon insisted urgently. "You have to help us. I'll show you that they are here. I'll talk to them out loud so you can hear me, even if you can't hear them. Then I'll show you something that will really convince you, OK?"

"Say 'OK', dear," said Edith.

"OK," his dad said grudgingly.

"Don't be scared," Gordon said. He turned to his SGGm, who had been waiting with scarcely concealed impatience. "Do you mind?" he asked politely. He swung his arm towards his father in an invitation to her to get involved.

"It will be my pleasure, child," she said grandly. She sailed across the room and blended with Victor. The effect was dramatic.

"OH M-M-M-Y-Y G-G-G-I-D-D-D-Y-Y A-A-U-U-N-N-T-T!" Victor cried out, shivering uncontrollably. "ENOUGH!!"

"Indeed," said Gordon's remarkable ancestor, gliding away. His dad's body temperature began to rise again, aided by Edith, who had wrapped him in a bear hug. "Edmund, I would like you to meet your son, as he is now grown. Child, this is my husband and your father, Edmund Davenport."

"How do you do?" Gordon said.

Edmund bowed low. "Never better, dear boy, now that you have reunited us. I have sorely missed my darling wife - and you, of course," he added hastily, "my only son."

"We were married in secret" she told Gordon. "We'd hoped a grandchild would soften the old fool's heart. Instead, he lost his son and all besides." She gestured grandly towards the corner of the room. "Let us go at last to Mellingford Hall. Our belovèd son will lead the way."

"This is where I need your help, Dad," Gordon said. "Could you fetch your biggest chisel from the toolchest? We'll need the torch as well." His dad was glad of something practical to do, and was soon back with the tools. Gordon went over to the corner of the room and knelt down by the small, square stone. "Prepare to be amazed, Dad," he said. "Can you use the chisel to lever out this stone?"

Wondering, his dad knelt beside him and ran the chisel round the edges of the small, square stone. The dirt of centuries was soon loosened. He prised the stone out of the floor. "What the blue blazes ...?" he muttered.

The ring beneath was rusty. Gordon wondered for a moment if it could still take the weight of the old stone flag. _"Ready, Zack?"_ he beamed. Together they lightened the stone. Victor hooked the forefingers of both hands into the rusty old ring and heaved.

The ring edge of the flag rose easily. He was able to get first one hand under it and then the other. After that, it wasn't difficult to transfer its weight to the edge still on the floor. Panting triumphantly, he let it lean against the wall. He switched on his big torch and shone the light into the musty darkness below.

"My stars!" muttered Edmund Senior, staring at the torch. "What sorcery is this?"

"Oh my God," said Victor. "Come and look." Together, the family Bennett stared down the hole. "Where do you think it goes?" his dad asked Gordon.

"To Mellingford Hall," Gordon said.

Victor's eyes widened. "Hold on a moment," he said. "You're saying that you want me to go with you through an underground passageway that ends up inside the Davenport's stately home?!"

"You're not leaving me behind," Edith assured him. "We're in this together. I'm coming too."

NOTES

WHAT THE BLUE BLAZES ...

# Chapter 17

Forensic Evidence

Victor took a very firm grip on the torch and led the way down the steps. Once at the bottom, he called up that the air was breathable. Gordon went next. His mother followed, gritting her teeth. They were going where no human being had been for goodness knows how long.

Above them, Gordon heard his SGGm say with considerable satisfaction: "Well, I shan't be coming **here** again. We shall be very comfortable up at the Hall."

"Whatever you say, my Love," was the patient reply.

The underground passage ran upwards for a considerable distance before levelling off and widening to form a small room. In it was an old wooden bed, a table and a simple oak chair. On the bed lay the charred skeleton of a human being. Seated in the chair was the skeleton of another, its head resting on the table and its bony fingers still wrapped round the butt of an old flintlock pistol.

It was dressed in the rotted remains of a faded green jacket. The threads of a soiled, white cravat still hung round its neck. There were some ancient pieces of parchment on the table, covered in fine, faded writing.

"Oh, the poor souls!" Edith murmured as she squeezed into the small room. "To think how long they've been shut down here and nobody knowing."

From the other side of the room, the passage continued as before on its upward path. "There was some work put into this," Victor said over his shoulder. "I reckon it was a priest hole, built as a secret escape route at the time of the persecutions."

"I'm sure he's right," Zack told Gordon. "The cottage is there because that's where the tunnel happened to come out."

"Succeeding generations of Davenport's can't have known about it," said Gordon. "Those skeletons and that written account wouldn't still be there, otherwise."

They came at last to what appeared to be the foundations of a great house. "Here we go," muttered Victor. "There are going to be some very surprised people wherever this tunnel comes out."

"We're doing them a huge favour," Edith said. "Just think how much they're going to be able to charge for guided tours through here with a story like the one we've got to tell, and a couple of ghosts thrown in for good measure. They'll make an absolute fortune."

The slope became steps. They climbed into a narrow passageway, with timber framing and fine old panelling on either side. There appeared to be no exit, but by flashing the torch around Victor discovered three ancient bolts securing a rectangular section of panelling. He wished he'd brought his can of WD40.

"Ready?" he whispered to his wife and son.

"Ready," they nodded.

Gordon heard a derisive snort from behind them and the echoing ring of his SGGm's haughty voice. "We have been ready long since."

NOTES

PRIEST-HOLE

# Chapter 18

Home At Last

Lieutenant Colonel (Retd.) Sir Hugo Cholmondeley Davenport, Bart. was taking tea with Lady Davenport in the main drawing room, as they did every afternoon at this time. The room was south-facing. On a fine afternoon like this, it was filled with warm, pleasant sunlight.

Lady Hermione was about to pour her second cup when she heard a sharp scraping sound in one corner of the room. She paused, the silver teapot poised above the elegant china cup. Her husband was eating a large slice of his favourite seed cake.

"Rat," he said helpfully. She sighed and began to pour. They really must get on to the pest control people. Oh, my goodness, there it was again! "More than one, if you ask me" the colonel added. From roughly the same spot, metal scraped on metal for a third time. He opened his mouth to pop in the last delicious morsel, and froze in astonishment.

A whole section of panelling had swung open in one corner of the room, and a rather grubby adult, male member of the public stepped out from behind it. He was followed by a child and an adult female. They appeared to be a family. They appeared to be lost. Nonplussed, the Davenports remained frozen for a moment. The Bennett's dusted themselves off and looked around in wonder.

Sir Hugo levered himself out of his winged armchair and found his voice. "Where the devil did you spring from?" he demanded in a forthright military manner, and was suddenly taken with a violent fit of shaking.

"Are you all right, Darling?" his wife enquired, anxiously. The colonel recovered. "Course I am, M'Dear; confounded draught, that's all." He turned once more to their uninvited visitors. "Close that damned door sir! Tell us who you are and where the devil you sprang from. You nearly frightened the life out of Lady Davenport!"

Gordon heard a faint snort of derision. A moment later, it was Lady Davenport's turn to start shivering uncontrollably. Her husband's face turned a dangerous shade of purple, a sign that he was about to fly into one of his famous rages. "What the BLUE BLAZES," he roared, "is going ON?!"

Victor shut the panelled door with a little more force than was necessary. Edith knew that her skills in diplomacy and tact were about to come in handy. Gordon was fairly sure that life in this particular manor house would never be quite the same again.

The ghosts of Mellingford Hall were home at last.

# Chapter 19

Keeping It Quiet

"Well," said Victor, as they opened the front door to their holiday cottage some two hours later. "A very interesting holiday **this** is turning out to be." He had tried to persuade the chauffeur to drop them off in the main road at the turning into Hob's Lane; but no, the good fellow had insisted on bringing them right to their gate. The Bentley had excellent wing mirrors, he had explained. It would be no trouble to reverse all the way back to the road.

"It was so nice of Hermione to say that had they not had that prior engagement, they would have been delighted to have us join them for supper." Edith said. "It was practically an invitation. I think you can put that flagstone back, Victor. There's a real draught coming out of that hole."

"His Lord and Ladyship are going to be feeling the occasional draught from now on," Victor grunted. He lowered the flag and put the small stone back over the iron ring. "Still, you weren't wrong about the benefits this could bring them. I thought Hugo picked up on that straight away."

Edith was putting the kettle on. Her Ladyship's herbal detox had made a refreshing change, but now she was ready for a real cup of Tetley's. She was also looking forward to half an hour's total relaxation in their spook-free holiday cottage. They'd have their soup and sandwiches after that. She came back into the living room while the kettle got its act together. "Imagine them still being the owners of this cottage as well! That was a stroke of luck for them."

"Wouldn't have been easy to sell, in any case," Victor suggested, "the kind of reputation it had earned for itself. Easier to let an agent handle it and get some income from holiday lets."

"And who was the star of the show?" Edith said proudly. She beamed at Gordon. "They really took a shine to you, Gordon."

"I'm glad they're going to give those remains a proper funeral," Gordon said, "and lay them together in the family vault."

"That should help calm your sixteen-greats-grandmother down a bit," Edith agreed. "It isn't the present family's fault, after all. You can't blame them for what happened all those years ago."

"I think Hugo was rather hoping you'd explain that to them," Victor told Gordon. "Being reliably haunted may be good for business, especially when you throw in a secret tunnel and a priest hole ..."

"And a spooky little cottage in Hob's Lane," Edith added, looking around with a smile.

"... but having a couple of poltergeists trashing the ancestral pile could be a bit of an inconvenience."

"We need to be careful about the publicity fallout from this," Zack warned Gordon. "You don't want the local paper going on about an eleven-year old psychic on speaking terms with his ancestors. There'd be a queue of people wanting you to get in touch with their dearly departed. And think of all the haunted houses you'd get invited to! You'd be on television in no time. Then goodbye life as we know it."

"Dad, could we play down my part in all this?" Gordon asked. "If the papers get hold of the story, it could interfere with our lives. I don't want people thinking I'm a weirdo."

"He's right, Victor," Edith called back from the kitchen. She poured the boiling water into two mugs and got the freshly squeezed orange juice out of the fridge for Gordon. "We'd get invited on to talk shows and all sorts." She brought the drinks into the living room.

"Fair point," Victor admitted. "We'll get our story straight about finding the mirrors. We'll say we stumbled across the tunnel entrance from this end. The experts can get the rest from what Edmund wrote before he shot himself." He took an appreciative sip of his tea. "There must be something in historical and family records about the disappearance of an Edmund Davenport. There may even be a record of a witch-burning on the Green in the seventeenth century."

"It does feel different in here, doesn't it?" Edith asked. She received three affirmative nods, though of course she only saw two of them. "I think it's just us now."

"You're right Mum," Gordon said. "Just us now."

"No ghosts," his dad added.

" _And only one attendant spirit,"_ Gordon beamed.

"On your bike," said Zack, good-naturedly.

NOTES

HERBAL DETOX; PILE

# Chapter 20

The Key To Mabon's Cairn

Zack was on a ZX 750 F Turbo. It was nippy - 0-60 in around 3.3 seconds - and exceptionally stable round a tight bend. Gordon had gone for the superior straight-line speed of the GSX1300R Hayabusa. It would have been a handful for anyone, let alone a boy of a little less than average size in the final throes of his eleventh year.

They'd tested the brooms fairly thoroughly beforehand. Zack had darted hither and thither, while Gordon zoomed impressively high above the village. Gordon got to the old church tower first, but his turning circle was quite a lot wider than Zack's. The full moon bathed the great clock face in a silvery glow. The ancient bell tolled twelve.

"' _Tis now the very witching time of night,"_ Zack beamed to Gordon, _"When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out contagion to this world."_

" _That's a bit dark, Professor,"_ Gordon commented, _"but it will have to do."_ He was in thumpin'-good-young-wizard mode. _"Time to pay our house call."_

They whizzed up the hill and circled the towers of Mellingford Hall. Riding the cool night air some fifty feet above the highest turret, Gordon clearly detected psychic energy pulsating on the other side of the drawing-room windows. It signalled the presence of supernatural forces. They swooped down.

"We'll park here," Gordon decided. "The Roman road approach I think." They dismounted, lifted their right arms and passed through the mullioned windows like mottled smoke, rematerialising on a polished hardwood floor.

"Edmund!" cried his sixteen-greats-grandmother. She was in the act of raising a ghostly cup of steaming tea to her lips. Her little finger was crooked safely away from the bone china.

"Yes, M'Dear?" said her husband. He lowered a foaming tankard of the local ale and wiped the froth from his moustache.

"No, not you, Edmund, Edmund Minor. Our son has come to visit us in our new abode." She waved the tea cup grandly to indicate the immensity and elegance of their surroundings. The heating bill was none of her concern. "I told you he had the power. Come, child and embrace your mother."

"Well met indeed, M'Boy," said Edmund Senior. He rose gravely and held out his hand while glancing questioningly at Zack. "This your djinn, is it? I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

Gordon shook the hand. "This is my Alter-Ego, Zack," Gordon said. "Zack, this is my – er - my father, Edmund Davenport."

Zack and Edmund Senior bowed formally to each other. Gordon gave his spirit-mother the required hug and kiss on the cheek. She smelt faintly of mothballs and Lily of the Valley. That seemed rather odd; but then, rather odd things do occur quite frequently in dreams.

Seated in an adjoining armchair was a headless nobleman from an even earlier period of history. He put his tankard on to an adjacent surface and rose grandly to his feet. His head was tucked in the crook of his arm, its eyes informing his limbs which way to move. "Well met, i'faith!" he declared in a manly, military voice very like that of Brian Blessed in the Kenneth Branagh version of _Henry V_. "Sir Roger de Daveneport, beheaded in battle during the Wars of the Roses." Snatching up his tankard again, he raised it to the House of Lancaster and damned the upstart Yorkists to the Eternal Pit of Fire. "Richard of York gave battle in vain!"

He took an appreciative swig of ale. "Damn fine drop, this," he remarked. "They should name it after me. 'Daveneport Ale', what say you?"

Gordon bowed to the noble knight, then turned again to his Spirit Mother. "I also came to crave a humble boon," he explained.

His SGGm was smoothing out the creases in her fine gown. It flowed to the floor around her. "A _humble_ boon, you say?"

"Much time has passed in the material world," Gordon explained. "The Davenports now living in this house ask most respectfully that you do not blame them for the sins of those long dead."

"That is just," his pensive forebear replied slowly, "though should that wicked old fool of a father to Edmund ever see fit to come back and haunt the place, he will have **me** to deal with." She was visibly pleased with this show of humility from the currently extant Davenports. Gordon had thought she would be; that's why he'd added it.

"The present Lord and Lady Davenport," he went on, "are doing everything they can to preserve Mellingford Hall for posterity, and therefore," it occurred to him, "for – er ..." There had to be a word. He looked to Zack for guidance.

"For **anteriority** , young master?" Zack suggested.

"Exactly," Gordon said, "for anteriority. It would help enormously if you could manage a little gentle haunting now and again." He thought he should explain. "Ghosts are very popular with the visiting public. The occasional manifestation would boost the revenues and preserve the house in all its dimensions."

"Splendid," his SGGm agreed. "A trifling involvement with the hoi polloi passing through. It could prove amusing. What say you Edmund?"

Edmund Senior drained his tankard. "Capital notion, M'Dear. Tally ho! A charge through the main hall and up and down the stairs. Might even persuade Sir Roger here to put in the occasional canter."

"Thought you'd never ask!" Sir Roger exclaimed, slamming his tankard down. "The old 'headless hunt' routine usually goes down well. Straight over the rails on Old Bess, and out through the damn window!"

"Thank you very much" Gordon said, bowing to them. "I'm sure you will do wonders for the place."

His SGGm put down her cup and stood up, her manner suddenly grave. "It may be that my spirit has prevailed in this dimension for one task alone," she told him. "It is my destiny now to confer a great honour upon you, my son. Approach and kneel." Gordon gazed wonderingly at Zack, who nodded encouragement. Knowing Gordon, the dream was about to take an interesting turn.

Gordon knelt. His ancestor raised her left arm and the sleeve of her dress slid back. His eyes were drawn to a milk white ring on the third finger of her left hand. Gently, she slid it off, and let it lie in the palm of her right hand.

"The gifts you have, you got through me," she told him gravely. "I give you now this key to Mabon's Cairn. There is none other." She slid the ring on to Gordon's finger, and to his surprise, it fitted perfectly. "It can only be worn by one of Aisling blood, an Archwizard. It fits the finger of the one to whom it has been freely given, and cannot be removed by mortal means. You will use it to gain entry to his cairn, and take possession of the Tara Torque."

Gordon's head was swimming. "I don't understand," he exclaimed. "Who is 'Mabon'? Where is his 'cairn'? What is the 'Tara Torque'?"

Zack gazed in wonder as this scene played out between Spirit-Mother and Dream-Son. A thought had just occurred to him. Gordon's material world SGGm cum spirit-world God-Mother smiled gently. She sat down again and patted a chair beside her.

"Sit child," she said, "and you, Spirit, attend thee well. I have a tale to tell."

NOTES

HAYABUSA; CONTAGION TO THIS WORLD; MULLIONED WINDOWS; DJINN; ALTER-EGO; MOTHBALLS AND LILY OF THE VALLEY; ANACHRONISM; RATHER ODD THINGS DO OCCUR QUITE FREQUENTLY IN DREAMS; CRAVE A BOON; THE WARS OF THE ROSES; RICHARD OF YORK; POSTERITY; ANTERIORITY; HOI POLLOI

# Chapter 21

A Wizard Of Dreams

"Mabon dwells in the Land of Gods on the other side of Time. To the lucky few who know him, he remains forever young. He loads the vines each autumn with young wine that winds around the trellises." A dreamy look crossed her face. "He bends the mossy orchard trees with fruit, and fills our world with ripeness to the core. Mabon it was whom once I served in life, and now in death. He gave me that ring."

She pointed to Gordon's hand. The ring was no longer visible. It had ripened on his skin and blended into his finger. Gordon heard Zack take in a sharp breath and knew he was surprising him again. He was surprising himself, if truth be told.

"He did not choose to save me from the stake," his SGGm went on, "as Yahweh left his Son upon that cross. Mortals may ask, can guess, but cannot know the reasons why." She smiled sadly at Gordon. "But you, my son, I sense possess a power beyond mine. You will learn what gifts that ring will lend you in the course of time."

Her hand, now bare, stroked his face gently. "My Aisling wizard, yet but young in deed," she murmured.

"I don't know what "Aisling" means," Gordon confessed.

"'Dream' is the nearest one-word in the language you now speak," she told him, "though it falls short of all that "Aisling" means." He could tell from her tone that she was telling him something of the utmost importance. "An Aisling wizard finds and tames wild things that wander through the tangled world of dreams. He travels in the wonderland of wishing. He goes wherever truth has found a cunning place to hide."

"I see," said Gordon. By "I see" he meant 'I see as through a glass, darkly'. A wizard of dreams and schemes; he decided he could live with that. "And what is the "Tara Torque"?

"Tara," his spirit-mother informed him gravely, "is the sacred place in Éire where the High Kings were crowned in ancient times. The Big Stone of Fál – The 'Lia Fáil' - still stands there, on that mound." Her spirit seemed to drift on ancient winds that blew through lands forlorn in fairy times. She came back to earth with an effort.

"This world is ours now. We define and dream it," she told Gordon. "It was not always so. There was a time of different hopes and fears." She spoke as if she could remember it. "In such a time, the Pobel Vean placed a sacred torque in a rath below that mound. Its force was felt far later by the humans who first found the land."

How long ago was that?

"That is why they chose that place to crown their kings, and why they dragged the Lia Fáil to stand upon that ground." She noticed the confusion on Gordon's face. "Ask your questions, child," she said gently.

"Who were the Pobel Vean?"

"You had better ask who **are** the Pobel Vean? The words mean 'Little People' in the Old Tongue. These lands were theirs before the humans came."

How much he had to learn.

"They are here still, and may still be seen by those with the gift of seeing. You will have come across them in your dreams, and called them 'fairies'."

Gordon's eyes widened. How could she have known that? He glanced at Zack who gave a little shake of his head. Never mind that now; ask your questions.

"What is a 'rath'?"

"A rath is a circle in the earth," she told him: "a space made round by rocks. Such places are sacred to all fairies. To this day people do not disturb them. The rath of which I speak is now buried deep beneath the crowning mound of Tara."

Gordon nodded slowly. Things were becoming clearer. Ireland belonged to the fairies, millennia ago. Tara was a sacred place where the fairies buried magic things. He asked his final question, which turned into two questions rolled into one. "What is a torque, and why is this one sacred?"

"A torque is a neckpiece," his SGGm told him. "Celtic Chieftains wore them, after they found a fairy torque back in the far-off time. They felt its power but could not plunder it. They thought by replicating its design they could also find its force; but they never could. They were not of Aisling blood."

Her voice grew hushed and her eyes began to glow. "Of all the artefacts in Fairydom, the Tara Torque is the most sacred. It links its chosen wearer to _The One_." Her voice dropped even more, to a whisper. "The Pobel Vean moved it from Tara to a place of safer keeping, where fewer men would tread. They brought it here to Kernow, where it lies in Mabon's Cairn." Her hand wandered to her throat. "You will find the cairn on a penzance to the east and south of here. Go there. It will know you by the ring you wear and want to let you in."

Zack's state of mind at this point in the proceedings would be difficult to describe. "Nonplussed" would be one word you could use.

"Fly forth, my son," the belated Lady Davenport now declared in ringing tones. "Take it for thine own."

Gordon thought that was asking a bit much, given his age and level of experience. This torque, he had just been told, was the most sacred object in Fairydom. It was imbued with magic drawn from a divine source. That river ran beneath the time his race first walked the earth. It could not now be his by right, unless ...

"May I with right and conscience make this claim?" he asked his spirit-mother, and Zack knew that there could only have been one way. He remembered the terrible storm talked of in that cottage by the Green, such awesome violence on that dreadful Hallow's E'en.

"'Ad the answer by the followin' Spring though, din't we?! Five months gaan with child."

Gordon's spirit-mother looked straight at him. Her lips did not move, but he heard her voice distinctly in his head. _"The magic of Mabon runs in your veins. For many years, I served that Divine Youth. His beauty outstripped any on this Earth. I lay with him, and from his seed you sprang."_

Had she just said his father was a God?

_"You are of the Pobel Vean, my son. Aisling Wizard is the least of the titles to which you may aspire. You do not claim the torque; the torque claims_ _you_ _. In time, the world may be a better place because it chose your neck. We wait and hope."_

"You may, my Son," she said out loud, for her Earth-husband and Sir Roger to hear. "For the ring now fits your finger. Wear it well." She took hold of his ring hand. "You will find a pointed star etched in that stone where the ring-light shines. Place this hand flat upon that star and the stone will know you. Enter the sacred room and take the torque."

She raised a warning finger. "You cannot linger. The cairn will straightway seal itself, and magic heal the ground."

Gordon got to his feet. "What will happen to me when I put it on?" he asked - a fair question in the circumstances. His spirit-mother gave him a gentle smile.

"Have no fear; no harm can touch the wearer. Its power comes from Virtue. It will grant wishes aimed at doing good for others. It may ask a great deal of you in return, but nothing that you will not want to give."

Gordon bid the tipsy male spirits a fond farewell. The ghost of the woman who in life had lain with a God went with them to the window. He felt both warmth and sadness in her hug. Her last words, however, were to Zack. "A guardian angel to my Edmund be, and look you, Spirit: one thing more ..."

Zack gave her his full attention. He took his responsibilities very seriously where Gordon was concerned.

"The spirit of the wearer walks abroad to times and regions where you may not go. His body will stay with you and need your care. While he is gone, you will stand in his stead. Wait for him here and serve him well the while. Know this: he will be safe, and will return."

Together Gordon and Zack passed through the window into the cold night air. The moon looked bigger and brighter than Gordon ever remembered. They mounted the broomsticks, and set off for the headland. The Tara Torque had been waiting a very long time ...

For him.

NOTES

EAVES; HE LOADS THE VINES IN AUTUMN; IT DID NOT CHOOSE TO SAVE ME FROM THAT STAKE; YAHWEH; THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY; THE LIA FÁIL; FORLORN; KERNOW; PENZANCE; IMBUED; MAY I WITH RIGHT AND CONSCIENCE ...; THE POINTED STAR; OBLIVIOUS; YOU MUST STAND IN HIS STEAD

# Chapter 22

Hide And Seek

" _Is this the best one yet?"_ Gordon asked Zack. They were tracking east towards the coast.

" _By a country mile,"_ Zack assured him. The sky, it seemed, was no longer the limit where Gordon was concerned.

Gordon was on auto-pilot: the ring was determining the flight-path. His left hand swung his broom 90˚ to the right and Zack followed the change of course, south over the winking waters of St Austell bay. They put on a fine display of formation flying as their destination drew ever nearer. Beneath the cliffs, the shimmering sea breathed in and out, rolling its moves, melting moonbeams ...

When Gordon's broom dipped, Zack followed him down. They were once more over land, and the extraordinary moon was bathing the deserted headland in a pale, spell-weaving glow. It helped them notice a circular indent in one of the grassy slopes, between the coast path and the cliff drop. The indent had only been visible from the air. People on the ground no longer see old patterns and divisions, but from an aerial perspective their shapes become apparent.

Resurrected.

Their brooms circled the rath and came to a halt, hovering two feet off the ground, beyond those ancient, still-defining stones. Dismounting, Gordon and Zack stepped inside the circle. Gordon lifted his left hand, and the ring seemed to emit a light of its own. "If there's a cairn here," Zack muttered, "it has to be underground."

"It will welcome us." Gordon assured him. Zack saw the ring-light in his eyes. Was that the same glow he had seen in the eyes of Gordon's SGGm? Perhaps the Aisling Archwizard was sending out some signal to summon a sentry or unlock an ancient code. "Speak Friend and Enter."

There was a sharp bark, and a small furry dog with short legs and long, dark-grey hair ran into the circle, its small tail stuck straight up in the air. It trotted towards them, fur bristling, its intelligent head cocked to one side as if to say: "what business could you possibly have in such a place at such a time?"

"Unless I'm much mistaken," Zack said, "that is a cairn terrier."

Gordon stretched out his left hand. Light, seemingly drawn from the moon, streamed from his ring. It played over the circle in a laser-sharp line and settled on a spot close to the centre. The effect on the terrier was remarkable. It rushed over to Gordon uttering little yelps of joy, its tail wagging furiously, and rolled over to have its tummy tickled.

"He seems to like you," Zack commented drily. Gordon reached down and the dog squirmed in ecstasy at his touch.

"Good boy," he murmured. "Good boy; now FETCH!" The little terrier rolled back on to its legs and dashed to where the ring-light was reproducing an image of the moon. It began to dig, and seemingly in seconds, its powerful claws were scraping on a stone. Gordon moved over to the spot. "HEEL!" he commanded. Obediently the dog came and sat beside him. It looked up with black button eyes, tongue lolling, seeming to laugh having had such fun digging into the moon.

Gordon stretched out his hands, palms pressed together. Eyes closed, his hands came gradually apart. The earth heaved on either side of the grounded moon like cut turf rolling. A few inches beneath the surface, a slab of smooth stone glowed in absorbed-reflected light. Just as Gordon's spirit-mother had foretold, a five-pointed star was etched into its centre. Its apex pointed south, towards the foam-flecked sea.

Gordon knelt and placed his ring hand in the centre of the star. Almost immediately the stone began to sink. There was a rumbling far below them, a rearrangement of the rock deep inside the cliff. They watched in wonder as a flight of steps unfurled beneath their feet.

Gordon stood on the star at the top of the stairs. Looking down, he couldn't see the bottom. Zack had had every intention of going with him, but the terrier placed itself at Gordon's back. It faced Zack now, fur bristling and a warning growl rumbling in its throat. The Aisling Archwizard might go where he pleased, but his attendant spirit had not been invited.

Zack took a step back, wishing - not for the last time - that he had Gordon's power to see through their second pair of eyes. At least he could remain in telepathic communication and offer advice if it was needed. _"Remember, do not linger,"_ he thought urgently.

Gordon nodded without turning around. The ring lit the way as he began his descent, his footing sure on the firm-set stones. He was ready to power-glide if he needed to. He had an impressive turn of speed if the situation warranted it.

Precious stones abounded in the rock. A lesser mortal might have prised a fortune from their grasp. Gordon, however, stayed focused on the task. Somewhere below was the Tara Torque. He had come for that; nothing else.

At the bottom of the flight, he found a short passage leading to a room a little larger than the one in the tunnel to Mellingford Hall. He paused at its entrance, momentarily stopped in his tracks. "Oh my!" he muttered.

The table in the centre groaned with the weight of priceless artefacts. Jewels of astonishing quality and size winked in piles around the chamber. Wherever he looked, gold glowed. It was shaped into the jewel-encrusted hilts of swords and daggers. There were burnished shields and goblets rimmed with rubies. There were necklaces and chains that dripped with diamonds. Hundreds of these objects were heaped on every inch of surface. The very least of them would fetch a fortune in the material world above.

_"Find the torque, and do not linger there!"_ Zack's urgent warning sounded in his head. It helped him to focus. What a way to hide what well might be the most precious object in the room. Who would notice a simple torque among these riches?

One handful from such a hoard would surely not be missed! It would fund a life of luxury in the greedy world he came from. Who would not be tempted by such thoughts of personal gain?

Gordon, that's who - Aisling Archwizard, Godchild, Mother's boy.

" _How can I find it?"_ he thought. The answer came to him, even as he asked the question. _"The ring!"_ He raised his left hand, and unerringly it sent a focused beam of light into the corner of the room furthest from the door. The light was shattered into gleaming shards, mirrored in the many facets of the diamonds mustered there.

Gordon focused all the telekinetic energy he could find towards the end of a long and rather busy dream. The heap collapsed inwards, leaving a little crater at its crest, and a small bronze torque rose slowly from the bottom of the pile. It floated across the chamber towards Gordon's outstretched hand ...

The second it touched him, the staircase gave a warning rumble: the cairn was rapidly resealing itself. Gordon's feet did not touch the disappearing steps. He travelled through the contracting space at a speed approaching that of sound. The circumstances demanded it. He could not have escaped by mortal means.

He shot out of the entrance to the cairn like a cork out of a champagne bottle, the torque tightly clasped in his left hand. Less than a second later, the top stone was securely in its previous position. The subterranean rumblings ceased. Gordon's ring winked out like a torch with an exhausted battery. Speaking of exhaustion ...

"Get me home, Zack, there's a pal," Gordon muttered in a state of semi-collapse. Zack put a supporting arm around his shoulder.

They mounted the broomsticks, and Gordon felt his senses slipping as they rose into the air. Beneath them the little terrier was using his hind legs to kick the earth back over the stone. The magic in that place had been capable of carving into a cliff and closing it up again. Zack had no doubt that by morning the grasses and the gorse would have reclaimed the ground above the cairn. There would be no sign that it had ever been disturbed.

"Mind that for me, will you," Gordon mumbled with the last flickerings of awareness. He shoved the torque at Zack.

His Alter-Ego reached over and took it reluctantly. "Well, if you're sure," Zack said. He manoeuvred his broom even closer to Gordon's and wrapped a secure arm around him, just in time. Gordon sighed his soul towards his bed, secure in the certainty that Zack could get the rest of him there.

He'd done it so many times before.

NOTES

COUNTRY MILE; SPEAK FRIEND AND ENTER; SMALL FURRY DOG; MOTHER'S BOY; SIGHED HIS SOUL

# Chapter 23

A Mind Of Its Own

Gordon swam up slowly from somewhere deep and comfortably warm. Part of him was still reluctant to realise that the day had got itself well underway without him. He opened his eyes. The strength of the light told him the sun had been up for hours. He stretched, and saw Zack sitting on the bed, regarding him a little anxiously. "Good afternoon," Zack said.

_"Wow,"_ Gordon replied, and was overtaken by a yawn so enormous it stretched every muscle in his face. _"Ooh, that hurt."_ He hoisted himself up on to his elbows

"Your mum's been in three times already. She obviously thinks that the holiday is taking it out of you, and I'm sure she's right. It's a good job she doesn't know what we got up to last night.

The mention of the previous night's adventure caused Gordon to flop backwards and close his eyes again. _"What a cracker that one was,"_ he murmured. Zack did not disagree. There was a pause of several seconds while the rest of Gordon woke up properly. _"Did the brooms get off OK?"_ he asked, when he next opened his eyes.

"Yes," Zack said. "Once I'd got you back into the bedroom I saw they had rental labels on. As soon as I ticked the "totally satisfied" boxes they were off like rockets. How did you find out about that place?

_"Well,"_ said Gordon, _"About a year ago, I was thinking that London couldn't be the only place witches and wizards went for stuff. I mean, there had to be outlets in the provinces. And where more likely than Chester?"_

Zack nodded. He couldn't fault the logic.

"So, one night – it was a while back, and you were well out ..."

Zack raised an eyebrow. He'd not previously been aware that Gordon had taken any little dream excursions on his own.

"I nipped into town to check out my theory. There was so much psychic energy pulsating around Godstall Lane you couldn't miss it. And there it was – Coincident Alley. I only had a quick look round. I didn't want you to wake up and be worried."

"That was decent of you," Zack commented drily.

"But while I was looking in the window of 'Rhedyn's Rent-A-Broom', Rhedyn herself dashed out and made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

Zack nodded, and waited.

_"Better get up then,"_ Gordon decided. He swung his legs out and stood up. He was looking forward to his bowl of cereal; but first, he had to answer the call of nature and splash some water on his face.

Zack couldn't put it off any longer. "About the torque," he said.

_"Just a mo ...,"_ Gordon interrupted cheerfully. He couldn't put it off any longer either.

When he came back from the bathroom, he was ready to throw his clothes on. His mum would have heard his movements and she'd be putting his cereal out. Once he'd had that, he'd be ready for anything.

If the weather held, the plan was to walk around Gribbin Head on the other side of St Austell Bay. The Guide Book promised stunning views. That was fine with Gordon. His birthday was the following day, and he was really looking forward to his treat: a whole day at _The Eden Project_. _"So, what about the torque?"_ he asked. He pulled a clean tee-shirt over his head.

"I promise you I brought it in here when I put you to bed," Zack said. "I was going to put it on your bedside table; but then I thought your mum might come in and want to know where you got it from. That would be kind of tricky to explain." Gordon grinned. Zack was putting it mildly. Then he frowned. He'd just remembered his SGGm's claims about who his parents were. He definitely needed to talk that over with Zack.

"So I thought I'd tuck it away at the back of a drawer, where your mum would have no reason to look."

Gordon grinned again. _"Don't tell me. You had a quick look when you got up this morning and it wasn't there."_

Zack's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"Because it's on the bedside table."

Zack's eyes swung to the bedside table. There was the lamp, and Gordon's holiday reading, but no torque. He looked back at Gordon and saw the glint of ring-light in his eyes. _"Look"_ Gordon said. He lifted his left hand and passed it over the top of the table. Zack could no longer see the ring on his finger. The faint outline of the torque appeared briefly, only for the time that the energy from the ring identified its form.

"Whoah!" he muttered.

_"It was on the side of the bath when I went to the loo,"_ Gordon told him. _"I think it's going to follow me around. I think it can take care of itself."_

Zack gave a low whistle. Coming to terms with this torque was going be a challenge. He remembered what he had been told would happen when it got around Gordon's neck. "Promise me Gordon," he said urgently. It was a bit scary, actually, how urgent he was. "Promise me you won't put that thing on until we've had time to think through what might happen and how we're going to handle it.

_"I promise!"_ Gordon said readily. Last night had provided him with all the adventure he could handle for a while anyway. He needed a break.

Zack put his arm around his shoulder. "Good man," he said. "We definitely need to talk the torque before we walk the walk."

_"I don't know about you, but I'm starving,"_ Gordon told him. He paused, realising what he'd just said. _"Actually, I do know about you, and_ _we're_ _starving. Let's eat!"_

NOTES

RHEDYN; GORDON'S HOLIDAY READING

# Chapter 24

It's Just A Matter Of Time

A couple of hours later, they'd left the car-park above Menabilly Barton and were setting off south towards Gribbin Head. Victor was clutching the map, confident he would be able to guide them north along the coast to Polkerris. The plan was to stop at the Rashleigh Inn for lunch. They would be going in a rough circle and returning by inland footpath and lane to the car. The guidebook said it was four miles easy going through "classic Du Maurier country".

Zack was certainly hoping for the chance to talk one or two things over. However, as always, he wouldn't be the one to set the agenda. They would deal first with whatever Gordon was most anxious or perplexed about.

Victor and Edith paused for a while on the impressive headland. The south-coast sea views were spectacular. The land, however, had been ripped into by the mining of kaolin. Since 1746, more than a hundred million tons had been extracted. _The Eden Project_ had reclaimed one of those quarries.

"They're standing close to where we were last night" Zack commented. He and Gordon had gone a bit further on, to be out of immediate earshot. Even so, Gordon used telepathy in response. It was effortless for him now. Better to be on the safe side.

_"That's one of the things I need to talk to you about,"_ Gordon said. _"They ARE my parents, aren't they? I mean, there's no possible doubt about that."_

"None whatsoever," Zack assured him. "I was there when you were born, remember."

"So there's no way my SGGm and this God Mabon can have been my parents, is there?"

"Well," Zack said slowly, "that kind of depends."

_"What on?"_ Gordon wanted to know.

"On the way this magic works. A thousand ages to a God may be like an evening gone. If a God did come down to Earth to lie with a human female, who knows what, or when, the consequences might be?"

Gordon had recently watched _Wonders of the Universe_ on TV. He was still trying to get his head around Einstein's idea that everything travels in what appears to be a straight line, but through a spacetime bent by the gravitational pull of massive objects.

"Yes," Zack confirmed, "that's probably a good analogy. It seems to us in straightline time that sixteen generations have passed. But what is that to Mabon? How might he bend time to do his will? And what might the gestation period be of an inter-species fetus? There aren't a lot of precedents that we know about."

_"It makes you wonder what Jesus made of it,"_ Gordon thought.

"I think the facts to concentrate on are these," said Zack. You could always rely on him for common sense and clarity. "Your mum and dad are unquestionably your mum and dad. It says so on the birth certificate, you came out of your mother's womb, and I can vouch for the fact that they have loved you with all their hearts ever since you showed up."

Gordon grinned. He was feeling better about it already.

"However," Zack added, "your SGGm's story might explain how you came by such extraordinary supernatural powers. We can't deny the facts. The ring recognised you, the fairy cairn opened for you. The torque came to you."

Gordon glanced across at the torque. It was waiting patiently on the nearest flat rock. Zack had got that bit right as well.

Hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, Victor and Edith caught up with their maturing son, and the whole family made its relaxed and relatively carefree way north to Polkerris for a good lunch at the pub.

On their way back to the car, Edith and Victor were pleasantly well-fed and happy. They were obviously feeling close to each other, which gave Gordon the chance to chat over another point with Zack. _"That was a sweet little dog,"_ he said. He was remembering the way it had rolled over to have its tummy tickled.

"Sweet to you," Zack reminded him. "It would have taken a chunk out of me if I'd tried to follow you down those steps."

_"You said it was called a cairn terrier,"_ Gordon said. _"Is that a coincidence?"_

Zack shook his head. "They were probably bred to dig prey out of burrows around cairns."

"Showing up like that, like it was on guard duty, must have been part of the magic, mustn't it?"

"Certainly," Zack agreed.

_"It made me think,"_ Gordon said. _"Almost all the hauntings you hear about are connected to terrible injustice."_

That was true enough.

"So what about all the other species that regularly suffer terrible injustice at the hands of human beings? Where are the ghosts of all the slaughtered animals? Why aren't they haunting the abattoirs, or all the other places their bodies are hacked up or eaten?"

"Hmmm," Zack said thoughtfully. "Maybe carnivores just don't see that kind of ghost." He'd always been a vegetarian. It was something to ponder. Gordon made a mental note to be on the lookout for the spirits of animals, whenever he found himself around ghosts.

They were back to the car already. The burning topic of the Tara Torque would have to wait a while longer. Not too long, however. Zack didn't know if the torque would wait much longer.

NOTES

THE MAP; CLASSIC DU MAURIER COUNTRY; THE CORNISH SOUTH COAST; THE CONES OF KAOLIN; A THOUSAND AGES TO A GOD; EINSTEIN'S IDEA; A GOOD ANALOGY; GESTATION PERIOD; FETUS; HAND IN HAND, WITH WAND'RING STEPS AND SLOW

# Chapter 25

Talking The Torque

Gordon was in bed in good time, as excited about his birthday as you would expect an almost eleven-year-old to be. They were making a prompt start in the morning. _The Eden Project_ opened at 10.00am. The plan was to breakfast early and get to St Austell Station in time to catch a local bus. It was the green way to travel, and you got a reduction in your entrance fee when you showed them your bus ticket.

"We have to assume your torque has its own agenda," Zack said.

That had not occurred to Gordon. _"My SGGm said it would grant wishes. I thought it would be like Aladdin's lamp,"_ he said. _"Won't it just wait for me to put it on?"_

Zack shook his head. "Aladdin's lamp worked for anybody who managed to get hold of it. This torque seems to have been waiting for you and only you." He looked thoughtful. "If it has the power to grant your wishes, might it not also have the power to grant the wishes of whoever made it? That is, assuming that its maker is still around." To live that long, they would have to be on the other side of time.

Gordon could see the truth of that. _"She said 'We wait and hope,'"_ he reminded Zack.

"Yes," Zack said drily. "I remember wondering at the time. Who's 'we'?"

Gordon pursed his lips. Carrying the hopes of the Pobel Vean that you would use their torque to make the world a better place was quite a responsibility for someone still three hours short of his eleventh birthday.

"She went on to say," Zack continued, "that when you put it on, it will take you somewhere I can't follow. You will leave your body behind."

Gordon shuddered. He remembered all too vividly what had happened the last time he had been taken somewhere that Zack hadn't been able to follow. _"Maybe if you involve yourself with me before I put it on, you'll come with me?"_ he suggested.

Zack nodded, but he didn't look all that confident. "Maybe. Your SGGm did promise that no harm could come to you while you were wearing it. She also said that you would return safely from wherever you had been. She told me to be your guardian angel."

_"... which you are,"_ Gordon assured him.

Zack grinned. "... which I am. That means I still have a job. But you remember those two biddies in that cottage by the Green?"

_"Jeannie and Annie,"_ Gordon said. Of course he remembered.

"Jeannie told Annie what happened when somebody she knew first tried to greet your SGGm in our holiday cottage."

_"An' 'er swings rownd,'_ Gordon said, in a very good impersonation of Old Jeannie's accent, _"'an' looks right through Molly, like she wuren't there. Grey-green eyes, but they wuren't seein' nuthin'. 'Er spirit 'ud left 'er baady and gaan sumwhures else."_

Zack shook his head in admiration. "Spot on. 'Walking abroad' was something people reckoned witches could do, usually at night, with a full moon. But clearly it sometimes happened during the day, when their bodies were up and about. What if their spirits had been summoned?"

_"I suppose we'll just have to see what happens,"_ Gordon said.

"We will," Zack agreed. "If you get to pick the time, it might be best to try it one night. I'd rather you were safely in your room with your body in bed; but I don't want you to be too tired. I don't think it will be the same as when you and I set off on a dream."

_"It won't be if you can't come with me,"_ Gordon pointed out. _"It sounds like the torque will take me somewhere you and I haven't been before."_

"We just aren't going to know until you try it," Zack said.

"That won't be tonight," Gordon said emphatically. "I want a good sleep and a really good birthday tomorrow."

He glanced across at the torque. It was sitting patiently on his bedside table. It didn't seem to have any objections to his current plan. After all, it had bided its time for millennia.

NOTES

BIDDIES

# Chapter 26

Happy Birthday

Gordon gazed in awe at the sheer size of the Rainforest Biome. It seemed to get bigger as they got nearer. The weather was perfect, and they were early enough to be ahead of the crowds. There was nowhere else he would rather have been.

"That stuff is called ETFE," Victor told them. He pointed at the plastic bubbles covering the domes. "It's recyclable. It doesn't need cleaning, and it lasts up to 50 years. It's 100 times lighter than glass, and able to bear more than 400 times its own weight. Those hexagons are supporting two-metre-deep pillows of it, filled with air."

"Wow!" Gordon said, enthusiastically. "What does ETFE stand for?"

Victor bent his head closer to the information sheet. "You don't want to know," he told Gordon.

"I do, Dad," Gordon assured him. His enthusiasm for facts and figures was boundless.

Victor tracked through the peaks and troughs of the scientific compound-name like a child who had just learned to read. "Ethylene-tetra-fluoro-ethylene" he said slowly, using his finger to keep his place. "Now you know."

"Ethylene Tetrafluoroethylene," Gordon rattled off. "Thanks, Dad, that's really interesting."

"I'm glad you think so," Victor commented drily. His mum shook her head, smiling. Never once had Gordon said he was bored, and it didn't seem likely he ever would.

"How many plants does _The Eden Project_ have?" was his next question. Zack supplied the answer while his dad flicked through his guide in search of it. "Around 4,500 separate species and 135,000 plants."

"Wow!" Gordon said, his eyes shining.

"Wow what?" his dad asked him. Gordon rarely got caught out these days, but when he was especially happy, his enthusiasm sometimes got the better of him.

"I was just thinking it must be a lot."

"It is," Victor said, having found the relevant figures. "How many do you think?"

"Thousands?" he said innocently. His dad confirmed the accuracy of Zack's totals.

They entered the grass-roofed building that served as an entrance to the huge ETFE-covered domes. The smell of baking was delectable! They climbed the stairs, turned left, entered the Rainforest Biome, and were soon immersed in wet heat. It was absolute bliss, like entering another dimension. All around them were towering plants, huge leaves and exotic fruits. It was spectacularly different from anything Gordon had experienced before.

"Phew!" his mum said. It was around 28˚C with 85% humidity at ground level. She could already feel the moisture trickling, and they hadn't started trekking up the winding paths yet. It would be even hotter and wetter up there. She handed Gordon and Victor the bottles of water she had sensibly brought with her. "Keep sipping," she advised Gordon.

"I will," he promised. "I'm going to look for bananas and bamboo and pineapples and papaya and ..."

"You do that, son," Victor said. "We'll follow you, taking our time."

"And catching our breath," Edith muttered. How much oxygen was there left in this dripping mist? She was already feeling a bit light-headed.

Gordon giggled. Zack was now wearing a white tropical safari suit and a topi rather too big for him. He headed off in intrepid-white-explorer fashion, gesturing at Gordon to follow him. "I'll not be far away," he promised his already wilting parents. He soon caught up with Zack, who pointed at plants growing on the branches and trunks of some of the trees. _"Ooh yes,"_ he said. _"They're amazing."_

"They're epiphytes," Zack told him. "They get their moisture and nutrients from the air and the bodies of insects and small amphibians that use them to live in and lay eggs on. When species help each other survive like that, it's called 'symbiosis'."

_"Do they harm the host plant?"_ Gordon wanted to know.

"Most of them don't. They just hang on by their roots. There may even be ways in which they help the host plant."

_"Symbiosis,"_ said Gordon. _"Isn't nature wonderful?"_ That was one of those questions that don't expect an answer.

"Whatever works," Zack said by way of explanation. "Most orchids are epiphytes. Many bromeliads are too." He pointed to some pineapples. They looked far too solid and substantial to have been produced by the slender plants to which they were attached. "Now there's a terrestrial bromeliad that humans have found useful."

_"I didn't know they grew so close to the ground,"_ Gordon said. _"I expected to see them hanging from trees."_

"Yes," Zack agreed, "like mangoes. Just look at the length of that bamboo!" A clump of bamboo towered at least forty feet above them.

_"It's hard to believe that's a type of grass,"_ Gordon said, staring up.

"It can grow by 45 centimetres in one day," Zack told him. It was like an alien world. It had taken Gordon eleven years to get to 144 cms. A bamboo shoot could grow taller than he was in 3½ days! "Happy birthday!" Zack went on, and an amazing noise erupted in the air above their heads. It sounded like the roar of an enormous prehistoric cat. It echoed throughout the biome. Gordon flinched and looked at Zack in alarm. His Alter-Ego/Guardian-Angel grinned at him. "I thought this might make a good present."

"Oh, my goodness!" Gordon exclaimed. His tears of joy sprang from nowhere. High in a fig tree, a troop of black howler monkeys was staring down at him. The male was asserting his territorial claim by making a noise out of all proportion to his size. It was like something out of _Jurassic Park_. There were also two or three females and some youngsters, making seven in all. Gordon stared up at them, lost for words.

"They're most curious when they're young," Zack said, "and they're very fond of this particular leaf." He held up a sheaf of leaves in his left hand and shook it at the watching youngsters. Immediately, they began climbing down the tree, followed a little anxiously by their mothers. Zack handed Gordon the leaves and he offered them to the bravest youngster. It clung to a branch just above him, staring down with intelligent black eyes. Prehensile tail wrapped securely round the branch, and hanging on with one long arm, the baby howler stretched out and took the leaves from Gordon. With flowing agility, it retreated and began eating them with evident relish.

"They are so beautiful!" Gordon said, his eyes glistening.

"Look!" Zack said pointing towards the roof. Gordon saw the unmistakable shape of a keel-billed toucan flash across the biodome towards him. It landed in the fig tree at the same time as a smaller, brightly-coloured bird flew in from a different direction. "Now that's something you don't see very often," Zack said: "a keel-billed toucan and a violaceous trogon on the same branch."

Gordon's cup of happiness ran over. "Thank you very much," he said, with a little quiver in his voice.

"You're very welcome," Zack assured him. "Would you like to hold a tarantula?"

"I don't think so," Gordon said, "but thank you for asking."

NOTES

**POLYMER; TOPI; I'LL NOT BE FAR AWAY; EPIPHYTES; ONE OF THOSE QUESTIONS; BROMELIADS; SOMETHING OUT OF JURASSIC PARK;** PREHENSILE; **TOUCANS AND TROGONS.**

# Chapter 27

Left Holding The Baby

It happened just as they reached the aerial platform in the roof of the dome. They were among the first visitors to get up there that day. He and Zack had bounded up the swaying stairs rather faster than the adults rather sensibly taking their time behind them. Apart from the ranger on duty, they had the platform to themselves for a few precious seconds.

It was an amazing view. Zack was planning a dramatic fly-past by a Harpy Eagle, one of the rainforest's most magnificent - and critically endangered - species. Gordon was looking down through the canopy at the tiny people who had stopped to admire the waterfall. He felt a tug on his left hand and looked down. The ring was glowing. He looked in the direction his hand was being pulled, and saw the torque hovering within reach at the height of his neck. It too was glowing. He felt an irresistible summons and sounded the alarm. Zack merged with him in a moment. _"I have to go,"_ Gordon thought urgently.

"I know," Zack replied, and hung on as tightly as he could. The torque moved to meet Gordon's outstretched hand. He was unable to control the impulse that placed it around his neck, and he was gone.

Zack felt his heart lurch at the loneliness. He was inside Gordon's body without him. There was no trace, no trail that he could follow. He looked out of Gordon's eyes, and saw their parents smiling their way towards him. They had made it to the top and were now just a few steps away. He could see from their faces how much they were looking forward to sharing this special birthday moment with their one and only precious son.

"It's even hotter up here!" Victor said. He moved to the rail to look over. Edith walked over to Gordon and smiled into his eyes. "How are you feeling, Darling? Not too hot?"

"No," Zack said.

Her expression changed immediately to one of concern. "What's the matter? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing! Nothing ... Mum. Looking at you like what? How am I looking at you?" There was a tinge of desperation in Zack's voice. He hadn't had a chance to rehearse! He had to give a convincing performance right now!

"VICTOR!" Edith called out. "Something's wrong with Gordon!"

"What?" Gordon's dad came straight over. "What's up, son?"

"Nothing, I'm fine, honestly!" Zack creased Gordon's face into an awkward grin. "Honestly." He took a step back and twirled around. "I'm fine, see?"

"You are not fine," said his mum, decidedly. This was not her Gordon. His voice sounded different. His whole response was somehow ... weird.

"It's probably just the heat," Victor said reassuringly. "He says he's fine. He's not feeling faint or he couldn't twirl like that. He looks OK to me. Just a bit hot, maybe."

Edith was right. Zack was not fine. He was suddenly in sole possession of his best friend's body. What was more, it was working for him. For the first time, Gordon's parents could hear him. And his feelings ...! His feelings were visceral. It was overwhelming. He took a step towards them, seeing the concern written all over their faces.

"I love you too," he found himself saying. He tried to show them how much with his eyes, just before they brimmed over.

"Come on," said his mum, grabbing a hand. "We're going to get some fresh air."

"Good idea," his dad agreed.

Zack did not raise any objection. He let his parents shepherd him down the swaying stairs, tears spilling down his cheeks. There was a tight band around his chest. His thoughts were running into each other.

" _Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?_ " That's Latin for 'Who will guard the guardians?'

Gordon found he was standing on an ancient, wooden jetty, next to a moored wooden boat of similar antiquity. The boat was wide enough for three to stand abreast, and long enough to carry the body of a dying king. Spoon-blade oars were fastened to its rowlocks. It also had a mast and a square red sail. The ripples of the oncoming tide broke with a sullen sound on a rock-strewn beach. The sky was grey, the air was still, and no birds sang.

"There is magic in this place," he murmured. It was curious that he felt no fear.

The body he now occupied was of similar proportions to the one he had just left. This one was clad in chainmail so light, so tightly woven and so strong that it might have been crafted by elves from mithril. The light grey mesh was surmounted by a white tunic made from a material with the smooth softness of silk. These were the trappings of a young squire apprenticed to a knight. The small scabbard strapped to his belt was bereft of the dagger it seemed to have been made to cradle.

He wondered if his sense of being safe came from this layer of light armour or from the torque around his neck. His thoughts, he realised, were in tune with the rhythm that was all around him. There were fairies near. He recognised their cadence, felt their force.

Where there had been no one only moments ago, an old man now stood, silent, at the end of the jetty. He bore a marked resemblance to Gandalf the Grey. Or was he more like Albus Dumbledore?

Were it not so, I would have told you.

His hair and beard were almost as long as the robe that flowed from his shoulders to the ground. He carried a knotted staff of hard, dark wood. As he gazed at Gordon, the wrinkles round his eyes appeared to deepen in a smile of welcome. He had the kindest face Gordon had ever seen.

Gordon walked along the jetty to meet him. The old man inclined his head in solemn greeting. "You are most welcome, Torque Wearer and Bearer of the Ring of Light. My name, perhaps, is Myrddin. You may have heard of me."

Gordon pressed his palms together and bowed in his turn. "I'm afraid not, though I seem to know you, or at least to think I do."

The old man nodded. "There are many names by which men know me. Too often those names have hindered more than helped. Your coming has long been prophesied. Many in your world have died, waiting."

He swept his staff around to indicate the forest fringing the beach behind him. "Here in Avalon we do not die. Here in Tír na nÓg we follow old ways. We have been waiting many of your years to welcome you. And now your time draws near."

Gordon stared up at him. "I'm eleven today."

"You have much to learn" Myrddin told him, "and I to teach." He turned from the jetty and began to cross the narrow beach towards a path which ran between tall trees. Gordon followed him, ready as always to learn.

"You may call me a wizard," Myrddin said. "If so, I am the greatest our two worlds have ever known. I have appeared in many guises, for as long as stories have been told. My names are legion, but the power is one. Your world has long had need of it, and now the time has come."

He smiled down at Gordon. "You are my heir," he said simply.

NOTES

**HARPY EAGLE** ; **VISCERAL; QUIS CUSTODIET IPSOS CUSTODES; WIDE ENOUGH FOR THREE TO STAND ABREAST; TO BREAK WITH A SULLEN SOUND; AND NO BIRDS SANG; MITHRIL; HE RECOGNISED THEIR CADENCE; WHERE IT NOT SO, I WOULD HAVE TOLD YOU; HERE IN AVALON, HERE IN TÍR NA NÓG, WE FOLLOW OLD WAYS; MY NAMES ARE LEGION**

# Chapter 28

The Sorcerer's Apprentice

Once they were outside the link building, Zack took in several deep breaths of the cooler, dryer air, as instructed by an anxious mother. He felt his head begin to clear. "You're right," he said, smiling up at both parents. "I do feel better." Being Gordon's guardian angel now meant taking care of his body. It also meant doing his best to stop Edith and Victor from worrying themselves to death. It was a good way of passing the time. He would otherwise have been worrying himself to death about where his alter-ego was, and how he was getting on.

"Have another sip of water," Edith advised.

Zack duly complied. "I'm tons better now, honestly," he said.

She smiled, as if almost convinced. "Let's sit down for a while, and get something to eat." She held out her hand and Zack took it. It felt warm and reassuring. He began to relax. "Gordon will be back soon," he told himself. In the meantime, he would do what he could for him and mind the shop.

This was a voyage of discovery for him, too. So this is what it felt like to have your very own body, to be flesh and blood! It was engaging, revealing, intoxicating, complicated ...

"I think it needs the loo," he told Edith.

"Sorry, what needs the loo?" she asked, looking around.

"Sorry," Zack said hastily. "I meant to say I think I need the loo."

His mother gave him a look. "Do you, or don't you?"

"I need the loo." He told her.

"There's one in there," she said, pointing. You can go now before we eat."

"No worries, son," Victor said cheerfully. "I'll come with you. It's one of the few advantages of being a man: there's hardly ever a queue."

"The forest holds many secrets," Myrddin told Gordon. They were making their way along a path through the wood. "Here we may find flowers, fruits and leaves, herbs, shoots and shrubs, roots, fungi, sap and bark, which measured and combined yield potions, ointments, salves and remedies."

He rested an arm on Gordon's shoulders. "I can show you how life may be prolonged or taken away, how senses are bewitched and souls ensnared, desires directed and secrets revealed."

He seemed a lot nicer than Professor Snape. "Can you teach me how to cure cancer?" Gordon asked.

Myrddin nodded approvingly. "To heal those sick in body is worthy; to heal those sick in mind as great an aim." Gordon felt a force running through him: searching, healing, strengthening. "Another question you might ask," Myrddin went on, "is: can I show you how to stop your race from racing towards its own destruction?"

"You can." Gordon said. "I know you can."

The trees gave way to a clearing. It ran down to a lake both wide and long, with densely wooded hills on either side. Beyond it, on a jagged hill of rock, stood a castle of grey stone. It grew out of the granite like a living thing. "This isn't a dream," Gordon said.

"No dream," Myrddin replied. He waved his staff at the clouds, swishing it east and west. They parted like curtains, and the lake now sparkled, clean and crystal clear, though its waters were as still as mirrored glass. The light bounced off the castle's topmost towers, bathing them in a warm, enchanted glow.

A boat sat at the lake's slow-lapping edge. Gordon saw that it was just the right size for an old sorcerer in front and a young apprentice behind. Myrddin pointed at the distant, dreaming spires. "Our way lies thither."

# Chapter 29

A Leap Of Faith

Zack emerged from the _Gents,_ flushed with the success of the mission. He and Victor waited for Edith, who was only a few seconds longer in the _Ladies_. They were now ready to decide what they were going to eat. All the baking and dish-compilation was going on in front of them. It smelled delicious. Zack found he was really looking forward to stuffing more fuel into what is really – when you come to think about it and actually have to take responsibility for looking after it – a highly complicated set of interactive biological mechanisms.

"Do you want me to see if they do a tuna melt?" Edith asked the birthday boy. This was one of Gordon's absolute favourite things.

"What is there that's vegetarian?" Zack asked. He fought off a sudden urge to vomit at the thought of eating flesh.

Edith pursed her lips. Zack strove to keep his face as innocently neutral as possible. "Their tomato and cheese pizzas look tasty."

"Perfect!" Zack exclaimed enthusiastically. "Ooh, and can I have some fresh salad with it?"

"Your wish is my command," said Edith with a grim little smile.

"The birthday boy can have whatever he wants," Victor said, ruffling Gordon's hair. "Bring me whatever looks best, my Darling. You know me, I'll eat anything."

"What do you want to drink?" his mum asked Gordon. Zack looked at the labels on the bottles. His head was spinning around all the possibilities, things he'd never tried before.

"Apple and elderflower sounds interesting; I'll try that if I may."

"I'll have whichever local brew has the highest A.B.V." said Victor cheerfully. "Gordon and I will grab a table. I'll help you with the trays when you're ready."

Edith set off on her quest. It was still quite early for lunch. Victor and Zack slid themselves on to a bench alongside a long, empty table. From there they could watch their favourite female going about the business of feeding them. "So," Victor said. "What do you think of the place so far? Is it up to expectations?"

"Great," Zack said, "we're really enjoying it. I mean I hope you're really enjoying it. I certainly am," he added hastily. He was beginning to appreciate how skilful Gordon had become at hiding him.

"Yes. What an undertaking, eh? It must have taken real vision – plus a few million quid - to take a worked-out clay pit and turn it into a Garden of Eden. I'm glad I'm not paying the heating and water bill for keeping that tropical biome up and running."

"A hundred and forty million," Zack said crisply. "Dreams don't come cheap. And you are, though, aren't you," he added, "with the money everyone pays to get in."

"That's true," Victor agreed. He looked at his son curiously. "That temperature and humidity seems to have affected your voice. It sounds different somehow, maybe a bit deeper."

"I'm sure it'll get back to normal," Zack assured him. "Dad, I think Mum's a bit worried about me. Can you tell her I'm fine? I'm just getting over the heat and the humidity in the biome."

"Yes, sure," Victor said. He reached over and patting Gordon's hand. "It's a mum's job to worry. You know that."

Zack smiled at him. "I do know that, Dad." He was quite enjoying calling Victor "Dad". It felt ... exclusive.

"Your mum's ready for a bit of help," Victor said. "You stay here and mind our spot."

"OK, Dad," Zack said. He leaned back and tried crossing his legs. It was going quite well, probably. "Come back soon, Gordon," he whispered. He sent his fondest thoughts and very best wishes out into the ether.

Two coiled loops of rope were attached to the prow. Myrddin cast them into the water, and instant ripples approached the boat from either side. With perfect timing, a pair of dolphins broke the surface, arced and re-entered with almost no splash. Each caught a rope in its mouth and they set off side by side across the lake. The boat moved smoothly and swiftly. Gordon was fascinated by the streamlined strength of the two magnificent mammals, clearly visible in the clean, clean water.

"You already have some power over the elements," Myrddin commented. "You show great promise."

"Poor is the pupil ..." Gordon murmured. He was rather like Leonardo when he was that age, according to Zack.

Myrddin's rich laugh rippled through the air. "Indeed. We shall see, young scholar. Or rather, I already see, and you **will** see. Prescience is another of the skills we will practise together."

The water became shallow: they were nearing the other side. With synchronised skill, the dolphins released the ropes and curved away. The boat's momentum took it into the pebbles at the water's edge. Gordon scanned the lake, hoping for another sight of the dolphins. The surface of the water remained unbroken. He had just given up hope when Myrddin flicked his staff ...

Five dolphins rose as one, curving and flashing in the sun. They reached the apex of their leap and turned to meet the surface with one splash. Gordon cried out in delight and clapped his hands. Once more Myrddin's generous laugh boomed out. "Happy birthday!" he said, and floated nimbly from boat to dry land. His awestruck apprentice followed him.

NOTES

**A.B.V.; POOR IS THE PUPIL** ... **; PRESCIENCE**

# Chapter 30

The First Meeting

Edith and Victor carried the trays back to the table. Their son seemed to be absorbed in touching the tips of his fingers with his thumb on both hands simultaneously. At the same time, he was crossing and uncrossing his legs, and laughing. It was as though he was in the process of discovering something quite new and exciting.

"How's it going?" she asked him. They unloaded the trays. "Your dad tells me you're fine."

"I am. I really am," Zack said.

"Yes," said Edith, "I think you are."

Zack plunged Gordon's teeth into a piece of the freshly baked pizza and closed his eyes in bliss. "Oh wow!" he said. That tastes ... wonderful," he finished slightly lamely, having suddenly realised his reaction was over the top.

"I'm glad you like it," Edith said, evenly, her eyes fixed on him. "That cheese looks like feta. Is it real feta, do you think?"

Zack dutifully plucked a little square of it off his pizza and popped it into his mouth. He closed his eyes so that he could concentrate on his taste buds. "Well, it's certainly a crumbly white goats' cheese soaked in brine," he said, "but whether it actually came from Greece or not ..."

He stopped and opened his eyes. Edith was staring at him, her eyes brimming. He bit his lip at the realisation she had laid a trap for him, and he had put his foot right in it. Victor was obliviously tucking into his plateful of extremely tasty, locally sourced ingredients, and didn't notice anything untoward.

Edith recovered quickly, reached into her handbag for a tissue and blew her nose. She gave her eyes a surreptitious wipe.

There was a glade to cross. On the other side, a broad path led to the lowest reaches of the castle. Gordon could hear the raucous cawing of rooks and the ascending flutes of skylarks. He could see rabbits bobbing and hares leaping. He caught a glimpse of a fox slinking from bush to bush in a blush of red fur.

The air was alive with butterflies - tortoiseshells, peacocks, monarchs and red admirals – and the steady hum of bees. Standing alert at the edge of the wood was a magnificent stag. Gordon counted seven points on each of its huge antlers.

He heard the thud of approaching hooves, and a gorgeous grey mare galloped into the glade out of the woods to the East. It was ridden by two girls in simple dresses. Their feet were bare and their long hair was flying. The one holding the reins was taller, and probably older. She was using her arms to steady the child seated in front of her.

The mare snorted to a halt beside Myrddin. He greeted both girls with the same courtesy he had shown to Gordon. "Well met, Einioes," he said to the tall girl, "and Graslonrwydd," he added, nodding to the girl who sat in front. "This is Gwythyr, my new apprentice."

Gordon wondered if they could be sisters. They were not much alike. The younger girl was about the same age as he was, and she stared at him with frank curiosity. The gaze of the older one was cooler, more appraising. She might already have reached the superior age of twelve. Each had a white rose pinned in her hair.

If Myrddin could have many names, Gordon supposed he could get used to having two or three of his own. Gordon, Edmund, and now Gwythyr. A rose by any other name ... This last name had a Celtic ring to it. It seemed appropriate, given his current location.

"Well met, Master Gwythyr," said Einioes. Her voice was as level and cool as her glance. Gordon bowed in courtly fashion. He remembered a docudrama he had seen about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. "Well met, Milady," he murmured.

The younger girl seemed to find this funny. She was pretty, and her eyes sparkled with fun and mischief. Gordon found himself hoping they could get to know one another. As if he had read Gordon's mind, Myrddin reached up and touched Graslonrwydd lightly on her neck with his staff. Then he turned and placed its tip on the torque round Gordon's neck. "Your paths will cross again soon," he told them.

"Until then, Master Gwythyr," Graslonrwydd said, her voice teasing and playful. He felt his spirits lift as if rising to meet hers at the height of the horse's back. Einioes dug her heels into the mare's flank and they cantered away, towards the woods in the west. Watching her go, Gordon was aware of a fluttering feeling in his stomach. He did not know what name to give it, and made a mental note to get Zack's advice on the matter. It was the thought of Zack that made him wonder how long he had been away.

"Master Myrddin," he said, and heard a slight tremble in his voice, "you said our road ahead was long; but those I love are in my other world. When may I return?"

Myrddin placed that comforting arm on his shoulder. "Soon, my young friend, soon. Henceforth we will divide your time between that world and this. You have much to learn in both." He pointed his staff at the castle. "But first you have an audience with a King."

NOTES

FETA; WHETHER IT ACTUALLY CAME FROM GREECE; SURREPTITIOUS; EINIOES, GRASLONRWYDD, GWYTHYR; DOCUDRAMA

# Chapter 31

We Meet At Last

At the end of the meal, Edith made a suggestion. "Why don't Gordon and I have a little stroll in the fresh air? You can go to the plant deck and take your time deciding what you think would look best in our garden at home."

Victor looked surprised. He had been looking forward to spending time on the plant deck adjoining the Visitors' Centre at the top of the hill. However, he had expected the decision on which plant to take home to be a joint one. "Fine, if you're happy to let me choose."

His wife patted the back of his hand. "Of course I am. You have a good eye when it comes to plants." Victor was aware of a feeling he'd had before: that his wife was saying one thing and meaning another. "It will give the birthday boy and me a chance to talk."

OH, so that was it: a mother-and-son, quality time thing. Okely-dokely. "Right," he said. He gathered the debris on to the trays and scooped them up. "I'll get rid of these, and nip up to the Plant Deck. I'll ring you when I'm done."

"We'll see you soon," Edith promised him. They watched him go, Zack with a somewhat sinking feeling. "Let's get back into that fresh air," Edith said briskly. "You and I can walk as we talk." He smiled weakly and followed her out.

"So," she said, as they began to stroll through what the Guidebook called The Outdoor Biome, "we meet at last."

Zack made a fruitless last attempt at subterfuge. "Sorry, I don't know what you mean."

Edith grabbed his shoulder and twisted him towards her, pinning him with her eyes. Dimly, he understood what it felt like to be a rabbit trapped in headlights. "You have always been there, and I know you almost as well as I know my Gordon; but it feels very, **very** strange to finally meet you, ZACK."

Zack felt a tearing sensation somewhere near Gordon's heart. He had not had nearly enough time to get used to the strength of these feelings. He found he couldn't speak. He stared back at her with his lower lip trembling, and his eyes filling with tears. She wrapped him in her arms as if she would never let him go again, and then they were both sobbing.

"Are you all right Love?" said a kindly voice. Edith looked up to see an elderly couple looking very concerned at this outpouring of emotion between mother and son. "Can we help at all?"

She got to her feet and dived into her handbag for her tissues. "No, no, thank you. You're very kind. There's nothing you can do."

"Well if you're sure," the woman said, her face suffused with sympathy. Edith nodded and managed a watery smile. She put a protective arm around her son's shuddering shoulders and handed him a clean tissue. Zack had his first go at blowing Gordon's nose, and found it helped. He definitely needed a course of lessons on how to manage a human body. These earthquaking emotions shook it to its innermost core.

They began walking again, side by side, not looking at each other. "You're the best friend Gordon has ever had, and could ever have," Edith said. "I love you for it, but I want him back. Where is he?"

Zack knew there was no point in trying to pretend any more, not with her. In a curious way it released him. "He had to go ... somewhere. I really don't know where. It's the first time. He'll tell me when he gets back."

Edith stopped dead. "You mean, he's not in there with you, like you were in there with him?"

"No. When he's in here, this is **his** body. I can't - don't, wouldn't ever want to - usurp it."

Edith gave his hand a little squeeze. She needed to stop herself from going mad, or at the very least from losing control of her anxiety. "What happened?"

"He was called away, suddenly. He didn't have any choice. Honestly, Mrs Bennett, he would never have left like that if he could have prevented it. He was so enjoying his birthday."

Her child's alter-ego was politely calling her Mrs Bennett. It was unhinging. "Oh God, you're not an alien, are you? Gordon hasn't been beamed up to a mother ship somewhere?? They're not reprogramming him, are they?!" Her voice was increasing in volume and rising to a pitch approaching hysteria.

Zack squeezed her hand as tightly as he could and steered her towards a vacant bench. He needed to get a grip on this situation. He was well aware that he had made a pig's breakfast of it so far.

Gordon stepped into the great stone hall, and his eyes widened. Its vastness and solidity overwhelmed his senses. The rectangular inner space was paved with granite slabs. Massive columns stretched along both sides. They were so tall their diameters seemed to dwindle at the top. Vaulted arches radiated from each one, taking the tremendous weight of the roof.

What little light there was leached in through narrow slits in outer walls at least three feet thick. The huge space was empty, save for one enormous structure occupying the centre of the floor. It might have been called a round table, had its proportions been more reasonable. It was circular, and of table height. A hundred people could have stood around it, each at arm's length from the other on either side.

Its flat surface appeared to be made from slabs of dark grey slate about six inches thick, highly polished, and intricately carved. A great cross quartered it to the north, south, east and west. There was a magnificent rose carved in the very centre.

This table top, if such it was, rested upon stocky granite plinths, similarly scrolled and set in circles of decreasing diameter, taking their share of the weight. Myrddin and Gordon walked towards it. They made no noise, as if the very stones might prate of their whereabouts.

On reaching it, they stopped and turned towards the far end of the hall. Myrddin lifted his staff and struck it once on the granite. The sound rolled like thunder through the startled air. It echoed around the arches and columns, reverberating. Gordon heard the creak and thud of huge doors opening. Sunlight blazed in at the far end, perhaps a thousand feet away. He was blinded at first, then his eyes gradually adjusted ...

In the centre of the brightness a figure was emerging. It was flanked by two others, a pace behind him on either side. Behind them were three more. Behind them four, then five, then six ... As the man in the centre strode further up the centre of the hall, a spear-shaped phalanx of men appeared behind him. Each rank contained one man more than the rank in front, until the line was fifty abreast.

And still they came, in solid formation and with military precision, until the entire space was filled with knights. They were dressed like Gordon in white tunics over suits of fine chainmail; but where he had an empty scabbard, each man wore a sheathed longsword with a simple cruciform hilt. A pair of chainmail gloves was tucked into each belt.

The figure at the front wore a simple crown. A crimson cloak flowed from his shoulders, the colour of the sail Gordon had seen when first he'd found himself in Avalon. The leader's face was bearded, his long hair sable-silvered, and his eyes a striking blue. There was a deep scar etched across his face.

He came to a halt on the other side of the round table, and all the men behind him stopped as one. When many thousand marching feet come to a sudden halt the silence is palpable. He stared at the child standing behind the round table, then transferred his gaze to the old man beside him. "You have summoned me for **this**?" he asked. His voice was almost as hard and cold as the stone on which he stood.

Myrddin inclined his head slightly. His voice was calm and civil in response. "Majesty, this is the child."

The cold blue eyes slid back to Gordon. Not a man moved. Gordon thought that the crowned figure now regarding him could not be feeling what he could feel: the power emanating from the figure behind, beside and all around him. It surged through that space. He returned the king's gaze, sending his thoughts beyond those ice-blue chips into the sadness and the pain. _"We are in this place for a reason, you and I."_

"My name is Arthur, boy," the king said suddenly, his voice calculated to reach all ranks. As one, the men behind him drew their swords and went down on one knee, their hands clasped over their hilts. The clash sent a sound tsunami crashing around the sombre space. It would have drowned a fainter heart than his. Gordon imitated the movement of the knights, though his clasped hands had no weapon on which to rest. Kneeling where he was, he must have disappeared entirely from the king's view.

"The times, it seems, have changed," said King Arthur. Gordon thought that his voice, though still rough, was less harsh. "But the way remains mysterious, eh Myrddin? Rise, boy, and tell me your name."

Gordon lightened his body weight and rose with apparent effortlessness. The speed and smoothness of the manoeuvre was not lost upon the king. Arthur smiled grimly. Stretching out his arms to either side, he made an upward motion. The men behind him rose with rather more difficulty, many of them using their swords for leverage.

"My name is Gwythyr, Majesty."

The king's barking laugh was bitter. "That is "Victor" in the conquerors' tongue. Have you earned that name, boy?" There was a rumble of laughter from the ranks.

"I have not, Sire," Gordon said, "having been given it but one hour ago."

"Then have a care," Arthur said, "before you choose to move in one of Myrddin's more mysterious ways. I bear upon my body mortal wounds, as does every man here." His eyes were chips of flint. "Each earned his place by dying for a cause he thought was just, believing what his priests had prophesied. 'Do it in His name, and be called 'Gwythyr'"

"MOST OFTEN HAVE MY NAMES BEEN USED IN VAIN!" Myrddin thundered suddenly. His voice dislodged the dust of centuries and sent it drifting sadly to the ground, as if each speck had been a life snuffed out. "The times must change," he added, his voice once more soft and sad, "must change, before I die."

NOTES

SUBTERFUGE; SUFFUSED; A HUNDRED PEOPLE COULD HAVE STOOD; A GREAT CROSS ...A MAGNIFICENT ROSE; PRATE OF THEIR WHEREABOUTS; SABLE-SILVERED; PALPABLE; EMANATING; TSUNAMI

# Chapter 32

The Lake Of Tears

Edith sat on the bench, closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing. In slowly and deeply through the nose, out slowly and gently through the mouth. The advice of Mr Jones in the old TV series _Dad's Army_ suddenly came to her. "Don't PANIC! DON'T PANIC!" She had a hysterical urge to giggle.

Uncontrolled anxiety serves no useful purpose. If ever you stand on the edge of a cliff, resist the urge to throw yourself over it. You will smash to pieces on the rocks beneath.

Blessings, blessings; count them! Gordon is with you, in body if not in mind. He is breathing and talking and functioning. He is saying "Gordon will be back soon Mrs Bennett. I promise. I promise!" He is holding your hand.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was scared; she could see it in his eyes. Afraid for Gordon or afraid for her? Or both? The mother in her kicked in. "It's all right; it's all right." She reached over and placed her other hand on top of her son's. "We're going to be all right."

"We are," Zack said eagerly, "we really are." His relief was quite touching. Edith suddenly realised she was dealing with a child - a very well-informed and curiously formal child, but still a child.

"So," she said, smiling bravely at him, "while we wait for Gordon, let's talk about you. You're absolutely sure you're not an alien?"

Zack grinned at her. "Totally positive."

"So what are you, do you think? And how come you've been sharing that body with Gordon from the beginning?"

Zack screwed his borrowed face into a grimace and shrugged his recently acquired shoulders. "I don't know, really. I could be a kind of hologram of some part of his spirit or soul or consciousness. But that wouldn't explain how I know a lot of things he doesn't, and the fact that I was with Will when he wrote his best lines."

"'Will'? Who's 'Will'"?

"William Shakespeare," said Zack, matter-of-factly.

"Oh," said Edith faintly.

"But here's another thing that I'm looking forward to telling him when he gets back," Zack said eagerly. He found it was really helpful to get things off his brand-new chest. "Since he went, I've had to run this body for him. It's been a really steep learning-curve for me, let me tell you."

Edith repressed a smile. How often had she heard Gordon come out with a quaintly adult way of saying something and suspected that Zack might still be around, somewhere well hidden?

"But now he's not here, I can't do a lot of the things I can do when he **is** here."

"Like what?" Edith wanted to know.

"We-e-ll," he said slowly, realising he was in danger of letting Gordon's tongue run away with him, "when he's here looking after the physical side, I can sort of ... pop out and give him a hand with things."

"What sort of things?" Edith asked. If Zack really wasn't an alien, then the likeliest explanation for all this was that he really was Gordon's alter-ego. She was getting a fascinating glimpse into the workings of the extraordinary brain her son seemed to have been born with.

Gordon walked slowly beside Myrddin across the glade towards the lake and the waiting boat. "Was that really King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table?" he asked timidly. He was working up the courage to ask a different question, the one uppermost in his mind.

"You saw and heard him. Was that not enough?" Myrddin asked him.

"Yes, but there were so many."

"Each man died for a cause he thought was just, most often in my names. All who so fall come here to Avalon; and still they come, in greater numbers than autumnal leaves that drift in heaps beneath the shedding trees."

"My friend Tom's dad died fighting in Afghanistan," Gordon said. "Does that mean he was somewhere in those millions, near the back?" Tom had lived next door to him for the last seven years. They hadn't got off to a good start, but he was a much nicer boy now than in the early days. Part of his problem had been how often his dad was away on active service. Just over four months ago, he'd been killed by a sniper's bullet.

Myrddin drew in his breath in a shuddering gasp. "I bear that cross, and grievous is the weight of it."

"I want to help Tom, and his mum. Can we help them?" Gordon asked eagerly. "He misses his dad so much."

Myrddin nodded thoughtfully. "Your wish comes from a pure heart, and shall be granted." Once again, he placed the tip of his staff lightly against the torque round Gordon's neck. "It needs a warrior to heal that wound."

They reached the boat and climbed into it. It seemed that even the dolphins were in sombre mood. They took the ropes and towed the boat across without breaking the surface. "You said the times must change before you die," Gordon said hesitantly. He looked up at Myrddin. There were aeons of weariness around the wizard's eyes.

"I have lived long and prospered in my time," Myrddin said, "while men had need of me. Some need me still, unwilling to believe their atoms came unbidden from the burning hearts of stars."

They were nearing the other side. The sun was setting. "But it is time for your race to come of age. We must stop all the killings in my name. There are simple ways towards a better world, and I would see them trod before I die." The boat crunched on the gravel, and Gordon felt his spirits sinking with the sun. It just seemed sad. Those clear, fresh waters had sparkled for him. They had leapt with life, and now, it seemed, they were a lake of tears. There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.

Myrddin clapped him cheerfully on the shoulder. "We look not to the past, my young pupil," he said, "except to learn from it. Now fill your heart with hope, for you and I have just begun. Your world may yet be made a better place for all to live in. We will find the ways."

He smiled down at Gordon, who felt his spirits lift. "Here endeth the first lesson," the great wizard murmured. The torque slipped from his young apprentice's neck.

NOTES

**IN GREATER NUMBERS THAN AUTUMNAL LEAVES;** **MY FRIEND** TOM; **AEONS OF WEARINESS; THERE IS NOTHING EITHER GOOD OR BAD BUT THINKING MAKES IT SO**

# Chapter 33

The Wanderer Returns

There were so many paths. Edith and Zack found that without realising it, they had walked in a wide circle and were back at the link-building. The entrance to the Mediterranean Biome was up the stairs and to the right. It would be an easy place for Victor to find them.

"The path to knowledge ..." Zack muttered.

"What?" Edith said.

"The path to knowledge is unfolded truth," Zack said. "I was just thinking ..."

"Yes, I was just thinking as well," Edith said, interrupting. "Your path to knowledge has been unfolding a very long time if you were around when William Shakespeare was alive. How can that be when you're only eleven years old today?"

"AH," said Zack, warming to his theme. "I've been thinking a lot about that. I might have an answer."

Edith's phone went off. She let go of Gordon's hand while she reached into her bag. It had to be Victor. "Hi," she said.

"Hi, hi," was the cheerful response. "I think I've found the perfect plant, but it doesn't make sense to buy it now and carry it around. I thought we could pick it up on our way out. Then you can see what you think before we make a final decision.

"OK," Edith said. "We'll see you at the entrance to the Mediterranean Biome – back to the bakery, up the stairs and to the right."

"OK, five minutes. Love you."

"Love you too." She popped the phone back into her bag.

"Zack says he loves you too mum," Gordon said. "He's told me you know, and that I've got some explaining to do."

Edith's knees gave way. She sank on to them before wrapping her arms around her son and squeezing as if she would never let go.

NOTES

I MIGHT HAVE AN ANSWER

# Chapter 34

Healing That Wound

They bought his new school uniform when they got back from their summer holiday. They didn't have a dress rehearsal until his dad got home from work. Victor admitted to his colleagues the next day that he'd shed a tear when he saw his son kitted out in the blue shirt and the striped tie, the long grey trousers and the shiny black shoes. The pièce de résistance was the red blazer with the high school crest on it.

Edith had smiled brightly as Victor took the photos for the family archives. She still hadn't got over that feeling of gladness at having Gordon back in one piece. She was still coming to terms with just how complicated that piece was.

Gordon, on the other hand, had had trouble keeping his face straight. Zack was striking a pose next to him, fetchingly attired in a three-piece tail-suit, Eton collar, clip-on tie and a top hat. It was all too big for him. The hat kept slipping down over his eyes.

Excellent photos were finally achieved. Victor transferred them to the hard drive while Gordon got out of his uniform to keep it fresh and ready for his first day. It wasn't long now. He could hardly wait. "I saw you trying not to laugh while your dad was taking those photos," Edith whispered, once his dad had left the room. "What was he doing?"

Gordon exploded into giggles. "He's wearing these really old-fashioned clothes," he whispered back. "It's hilarious! Oh, I've upset him now."

Edith fought to keep her face straight. Her mouth was trying to twitch into a smile. "Why?" There was a little pause, which reminded Edith of the old days, before Gordon had learned to keep Zack to himself.

"He would have me know that he is wearing the uniform of one of the best public schools in the country," Gordon told her, "and it's everyone else who looks ridiculous."

Edith had recently learned to notice which way Gordon's eyes slid while he was listening to Zack. She was able to make a pretty good guess where Zack was standing at that particular moment. "Take yours off too, Zack," she told her other son. "You want to keep it nice for your first day."

Gordon smiled at her. "He said 'OK, Mum.' He's got a tear in his eye now as well."

"Oh," Edith said, half an hour later while they were eating their evening meal. "I met Yvonne from next door today, Tom's mum."

"How is she?" Victor asked. Hell of a thing, losing a husband and father like that.

"She's bearing up. She was telling me that after we'd been away for a week, she was having a pretty miserable weekend on her own with Tom. They were half way through the Sunday morning. That must have been the day after your birthday, Gordon." Victor and Gordon dutifully nodded. "There was a knock on the door, and a soldier was standing there."

"Whoah," Zack whispered. Gordon felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck.

"He said he'd just got back from a tour of duty in Afghanistan. He'd been her husband's best mate. They were on patrol together when the sniper struck. It could just as easily have been him, apparently."

Victor silently thanked his God he had never been called upon to put himself in harm's way for his country like that. "That's got to help her achieve some kind of closure," he said. "Burying him is one thing. Actually talking to someone who was with him when he died means you can share his final moments, in a way."

"Yes. His name is Owen. He told Yvonne that he and Mike – Tom's dad – often talked about their lives back home. He said Mike told him all about her and Tom, and how proud he was of them both."

"That's nice," Victor said. Gordon thought so too.

"They'd made each other a promise: that if anything happened to either of them, the other would get in touch with their loved ones back home, and do what they could to help them cope."

"Is he married?" Victor asked.

"No. Yvonne asked him that. He said he'd never met the right one. The thing is, Tom took to him straight away. He wanted to hear all about his dad and the things he and Owen got up to, and the laughs they had. It was like he just stepped into that big gap his dad had left."

"Hmmm," Victor said. "Early days. It's not been six months yet."

"True, but he's been round several times since. Tom really likes him. He's not having so many nightmares."

"So he lives close?" Victor asked.

"Close enough. He's coming round next Sunday, the day before school starts. They're all going to the zoo. I could tell from the way she couldn't stop talking about him that she's getting her hopes up." Edith was full of sympathy for their neighbours' tragic loss. "It would be so great for Tom to have a man around that he can look up to. It's got to be the nearest thing to getting his dad back."

"Well, good luck to them, I say." Victor raised his glass of red wine and clinked it against Gordon's glass of water and Edith's glass of soya milk. "To Yvonne, Tom and Owen. All the best from us."

"Yvonne, Tom and Owen," Edith echoed.

"It needs a warrior to heal that wound," Gordon said.

His parents turned to stare at him. "Honest to God, son," Victor said with a catch in his voice, "I do not know where you get it from, sometimes. What made you say that?"

Gordon took a swig of his water and smiled at them. "I heard someone say that recently. It seemed ... apposite."

Victor downed the last of his wine. "It was, son," he said. "It was bloody apposite."

NOTES

**THEY'RE ALL GOING TO THE ZOO** ; **APPOSITE**

# Chapter 35

Amazing Grace

The first day of the autumn term inevitably arrived, and Gordon and Zack were off to secondary school. They woke early and were dressed by the time their mum popped her head in to check they were up. Gordon had persuaded Zack to wear the proper school uniform. After all, they would be going there – probably - for the next seven years.

_"Oh my goodness,"_ Gordon thought. _"A lot can happen in that time."_

Yes, indeed.

He forced down some breakfast. It didn't stop the butterflies, but he was ready. His name had been sewn into all his garments. He'd got his bag with his bottle of water, his pencil case, his book to read and his dinner money. His dad had solemnly shaken his hand and wished him all the best before leaving for work. Now, there was nothing for it but to cross the threshold and get this next adventure underway.

As luck would have it, Yvonne and Tom and a tall, well-built young man came out of their front door at exactly the same moment. "Hi!" Yvonne called out, looking a little flustered but doing her best to hide it. "Ooh, don't we all look smart?"

She was right too. Tom was exceptionally well turned out. He wore his new uniform with almost military pride. His black shoes positively sparkled. "Owen's showed me how they get their boots really shiny in the army," he said to Gordon.

"They look great!" Gordon said. "Maybe you can show me how to do it?"

Tom's chest swelled with pride. "Yeah," he said, and took Owen's hand.

"This is Owen," Yvonne said, "Mike's great friend in the army."

Owen shook Edith's hand with his free one and waved to Gordon. "Hi."

"Hi," Edith said. "Good to meet you."

"It got ever so late last night," Yvonne explained to Edith. "We've got such a lot to talk about." Edith nodded understandingly. "Owen stayed over in our spare room. It was a nice surprise for Tom to find him still here this morning. He wanted him to come to school with us."

Owen smiled down at Tom. "It's a big day. We've got a lot of learning to do, haven't we?" Tom looked up and nodded. He was going to learn for his dad. He was determined.

The playground was not as busy as it was going to be. The school had arranged for the 180 new Year 7's to be in on their own that morning, with a few of the year 13's to help them settle in. There were different routines to get used to in this much larger building.

He and Tom waved their grown-ups off and split up. Tom went looking for his friends Kieran and Dean to tell them what his dad and Owen had got up to on patrol in Helmand Province. Gordon wandered through the vast playground areas on the lookout for children he knew, especially Nick. Nick had been his best friend (apart from Zack, of course) since before nursery school.

There was a bushy, wildlife strip at the far end of the grounds, away from any roads. The boundary fence beyond it divided the school from the rear gardens of a row of houses. A number of quite mature trees were dotted along it.

His eyes were drawn to two girls standing under a tree in the far corner, away from the hustle and bustle. They seemed to be looking right at him. The smaller one smiled and waved. _"See those girls?"_ he said to Zack. _"Come on!"_ He set off across the playground towards them, the excitement building in his chest.

"Whoah!" said Zack, "What's going on? I've never seen them before."

_"I have,"_ Gordon told him. It was all he could do to stop himself from running. The taller of the two still looked as though she was older – a bit like Zack did, he found himself realising.

"Hi," he said, a little breathlessly. "I'm Gordon."

"Hi," the smaller one said. She looked so pretty. Good fun played with the mischief in her eyes. "I'm Grace, and this is Zoë."

"Hi, Zoë" Gordon said.

"Hi, Gordon," Zoë said. She was still cool and appraising, but not unfriendly. She transferred her gaze to Zack.

"I'm Zack," he said.

"Hi, Zack," both girls chorused, and Zoë smiled for the first time. At the other end of the playground somebody blew a whistle.

It was going to be an interesting year.

NOTES

**INEVITABLY;** **NICK HAD BEEN HIS BEST FRIEND (APART FROM ZACK, OF COURSE) SINCE BEFORE NURSERY SCHOOL** ; **I'M GRACE AND THIS IS ZOË**

# Chapter 36

The Mind Reader And The Clairvoyant

The new year 7's streamed into the building like bees into a hive. Nick had finally spotted Gordon and was swimming against the swarm. He threaded his way towards his best friend, relief oozing from every pore. Gordon noticed and waved. Nick wouldn't be growing out of that new blazer any time soon. There was room for two of him in there.

Grace signalled to a girl already by the door. "That's Miranda," she told Gordon. "She's my best friend from primary school." The girl waved back and stood waiting.

"Does she know about Zoë?"

"No, nobody does, apart from my mums, and now you and Zack."

"Your mums? How many have you got?

"Two."

Nick and Gordon followed Miranda and Grace into the big Main Hall. 180 had seemed like a lot of children in the playground, but it didn't seem like so many now. They fitted on six rows of chairs at the front, either side of a central aisle. Zack and Zoë sat side by side in their new school uniforms. It was odd seeing them like that: perched on the edge of the stage, getting a good look at everyone else. It didn't seem odd to anyone else because no-one else could see them. No-one else knew they were there.

Teaching staff stood along both sides. A smiling lady walked out to the front to face them. She put a finger to her lips and you could have heard a pin drop. She made a "Please stand" motion with her hands. Everyone obediently stood up. Gordon was reminded of his visit to the Planet of the Apes in April, where the principle form of communication was sign language. He got an image of the 500lb silverback gorilla on the Starship _Velociraptor's_ viewing monitor. The gorilla had stretched out his hand and flicked it back: clearly inviting him to a close encounter of the third kind.

"Wow! He's impressive!"

Gordon went rigid with shock. That had been Grace's voice in his head, as clearly as if she had just spoken to him. It wasn't the telepathy that startled him so much - Zoë would have taught her that, just as Zack had taught him. It was the fact that she was reading his mind.

_"Whoah!"_ he thought back. _"How long have you been able to do that?"_

_"Do what?"_ Zack asked him. It was a crossed line, like being on the phone to two people at once.

_"She's always been able to do it,"_ Zoë informed them both. OK, three people.

_"Grace just read my mind,"_ Gordon told Zack.

_"Whoah!"_ Zack said. Zoë was smiling. Grace's eyes danced with mischief. It had been fun surprising Gordon with that little party trick of hers. Normally she kept it under wraps. Nobody likes being labelled a weirdo, and with children it doesn't take much.

The headteacher strode down the centre aisle to the front of the hall. Most of the children remembered him from the 'Welcome Evening' they'd attended at the end of the previous term. He motioned them to sit down again and welcomed them to their new school. They were to listen carefully to their names being read out, tutor group by tutor group. Each group would then follow their tutor to their new form room and be given their house badges, timetables and a lot more besides.

Templemead High School had three houses: Ash, Elm and Oak. First up was Ash. The head of Ash House introduced his two year 7 tutors and the names were read out. Gordon mentally ticked off those who came from his school as they stood up and followed their tutors out of the hall. He thought he detected a pattern. Each of the pupils from his primary school class had a best friend with them in their tutor group. The exception was Kieran, but Gordon had little sympathy for him. Separate him from one toe-rag and he would simply team up with another. There was never any shortage, and finding each other was one of the few things they were all good at.

A horrible thought occurred to him. What if Grace and Miranda weren't in the same tutor group as him and Nick? He told himself not to worry. If Myrddin had arranged for their paths to cross in the same school, surely he would have made sure they were in the same tutor group?

_"Who's Myrddin?"_ Grace wanted to know.

This mind-reading thing was going to take some getting used to. He definitely needed to develop some screening techniques; otherwise it could get embarrassing. A second later, he went bright pink, having realised that Grace would know what he was thinking. He filled his mind with an image of a blank white screen. He didn't dare look at her, but he suspected she would be smiling quietly to herself again. _"I'll tell you later,"_ he promised.

Dean went the way of Elm, as did a number of other, nicer children from his class at primary school. Gordon still had all his fingers and toes crossed. With only sixty children left, Grace and Miranda were still on his left and Nick on his right.

The first Oak House tutor to be introduced was a Mrs Peters. She was young and pretty. She held her register in a way that drew attention to the rings on the third finger of her left hand. She was smiling, but her eyes were sad. _"Her baby died."_ Grace's voice was in his head again.

_"Young women miscarry sometimes,"_ Zoë said, _"but on this day next year, Mrs Peters will bring her beautiful, new baby girl into school for us to see."_

A beautiful new baby would heal that wound. Apparently, Zoë could see into the future. Myrddin had promised to teach him prescience. Could he also teach him to read minds? Skills like those would be useful additions to the powers he already had.

Mrs Peters read out her list, and they were all on it. So was Tom, which was fine. Since his dad had been killed in Afghanistan, Gordon had been helping Tom catch up with his reading. He was making good progress. Little by little they had become friends. Their new tutor led them to their form room. Gordon could see the satisfaction on Zack's face. He thought he could also tell that behind that cool exterior, Zoë was pleased as well. If Grace and Zoë didn't know who Myrddin was, maybe they didn't know that Myrddin had almost certainly brought them all together in the first place. There was so much everyone had to learn about everyone else.

Grace was the only other person he'd ever met who'd been able to see Zack. Was he the only person she had ever met who could see Zoë? What had Grace and Zoë been doing in Avalon?

The questions were piling up.

NOTES

**HIS VISIT TO THE PLANET OF THE APES; A CLOSE ENCOUNTER OF THE THIRD KIND; TEMPLEMEAD HIGH SCHOOL;** KIERAN AND DEAN; **HER BABY DIED; PRESCIENCE**

# Chapter 37

Settling In

Their tutor room was laid out much like their primary classroom had been. Sixteen tables were arranged in eight pairs with four chairs around each pair. The first children through the door gravitated towards the centre and the back. That meant that Grace, Miranda, Gordon and Nick were able to grab a table right at the front.

That was OK, especially with Nick. He knew it would put a reasonably safe distance between him and whichever boys and/or girls in their new class turned out to be disruptive. Toe-rags are drawn to the backs of classrooms like iron filings to a magnet.

Mrs Peters swept an expert eye over her new charges. "I see no reason," she told them, "why this tutor group should not be the best this school has ever had." Gordon already knew two good reasons why it would turn out to be the best tutor group that school had ever had. Once he'd got to know Grace and Zoë a little more, he was pretty sure his two reasons would have turned into four.

Mrs Peters allowed them to sit where they wanted for the present. However, she made it clear that she would be moving anyone who needed moving. "Before we start," she said briskly, "I want to congratulate one table already. Please look around and see if you can tell me which one and why."

Everyone peered around the tables. Most of the children looked mystified. _"It's us,"_ Grace told Gordon. _"We're the only table with boys and girls on."_ Neither of them said anything. This was one of those many occasions when they had an unfair advantage. Having said that, reading teachers' minds is something many children learn how to do during their time at school.

First, they were issued with diaries. Their diaries, their tutor explained, were only slightly less important than their lives. They were to carry them at all times while in school, and get them checked and signed by their parents every week. They copied their class and homework timetables into them, and then they studied plans of the building to find out where all the different rooms and departments were.

After that, they set off on a kind of treasure hunt. They found clues pinned on doors all over the place, and wrote down information displayed on notice boards and panels around staircases and corridors. It was a fun way of getting to know the building. They found science laboratories, art rooms, music and drama spaces, the library and the sports hall, craft and cookery rooms, gymnasia, computer rooms and a huge dining area. The rest of the morning whizzed by.

At lunchtime, they found a great choice of dishes in the massive refectory. There was a wide range of healthy options and plenty for vegetarians. Then it was time to run around in the playground for the rest of the lunch hour.

Both Gordon and Grace were keen to get to know one another better. Finding each other was momentous, and Zack and Zoë were hitting it off. Nick tended to stick close to Gordon because that was the safest place to be. Grace and Miranda were clearly very good friends. So it wasn't surprising that they all found themselves strolling towards the tree where Gordon had first spotted Grace and Zoë that morning. It already felt like their spot, somehow.

Nick was telling Gordon about the boxed set of _Pirates of the Caribbean_ DVDs he'd got for his birthday. Miranda was telling Grace about the highs and lows of being a bridesmaid. She'd been one twice already: once when she was five, and again during these last summer holidays, when her dad got married again.

_"I'm glad you chose this school,"_ Gordon telepathed to Grace. He assumed – correctly - that she would have the same ability he had to carry on two conversations at once. It's a skill you pick up when you have an alter-ego who has taught you telepathy.

_"So am I,"_ Grace beamed back. _"I thought I was the only one. Do you think there are more of us out there somewhere?"_

_"I don't know,"_ Gordon confessed.

"How come you got to go to Avalon and I didn't?" Zack asked Zoë.

"Where?" Zoë asked him.

"Avalon - where you and Grace were riding that grey mare and you met Myrddin and Gordon."

"That was **Avalon**?" Zoë stared at him. "Grace got very sleepy that day after lunch and we went for a nap. The next thing I knew, we were galloping through a forest on a beautiful grey mare." She smiled at Grace. "I normally do the dreams, but Grace took me for a ride this time. I thought it was another sign that her powers were developing."

Zack nodded. He'd experienced quite a few moments like that with Gordon.

"A minute later we came out into a glade, and there was this very old man and a boy who looked exactly like Gordon. Only his name was Gwythyr."

_"The old man called us funny names in Welsh,"_ Grace said. _"They sounded like Grasslonrwith and Eenyoess. He said your path and ours would cross soon."_

"So we're part of someone else's plan," Zoë said slowly. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

Zack grinned at her. "I'll fill you in on the mission parameters. They're a bit on the ambitious side."

_"Gordon,"_ Grace interrupted suddenly, _"there's a boy over there needs you."_

NOTES

GRASSLONRWITH AND EENYOESS; THE MISSION PARAMETERS

# Chapter 38

Go Get 'Em Sheriff!

Gordon spotted George almost immediately. He'd known him since his first day at nursery school and they'd been good friends ever since. Rather like Nick, George had been one of the smaller boys at school. His life had got a lot better once Gordon was around. They'd been in the same class all through primary school; but of course, a big new school means a fresh start, with only one or two of your old friends in the same class.

Earlier that morning, George had been one of the first children to be named. He was in Ash House, the same tutor group as Kieran. Kieran and Dean were swaggering towards him now, flanked by a couple of other boys \- Kieran's new mate and Dean's new mate. They had found one another with something like the speed Gordon had found Grace and Zoë. Kieran was wearing that stupid cap he'd been so proud of in year 6, with the peak sticking out at the back of his head. All four boys had already pulled their school shirts out of their trousers in a makeshift attempt at a gang uniform.

Grace must have picked up George's sudden _"Where's Gordon?!"_ thought as he looked around to see if his guardian angel was anywhere near. His worry had turned to fear when he saw how far off Gordon was. _"Zack!"_ Gordon thought urgently.

"I'm on it!" Zack assured him. He was alongside George in less than a second. Nick was in full flight about a favourite bit in _Pirates of the Caribbean 3_ when Gordon interrupted him. "Hang on, Nick," he said. "George needs me for a minute."

Nick nodded understandingly. "Go get 'em Sheriff," he said. Over the last six years he'd got used to Gordon riding to the rescue. He didn't know how he did it, but he was certainly glad he did. Gordon trotted after Zack, keeping his pace within reasonable, eleven-year-old limits: he didn't want to draw undue attention to himself. Nick walked unobtrusively after him. It was normally fun to watch.

"Look oo it is!" Kieran was crowing. "It's GEORGIE PORGIE." He was speaking loudly enough to draw a crowd. The humiliation of a victim is always more enjoyable if it's in front of a crowd. Kieran was also letting everyone know he was into the pleasures of tormenting defenceless little nerds.

"Puddin' an' pie," Kieran's new mate squawked. He was staking his claim on the victim as well.

"We 'eard you bin kissin' the girls," Dean added. He wasn't normally that quick on the uptake.

"And makin' 'em cry," the fourth one mocked, not wanting to be left out.

"One of 'em was 'is sister!" Kieran snarled, effortlessly upping the menace.

"And you fought you'd be all right," Dean sneered, "because GORDON's always wiv yer!"

That last remark was a reference to a mistake George had made early on in primary school. At one assembly, their headteacher had said to them: "God is always with you". George thought she'd said "Gordon's always with you." It made perfect sense to him - Gordon was always around, and could be relied on to help you if you had a problem. For some time, he stoutly maintained that Mrs Brown had said "Gordon's always with you". His proof was that it was true, he was. It had become a running joke in his class.

"E's not wiv yer NOW!" Kieran said, looking around ostentatiously. He was disconcerted to discover that Gordon would, in fact, be with them in a matter of moments. He decided, unwisely, not to let that deflect him. He was in a big new school, and there were four of them.

"Oooh," said Kieran's new sidekick. "What's Gordon goin' ter do?" He was, of course, about to find out. Gordon remembered him from the _'Enjoy-A-Ball'_ sessions five years ago. Warren, his name was. He'd been a waste of space then, and it looked like things hadn't changed much.

Gordon had heard every word. He'd always been able to hear anything Zack heard, and Zack was right there with his arm around George's shoulder. George didn't know why his fear went away as soon as he saw Gordon begin to trot towards him from right across the playground, but it did.

Maybe God was with him too.

Gordon used his bionic zoom to telephoto in on the group. He judged the distance between Dean's right hand and Kieran's head to perfection. To Dean's complete surprise, his right hand suddenly whipped up under the peak of Kieran's cap and smacked it right off. The pleasant autumn breeze chose that moment to produce a sudden localised squall that caught the hat in mid-air and sent it squirrelling across the playground.

There was a howl of delighted laughter from the gathering year 7's. It drew the attention of the teacher on playground duty. Surely nobody would be stupid enough to kick off on day one. He set off in the direction of the rumpus.

After the initial shock, Kieran turned on Dean with a snarl. Clearly, he thought Dean had decided to try and upstage him. He would have to be publicly punished. Kieran's sights were firmly set on the top of this new dung-heap. "SORRY, K!" Dean protested loudly. He was daft enough to let a self-satisfied smirk undermine his protestation of innocence. After all, it was pretty funny. "Me 'and slipped."

"Get it back NOW," snarled K, "before my 'and slips!" He swung a similar smack at the back of Dean's head and missed. Dean ducked and scuttled after the hat. Zack couldn't resist and chased after him. Just as Dean got to the hat and bent down to retrieve it, Gordon sent the breeze to blow it out of reach again while Zack side-footed his rear end.

The watching children didn't understand at first why every time Dean bent down to pick the hat up he gave a loud squawk and jumped forward, clutching his bottom with both hands. He kept looking around, as if the devil was after him. Then they decided he was doing it deliberately. The overall effect was hilarious. It was comic genius, and they gave him a generous round of applause.

Gordon, in the meantime, was standing next to George with his arm around his shoulder. _"Come back now Zack, please,"_ he telepathed, and Zack duly complied. Dean was finally able to retrieve the cap. The teacher on duty reached the scene in time to hear Gordon deliver his message. It was impressive, as he told his colleagues in the staffroom afterwards.

"There's no bullying in this school either," Gordon told Kieran and the other two calmly. "It's a bully-free zone. Nobody need ever be afraid."

The whistle signalled the end of the lunch hour. "You four, tuck your shirts in," the teacher said, "and give me that, please." He held his hand out for Kieran's peaked cap. "You can get it back from your Head of House at the end of the day." Kieran handed it over meekly. It was clear the teacher would brook no argument. "And don't bring it to school again. If **I** see it, you'll lose it until a parent comes to collect it."

At the end of the school day, Gordon and Nick walked with Grace and Miranda towards the bus circle and the gate. Miranda hopped on to one of the school buses. Nick's mum was standing by her car, looking anxious. Gordon's and Nick's mums had worked out a rota for collecting and dropping off, and today was Angela's turn. Gordon zoomed in. He saw her relax when she caught sight of Nick looking happy. Her precious son was still in safe hands.

_"Would you like to come around to our house sometime soon?"_ he asked Grace and Zoë. He knew he was speaking for Zack as well. _"You're the only people we've ever known who can see and hear us both."_

Grace waved to a lady on the other side of the railings. Standing alone, she was tall and strikingly beautiful, with auburn hair and emerald eyes. Her long dress was the colours of autumn leaves. Gordon stared at it, and the red-brown leaves seemed to swirl in the breeze. "O wild West Wind," Zack murmured, "thou breath of autumn's being." It wasn't always Shakespeare, but it was always good stuff.

Gordon felt her gaze pierce him, and he looked away, conscious that his cheeks were flaming like the setting sun; but by then she had switched her attention to Grace. She responded to her daughter's wave with a brilliant smile. _"That's my mum,"_ Grace told him. _"She's interested in you, too. I'll ask her."_

NOTES

OSTENTATIOUSLY; 'ENJOY-A-BALL' SESSIONS; O WILD WEST WIND, THOU BREATH OF AUTUMN'S BEING

# Chapter 39

An Immaculate Conception

"That's him, Mum," Grace told her. She grasped her hand and they set off to walk home. Vivian Forrester had been brought up in the Welsh countryside and was a strong believer in walking. After all, everywhere is within walking distance if you have the time.

"I know," she replied. "It didn't take long for your paths to cross, did it?" She was glad the meeting had come now, so much earlier than hers had been. She had sensed the fairy trace on the boy who walked beside her daughter. She saw him look up and find her. She saw her daughter look at him and smile. Of course she knew.

Grace could feel her mum's need for the dreamstone. She took the smooth pebble out of her pocket and slipped it into the hand her mum was holding. As it touched her skin, Vivian felt those familiar stirrings. The memories were now more than twelve years old. The stone always put her in touch with the memories. She'd been seventeen. "Tell me all about your day," she said to Grace dreamily. "I want details." She needed to find out as much as possible about that remarkable boy.

Her daughter chattered on about her very interesting day, leaving nothing out as instructed. Vivian even took part in the conversation - asking questions and passing comments - but an important part of her mind had gone back to that fateful day when she went for a walk in the wonderful countryside near where she lived with her parents in Wales. It always did when she touched the stone

Wales has never lost touch with magic. Vivian loved walking on the hills and through the woods around their house. It had been an early spring day, and the meadows were dimpled with morning dew. The air was warm and soft under the climbing sun. There was a bloom and freshness on the land.

Something drew her from the path she normally took. Perhaps it was the way the light slanted through the budding branches of particularly ancient oaks. Perhaps it was the enticing glimpse of that carpet of bluebells, giving the sky some of its colour back. It could have been the seductive scent of lilacs on the breeze, and the thought that just a few would brighten up her bedroom. She didn't deviate far. There was no question of her losing her way.

She followed a narrow track that might have been made by badgers through the ferns, and came to the edge of a hollow. In ancient times, perhaps there'd been a cave or a prehistoric mine that had since collapsed, causing the ground to sink. Its slopes were covered with lilac bushes at their most fragrant. Its floor was a shameless riot of bluebells. It was a magical place: the most enchanting dell she had ever seen.

She stepped into it as if stepping into a different world, all her senses tingling. Veiled in a cloud of fragrance where she stood half-spied among the lilacs, their bushes blushed so thickly that they glowed, while bluebells swayed and danced about her feet. Somehow, she was not surprised when the most attractive young man she had ever seen walked into the dell from the other direction. He smiled his way towards her.

"Hi," he said. "What a place!"

"Yes" she had replied, and smiled back. They were kindred spirits, out walking on their own, drawn as if by magic to the spot, finding each other by chance in a perfect setting. He said he was a visitor from overseas who was falling in love with Wales. His name was Gabriel. She told him hers was Vivian, and it seemed to her that for the first time she had met a boy who was interested in her, not in whom he hoped she was.

He was charming and funny, with perfect teeth. When he offered her an apple and a square of his chocolate it would have been rude to refuse; and soon they were sitting on the bluebell carpet, getting to know one another a little better: two people in a world of their own. When she asked him where was home, he was a little vague; but it was more than enough that he was there with her then. He told her that he hoped she didn't mind him saying that she had about her a purity that he thought was precious. She found she didn't mind at all.

And more and more he was looking into her eyes and she was looking right back into his. His speech was falling-rising to a rhythm that became part of her. He told her that she was more beautiful than the Fairy Queen herself, and he should know, having seen her more than once (I told you he was funny). He had the sort of eyes you could dive into and just float ...

Had she been hypnotised? She only knew that when he took her hand she was no longer in the lilac-scented wood. Instead they were flying together through a magic casement, and over the foam of a perilous sea in fairy lands forlorn. She was sure she was safe, though curiously disconnected from the concerns a sensible girl like her could normally rely on to help her make decisions she would not regret in time.

For sure she was in a curious kind of trance. Things were happening around her, to her, but somehow, she had been robbed of the will to intervene. She knew she had, and knew she didn't mind. She was aware this was odd, because this was her body and her life. She really knew nothing about this beautiful boy. He had come upon her from she didn't know where, but she had never felt so completely alive, either before or since.

When she awoke as if from an enchanted dream, she was back in her hollow, alone in her wood, lying on the blue-belled bank. Her body still tingled, but the boy was gone. There was no evidence that he had ever been there. She could still see his face and hear the sound of his voice casting his spell. Gradually, she came back to the world as it was and sat up. Only then did she realise there was something in her right hand. She looked down and found a perfectly round, smooth stone sitting in her palm. How had it got there? She had no idea. Turning her hand over, she let the pebble drop to the ground.

Instantly the memories began to fade. She could no longer see or hear him. He'd gone. She had a split second in which to make up her mind and was suddenly certain that without that stone he would never have been there. Almost instinctively, she snatched it up again, and the memories came flooding back.

She popped it into her pocket and took it home. She had never seen him again, not up to now. Her memory of him lived on in that stone. Later on, when she had to, she told her parents what had happened. They simply could not imagine what had come over their normally sensible daughter. She had never shown any interest in boys, either before or since; but they loved her without conditions, and knew they could help her cope. They put up with the disappointment that she would not now be going to University.

Grace was born on 25th December.

Vivian's parents lavished the same quality of love on their beautiful new granddaughter. Grace seemed to have inherited all the outward beauty and inner strength and intelligence of her mother. She also had a kind of magic that - knowing nothing of her father - they preferred to think was all her own. Just how much magic, of course, they had no idea. Vivian decided very early on that her daughter's really special qualities had best remain a closely guarded secret - for the present, at any rate.

Zoë was an important early example of these qualities. Vivian had never heard of a child having an imaginary friend before she could even speak. Her path to knowledge of Zoë unfolded much as Edith's had with Zack; but given the strangeness of her brief encounter with Grace's father, the question that kept occurring to Vivian was this: had these qualities been given to their daughter for a reason?

Grace had an uncanny ability to know what people were thinking. Furthermore, the predictions that she always said came from Zoë had so far turned out to be spot on. Then there were her other powers ... Not surprisingly, Vivian came to wonder if she had been chosen to be the mother of Grace. If so, who had chosen her, and who had Grace's father been? Was Grace now on the planet for some purpose?

Vivian's dreamstone evoked precious memories; but more and more, she thought it might have a further, greater purpose. As her remarkable little daughter grew and astonished, Vivian wondered increasingly whether the stone had really been meant for Grace. In her daughter's hand, might it possess a power not within her mother's reach?

Of course, the last thing you give a small child is a smooth round stone that it can fit into its mouth. And there was no point in risking its loss by handing it over before the time was right. About a month ago, Grace had recounted a dream in which she and Zoë were galloping through a forest on a beautiful grey mare. They had come to a glade by a lake, where they'd met an old man who looked like a wizard. When Grace said there was a boy with him, a boy her own age, Vivian began to wonder; but then the old man had touched her daughter's neck with his staff and prophesied that she and the boy would meet again soon.

That was when she gave her the stone.

NOTES

AN IMMACULATE CONCEPTION; THE COLOUR OF AUTUMN; LOSING HER WAY; VEILED IN A CLOUD OF FRAGRANCE; HIS NAME WAS GABRIEL; HE WAS CHARMING AND FUNNY, WITH PERFECT TEETH; THEY WERE FLYING INSTEAD THROUGH A MAGIC CASEMENT

# Chapter 40

Into The Woods

"Where are we going?" Zack asked Gordon. They were flying through a clear, star-spangled night. Beams from a six-day crescent moon were slanting from the east. The west wind whispered through the tops of oaks that towered towards them out of the soft, rich earth.

"I'm not sure," Gordon replied. People often say that when they haven't a clue. "I wondered where Grace was dreaming, and asked the ring to find her." They had barely begun to discover the extent of its powers. His sixteen-greats grandmother's heirloom had led them to Mabon's cairn in Cornwall and a room full of treasure deep within the rock. It had located the Tara Torque under a heap of diamonds. Where was it taking them now?

They were flying high enough to see that the forest stretched to the horizon in all directions. The canopy contained ash, elm and oak. Here and there, they caught the ghostly gleam of silver birch and glimpsed the bending threads of willow dipping on a riverbank. "It's in Britain somewhere," Zack decided, "but in a different time. This is one of the ancient forests that spread north after the last Ice Age. It may even be the Forest of Arden. That would make sense."

The Forest of Arden used to be so dense that even the Romans went around it. Famously, it was a place where fairies went to renew their magic. They cut mistletoe with a golden blade, and planted acorns by a magic spring. Gordon felt his thoughts begin to move with that rhythm that told him fairies were near.

A laser beam of light leapt from the ring and pencilled into a small clearing just ahead of them. They came in low, using the canopy as cover, and landed short of the open space. Taking cover, they peered cautiously around a huge tree.

An extraordinary scene was unfolding on the moonlit ground in front of them. The air was alive with the whirring of wings and the darting of brightly coloured figures less than a metre tall. Fairies were taking their places in one of the best dressed congregations Gordon had ever seen.

He and Zack had arrived just in time. Six identically liveried trumpeters were in a line near the centre of the space. Hovering in formation required a wingbeat so fast that you could hear a drone, not unlike that of bagpipes before they burst into melody. They blew an impressive fanfare on long, silver trumpets, and a stately procession entered the clearing from the other side.

It was led by a white-haired figure dressed in flowing robes. The finest gossamer wings were folded elegantly along his back, and his tall hat was shaped like an archbishop's mitre. He was carrying a golden sickle, which made him look like an upmarket Father Time.

Gordon had seen the Fairy King and Queen once before, in a dream when he was five. What he noticed now, as they followed the white-robed figure into the clearing, was how much older they appeared to be. The king was still resplendent - his crystal crown turned in the air above his head and rainbowed moonbeams - but he walked slowly, with a slight stoop, as if subdued by the weight of age and office. His face and neck were lined, thick-veined with cares. His queen still held herself regally in a restrained robe of lemon yellow silk, but age had withered her too and tolled the knell of parting days.

Both monarchs smiled and nodded as they passed along an aisle formed by rows of sparkling fairies, arrayed in their special-occasion best. The courtiers bowed and curtseyed to their king and queen, solemnifying their passing. From the woods all around came the sweet sound of subtle music. It swelled in waves, melodies mingling and breaking upon the ear. It was as if the forest itself had become an instrument, played only on special occasions.

Zack nudged Gordon. "They're over there!" he whispered, and Gordon felt his heart lurch a little. He spied Grace and Zoë sitting under a tree on the other side of the clearing. Each wore a dress of loosely woven lace, interlaced with blossoms and bright leaves. The foliage hid their wearers in a setting such as this, which may have been why Gordon hadn't spotted them.

In the centre of the clearing was a massive oak. It was of such deep-rooted, aeoned age that Gordon wondered if it might contain a special magic, the kind that went with the old ways. Its leaves were taking on rich autumn colours and dropping in a carpet of layered yellows, crimsons and nut-browns. Clumps of fruiting mistletoe were visible along its branches.

The royal procession came to a halt beside the tree's great trunk. The mitred figure raised both arms. In his right hand the moonstruck sickle glowed. The surrounding symphony sighed to a close and a hush fell over the sacred ground. "Dearly Belovèd," the archbishop said, in a rich baritone, "we are gathered on the sixth day of the moon in Arden's Sacred Grove to witness a Renewal. We ask the God and Goddess of the Oak to smile on us once more."

He raised his eyes towards the crescent moon. "Bestow, we pray, on our beloved King and Queen another lease of life and power. We ask that through them all may live in peace: that we may reap the bounty of this green and pleasant land."

He walked three times around the ancient tree, reciting solemn verses in a language of long ago. Three of his younger, white-robed acolytes flew above the space with smoking thuribles, spreading the heavy scents of fragrant herbs. The king and queen knelt before the tree while their priest flew up to cut the mistletoe with sharp gold and gather it in bunches; after which, he floated back to earth and laid his cuttings on a cloth of silk. No part of the plant which scorns the earth must ever touch the ground.

It was what happened next that caught everyone by surprise.

NOTES

**EVEN THE ROMANS WENT AROUND IT; IN A DREAM WHEN HE WAS FIVE** ; **A RESTRAINED ROBE OF LEMON YELLOW SILK; AGE HAD WITHERED HER TOO; AND TOLLED THE KNELL OF PARTING DAYS; AEONED; SMOKING THURIBLES; TO CUT THE MISTLETOE WITH SHARP GOLD**

# Chapter 41

A Divine Decree

"This night is awe-filled in **another** way," the archbishop announced. He paused, to be sure he had everyone's full attention. "For countless years, an ancient enmity has kept the wonders of this sacred scene a secret from the eyes of humankind."

He had their attention now all right. You could have heard a pin drop.

"But of one thing you may be certain: Gods move in ways that are mysterious."

There was a rustle of alarm. Fairies looked at each other with a wild surmise.

"Here present at our sacred ritual," he thundered, "are children of a **fairy-human** kind. These children bring with them the seeds of hope that our two races may be reconciled. Their presence has been decreed by our own Gods."

All that was missing was a roll on the drums.

"Step forward, Gwythyr and Graslonrwydd!"

This was a turn up for the book! Neither Gordon nor Grace had known that they'd been spotted. They certainly hadn't expected to be catapulted into the limelight in this way, but there was nothing else for it now. Zack and Zoë merged with their young charges and they set off towards the centre of the clearing. It meant that Gordon and Grace were walking down the aisle towards each other from opposite sides of the clearing. There was thinly disguised consternation in the congregation.

"Humans here?" "Is nothing sacred?" "What sorcery is this?" Gordon with his super-hearing picked up the whispered comments as he passed through the rustling throng. Fairies involuntarily flutter their wings when alarmed. The sound reminded him of the flying keys in the film of _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone._

He looked at the small figure of Grace walking towards him and his heart did an involuntary little flutter of its own. She really was spectacular he decided. Then he remembered she could read his mind, and did his best to think of something else. She was smiling at him, and he saw her snap her head into a self-possessed angle. _"Smile,"_ she advised, _"you're on television."_

He resolved to show those muttering fairies how dignified a "fairy-human" could be. They reached the centre and stood behind the kneeling king and queen. The gently-smiling priest raised his right hand and made the sign of the five-pointed star. This was a cue for all fairies present to do the same.

"We welcome this young Aislinn witch and wizard, guided as they have been by our Gods to this sacred place," the archbishop said loudly. His voice stretched to the farthest reaches of the assembled host. "If any present knows of a just cause why these two fairy-humans, touched by Gods we hold most dear, should not now play their part in our proceedings, speak now, or forever hold your peace."

There was a second of tense silence.

"YES, **I** DO!" called a harsh voice from the crowd.

A thin, dark figure rose above the throng with a buzz of spiteful wings. This fairy had the sallow features of one who spent considerable amounts of time underground. His nose was hooked and his mouth split his face from ear to ear. There was more than a touch of hobgoblin about him.

"I represent the Kernow Branch of the UFFK," he cried, his voice grating with fury. "Some of you may not be familiar with the vital work performed on your behalf by the United Federation of Fairy Knockers." He glared around the congregation. "I think I can safely speak for all of my members when I say no human has any place here!"

He pointed an accusing finger at Gordon and Grace. "Humans take the iron and the coal, the tin and most of all the gold from our ground. They slash the soil, cut down our blessed oaks!" The finger began to wag. "Those who despoil the earth so grievously should not come near the sacred mistletoe!"

He turned slowly as he spoke, to ensure that all who listened were taken in. "They will pollute our proceedings! This priest is meddling with our tried and trusted ways!" His voice took on a mournful, sombre tone. "If these human children stay, you mark my words, our Gods will punish us and all will fail!"

Gordon couldn't help wondering what the reaction would be if the Archbishop of Canterbury were to interrupt the proceedings of a Royal Wedding to announce that God himself had recently been in touch and arranged for two miraculously-begotten humangels to fly in and represent him. The clamour rose as arguments went flying back and forth within the throng.

It gave Gordon time to take a little more notice of the differences in the fairies around him. They appeared from the wonderful variety of their costumes to have come from many lands. Maybe some were there to represent others from the different flights of fairy life. Perhaps there were members of foreign royal families, and leaders from amongst the most powerful and influential fairy societies around the globe.

Grace looked upset. _"Should we just go?"_ she telepathed to Gordon; _"I don't want to be where I'm not wanted."_ The priest raised both his arms in an obvious appeal for calm, but the gesture went unnoticed by many in the fiercely muttering throng. The King rose to his feet and turned to face the children. He recognised Gordon immediately and smiled. Then he stretched an arm towards the six-day moon. A bolt of lightning rent the sky above the clearing; Gordon heard it tear. The simultaneous clap of thunder shook the ground, rolling through that packed space.

All fairies present dropped to one knee and bowed their heads. Gordon and Grace did the same. "I know this boy," the king announced in a quiet voice that was perfectly audible. It surrounded the congregation, as if relayed through speakers in the trees. "He is no normal child." All fluttering ceased. He had their full attention.

"We owe him and another knight, Sir Zack, our grateful thanks," the king went on. "They vanquished a worm the like of which no fairy eye has seen before or since. In might and girth this dragon was so huge that all who saw it quailed in fear and awe."

He paused to let his audience imagine the worst dragon they had never seen. "The creature was dissolved before the eyes of one who saw this child summon the rain to put out its fire, calm its rage and send it in a glow out of our world."

_"I didn't know anyone was watching,"_ Gordon telepathed to Zack.

_"You're unlikely to see a fairy who doesn't want to be seen,"_ Zack thought back.

_"I wish I'd been there,"_ Grace said. There was a hint of admiration in her voice. Gordon was about to protest that it had been nothing really \- just him and Zack sending a diplodocus back to the Jurassic - but the king was speaking again.

"And not content with just ONE mighty deed, he and Sir Zack with calm and steadfast strength stood between my castle and an ogre full twenty times their size. It roared with rage; but using power past the wit of men, they conquered it with unassuming ease." He stared out at the subdued congregation and issued an order. "Honour him now, and welcome them courteously!"

This announcement was greeted with silence. There seemed no doubt the king would be obeyed; but obedience and accord are not the same. Gordon decided a demonstration was in order. _"A lot of these fairies aren't convinced,"_ Grace whispered in his head. He smiled at her.

_"Take my hand."_ She did so, and to murmurs of amazement, they rose into the air and hovered above the astonished crowd without the need of wings. He would show that fairy knocker how unwise it was to leap to conclusions based on ignorance and prejudice.

Amazement turned to awe when Gordon raised his left hand. Light streamed from his God-Father's ring to illuminate the Tara Torque floating in the air in front of him. Both items are enshrined in fairy lore, and recognised by fairies everywhere. "You can all see," he said "that I wear Mabon's ring. Know that your sacred torque has chosen **me**."

His voice too came from every direction, out of the trees and dropping from the sky like the quality of mercy, never strained. "We are here for a reason, all of us." He didn't elaborate on what the reason was, largely because he didn't have a clue. He was sure there was one though. There's a reason for everything.

He and a speechless Grace completed one circuit of the circle. The torque floated in front of them, lit by the light of the ring. No fairy seeing that could doubt the truth of what he'd said. The king motioned everyone to their feet as Gordon and Grace floated back to earth. He handed Grace and Gordon an acorn each from the oak they stood beneath. "These acorns may be planted in your world," he declared in a ringing tone, "wherever there is need of a proud oak. Do it in memory of our ancient tree."

They nodded solemnly. Gordon knew he could count on his parents to help him with that assignment. He saw no reason why Grace's mothers would not be equally willing. Maybe it was something they could do this coming weekend.

Again, the archbishop made the sign of the endless knot, the five-pointed star. "There is hope that our two species may at last be reconciled," he said. "This planet that we share can be repaired." His Majesty turned and knelt once more beside his queen, and the priest resumed the ceremony. "Once more we thank thee, Spirits of the Oak, for showing us the way. Please send us now the force that keeps us strong. O grant our wish that all now here may see their sovereign majesties made young again!"

He handed Gordon the sickle with the golden blade. "BEHOLD!" he cried, "If any doubt still lingers, see how the Gods assuage it!" Leaning towards him, he whispered: "Use it to strike the earth in any spot you choose."

Gordon drifted from under the shadow of the oak. The watching fairies fluttered out of range, clearing a broad circle of ground lit by the moon. A narrow beam gleamed from his ring to spotlight the earth, as it had done when he was looking for the entrance to Mabon's Cairn. At the same time, he felt the sickle twitch towards the ground. That had to be the spot.

Carefully he raised the blade above his head and let it fall. It buried itself smoothly in the loam. For a moment, there was a palpable stillness ... then the ground began to tremble. There was a rumbling sound beneath their feet. Water began to bubble around the blade.

He drew it out and the ground around it sank, making a bowl that filled rapidly. It had a small fountain in the middle. And suddenly, the air was filled with the most wonderful music: many voices, each singing a different note. The chords merged and melted behind a haunting tune played on a set of pan pipes. The whole effect was ... magical.

The priest chose two bright sprigs of mistletoe and dipped them in the bubbling, moonlit spring. The king and queen still knelt as if in prayer while he sprinkled cool drops upon their heads and gave them each the moistened sprigs to hold. Row by row the congregation came forward, each fairy fluttering in turn towards the priest. He handed each an acorn from the oak, making the sign and speaking the same blessing over each one. Each dipped their prize into the magic spring. Presumably the intention was to plant them wherever they saw fit, once they had returned to their own region of fairyland.

When all the fairies were back in their rows, the priest indicated that Gordon and Grace should also dip their acorns into the bubbling spring. They did so, hoping that they would also have the blessing and approval of the God and Goddess of the Oak.

A God is still a God. What's in a name?

The crowning moment had come. The king and queen each pressed their moistened acorn in the ground. Turning to each other, they renewed their vows in the time-honoured way of both fairies and humans. As their lips met, they were surrounded by a spangled glow of magic at its most powerful. Moments later, its healing and rejuvenating powers absorbed, they emerged smiling, youthful and radiant. The queen was once again the most beautiful fairy Gordon had ever seen.

Both king and queen held out their arms to the fairy-human children and hugged them both. News of that embrace would travel far. "Your Majesties," Grace said, "I hope you will agree before we leave to meet my closest friend, without whom I would not have found my way."

"Summon her child, the pleasure will be ours," the queen assured her. It was the first time they had heard her speak, and it made Gordon want to hear her sing.

"And you, Sir Gordon Gwythyr," the king said, his eyes twinkling. "Might it be that brave Sir Zack is somewhere near at hand?"

_"Get out here Zack and take a bow,"_ Gordon thought. Grace must have issued the same invitation to Zoë, for their alter egos emerged simultaneously. There were gasps of amazement from fairies who had never seen the like. Zack bowed low, whipping off one of those flat hats worn by doctors of philosophy on ceremonial occasions at the best universities. It looked more than a little incongruous on one so young. Gordon did his best to hide his smile. Zoë was rather more demure in her autumn blossoms dress. As she curtseyed, the colours of the flowers in her hair merged with the fallen leaves beneath the oak.

"The young must inherit the Earth," the king said. "We owe you much, and hope to owe you more before the end."

"We share that hope, Sire," Zoë assured him. "We'll do our best to serve you, and all those who would make good of bad and friends of foes." Gordon recognised a quotation when he heard one. He shot a glance at Zack who was grinning broadly. Zoë was clearly a kindred spirit.

"The meet is ended. Go your ways in peace," the archbishop declared, and the air filled with the flutter of bright wings, like the shimmer of migrating butterflies. The story of this momentous night would be told far and wide. Furthermore, it would grow in the telling, as stories always do.

A lot was asked of Gwythyr and Graslonrwydd, but that was all right; or it would be once Gordon and Grace had had a good night's sleep. Fortunately, they did not need flights of angels to sing them to that rest. Zack and Zoë were equal to the task.

NOTES

LOOKED AT EACH OTHER WITH A WILD SURMISE; THE SIGN OF THE ENDLESS KNOT; UNITED FEDERATION OF FAIRY KNOCKERS; HUMANGEL; RIDDING OUR LAND OF A FIERY WORM; DROPPING FROM THE SKY LIKE THE QUALITY OF MERCY, NOT STRAINED; ASSUAGE; A GOD IS STILL A GOD. WHAT'S IN A NAME; ONCE AGAIN THE MOST BEAUTIFUL FAIRY GORDON HAD EVER SEEN; INCONGRUOUS; THOSE WHO WOULD MAKE GOOD OF BAD, AND FRIEND OF FOES; FLIGHTS OF ANGELS TO SING THEM TO THAT REST

# Chapter 42

Over-Exposed

Gordon opened his eyes reluctantly. Zack was already dressed and doing pec stretches: elbow jabs, then arm sweeps to either side. A normal person doing that in a small bedroom would have to be careful not to knock something over. Zack's arms simply went through anything that got in the way. Gordon found it curious that his alter-ego felt the need to exercise when he didn't actually have a body as such.

Their bedroom door was already open. His mum had just said something about Sleeping Beauty's bottom being off that bed and into that bathroom. "You're keen," he commented. Zack had switched to overhead straight-arm claps at the same time as star jumps. CLAP - THUMP - CLAP - THUMP. "Do you have to?"

"You should try it," Zack told him. He took deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth. "Wakes you up in the morning."

"Yes, well you carry on. It's not every night you make centre stage at a royal event. How do you think we did?"

His dad appeared at the doorway. "Up! NOW please, young man. You can't lie there talking to yourself all morning."

Oops.

_"Impressive, interesting, stunning,"_ Zack telepathed while Gordon stumbled into the bathroom to do all those things their body needed done. _"YOU weren't bad either."_

_"'ery 'unny,"_ Gordon telepathed back. It's curious how hard it is to telepath initial consonants when you're cleaning your teeth. He had a quick rinse and spat out. _"Did the ring bring us back?"_

_"No need. I followed Zoë." CLAP - THUMP - CLAP. "Grace has a stone that transports them to dream-places." THUMP - CLAP - THUMP. "Afterwards it goes back to_ _wherever Grace's mother is."_

By now, Zack was panting from his exertions. He switched to arm stretches and touching his toes. _"We got back to theirs and I peeled off and tucked us in."_ Zack always got them home after a dream. It was their normal pattern. Whenever Gordon ran out of mental energy, Zack took over.

Gordon clattered back into the bedroom and scrambled out of his pyjamas. _"Good Morning, Gordon."_ Grace had caught him at an inopportune moment. He gave a little shriek and dived for the cover of his duvet. _"What's the matter? You've gone all shy. Aren't you up yet?"_

_"YES. I was just ... getting dressed."_ Of course she couldn't see him.

_"OH!"_ He heard a distinct giggle. _"Cool pyjamas!"_ She was just kidding.

_"Have you two got your acorn as well?"_ Zoë wanted to know. Gordon scrambled into his clothes. _"We do, don't we?"_ he asked Zack.

Zack raised an eyebrow. _"Does the Pope have a balcony?"_ he asked. It was his standard reply when Gordon asked a question he thought unnecessary.

_"That was an amazing dream,"_ Grace telepathed. _"Maybe we can go into the country at the weekend and find somewhere perfect to plant our acorns."_

_"Great!"_ Gordon exclaimed. _"You work on your mum and I'll work on mine. Can we make sure they meet this morning? Maybe by the front gate?"_

"OK. Breakfast's ready. See you."

"ON THE TABLE!" his mum shouted up. She was keen for him to get a move on.

His dad didn't know about Grace yet. His mum hadn't told him. She needed time to think.

There was a lot Edith hadn't told Victor. For example, he didn't know about his son's out-of-body experience on his eleventh birthday. Edith was afraid he would think there was something seriously wrong, and want to refer Gordon to a psychiatrist that specialised in split personalities. After all, if Dr Jekyll was anything to go by ...

Grace showing up in Gordon's spirit-journey to Avalon had been one thing. Grace showing up at his new school was quite another. After their summer holiday, Edith was still trying to get to grips with the discovery that Zack was still very much a part of Gordon. Now she had to get her head around Zoë as well.

Victor always wanted evidence. That went with his job. But to be fair, he didn't deny the evidence of his own senses. When they were on holiday in Cornwall, he had seen that Hall of Mirrors in the middle of the village fair, and it had disappeared by the time he got back with the ice-creams. When Gordon had said he would prove there were ghosts in the room, Victor had suddenly been colder than he'd ever been in his life. And how else could Gordon have known about that underground passageway between their holiday cottage and Mellingford Hall? The skeletons and the written account were hard evidence that would stand up in any court.

Edith had almost gone mad when Gordon disappeared on his birthday, leaving Zack in charge of his body. She would give anything to stop that happening again. However, she knew her husband very well. If she told him everything that Gordon had told her, he would want to do something practical. The only practical things she could think of would almost certainly have serious consequences for their son, and she didn't want that. She definitely did not want that.

Gordon was bright and kind and sensitive and good fun. She loved him to bits, and she knew Victor did too. She couldn't bear the thought that anyone might think their extraordinary son was ... well, "seriously delusional". There were worse ways of putting it, like "weird", "mad", "bonkers", "off his trolley", "out to lunch", "away with the fairies." She flinched. That last one was too close for comfort.

As soon as the front door closed on his dad, Gordon raised the subject of Grace and the weekend. Edith found herself really wanting to slow things down. "Does it have to be so soon?" she asked. "I mean, you only met her yesterday. We don't really know anything about them yet, do we? What's her mother going to say? How much does her mum know - about Zoë, and things?"

"Zack, can you check with Zoë how much their mum knows?" Gordon was finishing off his cornflakes. He didn't bother with telepathy any more when it was just him and Zack and his mum. Edith had actually got to talk to Zack herself on his eleventh birthday. Since then, she had wanted to know what Gordon and Zack were talking about whenever they were on their own with her.

"I didn't just meet her yesterday, Mum," he reminded her. "I told you, I met her a month ago, with Zoë, in Avalon."

"Yes, but that was hardly meeting her, was it? I mean, your bodies weren't there."

Gordon looked puzzled. It was true that when people met, their bodies were usually there; but wasn't it the minds that did the meeting? Don't people talk about 'a meeting of minds'? "It completely felt like a meeting," he told his mum. "I could see her and she could see me. We could hear each other when we spoke. Myrddin told us our paths would cross, and we recognised each other when they did."

"OK," his mum agreed. "I'll grant you there are things about that that I don't understand; but you've only just met her in our world." Gordon nodded. That was undeniable. "And we still don't know what her mother will think."

"We do now," Gordon said, getting up from the table and going for his coat. "Grace tells her everything. She knows all about Zoë, and so does her other mum, Elaine."

Edith followed him into the hallway. "How can you possibly know that?" she said. "What other mum?!"

"Zoë just told Zack," Gordon informed her cheerfully. "Grace's real mum is Vivian, and she lives with another lady called Elaine. They both know all about Zoë, and about them meeting me in Avalon, and everything. Come on, coat on; we're going to be late."

His mum grabbed her coat. She had that feeling again: that it was all beyond her control. "One thing at a time," she said to him. "First, **how** did Zoë tell Zack already?"

"Telepathy," Gordon said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. To him it was like picking up the phone without having to pick up the phone. "Grace and I have had a chat today already." Edith felt her knees weaken, along with her resolve. She tugged the front door open with the distinct impression she was being swept along on a tide.

"There is a tide in the affairs of men which taken at the flood leads on to fortune," Gordon informed her as they got into the car. Oh, for heaven's sake! Could he read her mind, now?

"What about the affairs of women?" his mum asked, bristling slightly. "And don't tell me. He's quoting the Bard again."

"Got it in one," said Gordon. He turned on the radio and his mum jumped. It was eerily like a Steven King movie when the radio came on like that without anyone apparently touching it.

"And Zack was there when he wrote it, I know," she went on. "Why this weekend? Why not next weekend, or the weekend after?" One part of her wanted more time to think the whole thing through while another part knew that was daft. As if such a whole thing could ever be "thought through".

"I'll tell you why later," Gordon promised. Edith had stopped the car: Nick only lived around the corner and was waiting on the pavement for them. He hopped in and the conversation turned to whether they'd remembered their PE kit, and what they might choose for lunch.

When they got to school it was much busier than it had been the day before. The other 900+ children came back today. They were pouring in through the gates, clambering out of cars and getting off an impressive number of buses. Today the new year 7's could really **see** that they had gone from being the oldest and biggest in their old school to being the youngest and smallest in their new one. Grace and her mum were waiting by the gate.

"Hello," Edith said, as she shook Vivian's hand. Grace was a pretty girl, very like her mother.

"Hi," Vivian said. Her smile lit up those emerald eyes. "Finally. It's such a relief to meet somebody in the same boat."

"Oh, **isn't** it?!" Edith agreed, the weight on her shoulders lightening suddenly. "Gordon, why don't you and Nick and Grace go on in? Grace's mum and I need a few minutes to ourselves."

"Come on," was the simultaneous advice given by Zack and Zoë. "Let's leave them to it." They hadn't got far into the playground when Gordon noticed Grace's eyes were brimming. _"What's the matter?"_ he asked, suddenly concerned.

She smiled. _"It's nothing really. I just know what my mum is feeling. I try not to know, but I always do."_

Gordon turned to look at their mothers, and saw they had their arms wrapped around each other. They were enjoying the most comforting hug either of them had had in a long time.

NOTES

AN INOPPORTUNE MOMENT; THERE IS A TIDE IN THE AFFAIRS OF MEN WHICH TAKEN AT THE FLOOD LEADS ON TO FORTUNE

# Chapter 43

Knickers Island

Nick began telling Gordon about the cracking dream he'd had last night. "You didn't show up this time," he joked. "I was looking out for you."

The first time Gordon had turned up in one of his dreams had been a few months ago. Nick had found himself piloting a starship called _Velociraptor_ and Gordon had been the captain. They went through a wormhole and ended up on a planet run by gorillas.

Since then, Gordon had played a big part in his most interesting dreams. Of course, Nick thought they were his dreams and that Gordon had been in them because he was his best friend. He didn't know that Gordon was regularly hijacking him, and that they were Gordon's and Zack's dreams in the first place.

"Sorry," Gordon said. "I was busy last night. Maybe next time." It made a change not to have a clue what Nick had been dreaming about.

"You'd have liked this one!" Nick told him. "I was captain of a pirate ship named _The White Opal_."

"Less evil than _The Black Pearl_ ," Gordon commented. Nick was seriously into pirates.

"Yes," Nick agreed. "We were good pirates. We only robbed baddies, and we gave all the swag back to the people they'd taken it from." Nick was nothing if not virtuous. "The worst pirate was a heartless villain called Klepto Kieran. He was captain of the _Smash and Grab_."

"Nice," said Gordon. He wouldn't have minded being in that dream, had he had the chance.

"Yeah," Nick said, "Wait 'til you hear! He had a first mate called Dastardly Dean, and his crew were known as 'The Toe-Rags'. They'd robbed a ship carrying supplies for earthquake victims."

Yep, that sounded like Kieran and Dean all right.

"Anyway," - Nick was eager to get on with his story - "they hid all their loot on an island in the middle of the Caribbean. It was called Knickers Island, and it was owned by a billionaire who'd made a fortune selling jars of pickle."

Zack snorted. "Where did that come from?" Gordon asked Nick.

"No idea. Anyway, no one else knew where Klepto and his crew were stashing the stuff."

"How did you know?" Gordon was genuinely interested.

Nick grinned. "I stole his treasure map! It was in the pocket of his greatcoat. He'd had too much to drink and someone had hit him over the head."

Binge drinking followed by random violence - the average pirate's idea of a good night out. According to Gordon's dad, the police arrested a fair number of them at the weekends - in the middle of Chester, when the clubs let out.

"So we followed the map and found the island! There was absolutely no danger. The _Smash and Grab_ had long gone. Klepto had no idea I'd got his map."

"How did the dream end?" Gordon asked him.

"We loaded the treasure on to our ship and sailed to where the earthquake victims were. We gave it all to them."

"I'd like to have seen his face when he found out it was gone," Gordon said, entering into the spirit.

"Yeah, brilliant," Nick breathed. It said something for his confidence that he'd got the better of Kieran, even if it had only been in a dream.

They saw the lad himself slouch in through the gate. He looked hurt and rough. Gordon zoomed in. There was a bruise coming up on Kieran's cheekbone. That hadn't been there when he left school last night. _"His older brother did it,"_ Grace told him. _"His dad gets drunk and hits him as well."_

Edith drove home with a new resolve. This situation had to be faced, but she felt so much stronger knowing that she was not the only one facing it.

Vivian told Elaine everything, so she always had someone to talk things over with. Victor was a great husband and a wonderful dad. He deserved to know the truth. Maybe he hadn't always been that observant around Gordon, but he had a lot on his mind and he was out at work all day. He didn't know his son half as well as she did. She'd been with Gordon for practically every waking moment of his life - until he started going to school.

She grimaced to herself. How would Victor react when they told him tonight? There was no going back: she'd made her mind up. She needed him to know. He would listen, separate fact from supposition, want to know what hard evidence there was to back up their claims. That way of doing things had got him to the rank of Detective Inspector at a relatively young age. At least he wouldn't jump to conclusions.

She reached home, parked the car, opened her front door and headed for the kitchen. On the way, she passed the antique mirror they had brought back from Cornwall. When she had happened to mention how young the mirror made her feel, the Davenports had offered it to her as a small memento. It now had pride of place in their hall.

She stopped to look into it, as she often did; and as usual, she felt a dreamy contentment steal over her. No other mirror had ever had that effect. She spoke to it, as you do sometimes, when you're on your own looking at yourself looking at you looking at you. 'Mirror mirror, on the wall ...' "We're going to tell him," she told her reflection. "It's time we did."

Her image shimmered and dissolved, to be replaced by her mum and gran. They looked back at her, smiling like they had in that Hall of Mirrors on the Green at Little Melling. That had been only a month ago. "Good for you, Edie," her mum said. "You're doing the right thing."

"He's a lovely boy," her gran added. "We're so proud of you both."

Edith smiled at them as the image dissolved in her tears. Only little tears this time. She was learning to take the unexpected in her stride. It was a real bonus seeing her mum and gran in that mirror. She felt surrounded by support - from them, from Vivian and from Gordon himself. She was sure she would soon be able to add her husband to that list, and could hardly wait for him to come home.

She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and put the kettle on.

NOTES

**THE** Y **WENT THROUGH A WORMHOLE; KLEPTO KIERAN; WHERE DID THAT COME FROM?**

# Chapter 44

Practice Makes Perfect

Mrs Peters was also their English teacher for that first term. The English Department didn't set in year 7 until after Christmas. In their very first English lesson, she said she needed to build up an accurate picture of where everyone was up to with their reading and writing. She asked all those who had their own reading book with them to put their hand up. Gordon was surprised and delighted to see Tom's hand in the air. Owen had bought Tom a DK Eyewitness book called _SOLDIER_ , and they were reading it together. It was in his bag.

Owen had been his dad's best mate in the army. They'd been side by side in Helmand Province when a sniper's bullet had killed his dad. Now Owen was helping him and his mum come to terms with their loss. He'd told them how much Mike used to talk about them both, and how proud he was of them. Tom still carried a toy soldier in his pocket. It spoke to him sometimes, as if his dad was sending him a message. It had told him to stop hating and to start learning. It had persuaded him to let Gordon help him with his reading.

He wrapped his hand around the soldier now, and looked up to see Gordon smiling at him. He gave him a nod and a quick smile back. Gordon was a bit of a weirdo in some ways - always talking to an imaginary friend when he was smaller - but somehow, it was easier to read when he sat next to you. The pictures came to life.

Tom had discovered that reading was like anything else: you got better at it with practice. You can't expect to be good at anything if you don't practise. With practice, it got easier to remember the shapes words made. He went from one syllable words like 'tank' and 'gun' to two syllable ones like 'battle' and 'combat'. He was almost ready for three syllable words like 'ballistic' and 'enemy', and even longer ones like 'helicopter' and 'fortification.' It wouldn't be long before he would be able to read compound adjectives like 'semi-automatic' and 'thermo-nuclear'. After that would come word clusters like 'intercontinental ballistic missile' and 'friendly fire', and whole phrases like 'acceptable levels of collateral damage'.

It was kids like Gordon and Nick that a good soldier like him should be protecting. He gave his toy soldier an extra squeeze. He'd be having words with anyone who tried to pick on them. If anyone was looking for somebody to pick on, he would tell them they were welcome to try picking on him. He was already into boxing and karate. Owen had promised to show him some of the unarmed combat moves the Special Forces guys used.

Mrs Peters wanted everyone to write a piece on something special that had happened in their lives. She gave them 30-40 minutes to do that, and then she was going to collect them in to make her own notes on their handwriting, spelling, punctuation, quantity and quality. Quiet talking was allowed, and they could ask each other for help.

Miranda decided to write about having been a bridesmaid at her father's recent wedding. "My dad says every wedding is like a fairy tale," she told Grace, "with the bride and groom hoping to live happily ever after."

"What was your dress like?"

"Lovely - full-length satin with a netted skirt. The bodice was plain and the skirt was gathered in bunches. It was white with a blue sash, and I had a blue bag to match."

Nick rolled his eyes at Gordon, even though in his dream last night he had kitted himself out in a splendid, swashbuckling outfit befitting a pirate of his rank. He was writing about the boxed set of _Pirates of the Caribbean_ films he'd got for his birthday. He could write about that for hours. "At least it wasn't pink," he said.

The two girls turned cool eyes on him, and Gordon felt a little sorry for him in advance. "We both think you'd look gorgeous in one of those outfits they dress pageboys in at posh weddings, don't we Miranda?" Grace asked her.

"Irresistible," Miranda said, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"They look like cissies," Nick said, blushing furiously.

"At least they aren't **pink** ," Grace said sweetly. "Anyway, you don't think they look like cissies. You think they look like posh pirates." "No I don't," he said, lying desperately. That had to have been a lucky guess on Grace's part.

"I saw a lovely dress recently," Gordon said without looking up. He was writing about the wonderful day he'd had at _The Eden Project_ , leaving out the bit about Avalon and meeting the pretty girl sitting opposite him.

"What was it like?" Miranda asked him curiously.

"Lace, covered with blossom," he said dreamily. "The girl who wore it had the same blossom in her hair. She was sitting under a tree and blending in. All you saw was a girl-shaped patch of flowers."

He looked up to see Miranda staring at him, her eyes like saucers. "Where did you see that?" she asked him.

"At a kind of wedding," he told her. "You're right: they are all like fairy tales."

Grace didn't look up from her writing; but it was her turn to have turned pink.

NOTES

IT HAD TOLD HIM TO STOP HATING

# Chapter 45

To Tell Or Not To Tell?

"You don't have to work after dinner, do you?" Edith asked Victor.

"No," he said. "Why?"

"Because," she said, taking a deep breath, "we need a family conference." He looked immediately concerned.

"What's happened?"

"Nothing," she said. This wasn't going to be easy. "Actually, a lot. I haven't talked to you before because I didn't know how to. I wasn't even sure if there was any point."

"You've got me worried now," he told her. "What's it all about?"

"It's about Gordon: the way he is, the way he's always been. He's a very special child. I don't just mean special to us, of course he's special to us. I mean special on any scale, by any standards."

Victor sat down, his face the colour of stone. "What's wrong with him?"

"There's nothing wrong with him. In fact, I think there is more right with him than with any other child in the whole world. I think he's unique, and I haven't always shared with you all the ways in which he's unique because I didn't want you to think he was ... 'abnormal'."

"So why are you telling me now?" Victor asked her. Something had happened; something must have happened.

Edith grabbed his hands. "Another child has turned up in his class, a girl called Grace. She's special in some of the same ways. Her mother's name is Vivian, and they want us to get together this weekend." She looked into his eyes, hoping for approval. "Vivian and her partner know all about Grace's ... special qualities. I think it would be really good for us to meet and talk. We can't do that if I haven't told you everything beforehand."

Victor took a deep breath in through his mouth and exhaled it heavily through his nose. "OK. After dinner? With Gordon?" Edith nodded, her heart thumping.

Gordon had heard every word. His mum had told him it was time to tell his dad, and said she wanted to do so tonight after dinner. When his dad came in, he gave him a hug and went up to his bedroom to let his mum broach the subject.

Zack stayed downstairs, which is how Gordon was able to hear everything that was said. It wasn't as if he was spying. He knew they were going to be talking about him, and he had his own decisions to make - because there was quite a lot about his special qualities his mum didn't know.

_"Let's talk now,"_ he telepathed to Zack. Zack was back with him in a flash, his eyes full of sympathy. This family "conference" was always going to happen sometime. Grace turning up had merely brought it forward. _"What do you think?"_ Gordon asked him. They were at a crossroads. Which direction should they take?

Zack shrugged. "You could tell your dad some of it," he said, slowly, "and ask him to believe you, to believe **in** you."

_"Ask him to have faith in me,"_ Gordon said.

"Yes."

Difficult. Imaginary friends fade away when a child gets older. If they don't, parents need a reason with a name, like schizophrenia or personality disorder. If a child has an out-of-body experience, parents will want to label it. They might call it epilepsy or catatonia. They want answers to such questions as: "Why is my child talking to an alter-ego, seeing ghosts, being summoned to the Land of the Dead to talk to a wizard? Why is he doing favours for fairies?"

Parents need logical explanations.

"The trouble is, you can't prove it," Zack added. "That's why your mum has found it so hard to talk to your dad before now."

_"There are some things I_ _can_ _prove,"_ Gordon said.

"Yes, there are."

_"Let's do it,"_ Gordon said eagerly. He'd kept so much to himself for such a long time.

"OK," said Zack, slowly. "We'll do it." He didn't sound too sure.

Conversation was a little awkward during dinner. When everyone knows there is big talk in the offing, small talk gets self-conscious. "How was school?" his dad asked him.

"Good," Gordon said.

"What did you do?"

"In English, we wrote about something interesting that had happened in our lives."

"Ah," said his dad. "Did you write about our adventures at the cottage?"

Gordon shook his head. "No, that's our secret. I wrote about visiting _The Eden Project_ on my birthday, but not about ..." He paused and looked at his mum, His dad raised an eyebrow and his mum gave her head a little shake.

"After dinner," she said.

"Ah," said his dad.

Nobody wanted to eat much. They cleared up in silence, then sat in the sitting room and stared solemnly at each other. "Right," said Victor, to get the ball rolling. "You have things to tell me. I'm all ears."

"Let me start, Gordon," his mum said. She decided to start at the beginning. It is commonly thought to be a very good place to start. "You know that from the beginning Gordon has had what we thought was an imaginary friend."

His dad nodded patiently. "Yes, and he grew out of it when he was four, just like you said he would." He smiled at Gordon.

"No, he didn't Sweetie. I thought that's what was happening, but that's what they wanted us to think. What really happened was that Zack and Gordon decided it would be better if Zack went undercover."

Victor looked incredulous. " **Undercover?** This is a four-year-old we're talking about. How does a four-year-old's imaginary friend go undercover?"

"We used telepathy" Gordon said. "We still do. I'm really good at it now."

His dad looked exasperated. "Oh come on, Edith. You're not going to tell me you believe this 'Zack' actually exists, other than as a figment of Gordon's imagination?! Of course they can talk to each other inside Gordon's head! We all hear language in our heads: it's called 'thinking'." He looked sternly at his wife. "When that turns into hearing voices and being told what to do by those voices, then it's time to get help."

He turned to Gordon who was sitting very still and staring at his dad. "I'm sorry, Gordon, but in my line of work I come across people who have done terrible things. They often say they did them because a voice in their head told them to. I'm not saying that would ever happen with you. I know you're only eleven and you're a very bright boy, but we have to get this 'Zack' thing under control."

Gordon glanced up at Zack, who was standing with his arms folded, looking a bit sad. "We do have to show him," Zack said.

"Yes, we do," Gordon said.

"Good!" his dad said. "I'm glad you agree."

Gordon smiled at both his parents. "Remember in the cottage: when you couldn't see the ghosts and I said I'd show you they were there?"

They both nodded. The memory still made Victor shiver a little. He'd had many a conversation with himself since about what else might have caused him to have that reaction. After all, he hadn't actually seen anything.

"Well, Zack is here now, and I'm going to show you he's here."

"I'm not going to go freezing cold again, am I?" his dad asked. He looked over both shoulders apprehensively.

"No, Dad," Gordon told him. "Zack isn't a ghost." He turned to his mum. "I'm sorry Mum, but there are things even you don't know yet about Zack and me." His mum bit her lip to stop it quivering. She grabbed Victor's hand. "It's all right; honestly, it's all right," Gordon assured them. "We didn't want to worry you before."

They saw him glance up to his right and smile. Edith squeezed her husband's hand. "That's where Zack is standing, right now," she whispered.

"NO, EDITH!" Victor said loudly, almost angrily. He got to his feet. "We have to stop this."

"Sit down, Dad, please," Gordon asked him. "This won't take long." His dad sighed and sat down again. He had contacts at work. There were people whose advice he could seek: profilers, behavioural psychologists. There were drugs ...

"I want to thank Mum for believing in Zack," Gordon said, "and I want to say, Dad, that I don't blame you for not believing in him in the way Mum does. But before I show you that he is here, will you promise not to tell anyone about it, other than Vivian and Elaine?"

"Grace's parents," Edith whispered, not taking her eyes off Gordon.

"Look, son," his dad said. "This stuff is just a teeny-weeny bit scary. I can't promise never to talk to anyone else about it if I thought it was necessary. You have to know I only want the best for you?"

Gordon nodded, and found his eyes filling up. He loved his parents **so** much. "I do know that Dad. I know you'll do what you think is best for me. It's just that what I'm going to show you ..."

"We promise," his mum said. "Damnit, Victor, we promise. Let him **show** us!"

"OK, son, OK," his dad said quickly, "we promise." His wife was clearly on the edge. Gordon was still young, for God's sake. Why not suspend judgement for the time being? Maybe Gordon could give him a better idea just what it was they were dealing with.

"Thanks, Dad," Gordon said eagerly. "I'm really glad I can show you both now." Edith saw her son's eyes go back to where she knew Zack was standing. "Zack," he said, "could you get me a banana from the fruit bowl on the dresser, please?"

A low cry came from somewhere deep inside Edith's chest, and a new planet swam into Victor's ken. "O Jesus Christ," he said quietly as he watched the banana rise from the fruit bowl and cross the room towards Gordon's outstretched hand.

NOTES

SCHIZOPHRENIA; CATATONIA; A NEW PLANET SWAM INTO VICTOR'S KEN

# Chapter 46

Taking It On Board

A whole new ball game. "How long," Victor said slowly, "have you been able to do that?"

"Zack's always been able to do it," Gordon told them. "I first did something like it when Tom came around here. I was nearly four. After that, Zack started training me. I'm still learning how to control it. It's called 'telekinesis'. It's getting stronger."

"Oh, my darling," Edith said. "And you've kept it a secret all this time."

"It wasn't very hard," Gordon said modestly. "People don't think you can do something that can't be done - normally, that is."

"You say it's getting stronger. How strong?" his dad wanted to know.

Gordon looked at the sofa they were sitting on. "No, OK," he said.

"No, OK what?" his dad asked him.

"Zack said not to freak you out too much; so maybe just this." He rose smoothly off the sofa and hovered effortlessly in mid-air, as if sitting on an invisible flying carpet. "We're working on my flying," he confessed.

Victor started massaging his temples, as if to convince himself that he was actually awake. Could this be auto-suggestion? Had they been hypnotised? "So," he said, "I suppose I have to take your word on the telepathy."

"Not necessarily, Dad," Gordon said cheerfully. "You could go into the kitchen and write something on a piece of paper. Put it down for a second so that Zack can see it, then put it in your pocket and come back in, and I'll tell you what you wrote."

Victor stood up. His knees felt a bit wobbly. "This is starting to feel like a magic act," he said. He patted his wife's shoulder. "You stay and keep an eye on young Sorprendo here." He turned at the door. "You can come down now," he told Gordon.

Gordon sank back to the sofa. "How are we doing?" he whispered to his mum. She shook her head, apparently unable to decide whether to laugh or cry. That was an understandable reaction. She'd just lost touch with reality as she knew it.

A minute later, Victor re-entered the room. "Hey Presto!" said Gordon, getting into the spirit of things. "Mum will vouch for the fact that I have not moved from this sofa. There is a yellow post-it note in your right trouser pocket, on which you have drawn a right-angled triangle and a mathematical formula: a2 + b2 = c2." He looked puzzled for a second and then his brow cleared. "Zack tells me that is ... - say again, Zack - _Pythagoras' Theorem_ and it means ..." He paused, and then recited in chunks: "The square on the hypotenuse ... - What's a 'hypotenuse'?"

Edith grinned (by far the better of the alternatives). This was bringing back memories of conversations with Gordon in the old days, before all this telepathy stuff.

"It's the ..." his dad began. His wife and his son both lifted their hands at the same time to shut him up.

"OK, it's the longest side, the diagonal side, of any right-angled triangle." Victor stared at Gordon, shaking his head slightly in what was probably awe. "SO, the square on the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares on the other two sides. Wow, that's really clever. When did he work that out?"

"I'm not sure," Victor said weakly, which you will remember is what people say when ...

"Pythagoras of Samos," Gordon piped up, "born around 570 BCE, died c.495 ..."

"Enough!" Victor said, holding his hand up. "Enough." He turned to his wife. "You didn't know about the telekinesis."

She shook her head. "No, and I didn't know about the telepathy until ..." She held her hand out to him. He took it and sat down beside her, facing Gordon. Gordon was innocently thinking so far so good. Zack had a better idea of the ramifications, and wasn't so sure. "... until that day at _The Eden Project_."

He patted her hand. "I'm probably as ready now as I will ever be," he said. "Tell me what happened."

His wife sighed. "I'm sorry, Love, but we're going to have to go a bit further back than that: to what happened in our cottage."

Victor's eyes widened suddenly. "Oh my God," he exclaimed, "I've just remembered last January, when we were planning the holiday." He turned to Gordon. "You said the cottage invited you."

Gordon nodded. "Zack and I didn't know why at the time, but of course we found out when we got there."

"Didn't we just," his dad agreed. He was wondering what other memories might need re-evaluating in the light of this new evidence.

"Do you remember," Edith asked him, "after we'd been to Mellingford Hall, you said you thought Hugo Davenport wanted Gordon to explain something to the ghosts: that he and Hermione weren't responsible for what happened hundreds of years ago?"

Victor nodded. He dimly remembered saying something like that.

"Gordon says he went back there one night soon after to do just that," his wife told him.

"Whoah," his dad said. "How could he have gone back there one night? He was asleep in bed every night. He never went anywhere."

"I'll let Gordon explain it," Edith said.

"Here we go," Zack said. "'Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed'"

"Well, you see, Dad," said Gordon, "my dreams aren't like other people's dreams." What he was about to tell his dad required a leap of faith.

"Oh, you **dreamt** you went to see them. Now I understand."

"No, you don't," Edith said firmly. "His body was in bed, but he and Zack flew to Mellingford Hall, and his sixteen-greats grandmother told him something that just might explain all this."

Victor said nothing. He needed to listen. There was absolutely no doubt he needed to listen.

"She told him he was her son, and that his father was a God called Mabon. That's where his special powers come from."

"He's **our** son," Victor said.

"Yes, of course he's our son. Just listen. She gave him a magic ring and sent him to an ancient cairn to get something called 'The Tara Torque'. It was made aeons ago by fairies. It's a neck bracelet, and whoever wears it is transported to a place called 'Tír na nÓg'. In English legend, it's called 'Avalon'."

"... where Frodo and Bilbo and Gandalf sailed off to, Dad," said Gordon, helpfully. They had read _The Hobbit_ together years ago, after which Gordon had read _The Lord of the Rings_ by himself.

"Is it," said his dad evenly. 'Listen, just listen' he told himself. 'Oh - my - giddy - aunt!'

Edith had to get this off her chest. "He brought the ring and the torque back out of the dream. The ring is on his finger now. The torque is in this room."

"Where?" Victor asked calmly.

"WE CAN'T SEE IT," Edith said, her voice rising in desperation. "We can't SEE it, any more than we can see the ring on his finger, because our fathers weren't GODS!"

Her shoulders had begun to shake. The surface of her sanity was crumbling. Victor wrapped his arms around her. "It's OK, it's OK!" he said. "We're together; we'll handle it!"

Gordon stared at them both. He was scared! It suddenly felt like their world was coming apart. His bottom lip started quivering and really big tears began splashing down his cheeks. "I'm sorry!" he said. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

Zack already had an arm around him, but suddenly both parents were kneeling by him as well, wiping his tears and trying to hug him at the same time. "NO, darling, no, no, no, it's not your fault. None of this is your fault."

"I didn't ask to be SPECIAL!" he wailed.

"No, son, it's me that's sorry," his dad told him. "All this is ... Well, it's a lot to take on board; but I'll get there. I promise I'll get there."

"I shouldn't have told you. I shouldn't have shown you. It's changed **everything** ," Gordon sobbed. It felt like his world was crashing down around him.

"No it hasn't!" his mum said urgently. His parents were now united in their concern for him. "Listen, Gordon, your dad and I are really glad you told us. It proves you trust us. We needed to know, didn't we Victor?"

"Absolutely!" his dad said. The genie was well and truly out of the bottle now. "We just found out we're the parents of maybe the most amazing child on the planet. Your mum and I need time to get our heads around it, that's all. Nothing's changed! You're still you and we're still us."

"And Zack's still Zack," his mum added.

"You've got that right," Zack said. "Come on, mate, we can handle this. They're going to come around. They just need time."

Gordon sniffed and wiped his eyes. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained," he said, which threatened to set his mum off again.

"Good lad," his dad said. "Now let's sit down again, and stay calm, and let me ask a few questions. Then we can all have a well-deserved drink.

Edith smiled through her tears and blew her nose. "That sounds like a plan," she said.

NOTES

I FIRST DID SOMETHING LIKE IT WHEN TOM CAME AROUND HERE; AUTO-SUGGESTION; LITTLE SORPRENDO; RAMIFICATIONS; NOTHING VENTURED, NOTHING GAINED

# Chapter 47

The Heart Of The Matter

"Let me be sure I've got this right," Victor said. "The spirit of your sixteen-greats grandmother told you that your father was a God, and that is why you have special powers."

Edith stayed sitting beside Gordon, her arm protectively around his shoulder. Zack went and sat beside Victor, from which vantage point he could grin and wink at Gordon. His mum's arm felt good, and Zack was threatening to make him giggle. All in all, Gordon began to see that maybe things weren't so bad after all. Maybe it would all turn out for the best. He really, really hoped so.

"Yes," he replied. "She said I sprang from his seed, and that I was of the Pobel Vean, and that I had the power."

Victor looked mystified. "The Pobel Vean?"

"The Little People - fairy folk."

"What power do you think she meant?"

"The power to travel in my dreams, the power for my spirit to walk abroad. She said I was an Aisling Wizard."

"Aisling?"

"'Dream' is the nearest one-word in the language we now speak," said Gordon, quoting effortlessly from memory, "though it falls short of all that "Aisling" means." He smiled at his dad. "An Aisling Wizard finds and tames wild things that wander through the tangled world of dreams. He travels in the wonderland of wishing. He goes wherever truth has found a cunning place to hide."

"Wow!" Victor said.

"Exactly," his wife agreed. You're getting it now. **Now** you're getting it.

"SO, she gave you your ... 'father's' ring. What does that do?"

"She said I would learn what gifts the ring would lend me in my time," Gordon told him.

"OK," his dad said slowly, "so a bit of an unknown quantity."

"It showed me the entrance to Mabon's Cairn."

"How did it do that?"

"Zack and I flew to a headland on the other side of St Austell Bay: Gribbin Head - you know, where we all went walking the day before my birthday." He was desperately keen to get his dad on board. "The ring guided us there. It shone a light on the ground and we found the entrance to the cairn under the topsoil. There was a stone with a pentagram carved in it."

"Mmmm," his dad said.

"I put my hand on the star like my SGGm told me to, and the ground opened up. A stairway went down inside the hill. Zack wasn't allowed to come with me. I had to go down on my own."

"That must have been scary," his dad said. It sounded like an _Indiana Jones_ plot-line.

"It was a bit," Gordon confessed, "but I can fly really fast when I want to. There was a room filled with gold and jewels. My ring shone a beam of light on a pile of diamonds at the back. I used telekinesis to get the torque out from under it. As soon as it touched me, the hill started to close up again."

Edith shuddered. It had taken all her resolve to go through that tunnel to Mellingford Hall. The thought of being entombed alive was a nightmarish one.

"I flew out really fast, and Zack brought me home."

"How does that work?" his dad wanted to know.

"I get too tired to carry on, and Zack takes over. I wake up in bed the following morning."

"And when you woke up this time you still had the ring and the ... torque?"

Gordon nodded.

"And the torque is in this room now?" his dad said.

"Yes, it's sitting on the sideboard, next to the fruit bowl. It follows me around."

"Right."

"It followed me to _The Eden Project_. Zack and I had just got up to that high platform," Gordon said eagerly. The torque floated across and wrapped itself around my neck. Then I wasn't there anymore."

His dad frowned. "You **were** there son. We came up to that platform and met you there. Don't you remember?"

Gordon shook his head. "No, Dad, I don't, because I wasn't there."

"His body was there, but he wasn't," Edith said. "I knew something was wrong straight away, but I didn't know what at first."

"So who was I talking to?" his dad asked, even as the answer hit him between the eyes.

"Zack," Gordon and his mum chorused together.

"It was a shock for him, being left in charge of my body," Gordon added. "He'd never had to do that before."

"Don't you remember, Darling?" Edith reminded her husband. "His voice was different. He said "it needs the loo" instead of "I need the loo". He didn't want a tuna melt."

"He wouldn't," Gordon said stoutly. "He's a vegetarian."

"I remember your voice sounded different," his dad said, "but it was all right after I got back from the plant shop ..." He stopped as another realisation struck him. He looked at his wife. "That's why you sent me to the plant shop."

Edith nodded. "I had to be sure," she said, "after I caught him out with my question about the feta."

Gordon laughed suddenly. "You should see his expression!" he said, pointing at the space beside his dad on the sofa. Involuntarily his dad shifted closer to the arm on his side of the sofa.

"You mean he's sitting next to me now?"

"Yes," Gordon said cheerfully. "Blow in our dad's ear, Zack. Show him you're there." Zack did as he was told.

"AH-HA-HAA!" Victor yelled, clapping his hand to his ear.

"Hi, Zack," his mum said cheerfully, giving the sofa a little wave.

"That meant a lot to him, Mum," Gordon told her. "I can tell."

"I love him," Edith said, "because he's a part of you, though I still haven't worked out how he knows so much."

"We've been thinking about that," Gordon said. "He's got a theory ..."

"Hang on," said his dad, "so when the torque goes around your neck, your spirit leaves your body and Zack stays behind to look after it? – your body I mean"

"Yes," Gordon said. "It's only happened once so far, but yes."

"Where did you go?"

"Mum told you, Dad, to Avalon."

"Avalon is a mythical place" his dad said slowly. "It's a legend. It doesn't exist."

"It doesn't exist in our world. It's in another dimension. I've been there. The torque took me."

"Do you know why it took you?"

Gordon and Edith nodded at the same time. "To meet someone," Gordon told him. "He said he was the greatest wizard our two worlds have ever known. He called himself Myrddin. He said people have given him many names, and often taken them in vain."

Victor's skin began to crawl. "And why did he want to meet you?"

At last they had got to the heart of the matter. "He said I was his heir," Gordon said simply. "He told me I had a lot to learn, in my world and in his."

Victor stared at his wife and his only begotten son. "You are not the only one," he said gently, "that has a lot to learn."

"There are ways to make our world a better place," Gordon told his dad. "Myrddin would see them trod before he dies."

"And you're here to help that happen?" his dad asked gently.

"I think so, yes. He said the human race is coming of age."

Victor stood up. "I don't know about anyone else," he said, "but I am ready for that drink."

NOTES

BLESSED ARE THEY THAT HAVE NOT SEEN AND YET HAVE BELIEVED

# Chapter 48

Forewarned Is Forearmed

The odds on two such children turning up in the same class had to be astronomical. For Vivian and Elaine, Gordon showing up had been as momentous as his recent revelations had been to his parents. It was evidence that some other force was at work. Eleven years ago, when Vivian had told her best friend what had happened, Elaine had wrapped her arms around her and promised she would always be there for her. She always had been. They'd been together ever since. She had loved Grace from the moment she was born.

Like Zack with Gordon, Zoë made her presence felt as soon as Grace could speak. She seemed to be a separate character living inside their daughter's body, but with the ability to move beyond it. She had her own appearance, personality and dress sense. She was incredibly well-informed.

Vivian and Elaine took her seriously from the start. They asked how she was feeling, how she was dressed, whether her hair was getting longer, or whether she had grown any taller. She was a de facto member of the family. Everyone loved her, and she was never left out of a group hug. Vivian kept Zoë diaries, which made very interesting reading.

Two for the price of one. Buy one, get one free ...

As far as Grace was concerned, having two mums was perfectly natural. When she started playing with other children and meeting their parents, she soon had proof that having two mums was at least as good as having a mum and a dad. Zoë taught her telepathy when she was three. By the time she was ready for nursery school she could send and receive thought messages to/from Zoë as easily as she could talk and listen to everyone else.

Once she was receptive to Zoë's mental output she found herself receptive to other people's mental output as well. But nobody other than Zoë had been able to receive her thoughts or broadcast theirs to her until Gordon had showed up. It must have something to do with the way their brains were wired.

The name 'Myrddin' stirred something deep in Vivian's subconscious. Deeper than did ever plummet sound, perhaps, where Prospero promised to drown his books, or where Gandalf the Grey fell, lashed to a Balrog in the Mines of Moria. She felt it move. His names were legion but the power was one. He lived in a place called 'Avalon' or 'Tír na nÓg'. He'd given Gordon, Grace and Zoë different names. He prophesied the crossing of their paths. So if there was a plan, Myrddin had a lot to do with it, and they all had their part to play.

Forewarned is forearmed.

Victor intended to keep his promise to Gordon, at least for the time being. His son's welfare was right alongside Edith's as the most important consideration in his life. He would never do anything to jeopardise it. He was faced with two possibilities. Either his son had an amazing ability to hypnotise his parents into believing certain incredible things had happened, or certain incredible things had happened.

Is seeing believing? Not necessarily, as any magician will tell you. And you wouldn't expect a policeman who has risen quite quickly to the rank of detective inspector to jump to conclusions. His son's claim to be able to communicate telepathically with a detachable alter-ego could be tested. So could his claim that both he and Zack could manipulate a force strong enough to counteract the gravitational pull of the earth on objects that weighed up to ... Victor didn't yet know the specifics.

During the evenings that week, he tested both claims fairly thoroughly. Gordon was more than happy to take part in any little experiment that his dad cared to devise. Edith sat on the sidelines, increasingly amused to see how effortlessly her son kept on proving that he could do what he said he could do. He was truthful, of that she was certain.

"Right son," said Victor, having brought home a brand new, unopened pack of cards. "Would you mind playing a little game with me?"

"No problem, Dad," Gordon said cheerfully. He proceeded to name any card that his dad pulled at random out of the pack. That was so easy he got a bit bored with it and started reading his book at the same time.

His dad tried taking the pack into the hallway, where Gordon couldn't see him at all. Finally, he asked Edith and Gordon to go up into his bedroom with a piece of paper and pencil and to write down the six cards he would lay out on the kitchen table as soon as they had closed the bedroom door behind them. They were down again moments later. Edith handed him the piece of paper without bothering to look at the cards on the table. She knew they would be the ones Gordon had told her to write down.

It was Zack's idea to liven the game up a bit. Gordon told his dad that if he laid another six cards on the kitchen table, wrote their numbers and suits down on a piece of paper and then brought the piece of paper back into the living room, Gordon could prove he'd got it all wrong. Intrigued, his dad did as he was asked. Gordon told him with a big grin that in fact there were six different cards on the kitchen table. He wrote them down, and of course, by the time his dad got back into the kitchen, Zack had pulled the switch.

Gordon showed off his telekinetic powers by drawing curtains, switching lights on or off and changing channels on the television. He confessed that four or five years ago he'd been the one who had rammed Kieran's ice-cream up his nose, and made him throw the rest of it over his shoulder. Victor finally realised why his car locked and unlocked itself whenever Gordon was around.

The out-of-body experiences were harder for Victor to deal with: they were harder to prove. However, it was compelling that this girl, Grace, had shared some of these experiences with Gordon. Apparently, her parents could confirm that her account of the dream in Avalon tallied with Gordon's, and both accounts had been given to their mothers well before they'd met in school on the first day of this Autumn term.

It was also eerie that when Gordon had asked this wizard character to help his friend Tom, Myrddin had said "It needs a warrior to heal that wound", words he well remembered Gordon repeating. A soldier friend of Tom's dad had turned up on Yvonne's doorstep the very next day. Myrddin had told Gordon his path would cross with Grace's, and lo, within a month, they were in the same class.

It was the comment about too many people taking his names in vain that made Victor's hair stand up on the back of his neck. He remembered the Seventh Commandment. That was another thing they used to teach you when he went to school.

Grace and Zoë claimed to walk abroad in dreams too. On Monday night, they had met Gordon and Zack in a dream. Both had brought an acorn back. Edith was looking after Gordon's. Grace's mother had told Edith she had an identical one at home. The plan was to plant them this Sunday. Vivian had told Edith she knew just the place.

According to the children, the acorns came from a sacred ancient oak. Their holiday cottage had been called "Oaktree Cottage". Gordon and Grace were now members of Oak House in their new school. Coincidence? Maybe.

The plot - as they say - was thickening.

NOTES

**A DE FACTO MEMBER OF THE FAMILY; WHERE PROSPERO PROMISED TO DROWN HIS BOOKS;** **HE'D BEEN THE ONE WHO HAD RAMMED KIERAN'S ICE-CREAM UP HIS NOSE** **; THE SEVENTH COMMANDMENT**

# Chapter 49

Mind What You Think

Sunday came around, as Sundays invariably do. Not having the ability to communicate telepathically, Vivian and Edith had swapped telephone numbers. They'd agreed on a picnic: to give everyone more time to talk freely without being overheard. When Edith mentioned preparing something vegetarian for Zack, Vivian told her they were all vegetarians and would be bringing loads in any case. Zack was delighted. Gordon announced he was thinking of becoming a vegetarian. On the other hand, giving up tuna melts would be a wrench.

It was a lovely early autumn day - a little misty early on, but that would soon burn off, turning the day mellow and fruitful - a good omen. They took their car around to the address Vivian had given Edith. True to form, Victor made sure they drew up at 10am on the dot. "No need to ring the bell," Gordon told them. The front door opened as they got out of their car. Grace came out and smiled shyly at Gordon. This felt different from meeting at school. Gordon thought it was a nice difference. He waved to Zoë, who had followed Grace out.

Zack was looking very smooth. He wore a white, open-necked shirt with a pale cream linen jacket, matching trousers and brown suede loafers. He'd even had his hair cut. Both girls were casual in jeans and tee-shirts with lightweight wind-breakers over them - it could get breezy in the hills. Gordon had opted for his brown cords and his tartan shirt. His blue denim jacket was in the car. His mum had put his grey woolly jumper in the boot, just to be on the safe side.

Vivian and Elaine followed them out. Victor didn't know what he'd been expecting. Grace was an extremely pretty girl, and her mother was striking. It was that combination of auburn hair and emerald eyes, he supposed, and her height. She definitely had presence. Elaine was shorter and a little rounder, with that Celtic combination of dark hair and blue eyes. She exuded warmth and welcome.

Vivian and Edith gave each other a hug. Everyone smiled and said hello to everyone else. Victor had been forewarned. When Vivian introduced him to Grace and Zoë he greeted them both with equal enthusiasm. Vivian and Elaine said hello to Zack as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Victor felt himself relaxing. It was going to be an intriguing day, he thought.

Yes, indeed.

"We'll follow you then," he said briskly.

"It's not far," Vivian said. "We hope you like walking."

"They do," Grace told her mum. Both Victor and Edith had been thinking what a lovely day it was for a walk in Wales. Victor did a little double-take and Vivian smiled apologetically. Grace's hand flew to her mouth. "Sorry Mum," she said dutifully. "Sorry Mr and Mrs Bennett. I think I'm a bit excited."

"Don't worry," said Victor gallantly, making a mental note to keep a grip on what he was thinking. He then realised that Grace would know that was what he was thinking. A gift like that could be a blessing and a curse. Reading people's minds was all very well, but what if what you were reading was a load of rubbish? What if they were thinking something you really didn't want to know? You'd have to learn to edit out a lot of the ...

He stopped himself just in time. Grace made a point of looking away.

They climbed into their cars and headed for the A55. Just after it swung left towards Conwy, they took the slip road towards Mold and in half an hour were driving through some pretty deserted Welsh countryside. Gordon kept up a running commentary: 'Grace says this and Grace says that'. Victor wondered ruefully if Grace was doing the same thing in the car in front.

There was no doubt they were in regular telepathic communication. It was astounding. The big question was: did the adults in this situation have a public duty to reveal the extent of their children's talents to the world at large? Shouldn't they be finding out if Gordon and Grace's DNA was different from normal human DNA? Mightn't their extra-ordinary capabilities shed light on the next stage in human evolution? Would mankind as a whole benefit from studying them carefully under controlled conditions?

"Grace says they've decided not to tell anyone, Dad," Gordon piped up, right on cue. "I've told her it's all right. You and Mum have promised you won't either."

Once you made either of these children a promise, you had better not even think about breaking it.

A 'B'-road snaked up a narrow incline through a wood. Vivian pulled into a little parking area off it, and parked next to a stile. Victor drew up alongside. "I used to come walking here, years ago," she explained. "The spot has special memories."

"It's beautiful," Edith said.

"I thought we could leave the picnic in the car and walk along this footpath to a dell I know. It's not far. It will be a good place to plant the acorns." She produced a little trowel from the pocket of her lightweight jacket.

"Fine" Victor said.

Vivian turned to Grace. "You know the path," she said. "Why don't the four of you run on ahead a little? It will give us adults a chance to talk. We'll see you in the dell."

"Not too far ahead, Gordon," his mum added. She was worried about letting him out of her sight in an unfamiliar spot.

Elaine smiled. "They'll be fine, believe me. We've been here lots of times."

"Don't worry, Mum," Gordon assured her. "We won't let anything bad happen, will we guys?" He and Grace hopped over the stile and disappeared around a bend in the path. Edith felt her stomach lurch, but resolved to keep a tight grip on her anxieties. If Gordon's torque was still following him around, there was no way of knowing when he might disappear. That would mean leaving Zack in charge of his body again. She didn't want that; but keeping him near wasn't going to stop it happening, and he had come back safely last time.

"Don't you ever worry about unsavoury characters in an isolated spot like this?" Victor asked. "I've had to deal with some awful cases in my time."

Vivian smiled wistfully. "You **can** meet a stranger in these woods, but as far as I know, no child has ever come to any harm here. From what Grace tells me, Gordon and Zack can look after themselves. She and Zoë certainly can."

"In our world, probably, thank God," Edith agreed. "That's one of the advantages of the talents they have. But we know so little about this other world. It seems to be invading our lives in a pretty fundamental way."

Victor clambered over the stile and offered his hand to Edith. "We've been offered a fairly outlandish theory about why Gordon has these talents," he said.

Vivian and Elaine followed them with practised ease. "We have our own theory about where Grace's powers come from," Elaine acknowledged, "and we've had longer to get used to the idea." She slipped her hand into Vivian's, "... but until Gordon came along we hadn't had anything other than our own suspicions about whether or not there might be some purpose behind it all."

"We'll tell you what we know," Vivian promised. "It will be good to hear from you what you've found out so far."

They set off after the children. "I can't hear them," Edith said anxiously.

WOOSH! Gordon was suddenly standing right in front of her. "Grace says you're worried Mum," he told her. "There's no need. We're fine."

Vivian laughed. "Come out Grace, I know you're there." Grace jumped out from behind the nearest tree, grinning widely.

"Come on, Zoë and Zack," Elaine called out. "Show yourselves!" Two bushes - one on each side of the path - began to shake violently.

Victor put his arm around Edith's shoulders, and Elaine linked in with Vivian. "All right, son, point taken," he said. "We'll let you know if we need you."

"Ok, Dad," Gordon said, excitedly. He loved the fact that his parents were now in the loop with him and Zack, and couldn't resist showing off just a little. "Hey Presto!" he declared dramatically, and disappeared. Edith began to appreciate that there really was less to worry about than she had thought. She looked around for Grace, but she too had disappeared.

"They are seriously fast," Victor commented.

Vivian smiled: "It's never a problem when we want the cat in at night." They ambled along the path, pleased to be able to share facts, memories and opinions as well as worries about what the future might have in store.

Ahead of them, Grace and Zoë were showing Gordon and Zack the dell in question. "What do you think?" Grace whispered. The earth in front of them sank into a hollow that seemed to swallow sound. They stood in silence, surprised by the sudden stillness. The slopes were covered in lilac bushes. Yellowing leaves drifted gently to the ground, while watching trees stood solemnly around its edge. They seemed to be waiting with enormous patience. "Mum says this is where she met my dad," Grace told them. "She was only with him once, and it was here."

"My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my sense," Zack murmured.

"A good place for a nightingale," Zoë agreed.

"I've felt this way before," Gordon said, "in Avalon. There's magic here: a kind of rhythm in the roots of the place. Can you feel it?"

"I feel what you're feeling," Zack said. He always said that, whenever Gordon asked that question.

"And I know what you're thinking," Grace reminded him.

"Remember being on that gorgeous mare?" Zoë asked Grace. "Riding across a glade in Avalon?"

"I wasn't there," said Zack, sorrowfully. "I wish I'd been there." Right on cue, Gordon's torque drifted up from the leaves and hovered invitingly near his neck. Was it offering a way to grant Zack's wish?

"I'm going to put the torque on," Gordon decided suddenly. "Right now. Hold hands and make a ring." They stood in the centre of the dell. Grace took Gordon's ring hand and Zack his right. Zoë made the ring complete between Grace and Zack.

"Let's close our eyes and wish for Zack to be in Avalon with us," Gordon suggested. He stretched his neck in invitation, and felt the torque slide smoothly into place. It was at that precise moment that their parents came through the ring of trees. They saw Gordon and Grace standing in the centre of the circle with their eyes closed, holding hands. Each stretched out their other hand to clasp thin air on either side.

NOTES

EXUDE; MY HEART ACHES, AND A DROWSY NUMBNESS PAINS MY SENSE

# Chapter 50

A Close Encounter Of An Unusual Kind

The air on either side of their children was thickening, solidifying slowly into the forms of two other children. The adults could now see that there was indeed a circle formed by eight held hands. In the centre of that circle, coming steadily into focus, was the figure of an old man.

He carried a twisted staff of ancient wood. Aeons of weariness crow-footed the kindest eyes they had ever seen. Instinctively, Victor wrapped an arm around Edith's shoulders, and she an arm around his waist. Edith held her hand out to Vivian, who was already holding on to Elaine. The four adults were connected, standing with the encircling trees to witness the mystery unfolding before their eyes.

"You can open your eyes now," Myrddin said gently, smiling at each of the children in turn. "Welcome to this outpost of Avalon, one of my portals into your world. Here I will call you Gordon, Grace, Zack and Zoë." Zack bowed his head, and Zoë gave a little curtsey. Gordon and Grace grinned at each other a little sheepishly. Myrddin looked up the slope towards the four adults still rooted to their spots, like the trees. "I am very much looking forward to meeting your parents."

Gordon and Grace could hardly contain their excitement. They turned and gestured to their parents to join them in the beating heart of the dell. Myrddin let his staff lean against his body as he stood between them, a grey-robed arm on each of their shoulders. Again, Gordon felt the power that flowed through that touch.

Grace looked up at him in wonder. "You are wondering," Myrddin said to her quietly as he watched their parents approach, "why you cannot tell what I am thinking."

Vivian and Elaine arrived with Edith and Victor more or less in a line, equal in their love and concern. Myrddin inclined his head towards them, and his gentle smile assured them of their welcome. They felt suddenly and curiously like they were in a room in his house. "It was time we met," he said simply. "Please forgive the dramatic entrance, but a picture paints a thousand words." His eyes twinkled at Victor. "I do hope this isn't starting to feel like a magic act."

"Thank you so much for giving us this opportunity, er ..." Edith said, uncertain of the appropriate form of address.

"This is Myrddin, Mum," Gordon explained by way of introduction. Grace nodded to her mums to confirm that this was indeed the old man she had told them about.

"My names do not matter," the old man said. "Too often they get in the way." He waved an arm at Zoë and Zack, motioning them to step forward. "It is time you met your children's guardian angels."

Edith rushed at Zack and crushed him in her arms. "Ohh," she said, "I hope you know how long I have wanted to do that."

"Me too," he told her, hugging her fiercely back. "Eleven years."

Victor waited a little awkwardly in the wings. When Edith finally let Zack go he met his eye and took a step towards him. Zack met him half way with his hand outstretched. "I understand perfectly, Mr Bennett," he said. "I'd have had trouble believing in me too."

Victor took his hand and then pulled him into a hug. "Thank you," he said, "for taking such good care of our son, and welcome to our family at long last."

Vivian emerged from their long group hug with Zoë. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. She dropped into a deep curtsy, her head bowed low. "Thank you, My Lord, for giving us this chance."

Myrddin reached down and took her hand, bringing her gently to her feet. "It is I who thank you," he said. He put his hands either side of her face, and Gordon could sense the power flowing from him into her. "Vivian," he murmured, "my Lady of the Lake, my Queen Mother of Grace."

He released her and she staggered slightly as though her legs were about to give way. Elaine was by her side in a second, supporting her. Myrddin smiled fondly at Elaine and then gestured to the children to gather round. "I am needed elsewhere," he told them. "Form your ring and send me safely on my way," he twinkled at Gordon and Zack, "... much as you would a diplodocus to its appropriate point in time."

Obediently the children joined hands in a circle around him and closed their eyes. "We will meet again," he promised the adults, and looked around wistfully. "A good place to plant acorns," he murmured.

The glow around him grew and his image faded. The power that had lent form and substance to Zoë and to Zack went with him and they faded too. Once more all the adults could see were Grace and Gordon holding hands. Their other hands held on to what had melted, as breath into the wind. Gordon felt his torque detach itself, to float a metre or so away.

The four adults looked at each other in awe. They found confirmation in each other's faces. They had all just had the same amazing experience.

_"Thanks, mate,"_ Zack telepathed. _"That meant a lot."_

_"You're very welcome, Guardian Angel,"_ Gordon thought back. He saw Grace grin.

"Oof!" said Victor, whose slate of doubts had just been wiped clean in a single stroke. " _Quod erat demonstrandum_."

Vivian was trembling. "I remember!" she muttered. "I think I remember." She looked up at Elaine, her eyes full of a second loss. "I can't remember!" Elaine wrapped her in a hug. Grace let go of Gordon's hand and rushed over to her mum. Reaching into the pocket of her jeans she pulled out a smooth, polished stone and pressed it into her mum's hand. " **A-A-A** HHhhh," said Vivian, subsiding with a sigh into her usual state of calm. Her eyes were still closed, but she had stopped trembling. "Thank you, darling," she murmured.

"My pleasure, Mum" Grace said. She smiled at everyone. "She's all right now," she announced, and Elaine relaxed. Grace always knew.

"Here's what I think," said Victor, in practical mode. "I think we should plant the acorns." Everyone was glad to have something practical to do. "Best plant them a fair distance from each other," Victor added, stating the obvious, "- give them room to grow."

"Grace can choose a spot for hers, and Gordon a spot for his," Edith suggested, which seemed eminently sensible. Vivian produced the trowel, and Gordon gallantly indicated that she should hand it to Grace. They checked how much open sky there was above the dell, then paced away from the centre in opposite directions.

A beam of light flashed suddenly from Gordon's ring to a particular spot on the ground. "Hang on a minute!" he called to Grace, who was looking to right and left, unsure where to choose. "The ring just showed me where!" Grace walked over to him and the four adults gathered around. Gordon pointed his right hand at the spot, and a clump of leaves spiralled up in a swirl of air, leaving a patch of rich earth underneath.

"Let me," Grace offered, and Gordon nodded. She knelt and dug out a scoopful of leaf-compost and loam. Gordon knelt beside her and dropped his acorn into the shallow dip. Grace put the scooped earth back on top of it. Gordon patted it and stood up.

"Oh, my goodness!" he exclaimed.

"WHOAH!" Zack cried out, and dived quickly into Gordon before he was entirely surrounded by crackling sparks of energy. Grace and Zoë could hardly see inside that sparking glow. To Gordon and Zack, it felt as if they were a battery being rapidly charged.

"What's happening?!" Edith asked, alarmed at her son's exclamation, and the fact that he was now standing with his eyes tight shut and his fists clenched.

"It's all right!" Grace assured her. "It's just ... fulfilment."

The sparks were dying down. Gordon opened his eyes. He was supercharged, so full of whatever force it was that he could hardly hold it in. "WOW!" he said and shot up into the sky like a rocket. Zack hung on for dear life. In a second they were two hundred feet into the air. So this is what it was like to be high. Gordon was HOT!"

"OSCILLATE!" Zack yelled urgently. "Shimmer! Dart from side to side!" It was a good way of working off some surplus energy. Gordon shot from side to side too fast for human eyes to follow. That would lessen the chances of people reporting a UFO. He felt his reason getting him under control and dived back to ground level, where he strove to slow himself down further. The air he was displacing shook the bushes all around him, but gradually the choppy wind died down and he became visible again. "Whoohh!" he said in a high-pitched voice. "Sorry about that."

"What happened son?" Victor wanted to know.

"It was like a bolt of energy," Gordon told them, "a top-up of power. I feel so full of it!" By way of demonstration he stretched out a hand to each of his parents and raised them both three feet off the ground.

"Careful," Zack warned.

"Your mum doesn't like it," Grace told him. She thought he might be too drunk with power to have noticed the look of alarm on his mum's face. Instantly contrite, he lowered them gently to the ground. "Anybody else need a lift?" he said hopefully. There were no takers. "Right," he turned to Grace, "your turn."

"Careful, darling." Vivian urged anxiously.

"Don't worry Mum," Grace told her. "Forewarned is forearmed."

"Oh yeah?" Zack muttered. Light the blue touch paper and stand well back. Gordon led the way towards the other side of the clearing. His ring located the optimum spot. "Would you get the same belt off any acorn, do you think?" Zack mused. "Or are these ones special?"

"These have to be a lot special," was Zoë's opinion. "That tree was picked for their fairy majesties. The acorns were dipped in a sacred spring for good measure. These have got to be gold-medal, best-in-show, crème-de-la-crème acorns."

Gordon had a happy thought "With a bit of luck there could be lots more here - in about twenty years, when these trees have grown."

Grace scooped out a trowelful of earth and planted her acorn. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed Zoë's hand. They waited a second or two. She shot a disappointed look in Gordon's direction. Her face seemed to say she didn't know what all the fuss had been ...

With simultaneous suddenness, their heads shot back and their bodies went rigid. "O-H-H-H-H-H" Grace moaned. It was a drawn-out exhalation of breath, signalling a sudden dose of complete satisfaction.

"There you go," Zack muttered.

Grace and Zoë took off backwards, hand in hand. Their feet rose faster than their heads until they were horizontal. They gained speed around the circumference of the dell, head first, flat on their backs, eyes tightly closed: riding the sightless couriers of the air ...

"Any time now," Zack predicted. It was a bit like a fairground ride really, and sure enough their speed was decreasing. They came to a halt just where they had taken off and drifted delicately to the ground. Only then did they open their eyes.

"The earth moved," Grace said to her mums. "Did you feel it?"

"Not on this occasion darling, no," Vivian said drily. "Please don't pick us up or anything. I take it you're all right."

"I'm amazing," Grace told her, which was no more than the truth. She turned to Gordon. "We should do that again if we get the chance. What do you think?"

"Better check with Myrddin, the next time you see him," Zack advised. "I don't know how often fairies recharge their batteries, but that was some fix."

"It could easily be habit-forming," Zoë warned. Her knees were still rubbery. "I don't think it's something you do too often."

They walked together out of the dell towards the path and the car and the picnic. The rest of the day could be spent enjoying each other's company. They could chat about less consequential things. There was no longer any need for Grace and Gordon to run ahead. It appeared - certainly for the moment - that they were in safe hands.

In the dell the watching trees were left to bear witness. Strong green shoots already pierced the earth on either side of the hollow.

NOTES

MELTED, AS BREATH INTO THE WIND; QUOD ERAT DEMONSTRANDUM; THE SIGHTLESS COURIERS OF THE AIR

# Thank you for getting this far into the story. It continues in Book 2: 'Amazing Grace'. You can read the first chapter now by clicking on this link: **Book 2, chapter 1**

(Book 2, and all the subsequent books in the series are only 99p or 99c from your favourite online e-book retailer. I have deliberately offered these books at the lowest price possible, because I want as many children as possible to be able to afford them.)

# NOTES

Abbreviations:

OED = Oxford Dictionary of English

ISOTI = It says on the Internet

### CHAPTER 1

**Gordon Bennett, the early years**. To find out a lot more about key moments in Gordon's first ten years, go to https://myrddinsheir.com and click 'Gordon Bennett, the early years' below the banner on the first page.

### CHAPTER 2

**within reasonable distance of St Austell** , which is 9.5 kilometres (6 miles) from the Eden Project.

**Telepathy** noun: the communication of thoughts or ideas without the use of any of the usual five senses (sight, sound, smell, taste and touch). In Greek, _tele_ means 'from far away' and _pathos_ means 'feeling' (also 'suffering' and 'disease')

**wattle-and-daub walls**. "Wattle and daub (or wattle-and-daub) is a building material used for making walls, in which a woven lattice of wooden strips called wattle is daubed with a sticky material usually made of some combination of wet soil, clay, sand, animal dung and straw.

Wattle and daub has been used for at least 6,000 years, and is still an important construction material in many parts of the world. Many historic buildings include wattle and daub construction, and the technique is becoming popular again in more developed areas as a low-impact, sustainable building technique." ISOTI (Wikipedia)

**mod cons** : modern conveniences. Such abbreviations are very commonly used in property advertisements.

### CHAPTER 3

**Little Melling**. You will not find a Little Melling in Cornwall, nor indeed anywhere else in the British Isles (though there is – entirely coincidentally - a Melling near Carnforth in Lancashire). Gordon asked me not to reveal the real name of the village. It is already visited by as many tourists as it can reasonably cope with.

**Elizabethan times, or maybe Jacobean**. Queen Elizabeth 1st reigned from 1558-1603. King James I of England (VI of Scotland) reigned from 1603-1625.

### CHAPTER 5

**Dr David Livingstone** was a Scot, and an explorer of the African continent in the nineteenth century. He is often mentioned in the same sentence as a man called Henry Morton Stanley, who was a reporter for the New York Times.

Stanley was sent to find Dr Livingstone by the owner of that newspaper: a man, coincidentally, by the name of Gordon Bennett. He finally caught up with Livingstone on November 10th 1871, and, it is reported, greeted the only other white man in that part of Africa with an opening remark that has since become famous: "Dr Livingstone, I presume."

" **Nice use of The Force, Luke."** This is of, course, a reference to the film _Star Wars_. While he was trying to pop a bomb down the right shaft on the surface of the death star, Luke Skywalker heard the voice of Alec Guinness in the rôle of Obi Wan Kenobi advising him to: "Use the Force, Luke."

**It's a roller coaster ... preventing its tongue from getting into the grooves**. This figure of speech is called a metaphor. Metaphors stitch ideas together to make the technicolour dreamcoat called language. You can find several notes about metaphors on my website https://myrddinsheir.com in a section called 'Gordon Bennett, the early years' (under the banner on the home page).

**Gordon's bionic lens.** Gordon eyes first developed that capability during a dream that he had when he was 5. See https://myrddinsheir.com > 'Gordon Bennett, the early years' (under the banner on the home page) > Chapter 10.

**the light had begun to droop and drowse**. This metaphorical use of "droop and drowse" creates a feeling of foreboding in any reader familiar with the following lines from _Macbet_ h:

"Good things of day begin to droop and drowse,

Whiles the night's black agents to their preys do rouse."

Macbeth, Act 3, scene 2, 52-3

**Dormer windows** : "windows that project vertically from a sloping roof" OED. As roofs are invariably on the top of buildings, and bedrooms are normally upstairs whenever there are any stairs, then such windows are not surprisingly associated with sleep. The French for 'to sleep' is _dormir_.

### CHAPTER 6

**six months ago on Christmas day** : https://myrddinsheir.com > 'Gordon Bennett, the Early Years' > chapter 19.

### CHAPTER 7

**Tinkers and Pedlars**. A "tinker" was "(especially in former times) a person who made a living by travelling from place to place mending pots and pans and other metal utensils" OED. A "pedlar" was "an itinerant trader in small goods" OED. Apparently from a dialect word _ped_ , 'a pannier, a kind of basket'. "Itinerant" means 'travelling', from the Latin _iter_ , _itiner-_ meaning 'journey, road'.

**Best look them in the mouth**. Examining a horse's teeth is a way of determining its age. "As horses age, their teeth begin to project further forward and so their age can be estimated by checking how prominent their teeth are. This incidentally is also the source of another teeth/age related phrase – 'long in the tooth'" ISOTI. See also the expression: "Don't look a gift-horse in the mouth."

**he had involved himself with Gordon**. Here I am using "involve" in its original Latin sense of 'rolled into', from _in_ \- into and _volvere_ 'to roll' (the same Latin root as in revolve 'to roll again'). The poet John Milton (1608-1674) used it in this way in his epic poem _Paradise Lost_ , when in Book 9 he wrote:

"There was a place,

Now not, though Sin, not Time, first wrought the change,

Where Tigris at the foot of Paradise

Into a Gulf shot under ground, till part

Rose up a Fountain by the Tree of Life;

In with the River sunk, and with it rose

Satan involv'd in rising Mist, then sought

Where to lie hid." _Book IX, 69–76_

Something tells me that Zack was there when John wrote those lines.

### CHAPTER 8

**Thirteen**. There is interesting and extensive information on the significance of the number 13 on the net. To this day, some architects do not have a thirteenth floor in tall buildings (instead going from 12 to 14). Housebuilders employ the same avoidance strategy when numbering the houses in a new close or crescent.

**it had called to him** like the ring called to Gollum, and the Aztec gold called to the Pirates of the Caribbean.

**Zack extricated himself** : 'unravelled, untangled' OED. From Latin _ex-_ 'out' and _tricae_ 'perplexities'.

**Quizzically** adv: in a way that indicates "mild or amused puzzlement" OED.

### CHAPTER 9

**a coincidence of oak beams**. In this sentence, the word 'coincidence' is used in its original 17th century sense 'occupation of the same space'. From Latin _co-_ 'together', _in-_ 'upon' and _cadere_ 'to fall'. Lots of long words in English are formed by borrowing from another language that combined smaller words to express increasingly complicated ideas.

**Levitating** verb: "rising or causing to rise and hover in the air" OED. From Latin _levis_ 'light', _leviter_ 'lightly'.

### CHAPTER 10

**with straw spills poked into the fire**. A "spill" is "a thin strip of combustible material used for lighting a fire, candle, pipe, etc."

**It wur Meg Kershaw saw 'ur furst, wuren' it Jeannie?** These women are speaking English with a broad West Country accent. The spelling is meant to give you some idea of what they sounded like. Try speaking their lines (if only in your head) as they are spelled.

### CHAPTER 11

**'E'd needed 'is little baakside skelped** : "skelped" means "struck, slapped or smacked". Late Middle English: probably imitative (struck hard enough to cause a yelp?).

### CHAPTER 12

**All 'Allows E'en** : the night we now call Halloween (the evening before All Saints Day on November 1st).

**as breath into the wind**. When the witches disappear, Macbeth asks Banquo "Whither are they vanished?" and Banquo replies: "Into the air, and what seemed corporal melted, as breath into the wind."

**Harridan** noun: "a strict, bossy, or belligerent woman" OED.

### CHAPTER 13

**a hearty Ploughman's** : "short for 'ploughman's lunch': meal of bread and cheese, typically with pickle and salad" OED. In a good pub like this one, the cheeses will have been hand-picked local varieties, the bread crusty and freshly baked and the pickle home-made and delicious.

**a pint of 'Beheaded'**. 'Beheaded' is one of Cornwall's many real ales, chosen by Victor on this occasion for two reasons. He liked the name - though the beer was more likely to make you legless than headless (or maybe both) - and it was the strongest on sale by a fair margin.

" **Both time and place do now adhere"**. This chapter, not surprisingly, contains references to Shakespeare's play _Macbet_ h, with its witches. Here, there is an echo from Act 1, scene 7, where Lady Macbeth says to her husband:

"Nor time nor place

Did then adhere and yet you would make both.

They have made themselves, and that their fitness now

Does unmake you."

**He could see that far-away look in her eyes**. Do you know the Ray Charles song: _Crying Time_? Have a listen to it on _YouTube_.

**thoughts that lay too deep for tears** : William Wordsworth, _Intimations of Immortality_ from _Recollections of Early Childhood_. (1803-6) Stanza XI:

"To me the meanest flower that blows can give

Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears."

### CHAPTER 14

**"Had I three ears I'd hear thee** ". This is what Macbeth replies when the second apparition says his name three times: "Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth." _(Act IV scene 1_ ). Three is a powerful number (the rule of three; birth, life and death; the Trinity (Father, Son and Holy Ghost), the three points of a triangle [never walk under ladders ...])

**SGGm** : sixteen greats grandmother (fairly obviously!). No prizes for working out what SGGf stands for!

**A bastard out of wedlock**. In those days, "bastard" was the term used to describe any child born to parents who were not married.

### CHAPTER 15

**It's a saying** :

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

Than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Hamlet V i, 166-7

### CHAPTER 16

**What the blue blazes**. The hottest flames burn blue.

### CHAPTER 17

**Priest hole** "is the term given to a hiding place for priests built into many of the principal Roman Catholic houses of England during the period when Catholics were persecuted by law in England, from the beginning of the reign of Queen Elizabeth I in 1558. Laws against seminary priests and recusants were enforced with great severity after the Gunpowder Plot episode during James I's reign.

It was common for the castles and country houses of England to have some precaution in the event of a surprise, such as a secret means of concealment or escape that could be used at a moment's notice. In the time of legal persecution, the number of secret chambers and hiding-places increased in the houses of the old Catholic families." ISOTI (Wikipedia)

A "recusant" is "a person who refuses to submit to an authority or to comply with a regulation. Historically: a person who refused to attend services of the Church of England" OED. From Latin _recusant-_ 'refusing' from the verb _recusare_.

### CHAPTER 19

**her Ladyship's herbal detox** : herbal tea, made with "active botanicals" that - it is claimed - "spruce up your insides".

**Pile** noun: "(in this sense) a large, imposing building" OED. From Old French, from Latin _pila_ 'pillar, pier'.

### CHAPTER 20

**Hayabusa** is Japanese for 'peregrine falcon', a bird that often serves as a metaphor for speed because of its vertical hunting dive, or stoop, of 180 to 240 miles per hour (290 to 390 km/h), the fastest of any bird.

In particular, the choice of name was made because the peregrine falcon preys on blackbirds, which reflected the intent of the original Hayabusa to unseat the CBR 1100XX Super Blackbird as the Wiccaworld's fastest production broomstick. Eventually, the Hayabusa managed to surpass the Super Blackbird by at least 10 miles per hour (16 km/h)." ISOTI (mostly)

**contagion to this world**. _Hamlet, Act 3, scene 2_. "Contagion" means 'the communication of disease.'

**mullioned windows** are windows with "a vertical bar between the panes of glass" OED. Probably an altered form of _monial_ (from Old French _moinel_ 'middle').

**This your djinn, is it?** A "djinn" is "an intelligent spirit of lower rank than the angels, able to appear in human and animal forms and to possess humans" OED. The word is from the Arabic _Jinnī_. A 'genie' is "a spirit ... capable of granting wishes" OED. From French _génie_ , from Latin _genius_. Zack is neither a _jinnī_ nor a _génie_ , though he clearly possesses some of the characteristics of both.

**Alter-Ego** is a Latin phrase meaning "other I". One of the most famous alter-egos in literature is Edward Hyde in Robert Louis Stevenson's classic novella: _The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde_ , published in 1886.

**Mothballs and Lily of the Valley**. Gordon was only faintly aware that this might be an anachronism. His sixteen-greats-grandmother hails from the seventeenth century, and the classic perfume of that name was not invented by a French artisan perfumer until the 18th century. It is explained by the fact that in the 21st century Gordon has an aunt that favours this perfume by Yardley, and who also takes the rather anachronistic precaution of keeping mothballs in her clothes drawers.

An "anachronism" is "a thing belonging or appropriate to a period other than that in which it exists" OED. From Greek _anakhronismos_ , from _ana_ \- 'backwards' + _khronos_ 'time'.

**Rather odd things do occur quite frequently in dreams**. You won't have noticed that this clause has thirteen syllables. If you read the chapters about Gordon's Fairyland dream, which he had when he was five (https://myrddinsheir.com > 'Gordon Bennett, the early years'), you may notice that something happens to language when it is around fairies. Listen out for it.

**crave a boon**. This is archaic English meaning 'to ask for a favour'. Gordon, as you know, is keen on language, and adjusts it depending on the expectations of the person to whom he is speaking. His SGGm is from the seventeenth century. Gordon felt this expression was appropriate.

**The Wars of the Roses** were "a series of dynastic civil wars for the throne of England, fought between supporters of two rival branches of the Royal House of Plantagenet: the Houses of Lancaster and York (the 'red' and the 'white' roses, respectively). They were fought in several spasmodic episodes between 1455 and 1485, although there was related fighting both before and after this period.

The final victory went to a relatively remote Lancastrian claimant, Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond, who married Elizabeth of York, the daughter of the late Yorkist king Edward IV. This reconciled the two factions and founded the House of Tudor, which subsequently ruled England and Wales for 117 years." ISOTI (Wikipedia)

**Richard of York gave battle in vain** : the mnemonic now used to help us remember the colours of the rainbow in the right order -RYGBIV – was formed with reference to "Richard, 3rd Duke of York, 6th Earl of March, 4th Earl of Cambridge, and 7th Earl of Ulster conventionally called Richard of York (21 September 1411 – 30 December 1460).

He was a leading English magnate, and great-grandson of King Edward III. He inherited great estates, and served in various offices of state in France at the end of the Hundred Years' War, and in England, ultimately governing the country as Lord Protector during Henry VI's madness.

His conflicts with Henry's queen, Margaret of Anjou, and other members of Henry's court were a leading factor in the political upheaval of mid-fifteenth-century England, and a major cause of the Wars of the Roses. Richard eventually attempted to claim the throne but was dissuaded, although it was agreed that he would become King on Henry's death.

Within a few weeks of securing this agreement, he died in battle. Although Richard never became king, he was the father of Edward IV and Richard III." ISOTI (Wikipedia)

**Posterity** noun: "all future generations of people" OED. From Old French _posterité_ , from Latin _posteritas_ , from _posterus_ 'following' (as in posterior).

**Anteriority** noun: "formal: coming before in time" OED. All past generations of people (the opposite of posterity). From French _antérior_ or Latin _anterior_ , comparative form of _ante_ 'before'. Compare post-natal and ante-natal.

**Hoi polloi** _plural_ noun: "[DEROGATORY] the masses; the common people. It came into English in the mid seventeenth century, from ancient Greek, and means literally 'the many'" OED.

### CHAPTER 21

**Eaves** noun: "the part of a roof that meets or overhangs the walls of a building" OED.

**He loads the vines in autumn**. Mabon is associated with the Autumn Equinox. Please type "Keats Ode to Autumn" into your internet browser, and read the poem that he wrote on September 19th 1819.

**It did not choose to save me from that stake**. Gordon's ancestor begins here to speak in a rhythmical kind of blank verse, as the fairies did in Gordon's fairytale dream, and as Gordon does himself whenever he is close to magic. We are about to discover why.

(Gordon first visited Fairyland with Zack in a dream when he was five years old. You can find an account of that visit here: https://myrddinsheir.com. Click on the link 'Gordon Bennett, the early years' (under the banner on the home page).

**as Yahweh left his Son upon that Cross**. "Yahweh" is the Hebrew name for God.

**through a glass darkly**. This is from _1 Corinthians 13_ in the St James Version of The Bible: "For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face" (Paul of Tarsus)

**The Lia Fáil** (Big stone of Fál). There are lots of images of this stone on _Google Images_. It is also known as the Coronation Stone of Tara. "It is found at the Inauguration Mound (Irish _an Forrad_ ) on the Hill of Tara in County Meath in Ireland, and served as the coronation stone for the High Kings of Ireland." ISOTI (Wikipedia)

**Lands forlorn in fairy times**. "Forlorn" has two senses: 'pitifully sad and abandoned or lonely', and also (of an aim or a cause): 'unlikely to succeed'. Both senses are here because the land now called Éire belonged to the fairies before humans took it from them.

**Kernow** : the Cornish name for Cornwall.

**Penzance** noun: "literally 'Holyhead': _pen_ is the Cornish word for a headland and _zance_ is a Cornish form of the Latin _sanctus_ 'holy'. Remember that the Romans ruled Ancient Britain for almost 500 years, so their language (Latin) was bound to have had a profound influence on the ancient Brythonic language, which was a form of Celtic.

In the same way, French had a profound influence on English because of the Norman Conquest. About half the words we use now are from French.

**Imbued** : "permeated or saturated" OED. From French _imbu_ 'moistened', Latin _imbuere_ 'moisten'.

" **May I with right and conscience make this claim?"** Gordon, as you know, has total recall, and Zack must have quoted this line to him, which is from Act 1 scene 2 of Shakespeare's _Henry V_.

**The pointed star** is a pentagram (a five-sided figure), sometimes referred to as the endless knot (because you can make it without taking your hand from the shape). That the apex is up is a sign that its magic is good. Satanists use it upside down.

**Oblivious** : not aware of or concerned about what is happening. Late Middle English: from Latin _obliviosus_ , from _oblivio_ (n-). The Latin verb _oblivisci_ means 'forget'. OED

**you must stand in his stead; wait for him here and you will serve him well**. Type 'Milton on his Blindness' into your browser and read his remarkable sonnet about the affliction which struck him while he was comparatively young, and how he found consolation in his philosophy. The last line reads: "They also serve who only stand and wait."

### CHAPTER 22

**By a country mile** : an informal expression, meaning 'a very great distance'. Did you know that the word "mile" comes from the Latin _mille_ 'thousand', and was originally the distance travelled by marching Roman soldiers in one thousand paces? A pace was left-right – sinister dexter.

" **Speak Friend and Enter"**. This was the message outside the magically sealed entrance to the Mountains of Moria in _The Lord of the Rings_.

**A small furry dog ran into the circle**. I expect you know what a cairn terrier looks like; but if you're not sure, you know what you can do. Good old _Google Image_ s! What a valuable resource it is.

**Mother's Bo** y: the best kind of boy, in my opinion.

**sighed his soul** :

"The moon shines bright. In such a night as this,

When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees,

And they did make no noise, in such a night

Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls,

And sighed his soul toward the Grecian tents,

Where Cressid lay that night."

Shakespeare The Merchant of Venice, Act V scene 1, 1-6

How wonderful is THAT?!

### CHAPTER 23

**Rhedyn** : a Welsh female name, meaning "fern".

Gordon's holiday reading was _The Magician's Nephew_ by C.S. Lewis: the first of the _Chronicles of Narnia_.

### CHAPTER 24

**the map** : Ordnance Survey Explorer 107 – St Austell and Liskeard.

**classic Du Maurier country**. "Much loved novelist, playwright and biographer, Daphne du Maurier was born 13th May 1907 in London, the second of three daughters ... In 1928 she began writing short stories and her first novel _The Loving Spirit_ was published in 1931.

The novels she is most famous for are _Rebecca_ , _Jamaica Inn_ and _Frenchman's Creek_ \- each no doubt inspired by her love of Cornwall, where she made her home for many years - a seventeenth-century mansion, _Menabilly_ (the setting for _Manderley_ ) overlooking the sea." ISOTI

**The Cornish South coast**. I was reminded of this walk by Martin Hesp's evocative account of it, and am indebted to him for some of the scenic details (www. westcountrywalks.com).

**the mining of kaolin**. Type 'The Lee Moor China Clay Works' into _Google Images_ to get an idea of what a kaolin quarry looks like.

**a thousand ages to a God**. Do you know the hymn that contains the lines "A thousand ages in thy sight are like an evening gone"? If not, type "O God, our help in ages past" + YouTube into your browser and listen to a moving rendition of that hymn in Westminster Abbey, with some spine-tingling harmonies in the final verse.

It was a favourite hymn of Winston Churchill, and was sung at his funeral in 1965. I was in the crowds in London that day to see the cortège go by. Because a short American fellow-student friend of mine was on my shoulders, she got a much better view than I did!

**Einstein's idea**. Type 'Einstein's Theory of General Relativity' into your internet browser and you can read more about it. It gets a little complicated!

**Analogy** noun: "a comparison between one thing and another" OED. Ultimately from Greek _analogos_ 'proportionate'.

**gestation period** : the time between the conception of a baby and its birth.

**Fetus** (sometimes still spelt foetus): "an unborn or unhatched offspring of a mammal, in particular an unborn human more than 8 weeks after conception" OED.

**Hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow**. Watching Victor and Edith on that headland, I was reminded of Milton's _Paradise Lost Book 12, ll. 643-47_ :

"The world was all before them, where to choose

Their place of rest, and Providence their guide.

They hand in hand, with wand'ring steps and slow,

Through Eden took their solitary way."

Of course, they weren't visiting the Eden Project until the following day, and their way was unlikely to be solitary.

### CHAPTER 25

**Biddies** noun: "a woman, especially an elderly one, regarded as annoying or interfering. Of unknown origin, it originally denoted a chicken. The present-day meaning was probably influenced by the use of biddy denoting an Irish maidservant; from Biddy, a pet form of the name Bridget" OED.

### CHAPTER 26

**Polymer** noun: "a substance which has a molecular structure built up chiefly or completely from a large number of similar units bonded together, e.g. many synthetic organic materials used as plastics and resins" OED. From Greek _polumeros_ 'having many parts'.

**Topi** is a Hindi word for hat, and the word is normally used in English to describe a kind of pith helmet worn in the tropics for protection against fierce sun and heat.

" **I'll not be far away."** This is called 'dramatic irony' in the trade: when the reader knows something the characters in the story do not (i.e. that there is a distinct likelihood that Gordon will soon be very far away indeed).

**Epiphytes**. The word dates from the mid-19th century. It was coined from two Greek words: _epi_ 'in addition' and _phuton_ 'plant'.

**one of those questions that don't expect an ans** wer: they're called 'rhetorical questions'.

**Bromeliad** : "a plant of tropical and subtropical America, typically having short stems with rosettes of stiff, spiny leaves" OED. A terrestrial bromeliad is one that roots in the earth like a conventional plant.

**It was like something out of Jurassic Park**. Type "black howler monkey + YouTube" into your browser, and you can hear the noise that Gordon heard. The sound of howlers was used on the Jurassic Park soundtrack.

**Prehensile** adj: "capable of grasping or holding on" OED. The word came into English in the 18th century from French _préhensile_. The French got it from Latin _prehens-_ 'grasped', from the verb _prehendere_ , from _prae_ 'before' + _hendere_ 'to grasp'. Long words in English tend to be derived ultimately from Latin or Greek, and are made up of shorter words in those two languages that have been combined.

_a keel-billed toucan and a violaceous trogon on the same branch_. There are lots of pictures of these amazing birds on _Google Images_.

In 2010, a keen bird-watching guest of the Orchid Garden Eco-Village Hotel in Belize came back from his day trip to the ancient Mayan City of Lamanai, ecstatic because he had seen a keel-billed toucan and a violaceous trogon on the same branch.

### CHAPTER 27

**Harpy Eagle**. Have a look at this incredible bird if you haven't seen one before. By now you know where to look for lots of pictures of it.

**Visceral** adj: "relating to the viscera – the internal organs in the main cavities of the body, and hence relating to deep inward feelings rather than to intellect.

**Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?** The phrase, as it is normally quoted in Latin, comes from the _Satires_ of Juvenal (Juvenal was a Roman Satirist who lived between the first and second century CE).

**wide enough for three to stand abreast**. On such a boat, the mortally wounded Arthur was carried to the Elfin Isle of Avalon, accompanied by three queens. This journey is mirrored at the end of the _Lord of the Rings_ when Frodo, Bilbo and Gandalf sail off with the elves.

**to break with a sullen sound**. According to Llywarch Hen's Elegy:

"The grave of Llovan Llawdivo

Is on the strand of Menai,

Where makes the wave a sullen sound."

**and no birds sang** :

"Oh what can ail thee, Knight at Arms,

Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge has wither'd from the lake

And no birds sing."

John Keats 1819 La Belle Dame sans Merci

**Mithril** is the metal described by J.R.R. Tolkien in his Middle Earth trilogy as silvery, and stronger than steel, but much lighter in weight. "The malleability, lack of tarnishing and use of the metal in jewellery suggest some similarity to ... platinum, while its strength and lightness suggest titanium." ISOTI

**He recognised their cadence** : that is, their "rhythmical pattern of language." From Gordon's first encounter with fairies in his dreams it has been evident that fairies have a musical effect on the language spoken by or near them.

**Were it not so, I would have told you**. "In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you." _John 14, 2_ (King James Version of the Bible).

**Here in Avalon ... Here in Tír na nÓg** : "Avalon (probably from the Welsh word afal, meaning apple) is a legendary island featured in the Arthurian legends. It is famous for its beautiful apples. It first appears in Geoffrey of Monmouth's 1136 pseudo-historical account _Historia Regnum Britanniae_ ('The History of the Kings of Britain') as the place where King Arthur's sword Excalibur (Caliburnus) was forged and later where Arthur was taken to recover from his wounds after the Battle of Camlann. Avalon was associated from an early date with immortal beings such as Morgan le Fay."

"Tír na nÓg (Old Irish Tír inna n-Óc; roughly meaning "Land of Youth") is the most popular of the Otherworlds in Irish Mythology. It is perhaps best known from the story of Oisín, one of the few mortals who lived there. He was said to have been brought there by Niamh of the Golden Hair. It was where the Tuatha De Danann settled when they left Ireland's surface, and was visited by some of Ireland's greatest heroes. Tír na nÓg is similar to other mythical Irish lands such as Mag Mell and Ablach.

Tír na nÓg was considered a place beyond the edges of the map ... This otherworld was a place where sickness and death did not exist. It was a place of eternal youth and beauty. Here, music, strength, life, and all pleasurable pursuits came together in a single place. Here, happiness lasted forever." ISOTI (Wikipedia).

Does it remind you of anywhere else you may have heard of? It would have reminded the Ancient Greeks of Elysium, the Vikings of Valhalla.

**we follow old ways**. Do you remember what Gordon's SGGm said to him when he first saw her in the mirror? "You have begun well. But I must follow old ways."

**My names are legion**. How many can you think of? Moses, Myrddin, Māth, Merlin, Prospero, Gandalf, Obi-Wan, Albus... That's just one list. I could offer you another. What names would be on that other list, do you think?

### CHAPTER 29

**A.B.V**. Alcohol by volume. As a rule of thumb, a thirsty adult human male in unfamiliar territory is quite likely to use the A.B.V. as an indicator of how tasty and pleasantly relaxing a particular beverage is likely to be.

" **Poor is the pupil ..."**. It was Leonardo Da Vinci who said "Poor is the pupil who does not surpass his master." (That is of course an English translation of what Leonardo Da Vinci said)

**Prescience** noun: "the fact of knowing something in advance; foreknowledge." OED. From Latin _prae-_ 'before' and _scire_ 'to know'.

### CHAPTER 30

**Feta** noun: "A white salty Greek cheese made from the milk of ewes or goats" OED. From Modern Greek _pheta_.

**whether it actually came for Greece or no** t.

"BRITAIN'S only feta producer has said that a European court ruling that the name may be used only by Greek cheese-makers will lead to shortages. Judy Bell, of Shepherds Purse Cheese in Yorkshire, branded the decision by the Luxembourg court as "ludicrous", and said that it would cost jobs and money.

The European Court of Justice ended a 13-year dispute when it ruled that the name "feta" must be used only for white cheese soaked in brine and made in Greece. The ruling was made under the same legislation that ensures that champagne comes from Champagne in France, and Parma ham must come from Parma in Italy.

There is no right of appeal. The ruling has caused chaos in the European feta industry, with all manufacturers, apart from Greeks, being barred from using the name from 2007."

(ISOTI: An article published in The Times in 2005)

**Surreptitious** adj: kept secret, an action taken with the intention of hiding something from an observer. From the Latin verb _surriper_ e, from _sub-_ 'secretly' and _rapere_ 'to seize' OED.

**Einioes, Graslonrwydd, Gwythyr**. These are Welsh names. Approximate pronunciations are EenYOess, GRASSlonrwith and GwIthir. Einioes means 'Life' in Welsh. Graslonrwydd means 'Graciousness'.

**A docudrama** : a documentary that has actors re-enacting scenes and events.

### CHAPTER 31

**Subterfuge** noun: "deceit used in order to achieve one's goal" OED. From French or late Latin _subterfugium_ , from Latin _subterfugere_ 'escape secretly', from _subter-_ 'beneath' + _fugere_ 'to flee'.

**Suffused** verb: "gradually spread through or over" OED. From Latin _suffus-_ 'poured into', from _sub-_ 'below' and _fundere_ 'pour'.

**A hundred people could have stood around it, each at arm's length from the other**. That makes it between 500 and 600 feet in circumference, and around 175 feet in diameter.

**A great cross ... a magnificent rose at its centre**. Type Celtic cross into _Google images_ to see lots of examples.

**prate of their whereabouts** :

"Thou sure and firm set earth,

Hear not my steps which way they walk, for fear

The very stones prate of my whereabout,"

Macbeth, Act 11, scene 1

**Moted** adj: specked with dust.

**Sable-silvered** _compound_ adj: a deep black, with white streaks. This was the colour of the beard of Hamlet's father's ghost.

**Palpable** adj: "so intense as to seem almost tangible" OED.

**Emanating** verb: "issuing or spreading out..." OED. From Latin _emanat-_ 'flowed out', from _e-_ (variant of _ex-_ ) 'out' + _manare_ 'to flow'.

**Tsunami** noun: "a long, high wave caused by an earthquake or other disturbance" OED. From Japanese _tsu_ 'harbour' + _nami_ 'wave'.

### CHAPTER 32

**in greater numbers than autumnal leaves**. The idea for this simile came from the line: "Thick as autumnal leaves that strew the brooks in Vallombrosa" ( _Paradise Lost, Book 1, line 302_ ). _Paradise Lost_ is an epic poem in blank verse by the 17th-century English poet John Milton. It was originally published in 1667 (though written nearly ten years earlier)" ISOTI (Wikipedia). I have referred to it several times in these notes.

**My friend Tom**. To find out quite a lot about Gordon's friend Tom, go to https://myrddinsheir.com > 'Gordon Bennett, the early years' (underneath the banner on the home page). Tom features in chapters 3, 4, 6-9, 12, 23 and 28.

**aeons of weariness around his eyes** :

"Elephants in the circus

Have aeons of weariness around their eyes.

Yet they sit up

and show vast bellies to the children."

D. H. Lawrence

" **there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so."** Hamlet Act 2, scene 2, 251-3. Gordon quoted this line to his mother in Chapter 31. Zack first quoted it to him after an Enjoy-a-Ball session, when he was six (see the end of Chapter 17).

### CHAPTER 33

**I might have an answer**. If you're interested in Zack's and Gordon's thoughts on who or what Zack might be, go to https://myrddinsheir.com, click on "The Inside Story" link under the banner on the home page, then follow the links to 'The Inside Story About Zack'. It's pretty interesting!

### CHAPTER 34

**They're all going to the zoo**. Chester Zoo is one of Gordon's favourite places. In the Spring of that year, Gordon had visited the zoo with his mum and dad and seen a tiger take a sparrow out of the air. His dad had told him about Guy, a famous gorilla that had spent twenty-five years in solitary confinement in London Zoo some years ago. Zack told him about Washoe, a female chimpanzee who had learned hundreds of signs in order to be able to communicate with humans. After that, Gordon had taken Zack and his friend Nick in a starship called _Velociraptor_ to a planet where gorillas were the dominant species ...

You can read all about these adventures at https://myrddinsheir.com > 'Gordon Bennett, the early years' under the banner on the home page. There's a lot there too about Tom, and about Nick.

**Apposite** adj: I have avoided this word until now; but if you're still with me, I think you're ready for it. It means "apt in the circumstances or in relation to something" OED.

### CHAPTER 35

**Inevitably** adv: unavoidably.

**Nick had been his best friend (apart from Zack, of course) since before nursery school**. You can read about Gordon and Nick's adventures by clicking on http://myrddinsheir,com > 'Gordon Bennett, the early years' under the banner on the home page. You can also follow 'The Inside Story' link to find "The Inside Story about Nick".

" **I'm Grace, and this is Zoë."** The name Zoë comes from a Greek word meaning 'Life'. You will remember, perhaps, that Myrddin's name for her was Einioes (EenYOess), which is the Welsh word for 'Life'. He called Grace 'Grasslonrwydd' (GRASSlonrwith), which means 'Grace' or 'Graciousness' in Welsh.

Incidentally, Zack is a short form of Zachariah, which is a Hebrew name meaning 'The Lord re-called'.

CHAPTER 36

**His visit to the Planet of the Apes** : You will find an account of that visit on my website. https://myrddinsheir.com > 'Gordon Bennett, the early years' (under the banner on the home page) > chapters 24-26.

**A close encounter of the third kind.** _Close Encounters of the Third Kind_ (sometimes abbreviated to CE3K and often referred to as just _Close Encounters_ ) is a 1977 science fiction film written and directed by Steven Spielberg. The "third kind" is an actual face-to-face encounter with an alien.

**Templemead High School**. As with Little Melling in Book 1, the name has been changed, as they say, "to protect the innocent".

**Kieran and Dean** are two naughty boys from Gordon's primary school. You can find out more about them here: https://myrddinsheir.com > 'Gordon Bennett, the early years' (under the banner on the home page).

" **Her baby died** " **.** Here is an echo of an incident that Zack had told Gordon about. A lady used sign language to tell a female chimpanzee called Washoe that her baby had died. She had been away from Washoe for some time because of the miscarriage. When she came back, Washoe was giving her the cold shoulder because she had missed her and didn't know why she had been away. Washoe understood the sign language, looked at her, then traced the line of a tear down the lady's cheek. Chimps don't shed tears.

You will find an account of that incident here https://myrddinsheir.com > 'Gordon Bennett, the early years' (under the banner on the home page), chapter 22.

**Prescience** noun: "the fact of knowing something in advance; foreknowledge." OED. From Latin _prae-_ 'before' and _scire_ 'to know'. This note appeared in chapter 29, after Myrddin said to Gordon: "Prescience is another of the skills we will practise together."

CHAPTER 37

**GRASSlonrwith and EenYOess**. The Welsh names were spelled Graslonrwydd and Einioes. They mean 'Graciousness' and 'Life'. Gwythyr, pronounced [Gwithir], means 'Victor'.

**The mission parameters**. A "parameter" is a "limit or boundary which defines the scope of a particular process or activity" OED. From Greek _para-_ 'beside' + _metron_ 'measure'.

CHAPTER 38

**Ostentatiously** adv: 'in a pretentious or showy way'. From Latin _ostendere_ 'stretch out to view' OED.

**'Enjoy-A-Ball' sessions**. (You can find an account of that session here: https://myrddinsheir.com > 'Gordon Bennett, the early years' (under the banner on the home page), chapters 13-16. Gordon was six. Warren was Kieran's second pick for his relay team (after Dean).

**'O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being'** is the first line of Ode to the West Wind by Percy Bysshe Shelley. It is a famous poem, written in 1820, and well worth a read. It asks an important question in its last line, which reminds us that there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.

CHAPTER 39

**An Immaculate Conception**. This phrase is associated with a Christian belief that the Virgin Mary (the mother of Jesus) was herself born without any stain of original sin, even though her father and mother were both human. The word "conception" has a number of meanings, from 'the act of conceiving a child' and 'the forming or devising of a plan or idea' to 'ability to imagine or understand' OED. "Immaculate" most often means 'free from flaws or mistakes; perfect', from Latin _in-_ 'not' and _maculatus_ 'stained (macula in Latin means a spot or a stain).

**The colour of autumn**. This was a colour favoured by a group of English 19th century artists known as 'The Pre-Raphaelites'. They consciously tried to find "the simplicity and sincerity of the work of Italian artists before the time of Raphael." OED

The women in these paintings typically had "long, thick, wavy hair, pale skin, and a fey [fairy] demeanour" OED. Type **pre-Raphaelite paintings** or **pre-Raphaelite hair** into _Google Images_ to see lots of examples.

**There was no question of her losing her way**. This is another example of what is called "dramatic irony". The reader suspects quite rightly that Vivian is about to lose her way, though it is a different way from the way she is thinking about at this point.

Do you remember Gordon saying to his parents in the Tropical Biome at The Eden Project: "I'll not be far away" just before the Tara Torque took him to another world? That was another example of dramatic irony.

**Veiled in a cloud of fragrance**. Milton describes the moment when the serpent spies Eve in the Garden of Eden thus:

"Beyond his hope, Eve separate he spies,

Veiled in a cloud of fragrance where she stood,

Half spied, so thick the roses bushing round

About her glowed." (Paradise Lost, Book 9, 424-7)

**His name was Gabriel**. It was the Angel Gabriel who brought the news to Mary that she was to bear a child and call his name Jesus.

**He was charming and funny, with perfect teeth**. I am reliably informed that these three attributes go down very well with girls. Boys, take note. This is good stuff I'm passing on to you here.

**They were flying instead through a magic casement**. This sentence leans heavily on Keats' _Ode to a Nightingale_ :

"The same that oft-times hath

Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam

Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn."

A "casement" is a window that is vertically hinged to open like a door.

CHAPTER 40

**Even the Romans went around it**. It was bounded in the West by Ryknield Street, in the South by the Salt Road, in the East by the Fosse Way, and in the North by Watling Street.

... **in a dream when he was five**. If you haven't already, you can find an account of that dream here: https://myrddinsheir.com > 'Gordon Bennett, the early years' (under the banner on the home page), chapters 10-12. Gordon was five years old.

**A restrained robe of lemon yellow silk**. That is what the Queen of England wore at the wedding of her grandson William to Kate Middleton in 2011. I feel sure it was not a coincidence.

**Age had withered her too**. This description borrows from Enobarbus' description of Cleopatra in Shakespeare's play Antony and Cleopatra:

"Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale

Her infinite variety." Act 11 scene 2

... **and tolled the knell of parting days**. This echoes the first line of Thomas Grey's Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard first published in 1751. It is written in iambic pentameters, which is the technical term for the metre that fairies often use when they speak. The first stanza reads:

"The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,

The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,

The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,

And leaves the world to darkness, and to me."

**Aeoned** adj _._ I am using the word 'aeon' - meaning a very long time - as an adjective.

**Smoking thuribles**. A thurible is an incense burner. The word is formed from Latin _thus_ , _thur-_ , 'incense', which itself comes from Greek _thuos_ 'sacrifice' + _-fer_ '-bearing'.

... **to cut the mistletoe with sharp gold**. Mistletoe loses its magic if it is cut with any baser metal, or if it ever touches the ground. It does not touch the ground in life, instead rooting itself in trees. For this reason, it is also called "Scorn-the-earth" in some countries (like Belize).

CHAPTER 41

... **looked at each other with a wild surmise** :

"Then felt I like some watcher of the skies

When a new planet swims into his ken;

Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes

He star'd at the Pacific - and all his men

Look'd at each other with a wild surmise -

Silent, upon a peak in Darien."

On First Looking into Chapman's Homer

John Keats, October 1816

**The sign of the endless knot**. This is the five-pointed star which was inscribed on the stone marking the entrance to Mabon's cairn. You will probably remember that it is called an endless knot because you can make the shape over and over again without taking your finger from it.

**United Federation of Fairy Knockers**. This is a trade union set up exclusively to protect the interests of "Knockers". Knockers are a particularly unpleasant type of fairy known to hold deeply entrenched anti-human views. They specialise in disrupting the endeavours of human miners by knocking inside coal faces to distract and frighten them. They have even been known to cut the ropes of miners as they lower themselves into the tunnels. Knockers normally take the fact that they can fly to be conclusive proof of their superiority over humans.

**Humangel** : a blend of human and angel. It's a 'neologism' - a 'new' (made-up) word.

... **ridding our land of a fiery worm**. For a more detailed account of this event, please visit https://myrddinsheir.com > 'Gordon Bennett, the early years' (under the banner on the home page) > chapter 11. Gordon was five.

... **dropping from the sky like the quality of mercy, not strained**. There is a strong echo here from a well-known speech by Portia in Shakespeare's play The Merchant of Venice:

"The quality of mercy is not strained.

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven ..."

Act 1V, scene 1

**Assuage** verb: "satisfy, make less intense" OED. From Old French _assouagier_ , based on Latin _ad-_ 'to' (expressing change) + _suavis_ 'sweet'.

**A God is still a God. What's in a name?** This is a genuine question, not a rhetorical one. What do you think?

... **once again the most beautiful fairy Gordon had ever seen**. There was some doubt whether Gordon's judgement at the age of five could be relied upon when it came to an appreciation of female beauty. I defended him at the time. It is reassuring to discover that his opinion on the matter has not changed, now that he has reached a more informed and gender-conscious age.

**Incongruous** adj: "not in harmony or keeping with the surroundings or other aspects of something" OED.

**Those who would make good of bad and friend of foes**. In Shakespeare's Macbeth, an old man says "God's benison go with you, and with those who would make good of ill and friend of foes" _(Act 2 scene 4)_

**Flights of angels to sing them to that res** t. This echoes what Horatio says before Hamlet's body is borne from the stage at the end of the play:

"Goodnight, sweet prince,

And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

CHAPTER 42

**An inopportune moment**. "Inopportune' means: "occurring at an inconvenient or inappropriate time" OED. Its origin is interesting. Obviously the _in-_ bit means 'not', and the Latin _opportunus_ came from _ob-_ 'in the direction of' + _portus_ 'harbour': so it originally referred to the wind driving a ship towards the harbour.

**"There is a tide in the affairs of men which taken at the flood leads on to fortune."** (Julius Caesar, Act 1V, scene 2, lines 270-271)

CHAPTER 43

**They went through a wormhole**. You can read all about that dream here: https://myrddinsheir.com > 'Gordon Bennett, the early years' (under the banner on the home page) > chapters 24-26. It happened in the Spring of 2010, when Gordon was ten.

**Klepto Kieran**. Klepto is short for kleptomaniac: "someone who has a recurrent urge to steal, typically without regard for need or profit" OED.

" **Where did that come from?** " The wealthy business entrepreneur Richard Branson owns an island in the Caribbean called Necker Island. "Knickers" is an unkind nickname Tom had given Nick in nursery school. "Branston" is the brand-name of a pickle widely available in English supermarkets.

CHAPTER 44

**It had told him to stop hating**. You can read all about that here: https://myrddinsheir.com > 'Gordon Bennett, the early years' (under the banner on the home page) > chapter 28. It happened in the Summer term at primary school, when Gordon was ten.

CHAPTER 45

**Schizophrenia** : "a long term mental disorder ... leading to faulty perception ... withdrawal from reality ... fantasy and delusion, and a sense of mental fragmentation." OED. From Greek _skhizein_ 'to split' and _phrēn_ 'mind'.

**Catatonia** : "a state of immobility and stupor" OED. It can create the impression that the spirit of a person has actually left his or her body and gone somewhere else. _Cata_ means 'badly' (e.g. catastrophe) and Greek _tonos_ means 'tone' or 'tension'.

**A new planet swam into Victor's ken**. This image is taken from a wonderful poem by John Keats, written in October 1816. I would very much like you to read it all:

On First Looking into Chapman's Homer

"Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold,

And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;

Round many western islands have I been

Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.

Oft of one wide expanse had I been told

That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne;

Yet did I never breathe its pure serene

Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:

Then felt I like some watcher of the skies

When a new planet swims into his ken;

Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes

He star'd at the Pacific - and all his men

Look'd at each other with a wild surmise -

Silent, upon a peak in Darien."

The last six lines will already be familiar if you read the note to Chapter 41.

CHAPTER 46

**I first did something like it when Tom came around here**. You can read all about that here: https://myrddinsheir.com. > 'Gordon Bennett, the early years' (under the banner on the home page) > chapter 3. Gordon was four when that happened.

**Auto-suggestion** noun: "the hypnotic or subconscious adoption of an idea which one has originated oneself" OED. I use it to describe a process whereby someone implants an idea or experience into someone else's head and makes them think that it is their own.

**Little Sorprendo**. 'Sorprendo' in Spanish means 'I surprise', and "The Great Sorprendo" was for many years the stage name of a British comedy magician and actor named Geoffrey Durham. ISOTI

**Ramifications** noun: "complex or unwelcome consequences of an action or event" OED. It is a French word, a noun formed from the verb _ramifier_ 'to form branches'.

" **Nothing ventured, nothing gained."** When Gordon was younger, this was something his dad always said before helping him put together one of the models Gordon so loved building. https://myrddinsheir.com > 'Gordon Bennett, the early years' > chapter 19.

CHAPTER 47

**"Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed"** : _The Bible, John, chapter 20, verse 25_.

CHAPTER 48

**A de facto member of the family** : treated as a member of the family. She was given that status by every other member of the family, whether other people would have considered her so or not.

... **where Prospero promised to drown his books**. In Shakespeare's _The Tempest_ , a wizard called Prospero practises magic on a mysterious island. At one point, he promises to 'drown' his books of magic.

**He'd been the one who had rammed Kieran's ice-cream up his nose.** https://myrddinsheir.com > 'Gordon Bennett, the early years' (under the banner on the home page) > chapter 13. Gordon was six when that happened.

**The Seventh Commandment**. The modern wording is "You shall not make wrongful use of the name of the Lord your God, for the Lord will not acquit anyone who misuses his name." However, the Authorized Version in the King James Bible reads: "Thou shalt not take the name of the LORD thy God in vain; for the LORD will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain."

CHAPTER 49

**Exude** verb: "(of a person) display (an emotion or quality) strongly and openly" OED. From Latin _exsudare_ , from _ex-_ 'out' + _sudare_ 'to sweat'.

**"My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my sense"** is the opening line of John Keats' _Ode to a Nightingale_ , written in May 1819.

CHAPTER 50

**Melted, as breath into the wind**. When the witches vanish in Act 1 scene 3 of _Macbeth_ , Banquo asks: "Whither are they vanish'd?" and Macbeth replies: "Into the air; and what seemed corporal melted, as breath into the wind."

_Quod erat demonstrandum_. This Latin phrase is normally abbreviated to Q.E.D. and placed at the end of a mathematical proof or philosophical argument. The phrase signals the completion of a proof. The appearance of Zack, Zoë and Myrddin to the watching adults must be considered proof positive of Gordon and Grace's assertions - provided, of course, that seeing is believing.

**The sightless couriers of the air**. _Macbeth, Act 1 scene 7_ : "heaven's cherubim, horsed upon the sightless couriers of the air ..."

# TO NOTE ...

If you enjoyed _A Wizard of Dreams_ , please be advised that Book 2: _Amazing Grace_ begins just five days after the point in the story where Book 1 pauses for breath. The story grows and grows.

All my e-books are just 99p or 99c because I never want the price to prevent any child from reading them.

There is a great deal more interesting information on my website - https://myrddinsheir.com

# Brief Author Autobiography

Once upon a time –a long time ago – I was born in Bootle (Liverpool 20). There was a war on. Later, I wanted to follow in the footsteps of J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis but instead was plunged into the maelstrom of inner city education. In the 1970s I wrote some stories for children to see if I could, and Penguin published them. I thought I would write something really good when I retired from teaching.

After fourteen years of headship in Hackney I came back up north in 1993 and met my wonderful wife Amy. We looked after my increasingly ill parents full-time until they didn't need us to do it anymore, by which time the first of our two daughters was ready to go off to University and on to the first rung of the housing ladder. We did the sums and I went back to teaching.

In 2008 Amy and I set off for a life by the western shores of the Caribbean. It was only after I survived a murder attempt by three local thugs in November 2010 (skull crushed in two places, seventeen stitches in head wounds) that I realised how easy it is to die without accomplishing a cherished ambition.

So we came back to the UK and I set to work on _Myrddin's Heir_ : the epic story I will leave behind. It took three years to write the first four books, which I uploaded into the Kindle Store all at once in 2013 at 99p each. Self-publishing means self-marketing, so here I am. Book 5 was published in April 2014 for the same price, and Book 6 followed in June 2016.

This is a story for bright children from 10–110 years of age. To finish it I need to live a few more years. I'd like to finish it, because I know how it ends.

#  Chapter 1

Halloween Across The Curriculum

It didn't take long for the year 7's to settle into their new routines and get used to the building. It wasn't nearly as confusing as it had all seemed at first; the staircases and corridors had stopped moving by the end of week 2.

September became October. Autumn held on, but winter was catching up and would overtake it soon. In school, talk turned to Halloween and Bonfire Night. The whole Guy Fawkes thing would never be the same for Gordon, not since he had watched his sixteen-greats grandmother being burned alive. The playground began to resound with casual boasts about how many fireworks were being stockpiled, and how big some of them were.

"My dad always goes out and buys about three hundred quid's worth." "We've got absolutely huge ones." "Our 'Atomic Meltdown' rockets were over a tenner each!" A lot of money would be going up in smoke, as it did every year. And as it does every year, October 31st would reliably arrive five nights before November 5th.

This year the Art, Drama, English, History and R.E. departments were collaborating in a year 7 project on "Halloween". Everyone would get the chance to learn about the ancient festival from all angles.

The masks, props and costumes they made in Art were to be used in plays about witches, ghosts and demons in Drama. The origins of Halloween would be explored in History, and the facts used to lend credibility to spooky stories and poems in English. The tensions between the Celtic pagan festival of 'Samhain' on October 31st and the Roman Catholic 'Holy Day of Obligation for All Saints' on November 1st were scheduled for exploration in RE: to consider what happens when a new religion competes with an old one for dominance.

In Art, Miranda made a traditional witch's hat out of black card and sticky tape. It was a two-girl job to make the cone: one to hold it in position while the other stuck the tape along the join. She managed the rest herself by fixing sticky hinges around the bottom of the cone. Having dropped the rim over it, she was able to press it firmly on to the adhesive strips. Extra layers of tape were needed on the outside to give it strength. As a finishing touch, she tied a bit of black gauze around it to hide the shiny tape. That made it quite stylish, and it fitted her perfectly. With her very black hair and her dark, dark eyes, she looked very witchy.

"My dad's making me an outfit to go with it," she told them. "He's good with our sewing-machine." There was more than a touch of pride in her voice. "We've got some old curtains - dark green and purple with a sort of swirly pattern. He's cut holes for my head and arms, and there's enough left over to make a big collar and droopy sleeves." She brushed her hair away from her face. "I'm going to paint my face swirly green and purple too, and go trick-or-treating."

To begin with, Nick struggled with his werewolf mask. He suffered a setback when the elastic tore through the thin card, the first time he tried it on. It was quite funny the way it pinged off his face, but his obvious distress made his friends hide their grins and rally around. Not so a couple of the noisier boys, who began howling with laughter. "Knickers' elastic just snapped!" a boy named Dominic crowed. "Let's hope his knickers don't fall down." Thanks to Kieran and Dean, Nick's nickname had followed him from primary school.

"Shut up!" Tom growled. He looked up from the lethal-looking devil's pitchfork he was making out of a broom handle, cardboard tubing and lashings of red paint. "I'd like to see **you** do any better."

"Thank you, Tom," their Art teacher said. "Don't be unkind, Dominic. Nick is attempting a very ambitious mask. It's going to be great when it's finished." She smiled encouragingly at him.

Gordon helped him remake the hole with several layers of sticky tape and a hole-punch. After that, they made a cone similar to Miranda's, only shorter and not so pointy. They fixed it to the front of the mask to make a long snout, and then built it up with layers of papier mâché to bind everything together. They gave it brow ridges. Nick brought in a remnant of fake fur that his mum had picked up. He copydexed it on, at which point it became seriously scary. The teacher picked it up and took it over to Dominic. "What do you think of it now?" she asked.

"It's all right," he admitted grudgingly.

"It's brilliant!" the Art teacher said. "I hope you'll write a description of how you made it, Nick, to go into the display with the mask itself." Nick nodded, playing it cool but obviously flattered. The earlier setback was well behind him.

Grace had brought in a hairnet and several balls of wool. She had four colours: olive green, nut brown, rusty red and midnight blue. She was weaving long strands through the net to make a wild wig. The Art department had a mannequin's head that she stretched it over. It took a surprising amount of work to get it just right.

"My mums are making me a Halloween costume," she told them. "I'm not to see it 'til it's finished. _"They try hard not to think about it when I'm around,"_ she telepathed to Gordon, _"because they want it to be a surprise."_

Surprising Grace couldn't ever be easy. That didn't seem fair, as she was always surprising other people. Gordon wondered if she usually knew what she was getting for Christmas. _"Pretty much,"_ Grace telepathed. He grinned to himself.

"What you grinning at?" Nick wanted to know.

"I was just thinking about how much fun Halloween is," Gordon said. "Do you normally do anything?"

"We dress up and haunt each other in the back garden, and we play games like bobbing for apples," Nick said. "We don't go out though." Grace looked at him sympathetically. Halloween isn't much fun if you're scared of the dark.

"Where do you go trick or treating?" she asked Miranda.

"Just in our road, to people we know. There are two or three of us and we do it together. My dad and their mums come with us. They don't want us out there on our own, knocking on the doors of people we don't know."

_"I just had a great idea,"_ Gordon telepathed to Grace. _"Why don't you and I and Zack and Zoë get together on Halloween? I'm sure our parents would be OK with it. We could ghost-hunt, or trick-or-treat and stuff."_

_"What kind of tricks?"_ Grace thought back.

_"I expect it would mostly be treats,"_ Gordon admitted, _"but we might manage a trick or two."_ He'd brought in a pumpkin carved into the shape of a skull. He'd worked on it at home, relying on Zack's expert eye to compare the size of it with his own head. His _Illustrated Encyclopaedia_ had some good pictures and he'd got it pretty exact. All he had to do was to layer papier mâché over it.

He gave it a bit of a neck - Zack's suggestion - so that his mum had something to attach an old sheet to. He built up some scary brow ridges and a prominent jaw to make it look Neanderthal. He left a slit up the back so he could squeeze his head in. All he had to do then was give the outside several coats of white paint and the inside several coats of black, and hey presto: a full-length, one-piece, scary Halloween ghost-costume.

That was the making part of the project.

