Geri Novél: Girl Mystic, chapter six

A children's story

Chapter Six

Are you Coming?

A week later to the very day, in the morning, early, before it was even light, Box heard a tapping sound on his bedroom door.

“Who’s there?” he whispered, fumbling for his glasses, to see what time it was.

“It’s me, Geri.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to talk with you.”

Can’t it wait until I get up?”

No.”

“Why not?”

Silence.

“I said, why not?”

“Let me in.”

By now Box knew only too well that when his cousin, Geri, had something on her mind she persisted until she got what she wanted. In this case it was an ear. So climbing out of warm bed, he unbolted the door and let her in. Then jumping back into it, and pulling the covers up high, he asked, “Well, what’s so important that it couldn’t wait until later?”

Remaining uncharacteristically quiet, Geri searched for words, the words she wanted to use. Finding them, she said, “I am leaving.”

“Leaving? When?”

“Today. And I wanted to ask…if you would consider coming along with me?”

“Me? Why? Where are you going?”

“Back to Bedlam…”

“Bedlam!” he said, stunned by this revelation. “I thought you had escaped from there? I never thought for one instant that you’d ever want to return.”

Again searching for words, enough to tell him what she was doing but not so many as to divulge her plan, Geri said, “It’s only a matter of time until the school authorities find me… If I take the initiative, if I leave before that happens, I am in with a chance to find it...”

“To find what?”

“Something that I left, back there, at school…”

“And you must go back for it?”

“Yes.”

“It’s that important to you?”

“Yes.”

What is it?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Can you give me even some idea of what it is?”

“No.”

There was another silence, much longer than the previous one. The sound of Mr and Mrs Privet’s snoring in the other room could be plainly heard.

Although Box knew only too well what his cousin was like, that her own agenda always took precedence over everything else, that she was most certainly hiding a great deal more than she was telling him, he had actually grown used to her in a peculiar sort of way. So because of this, and also because he wanted to see what the new electro-magical wand was really capable of doing, he agreed, saying, “All right, I will come along. But I am not going to do anything that’s illegal – is that clear?”

Smiling, Geri nodded. She was happy; for the first time in her life she was happy to be with someone, even a tall, whimpishly thin Muddle such as Box.

“Can’t we say goodbye?” Box asked, as he stepped through his bedroom window, onto the trelliswork supporting the white flowering rambling rose.

“No. I’ve already told you that,” Geri whispered. “The less your parents know the safer they will be. Now hurry up, I’ve a bad felling…”

Stopping halfway down the trelliswork, pricking a finger on a thorn, and then sucking it, Box whispered, “A bad feeling? What sort of a bad feeling?”

“I can’t explain,” she said, following him down. “It’s something that I learned to do, during my time at Bedlam.” She laughed a little sardonically, before continuing; “At least I learned something useful while I was there.” Then looking down to him, she said, “Go on, what’s the hold-up?”

Box resumed his descent down the trelliswork, but then he stopped again.

“What’s the problem now?” Geri asked him impatiently.

Saying nothing, nothing at all, Box pointed with trembling fingers to the eastern sky.

CARPETS! High in the sky, and approaching fast, were two objects that looked incredibly like flying carpets!

“Drats,” Geri hissed. “They’ve found me!”

Jumping down the last few feet of trelliswork, Geri and Box dived for cover; Geri beneath the huge, spreading leaves of a Gunnera plant, and Box under the less exotic but equally large leaves of a Rhubarb plant (his father insisted on growing rhubarb in the flower beds, saying it was a much underrated flowing plant, whose majestic white flowers had no place amongst the drab vegetables). From their places of concealment, the two cousins watched as the flying carpets, with their occupants sitting cross-legged upon them, passed overhead.

“They didn’t stop,” Box whispered to Geri.

Creeping over, hiding under the same Rhubarb leaves as her cousin, Geri said, “That means they haven’t quite yet worked out where I am. I might still be in with a chance. Then looking kindly at her cousin, she said, “ You go back inside, it’s me they’re after – go!”

“Oh no you don’t,” Box said vehemently. “We’re in this together."

“But they might come back at any moment!”

“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted. “Now tell me this, is there anything at all that we might do to get away from them?”

Undoing the fasteners on her shoulder bag, Geri opened it and began searching through its contents.

Box watched her intently, and said, “Can’t we use the new wand?”

“No, that will just attract more attention,” Geri said as she continued searching through her bag. “Ah, I have it,” she said triumphantly.

“How did you get that into your bag?” Box asked, puzzled by how she had managed to get such a bulky article in or indeed out from her bag.

Ignoring the question, Geri began untying the brown coloured string holding the article together. It was only after she had done this, and unfolded it upon the ground did Box realise what it actually was. It was a carpet, an old carpet, and almost threadbare in places, but of exquisite design.

Box was flabbergasted. “Is that…is that really? – No, it can’t be,” he said yet desperately hoping that it really and truly was a genuine honest to goodness flying carpet.

Geri smiled.

“You mean it?”

She nodded.

“It is, really a flying carpet – I was right!” Box exclaimed.

The carpet, now completely unfolded, was safely concealed beneath the canopy of rhubarb leaves. It smelt of mustiness.

“Let’s get going,” Box urged her.

Geri made no reply; she waited, silently watching the sky. Their departure had to be planned to the split-second, to avoid any chance of being seen by the men on their magical carpets up above.

Plans don’t always according to – plan, and this was unfortunately such an instance. Before they had a chance to act, to make good their escape, the two flying carpets returned and began circling overhead.

“They’re on to us,” Geri whispered.

“You must have really pissed them off, back at that school of yours, if they’d do all this just to get you back there,” said Box.

Geri ignored this remark.

While one of the carpets, with a bearded cross looking individual sitting upon it, remained circling overhead, as a lookout, the other one, with two even more cross looking and bearded occupants sitting on it, came to a smooth landing beneath the shelter of the large horse chestnut tree. Walking away from the carpet, just leaving it there under the tree, the two men, dressed in long multicoloured robes, made their way across the short distance to the house.

Tapping Geri on the shoulder, Box asked, “What are they doing?”

Geri said nothing; she just kept on watching.

“Where are they going?” Box asked, but fearing that he already knew.

“Inside,” Geri replied.

“Inside? You mean to mum and dad?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“But what do they want with them?” Box asked, almost crying with fear.

“They’re the only ones in there, that’s why.”

“But they don’t know anything!”

“Shush,” they might hear you.”

Inside, Mr and Mrs Privet were still sound asleep, blissfully unaware of the strange goings on in their garden. However, when one of the men kicked in their back door, their troubles began with a start.

“Did you hear something, Laurel?” said Mrs Privet, waking up and sitting up in bed, her ears cocked.

“No, go back to sleep,” he mumbled.

Mrs Privet lay back in her warm bed, trusting in her husband’s reassuring words.

Clump, clump, clump; Mrs Privet heard the sound of heavy footsteps downstairs, tramping across her polished floorboards, knocking things over, breaking things, in their search for the troublesome girl Geri.

Prodding her husband, she said, “Laurel, there is someone downstairs, I am sure of it!”

“I already told you,” he mumbled, “there’s no one down there. Now go to sleep.” And with those words Mr Privet fell asleep once again.

There was another clump, a much louder one this time, like the sound a television set would make if tossed into the corner of a room. Prodding her husband again, and much harder this time, Mrs Privet insisted that there was someone below.

“It’s probably Geri, getting up early, to make another one of her radios,” Mr Privet mumbled sleepily.

“LAUREL, GET UP!” his wife hissed, hoping that the house invaders might hear, and thus go.

He got up. Mr Privet finally got out from his bed and, after putting on his dressing gown and slippers he sleepily opened the bedroom door. He jumped back in fright! A bearded cross-looking man in long robes, staring in at him, was wielding a small stick in a most threatening manner.

“I say, that’s not cricket,” said Mr Privet, eying the small stick with some suspicion.

Despite the stick being so small, the man continued to wave it in a most threateningly manner. Then pushing Mr Privet into the bedroom with it, he watched blankly as he fell clumsily onto the bed – and his wife.

“My,” said Mrs Privet, her eyes opening with excitement, “and it’s not even Sunday.”

“Stop that, woman,” he scolded. “We have a problem.”

Opening her eyes, Mrs Privet saw the man standing over her, and she screamed with fright.

“They’ve got mum and dad,” Box yelled. “I’ve got to go up and help them!”

The flying carpet, which had been circling overhead, suddenly changed course and began DESCENDING.

“Now see what you’ve done,” Geri hissed.

“What I’ve done? How did you work that out?”

There were no more screams heard from the Privet’s household, Mrs Privet and her husband, having been tied up and gagged by the bearded men, were in no position to do anything.

Having had a bad experience with a wand many years earlier, Mr Privet now hated them. He was convinced they were detrimental to one’s health. Staring despairingly at the two men, he would have kicked himself if he had been able, having failed miserably to recognise the stick for what it really was – a magical wand, albeit a very one.

While keeping an eye fixed firmly on the flying carpet that was still descending, Geri said, “We’ve only got a minute, at best. We must leave NOW.” She began dragging the carpet from under the rhubarb, across to a clear bit of lawn.

“We can’t just leave them,” said Box, fretting for his parents. “We must be able to do something.”

“Well,” Geri mused, mulling it over. “I suppose we could use my new wand…considering we’re now leaving.” She watched as the carpet continued to lose height.

“Use it then, USE IT,” Box pleaded.

“All right, but get on the carpet, like me,” she said, sitting cross-legged upon the frayed article.

It was a struggle for Box, having such long legs, but in the end he managed to sit behind his troublesome cousin.

“Now what?” he asked, listening for any signs of life from his home. There were still none.

“Just a few words should do it,” Geri whispered.

“Say them, SAY THEM!”

Producing her newfangled electro magical wand, Geri waved it from left to right and then left again, and she said; “Loosen up the cords that tie, free those souls from binds so tight.”

“Is that it? No flames or floods or pestilence, just a few words?” Box asked, brutally disappointed with the performance.

“It’s best that way,” she said. Then with another wave of her wand, she said, “Up, up and away.”

With those few words having been said, the threadbare old carpel began trembling, shaking and quivering before speeding off at a terrific rate of knots heading straight for the smashed in back door of the house.

“What are you doing?” Box yelled.

“Hold on,” she shouted, “it’s been a while since I used one of these...”

“A while? How long is a while?”

“Like – never?” she coyly admitted.

The man descending on his carpet, spotting the commotion, set off after them in hot pursuit.

Bursting in through the doorway, the magical carpet, with Geri and Box sitting cross-legged atop, shot through the kitchen at breakneck speed, then down the hallway as equally fast before smashing through the front door and out into the garden. The old wooden door was shattered to pieces, with splinters flying about everywhere.

Seeing the man on his carpet, fast approaching them, Box yelled, “Go in, go back in!”

Steering the carpet like crazy, Geri guided it back into the house. It whizzed through to the debris-strewn sitting room giving them the ride of their lives, as the pursuing carpet with its bearded and angry rider followed in hot pursuit.

Speeding out from the sitting room Geri turned her carpet a sharp right, into the front room, the room where Mrs Privet’s beloved hand-painted fine bone china resided.

In a blaze of anger, the bearded man who was now wielding a sword, followed closely behind steering his carpet into the small room.

As each carpet vied for supremacy, turning round and round upon themselves, they did as much damage, if not more, than the two bearded men had perpetrated in the rest of the house. With growing dexterity Geri guided their carpet safely out from the room, just as the other one collided with the cabinet containing Mrs Privet’s precious china, smashing it to pieces, and knocking the man out in the process. Without a second, Geri steered her carpet up the stairs so fast the two cousins almost slid off in fright.

On reaching the landing, the magical carpet smashed through the door of the bedroom, sending splinters of wood in all directions, then colliding head-on with the two men lurking inside it knocked them out – cold.

Seeing his father still alive, freeing himself from his binds and spitting out his gag, Box yelled, “Dad, are you all right?”

Giggling,” his father replied, “Hmm, another one of Geri’s radios blowing up, if I’m not mistaking. Yes, yes, those radios can be dangerous things, hee, hee.”

Turning to Geri, Box asked, “What’s wrong with him?”

“Shock, seen it before – in Bedlam…”

Turning to his wife, helping to free her hands, Mr Privet said, “Come on, dear, I think the vicar’s coming to tea this evening, and you promised to make him some of your special scones, hee, hee.”

His wife, however, said nothing; she just sat on the floor, her eyes glazed over, listening to strange voices inside her head, telling her that everything was going to be all right, but only if she kept on listening to them…

Chapter Seven

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© Gerrard T Wilson 2008