The Professor and the Starlight Phoenix

by Nathan David Ward

  “You’ve got a heart of gold, you have.”

  “Just a duty of care, Kenneth. He’s not waking up anytime soon that’s for sure, besides, that bundle of fluff was on its way out. It’s going to be another cold night.”

  Kenneth watched as Robin gathered together the medicine and placed it inside the the battered paper bag again. It was much easier in just his white shirt and golden waistcoat, far more manoeuvrable. He collected his belongings and sprung back onto his feet, meeting Kenneth's weary gaze.

  “Anyhow, what brings you this way?” asked Occamy with an eyebrow raised from curiosity, he was quite a distance from home with a blatant lack of breath as he continued to pant, placing his hands around his hips.

  “A sighting, I don’t suppose you saw it?”

  Robin was instantly reminded of Charlie who had ran straight into him, claiming to have been following a giant bird, could it have been the very same one?

  “A bird?,” Robin asked with sarcasm in his tone; to which Kenneth's eyes widened even further. He looked worried, and fearful as his grip tightened around the handle of his cane that was firmly pressed into the snow.

  “You saw it?,” Kenneth asked with concern overwhelming him, taking a step closer to Robin whose face fell pale.

  “No, no...I bumped into little Charlie, he said something about a bird with wings the size of a house, probably just in a world of his own, you know what children are like,” Kenneth's hand immediately eased from around the cane, “Where was he headed?”

  “Just back, past the shop...you know my place, right?”

  Kenneth smiled behind his bushy moustache.

  “Of course, thank you, Robin...you have no idea how important this is, but I'm sure, one day I'll be able to explain it all!” Kenneth suddenly took off, darting towards the alley and raising his hand to Robin, signalling his farewell before vanishing beyond the snow veiled foliage.

  “Very bizarre!” Robin chuckled to himself.

  He pulled his bag of medicine tightly to his chest once more as flakes swept in, riding the bitter breeze of Christmas as the day itself drew all the closer, reeling the father of one back towards the warmth of his home that waited upon a hilltop, looking over the village of Vinemoore and the mountains of shoulders heath, away from the weird goings on that even on this night, Christmas Eve of all nights, it never felt more apparent.

  CHAPTER 2

  The Occamy Household

  The year was 1966 and the common folk of Vinemoore had never expected Christmas to bring the arctic. It was a sight unseen until now, the town immersed in snow - it had always melted away without the chance to settle. It was no surprise when the villages people erupted in to panic. Even as the metal gates clamped together and the shutters shuddered against the ground, they still waited eagerly outside the shop fronts, hoping to haggle a last minute score while the shopkeepers snuck out back, darting away in to the dark of the night, avoiding the usual drama that came with closing time. But this was different, everyone was out of character as fear of waking to a view of solid white, packed against their windows and doors, overwhelmed them. The thought of being sealed inside was just a worry too far.

  Robin smirked as he neared his dainty cottage that sat peacefully upon the hilltop, like a crown jewel, sparkling frosty underneath the glimmering light of the moon that had risen into the night sky.

  The flakes were still falling aggressively, landing against Robin's face as he climbed the frozen ground - he had grown numb to the cold, dressed in nothing but a thin cotton shirt and golden tweed waistcoat.

  “The other guy needed it more than me,” he murmured, engrossed in the thoughts of his retired coat - he liked that tatty grey coat very much, he realised as he approached the end of his journey, relieved to be back after a day that felt like it was never going to end.

  Robin pushed aside the brown wooden gate which separated his land from the wilderness outside, leaving it to spring back in to its closed position while he continued on his way, traipsing up the cobbled footpath that led to his beautiful, oak front door.

  Robin and his partner Kirsten always liked to prepare for the new year and this was no different even under the difficult conditions that they had found themselves in. But nothing had prepared them for the cold grey dawn, not after they’d grown fond of the waking mornings when they would draw back their curtains to be met with the warm rays of sunshine and colourful flower beds staring back at them. Pretty petals and luscious leaves danced in the warm summer breeze as the couple had embraced and stood in harmony, watching.

  Robin could still imagine it, the summer just gone, he was convinced he could smell it too, as he stopped to peer down towards the frosted soil where bulbs and shrubbery sat stiff, frozen like ice as memories began to flood his mind, memories of when life had rewarded him with everything he had ever wanted. Delightful immortal memories that even at the slightest thought could cast a joyous smile upon his scruffy stubbled face.

  Robin was undoubtedly one of the softest men to walk the town, and he had never understood what he could have done to deserve his recent misfortunes, it troubled him greatly, but he had the treatment, now, he suddenly remembered, as the sharp winds fluttered against the brown paper bag drawn tightly to his chest.

  There was no way he was going to allow the darkness to rip the love and joy from his heart, not yet, not on his watch. He often repeated that to himself silently. This Christmas was going to be one of, if not the best Christmas that their family had ever seen, Robin chuckled, turning to make sure the gate was firmly jammed shut before knocking the snow from his shoes and heading inside; closing the heavy front door behind him, carefully, as quietly as he possibly could.

  The metal latch clunked in to place and Robin was suddenly hit by the fiery warmth circulating his home. He could smell the fire burning and food cooking, he could see the orange glow flickering from inside the sitting room as he bent down, placing the ruffled brown bag beside his foot and proceeding to untie his shoelaces, or at least trying to, as his hands were like ice blocks, he could barely feel the waxed lace between his fingertips so he simply grasped at what he could and tugged, hoping for the best - thankfully they were loosely tied and came undone rather quickly, so Robin slipped off his shoes and placed them inside the cupboard under the stairs where the rest of his winter and summer attire belonged.

  “Sugar, are you down here?,” Robin asked, while distracted by his collection of tweed and boucle coats. He loved a quality coat and there was plenty to choose from on his rack as he cast his gaze along them. It was like a full spectrum of colour, there was simply too many for one man to enjoy but they would surely last him a lifetime, he considered, deciding what one he might take for a spin in the morning - once the presents had been opened, of course.

  “Kirst?,” he called again, then turned, closing the cupboard door behind him and stepping in the direction of the living room. The heat flowing from the room had already dried the dampness from his shirt and waistcoat, he noticed as he brushed his hands down his collar and across his shoulders, expecting Kirsten to be waiting for him in her leather armchair as per usual...which she was, to Robins delight as his gaze fell upon her, resting peacefully by the fire curled up in a ball of comfort.

  Robin smiled and stared from afar with enchantment glistening in his eyes, and a sense of privilege as he recognised her undeniable beauty, a beauty that had always made his legs turn to jelly at the sight of her, since the moment they met, he had never seen anyone as pretty as her.

  Kirsten's hair ran dark, silk smooth across her face while she waited, and slept - her face, body, gaunt and pale, colourless like the landscape framed within the living room window. She wasn't well, she had not been well for many months leading up to Christmas, but they didn't let it get the better of them, they still decorated. The tree was always important, it made the room feel complete and homely as it stood singularly, twinkling and sparkling, reminding them both of the old days when they were children. They were gla
d they could still enjoy Christmas the same way, besides, things were beginning to look up, Robin thought as he leant down and grabbed the brown paper bag and wandered over to his partner, who was still in a deep slumber - absorbing the warmth being given by the fire, as the flames flickered, burning underneath the chimney breast like the burning love shared within their hearts.

  Taking care not to wake her, Robin quietly knelt beside the soft leather armchair and placed his warming hand upon Kirsten's forehead, then gently stroked away the hair that had covered her face, revealing her long, dark lashes and her dried pale lips that rested against the surface of the leather arm.

  “Look at you,” he said softly, “Best thing to ever happen to me, you are...don't know where I’d be without you, or Emily,” he added as a rather excitable young girl came running down the stairs and in to the front room, chirping away, Papa, Papa.

  She looked no older than five, dressed in a black and white polka dot skirt and hand knitted cream cardigan. She couldn't have looked any cuter if she wanted to as she ran, Blonde curls fluttering about her shoulders.

  “Papa, you’re home!” she said as she gently threw her arms about her father's neck, embracing him tightly, pressing her face amongst the prickle bush growing around his chin. Emily erupted in to laughter, her father joined in, beaming as he wrapped his arms around his daughter and chuckled.

  “I’m home, sweet pea,” he said warmly, “I’m home…”

  Then Emily let go and stepped away, sprawling along the fluffy brown rug that sat in the middle of the room, looking up at her father's prominent brown eyes as love reflected within them.

  “How was your day, Mr,” said a croaky voice from the armchair as Kirsten blinked away the dust from her eyes and smiled warmly, watching as Robin had cradled his child and then turned around with a look of surprise.

  “Hey, love! I’m so sorry, we didn't mean to wake you,”

  “I’m glad you did, we've been waiting all day...well, since you left this morning, really,” Kirsten blushed, looking down at Emily who was staring back, alternating between her mother and father. It needn’t be said that she loved her parents sincerely, no matter how hard it had become to live in a house that was silent throughout the day, apart from the occasional ringing of china as Mrs.Jillings put away the plates and bowls into the suspended cupboards over the kitchen worktops.

  Mrs.Jillings was a residential carer - she volunteered to help, she wouldn't even accept payment. Robin had tried time after time, he even slipped some notes in to her handbag once but they soon turned up on the kitchen table the next day with a hand written note on parchment underneath. It simply read, You owe me nothing, and you never will.

  Robin wasn't prepared for that, neither was Kirsten, those eight words had transformed their tear ducts into running taps, they couldn't contain the emotional delight they felt knowing they could rely on someone without the need of waving cash under their nose.

  She arrived at the crack of dawn as Robin was dressing for work and she left shortly after his return, once she knew they were settled - it allowed him to concentrate while working at the pharmacy, his mind at ease ever so slightly, knowing his family were in safe hands.

  Since Kirsten had fallen ill just after the events of the summer she had become weak and frail, unable to perform her daily ‘to do list’ around the house - she felt so deprived even at the best of times. Everything was so tiring but she was thankful to still be able to move about her home on her own free will - but the stairs were out of bounds, for now, at least until they could find a medication that would help. Bone disease was very uncommon, so the possibility of one existing seemed slim.

  Robin reached across the rug for the tatty brown paper bag.

  “So how has your day been, miss and miss?,” he asked, smiling at them both and rustling his hand about the paper bag, removing the plastic bottles and placing them on the wooden shelf beside him, beyond Emily's reach.

  “It’s been lovely, hasn't it Em?,” Kirsten asked, met with a cheer from her daughter.

  “YES! We were wrapping presents and singing and Mrs.Jillings even baked us cookies, do you want to try one, papa? I decorated one especially for you!”

  “I would love one, sweetie.”

  “I’ll go fetch it!,” Emily chirped energetically, jumping on to her feet and rushing out of the living room, her gorgeous blonde curls fluttering behind her as she raced down towards the kitchen.

  Kirsten shuffled over and Robin slumped in to the gap, exhaling a sigh of relief as he buried his arm behind her and placed his hand gently down onto her stomach. Kirsten snuggled up to her partner, resting her face against his chest and playing with his bitter cold fingers, warming them a little while he sat silently, in harmony staring out of the window where snow was still falling majestically.

  “How was work?” Kirsten muttered with her face squashed against Robins tweed waistcoat.

  “Tiring, didn't think it would end,” Robin chuckled, reverting his gaze down towards his chest where Kirsten's head laid comfortably.

  “Was there any trouble?,”

  “Trouble?,” he frowned.

  “You know what I mean, it scares me, and I couldn't help but notice the bag is torn. The bag with my medication in...”

  “Oh, no. It was already like that…” Robin said reluctantly, feeling the guilt rush through him as fast as the blood circulating his veins, it made him uncomfortable, but she didn’t need to know, she mustn’t know - not in her condition.

  “It was like that after I ran in to Charlie, I mean, he ran in to me...”

  “Charlie Reed?” Kirsten's eyes widened, surprised to hear his name. She wondered why Charlie would be playing that side of Vinemoore, so far from his home - It was much unlike him.

  “That’s the one. I told him to get home, it was dark as usual when I left, I do often wonder how his parents sleep at night letting their child roam about the village like that, just think what could have happened!”

  “It’s hardly reputable right now, I think Emily is lucky to be allowed in the yard with all the recent goings on,” Kirsten suddenly sat up beside him, “I’m scared, Robin. What if you don’t come back one evening, what if something happens again…like last time?”

  There wasn't much more he felt he could say, so he answered honestly, as best he could, “I won’t, I think I made a name for myself. Anyone would be a fool to mess with me, wouldn't they?,” Robin asked rhetorically, ending with a calming wink in Kirsten's direction, who had blushed again, cowering behind her hands, burying her head against her thighs.

  “I hope Charlie gets back home okay, it’s Christmas...who’d want to be outside in that?”

  “I’ll pop by his house tomorrow sometime, just to check in. You’ve seen what it looks like out there, haven't you? People are going nuts, you’d think it was the end of the world or something,” Robin sighed.

  “End of the world? A bit of snow?,”

  “HEY! I forgot, I passed Oliver's dad, Kenneth. He seemed in a hurry, chasing some kind of bird.”

  “Another one!?” Kirsten yelped in surprise.

  “Oh no, a feathered bird. Charlie also mentioned something about it, perhaps a rare breed. They seemed set on finding it,” Robin then cast a look of confusion and stroked the stubble on his chin, “I really don’t know what’s happening here, it’s bonkers, it’s making me wonder if Vinemoore is the best place for us to settle,” he remarked, glancing over towards the door frame as Emily returned, out of breath with a cookie grasped in her right hand.

  “What took you so long, trouble!,” he said, then chuckled as she slapped the biscuit into his palm with a cheesy grin.

  “I was just saying goodbye to Mrs. Jillings, she said she won’t be coming tomorrow but I think she wants to,” Emily whispered cheekily, then catching her breath she added, “I don't think she has anybody at home, she doesn't even have any pets.”

  She had lowered her voice to a hushed tone and begun to peer over her shoulder as
Mrs. Jillings arrived into view, opening the cupboard door and removing her sequin covered shoes. She seemed fit as a fiddle for a sixty year old lady, but no one knew much of her background apart from her loving nature and her lonely lifestyle, which was why she enjoyed it at the Occamy household.

  Robin and Kirsten were not married but it was something they had always considered, just never gotten round to doing. They were both at one with each others mind set and knew that Emily was right as they glanced to each other, eyes glistening with sadness, knowing what Mrs. Jillings was going home to - a dark, damp hole with barely any food or warmth. It was a horrible thought and one Robin felt he had to act upon as he called across from the armchair without a seconds thought.

  “Mrs. Jillings, could I speak with you for a moment?,” he asked, taking a bite out of Emily's biscuit and watching as she pulled her blue knit cardigan over her shoulders.

  “Of course you can my love, is there anything you need before I head off?” she asked politely, not wanting to out stay her welcome as she noted the couple cuddled up, sunken happily in to the soft dark leather of the armchair.

  “I’d like you to stay with us for Christmas, Ethel. And I won’t be taking no for an answer...unless you’ve otherwise made plans?” Robin asked, looking smug as Mrs. Jillings stood compliant under the door frame.

  “Well I...I guess I could always reschedule, I was only going to treat myself to a lovely meal.”

  “You can treat yourself here, I’m sure we’d all love you to stay. It wouldn't feel right without you; besides, you have some spare clothes and a bed in the spare room, it would save you trekking home in the cold - It’s ghastly out there, believe me.”

  Mrs. Jillings smiled, unable to contain her joy and relief to be offered company at what would have been a lonely time of year for her.

  “Thank you, Mr.Occamy. You’re just too kind. I’ll be off upstairs to make my bed then if you don't mind? Just shout if you need anything, goodnight Miss, goodnight Emily.”