“You can call me, Robin. I’ve told you…”
“And you can call me, Mrs. Jillings. Now goodnight,” she called as she disappeared up the creaky staircase, hiding her glee.
“Em, go with her...just in case she needs a hand, then I'll put you to bed, otherwise a certain someone might forget to pay a visit!”
Emily gasped.
“Don’t be silly, Papa! I know the Christmas Phoenix doesn’t exist. Plus, I’ve seen one of my presents already…”
“You cheeky monkey! Go on, off you pop now!”
Emily grinned, and jumped to her feet, disappearing up the stairs behind Mrs. Jillings.
Robin turned to Kirsten who was smiling awkwardly, then suddenly they burst out in laughter, together.
“I’ll put the presents down in a minute, no point trying to keep a secret that’s no longer a secret anymore,” said Robin, gracefully kissing Kirsten's forehead.
“She’s a bright girl, I reckon she gets it from you, I'm too scatty for my own good!” Kirsten chuckled.
“Finally! Something we agree on,” claimed Robin in a joking manner, quickly cowering as an expected and playful fist landed against his arm.
“OW! Steady on!,” he chuckled, pulling her tightly yet carefully towards him, not wanting to inflict any further pain to what she was already experiencing.
“Here,” said Robin, popping the lid off a orange plastic bottle and pressing down the cap, releasing a small red and blue capsule in to the palm of his hand.
“We’re going to have a nice day tomorrow, nothing's going to spoil it,” he smiled, handing over the capsule to Kirsten, who knocked it to the back of her throat and swallowed it with a gulp. She was used to taking them now, it was no hassle and they worked a treat, even though they didn't know what they were physically doing, it gave her a sense of calm at the centre of a terrifying storm.
Robin had been used to feeling useless, but now he had a means of helping, a duty of care that he could perform without endangering those around him. It was the least he could do and even if it meant running into the occasional low life, it was worth it, and they deserved what they got for interfering with the power of love. The mugger that slept underneath Robins tatty grey coat that night was lucky to be alive, he silently concluded. Others hadn’t got off so lightly - if it wasn’t for Kenneth, god knows what he would have done to the vile little man, he questioned, reimagining the mortal fear quaking in the depths of his glistening eyes, his disgusting dark eyes... Then Robin snapped back to the subject of Christmas and the wonderful gifts that needed planting underneath the Christmas tree.
He leapt off the chair, excited by the thought!
“I’ll go get the presents!” He chirped, as Kirsten watched him scarper from the living room and up to their bedroom where all the gifts were stored, hidden away in different secret spots that they had mistakenly assumed were undetectable to young prying eyes.
But that wasn't a worry any more, as Robin rummaged all of the gifts together into a pile on the bed - not forgetting the extra special one that had remained hidden in his top drawer since November. He pressed the small gift wrapped box in to his trouser pocket and swallowed the other presents into his arms before transporting them slowly down towards the living room where Kirsten waited patiently, sat beside the tree, staring blissfully out of the window.
“Tada!”
A giant mass of shiny presents suddenly appeared in the room, then tumbled to the ground.
“Careful, Robin! Some might be delicate!”
“You wrapped them, you should know,” Robin claimed, kneeling and passing over the boxes to Kirsten, looking amused.
“Fine, I’m just saying there could have been…” then she smiled again, covering her mouth with her hand and turning away to hide her returned amusement.
“What - what’s that in your pocket?,” she quickly asked, pointing with her eyes a blaze with excitement. Robin awkwardly placed the last present under the tree then turned to Kirsten.
“That was going to be a surprise, but I guess you may as well have it now...it’s nothing much, but it’s the thought that counts, right?”
He pulled the gift from his pocket and tossed it over to his partner, who jumped up to grasp it from the air. Her eyes were wide now; and she looked as if she had just drank an endless mug of coffee - she was going to be awake for the rest of the night.
She tore away the beautifully crafted paper like an excitable puppy until all that was left was a small wooden box. It sat in the palm of her hand for a moment while she looked to Robin who had began to shy away, ever so slightly. Then she proceeded to lift what looked like a lid, unhinging the top from the bottom, revealing its content. Kirsten's eyes glistened as a single diamond sparkled at her from inside the box, it was a small silver ring pressed inside a velvet blue cushion, it was very pretty - at least that’s what Robin thought as he wondered what Kirsten was thinking, she hadn't said a word yet, she was just staring as if she was in a world of her own. There was even a subtle motion from her jaw as it dropped ever so slightly. Robin raised his clenched fist to his mouth and cleared his throat to break the tension as Kirsten suddenly jumped and her eyes darted from the ring to Robin, who sat with redness glowing from his cheeks.
“Oh, my,” she exclaimed as her eyes began to fill with tears, watching as her man hopped on to one knee and spoke the words that both had waited all too long to say and hear.
“Kirsten Mae Withers, would you make my dreams come true and accept my invitation of marriage? Please,” he begged, then realising that his pleading was completely unnecessary as his lady approached him, using all her energy to climb over in to his arms and accept.
“I do,” she whispered elegantly in to his ear, feeling relieved that he had finally asked before it was too late. Robin whimpered, then broke out in a stream of tears as he held tightly on to his wife to be.
The pair of them continued to embrace, sharing a moment of tenderness and passion as their lips touched under the colourful fairy lights that twinkled on the Christmas tree.
Robin removed the ring from the wooden box in his passing moment to take a breath, then slid it onto Kirsten's finger while she kissed him again, but this time on his forehead. She then smiled playfully and before they knew it, Christmas day had come, chimes could be heard as the second hand struck midnight.
It was then, Robin and Kirsten snapped to attention, glancing over towards the hallway and back to each other, listening as the ringing sound echoed around the house.
“You hear that?” Robin asked.
“Yeah…” Kirsten nodded, confused as they looked to the hallway.
“Since when did we own a grandfather clock?” he added rhetorically, knowing that Kirsten was freaked out just as much as him - and it wasn't the first time they had heard it's chime.
It was strange, like the village, a clock of that kind was nowhere to be found inside the Occamy household - so where had it come from for all these years? They wondered on that question, laid together against the floor as Christmas Day dawned, blowing in on the icy white flakes that fell in to the early hours of the morning.
CHAPTER 3
The Morient Man
A peaceful tick-tock sounded around the Occamy household as the sun began to rise over the village, casting away the grey veil with its bright fiery glow. Not an inch went uncovered as Vinemoore looked like a Christmas card under the thick white blanket of snow that had fallen throughout the night.
The living room was now light again, and Robin could feel the warmth of the sun shining through the window and on to the side of his face as he laid comfortably behind Kirsten, embracing her as they slowly woke together, on the soft leather of the sofa, which was positioned against the back wall, facing the direction of mountains that sparkled in the distance - acting like a partition between Vinemoore and the mysterious land of Shoulders Heath that was beyond them.
His eyes took some time to adjust as they crumbled open, hazy for a moment, then
the bold silhouette of the landscape sharpened.
“It was morning already?” Robin muttered as his gaze fell upon his clothing, which had gone unchanged - he’d never done that before, at least not since his teenage years which came as a shock at first, until the view outside enticed his attention.
The snow had finally stopped falling, the yard was white, the village at the bottom of the hill was buried under the frosty spell and all that could be heard was a cold, high pitched whistle as the wind swept against the walls of the cottage, kicking up the fluffy flakes in to the air from the mound that sat at the foot of the door.
It could have been worse, Robin observed as he carefully climbed over Kirsten and wandered towards the window, rubbing the dust from his eyes and untangling the nest that now resided on his head.
“It could have been a lot worse,” he concluded, scrubbing at his head and breaking a yawn. The rest of the house was still fast asleep. It was only 7 am, which gave Robin just enough time to shower and change before Emily awoke, bright eyed and buzzing with energy.
“It’s Christmas! It’s Christmas!” Emily chirped as she bounced on her mattress. Unaware that her father was already on the move.
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart!” Robin called, dashing from the bathroom through to his bedroom with nothing but an Egyptian cotton towel wrapped around his waist, and hair dripping wet.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs Jillings!” he added, thudding his fist against her door as he passed, running down the hallway.
“Oh Robin, cut that out!” she groaned.
Then she rolled from her bed and reached for the silk floral dressing gown that hung on the back of the door. This was only a small box room, just enough for a bed and wardrobe but it was more than adequate for Ethel, or rather Mrs Jillings - which was what she preferred.
Once she had tied the gown around her body and slipped into her navy sequin slippers, she felt ready to face the festivity that was brewing down the hallway. Emily was still bouncing around her room, singing and calling out excitedly, and as Mrs Jillings released the wooden door from its latch, she took in a slow breath, taking in the air of Christmas morning, before wandering down towards the charismatic child.
Robin quite enjoyed listening to the sound of his daughter messing around as he fastened a violet cotton tie around his neck, under the collar of his fresh white shirt. He watched his reflection staring back at him through the elongated mirror which stood at the end of his king sized bed.
He made quick work of his now silky soft mop, slicking it back aggressively with a thick moist foam that he rubbed between his hands before attacking the wavy fibres, until they settled evenly behind his large, pointed ears.
Satisfied with his fresh and revitalized hair, he pinched at two strands of fringe, pulling them beside his cheeks where they dangled freely, framing his face, before grabbing his soft grey waistcoat off the duvet, and buttoned it around his stomach - it was a slim fitting waistcoat that hugged his body perfectly, defining the shape of his athletic physique and also the charming personality he had to go with. He then ran his hand down the hazel bristles growing from his face and smiled, glaring in to the eyes of his reflection as it continued to stare back - a tired misfit, a predecessor with a face like thunder...
Robin slapped his hand firmly across his cheek, launching himself towards the bedroom door and back through the gate of reality where his daughter's singing had finally stopped and turned into a deep conversation about fairies and plastic dolls as she latched on to Mrs Jilling's hand, making her way down the creaky staircase and in to the living room, which was filled with lots of hand wrapped presents, complete with ribbons and tags.
“Mummy!” Emily chirped, climbing carefully over her mother's legs and planting a long sloppy kiss upon her cheek as she tried to sit herself up.
“Good morning, you! You’re up bright and early!”
“It’s Christmas Day, Miss Withers, what did you expect?” Mrs Jillings chuckled, standing under the door frame with her arms crossed and eyebrows drawn.
“I’m gasping for a cuppa, anyone else fancy one?” she asked, as Robin descended down the stairs and pressed his way past, subsequently pecking her cheek with a festive kiss.
“If you’re offering, Mrs.J,” he said cheekily, casting her a wink before diving upon the oval chocolate rug at the foot of the sofa, tensed and waiting for his daughter who he knew was moments away from one of her famous moves.
She’d already latched her sights on him like a hawk, then predictably lunged from the sofa and on to his stomach, where tiny hands wiggled and papa hands tickled, Emily’s face erupted in to a blaze of joy and laughter which cast away the frosty spirits of tiredness and exchanged them for something warm and cheerful, as Kirsten and Mrs Jillings cast a smile, admiring the affectionate scene unfolding in front of them.
The whole festive season had seemed daunting at first, with Kirsten's nightmare diagnosis and the fear of Emily not having a mother, come Christmas Day. Robin had bent over backwards to make sure that nothing stood in the way of their united happiness - even Mrs Jillings felt like a member of the family, she may as well have lived in the Occamy household, they would have all liked that, she’d been the best thing to happen to them during their darkest hour and now she was sipping tea and ripping wrapping paper from her sack of gifts that Robin and Kirsten had insisted on - once again it was the least they could do.
It lifted the mood, everyone smiling and enjoying themselves, it was a sight that they only believed to exist in their dreams, but it was actually happening, and the most of it had to be made, Robin decided, reaching for his mug of tea and taking a slurp.
“Oh, it’s wonderful...Thank you, all three of you...Thank you,” Mrs Jillings sighed, captivated by the glistening dark rubies shining up at her, “This is naughty, very naughty,” she added as a tear silently ran and dripped from her flushed red cheeks.
The two small rubies were embedded in elegant silver earrings and cushioned inside a navy box with a single sequin glued to the lid, and they were beautiful, Mrs Jillings thought, while feeling pleasantly, but more than a little, overwhelmed by the whole ordeal.
“You deserve it, you’re like god's gift to us!” said Robin.
“You’re like the phoenix in the story you told me, Mrs J. You’re sparkly and beautiful and impossible, like a miracle...Right, papa?” added Emily.
“She has a point, you are like a miracle to us and I never believed in those. You’re like magic, you make me want to believe in the impossible,” Robin admitted, placing a comforting hand on Mrs Jillings shoulder, before stepping out of the living room and reaching for the cupboard handle and drawing open the door where behind it hung his vast collection of winter coats, beaming back at him like a tribe of children, competing for his undivided attention as they hung vibrantly. Robin began to run his hand through the selection in front of him, making judgment until he then stopped at the softest one available. The coat felt like a wool blend, basketweave pattern and had a deep purple hue while inside the cupboard, until Robin unhooked it from its hanger and yanked it out into the light of day. It then changed completely to an almost metallic, colour changing frock with turquoise sequins. “Nah!, it’s just not me,” he claimed, throwing it back inside and paying closer attention to the other competitors.
“How about...you!” he said out loud, reaching for another and pulling it out. This one was much the same pattern and soft to touch, Robin never liked anything too experimental, it irritated his hands - but this one was perfect, he decided as he set his gaze on the honey yellow weave and threw it about his shoulders, adjusting the cuffs for a better fit. It sure did suit him and it hung nicely at his knees - it even went with his grey waistcoat, shame about the tie though, that was overkill, Robin recognised, quickly untying it and throwing it amongst the shoe rack then slamming the door shut.
“So, what do you think? Not worn this one before have I? Might be a new look to go with the new year!”
Kirste
n smiled, “I like that, a lot!” she said, then looking to Emily who wasn't bothered in the slightest, she was way too busy with her brand new dolls.
“You look like a lollipop man, Robin,” Mrs Jillings remarked, holding back her laughter as his expression quickly changed to one of annoyance.
“It’s mustard, I'll have you know. And it cost me a fortune!”
“Then why on earth haven't you worn it already! You mad man!” said Mrs Jillings with a look of confusion.
“Well that’s easy, I was waiting for the right time. Kirsten, I’m just going to pop into town and check on Charlie like we discussed last night, is that okay?” Kirsten nodded, sipping at the juice concealed inside her china cup.
“Hopefully won’t be long, but don’t think you can’t carry on without me!”
“Oh, we won’t,” Mrs Jillings chuckled, frowning comically in Robins direction.
He wrapped a thick grey scarf around his neck, checked his pockets then cast his family a nod and a smile, before making his way towards the front door, ready to endure the winter spell that awaited beyond it. He hoped it would be a quick visit, expecting Charlie home, safe and sound - or was it too much to ask, he wondered... Not meaning to sound too greedy.
* * *
The village had already seen its fair share of strange ordeals, and they weren't becoming any less dangerous. The muggings, the disappearances, the dramatic increase in contagions - these were the least of the people's concerns, apart from those who were blind to the greater picture, the vastness that they had existed within.
Had Charlie really seen a bird with wings described as large as a house? Or was it just a figment of his imagination? It was blowing up a blizzard, surely it couldn't have been…
“A Phoenix,” echoed a commanding feminine voice, “A Phoenix flew to Shoulders Heath and hasn’t been seen since. We can only assume that it’s gone into hiding once again - but this time we know where it is!” she concluded, sat firmly in her bronze throne like chair, glancing towards the other members of the meeting who were also sat against large sculptural thrones that had been cast in metals that reflected the seated person's ranking amongst the chamber.
The Professor and the Starlight Phoenix Page 3