by E. A. Owell
‘Are you sure it was him every time?’ asked Mr Wood.
‘At least every time I’ve been to the Cornish Gallery. It’s his nose. It’s very distinct.’
Mr Wood suddenly chuckled. ‘Nose, you say. Well, I find your theory perfectly plausible. Let’s see what Mr Breakleg thinks about it.’
They entered the Library of Broken Promises and headed for the Council of Human Affairs. Eliza managed to catch her breath and calm down a little, although her heart still beat fast.
‘Mr Wood! What happened in the dream? After I woke up?’ Eliza almost shouted.
‘It’s all right, don’t worry, nobody’s hurt. We didn’t know what would happen in that situation ourselves, but we simply woke up, just like you did.’
‘So you didn’t stay in the dream?’
‘No. It’s hard to predict the behaviour of dreams, and Mrs Cornish surely knows much more about it than I do, but I would assume that since we were painted in your dream we could not be sustained, in a manner of speaking, within it without you.’
‘But what about the nightmare? The nightmare was painted for each of you. You didn’t go back to the house, did you?’
‘No, we didn’t. Thankfully, I must say. Like I said, do not worry, no one was hurt. But I can see your point. I suppose we didn’t go back to the nightmare because we had already been in it and escaped into your dream, which that night was a part of one fused dream. Truth be told, I know nothing for sure, I’m only taking wild guesses.’
‘I’m glad everyone’s safe. I was really worried Mr Brand had escaped because of me.’
‘There was no real chance of catching him that night, anyway. It was only a dream, after all. But we learned what we wanted to know. We know now that he is the author of the nightmare. That’s what we were after. And now thanks to you we know where to find him.’
‘I hope it helps,’ said Eliza, reassured by Mr Wood’s words.
‘I told you you were special. Do not forget about it.’
‘I should remind myself of that more often,’ Eliza smiled.
Deep in thought, she hadn’t noticed how they arrived at the door of the Head Fixer’s office.
Chapter 19
The situation developed rapidly once Eliza reported to Mr Breakleg what she discovered. Having listened to what Eliza had to say, he gave some orders and was off with several Fixers accompanying him. As Eliza got to know later, they went straight to the theatre for David Brand and, they say, they got him right when he was about to go on stage. Whether the play was cancelled, it is unknown, but it’s a shame if it did. It was a good play.
Eliza wasn’t present when David Brand was brought to the Fixing Department. In fact, she was sent home right after she had told everything she knew to the Head Fixer.
She was slightly curious about what was to happen to David, but not very much. She didn’t like him. She was not sure she hated him but she had this unpleasant feeling when he was about. Something restless and something misbalancing. She thought there was no kindness to him.
Eliza didn’t even know if she pitied him. Probably not. It seemed like his vengeance had gone over the boundaries and become his life. It seemed insatiable.
Time came to go back to normal ways but Eliza was nervous to go to sleep without the No-Dreamer at first. Although there was no real reason to be nervous, for the author of the terrible nightmare had been caught. It was an irrational fear and Eliza knew that she should just pull herself together, close her eyes and sleep.
And so she did. And nothing happened. No black scary shapes tried to grab her by the throat. For a week she saw either nothing at all or nice dreams. Sometimes bizarre dreams, but not scary. And none of them even remotely resembled the infamous nightmare.
She received news from Mr Wood, whose ‘Gregory’s Books’ she still visited on a regular basis. One beautiful warm afternoon, about a week after David Brand had been caught, Eliza came to the bookshop as usual. The place was basking in the sunrays streaming through the window, little dust specks still floating in the air. She was pleasantly surprised to see Mr Wood had a guest.
‘Hello, Mrs Cornish!’ Eliza cheerily greeted the old lady.
‘Hello, my dear!’ replied Mrs Cornish in her once again girlish voice. She was wearing outlandish sparkly outfits again, and the little dog was with her, too. ‘How have you been, sweetheart?’
‘I’ve been great!’ Eliza said confidently. ‘How are you? How is the Gallery doing?’
‘Oh, it’s wonderful. We’re back to normal and that makes me so happy,’ said Mrs Cornish and was genuine about it.
‘I’m glad to hear it. Have you got your canvases back?’ Eliza’s curiosity had not gone anywhere.
‘Thankfully, we have. All is fine now, largely thanks to you, Eliza.’
‘Me?’
‘But of course. Personally, I find shyness very cute but it is also important to acknowledge your own achievements. If it weren’t for you, we’d still be searching for David, and god knows how things would have turned out. You helped us find him. And you’ve helped us before. It’s our big luck we’ve got you, Eliza.’
‘Mr Breakleg and I also share Mrs Cornish’s sentiment,’ said Mr Wood, smiling at Eliza his crooked smile.
‘I’d like you to take this,’ said the old lady and gave Eliza a beautiful piece of cloth that Eliza had already seen before. ‘I want you to have the No-Dreamer. For what you’ve done for the Gallery. And I’m afraid I won’t take no for an answer.’
‘Thanks,’ was all Eliza could think of saying, as she felt herself blushing from chin to the top of her head.
‘Well, I’m afraid I must be going,’ said Mrs Cornish lightly, ‘lots of things to attend to, with the re-opening and all. It was good seeing you both. Good evening to you.’
With that the old lady disappeared in the back of the shop from where Eliza and Mr Wood heard a barely audible click of the door to the Library of Broken Promises.
‘That’s a great gift,’ said Mr Wood.
‘I can’t believe Mrs Cornish gave it to me,’ said Eliza.
‘Ah well, you’d better get used to the thought then,’ Mr Wood smiled.
Eliza put the No-Dreamer in her pocket.
‘So what exactly happened to David Brand, if I may ask?’
‘You already have,’ replied the shopkeeper jokingly. ‘There was a big meeting at the Council of Human Affairs, where the case of David Brand was considered, and then he was sent to the Asylum of the Misguided.’
‘I see. By the way, who were those two people in Mr Breakleg’s office that night when it was decided to paint a dream for all of us? There was a man in a brown jumper and a lady in black.’
‘Those were Mr Hardy from the Archive of Fading Memories and Mrs Morris from the Cemetery of Buried Fears.’
‘Were they also affected by the nightmare?’
‘Luckily they weren’t, but they were there because the Archive provided the necessary information for the Fixing Department, and the Cemetery reported an increased number of people’s fears being dug up, which, as we know now, was linked to the David Brand nightmare. This disturbing dream triggered a lot of nasty stuff that people had fought off for a long time.’
Eliza nodded thoughtfully. She did not know such thing as the Cemetery of Buried Fears existed. The name was quite telling of what it was about. Eliza immediately imagined a cemetery full of tombstones with inscriptions like ‘fear of heights’, ‘fear of spiders’, ‘fear of snakes’.
And now that Eliza recalled Mrs Morris, the lady in black, she thought that perhaps she was well-suited for her position – you do need to be stern when you’re constantly surrounded by people’s fears. At the same time you must have a great feeling of compassion for those who fight these fears and bury them.
‘But all is good now. Do you sleep well?’
Mr Wood’s voice distracted Eliza from her contemplation.
‘Hm? Yes, no nightmares, thank goodness. I’
m beginning to look forward to sleeping after a long day again,’ replied Eliza.
‘So am I,’ said Mr Wood. ‘Have any plans for the summer?’
‘Don’t know yet. It’s the exams I need to get over with first, and then we’ll see.’
‘Fair enough. Good luck with the exams, then. I think you’ll do well.’
‘Thank you. I’ll do my best.’
‘But you most certainly will need some books to read over the summer, don’t you think so?’ said Mr Wood and pointed with his head in the direction of the shop’s bookcases.
‘Most certainly,’ replied Eliza and marched decisively to the bookshelves.
THE END