JUNK and other short stories

by Duncan James

  It was about an hour later when they saw him again.

  They’d been to the small supermarket, Andrew had been to the paper shop, and they had gossiped with a few friends and neighbours they had met. Mary had decided they should go to Lillie Langtree’s tearooms for some fresh bread and a sit down over a warm coffee. They had just taken their seat at a table in the window when the boy appeared outside. He looked in and waved.

  “Funny that he should still be hanging around,” said Mary. “I wonder if he’s all right?”

  “Looks a bit lost if you ask me,” replied Andrew.

  “Perhaps I should nip out and have a word,” suggested Mary. “He looks a nice lad – well spoken, too – but I wouldn’t want him to come to any harm.”

  “His parents must be around somewhere,” said her husband. “Probably shopping, like we have been.”

  “I’ll go and ask,” decided Mary, looking at the boy still standing on the pavement outside.

  Andrew watched as she went up to the boy, and saw him shake his head a couple of times in answer to her questions. After a few moments, they both turned and came into the café.

  “This is Tom,” said Mary to Andrew. “He seems to be a bit lost, just as we thought.”

  “Oh, dear,” said Andrew. “Tell us what’s happened, then,” he said to Tom, and beckoned to the waitress. “Bring another cup, will you please. Do you want a piece of cake or something?” he asked Tom.

  “That would be nice – thank you,” said the boy.

  “So how come you’re lost, then,” asked Andrew.

  “I really don’t know,” replied Tom. “I’m not even sure where I am, to be honest, or how I got here.”

  “You must have come in with your parents for some shopping,” suggested Mary helpfully. “This village is called Stockbridge. Does that ring any bells with you?”

  “No, it doesn’t,” replied the lad.

  Mary poured the coffee. “Do you take sugar?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so,” replied Tom.

  Andrew frowned. “What’s your surname, boy?” he demanded.

  “I’m not sure I’ve got one,” replied Tom.

  Andrew looked across at his wife. “Looks as if Tom is suffering from a loss of memory or something,” he said.

  He turned to the boy. “Can you remember anything?” he asked. “Where you came from, where you go to school, what your parents look like, why you came here – anything at all.”

  Tom frowned. “Nothing at all, really,” he replied.

  “Well, this is serious then,” announced the farmer. “What do you think, Mary? We’d better go round the village, I think, to see if we can see anyone looking for the lad, or see if we can find someone who Tom recognises, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” replied his wife. “But I haven’t seen anyone outside looking anxious. Not since we’ve been sitting here.”

  “Drink up, then lad. The sooner we start looking for whoever you’re with, the better.”

  They hurried outside, and went from shop to shop down the High Street, making enquiries and looking out for anyone who might be searching for Tom. Tom recognised no one, and no one appeared to recognise Tom.

  As they left the butchers, the boy turned to William and said, “We’ll bring you rabbits next week. Plenty.”

  Outside, Andrew caught Tom by the sleeve. “How do you know I bring rabbits to this shop?” he demanded.

  “I must have heard you talking, earlier, I suppose,” replied the lad.

  “And what makes you think we’ll have plenty to bring down next week?”

  “Your dogs are good hunters,” replied Tom. “They’ll catch lots.”

  Andrew looked at Mary and shook his head, as they went on, from shop to shop.

  In the fishing tackle shop, Tom seemed fascinated by the boxes of tiny imitation flies. “Is your father a fisherman?” asked Mary. “Is that why you came down here – to visit the fishing shop?”

  Tom had moved across to the rack of fly rods on display. “No. I don’t think so,” he said. “But I’d like to try catching fish with one of these.”

  “Come on,” said Andrew, getting irritated. “I haven’t got all day. I need to get back to the farm.”

  “Your sheep will be all right,” said Tom.

  “And how do you know I keep sheep, may I ask?” demanded the farmer.

  Tom shrugged. “Somebody must have mentioned it, I suppose,” replied the boy.

  They came to The Vine Inn, in the centre of the village.

  “We’d better look in here, in case his parents are having an early lunch, or someone has heard something,” said Andrew.

  As they went in, the landlord called across.

  “Hey, Andy – morning Mary. Don’t often see you in here. What can I get you?”

  “Nothing thanks, Fred,” replied Andrew. “We’re in a bit of a hurry as a matter of fact.”

  He explained quickly what the problem was.

  Tom had been listening, and quietly took Mary to one side. “If you would like to stop here for a drink or some lunch with your friend, please do,” said the boy. “I can tell you that there’s nobody in the village who knows me, and nobody I know, either.”

  Andrew heard what Tom said.

  “How can you be so sure of that, if you don’t know who you are or how you got here?” he asked.

  “I just know, that’s all,” replied Tom. “So please don’t waste any more time searching.”

  Andrew Draper sighed. “I really can’t make you out, boy,” he said. “But I could certainly do with a pint while I think what to do next.” He nodded to Fred behind the bar. “And a small shandy for Mary, please,” he said.

  He turned to Tom. “Would you like a Coke or something?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure I know what that is,” replied the boy, “But I’d like to try it. Thank you.”

  They sat at a small round table, and Tom sipped his Coke through a straw.

  “Hum – nice,” he said.

  “Have you never tasted that before?” asked Mary.

  “Never, as far as I can remember,” replied Tom.

  “Well I’m blowed!” she exclaimed.

  “What we need to do next,” said Andrew Draper, “is decide what we need to do next. It looks as if we shall have to report you as a missing person to the Police, young man. Then that means that Social Services will probably look after you, until they find out where you come from and what’s happened to your parents, so that they can send you home.”

  “I don’t think I have one,” said the boy. “Why can’t I stay with you and the dogs?”

  The farmer looked across at his wife.

  “Well, I suppose you could until they sort you out, if that’s what you want,” he said.

  “Providing they let us,” added his wife.

  “Who are ‘they’?” asked Tom.

  “The authorities, that’s who ‘they’ are. The people who will have to find out about you and get you back home where you belong. That’s who ‘they’ are,” replied Andrew.

  “But it would be nice to have you stay for a few days while they sort it out,” said Mary. “If that’s what you’d like and if they let us,” she added.

  “Yes,” said Tom emphatically. “That’s definitely what I’d like. Please take me home.”

  So that’s what they did. Tom sat in the back of the Landrover, to the delight of the dogs, who behaved as if they had known him all their lives. “We’ve got to catch lots of rabbits next week,” Tom told them. “I can show you how to do it better than you have been,” he added.

  They almost seemed to understand. There was something very odd about that boy, thought Andrew. Very odd.

  ***

  It seemed a cruel thing to say, or even to think it, but nobody seemed to want Tom.

  The Police had been v
ery good. They had put notices up everywhere, checked with all the other police forces, sent pictures to the papers, and generally done everything they could to discover who might have lost the boy and where he might have come from. They had even checked his dental records, although that wasn’t a lot of use, as he had perfect teeth and had obviously never been to a dentist in his life. And there were no labels on his clothes, either. But the harsh fact was that no family anywhere in the country had reported a missing person who fitted the description of Tom, and there seemed to be no official record of him either, although since he didn’t remember how old he was, they had needed to guess at his age.

  While all this was going on, the Social Services people had swung into action, ready to take Tom into care until his real family had been found. It was routine. The sort of thing they did all the time. But for some reason which none of the officials in the office could quite explain, Tom’s interview with them didn’t go quite the way these things normally did. When he walked in to their office, it was automatically assumed that he would walk out and go straight into a care home, and yet he had somehow managed to persuade them that he should return to the farm and live with the Drapers. They couldn’t remember that happening before, although they agreed afterwards that it was probably all right. They knew where he was, the Drapers were more than happy for the boy to stay there a bit longer, and it was saving the taxpayer money. It was certainly what Tom wanted, and of course that was important. That’s really what their job was all about, after all. So he stayed with the Drapers while the search for his family went on.

  The Drapers lived a short way from Stockbridge, at Goodworth Clatford, an even smaller village on the River Anton, rather than the River Test. The water meadows of the valley were ideal for sheep farming, with their lush growth and easy grazing, and Andrew was able to work his flock down the length of the Anton almost until it joined the Test at Fullerton, by The Mayfly pub.

  Tom had fitted in very well on the farm. He was no trouble around the house, and he got on with everyone, and especially with the animals. The dogs loved him, and even the sheep ambled over to him when he appeared, as if he was going to feed them all some tit-bit or other. Which, of course, he never did. But Tom enjoyed working round the farm, and Andrew found the extra pair of hands a great help.

  But there was definitely something odd about the boy.

  He had gone to the local school, where the headmaster had pronounced him one of his brightest pupils, who was very quick to learn. “You only ever need to tell him anything once,” he had said.

  The French mistress was astonished to find that he spoke her language fluently, although he had no recollection of ever having been to France, or having lessons before.

  He was good at Maths, understood computers, never had a day off ill, and took a keen interest in astronomy. He had joined the school’s astronomy club, and frequently went back to school after dark to use their telescope. The planets were a particular interest, and he spent ages looking at Jupiter when it was visible above the horizon.

  On the farm, the two small black Labradors had certainly regained their old skills at catching rabbits, especially when Tom went with them. It was as if he was showing them were to look, and how to stalk them. And the old sheepdog, Beth, which Andrew had seriously considered replacing, took on a new lease of life, and suddenly seemed able to get the sheep to do anything she wanted, and without fuss. But only if Tom was there. Andrew couldn’t make out whether it was Tom’s influence over the dog, or over the sheep, but certainly the boy appeared to be able take charge of events in some mysterious way.

  And he was good with his hands, too, seemingly able to fix almost anything that went wrong whether it was the old computer in the dusty office, or the Landrover.

  One evening, after a long day in the fields, when the three of them were sitting in the kitchen after a hearty meal, Tom said, “You know, I really can’t stay here with you for ever, can I.”

  “You can stay here for as long as you want,” replied Mary. “We’ve grown very fond of you, y’know, and it’s been nice having you about the place for the last couple of years. It’s just a pity you’re not with your real family, that’s all.”

  “You are my real family,” said Tom, “since I don’t know any other. And I don’t want to leave you, but I really think I should, that’s all.”

  “As Mary said, you can stay here for ever, so far as we are concerned. And you like it here well enough, don’t you?” asked Andrew.

  “I love it here. I love the countryside, the farm, the animals, the school, the people in the village, the fishing – everything. And more than anything, I love both of you. You are my real parents,” said Tom.

  “We feel the same about you, Tom,” said Andrew. “You’re a funny chap, though, and no mistake. You seem to know so much, and be so good at everything, without ever trying. But if you’re really happy here, why ever think about leaving? Where would you go?”

  “I just feel I should go, that’s all,” replied the boy. “You see, I know that I have special powers which other people don’t have, and that I can do things other people can’t do. I’ve done my best to fit in, without making it too obvious, but it’s getting more and more difficult for me, and for wonderful people like you. I know you’ve noticed. So I just feel the time has come for me to move on again.”

  “You see,” said Andrew, turning to his wife, “I told you the lad was special.”

  “So how do you do these extraordinary things,” asked Mary.

  “Well,” said Tom, “the human brain is like a computer in many ways. It stores information. The difference is that information in a computer can be shared, whereas what’s in your brain is just yours. Nobody else can get at it. Except that I can. I can download information from other people the same as people can download information from computers. That’s how I learnt French – I just downloaded everything the French mistress knew about it, and since she is French, I spoke the language immediately as if I was French as well. That’s how I knew about you keeping sheep, and about the rabbits.”

  The farmer and his wife sat in amazement, spellbound.

  “If you could teach people to do that, you’d make a fortune,” said Andrew.

  “But I can’t teach it,” replied Tom. “If I could, all the crooks in the world would want the skill, and mis-use it. I only use it for good, not for evil, and I only use it to learn. But it allows me to communicate with anything else that has a brain. Not just schoolteachers, either; your dogs and the sheep, too. That’s how I can get butterflies to settle on my hand, and why the Kingfisher landed on my fishing rod the other day.”

  “I’ve certainly never seen that before,” commented Andrew. “I knew there was something strange about you, Tom. I said so, didn’t I Mary?”

  “But why are you telling us all this,” asked Mary.

  “Because I trust you, and I thought you should know after all this time,” replied the boy. “And if you did try to explain to anyone else, they wouldn’t believe you anyway. But I am sure the time has come when I must move on again, before too many people become curious about my behaviour. I hope you understand that. One day, though, I’d like to come back here and teach others what I can do - if they let me. ”

  Andrew was going to ask, “Who are ‘they’?” but thought better of it.

  ***

  They were in Stockbridge shopping when it happened. They had just delivered a few brace of rabbits to Will, the butcher. Tom looked down the High Street, and pointed to the trees and hills, which rose at the end of the High Street.

  “You know,” he said, “if was dark, you could see Jupiter from here, just above those hills on the horizon, to the right of the trees.”

  For some reason, they turned to look where the boy was pointing.

  “Take me home,” he said.

  They thought he w
as talking to them, but when they turned back, he had gone. The dogs in the back of the Landrover went mad, barking and jumping about, while Andrew and Mary looked about them. But there was no sign of Tom.

  Suddenly the dogs were quiet. Suddenly, too, the farmer and his wife knew there was no point in searching for the boy. He had gone in the same way that he had arrived.

  For a few days, the Drapers were quite at a loss about what to do for the best. They couldn’t very well just send a sick-note to the boy’s headmaster, could they? But what could they say? There was much head scratching by the police, too, who were now being asked to find a boy who they had been unable to prove existed in the first place. And the officials at the social services office all tut-tutted and said, “I told you so” to one another. This would never have happened if they had done what they always do, and placed the boy into care. They should never have let him talk them out of their normal practice. They would make sure that wouldn’t happen again.

  ***

  Next day, there was a small item in the Daily Telegraph, in the ‘news in brief’ column. NASA scientists had announced that a satellite probe, which they had lost contact with shortly after its launch some two years before, had suddenly come to life again. As they had planned, it was orbiting Europa, one of Jupiter’s moons. It was thought that there was a hidden ocean of liquid water beneath the moon’s surface, and the satellite had been sent to establish whether or not it was possible for any form of life to be supported there.

  Andrew and Mary Draper and their dogs already knew the answer to that.

  ***

  12 - HAPPY LANDINGS

  Luke Edwards was in a bit of a sweat, if he was honest.

  Not that it was hot or anything, although it should have been, bearing in mind it was the end of August. But he was in a rush, and it was late on a Friday. Everyone else went home early for the weekend on Fridays. But not him. His editor had decided he desperately wanted photographs, and Luke was a photographer on the staff, so Luke got sent. His was a 24/7 job – that’s what they called it these days. None of this 9 till 5 stuff for him. He was on-call all the time. Accidents, fires, murders, VIPs, you name it – he got called out to get pictures for the paper, and to get them before anyone else got them for a rival paper.