Schrodinger's Cottage

by David Luddington

  “What?” I struggled with words.

  “Turn around and give me your arms.”

  I couldn't quite work out how to comply with that strange request but the police officer helped me understand. I felt my arms being twisted into a highly uncomfortable position behind me and something cold and hard clamped over my wrists.

  “What on earth -” I started.

  “Sorry,” I heard Simon's voice. “I didn't mean to.”

  “No talking!”

  I twisted awkwardly round in my chair and stared at the scene in front of me. Simon, the Pope and Kevin all sat on the floor, their hands, like mine, secured behind.

  A large and decidedly unhappy looking police officer strutted around the room. He picked one of my coats off the rack and threw it at Kevin. “And put that on, you bloody pervert.”

  A noise upstairs caught his attention. He turned to scan us all. “Nobody move,” he instructed and headed for the stairs. I realised Tania wasn't here, that was probably what the noise was.

  “I just wanted to explore a bit,” Simon said.

  I glanced around and my eyes fell on the patio doors. The wood and brickwork that we had used to seal it last night, now lay in a heap all across my carpet.

  “I thought they'd all gone,” he continued.

  “You let them in?” I was incredulous.

  “Well, not in as much as... Not on purpose. I just needed to see if it was really a Rock Borer.”

  “A Rock Borer?”

  “If there are Rock Borers down there it might mean there's gold. You see the Kobolds -”

  “Simon!” the Pope interrupted. “Shut the fuck up.”

  The policeman reappeared pushing Tania roughly before him. She fell in a tumble in the middle of the floor.

  “Now, nobody move.” He pressed the talk button on his lapel radio. “Hello, Command? This is fifteen two four eight, come in.” He paused whilst his radio crackled noisy static back at him. “Command? Fifteen two four eight. I have...” He glanced slowly round the room. “I have five prisoners for transport.” More static. He turned to us and snapped, “Nobody move or there will be... trouble.” He headed for the front door, the sound of his pleas for assistance becoming fainter as he went.

  “Well,” I said. “This is an interesting situation.”

  “It will be even more interesting if he steps outside the front door,” Tania said.

  “What? Oh, yes, I see.”

  “Where the hell is my car?” The policeman thundered back into the lounge. “Command? Command?” He stabbed at the talk button on his radio. “What have 77you lot done with my car?” He glared at us.

  His radio crackled into life. “Hello! Hello! This is Central Dispatch,” a heavy Birmingham accented voice announced. “What is your location?”

  That's odd, I thought. He shouldn't be able to contact his world from here?

  “I'm in...” the policeman stared around the room. “I'm in... I don't know where I am. Somewhere near Glastonbury.”

  “You'll need to be a bit more specific, mate.”

  “Mate? Mate?! Just track me from my radio.”

  “Track you? Who the hell do you think we are? M.I. sodding five? I can't send a cab to 'Somewhere near Glastonbury'.”

  “A cab? I don't want a cab. I want a police car.”

  “You need a sodding Funny Wagon, mate. You're barking mad.” The radio clicked off and delivered a burst of static into the policeman's ear.

  A shadow appeared in the doorway behind the policeman. The shadow resolved into Eric, complete with pickaxe handle. I realised with horror what he intended and shook my head. Eric stared at me and shook his own head. I nodded. Eric looked quizzically at me then swung the handle towards the back of the policeman's head. It connected with a loud clunk and the officer toppled to the ground like Saddam Hussein's Statue.

  “You've killed him!” Tania squealed.

  “He's not dead.” Eric crouched over the inanimate policeman and located his keys. “But he will have a bit of a headache.”

  Eric freed us from the handcuffs and we carted the still unconscious policeman outside. We dragged him round to the front of the house, propped him against the wall then I nipped back inside for an empty gin bottle. “Might not be totally convincing but it will spread confusion.” I slipped the bottle in his pocket.

  Eric shouted, “Oi!” loudly towards the police car. We slipped behind the wall and peeped round. The policeman in the car seemed blissfully unaware. We repeated the process a couple more times until we came to the conclusion the one in the car was also asleep. One of the Possicats rubbed itself against Eric's leg. He leaned down to stroke it then picked it up.

  “This should do the trick,” he said, heading for the car. He carefully opened the back door, pushed the cat in, closed the door and ran back to us.

  The cat yowled so loudly we could hear from here. The policeman in the car jumped, startling the cat even more. Instantly the inside of the car boiled in a turmoil of fur and police uniform.

  “That seems to have woken him up,” I said.

  We ran round the back and just as we were about to slip through the remains of the patio doors Simon announced his intent to return to Tunnel Cottage World.

  “I can do some good there,” he said. “It's what I was born to do. The adventure. You should understand?” He gazed at me as if trying to find a kindred spirit in the world of heroic derring-do.

  “I don't do adventure,” I said. “I have a super-hero for that.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Saphie brought the drinks over to our table. “Arthur's celebrating the Chinese New Year,” she said. “Do you want chicken Balti and chips?”

  “I think I'll pass,” I said and took the frothing pint of Old Grumbler from her. I placed it on the table and stared at it for a moment. The glass ran with condensation and the dark ale inside bubbled slightly. I was trying a new regime. Pause and think before you drink. I'd read that somewhere. That'll do. I grabbed the pint and half of it disappeared before I replaced the glass on the table. Baby steps, baby steps.

  “Busy in here tonight.” Saphie took a sip of her wine. “Isn't that Ozzie Osborne over there?”

  “You mean that guy talking to Prince Charles? Hmm, you could be right,”

  “No, I was thinking about him over there.” She pointed to a table by the fireplace. “Him at the table with Keith Richards and Rod Stewart.”

  The clientele of the Camelot had certainly increased over the last few days. Arthur put it down to his creative menus but I felt it was probably more to do with Eric Three Four Nine. I was going to have to have a chat with him. An official chat. In my official capacity as gatekeeper of Glastonbury One. That was my name for it. The gates had never had names before. Aunt Flora had been very understanding about the mess and said to 'Think nothing of it, dear.' However, there was one small caveat to her generosity. I had to take over the Gatekeeper's job from her until such time as I'd got everybody back where they belonged. She was off to Monaco with Roger and I was to give her a ring when I'd sorted it all out. I had a feeling I'd been conned.

  Eric had set up his own building firm and showed little interest in going back. The Pope had given me the slip, although I did receive an eCard from Jerusalem. Which was somewhat worrying. And then there was Kevin. Kevin was currently under arrest for indecent exposure in a public swimming pool. His explanation that covering one random part of his body with a small piece of cloth was just as valid as any other part, so why shouldn't he wear his swimming trunks on his head, hadn't found much favour with the magistrates. He was currently awaiting a psychiatrist's report.

  “You staying over?” I asked Saphie. The last few nights we'd spent together and I still didn't fancy being alone in the cottage. I had dreams of the walls opening me up and giant cats coming to draw me back in.

  “If you like.” She gave a small smile. “We could watch Stargate or something.”

  “Or something.”

  *****


  Three weeks later I was sitting at my desk looking out of the landing window. All was well with the world. The oak tree was still there right where it shouldn't be and the words flew onto the page. The latest adventures of The Falconer had been well received by my publisher and I'd even surprised Tania by sending a follow up volume three months early.

  I paused for a moment. The Falconer had just slipped into a parallel universe where eagles were the dominant species and I was just wondering what their language would sound like when I heard a rattling outside. The end of a ladder appeared at the window. My ladder. The one I had lost several weeks ago when it fell through the window and plopped into another world.

  The ladder wobbled a bit as somebody climbed up it. I pushed my seat backwards slightly to create distance between me and whatever monster was climbing my ladder.

  Simon's face appeared at the window. He tapped on the glass. I opened the window carefully so as not to dislodge him.

  “Simon?”

  “You've got to help,” he said, an agitated look on his face. “It's the goblins! They've escaped.”

  The End