Alice Parker's Metamorphosis (Book 1 of the new adventure series for children)

by Palmer, Nicola

  ‘We meet at last!’ said the tall brunette in purple. ‘I’m Imogen.’ She reached out to shake hands. Alice noticed she had lilac streaks in her hair.

  She went through the motions of the formal greeting in a daze. She couldn’t take her eyes off their wings, even though she had a pair herself. Freya’s were smaller than hers, with rounded edges like those of a Holly Blue butterfly. They moved gently from time to time, reminding Alice of a dog wagging its tail when it’s pleased. Imogen’s wings behaved in the same way, though hers were much larger, even compared to Alice’s. She had to admit, they were stylish – if wings could be stylish - in the shape of a Comma butterfly’s wings but with a delicate, lace-like transparency.

  ‘I hope the sight of our wings reassures you,’ said Imogen. ‘I see yours are yet to retract. May we?’ she asked, nodding at Alice’s blanket-clad back.

  ‘Oh, yes, of course,’ she replied. She let the blanket fall and turned to the side so they could see her wings properly.

  ‘Good grief!’ exclaimed Imogen. ‘I predicted something impressive, but these are quite remarkable for a Finwip so young. Swallowtail butterfly, I’d say. What do you think, Freya?’

  ‘Most definitely,’ agreed Freya. ‘They’re beautiful.’

  While Imogen circled Alice, as if admiring a statue in a museum with an experienced, critical eye, Alice noticed a tear at the bottom of her dress.

  ‘I recognise that material,’ she said. ‘That happened in my garden, didn’t it?’

  Imogen looked down and smiled. ‘It certainly did. Sorry if I made you nervous when I was checking on you – I was worried. And impatient, if I’m honest. I certainly wasn’t expecting to encounter an enormous dog! He jumped up and managed to snap at my robe as I flew off.’

  ‘I’ll fix that,’ said Freya. ‘I shall be making a robe for Alice tomorrow.’ As the village tailor, she had been studying Alice’s wings as well, planning a robe that would complement them. They referred to them as robes, though they were actually full-length dresses with a long, embroidered velvet cloak. In the back there were slits, specially designed to fit around wing bases. The detail was so intricate, it looked as though human or Finwip hands would struggle with the tiny stitches.

  ‘I do it all myself,’ Freya clarified, noticing Alice’s approving glances at her needlework. ‘Your robe will be a work of art, I promise.’

  ‘I can’t wait!’ said Alice. ‘But when do I wear it? Only when I come here?’

  ‘That’s right,’ replied Freya. ‘We have dressing rooms to get changed on arrival. We try to maintain the traditional dress down here, it’s a reminder of our heritage. Plus, who wouldn’t want to wear one of these?’ she grinned, swishing her cloak around her.

  ‘What colour will mine be?’ Alice asked.

  ‘The colours are significant,’ explained Freya. ‘Yours will be blue, which represents intelligence. Mine is burgundy because I create useful things with my hands. The cooks wear the same colour as me – I suppose we’re classed as craftspeople.’

  ‘And Imogen?’

  ‘Purple is for rare or unknown gifts.’

  ‘Is that what Thomas wears, then?’

  ‘Well, no! In his case, we’re almost certain his gift will be science-based, so he wears silver-grey.’

  ‘It all sounds very complicated. Do I get to put coloured streaks in my hair too?’

  ‘You won’t need to, don’t you worry about that. As you get older, they simply appear in your Finwip colour. It won’t happen until after you’ve left school, though, so it’s not a problem.’

  Alice was sure it would be a problem for her parents, no matter how old she was when her hair turned blue. She could see some pink-ish roots appearing in Freya’s hair when she bent down.

  ‘Of course, on a practical level,’ Freya continued, ‘you need at least one outfit that will accommodate your wings. We all take the opportunity to release them down here. If you don’t let them out regularly, they become weak and you will start to feel ill.’

  ‘But how do I get them back in?’ asked Alice. ‘I need to go back to school.’

  ‘They usually retreat when you are calm,’ replied Imogen. ‘As a rule, they emerge when we experience strong emotions or fear – like a fight or flight response. Though nowadays, very few of us can fly. If they are being stubborn and don’t retreat of their own accord, there is a spray we apply to the base of our wings which works immediately.’

  ‘And you already have that,’ piped up Thomas, who had sat down at a table behind them. ‘The blue bottle I gave you.’

  Alice nodded thoughtfully while Imogen and Freya measured her wings. She looked around the dining room for the first time. It was a circular room of immense proportions, lit by the same burning torches as the passageway. In the centre of the room was a large fire, with an over-sized cooking pot suspended over it from a giant wrought-iron tripod. This was where the raspberry jam smell was coming from. Around the fire was an open space for working (or performing perhaps, Alice imagined) and around this, two huge C-shaped dining tables, each with twenty-four stools. Photographs of past celebrations in the dining room adorned the walls.

  At the far end of the room was a sort of cave which enabled you to see part of the kitchen, where Alice could watch people working and identify that aroma of banana bread. A small man in a brown cloak caught sight of her and bowed with an elaborate arm gesture. How strange, she thought, averting her gaze. She could see silver platters piled high with fresh fruit and she cringed as she thought of her last art lesson. Down here, all her worries and embarrassment were slipping away. Shame she couldn’t stay. Around the outside of the room were smaller caves or alcoves, each with curved bench seating and a table.

  ‘We don’t often eat together,’ said Thomas, following her gaze. ‘The practicalities of our lives above ground mean that we turn up whenever we can. There’s always a warm welcome and plenty of food.’

  ‘Which is what we need now,’ decided Imogen. She put down her tape measure and Freya rushed off to her studio with her notes. Sitting down next to Thomas, Imogen signalled to someone in the kitchen.

  ‘Are you in charge here?’ asked Alice.

  ‘I suppose I am,’ replied Imogen with a smile. ‘Though I don’t tell people that. It sounds rather pompous! Over the years, Finwips here have come to regard me as their adviser. I help them as much as I can and organise the gatherings down here. Fortunately, I have retired from my job above ground, so I have the time to focus on our community.

  Alice was astounded. Retired? Imogen looked so young! Thomas cast a warning glance in her direction.

  ‘It’s alright,’ Imogen assured him. ‘She should know the truth. I’m ninety-two, Alice.’

  Alice couldn’t prevent her mouth from falling open and she made no attempt to cover it this time.

  ‘My ability is that I no longer age,’ Imogen continued. ‘At the age of thirty, my ageing process stopped. Hence my role as adviser – years of wisdom, but without the wrinkled brow, you see.’

  Alice didn’t see at all. ‘Does that mean you are going to live forever?’ she asked.

  ‘Who knows?’ Imogen shrugged her shoulders, making her wings twitch. ‘I seem to be the first Finwip with this gift, so only time will tell.’

  Alice leaned to the side, as someone reached over them to put a tray on the table.

  ‘Do excuse me, Alice,’ said a strangely familiar voice. She turned to see bandana lady from The Coffee Cauldron standing behind her.

  ‘I’m so pleased you’re finally here,’ she beamed. ‘That’s a fine pair of wings my love and you’ve some colour in your cheeks now. Enjoy!’ she instructed in her usual manner, waving at the tray of delights and scuttled back to the kitchen.

  ‘Tuck in,’ insisted Imogen. Thomas passed over a plate piled with slices of warm banana bread, followed by a large jar of homemade raspberry jam, a bowl of fresh banana and raspberries and a glass of something pink.

  ‘Pomegranate juice,’ he said, pu
shing it in front of her.

  Alice didn’t respond. What was bandana lady doing down here in the village? Had she been spying on her above ground as well? Her head was spinning in confusion.

  ‘Fay is one of us as well. She has been worried about you for a few weeks, she thought you looked ill,’ Imogen explained. She noticed Alice’s perplexed expression. ‘Fay knew about your symptoms. We can’t actually identify a Finwip when we encounter one until a year after their metamorphosis. The obvious trait is that most of us have green eyes, but with experience we somehow sense one another.’

  ‘She doesn’t appear to have any wings,’ Alice observed, dolloping jam onto her bread with a dessert spoon.

  ‘As odd as this may sound, you don’t need to have wings to be a Finwip. Some of us have pointed ears; some of us are rather small.’

  ‘But perfectly formed,’ pointed out a bearded face with a grin. A very short man bowed to Alice. He stoked the fire with a poker as tall as himself. He was no more than a metre tall, with pointed ears as well.

  ‘Bandana...I mean, Fay, has pointed ears?’ said Alice, in consternation.

  ‘Obviously,’ said Thomas with a mouth full of bread. ‘Why do you think she wears that bandana, silly?’

  Only then did Alice realise that she had never noticed Fay’s ears. The scarf covered the top of them. She rolled her eyes, acknowledging her naivety and carried on eating. As she looked around, she became aware that the torches never changed. That is, considering they were simply burning sticks, neither the wood nor the flame ever changed in appearance. She stared at them intently.

  ‘Finwip technology,’ Thomas informed her. ‘Just like the main fire. Burning without fuel.’

  Alice sighed. She pushed her plate away and plucked up the courage to ask Imogen the question that had been frazzling her brain since her wings appeared.

  ‘Imogen...please can you explain to me what we are, exactly? I mean, I know we’re winged people, but why are we like this? And why us?’ Her voice began to waver with emotion. ‘My life has been turned upside down and I don’t even understand why.’

  Imogen turned to face her and held her hands tightly. ‘Well, in basic terms...you’ve heard of woodland folk in story books when you were younger?’

  Alice nodded.

  ‘Those tales contain an element of truth. Nowadays we do not refer to ourselves as woodland folk or fairies. Those names are considered very patronising. We are descendants from that society but we have evolved greatly to adapt to modern life. Our ancestors were persecuted by normal humans until they became a race in hiding.’

  ‘We’re still hiding from humans though, aren’t we?’

  ‘To a degree, yes. But now we can all have a normal life above ground, which they didn’t have. I prefer to think that Finwips have the privilege of an additional secret life that opens up more opportunities.’

  ‘Opportunities for people at school to tease me.’

  ‘It won’t last,’ asserted Imogen. ‘We’re a peaceful, intelligent race and your classmates will soon tire of it when they realise that your achievements will continue regardless of their behaviour. That’s the trouble with humans, so many of them still mock intelligence instead of respecting it.’

  Alice wrinkled up her nose, unconvinced. ‘What about the fruit cravings? Will they stop?’

  ‘They won’t stop, but they certainly won’t be as strong now that your wings have developed. You must always carry fruit with you. We’ll give you some recipes as well, which will satisfy your requirement for longer. Our need for the vitamins from fruit and vegetables is far greater than that of humans because our bodies are more complicated. We all grow our own vegetables above ground and bring any spare down here – I know you do that already, which is good. You might notice that you become more healthy than your classmates as you get older. Then who will have the last laugh? No colds and fewer spots!’

  Alice managed a smile. Thomas nodded in agreement. ‘It’s true,’ he said. ‘Look how gorgeous I am!’

  Imogen laughed as Alice pulled a face in disgust.

  ‘I think that’s enough information for today,’ she said. ‘You’re clearly still on edge because those wings haven’t retracted yet. I’ll fetch a spray.’

  She went to a large cupboard and came back with a blue bottle identical to the one that Thomas had given her. ‘Shall I do the honours?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, please,’ replied Alice eagerly.

  She felt a mist of that familiar cold liquid on her back and within seconds her enormous wings folded themselves up and somehow disappeared beneath her skin. Alice shuddered. It didn’t hurt, but felt indescribably odd. She reached round to her back but could feel nothing out of the ordinary. What a huge relief.

  ‘Take this and always keep it with you,’ insisted Imogen, handing her the bottle. A short, rotund Finwip with tiny wings and a burgundy robe scuttled over from the kitchen with a folder of recipes. With a brief curtsey she presented it to Alice and as she looked up, Alice recognised her from the canteen at school. The Finwip dinner lady grinned.

  ‘I can recommend the banana and sultana crumble,’ she said, before dashing back to the kitchen.

  Today couldn’t get any more bizarre. Alice put her cardigan back the right way round and Imogen lent her a coat.

  ‘We shall see you again on Saturday,’ she informed her. ‘As an exception, since you are so young, you can bring your friend - Sarah, isn’t it? Thomas and Fay speak highly of her, so it would seem she can be trusted. You will be glad of someone for support when Thomas is back at university. It’s unfortunate that such responsibility has fallen on one so young.’

  ‘What responsibility?’ asked Alice anxiously. She cast an interrogating look at Thomas, but he shrugged his shoulders, equally puzzled.

  ‘No need to worry,’ said Imogen, ‘We’ll talk about it on Saturday with Sarah. But in the meantime, could you do just one thing for us, Alice?’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Try and be friendly towards Lucinda Rowbottom.’

  ‘You must be joking!’ exclaimed Alice. ‘Really?’ she raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘But she hates me! She’s always such a...’

  ‘Don’t let that worry you,’ Imogen interrupted. ‘Her father’s a different matter, though. He’s a very cruel man, evil to the core. It will all become clear soon, but that would be extremely helpful if you can manage it.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ said Alice, pulling a face.

  Imogen shook her hand. ‘Goodbye for now. It’s an honour to have you with us.’

  Alice just smiled, bewildered by it all. She walked to the lift with Thomas, in silence. Once inside, Thomas couldn’t bite his tongue.

  ‘Well, you must be something special.’

  ‘I don’t like you when you’re sarcastic.’

  ‘I’m not being sarcastic! I just wish I knew what all the fuss is about!’

  ‘Me too.’

  Silence. When the lift stopped at Albany Road, Thomas asked her to press an amber button. Alice saw a vertical row of red, amber and green lights. She did as she was told. Suddenly they could see the street outside. Alice reached out, but the tree-trunk door was still there, just clear, like glass. She shrank back from it as a young woman walked past with a pushchair.

  ‘It’s OK, she can’t see us,’ Thomas reassured her. ‘This is similar to one-way glass – it’s a safety feature so that we can check no one is around when we emerge from the tree.’

  A jogger ran past and Thomas pressed his nose against the door. After a good look in each direction, he instructed,

  ‘All clear, press green.’

  The door slid open and Alice darted out from behind him. She had never felt so grateful to be standing on the pavement she walked down most days. Even the chill in the air felt invigorating as it seemed to confirm the reality of her former life. She looked behind her at the perfectly normal, if rather large oak tree. No trace of a door. She shook her
head slowly, then checked her watch. Just after 2pm. Good, they would be home well before their parents.

  ‘Relax,’ said Thomas. ‘Back to school and normality tomorrow.’

  For once, Alice didn’t object.

  Chapter 5

  The Act of Being Normal

  As she stood in front of the mirror on Thursday morning, Alice felt numb. Looking at her reflection, it was as if nothing had happened during the last few days. Same hair, same uniform with holey tights. Today she was wearing a T-shirt under her shirt, in preparation for getting changed for P.E. - she had to conceal that wing base mark. Turning her back to the mirror, she craned her neck as if she still half expected to see some sort of evidence through her clothes.

  She hadn’t spoken to Sarah since her metamorphosis on Tuesday and was apprehensive about seeing her again. What should she say? Would Sarah have kept it to herself or let it slip to one of her sisters? If it had been the other way round, Alice very much doubted that she could keep such a massive secret.

  As it happened, Sarah didn’t mention it initially. She did ask how Alice was feeling after her ‘illness’, as she called it, but so did Sebastian, surprisingly. There was no sarcastic comment when she approached the classroom door and he even noticed that she didn’t look as tired.

  ‘Well spotted,’ she thought. ‘Not as dumb as he looks, it would seem.’ Eventually, she asked Sarah if she had told anyone.

  ‘As if!’ she exclaimed. ‘Who’d believe me? Good to see you’re back to normal, though. Whatever normal is, these days.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Alice quietly.

  ‘Listen,’ Sarah continued. ‘When you’ve got two sisters, you know how to keep secrets.’

  Of course. Alice hadn’t thought of that. For now, her focus was on keeping her head down and muddling through until Saturday, when she hoped that Imogen would explain her role in Finwip society. Or, as far as Alice was concerned at the moment, her purpose in life. She could see how melodramatic that seemed for a thirteen year old.

  English passed without incident. This time, Sarah made sure she had read her allocated chapters and Alice wasn’t picked on to summarise any today. French did unnerve her, though – she even surprised herself with her fluency and accent. She barely recognised her own voice. But...when Lucinda turned around to pull a face, Alice was ready. She beat her to it, grinning like an idiot and taking a small bow in her seat, silently mouthing the words ‘thank you.’