‘What is this thick course stuff, hay?’ Tippy groaned fighting her way through the forest of dark curly hair towards Wilbur.
‘No, we haven’t landed in a haystack but I think Lady Luck is on our side as it looks as if we’ve fallen on our feet – well, at least metaphorically speaking,’ Wilbur said pointing at the reflection of the boy in the shop window.
‘Come on, darling, don’t dilly dally and that means you too, Scarlet,’ a woman huffed, taking the boy’s hand and pulling him into one of the shops on Piddlesworth Street. (Oh and before you go imagining I made the name of that street up, well I jolly well didn’t, just look on the map of London if you don’t believe me! Having said that, someone had used a piece of chalk to change the letter i into a letter u so to the casual observer it looked as if the street was named Puddlesworth Street. Only dirty dogs piddled on the street and as for piddling in a puddle, well, that’s not much better than airing your dirty washing in public!)
‘Mother, he’s picked up a beetle again,’ the girl groaned as the boy stuck his tongue out at her and pulled a face as if he were imitating the look upon the face of a gargoyle.
‘Look, look, the thief, he’s taken our home!’ Wilbur exclaimed pointing off into the distance where the man had headed. The man then stopped dead in his tracks. He was holding the fob watch up to the light before he slipped it back in his pocket and, casual as you like, walked on as if he were simply taking the air in Regent’s Park on a Sunday morning.
‘Our giant’s walking the other way. He doesn’t know that man was a pickpocket!’ Wilbur further exclaimed.
‘Now what?’ blurted out Tippy as panic began to set in.
‘Not sure,’ Wilbur replied scratching his head as the boy, the girl and their mother went through the shop door, up the stairs and into a small sitting room they called home.
‘Time for a nice cup of tea, nothing like a nice cup of tea to restore the mind, body and soul, and furthermore it is true there is no place like home,’ the woman said cheerfully and with more than a little relief, glad to be home where the heart was.
For the Clock People there also was no place like home as their home was at the heart of everything they did, even if that home was the insides of a fob watch. Wilbur and Tippy had seen their home walk off into the distance and there wasn’t a thing they could do about it. A walking talking clock – that story had Hans Christian Andersen written all over it!
When the Clock People awoke they were mystified as to how they had lost time, although it was only an hour, but a lot can happen in an hour as the two apprentices had discovered. The Clock People were blissfully unaware they had a new owner, one who lived in the country on the outskirts of town instead of the heart of London, the abode of their previous owner.
‘What’s the time, Mrs Bodkin?’ Mr Peppercorn enquired.
‘Time you got a new watch, Mrs Peppercorn, or a new home in this curious case!’ Mrs Bodkin replied in jocular fashion as in keeping with the lives and times of the Clock People as once again their world began to run like clockwork, it seemed the clock was no longer ticked off with its lot… tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…
12
Complications
‘Help, I’ve got bugs in my hair!’ shouted the boy named Alfie Potts, rubbing his head violently as he looked into the looking glass in his bedroom.
‘Of course you have, dear,’ his mother replied ignoring him.
‘You’re the bug and the ugliest bug I’ve ever seen!’ the girl named Scarlet exclaimed, thinking she had made the wittiest remark ever.
‘No, you’re the bug not me and I’ve a good mind to stamp on you!’ Alfie replied as the two bugs in his hair jumped ship at the exact moment the time bell rang. The two bugs of course were not bugs but two of the little Clock People who appeared to be having a hair-raising experience of their own!
‘Help!’ cried Wilbur falling like in a waking nightmare.
Help!’ cried Tippy feeling like she was in Wilbur’s waking nightmare when she would rather have been in Alice’s dream of many wonders.
Scarlet had a vivid imagination, enough for two children, her mother said. Scarlet said she must have got her brother’s imagination for he appeared to have none! Scarlet was always making up stories on the spot to get her and her wilful brother out of hot water. One may wonder why Scarlet even bothered to get her brother out of hot water, or cold water for that matter. Well, despite his many faults nobody was going to bully his sister – well, all apart from Alfie that was!
‘Are you alright?’ asked Wilbur, landing on a bed then springing back up as if he were bouncing up and down upon a trampoline before landing safely back upon the bed unharmed.
‘Yes I think so but that was close, too close for comfort. It seems like a timepiece. Life has many complications!’ Tippy puffed then panted as she too made a soft landing upon the bed.
‘Yes, too many at times for my liking!’ sighed Wilbur, wondering just how complicated their lives would become now they had freed themselves from one mechanism for another which may well be even more complex and complicated than they could ever have imagined.
There were two beds in the bedroom: one for the girl and one for the boy. The boy’s bed was unmade like the boy himself and the girl’s bed was spick and span like the girl.
‘Come here, you bugs, I want to examine you!’ cried Alfie as he grabbed a magnifying glass that was lying on top of a cabinet and held it to his eye as if he imagined he was a young Charles Darwin.
‘Run!’ shouted Wilbur looking at Tippy in horror, but running on a mattress was easier said than done for people with such tiny little legs. In truth they would have been better off if they had been bugs – ladybirds who can fly.
Alfie picked up Tippy with a pair of tweezers and placed her upon the window ledge then opened the window so the sun shone into the room. Then he picked up the magnifying glass and held it over her so the sun shone through it.
‘Put me down, put me down, you little monster. If I was bigger I’d box your ears!’ Tippy screamed at the top of her lungs clawing at fresh air or stale, until the fresh air streamed into the room along with the sunshine. Of course the boy did not know what on earth the girl was banging on about and the only way he would was if Tippy had been banging on a tin drum like a toy clockwork monkey standing in the labyrinth of the boy’s ear. If Tippy had been standing in the boy’s ear she would have given him a thick ear and more besides, a lot more besides!
‘I do believe you’re a fairy, I do believe you’re a fairy. Listen to me, I appear to have turned into my sister, Little Miss Wonderland. I could stick a pin in you and put you in my butterfly collection, how’s that for an imagination!’ grinned Alfie who was doing a passable impression of the Cheshire Cat before it got a flea in its ear from the Mad March Hare for sleeping in the tea pot during the Mad Tea Party!
Tippy wished she had been a fairy, then instead of starring in A Nightmare in Wonderland she would be starring in A Dream in Wonderland.
‘Hold on, Tippy, I’m coming,’ Wilbur cried, looking all about him for a weapon he could use on the boy. He looked down at the floor and saw a loose nail sticking out of the carpet. Luckily he had a small penknife in his pocket. This weapon he used to great effect to unscrew the tiniest screws in the clock, but Wilbur knew this would be no good on the boy, he would hardly feel a scratch. However, he had an idea, he just hoped it was a good one! Wilbur sprinted towards the edge of the bed then all of a sudden stopped dead in his tracks, turned around and with his penknife clasped in his hands as if it were a dagger violently thrust it into a small hole in the bedsheet as if he were a knight and the bed were a dragon, a white dragon. The knife cut through the sheet, allowing a thread to appear which Wilbur tugged on, unravelling it until it turned into what looked like a rope. As luck would have it – bad luck – the thread snapped. It would have been far better for Wilbur if it had not,
as now he needed something to wind it around so he could absail down the side of the bed. Wilbur hoped there were no bed bugs in this bed. If it were a girl’s bed he would be fine, perhaps not dandy, but fine. If it were a boy’s bed he may well not. Wilbur searched around frantically in the bedsheet for another small tear he could enlarge with his penknife. After much frantic searching he eventually found one he was able to make slightly bigger. Wilbur tugged at the tear with all the strength he could muster so another thread appeared which he tugged upon as if he were in a tug of war competition with the Invisible Man. He then attached the thread to this tear and tied a knot to make sure it was secure.
Then something on the bed moved. Wilbur stopped, his heart was in his mouth. It needed to be in his chest where it belonged. He gulped down hard and hoped this would do the trick. Perhaps it was his tired eyes playing silly beggars but no, the object moved, it definitely moved, then moved again getting closer and closer with each second that passed. This must be the boy’s bed as a hungry bed bug appeared before him baring all of its teeth and it appeared to have as many teeth as legs!
‘Back off, bug, or I’ll run you through!’ Wilbur shouted waving his penknife at the bug in a threatening manner. The bed bug appeared more curious than afraid of Wilbur. In truth the bed bug was probably tired and simply looking for a place to rest its weary head. For a second Wilbur imagined taming the bed bug as if it were a bucking bronco then thought better of it. ‘Sleep tight and don’t let the bed bugs bite,’ Wilbur muttered under his breath as the bed bug seemed to disappear into the bed. However, the bed bug did not disappear into the bed, it disappeared into the mouth of a hungry spider, and one bed bug was not a sufficient meal for a growing spider!
There was no time for Wilbur to get involved with a giant bug and, as yet, Wilbur had not seen the spider so he turned round and ran as fast as he could towards the end of the bed then stopped as if a clockwork soldier that needed rewinding. Wilbur had never liked heights and no matter how much time he had spent clambering up and down and in and out of the mechanism he still disliked them. Wilbur felt himself being pulled to the edge of the bed almost as if he felt compelled to jump. But he was not a cliff diver and he did not have wings so quickly pulled himself back from the edge. Wilbur then grabbed hold of the thread he had pulled free from the sheet earlier and hurriedly tied it around his waist making sure he was not trying himself in knots in the process.
Wilbur could wiggle his toes for all he was worth, so much so some said he should run away from home and join the Circus of Horrors! Wilbur had read about magicians and illusionists being tied in knots with ropes, their hands cuffed and their feet placed in manacles by their beautiful assistants. The escapologists were then lifted up by a mechanical crane and left dangling over a river. Of course the escapologists always freed themselves in the nick of time. But Wilbur didn’t have any more time, so even the Time Thieves could not steal any time he may have thought of wasting. Wilbur Wigglesworth’s beautiful assistant, Tippy Handle, needed his assistance as she was facing a cliffhanger of her own. Wilbur steeled himself, said a quick prayer to the Clock God under his breath then jumped off the end of the bed, hanging on for dear life. As he fell he hoped this thread would not break as easily as the last. ‘Tally ho!’ cried Wilbur, more in bravado than because he felt brave.
As Wilbur was not much heavier than an ostrich feather the descent was slow as the thread lengthened, but eventually he arrived at the bottom of the bed. Thank the Clock Gods the thread had not snapped. Perhaps his luck was changing. He hoped Tippy’s luck would hold as well as the thread had. It appeared in no time at all that the Clock God had multiplied himself in the blinking of an eye from a god into gods as if by some kind of dark magic of the universe. Wilbur had referred to the Clock God and five seconds later he was referring to the Clock Gods. This must have been a simple act of desperation on the young apprentice’s part, for no one boy wonder, no matter how vast his imagination, could turn a god into gods. God or gods or no god or gods, Wilbur knew one old man would not give him the time of day and that was Old Father Time, so he ran across the carpet like a man being chased by the giant Shadow Wind.
It was slightly easier to run across the threadbare carpet than on the thick bedcover but still it was hard going. In truth, thanks to the open window he was being blown across the floor. In fact at one stage he was actually flying through the air or at least being propelled in a forwardly direction at great velocity, which wasn’t quite so poetic or romantic as being an aviator like Wilbur and Orville Wright. Once upon a time Wilbur had flown around the mechanism, and not just in his dreams, but by using a steam-powered backpack and a pair of wooden wings designed by Eugenius Broadbent, the inventor. Unfortunately the inventor did not own a crystal ball and could not forsee the event of the miniature flying contraption running out of steam mid-flight. Wilbur had been lucky to escape with his life that day. This was yet another close shave to add to all the others. Wilbur Wigglesworth was lucky he wasn’t a man who had to use a cut-throat razor every morning like his father, otherwise he was sure to meet a sticky end with a death of a thousand cuts!
Wilbur suddenly ran out of steam as his forward motion stalled and he fell down a net-shaped hole. However, it wasn’t a hole, it was a part of the threadbare carpet that was more thread than carpet. If he fell through the cracks in the floorboard he would be lost forever, as nobody could live with the spiders, lice, bugs and all manner of creepy things that lived in that dark foreboding place. Tick tock, tick… once again the clock was ticking but how much longer would it tick? It seemed for the two young apprentices their time may well be running out!
13
Perfect Timing,
Like Clockwork In Fact
Wilbur tried to slow down his breathing, and slow down time with it, to give himself more of that time the Chinese said was more valuable than gold. Wilbur pulled his frame up with all the strength he had left in his tiny body and just about managed to extricate himself from the carpet. Here Wilbur wanted to rest and give his body a breather but he knew he hadn’t time, he had to locate the loose nail. At this moment Wilbur was extracting every last fibre of his being, as if his body were a carpet and he a carpet weaver reweaving a carpet he was not satisfied with. However, not for one moment did Wilbur imagine he was standing on Threadneedle Street as all this played out on the carpet!
Wilbur had never been satisfied with his physique and when he looked in the mirror always saw a frame that needed building up. Over the years working in the mechanism had given him a better physique on which he was now drawing – another reason to thank the giant mechanism which, until now, he had not considered.
A few minutes later Wilbur had arrived at the nail where he stopped to draw breath. But there was little time to stop and smell the roses that were woven into the carpet. Tippy needed his help and she needed it now. Truth was she needed it then but then had passed by in the blinking of an eye so for the time being now would just have to do!
What Wilbur did not know was that he was not alone on the carpet, as by now a rather large spider was mirroring his every move and as there was a looking glass standing in line with the carpet there were now two Wilburs and two giant spiders in the room.
Wilbur pulled on the nail with all his might but fell back onto his bottom. Undeterred he tried again, failed again, so tried and tried again until eventually the nail loosened and he was able to pull it free. His adoptive parents had always taught him if you don’t at first succeed try and try again – more good advice he was happy to heed.
‘Right, you little horror, time you learnt to pick on someone your own size, like a giant octopus!’ Wilbur grunted, lifting the nail as if it were a battering ram, and ran at the boy who, as luck would have it, was barefoot. Wilbur was imagining he was one of King Arthur’s knights in a jousting tournament riding upon a silver steed as he galloped across the room, although in truth he looked more like a Victorian child upon an old
broomstick with a horse’s head attached to it. Another tall tale his grandfather had once upon a time read to him to send him off to sleep. The nail was heavier than he imagined and took quite an effort to carry, but often in times of danger we gain super-human strength that we do not know we possess.
By the time Wilbur had arrived at the boy’s foot he had gathered quite a bit of momentum. He thrust the nail into the boy’s little toe with all his might. It went in easier than he had imagined. Wilbur had purposely aimed at the tender part of the boy’s foot in the hope it would get some sort of reaction, even if it was only to distract the boy momentarily from trying to harm his friend. ‘Perfect timing, like clockwork in fact,’ Wilbur muttered under his breath, not entirely making sense. At this point in time making sense of this topsy-turvy world was something he was still trying very hard to do.
‘Ouch, ouch, that hurt!’ Alfie exclaimed jumping up and down on the spot before he toppled over like a tree in a forest. At first he thought he had been bitten by a gnat or a bee. ‘The bigger they are the harder they fall!’ Wilbur grunted through gritted teeth.
‘What was that noise?!’ exclaimed the boy’s mother doing the washing up in the kitchen.
‘It’s Alfie, he’s doing a war dance. Thinks he’s a Red Indian warrior by the looks of him, or a squaw,’ Scarlet giggled, trying hard not to laugh out loud. Scarlet then saw the smoke rising from the window ledge as if it really was smoke signals from a Red Indian tribe on the warpath. The magnifying glass on the window ledge was resting over where Tippy was stood while also resting on a piece of paper that, due to the sun, had caught alight.
‘Alfie, I know you like your little games to be realistic but this time you’ve gone too far!’ Scarlet exclaimed as she ran into the bathroom to get a cup of water. Quickly she hurried back, trying not to spill any of the water on the floor, as she was keen to extinguish the fire before the whole house went up in flames with them in it.
The Clock People Page 9