by Steven Croft
‘Alice, Sam, welcome! You made it through. We’re so glad. We thought you would but we never know, you know. Well done. Come in. Everything’s ready. Here’s a towel for your face. Take these clothes. There’s space to change behind those rocks. This side for you, Sam. That’s the way. Over here, Alice.’
The greeting from Abraham and Sarah was as warm as ever. As they came out of the changing areas, Sarah brought Alice new shoes for her feet and a clear crystal ring for her finger. Abraham did the same for Sam. Together they led them to a table under a spreading oak tree in the centre of the glade and served them with fresh bread, water from the spring and fruit from the trees which grew in that place. There was kiwi fruit, melon, pomegranates and cucumber. Everything smelt and tasted so fresh.
‘You have passed the calendar’s first test,’ said Abraham as they began to eat. ‘We were hopeful that you would. We can now tell you more and send you on your way. This is the last day we will meet with you. There will be other guides as your journey continues.’
‘The calendar has twenty-four doors in all, one for each day of the last month until the greatest of nights comes round again. A new door appears each day. This much you know already.’
Sarah took up the lesson. ‘The days are in four groups of six,’ she said. ‘For each group there will be different guides. On the sixth day of each group comes the test. To move on to the next part of the calendar, you must complete the challenge and pass the test.’
‘The pathways,’ said Alice. ‘The choices.’
‘What would have happened if we had taken the wrong pathway?’ asked Sam.
‘The other roads simply lead back to your own world,’ said Abraham, with sadness. ‘As we promised, no harm can come to you in these different journeys and worlds. But there would have been no code tomorrow, no more doors appearing. The adventure of the calendar would have ended here for you. There would be no harm done – but nor would you have seen the blessing that the calendar holds.’
‘What about the shadows?’ Alice asked. ‘Would they have followed us back to our world?’
‘They are there already,’ Sarah replied. ‘You brought them to this place but see them more clearly here, that’s all. The closer you came to the waterfall, the more clearly you could see. All that you learn through the doors of the calendar will enable you to overcome them in your own world and in your own life.’
Sam and Alice rested for a while with Abraham and Sarah, enjoying their last moments with the couple who were so full of years and full of wisdom. Then Sam looked at his watch and noticed the second hand had started to move again.
‘Come, children,’ said Abraham. ‘It is time for goodbyes.’
Abraham and Sarah enfolded Sam and Alice each in an embrace. Held in Abraham’s arms, Alice felt his great strength and courage and faith flowing into her. ‘Well done, child,’ he said. ‘Well done.’ Alice kept the words in her mind for a very long time: it was the first time she could remember hearing anyone saying that to her. Held by Sarah, Alice felt as though she was breathing in deep wisdom and laughter and joy, despite all the difficulties and dangers of her life. After the embrace, Sarah held both her hands and looked deep into Alice’s eyes, her whole face alight: ‘Enjoy the gift of life,’ she said. ‘Enjoy the gift.’
Abraham led them both to the entrance of a small cave in the side of the mountain, no more than a crack in the rock. ‘This is the way back,’ he said, standing back so first Sam and then Alice could walk through. ‘This time, only seconds have passed in your worlds. Go well.’
His voice faded. Sam and Alice were standing again in front of the calendar in the living room. The sixth door was open. As Alice expected, when she looked closely she could see a forest of tall pines. Winding its way through the forest, showing the way, was a single, golden thread.
7 December
Friday was a very bad day for Alice and for Sam but for different reasons.
For Alice, the rot set in on Thursday evening. Suzie and Alex dropped their guard in biology. Alice was tired again in the lesson after her long walk through the forest. They were getting very fed up with protecting her. The Newtron pounced again. This time she caught her prey and Alice was given a detention the night of her first parents’ evening.
Megs was very embarrassed and very, very angry. It was the kind of parents’ evening where pupils came too, so Alice had to listen again and again to reports of how she was always yawning in class; of late homework; of sloppy work. Again and again, she listened to Megs defending her with the same excuses. ‘It’s been a hard few months…lots of changes…her father left us…moved into the area…I’ve had so much to do…sure she’ll do better next term…won’t you, Alice?’ Once or twice, she even had to wipe away the tears.
Alice knew that behind the smile for the teachers, the pressure in Megs was mounting. In turn, she glowered back, grunted out her replies, slouched in her chair and shuffled reluctantly from room to room. The only light moment in the evening came when Alice joined the long line for Mr Watkins, the fit PE teacher. He didn’t even teach Alice but everyone said that he didn’t have a clue who anybody was at parents’ evenings and so he always said exactly the same thing to everyone. They were right, so at least Megs left assured but puzzled that Alice always behaved herself and tried hard in PE. Alice could tell by the way Megs smiled in that meeting that she thought Mr Watkins was pretty fit as well. ‘Yeucch,’ she thought. ‘He’s much too young for her. Yeeuurrgh.’
The interview with Miss Newton was, of course, the blackest moment of the evening. It was the last appointment. Alice had been kind of hoping that they might run out of time. Instead, she could tell, Miss Newton’s patience was running very low at the end of a long day.
‘Alice has a lot of work to do, Mrs Carroll, a lot of work to do. She’s got the brains, haven’t you, Alice?’
Alice had been practising swearing in front of the mirror and she really wanted to tell Miss Newton to ‘F off’ right then and there just for the hell of it. ‘S’pose,’ she mumbled.
‘But she won’t apply herself. The homework is sloppy and late. She never contributes in class. Yesterday and today she looked as if she was asleep in the lessons. It simply has to stop.’
Megs looked as though she was about to burst into tears. ‘What have you got to say, Alice?’
The head teacher was hovering nearby, clearly wanting to encourage everyone to go home. Miss Newton, through a superhuman effort, pulled her features into a mask of concern and said, rather loudly: ‘Is everything alright at home? Are there any problems we should know about?’
Megs pulled herself back together and began to gather her things. Whatever else was happening she wasn’t playing that game.
‘Yes, thanks. We’re fine. I’ll be coming back for a longer conversation about what the school’s strategy is for all the problems I’ve been hearing about this evening. You seem very good at pointing out people’s faults here but not very good at constructive solutions – except for that nice Mr Watkins. Goodnight.’
Set and match to Megs, thought Alice, as she was dragged by the hand through the main school door. There was much nose blowing and wiping of eyes before Megs could start the car.
‘Alright, Mum?’ said Alice.
‘Shut up, madam. Just shut up, OK. I’ll deal with you when you get home. I have never been so humiliated in my entire life.’
Megs turned the ignition keys and pressed the accelerator to the floor. The engine turned over but the car would not start. She did the same a second and a third time. Nothing. Megs swore as Alice had never heard her swear before and thumped the dashboard. There was a tap on the driver’s window, which had steamed up. Megs wound it down.
‘Hi! Andrew Watkins – we met inside a few minutes ago. Mrs Carroll, isn’t it? Anything I can do to help?’
‘Car won’t start,’ said Megs, wip
ing her eyes.
‘Hop out – let me give it a try. Evening – er – Lucy.’
‘It’s Alice,’ said Alice.
‘Course it is,’ said fit Mr Watkins, winking at her. ‘I think I can see what’s happened.’ He pushed in the choke and gave the slightest of touches on the key. The engine sputtered into life.
‘There we go, Mrs Carroll,’ he said, leaping out of the car and standing, Alice thought, rather too close to her mum. Megs didn’t seem to mind and made no move to get into the driver’s seat.
‘It’s Megs,’ she said, holding out her hand.
‘Andrew – pleased to meet you. I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.’
‘We’ve just moved into the area. Gordon Hill.’
‘I know that part well – just round the corner from my flat.’
‘Oh,’ said Megs. ‘That’s nice. Perhaps see you around then. Thanks for your help – and for what you said about Alice tonight.’
‘Cool,’ said Mr Watkins. Alice cringed. Megs got back into the car. ‘Oh – and don’t be embarrassed or anything – but I don’t actually teach your daughter. It’s a bit of a school joke, I think – quite a few of them queue up to see me on these evenings. I try not to show them up. Teenage girls – you know.’
‘Quite,’ said Megs, blushing and crashing the gears in the rush to get away and winding up the window. ‘Wait till I get you home, young lady. Do not say a word. Not a word.’
So Alice had the ten-minute drive home to think of all the things that were wrong with her mum. When they got home Megs was angry and tired and upset and let fly at Alice. Alice let fly back. She told Megs it was her fault Dad had left; that she was impossible to live with; that she always felt sorry for herself; that she had no time for Alice; that Alice didn’t care what she thought. Quite a few of the new swear words she had been practising came rushing out. Alice stormed off to her room, slammed the door and lay face down on the bed.
A few minutes later she opened the bedroom door so she could hear her mum talking on the phone – to her dad.
‘Nick – look sorry to ring so late. I’m in a bit of a state about Alice. It was parents’ evening tonight. Absolute disaster. She’s clearly been much more affected by all the changes than I thought. I just don’t know what to do. I think we need to talk…’
Alice got up and slammed the door again – just for effect really – and sobbed herself to sleep.
**********
The next morning, you could cut the atmosphere in the house with a blunt butter knife. Sam clearly had a lot on his mind. Megs had let him know that she needed some support but it was just one more thing to cope with: ‘Sis, I’ve got problems of my own right now. Back off, OK?’
Alice and Megs were not speaking at all. Breakfast and the journey to school were in complete silence. Alice was like a bear with a sore head with Alex and Suzie. She called Loren Graham a stuck-up cow after break for no reason and very nearly got into a fight with Elaine Webster, the toughest girl in the year. Fit Mr Watkins smiled at her a couple of times in the corridor, making her want to run to the toilets and throw up. Miss Newton looked daggers at her when she arrived at the labs for chemistry – no biology today, thank goodness. When she got home there was no message from Sam and, for the first time, she couldn’t be bothered to ring him. What was the point of passing a test in the world of the calendar if all this stuff was happening to her now?
Meanwhile, Sam had been wrestling with his own problems. Outwardly, at least, things were OK. The wretched report was finished and handed in though Sam had no real enthusiasm for it. At least Richard was off his back now for a little while. He and Josie had agreed to spend some time together at the weekend to think about what to do. Sam knew he was going to have to make some choices: he knew his life was simply drifting. But he was also very frightened. The adventures in the calendar were helping in some ways. But they also made certain things much clearer which was very uncomfortable.
All of this meant Sam had too much to deal with that Friday. Like Alice, he had snapped at Megs, growled at Richard, been too sharp with Josie and even told Tizzy to back off. A week ago, he thought, he would have simply drowned out all the noise and gone off the pub after work. Three different people rang to ask him but he made excuses. If there were any answers, he knew by now, he would find them somehow through the journeys through the calendar.
**********
At home, Alice just sat quietly in the living room, hugging a cushion, staring across at the calendar wall. Six doors open. The candle. The dove. The garden. The grapes. The eagle in flight. The golden thread. Despite herself, she came closer and looked at each in turn, thinking, wondering, wanting things to be different. The memories of each experience came back as she looked into the doorways. What was it all about? She knew it had to have some kind of meaning. She caught a glimpse of her face reflected in the windows: tear stained, moody. Why did she have to be like that? Why was she everything she didn’t want to be inside? Somehow the calendar was helping her to see at least that more clearly.
The back door opened – Sam called through, softly in case Megs was back. ‘Home. You there, Alice?’
‘In here,’ she called back, turning to look at the calendar again. She felt a tingle of excitement. A seventh door was there: two miniature stone columns on either side of a door overlaid with what looked like tarnished gold. ‘Sam – the door has appeared. Do you have the code?’
‘Arrived two minutes ago – I was just parking the car. Suffering centipedes, you look awful.’
‘You don’t look that good yourself. Have you eaten today?’
‘Come to think of it, no. Too much going on, I think. Here’s the code. Very simple today: six, colon, six. Wonder what these numbers mean anyway?’
‘I thought they were just random codes,’ said Alice. ‘Do you think there is something more? Six, colon, six. There.’
Sam peered closely at the calendar. The tiny golden doors began to open – but inwards. How could that happen? A narrow line appeared down the centre and grew bigger. This time, the first thing they noticed was the music.
The deep sound of what sounded like a football stadium of top-class male voice choirs filled the room in slow rhythmic chant on a bass line:
‘Q’a…dosh…q’a…dosh…q’a…dosh.’
The power of the sound grew as the doors opened. The whole house began to shake, not able to contain the song. A choir of women’s voices came in with sharp, clear harmonies to the same words, leaping and tripping across the bass lines:
‘Q’a…dosh…q’a…dosh…q’a…dosh.’
The power of the harmonies seemed to cause the living room, the house and their entire world to shake and then simply to melt away. Drumming began underneath the bass sound: a steady, syncopated rhythm reminding Sam of African dance music. Alice looked round. She and Sam were in the centre of a vast, open space surrounded by a colonnade. All around them were pilgrims, pouring in through the many gates in the colonnade, summoned, it seemed, by the choir and musicians. The crowd took up the simple songs, swaying, rocking and dancing in time to the music’s gentle rhythms.
‘Q’a…dosh…q’a…dosh…q’a…dosh.
Adonai…seva’oth…q’a…dosh.’
At the top of the steps, the entrance to an inner courtyard, trumpeters sounded a rippling fanfare.
The male choir continued its rhythmic chant while the women changed their song, singing the words over and over until Alice knew them by heart and could join in:
‘Adonai…seva’oth…mil’o…col ha’retz…c’vodo.
Q’a…dosh…q’a…dosh…q’a…dosh.’
As the pilgrims poured into the vast space, all bound together in the music and the rhythm of the dance, so Alice and Sam were gradually pressed forward towards the steps. On each side of the stairway the crowds par
ted. Men and women and children were there from every race and in every kind of national dress. All joined in the song and moved together. Every face was alive with joy and hope. On either side the people turned back towards Alice and Sam holding out their hands in welcome, smiling and beckoning them forward.
Sam and Alice held back. Without a word being spoken both of them became aware of what they had been feeling all of that day and the day before but couldn’t name: a deep sense of not being worthy, a discontent with the person they had become.
A thin young man stepped out of the darkened doorway at the top of the stairs and came down to welcome them. He too held out his arms and motioned for them to climb the stairs and enter. With each step Alice took, her sense of unworthiness grew. She remembered how she had looked in the mirror, the way she had treated her friends at school, most of all the stuff she’d said to Megs. Sam’s mind was on the shallowness of his life; the way he always ran away from problems and couldn’t help it, his responsibilities to Josie.
The trumpets stopped. The drum beats were hushed. The singing dropped to a deep, soft whisper all across the courtyard, filling the space:
‘Q’a…dosh…q’a…dosh…q’a…dosh.
Adonai…seva’oth…mil’o…col ha’retz…c’vodo.
Q’a…dosh…q’a…dosh…q’a…dosh.’
Sam and Alice reached the entrance to the building. The young man took them through the immense doorway. Once inside there was a sense of vast empty space and a great, deep stillness: all the silence in the world gathered into one place. Somehow the inside was bigger than the outside – the building stretched away above and in front of them. The only light came from a brazier of hot coals just a few metres away.
Without knowing why, both Alice and Sam fell to their knees just a few steps inside the entrance. The sense of unworthiness was still growing inside each of them. This was such a special place.