Chapter 16
'The best things in life
aren’t things'
-Art Buchwald
On awaking I remembered this should be my penultimate day. I’d hardly slept anyway, constantly waking at regular intervals. It would be sad to leave the folk here, but I had a life to lead.
Floorboards creaked under the sudden onslaught as I bounced out of bed. I threw open the delicate drapes to be greeted by a fabulous new world. As far as the eye could see countryside far and wide was lined with a perfect covering of crisp, delicate snow.
Thick, glistening icicles a metre long had formed from the gutters. Two fell off in the middle, showing Jacob whizzing past the front garden. The joy on his face as he bumped along the frozen stream showed this was his very first snow. Emitting alternate cries of disappointment and total delight, he attempted to master the intricate details of ice skating in an instant. Jess, his faithful little puppy gambolled along behind, yapping furiously, trying to catch each tiny snowflake before it fell to earth.
A homely circle of snowmen waited patiently on the front lawn, all complete with carrots stuck in very strange places! A baby squirrel tried climbing the frozen trunk of Rose’s fine olive tree. Failing miserably, he chattered and clicked in frustration, much to the amusement of his boisterous troop of friends. High in the treetops birds whistled and hummed many a merry, searching tune. Their excited calls told all to spread the incredible news - Winter had come to Pine Meadows at last!
Well, quite a change by all standards. Enormous smiles played across my face as I descended the stairs, wondering what all the fuss was about. Hushed voices were engaged in conspiratorial whispers near the front door.
“Happy Christmas!” Aunt Rose cried, blowing a rolled up party toy loudly in my face.
“God... I nearly di..” I blurted out, jumping backwards. Luckily my terrible faux pas was brushed aside.
“We’ve never celebrated Christmas here before. It was Brian’s idea,” Rose confessed. He was chatting of days gone by last night, when he realised he never did find the time to spend a Christmas day with you, not once.”
“It’s true,” he admitted guiltily.
“Well, go on give it to him,” Rose whispered, digging him playfully in the ribs.
“Sam I remember you earnestly knocking on my shed door from time to time, eager to see what inventions I may have come up with, whilst I continued deep in my work. Um, a bad case of monomania I suppose it was, though I could have controlled it better. Anyway, those times are gone and I have made you this,” he said, handing me a small worked object. “It’s not much I know, but I hope you’ll accept it in the spirit it is given.”
“That’s perfectly alright Brian. I understand now more than ever no one in this life is perfect, let alone me,” I laughed. “Of course I’ll accept your gift. ‘tis most generous of you. I promise to treasure it. Er, what is it?” I said finally, turning the article over in my hand.
“Now that’s the thing,” he said brightening up to his usual pleasant self. “I’m not absolutely sure. I was out in our back garden yesterday basking in the afternoon heat, finishing off a fortieth anniversary present for your aunt - a beautiful piece, when out of the corner of my eye I spied a piece of rare wood lying there on its own. It was set in its own indentation it had made in the grass. It certainly wasn’t there when I first went out, that much I know for sure as I’ve a grand eye for detail. Well, I figured things like this don’t just appear out of thin air for no good reason here. So I picked it up, got the strangest idea to work it on my lathe a little, this way and that, you know, follow your instinct. Then followed the niggling notion to make it into an large round insect of some description at first, a grand ladybird maybe, with working legs and all, then decided against it at the last minute, as it would have required splitting the wood. Instead I contented myself with making the carvings you see here and here, the three little nicks in the sides and finishing off with the long delicate cut down the middle, leaving small gaps at top and bottom. I’ve put a cord to it also, allowing swift access if needed.”
“You can’t fail to see the craftsmanship that went into it too. Thanks again Brian,” I said in admiration.
“Not a problem son, a few minutes careful work. I just hope it will prove of some use to you on the outward journey. If not, it will make a fine souvenir.”
“It will indeed, but how can we be certain I’ll be able to take it out?”
“James is of the opinion you can. He predicts you can take a minimum of two objects out with you, with a possibility of a third.”
“He hasn’t elaborated on his reasoning yet,” Rose cut in. “He’s left you this precious little harp and a very important little bag as well,” she confessed, handing me a tiny velvet pouch filled with gold angel dust, saying James would explain more later. She stood and stared longer, just quietly looking, puzzling, then slipped into the kitchen followed closely by Brian. “Don’t worry son, I’ll look after her,” he said. I was left standing wondering just what else I was to be presented with, intrigued by quiet dialogue coming from the kitchen.
“Don’t be so silly Rose, of course it’ll be allowed to leave. He only wants to make us happy, you know that, we all do. Just give it to the boy. What sort of character would he be if he didn’t grant an aunt the liberty to give a gift of her very own choosing to her favourite nephew? You’ve earned the right. Rose, it’s a magnificent present. If I’d been given that when I was his age...” This puzzling talk went on for one minute longer.
“Alright, I shall. You’re right, I know you’re right.” They appeared at the door. Rose looked a tad sheepish, then they both beamed.
“Rose has rare gift for you,” Brian winked.
“You don’t need to give me any more presents you know, I promise. I already have all one could ever ask for right here.”
“We understand, but here it is anyway. Keep it till you get back home,” she said, pressing a small note into my hand. I pocketed it with great care.
“We’re all off to the hall. Today also happens to be the japer’s birthday. You’re welcome to join us if you fancy. We’ll be there till three.”
“It will be a riot!” Brian added enthusiastically.
“Thanks, but there’s a few things I really need to finish here first.”
“Okay, have fun!” they said, making off merrily arm in arm towards the beckoning village.
As said earlier, I’d been awake most of the night thinking. Amongst issues already touched on, I desperately needed some sort of present to leave for uncle and aunt. It had to be something that showed true thought, along with a commitment to their wonderful philosophy.
I wished I could tell them I’d advise mother they were safe and blissfully happy, that they had a plot already laid out for them here for their home, to be furnished by Brian’s handiwork, but knew I could not make that promise, for I’d already promised silence to Ian earlier. Perhaps I could ask him to bend his rules just once? It had to be worth a try. No, I couldn’t swear to that by any means, but maybe I could hint to it in some way?
So what else could I leave? Here they had everything they needed. Then I had it. Whenever I complained about the increased expense it was costing me to keep him Ian always made throwaway remarks, usually taken from philosophers of old. One in particular stuck in my thoughts: ‘The best things in life aren’t things.’ The kind couple had talked at length about situations they’d dearly liked to have changed when alive. Why the thought never occurred to them to ask yours truly is another of life’s many mysteries. Rare selflessness seemed the answer. This was one task I could do for them. I left a note, placing it on the mantelpiece where uncle lit his pipe after an early evening stroll.
‘To my favourite aunt and uncle,
These past three weeks have proved to be one of the most memorable and happiest times in my entire life. I wish there was some way, indeed any way I could thank you more. Your genuine kindness thro
ughout has been entirely selfless and beyond all compare. Not if I lived for a thousand lifetimes could I dream to be graced with the good fortune of finding a more delightful group of people, nor a more charming place to spend eternity.
If it pleases you so, it would grant me great pleasure if you would do me the honour of reserving me the enchanting little cottage across from the angelic statue in the square. The week’s retreat I spent there learning with James was most exhilarating. The setting, the whole atmosphere, dare I say demeanour, felt it was truly made for me. When I left I took with me the strangest of feelings that the place was genuinely sad to see me go. I know how funny that sounds!
Rose. With regards to mother. As you are aware, her only brother was one of the brave that sailed off to the Great War, sadly becoming one of many unfortunate souls that never returned. All mother received as comfort was a brief note via the war office. Even now, whenever anyone mentions him the poor thing retreats to her room for the rest of the day. Father follows her without fail, but always comes back within a few minutes looking sad and defeated.
I recall her saying she always yearned for a sister, confessing if she’d been lucky enough to choose it would only have been you. All of us know she is more than a little afraid to admit to thinking of matters such as we discussed. The whole life after death debate leaves her dreadfully nervous so. Unfortunately she possesses the temperament that balks at such thoughts, though deep down she’d dearly love to have some sort of closure to finally put her mind at rest. Some of us require certain proof before we can allow ourselves to believe. This I entirely understand.
It would be extremely difficult, if not impossible for me to convince her of your survival, even if Ian had not sworn me to secrecy earlier. I therefore give my word if I get back home, I will beg him to reconsider. If not, I’m positive he’ll be able to help in some way, by way of a sign, however subtle. The mischievous little chap claims to be the greatest mind on earth. Well rest assured I will call him out. Let him dare deny he owes me this much.
Brian, I remember you talking of your lifelong friend Thomas Davison, your younger sister and those lost patent documents you hid for safe keeping. Please take it as read your partnership shall continue from across this great divide, as I will hand him those papers personally, with both Thomas and Irene benefiting as was your last wish.
My next task will be the welfare of Irene. I will track her down, forsaking my spare time if necessary. Before I left the gardener from his lordships manor was talking of a procedure called plant hybridization. If this proves a dead end I will see to it myself. It may take some time, but, mark me - Irene will have her proof.
Once again, thank you dearly for everything, for sparing no kindness and for brushing aside the many faux pas that I am most likely to have made. Apologies I can do no more than this.
I am humbled to have been granted a holiday such as this and to have been allowed to spend it with everyone. You say you sometimes see our earth’s moon if you concentrate for long enough and think of us. Every month I shall wait till its full and happily gaze out there too. When it changes colour, no matter how subtle, I will know you are thinking of us too. Till we meet again under this cloudless sky when time stands still.
Your adoring nephew,
Always,
Sam.’
I’d barely placed the note on the mantelpiece when the brass village clock chimed twelve dully in the distance. Infectious waves of laughter, music and singing drifted past the open front door. There was but a few hours left before I joined them. It was high time I made a move. I’d almost decided what I wanted my last day to turn out like. There was a beginning and an end, that much I was sure of. So I trotted off, quietly chiding myself for not being an artist. Still, memory would suffice. I discovered from an early age if I concentrated on a scene for long enough, it became indelibly etched up there somewhere.
My first port of call starting a large circle was Jacob’s tree house at the far side of the woods. Leaving the cottage behind, my footsteps broke the top layer of harder snow with a wonderful crunch, revealing beautiful fine powder below that puffed up into the cool air. Halfway there the snow grew deeper, revealing I was first to venture thus far this morn. I trudged further still and over the brow of the hill when a wispy bearded gentleman carrying an expensive polished walking stick walked briskly in my direction. Drawing near he broke the silence with a cheery hallo, breaking snow apart with his stick. “Almost pleasant isn’t it!?”
“Indeed,” I replied, chuckling heartily. Something in his genial manner tickled my fancy. As he passed he nodded knowingly, saying, “Come along now Grace.” Yet no one else was there. I turned, watching him go his merry way. Now and again he’d stop, raising his stick, here and there as if pointing out places of interest to his invisible companion. Even curiouser was the fact he left no footprints. Aunt had told me visitors of a certain disposition were always welcome here, so I stood a while, musing as he grew smaller and smaller.
In the fresh snow ahead I spied a set of small prints leading off into the trees. A new arrival by my reckoning. Every few metres they’d halt, change direction and restart further on. Some exciting new species of bird was the only explanation I could come up with on such short notice.
Ten minutes later I reached Henry; a grand old Hazelnut standing at the entrance to the thicker woods, proudly watching over the rest of them. Nothing less than full scale war could have brought that towering leviathan down. At least a century old, he’d far surpassed his natural lifespan. Such a sleeping giant really was a particularly impressive sight in this weather. I entered the wood, hearing a string of creaks from the old fellow that sounded like laughter.
Last up was Elsa’s stunning isle. Still as staggering and just as interesting. There was no show this time though, but something seemed different. I had no idea what.
Down in the village the clock struck three times, so I made my way quickly to the square, intending to head to the beach after the party. All lay unusually quiet. This was odd. I thrust my head through the town hall door, expecting a big surprise, but the large room lay dark and deserted. A single spluttering silver candelabra revealed the riot planned earlier had gone exactly as intended. Gleaming musical instruments were placed in their positions, complete with music stands for the score. Talented musicians had played Ravel’s Bolero. Shame I missed that one.
Off to the left sat a large projection screen, and a film projector was positioned at the back. Hanging from heavily decorated rafters right down to the floor swung a massive white sheet declaring: ‘ALL AT PINE MEADOWS WISH THE THREE J’S THE HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS AND AN EVEN HAPPIER RETIREMENT!’ Folk had written their own personal niceties and amusing anecdotes beneath. ‘James Jodphur - ninety three today and still an adorable little child at heart!’ - Probably a sly one from Brian or the japer’s amusing mother!
‘To our universe’s most tiresome meddler - Remember, I still have those photographs - Stay away from my vegetable patch!’ – All the best, John.
‘Thanks muchly for the amazing pep talks.’- Andrew.
‘Thank you for letting me win your special birthday prize Uncle James. Will keep it to myself till needed as promised.’- Jacob, Jess and Henry. One lively character had left a mini series of poems entitled: ‘Jolly James Jodphur - The Naked Truth.’
‘All were sitting round the fire busy lightly chatting.
The atmosphere fully charged,
yet all was calm and quiet.
In an instant in James barged,
and it turned into a riot!’
‘twas late one tumultuous Friday night, invited to a ball.
As the Japer’s jokes bound around, he thought he knew it all.
When time for speeches came around he feigned a great disaster.
The first time he made a sound, the hall fell about in laughter.
If you’d seen him then as you see him now, you’d love him ever after!’
‘Once upon a
Christmas morn things were looking grim.
All us folk were sickly poor, all weak and deathly trim.
We adore how he trounced all before, so clean and neat and prim.
For from beneath his cloak he produced a poke,
and all were filled to brim!’
‘One desperate day in mid July, our village rife with thunder.
In the working shed our japer sped, his selfless mind asunder.
His ideas were for others, where lesser would have plunder.
Down to his amusing choice of socks, he really is a wonder!’
‘twas party time once again,
Even gran and friends were able.
Into the night they prance, their grace and dignity fable.
James the fellow gave up all to dance,
he ended up through the table!’
‘Finally his earthly time had come,
most would cry and scream and pout.
Off his bum such a chum, we scarce could do without.
He joyly opened up the door so all could hear about.
‘Come get these things before bell rings or simply do without!’
Now the time had come to put James’ theory to the test. Out into the square went I, checking pockets nervously. My harp, the velvet bag. Yes, everything I needed was still there. Three twenty five pm. On cue as I gazed into her eyes, the angel’s harp glowed with a blue phosphorescent sheen, increasing in increments of three every minute. That meant ‘twas actually today! Still, he’d only been a day out. James was a genius!
Now the blue haze became smoke that melted away into the woods. In response to the tiny replica harp being close to its brother there came a grinding, and a marble stairway wound upwards from the front of the angels base, terminating twelve feet above the guardians halo. I felt eager to be off, so flew up there. Half way I took out the tiny harp, pressing the delicate mechanism into action.
On the third rendition of the repeating tune lasting three minutes, the full sized harp started up at precisely the correct point, turning the piece into an exquisitely beautiful, harmonic number. Singularly peaceful, tranquil and warming, gentle as a summer’s breeze, I imagined lying gazing up dreamily at cloudless skies. Such stirring music told of a journey with a grand, selfless purpose, long before needless greed and suffering.
More secrets lay hidden in between - Hints of a state before the notion of time, a oneness with everything. A unique passage delving into those long forgotten realms of dream, when even the universe was young. Peace and freedom roamed wild and free and great spirits glided through planets empty valleys, gently caressing unborn souls of plants and trees, whispering them into existence, soothing, nurturing, speaking softly of wondrous beauties they could become.
For endless aeons they travelled till the cosmos heart beat at last. Faint and faltering at first - an uneven, yet steady beat, then – faster and faster to a mighty, roaring thunder. And at the resonance of the glorious hum even the gods themselves stopped to rejoice, marvelling at the magnificence they had wished. The sun itself was born, granting sentient life to barren planets, and constantly radiating outwards.
I broke out of the captivating trance at exactly three thirty two. Where had everyone gone? The air became cool and still. Across the square soft crystalline flakes tumbled soundlessly. Within moments muddy footprints were replaced with a thin carpet of velvety white fluff. I stepped a little higher. Hearing an exaggerated cough, I swung round and there they were - huddled in a happy little group at the foot of the stairs, gazing up proudly. James smiled broadly and winked knowingly. It was now or never.
“Quick son, this is your chance!” Brian urged. I waved gaily, climbed, then hesitated. For as pleasant as the feeling was to climb those marble stairs ever onwards, I felt the compelling urge to drink in the intoxicating scene one last time.
Fresh snow melt trickled down the glistening window pane of my favourite homely cottage across the square. Late afternoon sun sneaked out from behind a cloud, melting all footsteps I’d left behind. Her rich, deepening rays tip toed up the steps, stopping respectfully at each one. And as I turned away, headed into the unknown, somewhere in the far distance I heard the haunting echo of a clock chime for the last time. Three thirty three. This was it!
A potent poignancy overcame me. I placed my feet carefully on the final step, the very one the suns warming light had just reached. Buzzy, excited feelings tingled through my body restlessly, arching my back. For once in my life I felt truly positive for the future, realising come what may, the glorious sight of this peaceful village and these joyful, beautified faces would remain etched in memory forever.
Sir Ian Peters Page 16