by Mark Hockley
AT THE END OF THE GARDEN
The house was built of ancient stone, or so Uncle Ira said. It had what people often referred to as character, a primitive charm, uncomplicated and dependable. Tom felt very glad to be home again.
"Emily, they're here," called out Ira, as they came through a broad oak doorway into a large room which served as a sitting room. He set Jack's suitcase down and stood waiting.
"Tom!" came a woman's voice.
"I'm home," he cried out, "and so is Jack!" With this he ran into an adjoining room. As Jack followed into what he recognised immediately as the kitchen, he saw the two embracing, his friend lost amidst a white apron. Tom's Aunt looked a good deal older than his Uncle, although Jack was sure Tom had mentioned that both were about the same age.
"This is Jack," declared Tom, pointing at him.
The woman smiled kindly and came over to the boy. "Hello, Jack. I've heard so much about you. Welcome to our house."
Jack was a little embarrassed. He didn't much care for introductions. "I'm pleased to meet you," he mumbled in return.
"Now how about a drink," broke in Ira at the kitchen doorway and Jack thought this was an excellent suggestion. His throat felt as though it was on fire.
After finishing a bottle of home-made lemonade between them, Tom was immediately up on his feet.
"Can I show Jack around now?" he asked, fidgeting and obviously raring to go. Any trepidation he might have felt during the journey home was forgotten now.
His Aunt smiled affectionately, gathering up empty glasses. "Off you go then."
Needing no further encouragement, the two boys dashed out of the room, Tom leading the way with Jack close behind. Out through the back door they ran and suddenly Jack found himself in an enormous garden filled with all manner of flowers and vegetation. Tall trees lined each side for several hundred yards, their leaves rustling in the late afternoon breeze, the rest a mystery, but one Jack was keen to unravel. They came to a halt and Jack took a moment to take in the colours, so many shades of green, light and shadow amid trees and bushes. Summer's touch was upon the garden, a vast expanse stretching out before him.
"Wow," he murmured. It was all he could think of to say.
"Do you like it?" asked Tom, grinning foolishly.
"You bet I do!"
"Well, come on then, don't just stand there gaping, let's take a look around."
They darted off down a sunlit lane, criss-crossing shadows inventing a grid upon which they played. Then they zigzagged across the garden, dodging amongst flowers and shrubs. This was home as far as Tom was concerned. The good times he had known in this place were far too many to recall. He and his Uncle would often play hide and seek here and sometimes Tom would search for hours trying to find the old man. One thing was sure, Uncle Ira certainly knew all of the best hiding places! There were times when he suspected that Ira was not even in the garden at all, but in the end there he would be, in some place or another, although the boy felt certain he had already been that way earlier and his Uncle had not been there then.
"Let’s play hide and seek?" called Tom as they ran, his memories putting him in the mood.
Jack was just about to agree when Ira's voice bellowed out from somewhere behind them.
"Tom! Jack! Don’t forget about supper."
Tom looked at his friend and could see by the expression on his face that he was just as hungry as himself. All thoughts of the game disappeared.
"Race you back!" challenged Jack and was off and running, but Tom, using his advantage of familiar terrain, darted beneath a canopy of Wisteria and to Jack's amazement, shot out from a muddy pathway yards ahead of him and was first to reach the back porch.
The table was set out with all manner of delights. As it was his favourite food, a slab of cheese as big as the plate it sat upon was the first thing that caught Jack's eye. A wide variety of other food was set out on the table too, tomatoes and cucumber, lettuce and radishes, spring onions and beetroot, and biscuits, home-made he was sure. A huge golden loaf of bread lay cut into large slices, its freshly baked aroma tantalising, a silver dish of butter by its side and Jack became more certain than ever that he was going to like it here. It was going to be a great holiday.
After their meal, they spent an enjoyable couple of hours talking, Tom relating all of the latest news from school. Ira entertained them with jokes and tales of his days at sea, when as a youthful first-mate he had sailed around the world and back, or so he claimed.
Tom sat in an armchair, his stomach aching and Jack's was so bad he hadn’t dared to move from the table.
Ira shook his head and smiled indulgently. "Your eyes are bigger than your bellies."
Jack could only moan holding his stomach protectively. Emily, coming into the room from the kitchen, wagged her finger at the boys.
"I've been lenient with both of you as it's the first day of your holiday, but tomorrow I'll be expecting some help in the kitchen." She gave Jack a warm smile. "That is, if you can fit through the door!"
Ira had gone to stand by the window, drawing the curtain back a little. "Why don't you show Jack your room, Tom, and get him settled in?"
With a great deal of effort Tom got up from his seat. "Come on, Jack. You can lay down upstairs if you like." The other boy managed a nod.
Ira turned from the window to watch the boys and had to suppress a laugh at the sight of them. "You can do it," he encouraged.
With absolute concentration, exerting himself physically and mentally or so it seemed to him, Jack stood up. "I never want to see food again," he groaned.
They trudged upstairs, the blue door of Tom's bedroom the first they came to. It was not a very big room but had a hospitable, welcome feel to it and Jack felt comfortable there right away. Setting himself down gingerly on the lower berth of a bunk-bed, he looked up at his friend. "I like it here," he said and then grimaced as his stomach turned over.
"Good," grinned Tom, "but maybe we had better not eat so much next time."
Jack nodded unreservedly. "It’s a deal."
Climbing up onto the top bunk, Tom lay on his back and looked up at the familiar ceiling that he had studied so many times whilst waiting for sleep to come and claim him. He closed his eyes and immediately a picture of a girl popped into his mind, her face oddly familiar although he couldn’t remember where he might have seen her. At fourteen, girls were something he and Jack were taking more and more of a keen interest in. The only problem was that contact with the opposite sex didn’t happen very often and even on those rare occasions when it did, they tended to find themselves suddenly dumb-struck and feeling very stupid. Girls were, for the present, an inscrutable puzzle.
The girl in his day-dream wore a red hood but he could see her face quite clearly. She looked perhaps a little older than himself and had long golden hair that spilled out from beneath her bonnet.
"Who are you?" Tom asked, realising dimly that he must be asleep and he had begun to dream.
The girl gazed back at him, smiling sweetly. "I'm little Bo Peep," she said with a courteous bow.
"Have you lost your sheep?" questioned Tom, concerned for the girl, thinking her expression rather sad.
"Yes I have," she replied, "will you help me to find them?"
"I'd be glad to," Tom said with enthusiasm.
"But what if the Wolf comes?" little Bo Peep asked.
Tom frowned and opened his eyes. He was in his room, lying on his bed. Below he could hear Jack gently snoring.
A little later, when the sun had set and moonlight stole through the windows of the old house, Ira came into Tom's room and found both boys still fully clothed, fast asleep. He considered waking them and telling them to undress but decided they were happy as they were. After all, he thought, it had been a busy day. Leaving the room quietly, he closed the door and went downstairs.
"They're asleep already," he told Emily.
"They must have been tired out," she said with a tendernes
s that reminded Ira just why he loved his wife so dearly.
"Yes," agreed Ira, sitting down beside her, "but they'll be fit and ready for a good day tomorrow." He closed his eyes and leaned back into the chair. So much to be done, he mused, so much to tell Tom and so little time. Jack was a fine boy though, a good friend for Tom. He had known he would be.
But now the time of trial was almost upon them. The old man's mind crept back to earlier that day, when he had felt as if something had been following them home. He scowled, his face contorting violently but Emily didn’t notice, her concentration set on her knitting. Glancing at her, Ira decided that was just as well. Better for her not to know.
They would all do what they must. After all, what choice did they really have.
Sunlight pierced the room like an arrow through the heart of the house.
Jack opened his eyes and yawned. "I'm hungry," he muttered.
Tom, who had been awake a short while, just lying there and enjoying the fact that there was no school for six whole weeks, laughed and sat up. He leaned over the side of his bunk to peer down at Jack. "You're hungry!" he cried, amazed. "After yesterday, you're hungry!"
"Well," answered Jack, almost apologetically, "my appetite's come back now."
Tom grinned and got down from the bed, stretching tender muscles. "Do you realise that we didn't even undress last night?" He paraded himself fully clothed as proof.
"I must really have been tired," Jack allowed.
Tom opened a chest of drawers and took out some clean clothes. "Let's change, then we can go down and see if we can find you some breakfast."
Ira had put Jack's case in the room the previous evening, but he still needed to unpack. He hastily stuffed his belongings into several drawers Tom had earmarked for him, setting aside some suitable items for the day. Taking turns to use the small bathroom along the hallway, they were washed and dressed in record time.
Today was going to be an exploring day. They would scour the garden, crawling under every bush, climbing every tree. Whatever there was to be found, Tom and Jack intended to find it.
"Come on," Jack urged, tying his boot-lace, "let's go and see about that breakfast!"
Tom followed the other boy downstairs with a look of utter disbelief.
Aunt Emily, having forecast Jack's recovery, had laid out an excellent breakfast for them already.
They all soon found that Jack, undeterred by last evening's experience, was more than equal to the task. Tom was a little less enthusiastic and was happy to settle for two slices of toast.
Uncle Ira watched with interest. "Jack, either you are going to grow up big and strong or you're just going to get very fat!"
Tom chuckled. "He's already fat!"
Jack glared across the table, but couldn’t help but laugh, enjoying the good-natured banter and once breakfast was finished and the two boys had helped Emily with the clearing up, it was at last time to go out into the garden and explore. Uncle Ira stepped out with them into a fine warm day.
"Isn't it glorious," the old man said, breathing in deeply.
The boys smiled and took in their surroundings. In the perfect light of the day the huge garden was a wonderful sight. It seemed to stretch out before them, an inviting playground for any youngster with an adventurous spirit.
"Now Tom," Ira said in a serious tone, "I want you to stay in the garden. Don't venture outside of it." He eyed them both carefully. "I know you're keen to look into every nook and cranny but keep to the garden."
Tom nodded. He knew it was his Uncle's golden rule. Always keep to the garden.
"We will," he promised solemnly.
"Make sure that you do," rumbled Ira. "Stay safe," he finished. He looked at them both steadily to make certain that they had really understood and then, with a wave of his hand, "go on then." He was smiling as the boys dashed off into the undergrowth, but once they were out of sight his smile died. "Stay safe," he repeated softly.
The garden was full of winding paths and tunnels through the shrubbery. It had a wonderfully contrary combination of being well kept but still wild and unpredictable. One moment they were down on their knees crawling and the next, they were up and running furiously, shouting and laughing. The different varieties of flowers that grew there defied description. It seemed that Ira had planted and been able to maintain a fantastic selection and Jack decided that Tom's Uncle must be quite some gardener.
"What’s wrong speedy, can’t you keep up!?" called back Tom as he raced off under a big willow tree, its hanging branches swallowing him up.
Following close behind, Jack pushed through the branches of the tree himself and looked around quickly but Tom was gone.
"Where are you!?" he shouted.
There was no answer. Only the rustle of the trees moving in the breeze.
It must be some game he's playing. Hide and seek, that's what it is. Well if Tom wants to hide, I'll find him!
With this in mind, he stole off through some bushes searching for Tom, who obviously believed he would never be found just because it was his garden and Jack didn't know his way around yet.
"We'll see about that," Jack said aloud.
Tom couldn't find Jack anywhere.
"Come on, stop hiding," he grumbled to himself, wondering if maybe his friend had got lost. After all, it was easy enough to do, even when you knew the garden well.
He remembered a time when he and his Uncle had gone out for a walk, he had been about six years old and they had embarked on one of their regular games of hide and seek. But whilst playing Tom had found himself in a part of the garden he didn’t recognise, a place he was certain he had never been before. A great tree, bigger than any he had ever seen, rose up above a tall hedge that appeared to form the boundary of their land, running both left and right for as far as he could see. He'd supposed that this must be the end of the garden, although he had never really known where it ended. It seemed to sprawl out endlessly and sometimes Tom imagined that it just kept on growing, always expanding in size.
The enormous tree was certainly impressive and standing beneath it all those years before Tom had felt strangely excited, as if at any moment some amazing thing might happen.
I would really like to climb this tree, he had thought and then as if compelled to do so, Tom had glanced upward and seen something very odd. A snake hung coiled around a low branch, its ebony body glistening, a forked tongue hissing very gently.
"Tom," the creature had spoken, "I’m so glad you came. I’ve been waiting for you."
Tom had hardly been able to breath, afraid to move. Even at that age, Tom knew full well that animals couldn't talk. Maybe he was only dreaming.
"No dream this,” hissed the snake as if reading his mind. “Why don’t you climb up, Tom," it urged, its long body shuddering. "Climb up here and join me, there’s room enough for two."
Without thinking, Tom had gripped a low branch to begin his ascent when his Uncle's
voice had reached him, shouting his name, telling him it was time to go back.
He had seriously considered ignoring the call, thinking he would climb up anyway. But after a long moment of indecision and with a real effort he had turned away from the tree. He was angry with himself now that he should have even thought of ignoring his Uncle, leaving the old man to worry that something might have happened to him. Looking up into the tree once more Tom saw that the snake was gone.
Imagination, just my imagination.
There was no other explanation, unless he was completely mad. Definitely imagination! He started off in the direction of his Uncle's voice.
When Ira had at last come across the boy he had seemed a little ill-tempered. "Didn't you hear me calling?" he had asked, the words sharp.
"Er," began Tom, "I did, but I couldn't find you." The lie tasted bitter in his mouth but he felt very reluctant to discuss what had occurred beneath the giant oak, fear and embarrassment uniting to create a mental barrier that he was content to l
eave intact.
His Uncle fixed him with a keen gaze. "Where were you?"
"I...," Tom muttered, fidgeting uneasily, "I found a big tree at the end of the garden."
Tom recalled the way his Uncle had frowned. "A great oak?" the man had questioned.
"Yes," he had replied, "by a tall hedge."
Ira had nodded. "I know the place," he murmured. Taking Tom's hand firmly in his, he had led the boy away through a clump of leaning sycamores. "Let's go home for supper."
Tom remembered it all so well, the inexplicable event he had imagined by the gigantic tree bothering him for quite some time after. But fortunately for his sanity's sake, there were no similar episodes, so gradually with the passing of time he was able to let the
incident recede into the back of his mind, hidden away as an unwanted memory. Never once had he found that place again since then, although a secret part of him longed to return there, to climb that towering oak.
But now Jack was lost and Tom had no idea where to look. "Jack!" he shouted at the top of his voice, but the only reply he received was bird-song from one of the trees above him.
Everything else in the garden was still and for some reason Tom couldn't quite explain, he felt just a little bit afraid.
Jack walked between two rows of red and yellow tulips. Beds of flowers of many different kinds ran side by side up a wide clearing flanked by tall elm trees. It was like a tunnel, thought Jack, with the sky for a roof. He wandered on, taking in the beauty of the place. The garden certainly was big, far bigger than he had ever imagined.
An old pathway to his left caught his eye, running between some bushes and although it was overgrown and looked as if it hadn't been used in years, he decided to see where it led. After all, he was there to explore.
Moving slowly, beating down brambles and nettles with his feet as he went, Jack made his way along the path. It meandered on for quite some distance beneath lowering trees, berry bushes leaning in either side of him, but at last he stooped to pass under a large hanging thicket and came out into a clearing.
"Wow," he said aloud. Before him was a great tree, its thick trunk and crown of spreading branches casting him in shade.
Jack gazed up in awe at a giant oak overlooking a long, high hedge. He had come to the end of the garden.