by Anna Dale
‘Drat!’ said Athene quietly. The kitchen had been her last hope. Well, perhaps, there was one more place she hadn’t looked …
Once she had unbolted the back door of the farmhouse, she stepped out into the garden. Through her slippers she felt every lump in the ground as she ventured over the grass. It was a pleasant summer’s evening: warm and still, and she soon found that she wasn’t the only one to be out and about in it. She encountered moths and a hedgehog, snails and two rabbits, nibbling at Mr Stirrup’s lettuces; and finally she came across the most amazing creature of all.
Chapter Two
An Invitation to
Breakfast
‘Crumbs?’ said Athene. ‘Crumbs, is that you?’
The sun had already dropped out of sight like a penny in a slot and the coppery gleam it had left behind in the clouds was nearly gone. Dusk was threatening to fall and Athene was finding it harder to see. She moved closer to the fence that marked the boundary between the Stirrups’ well-kept lawn and the tall, tousled grasses which grew unchecked in the meadow beyond.
Something was moving slowly across a corner of the field.
Athene stared harder and called Crumbs’ name again but the creature did not respond or change its course. The light was too poor and the distance too far to be sure that the shadowy shape was Crumbs the cat. Athene hitched up her nightdress, flung her leg over the fence and jumped down into the field. There was nothing else for it. She’d have to get a closer look.
As she ran towards it, the creature seemed to quicken its pace but its speed was feeble compared with Athene’s. After she had run a hundred paces or so, Athene realised that the animal was far too big to be a cat. This was a blow but, by now, she was too curious to contemplate giving up the chase. When she had covered another fifty metres of the field, she was able to see that the creature had two legs. It was a person! – and a very short one at that. Probably a child, thought Athene, squinting in the gloom. But what a small child was doing all alone in a field in the dark, she could not even begin to guess. And where had he come from? The nearest village was several miles away.
It must be a stupid child, she said to herself. A stupid little numbskull who’s gone and got himself lost.
Athene rolled her eyes. Why hadn’t she thought of him before?
‘Zach!’ she shouted. ‘Zach, you idiot! Wait!’
She drew close enough to see that he was limping. Given that he’d injured his leg, it was hardly surprising that she’d caught him up so easily. What on earth could her brother be doing out here? It was a strange time of day to go exploring.
Athene had no idea how Zach had sneaked out of her parents’ room or quite how he had managed to get outside (the bolts on the back door had been drawn across), but she did know that he was about to get in a whole heap of trouble for it.
Athene planned it out in her head. When she had caught hold of Zach, she would march him back to the farmhouse and wake her parents up. She would tell them how she had happened to glance out of her bedroom window and seen Zach haring off on one of his rambles. Worried about his welfare, she had rushed outside after him and brought him safely back. She would be praised and Zach would get a ticking off. How could a day end more perfectly than that?
The shoulder that she grabbed was clad in thick, lumpy wool and not the cotton fabric of a pyjama top. This should have been enough to warn Athene that she was in for a very big shock.
‘What are you?’ she said, when she had finished screaming.
The little man in front of her uncovered his ears. He did not look at all pleased.
‘What am I?’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you what I am, my dear. I’m lucky not to have been deafened by your screeching. Wherever did you learn to make a noise like that?’
‘Sorry,’ said Athene. ‘You startled me.’
The man, who was at least a head shorter than Athene, gave a brief, incredulous snort. ‘If anyone’s been doing any startling – it’s you. Chasing after me, calling me names and pulling me about … No manners, that’s your trouble, my dear.’
‘I thought you were my brother,’ she said.
‘Do I look like him?’ said the man. ‘Well, do I?’
‘No,’ Athene said. ‘Not at all.’ In fact, the man did not resemble anyone she knew. He was the oddest person that she had ever come across. His skin was striped and speckled, his eyes shone like pearl buttons and his broad, bat-like ears were inclined to flap and twitch. ‘I couldn’t see you properly until I got up close. It’s too dark,’ she explained.
‘Yes, for your kind it is,’ said the man with a grin, ‘but not for mine.’
‘What is your kind, exactly?’ asked Athene.
‘I’m human, same as you. Only I’m a Gloam and you’re a Glare.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ said Athene.
‘Slow on the uptake are you?’ he said.
Athene glowered at him. ‘I’m very quick at catching on if people bother to explain things properly,’ she told him.
‘No need to take that tone,’ said the man. ‘Very well, I’ll do my best to put it as plainly as I can. There are two types of human being, not one as you might have been led to believe. The Gloam are nocturnal. That means …’
‘I know what it means,’ interrupted Athene. ‘You’re awake at night whereas the other kind – my kind – are active during the day. I get it.’
‘May I continue?’ asked the man in a haughty voice.
‘Yes,’ Athene said. ‘Please do.’
‘Although we are the same species, there are many differences between the Gloam and the Glare,’ said the man. ‘We Gloam can see superbly well in the dark, our hearing is exceptional, and we choose to live peaceably in secluded groups in the countryside. You Glare, on the other hand, can only see with the aid of bright light, your hearing is poor, you are big and fat, loud and incredibly nosy.’
‘And you’re very rude,’ said Athene, amazed at the man’s impertinence. ‘You’ve got no right to say those things. Just like you’ve no right to be in this field. What are you doing here anyway? This land belongs to the Stirrups. You’re trespassing, you know!’
‘I was merely collecting some dandelions, heartsease and ox-eye daisies,’ said the man, patting a bag which rested against his hip. ‘I believe you Glare refer to them as weeds. Now, if you don’t mind I mustn’t loiter for a moment more. Breakfast is always served a half-hour after sundown and it’s almost that time now. Well, so long!’ he said cheerfully, turning to go. ‘I can’t say it’s been a pleasure to meet you, but it’s certainly not been a bore.’
‘You can’t leave!’ Athene told him. ‘I want to know more about you. You’ve hardly told me anything!’ She was extremely annoyed that the man intended to disappear before he had shared every single grain of his knowledge. She hated people knowing more than she did.
‘I simply must be off,’ said the man and he started to limp away from her. ‘Go home to bed, my dear, where you belong.’
‘Wait!’ Athene pleaded, trailing after him. ‘Couldn’t I come with you? If you were any sort of gentleman, you’d invite me to share a bite of your breakfast.’ To her surprise, she felt her stomach clench. Walking in the fresh air had given her an appetite. The toad-in-the-hole and apricot pie that she had enjoyed in the pub seemed an awfully long time ago.
‘Please!’ she said imploringly. ‘I’ve never met a Gloam before and I think … I think you’re rather wonderful.’
Athene heard the man sigh. He turned his shining eyes in her direction and she felt them studying her with renewed interest.
‘We’re not supposed to hobnob with the Glare,’ said the man. ‘I’ve got nothing against you personally: you’re quite annoying, but not unbearably so. It’s the others, you see … they’re not used to visitors. If I turned up to breakfast with a Glare as my guest, it would cause a sensation.’ He smiled briefly and the eagerness in his voice betrayed a change of heart. ‘You and I would be the talk of the tribe and your arrival would imp
ress my little friend, Huffkin, no end. She’s very curious about the Glare. She’s particularly taken with those sculptures of yours.’
Athene sensed that the man’s resolve was weakening. ‘What sculptures?’ she asked.
The man pointed to a great tower of metal which was silhouetted against the evening sky.
‘They’re not sculptures,’ said Athene. ‘They’re called pylons. They hold up electric cables. You know what electricity is, don’t you?’
‘Naturally,’ said the man, but Athene was unconvinced that he was telling the truth.
‘OK, here’s the deal,’ she said boldly. ‘I’ll tell you about electricity if you invite me to breakfast.’
‘Agreed,’ said the man after a lengthy pause. ‘It’s simple fare, but you’re welcome to a frog and dandelion sandwich and a cup of brew.’ He offered her his arm.
Athene hesitated. She had badgered the man until he had relented, but now that he had asked her to breakfast she found that she was a little nervous about going with him. He was a total stranger and he had also asked her to share a meal that sounded extremely unappetising. However, he seemed like a decent enough fellow and she was desperate to meet some more of the mysterious Gloam.
She took his arm and smiled at him. ‘My name is Athene,’ she said.
‘And I’m Humdudgeon,’ responded the man. ‘It’s not too far, Athene. Just a few fields away. I do hope the others will welcome you. We’ve never entertained a Glare before.’
‘Ooh!’ said Athene. Her skin prickled uncomfortably. Unable to see where she was going, she had staggered into some nettles. ‘Where on earth are you taking me, Humdudgeon?’ she grumbled. ‘Those blasted nettles have stung me. Ouch, it hurts like anything.’
‘So sorry,’ said Humdudgeon, guiding her away from the beds of stinging nettles. ‘I forgot to warn you. We Gloam can pass through the nettles unscathed, but you Glare seem to break out in painful bumps whenever you touch the hairs on the leaves. That’s why we picked this spot to set up camp. We sleep in the nettles by day and no one ever bothers us. When night falls we creep out and gather in the clearing which is up ahead. You’ll be meeting my tribe in a minute or two. Ah, we’ve been spotted. Here’s the friend I was telling you about …’
Two pinpricks of light glided towards them accompanied by the patter of feet.
‘She looks thrilled to her toes to see you,’ said Humdudgeon. He grasped Athene by the elbow and steered her past a shadowy shape which Athene guessed was another nettle bed.
‘Hello!’ said a breathless voice.
‘Oh, hi there,’ said Athene, sucking the little raised spots on her hands. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got such a thing as a first-aid kit?’
No sooner had she spoken than a hand about the same size as a child’s pressed a cool, moist leaf to the sore places on Athene’s skin. It had a wonderfully soothing effect.
‘Dock leaves have healing powers,’ said Humdudgeon’s friend.
‘Thanks. It feels much better. I’m Athene. What’s your name?’ Athene asked.
‘I’m Huffkin,’ replied the Gloam in an awestruck voice. Athene squinted in the darkness and managed to make out a heart-shaped face and a crown of bushy hair. Before she and Huffkin could say another word to each other, Athene heard shrill exclamations in the distance and saw dozens of shining dots moving this way and that. A thunderous drumming sound reached her ears as the whole of Humdudgeon’s tribe approached to meet their new visitor. They halted in a semicircle in front of her. The Gloam’s eyes seemed to flash at intervals, vanishing for a fraction of a second before reappearing again. It seemed as if they were signalling to each other, but after a few moments, Athene realised that they were merely blinking.
The Gloam’s raucous chattering quietened to a dull murmur and somebody stepped forward. Athene heard their heavy tread and saw their eyes floating in the air to her right, just in front of where Humdudgeon was standing. In the darkness she could just glimpse a beefy figure with broad shoulders and a jutting chin.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ demanded the person angrily.
‘Don’t upset yourself, Chief. She’s a friend,’ Humdudgeon said calmly. ‘Her name is Athene. We met tonight in the meadow where the salad flowers grow. She wanted to meet us all, so I asked her to join us for breakfast.’
There were gasps of amazement and yells of consternation. There was also a lot of nervous tittering and, cutting through all this noise, an elderly female voice demanded none too politely to know what was going on.
‘Gloam do not befriend Glare!’ said the Chief. ‘You know as well as I do what the Glare are like. They are far too meddlesome. Our ancestors decided centuries ago that we shouldn’t have anything to do with them and that’s the way it’s going to stay. You think you know better than our ancestors, do you? If the Glare found out that we existed they wouldn’t leave us alone. They’d hunt us down and put us in cages and charge a fortune for the privilege of taking a peek at us. No, no. The Gloam and Glare are too different. We can never be friends.’
Although Athene did not say as much, she thought that the Chief was probably right. She wasn’t sure if the Glare would be allowed to imprison the Gloam. In this day and age, there was bound to be some law against that sort of thing, but the Gloam would undoubtedly be hounded by the press and pestered by documentary film makers and they’d almost certainly be forced by the government to go to school and get real jobs and pay taxes and other mundane things. In short: their lives would be ruined.
‘She’s only a youngster,’ Humdudgeon protested. ‘She doesn’t mean us any harm. Huffkin and I will take charge of her. She won’t be any bother at all.’
Athene smiled winsomely at the sea of pearly eyes.
‘Let her stay for a while!’ someone shouted. ‘We’ve never seen a Glare up close!’
Athene’s smile grew wider. She heard the Chief grunt and saw him shake his head dejectedly.
‘Oh, very well,’ he conceded with reluctance. He stuck out his hand and gripped Athene’s palm. ‘The name’s Pucklepod. Welcome to the Humble tribe.’
‘Thank you,’ said Athene.
There were groans and mumblings, but also a few wolf whistles and cheers from the crowd. Athene felt her chest swelling with pride. Then the Chief leaned closer so that she felt his bristly beard rub against her cheek.
‘Make sure you behave yourself,’ he muttered, ‘or your visit will be a very short one.’
Chapter Three
Goggle Drops
Under a gibbous moon, which glowed like a white pebble, and stars that were scattered in the sky like grains of sand, Athene sat at the edge of the clearing between the dim forms of Huffkin and Humdudgeon. She held a wooden goblet in her hands.
It was now so dark that Athene’s eyes were almost useless. She could see blocks of shadow and the outlines of people and, of course, the shining specks that were the Gloam’s eyes. It did not matter so much that she could not see very well; thanks to her other senses she was still able to comprehend what was happening around her.
Over the past half-hour or so, her hands had been shaken umpteen times and the same smooth, cold fingers which had grasped her palms, had touched her hair and brushed her skin. She had been fussed over and marvelled at and asked a whole host of questions. Her inquisitors had ranged from the very young to the exceptionally old (‘I’m eighty-three,’ a lady called Dottle had told her on no less than seven occasions). The whole experience had given Athene an inkling of what it must be like to be a creature in a zoo or an actress at a film premiere. When all the poking and prodding and questioning had got too much, Humdudgeon and Huffkin had shooed all the Gloam away.
True to his word, Humdudgeon had taken good care of Athene, and Huffkin, his friend, had been equally as kind. The two Gloam had sat her down on one of their chairs, which felt distinctly like a tree stump, and given her a drink of ‘brew’, which tasted like cold tea.
Athene raised the goblet to her lips and sipped the drink
dreamily.
‘Would you care for a moth wing crisp?’ said Huffkin in her light, high voice. She seemed most determined to persuade Athene to eat something.
‘No, thanks,’ Athene said, which had been her answer earlier when offered newt soup, a frog sandwich and a snail kebab. ‘Have you ever tried Glare food?’ Athene asked. ‘Chocolate is the best. It tastes really sweet and it melts into a sort of gloop on your tongue. Our crisps are delicious too. We have hundreds of different flavours. Then there’s exotic fruit. My favourite is the kumquat. Well, I’ve never actually tasted it, but it’s got an awesome name. Oh! We’re taking a picnic lunch to the beach tomorrow. I don’t suppose your chief would let you come along? I’m sure my mum and dad wouldn’t mind …’
‘We’d be a little too conspicuous,’ Humdudgeon reminded her. ‘Not to mention the fact that the sunlight would blister our skin and probably blind us as well.’
‘Oh, yes. Of course … I’m sorry,’ Athene mumbled. She told them that she was tired and therefore her brain was working sluggishly, but the truth was that, in the darkness, she had forgotten how very different the Gloam were from the Glare.
‘It was a nice thought,’ said Huffkin, patting Athene’s arm. ‘Now, if you’re sure you’ve had enough to eat and drink, we’d better get you home.’
Huffkin and Humdudgeon escorted her across the fields to make sure that she got back to the farmhouse without losing her way. Before they parted company, they all agreed to meet up the following evening under the tallest tree at the north end of the Stirrups’ front garden. To Athene’s delight, the two Gloam promised to bring her a ‘surprise’.
Athene continued to gaze out of her bedroom window long after her new friends had scooted across the front lawn and disappeared into the darkness. It had been such a thrilling evening and she could not wait to see them again. The next twenty hours were bound to crawl by which, in her experience, was what tended to happen when you were particularly looking forward to something.