The Mirror of Pharos

by J S Landor

  ‘Wait a second. Show me your hand,’ she ordered.

  With a grin, Jack unfurled his fingers.

  ‘Oh good lord, oh my …’

  ‘It’s not a tattoo, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

  ‘I know, I know.’

  Nan covered her mouth. There it was, large as life, a name represented by a single letter: Alpha. α It was the wolf’s seal transferred via the mirror the moment before Jago Flyn had stolen it. But how did she know all that? A chill ran through her. In hospital, after the accident … Jack had told her everything. The memories weren’t déjà vu at all, but the truth.

  ‘Apparently, I get it from you,’ said Jack brightly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The magic! It bypassed Dad, skipped a generation. Sybil says you’re in denial. She says hiding from your own gift isn’t good for you.’

  ‘Oh she does, does she?’ A vision of a cantankerous old woman on a rainswept road came back to Nan.

  ‘Yes! That’s why it only half works. Why on earth didn’t you tell me? She says you’re welcome at Fenstreet any time. When you’re ready, that is.’

  ‘Fenstreet?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Oh heavens …’

  And now Nan was hugging Jack, a big tear rolling down her cheek. It wasn’t so much Sybil’s extraordinary invitation that overwhelmed her. It was the fact that her own grandson (who had made it home with the seal of a Magus on his hand!) was taking everything in his stride.

  Odin gave a plaintive mew. Uncertain what all the fuss was about, he leapt up on the counter where the bacon sandwich was going cold. With one ear pricked towards the open window, he nosed the bread onto the floor and tucked into the meat, gulping down as much as he could while Nan’s back was turned.

  The wind chimes tinkled again. A breeze delicately combed his fur, delivering a sound which only his finely-tuned hearing could detect. It came from more than a hundred metres away: the whirr of a bicycle labouring uphill.

  A few minutes later, the noise of screeching brakes and the crunch of gravel caused Nan to dry her eyes. The bell pull creaked and the house filled with impatient ringing. Odin hopped down, following his two humans into the hall.

  When Jack opened the door, the first thing he noticed about Charlie was that she wasn’t wearing the black beanie. Her ginger hair fell in a tangle on her shoulders and her school shirt was buttoned up all wrong.

  ‘I got here as fast I could,’ she wheezed, clinging to the bell pull. ‘Well? Go on then …’

  Jack and Nan stared at her.

  ‘Tell me!’

  ‘What?’ said Jack.

  ‘Tell me it happened!’

  ‘It happened,’ said Jack and Nan together.

  Charlie let out a banshee shriek, sending Odin scurrying through Nan’s legs into the study.

  ‘Honestly, Charlie, the whole town heard that,’ said Jack, who was being half throttled in a bear hug.

  Charlie planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘So you saw her. Did you hand over the mirror? Was she pleased?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, his face burning.

  ‘And she’s going to build it, right?’

  ‘She’d already started. It’s going to be a time junction, like the old Pharos.’

  ‘No way. A-mazing!’ Charlie grabbed Nan and danced her round in a circle. ‘We’re home! Feels weird, doesn’t it? Like being on a different planet or something!’

  ‘Yes, dear. Please slow down, you’re making me giddy.’

  ‘Sorry. Hey, guess what? On the way here I passed this guy and when he saw me, he tipped his can of drink in the gutter. That’s the second time! He remembers, you know.’

  ‘What?’ said Nan.

  ‘The bridge! It went for miles and miles and miles … He saw me cycle over it.’

  Nan shook her head. She couldn’t take much more excitement.

  ‘Hey, let’s cycle to school!’ continued Charlie.

  There was a resounding silence.

  Jack looked at his grandmother.

  ‘I don’t know …’ In vain, Nan tried to ignore the pleading eyes. ‘Oh, all right then.’

  ‘Yee-ha!’ Charlie made Nan dance some more.

  ‘Promise me you’ll watch the main road. And the junction by The Feathers. It’s rush hour, remember,’ said Nan as she spun round. ‘And Jack – take a coat, will you?’

  ‘Got it,’ called Jack from the depths of the hall cupboard.

  Grabbing his trainers, he went to sit on the stairs to change into them. But as he pulled off the plimsolls, he couldn’t help feeling wistful. He’d learned a lot in these beaten-up old shoes. And, by rights, they should have been in the school lost property box. Yet here they were – like Alpha’s seal – defying time, the only items to have travelled the entire journey.

  He noticed Charlie had gone quiet too. It wasn’t hard to guess what she was thinking. What kind of mood would Blunt be in today? Jack put on the trainers, tying the white laces tight. Man or mouse? Whatever, he was ready. Besides, Blunt would have his own memories, some of which wouldn’t be too pleasant.

  ‘Okay, let’s go,’ he said.

  ‘Oh no you don’t!’ said Nan. ‘Not on an empty stomach. Back up and turn around.’

  Odin, who had just reappeared at the study door, hung his head and fled. Nan clicked her tongue at him. ‘Right, you two,’ she ordered. ‘Follow me. All this coming and going is making my head spin.’

  ***

  When they finally set off for school, Jack and Charlie were laughing so hard they could barely cycle straight. Cursing Odin for his greed, Nan had hastily prepared a second breakfast during which time yet another visitor had arrived. Its high-pitched shrieks had startled them all and before they could stop her, Nan had rushed into the garden banging two saucepan lids together like cymbals.

  A very frightened peacock – Percy from Osmaston Hall – had taken refuge on the garage roof. He looked almost as shocked as Nan herself, and no amount of coaxing with kind words and pieces of toast would tempt him down. So, after fixing Nan a strong black coffee (to which she later added a shot of her favourite remedy), they left Percy to it. There he would remain for the rest of the day, rattling his feathers and shrieking in disdain at every passing car.

  Even now, they could hear his cries as they rumbled across the cobbles towards the market square. The wind plucked at the canopies of the traders’ stalls where a noisy crowd had gathered, stamping and cheering. Two grown men were engaged in a conker game which had become so serious the fishmonger was taking bets.

  ‘See that?’ yelled Charlie. ‘The guy in the apron had a fistful of tenners!’

  Steering between the shoppers, Jack grinned and looked away at the sky. A certain I.O.U. written in the sand had come to mind. High above him, the cirrus clouds spread out like white feathers … He was going to miss Bill. In the blink of an eye, a million extraordinary incidents seemed to have taken place. And now, here they were, back at the beginning: A for Alpha. The wolf had transformed everything.

  ‘So,’ said Charlie, noticing his faraway gaze. ‘Was she beautiful?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Lily! Who else?’

  ‘Oh … yes, I suppose so. Very.’

  ‘You liked her?’

  ‘Obviously.’

  ‘Think you’ll see her again?’

  ‘Charlie?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘I was only asking. I thought –’

  ‘Hey, look at that!’

  They’d reached Elmwood Crescent, a downhill stretch of road which ran past St Mark’s Church. There wasn’t much traffic and, with the exception of a man mowing the grass in the cemetery, hardly anyone was about.

  ‘What is it?’ Charlie wrinkled her nose.

  ‘Nothing. Rac
e you!’ And before she could even find the right gear, Jack was off, freewheeling down the hill with his legs in the air.

  ‘Oh very funny!’ Charlie steamed after him. She knew he’d wait until she was dead level, then pedal like a maniac. That was their rule.

  On this occasion, however, Jack seemed to have forgotten the rules. Either that or he was being far too casual, because when she drew level, he let her speed straight past.

  ‘Yee-ha!’ she yelled, seizing the advantage. Head down, she pedalled furiously, not bothering to look back.

  If she had, she might have noticed Jack smiling. What he liked about Charlie, apart from the way she always spoke her mind (even when you wished she wouldn’t), was that she couldn’t resist a challenge. He’d managed to distract her. But if he didn’t catch up, he’d never hear the end of it.

  In the market square another raucous cheer broke out. Jack gripped the handlebars tight and kicked down.

  Behind him, an unseen pair of amber eyes blinked. The wind gusted at his back and the trees along the crescent bowed their branches, shedding leaves like orange and yellow ticker tape. With Alpha’s blessing, Jack sped on.

  Acknowledgements

  Many people have helped me during the writing of this novel, giving unstintingly of their time. Without their generosity, it would have been impossible to bring the story into the world.

  Special thanks must go to those who read the book in draft form and provided invaluable feedback. They include the exceptional team of editors at Electrik Inc, Janine Amos, Kay Leitch and Kim Donovan, proofreader Jude White, Becky Bagnell at The Lindsay Literary Agency, and Julia Green, who helped me find my voice on the Writing for Young People MA at Bath Spa University.

  Heartfelt thanks also to my dear writing pals Victoria Rothwell, Daniel Goodleff and Terry Ellen, whose enduring faith and good humour kept me going on the long journey to publication. Last but not least, my love and thanks to my two sons, Rob and Ben, who grew up with the story. Two muses with big imaginations, they always had brilliant answers whenever I got stuck.

  For character illustrations and stories about

  the inspiration behind The Mirror of Pharos visit:

  www.jslandor.com