by Gene Kemp
“In prison for kidnapping.”
“Oh, how cruel!”
“So Nest cried, ‘Someone, help please!’ and knelt down and prayed.”
“What did she pray?”
“That ’er dad would let ’em get married, of course. Then a voice said in ’er ’ead, ‘Throw a silver coin over the parapet and a piece of the bread you have left (she’d brought some food with ’er) and wish – then see what ’appens’. And she did.”
“And what did happen?”
“A stranger on ’orseback appeared, rode up to ’er dad and whispered in ’is ear. When ’e ’eard what ’e ’ad to say, ’er dad called up to Nest and the tinker and said, ‘Dearest child, you shall marry the one you love, I promise on my honour’.”
“Oh, how lovely.”
“And a whole lot more men came and they all went back ’ome and Nest and…”
“Tarquin?”
“Fred?”
“…were married and they all lived ’appily ever after.”
“Oh, how wonderful! So the Wishing Tower made Nest’s dad change his mind and he let her marry a tinker.”
“Yup, in a way, Widget, but it was the stranger speaking to ’im that really changed ’er dad’s mind.”
“What did he say, then? Tell me…”
“That stranger said, ‘’Old on. That tinker there is really Lord…’”
“Tarquin?”
“Fred?”
“‘…of the Marches and is three times as rich as you are’. Lord Tarquin was playing the tinker for a bet.”
I felt very let down by this.
“You mean the Tower isn’t really a Wishing Tower? It didn’t make the dream come true?”
“Yes, it does, but the wishes comes true in an ordinary way.”
“Oh.”
“It’s better than nothing!”
“I’m going to have my wish then. I wish—”
“You mustn’t tell anybody or it won’t come true.”
“Oh.”
“I wish,” shouted Tim, “that we could play with my ball. Now!” and he put his five pence and half the sarnie just inside the door.
“That won’t come true because you said it out loud!”
“But it is coming true, ’cos I’m kicking the ball to John now!” And laughing all over his face, Tim kicked it high up in the air.
“See, Widget!”
But the ball flew higher and higher up over the Tower and into the crowded trees and bushes behind it. And though we searched and searched we couldn’t find it.
Chapter Seven
DOWN TO EARTH WITH A BUMP
I went over and over the story of Lady Nest and the tinker in my mind. I pictured her on the Tower and her father with all his men gathered down below awaiting his orders and then the strange man riding up to her father and whispering in his ear, telling him that the tinker on the tower with his daughter Nest was really Lord Tarquin of the Marches, so she could marry her true love. I was just getting round to designing her wedding dress and thinking that I’d do a book on all the costumes…
“You’re quiet,” said my mother. “Hope you’re not sickening for something.”
“Nah, she’s just sickening,” Tim put in, then went on with his football game, shouting, “Arsenal 8, Man United 8.”
“That’s not funny,” I answered back, “and if you really want to know I was practising tables in my head. You have to be good at mental arithmetic these days.”
“Good girl,” Mum nodded at this feeble little porky, but I didn’t want to tell her – not even my mother – about the Tower, Lady Nest, the tinker, knights of old, enchantment, maidens rescued from perilous dungeons, dragons, magicians – especially Merlin – spells, ogres, three-headed giants, quests, wonders, ancient stones with strange writing on them – brilliant, fabulous, fantastic, wicked, out-of-this-world happenings. Who wanted the ordinary world of tables, spelling, school, football, rounders, tidying up? Not me. My heart was in the Tower. There was my magic, wonderful world.
What would make it even more brilliant was if the wish I’d wished there in the doorway came true. I hadn’t told anyone about it and I was keeping my fingers crossed. It was just a little humble wish to see if wishes made at the Tower really did come true. I mean, who cared if I didn’t beat Caroline Mortimer at Spelling last week – it was just that we always got the same and it would be fun to do better for once. We always did the spelling tests on Friday and had the results on Monday. So there I was waiting to see. Could the Tower Magic work on the result? Would my wish come true? And in a perfectly ordinary way. No one would know. ’Cept me.
But at school on Monday we were told that our teacher, Mrs Cotter, wasn’t very well and wouldn’t be coming in. Caroline was also away. This rocked me a bit, but I thought it would be OK really. This tower, my Tower, had its own way of granting wishes – I hoped.
We’d got a supply teacher called Mrs Biddulph. “Maths is my favourite subject,” she called out, her voice going up and down as if she was singing. “And we’re going to do lots of Maths and give Mrs Cotter a lovely surprise when she comes back at how very clever you all are. So we’re going to do lots of lovely, lovely tables practice till you know them all in your heads! Come along, children dears! Robert, you start with your two times table. Shout it out just for us!”
“Can I use my calculator, Miss?” asked Robert.
“No, dear, you can do it all in your head. Come along, we’ll all do it in our heads. We’re going to do lots and lots of mental arithmetic. It’ll be ever such fun!”
“I’d rather have a go on the computer,” Robert answered, but Mrs Biddulph took no notice and soon we were all chanting tables and working out sums in our heads.
“That’s it. Back to basics! That’s what makes clever little girls and boys.”
I tried to keep my mind on it all, but I was picturing Lady Nest in a wedding gown with a wreath of flowers on her flowing golden hair. Six maidens in rainbow-coloured silken gowns attended her, and somehow Merlin, the greatest of all magicians, was there, wearing a tall, pointed hat and a dark cloak covered in gold and silver – sun, moon and stars.
“Wake up! Wake up, child! Didn’t you hear my question? Just answer it and stop daydreaming!”
I couldn’t answer the question as I hadn’t a clue what it was. Face getting redder and redder, I sat with my mouth open, Lady Nest and the Tower quickly disappearing far far away. “Help me!” I cried in my mind, desperately, frantically. “Please!”
Big John drawled the answer lazily from the back of the class – we were all in together, his class and mine, as a whole lot of children were away and so was another teacher as well as Mrs Cotter.
“I’ve been meaning to ask about this problem, Mrs Biddulph,” he went on, capturing her attention, “can you explain this for me? I got it wrong last week and maybe you could help me with it.”
“Yes, yes,” she cried, “of course. The rest of you get out your books now and get on with your work.”
I was saved.
In the shuffle and sort out no one noticed my red face hiding itself in my Maths book. Maybe, maybe, the Tower and school didn’t mix. Maybe, maybe I’d better concentrate, I didn’t like Mrs Biddulph. I don’t think she cared much for me either.
Two things. One, I’d been paid out for my porky to Mum and two, Big John had saved me from trouble. And had I wished for the Tower to save me? I couldn’t remember, really I couldn’t.
Chapter Eight
THE MEASLE BUG
Ten of us ran through the woods along by the river.
“Now don’t you go too fast, children, mind. Wait for me! I told you to go slowly, boys and girls, and then wait for me. Careful now. I don’t want any of you to fall in now, or I shall get it in the neck, by golly. John, John, you slow down, then the others will! Wait! Wait! Be good children now.”
Mrs Biddulph, who was a bit fat and wearing high heels, ran after us waving her arms and calling. But we were wild – bei
ng out in the woods on a fantastic spring day, with the sun shining through the trees, when normally we’d be in school doing, well, Maths, Science, Spelling. To be outside jumping over rocks with the trees all around us and hearing the River Teign sing its roaring song rushing over boulders and weirs down to the sea was magic.
I sang a song, happily, over the sound of the water. John was up in front, the Stone boys behind, then Ken, Tammy, Bridget, me, Mike, Patrick and Damien – out of school, but in schools.
“We’re going to the zoo,” sang Patrick from the rear just ahead of Mrs Biddulph.
“No, we’re on a Nature walk,” I sang back.
“We’re the Specials, the Champions…” bellowed Damien.
And we were. For we were the ones who hadn’t caught measles. All the rest had gone down like skittles in a bowling alley. Caroline Mortimer and Mrs Cotter were the first with it and then one by one, next two by two, and finally three by three, the rest of the school followed. Tim went down with most of his class, but not me, nor the ten of us left with Mrs Biddulph.
We were having a great time. Art and Stories, Drama, Music, Dancing, Soccer, as well as the yes, yes, yes, of course, Maths, Science, Spelling. We all liked Mrs Biddulph now, even me. She brought in little prezzies for good work, she read us funny stories and we made a puppet theatre with Dracula the vampire, the chief character, made by Damien.
“Suits ’im. Typecasting,” grinned John Ellis, for Damien has two fangy teeth at the side of his mouth and is a bit witchy looking.
Tim was at home being nursed by Mum. Hot, feverish and spotty, and angry because the days went by and I didn’t catch the measle bug. He wanted me at home with him. But not me. None of us had caught it.
“We’re the Specials. We’re the Champions,” Damien gloated again, sitting on a wall.
And being special we had special things to do – working out on all the gym apparatus, playing all the musical instruments, using lots of art stuff from the stock cupboard.
“What a horrible racket,” cried Mrs Biddulph and set us off writing spooky music for the vampire play that we were going to perform for Mrs Cotter and all the measle bugs when they came back.
“I hope they never come back,” said Chris Stone. “It’s brill at school like this.” He kicked a football around the playground. Bridget and Tammy were doing handstands against the wall. We all wore what we liked and the girls were in jeans.
“It’s like we’re out of time,” I said.
“What d’you mean?” Chris Stone put in.
“Oh, we’re in a time slip that’s not ordinary time and when the others come back, time will start up again…”
“Her’s nutty,” said Ken, grinning. “The Widget’s nutty. Allus was and allus will be.”
I went for him and we had a scrap till John Ellis stopped it.
“You’re his pet,” Tammy whispered in my ear.
“Dunno what you mean,” I muttered, going red, and I walked off indoors so I could get on with my painting which was, of course, of the Tower in the woods, with Lady Nest and Tarquin on the battlements, and her father and his Merry Men on the green grass down below. It was pretty hard to do but I liked it.
I wrote a poem to go with it:
O tower grey!
O tower high!
With battlements
Against the sky.
Great lords once had
Their days in you.
Kings visiting
Held court in you.
Suffering slaves
In a mouldy cell
Found your dark walls
A fearful hell.
But a maiden ran
Her knight to greet
And found all Heaven
Beneath her feet.
Banquets huge
Tournaments proud
And brave knights battling
Before a glittering crowd.
But now you stand
Old, cold and grey
And grass grows where
Lords ruled yesterday.
“Good, my dear,” cried Mrs Biddulph. “Much better than your Maths!” She put a gold star on it and I was pleased, but then I thought I shouldn’t have written it, and perhaps the Tower wouldn’t like it. After all it was a secret, hidden tower and my friend, and now I’d given it away to everyone, especially when Damien said:
“Why hasn’t it got a vampire in it? A tower’s no good without vampires.”
And he went to draw one but I stopped him, and then Mrs Biddulph cried out, “Wellingtons and anoraks, children! We’re off for a Nature walk through the woods!”
She was so busy getting us ready she forgot to change her own shoes and that’s why we were running ahead of her along by the River Teign.
Chapter Nine
NATURE WALK
Well, it wasn’t really a Nature walk, more like a Nature run, but at last we calmed down, mainly because we were out of breath and had got stitches, some of us anyway.
“That’s better,” panted Mrs Biddulph. “Now I can tell you the names of the trees and the plants. Look, children, at that huge oak tree there…”
“No, Miss,” John said politely. “That’s not an oak tree, it’s an ash. You can see its leaves aren’t out yet, a good thing.”
“Why is it a good thing?” asked Mrs Biddulph, puzzled.
“Well, you see that other tree over there…”
We all looked where he pointed to a really wide, massive tree standing alone. It had all its leaves already.
“Now, that’s an oak with all its leaves. You see, Miss, the farmers say:
If the ash comes out before the oak,
All the summer we have a soak.
If the oak comes out before the ash,
Fills the farmer’s pockets with cash.
So as the oak tree’s out first, we should ’ave a good summer.”
We stared at him, gobsmacked.
“Thought you said you weren’t good at telling things,” I said.
He grinned. “Depends.”
“My dad’s pockets aren’t full of cash,” Chris Stone said. “He says we may have to sell Stoney Farm. It’s hard for farmers, these days.”
“I’m sorry,” Mrs Biddulph said, then, “Look, children at those lovely white violets!”
“Sorry, Miss, they’re windflowers, not violets,” John sighed. “Sorry.”
“I think this had better be your lesson,” Mrs Biddulph said sadly. “I’m not much good at Nature, really.”
“City people aren’t,” Chris Stone said.
She brightened up. “Well, maybe we’ll spot some lovely little animals, children!”
“They won’t come out with all the row we’re making. They’ll all be in their ’iding places.”
“Yes, of course. Tell me, John, what’s that bird up there?”
“That’s a buzzard ’awk.”
“I didn’t think we got those in England now.”
“Well, we do and it’s ’unting.”
Mrs Biddulph, who seemed to have forgotten all about basics, and was really very nice, brought out some Refreshers for us all.
“Hope the Inspectors don’t find us chewing these in the middle of a wood,” she laughed.
“Never mind, Miss, we shan’t tell.”
“No, don’t, or I shall be for it. This is a Spelling lesson.”
“I can spell ‘nut’,” Damien cried. “N-I-T.”
We all fell about laughing, and Bridget asked, “Can we have a game of Hide and Seek?”
So we did. Over the rocks, behind the trees and the bushes we ran, and scrambled and hid until at last…
“Can we stop now, please.”
Red, sweaty and happy, we got together and flopped on the ground.
“Thank you for not falling in the river or getting lost,” Mrs Biddulph panted, beetroot-coloured.
“You’re nice, so we didn’t.” Ken said, so she went even more beetroot coloured, then she looked at her watch.
“T
ime to go back or we’ll all be for the chop!”
We’d turned to go back through the woods when Bridget said suddenly, “Couldn’t we just go and see that tower ofWidget’s? She said its battlements go up to the sky so we ought to be able to find it. Please, Mrs Biddulph.”
“Oh, no!” I cried before I could stop myself. “It’s secret.”
“Don’t be mean,” Bridget said. “It’s not yours, is it? You don’t own it. We’ve got more right to it than you because we’ve always lived here. Come on, you’ve got to show us where it is, Widget!”
I could feel the tears stinging behind my eyes. Why had I ever mentioned the Tower? I wished I’d never said anything about it. We couldn’t all go trampling round it. It would ruin it. What could I say?
“Oh, it’s too far away from ’ere,” John said lazily. “About two to three miles. You’d never manage the walk, Bridget.”
Mrs Biddulph chimed in, “Yes, we must hurry. We’ve only a quarter of an hour to get back to school and we’ve come quite a long way already. Right, off we go. I expect you can visit the tower another day, Bridget.”
“Not if I can help it,” I muttered under my breath as we struggled back, tired now and a bit cross because it was uphill all the way.
Chapter Ten
NOT MUCH FUN
Tim was getting better. Children were coming back to school, Caroline the first. Mrs Cotter took longer to come back as grown-ups always get things like measles and mumps worse than kids do, the doctor said, and so were slower getting better. When she did return I found out that I had come top in Spelling.
It didn’t seem important but it made me sure that wishes made in the Tower did work.
And that made me want to visit it again and wish for Dad to come home, as he seemed to have been gone for absolutely ages and I longed to see him again. But Tim was grizzly, said he felt weak – much too tired to trek to the tower, which was rubbish anyway. Mum said I couldn’t go on my own and there was too much work to do at Goosey for me to go running off – messing about, she called it. I could help for once, she grumbled, to get everything sorted. She had loads to do what with Tim being ill and all the baby’s gear to get ready.