by Chris Hawley
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CROSS EXAMINATION
I stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking down at my wet feet and then I lifted my arm and studied the grey cloth of my tunic, anything to avoid my father’s eyes.
‘There’s something strange going on here son,’ he said, waving my note in front of my face.
‘Oh, what’s that, Dad?’ I asked with shaky innocence, still not wanting to meet his eyes.
‘You tell me.’
‘I don’t know what you mean, Dad.
‘Now then, your mother and I are lying in bed, half asleep and we hear this strange whooshing noise and a flash. I sit up in bed and I turn to her and I say, ‘Doris, did you see that?’ and she says, ‘yes, Stan, what was it? Go look out of the window.’ So I do and I see nothing, so I go back to bed. But I don’t go back to sleep ‘cos I’m thinking about it, and after a bit I take another look. Then I go to your room and, surprise, surprise! No Bill.’ He paused for a moment and then continued.
‘Now I wonder what the hell is the boy doing. I look downstairs, nothing, then I go down the garden to the shed where you’ve been messing about these past two weeks and I don’t find anything, except…..’ He paused again. ‘Except there’s no roof on the shed! Odd, I thought. No sign of Bill and no roof on the shed.’
‘Oh yes, I took the roof off yesterday and forgot to put it back last night.’ I didn’t sound a bit convincing. I looked up and met his eyes.
‘Well, I haven’t been five minutes back in the bedroom when I happen to look out of the window again and I see you standing in the middle of the lawn like a lemon, in that ridiculous outfit and with no shoes on your feet. Tell me if it’s not a very strange set of happenings for early on a Friday morning.’
I was desperately trying to think of something sensible to say, but nothing sensible came into my mind. I decided to change the subject.
‘Oh, by the way, did Pietersen get his century yesterday at the Oval?’
My father looked at me with a curious expression.
‘Pietersen? Century? Which century, the 19th or 20th? If you’re talking about the final Test at the Oval, it doesn’t start till Thursday.’
I must have turned white for he put the note on the table and put his hand on my shoulder.
‘Are you alright son?’ he asked.
‘I’ll be fine, Dad. I don’t know what came over me.’
‘Lie down for a bit. Here take some water.’ He filled a glass from the tap and handed it to me. ‘I must get ready for work.’
He left the kitchen and went upstairs. I drank the water with shaking hands, set the glass carefully on the table and went up to my bedroom. I was in turmoil. Here was I, after a week spent on Mars with people who had been exiled from Earth thousands of years ago, back in my bedroom only an hour after leaving it. And I saw the news yesterday and Pietersen was a few runs short of his century, even though the match won’t start for nearly a week. It must all be a dream!
I reached for my camera and switched it on. Michu’s image was there. It was no dream. It was real!
I studied Michu’s face, zooming in to maximum size. Her beautiful eyes held a startled expression but it was the Michu I knew just the same. Would I see her again? I suddenly felt very confused. I switched off the camera and placed it on my bedside table. I lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. After some time I drifted into a fitful sleep.
I cannot have been asleep for long when I heard the voice of my mother. Michu was saying she would be going to Sonam for her holiday and would not be back for 900 years when Mum came through the wall of the bubble in which Michu and I were sitting. She asked me if I was awake, at which Michu turned to her and offered her a purple fruit.
‘Bill, are you awake?’
I opened my eyes. I was relieved to find that I had been dreaming. Mum was standing inside the doorway of my bedroom. I stretched my arms over my head and yawned. She came across to the bed and sat down on the edge, pulling the lapels of her pink dressing gown tightly across her chest. She was a small woman with thin brown hair, greying at the sides. She wore a nervous look, quite unlike her usual jovial self. She looked enquiringly at me with her grey eyes and then down at her fingernails.
‘Bill, your dad and I are worried about you,’ she began. She picked at the thumbnail of her left hand and frowned. ‘Are you in some sort of trouble?’
‘No Mum. What sort of trouble would I be in?’ I said nervously.
‘I don’t really know. You’re not taking drugs, are you?’
‘God no! Of course not! Why should I be taking drugs?’
‘No reason really, only, well, many youngsters are these days.’
‘Not me, Mum, never!’
‘I am glad to hear that. But Dad said you were behaving very strangely this morning. First you were not in the house, then you came in that peculiar suit with no shoes. Dad couldn’t make it out. Then there was this noise and a flash earlier. We both heard it and it came from the back garden. And the note about…..about Mars.’
‘I can’t imagine what that flash can have been,’ I lied.
‘And he says that thing you were making in the shed is not there any more. And the note, he showed it to me. I can’t help thinking something odd happened this morning. Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?
‘I got rid of the spaceship. I sold it to Ben and Tim.’
‘Your friends from school? The Tai-kwon-do addicts?’
I nodded.
‘And the clothes: where did you find those?’
I didn’t answer immediately because I had not anticipated the question. I was at a loss for words.
‘Hey Mum, so many questions!’ I’ll tell you later. I’m feeling a bit weak.’
‘I’m not surprised, Bill. It’s a long way to Mars and you must be hungry!’
I looked at her and for a moment I thought she was being serious. Then she broke into a smile and I understood. She was entering into the game. How ironical, I thought to myself. Mum, if you only knew! I had to laugh then. We laughed together.
‘Yes Mum, one hell of a way to go there and back in one morning,’ I said through the laughter..
She took my hand and squeezed it gently.
‘Now, take those funny clothes off and we’ll have breakfast. What do you fancy?’
‘Scrambled eggs on toast,’ I said without a moment’s hesitation.
Mum smiled and patted my leg. ‘Right you are, dear. Scrambled eggs it is.’
Dear Mum, I thought, as I went down the landing to the bathroom.