“By example, of course. You are good people whose way of life will inspire others to follow your lead.”
“Good? Me? I was with you for a while but now you’ve completely blown it! I’m bad-tempered, miserable, grumpy, whatever you like. I can see that Beth is a good, kind, person but not me! And what would happen if I told you I thought this was a complete load of crap anyway?”
“Do you? Do you really believe that?” An expression of painful intensity crossed Theeth’s already furrowed brow.
“No, actually I think there is a lot of sense in what you say, in spite of myself, but… .”
“When beggars or other people ask you for money, do you turn them away?”
“No, but I’m in the fortunate position of having money to give.”
“Not everybody thinks that way. Didn’t you give money to the boys in your village? Didn’t you help John Phillips out financially when the pub he owns was struggling?”
“How did you know about that? Nobody else knows!” Gareth exclaimed indignantly. “Anyway, John’s a real friend. I couldn’t stand by and watch him lose his livelihood just like that. As for Hywel and his mates, how would you like to be stuck in that dead-end place with no money and nowhere to go? I just thought it wouldn’t do them any harm to have a night out in town, cheer them up a bit.”
“And you have since found them employment, have you not?”
“Blimey, you’re well-informed. Yes, they’re earning a few bob working on repairs on my house at home. It’ll give them some money to spend at Christmas.”
“Exactly. You wanted to make other people happy. When you were at school, you helped the younger lads with cricket coaching, didn’t you?”
“Again, that’s just a natural thing. One or two had some talent. It seemed logical to help where I could.”
“How many other senior boys put extra time into coaching?”
“Erm… none, now I think of it. The staff worked very hard.” Gareth grinned at the memory of the many hours he had spent in the nets at school with the cricket coach.
“The staff are paid professionals. One of your protégés has gone on to play for England, I believe.”
“Yes, well, that’s through natural talent and dedication. Nothing to do with me!”
“He is on record as saying that without your inspiration and example he would have given up the game altogether.”
“Really? That’s very kind. How do you know these things?”
“It is by keeping in touch with what is going on that we stay alive. Do you perhaps have a better opinion of yourself now?”
“Well, I… .” Gareth started spluttering in embarrassment.
“Come on, Gareth, don’t be so modest”, Beth admonished him gently. Her angelic smile made him feel weak at the knees.
“Now let me tell you about the goblin philosophy. They decided, for reasons best known to themselves, to adopt the doctrine of Original Sin. Biblical experts are now beginning to suggest that the story of Adam and Eve was never meant to be placed at the start of the Old Testament but was moved there by later scholars. This means that the myth of Eve and the Serpent has consequently assumed a weight of importance that it was never intended to have. Theologians believe that the Garden of Eden did exist but was never envisioned as the beginning of the world. Some scholars even think they know where it was—in a temple—and was created as an example of Heaven on Earth, rather than the original earthly Paradise. In spite of this, goblins have stuck rigidly to their version of Original Sin with all the fervour of the most Catholic of Catholics or the most fanatical Evangelical. They believe that man was put on Earth to be punished and will always be a sinner. Their slogan is “Pour Punir”—‘to punish’, which is often shortened to PP.”
“PP. Yes, that’s a name I’ve heard before”, Gareth admitted. “I presume that anyone with the initials PP is automatically suspect, as per Pierre Poivre.”
Theeth gave a little laugh. “No, not everybody. Your own home town university of Aberystwyth was founded as a result of public subscription, the so-called “Pennies of the Poor” in 1872. Nobody is going to claim that that was a bad thing.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that,” said Gareth. “Something to be very proud of.”
“PP can, however, be a pointer, as can anybody whose name starts ‘Eth…’ The goblins have hijacked that combination in an attempt to thwart us. Let me give you an example, which will perhaps lend more credence to my story. When you were at school in the Midlands, Gareth, you took a violent dislike to two boys in your year. Why was that?”
“I don’t know, really. There was just something evil about them. I couldn’t explain it at the time.” A much less pleasant memory this time.
“And they felt the same way about you?”
“Yes, they did. Said I was a goodie-goodie and needed “sorting out.” Which they did, eventually.”
“Yes, indeed. And of course, you remember their names.”
“Oh yes. Pat and Eth, we used to call them, much to their annoyance. Peter Patterson and Oliver Etheridge were their real names… . Good Lord!”
“What, and these people did you harm?” Beth’s interjection was genuinely curious.
“Tell us what happened, Gareth.” It was obvious but nevertheless surprising to Gareth that the old gnome was fully aware of what had occurred.
“It was when we were in the Fourth Year, Year 10 I think they call it now. I went for a wander down by the river one lunch-time. They saw me on my own and took their chance. I could hold my own in a fight but there were two of them and they soon had me down on the ground and were kicking me like crazy. I think they would have finished me off if old Taffy Roberts hadn’t come along.”
“Ah, yes, your Physics teacher, Mr Bleddyn Roberts.”
“Funny thing was, he said he didn’t usually walk down by the river but something had made him go that way that day. Just as well!” Gareth’s hand was drawn to the side of his face as he winced at the memory.
“Bleddyn Roberts is a FOX but of course you didn’t know that at the time. He was at the school to keep an eye on you. A wise precaution, as it transpired.”
“No, I didn’t know, but come to think of it, I do remember him wearing a fox badge on his lapel. I’ll be damned! So are you saying they knew who I was?”
“No, but being from the other side, they obviously felt the antipathy towards you that you felt towards them, and they made their mark!”
“Certainly did!” Gareth rubbed the scar on his cheek again. “One day… . Do we know what’s happened to them?”
“They are still in circulation. Like you, they are more aware of their role in life now. I think it is possible you might meet up with them again soon. In fact, I would say it was almost certain.”
“I’ll be better prepared this time. I’ve always had a feeling we would cross each other’s path again after we left school.”
“I hope you will be more evenly matched this time”, Theeth smiled encouragingly at Beth. “There is definitely something malevolent afoot and you two are our main hope of stopping it. The last ten years have been a bit of a Golden Age, certainly in this country. The goblins want to put an end to all that. I think our recently-retired Prime Minister will be looked upon favourably by future generations.”
“What, in spite of the Iraq War?” Beth burst in incredulously. “Come on!”
“Yes, in spite of that. Many other good things were achieved under Mr. Blair’s stewardship. And remember, over half the population of this country were in favour of invasion at the time. It’s easy to be right, and righteous, after the event.
“Now Beth. I told you about Gareth before he arrived. It’s time for him to learn something about you. I’m sure his first question would be to enquire about your connection with Mrs Elizabeth Feinstein!”
&nb
sp; 10
“Mine was a rather unconventional, what you might almost call Bohemian, upbringing. My father and mother have never married. They have what’s usually called a love-hate relationship, can’t live with each other, can’t live without each other. My Dad is a big, crazy, red-haired Irishman named Padraig O’Flaherty, obviously Paddy to everyone who knows him, even his children. He’s a self-styled ‘performer’, a musician and poet who scrapes his living with recitals in inns and pubs all round Europe and beyond. He has no religious belief or creed, just thinks that everyone should be free to do their own thing, at whatever cost to other people. All right, selfish I know, but he has such a strong and engaging personality that it’s had to be angry with him for long. He’s just a complete charmer.” Beth sat back in her chair and grinned at the thought. “My mother, Ruth Fagan, comes from a very orthodox Jewish family. Totally different backgrounds, but they just fell for each other hook, line and sinker. Of course, the liaison met with total disapproval and some of my mother’s family cut her off completely. She’s the youngest of seven sisters and she’s had no contact with three of them for the last forty years. Another one’s only recently got back in touch.
“Well, Paddy and Ruth would stay together for a while, then he’d disappear for months on end and then show up again out of the blue. My mother always took him back, in spite of herself and when he left she’d be pregnant again. After having seven babies herself, she decided enough was enough.”
“Not surprising!” Gareth muttered.
“As it happened, the first four were all boys, all the spitting image of their father, with hair to match. My mother got her revenge by giving them all Jewish names: Adam, Benjamin, Cain and Daniel. Then we three girls came along: Elizabeth, Francesca and finally Gwyneth and we all look like our mother!”
“She must be a very beautiful woman” Gareth said almost wistfully. “Are your sisters as good-looking as you?”
“Francesca’s an absolute beauty. She’s a fashion model, works in London most of the time”, said Beth, without any trace of envy. “Gwyneth, well, she’s going through a bit of a funny stage—Goth, black hair, black studs, loads of piercings, all that sort of thing. I don’t know what Paddy’ll say next time he sees her. He’s all for tattoos but he hates body piercing of any kind. Should be an interesting conversation.”
“Your Mum ran out of Jewish names for the girls, then?”
“My Dad was around when the last two were born, so there was a stand-off. He wanted Nuala and Niamh! I think my sisters are glad a compromise was reached.” Again Beth smiled fondly at the thought of her siblings. In spite of everything, this was obviously a pretty close-knit family.
“What’s your actual name?”
“Elizabeth Naomi Fagan, born 1st August 1981. My mother insisted we all took her name and that was one battle she did win.”
“And what’s your connection to Mrs. Feinstein?”
“She’s my great-aunt. She had no children of her own but her sister, as I mentioned, had seven, of whom my mother was the youngest. She took a fond but vague interest in them, and that came down a generation when we were born. Unlike some of the other sisters, Great-Aunt Elizabeth was always very supportive of my mother. Always said she understood. I’m pretty certain she helped out with money as well. She was a funny old stick. She seemed particularly fond of me, quite often telling me I was ‘special’ and ‘different’ and saying I’d understand it all one day, when I was old enough. I thought she was just rambling on. It was only when she died unexpectedly and left everything to me that I began to have some idea what she was talking about. Eventually I started reading the notes I found in her desk and made my way here to meet Theeth.”
“What did she die of?” Gareth asked.
“Heart attack. Bit of a surprise because she was as strong as an ox. There was something about her seeing a ghost but she was well into her eighties and rather eccentric so nobody paid any real attention to that. Now I’m not so sure.”
“Could she have seen something, Theeth?”
“It is possible that she saw something that really frightened her. Pierre Poivre or one of his minions might have presented themselves and made themselves known. The shock might have been enough to kill her. Again, I urge you to see the importance of this, Gareth. They are gathering their forces for a confrontation. We are going to have to face them.”
Gareth gave a doubtful grunt, then said:
“What sort of childhood did you have, Beth?”
“Well, with an absentee father, we moved quite a lot in the early days—one step ahead of the rent-man. I think my mother’s parents helped rather grudgingly occasionally. My grandmother sounded off all the time about how she had said no good would come of it, and what did my mother expect and no self-respecting Jewish girl would treat her Mama like this. Ruth just had to shrug her shoulders and make the most of it. Actually, the local Rabbi, Rabbi David, was very good to my Mum. He soon realised that she was fighting a lost cause faith-wise but he and his wife proved loyal friends. She always had someone to go and talk to if life got really bad. Looking back now, I realise that it must have done at times. Later on, things got better. Mum got a job in school admin and ended up being Bursar of a local comprehensive, although not the one we went to. She’s just retired, actually. I went to Warwick Uni to read English—Germaine Greer teaches there, has done for years—and now I’m a journalist working for the Liverpool Echo.”
“Right. If this Custodian business is a generation thing, Theeth, why is Beth’s mother not one?”
“It can and does miss a generation on occasion. Sometimes there are twins involved. Yours sisters are not twins, are they, Beth?”
“No, no. But I do sometimes wonder about Gwyneth. She’s such a weird child. Great-aunt did mutter something about ‘another one’, so… .”
“It is strange that we have not picked anything up, but it is possible, although rare, for two siblings other than twins to have the gift. Perhaps she has been protected by your aura. We shall continue to observe closely. Have either of you had any other strange experiences, apart from your fight, Gareth?”
Beth said: “My brothers and sisters used to tease me a lot. They recently started calling me “The Special One”—something to do with some football manager, I’m told.” She was obviously not a football fan. “But nothing I couldn’t handle. I gave them as good as I got.”
“I used to have a recurring nightmare”, said Gareth. “I would be falling, falling in a dark void, screaming ‘No!’ and waking up in a panic, dripping sweat. I haven’t had it nearly as much recently.”
“It is obvious where that comes from. You must both rest further for a day or two and then I will explain what I think we must do. There are hard times ahead.” Theeth gave a sad little smile as he left the room, leaving the young couple to grin at each other rather nervously and to wonder what might be in store for them.
11
That night, it came again. Dark, dark and so cold. There’s a sensation of motion and shaking and a sense of falling out of control. A beautiful face is turned towards him—all he can make out are huge frightened eyes. A man’s voice is saying “I can’t control it!!” “Try, try, for God’s sake—Gareth! My baby!” Faster and faster, a formless mass rising up to meet them, there’s no escape, machine and water collide, everything goes dark and…
“Gareth? Are you all right? Is it that dream again?” The ministering angel is there once more, gently mopping his soaking brow. “You’re ok now, it’s over.”
“What! What! Oh, thank God for that. I thought I was a goner that time. Phew!” Gareth drew a couple of sharp breaths as he gradually regained his composure. “I suppose talking about it must have brought it back. Not nice!”
He sat up in his bed for a while as Beth wiped the sweat off his face. Eventually his heart stopped thumping wildly and he said:
&
nbsp; “What time is it?”
“About three o’clock, I think. I’d try and get some sleep if I were you.”
“Yes, I’ll give it a go. I’m sorry to have disturbed you, Beth.” He smiled disarmingly and squeezed her hand.
“That’s ok. Would you like me to… . stay?”
“I’d like that very much.”
Beth slipped out of her dressing-gown, climbed up onto the bed and snuggled in beside him.
* * *
As dawn was breaking, a diminutive form shuffled into the room, looked at the sleeping couple and smiled. He reached down and pulled the duvet over Beth’s naked shoulder.
“Well, at least that’s one thing we won’t have to worry about”, Theeth said to himself as he tottered out of the room. “And now, it is time for us to draw up our battle plans for the days to come.”
12
They were sat round an oak table of great antiquity. “Even older than me”, said Theeth when Beth admired it.
“How old are you, Theeth, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“A hundred and forty of your years. I was born in the year 1867, according to your Gregorian calendar.”
“Good Lord. Think of all the famous people you could have known!”
Theeth still wasn’t sure if Gareth was sincere or if there was yet a sardonic edge to his question. “I have met a lot of well-known people, actually. You can imagine that creatures like us, long-lived and vulnerable, have to be prepared to move on at short notice.” The old gnome paused for a moment and smiled into the middle distance. “In my youth, I lived in Vienna for a number of years. And because we move around a great deal, we do come into contact with humans on occasions. Towards the end of the nineteenth century, I befriended a musician, who was very good to me.”
“Anybody famous? Anybody whose name I might know?” Gareth wasn’t quite sure where this was going.
“His name was Johannes Brahms”.
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