Aunt Carlotta, still miffed at Amalie’s defection to the Protestants, stayed away from the funeral. In her opinion, Robert had merely returned to a way of being which was easier for him. A year after his death, she performed a secret ceremony to liberate his soul from its half-life beneath the sea and to return it to a place of power and utility in the world of men. As was her custom, she kept the soul thus returned in a tightly sealed mason jar swaddled in silk. It sat silently among several others on the altar in her bedroom. Robert waited. He spoke when she needed to consult with him.
BEATRICE FARAWAY’S CHRISTMAS TALE
Paul Bradley
In a land far away lives a very old woman called Beatrice Faraway. The town she lives in is called Storytown and the mansion that she lives in is called the Delightful Palace of Earthly Delights. It is surrounded by a crumbling red-brick wall which has a sturdy but creaky oak door built with revenge against time. That door will always be there. The garden is wild and full of strange and fascinating statues. Angels and dragons and the most peculiar of creatures covered in green moss. The garden looks a bit scary really but there is nothing to be afraid of for there is no evil at the home of Beatrice Faraway.
Beatrice Faraway has lived at the Palace for most of her life since being a grown up. She had been married to Mr George Faraway but he died and she has lived the last ten years alone in the Palace. How she misses George. He was, and still is, a famous children’s author and he wrote magical stories about the little people, distant lands, friendly monsters, dreams that come true and always with happy endings. Dozens of his books have been published and translated into the languages of people everywhere and they have sold and sold even after he died, so that Beatrice is very rich and always getting richer. All the pictures in the stories were drawn by Beatrice as they worked together happily as husband and wife through the years. The books are read by parents to children before they close their eyes and enter their own land of dreams. There were even some very successful films made based on the stories with big stars from Hollywood in them.
Beatrice still spends much of her time reading the books that George wrote. The stories remind her of him and they keep her quite happy. She thinks it is marvellous that he had the imagination to write such incredible tales. Often she wishes that she could write like he did, even if it is just one tale that everyone would like. It isn’t a jealous feeling. It is more like a very nice form of envy because she admires the stories he wrote so much.
As the years have passed by, Beatrice has started to feel a little bit unsettled. She reads all the tales over and over again and knows them word for word. However, what she really wants is new tales, with new adventures like she had when George was alive. Day after day she has tried to write her own tale about the little people and their adventures but she just can’t think of anything that is as exciting as George’s. This has made her a little bit sad. Still, she has sat for many an hour in the study that she and George shared, reading and writing and trying to capture again some of the magic of old. How happy they had once been working in that room. They had called it the office because this was where they worked, but it wasn’t like a real office at all and it still isn’t. It is a creative place where magical tales have been dreamt up and written. It looks just the same, with pictures on the walls of the characters, film posters and newspaper reports of the Faraways’ success.
Beatrice has begun to feel lonely recently. Despite all her money she has not made any friends over the years because she just liked to be with her husband. Now he has gone she has quite forgotten how to make friends and she almost never leaves the Palace unless she really has to. Her gardener, who has a spare iron key to the big oak door in the garden, also does the shopping for her. She leaves a list for him every Monday under a plant pot near the front door and money for the food and his wages. He also brings a local paper for her so that she knows what is going on in the town.
One bright morning not too long ago she had a great idea. Instead of trying to write a new adventure story, she would create her own story by living it in real life. Beatrice decided that what her heart yearned for more than anything was a real adventure. Writing about an adventure might be easier if she actually had one. The problem was that she didn’t know what kind of adventure she wanted. Sitting in the office that morning, Beatrice had another great idea. She would collect all the garden gnomes from the town and place them in the office so that she had company whilst reading the old tales. At midnight, every night for a week she would sneak out of the Palace, across the garden and through the big oak door. She would wear an enormous coat and a scarf around her face so that no one would know who she was. Then she would sneak into the town whilst it was dark and go into the townfolk’s gardens and take the gnomes to their new home with her. She could read the tales to the gnomes, who looked like the little people she had drawn for the books. She would feed them with biscuits and hot chocolate every night and they would live happily ever after. What a great idea, she thought, and decided to begin her adventure that very night.
The old clock in the hallway chimed at midnight and a cuckoo leaped out on its springs with each chime. Beatrice was ready. She was wearing her enormous coat with plenty of room in it to hide at least two gnomes and a scarf to cover her face. It was mid December and very cold, with snow on the ground. Around her waist she wore an old belt that had belonged to George and she tied it quite tight so that the gnomes would not drop out. All her clothing was dark so that she would not easily be seen in the streetlights. With her heart pumping furiously against her ribs, Beatrice crept across the garden with a torch so that she could see her way to the oak door. Those angels and dragons and peculiar creatures looked even scarier at night with ice on their faces, but she soon reached the door, took out the iron key and turned it in the lock. When she started to push the big oak door open it creaked so much that Beatrice thought the whole town would wake up. Slowly she opened it and then locked it when she was outside the Delightful Palace of Earthly Delights and on the pavement outside.
Beatrice started walking towards the town houses, being careful not to slip on the ice. It wasn’t far. The streetlights helped her to see, and every once in a while a car drove past. Beatrice was frightened and nervous but she felt more alive than she had for many a year. Past the school she walked, past the post office and the railway station until she was right in the very heart of the town where the snow-covered houses were. Walking slowly, she peered over the garden walls and fences searching for gnomes. Very soon she came across a small house that had two gnomes with snow on their hats in the front garden near the front door. The house was Number 8 and the street was called Paradise Lane. Beatrice looked around her and when she felt safe she plucked up the courage and darted through the gate and into the garden, placing the two gnomes inside her coat. It took seconds, and soon she was on her way back home feeling really happy and excited.
Inside the Delightful Palace of Earthly Delights, up in the office, Beatrice took out her two new gnomes. One had a red hat, a blue coat, large black boots, a big pot of flowers under one arm and a small spade under the other. He was a gardener. The other one had a small hammer in one hand and a piece of wood in the other. He was a carpenter. Beatrice placed them both on the shelves near her rocking chair and straight away read them a story from one of George Faraway’s precious books. Then she left them some hot chocolate to warm them up, with some biscuits on a dish and she went to bed feeling happy and content.
The next morning, when Beatrice woke up, she went straight to the office to see the gnomes. They were standing exactly where she had left them and the hot chocolate and biscuits had gone. They must have been hungry and thirsty. All day she read to them. That night she went out again and collected two more gnomes. One of these was sleeping against a tree and the other one was sitting on a motorcycle. She left them all biscuits and hot chocolate once more and the next morning there was none left.
Every night for a whole week, Beatrice Farawa
y went out and each night came back with two more gnomes. A gnome in a football shirt with a ball, a gnome with a tennis racket, child gnomes, a gnome with a guitar, a gnome on roller skates, a gnome on a skateboard, a gnome with a fishing rod. All kinds of gnomes, until the office was full of them. Beatrice Faraway loved them so much she could hardly wait for morning to come so that she could read to them. She left a big shopping list for her gardener. Packets of biscuits, gallons of milk, hot chocolate powder, crisps and jelly babies. The jelly babies weren’t eaten but everything else was eaten up overnight. Beatrice Faraway didn’t feel lonely anymore.
One morning not so long ago, Beatrice went into the office as usual, ready for a day of reading to the gnomes. But on this morning she was met with a great surprise. The gnomes were gone! All the hot chocolate and biscuits had been eaten but there wasn’t a gnome in sight. Beatrice sat in her chair and sobbed. Where could they be? She would be lonely again without them. How she loved her precious gnomes.
Suddenly, she heard a noise. From outside she could hear laughter, voices, music, singing, a motorbike. It sounded like a party or a carnival with folks enjoying themselves. She rushed over to the window and threw it open. Out in the garden the gnomes were playing, rushing about, throwing snowballs. The footballer gnome was running up and down the lawn in the snow with his football, the gnome with the guitar was playing a rock song and singing on the patio, the fishing gnome had his rod in the icy garden pond and was puffing away on his pipe. The gnomes on roller-skates and skateboards were racing up and down the garden paths dangerously skating along the ice, the tennis player gnome was hitting his ball against the garden wall and then looking for it in the snow. And that’s not all. The carpenter gnome was fixing the wooden bench and the gardener gnome was digging up weeds and whistling at the same time. The child gnomes were playing hide and seek and snowball fighting whilst singing strange nursery rhymes that Beatrice Faraway could not understand. It was a joyous sight, but Beatrice wasn’t very happy. What if her gardener saw the gnomes? It was lucky he wasn’t coming today. Down the stairs Beatrice flew, out into the garden.
‘Come inside naughty gnomes. It’s story time! Please, come inside at once!’
The gnomes just carried on enjoying themselves. Beatrice shouted again and again but the gnomes played and had fun. They were talking and singing and shouting in a strange language and Beatrice wondered if they could understand her. She sat by the garden steps and cried and cried with her head in her hands not knowing what to do. She was glad to see the gnomes were happy but she wanted to spend time reading to them and she was worried that they didn’t want to be with her anymore. Suddenly, she heard a gruff but kind voice.
‘What’s the matter Beatrice Faraway?’
Beatrice opened her eyes, pulled her hands away from her face and looked down. There on the bottom step was the gardener gnome. Beatrice was pleased that she could be understood.
‘I’m wondering why you are out here and not inside so that I can read stories to you’
The gardener gnome stroked his long white beard and, looking at her kindly, he explained what was happening.
‘Well, you can still do that but we are outside creatures by nature. I used to be a house gnome but when I reached my 200th birthday I decided to take up gardening as a hobby. I’m the only one that can understand people. My name is Oliver.’
Beatrice asked Oliver if the others were happy and what she could do to make them all want to stay with her. Oliver chuckled.
‘All the gnomes want to stay. They like the stories and the big garden. We have been sneaking out at night and getting back before you wake up and keeping very quiet outside. The gnomes like you. They call you the Queen. They don’t understand your language but they still love you because they know you have a good heart. I tell them what the stories are about when you go to bed but they just love to be with you and to hear your voice. We would be grateful if you could get us some more food though. We like porridge, bread, honey, potatoes and beans and also a little bit of raspberry wine. You will never see a skinny gnome! Give us lots of food and we will definitely stay, you can be sure of that. We won’t go out during the day normally, but we like to be full of mischief and just have fun at times. Like today. From now on you can tell me when we need to be careful. I’m the king of the gnomes and the others listen to me. We know about your gardener and the shopping. I’ll tell the gnomes to come back in now and we can listen to some tales.’
With that, Oliver the gnome gave a great whistle. All the other gnomes stopped what they were doing and listened to the gnome’s instructions in a language Beatrice would never understand. They smiled and walked past Beatrice and up the stairs of the Palace and into the office in exactly the places where they had been. Beatrice was happy again. She read to the gnomes all day long. The next day, she left a big shopping list for the gardener with lots of gnome food on it. He must have wondered what was happening, but Beatrice Faraway didn’t care about that. She just wanted to keep her gnomes happy with nice full tummies. The food arrived and Beatrice Faraway was so excited that she showed it to the gnomes before putting it in the cupboards.
Sitting down with a cup of tea, Beatrice started to read the local paper, The Storytown Herald, and she nearly fell off her rocking chair when she saw the headline:
Our Homes Have Lost Their Gnomes!!!
Underneath the headline was a picture of the townsfolk looking very sad and two police officers with big hats looking very cross, and there was another picture of a garden gnome scratching his head. Beatrice Faraway read the story. You can read it too. Here it is:
The townsfolk of Storytown have reported unusual events in the last few weeks. Someone has been entering their gardens at night and stealing their precious garden gnomes. Police warn residents to be very careful with their gnomes and to look out for the gnome thief of Storytown. They want to talk to any townsfolk who have information about the whereabouts of the gnomes. In the meantime, gnomes would best be kept in back gardens or even indoors at night until the gnome thief has been caught. If anyone has seen any suspicious loitering please contact the police station and speak to Sergeant Plodfeet.
Beatrice Faraway read the story over and over. She hadn’t thought at the time about how upset her fellow townsfolk would be about losing their gnomes. She knew now how upset they must be because she felt so fond of the gnomes herself. Poor Beatrice Faraway. She didn’t know what to do. The rest of the paper was full of sad news. The local police station needed painting but there was no money for the paint. Most of the townsfolk had no money because they didn’t have any work to do. The houses were falling apart and there were no funds to repair them. The children all needed new clothes and shoes. Storytown was becoming a very sad place and people were moving away to seek better lives and more opportunities.
Beatrice spent some time thinking about what to do. She couldn’t bear the thought of giving back the gnomes, she loved them so much. They were not hers, though, and the townsfolk wanted them back. What could she do?
A whole week went by and Beatrice could hardly think about anything else. It was really worrying her and she couldn’t read to the gnomes or enjoy being with them because she felt so guilty. Those poor townsfolk had no money or work to do and they wanted their gnomes back.
One day, after an afternoon snack of tea and buttered scones, Beatrice Faraway had a wonderful idea that she thought would please everyone. She would write to the The Storytown Herald straightaway with her idea. Here is what her letter said:
Dear Readers
I am very sorry to tell you that I have your gnomes. I was getting rather lonely at the Palace and wanted some company whilst I read the stories that George had written, so I took them from your gardens whilst you were all fast asleep.
Here is what I would like to do. This Friday, Christmas Eve, I will open the big oak door to the garden. All the townsfolk can come through to the Palace and enjoy a big party with homemade stew, apple pie, mince pies and lots of
drinks and treats. The party will be at midday. All the gnomes will be there. Here is an idea. I will keep my garden gate open every Friday from now on so that all the townsfolk can come and see the gnomes. If the town folk are happy for the gnomes to stay, I will look after them as best I can.
In return for your kindness and forgiveness I will donate all my money to the town to pay for the new paint for the police station, all the houses will be repaired and the whole town can be cleaned and made really nice. I will pay the wages for all the locals to do this work and keep doing it until we have the nicest town in the world and people will come from all over to see it. I will open my Palace to people so that they can pay to see where George and I did our work. All the money will go back to the townsfolk. Think about all the shops that will open, the customers for the cafés, the hotels, the novelty tea-towels, the books I can sign. The whole town will come alive once again and all the children will have shoes.
Yours sincerely,
Beatrice Faraway
Beatrice Faraway felt very excited but also a little bit nervous. The newspaper would be on sale the next Thursday with her letter in it and the next day it would be Christmas Eve and the party. She didn’t know if the townsfolk would come round, and they might be angry, insisting that she give back the gnomes. Beatrice could not bear the thought. Even worse, the police might come to the Delightful Palace of Earthly Delights and arrest her and throw her in jail for being a thief. All week she was nervous. On the following Thursday she read her letter in the newspaper and the tension was unbearable. Oliver, the gardener gnome, noticed that Beatrice seemed worried.
Strange Tales V Page 15