Pandora

by Arabella Wyatt

  “Exams?” said Darren in confusion. “Who cares about exams? As soon as I’m out of school, I’m going back to Nottingham. There’s always plenty of bar work in the clubs and pubs. So you get paid and you get free booze!”

  “Sod that, it’s the dole for me,” said Kylie cheerfully. “Have a kid, get a house, all paid for, that will do me nicely.”

  “Is that all you want from life?” demanded Grace in a horrified of tone. “Working in pubs and the dole?”

  “What else is there?” asked Kylie.

  “I’m going to be a doctor,” said Duncan.

  “I’m going to be a solicitor,” said Grace.

  “Why?” asked Pandora suddenly.

  “What?”

  “Why are you going to be a doctor?”

  “Well,” said Duncan slowly, looking puzzled. “I just am. It’s what I’ve always wanted. What my parents want.”

  “It’s a good job, a respectable position with a good future,” said Grace in a superior voice.

  “And that’s why you want to be a solicitor?”

  “Yes. Until I get married and have children, of course.”

  “What, then you’ll just leave your career and be a mother?” asked Zoe.

  “Of course,” said Grace in confusion at the question.

  “Why are you going to live off the dole?” asked Pandora of Kylie.

  “Everyone does it,” said Kylie in the same confused manner as Grace. “It’s what you do. Except my dad, he works as a security guard and got transferred out here, but he says he’ll only do another year, then he’s going on the sick.”

  “The sick?” asked Duncan.

  “Sick pay. He’ll say he’ll get stress as soon as he’s done his full term, and he’ll be sorted.”

  “You should concentrate on what does matter,” said Grace in horror. “Like a proper career and winning a scroll at the annual award ceremony.”

  At the mention of the ceremony, Duncan’s eyes glowed. “Yes, that’s right,” he said enthusiastically. “It’s only a few weeks away, you know. Imagine how humiliating it would be if you didn’t win anything? If you went through the whole school year without distinguishing yourself and getting good marks?”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Zoe in confusion.

  “Oh, of course, being new, you don’t know about it,” said Grace with disdain. “Given that you’re outsiders.”

  “The end-of-year award ceremony is where we’re given scrolls and certificates for our hard work, good behaviour and good results,” explained Duncan enthusiastically. “Mother was very disappointed that I didn’t win top marks in English literature last year, and I’m determined to get it this time. I only needed another two per cent and I would have won last time. I was so angry at myself for not working harder.”

  “In fact, I don’t know why we’re standing around here having this silly conversation when we could be doing some extra work,” exclaimed Grace. “Come on, everyone, let’s get going!” The group of Willowcombe children eagerly set off, leaving the new arrivals looking at each other in bafflement.

  “They are really weird,” said Darren. “I mean, who gets that excited about extra work?”

  “And all that stuff about doing well in your exams,” said Kylie. “It’s not as if we need them. Like I said, I’m just going to live on the dole.”

  The bell went, signalling that that the pupils should use the remaining half hour of lunch to do some extra studying. Strangely, the group immediately moved toward the library, all conversation stopping dead. Even Zoe went with them, leaving Pandora alone. She had no interest in using her free time to do yet more schoolwork, despite the unusual feeling of guilt this caused her. Shaking her head, Pandora decided that she wanted to find out what was happening to Mitchell and Jones.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Pandora thought the best place to start was the headmistress’s office. To get there, she would either have to walk past the unfriendly school receptionist who would demand to know why Pandora was wandering the corridors, or else she could go the opposite way round the school and approach from the other end.

  Pandora went the long way round, which took her past the library. She paused by the open doors in puzzlement. The library appeared to be very bright, with lots of white shelving and colourful books filling the room. The dark haphazard shelving, filled with a variety of older, more interesting works, was still there, but it seemed to Pandora, as she walked in, that it didn’t quite fill the space it had once done.

  She could only suppose that Miss Winters had been ordered by Miss Hill to reduce the number of non-authorised books. Pandora doubted the headmistress had much sympathy for anything that wasn’t officially approved. Even so, it was odd that Miss Winters should have given in as she had clearly favoured the old section of eclectic books over the newer, officially sanctioned dross.

  Unfortunately, the dross seemed to be on the ascendency. On idly looking over each title, Pandora found text after text dealing with novels of temperance and obedience, stories from the Bible–all reworked to take out the sex, violence and arbitrary smiting by an angry god–and books which seemed to revolve around a lifestyle in which women were the homemakers and men the wage earners.

  It was all very odd. Pandora wondered if Miss Winters had actually resigned. It was very unusual to find her absent from the library. As she turned, Pandora noticed a figure was hunched over in one corner of the room. She recognised the girl as the daughter of Mr Jackson, ineffectual committee member and eager birdwatcher.

  “Hello,” said Pandora, wondering why the girl was sitting alone. She looked pale and thin, which was unusual in St Hilda’s. “Are you all right?”

  The girl flinched and then nodded quickly.

  “Are you sure?” asked Pandora helplessly. The girl looked as though she were frightened of being noticed. “It’s Tara, isn’t it?”

  The girl nodded again.

  After several seconds, it became clear that Tara wasn’t going to say anything more. Pandora looked in bafflement at the young girl. She knew that being related to a council member made you popular amongst the Willowcombe children, yet Tara was always quiet, withdrawn and didn’t talk to anyone. It was almost as though she were hiding in plain sight.

  Clearly, the girl didn’t want company. Pandora shrugged and continued toward the headmistress’s office. She had only twenty minutes before afternoon lessons started. Fortunately, there was no one else around as she crept up to Miss Hill’s door. Pandora opened her bag and pulled out a few books, ready to scatter them onto the floor in case she needed a reason to have stopped in the corridor.

  After a final look round, Pandora put her ear to the door. She was just in time to overhear one side of a telephone conversation.

  “Yes, it’s true,” Miss Hill was saying. “I have Miss Saunders here now, and she is very upset. Ever since that wretched development was pushed through by the council, we’ve had nothing but trouble from outsiders and strangers!” Her voice rose in fury before pausing as she listened to whoever was on the other end of the line.

  “Accelerate our efforts? Is that wise? Yes, I do realise that if we do nothing we will be swamped by lawlessness, violence and drug taking! I fully realise that our good, solid values are in danger, but are we capable yet?” There was another lengthy pause.

  “You are right, of course,” conceded Miss Hill’s voice eventually. “Very well. We know what we must do...”

  Pandora heard the phone being replaced on the desk. Feeling thoroughly baffled, she quickly made her way back down the corridor. What on earth was Miss Hill talking about? And what was she going to do about Mitchell and Jones?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  That night, Pandora decided to sneak out of the house to escape the atmosphere. Her mother was being insufferable, nagging her husband to take a more active part in village life. Mr Laskaris said that his sort would not be welcome by Aunt Mabel and her friends,
Mrs Laskaris had demanded to know what he meant by that, and the argument was launched.

  Knowing she wouldn’t be missed for a while, Pandora pulled the hood up on her dark top and set out, making for a quiet spot in the graveyard. Once there, she pulled a torch and her book of Greek myths from her bag and settled down to enjoy the peace and quiet in the company of the legendary Pandora.

  Pandora, the first woman of Greek myth, whose name means all giving, was entrusted by the wily and vengeful Zeus with a box and was ordered not to open it. Pandora’s curiosity, however, got the better of her, and she opened the box. In doing so, she released all the evils of the world which have afflicted mankind ever since.

  Pandora did try to close the box, but she was too late. All she succeeded in doing was trapping therein the last remaining element–hope.

  Many scholars have, of course, noted the similarity between this Greek myth and later Christian stories of Eve. Both revolve around the first woman and both women are responsible for releasing evil into the world. Some see the stories as an attempt to deal with the problem of evil in a world created by a perfect god. Others see the story as a cautionary fable, while others see it as symbolic of mankind’s ever-present despair and the lack of hope in these dark times. As such, Pandora truly did give all to the world.

  Though she didn’t know why, Pandora found a sense of kinship with the original Pandora. Perhaps it was simply the name. Or maybe it came from being blamed for almost everything by a higher authority. Admittedly, Great Aunt Mabel probably wasn’t quite as high an authority as Zeus, but then, Zeus probably never phoned daily to check on who the ancient Pandora was seeing, what she was doing and where she was doing it.

  The church bells chimed the hour.

  Pandora closed the book and got reluctantly to her feet. It was time to go home. She packed her book and torch away and decided to walk through the village. She quite liked Willowcombe at night. The moonlight shone down on the old houses and illuminated the village green and war memorial in perfect stillness. Usually, Pandora could find peace and contemplation there, but tonight she was to be denied both, for others were already on the village green.

  This in itself was surprising enough, as normally all the villagers seemed to be in bed by ten. Even more astonishingly, two figures were swigging from cans of lager and throwing stones at the ducks. As she watched, Pandora saw the taller figure throw its empty lager can into the pond, while the second figure hurled its can at the cars parked in front of the old mews. The figures roared in delight as the ducks scattered and a car alarm burst into life.

  Pandora moved closer and saw, as she had suspected, that the figures were Craig Mitchell and Wayne Jones.

  Others were watching too. Curtains twitched around the green, attracted by the unusual late-night noise, but no one ventured out of their homes to berate the two thugs. Pandora wasn’t surprised. Why take the risk of being stabbed or beaten by those who enjoyed violence?

  The watching eyes meant that Pandora couldn’t go any closer, but despite the distance, she could sense that something was wrong. The night air had gone still and heavy, as though a thunderstorm was on the way, yet the sky was clear of any cloud. She looked around the village and saw that the residents were no longer peeking at Mitchell and Jones. It was as though everyone had somehow been removed from the area. A thick, heavy silence rolled out over the green. Then, the lights in the village began to go out.

  It started with the old-fashioned lamp posts, each one snuffing out in sequence along the green, the electricity helpless against whatever power was surging through the village. Soon, the only lights came from the houses, which cast shadows of various window frames onto the dark ground before these, too, faded, putting the village in darkness. Simultaneously, the gentle murmur of television and radio sets grew fainter until utter silence fell over the blackened village.

  “Wha’ the fuck is going on?” shouted Mitchell in a high-pitched tone.

  “It’s a power cut!” whooped Jones. “The whole of Willowcombe is in the dark!” They laughed in contempt at the village, the inhabitants, at life in general, until an explosion of blue light erupted behind them, knocking them down.

  The two teenagers looked upward, mouths agape, at the blue screaming tornado which had suddenly appeared over them, filling the night sky.

  Blue lightning lashed through the air like long fingers blindly groping for something, until one of the probing bolts leapt forward and pierced Jones through the chest, pinning him to the ground. He screamed in agony and fear, writhing helplessly, like a butterfly pinned to a card.

  Mitchell tried to crawl away, but a second bolt of lightning streaked down and grasped him, burning and scalding, shaking him so violently, his body became a blur.

  The bolts withdrew into the whirling tornado, carrying their victims with them. The intense blue light illuminated the two figures as their bodies were drawn in, reducing in size until they were little more than doll-like silhouettes which snapped out of existence as the mouth of the tornado slammed shut with a thunderous roar.

  As soon as the tornado disappeared, the lights of the houses sprang back on, as did the street lamps. The sounds of televisions and radios spluttering back into life could be heard around the village green, yet no one looked out through their windows or opened their doors. It was as if nothing had happened.

  Pandora stepped out from the cover of a garden hedge. She was stunned by what she had seen and could hardly believe it, but she had the evidence of her own eyes. Zoe had thought there was something odd in Willowcombe Clatford, but this? What lay behind it? What did it all mean? And what could she tell the twins about it? They relied on their big sister to tell them that all was safe outside, but could she do that now?

  In this, however, she needn’t have worried. When she returned home, having run in fear all the way and let herself into the twins’ bedroom, she saw in shock that Sarah and Anne were, for the first time ever, asleep before her return. This was as upsetting as what she had just witnessed on the village green.

  Something terrible was happening in the village, and Pandora was afraid.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The following day at school, Pandora sought out Zoe to discuss the disappearance of the two boys. It wasn’t until lunchtime that they had a chance to talk in a secluded corner of the schoolyard.

  “You’re saying a hurricane sucked up Craig and Wayne?” said Zoe in disbelief. Pandora had thought long and hard about whether to tell Zoe about the tornado and, in the end, had reluctantly decided that there was no way out of it. She could hardly say that Mitchell and Jones had left the area in any normal manner, and Zoe had, at least, already noticed that there was something odd about the school.

  “Yes,” said Pandora, keeping her voice quiet. “On the village green.”

  “You honestly expect me to believe that?” gasped Zoe.

  “You said yourself that there was something strange going on,” pointed out Pandora. “There is definitely something wrong about this place.”

  “I know it’s odd around here,” exclaimed Zoe, “but to say some sort of magical tornado took Craig and Wayne! Why would a tornado want those two anyway?”

  “I don’t know, but you can see for yourself they’re not here today.”

  “They’ve probably just been suspended or bunked off,” spluttered Zoe.

  “In that case, let’s go to their houses after school, just to have a look at things. That way, we may find out something.”

  Zoe shrugged. “Okay,” she said. “I know where they live in the development, but I don’t know how you’ll feel when we get there and find there’s nothing wrong.”

  “We’ll see,” said Pandora.

  It was a short walk to get from the village to the new housing development. The contrast between the original village and the new estate was astonishing. The village was a hodgepodge of ancient cottages, solid Victorian housing and spacious 1930s homes. The new developm
ent consisted of bland, uniform houses slightly larger than the average shoebox. The walls were thin, the gardens tiny and Pandora felt sorry for the people who had to live there. She had experience of inadequate housing from growing up in Lowell, and she appreciated anew the substantial, larger house that she and her family now lived in.

  “This is Wayne’s place,” said Zoe, gesturing to one of the houses. “He lives there with his mum and his mum’s boyfriend. I think it was the boyfriend who got a job out here, which is why they moved.”

  “And what about Craig?” asked Pandora.

  “It was his mum who got a job somewhere in the business park,” replied Zoe. “From what I’ve heard, his dad hasn’t worked in years. He prefers dole money.”

  “You seem to know a lot about them,” observed Pandora.

  “Both families have already caused a bit of trouble and have become known on the estate. I heard Mum talking to one of her friends about it. Mum said she didn’t understand how people could come here for a fresh start and then act like they did in their old homes.”

  “Okay,” said Pandora. “Let’s see if anyone is in.”

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Zoe asked nervously. “That boyfriend is a nasty bit of work, and his mother is even worse. It’s no wonder Wayne is so horrible. He’s been brought up like it.”

  “I have to know,” said Pandora. She strode up the path to the front door, noting that the garden looked neglected and had a smattering of beer cans strewn about it. She knocked on the door, telling herself that whatever she was going to face couldn’t be any worse than what she had seen the night before.

  After waiting for several seconds, Pandora knocked again. It was clear that there was no one in, so Pandora peered in through the front window. “There’s nothing in there,” she said to Zoe.