by John Mallon
Chapter 27
It was Wednesday night and Alfie, like Braddle hiding deep within Carporoo, lay awake in bed thinking about what had to be done the next day. For Alfie, tomorrow did not tremble with excitement, danger and the possibility of total victory or total defeat. Rather, an unmoveable boulder had crashed landed on it, grim and heavy, blocking the entrance to the many paths that each day brought forth. He tried to convince himself that it was not so; tried to pretend that the boulder was not there but it was no use. The boulder was too close and its shadow already fell over him. I’ve got no choice, he said to himself. Tomorrow, I have to persuade Mr Nicholls to return the tiny people.
‘Persuade Mr Nicholls to return the tiny people.’ It was just a few words and you would think, thought Alfie, that it would be straightforward and easy to do but that was just an illusion. Some of the hardest things in the world, he realised, could be expressed simply in just a few words like ‘Jump, it’s not deep’, ‘Today, there is a maths test’ and ‘Just push off with your foot and turn the pedals.’ Why couldn’t this have been different? he asked himself. The day had been spent devising ways to solve the problem and then discarding them almost immediately. At first, he thought he could phone Mr Nicholls and in a menacing, gruff voice say:
‘We know that you have got the tiny people. You must return them on Friday morning. We wouldn’t like to be in your shoes if you don't. Understand?’
He didn’t have Mr Nicholls’ telephone number, though. Nor was it in the book mum kept by the telephone. He thought he might write him a note instead and slip it through his letter box. The note could say what he had wanted to say with his menacing, gruff voice and much more. ‘WE ARE WATCHING YOU’ written under an open eye was an interesting embellishment, he thought, and would deserve a whole sheet of paper to itself. Again, though, he rejected the plan. He could imagine the note having a powerful effect on Mr Nicholls but, nevertheless, he couldn’t be certain that he would actually do what the note told him. Another discarded plan involved contacting the police and have them visit Mr Nicholls with two squad cars and, maybe, a van. The flaw here, though, was as obvious as a friendly slap on the back from a bully. The police would simply take the tiny people away and the whole of Carporoo would be discovered. No, that wouldn’t do, he told himself. That can’t be allowed to happen.
The only solution, the only way to get the tiny people back to Carporoo on Friday morning, was the solution he most wanted to avoid. There was no other way, he realised. He had no choice. It couldn’t be put off. He had to do it and he had to do it alone. In a few words, he had to go round to Mr Nicholls’ house and…talk to him.
“Why? What’s the matter?” asked his mother the next morning as Alfie sat up in bed with an ‘ill look’ on his face.
“I don’t know” he replied. “I don’t feel well. I feel sick.”
His mother put the back of her hand on his forehead.
“You’re not burning up” she said.
Lou came in and sat on the end of his bed.
“Alfie” his mother said “we’ve got a big shopping trip today. There are things still to get for the holiday. I’m sure you’ll perk up once we are up and out.”
“You don’t look sick to me” said Lou.
“Shut up” said Alfie. “What do you know?”
“Let’s see how you get on” said his mother. “Go and get washed.”
“But mum I don’t feel well. I’m sure that if I stay in bed then I’ll be alright by tomorrow. I don’t want to be sick for the holiday.” He looked straight into her face and added, “that would ruin it for everybody.”
His mother must have thought that the argument was a good one because she immediately called his brother.
“Francis, your brother is sick. I’ve decided that he should stay in bed. I’ll take Lou to the shops with me but you stay here and make sure he is alright.”
“Ok” said Francis.
After his mother had left Francis returned to Alfie’s bedroom.
“Here’s the deal” he said. “I’m playing a tournament on the X-Box in my bedroom. So you stay here and don’t bother me. Ok?”
“Ok” said Alfie. “But I think I’ll get dressed and go down stairs. I might feel…”
Francis had already returned to his bedroom and slammed the door after him.
Alfie stood in the hall facing the front door. A shriek came from his brother’s bedroom followed by machine gun fire. Well this is it, he said to himself. I have to do it now before mum gets back. Here goes. He opened the front door and clicked the catch on the lock so the door wouldn’t shut behind him. Ten minutes, that’s all I need. Ten minutes. Not long at all. I’ll be back in no time and no one will know. It will all be over and I would have kept my promise to Braddle. He stepped outside and closed the front door over. Braddle. Yes. I’ve got to do this for Braddle.
One…Two…Three…Four…Five…Six…Seven…Eight…Nine…Ten…Eleven…
Alfie reached Mr Nicholls’ front door and after a momentary hesitation pressed the doorbell. A shadow darkened the frosted window set in the upper half of the door - for Braddle, thought Alfie, for Braddle - and then the door opened.
“Alfie?” said Mr Nicholls, with a surprised look on his face. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry to bother you Mr Nicholls but I need to talk to you about something” Alfie replied, amazed. It sounded like his voice was being used by someone else, by someone used to dealing with people, by someone used to knocking on doors.
“Talk to me? You need to talk to me?” Mr Nicholls asked
Alfie nodded.
“My, what do you want to talk to me about? Has the ball gone over the fence again?”
“No. Nothing like that” said Alfie. “I need to talk to you about the tiny people.”
Mr Nicholls looked as if Alfie had just ripped a branch off his treasured Japanese maple tree which took centre stage in his front garden.
“Tiny people…you know about the tiny people?” he asked, composing himself.
“Yes I do” said Alfie.
“In that case, you’d better come in” said Mr Nicholls.
Mr Nicholls led Alfie down the hall to the kitchen. A collection of faces along the wall watched him as he followed. One in particular, he noticed, looked like Mr Nicholls but a lot younger. He was standing on his knees with two children, a boy and a girl, standing either side of him. All three were laughing.
“Take a seat Alfie” Mr Nicholls said, pointing to one of the chairs around the circular table that stood in the centre of the kitchen. Mr Nicholls sat down also.
“What do you want to say Alfie?” Mr Nicholls asked.
“I know that you have tiny people in your house and I have come to ask you to give them back” said Alfie.
Mr Nicholls frowned. It was difficult for him to understand how his next door neighbour, a boy of nine, could know about his involvement with the tiny people. Up until a few minutes ago it had been, he was certain, his secret; it had been a magical thing in his life not shared with anyone else; nobody else knew about them nor would they ever know. And now…and now here was the neighbour’s boy wanting to talk about them. They were not a secret anymore. Mr Nicholls sighed.
“Why do you want me to give them back?” Mr Nicholls asked.
“My friend, Braddle, asked me to ask you.”
“Is he a tiny person?”
“Yes” said Alfie. “A bad man is trying to take over his city. A lot of people who don’t like him have vanished. One of them is his mother. His friends are fighting back and they need the ones who have vanished to come back on Friday morning.”
“Oh my” said Mr Nicholls, shaking his head. “Does this bad man have a name?”
“Yes. I think it’s General Stoo.”
“General Stoo. Yes… I know the gentleman.”
Mr Nicholls placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands.
“If only I’d known” he said. “If only I�
�d known. In agreeing to take in these unfortunate outcasts I didn’t know I was aiding a tyrant. If I’d known I most certainly would have refused.”
“How did you agree to it?” asked Alfie.
“Well, a couple of months ago I was pottering around in the garden when I suddenly heard a voice calling to me. I got a bit spooked, I must say, because I couldn’t see anyone there but I eventually realised that the voice belonged to a tiny person who was standing in the shrubbery. We got talking and I learned that there were many more of them and that they were to set up a new home soon on the other side of the fence. They had been living on your car port roof for some time apparently. After a while this person, General Stoo he said his name was, said that certain members of their community were different to the others and were always being attacked and persecuted by their fellow citizens. He didn’t agree with it but it was impossible to stop. He asked me whether I would give these unfortunate people sanctuary. If I agreed then he and his fellow like-minded citizens would be forever in my debt. I, of course, agreed.”
“It seems a strange way to get rid of people” said Alfie. “There must be easier ways.”
“Indeed there are” said Mr Nicholls “but I can see now that it is a perfect solution to his problem. It is less messy and no trace of the people who have disappeared is left.”
“But he couldn’t be certain that you would say yes. You might have phoned the police or the government instead.”
“I agree that it was a risk on his part but I got the impression that he had been watching me for a while. I also got the impression that there had been contact with people like ourselves in the past. He seemed to know a lot about us. You haven’t told me though how you discovered them.”
“I saw them walking along our washing line” said Alfie, smiling.
“I bet that caused a bit of a stir” said Mr Nicholls, smiling also.
“A spider was attacking them and I sorted it out.”
“Good for you.”
“Yes. I threw it in to your garden” said Alfie, laughing
“Oh” said Mr Nicholls and he laughed as well.
Mr Nicholls stood up.
“Would you like to see them?”
Alfie agreed and Mr Nicholls led him in to the living room.
“I keep them in there” he said, pointing at the empty fish tank.
The tank had small plants in it. In between them there was soil and stones of different sizes. At the centre of the arrangement was an upturned, circular lid containing water. Alfie crouched down and peered through the glass. He could just make out tiny movements going on: by a plant here and by a stone over there. There were also tiny wooded structures grouped together not far from the lid, next to a large stone and a small purple flower.
“I’ll be sad to see them go” said Mr Nicholls “but I promise you that I will return them tomorrow morning.”
Alfie thanked him.
“It will be difficult, though, gathering them all together. As you can see, they could be anywhere in there.”
“How many are there?”
“There must be about two hundred. General Stoo gave me the first one when we met for the first time. It was a man. He was unconscious. He’d suffered a knock on the head. A bit of a while later they then started to come thick and fast.”
“Why don’t you explain to them what has happened and tell them they are to go home.”
“I don’t think they can hear me. Besides, General Stoo said that I shouldn’t communicate with them. The shock would kill them if they realised that a giant was looking after them.”
“Well, you will have to do what I had to do when I first started talking to Braddle” said Alfie.
“What was that?” asked Mr Nicholls.
“Write them a note.”
Alfie helped Mr Nicholls draft the letter then returned home. Before he left, he promised to let him know whether Braddle and his friends were successful in overthrowing General Stoo and, if possible, to arrange a meeting with their proper leader. He would like, he said, to apologise in person.
Though Alfie had been away longer than he had planned, his mother had not yet returned nor had his brother left his bedroom. He pushed the front door open and quietly closed it behind him. At that moment, his brother’s bedroom door squeaked open and he came down stairs.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Nothing” said Alfie.
“Why the stupid grin on your face then?”
“Oh, no reason” said Alfie. “Except, I made a promise to someone and I’ve just kept it.”