down and all the long dark night ahead. The television voiceover broke in on her thoughts, ‘ . . . and it is a fact, an absolute fact, that there are creatures on the surface of this earth that have never been observed by man . . .’ Midge glanced up. ‘There are other worlds – worlds within this world – that we can only begin to imagine. We may think we have seen all that there is to be seen on this tiny planet of ours. We most certainly have not – and perhaps we never shall.’
The words were a comfort. She held them to her, as the credits scrolled up the screen. ‘ . . .
there are other worlds – worlds within this world . . . creatures on this planet that have never been seen by man
. . .’
‘Uncle Brian, I think I’ll go to bed now. I’m really tired.’
‘OK, poppet. You do that. You haven’t had much to eat, though. Is everything all right?’
‘Yes. I’m just tired.’
‘Off you go then and get some rest. Sleep tight.’
‘ ’Night, Uncle Brian.’
‘ ’Night, Midge. God bless.’ Brian watched the girl leave the room and wondered, not for the first time, whether it had been a good idea to agree to look after her for the holidays. It must be so odd for her, after London and the life she was used to. He wasn’t much company for her, but then how many middle-aged men
would
be company for a twelve-year-old? She seemed happy, on the whole – though she had certainly looked absolutely washed out tonight. Well, George and Katie would be here in a few days and perhaps she would have a bit more fun then. Poor old thing, life was pretty dull for her at present.
Midge clambered into bed and took off her watch. She placed it on her bedside cabinet and looked at it from the delicious softness of her pillow. The pale blue strap and outer casing were still stained and grubby from the day’s events. Everything that had happened to her, had also happened to her watch. Everything she had seen, the watch had seen. The marks and scratches, the tiny flecks of blood and oil, were a diary of her day. Proof that she had been there. Like the army campaign medals of her grandad, her dad’s father, which Mum let her play with sometimes. Her watch was like a medal. How strange it was.
But the strangest thing of all, in some ways, and the last thought in her head as she fell asleep, was the business with the heifers. She was really, really frightened of cows. They terrified her. Or they had done . . . till today.
Chapter Six
LITTLE-MARTEN TOOK A short run up, flapped hard, and gained the lowest branch of the Rowdy-Dow tree – the dead beech that stood in the south-western corner of Counsel Clearing. He swarmed up the trunk, using the rough footholds that had been hacked into the hard dry wood, and swung himself up onto the Perch – the broken limb that jutted out about twenty feet above the ground. Sitting astride the Perch, he drew the heavy clavensticks from his jerkin and made himself ready, awaiting the signal from Aken, his captain, on the ground below.
Aken stood at the base of the Rowdy-Dow tree, and kept an eye on the Royal Pod, which swung gently, like a great wicker beehive, among the lower limbs of the Royal Oak on the other side of the clearing. The painted oilcloth flap remained drawn across the circular entrance. Maglin had been in there for some time. Aken wondered whether the General was having trouble in persuading the Queen of the urgent need for a meeting. Ba-betts had grown weaker in the brain of late. Her temper was uncertain. Maglin would need much patience if Ba-betts was in one of her black humours – and Maglin was not long on patience. Aken waited apprehensively.
Finally, the gorgeously decorated oilcloth was drawn aside and the Ickri General appeared at the entrance of the wicker pod, briefly glancing down at the four winged guards who stood at the base of the Royal Oak. Maglin turned momentarily, bowed in the entranceway, then opened his wings and launched
The words were a comfort. She held them to her, as the credits scrolled up the screen. ‘ . . .
there are other worlds – worlds within this world . . . creatures on this planet that have never been seen by man
. . .’
‘Uncle Brian, I think I’ll go to bed now. I’m really tired.’
‘OK, poppet. You do that. You haven’t had much to eat, though. Is everything all right?’
‘Yes. I’m just tired.’
‘Off you go then and get some rest. Sleep tight.’
‘ ’Night, Uncle Brian.’
‘ ’Night, Midge. God bless.’ Brian watched the girl leave the room and wondered, not for the first time, whether it had been a good idea to agree to look after her for the holidays. It must be so odd for her, after London and the life she was used to. He wasn’t much company for her, but then how many middle-aged men
would
be company for a twelve-year-old? She seemed happy, on the whole – though she had certainly looked absolutely washed out tonight. Well, George and Katie would be here in a few days and perhaps she would have a bit more fun then. Poor old thing, life was pretty dull for her at present.
Midge clambered into bed and took off her watch. She placed it on her bedside cabinet and looked at it from the delicious softness of her pillow. The pale blue strap and outer casing were still stained and grubby from the day’s events. Everything that had happened to her, had also happened to her watch. Everything she had seen, the watch had seen. The marks and scratches, the tiny flecks of blood and oil, were a diary of her day. Proof that she had been there. Like the army campaign medals of her grandad, her dad’s father, which Mum let her play with sometimes. Her watch was like a medal. How strange it was.
But the strangest thing of all, in some ways, and the last thought in her head as she fell asleep, was the business with the heifers. She was really, really frightened of cows. They terrified her. Or they had done . . . till today.
Chapter Six
LITTLE-MARTEN TOOK A short run up, flapped hard, and gained the lowest branch of the Rowdy-Dow tree – the dead beech that stood in the south-western corner of Counsel Clearing. He swarmed up the trunk, using the rough footholds that had been hacked into the hard dry wood, and swung himself up onto the Perch – the broken limb that jutted out about twenty feet above the ground. Sitting astride the Perch, he drew the heavy clavensticks from his jerkin and made himself ready, awaiting the signal from Aken, his captain, on the ground below.
Aken stood at the base of the Rowdy-Dow tree, and kept an eye on the Royal Pod, which swung gently, like a great wicker beehive, among the lower limbs of the Royal Oak on the other side of the clearing. The painted oilcloth flap remained drawn across the circular entrance. Maglin had been in there for some time. Aken wondered whether the General was having trouble in persuading the Queen of the urgent need for a meeting. Ba-betts had grown weaker in the brain of late. Her temper was uncertain. Maglin would need much patience if Ba-betts was in one of her black humours – and Maglin was not long on patience. Aken waited apprehensively.
Finally, the gorgeously decorated oilcloth was drawn aside and the Ickri General appeared at the entrance of the wicker pod, briefly glancing down at the four winged guards who stood at the base of the Royal Oak. Maglin turned momentarily, bowed in the entranceway, then opened his wings and launched
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