Sunday 30 August 2020

Butterglove Losses (3/5)

Editor's note

The following is part of a submission I recently received, written by Jackson Butterglove about recent events. I will not comment further, leaving his own words to explain.

Darcy Fielding

BUTTERGLOVE LOSSES

Some days ago...

It was one morning after the children had gone to school when my brother Merlin joined Cecile and I in the kitchen. He was having a day off from his job at the library so his appearance wasn't unusual. However, he had brought a letter to show us.
 

"Jack, Cess - we've received a letter from Tiberius Rivers at Sylvanian Department of Child Services. Eliza had a dental appointment so she's not seen it yet, but I had to talk to someone."


We regarded him with trepidation. Tiberius Rivers was the otter who had attempted to return Orton to the orphanage last year. .

"I thought all that was sorted," I said," and that they'd agreed Orton was to stay with you."


Merlin shook his head. "No, it's not that. They've got news about his parents."

"They've found them?"said  Cecile as we sat down at the kitchen table.


"No, Cecile. They've found the wreckage of a life raft. No sign of them, but it doesn't look good."

o 0 O 0 o

A few miles off the east coast of Sylvanian there is a string of small islands. The isles are virtually inaccessible due to a combination of freak tides and an unforgiving configuration of sharp rocks beneath the surface.  One of the nearer islands rises sharply above the sea and is known as Needle Peak. This was the place the Butterglove's life raft was found, holed upon the rocky shore.


The letter informed us that the raft was found in a rare period of favourable conditions. A search was made of Needle Peak but this didn't take long. Other than a small cave well above the tide line, there wasn't anywhere any survivors could be. Also, the isle boasted a lack of fresh water and any appreciable vegetation.
 

Merlin summarised the conclusion of the letter. "The life raft showed Martyn and Erika had been aboard, so if they're not on the island the authorities believe that they must have been claimed by the sea."


Cecile went to comfort my brother. "Do you want us there when you tell Eliza?"

"I don't know, Cess. My mind's all over the place. It was bad enough when we didn't know what had happened, but at least there was some hope."


I thought of Orton's arrival in our household and his tales of his "mamma" and "dadda". I knew Merlin and Eliza would agonize about whether or not Orton would be better off knowing his parents' fate.

As it emerged, they decided to postpone telling him. For how long, we didn't know.

o 0 O 0 o

Two days later we had a visitor. Again, the children were not present, and I suspect the visitor knew that would be the case when she chose her timing.


It was Tara Lapine-Frost. I hadn't had many dealings with her, but Cecile and her friends had been meeting her for lunch for over a year. Cecile escorted her into the living room.


"Jack," said Cecile, "This is Tara. She said she wanted a private word with you. I must admit I'm intrigued."

"Mr Butterglove. Jackson," Tara began. "I know this is unusual, but I must ask you something about your brother-in-law."

"My Rowan?" asked Cecile. "You do know him, then?"


Tara gave Cecile a pained smile. "Ah. Yes, although I didn't think it was my place to say. Maybe I was mistaken. I did meet Rowan briefly many years ago, and he recently came to see me and informed me that he'd spoken to Jackson. I now need to ask how much your husband told you about the circumstances surrounding our original meeting."


I looked at them both. Cecile returned my gaze. I was glad I'd told her everything. I addressed Tara. "Cecile knows all Rowan told me. Where you met. Your way back home."

Tara sighed. "That makes things easier. I can speak openly."


"You'd better sit down then."

As we settled down, Tara explained how Cecile had confided in her about Merlin's letter and the sad news of the Butterglove losses. She then surprised us with her reason for coming to our home.


"Now, I don't want to raise your hopes too much, but there is the slimmest chance that Orton's parents haven't perished."

o 0 O 0 o

"This isn't common knowledge, and I ask that you don't spread what I'm about to tell you, but it involves the speed tunnels beneath Sylvania."

I'd not heard the term before, but from Rowan's tales I recalled him telling me how journeys through the tunnel connecting the mountains in Central Sylvania to the mountains above Catsholme could take weeks less than a conventional journey. Speed Tunnels seemed an appropriate term.

Cecile only took a little longer to figure out the terminology; under her breath she said, "Tunnels that make journeys shorter. Yes."


"Well," continued Tara, nodding, "these tunnels are ancient and some believe their unusual property is a side effect of the roots of Sylvania binding us to the larger world. What? Oh, I suppose it's a less used term these days. By the roots of Sylvania, I mean of course the mountains. It's all theory, of course. Practically, it means there is a network of speed tunnels connecting all mountains in the land."

Cecile frowned. "We thought Rowan was exaggerating. It sounds too fantastic."

"Granted. The Sylvanian Research Group want to keep it a secret, which is common sense I suppose. Can you imagine thousands of Sylvanian critters trekking underground? Chaos. Fortunately they've been largely successful, and for years the guardianship of the tunnels has been the responsibility of..."



"The tribal cats!" I couldn't help interrupting.

Tara laughed. "Amongst others, yes."

I was beginning to see where this was going. "Is Needle Peak part of this network?"

Tara nodded. "The islands are part of an undersea mountain range. Needle Peak connects to a node at the edge of the network. There is a cave there which contains a portal."

Cecile was up to speed. "And you think that Orton's parents have gone through this portal thing?"


"I don't know. I'm going from what you told me. You said that they are field scientists and by all indications they reached the isle. Would they be desperate enough to re-enter the sea? Without trying to fix and make use of the life raft? It doesn't sound logical to me. Taking shelter in the cave makes more sense. If I was in that situation I'd be searching for items to use as tools. Now, if they found the crystal that opens the portal..."

"Crystal?" This was news to me.

"Part of the natural mechanism. Because the Needle Peak portal is so isolated, the security on the crystal is minimal."

Cecile waved this technical information aside. "How could we find out if Orton's parents used it?"

"I'm familiar with the place. It's been a few years but I've collected mineral salts from the shoreline. If we went, maybe we could find evidence of their passing."

"We?" I stared at her.


"Having assistance would help me."

Cecile chipped in. "What about Rowan? He's got more experience of this sort of thing."

I looked at my wife. Offering her beloved brother over me? I was warmed by her love.

Tara shook her head. "No. Not Rowan. The Mist Cat Tribe have long since realised that Rowan wasn't at fault for the portal error in the human world. Nevertheless, there's a trust issue. They haven't forgotten that he took an unauthorised journey after they welcomed him. Now, I've got reasonable authority but they'd frown upon me taking your brother. Your husband seems more... stable."


She looked at me to see my response. I was uncertain. It didn't sound the sort if thing I'd do. And yet, the chance of finding Orton's parents alive was tempting. I looked at Cecile. She met my gaze and there was a moment's silence whilst she considered. A slight nod.


I sighed. "Tell me what's involved. "

o 0 O 0 o

The following morning was busy. Cecile and I casually informed the children that I was going out of town and I might not be back home when they returned home. I forestalled Beverley's curiosity by telling her that, as my firstborn, she should look after her mummy. She liked this idea, and wondered if she could extend her responsibility.


"Am I in charge of Brendan too?" she asked, eyes bright.

"That's mummy's job, pudding," I said, "Just concentrate on your mum. That'll make me happy."

When Tara had left to cycle home she suggested that, when we met the next day, I should abandon my customary shirt and jacket and wear something more practical. Cecile said she would sort me out, finding clothes more suitable for less artistic pursuits. I had an old hat which I used to like wearing so I dug that out too.

That explained my attire when I boarded the Rose of Sylvania II to take advantage of a scheduled canal journey towards Catsholme. Every morning the canal boat brought fresh milk from Blackberry Orchards where the Buttercup family supervised the harvesting of lactolia fruit. Captain Mungo McCavity was happy to take passengers on the return journey.

Tara would meet me on a stop point before I reached there.



Mungo remarked upon my new look as we moved to the cabin.

"New job, Jackson?" he chuckled,



Tara had suggested a cover-story but it didn't feel appropriate. I was uncomfortable with blatant deception so I needed to counter with something that I could live with. I gave myself a few seconds to form a response whilst I settled onto one of the bench seats.

"I'm going to check out the some caves that I've been told about. I understand the acoustics can inspire musicians but they're not the place for good clothes."



Not exactly a lie, so I didn't feel too bad when Mungo nodded sagely.

"Well, make sure you choose one without too many echoes. Will you need a guide?"


"Tara Lapine-Frost has agreed to show me. I met her through Cecile, and Tara collects minerals for her work."

"Ah, I know Tara. Clever lady. Didn't know she knew Cecile." He seemed satisfied with my explanation and for a moment I thought he had finished when he turned away to signal to his first mate Wordsworth Keats at the rudder.


However, once this was done, he returned his attention to me.

"While I remember, my Uncle Artimus was asking about Eliza. How's she doing with the orphan?"

I stopped myself staring at him. Was it coincidence he was clumsily referring to young Orton? I was relieved when he clarified his question.



"The young mountain hog he brought her years ago. What did she call it? Sparky?"

"Snorker," I smiled. "Oh, he's part of the family. Always puts people in a good mood."


"Good to know. I'll tell my uncle."

He left to attend to his captaining. I sighed and anticipated the tasks awaiting me when I stepped ashore.

o 0 O 0 o


Tara was waiting as I disembarked. Seeing us together, Mungo waved, and before long the Rose of Sylvania II continued its journey.



"Ready, Jackson?" she said, nodding in approval at my clothes. "You look better prepared."

I had been thinking about this. Whilst Tara had seemed convinced I was the right person for the job I later realised she had skimmed over the details. I now thought a better explanation was due.

"I confess I'm not completely ready," I said, "as I'm still unclear how I can help. I've never actually met Orton's parents."


"It shouldn't matter. You're related so that should be enough. But that's not why I thought you'd be ideal for this task. It's your musical skills."

"I don't understand."

"I didn't say before as I didn't want to worry Cecile unnecessarily."

"Worry? Are we talking danger here?"

"No. You don't need to be concerned. It's just that we will be following less common paths when we first use the speed tunnels."

"Oh?"

"It's rare that anyone approaches that part of the tunnel network leading to Needle Peak. Also, I'm proposing that - even before then - we use routes where we're less likely to bump into any of the Guardians."

I had a bad feeling. "Why? Didn't you say you had authority to go through the tunnels?"

"I do. You don't."

"Then why am I here?"


"Some parts of the journey have nodes where two people are needed to pass through. If you weren't here, then I'd have to involve the Guardians in our investigations. Since all we want to do is check if Orton's parents entered the tunnel network, that would be an unnecessary delay."

"Wouldn't the trail be cold anyway?"

Tara shrugged. "Who knows? Look, Jackson. I know you're uncomfortable doing this, but it's perfectly safe if you follow my instructions."

"You mentioned needing my musical skills."


"Yes. Some nodes have a pair of crystal locks to open internal portals. These are additional security measures, and - who knows - maybe the Rowan incident helped influence the desire to put these in place. When I use my key to deal with one crystal, the other will resonate. Without a second key, the second person - you - will need to listen to the crystal. It will be quiet but it's possible to rotate the crystal in its bed and hear different musical frequencies. The combination of your musical ear and the paw dexterity you've gained from your piano playing means a second key isn't necessary."

I stared at her. She wanted me to twiddle and listen to humming crystals?


"It's not every node. If it were, then Orton's parents would be isolated in the vicinity of Needle Peak."

"Presuming that they weren't lost at sea; that they entered the tunnels."

"Presuming that, yes. But we won't find out by waiting here." She turned and started to walk away, pausing after a few steps to look over her shoulder. "You coming?"



She was a strong-willed woman. Nothing wrong with that. And necessary, in this case. Besides, I had come so far...

"Okay. I'll trust you. Lead on."

She smiled and continued to walk. "Good. You'll do fine. Follow me."


We didn't walk all of the remaining distance to Catsholme. We followed a path into the foothills and Tara directed me to a narrow pass. She told me that this was less travelled route to a place where we'd find a wide vertical crack between two rock faces. Within this natural shaft we would find a pair of balanced platforms. They were weighted in such a way that we could ascend to a higher level of the mountain with minimal effort. Apparently the platforms were used to help transport goods.



Hidden from view we made the ascent and emerged to step out onto a large flat rock. It extended to a point where the mountain continued to rise and an outcrop threw this area into shadow. I didn't see anything until Tara pointed but here we would find the cave entrance we sought.


"That's our way in. Please say you're not having second thoughts, Jackson."

"I'm on my fifteenth thoughts at the moment. Let's go before the number increases."

She slapped me on the back. "Good man."

We walked into the shadow.



(to be continued)

o 0 O 0 o


  

Saturday 15 August 2020

Jackson Butterglove is Missing (2/5)

Hi, it's me again. Darcy. Sorry if you were expecting Jackson. There's still been no sign of him these past few days. I had meant to visit Cecile, but work got in the way. I know that's no excuse. I felt even more guilty when I had a visitor at my house over the weekend. It was Christian Snow-Warren. Jackson's best friend and songwriting partner.


I was relaxing with my family. Bridget - my wife - accuses me of being a bit of a workaholic so insists that our weekends are kept free from our newspaper business. It's a little more difficult with my eldest, Una, pursuing reporting as part of her schoolwork but we do our best. Christian's arrival caused Bridget to give me a warning stare. I knew what that meant. A newspaper no-no. But this white rabbit wasn't here about a story. It was about Jackson Butterglove.


Another "look" from Bridget, then she ushered the children out of the room, Una frowning, undoubtedly wondering if she was missing a scoop for the school newspaper. The door closed, leaving me alone with Christian. He didn't waste time.


"Darcy - I'm worried about Jackson. No one's seen him for days."

I frowned. It wasn't just me who had missed him. Christian continued.


"We were due to meet yesterday to finalise the arrangement of the most recent song we wrote. We were to send it off to... well, that doesn't matter. The point is, Jack doesn't miss these sort of things."

This had echoes of the feelings I had when Jackson missed the last "Life in Mellowdene" schedule. It seemed that wasn't an isolated oversight.

"Go on, Christian."


A grim smile. "Call me Chris, Darcy. You've known me long enough. You went to school with Clary and Jack, and this isn't a time to be formal."

I nodded and indicated he should continue.

"I went to see Cecile, but I barely got in the door. I had the impression she didn't want to talk to me, but she finally said Jack was away on a job. This isn't like her at all. Frankly, I'm worried."


"She was very brief when I phoned her," I agreed, "but you haven't said why you've come to see me; how you think I can help."

"Well, if Jack is away on a job, I know it's nothing to do with our business. Certainly not the contract we're working on. And I phoned Bernard Sellars about the advertising work. No joy there. And then I remembered that he does some writing work for you. But from your response so far I'm guessing he's not away on any job you've given him."

"No."

"Then I'm stumped. Jackson appears to be missing." He moved to the window as if he hoped to see his friend appear.


"You may be right," I said, "but we need to persevere with Cecile. If there is a real issue, we can suggest approaching the Sheriff."


"I suppose so," he mused, turning back. "Hopefully he won't be too busy."

I raised my brow. Christian explained.


"My brother contacted Bisto Wildwood about Tara Lapine-Frost - his lady friend - as she apparently missed an appointment with him. To me it seemed a bit of an overreaction for Nigel to report this to the Sheriff, yet he must have his reasons. Love, maybe. But you're right. Jack's situation seems more unusual."


I recalled Tara featuring in one of Jackson's tales about Rowan. "You don't think the disappearances are related?"

"Don't see how. But will you come with me to see Cecile?"


I nodded. "Just let me have a quick word with Bridget and I'll be with you."

o 0 O 0 o

By the time we reached Butterglove House we had discussed how we should approach Cecile.  I suggested subtlety might work best. We both had the impression she was hiding something. The question was, did this relate to Jackson's absence?.


Beverley let us in. She volunteered some information before we asked.


"Hello Uncle Chris, Mister Fielding," she said, "If you're here to see my dad, he's out of town. Mum says it's an urgent job."

I didn't want to interrogate the girl too stringently but it seemed too good an opportunity to waste. "No, it's your mum we've come to see. Although it's interesting about your dad. Do you know where he's gone?" 


"No, sorry, I don't. He said he didn't want to say much as things weren't settled yet. He said to look after mum while he was away."

"And your mum hasn't said anything?"

"No. She's hugged us a lot, though."

As she took us into their living room, Christian asked the question I was about to pose.

"When did your daddy go, Bev?"


She smiled faintly in response. I assumed that it was something to do with the name abbreviation; being treated more as an adult. I recognised her facial expression. My son Daniel likes me calling him Dan as he usually associates this with me trusting him with some minor responsibility. Beverley adopted an expression of confidentiality.


"It was four mornings ago, but between you and me Uncle Chris, I don't think mummy expected him to be away this long. So we're taking care of her. Like daddy asked."

"That's very good of you. Your daddy will be proud."

I thought I'd better move things along. "Your Uncle Chris is right. But we do need to speak privately with your mummy. If that's all right."


"Of course, Mister Fielding," she said with a short nod and an air of importance. Moving to leave us alone in the living room she leaned towards me in passing and whispered, "He's not my real uncle you know. We just call him that."

I suppressed a smile, whispering back. "Understood. Thanks for telling me."


When she had gone I turned to Christian. "What do you make of that, Chris?"

He frowned. "Jack said 'he didn't want to say much as things aren't settled yet.' What could that mean?"

"He probably didn't want the children knowing what he was going to do."

"Maybe. Let's hope Cecile will tell us."

o 0 O 0 o

We didn't have too long to wait. She entered, pausing to shoo Beverley away and waiting until she had gone. She nodded a greeting to me and then addressed Christian. Her voice was quiet.


"Twice in one day, Chris?  If it's about Jackson, I thought I'd explained."

He dropped his head, slowly shaking it in contradiction. "Not really, Cess. Away on a job? Away where? What job? For how long?" His voice hardened as he spoke.


I closed my eyes. So much for subtlety.

"Oh," said Cecile, clearly taken aback by Christian's uncharacteristic behaviour, "this isn't like you, Chris."

"I'm sorry, Cess, but we're worried. Jackson disappearing isn't like him. And your recent behaviour isn't like you."


I noticed Cecile's eyes. They were a little bit red. I decided to intervene. "Cecile, we're worried about both of you. Have you been crying?"

She turned her unhappy face towards me. "Darcy, I appreciate your concern, but it's a family matter. Please leave it." She moved past us, perhaps in an attempt to close the subject.


Christian wasn't prepared to do that. "I thought we were close enough to share our problems. Darcy could step outside..." - I frowned at him at this - "...and I can go and get Charity if that helps. Or what about Eliza? You've always called her the sister you never had."


"No! Not Eliza. She can't know."

"So there is something. Come on Cess. I'm really worried now. We'd even thought of calling the Sheriff when he's done with Tara."

"Bisto Wildwood is involved?"

My mind whirred. I needed to follow my instinct so said, "Not with Jackson. Not unless Tara's disappearance is connected. Is it, Cecile?"


Christian regarded me in confusion. I continued.

"Is it something to do with Rowan? And tunnels?"

Cecile stared at me. "What has Jackson said?"


"Let's just say I know of Rowan's link with Tara."

Christian interrupted. "Wait a minute. What's Rowan got to do with this? What link?"

Cecile sighed in resignation. "I don't want the children to come in and hear what I'm saying."

"That's easily sorted," said Christian, and he went to the door, closed it, turned and leant his back upon it. He gestured with his paw for Cecile to continue. With a further sigh she did.


"Rowan's not directly involved but he's part of the reason I've been keeping things quiet. Jackson and Tara have gone off together - and before anyone jumps to the wrong conclusion, no. Not like that."

Christian shook his head, saying - barely audibly - that he'd never think that.


Her voice became earnest. "It does concern Merlin and Eliza, so they can't know until Jack returns with the information. It's been dreadful, keeping quiet. You can't say anything."

"If it's that important," I said. "But how long is Jackson likely to be away?"

"It was supposed to be less than a day," she replied, and I could see her eyes glistening.

"And 'away' where, Cess?" Christian pressed.


The tears came. "Oh  I don't know, Chris. I suppose it could be anywhere. It's awful. What am I to tell the children?"

Without warning an eager living room door hit Christian's back. He staggered forward a few inches and we stopped talking.


The door opened a little more - slower this time  - and Brendan popped his head through the gap. He peered at the rabbit obstructing his passage, a curious expression upon his face.


"Ooh, sorry Uncle Chris," he said, then he addressed the rest of us. "Thought you might like to know - the Sheriff's van has pulled up outside. I'm going to see what he wants."


Cecile shot to her feet, wiping her eyes, calling, "No Brendan..." but he had already gone.


Seconds later, we heard the front door open. We stared at each other, not knowing what to expect.


o 0 O 0 o

(to be continued)

Editor's note
"What's this?" you may ask. Why is Darcy acting as editor to his own writing? Well, it's a good question. I thought some sort of explanation was needed - to address why I stopped writing this piece at such a critical point. 

There will be some questioning my decision to stop just when we might be finding out what happened to Jackson.

Well, the answer is simple. I'm a newspaperman. Always thinking of the next issue. "Leave 'em wanting more."

Am I being cold-hearted? 

Take heart. I'm a Sylvanian.

Darcy Fielding: Editor

o 0 O 0 o