Going Home (5/5)

(continued from The Routes of Sylvania)

Leaving the mountains behind us - which was a relief to me - we navigated the passages through the foothills until we reached the side of the canal. Pausing, Tara examined her watch.

"The boat's not due for over an hour. I can wait with you or we could go to my house for a cup of tea. It's only a five minute walk, and you could telephone Cecile to put her mind at rest."

I nodded. "That sounds good. And you'll have people you need to contact."

"Nigel mainly," she agreed. "We had an informal meeting arranged. I hope he didn't over react when I didn't turn up. He's a lovely man and I don't like to think he worried too much."

We started to walk to the canal bridge and I regarded her as she continued to speak about Nigel Snow-Warren. It was a little odd. She clearly loved him but I had the impression she wasn't used to relationships. Was she as work obsessive as Orton's parents? I hoped not.

She had put my mind to rest on one point. Getting in touch with her contacts at the Sylvanian Research Group she would make them aware of the situation we had unearthed. She was certain they would ensure that Erika and Martyn Burroughs would not be declared missing presumed dead, nor would their location be publicised. This gave Merlin and Eliza more options.

When the path joined the roadway to Tara's house a blue vehicle passed us, stopped and reversed until it reached us again. It was the Sheriff's van, and Bisto Wildwood regarded us curiously before he got out.

He nodded at me, and to his credit my clothes didn't get a reaction. 

"Jackson," was all he said in greeting before shifting his attention to Tara.

"Miss Lapine-Frost, you've got people worried about you. Nigel has been calling me two or three times a day to see if I've found you."

Tara didn't get flustered, but that didn't surprise me. What did surprise me was the persona she exhibited when she responded.

"Oh, I'm so sorry Sheriff. It was silly of me," she said with an embarrassed giggle, "my work took me away at short notice and I totally forgot I had an appointment. Am I in big trouble?"

Bisto half-closed one eye, and I had the impression that he was trying to assess this smiling rabbit, glowing with apparent innocence. Eventually his face relaxed and he smiled, shaking his head.

"No miss, but please would you telephone Nigel Snow-Warren and put his mind at rest?"

"I'm going home right now, Sheriff. It's the first thing I'll do. Only..."

"Yes?"

"Are you're going back to the village now?"

Bisto's eye narrowed again, reestablishing his curious attitude. He strung out a single word. "Yes?"

"It's just that Mister Butterglove has got a long wait until the canal boat arrives. Do you think you could give him a lift home? It would be very kind of you and I'm sure he'd be grateful." She continued to beam at the Sheriff.

I stared at her. Bisto stared at her. Then we looked at each other. Then Bisto spoke.

"Okay."

o 0 O 0 o

Driving along, Bisto and I sat in silence. I deduced that, unlike Tara, nobody had reported me missing. This generated an odd combination of relief and feeling unwanted, yet my mind was primarily occupied trying to formulate a believable reason for being close to Catsholme. Without lying too much.

I needn't have bothered. Bisto's mind was elsewhere. This was evidenced when he eventually broke the silence.

"Unusual woman."

"Yes."

"Is it odd that I actually felt a bit scared of her?"

"I can empathise."

"Nigel must be a complex person."

"Hmm."

The journey continued.

o 0 O 0 o

 
When the Sheriff's van came to a stop outside Butterglove House, I looked through the window. I thought I saw Brendan in an upstairs room but he disappeared from my sight fairly quickly.

Leaving the van I leaned in to thank Bisto for the lift. He was returning to his normal self, acknowledging my gratitude.

"That's okay, Jackson. Say hello to Cecile from me. Oh, and nice hat, by the way."

I watched the van drive away then walked up my front path.

When I reached to open my front door someone beat me to it. Brendan stared at me - I guess my clothing threw him momentarily off balance - and then a wide grin spread over his cheeky face. He gave me a welcome hug then stood back to regard me critically.

"Hi dad. You look cool. Wait 'til Uncle Chris and Mister Fielding see you."

I hadn't expected to be greeted by anyone other than Cecile and the children, but I suppose my prolonged absence had made that scenario less likely. I wanted to hug and kiss my family but... never mind "but". I would. I reached down and gently pushed Brendan indoors despite his repeated attempts to peer around me.

"No, Brendan," I said, answering his query, "Sheriff Wildwood just gave me a lift in his van. Now let me go and see your mum."

"Yeah, do that. I'll get Beverley," he replied, then ran into the depths of the house. I removed my hat and shook my head with amusement - it was good to be home - and walked on, pausing once I'd entered the living room.

Cecile, Chris and Darcy were clearly surprised at my entrance. Time seemed to slow down briefly, but my perceptions returned to normal when Cecile called out, her voice choked. She rushed towards me, and I to her, meeting to envelop each other in our arms.

"Jack, oh Jack," she began, but words were not important. We held each other until I became aware of Darcy and Chris standing to one side, silly smiles on their faces. Of course, they were not the only ones waiting. Brendan and Beverley were patiently waiting for their cuddles. Cecile and I separated and held out our arms to them.

Home.

o 0 O 0 o

Eventually, the levels of emotion became manageable. We convinced the children to leave the adults to talk, asking them to fetch Merlin and Eliza then take Russell to another room to play.

I thought it unfair to exclude Darcy and Chris from the explanations I was to give despite Tara's suggestions regarding secrecy. Of course, Darcy already knew some aspects from these "Life in Mellowdene" pieces, but it would be new to Chris. I didn't care. I believed my best friend deserved to be brought into our little group. As for Merlin and Eliza, it was necessary as they were affected. This didn't mean I would need to go into every detail at this stage.

The six of us settled and I began.

First, I double-checked that neither Merlin nor Eliza had spoken to Orton about his parents' suspected death. As per my suggestion they hadn't. At this point I outlined the reason for my recent absence and told them that there was reason to hope Martyn and Erika were still alive, and that people were searching for them. It wasn't exactly a lie. Misdirection certainly. People had been searching for them. A reveal of the full truth could wait.

Unsurprisingly everyone wanted more details. This took longer.

Eliza was aware of Rowan's tale of "The Land of Men"; like me, her brother Denzel had heard the tale first-hand, and again like me, upon hearing it she had dismissed it as a tale of fiction. Merlin hadn't originally paid much interest to Denzel's excited re-telling, but with my independent verification of the "speed tunnels", he started to remember folk tales he'd read in Hansel's Museum. One of his observations struck me.

"Early spoken stories used the term Roots of Sylvania, which everyone took to mean the mountains. I wonder if this should have been Routes of Sylvania and they were transcribed incorrectly."

I could see my brother re-reading old documents to satisfy his curiosity. I suspect Eliza had similar thoughts when she turned to Merlin and mouthed, "Not a priority, love."

Chris surprised me most. He didn't exhibit the slightest incredulity at the concept or existence of speed tunnels. He merely wanted to know who else knew about the tunnels. Did all the hill cats know? Did I think Tara would tell his brother about our experiences? Questions I could not answer with any degree of confidence.

All recognised that, irrespective of how many people already knew, we had a responsibility not to increase that number.

After all the discussions about the miraculous network of speed tunnels, Eliza brought us back to common sense matters.

"As far as Orton's concerned, I don't believe it makes any difference to what we should tell him," she said. "Despite the letter from Tiberius Rivers we couldn't have been totally certain his parents had drowned. And now, even though it's more likely they're alive, we have no idea when or if they will return. Either way it is kinder to keep quiet. I don't want to upset our little lad."

Our little lad. The phrase made me wonder how Eliza and my brother would cope if Orton's parents did return. Or Orton. I even wondered if my journey with Tara into the routes of Sylvania had been a good idea. Had we kicked a wasps' nest? Either way, I had put Cecile to an awful lot of worry.

As our visitors left - Darcy and Chris to their respective homes, Merlin and Eliza migrating to their side of our house - I glanced at Cecile. We needed something to put this stressful time behind us. It appeared I wasn't the only one to think that way. Cecile took hold of my paw.

"I was beginning to think I'd lost you, Jack."

"I'm sorry, my love."

"We need to do something together. Something fun."

"I'm open to suggestions."

"You remember our first date?"

"You're not suggesting I wear a suit of armour?"

"No, my darling idiot. I was thinking of bubble bath."

"The beetroot bubble bath! Staining Rowan bright pink! That was funny."

"Who could we prank?"

"Cecile! You're..."

"Naughty?"

I kissed her. "No. Perfect."

o 0 O 0 o

Editor's note

Given the stressful experiences of Jackson and Cecile over this past week, I think they are due a holiday. At the very least, I shall take over the Life in Mellowdene writing for a time. Hopefully a short time.

Darcy Fielding