The Music

With the distraction of the heatwave essentially over - a thunderstorm, sporadic rainfall, welcome summer breezes - the temperature was almost down to the seasonal levels with which we are familiar. We could return to normal life.

It's been an interesting week. In a nice way, too. As far as I'm concerned, that's always likely when music is involved. It probably won't surprise you to learn that I have three primary loves in my life - family, friends and music.

Yes. "The Music" has been there as long as I remember.

 

I didn't start my working life as a songwriter, but it wasn't long before I opted for that career full time.

Before I properly met Cecile, I had a working association with her brother Burdock Rowan Ivory and we were becoming friends. Whilst at Jimbo's Coffee Bar late one afternoon he saw that I'd scribbled some music notes on a napkin. Apparently I was humming the tune I was composing.

"Sounds good, Jack," he said. "You enjoy doing that, I can tell. Shame you can't do it full time."

I had already thought that. Merlin had even said that I should.

"Look at it this way, little brother," he had said. "I've got my dream job working at the library. Newton's now a Professor and he says he's been offered work outside Mellowdene that would stretch his brain. Why should you be the only brother who isn't doing what he was meant to do?"

 

I had dismissed this at the time, under the impression I needed to be a responsible bunny. It took the poetry of Christian Snow-Warren and his suggestion that we could work on a project together before I truly saw the possibilities. Maybe it could be a career.
The music was part of me. Why deny it?

But this doesn't really explain my interesting week. Merely why I was interested.

o 0 O 0 o

It started with a telephone call from Grant Foxworth, the producer of the musical that Chris and I had been working on for the past year. The date of the premiere was set. We were invited to attend and had apparently been assigned a number of tickets that we could use for friends or family. 

 

Cecile was excited of course. After much enthusiasm and lots of hugs and kisses she disappeared to share her glee with Eliza. Merlin would learn from her rather than me, but I didn't mind.

When I told Darcy Fielding the next day, he slapped me on the back.

"That's brilliant, Jackson. Of course, I'll be reporting on it for the Examiner. It's big news for Mellowdene - worthy of a front page story. Now, down to practicalities. How will you travel there? I expect you'll have a sizeable entourage?"

 

I hadn't thought about it. I'd just been enjoying the euphoria of my family. Darcy was, as ever, practical and happy to take charge. He settled back on the garden bench and regarded me.

"You haven't had a chance to consider that, I can tell," he said. "Well, don't worry about it, my friend. Darcy will sort it. I'll go and see Eustace Truffle at Mellowdene Van Hire. He's got close links with the Woodland Bus Company. We can charter a bus. All go together."

Things were moving despite the premiere not being imminent. Darcy likes to be ahead of the game.

 

 

o 0 O 0 o

The next interesting news item was a visit at the weekend from Angelica Ivory. Rowan had taken on another odd job - I didn’t ask - so maybe she was missing the unique personality of her husband. 

 

She had accompanied her twins, Aster and Figwort, who are - it is to be said - spending a little more of their spare time at our house. Aster's friendship with Beverley has grown steadily since the initial wariness of their first meeting and she is now an integral part of the core group that also contains Biddie Butterglove and Lena Dandelion. As previously documented, Figwort has grown from the shy, almost secretive little boy we first encountered. He now visits to play with Brendan, Orton and Lucky Snow-Warren on most days after school. And that's not all - but I'll return to that later. First, his mum Angelica Ivory.

"I'm glad I've caught you on your own, Jackson," she said. "Aster and Figgy are enjoying some warm chocolate pudding in the kitchen. I know it might spoil their evening meal, but I don't begrudge them the occasional treat."

I nodded. "Frasier has given Cecile some chunks of cooking chocolate - a new blend - as a thank you for some cake decorating she did. I'm looking forward to some pudding  after my teatime."

 

"Yes, yes," said Angelica, clearly eager to tell me something before the children made an appearance. "I just wanted to personally thank you, Jackson. Jack. And to apologise. It's been long overdue."

I raised my brows and she must have noticed my confusion. She indicated that we should sit before moving on to her explanation..

 

"Last year and the whole thing about Beverley, the mayor and the painting. I got carried away, was totally unfair putting your sweet daughter in that position, and for... manipulating you in the first place, I'm truly sorry."

"Manipulating me?"

"A little. Rowan made me see. He loves you like a brother, you know. Underneath all that joking and stuff. When we decided to move back to Mellowdene after him being away so long, he told me that it wasn't just Cecile he missed. He respects you too."

I didn't really know what to say. I said something like, "Oh. Right. We care for him too. He's a... loon..."

Not an entirely appropriate sentiment to express, but Angelica laughed.

"Yes he is. My lovely loon."

She paused. "But the reason I want to thank you is for Figwort. How he's changed this past few months. Rowan always said that Figwort looked sad at times but I never saw it. I must have been a terrible mother..."

"No Angelica. You have lovely childen. I can't accept that about you."

"Well, maybe that is an exaggeration. But I don't know how I missed it. Now, thanks to you, Figgy's opened like a flower. He has settled. He's visibly happy. And he's always talking about his Uncle Jack."

She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. "Thank you." 

 

She turned to go, then paused. "He sang in class the other day. That's the first time he's had confidence to do anything like that."

She left the room. I was... well, I don't know what I was. Angelica's revelations had thrown me. I didn't have long to examine my feelings as a smiling face appeared at the door.

"Uncle Jack!"

 

It was Figwort.

o 0 O 0 o

Angelica had confirmed something I suspected. Figwort did like his Uncle Jack. There was supplementary evidence of this.

It was clear the lad enjoyed his after-school visits to play with Brendan, but he didn't change his habit on Thursdays when Brendan didn't come straight home. On this day my boy was attending a drama club at the Furbanks' house. (Apparently this activity began as a consequence of the talent show a few months back. Kenneth Furbanks had been impressed with Brendan's story there.) Figwort decided that was an opportunity for him to come and see me.

It soon became obvious that he was fascinated with making music. In retrospect, I remembered him wandering to the end of the room to stare at my piano. Later, he would quietly hum or sing along to tunes I played. The news that he'd had the confidence to sing in class was wonderful, but I guess it was bound to happen at some point.

He had started to ask questions about music theory. The first time was a surprise. He had pointed to one of the black notes on the piano.

"Is that a G flat?" he had asked.

"It is indeed," I had smiled.

"But isn't it an F sharp too?"

I had laughed and confirmed his confusion. He wanted to know how that could be, so I'd tried to explain in simple terms. I don't think I did a great job, but Figgy seemed satisfied.  

I wondered what he would ask now. 

 

 

o 0 O 0 o

"Mummy didn't ask you if you'd like to work at the school, did she?" he said as he settled by my side. "I said she shouldn't; that you were too busy."

I shook my head. "Was that a possibility, Figgy?" 

"Mmm. She's been talking with my daddy about changes that might happen at the school. Has been for a few weeks."

I knew something was brewing. Darcy had told me that his daughter's project last Mellowdene Day had unexpectedly motivated the teaching staff to discuss changes to the curriculum. Despite some intentions to write about Dotty Dappledawn, Una Fielding had succumbed to her original ideas and highlighted weaknesses and suggested improvements to lesson planning.

"And that includes more formal music education?" I asked.

Figgy nodded. "I think it's just one idea. But I don't want it to stop you songwriting."

I wanted to hug him. He really was a sweet young boy. 

"You think it could do?"

"Trying to teach all the classes would be a lot of work. More than just teaching me."

I hadn't realised it until that moment, but I was teaching him - sort of. It was so easy, because of his voracious interest. I doubt a class full of children would ever approach his desire to learn music. I made a decision there and then.

"Figgy - would you like me to teach you to read music properly?"

 

His eyes shone. "Really?"

"I suspect you already have an inkling. I would have offered to teach you the piano, but you don't have anywhere to practise."

His mouth dropped open. Then, realising this, he regained some degree of composure.

 

"Well, Uncle Jack... maybe you could teach me a little bit. Mummy might let me use the piano at school..."

o 0 O 0 o

 

A while later when Figwort made to leave I pondered what he had said to his mum. When had he spoken to her? Was Angelica's original motive in seeing me today purely to sound me out as a potential school teacher? Maybe I'm being uncharitable. Whether or not it was today Figwort had caused his mother to think about her actions, I'm grateful to the lad for causing her to rethink. And she did seem genuinely grateful about my part in Figgy's growth.

As for me, I feel happy. Sharing the excitement of someone else who's discovering their intense love of "the music". It's beautiful.

o 0 O 0 o

 





 

Hot and Cold

Have you ever wondered how Mellowdene got its name? Probably not, but I'll tell you anyway. There may be some who are curious! It's not an obscure reason; pretty boring, in fact. Still, here goes. We’re in a dene - a valley - where the river is the lowest point. One side of the river is more wooded, so the village was established at the other side. We are protected from the extremes of weather, being cradled by that woodland and by the nearby mountains. As such, the climate is mellow. Simple, really.

Having said this, as you move further from the village, towards the edge of Mellowdene County, following the canal towards Catsholme and the break in the mountains that leads to Acorn Valley, the protection reduces somewhat. You're more likely to encounter snow in winter, for example, and that sometimes creeps towards the village. I guess Nigel Snow-Warren will be glad of his skidoo to skim across the blanket of snow when he visits Tara Lapine-Frost...

Why mention this at all? It's because, even though we're blessed with mellow weather most of the time, there can be rare exceptions. Like now. We’re in a heatwave. 

 

 

o 0 O 0 o

"I'll die if I don't get an ice cream," said Brendan. My son was overacting, panting from unnecessary exertion in the garden.

"Don't exaggerate, dear," said Cecile. "Drink some water."

"I need cold."

"The water's cold."

"It has to be really cold!"

Cecile part filled a glass, went to the refrigerator and added two ice cubes from the freezer section. She peered inside before closing the door. Handing the glass to Brendan - not a totally satisfied Brendan, it must be said - she turned to me.

"The freezer indicator says it needs refreshing. It's due to expire in a couple of weeks."

 

I nodded, purposely ignoring the slurping noises emanating from Brendan as he tried to suck an ice cube without freezing his cheeks. "We're on the Polaris's books," I said, "They'll deliver as normal."

 

"Most probably. But if this heat continues, they may busier than normal. Just look at Brendan. The demand for ice - and ice cream - may deplete their resources. I'd be happier if we got our coolsalt ahead of time. Just to be sure."

 

"You think we should pay them a call?"

"Take Brendan with you. He'll find it interesting."

Brendan looked at us both, mouth still slightly open as he jiggled the shrinking ice cube inside. He said something but his words were incomprehensible to me. Not to Cecile.

 

"I know your friends are due. Take them with you."

o 0 O 0 o

I'm not a total fool. Despite there being a small road up to the Polaris's manufacturing plant in the mountains, walking there in this weather would be inadvisable. I'd been there before. Cecile  hadn't. The Polaris family also have a distribution centre lower in the foothills. That is more accessible, but it is only open when they have scheduled deliveries. A phone call would give me the necessary information. When someone would be there and have the coolsalt for us to collect.

Maybe you don't have coolsalt in your human world. It's marvellous stuff but it needs experts to produce it. We have an extended family of polar bars to do this for our village. Their tolerance of extreme temperatures makes them the ideal people to cater to our refrigeration needs. Coolsalt.

Coolsalt is created by the combination of particular minerals. Ground down, combined in the correct proportions, fused together in convenient blocks, they seem to suck the heat out of their vicinity. All done in a predictable way. They power our fridges, allow cold rooms to be built and assist in various manufacturing processes. Our mountains have a ready supply of these minerals and the Polaris family bring everything together.

 

I made the necessary phone call and Mary Polaris answered.

"Polaris Cold Store. How may I help?"

 

"Oh hi, Mary. It's Jackson Butterglove. I know we've got a coolsalt delivery soon but we thought we might collect it early, when your foothill place is open."

"Oh, rightio. Let's look..." She went silent for a few seconds. "Due in two weeks... right. Is there a problem with your current block of coolsalt? Not keeping things cool enough?"

 

"No, it's fine. We thought that you might be getting busy if the weather stays as it is, and that.."

"I see. Actually, that could work out quite well for us. Paul and Peter have some new mineral seams to check out... but you don't need to know that," she said, laughing. "You know how to replace the block?"

"Break off the small end bit, leave that in the fridge to keep it cool, bring the rest back to you for an exchange. Put the new block in the fridge and keep the old end bit safe until next time."

"And wear gloves."

"Oh yes, of course."

"Right. Well, we'll be at the distribution centre this afternoon if you can make it. We can update the schedule then."

"Smashing. Is it okay if I bring my boy and his pals?"

"Of course! Arlo will be delighted to see them."  

o 0 O 0 o

In the heat of the day, the walk to the foothills was hot work. We kept to the shadows when we could, but even out of the sun we took it easy. Brendan, Nolly and Hughie did not race about as they may have done under different conditions.

Hughie dropped back to walk beside me.

"Mr Butterglove? Have you ever known it to be so hot?"

I pondered. "Around twenty years ago, we had about ten days very hot weather like this. The Polaris family business was smaller then, but we were glad of their support. They were overworked, though. Afterwards, the village helped them to set up a more efficient system. At the time, it was quite advanced. My brother had connections with the Sylvanian Research Group and I understood they helped."

"So it's better for Arlo and his family now?"

"It seems so. I went to the plant once. Lots of machinery to help mix the coolsalt. And they have delivery bikes when they didn't before."

Brendan and Nolly joined us. "Nolly's just seen Mister Polaris on his bike," said Brendan.

"We must be nearly there," said Nolly.

We were.

o 0 O 0 o

The last part of our trek was telling. I was wondering if I'd been foolish after all, walking in such heat, and with the children. Also, we still had the journey back. I was again checking to see Brendan and his friends were okay when I heard someone call out. It was Mary Polaris. She half ran towards us.

 

"Oh, Mister Butterglove, I'm so sorry. I thought you'd be driving here. It was only when Paul told me you don't have a car..."

"Don't concern yourself, and it's Jackson - not Mister Butterglove," I said. I didn't want her feeling guilty over my mistake. "We'll be fine. Although we may hang on a while to cool down and delay walking back, if that's okay."

"Of course. You will be overheated. Come inside where it's cooler."

 

 

And it was cooler. As one might expect, their buildings made judicious use of coolsalt blocks to make their interiors the optimum temperature. Mary even opened a freezer cabinet and gave us snow-cones, topped with our choice of fruit juices.

 

"It's much appreciated, Mary. I'd misjudged how hot it was."

"Paul thought as much. He's out back with his brother, putting some blocks in the storage sheds. He shouldn't be long. He wants to have a word with you."

"Oh, fine," I said, enjoying my snow cone after the heat of the journey. The children, of course, were groaning with pleasure as the fruity ice trickled down their throats.

 

 

Mary was laughing at their enjoyment, and perhaps this made her think about her son.

"Which reminds me, Arlo's back there too. He was happy when I told him your boy and his friends were coming. Maybe they'd like to go through? He'll be in the room next to the sheds, and they can take their cones with them."

 

Brendan looked at me.

"It's okay, son. Go on."

 

The three boys stirred themselves and walked in the indicated direction. Nolly lifted his almost depleted snow-cone and smiled at Mary Polaris. "Thanks!"

We watched them go. Nolly's smile had infected both me and Mary. "What a nice little lad," she said.

"He is. Both Nolly and Hughie became friends with Brendan when they attended Kittie Camp together."

If Mary was going to respond she didn't get the chance, as we were joined by Peter and Paul Polaris, fresh from their endeavours.

"Hi Jackson!" called Paul.

"Warm enough for you?" laughed Peter.

"Yes," nodded Paul, "I couldn't believe it when Mary said you were coming in this weather."

"You could have just asked for an earlier coolsalt delivery," said Peter. "I'll be taking the bike into the village later, and it wouldn't have caused any problems adding you to my route."

I admitted that I didn't think of that.

 

"Ah, never mind," said Peter, "as it will give us time to chat. Let the boys play a while whilst you tell us the latest on this musical of yours..."

o 0 O 0 o

 

We had a good chat. I realised that the Polaris family didn't get as much chance to socialise as most, given they worked and lived in the mountains. Peter and Paul saw people when they were out on deliveries but those would be brief interactions. Barbara would see other mothers at the nursery when taking little Beth, and when either she or Mary would take Julia and Arlo to school, but none of these shouted "social life." I felt that needed remedying. They were good company.

"Tell you what," I said, "We need to arrange for you all to come to our house. I know Cecile and Eliza would enjoy chatting with you ladies. Bring the children. Merlin likes to cook for dinner parties and he won't need much persuasion. It will be fun to have a good old chin wag."

 

 

Peter was in agreement, and as he spoke, his brother looked at him. "He's right, you know, Paul. Work may be rewarding, but we need to get out more."

 

Paul nodded rapidly. "Yes. Definitely." He twisted to look towards the rear door. "Talking about getting out, I think we should get out and see what the boys are doing."

o 0 O 0 o

Going outside, the heat hit me like a pillow in one of Beverley's pillow fights with Biddy.

The Polaris brothers led me past a large shed, its metal walls streaming with condensation. This was obviously where the coolsalt blocks were stored prior to delivery.

 

The water was dripping, accumulating into shallow tanks before it drained away by unseen means. At the far side of the shed was a smaller adjoining structure, and we walked around towards an opening. Peter directed me towards this building, telling me the children would be inside. The brothers lingered and I carried on alone. 

 

As I approached, something shot out towards me, hitting me full inthe face.

 

My shock was short-lived when I realised it was a snowball. I heard Brendan's familiar laughter.

"Got you then, dad!" he said, emerging from the opening, beckoning me forward. "Come see this!"

Brushing the light snow (snow?) from my face, feeling the melting slush slide under my collar, I turned towards my chuckling son and looked inside the small building. Peter and Paul rejoined me, both grinning.

 

 

Towards the back, a mound of snow covered the floor from wall to wall. Nolly, Hughie and Arlo were adding finishing touches to a snowman. Hughie saw me and waved.

"Isn't this amazing?" the young pig shouted, his face pink with the cold.

 

 

Peter and Paul were still grinning. "Thought we might see a snowball," Paul said, not trying to hide his amusement.

"How...?" I said, indicating the snowscape.

"Water vapour, positioning of coolsalt blocks, a bit of engineering," said Paul. "It's Arlo's playroom."

"Oh." What else I could I say? Actually, I did say something once I'd processed what I was seeing. Unusual rather than profound. "I suppose making your own winter is handy in a heatwave."

o 0 O 0 o

We watched the children continue to play for a while longer. Peter disappeared, but Paul stayed to chat. When Peter returned he nodded towards his brother who reciprocated in kind. Paul explained.

"Rather than load up his bike for the coolsalt deliveries he's loaded up our car. He'll give you and the boys a lift back to the village."

I thanked him but he waved away my gratitude. "It's a pleasure, Jackson. I've enjoyed having you here. And you've reminded us that we need to socialise more. We've been working so much that we're in danger of neglecting the other needs of  our families."

I reiterated the invitation for a family visit to our house. I suspected Cecile would be pleased that I'd thought to do this. Either way, Peter certainly did. Looked pleased, that is.

"Sounds great, eh Paul?"

"It does, brother. Oh, and don't forget to attend to Jackson's fridge when you go."

 

Peter nodded then glanced at the boys who had moved on to have a snowball fight. "I suppose I'd better break this up before they get completely covered in snow..."

 

 

o 0 O 0 o

The car journey home was pleasant. Fitted with coolsalt temperature control, clearly.

 

 

As Peter Polaris drove away, fridge maintenance done, Cecile hugged me.

"Lovely of you to invite them, Jack. And I'm sorry about sending you out walking to their place in this heat. I don't know what I was thinking."

I kissed her. "Maybe you were being enigmatic."

She laughed. "I doubt it. Perhaps we could blame it on the weather."

"I hope not. Peter says we'll have two or three more days like this. Goodness knows where you'd send us."

"Ha! Idiot. Good job I bought some ice cream whilst you were out. Beverley will be pleased, of course. I thought Brendan would too, but he's too busy fantasising about snowball fights. What will our boy imagine next?"

"Ah, yes. About that..."

o 0 O 0 o