The Magic Lands (2 page)

"What shall we do first?" asked
Jack.

"Anything you want to," smiled
Tom, brightening a little.

"Okay then, I want to see the
garden. Every time you've told me a story about you and your Uncle,
it's always been in your garden. It must be massive!"

Tom shrugged. It was true, it
had always seemed a gigantic place to him, where you could so
easily get lost. But he had always been safe with Ira. They had
often gone exploring, searching through the shrubs and trees,
examining the flowers and plants which grew there unchecked, even
wild in places where Ira had allowed them to go their own way. He
was sure there were a thousand different varieties in that garden.
It was his favourite place in the world.

"We're almost there," called
Jack, his head poking out of the window, the cool breeze blowing
through his hair, leaving it a straggly mess.

"Watch out you don't get your
knocked off!" Tom warned with a chuckle.

Jack grinned and made a
strangled sound, but withdrew his head just the same and they both
laughed as the train slowed and pulled into Tyro station.

On the platform stood a single
figure. He wore his hair long and although there were signs of grey
here and there, it still retained most of the glory of its original
colour; a fiery red. He was a short fellow, but muscular and
upright. He had the look of a man used to hard work, but there was
a sparkle in his eyes that betrayed a deep wisdom, untold secrets
held within.

As the train came to a
standstill, he saw the two boys step out of a carriage and moved
toward them, smiling broadly. "How's my boy?" the old man said,
clapping Tom on the back.

"I'm fine," the boy smiled and
then turned to his friend, "this is Jack."

"So this is young Jack Barton,
is it," Uncle Ira said, holding out his hand. They shook hands and
Ira gave a deep chuckle, clearly amused.

"You've got quite a grip there,
Jack. Careful you don't break one of my fingers!"

Tom and Jack both laughed and
the three of them made off toward the station exit, Ira striding
along in front carrying Jack's case with ease.

"I'm afraid we have no
transportation, Jack," began the man as they left the station, "so
we'll have to rely on our legs to carry us home."

"We'll keep up, don't you
worry," promised Tom.

Ira set off along a winding
stone road which seemed to carry on endlessly up a hill before
them, twisting through tree-lined fields like a discarded
ribbon.

As they began to walk, Jack
could hardly believe the pace the old man set for them. He found
himself almost jogging just to keep up. Glancing at Tom between
gulps of air, he noted that his friend, although labouring, was
faring rather better than himself.

"Keep up, boys,” called Ira
without looking back, a little way ahead.

After ten minutes or so, Jack
was beginning to struggle. "Tom," he gasped, "I don't think I can
keep this up for much longer."

But Tom just gave him a quick
glance and Jack thought he saw a look of desperation momentarily
play across his friend’s features.

"Come on," urged Tom, dropping
back slightly to come along beside the other boy.

"Why is he going so fast?" Jack
asked, breathing very heavily now, the air he swallowed feeling
harsh in his throat.

"He's testing us."

Jack didn't understand what Tom
meant by this, but could sense it was important to his friend to
keep up with the old man, so he renewed his efforts, forcing
himself on.

"Let's catch him up," Tom said,
gritting his teeth.

Ahead of them, despite the
camber of the hill, the old man seemed to find it all no more than
a casual stroll and finally, as they came up by his side, he looked
at each in turn, his eyes keen as diamonds.

"We're almost there," he barked
and with that, he increased his speed, lengthening his stride and
soon began to leave them behind again. Jack almost stopped. "I
can't," he wheezed, mostly to himself.

"Come on!" pressed Tom,
irritation and anxiety in his voice.

"Why do we have to go so fast?"
Jack managed.

"We mustn't fail the test,"
insisted Tom, grabbing Jack's arm and pulling him along. Jack could
hardly walk now, his legs feeling like jelly. He just wanted to
stop and sit down. The road seemed to snake on and on into the
distance, always climbing.

Tom, still hauling Jack by the
arm, forged relentlessly on, his Uncle now more than ten yards
ahead of them. He knew he must keep up. To fall behind would be to
fail.

He remembered the stories. And
he was afraid.

Make haste along the path, for
the wolf is always waiting for the lamb who is weak. Never fall
behind the flock or the wolf will be sure to come for you. The road
is cruel and dark, my friend.

"We can do it, Jack," urged
Tom.

As Jack stumbled along beside
his friend, not knowing what this was all about, just for a moment
he thought he saw something, in a meadow beyond some masking trees.
Something white. It moved dextrously through yellow buttercups, its
progress torpid and dream-like.

But then Ira called from ahead
and Jack lost sight of it.

"We’re here," the old man
rumbled as they came around a bend and saw the old house that Tom
called home.

Ira gave both boys a
good-natured smile as they passed through the gateway. But then he
cast a glance back along the road as if checking that no-one had
followed. The road was deserted, the day still bright, the sky
clear but the old man's smile faded. Shutting the

gate firmly, he went quickly
toward the house, but even as he reached the doorway he couldn't
shake the feeling that something crept behind him and that cold,
amused eyes bored into his back.

AT THE END OF THE GARDEN

The house was built of ancient
stone, or so Uncle Ira said. It had what people often referred to
as character, a primitive charm, uncomplicated and dependable. Tom
felt very glad to be home again.

"Emily, they're here," called
out Ira, as they came through a broad oak doorway into a large room
which served as a sitting room. He set Jack's suitcase down and
stood waiting.

"Tom!" came a woman's
voice.

"I'm home," he cried out, "and
so is Jack!" With this he ran into an adjoining room. As Jack
followed into what he recognised immediately as the kitchen, he saw
the two embracing, his friend lost amidst a white apron. Tom's Aunt
looked a good deal older than his Uncle, although Jack was sure Tom
had mentioned that both were about the same age.

"This is Jack," declared Tom,
pointing at him.

The woman smiled kindly and
came over to the boy. "Hello, Jack. I've heard so much about you.
Welcome to our house."

Jack was a little embarrassed.
He didn't much care for introductions. "I'm pleased to meet you,"
he mumbled in return.

"Now how about a drink," broke
in Ira at the kitchen doorway and Jack thought this was an
excellent suggestion. His throat felt as though it was on fire.

After finishing a bottle of
home-made lemonade between them, Tom was immediately up on his
feet.

"Can I show Jack around now?"
he asked, fidgeting and obviously raring to go. Any trepidation he
might have felt during the journey home was forgotten now.

His Aunt smiled affectionately,
gathering up empty glasses. "Off you go then."

Needing no further
encouragement, the two boys dashed out of the room, Tom leading the
way with Jack close behind. Out through the back door they ran and
suddenly Jack found himself in an enormous garden filled with all
manner of flowers and vegetation. Tall trees lined each side for
several hundred yards, their leaves rustling in the late afternoon
breeze, the rest a mystery, but one Jack was keen to unravel. They
came to a halt and Jack took a moment to take in the colours, so
many shades of green, light and shadow amid trees and bushes.
Summer's touch was upon the garden, a vast expanse stretching out
before him.

"Wow," he murmured. It was all
he could think of to say.

"Do you like it?" asked Tom,
grinning foolishly.

"You bet I do!"

"Well, come on then, don't just
stand there gaping, let's take a look around."

They darted off down a sunlit
lane, criss-crossing shadows inventing a grid upon which they
played. Then they zigzagged across the garden, dodging amongst
flowers and shrubs. This was home as far as Tom was concerned. The
good times he had known in this place were far too many to recall.
He and his Uncle would often play hide and seek here and sometimes
Tom would search for hours trying to find the old man. One thing
was sure, Uncle Ira certainly knew all of the best hiding places!
There were times when he suspected that Ira was not even in the
garden at all, but in the end there he would be, in some place or
another, although the boy felt certain he had already been that way
earlier and his Uncle had not been there then.

"Let’s play hide and seek?"
called Tom as they ran, his memories putting him in the mood.

Jack was just about to agree
when Ira's voice bellowed out from somewhere behind them.

"Tom! Jack! Don’t forget about
supper."

Tom looked at his friend and
could see by the expression on his face that he was just as hungry
as himself. All thoughts of the game disappeared.

"Race you back!" challenged
Jack and was off and running, but Tom, using his advantage of
familiar terrain, darted beneath a canopy of Wisteria and to Jack's
amazement, shot out from a muddy pathway yards ahead of him and was
first to reach the back porch.

The table was set out with all
manner of delights. As it was his favourite food, a slab of cheese
as big as the plate it sat upon was the first thing that caught
Jack's eye. A wide variety of other food was set out on the table
too, tomatoes and cucumber, lettuce and radishes, spring onions and
beetroot, and biscuits, home-made he was sure. A huge golden loaf
of bread lay cut into large slices, its freshly baked aroma
tantalising, a silver dish of butter by its side and Jack became
more certain than ever that he was going to like it here. It was
going to be a great holiday.

After their meal, they spent an
enjoyable couple of hours talking, Tom relating all of the latest
news from school. Ira entertained them with jokes and tales of his
days at sea, when as a youthful first-mate he had sailed around the
world and back, or so he claimed.

Tom sat in an armchair, his
stomach aching and Jack's was so bad he hadn’t dared to move from
the table.

Ira shook his head and smiled
indulgently. "Your eyes are bigger than your bellies."

Jack could only moan holding
his stomach protectively. Emily, coming into the room from the
kitchen, wagged her finger at the boys.

"I've been lenient with both of
you as it's the first day of your holiday, but tomorrow I'll be
expecting some help in the kitchen." She gave Jack a warm smile.
"That is, if you can fit through the door!"

Ira had gone to stand by the
window, drawing the curtain back a little. "Why don't you show Jack
your room, Tom, and get him settled in?"

With a great deal of effort Tom
got up from his seat. "Come on, Jack. You can lay down upstairs if
you like." The other boy managed a nod.

Ira turned from the window to
watch the boys and had to suppress a laugh at the sight of them.
"You can do it," he encouraged.

With absolute concentration,
exerting himself physically and mentally or so it seemed to him,
Jack stood up. "I never want to see food again," he groaned.

They trudged upstairs, the blue
door of Tom's bedroom the first they came to. It was not a very big
room but had a hospitable, welcome feel to it and Jack felt
comfortable there right away. Setting himself down gingerly on the
lower berth of a bunk-bed, he looked up at his friend. "I like it
here," he said and then grimaced as his stomach turned over.

"Good," grinned Tom, "but maybe
we had better not eat so much next time."

Jack nodded unreservedly. "It’s
a deal."

Climbing up onto the top bunk,
Tom lay on his back and looked up at the familiar ceiling that he
had studied so many times whilst waiting for sleep to come and
claim him. He closed his eyes and immediately a picture of a girl
popped into his mind, her face oddly familiar although he couldn’t
remember where he might have seen her. At fourteen, girls were
something he and Jack were taking more and more of a keen interest
in. The only problem was that contact with the opposite sex didn’t
happen very often and even on those rare occasions when it did,
they tended to find themselves suddenly dumb-struck and feeling
very stupid. Girls were, for the present, an inscrutable
puzzle.

The girl in his day-dream wore
a red hood but he could see her face quite clearly. She looked
perhaps a little older than himself and had long golden hair that
spilled out from beneath her bonnet.

"Who are you?" Tom asked,
realising dimly that he must be asleep and he had begun to
dream.

The girl gazed back at him,
smiling sweetly. "I'm little Bo Peep," she said with a courteous
bow.

"Have you lost your sheep?"
questioned Tom, concerned for the girl, thinking her expression
rather sad.

"Yes I have," she replied,
"will you help me to find them?"

"I'd be glad to," Tom said with
enthusiasm.

"But what if the Wolf comes?"
little Bo Peep asked.

Tom frowned and opened his
eyes. He was in his room, lying on his bed. Below he could hear
Jack gently snoring.

A little later, when the sun
had set and moonlight stole through the windows of the old house,
Ira came into Tom's room and found both boys still fully clothed,
fast asleep. He considered waking them and telling them to undress
but decided they were happy as they were. After all, he thought, it
had been a busy day. Leaving the room quietly, he closed the door
and went downstairs.