Just Kids Playing

Part 8 of a connected story written especially for the Summer Challenge.

The Magic Window Closes

When we had returned to the old barn from the magical window, we were not surprised to find out that we were all bitterly cold and also covered in snowflakes. The window seemed to offer a kind of transparency that was fascinating as well as truly weird. Any ten-year-old with even the most basic of imagination would think that it was all fantastic, Scott believed totally in everything that had happened over the last couple of weeks; his trip to Sithney Fair plus everything that us three had told him of our own adventures too. I however, was still struggling with the whole thing, even though I had single-handedly changed the past. To me it was all a fantasy, a fantasy that my pragmatic head just couldn’t allow to be real.

The next day Charlie approached me in the school playground during breaktime and announced that he finally understood what the bottle of fluid that had he had brought back with him was for. I understood everything that he said, mainly because it made complete sense, and agreed that we should make one final visit. David had turned up at lunchtime today and he looked understandably drawn and sad. He told us that his dad was trying to find out any information about whether his best friend Jack had ever been located but was being met with a brick wall of bureaucracy. He said that not knowing was the part that hurt the most but that he was also grateful that his dad was at least trying. Over our lunch we brought David up to speed with everything that he had missed, finishing with the latest adventure on the frozen pond. He was agog with the details that we were able to go into, but he knew it all to be very real anyway. He also agreed with Charlie’s idea about the clear fluid.

As before we all sat on the hay-bales below the window and took turns to have a look through. None of us really knew what to expect so when I reported that I had seen my original view, the meadow behind my house, it took nobody by any surprise. As Scott stood up to take his turn, he looked at all of us,

“Any bets that I’ll see Sithney Fair again?”

I started to put my hand up and then withdrew it suddenly. My thought process was very simple, we had all been on our own little adventures and flew solo. The last trip had been a joint one and I now believed that everything that we did beyond this window would be done as a group. Scott took a look through and withdrew his head sharply.

“It’s the meadow,” he announced. “The one at the back of our houses.”

Charlie and David both took their turns and both nodded and spoke in agreement. Provided the window let us through again we would be doing something together and local. So, with one more little look at each other and no little trepidation, we all piled through the window in single file. Scott went first and I followed, making sure that as I went through, I turned and looked back; wanting to see the emergence of both Charlie and David into this new place. As I looked it was just like they stepped out from behind a building, coming instantly into view from nothing. Satisfied, I looked at Scott.

“Well mate,” I said. “You can be Commando leader if you like!”

We were all stood together in a circle, knee high in grassy reeds with open space all around us and no clue about what was going to, or what was supposed to happen. The day was bright and sunny and I estimated that it was around ten in the morning, judging solely by the height of the sun. I didn’t have the faintest idea if we had travelled in time so I decided that that was the next thing that I would try to establish. I started by looking towards my house, the one on the end of the terrace, and thought that I could make it out. Scott joined me in looking, seeming to understand what I doing without having to be told.

“I think I can see our houses,” he said to me. “Shall we head that way?”

“You’re the boss, Commander!” I replied sarcastically.

Scott offered me a middle finger and invited me to go forth and multiply and then headed off in the direction of our terrace with Charlie and David falling in behind. It seemed to me that we had covered an awful lot of ground before my house got any larger but it soon did so and before long all four of us were climbing over the garden wall and then standing in my own garden. Because my house was the end of terrace it had a very large side garden, into which my dad had installed a driveway and a double garage. We all looked around at each other, not having the faintest idea of what to do next when the back door of my house opened and my step-brother emerged. He was nearly ten years older than I was and often bullied me, mainly because I had stolen his place as ‘the baby of the family’. He came within a few feet of the four of us and it became very obvious that he couldn’t see any of us, which gave me a very evil idea. I trotted ahead of him over to where his bike sat on its stand and was delighted to find that I could touch things here but he couldn’t see who or what was doing it. I rocked the bike off of it’s stand, it was only a 125cc but still took a lot of effort and then just let it drop. It stayed upright for a few seconds and then fell on its right side, crushing the indicator on that side. Francis saw the kickstand lever itself up on its own and the bike fall but wasn’t able to get to it in time. The air turned a very deep shade of blue for the next few seconds as Francis vocalised his frustrations and then went towards his fallen machine. He walked quickly and Scott saw the opportunity the have a little fun himself. He swung his leg out as hard as he could and contacted perfectly with Francis’s shins, sending him flying. Cue more appalling language after he had landed and his helmet had rolled away to one side. Charlie and David began to kick the helmet across the lawn and Francis started chasing it, the idiocy of what was actually happening washing completely over his thick head. Scott had gotten the motorbike upright again and now tried the kick-start. The engine stuttered and died, so Scott tried again and on the second attempt the engine caught and the thin, reedy tune of a one stroke motorbike engine filled the garden. Francis turned and looked, his mouth agape and he gave up on the helmet and tried to return to the bike. Scott had climbed aboard now and although it looked quite big under him, he was able to engage first gear and set off around the garden. All three of us cheered as it went, leaving Francis to simply stand in the middle of the garden with his eyes watching his bike go around. To say that his jaw had hit the floor was a complete understatement.

My garden has three trees in it, an apple, a plum and a pear tree. All three are very well established and deliver a fair amount of fruit when the season is right. My step-mother uses this fruit to make jams and other such delights so wasn’t exactly thrilled when she looked out of the kitchen window and saw her youngest son’s motorbike careering around the garden, turning the grass into a dirt track. The penny hadn’t quite dropped that her son wasn’t actually on the bike, it was more about the damage being caused and what the neighbours would think. She stepped outside and stood on the path, calling to her son to try and figure out what was happening.

“It’s got a fucking mind of its own!” yelled Francis in response to her enquiry.

“Mind your language!” she returned, “Just stop it before it breaks something!”

Scott was having a whale of a time on the bike. He had learned to ride with his dad and a friend of us who owned a trials bike and also a field to ride it on. He was skidding it around and digging up quite deep channels in the earth, laughing all the time and I found this hilarious but then some sensibility licked in and I had to ask him to stop. He pulled up next to me and I pointed at the pear tree, whilst whispering in his ear. He grinned and nodded and then took off again riding to the far end of the garden. Francis and my step-mother looked on as the bike revved and fell off, revved and fell off and then set off across the garden, gaining speed as it went. Francis saw what was going to happen before it did but was powerless to stop it. Scott got to within thirty feet of the pear tree and jumped off the bike, landing and rolling away to safety. The bike maintained its balance and hit the truck of the pear tree head on, crumpling in on itself as it hit at the best part of twenty miles per hour. The bike bounced back, its front end caved right in, stayed balanced for a few seconds and then toppled over on its side, the engine dying at the same time. Francis howled and swore some more, his mother berated him for his language and became annoyed that he had let his bike get out of control. He tried to plead with her that it had a mind of his own but she wasn’t having any of it.

Our fun was over here and there was also a far more important job to do. We all knew that we couldn’t walk out of my garden and down into the barn through the woods because that would create an incomplete loop and we would more than likely be stranded in that other place which was far too scary to admit. So, we climbed the wall in single file and landed back in the grassy meadow, once again up to our knees in reeds. I looked into the distance and saw the woods, they seemed far closer now than they had before when the view was reversed and we set off towards them still in single file.

Once we had all landed back in the old barn and had dusted ourselves off, Charlie went to the hay-bale that he had placed his box under and retrieved it. Scott was examining the graze on his knee, received as he landed after jumping off the bike but joined us before too long.

“I think we all know what had to be done.” I said looking around.

I was met with nods of the head so we moved for the final time to the window. Charlie opened the box, not caring this time if he ripped the paper and pulled out the bottle and the four cloths inside.

“One pane each, I suppose.” said Scott, taking his cloth and allowing Charlie to pour some of the fluid on to it. In turn we cleaned our section of the window, the grime on it disappearing easily and then stood back. We all saw that the view through now was the foliage of Godolphin Woods, the exact view that you would see through an ordinary window.

The adventure was over.