rustled.
He opened his hand. A medal,
as big as the ones they presented to the winners in the Olympic Games, filled
his palm. No writing or figures decorated the surface. It didn’t shine either,
just a black disc suspended on a chain of black links. He turned it over to
reveal another surface just as bare.
‘For the one who is
waiting’. What did that mean? He hadn’t heard anybody say that they waited for
anything in his time. Did the man mean in this time? Something that Leonor or
Oswald wanted? Oswald mentioned waiting for support, but Peter thought he meant
men, did he mean this as well? How might this help? Unless it was some sort of
token, or sign, but why did the strange man give it to him? None of it made
sense and he thrust the disc into his anorak pocket. Granddad might know.
He glanced over his shoulder.
No sign of Oswald or Tobias and he reached out his right hand and touched the
charred branch.
The day flashed from light to
dark and then back to light and the old tree grew and uncurled faster than he
counted seconds.
The sensation made his
stomach turn, so that when it stopped he needed a moment to catch his breath.
Fewer trees crowded close. The house now stood where he’d seen the manor
moments before and he heard the repetitive slice and thump as granddad
shovelled snow.
He must wonder where I’ve
been, because at least an hour must have passed in the other time.
He picked up the shovel and
ran through the trees until granddad came into sight. He’d cleared very little
snow and the big footprints that Peter made before he walked into the wood
still showed.
Perhaps the other time moved
at a different speed, or perhaps this time didn’t move at all when he was in
the other time. It made his head spin, but thinking up an explanation proved
impossible.
Granddad stopped shovelling,
stood up and groaned as he stretched his back. “How are you getting on, young
man?”
“Um ...”
“Just do as much as you can
manage.”
Peter took a deep breath.
“Granddad, I found this.” He pulled the black disc out of his pocket and held
it up for him to see.
He squinted. “What’s that
then?”
“I don’t know.”
Granddad took it by the
chain, thrust his shovel into the drift and then gripped the disc between his
finger and thumb. He frowned and his eyebrows bristled. “Where did you find
this?”
“No, the ... I found it under
a tree.” To explain what happened needed time and to do that without using the
right words and remembering events in the correct order might make him sound
stupid. Better to lie a bit than be thought mad. More important, he needed to
ask the question the carrier told him, however strange that sounded.
“Are you waiting for it?”
Granddad’s eyes flicked from
the disc to the house and then back to the disc. “You’ve seen the carrier.” He
didn’t ask, he stated it as fact.
“I’ve seen - someone with no
legs who gave it to me. There’s another ...”
Granddad peered at the disc.
“I’m thinking this is iron. Keep it safe, Peter. It is a special object.” He glanced
up at the house. “I remember Almina once telling... but no, that happened many
years past, I doubt this is the same.” He handed it back.
Peter pinched the iron disc
between his finger and thumb. “But what is it?”
Granddad took hold of his
shovel. “I don’t know.” He rested his elbows on the handle. “It looks old, very
old, as ancient as the ground upon which we stand. But I do not know for what
purpose it was made.”
Peter wrapped the chain
around his wrist. “Why did you call that person the carrier?”
“I’ve seen him before.”
Peter swallowed. “Then you’ve
been to the manor, that other house, when you touch the branch, where Leonor
and Oswald live?”
Granddad shook his head. “No.
I’ve never been there.”
“But, how do you know about the
carrier?”
The falling snow caught on
granddad’s woollen hat. “Generations have lived and died in this house
He opened his hand. A medal,
as big as the ones they presented to the winners in the Olympic Games, filled
his palm. No writing or figures decorated the surface. It didn’t shine either,
just a black disc suspended on a chain of black links. He turned it over to
reveal another surface just as bare.
‘For the one who is
waiting’. What did that mean? He hadn’t heard anybody say that they waited for
anything in his time. Did the man mean in this time? Something that Leonor or
Oswald wanted? Oswald mentioned waiting for support, but Peter thought he meant
men, did he mean this as well? How might this help? Unless it was some sort of
token, or sign, but why did the strange man give it to him? None of it made
sense and he thrust the disc into his anorak pocket. Granddad might know.
He glanced over his shoulder.
No sign of Oswald or Tobias and he reached out his right hand and touched the
charred branch.
The day flashed from light to
dark and then back to light and the old tree grew and uncurled faster than he
counted seconds.
The sensation made his
stomach turn, so that when it stopped he needed a moment to catch his breath.
Fewer trees crowded close. The house now stood where he’d seen the manor
moments before and he heard the repetitive slice and thump as granddad
shovelled snow.
He must wonder where I’ve
been, because at least an hour must have passed in the other time.
He picked up the shovel and
ran through the trees until granddad came into sight. He’d cleared very little
snow and the big footprints that Peter made before he walked into the wood
still showed.
Perhaps the other time moved
at a different speed, or perhaps this time didn’t move at all when he was in
the other time. It made his head spin, but thinking up an explanation proved
impossible.
Granddad stopped shovelling,
stood up and groaned as he stretched his back. “How are you getting on, young
man?”
“Um ...”
“Just do as much as you can
manage.”
Peter took a deep breath.
“Granddad, I found this.” He pulled the black disc out of his pocket and held
it up for him to see.
He squinted. “What’s that
then?”
“I don’t know.”
Granddad took it by the
chain, thrust his shovel into the drift and then gripped the disc between his
finger and thumb. He frowned and his eyebrows bristled. “Where did you find
this?”
“No, the ... I found it under
a tree.” To explain what happened needed time and to do that without using the
right words and remembering events in the correct order might make him sound
stupid. Better to lie a bit than be thought mad. More important, he needed to
ask the question the carrier told him, however strange that sounded.
“Are you waiting for it?”
Granddad’s eyes flicked from
the disc to the house and then back to the disc. “You’ve seen the carrier.” He
didn’t ask, he stated it as fact.
“I’ve seen - someone with no
legs who gave it to me. There’s another ...”
Granddad peered at the disc.
“I’m thinking this is iron. Keep it safe, Peter. It is a special object.” He glanced
up at the house. “I remember Almina once telling... but no, that happened many
years past, I doubt this is the same.” He handed it back.
Peter pinched the iron disc
between his finger and thumb. “But what is it?”
Granddad took hold of his
shovel. “I don’t know.” He rested his elbows on the handle. “It looks old, very
old, as ancient as the ground upon which we stand. But I do not know for what
purpose it was made.”
Peter wrapped the chain
around his wrist. “Why did you call that person the carrier?”
“I’ve seen him before.”
Peter swallowed. “Then you’ve
been to the manor, that other house, when you touch the branch, where Leonor
and Oswald live?”
Granddad shook his head. “No.
I’ve never been there.”
“But, how do you know about the
carrier?”
The falling snow caught on
granddad’s woollen hat. “Generations have lived and died in this house
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