The Good Inventor

By Charlotte Curley

Monica, the kind air hostess, watched anxiously as Charlie picked at his dinner. She made a special effort to find some food (chicken nuggets and chips) that would surly tempt a child. The boy just moved the food around the plate and looked despondent.

She knew there had been some kind of tragedy and that he was the only surviving member of his family.

Charlie was travelling to Ireland to live with his eccentric uncle, Dr Theodore Whitestick a renowned doctor, surgeon and inventor. The doctor has no experience of raising a child and just hoped that Charlie would follow in the family tradition and become a Good Inventor. The Doctor must impress the Inspectors from the Department of Children and Youth Affairs that he is a suitable guardian for Charlie; however he is hiding something he has a secret creation!.

The fun begins when Charlie discovers the Good Doctors secret and the magic of the Connemara countryside releases the power of the druids in the boy.

The story is full of mystery and magic, and the boy has a lot to learn about his fantastic new home!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Sep 11, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477142684

Book preview

The Arrival

Monica, the kind air hostess, watched anxiously as Charlie picked at his dinner. Monica had agreed to take responsibility for looking after Charlie. She made a special effort to find some food (chicken nuggets and chips) that would surely tempt a child. The boy just moved the food around the plate and looked despondent. She knew there had been some kind of tragedy, and that he was the only surviving member of his family, and there was something about an uncle who was terrified of flying, so he had to travel alone. Being a mother herself, Monica’s heart went out to the young boy who looked so lost. She went over to him, placed a rug around his shoulders, and tucked it in around him with a motherly touch. ‘You’ve hardly eaten anything, Charlie. You still have to travel all the way to Galway on the bus. Don’t you think you should have a little food to keep your strength up? Try a little bit for me, please,’ she coaxed.

‘Not really hungry,’ Charlie mumbled and turned his head away to stare out the window. Charlie had a New York drawling accent. The man sitting alongside him dropped the newspaper he was reading, shrugged his shoulders, and said, ‘What can you do? You know the old saying You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.’ Monica wished Charlie wasn’t sitting beside this particular passenger as the man seemed to have one glib saying after another, and he was no help at all.

Monica decided to admit defeat for the moment, and she returned to her duties assisting with the duty-free. After everyone had selected what they wanted as little treats or presents from the duty-free, the trolleys were stowed away. Monica had time to observe Charlie again. This time he was engrossed in his laptop. She thought to herself, at least the poor lad has something he’s really interested in.

After a little while, there was an announcement from the captain for everyone to make sure their seatbacks were in the upright position and to fasten their safety belts as they were now making their descent to Dublin. He announced the temperature outside was a pleasant sixteen degrees, which wasn’t bad for April in Ireland, and he hoped that all passengers had enjoyed their flight with Aer Lingus and that everyone would have a pleasant onward journey. Well, at least, it’s not raining. That makes a pleasant change, Monica thought.

As soon as the wheels had touched down on the runway and the plane had come to a standstill, Monica was at the little boy’s side again. ‘Now, Charlie,’ she said, ‘don’t worry about anything. I am personally going to put you on the bus to Galway, and I have arranged for a taxi driver who works for the airline to pick you up from the bus and take you to your destination.’

True to her word, Monica brought Charlie all the way out to the area where a GoBus (Ireland’s first non-stop coach service) was waiting to have its full complement of passengers before it began its journey to Galway. Monica greeted the driver and said, ‘Can I leave this young man in your care?’ He’s come all the way from New York, and he’s travelling to Skellybegs in Connemara. It has been arranged that a taxi driver who belongs to McGee taxies will pick him up at the coach station reception area.

‘Now, Charlie,’ she said, taking the boy by the shoulders and turning him around to face her, ‘the taxi driver will have a placard with your name printed on it, so look out for that. Anyway, there aren’t many eleven-year-old boys travelling all the way from New York on their own, so he should have no trouble identifying you,’ she laughed.

‘Cheer up, Charlie,’ she said, squeezing his chin. ‘It’s not the end of the world. I’m sure you’ll get on famously with your uncle. He can’t be as eccentric as you’ve led us to believe, and you’ll be very happy, just wait till you’ve settled in your new school and made lots of new friends.’ All this kindly reassurance fell on deaf ears. Charlie simply mumbled politely, ‘Thank you very much, Monica, for looking after me. You’ve been most kind.’ Monica made Charlie promise to text her as soon as he was safely in the taxi.

‘I won’t get a wink of sleep,’ she said, ‘worrying about you. Let me know the minute you’re safely on board with your driver.’ Charlie reassured her that he would text her as soon as he was safely in the taxi.

As Monica waved Charlie off in the bus, she wondered with a sinking feeling, how such an extremely refined and polite boy would survive in the rough and tumble of the Connemara countryside? She knew young people were adaptable, so she just hoped for the best. She couldn’t really do any more for the poor little mite as she had to get home to her own family, and with a sigh of resignation, she stepped on to the bus for South Dublin.

Charlie had heard everything that the kind Monica had said, but somehow, it hadn’t really penetrated his brain except for one sentence: ‘it’s not the end of the world’, but it was the end of his particular world and life would never be the same again. However, Charlie was an intelligent, sensitive boy, and he knew that the air hostess had meant well, so he said nothing.

As Charlie stared out the window at the landscape, there wasn’t one thing that seemed familiar—the city streets had now been replaced by green fields, groups of little houses were scattered here and there, animals were grazing, and lots of little hedges were boxing in the green fields into rectangles and squares. Here was the landscape his mother Katie had spoken about. She always said she never felt quite at home in the concrete jungle of New York, and when they went on vacation in America, she couldn’t get used to the wide open spaces. Charlie’s mother missed the little village of Skellybegs, but she had been captured by the charm of Jack French, Charlie’s father. She said she was seduced by the twinkle in his eyes. His parents had been very happy together, and they were always clowning around, trying to make Charlie and his sister, Emily, laugh.

Charlie’s father was a big, handsome bear of a man who loved his food and was a good wine expert. Katie was always trying to think of healthy options so that her husband didn’t pile on the weight. ‘I don’t want you dying of a heart attack,’ she would say, ‘and leaving me all alone to raise these two monkeys.’

‘Will you stop fussing, woman?’ he would return, and he would pull her down on to his knee, and she would make a pretence of trying to get away, and Charlie and Emily would fall about laughing.

Katie was the opposite of her husband; she was small, thin, and one of the ‘wiry Irish’ was how Jack described her. She was an ideal candidate to make a show jumper, and she had been on the Irish national show jumping team before she met Jack and fell head over heels in love. Charlie hadn’t realized how happy they had been until it was all taken away from him. Thinking about them made him sad, and he wanted to cry, but he couldn’t as he was too numb to cry.

Charlie’s head sunk on to his chest. He was weary as he hadn’t been able to sleep on the flight, and his mind drifted off. It felt like he had only been asleep a moment when he felt a strong hand shaking him awake. It was the bus driver. ‘You need to wake up, young fellow. The taxi driver is hopping up and down outside waiting for you. I have to say he’s a very impatient fellow. I told him to hold his horses. What is he panicking about? A boy needs his rest if he’s come all the way from New York. Come on now, I’ll give you a hand with that case.’ The bus driver reached up and took down Charlie’s case from the overhead rack. ‘What have you got inside the case, laddie? Is it rocks or something you’re dragging around with you?

Charlie quickly took hold of the suitcase, saying, ‘I can manage. Thank you very much.’

‘Have it your own way then,’ the bus driver said, ‘but you’ll sure build up good muscles carrying that thing around.’

Charlie stepped down from the bus and made his way to the coach station reception, and just as he reached the reception window, an angry-looking taxi driver pounced on him. The taxi driver held a placard high above his head that read ‘Charlie French’ and pointed to the name. ‘Would this name by any chance correspond with your good self?’ the taxi driver asked sarcastically.

‘Yes, that’s me,’ Charlie said. ‘Well, whenever you’re good and ready, would Your Royal Highness do me the honour of getting into the taxi as I don’t have all day to hang around here?’

‘Very sorry,’ said Charlie, dragging his suitcase behind him. Luckily, the suitcase had wheels which helped a bit. Charlie felt he should explain why he was late. ‘I fell asleep, you see—’

The taxi driver cut him mid-sentence. ‘Excuses, excuses, if I had a euro for every excuse I hear, I’d be a rich man today.’ The taxi driver opened up the boot of the car. ‘Here, gimmie that,’ he said and went to grab Charlie’s suitcase.

‘No! It’s OK,’ Charlie said. ‘I’ll keep it with me.’

‘What have you got in there then, the Crown jewels?’

‘I just prefer to keep it with me, that’s all,’ said Charlie, holding the suitcase protectively.

‘All right then, just get into the back of the car with the case, will you? And let’s not waste any more time. I want to get home at some point tonight,’ said the driver curtly.

Unfortunately, Charlie had drawn the short straw and had got the only mean-spirited taxi driver in the company. Charlie got into the back of the car and shut the door. The taxi driver shouted, ‘It’s not shut properly. Give the door a good bang.’ Charlie opened the door again and slammed it shut. The taxi then accelerated away from the kerb. True to his promise, Charlie sent a text to Monica telling her he was safely in the taxi. Although how safe he was with this crazy driver he wasn’t quite sure. ‘What’s the address, anyway?’ the taxi driver snarled.

Charlie took a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. ‘It’s Inventatrick Manor, Sheep Dip Drive, Swivelling Road, Skellybegs, Galway.’

‘Inventatrick Manor,’ the taxi driver repeated in hushed tones, then went strangely silent. They travelled in silence out of the city into the Connemara countryside until they came to a narrow little road. ‘I can’t be going any further up that road,’ the taxi driver said nervously. ‘You’ll have to get out here. It’s more than my life is worth going anywhere near that strange house. You haven’t far to go. Anyway, it’s just up the boreen there.’

‘Your company have been paid to drop me at my uncle’s house,’ Charlie said.

‘I’ll not go an inch further,’ the taxi driver said. So Charlie had no choice but to get out of the taxi. As soon as the door was closed, the taxi took off at high speed. The driver was in such a hurry to get away that dust rose from the old dirt track and the car screeched as it turned the corners.

Charlie looked around to get his bearings, and he took the crumpled piece of paper out of his suitcase again, trying to figure out his location from the vague directions he was given. He did not see the impressive beauty of the surrounding countryside or enjoy the warmth of the lovely spring day. The taxi driver had dropped him some distance from his destination; the man seemed terrified to go anywhere near Inventatrick Manor.

Charlie knew he had to keep going. He couldn’t camp here in the middle of nowhere. His suitcase was heavy and the wheels wouldn’t turn on the rough pathway. His shirt was stuck to his back, and he was perspiring from exertion, shock, and fear of the unknown. His legs were aching, and there was a heavy weight in his chest, like a clenched fist encircling his heart. He was carrying a load of sadness with him.

The path forked ahead of Charlie. Instinct spurred him to the right as the road seemed a little wider on that side, and his logical mind told him that it was a path more travelled. He walked on blindly, dragging the heavy suitcase with all his worldly possessions. Then his ears picked up a strange squeaking noise, and he looked behind him nervously.

Meeting with The Bug

As the figure got closer to Charlie, he could roughly make out that it was an old man on a bicycle dressed in very peculiar clothes, quite an odd-looking character, in fact.

The man had a rough, tattered coat which didn’t seem to be buttoned properly. The coat was closed with a rope tied around the man’s waist.

He brought one of his old boots to the ground to slow himself down, and he dismounted the bicycle and walked towards Charlie.

‘You look lost, young fella. What are you doing out here all alone?’ There was concern in the old man’s eyes, which reassured Charlie.

‘Can you help me please, sir?’ Charlie said in his cultured New York drawl. ‘I’m trying to find my uncle Dr Theodore Whitestick’s house.’ The address is Inventatrick Manor, Sheep Dip Drive, Swivelling Road, Skellybegs.

‘Of course, I’ll help ya, little man. I can see you’re not from round these parts. Sure, everyone knows the good doctor. Sure, isn’t he the best inventor I ever heard of?’ the old man then laughed at some private joke (ha! ha! he! he!). ‘And are you the little nephew he speaks about?’

‘Yes, my name is Charlie French, sir, and I’ve come from New York to live with my uncle,’ Charlie replied earnestly.

‘Oh, that will be a big change for you now, Charlie, coming to this quiet countryside from such a great big city. And you’ll be starting your schooling here as well, I suppose,’ The Bug inquired.

‘Yes,’ Charlie replied, ‘I’m to start in the local school next week.’

‘Well, that doesn’t give you much time to get yourself settled,’ The Bug