Old World

By Steven Turner

A black cat and a pocket full of sea bass is not what you would usually expect to put you on the wrong
side of time.

After discovering a fat bottomed wood sprite with a penchant for blueberry cheesecake and fine wine was
visiting his garden and being in possession of an over curious mind it was only a matter of time before thin

• Language: English
• Publisher: Book Printing UK
• Release date: Dec 3, 2018
• ISBN: 9781912694334

Book preview

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Old World

Written & Illustrated by

Steven Turner

Old World

Copyright © Steven Turner 2018 All Rights Reserved

The rights of Steven Turner to be identified as the author of this work have been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

All rights reserved. No part may be reproduced, adapted, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the author or publisher.

Spiderwize

Remus House

Coltsfoot Drive

Woodston

Peterborough

PE2 9BF

www.spiderwize.com

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblances to real people either living or dead are purely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-912694-32-7

eBook: 978-1-912694-33-4

Contents

Chapter One

Beans

Chapter Two

Jeremiah

Chapter Three

Rosa

Chapter Four

Old and new stew

Chapter Five

Honey Dragons

Chapter Six

Charles and Max

Chapter Seven

Oh crash, bang, wallop! Wot no picture!

Chapter Eight

New arrival

Chapter Nine

A bit of a to do

Chapter Ten

Apple Snafflers

Chapter Eleven

Well hello maybe!

Chapter Twelve

Echo Bay

Chapter Thirteen

Look before you leap

Chapter Fourteen

Oh brother where art thou?

Chapter Fifteen

Beth

Chapter Sixteen

Not before time

Chapter Seventeen

Times out

Chapter Eighteen

Lost moments

Chapter Nineteen

Auntie matters

Chapter Twenty

Tick tock!! Tock tick!!

Chapter Twenty-one

Fairy mail

Chapter Twenty-two

Time to go home

Chapter Twenty-three

Home sick

Chapter Twenty-four

Hopes Well Farm

Chapter Twenty-five

New days old ways

Chapter Twenty-six

Cornelius

Chapter One

Beans

I felt the collar of my shirt tighten and then the top button popped as I was hoisted skyward by the scruff of my shirt. You smells like beans! the voice boomed in my ears, waking me from my sleep as it had done on many occasions throughout my life. I let my senses come to, before pushing myself up, propping a pillow against the headboard and resting against it. This was not a recurring dream but a memory from my long distant childhood that forced its way into my sleeping hours from tim e to time.

I closed my eyes and went through it again for the umpteenth time. I was about eight, maybe nine, and my mum, dad and I were staying with Auntie Bethany, or as everyone knew her Auntie B. I liked Auntie B. She wore big flowery frocks, smelt of lavender water, baked the best cakes in the world and would fart loudly when she thought she was out of earshot, which wasn’t very often, causing my mum’s eyebrows to rocket skyward in horror, my dad to suddenly feel the need to take out his hanky and blow his nose and me, well, to blooming near wet myself with laughter, especially if she realised that someone might have heard saying, Oh well, better out than in!

We went to Auntie B’s for the weekends whenever we could. She’d lost her husband in the First World War and was glad of the company. It also helped my dad relax as he’d fought in the same war too and suffered terrible mood swings as a result. Auntie B’s small cottage out in the countryside was a perfect antidote to the noise of the big city and clips round the ear from my dad always diminished as a result of us staying there. Anyway, I digress. This particular day my mum and dad were helping to erect a new chicken coop for Auntie B and I was sort of getting in the way. Well actually that’s a lie, I had no interest in what they were doing whatsoever for I was in the mood for exploring, an activity which resulted in a tanned backside on more than one occasion. Still, they were obviously very busy and maybe they wouldn’t notice this time. I picked an apple from Auntie B’s tree, peeked through her runner beans to see if anyone had noticed I was missing, and snuck out through the back gate and headed towards the woods on the far side of the field that backed onto the garden.

I don’t know why, but I had been fascinated by the wood ever since we had been coming to Auntie B’s. It was all full of old gnarled trees with moss and lichen hanging from their twisted branches. I’d been clambering round the edge of the wood I suppose for some twenty minutes, swinging from branches and climbing up half fallen trunks, when I became aware that I wasn’t alone. Wandering along one of the ivy and leaf covered tracks was a cat, not any old cat but a big, black bruiser of a cat. It gave me a sort of half glance and carried on its way. Now, a brain of an eight or nine year old is quite capable of leaping from one thing to another with no real effort at all. One minute you’re an aeroplane, next a frog, so it didn’t take a great leap of imagination to go from John Living famous tree climber to become John Living famous tracker of the deadly Black Panther, and so my new career started.

Ducking from tree to tree I followed the cat as it plodded nonchalantly on. After a while it became apparent that the cat couldn’t give a hoot about my abilities as a tracker and so my flitting from one tree to another abated and I decided to become John Living cat man, a pastime that involved crawling under or leaping over anything that the cat had. This career change became much more rewarding, especially as there were now rocks starting to appear in the woods. And so, the game continued, leaping from rock to rock and squeezing under fallen trees.

As I followed deeper into the wood I became aware of the sound of running water but didn’t pay it that much attention until my final leap of the day. The cat leapt to a rock and then was gone. I leapt to the same rock and skidded till I could skid no more, for there was nothing left to skid on, and tumbled twenty feet or so down the nearly sheer bank and into the two foot of fast flowing, freezing cold river water. Below, shaken but not hurt, I looked up to see the cat sitting on a ledge just below the rock from which I had tumbled. I hauled myself to my feet and after several failed attempts realised that there was no way I could climb back up the bank. I looked at my watch and saw that I had been gone for nearly two hours and panic started to set in. I was in so much trouble! I took a deep breath and steadied my nerves. I decided to follow the river upstream as there was less chance of the water getting deeper and also the rocks and stones seemed to be easier to walk on in that direction as well. So, I plodded on as the water gurgled and bubbled alongside me until I came to a bend in the river where part of the bank had fallen down and a few scrubby trees had taken hold. A nice sized boulder was nestling in amongst the trees and I decided that it would be a good spot to sit down and empty the stones that I’d collected in my shoes and to have a rest.

As I sat there doing up my shoe laces, I became aware of a sound. At first, I thought it was the noise from the water as it forced its way through the rocks and boulders, but no, it was coming from the other side of the trees that I was sitting by. It was a sort of blob di bob di bob bobb and then a splash and then it would start all over again. Slowly and cautiously I edged myself around the bank and peered through the tree branches. I was met by the sight of a huge man-like creature that, for want of a better term, was washing his dungie nundies in the river water. He had a huge bulbous nose with ears to match. He stood up and squeezed the water out of the underwear he had just finished washing with his massive fists and hung them on a line that he’d strung from a tree branch to his spear that he’d sunk upright into the ground. He knelt back down by the water’s edge again and pulled another garment from his wash pile and started again, singing as he bashed it against the rocks. blob di, blob di di di blob! blob!

As I pulled the branch down a bit lower to get a better look, one of the twigs snapped and that was it! I’d barely managed to turn in preparation to run for my life when I was dragged backwards through the trees. I felt the collar of my shirt tighten and then the top button popped as I was hoisted skyward by the scruff. His big face loomed in front of mine as I dangled there like a plucked chicken in a poultry shop. He sniffed the air with his huge nose. YOU SMELLS LIKE BEANS! he boomed.

Somewhere, somehow, and I don’t for the life of me know where this came from considering how petrified I was, I heard myself say, I don’t smell of bbbeans I had a wash this morning.

He raised an eyebrow YOU DON’T SOUNDS LIKE BEANS. he boomed again. He hauled me up higher, first looking at my shirt then my shoes and then became particularly interested in my watch, even cocking his ear to it for a moment to hear it tick. Mmm, he said slightly softer, YOU DON’T DRESS LIKE BEANS.

Beans? I enquired.

HOOMAN BEANS, he answered, as he slowly lowered me to the ground.

I steadied myself as my feet touched the ground again. Unable to cope with everything that had happened to me in the past few hours I started to shake and, trying hard not to cry, I choked out, I’m lost!

The huge creature crouched down in front of me his hostile expression softened, and a half smile crept across his face. Mmm, he said. I think you’s a bit more than lost. I’d go as far as sayin you’s not where’s you should bees at all!

Isn’t that the same thing as being lost? I asked through trembling lips.

Not quite, he replied.

He reached out and put one of his huge hands reassuringly on my shoulder.

What’s your name boy? he asked softly.

John…sir, I replied.

Well, John Sir, we’d best gets yous back where yous belong before it gets dark. Can’ts ‘ave a new blood wandrin’ around in the woods on his own. The pixies and fairies will ‘ave a merry old time at yous expense.

He stood up and undid his washing line from the top of his spear and draped the washing attached to it roughly over the branch of the tree that the other end hung from. He put on a hide jacket that had been lying in a heap on the ground, pulled his spear out of the ground and looked over at me.

Yous want to goes home John Sir? he said.

He stooped slightly and outstretched his hand towards me.

Please, I replied thankfully, not querying the misuse of my name for fear of offending.

He crouched down, patted his shoulders and I climbed on and draped my legs around his huge neck. Minds yers head, he said as he stood up and we plodded off through the woods with me sitting aloft on the huge man.

I don’t know if it was the gentle swaying from side to side as he yomped through the trees or his gentle blob di di blob singing or the fact that the light was starting to fade, probably a combination of all three, but I vaguely remember slumping forward across the top of his huge head and falling asleep. The next thing I remember was being shaken gently from my slumber.

John Sir, he said softly. Yous can go home now. He set me to my feet. Home? he said questioningly, pointing across the field to the house lights in the distance.

I peered out into the darkness and could just make out Auntie B’s house. I looked up at him. Yes! I said excitedly. Home, thank you.

That excitement soon turned to dread as I realised the trouble I was going to be in when I got back. I might even get the belt for this one. Dad had often threatened it when I’d misbehaved before. This could be the one that made that threat a reality and my backside would still be smarting at Christmas.

Will you come with me? I asked the big man sheepishly.

I’ze comes as far as I’ze can…in fact I’ze come further than I’ze should have, he replied shaking his head. Things mights not be as bad as theys seems. Sometimes when peoples loses things they’s so glad to finds them again they’s just glad to have them back and nothing else matters.

I took cold comfort in those words. I grabbed the big man’s hand and thanked him again, turned around, took a deep breath and ran down the hill and across the field as fast as I could. I suppose in some way I thought that if I got home before it was completely dark it might lesson my punishment. As I pushed my way through the gate I was met by Auntie B who was in the garden with a torch. She scooped me up in her arms and shouted out to my mum and dad. They burst out of the front door closely followed by two burly policemen. The rest is a bit of a blur. I can remember being bundled into the house and trying desperately to explain to two very unimpressed policemen and equally unimpressed parents, especially Dad who stood in silence with a face like thunder. Eventually I took comfort in Auntie B’s arms who, under orders from my dad, took me to my bedroom to be dealt with later. I remember curling up in a ball in the middle of the bed fearful of my dad and not understanding why no one would believe me. Eventually exhausted I fell asleep.

I was awoken by Auntie B in the morning. Cup of tea John?

Mmm, cup of tea. The words pushed their way through my memories and I opened my eyes from my reminiscing and looked over at the bedside clock. It was almost nine o’clock. Mmm, cup of tea, I said to myself. Cup of tea and a pee.

I eased myself out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

I’d barely taken my first sip from that much needed cuppa that morning when the phone rang. It was my sister Cathy calling to let me know that they were just leaving and would probably see me in a couple of hours depending on traffic and how many times Alex, her husband, could get lost on the way. Cathy was one of the most unexpected outcomes of that day’s adventure all those years ago. The big man had been right, things weren’t as bad as I thought they were going to be on that night. Apparently, so my mother later told me, the memories of the war that Father had wrestled with for years had finally been laid to rest when I turned up safe and sound on the doorstep because he finally realised that life was for living. A more gentle and fun loving man emerged and some five years later my sister Cathy came along, to an equally shocked Mum, Dad and me.

Another surprise that I hadn’t expected came from Auntie B. When out walking with her a few weeks later, in the same woods that I had got lost in, she said, quite nonchalantly, Bubba’s glad you got back OK.

Bubba? I asked puzzled.

Yes, Bubba, the big man, the Ogre you met who got you safely back home. she replied.

You’ve met him too? I asked shocked.

Yes, she continued. A few times actually, usually when I least expect to. The first time was shortly after I’d lost my husband. I’d come up here to escape the tea and sympathy of well-meaning friends and family who turned up on the doorstep. I was sitting quietly by the river in the sunshine hoping that the water washing over my feet would somehow rinse away the pain, when along came Bubba, wading knee deep in the river towards me with two dead trout slung over his shoulder on twine, singing his blob di blob" song. I suppose I should have been frightened but he was such a strange sight that I ended up saying, ‘Morning, nice fish.’ He looked over with a smile on his face and said, ‘Whys thank you missy, I’ze tickled thems meself.’ ‘Well at least they died with a smile on their face,’ I replied. He pulled them up by the twine and looked at them closely. ‘No’s,’ he said. ‘I’ze says that was mores of a smug pout.’ and he pushed his lips in mock imitation. And do you know that for the first time in what seemed like an age I found myself laughing.

He waded over to where I was sitting. ‘Lost?’ he asked. ‘Sort of,’ I replied. ‘Alone?’ he continued. ‘Apparently so,’ I sighed sorrowfully. ‘Needs company?’ he asked. ‘Depends if it involves tea and sympathy or not.’ I replied. His forehead furrowed. ‘Teas and simpaffy?’ he shook his head and pulled the fish up again on their twine. ‘Whats about cooked pouty, trout lunch?’ he asked.

I smiled and nodded because another thing that hadn’t happened in a long time was that I suddenly felt hungry. So, on a sunny day, on the bank of a river in a wood, I sat with an Ogre named Bubba eating fresh baked trout that he’d cooked wrapped in leaves from the river bank over a small fire and chatted about anything, something and nothing and for that one moment in time the world had gone away and I was happy."

Auntie B took me to the spot where they had first met and we sat, occasionally plopping stones into the fast flowing water.

Will Bubba be here today? I asked.

Auntie B shrugged her shoulders. Who knows dear, she said. "I don’t go looking for him anymore. I used to, I’d hear his song echoing through the wood and