Faldo's Fate: (if dreams had you)

By Barbara Low

Faldo's Fate is a book about a boy whose daydreaming keeps getting him into trouble. He is persuaded to take a treatment from a mysterious herbalist, which is aimed at helping him focus. This begins a amazing adventure in the power of dreams, that teaches Faldo about consequences, loyalty, and self restraint.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tablo Publishing
• Release date: Feb 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685832599

Book preview

Chapter 2: Good girl Gracie.

The day wore on.  At lunchtime, Nathan sprayed water on Faldo but he and David got him back so he shut up for a while.  The last lesson was maths, and Faldo sat next to Gracie Adams.  He liked Gracie, she always seemed to know what you meant.  Also, she had lots of Good Girl Magic; she never did anything wrong, and the teachers never seemed to think anyone sitting beside her could do anything wrong either!  Sourstone had obviously been mulling over his wicked ways however.  He called Faldo up at the end of the day and gave him a sealed letter.

Give this to your parents' Faldo.  I want to talk to them about your inability to pay attention in class.  I expect an answer so don't think you can lose it.  This is serious!

Faldo's heart sank.  After the ear tugging episode this morning his mother had sounded serious too.  This would be the last straw.

Faldo sat in his room after tea.  Mum and Dad had the letter and were talking about him in the kitchen.  Mr. Stone had laid it on thick about his absentmindedness, being ‘so ingrained in Faldo, so resistant to discipline, that I sometimes wonder if he is completely well in his mind.'    His Mum was all primed to agree.

After this morning Faldo, after the words we had, to go to school and immediately do the same thing there…I don't think you are right in your mind.  Some part of it is asleep, and we need to wake it up.  Go to your room, while your father and I talk about you…again!

Faldo could hear his Dad sticking up for him, telling his Mum it would pass, but she was unstoppable.  She had been to the gym and was all pumped up on Exercise Juice.  Faldo imagined his mothers gym like a special refueling station, where mothers went in tired and came out prickling with biceps and attitude.  Kids and Dads didn't stand a chance.  He heard her loud determined voice

No, Frank, I think Mr. Stone is right, Faldo can't help himself.  And I am not taking him to a doctor, I am not hearing that attention deficit garbage again.  We'll go to my herbalist, and that is that.

Faldo gulped,  Mum's herbalist!  That was just a fancy name for some quacky shop on Bridge Road where Mum got her smelly herbal concoctions.  What would happen to him!  Maybe it was child abuse to take him there without his permission.  What would they give him?  He was in for it.

Faldo told David the next day.  

Mum's taking me to this weirdo Dave, I am in for it.  It is all so stupid, he'll give me something that tastes and smells revolting, and it won't do anything, we both know that.

You'll have to pretend it works Fal.  It can't be that hard.  Just concentrate for a few days.  They can think they have a miracle cure, and you can stop taking it.

I don't want to change.  I like the way I am.  If I pretend it works they'll make me keep taking stuff forever.  My best chance is to get WORSE on it.  I just want them to leave me alone!

David laughed.  Mate, no offence, but I don't think you can get worse.  With all this hanging over your head, look what happened in English this morning

Faldo grinned.  He hadn't meant to get into trouble, but it had been funny.  They were taking dictation, and he was next to Gracie Adams.  He had been imagining that we was protected by her zone of Good Girl Magic.  It was so powerful, he thought, it was like a force field, making his work perfect, like a spellchecker on the computer.  He was testing this out by leaving out vowels for automatic correction, when Sourstone came past.

Faldo Gray!  Are you part of this lesson!  What is this?  Why must you always play games with everything.  He leaned over and pulled the page out with a heavy sigh.  You can stay in at recess and copy the passage out from Grace's work.  Twice.  No, three times

Possibly David was right.  Just possibly, his imagination was out of control.  Whether the herbalist could help, was a whole other matter.

Chapter 3: Mr. Tran

Faldo's mother picked him up from school for the drive to the herbalist.  She was humming a little song and was all bouncy after her gym session.  Faldo felt just the reverse.  Maybe all he needed was exercise.  He could just see himself, a fit focussed football captain.

Ten pushups. 

Yes sir!

Fifty squats.

Yes sir!

Five laps of the oval.

Yes sir! 

He could see himself and Nathan, best bully buddies.  Picking on all the dreamy kids just because they could.  Mum's voice intruded.

Faldo.  I want you to concentrate with Mr. Tran.  I want you to answer his questions, don't be staring off into space in that rude way you have.  And I don't want you to mumble.  There!  You are mumbling now.  If you have something to say, just say it.  Come on, what were you mumbling?

Faldo sighed.  He had been mentioning that since he was only seeing old Tran-osauraus because he didn't concentrate enough, it would rather spoil the story if he were Mr. Snappy when he got there.  He had only mentioned it to cheer himself up, but quietly, to save his mothers' feelings.  Sometimes grownups didn't know when they were ahead.

It was nothing Mum.

Nothing is nothing, Faldo.  Have you got that?  NOTHING is nothing.  Honestly, I hope Mr. Tran can help you, or you are just going to drift through your life and never amount to anything.  Now, let's go in.  And try to behave!

Faldo waited in the corner while his mother talked to Mr. Tran.  It was a weird shop, but it smelt interesting, rather than disgusting.  It had lots of narrow aisles, with shelves towering above you, with big containers of rice and oil, and lots of little packets of…other stuff.  Faldo supposed Mr. Tran had to get everything down for his customers.  It wasn't very efficient.  You wouldn't make much money.  Maybe he subsidised it by treating gullible customers like his Mum with stuff that didn't do them any harm, and couldn't do them any good, and charging them a pile for it.

Your son, madam, is a very difficult case, very difficult.  We can only treat him with this potion, containing powdered brain of Kookooba monkeys.  This monkey is very rare, lives in the mountains of my country, and has a very small brain.  Consequently this powder costs 400 dollars an ounce, but it is absolutely guaranteed, 100%.

Then back in the laboratory, grind me up some more of that dried banana will you George, I have another kookoo out there who will believe anything.

Faldo felt his mother's strong grip.  She looked mad again.  Whoops.

You see what I mean  Mr. Tran!  He can't keep alert for five minutes.  I could beg him to behave on my knees and it wouldn't make any difference, he just lives in a world of his own.  If you can't help us I don't know what we will do.

Mr. Tran didn't look too concerned.  He was a thin straight man with wire glasses.  He looked at Faldo as if he were measuring him for something.  Faldo was suddenly nervous.

I hear what you are saying Mrs. Gray.  Your explanation has been very clear.  But I need to hear what Faldo has to say.  I would like to speak to him…alone.

His mother hadn't expected that.

Oh, you won't get any sense out of him.  He likes the way he is.  He didn't even want to come, he thinks herbalism is all…

Rubbish, Faldo?

Faldo suddenly found that Mr. Tran was smiling down at him and they were on one side of the door, his mothers'  voice coming to a surprised stop on the other.  Impressive!  Maybe old Tran-osaurus was going to be all right after all.  He obviously wasn't in Mums' pocket.

Sit down Faldo.

Mr. Tran gestured to a chair.  Faldo looked around.  They were in the kitchen.  It was clean but old, faded once bright laminate, low narrow benches.  He sat on one side of the kitchen table, and Mr. Tran sat at the other.  On Faldo's side there was an old piece of graffiti, scratched into the laminate, 'dad smels'. Mr. Tran saw him looking at it and smiled.

My son wrote that many years ago, when I had to stop him from having something he wanted.

Why do you keep it there?

I've often meant to repair the table, said Mr. Tran.  But when I come to do it I see him so clearly, his little face so furious and defiant, but still so afraid when I came in and caught him!  It was the naughtiest thing he had ever done, and both of us could hardly believe it.  He is all grown up now, but that little message reminds me of how he was once, and I wouldn't clean it off for anything.

There was a little silence, and then Mr. Tran shook himself a little.

We are not here to talk about my son though, but about you, Faldo.  What is the meaning of all this daydreaming, hey?  Your mother tells me that it is the dreams having you, rather than the other way around.  What do you say?

Faldo considered.  He still didn't buy the herbalism mind, but old  Tran-osaurus seemed sympathetic.

"I don't mean to annoy Mum, or Mr. Stone, or anyone really.  I don't even know how long I've been off half the time, until I get their beaks in my face, yelling at me.  Something happens, it gives me an idea, and I just follow it.  It is like a path in my mind that twists and turns, and anything might happen around the corner.  It's much more interesting