Ok, so the vacation days were there and in truth they had been looming ominously begging to be filled with something. This wasn�t exactly a trip to the seaside though and it not certainly didn�t count towards getting the painting done or towards the sorting out of the spare room.
Meena sighed already weary and for a moment thought longingly of home; a comfy chair, pleasing music and low ambient lighting a nice steaming mug of Horlicks and maybe a break from the damn diet long enough to break open the biccy box. Not elaborate demands, far from a audacious party goer she was quite happy to curl up alone with a good book for the evening. Right now propping in a cramp corner with a bad book would be an improvement she reflected, and they were barely started.
A gleeful slurping sound drew Meena from her musings of increasing doom and gloom. The cat at her feet was washing. She glared at the animal to no avail as it lay sprawled against her legs. The carriage they were in was wide enough and he could stretch out unencumbered but no it insisted on using her feet as a prop.
�Your tongue moves one inch closer to your balls and you�re going to loose them buddy!�
Frank it seemed was one of the good guys she smiled her thanks to him for his matter of fact assertion and rolled her eyes in amazement at the creatures self-possession.
�That�s just so, so..� Daphne at a loss for words, a rarity in itself. Not that she ever had anything much to say of course, but that didn�t normally stop her.
�Ignore him honey-pie� Frank wasn�t that much older than them which made him late twenties or early thirties, yet he carried that bothersome weight of responsibility on his broad shoulders the burden giveing him pathos. He would not have been out of place in an older time protecting the little woman indoors, Daphne his honey-pie seemed to wallow in the sweet little woman role. She gazed wide eyed at the cat who delighted in the attention masticating loudly as he lapped away grooming his shiny coat.
There are supposedly three primary classifications of people; those that live in blissful ignorance of the others, those that are aware of others and intermingle to varying degrees and then there�s the others. Those of a magical and mystical nature, the people from folk-tale and nightmares.
Meena had decided that there was clearly another category up there at the top of the evolutionary tree because �Cat-Lovers� are surely a race apart, and certainly the hardest grouping to comprehend.
How anyone could look at the monsters and see adorable balls of fluff was beyond her, now her neighbour Miss Dorothy Maiden-Burst was one such person. The elderly spinster lived with three of the verminous creatures. Tiddles the favourite of the bunch, her sweety Tiddle-widdy bumpkins - I kid you not! Was forever the misunderstood fluffy-wuffy-woos to the otherwise sane and somewhat patrician lady.
Meena had always seen the pampered hoyden as an evil, aggressive, ball of fury and vengeance in a furry disguise. The local fire-brigade, the window-cleaner, the postman and the paper-boy, the Butcher, the Baker, the Candlestick maker and Uncle Tom Cobbley and all, tended to agree with her.
Maybe it was a disease, an optical issue perhaps. Dear Miss Dorothy Maiden-Burst who tutted disapprovingly at most of the immoral goings on of the �young set� had described the fetid feline lounging insolently at Meena�s feet as a noble handsome beast.
Not that she hated any animal Meena thought with unconvincing virtue, she often volunteered at the local animal shelter and had splintered her fair share of bird wings. Cat�s though were something else, this particular Cat was defiantly undeniably Other. One of those nightmare boggles without a flicker of a doubt.
All cats sense immediately those wary of them and play up to it, he watched her now amber eyes gleaming with mirth and secret knowledge. Someone should kick the animal at the very least, she thought, nerves already raw and the train hardly out of the station.
** ** ** **
It had started innocuously enough as these things generally do. Meena had been at work in her bookshop, her very own place, just thinking of it filled her with pride. A small yet already thriving venture, books lining every wall of the lower floor, a few shabby chairs that she�d soon be able to renew were scattered invitingly for lingering visitors and upstairs a little caf�. Caf� was may be an exaggeration of sorts as they served only the very basic of fare, though a good cuppa and a slice of cake where generally welcome after a hard days shop. More and more people were dropping in on their lunch break and it was nice to recognise regulars, to have that just right book ready, when warm and refreshed they ambled down and through the bookshelves to the door. The chimes at the door were a relic to the previous owner, they had given a cheery twinkle on this day and she�d looked up in time to see the usually immaculate Daphne rushing in dishevelled and out of breath.
Daphne she sat opposite Meena now all calm and collected, she was pretty as a picture. Long naturally blonde hair that feathered down to her tiny little waist smooth and glossy as a commercial. Her skin a milk white gave her the appearance of an expensive doll a delicate rose-petal blush shaded cheeks that would never need the touch of a make-up brush. Her large periwinkle blue eyes seemed to fill her face, dwarfing her cute little button nose and rosy pout. She�d chosen a short red dress for travelling and the bright splash of colour was a perfect foil setting of that pale milky skin and the bright azure eyes. Her beauty defied description. She looked dainty perched next to the square unyielding frame of her fiance Frank.
�Frank we nearly there yet?�
�Not long to go now my blossom�
�There isn�t even a movie or anything you know�
�Not going to be time for a film my love�
�Is that where were going then, it doesn�t look very friendly you know, not friendly at all�
�There�ll be a little coach ride and we get to the village, here� he pointed at some papers on his lap �Got the inn booked for the night and we�ll meet the guide in the morning.�
�Guide, what we need a guide for Frank? I�m sure you could lead us Frank, you�re sooo clever you know.� Hell, she was sooo aggravating. To think women past would chain themselves to railing and shout for their rights. Emmeline Pankhurst would turn in her grave if confonted with Daphne. She was enough to make the suffragettes all go home and take up knitting rather than the right to vote,
It was Frank who had made all the arrangements for the journey and he sat there now making quick notations on a notepad. Brows furrowed in stern concentration and no wasted movements he resembled a general before a war .
It was Frank who�d persuaded Meena to join the team.
Team that had been the his term, all for one and one for all. He was the type to give his all too, she thought watching his large capable hands. The high school cheerleader and the top jock, but this was no teen movie, he had a keen brain for all his brawn. He looked square next to the willowy figure of Daphne, short for a man, with unruly sandy hair framing a strong face the nose a little off centre from an old break. A large snaking scar circling one bulging bicep pale against the permanent tan and adding depth to his character. This was no trust fund babe but an acclaimed fire-fighter unafraid of graft. �Be one of the team�. People heeded Frank�s voice when he spoke. His words would come out quiet and considered, he�d said that the four of them should make this trip and here they were. All his geniality didn�t hide a strong sense of right and determination. Good old Frank, a team player to the end of days.
Meena had called Frank after settling the quivering Daphne to a chair with a warm cuppa, and it was he that had determined the what and whys. Daphne clearing house for her dear old great grandfathers return to the area had lost the Phlebotnim. THE Phlebotnim, a magical tome rumoured to hold the secret of time gone and time to come. In the wrong hands it could be catastrophic. The dinosaurs could walk again. Haagan Daz could have been a plumber. Mankind may never have evolved...
Her great grandfather Rupert Hamilton-Smide the fourth, it seems, was a wise old wizened wizard of considerable standing. This learned gent had located this invaluable text in a past red-blooded adventure and secured it in a securely locked case in his attic.
Unfortunately the case covered with the dust and grime of the ages was placed next to the chest of jumble countless Hamilton-Smide children and coalesced over the years. Notice how so often these great wise wizards live for centuries thwarting countless irrepressible foes but are incapable of outwitting one well-meaning blonde?
Daphne the paragon of virtue with the gleaming golden tresses in question had, had the nice removal men come and parcel the lot for good-will. Great grand-daddy Hamilton-Smide was not going to be amused. Mortified, livid perchance, but far, far from amused.
It was to be a race against time, get to the good-will depo and recover the treasured book before he returns from overseas and before any budding masterminds of evil with Armageddon to mind discover it�s location and seize it for their nefarious schemes.
Oh, and because they wouldn�t want to miss the reunion tea in great grand-daddy�s honour. I mean the new Major and his lady wife would be there and Lady Hamilton-Smide was still sore from her, the Mayoress, choosing that awful Penelope Smith for the Easter procession instead of her darling Daphne. Everyone knows Daphne would have looked splendid and ethereal on the float while that Penelope girl was a clump of bucolic cheer and had freckles to boot, freckles!
They were to pull out all stops and show that ninny that her precious provincial Smiths would never have the breeding, the dignity, the pizzazz of the Hamilton-Smides of this world. They�d left the hall with her admonitions still ringing in their ears - Daphne was to be back and spruced by the beating of midnight heralding the first of the Christmas month, if it took the four riders of the apocalypse to get her there. Or by the gods it�d better be Armageddon!
** ** ** **
Only moments connected with the wondrous hub of knowledge that is the Internet had told them the good-will depo was of all implausible locations deep in The Dark Country. Yeah, cue the sinister symphony. The Dark Country, now isn�t that a light friendly name to warm the cockles of your heart and melt the barnacles from your soul?
Tickets were booked, arrangements made and here we were for better or worse. For all the Inclusions Corps� vows no-one ventured into the Dark Lands unprepared, at least not those expecting to return and what�s more return in the same form they had set out in.
The cat was here as our insurance policy as Frank explained it. He�d answered the short add in the local paper for reasons of his own and in his own indeligible style. A deep resonant voice on the phone:
�There�s a train to the Dark Lands leaving at twelve oh five, Tuesday, that�s November one, AM. Darr-lings! I�ll be there under the clock, the looker with a black backpack clutching a red Rose! Don�t be late darrr-lings, you want me I�m yourrrrrs!�
No follow up, just that on the machine loaded with purring suggestion and his name Tomas A. Cat tacked on the end like an after thought.
�But who�s this Tomas A. Cat? I mean to say. I�ve never heard of any Cat family and my mother is after all none other than the Lady Cynthia Hamilton-Smide, but of course you know. Mumsy is on the board of the parents teachers committee, the board you know. She absolutely runs the social committee too you know and was the original founder of the ladies collections for children guild I�ll have you know. Well she says she�s never heard of such a faimily. If mumsy hasn�t heard of him then, well, I just don�t know!� Daphne�s voice had gushed on without stopping for air. The full pedigree of the worthy Hamilton-Smide clan had been wrung out like a sopping tea towel, none who�d heard of Tomas A. Cat.
Frank a cautious and resourceful team-leader had asked around. Tomas A. Cat a visiting enigma, probably trustworthy despite displaying the loose morals of an alley-cat.
Of course, he was also the only call barring the myopic masochist who�d misread the ad.
She should have guessed she reflected, but the sight of Tomas A. Cat waiting under the clock had surprised her. A big black cat somewhere between a Panther and the Domestic. He stood and stretched out his back, amber eyes slitting with satisfaction. The Rose he�d dropped at Miss Maiden-Burst�s feet, the dear lady had insisted on dropping Meena at the station and now went all a flutter gushing adoringly.
�Meena honey you never said there would be a Cat�
�Oooo A Cat� cooed Daphne
�Tom A. CAT original� she�d sighed at the inevitable.
�He�s so handsome, aren�t you a handsome fella��
�Yeah TOMAS A. Cat you know�
�Look at that, so regal, what a handsome, noble beast he is�
�Ohhh wait I get it, TOM CAT you know�
Another sigh, it was all truely cringe worthy.
Tomas ignored the adulation, he�d looked briefly at Frank and then latched on to Meena. Cat�s always know when you�re against them.
He lay there now malevolent. Finally groomed to satisfy his own exacting standards he gave a wide yawn showcasing his sharp incisors top and bottom for Frank�s benefit. The cabin sunk again into that pregnant hush, silent but for the steady chugging of the train. No-one was about to suggest a game of eye spy or hang-man.
The view from the window had long changed from the familiar landmarks to the bleak unfriendly vistas of the dark lands. Meena leaned her head against the pane and watched the strange new territories go by, her eyes started to close soothed by the rhythmic beat.
�Chugga-chugga, Chugga- chugga� �Wanna -go-Home, Wanna-go-Home�
�Frank, are sure this is it?� Only Daphne could bat her inch long lashes and sound winsome while hectoring at someone. Meena pointed to the sign hanging lopsided and creaking in the breeze Stygian Station.
�The Sty, part is certainly true� she muttered, but her attempt at wit fell short. Stygian; bleak related to hell, she�d looked checking the meaning as of habit and she�d been hoping ever since it was just a quaint whimsy for tourists.
�Cazzy, Oh goodness is that supposed to be the lavatory� easy to shock the Hamilton-Smides of the world. �Oh my Frank I couldn�t possibly, there�d, there�d, there�d be germs and bugs and you know nasties. It�s totally wrong you know, the doors half off too you know.�
�There, there my love� Frank patted her shoulder with a superior look �We�ll soon be at the village honey-pie.�
�Oh but, Frank� Her voice was picking up a definite whine and Frank heaved up her case smiling reassuringly.
�You ok there Meena� Meena smiled at him gritting her teeth and shouldering her light bag, she had to remind her self what a nice bloke he was to stop the urge to rub that condescending look off his face. She�d been drafted along as I suppose a travelling librarian, probably the only one of the party who�d ever picked up a book let alone read one. She wondered dourly if Daphne would recognise a book if it sat up and bit her on the nose! Probably not, she�d likely still mistake it for a door-stop.
�Yer rides here!�
They turned as one to towards the rough common voice and spotted the station master. He was crouching arthritically in front of the second ramshackle hut. A dirty lean-to it was billowing out more noxious fumes than the departed train. Daphne screwed her nose up appalled, Meena was cheered keep that up she�ll gat a wrinkle she speculated, of course it�d probably look adorable and add to her charm.
The station master, if indeed this hole actually rated as a station, jerked a nicotine yellowed thumb around the side of the hut and grabbing Tomas�s bag threw it roughly into the depth of the waiting coach. The most decrepit, dilapidated monstrosity you could visualise. ...No, worse than that.
The Cat unfazed loped in after his pack, despite his stealth the coach creaked alarmingly.
�Would it kill them to buy cars� Frank shushed Daphne and helped her climb in stopping to give Meena a hand-up too before entering the gloomy interior himself.
Inside was no improvement, sticky floor and sharp springs showing through the ripped upholstery. Of the cat there was no sign. A tall man stood at the only seat with any semblance of padding, arms raised he stowed a familiar black backpack in the over-head racking.
This was all too much for Daphne who let out a short scream. He turned with an expression of polite enquiry, the lighting was thankfully to dim to see much but there was no mistaking his complete nakedness.
�What to early in the proceeds for some blatant attention grabbing nudity?� There was a shocked silence.
�I�m aware I�m a thing of beauty but you needn�t stare people� He made no move to cover himself but faced them unblinkingly with bright amber eyes that gleamed mockingly through a curtain of long hair.
Daphne gave a whimper and sunk into Frank�s ready arms in a dead faint. �Peace at last� thought Meena fighting to keep her eyes chastely above waist level.
�What, never seen a naked man before?� The drawled query was openly taunting as he looked Frank over slow and consideringly. Somehow Meena doubted those lazy eyes missed much.
�Clearly not� he concluded answering himself and finally pulled on some clothes his movements smooth and unhurried, while Frank lowered Daphne into a seat and cared for her.Tomas�s eyes centred on Meena when she expelled the breath she�d unconsciously been holding. A slow knowing smile spread wickedly over his face, no, this was one cat that didn�t miss a trick.
** ** ** **
They settled as well as they could, Daphne nestled to Franks side, Meena perched at the edge of her seat and Tomas the only one at ease, reclining opposite them.
�There had to be a better coach than this� The forlorn mutter signalled Daphne�s return to consciousness.
�Darr-ling, it�s the only coach there is.� Frank glared warningly at Tomas who smirked back.
�It�s not far now flower� like the endearment made everything alright.
�Few short miles to the Toll-booth then we get to a village and we�ll rest there for tonight.�
Tomas�s mobile mouth quirked in a half-smile at that as if he knew something they didn�t, but he didn�t deign to elaborate on Frank�s reassurances.
Frank seemed to remember Tomas� role and credentials then and attempted to draw some details from him. It was torturous to watch.
�Yes� he would advise them, he was going their way anyway,
�Yes� the villagers would put them up,
�Yes� he knew people.
The accepted the fee without any effort at bartering, the amount didn�t seem to bother him which negated the opinion that he was after the money. So, did he know the depo?
�I�ve been about.� he announced ambiguously again with that secretive half smile, telling them precisely nothing. He closed his eyes determinedly and appeared to fall straight asleep while the others clung white knuckled at the constant heaving and lurching of the coach.
They clamoured out as soon as it reached it �s shuddering, screeching stand-still. The tall bony coachman leered at them as he patted dust-clouds from the slathering horses, then shoving a grimy gloved hand at Frank. He grabbed up his payment checking the coins miserly before pocketing them quickly within his scruffy layers of clothing. He climbed back aboard and the coach sped off suspiciously smoothly.
The intrepid team were abandoned at the bank of a grey sluggish river. They stretched uncricking necks and trying to bring ease to their abused limbs, Tomas gave the large yawn of the completely rested.
�Eeew� Daphne was not an outdoor pursuit girl. �This way� Frank again heaved his and Daphne�s bags as he strode purposefully forward after Tomas �there�s the bridge up ahead�
Daphne took two steps and stopped still, her feet sinking into the rank mud. She watched horrified as it seeped into her strappy sandals staining her shimmering stockings.
�Eeeww, isn�t there isn�t even a path, oh my goodness, we have to walk through the mud. It�s not right, these are new shoes you know. I just bought them yesterday, they�re designer, made to order. Oooh the stench, I�ll have to burn them now. It�s not on Frank, I can�t do this, I�m not a strong woman. I have style, class, this is just not my genre Frank, it�s not right.�
Meena felt the start of a migraine as dear sweet Daphne gushed on, the pointed stare in her direction had not been lost on her. She�d remembered now what it was she always hated about Daphne besides the non-existent waist, the gleaming tresses and perfect pout. From baby school to Sorority and likely on until Senority, anything that didn�t go Daphne�s way was just not right it got tiring you know. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and for one blissful moment pictured Frank shoving the babbling princess� head into the squelching mud and holding it there.
Hell he�s bound to end up carrying her, she thought bitterly. I mean who the blue blazing hell wore designer strappy sandals for a trip to the dark lands?! She glanced down to where the mud had smeared the edges of her denim skirt, it would wash and at least the boots were wipe clean and they kept her feet dry, she scrunched her toes complacently they were cosy warm in thick dry socks, fashion wasn�t everything.
�You want someone to play fetch, get a dog. A cat is slave to no man� Tomas drawled in response to Franks request for help, he stood watching their progress arms akimbo, face contemptuous.
Frank lifted Daphne high in his protecting arms �Don�t worry sweet-cakes I�ll soon have you safe and sound.� He carried her to the patch of dry ground then returned for the bags. Daphne continued to give womanhood a bad name, standing there preening and shooting worshipping glances at Frank who puffed his chest out in manly pride. Had she never heard of feminism? It was enough to make even the mildest mannered of people barf.
Meena rolled her eyes in disgust then looked up to find herself the subject of Tomas�s unwavering stare. A cosseted princess and a blasted cat could this trip get any worse?
It was about to.
** ** ** **
A large square bricked booth stood infront of them, they�d reached the toll-bridge, make that Troll-bridge. A heavy wooden plank blocked their advance to the stone bridge, before it a crude sign had been nailed to a withered tree the gooey dripping writing was the red-brown of dried blood and the message far from welcoming.
BEWARE TROLL !
�Eew Trolls� Tomas hissed at Daphne and Frank laid a placating hand on her shoulder but it was to late.
�Troll�s big stupid lumps. I saw one once you know? Eeeew ugly things, nasty, rancid. Not at all right, live under bridges they do, hear they eat children alive you know! My auntie Gaynor Hamilton-Smides of the Western Hamilton-Smides don�t you know, well she says she remembers one going on a rampage, awful it was. Shaking, telling us she was. There wasn�t a baby safe she said. Dreadful things Trolls, big stupid ugly...�
The big stupid ugly lump in question loomed menacingly above them. She was at least part right Troll�s are not known for their intelligence, when in doubt they�ve a habit of grabbing the nearest club and whacking something hard.
This Troll did not look happy. It cradled what looked like half a tree in one giant fist slapping it into his empty hand with a thundering crack.
�AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!� screamed Daphne as she looked up, and up, and up further to see all of what be at least eight or nine feet of roughly hewn troll. Hide the colour and appearance of old bark. Hair the green of lichen curled tightly close to his skull covering his head and the wide expanse of his shoulders. Blunt features in a wide face that was contorting in fury.
Another crack of the tree, Daphne raised hands palm out to her face and bellowed �AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH�
�Argh gug AAARRRGHHHH ug i ARRRGGGGGHHH � the troll thundered.
�RUN� shouted Frank masterfully.
�Holy Toaster� prayed Meena as Frank pushed her to the bridge, dragging the still squealing Daphne behind him. Tomas with a highly defined sense of self-preservation was already half way across the structure and gaining speed.