To Defame, To Devour: The Prequel to a Time-Travel Adventure

  The dream of spring felt more distant than ever before. Summer had been a beautiful lie, autumn a blustery storm, and now the scathing hand of winter was at play. The once golden fields and thriving meadows of Merlow had been gradually transformed by the season’s astonishing beauty. So tenderly the snow had fallen, dressing the endless patches of green in cloths of pristine white. The tops of ponds formed brittle shells, and curtains of woolly clouds slowly drew in overhead. Only then, when all was convinced of its cool innocence, did winter prevail with sullen brutality. A fierce tempest had grown over the course of a few days, drumming up arctic winds off the thunderous shoreline and hurling hurricanes down the streets. Hedges were stripped bare and loose windowpanes rattled and cracked in their frames whilst the shrinking days slowly sank into a favoured memory. Winter had never been so stunningly violent.

  Alex sat at the window watching the fat flakes fall, mesmerised by their swift and daring dance. They topped the neat hedges and sprinkled the tall trees of the front garden he was surveilling, setting the scene as silent and absent of all life. Alex found his eyes tracing the reflection of his father’s shadow, which stretched out over the snowy carpet. Despite his father standing in the stuffy heat of the hallway nearby, he was visibly shivering.

  Two beams of light emerged at the road junction opposite, piercing the thick blizzard. Alex and his father watched together for a moment as the car drove cautiously down the street. Then the shadow swelled back into the warmth.

  ‘He’ll be here soon,’ said Alex’s mother to his father. ‘It’s not half past seven yet and he’s always so punctual.’

  His father gave a low hum. ‘Yeah, I suppose he is.’

  ‘It’s going to be all right, you know. We get this done, we get tonight done, and you will feel the world better, trust me,’ she said, her voice strong but soft. ‘The world better . . .’

  The past few weeks had been long and strange for the Priar family. It was out on an icy road, similar to the one Alex was now staring at, where his grandparents had tragically died. It was a car accident, he had been told, but a copy of last week’s Merlow Messenger had told him considerably more. Their car had unexpectedly veered into oncoming traffic before crashing through the roadside barrier and skidding into a ditch towards the neighbouring village of Magralow. The sadness that hung over the family was like an oppressive cloud, painted even blacker by the fact that no one seemed to know just where his grandparents had been headed at eleven o’clock on an otherwise uneventful Sunday night.

  A pinprick of light grew until a small red car came skidding out of the junction and bumped up the kerb outside Alex’s house. The car’s engine promptly stalled, a door slammed, and Alex could make out a slim figure battling its way through the snow and up the path through the front garden.

  ‘That’s him!’ his father gasped.

  Moving into the hall to welcome his uncle, Alex found his mother standing a few paces back from his father. A heavy stare of concern was locked upon her face, but as she spotted Alex her expression broke into a faint smile.

  ‘Perfect timing. Uncle Abraham’s just arrived,’ she said, cuddling Alex at her side. ‘Must have gotten caught up with the weather.’ She looked down for a brief second, and Alex noticed tears welling in her bright blue eyes.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Alex said.

  ‘Of course I’m OK,’ she said with a sniff, rubbing his arm. ‘I’m fine.’

  Abraham climbed the steps and called out, ‘William!’ as he and Alex’s father crashed into each other’s arms. There was a moment of heartfelt mumbling between them, and when they separated Abraham rubbed his narrow, bony face. ‘Brrr! So very cold! Sorry for being so late, the bleedin’ car wouldn’t start!’ He wiped his eyes. ‘Alex!’ he then said with a gasp, rushing over to ruffle his hair.

  ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ Alex said, looking up to his uncle with great admiration.

  Leaning down, Abraham replied, ‘Me too!’ before brushing the snow from his slippers and turning to Meredith. ‘Merry . . .’ He sighed, squeezing her in a warm hug. ‘How we’ve missed you. Maudlyn sends her love.’

  ‘So glad you could make it. How are you?’ As she took a step back, her gaze travelled down Abraham’s tall body and then up again; beneath the weary, woolly shell of his cardigan he was hovering dangerously close to gauntness and ill-health. ‘How are you both doing?’

  ‘We are well—as well as we can be. I would have told Alex to come to ours but Maud said it’d be good for me to get out. I haven’t left her side in weeks.’ When Abraham noted the time, William and Meredith pulled on their coats and stepped out onto the icy top step. They each gave Alex a great hug and kissed him on the head before linking arms.

  ‘I’m sorry you have to leave so soon,’ Abraham said, his arm now cuddling Alex as they stood on the balmy border. ‘How about you all come to ours for dinner? An evening next week? I know Maud would love to see you.’

  ‘Of course we will. Sounds like a great idea,’ Meredith said, tying her scarf.

  ‘Love you, son,’ William said.

  ‘Love you,’ Meredith added, and with that, they descended the steps through the white garden and moved out into the dark street. After one lasting wave they walked along out of sight.

  By the time his parents had driven away, Alex had rushed off to set up the game of chess, his uncle’s favourite game, in the lounge immediately off the hall. His uncle soon joined him on the thick rug, his nose burning as brightly as the handsome scarlet walls. The game stormed into play. Alex had long since learned, by letting his uncle win, he was guaranteed the treasured prize of his uncle’s joy in return.

  After the grandfather clock struck its eighth and final chime, the telephone abruptly screamed from the hall.

  ‘Hello?’ Alex said as he picked up the receiver.

  ‘. . . Hello? Is that . . . ? Hel-hello?’ The elderly woman’s voice was crackly but not from the bad connection. ‘Alex, is that?—It-it’s your aunt. Is Abe there? I need him . . .’

  Finding his uncle paralysed with fear at his side, Alex hastily passed him the phone.

  ‘Maud, are you all right? What’s wrong?’

  Abraham fired his questions, and his eyes bulged behind his heavy glasses. Almost shrieking that he would be with her right away, he unintentionally slammed the phone on its hook. He launched back into his boots and had barely managed to say, ‘I’ll be right back!’ before the door clanked shut behind him.

  The small red car skidded away and Alex retired to the sofa to face the empty room. He was certain his uncle wouldn’t be long. Maudlyn often needed Abraham’s aid at the drop of a hat when he wasn’t at her side. As his eyes became heavy, Alex allowed them gentle rest. He pushed back into the cushions and within no time felt himself drift from the cusp of wakefulness and plunge, dreamlessly, into the depths of sleep.