A Place Called Perfect (10 page)

CHAPTER 21

William Archer

William Archer was a tall man though not as tall as George, he was also a wide man though not as wide as Edward and this combination meant he was completely in proportion. He was unkempt, dirty and looked like he’d spent a thousand years in his clothes. His hair was long and streaked in tones of grey. His beard was long too and he wore both beard and hair wrapped like a scarf round his neck. He had a kind face and as he emerged from the shadows it was almost impossible not to stare at his eyes. One was dark almost black while the other was a cold blue like an icy winter’s morning. Violet’s Dad had told her that some people were born with different coloured eyes but William was the first one she’d met.

A cluttered table rested by the front window and William cleared it off before calling over the pair. Violet sat down on one side and Boy on the other. The window was caked in dirt, which was safer, surely the Watchers couldn’t see in.

“Excuse the mess,” William Archer coughed, “I haven’t had guests in a while”.

“It’s fine,” Violet replied in her polite voice, “it’s just like my room.”

William smiled uncomfortably, he didn’t seem used to the company of children or maybe it was the company of anyone at all.

“Have you lived here long?” Violet asked, breaking an awkward silence.

Boy stared in shock at his friend and frantically gestured towards the door.

“It’s okay Boy. He’s not like his brothers.”

Her friend’s eyes fell towards the table avoiding William and his cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

“And how do you know I’m not like my brothers?” William asked, a hint of a smile in his voice.

“Because I saw your message under my desk at school and because I met your Mam. She said you were a good son.”

“She did?” William said, his eyes glassing over, “how is Iris, is she well?”

“I think so, I only met her for a minute though.”

“I’ve been here so long,” William whispered, as if to himself, “I’m not sure I remember what she looks like anymore.”

“Everyone remembers what their Mam looks like no matter how long they’ve been away. She’s your Mam,” Violet replied.

She glanced across at Boy then quickly down at her hands avoiding his eyes.

“You’re a wise one for someone your age!” William Archer laughed.

The gentle sound filled the faded shop and Violet knew immediately, though she’d kind of known it already, that she liked William Archer. Boy seemed to know it too. His stiff upright posture softened with the laughter.

“So,” William said running his fingers over the frames in his hands, “how did you find my glasses?”

“Oh,” Violet shouted suddenly jumping up, “I’m not wearing any glasses! I can see! I’m not blind!”

William laughed again, this time his laughter was big and full and it seemed to shake the shop. The deep-bellied sound was infectious and suddenly Boy and Violet found themselves laughing too.

“So you’re from Perfect,” he smiled, regaining a little control.

“No I’m not!” Violet snapped, “I lived there for a bit but I’m not from there.”

“She’s from there,” Boy teased, “I’m not though, I’m from here.”

Violet shot Boy a dirty look.

“Maybe you’re not from there but you’ve lived there. You must have, why else would you be blind?” William continued.

“But I’m not blind,” Violet said, “that’s what I’m trying to say.”

“I know Violet but I’ll let you in on a secret. You never were blind. They just made you believe you were.”

“Who?” Violet and Boy replied in unison.

“My brothers. They made everyone in Perfect blind.”

“Why?”

“It’s a long story Violet,” William continued, “and you still haven’t told me how you came across my glasses?”

“I didn’t know they were yours but I found them under my bed. I’m telling the truth.”

“Well how did they get there?” William said, his voice still disbelieving.

“She did,” Boy interrupted, “I mean she did find them under her bed.”

“Ah,” William smiled, “I thought it might have something to do with you. All the children in No Mans Land have nifty fingers.”

“I didn’t steal them if that’s what you’re saying,” Boy replied angrily, “I just had them.”

Violet stared blankly at friend.

“But I thought my Dad…”

“I know what you thought,” Boy sighed, “that’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t mind what you thought as long as you could see me. I’m sorry Violet it’s just I was sick of being invisible and you looked like good fun.”

“It’s okay Boy,” Violet smiled, “I’m happy you gave them to me.”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” William Archer said, staring at Boy.

“I swear I didn’t steal them. I just always had them, since I was born. In the orphanage they said I was born wearing them and I believed it for years, then one of the nurses told me that the glasses were hidden in my blankets the day I arrived.”

“Oh.”

William fell into a deep silence. Boy and Violet communicated in stolen glances across the table afraid to break the quiet.

“And they, the nurses, did they say anything else?”

“No.”

Boy was silent now too. His head dropped and his hand slipped down off the table. He began to fumble with something in his pocket.

“There is one thing,” he mumbled, “this was left with them. I like to think it’s from my mother…”

He pulled a note from his pocket and unfolded it. Catching Violet’s shocked expression he blushed a rosy red. He passed it to William. The note once white was now grey, crumpled and worn, like paper long ripped from a copybook. Violet watched Boy closely as William Archer read. Then he folded it and without a word handed the note back to her friend.

“Can I read it?” she asked, almost leaping across the table.

Slowly Boy passed it over and Violet opened the note. She imagined Boy’s mother scribbling the mysterious message.

So you will never be invisible.

Something about it felt oddly familiar. Gently she folded the precious paper and handed it back to her friend.

“It’s beautiful Boy.”

He smiled, looked at it once more, then carefully put it back in his pocket.

“Does it mean anything to you Mr. Archer?” Violet asked.

“Em…no, no Violet it doesn’t,” William Archer said, rising from the table, “Now I’m being a terrible host. Would you like some tea? I could do with a cup after all the excitement of the day.”

“Yes please,” Violet smiled, “do you have any of the stuff from Perfect. It’s my favourite.”

“No Violet just normal tea here I’m afraid.”

William Archer left the pair at his table and walked back into
the shadows of the room.

“Where do you think he’s gone?” Boy whispered.

“I suppose the kitchen,” Violet teased.

“Violet after all that’s happened you’re still a little stupid. Do you really trust him? He’s an Archer. I think we should leave.”

“No Boy, he’s good I can tell. Just give him a chance. Anyway why would somebody evil invent glasses so the people in No Mans Land could be seen again? Surely if he was like his brothers he wouldn’t do that- and what about the most obvious thing?” Violet whispered, leaning further across the table, “He lives here, in No Mans Land. Who’d choose that?”

“Thanks,” Boy huffed.

“Well you didn’t choose it, your mother did and she must have had her reasons. I think she was a good person even though she gave you up.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I mean your Mam; she must have known what was going on. If I had a kid I wouldn’t like it to grow up in Perfect. I’d choose No Mans Land too but only if I knew what was happening in Perfect, most people are blind to it. And she left you the glasses. She wanted you to know what was happening too. I think she wanted you to do something about it. If she couldn’t maybe she thought her son could. Don’t you think?”

“I never really thought about it. Anyway who even knows if it was my Mam. It could have been anyone. Like I said I have no parents. You have some imagination Violet. All that from one sentence.”

Boy sneered his friend just as William Archer walked back into the room with a tray of chipped mugs and a handle-less jug of milk.

“THE TEA!” Violet shouted, jumping up and almost knocking the tray from William’s hands, “It has to be the tea!”

“Yes it’s tea Violet,” Boy smirked, “you really are a bit crazy sometimes.”

“No Boy, don’t you see it has to be the tea. I never drank tea before I got to Perfect. Then the first night we arrived the Archers were there and they had tea ready. They told us everyone drinks it in Perfect and when I tried it I knew why. It tasted like anything I wanted it to taste like, an ice cream Sunday, fizzy cola bottles, apple drops, anything. I had two cups that night and the next day we were all blind. I never thought… Everybody drinks it! Even in school we had tea breaks all the time. And now I haven’t had it for a few days and I can see again. It can’t be by accident.”

“My brothers must have gotten better,” William sighed leaving down the tray, “in my day they were using tablets. They prescribed them to everyone for all sorts of eye ailments. It didn’t matter. They even dropped them in people’s drinks when they weren’t looking. It was a messy business.”

“Why didn’t you stop them?” Violet asked.

“Well for a while I did and I had a bit of a gang behind me. Soon people started to change. The town began to look perfect to them and they stopped listening. Then the Watchers came onboard. They were just a gang of thugs my brothers drafted in and paid for their dirty deeds. One day, they caught hold of me and I ended up here. I set up my shop and started work on reversing the effect of the glasses. That’s when I made these,” he said, picking the frames from the table.

“How did your brothers get them?” Boy asked.

“They caught me,” William said, looking at his hands, “I’d gone into town with the glasses; I was hoping that if my mother or Macula could just put them on they would know I hadn’t left them. They’d know I hadn’t gone away.”

“Who’s Macula?” Violet asked.

“Just someone I knew once.”

William moved his hands in front of his face to shield his eyes. Quickly he wiped them and began to pour the tea, handing a cup to each of his visitors.

“I’m okay thanks,” Boy said, holding up his hands.

“It’s safe,” William smiled, “I’m not like them. I’ll never be like them.”

His tone was firm and Boy took the cup from him. Violet looked over at her friend then took the first sip.

CHAPTER 22

The Reimaginator

“I think I have an idea,” Violet said, placing down her cup.

“Oh no! Not another one,” Boy teased, “the last idea ended with the Watchers trying to kill us!”

“Ha ha, very funny Boy! Anyway,” she said, looking at William who appeared lost in thought, “if it’s the tea that makes everyone blind then we get rid of the tea! Soon the whole of Perfect will be able to see again. Don’t you think Mr. Archer…Mr. Archer?”

“Oh yes, sorry Violet what were you saying?”

“The tea, if we get rid of the tea then everyone will be able to see again.”

“I’m not sure it’s so simple Violet. The glasses my brothers use don’t just block a person’s vision to certain things. They also suck out the imagination. At least they did in my day. At night the Watchers sneak into people homes, put their glasses into a special machine, I call it the ‘Super Sucker.’ The machine sucks out the imagination and the Watchers bring it back to my brothers shop to be stored.”

“That’s what we saw in the Archers shop Violet. All those jars of colour. They must have been imaginations!” Boy said, getting excited.

“But why?” Violet asked William Archer ignoring Boy’s enthusiasm.

“Oh it’s simple really. People are much easier to control when they have no imagination. They don’t ask questions and believe anything you tell them. Simple fact is a human isn’t much at all when they lack imagination.”

“But what about me? Why didn’t the glasses work on me?” Violet asked.

“Well I’m not sure but I do have a theory. It happens sometimes, my brothers just can’t control some people no matter how much they try. Those people always end up here in No Mans Land. I imagine given a little more time you would have been thrown here too. Needless to say they would have told your family some story or other and they would accept it…”

“Like they did with Dad,” Violet interrupted, “the Archers told Mam he’d gone away on business and she believed them. Dad would never do that without telling us.”

“Exactly Violet, your mother is a Perfect citizen so to speak.”

“But I still don’t understand, why didn’t it work on me?” she said again.

“Well I believe some people just have too much.”

“Too much what?” Boy asked.

“Too much imagination. They either have vast stores or they can regenerate it. I’m not sure which. The majority of people just have a set amount and when it’s gone, it’s gone.”

“Bet I have more than you Boy,” Violet smiled, proudly.

“I suppose you are a freak,” he laughed.

“My studies have shown it could be genetic.” William continued, “You said your father was also taken to No Mans Land Violet- which proves my point.”

“No I didn’t,” Violet replied, “they took my Dad to the Ghost Estate. We were just there. He’s a prisoner and the Archers are forcing him to carry out experiments. They’re growing eyes but we don’t know why.”

“Growing what?” William coughed, spitting out some of his tea.

“Eyes,” Boy replied, “just like this one.”

Boy pulled the half dead plant from his pocket leaving it down in front of William Archer. The creature wriggled and squirmed for a moment then stopped. A clump of congealed blood spewed out onto the table from it’s severed vein. The eye looked from Violet to William finally resting on Boy then shuddered once more and died.

William’s face lost all colour as he took up a pencil and poked the specimen.

“Did you really…” he stopped mid sentence and rose quickly to look out the window.

“You two into the back now,” he said urgently, “Follow down that way there’s a door. Go through it and wait until I come get you.”

He was stiff and stern; William Archer had suddenly come alive.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” Violet said.

“The Watchers, they’re searching the street, probably looking for you two. I’ll try get rid of them.”

Violet and Boy did as they were told and slipped into the shadows in the direction William Archer pointed. The place was pitch black and they had to put their arms out so as not to bump into anything. Boy hit the door first and grunted.

“Not a sound!” William barked, across the room.

Searching in the darkness, Violet found the handle and turned it as quietly as possible. Taking care not to utter a sound, the pair slipped in through the door closing it silently behind them.

They were standing in an office of sorts. Judging by the mess it was definitely a man’s office. A single bulb, dirty with dust, clung to a wire in the middle of the room casting a faint yellow glow around the space. There was a table by the far wall overflowing in loose papers and piles of notebooks. They were also covered in dust as if they hadn’t been looked at in a very long time. Violet had just picked a notebook from the pile when Boy called her.

“Come here,” he said, his ear stuck to the door, “Listen.”

She took a space next to Boys.

“They ran past about half an hour ago,” a voice growled.

“Well as I said I haven’t seen them. I’ve been shut up in my office all day.”

“Working on your experiments I suppose,” one of the Watchers laughed.

“I gave that up years ago boys you know that. Happy to tow the line these days.”

“That’s what you say alright. So you don’t mind if we come in for a look then?”

Violet’s eyes widened. Quickly the pair scurried around the room for somewhere to hide. In her haste Violet tripped over a solid lump in the carpet. She bent down to inspect the threadbare rug. There was something underneath. She pulled it back to reveal a trap door.

“Boy, quickly,” she whispered, heaving at the solid block of wood.

Within seconds he was at her side and had yanked open the door. A ladder reached up from the darkness below. Violet quickly descended. Boy followed pulling the carpet back on top of the trap door before closing it above him. They held their silence as footsteps entered the room above.

“Do you think they heard us?” Violet whispered.

“No I don’t think so,” Boy replied, breathless.

Something brushed off Violet’s ear and she jumped. It was like a piece of string, she reached for it in the darkness and pulled. There was a quick click, a small sizzle and suddenly the room flooded with light. The place looked like the inside of her cousin’s hay barn. The walls were made from stones of all different shapes and sizes mixed with thick beams of dark brown wood. Thinner wooden beams striped the ceiling and the floor was slabbed in even more stone.

Sheets and sheets of paper covered the walls. They were mainly drawings of glasses with arrows running from one picture to another. Hand scribbled notes covered the drawings. Some of the writing was small and in black while other words were large, in red and looked very important. William Archer had been experimenting with different ways to make his own glasses. All the notes were dated and the most recent was about ten years old. He also had lots of notes on the imagination, his theories worked out across the yellowing pages. There was a diagram titled the “Reimaginator”. It was a strange contraption made up mainly of what looked like lots of bagpipes. There were dials and buttons sticking out all over the odd looking machine.

“Violet,” Boy whispered.

Engrossed in the “Reimaginator” she ignored her friend.

“Violet,” he said this time a little louder.

Still there was no response.

“Violet you have to see this!”

“What Boy!” she snapped, turning around.

Violet gasped. Boy was standing in front of a crooked wooden table on top of which sat the “Reimaginator”. It was exactly like the drawing. Lots of pipes snaked round the machine off in different directions; each pipe was connected to a leather bag. Seven leather bags like giant lungs stuck out from the side of the machine. A gold-framed glass cabinet sat in the middle of the “Reimaginator”. It was empty at the moment but in the drawing it was full with coloured gas.

“What is it?” Boy whispered.

“I think it gives people back their imagination,” Violet slowly replied.

Suddenly something shuffled above. Boy dived for the light plunging the place back into darkness.