Pandora (9 page)

Clearly, the girl didn’t want company. Pandora shrugged and continued toward the headmistress’s office. She had only twenty minutes before afternoon lessons started. Fortunately, there was no one else around as she crept up to Miss Hill’s door. Pandora opened her bag and pulled out a few books, ready to scatter them onto the floor in case she needed a reason to have stopped in the corridor.

After a final look round, Pandora put her ear to the door. She was just in time to overhear one side of a telephone conversation.

“Yes, it’s true,” Miss Hill was saying. “I have Miss Saunders here now, and she is very upset. Ever since that wretched development was pushed through by the council, we’ve had nothing but trouble from outsiders and strangers!” Her voice rose in fury before pausing as she listened to whoever was on the other end of the line.

“Accelerate our efforts? Is that wise? Yes, I do realise that if we do nothing we will be swamped by lawlessness, violence and drug taking! I fully realise that our good, solid values are in danger, but are we capable yet?” There was another lengthy pause.

“You are right, of course,” conceded Miss Hill’s voice eventually. “Very well. We know what we must do...”

Pandora heard the phone being replaced on the desk. Feeling thoroughly baffled, she quickly made her way back down the corridor.
What on earth was Miss Hill talking about? And what was she going to do about Mitchell and Jones?

That night, Pandora decided to sneak out of the house to escape the atmosphere. Her mother was being insufferable, nagging her husband to take a more active part in village life. Mr Laskaris said that his sort would not be welcome by Aunt Mabel and her friends, Mrs Laskaris had demanded to know what he meant by that, and the argument was launched.

Knowing she wouldn’t be missed for a while, Pandora pulled the hood up on her dark top and set out, making for a quiet spot in the graveyard. Once there, she pulled a torch and her book of Greek myths from her bag and settled down to enjoy the peace and quiet in the company of the legendary Pandora.

Pandora, the first woman of Greek myth, whose name means all giving, was entrusted by the wily and vengeful Zeus with a box and was ordered not to open it. Pandora’s curiosity, however, got the better of her, and she opened the box. In doing so, she released all the evils of the world which have afflicted mankind ever since.

Pandora did try to close the box, but she was too late. All she succeeded in doing was trapping therein the last remaining element–hope.

Many scholars have, of course, noted the similarity between this Greek myth and later Christian stories of Eve. Both revolve around the first woman and both women are responsible for releasing evil into the world. Some see the stories as an attempt to deal with the problem of evil in a world created by a perfect god. Others see the story as a cautionary fable, while others see it as symbolic of mankind’s ever-present despair and the lack of hope in these dark times. As such, Pandora truly did give all to the world.

Though she didn’t know why, Pandora found a sense of kinship with the original Pandora. Perhaps it was simply the name. Or maybe it came from being blamed for almost everything by a higher authority. Admittedly, Great Aunt Mabel probably wasn’t quite as high an authority as Zeus, but then, Zeus probably never phoned daily to check on who the ancient Pandora was seeing, what she was doing and where she was doing it.

The church bells chimed the hour.

Pandora closed the book and got reluctantly to her feet. It was time to go home. She packed her book and torch away and decided to walk through the village. She quite liked Willowcombe at night. The moonlight shone down on the old houses and illuminated the village green and war memorial in perfect stillness. Usually, Pandora could find peace and contemplation there, but tonight she was to be denied both, for others were already on the village green.

This in itself was surprising enough, as normally all the villagers seemed to be in bed by ten. Even more astonishingly, two figures were swigging from cans of lager and throwing stones at the ducks. As she watched, Pandora saw the taller figure throw its empty lager can into the pond, while the second figure hurled its can at the cars parked in front of the old mews. The figures roared in delight as the ducks scattered and a car alarm burst into life.

Pandora moved closer and saw, as she had suspected, that the figures were Craig Mitchell and Wayne Jones.

Others were watching too. Curtains twitched around the green, attracted by the unusual late-night noise, but no one ventured out of their homes to berate the two thugs. Pandora wasn’t surprised. Why take the risk of being stabbed or beaten by those who enjoyed violence?

The watching eyes meant that Pandora couldn’t go any closer, but despite the distance, she could sense that something was wrong. The night air had gone still and heavy, as though a thunderstorm was on the way, yet the sky was clear of any cloud. She looked around the village and saw that the residents were no longer peeking at Mitchell and Jones. It was as though everyone had somehow been removed from the area. A thick, heavy silence rolled out over the green. Then, the lights in the village began to go out.

It started with the old-fashioned lamp posts, each one snuffing out in sequence along the green, the electricity helpless against whatever power was surging through the village. Soon, the only lights came from the houses, which cast shadows of various window frames onto the dark ground before these, too, faded, putting the village in darkness. Simultaneously, the gentle murmur of television and radio sets grew fainter until utter silence fell over the blackened village.

“Wha’ the fuck is going on?” shouted Mitchell in a high-pitched tone.

“It’s a power cut!” whooped Jones. “The whole of Willowcombe is in the dark!” They laughed in contempt at the village, the inhabitants, at life in general, until an explosion of blue light erupted behind them, knocking them down.

The two teenagers looked upward, mouths agape, at the blue screaming tornado which had suddenly appeared over them, filling the night sky.

Blue lightning lashed through the air like long fingers blindly groping for something, until one of the probing bolts leapt forward and pierced Jones through the chest, pinning him to the ground. He screamed in agony and fear, writhing helplessly, like a butterfly pinned to a card.

Mitchell tried to crawl away, but a second bolt of lightning streaked down and grasped him, burning and scalding, shaking him so violently, his body became a blur.

The bolts withdrew into the whirling tornado, carrying their victims with them. The intense blue light illuminated the two figures as their bodies were drawn in, reducing in size until they were little more than doll-like silhouettes which snapped out of existence as the mouth of the tornado slammed shut with a thunderous roar.

As soon as the tornado disappeared, the lights of the houses sprang back on, as did the street lamps. The sounds of televisions and radios spluttering back into life could be heard around the village green, yet no one looked out through their windows or opened their doors. It was as if nothing had happened.

Pandora stepped out from the cover of a garden hedge. She was stunned by what she had seen and could hardly believe it, but she had the evidence of her own eyes. Zoe had thought there was something odd in Willowcombe Clatford, but this? What lay behind it? What did it all mean? And what could she tell the twins about it? They relied on their big sister to tell them that all was safe outside, but could she do that now?

In this, however, she needn’t have worried. When she returned home, having run in fear all the way and let herself into the twins’ bedroom, she saw in shock that Sarah and Anne were, for the first time ever, asleep before her return. This was as upsetting as what she had just witnessed on the village green.

Something terrible was happening in the village, and Pandora was afraid.

The following day at school, Pandora sought out Zoe to discuss the disappearance of the two boys. It wasn’t until lunchtime that they had a chance to talk in a secluded corner of the schoolyard.

“You’re saying a hurricane sucked up Craig and Wayne?” said Zoe in disbelief. Pandora had thought long and hard about whether to tell Zoe about the tornado and, in the end, had reluctantly decided that there was no way out of it. She could hardly say that Mitchell and Jones had left the area in any normal manner, and Zoe had, at least, already noticed that there was something odd about the school.

“Yes,” said Pandora, keeping her voice quiet. “On the village green.”

“You honestly expect me to believe that?” gasped Zoe.

“You said yourself that there was something strange going on,” pointed out Pandora. “There is definitely something wrong about this place.”

“I know it’s odd around here,” exclaimed Zoe, “but to say some sort of magical tornado took Craig and Wayne! Why would a tornado want those two anyway?”

“I don’t know, but you can see for yourself they’re not here today.”

“They’ve probably just been suspended or bunked off,” spluttered Zoe.

“In that case, let’s go to their houses after school, just to have a look at things. That way, we may find out something.”

Zoe shrugged. “Okay,” she said. “I know where they live in the development, but I don’t know how you’ll feel when we get there and find there’s nothing wrong.”

“We’ll see,” said Pandora.

It was a short walk to get from the village to the new housing development. The contrast between the original village and the new estate was astonishing. The village was a hodgepodge of ancient cottages, solid Victorian housing and spacious 1930s homes. The new development consisted of bland, uniform houses slightly larger than the average shoebox. The walls were thin, the gardens tiny and Pandora felt sorry for the people who had to live there. She had experience of inadequate housing from growing up in Lowell, and she appreciated anew the substantial, larger house that she and her family now lived in.

“This is Wayne’s place,” said Zoe, gesturing to one of the houses. “He lives there with his mum and his mum’s boyfriend. I think it was the boyfriend who got a job out here, which is why they moved.”

“And what about Craig?” asked Pandora.

“It was his mum who got a job somewhere in the business park,” replied Zoe. “From what I’ve heard, his dad hasn’t worked in years. He prefers dole money.”

“You seem to know a lot about them,” observed Pandora.

“Both families have already caused a bit of trouble and have become known on the estate. I heard Mum talking to one of her friends about it. Mum said she didn’t understand how people could come here for a fresh start and then act like they did in their old homes.”

“Okay,” said Pandora. “Let’s see if anyone is in.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Zoe asked nervously. “That boyfriend is a nasty bit of work, and his mother is even worse. It’s no wonder Wayne is so horrible. He’s been brought up like it.”

“I have to know,” said Pandora. She strode up the path to the front door, noting that the garden looked neglected and had a smattering of beer cans strewn about it. She knocked on the door, telling herself that whatever she was going to face couldn’t be any worse than what she had seen the night before.

After waiting for several seconds, Pandora knocked again. It was clear that there was no one in, so Pandora peered in through the front window. “There’s nothing in there,” she said to Zoe.

Zoe pressed her face to the glass and confirmed that there was no furniture, ornaments or any other personal belongings inside the house. “Perhaps they didn’t like it here and have left?” she suggested.

“Maybe,” replied Pandora in a disbelieving tone. “Let’s go and have a look at Craig’s place.”

The two girls walked on, turned a few corners and came to Craig’s house. Once again, they knocked on the door, and once again, no one answered.

“This is empty too,” exclaimed Pandora, peering through a window.

“They could both have moved out on the same day,” said Zoe in a worried tone. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

“Excuse me,” called Pandora to a woman who was passing with some shopping. “Can you tell me where everyone is?”

“Who are you looking for?” asked the woman with a doubtful look on her face.

“Craig Mitchell.”

“You must have the wrong house,” replied the woman. “I don’t know anyone called Craig Mitchell, but I do know that house is empty. It hasn’t been sold or let.”

“Everybody knows the Mitchells,” said Zoe in disbelief. “Craig’s mum was screaming in the street at three o’clock in the morning, drunk. The police were called out. Don’t you remember?”

Screaming in the street?” echoed the woman, a frown on her face.

“Yes! It was only last weekend. Saturday night, Sunday morning.”

“I’m afraid I don’t remember any of that,” said the woman. “And I only live a few houses up. You must have the wrong house and road. They all look the same, so it’s an easy mistake to make.”

“What about Wayne Jones?” asked Pandora. “He lives just round the corner and he’s always hanging out with Craig.”

The woman shook her head in bewilderment. “I don’t know a Wayne Jones either. I thought I knew almost everyone in the development, given that there aren’t that many of us yet. Most of the houses here are still empty. You must have come to the wrong house.”

“Yes, that must be it,” said Zoe slowly, but the look she gave Pandora showed that she didn’t know what to think about the disappearance of two complete families.

The following day at school, Pandora and Zoe set out to discover if anyone knew what had happened to Mitchell and Jones.

“Who?” asked Duncan in puzzlement.

“Craig Mitchell and Wayne Jones!” said Zoe in disbelief. “They used to stand in the corner of the yard, next to the steps that lead down to the football field and would threaten people as they walked past.”