Hikkaba ~ (Part 2 of 3)

Hikkaba  ~  Part 2 of 3

By Len Morgan

 “You want to be a writer Alan?” Ferlin asked.
“No.   But, these are my formative years aren’t they?”
“You're not a simplistic character Alan, you're nothing like other boys I’ve met.”
“I’m an orphan.  People who live in institutions tend to grow up fast.   Kids get squished, cry babies get something to cry about if you show weakness you get bullied.”
“That’s sad.”
“That’s life,” said Alan, “Your not much like any adult I’ve ever met, you talk to me as if your interested in what I have to say.  You treat me like a grown-up.”
Ferlin laughed and pointed his thumb towards the forever young tree.   “Next to old Hikkaba over there we’re both a little wet behind the ears.   You’re free to come and go as you please now you've been accepted as part of the family; do you have any plans?”
“That depends on what’s in it for me.”
“Well, every job has its ups and downs.”
“Tell me about it,” said Alan.
“You’ll certainly never be a millionaire but you won’t be short of money…”
“And?”
“How old would you say I am?”
“A reasonable question.”   Alan looked him up and down appraising.  “Mmm forty, forty-five?”
“The magic in these woods has a beneficial effect on health.   If you visit regularly you’ll never develop any serious illnesses.  It also retards the effects of ageing, I’ll be two hundred and twenty-eight next birthday.”   I age roughly one year for every five I live.   I age myself with makeup and every thirty years I fake my death and return as my long lost son.”
“So, when do I get to take over as guardian?”
“Not for a long time, probably never, our first priority is your education, then you can go out into the world and make your mark; with a little help from Hik and me.  With guidance from a few others, you should make the right life choices.”
“No strings?”
“No strings!”
“Mmm, There’s a lot of unanswered questions there…   Do I get to think about it?”
“As far as your concerned, the spell is broken, you can return anytime you choose,” he placed the silver leaf into Alan’s palm.   Keep this with you and Hikkaba will see what you see and be ready to offer guidance if you need it.   If you need to make contact just close your eyes, picture this glade in your mind, and talk.”

.-…-.

As he left, he thought he was going to be in trouble for getting home late, but a glance at his watch told him only thirty-minutes had passed while he was in the park, he thought he’d been there for hours.   He shook his watch, yes it was working.   He slowed his pace in case the Hansons were still loitering.   Sure enough, he saw them leaving a store in the high street.   He hung back until their paths diverged then made his way home to the Armstrong homestead, 249 Western Avenue.  He cringed at the sight of the familiar front door, window frames, fence, and front gate all painted pink & black.   He smiled at the luminous green curtains and two oversized garden gnomes – Benny and Charlie.   He recalled how the neighbourhood kids used them for target practice when Collin’s two-toned pink, black and chrome MkI Ford Cortina was absent from the drive.   Collin was his foster father, he worked as a forklift driver at the local warehouse of Hanson Transport and Logistics.  He worked swing shifts and did lots of overtime.  His love of pink and black stemmed from his lifelong fealty to the King, Elvis Presley.   Collin and Elise had been childless into their Forties, so when they finally gave up the dream of having children of their own they took up short term fostering.  They were good caring people, they worked hard, played hard, and took fostering seriously.  Alan could not have wished for kinder or more caring parents.

.-…-.

He lay on his bed fully clothed thinking about the strange waking dream he’d had the previous evening.   He could hear ‘Jailhouse Rock’ playing on the Hi-Fi downstairs.   Collin would be getting ready for work.  He sniffed and knew instantly that Elise was dishing up his usual breakfast of sausage, eggs, mushrooms, bacon, tomatoes, black pudding, and fried bread; followed by hot buttered toast and marmalade.   He would wash it down with several king-size mugs of steaming hot sweet tea.  By contrast, Elise’s own calorie intake was minimal.  Two crisp-breads thinly coated with cottage cheese and a slice of lettuce, cucumber, and the ends of Collin’s tomatoes.  She would sip weak black coffee, without sugar.  On odd occasions, she had been known to indulge herself by eating a raw carrot or two.   He smiled fondly at the thought of Collin, six foot two, ten stone two pounds, and Elise five foot six, weighing 15 stone.   She ate like a butterfly and he like a grizzly.  She was a tiger and he a teddy bear.
“Alan?  Breakfast in five minutes,” she called from outside his bedroom door.
“Thanks, mum, I’ll be right down.”
 “Are you decent? Can I come in?”
“Of course,” he replied.  
She entered with her familiar linen basket.  “It’s Tuesday again,” she said.   She always did the washing on Tuesdays.   She proceeded to pick up his cast-offs and deposit them in the basket without complaint.  Something fluttered to the floor; she retrieved the star-shaped silver leaf.
“It’s a memento full of memories, kind of sentimental,” He explained. 
She placed it in his hand, “don’t lose it then.”   A final look around to make sure she’d missed nothing then she left.
He placed the leaf in his top pocket and followed 'the whirlwind' downstairs.  
Collin had already finished.   His utensils were drying on the drainer.   First thing Alan learned about Elise was her philosophy, ‘a place for everything and, everything in its place’, she couldn’t abide clutter.
“Would you get the post for me Alan, there’s a dear.”
He went to the front door, three large, two small brown envelopes, and two white envelopes.   He scooped them up on his way to the kitchen, placing them on the table before sitting down to two boiled eggs and toast soldiers.
“Eat up dear, mmm, seven letters that’s unusual, wonder whose birthday it is?   Bill,” she said, tossing the first to one side, a circular joined it, she smiled, “One from Cousin Louise in Australia.   Alan Fry, this one is for you,” she propped an off white envelope against his glass of milk.   “Another bill,” she announced, and with a furtive glance at Collin, she deposited the final white envelope in her apron pocket, unopened.
Alan opened his surprise letter, noting the expensive embossed letterhead from, Gorton Grange (private residential school).  

Dear Alan,
   You have been awarded a scholarship to Gorton Grange.   With effect from next term, dates and joining instructions attached.  A full list of uniform requirements, books, and essential equipment is also enclosed.   

The list was long and looked expensive.   We could never afford this, he thought.   Maybe I could get a grant, it wouldn’t be fair to expect Collin and Elise to foot the bill, I’m not their flesh and blood, I’ve only been here for a year and a half.   I’ve never felt more at home anywhere but…  His mind wandered to the glade:
Alan, this offer from Gorton was no chance thing, you were proposed by one of our associates, a member of the faculty, it was however awarded on merit.
 “That’s not possible,” he said.
“What isn’t son?” Collin stood in the kitchen door a look of concern on his face.
“I’ve been offered a scholarship,” he handed the letter to Elise.  
She read it aloud for Collin, “You must go, and there’s an end to it,” she said.   “We’ll find the money, somehow, that’s our concern, not yours.   If needs must, we’ll apply for a grant from the council or, take out a loan.”
“Thank you,” he said, moved to tears, “but--”
“No buts, get yourself off to school and leave the finances to me.   I’m the accountant in this family,” she said.

.-…-.

He took care to keep well away from the Hansons, which only served to antagonize them all the more.   When he left school that evening they were waiting for him outside the school gates.
“So, you think you're too good for us,”  Jack sneered.   Alan took a step back only to find his arms restrained by Billy and Rolo.   His eyes closed and the glade came into his mind.  In trouble so soon?  You surprise me, said a now-familiar voice in his head.  Think Bruce Lee.
“No!   We need to improve relationships not wreck them,” said Alan.
Trust me I know about such things.
“No!"  His body coiled like a spring.  He released an explosive kick to Jack's chest, he fell on Billy knocking the wind out of him and kicked Roland’s legs from under him.   He looked down at them with disdain and casually walked away.   As soon as he was out of sight he ran and didn’t stop until he reached the gates of Hickory Park.  He headed straight for the glade; it was warm and balmy.   “I want a word with you!   I thought you couldn’t influence higher organisms.”
I lied.  Nice of you to drop bye…
“I need help earning enough money to get me to Gorton Grange, not lessons in Karate.
The money will not be a problem.
“Elise and Colin are proud, they won't accept charity, they would probably re-mortgage their house to pay for books, clothes and equipment.”
What if a relative were to die and leave her oh…  Say twenty-five thousand pounds?
“You can’t just arrange a death-”
When she held the leaf I was able to read her memories.   She has a recently deceased cousin, the Rev Bertrand Smythe.   A solicitor acting on behalf of the estate will send her a cheque.
She might be suspicious of such a large amount, make that five thousand and she will be happy.”   Rev Smythe, God bless you wherever you are, Alan smiled.

.-…-.

Next morning, on his way to school, Alan ran into the Hansons. Don’t run or show weakness Hikkaba’s voice warned.
Roland smiled, “Those were great moves you pulled on us yesterday Fry.”
“Yea, how do you do that twisting sidekick,” said Jackie?
“We didn’t know you do Kung Fu, maybe you would teach us some of those moves,” Billy said.
Alan smiled and blinked, you were right after all Hikkaba, “It’s all in the hip snap Jack.   Maybe we could get together in the gym after school.”
From that day, until they left Daventry school, Alan and the Hansons were the best of friends.

One week on, Alan was awakened by hysterical whoops and yells of joy.   He hurried downstairs to witness Elise, dancing up and down with delight.  
“Bless you, Bertrand!   Didn’t I say we’d get the money somehow Alan?  She brandished a cheque for twenty thousand pounds.   A legacy from my distant cousin, I’m sorry that he died but his timing was perfect.   Come on Alan, we're going shopping, go get your list!”

To be continued/...

Copyright Len Morgan