Normal Family Read online

  “Yes, er… sort of.”

  “Well then, where better to hide your identity than with me where I can protect and help you.”

  I considered my options, which largely consisted of staying in the school with Miss Jones and using its cover to poke around the village…or the other option, which was to do the opposite. I wasn’t exactly sure what that was, so I decided on the school.

  “Since you put it so nicely, I’ll stay. But on one condition, that I get to hit Bryn next time I see him.” I sat down again.

  Miss Jones took my hand. “It’s a deal. Let me tell you a little bit more about myself because it’s only fair now that I know about you. For a start, being Bryn’s aunt, I was also his mother’s sister. I lived with Marie and Blodwyn, our other sister, just outside Swansea and when Marie was visiting friends near here she met Mr. Lewis.” Pretty soon I knew everything that Neets had already learned from Bryn, but with a bit more detail.

  I sat on the bench swinging my legs, trying to think of something to say. Oh!just didn’t seem enough, and Wow, stupid mare. Fancy going riding on a night like that!was probably inappropriate. “Bryn never told me,” I responded at last. “It was a long time ago though.”

  “Sixteen years. Yes, it’s a long time, Tertia,” replied Miss Jones, “but we all still remember that night. Blodwyn and I weren’t here, we were at home in Swansea, but we came out the next day to help search and we moved here soon afterwards and Mr. Lewis established the school for me. You see nobody has ever explained what really happened and why Marie’s horse bolted the way it did is a mystery. She was a good horsewoman and her mare was well trained. Even after all this time I still hope to find out the truth and who knows, as a detective you might be able to help.”

  I had the grace to blush and Miss Jones had the grace not to notice as she led the way back into the school building.

  “Come on, Miss Tertia, it’s time for you to get started on your teaching duties. I’ll take the class on the left and you take the one on the right and may the best woman win!”

  For two days I enjoyed myself immensely. The children were polite enough, but at the start it was the total silence that got to me. The kids sat behind their desks and stared at me as I walked round the room. A cough, a blink, even a belch would have broken the ice, so I decided to talk about geography and history…Tertia style.

  “I’ve been to a few places thousands of miles away,” I said without exaggeration, “and seen things that would make your toes curl. Anyone interested in hearing about them?”

  There were some low-level mumblings and a few shrugged shoulders before a boy at the back called out, “I been almost twenty miles to Swansea once and nearly got to Cardiff, Miss, but we didn’t go in the end. You been as far as Swansea then, Miss? Have you? Cuz I’ve been farther than anyone!” he said proudly. I also felt it as a challenge.

  “He has, Miss,” said his friends.

  “So where have you been then, Miss?” the boy was daring me to better him and this was put-up or shut-up time.

  “Firstly, do you all believe in time travel?” I decided to get the tricky stuff out of the way early on and for the next hour told them about the beautiful Merlin and the handsome, but a bit thick Arthur, as well as the real story of Camelot. I told them about the royal sword Excalibur, the Knights of the Round Table – the good ones anyway – and some of our adventures.

  As the minutes went by, the children and I became more and more involved in the story as I started darting round the room acting out the scenes, while the kids sat there open mouthed and cheering when things got really exciting. Nobody except me noticed the door quietly open or saw Miss Jones enter the room and take a spare seat at the very rear of the class. Even I ignored her and carried on a mock sword fight with the boy who went to Swansea.

  “… and so Merlin and Arthur went to live on Avalon while the rest of us joined up with her sister Marlene and became detectives.” I looked round triumphantly. “Now who doesn’t believe in time travel?”

  A hand attached to an arm that was slightly longer than anyone else’s went up at the back. “I must admit I’m becoming convinced,” said Miss Jones, “your adventures sound absolutely fascinating.”

  The color drained from my face because I hadn’t meant to go this far. “They’re only stories,” I said hoping Miss Jones would understand.

  “I know, dear,” the head teacher replied, evidently enjoying herself, “but please go on. They’re excellent.”

  With slightly less enthusiasm I spent the next hour reliving some of my more believable adventures back in Camelot with Neets, while the class cheered, applauded and some of the more excitable ones banged their desktops to show their appreciation. Miss Jones walked to the front of the class beaming happily and raised her arms for quiet.

  “That,” she said with emphasis, “was one of the best history lessons I have ever listened to. I could almost feel myself being in Sherwood Forest and I wanted to duck when the soldiers fired their arrows, it was so real. But no more today, children.”

  There was a disappointed chorus of “Oh, Miss!” and a solitary groan from the boy who’d been to Swansea.

  “No, I’m sorry, but it’s time to go home. Miss Tertia has taken up the entire afternoon with her wonderful history lesson. So now we’ll say a short prayer, bid each other good afternoon and see you all tomorrow.”

  The children stood in silence with their heads bowed for a respectable thirty seconds, then marched into the garden where they became screaming kids again.

  Miss Jones walked back from the window where she’d been watching the children playing in the road leading to the village center. She looked at me and cocked her head to one side. She even put her hands on her hips, which made her look scarily like Merlin, but at least she wasn’t tapping her foot, which would have been a very bad sign.

  “A history story?” Miss Jones sat in the teacher’s chair and smiled. “I’d love to think so, Tertia, I really would, but my instincts tell me you actually experienced what you just described. You were there, weren’t you?”

  “Er, yes.” I knew better than to deny it. I was standing in front of Miss Jones with hands clasped behind my back and eyes downcast like a naughty kiddy. Some detective, me!

  “And you rescued Maid Marion?”

  “Er, yes I did.” I shuffled my feet.

  “And made the Sheriff of Nottingham look silly?”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “Neets did that, but he didn’t require much help from us.”

  “Ah, you mean Unita, your cousin from Camelot. Bryn told me about her as well. In fact he spoke rather a lot about her.”

  “He’s got a big mouth has that nephew of yours.” I punched my right fist into my left hand for the second time that day and winced because it hurt. “He’s going to get a good smacking when I see him.” I meant it, too.

  “I don’t doubt it,” said Miss Jones, “and meanwhile we both know a lot more about each other than we did earlier today and that can only be good. For instance, if what Bryn told me is correct you’re older than me by some thousand years. Which just goes to show that age does not bring wisdom, only wrinkles.”

  “I do not have wrinkles,” I said, rubbing my face defiantly.

  “Fair enough,” said Miss Jones, “neither wrinkles, nor wisdom then.” Before I could think of a reply she continued. “Tonight you’re staying with me. I have a nice little cottage near the shore. You’ll have your own room and total privacy, which most children round here don’t have.” She stood up as she spoke, checked the window locks, picked up her books and motioned me to leave the room so she could lock the door. “I’ll cook tonight if you do the washing up and then tomorrow we’ll swap over. Bargain?”

  I nodded happily. This was home away from home with the exception that for once when I told a story I had an audience that hung onto my every word and didn’t accuse me of lying.

  For two days I was as happy as a Camelot pig rolling in whatever it is pigs like to roll
in and if I’d been given the option I would have quite honestly stayed as a teacher with Miss Jones. The trouble was I very quickly ran out of history stories and was beginning to repeat myself, not that the kids seemed to mind. Day three was beginning to look decidedly ominous so on the second night when Neets banged on the front door of Miss Jones’s cottage and dragged me outside into the pouring rain, I wasn’t too disappointed. Just very wet.

  “What’s up, Neets?” I said between gasps as we ran down a street that was fast becoming a river. We dodged the deeper puddles without much success and splashed our way to the shore.

  “Wreckers, Tersh,” Neets shouted over the noise of wind and lashing rain. “Bryn says the wreckers will be out tonight and we both know who’ll be leading them.”

  I stopped running and looked at my cousin in amazement. “The wreckers are out wrecking ships and you reckon the two of us are going to stop them, as well as grab their leader?” I hid from the rain in a handy doorway. “Cool, kid, I like it!” I was getting back to my normal impetuous self. Being a teacher was fine, but a bit restricting after the first forty-eight hours.

  As we passed the Salt House we could see a dull light shining through one of the sea-stained windows. There was no movement, just the light, and neither of us was inclined to explore inside, especially after what Bryn had told us. Fighting murderous black knights was one thing, but eerie ghost-lanterns could be left until daylight. We walked up the path leading to the headland, which was mostly obscured by the rain, and the salt spray being whipped up by the wind flew like creamy froth into our faces.

  “They’ll be high up on the headland,” Neets shouted above the noise of the howling storm as she grabbed me by the arm and led the way. The path branched off to the right, rising steeply towards the cliff top nearly a hundred threatening feet above us. The early rain had made the path slippery enough, but now there was a stream of water gushing down making progress difficult for anyone going up and a theme park ride for anyone stupid enough to want to go down. We were soon covered in mud and our clothes were torn by the brambles on either side of the path, but neither of us would have suggested going back. This was fun.

  It took more than half an hour to climb what would have taken ten minutes on a normal day and when we reached the point where the path leveled off to become headland we collapsed in a sodden, gasping heap of limbs. I rolled over and looked at my grinning cousin. “It’s good to be back, Neets,” I shouted. “For a moment we were beginning to become sad sacks back there.”

  “Not to mention sensible. Now we’re back to being…”

  “Merl’s Girls!” we chorused and laughed against the wind.

  Being a Merl’s Girl meant so many things. Like being an apprentice to the greatest wizard ever. Like being a time traveler. Like battling against some of the worst villains in history, mostly in the process of rescuing some pet or other. And now, most important of all, it meant being together on an adventure.

  “Help!” The cry came from the rain-washed path and sounded urgent. “I’m slipping…I can’t hold on much longer.”

  Neets crawled over to the cliff top and peered through the rain at the figure clinging precariously to a bramble root. “Bryn, is that you?” It struck me as a silly question, because nobody would be stupid enough to be out on a night like this… except us of course. “Hang on. Grab this.” Neets unwound her woolen belt and dangled it as near as she could to the stranded boy. Bryn grabbed it with one hand and carefully pulled himself up an inch at a time until he lay sprawled on the cliff top.

  I looked at the boy at my feet and decided he was probably in the right place. “Bloody Hell,” I shouted over the wind, “what the tosh are you doing here? Come on, get up. We haven’t got time to waste on looking after you.”

  Bryn looked up and gratefully took Neets’s hand as he got himself into a kneeling position and then stood, reeling slightly against the wind buffeting the headland. “Thanks,” he muttered not really wanting to say it, especially to me, but I knew he meant it anyway. “Did you really both think you could go off without me? I brought you here, you know, and as I’m a man it’s up to me to look after you and see you come to no harm.”

  Neets and I exchanged exasperated glances and Bryn had the good sense to say no more as the three of us leaned into the wind and set off along the headland in search of wreckers.

  Neets was right. Tonight was perfect for luring unsuspecting ships onto the rocks. What little moon there should have been was completely hidden by the thick, black clouds and even the clouds were obscured by the lashing rain driven in by the winds. Any ship would be grateful for the beacons strategically placed on the headland to show a safe passage and even though all sea captains knew the wreckers’ beacons were probably alight as well, it was impossible to tell the difference on a stormy night. Bryn said a good captain had to use his best judgment and sometimes toss a coin.

  I took a crafty glance at the lad and decided he might be a bit of a bozo, but deep down on the surface he really wasn’t all that bad looking for a boy. If he played his cards right he stood a chance of a date, I reckoned, even if I was a thousand years older than him. Maybe he liked older women.

  For what felt like an hour, but in reality was more like twenty minutes, we forced our way through the gale and drenching rain, looking out for the sheer cliff edge and any sign of the wreckers. Over a hundred feet below us the sea crashed on the rocks throwing spray high into the air, spelling doom for any stray ships. I grabbed Neets’s arm and pointed into the darkness ahead of us, because even through the lashing storm I could make out a dim but definite light some way off. It was brighter than an ordinary lantern and as far as we could tell it was stationary.

  “A beacon?” I grabbed Bryn’s shoulder and pointed.

  “There’s no safety beacons on this stretch of coast,” he said, “It’s too dangerous. If it’s a beacon then the wreckers lit it.”

  “Then we’d better put it out.” Neets was getting into the spirit of things.

  “Hang on,” I shouted at the top of my lungs, “where there’s a wrecker’s beacon, there’ll be wreckers. Big guys with nasty minds and probably guns and things.”

  “So?”

  “Just thought I’d mention it. Let’s go and put the bloody thing out!” I started running, or rather stumbling, towards the light followed closely by Neets who was followed by an increasingly protective Bryn.

  Up close the flaming beacon lit an area of at least twenty feet around the metal brazier and would have been visible far out to sea. We stayed outside the circle of light, looking for any sign that the wreckers might still be nearby, but saw nobody. Somehow I’d expected a group of obvious thugs to be there, staring into the darkness and searching for signs of an approaching victim, but maybe wreckers aren’t so stupid, I decided. Either that, or the Black Prince’s son was wrong about this bit of coast.

  Bryn ran up to the brazier and using an old branch that presumably should have been fuel for the beacon, tried to topple it. “Help me,” he grunted as he heaved on the branch, using it as a lever. “It’s beginning to move.”

  I grabbed another branch to add my weight to Bryn’s and by rocking the beacon backwards and forwards we built up enough momentum so that with a screaming of bending metal and the roaring crash of fire the brazier rolled onto its side spilling burning wood and hissing coals onto the soaked ground. Soon all that was left was steaming embers, scorched earth, and a descending darkness that seemed even more solid after the brilliant light of the beacon.

  “We’ve done it, Neets,” I shouted. “We’ve beaten the wreckers and, more important, we’ve beaten their leader yet again. So much for the Black Knight!”

  While we were congratulating ourselves Bryn was concentrating on the tall figure sitting silently on a stallion. It hadn’t been there a moment earlier but now it loomed over us. Slowly the horse trotted forward and I saw the man was holding a cocked pistol with a look of nonchalant menace scrawled across his face. He stopped
close to the dying embers.

  Neets and I stared at the rider, knowing we had at last met up with the leader of the wreckers and a man who would want revenge not only for tonight, but for what we did to him in Camelot. We looked closer.

  “You!” I cried in astonishment as the rider took off his hat so I could see his features for the first time.

  The man swore, stared first at Neets, then at me and burst out laughing as he walked his horse slowly towards us. He took out a second pistol and I knew that our adventure was about to take a turn.

  Chapter Six

  Old Friends and New Spies

  “We meet again,” said the rider and I remembered the last time he’d spoken to us in Camelot, “though I must admit I didn’t expect it to be more than a thousand years later and in another country.” We gaped in silence. “Do you have nothing to say to an old friend?” He dismounted, walked over and gave each of us a welcoming hug. He passed his two pistols to Bryn and advised him to keep the powder dry.

  Eventually my brain remembered to close my mouth to something approaching normal, which still meant it was open. “Sir Gawain,” I said with a gasp, “it can’t be you. The White Knight. We never guessed.”

  “We reckoned you were the Black Knight,” said Neets. “I mean, the wrecking, the murders, the clothes we found in your house. Everything pointed to you being the Black Knight.” She looked dismayed and took a defensive step back from our old friend. “Does this mean you’re behind it all? Are you responsible for all the deaths and wrecking?”

  “You can’t be,” I said. “You’re good and I mean we helped you back in Camelot. You’re…” I searched for the right word, “…charismatic. You’re the White Knight.”

  Sir Gawain smiled. “Don’t worry, in spite of what you might have heard I’m still the good guy.” He peered through the streaming rain along the headland stretching either side of us. “If the wreckers are operating tonighovt it’s not round here so we might as well pack in and go home. You both look as though you could do with a change of clothes and some warmth.” He turned to Bryn. “And that goes for you too, my son. You’ll find spare horses over there.” He pointed to a spot a hundred yards away where a small group of men waited patiently. He called to them, his voice carrying over the noise of the wind. “Bring three of the best mounts over here. Bryn will help select them.” I suspected they had been waiting for the command, but it was impressive and so like the Gawain of old.