Enter The Town
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The town was a small, quiet village. It had no shops or stalls to speak of and the only building that stood out from its surroundings were the two large houses at either end of Main Street: one belonging to Mr. Smith (the butcher) and another owned by Mrs. Jones (a baker).
Both families lived there with their children who attended school in the nearby village of Stagville. There weren’t many other people around as far as they could see but then most folks stayed indoors during this time of year when it was so cold outside.
As soon as he stepped off the train, Tom felt his teeth chattering uncontrollably; despite wearing thick woolen gloves under his coat, he couldn’t stop shaking. He looked up at the sky where snowflakes fell gently onto the ground like tiny silver needles.
‘It’s freezing,’ he said shivering. His mother handed him her scarf which she’d taken off earlier while walking over the bridge. She wrapped it around his neck before looking back down at the little boy standing beside her. ‘You’ll be fine once you get used to it.’
Tom nodded slowly, trying hard not to cry because it hurt too much inside. They walked on for some way until they reached the house next door to theirs – Mr. Smith’s shop. As usual, the front window was covered in posters advertising all sorts of different cuts of meat.
A few customers were already waiting patiently outside the store, clutching bags full of shopping. One man carried a huge bag filled with sausages and bacon; the smell made Tom feel quite sick. Another customer was carrying several chickens and turkeys, tied together with string.
This gave Tom an idea about what he might buy if he ever got any money himself. Perhaps he would take a job here in the future, working alongside Mr. Smith…
‘He’s been expecting us,’ whispered Mrs. Jones from behind them. Her voice sounded strange coming through the layers of clothing covering her face. She took hold of Tom’s hand and led him into the shop. Once again, Tom found himself staring at rows upon rows of shelves crammed with meat products.
All kinds of things hung from hooks above the counter including beef steaks, pork chops, ham hocks, chicken legs, lamb ribs, and even whole lambs! Tom stared wide-eyed at everything, unable to believe how much food there was.
He knew that his parents worked very hard every day just so they could afford such luxuries but still he couldn’t help feeling anxious. What if something happened? Would they have enough money left to feed themselves properly? Or would they starve to death like poor old Missy Beeton did last winter…?
Mrs. Jones put her arm firmly around Tom’s shoulders. ‘Don’t worry, Tommy. Everything will be okay. We’ve brought your new clothes along today – we thought you might want to try them on straight away. And I’m sure you’re going to look absolutely adorable!’
Tom didn’t say anything. He simply smiled nervously and followed her towards the rear of the shop where a table had been set up. On top lay three sets of brand new trousers, shirts, socks and shoes. Each item was neatly folded and placed in a separate pile.
Mrs. Jones picked up the first bundle and held it up for Tom to see. ‘These are your pinafores, Tommy. You can wear these underneath your uniform each morning. Your skirt is also included, although it doesn’t go with any of the outfits. That means you won’t need to change your clothes after school.’
Tom turned redder than a beetroot as he realized that his mother hadn’t told him about this beforehand. He quickly hid behind Mrs. Jones hoping nobody would notice the tears welling up in his eyes. But then he saw his father sitting quietly on the sofa watching TV.
He noticed Tom’s reaction immediately and hurriedly rose to his feet, wiping his hands on his jeans. ‘I’m sorry, son. I forgot to mention it to you earlier. This is just an experiment, nothing more. If you don’t like it, then it never has to happen again. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ replied Tom, glancing at his mother whose expression seemed to suggest that she wasn’t happy.
Mr. Smith came hurrying across the room. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs. Jones. How nice to see you both again. And welcome, young Thomas. Thank you for bringing him along. Now let me show you the rest of the items. First of all, I have some plain white blouses for you ladies. These come in sizes 6, 8, and 10. You should find them perfectly comfortable.’
‘Thank you, Mr. Smith,’ said Mrs. Jones politely. ‘But we really mustn’t keep him waiting, otherwise, he may lose interest altogether.’
She put the bundles back onto the table and started searching through the other piles. There were lots of pretty dresses and skirts, many of which were made from expensive materials such as silk or satin. The colors ranged from deep blue, green, and purple to pink, yellow, and orange.
Tom remembered seeing a similar selection when he went to visit Miss Beeton during the summer holidays. It had all been arranged by size, color, and style. Some of the garments were definitely more suitable for girls whilst others suited boys better.
In fact, one dress looked exactly like the ones worn by the female teachers at his school. Although the fabric used was slightly thicker and heavier, it was virtually identical. At least, that’s what Tom thought. His mother paid no attention whatsoever to the clothes laid out before her.
Instead, she kept looking over at the clock on the wall. Every now and then, she would glance down at her watch as though worried about being late for work.
As soon as Mrs. Jones finished selecting what she wanted, Mr. Smith began wrapping the parcels carefully in brown paper. Then he tied them together with string and handed them to Mrs. Jones who gave them to Tom to carry home.
As they walked slowly along the street, Tom watched as people passed by carrying their own shopping bags. Most of them appeared quite contented while only a few glanced curiously at Tom and his mother. They probably assumed that they were taking a trip to town to buy some new clothes.
‘Are we nearly there yet?’ asked Tom.
‘Not long now,’ replied Mrs. Jones. She stopped walking and took hold of his hand. ‘Look, here comes our bus. Let’s get inside so that you can sit next to me.’
The two of them hurried into the nearest shelter and found a seat near the front. After paying the fare, Mrs. Jones opened up the parcel containing her purchases and pulled out a pair of dark blue trousers and a matching shirt. ‘This is for tomorrow morning.
Why don’t you try it on right away? Then we’ll know if it fits properly.’
Tom nodded eagerly. ‘Yes, please.’
He unrolled the garment and slipped it over his head. The trousers fitted perfectly but the collar was too tight around his neck. When he tried buttoning the buttons, several fell off. ‘It’s not working,’ he complained.
‘That’s because you haven’t done it correctly. Try again. Here, I’ll help.’
Together, they managed to fasten the buttons and zip up the fly. However, once he’d taken the trousers off and replaced them with his old ones, Tom discovered that something strange had happened to his body. All the hair on his legs and arms had disappeared!
‘What did you do?’ he exclaimed in surprise.
Mrs. Jones laughed. ‘You’ve become a girl!’
‘No, I haven’t,’ protested Tom. ‘My skin isn’t smooth enough for anyone to think I’m a woman.’
‘Don’t worry, dear. We’ll take care of that later. For now, you need to look your best. Come on, let’s go outside and wait for everyone else.’
They left the bus and stood beside the road until it arrived. Once the passengers had boarded, Mrs. Jones led the way towards the rear door where she collected a ticket from the driver. He smiled warmly as he offered her his arm. ‘Would you mind sitting opposite me, my lady?’
‘Of course not,’ replied Mrs. Jones. ‘I couldn’t possibly allow a gentleman to walk behind us.’
Once they reached the front row of seats, Mrs. Jones settled herself comfortably. ‘Now, let me tell you how this works. You’re going to be wearing a special costume that will transform you into a beautiful little girl. So, first things first, you must remove everything except for these shoes. Is that clear?’
Tom nodded nervously. ‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Very good. Please turn round.’
He obeyed her instructions without hesitation. The moment he faced forward, his eyes widened in astonishment. A small black box lay between them on the seat. It was shaped like an egg and covered in shiny silver foil. It was covered in tiny holes where wires ran across its surface.
On top of the device rested another object that resembled a miniature television set. This time, however, instead of receiving pictures, it produced images.
‘Is that…?’ asked Tom.
‘Indeed it is. Now, open the lid and place both objects on your lap.’
With trembling hands, Tom lifted off the cover. Inside was a series of knobs, switches, and dials. Above each one, a label explained its function. There were three large numbers: 1, 2 and 3. Next to them sat a red button marked STOP. To his amazement, a picture formed before him. It showed a young man standing next to a tree trunk. In his hand, he held a knife which he used to cut away pieces of bark.
‘Who are you?’ enquired Mrs. Jones.
A voice answered. ‘I am the master of this house. My name is James. What is yours?’
‘I’m called Thomas.’
‘Thomas, what sort of person would you most like to meet?’
‘Anyone nice.’
‘And why might that be?’
‘Because I want to make friends.’
‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’
‘No. Only me.’
‘Then perhaps you should consider becoming a brother.’
‘But I already am,’ objected Tom.
‘Perhaps you could teach me to play football.’
‘Why?’
‘So that I can beat you at it.’
‘Oh no, you wouldn’t dare!’
‘Well, I suppose I won’t after all.’
‘How about playing chess?’
‘Chess? That sounds boring.’
‘Maybe so, but it’s better than nothing.’
‘Okay, then I’ll give it a try.’
‘Excellent. But remember, I may win every game we play.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘Good boy. Now, shall I show you how to use the machine?’
‘Please.’
The image faded and reappeared above the device. Mr. James began to speak. ‘Welcome to the House of Magic. Today, you will learn how to transform yourself into someone else. If you follow my instructions carefully, you will soon find out if you possess the necessary talents to fulfill your destiny.’
Tom watched intently as the magician continued his demonstration. First, he turned himself into a bird by pressing the red button. Then, using a wand, he made the petals of a flower blossom. Finally, he changed his appearance completely. His face became that of a different man altogether.
‘Can you see me yet, Thomas?’ enquired Mrs. Jones.
‘Not really,’ admitted Tom.
‘That’s because you don’t know who you’re looking at. Let me help you.’ She pressed the green button and spoke again. ‘Hello, Master James. How are you today?’
‘Fine thanks, my dear. And how is our pupil doing?’
‘Wonderfully well, thank you very much.’
‘Excellent. Well done. Now, Thomas, please press the stop button when you’ve finished talking to me.’
As he did so, the image vanished. ‘What do you think?’ asked Mrs. Jones.
‘It looks amazing! Who are you supposed to be?’
‘You’ll discover that in due course. All I can say right now is that you are lucky to be here with me.’
‘Why’s that?’
She looked deep into his eyes. ‘Because only those people who deserve to become part of this family ever get chosen.’
‘Are there lots more tests?’
‘We’ll talk about that later. For now, I’d like you to take the clothes from the box and put them on. I need to check something.’
Tom removed the items inside and placed them over his arms and legs. They felt soft against his skin. When he had dressed fully, Mrs. Jones returned the box to its hiding place beneath her chair. ‘All right,’ she said briskly. ‘Let’s begin.’
***
When they arrived home, Tom went straight upstairs to change back into normal clothing. As he stepped into his room, he heard voices coming through the wall. He listened for a moment before deciding that it must be Father and Mother arguing once again.
He pulled off his pajamas and hung up the shirt and trousers. After brushing his teeth, he walked downstairs to join his parents. The argument still raged.
‘Look at this mess!’ exclaimed Mrs. Jones. ‘There’s dirty plates everywhere. Where does it all come from?’
Mr. Jones shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe it comes from under the table.’
Mrs. Jones glared at him. ‘Don’t be silly. You’ve been drinking too much.’
‘I haven’t drunk anything.’
‘Yes, you have. Look at your breath. Have you even bothered to brush your teeth tonight?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Then why don’t you go to bed without supper?’
Father sighed loudly. ‘If only you knew what it meant for me to work hard day after day just to keep food on the table.’
‘This isn’t working,’ declared Mrs. Jones. ‘We’re going to have to move somewhere bigger.’
‘Where exactly would we live?’
‘Anywhere away from here. We could buy an old farmhouse in the country. Or maybe we could rent one of these new flats.’
‘They cost too much money. Besides, where would we get the extra cash to pay for it?’
‘I’m sure I can find some way to earn us more income.’
‘But you always spend whatever you make. What good is having more money if you never save any of it?’
‘I don’t understand you. This house has served us well since we moved in. It was cheap – and it’s big enough for our needs. Why should we leave it behind?’
‘Because it’s falling apart around us.’
‘No, it hasn’t. In fact, it seems quite solid to me.’
‘You’re being ridiculous. Just look at the state of the kitchen floorboards. There’s no point trying to deny it. Everything’s breaking down; everything’s wearing out. Even the furniture is getting shabby. Soon, we won’t be able to afford to replace it.’
‘Well, then, let me tell you something. I refuse to give up until we’ve found another solution.’
‘How long are you prepared to wait? A year or two perhaps?’
‘Ten years, if necessary.’
‘And how many children do you intend to have during that time?’
‘Just one, but I want to be ready as soon as possible.’
‘So you will be waiting ten whole years?’
‘At least.’
‘In which case, I suggest you start saving up now. Otherwise, the longer you delay, the harder it may prove to raise the funds.’
‘Oh yes,’ replied Mr. Jones. ‘The sooner I start, the better chance I stand of achieving my goal.’
‘Good. Then let’s get started straightaway.’
‘Right.’
‘By the way,’ said Mrs. Jones, ‘what were you doing in the garden earlier today?’
‘Nothing special. Just tidying up a bit.’
‘Tidying up? How odd. I thought you told me you weren’t allowed outside by yourself.’
‘I wasn’t alone. My friend came along with me.’
‘Your imaginary friend?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Come on, Tom. Tell me the truth.’
‘What difference does it make?’
‘It makes a huge amount of difference. If you lie to me, I shall have to punish you.’
‘Punish me! By what means?’
‘With a spanking.’
Tom gasped. ‘Please, please, don’t do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I hate it when you hit me.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Yes.’
‘Perhaps you shouldn’t have lied to me. Now, I think it’s time for your punishment.’
She picked up her handbag and opened it. She took out an elastic bandage and wrapped it tightly around his left wrist.
‘Now, take hold of the chair leg.’
‘Okay.’
‘Hold onto the armrests tight.’
‘All right.’
As she tied his hands together in front of him, Tom felt himself becoming increasingly anxious. He tried desperately to pull free, but there was nothing he could do. His mother began to tighten the bandage around his wrists. The pain grew ever greater, and tears filled his eyes. But still, he refused to cry out loud. Instead, he remained silent.
His father watched anxiously as Mrs. Jones bound Tom’s arms firmly to the chair legs.
‘Are you really going to hurt me like this?’ asked Tom.
‘I promise I’ll try my best not to.’
‘Do you mean it?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Then stop tightening the bandages.’
‘Very well. I won’t tighten them anymore.’
‘Thank you very much.’
Mrs. Jones gave Tom a quick hug before leaving the room. As the door closed behind her, he heard her footsteps walking rapidly towards the stairs.
When she returned, she carried a wooden spoon.
‘Here it comes,’ mumbled Tom. ‘Another beating.’
‘Not unless you behave yourself.’
He nodded, relieved.
‘First of all,’ continued Mrs. Jones sternly, ‘you must say sorry to me.’
‘Sorry, Mummy.’
‘Say it properly.’
‘S-o…try.’
‘That’s better. Now, I expect you know why I had to tie your arms to the chair.’
‘Yes, because you wanted to beat me again.’
‘Exactly. And I’m afraid I am going to have to continue doing it from now on.’
‘But I didn’t do anything wrong!’
‘Of course not. You haven’t done anything wrong at all.’
‘So why can’t I go outside without you?’
‘Because I love you too much to leave you on your own.’
‘You always say that, but it doesn’t make any sense. Why should I need anyone to watch over me?’
‘Because I care about you.’
‘There are plenty of other people who would be happy to help you look after me.’
‘But they wouldn’t understand what’s important to us. They couldn’t appreciate how precious you are to me.’
‘Well, maybe we’re just different kinds of people.’
‘No, no, that isn’t true either. We both feel exactly the same way about each other. It’s only our differences that make things difficult sometimes.’
‘Difficult?’
‘Yes. Difficult.’
‘I see.’
‘Don’t worry, Tom. Everything is going to work out fine. In fact, everything has already worked out perfectly.’
‘Really?’
‘Absolutely.’
***
Mr. Jones sat quietly on the sofa while his wife went into their bedroom to prepare herself for bed. He listened intently to every sound coming through the open window: the chirping of birds; the rustling of leaves in the wind; the distant sounds of traffic. When his wife eventually emerged from the bedroom carrying a small suitcase, he got up quickly and followed her downstairs.
They walked side by side down the long corridor, which led to the kitchen. Mr. Jones reached forward and turned on the lights. On the table lay a large pile of clothes.
‘Where are you going, darling?’
‘To stay with my parents until this business is finished.’
‘Who told you to do that?’
‘The police did.’
‘Didn’t you tell them that you were married? That you’ve been living here for years?’
‘Yes, I did. But apparently, it wasn’t good enough.’
‘How dare they treat you like that! How could they possibly believe such rubbish?’
‘Apparently, it’s quite common practice these days.’
‘Common practice!’
‘Yes, it seems to be happening more often than it used to.’
‘What nonsense!’
‘It’s not nonsense, dear. It’s the truth. There’s something strange going on in society today. People don’t seem to know what’s real or unreal any longer. They’re losing touch with reality. Some even think they can fly, others dream about being invisible, some believe they have superpowers, and so on. All sorts of crazy ideas are spreading throughout the world.’
‘And what makes you think this applies to us?’
‘Oh, I’m sure it does.’
‘Why?’
‘Because there was nothing unusual about what happened earlier tonight. Nothing at all. The whole thing seemed completely normal to me.’
‘Normal?’
‘Yes, absolutely. Just another ordinary day.’
‘But it wasn’t. Not by a long shot. Was it?’
‘Perhaps not.’
‘In fact, I’d say it was one of the most extraordinary nights we’ve ever spent together.’
‘Strange?’
‘Incredible.’
‘Unbelievable.’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you remember when we first met?’
‘Of course, I do.’
‘We were sitting in a restaurant having dinner. Do you recall the name of the place?’
‘Tango Argentino.’
‘Right. Well, as soon as we arrived, I felt an incredible urge to take off my shoes and socks and start dancing.’
‘Dancing?’
‘Yes. Dancing. To Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture.”‘
‘Ah yes. Of course. I remember now. You said you needed to dance that night.’
‘I did.’
‘Were you wearing black trousers then?’
‘Black jeans. Yes.’
‘And white trainers?’
‘White sneakers.’
‘Your hair was cut short back then, wasn’t it?’
‘Very short.’
‘Just above the ears?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then we must have looked very odd indeed.’
‘Yes, I suppose we did.’
‘Not at all. Quite the opposite.’
‘So why didn’t you want to go home right away?’
‘Because I wanted to keep enjoying myself.’
‘Enjoying yourself?’
‘That’s exactly what I mean. Enjoying ourselves.’
‘But surely you had to get up early tomorrow morning to catch your flight.’
‘I knew I’d be able to sleep later.’
‘Even though you hadn’t slept well the previous night because of jet lag?’
‘Jet lag? What’s that?’
‘You know, the feeling people experience after flying across several time zones.’
‘Oh, I see. So you were saying?’
‘Yes, so I was. Anyway, how could anyone complain about spending a wonderful evening like that? Especially since we hardly saw each other during the week.’
‘I agree. And yet…’
‘Yes?’
‘There are times when I wonder whether you really love me anymore.’
‘Love you?’
‘Yes, love me.’
‘Well, of course, I do.’
‘Really?’
‘Absolutely. Why would you ask such a question?’
‘No reason in particular. Only that sometimes I feel you no longer care about me. Sometimes I worry that you might be thinking of leaving me.’
‘Leave you?’
‘Yes, leave you.’
‘Leaving you wouldn’t make sense. We’ve only just moved in together.’
‘Moving in together?’
‘Yes, moving in together. I thought we should live under the same roof before getting married.’
‘Married?’
‘Yes, marriage. Marriage is important nowadays. A lot of couples choose to marry instead of cohabiting.’
‘Co-habit?’
‘Cohabitate. Cohabit means to share a house or flat with someone else without being legally married.’
‘Shared a house or flat with someone?’
‘Yes.’
‘With whom?’
‘A friend called Susan.’
‘Susan?’
‘Yes, Susan.’
‘She lives with you?’
‘Yes.’
‘What kind of person is she?’
‘An extremely nice girl.’
‘Nice?’
‘Yes, very nice.’
‘How old is she?’
‘Twenty-two years old.’
‘Is that young for her age?’
‘Younger than me, but not too much younger.’
‘Isn’t twenty-one considered quite young these days?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Have you known her long?’
‘Only recently.’
‘Recently?’
‘Yes, only recently. She came to stay with us while her parents were on holiday in Greece.’
‘Who owns the house where you’re living?’
‘It belongs to my mother.’
‘Where does your father work?’
‘He works in a bank.’
‘Does he earn a good salary?’
‘Quite a bit more than yours, I’m afraid.’
‘Mine?’
‘Yes, yours.’
‘My salary?’
‘Yes, your salary.’
‘Why is it always my salary?’
‘Because you earned it.’
‘Me? Earned it?’
‘Yes, you. You worked hard to get it.’
‘Worked hard?’
‘Yes, you did. Hardly ever took holidays, never went out with friends, kept working even if you weren’t ill, never complained about anything.’
‘Never complained?’
‘About anything. Not once.’
‘Nothing?’
‘Not one single thing.’
‘Didn’t you have any complaints?’
‘None whatsoever.’
‘What about now?’
‘Now? Now there’s this business about our relationship.’
‘Which is?’
‘Our lack of intimacy.’
‘In what way?’
‘We haven’t made love for weeks and I can tell you don’t fancy me anymore.’
‘Don’t fancy you? Fancy you?’
‘Yes, fancy you. Like I used to. When we first met.’
‘When we first met?’
‘Yes, that’s right. It was at a party two months ago. The party of an acquaintance of mine who happens to be a famous actress.’
‘The actress?’
‘Yes, the actress.’
‘And you didn’t enjoy yourself?’
‘No, I enjoyed myself tremendously.’
‘Then why do you say you “enjoyed” yourselves?’
‘Because I couldn’t help it. Because I felt so happy. Happy as I’ve never been before.’
‘Happy?’
‘Very, very happy.’
‘But wasn’t that because of seeing the actress?’
‘Seeing her? No, it was something else. Something inside me. In my head.’
‘You mean your brain?’
‘Yes, yes, exactly. My mind. That’s what I meant.’
‘So it had nothing to do with the actress?’
‘Of course not. What do I look like? Some sort of pervert?’
‘No, no, of course not. But it seems strange to me that you’d go all the way to Los Angeles just to meet some woman you know from a party in London.’
‘I didn’t plan to see her. It happened by chance. As soon as I saw her I knew she would change everything. Everything.’
‘Changed how?’
‘Everything. All my life, I’ve been looking for happiness. Looking for someone special, someone I could really fall in love with. Someone who understood me. And then, suddenly, here she was. Here she was!’
The End