Alice Parker's Metamorphosis (Book 1 of the new adventure series for children) (6 page)

After a moment’s thought she rolled on to her front and moved slowly into a kneeling position. Then she stepped carefully off her bed. Jack retreated a couple of paces, as if perturbed by what his owner had become.

‘
Please don’t be afraid,’ whispered Alice. ‘I’m still me, even with these horrid things on my back.’

He plodded back and licked her hand. She was still wearing the damp blanket from the previous afternoon. ‘I suppose this is all that will fit me at the moment,’ she said to Jack. ‘Not exactly fashionable, what would the coven say if they saw me in this?’

‘
I think your outfit would be the least of their worries if they could see you right now,’ said a voice outside her bedroom door.

Alice turned the key to let Thomas in and stood behind the door to hide.

‘
It’s OK,’ he said. Mum’s already left for work and she phoned the school for you. Dad’s asleep. I told them you’ve got an upset stomach.’

‘
I’ve got an upset body.’

‘
Exactly! Not much of a fib, was it? Besides, you can do no wrong at the moment as top of the class!’

Alice scowled.

‘
Time’s getting on, you need to get dressed – places to go, people to see.’

‘
People?’

‘
OK, Finwips then.’

‘
And what am I supposed to wear?’

‘
It doesn’t matter. Your clothing dilemma will be solved when we get there. Hurry up.’ He closed the door as he left.

Great, thought Alice, opening her wardrobe. She chose a yellow shirt and put it on back to front, only fastening the lowest buttons beneath her wings. She felt as if she were wearing a toddler’s art overall, with jeans and winter boots. Even brushing her hair was a challenge, as the upper part of her wings got in the way. She left it in a ponytail, dangling between them, threw the blanket over her wings and pulled it around herself like a cloak. She crept downstairs without disturbing her father and found Thomas waiting in the hallway. He was grinning.

‘
You look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame.’

‘
Shut up and help me put this cardigan on back to front,’ she snapped, reaching for her school one on the peg. ‘What about breakfast?’ she asked as Thomas did up the buttons behind her.

‘
We’ll be well looked after where we’re going,’ he replied.

‘
Where
are
we going?’

‘
You’ll see soon enough.’ He put the blanket back around her and ushered her out of the door.

As they walked down Albany Road, the snow crunching beneath their feet, Alice felt terribly self-conscious and kept her head down. ‘Is anyone looking at me?’ she asked Thomas.

‘
Relax, there’s no one around. Lucky for you it’s winter and you can cover up. You would look an idiot wearing that blanket-cloak in August!’

They reached the new letterbox next to the giant oak tree. Thomas stopped and looked all around, making sure the coast was clear.

‘
Now watch carefully and follow me,’ he instructed. He placed his hand inside the letterbox for a moment, palm upwards, then Alice heard a strange grating sound. A door slid open in the immense trunk of the oak tree. Alice’s jaw dropped, but before she could say anything, Thomas stepped inside and pulled her in. The door closed behind them.

Inside it was dark and smelled damp. There were tiny specks of light glowing in the wall, but not sufficient to put Alice at ease. She had pretended to take yesterday’s events in her stride, but now she was really feeling the strain.

‘
I don’t like this at all,’ she whined. ‘There’s not much room in here.’

‘
Shhh, it’s only for a minute. Hold tight.’ Thomas guided her hand to a rail and they started to travel downwards.

‘
Oh no, what next?’ groaned Alice, holding on for dear life with both hands, although they were actually travelling quite slowly. ‘Now a tree that’s turned into a lift!’

‘
Perhaps now isn’t the time to tell you that it isn’t a real letterbox either.’

‘
Yes it is, I posted your letter in it yesterday.’

‘
I know. It was just a note to Imogen. That’s how we knew you were about to change. That letterbox can only be seen by Finwips. It’s a useful way to communicate with the village.’

‘
Well, I’ve heard it all now,’ said Alice, shaking her head in disbelief and feeling rather stupid. ‘What village?’

There was a gentle thud as the lift stopped. The door slid open and the smell of freshly baked banana bread and bubbling raspberry jam greeted them as their eyes adjusted to the light.

‘
This one!’ said Thomas triumphantly.

Chapter 4

A Village Underground

With trepidation, Alice stepped out into a long, vaulted passageway lit by burning torches. Considering they were underground, the village was astonishing. The walls, floor and ceiling were made of stone, as if an army of people had chiselled away for centuries to create their own secret dwelling. At regular intervals, there were round pillars supporting the structure, with great long drapes in thick, burgundy velvet behind them. On the walls, large bunches of herbs had been hung to dry. As Thomas cajoled her along, she noticed wide, arched wooden doors with brass signs on both sides of the passageway. ‘TAILOR & DRESSING ROOMS,’ she read. ‘LIBRARY.’ Then at least a dozen doors labelled ‘ACCOMMODATION.’

‘
What an amazing place to stay!’ thought Alice. Then she spotted the most peculiar door. ‘TO THE STABLES.’ She wondered how on earth a horse would fit in that cramped tree lift. Perhaps a miniature pony could squeeze in... At the end of the passage the space widened and there were three arched doors, the largest, immediately in front of them, labelled ‘DINING HALL.’ The other two were ‘KITCHEN’ and ‘PANTRY.’ Thomas knocked at the dining hall door.

‘
Are you ready?’ he asked Alice. She nodded.

‘
Come in,’ called two female voices.

Thomas pushed the door, which opened with a sinister creak. ‘Step inside,’ he said.

Alice was dumbfounded. Standing a few paces in front of her were the most divine creatures she had ever seen. Willowy and elegant, with hair flowing down to the waist and gowns made of a shimmering fabric which Alice doubted could be made on earth. But...most importantly...they had wings.

‘
Are they real?’ gasped Alice. She swiftly covered her open mouth with her hand, realising how silly that sounded.

‘
Real Finwips, yes,’ answered the blonde one in the burgundy robe. ‘Welcome, Alice. I’m Freya.’

‘
We meet at last!’ said the tall brunette in purple. ‘I’m Imogen.’ She reached out to shake hands. Alice noticed she had lilac streaks in her hair.

She went through the motions of the formal greeting in a daze. She couldn’t take her eyes off their wings, even though she had a pair herself. Freya’s were smaller than hers, with rounded edges like those of a Holly Blue
butterfly. They moved gently from time to time, reminding Alice of a dog wagging its tail when it’s pleased. Imogen’s wings behaved in the same way, though hers were much larger, even compared to Alice’s. She had to admit, they were stylish – if wings could be stylish - in the shape of a Comma butterfly’s wings but with a delicate, lace-like transparency.

‘
I hope the sight of our wings reassures you,’ said Imogen. ‘I see yours are yet to retract. May we?’ she asked, nodding at Alice’s blanket-clad back.

‘
Oh, yes, of course,’ she replied. She let the blanket fall and turned to the side so they could see her wings properly.

‘
Good grief!’ exclaimed Imogen. ‘I predicted something impressive, but these are quite remarkable for a Finwip so young. Swallowtail butterfly, I’d say. What do you think, Freya?’

‘
Most definitely,’ agreed Freya. ‘They’re beautiful.’

While Imogen circled Alice, as if admiring a statue in a museum with an experienced, critical eye, Alice noticed a tear at the bottom of her dress.

‘
I recognise that material,’ she said. ‘That happened in my garden, didn’t it?’

Imogen looked down and smiled. ‘It certainly did. Sorry if I made you nervous when I was checking on you – I was worried. And impatient, if I’m honest. I certainly wasn’t expecting to encounter an enormous dog! He jumped up and managed to snap at my robe as I flew off.’

‘
I’ll fix that,’ said Freya. ‘I shall be making a robe for Alice tomorrow.’ As the village tailor, she had been studying Alice’s wings as well, planning a robe that would complement them. They referred to them as robes, though they were actually full-length dresses with a long, embroidered velvet cloak. In the back there were slits, specially designed to fit around wing bases. The detail was so intricate, it looked as though human or Finwip hands would struggle with the tiny stitches.

‘
I do it all myself,’ Freya clarified, noticing Alice’s approving glances at her needlework. ‘Your robe will be a work of art, I promise.’

‘
I can’t wait!’ said Alice. ‘But when do I wear it? Only when I come here?’

‘
That’s right,’ replied Freya. ‘We have dressing rooms to get changed on arrival. We try to maintain the traditional dress down here, it’s a reminder of our heritage. Plus, who wouldn’t want to wear one of these?’ she grinned, swishing her cloak around her.

‘
What colour will mine be?’ Alice asked.

‘
The colours are significant,’ explained Freya. ‘Yours will be blue, which represents intelligence. Mine is burgundy because I create useful things with my hands. The cooks wear the same colour as me – I suppose we’re classed as craftspeople.’

‘
And Imogen?’

‘
Purple is for rare or unknown gifts.’

‘
Is that what Thomas wears, then?’

‘
Well, no! In his case, we’re almost certain his gift will be science-based, so he wears silver-grey.’

‘
It all sounds very complicated. Do I get to put coloured streaks in my hair too?’

‘
You won’t need to, don’t you worry about that. As you get older, they simply appear in your Finwip colour. It won’t happen until after you’ve left school, though, so it’s not a problem.’

Alice was sure it would be a problem for her parents, no matter how old she was when her hair turned blue. She could see some pink-ish roots appearing in Freya’s hair when she bent down.

‘
Of course, on a practical level,’ Freya continued, ‘you need at least one outfit that will accommodate your wings. We all take the opportunity to release them down here. If you don’t let them out regularly, they become weak and you will start to feel ill.’

‘
But how do I get them back in?’ asked Alice. ‘I need to go back to school.’

‘
They usually retreat when you are calm,’ replied Imogen. ‘As a rule, they emerge when we experience strong emotions or fear – like a fight or flight response. Though nowadays, very few of us can fly. If they are being stubborn and don’t retreat of their own accord, there is a spray we apply to the base of our wings which works immediately.’

‘
And you already have that,’ piped up Thomas, who had sat down at a table behind them. ‘The blue bottle I gave you.’

Alice nodded thoughtfully while Imogen and Freya measured her wings. She looked around the dining room for the first time. It was a circular room of immense proportions, lit by the same burning torches as the passageway. In the centre of the room was a large fire, with an over-sized cooking pot suspended over it from a giant wrought-iron tripod. This was where the raspberry jam smell was coming from. Around the fire was an open space for working (or performing perhaps, Alice imagined) and around this, two huge C-shaped dining tables, each with twenty-four stools. Photographs of past celebrations in the dining room adorned the walls.

At the far end of the room was a sort of cave which enabled you to see part of the kitchen, where Alice could watch people working and identify that aroma of banana bread. A small man in a brown cloak caught sight of her and bowed with an elaborate arm gesture. How strange, she thought, averting her gaze. She could see silver platters piled high with fresh fruit and she cringed as she thought of her last art lesson. Down here, all her worries and embarrassment were slipping away. Shame she couldn’t stay. Around the outside of the room were smaller caves or alcoves, each with curved bench seating and a table.

‘
We don’t often eat together,’ said Thomas, following her gaze. ‘The practicalities of our lives above ground mean that we turn up whenever we can. There’s always a warm welcome and plenty of food.’

‘
Which is what we need now,’ decided Imogen. She put down her tape measure and Freya rushed off to her studio with her notes. Sitting down next to Thomas, Imogen signalled to someone in the kitchen.

‘
Are you in charge here?’ asked Alice.

‘
I suppose I am,’ replied Imogen with a smile. ‘Though I don’t tell people that. It sounds rather pompous! Over the years, Finwips here have come to regard me as their adviser. I help them as much as I can and organise the gatherings down here. Fortunately, I have retired from my job above ground, so I have the time to focus on our community.

Alice was astounded. Retired? Imogen looked so young! Thomas cast a warning glance in her direction.

‘
It’s alright,’ Imogen assured him. ‘She should know the truth. I’m ninety-two, Alice.’