Copyright 2021 Jonathan M Hughes
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ISBN 9781800468436
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
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Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
To my late father-in-law Cyril F. Graysmark MSc
and his grandson Reuben,
who were the inspiration for this book.
Contents
Chapter One
Grandpas Brilliant invention
Hey Simon, Ive got something brilliant to tell you, said Reuben, his mobile phone pressed up against his ear as he walked up his grandfathers garden path.
Reuben knocked hard on the rotten front door. My Grandfather has been developing a mind-changing machine, he continued. And hes going to try it out today.
As he listened to Simons reply, he looked around at the garden. Self-seeded holly hocks far too close to the house, bowed down to him in the breeze. A tomato plant growing up between two paving slabs seemed to be surviving with bright red tomatoes hanging down. The lawn was now a meadow and a butler sink half hidden under a hedge was filled almost to the top with water and brown leaves. He felt guilty that he had never offered to help his Grandfather tidy the garden, but then hed never been asked.
The door creaked open. Hello Reuben, come in! said his Grandfather, a retired Professor of neuroscience. Youre a bit early, but come in my boy and well soon have my machine up and running.
Ive got to go Simon. Ill ring you later to let you know what happens and if it works, bye.
Oi! I told you not to tell anyone about the Mind Machine! scolded Gramps.
Gramps was very tall and slim with chiselled features. His white bushy hair seemed to have a life of its own, always sticking up like three wayward horns. To be honest, continued Gramps, you miss school too much to be any good at anything. I know your Aunt writes you a sick note anytime you want, but its a bad habit to get into. Anyway, you know thats what I think.
Im not bothered about school qualifications, I want to be a rock star.
Have you joined a rock band yet?
No, not yet.
Have you started learning the guitar?
Well no, but I did have a couple of lessons last year.
Dreaming is a curse to you youngsters today, said Gramps. You have to make things happen. Anyway, I think you should work hard at school and be in a rock band. You shouldnt put all your eggs in one basket. At fourteen, you probably only have two more years at school, you should make the most of it.
Yeah, I suppose so, said Reuben, pleased that Gramps hadnt totally dismissed his rock star ambitions. He then followed Gramps into the musty-smelling hall. A sagging net curtain hung down over a small window. The dark red carpet looked even more threadbare than he remembered from only a few days ago. Reuben squinted his eyes to be able to see his reflection in the large dusty mirror. He ran his fingers through his long blonde fringe. While still staring at himself in the mirror, he opened his mouth slightly and bit his teeth together, in a wide overdone grin.
Not staring at yourself again! moaned Gramps. The trouble with you youngsters, is that you think far too much about your appearance.
The cellar door creaked open and they walked down the rickety steps to the cellar, where Gramps had his workshop.
A cobweb-covered strip-light flickered into life, lighting up the workbench which was crammed with so much stuff; test tubes, coils of wire, circuit boards among many other items. Crooked shelves lined the walls and were crammed with even more clutter and old boxes with thick handwriting scrawled all over them. Gramps had spent the last fifteen years, since retiring, designing and building the electronic thought-changing machine as a project to keep himself busy.
Actually the battery needs a bit of a charge. Come back this afternoon and it should be oven ready to go!
Not another delay! moaned Reuben.
Back at home
Reuben sat on the sagging sofa and stared at the TV while eating a slice of his Aunts home-made quiche. A pair of hands were potting up some plants, making Reuben yawn with boredom. He looked round at the large fish tank to see Reddy and Goldy both staring at him, opening and closing their mouths, waiting for some fish flakes.
Orange curtains and the nineteen-seventies furniture made Reuben feel he was living in a scruffy museum.
What are you going to do this afternoon? asked his Aunt Audrey, pulling a brush through her frizzy, dyed blonde hair, then staring at the clogged bristles and yanking out some hair.
Im going to Gramps. Hes going to try out an electronic mind-controlling machine hes been working on.
Oh not the thing hes been working on for over fifteen yearswhat a waste of time, money and effort, and of course it wont work. Youd think he would have known better. Anyway what about school today? she said, throwing a bunch of dried hair on to the carpet.
You wrote me another sick note, remember?
What illness was it this time?
Er, well I dont know, you wrote it down, I think it was a bit of an aching neck and a headache said Reuben, rather irritated at her questioning.
Im only thinking about your well-being! she said. If your parents were still alive they would be horrified.
Anyway, Im off to Gramps now, Auntie, he said, rising to his feet and walking over and pecking her on the cheek like he always had since a small boy. Deep down he was grateful to his aunt Audrey for giving him a home. Even though only aged five, he could still remember the horror of a policewomen trying to explain to him that his parents were dead.
Chapter Two
Will it Work?
Blast! muttered Reuben as a large stinging nettle stung the back of his hand as he walked up the garden path towards Gramps front door. He used the large door-knocker again as the bell hadnt worked for years. A large spider was weaving a web around a poor unsuspecting fly. Being petrified of big hairy spiders, Reuben moved back a step. He waited for what seemed like ages, then lifted the door-knocker and banged it down again. He felt pleased when the struggling fly escaped from the spiders web, then a Cabbage White butterfly flew straight into the web. Reuben just managed to put his terror of spiders to one side and offered his hand up and coaxed the struggling butterfly out of harms way and it fluttered off to live another day.
Gramps had always been there for him, taking him out for trips and always finding time to listen. Granny was only a distant memory. She had died instantly while crossing Ardingly High Street, apparently hit by a yob on a moped, showing off to his mates.