A Place Called Perfect
Read A Place Called Perfect Online
Authors: Helena Duggan
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Action & Adventure, #General
A PLACE CALLED PERFECT
If you would like to talk to Boy or Violet please send them an email. They can’t respond straight away as sometimes they’re in school but they’ll get back to you as soon as they can.
You can ask them any questions about their story but be careful, maybe only ask Boy about the Archers, talking about them scares Violet sometimes even though she says she’s not a girly girl!
You’ll find their contact details on
helenaduggan.com
Copyright © 2012 Helena Duggan
The right of Helena Duggan to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First Published in 2012 by WHEREVER YOU ROAM PUBLISHING and createspace.
This publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
ISBN 978-1480093447
Typeset, Designed and Illustrated by Helena Duggan/Held
Design
helddesign.ie
To Mam, the Original Dreamer.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
A SILENT PROTEST
TEA FOR THREE
THE SPECTACLE MAKERS SHOP
FIRST SONS OF PERFECT
DREAMING OF GHOSTLY BOYS
SCHOOL RULES
IDDCS
A CHANGE OF HEART
IRIS ARCHER
AN URGENT MEETING
BOY
NO MANS LAND
THE WATCHERS
A NIGHT VISITOR
JARS OF COLOUR
THE WARNING
DEADLY COLD
THE GHOST ESTATE
THE LOCKED ROOM
THE SPLIT
WILLIAM ARCHER
THE REIMAGINATOR
WELCOME TO ADEQUATE
THE PERSUASION
TIME FOR TACTICS
MERRILL MARX TEA MAKERS
WILLIAMS POTION
A POWERFUL FEAR
LITTLE HELPERS
RETURN TO THE ROOM OF IMAGINATIONS
THE REUNION
THE GIVE AWAY
LET THE BATTLE BEGIN
CHOICES
EDWARDS ESCAPE
OUR TOWN
A Silent Protest
So what if this town wasn’t perfect, who wanted perfect? Violet Brown flung herself o
nto her untidy bed. Polly, the most popular girl in school was perfect and BORING. Violet didn’t want to be like Polly or be in a place that thought it was as perfect as Polly. How would she ever survive? She’d have to be neat and tidy; she’d definitely have to brush her hair and even probably clean her shoes. She’d have to be Polly.
“Never!” she roared loud enough for her parents to hear, then scrambled in under the safety of her duvet.
So what if her Dad was offered the best job an optician could ever get? He said ‘it’s a job amongst jobs’. It was probably like the Oscars of opticians, if the Oscars was a job and not an award for acting. His exact words were ‘I’d be stupid, utterly stupid to turn it down’. This job meant so much to her Dad, other people’s parents always talked about how much they hated their jobs. It was confusing, adults and jobs. Why did they work if they hated it? Violet hated maths and she never worked at that. They seemed to love holidays and always wanted to be somewhere else so why didn’t they just do that? Why didn’t they go on holidays forever, surely they’d be happy then. Adults loved to complain but not her Dad.
Eugene, that’s what her Mam called him anytime he was in trouble, loved eyes. He just loved them. He said he married her Mam because she had the biggest eyes he’d ever seen, almost popped right out of her head sometimes. He loved being an optician. He left the house smiling every morning and always came home with a smile. He said because there were eyes everywhere he couldn’t help himself. He loved blue eyes the best which was great because Violets eyes were blue, but he also liked brown ones and green ones came third. Everyday he thought up new ways to improve eyes. He’d even won an award and had just been on the cover of “Eye Spy” magazine. Her Mam said the whole world was talking about it, or at least the part of the world that loved eyes too. She said his new bosses read about it in “Eye Spy” and searched him out.
She was proud of her Dad. She loved him more than a billion pounds. She was happy for him too, but being happy for him didn’t mean she was happy. She didn’t want the same things as her Dad. Her Mam would follow him ‘to the ends of the world’ as they were ‘hopelessly in love’. They said that so many times it made Violet cringe, other people’s parents didn’t talk like that.
But that was the thing with parents, they only ever did what they wanted and kids had to obey. Sometimes she wished she had brothers and sisters, then there’d be more on her side. She didn’t want the best job in the world, she just wanted to spend the rest of the summer playing up the fields with her friends. She’d barely have anytime to say goodbye either. Her Dad said they wanted him to start ‘asap’, that meant ‘really quickly’ because they were leaving on Sunday. Her Dad would start work Monday morning.
The town was called “Perfect”. She laughed. How could she ever live in a place called Perfect?. It couldn’t be perfect anyway, there had to be something wrong with it. Violet pulled back the duvet and walked to the window. She sat there in the fading evening light and well into the night plotting a way out of her problem. The more she thought the more her head hurt and she still hadn’t come up with a proper plan. She could run away but she was only ten and would need her parents for at least another two years, maybe three to be safe. She decided she’d sleep on the problem.
The next morning she woke with a smile. She had it. She wasn’t going to talk to her Dad at all, not just for a day or two, this plan was much bigger than that. She wouldn’t talk to him for as long as it took to change his mind. It was going to be hard but if she concentrated she could do it.
After all it was her Dad who told her she could be whatever she wanted to be. So that was the plan, she was going to be silent.
Tea For Three
Sunday came too quickly, probably because they’d spent all day Saturday packing. When she wanted time to go slowly it always went fast so all day Saturday Violet begged for time to go fast, her mother called it ‘reverse scientology’, but it didn’t work, before she knew it she’d cried her goodbyes and was in the back of the car on the way to Perfect.
“Where is this place Mam?” she asked, slotting her head between the two front seats.
“Ask your father pet, he knows more than me,” her mother smiled.
Violet sat back in her spot and let silence flood the car.
“Are you still not talking to me?” her Dad said, after a while.
She didn’t reply. She hated not talking to him.
“Well we’re not too far now pet,” he sighed.
He looked at his wife who gently squeezed his hand. Violet cringed, slumped down in her seat and closed her eyes.
She woke with a jerk as the car crunched to a stop over squashed gravel. It was dark. She pulled herself up from the warm leather seat and peered out the back window. She gasped and ducked back down. Two dark figures, one tall, one small, stood shadowed in the light from the house door. Violet’s father looked at her mother then unbuckled his seat belt and stepped out of the car.
“Ah Mr. and Mr. Archer,” her father said, approaching the strangers, “we didn’t expect a welcoming commitee.”
“Well of course Mr. Brown, we wanted to see you settled,” the tall man said, extending his hand.
“We’ve been preparing all day. The house is spick and span and we’ve the kettle on the boil,” the small man said, stepping in front of the larger one to grab her father’s hand, “Leave your stuff in the car and come in for a brew. I’m sure you must all be exhausted.”
“Of course, how kind,” her mother said, reaching the front door to greet both men, “we’d love a cuppa. Great idea.”
The four entered the house leaving Violet to fume in her seat, forgotten again.
“Violet come in from the car pet, it’s freezing out there,” her father’s voice called from across the gravel yard.
She smiled, he didn’t forget. She pushed open the heavy car door and poked her head out to look left and right. The driveway was dark and surrounded by large trees. Huge twisted branches cast ghostly shadows over the gravel. She shivered. Suddenly the wind whistled through the yard and the leaves began to whisper. Violet jumped back and slammed the door, locking herself safely inside the car. She’d have to run for it, she took a deep breath. On the count of three.
“One, two, threeeee...”
She flung open the car door, jumped and ran. Not looking left or right at the creatures who watched from the darkness. She raced for the house, bounded up the steps and jumped over the threshold. Just as she slammed the door, she heard laughter echo through the trees. She slid down the wall, onto the hall floor trying to catch her breath. Surely it wasn’t laughter, it must have been the wind.
“Violet is that you pet?” her mother called, from down the hallway, “come in and say hello to our guests.”
Putting the laughter to the back of her mind, she pushed up from the floor, pulled off her shoes and threw them by the door. The hall was covered in shiny, cream tiles perfect for socks. She took a run and slid the whole way into the room straight ahead, coming to a rest by the kitchen table. Four pairs of eyes stared at her, two in embarrassment, two in shock.
“Violet!” her father snapped, “we have guests.”
She didn’t respond. Quickly her father covered the silence introducing her to the strange men that sat round the table.
“Violet this
is Mr. George Archer.”
“Just George is fine,” the tall man said, standing up from the table to shake her hand.
She tried not to laugh. George Archer was so tall he couldn’t stand straight in the room. His head bent to one side almost touching his shoulder. Everything about him was long, from his spindly arms and legs to his pencil thin nose that almost divided his face in two. His head was completely bald and creamy white like a chocolate egg. Clearly uncomfortable he quickly sat back down.
“And I’m Edward, you must be Violet?” the smaller of the Archers said, as he stood to shake her hand.
Again she had to stop herself laughing. She was the same height as him and Violet wasn’t even the tallest in her class. Mr. Edward Archer was very small for his age. Though small, he was very wide and square, as though he were made from blocks. His head was square, his nose was square and squished. His eyes, the only part of his body that wasn’t square, stuck out a little like they were trying to escape from his face.
The two brothers wore the same brown suits and shiny brown shoes. Edward Archer wore a funny brown bowler hat just like the one on her mother
's favourite painting of a man with no face. Mr. George Archer didn’t wear a hat but that was probably because it would fall off everytime he stood up inside.
Both of them had redish eyes hidden behind round gold framed glasses, it looked a little scary until George Archer took his off.
“Oh it’s the glass!” Violet smiled at the taller twin, “Why is the glass red?”
George Archer pushed his glasses back onto his nose and scowled.
“Well Violet dear,” Edward Archer said, “It’s a funny story really and one we hope your father will help us to solve. You see this town is perfect except for one curious fact. Every single inhabitant here wears glasses. We’ve had numerous scientists look at our situation. They say it’s because we’re so close to the sun. You and your family Violet will find after only a short length of time in Perfect your eyesight will get dusty, the edges of your vision will blur and eventually you will go blind.”
“Mam!” she shouted, trying not to cry, “I don’t want to go blind. I like being able to see. I knew we shouldn’t have moved here.”
“Oh no,” Edward Archer laughed, “I certainly didn’t mean to frighten you Violet dear. I assure you the effects are only temporary, once one has left this town of ours they wear off. Also we have found a clever way around our little problem,” he said pointing to his glasses, “These work a treat. You’ll find everybody is wearing them. Quite in vogue as they say.”
“You’ll have to visit our spectacle shop dear so we can fit you a pair,” George Archer smiled.
Violet grabbed her mother’s skirt.
“I don’t want to wear glasses Mam, there’s nothing wrong with my eyes.”
“I know Violet,” her mother shushed, looking anxiously at her husband, “but it’s only for a short time. Your father will fix the problem.”
“Don’t worry Violet,” her Dad said, bending down to pick her up.
She moved round her mother’s back away from his arms.
“She’s tired,” he sighed, his cheeks a little red, “I think it’s time for bed.”
“Oh no, not yet,” George Archer said quickly, “you must have some tea. It’s a tradition here.”
“Oh yes,” Edward Archer smiled, grabbing cups from the worktop, “It’s custom I assure you.”
“I don’t like tea,” Violet said, looking at her mother.
“You’ll like this one,” George Archer smiled.
Violet didn’t like the Archers, there was something scary about them but if she didn’t have the tea she’d be killed and she was in enough trouble already. Her parents looked at each other as they sat down at the table. They seemed happy to drink it and they weren’t stupid Violet hoped. She sat down between her father and mother. Edward Archer sat on the other side waiting for his brother to finish pouring.
“This tea is a speciality of Perfect. You’ll find most people drink at least a cup a day. It’s a tea mad town,” Edward sai
d when all the cups were filled, “Now imagine the nicest taste you can think of then take a sip.”
Violet did as she was told. She imagined her father
's favourite drink, which was hers too, ice cream sundae he called it. Big bits of cold vanilla ice cream dunked in fizzy orange. She saw the froth-like clouds bubbling over the top of the glass and tasted the burst of flavour as it hit her tongue. She was almost licking her lips as she raised her mug of tea. The vanilla tingled her nose. She tipped the mug to take a sip, careful not to burn her lips. The tea bubbled and fizzed as she gulped the mixture of vanilla and orange heaven. She couldn’t believe it. She opened her eyes to make sure no one had swapped her cup. The light brown coloured tea smiled back at her. She looked at her mother and father, their eyes were still shut and silly smiles sat on their faces.
“I think I’ll have another cup,” her father said a little later, reaching for the steaming pot.
“We thought you might,” both Archers replied in unison.
They sat round the table and finished the pot while the Archers filled them in on their new home.
Later that night, Violet climbed beneath her new sheets in her new room. The town seemed nice enough from what the
Archer’s had said but she’d made up her mind, she didn’t and wouldn’t like it. She turned off the lights and slipped into a perfect nights sleep.
