The Adventures Of Violet Small

Violet Small And The Leap of Fate

ACT ONE: 1-9 The End of the World? (1) In colours as rich as a candy store the valley of Tockelwick hummed like the insides of a TickTock clock. The bees buzzed. The dragonflies danced and the air was alive with glory. Darkness fell as swiftly as a winter’s night. The ancient time telling device struck midnight marking the beginning of the end. The morning had broken and yet felt as though it had never begun. Bright flashes of light illuminated the blood red sky. It was neither light nor dark, nor hot nor cold, for this was the eye of the storm. The ticking clock stopped sending all of existence into a spin. The world turned upside down and inside out. Monster waves crashed down engulfing everything the whirlwind had left behind. Giant balls of fire crashed down on to the Earth, destroying everything in their path. It was an attack from the sky above and the ground below. The clock struck 12 again and smashed into smithereens. With one almighty boom the volcano exploded into the oblivion. A hole appeared at the Centre of the Earth where the volcano once lay. The crust of the land cracked and peeled away from its

core. The world was swallowing itself from the outside in. Then there was Silence! The Earth disappeared into a world of black nothingness.

Violet’s eyes shot open with fright. In all her 11years and 364 days of waking up on this planet it was quite possibly the worst dream she had ever had. ‘Mum!’ She called out from underneath her purple polka dot covers. She waited in the darkness of her covers for what seemed like an eternity, but there was no response. She screamed again, louder and for longer this time, ‘MUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM MMM!’ The echoes of her voice twirled down the spiral staircase of the Lighthouse, in which she lived with her Mum, Dad and two annoying big sisters. Violet’s yells were so loud that even if you had been trapped at the Centre of the Earth you would have rushed to her rescue. So it came as a huge surprise to Violet Small that not even her mother (who loved her very much) came to check on her. ‘That’s odd!’ She thought. Her cries for help were greeted by utter

silence. A feeling of unease passed over her chest because if there was one thing for sure, it was that the Small household was never short of noise. ‘Something’s not right here.’ Violet whispered. ‘It’s so quiet you could hear an ant breathe.’ ‘This feels like a case for ‘Detective Small’!’ she courageously declared. Violet Small was the best detective in the land and she took pride in saying she would not go to sleep at night until the truth was in her grasp. She took a deep breath in and bravely peeled back the covers. First to come out were a party of wild brown curls that loosely clung to her head. Miss Violet Small had yet to befriend a hairbrush, and in her carefree frame of mind- probably never would. Next to be revealed were two of Violet’s large twinkling eyes that belonged to her rather elfin-like face. She stared up at the golden clock situated above her bed. It was by far the most magnificent time-telling mechanism in the Lighthouse. The Small residence was home to a whole host of clocks, from Coo-coo to Grandfather, Grandmother to Windup, Chiming, Ticking, Alarm and Wrist Watch Clocks but this one stood out from the crowd. The Crystabell was surely the biggest clock in the house and for that matter known to man. The large round face was home to 71 dials. Some told the times of different countries around the world, some the height of the tides or times of sunrise

and sunset, while others were calendars showing the days, weeks and months of the year. The biggest clock in the world was the oldest clock on Earth and therefore it was the most complicated to work. With over 30,000 moving pieces the ancient clock had to be wound up every morning without fail. And there was only one person who had the key. Mrs. Ivy Small worked in the same way as every time-telling device in the Small household, Violet’s mother ran like clockwork. Each and every morning, at precisely seven am she would waken Violet with a sweet smile and a soft kiss to her forward. Rising up in the air Ivy Small would take the secret key from around her neck. Placing it gently in to the heart of the clock. Then this was the favourite part of Violet’s day- her mother would begin to spin. First turning like a ballerina on pointed toe, she would then spin faster and faster and FaSTer and FASTER! Until she was moving at such a speed that you’d never know there was a person inside that blur of coloursnot even in a month of Sundays! It was the force of her body whizzing through the air that powered the heart of the clock. ‘But where is she? She should be here by now.’ Violet whispered. Violet had no idea what time it was this morning but the extra loud grumbling in her tummy told her it was way past the hour of seven. Unlike the rest of the Small family Violet had absolutely no concept of time. You

could tell her an hour was a minute and she wouldn’t call you a liar. Ordinarily Violet Small did not care for the time; she didn’t even own a watch. However, it was very unlike her mother to be late. ‘What time is it?’ Violet asked, for possibly the first time in her life. Her eyes shifted to the outer ring of the clock that told the time right here right now in Tockelwick Town. The Crystabell Clock read 12am. A puzzled frown crawled across Violet’s forehead. ‘That can’t be right!’ she said. Quickly shifting her eyes to the seconds hand Violet’s jaw dropped. Time had stopped ticking. ‘It’s the End of the World!’ Violet gasped.

It’s Only a Matter of Time (2) “Tick-Tick, The time has To fill your For I be the And you will

Tick-Tick. I will get you Tockelwick. come to foil you dear, hearts with dread and fear. HEAD OF TIME, be forever, GONE!”

With a sly smile on his lips and a cane in his thin fingers the Professor sang and twirled around his bright white bedroom. His bright white teeth matched his bright white hair, and the bristles on his chin. The colour of his crisply pressed pyjamas blended into the four white walls of his sleeping chambers. The malevolent Professor blended into surrounding like a hunter in the wilderness waiting to destroy his unsuspecting prey.

It was here within the tallest tower of the ex shampoo factory that he had spent 4,382 sleepless nights plotting his untimely revenge. A midst the beautiful rolling green hills of the north the unsightly four silver mirrored towers of the factory sat in a hilltop. An enclosed bridge linked the four top rooms of the towers in which the Professor lived (Tower 1), worked (Tower 2), slept (2b) and bathed (Tower 4). They jutted out high above the leafless trees that surrounded the hill, dwarfing the bare branches below. The small wood looked like an unwilling army of giant stick insects, protecting a man who hated everything they stood for. The man with the bright white hair detested trees with such passion that he scalped them of their natural beauty. He hated them just as he hated the green world around him. ‘In this day and age’ he would scowl, ‘there is no need for such inconveniences as nature!’ But if there was one thing that the Professor despised more than anything green and grimy it was the peskiness of ‘horrid- little- children’. They were the worst substances of all, with their snotty green noses and ridiculous ideas about the world, especially those Snotgobblers belonging to the valley of Tockelwick. ‘They’re all riddled with germs! Running around like they rule the world.’ He cried out into stifled air. ‘But not for much longer!’ A crude smile passed over his flawless pale face, revealing his pearly white teeth. ‘It’s only a matter of time, Until the power is finally mine. For Today is the day I will have my way! And those that crossed me will have to pay. ...Tick-Tick! Tick-Tick!’

The Sunken Sundial

(3)

Without a moment to lose Detective Violet Small leapt into action, but she couldn’t move a muscle. The bed covers were bound so tightly around her body she looked like a caterpillar cocoon. ‘I must have been tossing and turning all through the night!’ With a little wiggle and a jiggle, followed by one almighty swoop, Violet whipped back the covers and leapt out of bed. She looked like a Butterfly unravelling for the very first time. However, Violet Small resembled the grace of a clumsy, baby elephant rather than a quivering little Butterfly. At a small three and a half footed and half an inch tall, Violet inhabited the small round room at the top of the Lighthouse. There may have been just enough space to fit a single bed, a large treasure chest and swing a Mongolian cat in, but the size of the room did not concern Violet. She was far more interested in the view it had to offer. The 360 degree windows of tiny top room provided Violet with the perfect position for Undetected Navigational Observation, known to the trained Seekers of Truth as UNO, and to the untrained eye as spying! Like every little person across the world, Violet Small was one of a kind. She was the best detective in the land, or so she’d like to brag. Her best friend, Jasper, however, would beg to differ. Together they solved the trickiest of questions, from, ‘Where the rest of the world go when you blink?’ to ‘Why does belly button fluff smell of dried baked beans?’ As well as providing the simpler answers to questions such as, ‘Do goats lay eggs?’

This crime-fighting duo knew all the answers to the bestkept secrets on this planet, or at least they thought they did, until Today... Violet began this day like all others, leaping out of bed to open the 360 degree window shutters. For it is a well known fact that before one can attempt to tackle tricky puzzles of life, a puzzle solver must first see what the day had to offer. After all- it is what is in the air that really counts. As any professional puzzelee will tell you, the thicker the feel of the atmosphere the trickier the case is to crack. Nothing could have prepared Violet for what was about to see. Little did she know she was not the only one doing the spying! Violet Small looked out across the tiny town she had always lived in and, until now, had never passed over the high valley walls. Tockelwick was more like a village than a town. It comprised of five distinctive-looking houses, which formed a unique circle. The Lighthouse crowned the top of the circle. Then moving in a clockwise direction, there was a Windmill on stilts where her partner in crime lived with Ma Clespy and his dad, Uncle Jesper (a pretend Uncle / a friend of her parents, not to be mistaken with the ones related by blood). A squat Chimney shaped house that had been left vacant as long as Violet could remember. An old Oak Tree that was home to a multi levelled tree house belonging to her pretend Uncle Megell. And last but not least, attached to a giant Water Wheel a tiny cottage clung, belonging to no other than her fabulously loud and rather round ‘real’ (by marriage) Uncle Carlos and his three year old daughter little Lottie Little.

Five small brightly coloured bridges crossed over a stream linking the houses to the luscious village green. An ancient sundial marked the centre of the village and the very heart of the valley. Violet’s mouth opened to the size of a large orange at the sight of the old time-telling device. ‘What do I spy with my little eye?’ She said, pressing her button nose up against the windowpane. The ancient sundial that once shone as bright as a golden coin; now lay dank in the earth like a rusty old penny. ‘First the dream, then the clock now this- something’s definitely not right.’ she whispered. ‘I need to find Mum and Dad and fast!’ Violet quickly threw on a crumpled pair of shorts and tshirt, smelling of yesterday’s adventures. She jumped into her best detectiving boots and without a moment to lose Violet darted towards the trap door, located at the centre of the circular room. The teeny tiny wooden door was the entrance to a golden looping tunnel that took Violet directly into her parent’s room. This was the only recreational time saving device in the house, the others, Mr. Harvey Small insisted, were to be used strictly for necessity. Violet lifted up the door, a golden glow from the spiral slide funnelled up into her room. She leapt through the hole for there was no time for the stairs today. Something was definitely amiss in the Lighthouse; even the light outside seemed darker than usual. It was not light nor dark but dull and thick with mystery. The journey from her room to her parents was short but the spiralling motion from the slide made Violet

forget everything that was in her head, a similar effect to that of jelly and strawberry ice cream. She landed at the bottom on to a pile of cushions at the foot of her parent’s bed. The four corners of the hand pressed bed linen were neatly tucked in, as tight as a floral patterned straight jacket. The handy work of Mrs. Small was clearly evident here. ‘An unmade bed makes for an untidy head.’ She would always say. Mrs. Ivy Small was by no stretch of the imagination the tidiest of sorts, but like Ivy’s mother would always say, ‘When doing a job one must do it to the best of their ability.’ ‘MUM? DAD? Where are YOOOOO???’ Violet yelled, whilst hurtling around their doenut shaped bedroom. There was no sign of her parents here. Violet dashed out of the door. She fled down the spiral staircase that lined the centre of the Lighthouse like an apple core. Bypassing the second floor, shared by her older sisters, Violet headed straight for the ground level, home to the kitchen and living area. She was moving with such speed down the last flight of stairs that she toppled head over feet and landed at the bottom with a ‘Thud’. She checked inside her pocket, where her loyal accomplice had spent the night. ‘Still there, Morris? Good!’ ‘Slow down Violet!’ A whiney voice came from the semi circular shaped kitchen, belonging to her middle sister. But telling Violet to slow down was like teaching a fish to walk. Almost impossible. Violet sprang to her feet and hurried into the kitchen. At a first glance Peony Petunia appeared particularly stern looking, bossy and rather stuck in her ways. At the

age of fourteen she was older and wiser than her yearsthe type to wear high-laced tops and sensible shoes. To match her sensible footwear Peony Petunia owned a pair of sensible eyes, which she made sure stayed hidden behind a thickset fringe. But underneath that unruly dark brown hair there lived a rather pretty little face. ‘How many times do I have to tell you not to run in the house?’ Peony barked. A look of horror passed over her dark chocolate eyes at the sight of her clumsy little sister hurtling towards her. Peony was conducting another one of her scientific experiments at the far end of the medieval looking kitchen table. The golden candelabra rocked on the dark mahogany surface as Violet whooshed past. ‘I can’t find Mum and Dad, have you seen them?’ Violet cried. ‘No, I haven’t seen them all morning. But be careful Violet!’ Peony Petunia stood with her arms out acting as a shield to protect her precious test tubes that she had balancing on their ends. While her older sister’s interests lay purely in all things scientific, Violet Small had a passion for spinning and to Peony’s frustration very little else. On the other hand, Violet didn’t care much for science: similar to her sister Peony Petunia it was far too controlled. In Violet’s mind they both had a zero tolerance for error or cooperation, which she thought rather missed the point of life. Violet began to spin in front of her sister as she often did when her head was in a flurry. The on the spot rotation helped her to process her thoughts. ‘Stop that spinning Violet! It’s a waste of time and always ends in trouble. And you’ve missed your morning

chores again.’ Peony hoitely remarked. ‘I don’t know why you insist on being late for everything?’ ‘I don’t have time for chores Peony- Today is The End of the World!’ ‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’ Peony dismissed her silly little sister’s remarks. ‘That’s just another one of your stupid excuses for not taking responsibility for things around here.’ Peonies endless criticisms maddened Violet and would be the trigger to a string of unfortunate events that would later come back to haunt them, all! Launching herself into a greater mode of spin, Violet moved with such a velocity that for one moment time appeared to stand still. Peony did not feel her precious chain being removed from around her neck. Nor did she see as it was engulfed into a fist of fingers, or hear the words: ‘Let’s see how you manage your time without this, Peony Petunia!’ pass her little sister’s lips. With a naughty smile Violet brought her on the spot spin to a near standstill before commencing a rotation around the room sending Peony’s papers up into the air like a whirlwind. ‘Look what you’ve done, Violet!’ Peony howled, grabbing at her data sheets, ‘Stop messing about, there is serious work going on here. In fact, you are going to have to grow up one day. You’re not a child anymore, Violet!’ ‘Well, I don’t turn twelve until tomorrow, so technically I am!’ she grinned and scooted out of the back door, with the stolen object held tightly in her grasp, for now at least.

Chapter 4 – title? tbc The air outside was dry and close to the skin. Violet took a deep breath in but it was like swallowing dry cotton wool. She tried to run as fast as humanly possible but the air hung thick like sticky treacle in the sky. The destination was the greenhouse. A squat domed building located next to the vegetable patch, in between the Lighthouse and the dense Orchard that lined the valley walls. Usually it was a hop skip and a jumps distance from the house but the stiff air made it feel like there was a giant invisible hand holding her at bay. At that moment Violet knew this would be the trickiest case of her detective career thus far!

With that Violet decided to make a pit stop. She dropped the contents of her right hand into her right pocket. She took a sharp turn to the left and headed in the direction of her father’s second home, the shed. It may have only been around eight am but as her dad would always say, ‘It’s never too early to be working one of my time-saving devices.’ There was nothing more he’d like to do than to tinker in his shed. Hour upon hour would be spent taking apparatus apart, decipher how they worked then how to make them work faster by attaching them to a time telling mechanism. He professed that when he was doing what he was born to dotime appeared to freeze. Harvey Small had a friendly, bearded face and a head for all things mechanical. He was known

for his vast knowledge of useful and not so useful facts. For example, ‘Did you know’ he’d say, ‘if you rub an onion on the soul of your foot- in approximately five minutes you’ll taste onion in your mouth?’ So it went without saying that Mr Small’s favourite phrase was: ‘If in doubt, ask ya dad!’ He was a man of his word. Therefore, he would surely be able to explain what was going on at the sundial on this strange Saturday morning, or at least she hoped he could. Violet burst through the small wooden door. The endless shelves that lined the five walls were littered with dismantled old clocks and household apparatus, but no Harvey Small. A half reconstructed alarm clock attached to a kitchen whisk lay unconscious on the wooden workbench. Ordinarily, the shed hummed with the ticking of the clocks. But with no Mr. Small in there to tinker with them, the time keeping devices sat without a purpose. Like a shell minus the tortoise, the room seemed hollow and lifeless. It missed the sound of its time father’s guttery laugh and so did Violet. ‘Where is he?’ she breathed. It wasn’t like her parents not to there when she woke up. A seed of worry was planted deep within her insides. Dashing back in to the bleak outdoors, she yelled to herself, ‘ Magnolia! To the green house, Detective Small!’ But her cries fell silently in the dead air.

The stillness of the greenhouse was soon broken when Violet slammed open the glass door. The sound of her sing- song voice chimed around the soft curves of the domed roof. ‘Magnolia-Magnolia, I’ve lost Mum and Dad! Have you seen them?’ Magnolia-Magnolia (so beautiful they named her twice) had long, radiant ginger locks and skin as soft as milk. She was the type to make bees smile and hum wherever she did walked. Magnolia was the tender age of sixteen and wanted nothing more than to fall in love and heal people with the magic power of plants. She was a keen herbalist and could usually be found knee deep in manure, working on her latest remedies. And that’s exactly how Violet found her, mashing up seeds in a pottery bowl. The sudden gust of her appearance rustled the multitude of luscious leaves, disturbing the mellow atmosphere of the warm room. Violet raced up the gravel path. Crunching as she ran towards her sister who was stood beside an old wooden workbench. Magnolia-Magnolia wiped her dainty hands on her ankle length white dress- a totally impractical outfit for her line of work of course. Violet teased she was dressed more appropriately for her wedding than her weeding.

‘What ever is the matter, Vi?’ Magnolia’s voice was as soft as honey, soothing with compassion. Violet now totally out of breath bent in half at the foot of her oldest sister’s bare feet. She took a deep breath in, the first she’d had in a while. The sweet smell of a hundred different flowers brought a tingle to her nose. She filled her lungs with another breath of sweet air before blurting out the following chain of words, ‘Wind-rain-and-fire. Death-horror-anddestruction!’ Violet bolted upright with her next revelation, ‘Magnolia, Today is The End of the World!’ Magnolia put a gentle hand on Violet’s small shoulder and softly said, ‘Not another one of your stories, Violet.’ ‘It’s not just a story Magnolia.’ ‘Really Violet, you’ve been inventing these tales ever since you could talk. Remember the time when you told us you and Jasper had found...’ Violet cut her sister off from finishing her sentence. It frustrated her how her eldest sister had her head routed in what came before. ‘This is not like the past, Magnolia! It’s happening right now. I saw it in a dream!’ Violet protested.

‘It was just a silly dream, Violet.’ Magnolia said, with her honey-like tone. ‘It doesn’t mean its going to happen. But you’ll have to be careful not to get lost in your dreams, or you’ll end up as mad as old Ma Clepsy.’ ‘You know full well, Magnolia; that she knows more than some will ever know!’ Violet began to get wound up, like the insides of a Coo-coo clock. ‘And if it is a silly story then why has the Crystabell clock stopped ticking? Magnolia, everything happening just like my dream said it would. And where are mum and dad I cant find them anywhere!’ Magnolia’s face turned a paler shade of pale for she knew what this implied. In her usual way of trying to protect her little sister from harms way, Magnolia-Magnolia tried to thrown her off the scent, ‘Why don’t you go see if Jasper wants to play out? I hear he’s got a new part for his bike.’ ‘I don’t have time to play Today. This is serious business Magnolia-Magnolia! You know how sensitive the clock is to change. Something happened at midnight last night and I’m going to prove it!’ ‘Ah Violet, can’t anything happen without a reason?’ Magnolia sighed uneasily. ‘No!’ Violet snapped.

Underneath Magnolia knew her baby sister was right. ‘Then why don’t you go ask your partner for help?’ She suggested. A discussion with Peony was needed as soon as possible. ‘I can’t.’ Violet said, rather pathetically. ‘Why not?’ ‘We’re not speaking.’ She replied. ‘Not again, Violet.’ Magnolia sounded disappointed, it pained her heart to see people fight with one another. ‘It’s not my fault this time. He keeps disobeying orders. So I’m giving him the Silent Treatment.’ An approach used by Mrs. Ivy Small when her daughters had done something really bad. The severity of this punishment, when words could not longer have an effect, would leave the victim squirming and begging for mercy. Therefore, ‘The Treatment’ was only implemented in extreme misdemeanours. The reason behind ‘The treatment’ that she gave to Magnolia was only part of the story, the other half being Jasper attempted kiss the day before yesterday. That behaviour was simply unacceptable! Not to mention highly unprofessional. ‘Please try to be more compassionate, Violet. You really are too hard on him. You know he has a delicate disposition.’

‘No he hasn’t!’ She barked. ‘He’s just hyperactive!’ The truth was from the second Jasper entered this world he expelled massive amounts of excess energy. Which meant mischief attracted to him like nickel to a magnet. And it was this very troublemaking tendency that sparked his vast overexcitement and made him prone to heart flutters. This did not stop him from doing regular eightyear-old boy activities. He ran rather than walked and raced around pretending to be superhuman with superhuman powers. The only time his condition caused a problem was when it came to keeping an eye on the clock. Having an overactive heart made it impossible for him to wear a watch. The excess electrical charge racing around his body meant he could stop a watch within an hour of wearing it. Which is odd but amazing at the same time.

Violet didn’t even attempt to explain the recent squabbles between her and her partner, or ex partner, in crime. Magnolia appeared far too wrapped up in her own business to care about the current state of the world around them. However, she left with this parting comment, ‘you’re wrong Magnolia-Magnolia. This time ‘everything’ is not OK. And what’s moreeverything does happen for a reason. I just haven’t worked out why?’ ‘Yet!’ She added defiantly, spun on her heels and darted out of the door. ‘Don’t worry about mum and dad, they’ll surely be home in time for your Birthday tomorrow!’ But Magnolia remained unconvinced herself. Deep down

she knew this was the Beginning of the End of the World, as they knew it. Violet quickly fled the scene. It was time to break the vow of Silence.

No Time for Games (5) Over the a-joining gardens she galloped like a baby giraffe running for the first time- her legs going this way and that. Violet was heading for the Windmill in which her best friend/ ex partner lived. She crossed underneath the stilts of the Windmill and out the other side, when from out of nowhere she was pounced on her from behind. The pair went tumbling to the ground, in a rugby tackle fashion. Before Violet could assess the damage too her now throbbing knee, her world plunged into darkness. ‘A-HA! I’ve got you now!’ Jasper cried. Violet squirmed like a worm in his un-gamely grasp. ‘Get your stupid boy hands off my face now, before I do something you’ll regret!’ Violet threatened. ‘How many times do I have to tell that there will be no unsolicited face-touching?’ Without a doubt getting a rise out of his scruffy little companion was the highlight of Jasper’s day. A naughty grin skidded across his cheeky

chops. He had a very distinctive look. His father coming from Japan and his mother- Canada resulted in a wonderful mix of East meets West, they called him Jasper Node. Jasper grabbed onto Violet’s curls pulling her head side to side, ‘There’s no escaping the grip of Electro Boy!’ Suddenly Violet spun around, cutting his finely rehearsed hero speech short, and pushed him to the floor. ‘There’s no time for childish games, Jasper, this is serious: the Crystabell has stopped ticking and have you seen the state of the sundial?’ Jasper looked at her in disgust, she had never been serious once in her whole life. His partner hadn’t even used the word until a few seconds ago. And that’s why he liked her so much- they were fun buddies together. They’d spend hour upon hour chasing each other all over the valley. Their mission statement being ‘Follow the fun!’ That was not the case this morning. Violet returned his stare of discontentment, as she looked him up and down. Her eyes fixed on the boy’s peculiar attire. At a whopping eight years old Jasper Node was the master of all disguise, and if his mother were alive today she would have told him this was his best outfit yet. And she would have been right- in a funny way it kind of suited him!

Violet Small, however, would highly disagreed, ‘What an earth are you wearing?’ He was covered head to toe in robust tin foil, a black eye mask and a matching black cape. While the mask concealed his identity there was no mistaking those incredible hazel coloured eyes, full of fear and wonder. Jasper climbed to his feet and hovered rather sheepishly, ‘I’m Electro Boy!’ he coyly said with his attention firmly fixed on his foil covered feet. Taking in a deep breath in, he lifted his head high and continued with gusto, ‘Master of all things Magnetic!’ His eyes dazzled with pride. Violet couldn’t help letting out a laugh, ‘Master of all things Moronic, more like.’ Out of all his disguises this was by far the most ridiculous. Red with anger these, three, unsympathetic, words came out of his pursed lips, in a slow, cold and controlled, manner, ‘Find Them- Yourself.’ Electro Boy bolted up the garden path towards the orchard, the foil crinkling as he whizzed with content of his recent conquest. Getting one over Violet Small was never an easy task.

‘This is important I need your h....’ Violet couldn’t bring herself to finish off the statement. Besides it wouldn’t have made any difference he was already GONE! Well, ‘Gone’ in the sense that she could see his shoulder poking out from behind one of the fruit trees. He was never any good at Hide and Seek! He couldn’t stay still long enough to stay hidden. She could have called after him again but Miss Small was far too stubborn to ask for his assistance, especially not now. ‘I’ll help you Vi-vi!’ a little voice offered, belonging to the lips of little Lottie Little. Violet looked down at the two big eyes starring back up at her, belonging to her three year old cousin. Say she had a look of the latinosbeautiful big brown eyes with lashes as tall as her eye brows. Blonde ringlets- equiv of party on her head- similar to Vi- Lottie is Violet’s reflection!!! ‘Don’t be so silly Lottie. You’re too little.’ ‘I’m not a lickle gwirl! I’m a big gwirl!’ she protested. ‘Lets talk shall we Viowet. What shall we talk about?’ Having recently learned the art of non-stop talking Lottie Little took every opportunity to practise. She continued to answer her own question. ‘I saw a man in the chimney house. He was wearing black and white- he looked like he was a penguin.

Maybe he was going to a tea party. Yeh, Vi-vi?’ she said turning her head to one side. ‘Shall we have a tea party? I’ll be the mummy and you can be the lickle girl.’ ‘No I don’t want to be a little girl.’ Violet said. Undeterred the little gwirl continued talking, ‘Shall we go find the penguin man and see if he wants to come to our tea party?’ ‘There is no penguin man and I don’t have time for tea parties.’ ‘Just ‘attending, Vi-vi, not a real party. Just ‘attend.’ ‘I’m too busy for your silly ‘pretend’ parties. Go play in the water- you’re good at that!’ Violet Small snapped and left the toddler to her own devices. She didn’t need anyone’s help anyway. She was Violet Small the best detective in the land. She could solve this case by herself! The only thing that still troubled Violet was the realness of what she saw in her dream. She closed her eyes and the visions came flooding back to her but this time the images were accompanied by a voice. ‘When the sunken sundial sinks time will change forever!’

On a need to know basis (6)

At that exact moment in Tower 4 the Professor was bathing in a luxuriously large white bath, singing with gusto. “Yar-dar-da-darr, Yar-dar-da-darr, Yar-da-da-darr-rarr-da-darr-ta-ta-darr!” However, this was no ordinary bath- for the Professor was anything but an ordinary chap. He was the proud founder of a revolutionary cosmetic company, Professional Perfection. Due to the phenomenal success of the ‘Kick & Flick’-all daylong hair flickering shampoo, the Professor attained his ever desired rapid ride to fame and fortune. He quickly went on to release other pioneering products, such as, ‘Crème de la Crème’ anti wrinkle cream and ‘Toad spit Toe scrub’ which the name speaks for itself. The cosmetic industry was booming. Until an unfortunate difference of opinion concerning chemical waste disposal saw his beloved factory close down, exactly twelve years ago Today. As stubborn as he was slimey, the Professor vowed to get his own back on his perpetrators. Along with his workers he remained in the factory grounds. Yet he had not stepped a single shiny shoe on the factory floor since. Instead he made the top of the towers his workplace, home and palace. Delighting in the finer things in life he had decorated the four spaces in nothing but the finest of materials, from white Moroccan marble, to white

Leopard skin rugs. Twelve years may have seen the Professor red with rage, nevertheless everything her saw in the room was white. He lavished in the pure perfection simulated within his chambers, a feeling the outside world had long since offered. ‘White feels right!’ he chirped resting his head on the lip of white marble bathtub. As part of his strict morning regime the Professor soaked in a pool of steaming hot liquid for exactly one hour. In precisely 45 centre metres of sterilized water he added exactly eleven drops of an extraordinary silver fluid. On hitting the water it disappeared without a trace. But as the saying goes– it’s the things you can’t see that you should be worrying about! The rare silver substance went by the name of Mercatonia and in the wrong hands was a deadly substance. It looked like liquid metal and tasted like fresh blood- if you were dim-witted enough to try it! A drop of Mercatonia had never passed the Professor’s lips, for he was no fool! After all it was pure poison but that hadn’t stopped the Professor using it as the key ingredient to his cosmetic products. However, it went without saying that he was not stupid enough to advocate this fact. He ran a strict business on a need to know basis. To regularly ingest the rare chemical would probably one day kill you! But on the up side, the Professor vowed Mercatonia was the key to his radiant good looks and that all over shine, people so desperately seek. And that’s all they needed to know...

Soon it would be plain for all to see the magnificence of Mercatonia. It was just a matter of time until the Professor would take the world by storm. ‘Tonight, when the clock strikes twelve all will be revealed!’ He said with a sly smile. He was more cunning than a fox in a rabbit suit. Due to the importance of this fine grooming process, it was essential that it went on undisturbed. Therefore, one could imagine his frustration when a pathetic knock came at the door. The “ratter-tap-tap!” knock belonged to the delicate hands of the Professor’s assistant. Hopkins was a part-time trainee dentist and fulltime panderer to the Professor’s needs. Dr. Hopkins saw to his every wish and provided that all-important gum and teeth inspection. ‘Er-er,’ Hopkins snivelled. ‘WHAT IS IT? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something here?’ the Professor’s voice screeched, like a pot of boiling liquid. ‘N-no sir, I can’t see you.’ Hopkins said from behind the closed door. ‘Well, can’t you see I’m bathing?’ He seethed. ‘N-n-no, I have quite mastered the art of seeing through walls yet, sir!’ Hopkins stuttered slightly sarcastically. ‘Don’t push your Luck.’ The Professor said scathingly. His head pounded with anger. ‘Leave me to my business you dithering Doylum! I’ll listen to your tripe when I’m ready and not a fraction of a nanosecond before!’

‘I’m sorry, Professor.’ Hopkins snivelled, ‘...but there’s something I think you need to know...’ But what one needs and what one wants to know can be two different things entirely.

Violet Small is a Leaper (7) Some secrets are best kept hidden. And then there are those that long to be told. But no matter what flavour of secret you’re hiding- they always come out in the end. But be warned, once the truth is revealed there’s no turning back. A secret can never be untold! There was no truer fact that Tockelwick was different from other villages and towns around the world. Indeed, like many small communities it consisted of a group of people who lived in a cluster of houses, but that’s where the similarities begin and end. The extraordinary unusual looking houses hugged the edge of the fast flowing stream that appeared from nowhere, encircled the village green and tumbled out through a small tunnel in the otherwise seamless valley wall. The world within these steep walls was home to hundreds of vibrant coloured plants and animals. It was a place of natural beauty, and remained un-spoilt by the hands of time. From a time without beginning the village had been passed down from generation to generation.

Relying on the elements it was one hundred percent self-sufficient. There was the vast vegetable patch and Orchard in which they grew their own food. Then by using the energy from the running water and the sun to power the village- Tockelwick ran like clockwork. So with no obvious exit to valley, the walls rarely saw the inhabitants leaving, except in cases of necessity. And then only the adults were permitted to do so- but just how they left remained a mystery. Nestled deep in hills of the north, Tockelwick remained undiscovered as though it were a void of time and space. So the very fact is that the rest of the world didn’t even know this village existed, making it easier to hide the biggest secret on this planet. A secret so well hidden that some of the inhabitants have been kept in the darkof course that is- until Today. It was on this very morning that a heavy cloud hung over Tockelwick bestowing the mood of a dull bellyache. The day had arrived and felt like it had not yet begun. The flowers no longer blooming closed up like winters looming. The birds no longer sang instead they hid amongst the apples trees, like a girl in the shadows waiting to shine. Oblivious to the world around her, this young girl wandered down to the village green. With her mind still clearly fixed on the terrible visions of the dream, Violet stepped onto the blue wooden bridge and crossed over the stream. Her eyes were open and yet she saw nothing. She was moving like a zombie in its wake. Of course this

was highly unlike Violet Small behaviour. Ordinarily she was sharp as a button! But sometimes even the best detectives miss the biggest clues first time round. After all, nobody is perfect! Through her absent eyes she failed to see that the once fast-flowing crystal clear water was no longer fast flowing. Nor was it crystal clear. There in the shallows waited a dirty little secret, yet to be unravelled. Lost in the depths of her thoughts, Violet Small found herself at the heart of the valley, the sundial. There was a peculiar energy encircling the golden circle that jolted Violet back into reality. The blurred vision cleared from her eyes. Her mind refocused. ‘The air seems thinner here, Today.’ She said. The air surrounding the sundial appeared darker than elsewhere in the valley. Through a pair of squinted eyes Violet examined the ancient teller of time. She’d never seen it look so old. Usually, the golden glow from the reflection of the sun made it too bright to look at. However, with the abnormal absence of the sun this morning Violet could see each and every marking. Detective Small pushed her hands deep into her pockets, and did as all the detectives do when assessing the evidence- she paced. Around the perimeter of the sundial she strode, observing the engravings that were now covered in green mould. A rusty red substance outlined a picture of a world map that lay in the centre of the sundial. If

Violet had known any better she would have said it was as though the Earth was bleeding from its core. ‘What’s going on?’ Violet whispered. A wet nose from deep within her left pocket gave her a quick shunt as though it knew the answer. The owner of the little pink nose was no other than Morris Clarke, Violet’s silent but most trusted companion. The familiar feel of a loyal friend brought a soft smile to Violet’s rosy cheeks. Deep down she knew Morris could understand every word she uttered, she only wished she could say the same about him. But being able to communicate with the animal kind was little Lottie’s area of expertise. ‘Oh I’m so sorry Morris with all the commotion of this morning’s case, I’d forgotten all about you.’ Four tiny pink paws scuttled across her hand, a long wiry tail entwined around her fingers. With his mighty tail-force Morris held on tight as she lifted him out into the open air. Morris was a mouse, of the Dormouse variety. Small, brown but rather perfectly formed- except for a dark smudge upon his wet nose. But his imperfection only added to his charm, of which he had a plenty. ‘Morris, I don’t know what’s happening. I have this pain behind my eyes. They don’t even feel like mine this morning. I think someone must have crept into my room and replaced them with somebody else’s. Everything has turned on its head since that horrible dream. And now mum and dad are nowhere to be seen!’ Violet rubbed hard in to her eye sockets. Once again the visions of her dream came gushing back. A

new part of the dream came to her this time- it was her mother trapped inside a whirlwind in the centre of all the destruction. The thought of her parents in danger sent a pang into her chest, like a football being shot at close rage. Violet brought Morris up in line with her nose. Her eyes were dewy and sad. A crystal clear tear slowly escaped from her eye and tumbled down her soft skin. Violet Small did not cry often, so in the rare case she was drawn to such extremities, one eye would release one tear, and it was always her left. ‘What if I never see them again?’ Violet said. The thought sent a shudder through her fingers and down to her toes. She’d seen them only yesterday but it felt like forever and a day. She needed her parents, more than anything in the world. Morris began to scuttle towards her, as though he was had something to tell his giant friend. Violet put her hands one in front of the other, providing him with a conveyor belt of fingers to run upon. ‘I’m scared Morris!’ Violet whimpered. ‘I don’t want them to die.’ It must be made clear that Violet Small did not often entertain moments of weakness- she simply didn’t have the time. But in the rare occasion, she would only show her emotions to her smallest friend, Morris Clarke. In front of the others she had a reputation to up hold. After all she was the most courageous detective known to man.

In no uncertain terms Morris told Violet to pull herself together with a little lick followed by a quick nip. As if to say, ‘It’s OK to have a little cry but its time to pull yourself together and crack this case, Small.’ And that she would! The morning events had left her feeling rather uneasy. Nothing was as it seemed, so there was only one thing for it. A good old-fashioned spin was the best method for processing the evidence. ‘Right!’ Violet said, with vigour. She put Morris back into her pocket for her fighting spirit had returned. There was a momentary lapse when Violet had a peculiar feeling of being watched but she shrugged it off and carried on with her business. ‘Here goes...’ Pointing her feet to face twelve o’ clock, she raised her arms out to shoulder height. With a smile Violet closed her eyes tightly, drawing in one almighty breath. A tingling feeling similar to that of pins and needles spread across her toes. She turned her left foot to nine o’clock, her right foot to join, her left leg to six o’clock, her right to join, three o’clock, back to twelve o’clock, nine o’clock, six, three and twelve o’clock. The tingling flittered up through her legs, whizzed around her belly button, chest and down to her fingers tips. Violet was spinning round and around in circles, spiralling faster and faster and faster. ‘You’ll get yourself in trouble spinning like that- especially on a day like Today. I can’t find

the Dragon Flies anywhere this morning, have you seen those dancing Damsels on your travels, dear?’ An elderly voice came from behind. Violet stopped suddenly, sending her vision in to an uncontrollable spin, her head felt so dizzy she fell to the floor with a ‘Thud’. Ma Clepsy had a habit of appearing from nowhere, smelling of freshly baked cookies and looking like an oversized cup cake. Violet looked up at the squat little figure. Her backbones appeared to have sunk into one another making her appear as wide as she was tall. ‘Ah it’s you, hello Mrs. Grandma Clepsy.’ Violet sighed. She was no relation of course, but like many Grandmothers on the planet- she felt a natural instinct to be everybody’s Granny- the world over. ‘Call me Ma! Expecting someone else, Violet my dear?’ ‘No, nobody. It doesn’t matter.’ Violet lied, at best she’d hoped it was her mother and father putting on a silly voice, or at worst Jasper doing one of his terrible impressions. ‘Don’t be so daft, child. Something’s always matters to somebody. Even if the matter doesn’t matter to anybody else, the matter is it matters to them.’ Violet weighed up the pros and cons of revealing details of the case. Although Ma was different from the other grown ups in the valley she was still an adult. And everybody knows that people of that kind have a tendency of turning the juiciest of evidence in to trivial tittle-tattle.

On the other hand, Ma Clepsy did know a lot of things about a lot of things. Jasper puts this down to her spontaneous catnaps; which she did in the comforts of an old rocking chair in the granny flat attached to the Windmill. Like the furniture she’d always been there, long before Jasper’s dad did his growing up in the house. Uncle Jesper would often recount the times as a little boy when the old lady would predict his future by simply dreaming about it the night before. Violet couldn’t hold onto her information any longer, maybe Mrs. Clepsy had seen it too. ‘Ma, I had a dream!’ She blurted out, but there was little point in continuing, Ma Clepsy was fast asleep. Violet studied her tired wrinkly face; she looked like she’d been awake for at least a hundred years and more. The world’s Granny was not sleeping for reasons such as tiredness or laziness. She had a remarkable condition that made her fall asleep at the drop of a hat. Therefore, Ma Clepsy was always dressed for bed. Take Today for example. She was dressed head to toe in bedtime attire from her nightdress and gown, to her stripy socks and sleepy frown. Ma stirred, ‘Ah the dream you say- full of horror, death and destruction. The effects of such a malevolent plan can only end in one way.’ ‘Yes, that’s it.’ Violet’s heart sank. Her eyes burned as her mind conjured up the images of her dream, ‘There was a terrible storm followed by an almighty fire that ripped through the land.’ She

continued, ‘towering tunnels of wind unlike I've ever seen, uprooting the trees from the very ground in which they stood. The riverbanks burst forming waves the size of buildings as high as they sky, that crashed down on to the debris the storm had left behind. What’s happening Ma?’ ‘A dream of stormy weather means one thing only; it is an omen of the danger and difficulties that lie ahead.’ said Ma. ‘I don’t want danger and difficulties.’ Violet said matter of factually, as though she had a choice. ‘I’m afraid that’s just the nature of life dear.’ Ma smiled, for she knew what this all meant. With her many years behind her Ma had the insight to see the bigger picture. Violet Small was about to enter uncharted territory! ‘But my mother was trapped in the middle of it and now I can’t find them anywhere. What does that mean?’ ‘It means that your mother was right all along. At last I can wish you a very Happy Birthday, Miss Violet Ishtar Small.’ Ma triumphed. Unfortunately, like ‘Bed Times’, middle names are not the verdict of a parent/child decision. They are sadly the outcome of bad parental judgment, or in Violet’s case a name passed down through each generation of a Small daughter, “...and one to proud of!” Mrs. Ivy Ishtar Small would constantly remind her. Violet hated her middle name and would forever wince whenever she heard it.

Forever forgetting her own name, Ma Clepsy had confused which day it was, probably down to the effects of old age and incessant sleepage. ‘No, no.’ Violet said politely, ‘it’s not my birthday till tomorrow. And right about what? What are you talking about?’ Ma smiled her sweet toffee smile. At a ‘guestimate’ age of a hundred and three, Violet assumed Ma Clepsy looked remarkably good for her age. And to Violet’s amazement she still had all her own teeth. ‘Oh I see.’ She said, ‘So they haven’t told you yet?’ Violet’s eyes lit up, ‘Tell me what?’ she gurgled. Violet Small was a sucker for a secret. Ma hesitated for a second as though to weigh up the consequences of her actions, then carried on with great conviction. ‘You’re parents have hidden the truth from you Violet for long enough. You share the same birthday as your mother. It’s your birthday Today!’ She announced as tartly as a cherry pie. ‘No it’s not! My mum’s birthday was yesterday and I’m not twelve until tomorrow- March 1st.’ ‘Or so they’d have you believe! Violet Small you are a Leaper. Now you must follow your dream closely for they are more than just stories while you sleep. In life you must always follow your dreams, child.’ Violet was outraged, ‘My parents wouldn’t lie to me!’ ‘Your parents aren’t who you think they are.’ Ma continued. ‘Surely being a young detective you

should know that there are two sides to every story. So then it makes sense that there are two sides to every person.’ ‘You’re lying!’ Violet choked on her own words, she’d never before spoken so rudely to her elders. ‘Not today, Violet- especially not Today.’ The old lady smiled a knowing sweet smile. ‘Besides I thought you lived for the truth. You’re a natural born Seeker Violet Small. Do not deny who you were born to be. It is your duty to fulfil your mission for the happiness of yourself and the world around you.’ ‘What’s a Leaper anyway?’ Violet said dismissively. ‘I can’t tell you now.’ Ma turned her head and sighed. ‘Why not?’ Violet snapped. Ma sighed again, ‘Because you don’t really want to know.’ ‘They were right! You really are losing it Mrs. Clepsy.’ Violet said with a tongue as sharp as a snake’s and fled the scene immediately. ‘Beware of the man with the crooked beard, Violet. Once he knows your true potential he’ll be after you!’ Ma warned. Even though Violet was clearly out of earshot, she somehow heard the old woman mumbling under her breath, ‘Beware of this day, child. For Today is a Leap day and anything is possible!’ Violet shook her head (in the hopes that the words would fall out of her ears) as she bounded in the opposite direction. The pace in which she ran

matched the anger in her heart- fast and pounding heavily with every beat. ‘How dare she suggest my parents are liars? I’ve known them all my life. They’d never lie to me!’ She was nearly at the Lighthouse. The old lady had disappeared out of sight, but her parting comments still ran circles around Violet’s mind. ‘What is a Leap day, anyway and what could possibly go wrong?’ She said, chuntering to herself.

Two sides to every coin (8) (Part one) There was no mistaking that Mr and Mrs. Small were the kindest of folks. Mrs. Ivy could be best described as, ‘Nice!’ She owned a pair of nice dark shiny eyes. A nice mumsy bob that shaped her silky soft cheeks and a nice warm smile that beamed like a Sunday afternoon. Mr. Small was a hand span taller than his wife, and a mucky hand at that. Harvey was a wizard with wires and therefore had in possession ten of the dirtiest fingers known to man. Indeed they were not the type of hands you could eat your dinner off, but you could bet your bottom dollar they would be the first pair of hands to help in times of trouble. Then again, even the nicest and kindest of folks have a secret on their side. It’s the quiet ones you have to watch, for there are two sides to every coin.

The Small girl was fast approaching the front door of the Lighthouse when something or someone told her to go round the back. It was like a voice coming from inside her head that knew something she didn’t. Reacting in the moment, Violet guided herself around to the back door. She had the stealth of a hunting lion when she put her mind to it. She could hear voices coming from the kitchen. ‘Ah-HA! Time for some UNO’ing!’ Violet instructed herself. She listened intently through the crack in the doorway. ‘The fact is she’s too small to be globe trotting on her own.’ The patronising voice belonged to Peony Petunia, of course. ‘Plus she has never and will never be on time for anything once in her whole life!’ ‘Nothing is a dead cert Peony; everyone can change. Anyway what about the Crystabell clock? Violet is right to be concerned why has it stopped and where are Mum and Dad?’ The tone of Magnolia’s voice was different from usual. It was low and hurried, with a hint of worry. ‘I’m sure there is a logical explanation.’ Peony tried to console her sister, but she wasn’t so sure herself. Magnolia sighed. ‘But it’s not like Mum to be late back and where are the others?’ ‘That’s exactly what I want to know.’ Violet shouted, bursting through the door like all the great detectives do when they find suspects concealing the evidence.

The two siblings froze in their tracks. They’d been caught red handed. The three girls darted looks at one to the other, to the other. At last, Violet Small had her sisters right where she wanted them, ‘It’s about time I got some answers.’ She demanded. ‘If you want to get out of here you better start talking, because I’m not going to sleep tonight until Mum and Dad read me my bedtime story. So start talking girls!’ She stood firmly, staring directly into the faces of her nervous-looking sisters. A victory! Violet rejoiced. They may have their prize-winning experiments and all-curing remedies; but this- This- was Violet Small’s territory now! She may have been the smallest of the Smalls but she was the Seeker of Truth, the best detective Tockelwick had ever seen. She knew when something was amiss, and she wouldn’t rest until she got to the bottom of this mystery. There was an awkward pause. Magnolia bravely broke the silence; there was nothing left for itit was Home Truth Time! ‘We’re not sure what’s happening with the Crystabell but what we can tell you is where Mum and Dad were last night. They were attending a secret meeting.’ Peony darted a disapproving glare in Magnolia’s direction, she’d told too much already. Magnolia carried on regardless. She believed it was time to tell the other side of the story. ‘They are part of a very extraordinary Council.’ Violet eyes widened, absorbing all the information that was now leaking out of her sister’s mouth.

Finally she was getting somewhere with her investigations. Violet and Jasper referred to this stage as the ‘Punch Point’ or ‘P.P.’ Peony resigned herself to the fact that her little sister would find out eventually and began to talk, ‘the facts are these: It is a Council of Time. At a time without beginning a governing body was established to keep track of time.’ Magnolia chipped in, ‘Fundamentally, they try to answer the greatest question of humanity. “What time is it?”’ Peony carried on in greater depth, ‘Over the ages methods of time keeping have greatly evolved and so too have the Council’s roles. But the key elements have stayed the same. In the olden days, pre clocks, each member of the Council, of which there must always be five, could tell the time through their specialist field: Air, Water, Earth, Fire and Spirit, or Intuition, as Mum likes to call it.’ ‘So now that we have clocks, surely we don’t need the Council anymore?’ ‘Of course we do!’ Peony snapped. Magnolia took the baton of speech and went on to explain that the Time Council make sure there are the correct amounts of time in a second, the right amount of seconds in a minute, minutes in an hour, day and year. Combing her fringe over to one side Peony delved deeper into the science behind the time, ‘ Due to the slight anomalies in rotational patterns, the Council make sure that all clocks keep in time with the movements of the Earth, sun, moon and the Universe as a whole. Contrary to popular belief,

there is not exactly twenty-four hours in a day. Time varies on a daily basis leaving us with approximately 21,600 extra seconds per year.’ ‘If it’s not accurate then why doesn’t someone invent a way to keep exact time?’ Violet said rather boisterously. Magnolia tiptoed around the subject as though her words may cut ice, ‘Uncle Cecil thought the same but the rest of the Council preferred the more natural way of doing things.’ ‘Whose Uncle Cecil?’ Violet chirped. ‘He’s mum’s brother but he moved out of the village a short time before you were born.’ ‘Why?’ Violet probed for more information. The eldest of the Small sisters paused to think. If there was one thing to be said about Magnolia Small it was that she knew exactly what to say and when to say it. And now, she decided, was definitely not the time to be discussing matters such as these. She had an idea. In a carriage of gentle tones she told Violet it was a very long and complicated series of events leading to their uncle’s departure. Knowing full-well that her little sister would not have the time or patience to hear the whole story. ‘So what is the Council’s preferred way of keeping track of the varying time?’ Violet reverted back to the previous conversation for the concrete facts. Magnolia-Magnolia smiled a subtle smile of satisfaction then continued explaining with ease, ‘Well, all those extra fractions of time are added up and put into one day. And every four years we

have an extra day made up from the left over seconds.’ Magnolia smiled again at her baby sister, ‘they call it the 29th of February or better known as a Leap Day. ’ ‘So technically, Today should never have existed.’ Violet gasped, realising Ma Clepsy might have been right on all accounts! ‘Time was never meant to be regulated as much it is nower days. So in order to monitor the progression of time the Council was established.’ Magnolia said. ‘So why all the secrecy?’ Violet asked. Peony spoke next, ‘Well, time is a very dangerous thing in the wrong hands. Some still believe the Leap Day should never have taken place hence the reason why the Time Council must keep their work under wraps.’ ‘So how do they get out of the village when there’s no obvious way out?’ Violet surprised herself that she had not given this much thought until Today that is. ‘Using the golden lines of Latitude and Longitude.’ Magnolia whispered as though the walls had ears. ‘Now have you had breakfast?’ Violet shook her head and asked with intrigue, ‘What are Latitude and Longitudes?’ Forever the scientist, Peony picked up an orange and an ink pen to commence a demonstration. In the mean time Magnolia-Magnolia put together her baby sister’ favourite sandwich. Peony quickly peeled off the skin and said, ‘Imagine this is the world.’ ‘OK!’ Violet gurgled.

‘The world is split up into sections like the segment of this orange. Except the Earth has a lot more sections, 360 to be precise.’ Peony ran the point of the pen down the length of the segment, ‘these lines are called lines of Longitude. See, they run the length of top to bottom- hence ‘Long’itude.’ ‘The zero line of Longitude where our valley is located.’ She then drew a line around the middle of the orange, cutting the lines of Longitude in half. ‘This is the Equator, the middle line of Latitude and the Earth. The best way to remember this is the fattest part of the planet. Fat rhymes with ‘Lat’itude.’ She carried on drawing lines around the Earth above and below the Equator. Violet took the sandwich from Magnolia with both hands and a smile to say thank you. ‘But they are not real lines. They’re just imaginary aren’t they?’ Violet said, diving into a huge mouthful of crusty homemade bread filled with chunky peanut butter. Magnolia smiled and Peony decided it was time to bring this conversation to a close. ‘OK that’s enough with all the questions for now.’ Peony snapped. ‘We have important work to get on with. Stay out of trouble Violet and don’t go snooping around in knowledge that doesn’t belong to you.’ Peony instructed Magnolia to follow her to the greenhouse. ‘Eat up, Violet. Remember that breakfast is the most important meal of the day.’ Magnolia said

kindly. ‘And eat it all up, even the crusts!’ Peony ordered, and closed the back door behind her. Violet hated it when Peony spoke in that bossy/ teacher-voice. She would delve where she wantedshe definitely couldn’t stop now- if Ma was telling the truth her parent’s real identity then maybe she wasn’t so mad after all. But what was a Leaper?