Can Ananya and Zaniel overcome their differences and find out who lives in Tower Clearing?
He exited the room and made his way down the magnificent stairs and into the grand hallway. He didn't have a key for the door so, terrified, Zaniel realised that he would have to leave when it was open: when somebody was entering or leaving. Suddenly he heard jingling of metal and the door clanked agape.
Zaniel flattened himself on the wall next to an intricately carved and beautiful cupboard, so that he was out of sight. His head felt like a mess: all his thoughts and actions were zooming around his brain and he couldn't find the power to process a single one. He started to panic as his heart rate sped up. It seemed like the sound of his heart beating was excruciatingly loud, and Zaniel worried that when somebody entered they would surely know he was there, for they would hear it. What was he to do?
He heard the click of expensive heels on the hard ground and deep, rugged breathing. He heard two men's' voices, speaking loudly about vehicles from abroad and boat trips. He heard a lady's high-pitched, authoritative call for a maid. He heard a servant scurry over to the entrance, about to close the door and leave Zaniel stranded inside. Abruptly, Zaniel sprinted as fast as he could to the door, side-stepped through the narrow gap and ran down the road. He didn't even look to see whether anybody had seen as he dashed down the driveway and onto the country-lane.
He could hear voices frantically shouting behind him, a car's engine revving, but then silence. Although Zaniel couldn't be certain, he decided that it would be safe enough to assume that they had decided not to chase him after all. Maybe Ananya had told them that he wasn't a thief. Maybe she had told them that he was her friend and that she could make her own decisions now, and have her own personality. Zaniel smiled at the idea of Ananya's parents faces as they got lectured by their daughter, and slowed.
He collapsed onto a grassy bank by the side of the road, gulping in air. Apart from his heavy breathing, all he could hear were birds tweeting merrily and his heart pounding. The house was only a dot in the distance, and Zaniel had sprinted all the way. Trust his grandma, he thought, to get him into all of this trouble.
He was exhausted, and just wanted to sleep. His body felt like a doll's, floppy and lifeless. Zaniel turned his head and felt the damp, cool grass against his freckled cheek. His hair fell over his eyes and in the calm, welcoming darkness, he barely noticed when his eyelids started to droop and he drifted off into a dreamland of strange girls, motor cars and tall, dark towers.
When Zaniel woke he was in a box room with peeling cream wallpaper, a cheap, badly painted wardrobe in one corner, some fading football posters on the wall, an old easel and almost empty paints, and a thin low bed with a checkered blue duvet and a reedy pillow. His bedroom. With a jolt Zaniel realised that he was supposed to be at the wood at seven, so he drowsily jogged to the tiny landing and checked the time on the small, rusting alarm clock.
Six thirty. Zaniel suddenly realised how hungry he was, and dawdled down the thin, steep stairs thinking about all of the excuses he could make for leaving.
He plodded into the dining room, where the rest of his family - two adults and five children - sat around a long wooden table on wobbly hand-made chairs.
"Zaniel!" His older sister cried, laughing. "I saved you from a horrid old man who thought you'd been thieving in his house. I said you'd never been near that mansion, and eventually persuaded him to leave. He wasn't telling the truth, was he?"
Zaniel hated to lie, but realised that he had to. "No, I didn't even know it was there. I was just going for a walk, that's all, and I stopped for a rest and fell asleep."
"Flat out you were too! Even this man's shouts didn't wake you up. I swear I thought you were dead when I first saw you! I was running down the street, tears streaming down my face!"
Zaniel forced out a croaky laugh and took some stale bread from a bowl in the middle of the table. His three year old brother, Cody, waddled up to him and gave him a hug, but Zaniel didn't have the heart to give it to him back. He took a swig of ginger beer as his oldest sibling Nico, a strong and broad-shouldered man of twenty two, patted him on the head and ruffled his hair.
"Nico," Zaniel murmured, "I've got to go out tonight. You'll cover for me, ok? Just say I've gone to do some errands... alright?"
"You going out with a girl?" Nico grinned, winking.
"'Course not... well... not in that way, anyway," Zaniel tapped his fingers against the table in embarrassment. "I'm not getting into any trouble. Just meeting up with a friend, but... they're rich, and we've got to do it in secret so that their family don't get shamed."
"Ah, quit pretending, little bro! I've had girlfriends! No need to be ashamed of it. Ooh, she'd be angry if she knew that you were ashamed of her! What's her name, mate?"
Zaniel shook his head and walked out of the room quickly. He yanked on his boots and made his way down the tarmacked, dull road full of crowded, smelly terraced houses like his.
* * * * *
Ananya and Zaniel both gasped in amazement at the sight before them. The clearing was even more beautiful in the evening, with the setting sun creating orange ripples of fire on the pond, the tower casting terrifying dark shadows over the grass, and the wind curling around the two teenagers, almost engulfing them.
They battled their way through the breeze to the massive metal door and kneeled down. Zaniel cast a quick glance at Ananya as he slipped the piece of paper through the gap between the door and the muddy ground. Ananya knocked loudly, three times, and then they both ran, laughing silently. They carried on running through the menacing, tall trees shielding the hard ground from any sunlight, with merely the sound of their own breathing and the howling wind around them.
"Zaniel?" Ananya enquired when they had returned to the town, "Can I stay at yours tonight? I won't be a nuisance - it's just, my parents are away on business again and I think alone, after doing... that... will be really... um, scary."
"You can, but it'll be a squash. You might have to sleep in my older sister's room. She's nice, but her room's quite small. It's just, we've already got my older brother sleeping in the living room, and the dogs in the kitchen."
"A dog in a kitchen?"
"Where else are we supposed to put it?"
"Um... a pet room? A conservatory?"
"A pet room? Do you really think that any normal person - rich or poor - would have a pet room? And only a few have a conservatory."
"Actually, quite a few people have pet rooms!"
"Well, not us, and not anyone else that we know."
Ananya giggled and the pair walked to Zaniel's red brick house. It's roof was slightly wonky, and the chimney spurted out grey smoke. It was by far the smallest on the street, squished between two which towered above it. If buildings could have feelings, Zaniel was sure that his house would be friends with the tower: both odd ones out.
Zaniel opened the door reluctantly, not daring to look at Ananya's face, in case she was horrified about how different his house was to hers. He knew his mother would be upset that he was ashamed and ungrateful for what he had, but he couldn't help it. He would pray for forgiveness that night.
Anyhow, there was no need to for him to have been ashamed because Ananya saw it as a cultural experience. Here she would be able to see what everyday life was for town people, and it was - she thought - rather like a school trip. Maybe not the most luxurious trip, but something that would give her more knowledge of the world. Also, in her heart, she secretly knew that she had always wanted to be a town girl.
"Hello, darling, and who are you?" Zaniel's mother exclaimed in her strong accent when they entered the living room. She was sat by the crackling, blue-tipped fire on a stool, stroking the ginger, curly-haired dog with one hand and holding a mug of water in the other.
"This is my friend, Ananya," Zaniel replied. "She's staying for the night. Sharing Loraine's room."
"Oh is she?" Zaniel's mother narrowed her eyebrows and frowned. "Nobody told me about this. And does Loraine know?"
"Sorry, Mum." Zaniel wrung his hands together and looked down at the tiled floor. "She only asked... just now."
Ananya felt intrusive making Zaniel find excuses so interrupted the conversation. "I am very sorry, miss, I don't want to stay if you are unhappy with it. I can go back home. It's just, my parents are on business and I do hate staying at home alone. It's rather unnerving and scary."
"Parents on business, eh? Tell me, do you live in that big stately home with all its motor cars and servants?"
"Yes miss."
"Well it is rather scary, I do admit. You may stay. Zaniel, go and tell Loraine."
Ananya was secretly rather pleased at Zaniel's mother's reaction to where she lived. She had been very scared that his mother would either rush around in a panic, trying to makeeverything spotless and clean, or tell her to go away with dislike and contempt. Luckily - and quite strangely, Ananya thought - she had simply been unfazed! Usually people either hated her or tried to hard to please her, and Ananya thought it was quite nice to have a refreshing sense of normality and indifference once in a while.
Zaniel led Ananya up the shaky carpeted staircase and knocked on the door of his sister's room. It creaked open and a pretty face clad with curly chocolate-coloured hair reaching to the waist, and big brown eyes peeked out. Ananya smiled nervously, and Loraine smiled back warmly, opening the door wider. She was tall and slim, wearing a light blue stripy dress of flimsy cheap fabric.
"Loraine," Zaniel started, "Ananya will be sleeping in your room tonight. Can I leave her with you? Will you help her?"
"This is news to me, anyhow, of course, little brother, but I think it would be nice, seeing that you are her friend, if you came to say goodnight."
Zaniel rolled his eyes and hit the door frame with the palm of his hand.
"Whatever."
He left Ananya and his sister and marched to his welcoming, familiar room. Not bothering to undress or prepare, he curled up in his bed and fell asleep listening to the noises of his family's evening life.
* * * * *
When Zaniel went downstairs for breakfast, Ananya was gone. He almost laughed when he thought about the fact that they had only met for one day yet already they shared a lifechanging secret and had seen each other's houses, but he was in a bad mood and just wanted to argue.
"Darling, toast with strawberry jam or butter from the farm?" his mum queried.
"Only strawberry jam? I hate that! Raspberry jam - that's what I like, and you know it. Why didn't you buy any more? We may be one of the poorest around here, but in the whole world we're not actually that poor - and we have enough money spare to buy some raspberries!"
The stout, short lady with greying hair tied into a tight bun took off her apron and sighed.
"Loraine said Ananya was nice," she said, "but she left very early this morning. It was only Loraine that saw her, because Ananya woke her up."
Zaniel nodded, understanding that Ananya wouldn't want her parents to find out where she had been. She would need time to silence all of the servants and make it look as though she had never left the house. He left the room and walked into the living area, where Loraine was embroidering a dull brown frock with colourful threads.
"Ananya was nice," she muttered, "but she must have been tired because she fell asleep as soon as her head was upon the pillow. What were you doing yesterday?"
"Loraine," Zaniel whispered, "come with me a minute, please."
He led her into his bedroom, where she sat down on his bed with a creak. He knew he had said that his and Ananya's secret couldn't be known, but he thought that Loraine could be trusted.
"We are finding out who is in the tower - it is Grandma's wish. We left a letter under the tower door last night. Will you come with me today to see if there is a reply?"
Loraine frowned and scratched her forehead.
"Zaniel, darling, of course I will come with you - I would never want you to go alone, but you must understand that this is very dangerous and I am not too pleased about it."
"Loraine, I know, but will you help? Either way, you mustn't tell anyone. Anyone. Do you understand?"
"Alright, I'll help occasionally, but I don't want to be too involved. I just want to know that you're safe, so I'll come with you for the dangerous things, and I'll come today."
"Who said there's going to be dangerous things involved?"
"It's dangerous just going there, Zaniel, don't you see? I'll be your supervisor. Oh, and I won't tell anyone-"
"Thanks!" Zaniel interrupted, opening the door to leave, but Loraine wasn't finished.
"Unless" Zaniel sighed and she continued. "Unless I really feel that it's going too far and it's too dangerous."
Zaniel shrugged and stomped out of the room, hearing Loraine coughing behind him to try and catch his attention. He swivelled around on his foot, glaring at her.
"When are we going?"
"Ten minutes. You make an excuse for Mum. We'll have to pick up something from the bakery on the way - I've had no breakfast."
As Loraine walked downstairs, Zaniel hurried to get dressed and brush his teeth. He picked up a simple green rucksack from the back of his wardrobe, and jumped down the staircase, two steps at a time. Moments later, Loraine met him at the doorway and they set off.
"What did you say to Mum?" Zaniel enquired as they walked through the village centre, where people were going about their everyday lives. Zaniel felt strangely jealous of them, without a care in the world - not too rich to be taken advantage of, but not so poor that they couldn't go and buy anything from the bakers, or the butchers. They were the kind of people that lived in the semi-detached houses in the middle of town.
"Uh, nothing..." Loraine whispered in reply.
Zaniel bulged out his eyes and stopped, turning to face her. "What do you mean, you haven't said anything?"
Loraine nodded. "I... I thought I'd make something up when we got back."
"I'll get in so much trouble. I bet it's because you couldn't think of anything. No imagination."
Loraine playfully hit him on the elbow and jutted out her chin. "I do have imagination. I was just so caught up, whether I was doing the right thing letting you do this, or not."
Zaniel turned away to look at a pigeon strutting down the road. It was a chubby thing, with a mix of dark and light grey feathers, and some shiny green ones on its neck, gradually fading to a purple ring. Its coral coloured feet clawed the ground and with each step its neck pulled out, and in, and out. Zaniel wondered whether this was because it was too fat to walk slowly, taking his mind off Loraine and other stressful things. Soon though, they reached the bakery, which was in the lower floor of a medium-sized building next to a mill shop. It was owned by Mr Dudley, hence the name Dudley's Bakery.
Inside it was painted maroon with a dim yellow light flickering on and off, and apart from the glass counter, door to the kitchen and an old wooden chair in the corner there was not much to look at. Mrs Dudley had once told Zaniel that this was done purposely to draw people's attention to the food. Zaniel thought it just put people off coming into the shop at all.
Mr Dudley walked through the kitchen door, carrying a steaming tray of biscuits with his ripped red oven gloves. He was a tall man, wide shouldered and had many a muscle; he had once been the sportsman of the neighbourhood. As usual, his long, blonde hair was tied back into a pony tail and his moustache twinkled with grease and sweat. Mr Dudley smiled when he saw Loraine, as he had recently been noticing his son mentioning her a lot lately: Loraine was wearing a rather nice dress today Ma, maybe you could get some fabric of the same colour, or, Pa, can I take that cake to school? Loraine told me that it was her favourite!
"What can I do for you?" he rumbled. Zaniel had always thought it amusing that a man so scary and intimidating could be baking cakes all day long, but secretly admired him for it - for showing the world that just because he was good at sports didn't mean he had to pursue a career in it.
Loraine prodded Zaniel firmly on the shoulder, bringing him back to reality, and he replied quickly, letting Loraine hand over the money and make conversation.
* * * * *
Finally they arrived at the clearing. Zaniel, for some reason unknown to himself, was reluctant to pick up the letter straight away, and so they sat by the pond, watching fish sometimes stick their scaly heads out of the water occasionally. The pondweed swayed in the gentle breeze, and Zaniel finally felt calm.
It was as though his brain had been tensed, and suddenly it wasn't. It was like he had carried an elephant for ten miles and could finally put it down. Suddenly the world felt like a better place, and he could rest his head back, close his eyes and forget about everything for a short while, until Loraine disturbed him.
"We've been sat for half an hour, Zaniel," she remarked, "We really should get that letter and leave."
Zaniel took a deep breath and pulled himself onto his feet. His head felt detached from his body, like he was thinking, but wasn't remembering or comprehending. All he wanted to do was lie down by the pond, like before. But reality was priority, and Zaniel eventually managed to yank his mind into the present.
Leaving Loraine stood by the water's edge, he tip-toed to the door and looked down. There was a piece of paper, closed with a wax seal, lying a fair way from the door, like someone had slipped it under and the wind had carried it.
The paper was a yellowish colour, textured and thick. Zaniel held it like it was going to burn him. Loraine marched over and yanked it out of her brother's hand, opening it hastily.
"Dear children," she read slowly and quietly. "Of course I received your letter-"
"No!" Zaniel cried half-heartedly. "I think it's better if me and Ananya opened this, and read it. You are only giving part time commitment, of course, and it's probably for the best if you only know what you need to know."
Loraine shrugged, but Zaniel could tell that she was a bit offended. She was his sister, so she would get over it, but Zaniel couldn't help feeling that little bit remorseful. He retrieved the letter and scanned it over, not reading any of the words but studying the symbols instead. The handwriting was curved and neat, obviously written with some type of ink pen, as there were splodges of black ink everywhere.
Zaniel would go straight to Ananya's, he decided, as even though nobody had said it, it was known to all of them that neither of them had expected anyone to actually reply.
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