Hiding From Seagulls Read online



  Hiding From Seagulls

  By John Wallis,

  Edited by Adrian Finney

  Copyright 2013 by John Wallis

  ***

  Dedication

  George “Freshney” Mumby

  1935 – 2008

  My Grandad. Gone but never, ever forgotten.

  Contents

  #Table Of Contents

  #Dedication

  #Prologue

  #An Almost Normal Day

  #Three Children & A Man-Teddy

  #An Infinite Man Bear & A Lesson About Money

  #The Way Neither Back Nor Forward

  #The Elephant Man

  #Unclassified And Dangerous

  #The Owl Couple's Guest House

  #Hiding From Seagulls

  #The Bloodsuckers Are Coming

  #The Choice Not To Run

  #Back At The Guest House

  #Intermission

  #The Snowmen

  #The End Game Begins

  #The North Pole

  #The Man of Christmas

  #In A One-Horse Open Sleigh

  #The Last Ride

  #Defeat At The Hands Of A Duchess

  #Doing Time in the Sandcastle

  #Believe In Impossible Things

  #Introducing-The Forbidden Window Hiding From Seagulls Book Two

  #Prologue A world rebooted

  Prologue

  The hot, sugary, tea tasted good. I watched Mr Huntington, or Geoff as I knew him, looking at me through those tired green eyes which were peeking over the top of his newspaper. Mrs Huntington sipped her tea.

  “So have you got anything new to tell me?” Geoff asked.

  It was the same question he asked every visit.

  Geoff had been a friend of my families for my whole life and, despite being old, he was one of my best friends. I had been visiting him regularly since my mother had said I was old enough to leave our street and venture out across the two zebra crossings. Geoff got regular updates on everything from my friends at school to my newest video game and he got to know whether he wanted to or not.

  Some of my friends said it was not so good to spend so much time with an old man. But most of the time and despite the cardigans Geoff was cool. Mrs Huntington was cool as well in her own way. While Geoff and I talked she spent most of the time making endless cups of tea or knitting. Once or twice I saw that she had fallen to sleep.

  You have probably picked up this book and are wondering why I am telling you about Geoff and sleepy Mrs Huntington. He is not a seagull and he doesn't seem all that adventurous.

  The book promised adventure right?

  I am telling you about Geoff because he is the only other person who knows the story I am about to tell you. I told him about my travels over cups of tea in his small living room that smelt of chips two crossings from my house. The words you read here are almost exactly what I told him.

  So back to Geoff who was sat in the same brown battered old chair waiting. He was expecting no doubt to hear about what my friend Dave and I had been doing in school, which teachers we liked, which we didn't and which we thought were just plain weird. Geoff liked hearing about my life and he once told me it was far more interesting than any of the programs Mrs Huntington watched on the television.

  Today I did want to tell him about school but that wasn't the reason I had visited. It was odd he had asked me what was new. After the travelling everything seemed new. I could not find a good place to begin.

  I started the conversation by asking him a question.

  “When did you believe in impossible things Geoff?”

  He turned his nose up and his forehead wrinkled into a frown pushing his glasses back up against his eyes.

  “You mean fairytale stuff. Goblins, troll's and suchlike?”

  I nodded and Geoff scratched the top of his almost bald head.

  “Well I don't know, but it was a long time ago.”

  “Here is the odd thing,” I began but instantly hesitated.

  Mrs Huntington pushed a tin full of biscuits towards me prompting me to continue. Geoff's paper was now on his lap and he looked at me with his eyebrows raised. His face said both tell me more and what on earth is wrong with you today all at the same time.

  “I didn't believe in the impossible until this morning and now I don't know what to believe.”

  I must have spoken with some conviction as Geoff did not burst out laughing as I thought he might. His head tilted slightly to one side and the biscuit he was dunking broke off and fell silently into his tea.

  “I want to tell you about the journey I went on yesterday and about a bus, a bus that took me to a very different place.”

  To his credit he chose not to tell me to stop talking nonsense as most people would have. Instead he sat back in his chair and waited for me to go on.

  He was sitting comfortably. So I began at the start and told him everything through to the end.

  Are you ready?