Book 2: Amazing Grace

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This edition first e-published in 2013 by Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing.

Also Available

Myrddin's Heir Book 1: A Wizard of Dreams

Myrddin's Heir Book 3: The Quality of Mercy

Myrddin's Heir Book 4: Gifts from the Gods

Myrddin's Heir Book 5: When the Cat's Away…

Myrddin's Heir Book 6: In the Nick of Time

Contents

Copyright

Also Available

Dedication

Warning

Foreword

Chapter 1: HALLOWEEN ACROSS THE CURRICULUM

Chapter 2: IS IT OR ISN’T IT?

Chapter 3: A GATHERING OF GHOSTS

Chapter 4: TRICK

Chapter 5: FAIRIES AT THE BOTTOM OF OUR GARDEN

Chapter 6: NON-ACCIDENTAL INJURIES

Chapter 7: EVERYTHING GOES ACCORDING TO PLAN

Chapter 8: DID THE EARTH JUST MOVE?

Chapter 9: WHAT MAKES A GOOD STORY?

Chapter 10: A HOSPITAL APPOINTMENT

Chapter 11: A STATE OF GRACE

Chapter 12: IDEAS FOR AT LEAST A BILLION STORIES

Chapter 13: MIRANDA'S OPENING CHAPTER

Chapter 14: NICK'S OPENING CHAPTER

Chapter 15: GRACE'S OPENING CHAPTER

Chapter 16: GORDON'S OPENING CHAPTER

Chapter 17: THE BILLION STORIES BOOKLET

Chapter 18: GETTING THE INGREDIENTS TOGETHER

Chapter 19: TO INFINITY AND BEYOND

Chapter 20: HOW DO YOU TELL THE TIME?

Chapter 21: ONCE UPON A TIME

Chapter 22: NIGHTMARES

Chapter 23: ASSISTING WITH ENQUIRIES

Chapter 24: A PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY

Chapter 25: FABRICATING A SOURCE

Chapter 26: X MARKS THE SPOT

Chapter 27: HOW DEEP IS THE OCEAN?

Chapter 28: FINDERS KEEPERS

Chapter 29: MOONBASE OMEGA

Chapter 30: BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

Chapter 31: SOMEWHERE, OVER THE RAINBOW

Chapter 32: A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH

Chapter 33: WHAT ARE THE CHANCES

Chapter 34: DO THE BEST YOU CAN

Chapter 35: GETTING A GRIP

Chapter 36: A GOD-FORSAKEN PLACE

Chapter 37: NO PAIN NO GAIN

Chapter 38: HOLIDAY PLANS AND DÉJÀ VU

Chapter 39: ANOTHER FAIRYTALE

Chapter 40: VISITING ROYALTY

Chapter 41: DRESSING FOR THE OCCASION

Chapter 42: AN UNFAIR FIGHT

Chapter 43: WORKING THE CROWD

Chapter 44: STONE THE CROWS!

Chapter 45: TOOLS OF THE TRADE

Chapter 46: NOW THERE'S A THOUGHT

Chapter 47: FROM THE RIDICULOUS TOWARDS THE

SUBLIME

NOTES

-To Note- ...

About the author

Book 3 Chapter 1

For Amy, who makes me happy,

For Linda, who stayed in touch, and

For all children who were or are abused by anyone, anywhere

WARNING!

This book will challenge you

HELPFUL HINT

There are notes at the back

SOUND ADVICE

Love Learning

Respect Difference

Protect Your Planet

Foreword

Before beginning this story, Amy and I spent three years in Belize, where we met and became firm friends with a Taiwanese philosopher and his wife, whose English names were Jason and Christine.

Jason was developing a scheme designed to promote the philosophy he had been working on for 20 years to help make the world a better place. I helped Jason with the wording of his philosophy for the English-speaking world.

My three pieces of sound advice -

Love Learning

Respect Difference

Protect Your Planet

- were distilled during the process he and I underwent in finding the right words for his Three Obligations of Wisdom in English.

The wording in his final version, when it is published, will be a little different to my choice of words above for this series of books, but the key concepts are the same.

I was convinced that the Three Obligations of Wisdom point out a simple way to a better world, and I am happy to help promote Jason's philosophy.

Robin Chambers

April 2013

Chapter 1

Halloween Across The Curriculum

It didn't take long for the year 7’s to settle into their new routines and get used to the building. It wasn't nearly as confusing as it had all seemed at first; the staircases and corridors had stopped moving by the end of week 2.

September became October. Autumn held on, but winter was catching up and would overtake it soon. In school, talk turned to Halloween and Bonfire Night. The whole Guy Fawkes thing would never be the same for Gordon, not since he had watched his sixteen-greats grandmother being burned alive. The playground began to resound with casual boasts about how many fireworks were being stockpiled, and how big some of them were.

My dad always goes out and buys about three hundred quid's worth. We've got absolutely huge ones. Our ‘Atomic Meltdown’ rockets were over a tenner each! A lot of money would be going up in smoke, as it did every year. And as it does every year, October 31st would reliably arrive five nights before November 5th.

This year the Art, Drama, English, History and R.E. departments were collaborating in a year 7 project on Halloween. Everyone would get the chance to learn about the ancient festival from all angles.

The masks, props and costumes they made in Art were to be used in plays about witches, ghosts and demons in Drama. The origins of Halloween would be explored in History, and the facts used to lend credibility to spooky stories and poems in English. The tensions between the Celtic pagan festival of ‘Samhain’ on October 31st and the Roman Catholic ‘Holy Day of Obligation for All Saints’ on November 1st were scheduled for exploration in RE: to consider what happens when a new religion competes with an old one for dominance.

In Art, Miranda made a traditional witch's hat out of black card and sticky tape. It was a two-girl job to make the cone: one to hold it in position while the other stuck the tape along the join. She managed the rest herself by fixing sticky hinges around the bottom of the cone. Having dropped the rim over it, she was able to press it firmly on to the adhesive strips. Extra layers of tape were needed on the outside to give it strength. As a finishing touch, she tied a bit of black gauze around it to hide the shiny tape. That made it quite stylish, and it fitted her perfectly. With her very black hair and her dark, dark eyes, she looked very witchy.

My dad's making me an outfit to go with it, she told them. He's good with our sewing-machine. There was more than a touch of pride in her voice. We've got some old curtains - dark green and purple with a sort of swirly pattern. He's cut holes for my head and arms, and there's enough left over to make a big collar and droopy sleeves. She brushed her hair away from her face. I'm going to paint my face swirly green and purple too, and go trick-or-treating.

To begin with, Nick struggled with his werewolf mask. He suffered a setback when the elastic tore through the thin card, the first time he tried it on. It was quite funny the way it pinged off his face, but his obvious distress made his friends hide their grins and rally around. Not so a couple of the noisier boys, who began howling with laughter. Knickers' elastic just snapped! a boy named Dominic crowed. Let's hope his knickers don't fall down. Thanks to Kieran and Dean, Nick's nickname had followed him from primary school.

Shut up! Tom growled. He looked up from the lethal-looking devil's pitchfork he was making out of a broom handle, cardboard tubing and lashings of red paint. "I'd like to see you do any better."

Thank you, Tom, their Art teacher said. Don't be unkind, Dominic. Nick is attempting a very ambitious mask. It's going to be great when it's finished. She smiled encouragingly at him.

Gordon helped him remake the hole with several layers of sticky tape and a hole-punch. After that, they made a cone similar to Miranda's, only shorter and not so pointy. They fixed it to the front of the mask to make a long snout, and then built it up with layers of papier mâché to bind everything together. They gave it brow ridges. Nick brought in a remnant of fake fur that his mum had picked up. He copydexed it on, at which point it became seriously scary. The teacher picked it up and took it over to Dominic. What do you think of it now? she asked.

It's all right, he admitted grudgingly.

It's brilliant! the Art teacher said. I hope you'll write a description of how you made it, Nick, to go into the display with the mask itself. Nick nodded, playing it cool but obviously flattered. The earlier setback was well behind him.

Grace had brought in a hairnet and several balls of wool. She had four colours: olive-green, nut-brown, rusty-red and midnight-blue. She was weaving long strands through the net to make a wild wig. The Art department had a mannequin's head that she stretched it over. It took a surprising amount of work to get it just right.

My mums are making me a Halloween costume, she told them. "I'm not to see it 'til it's finished. They try hard not to think about it when I'm around, she telepathed to Gordon, because they want it to be a surprise.

Surprising Grace couldn't ever be easy. That didn't seem fair, as she was always surprising other people. Gordon wondered if she usually knew what she was getting for Christmas. Pretty much, Grace telepathed. He grinned to himself.

What you grinning at? Nick wanted to know.

I was just thinking about how much fun Halloween is, Gordon said. Do you normally do anything?

We dress up and haunt each other in the back garden, and we play games like bobbing for apples, Nick said. We don't go out though. Grace looked at him sympathetically. Halloween isn't much fun if you're scared of the dark.

Where do you go trick or treating? she asked Miranda.

Just in our road, to people we know. There are two or three of us and we do it together. My dad and their mums come with us. They don't want us out there on our own, knocking on the doors of people we don't know.

I just had a great idea, Gordon telepathed to Grace. Why don't you and I and Zack and Zoë get together on Halloween? I'm sure our parents would be OK with it. We could ghost-hunt, or trick-or-treat and stuff.

What kind of tricks? Grace thought back.

I expect it would mostly be treats, Gordon admitted, but we might manage a trick or two. He'd brought in a pumpkin carved into the shape of a skull. He'd worked on it at home, relying on Zack's expert eye to compare the size of it with his own head. His Illustrated Encyclopaedia had some good pictures and he'd got it pretty exact. All he had to do was to layer papier mâché over it.

He gave it a bit of a neck - Zack's suggestion - so that his mum had something to attach an old sheet to. He built up some scary brow ridges and a prominent jaw to make it look Neanderthal. He left a slit up the back so he could squeeze his head in. All he had to do then was give the outside several coats of white paint and the inside several coats of black, and hey presto: a full-length, one-piece, scary Halloween ghost-costume.

That was the making part of the project.

Chapter 2

Is It Or Isn't It?

In English, they made lists of words associated with Halloween to use in their scary poems and stories. They were also meant to research what other writers had come up with along the same lines. Here's a Halloween poem for kids, Nick announced, and proceeded to read: Flutter flutter, little bat ...

Gordon groaned; he couldn't help himself. Nick continued unabashed: How I wonder where you're at.

"That's 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star', Grace said. It's by an American, sounds like. '... where you're a-a-t'," she repeated with an exaggerated American drawl. Gordon found that very funny.

Does it get any better? he asked Nick.

What's wrong with it? Nick asked back indignantly. It rhymes! He read on. Swooping through the darkest night, you find your way without a light.

There's an extra syllable in that last line, Zack pointed out.

Who cares? said Gordon. Is there any more?

Yes, said Nick in a slightly hurt voice, there's another verse.

Let's have it, Gordon said in a resigned tone.

Nick's head bent over the book. Oh, he said. It's the same as the first verse.

"That's it? Gordon said. His disbelief bordered on outrage. And somebody thought that was worth printing?!"

Oh come on, said Miranda mildly. It's not that bad. It's easy to read.

It's not poetry, Gordon said dismissively. It's rhyming rubbish for kids. It's lazy, and it's ... he looked at Zack for help. Nick followed his eyes and was mystified.

Derivative? Zoë suggested.

Exactly! 'Derivative'. Thank you.

'Exactly derivative thank you'? What does that mean? Miranda wanted to know.

It means it was someone else's idea in the first place. Whoever wrote it just changed two words in the first line and three words in the second line. How derivative could you get? Anyway, it's one thing to wonder about the nature of a star. That's worth wondering about. You're not telling me that whoever wrote that was really wondering where the bat was at. I mean, what's to wonder?

You're taking it a bit seriously, Grace pointed out.

Yes, said Gordon excitedly. "Maybe that's it! Maybe that's the difference. Poetry is something you take seriously."

Good poetry says something important in a powerful way. said Zack.

WOW! said Gordon. Nick and Miranda took that to be a further exclamation in support of his idea that poetry was somehow serious stuff. I'm going to write that down.

I still think this poem is OK, Nick said defensively.

I didn't say it wasn't OK, Gordon pointed out. I said it wasn't a poem.

Why not? Nick asked. Miranda groaned.

Because, Gordon said, it's too easy, and it doesn't say anything important, and there's nothing powerful about it.

What do you mean, 'easy'? Nick asked. He could be stubborn when he wanted to be. He wasn't the only one.

Anyone can do it.

No they can't.

Can.

Can't.

Boys, boys …, said Grace, her eyes dancing with mischief.

All right, I'll prove it to you! Gordon said, and grabbed another piece of paper. One verse each, he telepathed, one minute. Go!

Zack struck a poetic pose. You flit about on velvet wings, and when I see you, my heart sings.

Mustard! thought Gordon, writing furiously.

With clicks and flaps you fill the air, and feed on fruit without a care, Grace suggested. Gordon nodded, his pencil flying over the paper.

Do you find that echo location gives you ideas above your station? Zoë asked, which cracked Zack up. Gordon finished off with one of his own: Then upside down you hang to rest. Good on you, Batty, you're the best.

He read the whole thing out, to scattered applause, then checked his watch and handed the paper to Nick. There you are: five minutes, and no repeats.

Nick looked at it in disbelief. MISS, he called out. It was unusual for their table to need her, and Mrs Peters hurried across. Yes, Nick? she said.

Look what Gordon just wrote, Miss, he said, in five minutes. Mrs Peters read the four verses.

My point, said Gordon, is that this sort of stuff isn't poetry. It's something else.

She smiled at him. Why don't you, she suggested, "find something you think is poetry for Halloween, and then we can compare the two?" Now that was an assignment worthy of the name. Off went Gordon to one of the four computer stations they had at the back of the room. He and Zack were there for the next twenty minutes. Zoë joined them occasionally, interested to see how they were getting on.

What have you got? Grace asked, when they came back.

How about this? Gordon said:

'The spirit-world around this world of sense

Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere

Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense

A vital breath of more ethereal air.'"

Ooh she said. No bats.

I've got nothing against bats, Gordon said. "And what do you think of this? -

'I am the ghost of Shadwell stair.

Along the wharves by the water-house,

And through the dripping slaughter-house,

I am the shadow that walks there.'"

That's scary, said Nick. He was already hoping he wouldn't be thinking about ghosts and slaughter-houses when he went to bed that night.

Or this, said Gordon:

'Be silent in that solitude

Which is not loneliness, for then

The spirits of the dead who stood

In life before thee are again

In death around thee, and their will

Shall overshadow thee: be still.'"

It makes you think, Miranda acknowledged.

It makes me think I don't understand it, Nick added, truthfully.

That's it as well, though, isn't it? Gordon said eagerly. You nearly always have to work at understanding real poetry, because there's so much in it.

'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?' Zack asked Zoë gallantly.

You can if you like, Zoë replied. I am 'more lovely and more temperate.'

Now what are you two grinning about? Miranda wanted to know. It kept happening: Grace and Gordon suddenly grinning, as though they were appreciating a joke nobody else got.

I'm just happy, Gordon told her, and it was true. His life had been good before, but now Grace and Zoë had shown up, it was amazing.

So am I, Grace said.

'Shall I to the marriage of true minds admit impediments?'

NOTES

FLUTTER FLUTTER LITTLE BAT' ISN'T POETRY; IT'S SOMETHING ELSE; THE SPIRIT WORLD AROUND THIS WORLD OF SENSE; ETHEREAL; I AM THE GHOST OF SHADWELL STAIR; BE SILENT IN THAT SOLITUDE; SHALL I COMPARE THEE TO A SUMMER'S DAY; SHALL I TO THE MARRIAGE OF TRUE MINDS ADMIT IMPEDIMENTS?

Chapter 3

A Gathering Of Ghosts

Gordon floated his Halloween costume up to his bedroom ceiling. Standing under it, he let it drop gently over his body. With a little extra pressure, his head slipped into the Neanderthal skull mask. It was a snug fit. The sheet was longer than he was: to hide his unghostly trainers and allow him to hover an inch or two off the ground. The idea was that he could drift along, in convincingly ethereal fashion.

Edith's AmDram make-up box had come in handy. Gordon put black greasepaint around his eyes. Once outside, no light would find his flesh, and the only thing to gleam inside the skull would be his eyes. How do I look? he asked Zack.

Seriously weird.

Thanks. You're not so bad yourself.

Zack had done his own face in a mournful grey, with black lines that made him look withered. He'd got hold of a monk's tonsure wig and a brown habit with a big hood like Obi Wan Kenobi's. There was more than one mediaeval monk in Chester's published list of 78 ghosts.

Vivian and Edith saw each other regularly outside the school gates, and had readily agreed to get together for a fun Halloween. Let's face it, on a night when spirits were actually supposed to walk abroad, Grace and Gordon had a head start. The two families were to meet at Grace's first. The plan was to trick-or-treat around where she lived, then drive back to Gordon's and do it there as well - if there was time.

Gordon and Zack floated down the stairs. Edith squealed with delight when she saw him. You look great! she said. Have a look at yourself in the mirror.

You should see Zack, he told her. He's a seriously unwell mediaeval monk.

You're right, I should see Zack, his mum replied, but I'll just have to use my imagination.

Gordon drifted in front of the mirror. Zack was right: he did look weird, and he would look even weirder in the dark. His reflection, however, was making way for the imposing figure of his sixteen-greats grandmother. Edmund! she said. I would recognise you anywhere, and your attendant spirit. You both look splendid, as I do myself.

She was certainly imposing, and very 17th century in a full-length grey dress, straight-laced to the neck. It had puffed shoulders and bunched sleeves ending at the elbow. Chalk-white powder on her face and arms and a very large wig of grey-white curls completed the look. In her day, she would have been at the height of fashion. In our day, you would not want to meet her up a dark alley - especially not on Halloween.

She stepped out of the mirror and turned to admire her reflection. The spirits of the dead who stood in life before thee are again in death around thee, she quoted. I thought it would be amusing to accompany you tonight. She flicked at her wig to make it stand out even more. "I have had a special affection for Halloween, ever since the night you were conceived. If a spirit cannot walk abroad on Halloween, when can she, pray tell?"

Mum, my sixteen-greats grandmother just stepped out of the mirror! She's coming with us.

That's nice, darling, his mum said. "Is that Lily of the Valley I can smell? Please ask her not to walk through your father." His SGGm inclined her head graciously to Zack who responded in role: placing his hands together as if in prayer, bowing his head and making the sign of the cross.

It's lovely to see you again, Spirit-Mother, Gordon said. How is my Spirit-Father, and Sir Roger?

Edmund Major and the good knight are planning a good night out in Little Melling. Let us hope no local chokes upon his ale. I was at a loose end, and I suddenly thought: 'Edmund Minor! What might he be up to I wonder?' So here I am.

And most welcome, Gordon assured her. We're going to Grace's house first.

Ah yes, said his SGGm. I am minded to look for a family resemblance.

Oh, I don't think she's related to us, Gordon said. Zack cleared his throat. His SGGm raised a ghostly eyebrow but did not comment further.

Victor took the news of