The Stone of Lamfedios

The Stone of Lamfedios -5

- 5 -

 Marti 'The Flat Nosed Cowgirl' slouched into Wilkinson's, she had no money. When she came out her pockets were discreetly full, but she carried no logo bearing plastic bag. With her eyes focused on the pavement, two meters in front, she cruised down the High Street. She unzipped her leather jacket revealing a blue checked cowboy shirt. She reached deeper inside the jacket and pulled out a pack of colourful headphones which she inserted into an ipod on the belt of her tight leather trousers.

 A small group of teenagers occupied the pavement outside an electrical shop. The lads were watching football on a giant TV set which filled the main display, dwarfing everything else in the window. Three girls leaned against the window looking into the street where they had been busy pulling faces at a group of older girls that had passed by. They moved away from Marti as she pushed her way amongst them. The boys were oblivious to customers and browsers who had been passing in and out, and they were not going to be distracted by her, this was a serious game.

 It was a typical Saturday afternoon. Marti had eaten her usual pie and chips from 'Maxchips' and was looking for something to do. After her mum had left for work, she had spent the morning at a deserted factory tinkering with a motor bike she had stolen the previous evening.

 'What's the score lads?' she called with a mild appearance of interest.

 'Hi Marti,' said a short lad on the edge of the group. '2-0 to Arsenal. Where you been?'

 Oh, just into Wilks to see my Grandad, he gave me a load of batteries for my ipod and some sweets.

 One of the lads had recently lost his ipod, it had been on the grass when they played football, but was gone when they finished.

 'You playin' football?' Marti asked.

 'No. We're gonna watch the match.' Said a larger lad at the front with his face pressed against the shop window.

 'Right' said Marti, blinking her mascara-black eye lashes at him. 'I got to see somebody, see you later.'

 Her Mum wouldn't be back from work till later that evening. It was boring at home by herself. She set off for the old factory, eased ajar the high wood and corrugated gate and slipped inside. She closed it carefully again, checking that it still looked padlocked, then strolled to an outbuilding. Here she sat on an oil drum, took the ipod from her belt and plugged it into two small speakers that were set up on a plastic crate. Marti then emptied her trouser pockets onto an old door, which she had set up as a makeshift table, in front of her, batteries, sticky insulating tape, a small screwdriver and a pair of pliers. From her jacket pocket she took a chocolate bar.

 As she slowly ate the bar, she contemplated the motor bike. It had not been padlocked; all she had needed to do was to cut the wires to get it started. That was last night, when she had ridden it from the estate to the deserted factory in the dark. The wires still hung loosely from the ignition switch, and she wanted to get the lights to work, so that she could use it to ride around the old quarry that night. It would be quiet then. All the other kids would be down at the shelter with their stuff. There would be no one in her way. She had saved a can of petrol when she torched the last machine. That should last her for an hour or two.

 She crouched down close to the machine and with her fingers traced some of the wires. 'Red from battery, yellow and blue- lights, black - earth, green and brown - starter. Try that.' She fetched the insulating tape, pulled a piece out and bit the edge, so she could tear a piece off. She did this another three times; each time sticking the end of the short piece to the bike's fuel tank, ready to wrap around her makeshift joins. She then fiddled with the carburetor, turned on both the fuel and the choke. She grabbed the red wire and pressed it against the bare end on the yellow and blue one. There was a bright blue flash, Marti fell back. When she looked the bike had gone, so too had the factory.

 Marti's eyes stung and her head ached. She slowly looked around and, as the darkness cleared, found herself, in what seemed to be a picture book cottage garden. A middle aged woman looked down at her as she sat, dazed, on the grass.

 'Lemonade, Marti?' The woman bent forward to offer her a brown mug, wrinkled up her nose then pulled away. Through a shimmering haze, just for a moment, Marti imagined ruins in a desert. She rubbed her head then, checked to see if she was bleeding, but she seemed fine. She started to get up and the woman hissed, Marti's legs crumbled beneath her. The woman recomposed herself and again held out her arm. The girl, very warily, took the earthenware mug but she dared not drink.

 The woman looked just a little older than her mother, had long fair hair which was tied back, a round cheerful face and wore a long green dress with a brown woven leather belt. Marti looked at her suspiciously. The woman's eyes narrowed, then she smiled. 'Try your lemonade Marti. I made it fresh myself only this morning.'

 Despite her anger, Marti slowly lifted the glass to her lips and carefully sniffed, a very slight smell of petrol from her fingers, then the freshest zest of lemons and a strong desire to drink it. It certainly seemed the best lemonade she had ever tasted, better even than her favourite hooch, to which she often added vodka to speed up its effects.

 A satisfied smile appeared on the woman's face. 'Are you hungry? I've just made some wonderful oat and honey biscuits.' She held a pottery plate in front of Marti. ‘'There, you just help yourself. 'As Marti reached out the woman turned her face away, as if there was a nasty smell. She looked back to watch the girl eat.

 Marti felt completely phased. Surely no one lived in picture postcard cottages and especially not this one. For all its solid appearance she somehow felt that it only existed in two dimensions, but she could not explain it. Neither could she explain the shimmering desert, or why her legs had suddenly given way and most importantly she had been working on the....

On a .... She momentarily remembered a blue flash, then her mind went blank, her arms felt heavy and her legs seemed to be sinking into the ground. The next minute she was in a deep sleep.