The Serpent Dancer Chronicles

© J P Collins 2010

Prologue

FOOLISH mortals, listen to me!

A handful of your kind will act merely as messengers, to be entrusted with the message for a short while. But chosen they will be. They shall be named serpent dancers, and they will come at the end of the world.

Section 1

WHERE ANNA LEARNS all is not what it seems

Chapter 1 – in which unexpected things happen

“COME on, you’ll enjoy it!”

There’s a lot of things I don’t know. But one thing I was pretty sure about that morning, as I lay on the sofa with my nose deep in a book, was that I didn’t like garden centres. I vaguely considered the endless rows of plants with funny names, the hanging baskets, the terracotta pots and plastic rocks, and I wondered why, exactly, would anyone want to go to a garden centre for fun?

“Come ON Anna!”

Here we go, no more Mrs Nice Guy, I thought. I mean, like I had any choice about going. I hadn’t been with Tamsin for that long but I already knew that when she used that particular tone, any views of my own quickly went out of the window.

“What’s the point,” I muttered loudly as I put down my book, dragged myself off the sofa and slouched into the hall. It was quite a performance. Tamsin and I both knew I was acting up, but I did so anyway. I felt like I was dancing a slow, drawn-out dance, carefully following a precise path between Tamsin’s continued effort and her complete, hands-in-the-air, I-give-up exasperation.

“Right,” exhaled Tamsin wearily as I arrived at the door. “Off we go.”

So, off we went.

To make matters worse, the garden centre was only a short distance from our house. Not such a bad thing you might think, but Tamsin had decided it would be good to walk. I certainly wasn’t in the mood: like a kid half my real age I dragged my feet and hung back, keeping my distance just far enough behind to be absolutely clear that I really, really didn’t care. Tamsin looked round at various moments to make sure I was still there. As if I would be anywhere else. I tried that before, that’s how I ended up with Tamsin in the first place.

We trudged up to the top of our road, at which point it became a track, winding its way up through the woods. Trudge, trudge, trudge. I must have looked a sight.

As we emerged from the trees I could see the garden centre, standing alone in the middle of the fields, neatly surrounded by fencing and conifers. At the front was a miniature windmill, above which fluttered a banner. “Welcome to Van Heugens’ Garden Emporium,” it said. Oh, dear, I remember thinking to myself. This looks really bad.

“What do you think?” asked Tamsin, but I said nothing. I was genuinely lost for words – well, polite ones, anyway. Realising I wasn’t going to reply, she carried on.

“When I was young…” she began, animatedly. Then she paused again, waiting for me to show any interest whatsoever. Which was unlikely. “Are you listening?”

I think Tamsin liked talking about her childhood to show that she was just like me, or at least had been, once. But she certainly wasn’t anymore. There must be some line you cross as you become a grown up, when you think its good to have funny short hair and wear clothes that make you look like you work in a charity shop. Which Tamsin did, but I wasn’t sure that was something to show off about.

I was about to say something rude, but something inside me gave in at that point. I think I had just run out of steam, or maybe part of me knew I was pushing things too far. “What? Oh, yes,” I said, as brightly as I could.

Tamsin looked at me quizzically, took a breath and started again. “As I was saying, when I was young all this used to be greenhouses, as far as the eye can see,” she said. “A market garden, they called it, where they grew lettuces, tomatoes, cucumbers and all that to sell in London.” She finished with a slight nod of the head, like finishing the sentence was an achievement.

“Why don’t they any more?” I asked. See, I can ask good questions.

“I think it’s all bought in from overseas these days – salad from Holland, runner beans from Africa… it does seem silly, doesn’t it.” I wasn’t quite sure what was so silly about it – I mean, things grow where things grow, don’t they? But I’d asked one good question already, so I felt I’d done my duty.

We set off again, heading for the entrance. I noticed the sails of the windmill were actually turning, as was a little wooden waterwheel on one side, and to cap it off a miniature stream of water was splashing down into a dainty pond beneath. Yuck.

“Right! What do you want to do?” said Tamsin, her voice still just a little too jolly. “There’s all sorts of things going on – I think there’s a brass band, and they’re offering free teas in the cafeteria. The advert said there was a free lucky dip…” Her face fell. “No, I don’t suppose you care about that. What was I thinking? I don’t suppose you care about any of it, do you?” I just shrugged, helplessly. “I guess you could just have a look around?”

I did quite fancy the lucky dip – I might be fourteen now, but I can still like surprises, particularly if they are given away for free. All the same I knew couldn’t just go straight inside, as that would be admitting I was actually bothered.

Beyond the neat fences surrounding the new place, I could see a number of older greenhouses and other outbuildings. I’ve always quite liked exploring and at that particular moment, I really, really liked the thought of going anywhere other than through the automatic glass doors and into gardening hell. So I set off, heading around the main building.

As it turned out, quite a few greenhouses were still standing – from this side of the garden centre I could see rows and rows of them. Sliding open the door of the nearest I saw nobody was inside: after a pause for breath I walked quickly to the other end and out of another sliding door, only to see another row. Of course I had to go into the next one. I didn’t know when the greenhouses had last been used, but I imagined it had been fifty years at least.

I started feeling a bit nervous, like I should probably go back – I was already losing track of how long I’d been. Before I retraced my steps however, I couldn’t resist walking to the end of just one more greenhouse.

This time as I emerged I saw a small building at the end of the path, with a number of thick, heavily lagged pipes coming out of one side. Each pipe was connected into one of the greenhouses, like tubular tentacles from a red-brick octopus. They were for heating, I guessed: back in some previous time the greenhouses must have needed to be warmed, and this little building must have been the boiler house.

Walking closer I saw that the door was slightly ajar, so I pushed it open and stepped inside. It made sense that it was a boiler room, I thought, given that it felt quite warm… then I shuddered involuntarily. Something didn’t feel quite right, but I couldn’t work out what is was. Then I realised. Wasn’t it just a bit strange that the boilers should still be switched on?

Suddenly I felt very warm indeed, not to mention ever so slightly worried. I turned to leave.

"Shut that door would you, you're letting all the heat out!"

I froze. I had no idea where the voice came from, but it felt like it was right behind me. Whoever it was, also sounded more than a little bit cross. I was petrified. Oh boy, am I in trouble now, I thought!

"Hurry up, do you have any idea how draughty it gets in here?"

Of course, I turned and ran. All the way back, without stopping, right through the greenhouses. And no, I didn't shut the door.



By the time I’d found my way back to the main building, Tamsin was already queuing for the checkout, pushing one of those massive trolleys ahead of her. My heart was pounding and I was out of breath but I just about managed to look like I’d just walked round the corner.

"There you are,” she said. "I was wondering what happened to you. What do you think of the place?"

What place? Oh yes, I remembered. The new garden centre, the one I was supposed to be impressed by, or hate, or whatever it was. My eyes darted around and took in as much as they could. Emporium or no emporium, it still looked like a garden centre to me, which I found strangely calming. In my head was a confusing mixture of trying to work out what had just happened, together with vision of utter, mundane, plant-pot-strewn boringness. This had to be one of the safest places in the world! But I still half-expected someone to rush in through the door and grab me.

"Oh, yeah, fine, yeah, OK, I guess, good, yeah, OK, fine." I tripped through the words like I was stumbling through woods in the dark.

"Anna, are you alright?"

"Fine. Yeah," I said, as confidently as I could. Which wasn’t very confident.

Tamsin's face was a combination of puzzlement and concern, like she really cared, though clearly she had no idea what was going on. As for me, whatever had happened, I decided I’d be pretty safe as long as she was around. I suddenly remembered that I’d missed the lucky dip, and almost immediately realised that I wouldn’t get the chance, not now. Oh well.

"I'm fine, really!" I said, warming to my theme. "Um, what have you been doing?" Despite the fact my stomach was in knots, I couldn’t help wondering why Tamsin needed quite such a big trolley, just to carry one solitary plant pot with a few twigs poking out of it.

"Well, I did just have a look at the roses – I thought one might be quite nice by the door. What do you think?” She nodded towards the twig thing.

A plastic label did show some flowers, but all I could imagine was a pot full of peach-coloured twigs. All the same, I was grateful for the distraction.

“I was wondering about yellow, but this one's going to have more of a peachy colour."

"Lovely, yeah," I said.

"Okay, I'll just pay. Did you see the tropical fish?"

“No,” I said. “Back in a minute.” I made my way quickly to the darkened area marked ‘Fish’, found a corner where nobody could see me, and bawled my eyes out.



I didn't sleep very well that night. The words “Shut the door, you’re letting all the heat out” looped round and round, and swirling images of plant pots, thick pipes and a big blue door filled my head.

To be honest, I didn’t know whether I was supposed to have been scared or not. I knew I shouldn’t have wandered off quite so far, but surely murderers and rapists don’t get stressy about a cold draft? I started to wonder whether I had heard anything at all. Perhaps my mind had been playing tricks on me. One thing was certain, I hadn’t planned to hang around and find out. Every bone in my body still wanted to know of there had been anything behind that door, but I was equally glad to still have every bone in my body, if you see what I mean.

I was quite relieved when morning finally came and I could think about normal stuff – like breakfast. I was just putting some bread in the toaster when Tamsin walked in, holding the pot-with-twigs in front of her. It was clearly troubling her, but I wasn’t about to ask why. I had hoped I’d done with conversations about roses.

She put the pot down on the kitchen surface. “I’m taking it back,” she said to the window, though I guessed she was talking to me. “I should have bought the yellow one after all. I don’t suppose you want to come?”

To both of our surprise, I found that I did. “Alright then,” I said, jutting my chin slightly. Tamsin looked straight at me with her eyebrows raised, as if she was waiting to see me conduct any other miracles, like levitate or something.

“Okay,” she said a-matter-of-factly, and left me to my toast.

I had no idea what I was thinking. My head was suddenly filled once again with plant pots, blue doors and disembodied voices complaining about drafts. To say I was nervous would be a massive understatement. But equally, I knew I really did want to go back – even if just to prove to myself that nothing was going to happen.

“Shall we go then?”

Tamsin looked pleased, if a bit surprised (her eyebrows were still up) when I pulled on my coat without complaining. Her expression didn’t change that much as I walked quietly up the hill and through the woods, walking by her side, my hands plunged deep in my pockets. To my relief, she didn’t try to start a conversation.

As we passed under the still-fluttering banner I stuck close to Tamsin. Quite what I had thought I would do when we got there I don’t know, but one thing was for sure – I wasn’t going anywhere near that red brick shed again. Actually, I decided there and then, I wasn’t going to do anything at all. Disappointing I know, but the other options were either too scary to contemplate, or pointless because they weren’t the scary options.

I browsed through the diaries and calendars (I mean, really, Scottie dogs on surf boards?) as Tamsin talked to the people at the customer service desk. Then we weaved our way through the racks of plants outside, heading for the roses. I wasn’t too surprised to see lots more pots with twigs. They really, really did all look the same to me, so I don’t know quite why it took another ten minutes of umm-ing and ahh-ing. That’s grown-ups, I suppose.

We were just heading out of the garden centre when I heard someone speaking to Tamsin. I wasn't really paying attention at first, but I caught the tail end, which went something like, “…you’ll both have to come along with me to the office.”

Then I paid a bit more attention.

Tamsin was talking to a lady who looked kindly enough, but I could see from her face she was talking about something serious. When they both looked round at me with the same look, I started to feel more than a bit uncomfortable.

“What?” I said, in the certain knowledge I had absolutely nothing to worry about. Unless sneaking through a greenhouse was a crime, I couldn’t think of anything I had done wrong.

“Let’s go,” said Tamsin, sighing heavily. I could see she was trying to put a brave face on things, but she was speaking just a little coldly. At that moment I felt myself hating her. She was just like all the people before, who assumed that whatever it was, it must be my fault. But I went, quietly, following the lady round behind the tills and down a long corridor, with Tamsin bringing up the rear.

As we entered a side room, the lady shut the door behind us and turned to me. I looked around quickly and saw it wasn’t really a room – more a reception area, with a couple of chairs and a door at each end. On the second door was a notice which said, “Manager’s Office”. I really didn’t like the look of that.

“I think you know what this is about,” said the lady, but I honestly didn’t. Then she then turned to Tamsin. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting here, these things are best dealt with directly with the person,” she said.

“Of course,” said Tamsin. I hated her even more – I hadn’t done anything, and she wasn’t even going to back me up! My look to her was a cross between horror and pleading, but she just shook her head and looked down. What is it, I thought, that makes everyone assume I’m going to turn out for the worst? I thought I could trust Tamsin, like she really did care, but she was just like all the rest.

I was about to say something I knew I would probably regret, but then the strangest thing happened. Turning her back to Tamsin ever so briefly, the lady gave me another look. It wasn’t a bad look, more a kind of, “Trust me, it’s not what it seems,” look. I couldn’t even tell you how to make such a look, but that really was the look she gave me. If I was confused before, I was in complete turmoil now but there was no time to think as she turned the handle and pushed the door open.

“In you go,” she said.

I don’t know what I had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t what I saw. Everything outside had been simple and functional, magnolia paint and beige plastic chairs. The inside of the office looked straight out of an old public school – dark wooden shelves stuffed with books, piles of papers and at the centre of it all, a desk so massive that at first I didn’t notice the man sitting behind it. My eyes flicked onto a small brass plaque, which said Mr Van Heugens.

“Ohhhh…” I said, as certain pieces started to fall into place. Or at least, for a brief moment I thought they did.

Up to that point I was doing a good job of keeping my composure. “Hello Anna,” the man said, and I pretty much lost it. It was the same voice as in the boiler house! I tried not to look frantic, but I couldn’t help glancing at the door – if it had been open, I think I would have run off again. But it wasn’t, so I turned my head back, resigning myself to my fate.

“Do take a seat,” said the man. “My apologies for bringing you in here under false pretences, but as you will see I had no choice.”

Finally I snapped. This was all too much.

“Take a seat? You are joking aren’t you? I haven’t a clue what is going on! How come you know my name? What was that all about, in the shop? Am I supposed to be a shoplifter or something? Tamsin’s going to kill me! And who the hell are you?” The words tumbled out of me, all clanging together, like a drawer-ful of cutlery when you pull it out too far and it crashes to the floor. I was completely livid – but the man just sat in front of me, waiting to speak.

“Anna, you need to be careful with that tongue of yours. It will get you into trouble.”

That shut me up. I was too shocked to say anything at all for a good ten seconds – yes, I counted – which has to be a record. Eventually I found my voice, but I managed to keep the volume down this time.

“Anyway, how on earth did you know my name?” I asked, still a bit indignant.

“I know none of this makes any sense to you, Anna, but it will,” said the man. “I have been waiting for you for a very long time. Yes, a very long time indeed.”

Something inside me gave in at that point. I exhaled deeply and sat down. “I’m not sure I understand anything at all,” I said. “Could you possibly tell me what’s going on?”

“There are many things you need to know, and it is going to take time to explain everything.”

Okay, I’ve got time, I thought.

“My name, if you haven’t guessed already, is Mr Van Heugens,” he said.

I just nodded.

“I should start by saying a little about how we came to be here. Before this garden centre, there was a market garden in its place. But the market garden was built on a farm, and the farm on another farm. There have been buildings here for many, many, many years, Anna.”

He paused and looked at me over the top of his glasses, as if he was checking I was listening. For some reason. I found that I was.

“When the market gardening business started to dry up, we knew it was only a matter of time. As things turned out, we couldn’t even keep up an appearance of being a market garden, so we’ve had to refocus the business. It’s a shame, very poor timing. But needs must.”

He had me up to that point, but suddenly nothing made sense. “Refocus the business”? “Poor timing”? “Needs must”? I had no idea what he was talking about.

“Oh dear,” he said, looking at my face. “That hasn’t helped much, has it? Let’s just say for now, that nothing is quite what it seems. But please understand that I need your help. We all need your help.”

I was starting to get it. Here’s an old man, lived here all his life, he’s losing his marbles a bit perhaps. He’s worried about making ends meet, and he needs some help with the place. He must have seen me yesterday, perhaps even talked to Tamsin…

“So, are you offering me a job?” I asked.

“I suppose you could put it that way, yes. Indeed, yes. That would be the best way to think about this.”

There you go, I thought. Why didn’t he just say so in the first place, rather than going through all that palaver? People could be very strange.

To be honest, I can’t have been thinking that straight myself. On a normal day, if someone had said to me, “Will you come and work in my garden centre,” I would have stared at them like they were mad. Did I already say how much I hated garden centres? I was particularly surprised I was listening to this man, whose voice had scared me half out of my skin the day before. But I confess I was intrigued. And also, whatever was that business before, it would get me off the hook with Tamsin.

Finally, it meant I’d have the chance to have a better look around. I thought back to the door in the boiler room – there was clearly more about this place that I didn’t get. Perhaps it was worth sticking around for a little while, even if it all turned out to be quite boring in the end.

“Okay, when can I start?” I asked, chirpily.

“That’s the spirit!” said Mr Van Heugens with a smile. His brow furrowed, and for a moment he fell deep into thought. “As soon as possible,” he said, nodding. “Next Saturday would be most convenient, yes. We can plan your induction from there. Right, I’d better start making the arrangements. Do let yourself out, and if you could send Janet back in, that would be awfully kind.”

I turned the handle and left the room. I can honestly say that was the weirdest ten minutes of my entire life. I mean, how often are you accused of shoplifting, subjected to a rambling history lesson and then given a job, all in the space of one conversation?

As I opened the door, Tamsin stood up quickly. She was still looking at me like I should be hung, drawn and quartered. Here we go, I thought. I was trying, but failing, to keep myself from smirking.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Dunno. But I’ve got a job, I think.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

Her face was a picture. I was about to say something I might later have regretted, when the door opened again and the lady I now knew as Janet came out, looking a little flustered.

“I really am terribly sorry,” she said, “there must have been some mix-up. I’m not quite sure what happened, but your daughter was nothing to do with it. I just spoke to Mr Van Heugens and he said he was so impressed, he’s offered her a job. I hope…”

“I’m NOT her daughter!” I blurted.

‘Janet’ gave me that funny look people give me when they think they should be sympathetic but they’re not sure if that’s the right thing. I’d seen it lots of times.

“Oh, sorry again, I really didn’t…” She took a deep breath. “Well, she’s due to start next Saturday, if that would be convenient. We’ll send you the background check documentation, of course.”

Tamsin was in as much shock as I was. “Of course,” she said. “Of course. If that’s what you want, Anna?”

I raised my eyebrows and tilted my head, in that “would-we-be-having-this-conversation-if-I-wasn’t” kind of way.

“Good, at least I think it’s good,” said Tamsin. “What a very strange day.”

You have no idea, I thought to myself. But nor did I, as I was soon to find out.

Chapter 2 - in which Anna discovers what's really going on

School’s OK. I mean, it’s not brilliant, but it’s school, right? I hated my last school, but I think everyone there hated me more. There were good parts – it was in the middle of the countryside, which meant I could get out and breathe a bit. The school also had horses, which I loved. I wasn’t quite sure why a school would have horses, but one of the teachers was in charge of them, and we could go and help, and ride sometimes. That was good.

But apart from the horses, it was just a school. Me and schools, we don’t generally see eye to eye. It wasn’t as if I ever do anything really bad, but I can’t seem to stop myself from getting into trouble. Some of the other kids were much worse than me, they were into all sorts of stuff. But for some reason, when there was trouble to be had, I always seemed to find myself somewhere near the centre of it. My friend Stacy said that it was because I was too thick to know when to get out. She might well have been right.

Ultimately though, I just didn't want to be there, and I think they knew that. By the end, I don’t think they wanted me to be there either.

From time to time I would be called in front of the teachers, that was normal. Then it was the head of year, and then the headmaster. Twice. Then they got my carers involved. But none of it made any difference: what nobody seemed to understand was that I was just me, being me.

They gave me punishments, and then they started taking away my privileges. Eventually they stopped me going to see the horses, when I just did one wrong thing too many. And when I tried to sneak in, they banned me from going outside at all.

So I ran away. It felt like the most normal thing in the world to do. I’d already been trying to avoid school however I could – skiving particular lessons, or ‘accidentally’ missing the bus and hanging around in town. When my foster couple, Sheila and Rob caught me at it, they started to take away things like TV and computer time as well.

I headed for the station one morning, bought a ticket and got onto the next train to London. I had absolutely no idea what I was going to do when I got there, but as it turned out, it didn’t matter as the police were already on the platform when I arrived. Apparently someone at the station had thought it strange that someone in local school uniform was getting on a ‘commuter train’.

I felt really stupid when I heard that, pretty obvious really.

That’s when they all said something like, "We can't do this anymore." Not the school, not my carers, not anybody. So, I moved. A fresh start they called it, new beginnings and that. I was pretty sad to leave my friends behind, but these days with the Internet and everything, I thought I wouldn't miss them. I didn’t, but not for that reason – as it happened, nobody seemed that bothered that I’d gone.

Everyone's ok at the new school, but after the initial flurry of attention I can't say anyone is a BBFL – best friend for life. Perhaps that will come, but I’m not too worried. The only thing I really miss is the horses.

So here I am. That's why I didn't have anything to do last weekend, which was why I ended up going down the garden centre with Tamsin. Get it?

---+++---

Saturday came, eventually. I’d managed to get through the whole week without getting into trouble - there was no way I was going to mess up my first day at work. I had to get there pretty early, half past seven they said. Normally I wouldn’t surface before ten or eleven, and then I would generally hang around in my dressing gown until I actually had to do something. But I was up at six, mainly because I had woken even earlier, and I couldn’t get back to sleep.

I even caught Tamsin on the hop. There she was, all ready to do her I’m-not-nagging-but-I-just-thought-I’d-better-say routine, but I was already getting my things together.

“Have you had some breakfast?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“But something filling? You know how important…”

“Big bowl of cereal and two pieces of toast. Mmmm.”

“Well, don’t forget to clean your teeth.”

“Done.”

“Oh. You’d better wear something warm…”

“I’ve got an extra t-shirt on underneath.”

“Oh.”

Tamsin was obviously, determinedly trying not to be patronising by saying “well done” or anything, so she just went quiet instead. Eventually she asked me, “Would you like a lift? Not that you’ll need one.”

“Yes please,” I said, feeling relieved. I hadn’t wanted to ask.

I hadn’t a clue what I’d be doing once I got there – would they want me to stack shelves, or man the tills, or put plants in pots, or whatever else people do at garden centres? I had no idea, and I felt slightly silly that I hadn’t actually asked. I was obviously needed for something, but I wasn’t sure it was going to be anything quite so mundane as actually doing work. I mean, they couldn’t have been waiting just for me, as Mr Van Heugens said, so I could stack shelves? That didn’t make any sense.

Just after seven o’clock, we set off in Tamsin’s shabby Volkswagen. I knew we’d be far too early, I’d probably be hanging around outside for a while. But I was getting agitated, and Tamsin was getting agitated watching me.

The journey only took about five minutes, so it wasn’t even ten past the hour when we arrived. I needn’t have worried about having to wait, however. The gate was open, and the sails of the windmill were already turning. Tamsin dropped me off and drove away quickly, as if she thought I might change my mind. No chance, I thought, heading towards the automatic doors.

To my surprise three people were already standing there, like they had been expecting me. There was Mr Van Heugens, the kindly-faced Janet and a tall, scary looking man I hadn’t seen before, standing in overalls. One of his eyes was milky white and it seemed that he had to stare extra hard with the other one. He also had very, very big hands, which looked like they could crush tin cans.

“No time to lose, Anna, no time to lose,” said Mr Van Heugens hurriedly. “Bernard, if you could take Anna to the preparation room, and I shall meet you there.” And with that he was gone, leaving just me, Janet and scary Bernard. If anyone thought I was going to go off with him, they had another thing coming.

“You don’t need to worry,” said Janet, reading my mind. Bernard may be big, but he’s ever so gentle, aren’t you Bernard?

“I am that, Mrs Shilling,” he said. “I am that.”

You know what I said about always being at the centre of trouble? The thought passed through my head as I weighed up the options, realised that I would be mad to go with these people, and almost immediately chose to get on with it.

“Come on then,” I said, taking the initiative. Bernard looked at me, then at Janet, pulling his face back like he had bitten on a peppercorn. Whoops, I thought. I didn’t quite know what I had done. You know that feeling when you think someone’s making a decision about you, but you don’t know what they’re deciding? Well, that’s exactly how I felt.

“Right,” said Bernard, a bit nervously. “I suppose we’d best get on.”

The big man moved very smoothly given that he did look, to all accounts, like a lumbering oaf. How unfair is that – but he did, to me, the first time I saw him! I followed him out of the garden centre, and round into the greenhouses. I suppose I should say I was surprised when we turned up at the little brick building, but a little bit of me was expecting it. You could call it intuition, or maybe it was just what I was hoping to happen. Either way, there we were.

Bernard pushed open the door and waved at me to enter, before shutting it behind me. Okay, I thought, this is where he gets the axe out and chops me into bits, if he’s going to. Well, he didn’t: instead, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a big key on a chain. In front of us was the blue door, and feeling how warm it was again, I gasped involuntarily. I don’t think he noticed: he had his back to me already, turning the key in the lock.

As the door swung inwards, Bernard reached past me and flicked on an old brass light switch. In fact, it all felt very old – the door, the stairs, the single, glowing bulb half way down, the musty, warm draft coming up from below.

“Does this go down to the boilers?” I asked.

“Something like that,” he said, smiling. How could it be something like boilers? I must have looked puzzled. I knew there was something I was missing, and I didn’t like that much. What if he was an axe murderer after all? I was pretty stuck. Perhaps I could run, like I did last time? I knew I shouldn’t worry – Tamsin had been through all the background checks and the authorities gave the place a ‘clean bill of health’, so she told me – but I couldn’t help feeling apprehensive.

“Down you go then,” he said after a moment.

Instinctively, I glanced back at the main door, which looked a long way away.

“Don’t worry,” said Bernard. “You’ll not get hurt, as long as you keep your hands to yourself.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn’t sound like the sort of thing an axe murderer would say. In my pocket, for a little comfort at least, I put my hand on my mobile.

“Not going to get much of a signal down here,” said Bernard. I have no idea how he knew. Common sense, I suppose.

“You need to go. Mr Van‘Eugens is waiting for you.”

In for a penny, I thought to myself as I took a deep breath and headed down the steps.

We descended into a big, wide cellar room, empty apart from a wooden bench in the middle. On the wall were hanging a number of big brown leather coats, thick leather gloves tied together in pairs, and a row of gas masks that looked like they’d been there since the end of the war. Not a torture chamber, at least. Bernard started putting on a coat and signalled at me to do the same.

At the other side of the room from where we came in was a big, black, metal door. Everything seemed to be about doors, a whole series of doors that was separating me from whatever it was I was going to find out. “Are we going through there?” I asked.

Bernard just nodded and passed me some gloves. He then chose a gas mask for me and handed it over, though as he didn’t put his on, I didn’t put mine on either. It was very warm down here, no doubt because of the boilers, which I was pretty sure must be in the next room. Suddenly I had another thought – was I going to be spending my Saturdays shovelling coal?

“Let’s go.” Bernard was smiling again.

I stuffed the gloves into the pockets and we went through the large doors. Sure enough, there were the boilers – enormous black cylinders, all in a row. The strange thing was, they were very quiet.

“I always thought boilers made a big noise,” I said to Bernard.

“These haven’t been switched on for thirty years,” he said, smiling more broadly.

Ooooh, I thought, he was really annoying me now!

I was getting very warm. The big coat didn’t help, but it wasn’t just that – things were definitely getting hotter. At the end of the row was another big metal door, the edge of which was glowing. Perhaps there would be more boilers, this time switched on.

“In you go then,” said Bernard.

I lifted the latch, and pulled the door open.

---+++---

The heat in the room was astonishing. Almost immediately I could barely breathe, and my eyes were stinging like I’d stuck my head in a bucket of swimming pool chlorine. I would have fallen over if Bernard hadn’t grabbed my arm and steadied me.

“Think you should put your gas mask on,” he said, in a muffled voice. I looked round as best I could and, through the blurry brightness, could just about make out that he had his on already. I lifted my mask to my face and struggled with the straps before Bernard came to the rescue. Even once it was on, I still couldn’t see – but at least I could breathe.

Someone, whose outline looked vaguely like Mr Van Heugens’, was looming in front of me.

“Ah, there you are,” said the Mr Van Heugens shape. I think it was smiling, but I could barely make out his head, never mind his face. “Do sit yourself down. We have a lot to cover.”

Bernard led me to a bench, where I sat down gratefully.

“Now,” said the shape – though it was starting to look a bit more like Mr Van Heugens now – “You may wonder what on earth this is about. All is not quite what it seems.”

I was sort of listening, but I was also sort of wondering whether I would ever get my sight back. I did try to push my hand under the mask to rub one eye, but that only made things worse. It wasn’t just the heat – there was a heavy smell in the air, really strong, like something rotten. But I couldn’t work out what it was.

“These chambers have been here for a very long time, longer than the greenhouses in fact. As have I, and indeed Bernard.”

I glanced around and found I could see Bernard more clearly. The gas mask wasn’t helping: I had to make sure I didn’t breathe through my nose otherwise the lenses just steamed up again. Mr Van Heugens was wearing a pair of goggles but had nothing over his mouth. Very odd, I thought.

It was only then that I looked past him and saw the rows and rows of tables beyond. This chamber, as he called it, stretched as far as I could see. Each tables was covered with trays, each holding a number of pots, each of which… I chuckled. “They look like giant eggs!”

Mr Van Heugens looked at me calmly. “Anna, as you can see as you look around you, it’s not just plants we’re growing.”

I stood up and walked over to the table nearest to me. They did look like giant eggs, in fact, almost exactly like the sort of egg you’d get for Easter. Only these ones weren’t made of chocolate, they were sort of scaly and just a bit scabby.

“What are they?” I asked.

“I think you know the answer to that, don’t you, Anna?” said the old man, chuckling gently to himself.

I looked at him with my best you’re-not-going-to-fool-me-with-all-this-nonsense look, but he just looked back at me, eyebrows raised, as if he was still expecting an answer.

“Umm… eggs?” I said. “But what are they from?”

“Dragons.” said Mr Van Heugens.

Personally I blame the heat, which must have finally got to me. Whatever was the cause, I passed out.

---+++---

When I woke, I found myself lying on a sofa, surrounded by cushions. My eyes were still sore but I recognised the cluttered manager’s office from the week before. Slowly I shifted my feet and sat up, feeling strangely awake. I’d had enough of not knowing what was going on, that was for sure.

It took me a while to realise that Mr Van Heugens was in the room with me, but from where I was sitting, he was almost completely hidden by the desk. I coughed.

“Ah, there you are,” he said.

I took a deep breath, and with it I felt a whole new set of emotions start to rise up my throat. I was done with the confusion, that was for sure – but equally, I was done with resentment. Whatever I had seen down there had been very old, and it appeared, very important. This was no time to start complaining, but I did want some answers. My eyes narrowing, I looked straight at the garden centre manager, if that was indeed what he was.

“I realise this might all be a bit of a surprise to you, Anna, so please bear with me,” he said. “It’s not going to be what you want to hear but can’t tell you everything, not just yet. Perhaps I thought you were more ready than you are, and we can’t afford to take any more risks.”

I frowned, but kept my mouth shut.

“I do need to ask one favour of you. You must not tell anybody about what you have seen. Is that okay?”

“I suppose so,” I said.

“You have to be sure,” he said, a bit testily I thought.

“Yes, okay! Of course I won’t.”

“Good. Then we shall see you back here next Saturday then. There’s still plenty to do, plenty to do. Off you go.”

While I had a thousand questions to ask, I was pretty sure from his tone that I wasn’t going to get any joy out of him, not this week. I glanced at my watch and found five hours had passed, and I quickly worked out I had been asleep for most of them. Tamsin would be wondering what had happened to me and I didn’t want any more complications. So off I did go, and quickly.

Chapter 3 - in which Anna gets the hang of things

I’ve never had to keep a secret before. Sure, there have been secrets – but nothing ever on this scale. I thought back to what I thought I had seen in the underground chamber, the rows and rows of tables, and I knew I wasn’t completely deluding myself – I’m not that stupid. I had little doubt in my mind that the scaly, egg-like shapes on the tables were indeed eggs. The fact that they were unlike any eggs I had ever seen could only mean one thing: Mr Van Heugens was telling the truth.

Dragons, he had said! I felt a well of excitement build up inside me. It was like all of my best dreams put together. I gasped out loud as picture-book images of dragons tumbled over each other in my head.

I calmed down pretty quickly when I realised how little I still knew. “Plenty to do,” Mr Van Heugens had said, but I had no idea what he meant. For that matter, just how had he been able to sit in that room without a mask on at all? And why did Bernard always seem to know what I was about to say? Nothing made much sense at all.

---+++---

I spent most of the week keeping up appearances. While this wasn’t the hardest thing to do with Tamsin (“How was working at the garden centre?” “Oh, fine…” “Fine?” “Yeah, fine”), going to school on Monday was the weirdest experience I have ever had. I felt like I was watching the whole thing on TV. I went to lessons, spoke to my friends and all that, but none of it felt quit real. It didn’t help that all the while, a voice inside me was screaming, “You’ll never guess what! Dragons! Yes, DRAGONS!”

Not that anybody paid any more attention to me than they had the week before, of course. A couple of the teachers looked at me strangely, as I actually showed an interest in what they were saying, but that was just my way of keeping quiet. I imagined this was what it was like to win the lottery. Though I wouldn’t have changed this for all the money in the world.

By the time Saturday came round, I could barely contain myself. I hadn’t slept too well several nights running, but I didn’t feel tired – an adrenalin-powered mixture of excitement and fear tingled through me as I got up, once again far earlier than I needed to, and headed off up the main road to the garden centre. By seven fifteen I had arrived.

There in front of me stood Mr Van Heugens, Janet Shilling and Bernard in his overalls. It felt like a repeat episode of some TV soap.

“So sorry for what happened last week,” started Mr Van Heugens. “Most unfortunate. Not to be repeated.”

“That’s fine,” I said, “I’m sure I can…”

“No, really,” he interrupted. “Mustn’t let it happen again.”

“I’m sure I’ll be…”

“I’ll leave you today with Ms Shilling to show you the ropes.”

“Okay, I mean, of course,” I said, a bit impatiently. This didn’t sound good.

“Fabulous,” he beamed. “Bernard, you come with me. We have some organising to do.”

With that the two men were gone, leaving just me and the nice-but-frumpy lady. Still, I thought, I’d better give her a chance. Who knew what the day held in store, after all?

“Janet, I…”

“Ms Shilling to you, my dear,” she said, not unkindly.

“Sorry, I mean, I was just wondering what we would be doing today.”

“Well, now,” said Ms Shilling. “This is a working garden centre, and we need to keep it that way. First I thought I would show you where everything is. We open at nine-thirty so that should give us just enough time. Then I’ll give you a couple of jobs so you can get the hang of things.”

Something in my head crumpled. This wasn’t what I had in mind at all!

“But what about…”

“About what, dear?”

“Nothing,” I said.

That was it. I had hit my head; I had dreamed the whole thing; and of course, there was no such thing as dragons. I felt dejected, disappointed and just a little silly. In fact, I was devastated. I wanted to run back home, throw myself back into bed and hide under my duvet. For ever.

But I couldn’t. I was trapped in the garden centre from hell, stuck with the dowdy Ms Shilling. There was nothing for it but to follow on meekly, as she led me through the main building. I desperately tried to pay attention as she explained the different ‘zones’, as she called them.

“The main area for indoor plants is here; here we have tools and equipment; over there are books and toys…” No, it was no good. I didn’t know how I ever thought I was going to be able to cope with this. Just as I was completely losing the will to live, Ms Shilling said, “Do you fancy a hot chocolate? One of the perks of the job – as much hot chocolate as you can drink. Let me show you the café.”

I nearly cried with relief.

Things were looking up, I thought to myself as sat at one of the blue Formica tables and sipped from my mug. Across the way, people were starting to filter in through the main doors. Ms Shilling had excused herself, muttering something about “paperwork” before vanishing down the corridor that led to the office and leaving me alone for a few peaceful minutes.

The peace didn’t last, however. I saw Ms Shilling re-emerge from the area behind the tills and walk over to where I was sat, an ominous-looking clipboard in the crook of her arm.

“Inventory,” she said as she sat down beside me. “On this paper are listed all of the outdoor plants we should have in stock. I need you to count how many we have of each. It’ll help you learn what everything is called.”

I clearly didn’t conceal my horror very well.

“Oh, it’s not so bad! We all have to start somewhere!” she chuckled, a tinkly sort of laugh. It wasn’t unpleasant, but you got the impression she didn’t do it very often. “Off you go, and if you need anything, I’ll be on the tills.”

There didn’t seem much choice, so I went and made a start. But honestly. The long names sounded more like a series of diseases, and the plants all looked much the same – scrawny little specimens that didn’t appear to be enjoying the cold much. I really didn’t think I could stand it for long. The only brief respite was the unexpected arrival of Tamsin. I was so relieved to see her I nearly gave her a hug.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

I pulled a face. “They’ve got me filling in forms,” I said.

“Well, it’s good to have a job!” countered Tamsin, in that upbeat, make-the-best-of-it manner of hers. And then, only half-jokingly: “I don’t suppose you can get me a discount now?”

I shrugged, noncommittally.

“Oh well, I suppose I’d better leave you to it then!” she said brightly, before trotting off and leaving me to my living hell of Latin names and twigs. Argh!

As the end of my shift approached, I’d had enough. I wasted no time in taking what I had done to Ms Shilling, and getting ready for a fast exit.

“Thanks for this,” she said, checking though what I had done. “Oh yes – Mr Van Heugens was wondering whether you might be able to come in for a couple of hours tomorrow?”

That was the last straw. I was so done with garden centres – I couldn’t cope with any more inventories or stupid Latin names or plants that had lost their labels. I was about to say exactly what I thought, when Ms Shilling leaned towards me and gave me that same conspiratorial look from when we had been in the office a week before.

“I think there may be a couple of other jobs he wants help with.”

With that look and those words, I deflated like a punctured ball. “Yes, of course,” I said, meekly.

Chapter 4 - in which Anna gets some answers

I suppose you're wondering how I came to be with Tamsin. When they said “new start” they really meant new start – new school, new town, new part of the country. And a new carer, of course.

I’ve never known my real parents, as I was adopted when I was very young. Things got difficult – nothing to do with me they said – so I had to go into a home for a while. Then I was looked after by Bob and Julie, who were nice enough. When I left the school, I also had to leave Bob and Julie, and I was brought to live with Tamsin.

Of course things were more complicated than that, but there’s not much else to say. I don’t think it affected me very much, in that I can’t see I’d have been that different if I’d grown up with my real parents. I think I’m pretty balanced.

Other people have told me I’m tough, which I suppose is true as well. I just try to get on with it, and not think about what’s happening too much. Truth is, people don’t interest me. I prefer to read books, watch films and lose myself in them. I’m told I have an over-active imagination. Wouldn’t you?

I actually quite liked Tamsin, though I didn’t want to let on – I thought it might break the spell. I wasn’t sure why, but this time I just didn’t want to get moved on again.

---+++---

The next day I was late. To hell with it, I thought. If I was going to be ticking boxes and counting stupid plants, then so be it. “Special jobs,” Ms Shilling had said, but that could mean clearing out the store room, or writing prices on labels. Who knew? Anyway, I wasn’t going to be the goody-goody-turn-up-early, whatever they were planning.

As I walked up, one thing was niggling me. The week before, Mr Van Heugens had said, “You must not tell anybody about what you have seen.” If it was all in my imagination, that would be a strange thing to say, wouldn’t it?

I was still turning this over in my head as I walked up to the entrance. The time was a quarter to nine, and yet automatic doors slid open, the three of them were standing in the same positions as they had been every weekend before. Mr Van Heugens was wearing the same shabby suit, Bernard was in his overalls, and Ms Shilling was looking as prim and proper as ever. I half expected to get told off, but nobody seemed particularly cross. If anything, Mr Van Heugens looked positively pleased with himself. Then I noticed what Bernard was carrying. Under his arm was a large leather coat, and in his hands were a pair of gloves and a gas mask.

I took a quick intake of breath, but before I could think about what it meant, Bernard walked over to me.

“Mr ‘Eugens wanted you to put these on before you went down this time,” he said.

“Come with me, Anna,” said Mr Van Heugens. “We’ll go the back way.”

I put on the coat and stuffed the gloves and mask in its large pockets as I followed Mr Van Heugens round behind the till. He headed down the corridor at quite a clip, so I was nearly trotting to keep up. Once he went into his office, he walked straight towards the opposite wall without breaking his stride. Just as I was convinced he would walk straight into the wood-panelling, a whole section swung inwards revealing a spiral staircase downwards.

“Come along, come along,” he said, before heading straight down the steps. I followed as quickly as I could.

It was only by the third or fourth step that I noticed just how smooth the staircase had been worn. Somehow I managed to keep my footing: I grabbed for the metal handrail and decided now was a good time to slow down. I’d rather be left behind than crack my head open, I thought, as I made my way more carefully.

At the bottom of the staircase I paused to get my breath back. I was in the middle of what looked like an ancient stone tunnel, stretching off into the gloom in both directions. On each side of the tunnel was a series of evenly spaced wooden doors, each looking much the same as the last. The walls looked patterned, but when I looked closely I realised they were covered in tiny writing. I was trying to decipher this when behind me, I heard a faint whisper and then a click: I turned to see that the door to the staircase had closed, and it now looked much like all the rest.

I could see no sign of Mr Van Heugens so I went left, thinking that was the direction I had heard him go. I had gone no more than a few paces before I thought to mark the door leading back to the staircase. Turning round however, I discovered that I had already lost track of where I came in. Not a good start, I thought. I bit my lip and headed on.

A couple of minutes later I realised I was completely lost. Not in the traditional sense, as I hadn’t gone very far – and I was still in the same tunnel – but in the sense that I didn’t know how I was going to get out. There was nothing for it but to try a few doors at random. No doubt this one’s just an empty room, I thought to myself as I lifted the latch on the nearest one.

Sure enough, I opened the door to an empty room. It was small, square and low-ceilinged, just as I imagined.

I bet there’s nothing in this one, I said as I pushed open the door of the room opposite.

I was absolutely right – there was nothing. The doorway swung open onto a vast, empty space, into which I would have fallen had I not been holding the iron handle. Of course, I screamed! The heavy leather coat flapped in the empty space as I managed to get my other hand onto the handle. I hung there for a moment before managing to hook one of my heels, then the other, onto the door frame. Slowly and carefully, inch by inch, I worked myself back into the tunnel, closing the door behind me. I didn’t stop until I heard that familiar click.

What on earth just happened? I asked myself as I stood up, still shaking with fear. First an empty room, then a vast nothingness? I suppose, if I open the next one, I’d find a room full of marshmallows? Very carefully, I lifted the latch to another room. Sure enough, it was piled floor to ceiling with marshmallows in many colours – white, pink, green and yellow, purple and blue.

I shut the door again, blinking with surprise. Then I had an idea. Behind the next door would be a vast chamber full of dragons’ eggs, and Mr Van Heugens would already be there. I lifted the latch and walked in.

“Hurry up Anna, we haven’t got all day,” he said, looking up sharply. “You should put the mask on, we don’t want you falling over and knocking yourself out again.” I felt a bit annoyed that he hadn’t asked me how I found the room – but he was right, my eyes were already burning.

I pulled on the mask and waited for my vision to adjust. The goggles steamed up again, then gradually started to clear. In front of me were the rows upon rows of eggs, stretching into the darkness.

Mr Van Heugens’ look softened. “I would imagine you have some questions,” he said.

“Yeah, you could put it that way,” I nodded animatedly. I was about ask what was with the rooms, but then he started talking again.

“Well, Anna, now’s the moment for some answers. Do sit down,” he said. This had better be good, I thought to myself as I sat down on a bench.

The old man lifted an egg from the nearest table and held it in one hand, walking up and down like he was collecting his thoughts.

“Yes, yes,” he said. “We’ve been waiting a very long time, Anna, a very long time.” I had no idea what he meant, but I kept quiet as he continued pacing. “Do you know what this is?” he asked, abruptly.

“An egg?”

“Yes, it is an egg. A dragon’s egg, to be precise. We’ve been looking after these things since… well, for longer than you could possibly ever, ever imagine.”

“Try me,” I said, impatiently.

“If I was to say, ‘As long as there have been humans,’ would you believe me?”

To be honest, I thought to myself, no, I wouldn’t. But why not? So many other strange things had happened already, what difference would one more make?

Mr Van Heugens walked up and down a little more. Then he stopped and raised a finger, like he had worked something out.

“Let me tell you a story, but I do not know if it is true, for it was before even my time here,” he started. His eyes gleamed and he waved his hands animatedly. “Stories such as this have been handed down through the generations, across the millennia. Where was I? Ah, yes. At the very dawn of existence, this Earth was host to the widest variety of life forms – beasts of the land, the sea and the sky, and those that lived in the very heart of the earth. The creatures you know as dragons laid their eggs in subterranean caverns, where they spawned and spent most of their days. They all lived in harmony, mostly.

But there is more to the history of the Earth than this. Have you ever wondered why you are here, or indeed, why is anything here?”

I had to admit that I had, but mostly to make sense of what had happened in my own life. Not that I ever really worked anything out.

“So have I. To all intents and purposes, we shouldn’t be here; the Earth itself shouldn’t really exist. We owe our continued presence to a most unlikely sequence of infinitesimal probabilities. In all my years of study, the only conclusion I have ever managed to draw is that this planet, and all its creation serve a more complex purpose than we could ever perceive. There is more to life than what we see on this planet, or indeed, what you might call this dimension. Do you believe in magic, Anna?”

“Not really, no.”

“Nor do I. But what people refer to as magic is just one more way of trying to explain what we don’t understand. Do you follow?”

I didn’t follow. I wasn’t sure I understood much of what he said at all, but my experiences in the tunnel hadn’t made a great deal of sense either. I simply hoped that things might get a bit clearer at some point.

“But I digress. Where was I?” More walking up and down. “Ah, yes…” Walk, walk. “Ah, yes, yes! This is very, very important, so listen carefully.”

I was all ears.

“As I mentioned, our existence hangs on the most slender of filaments. There are some forces in the universe, it is said, that see Earth as an aberration, an error to be rectified. And every now and then, in galactic time you understand, attempts have been made to remove the aberration.

The last time the Earth’s survival was threatened came many, many millions of years ago. While the creatures of the land, sea and air rallied to defend themselves, there was little they could do against the onslaught. When all hope seemed lost the dragons came. Of these many perished, and with them, so did much of the life on our planet. But the planet prevailed.”

“Hang on,” I said. There were so many questions in my head, I couldn’t even begin to count them. “Has this got anything to do with dinosaurs?”

“Well done, Anna, you are quite right. The dinosaurs were wiped out in a single stroke, as were many other lesser beasts whose remains have never been found. Some, like the dragons, withdrew to lick their many wounds and rebuild their strength, which they have been doing ever since.”

“So where does all this fit in? What’s with the egg farm?” I know, I was being a bit flippant, but I was getting tired and I didn’t feel I was any closer to understanding what was going on. Mr Van Heugens just sighed.

“Here, take this,” he said, handing me the egg. “We have been protecting these for millennia – so please don’t drop it.” He paused, and I looked at the egg in more detail. It was furry and warm, like a hot water bottle in a cover. I cradled it in my lap, feeling the warmth through my jeans.

“At various times, some of my race have received visions. It hasn’t helped that the unfortunate recipients are invariably struck mad by what they see. However, as a source, their rantings have proved quite reliable. We have been watching the signs for some time now, and if they are to be believed, another such event is nearly upon us. While the dragons have regained some of their former strength, this time they are going to need some help. I do not fully understand what, or how, but I know we shall soon find out. For the sake of everything, we need to be as ready as we can.”

“But… where do I fit in?”

Mt Van Heugens paused, then took a deep breath.

“We’ve been waiting for you, Anna. The moment you arrived here last weekend, we recognised who you were and what skills you possessed,” he said. Madness, I thought. How could they have bee waiting if they weren’t expecting me? Still, I let him continue. I could hear by his voice there was more to it than that, but I didn’t know what.

“Bear with me, I can’t tell you everything yet,” he went on. “You will learn many such things in time. Given we have less time than we expected, I can assure you that you will not have to wait long.”

“One more thing. What was the business with the tunnel?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You know – how the rooms are whatever you want them to be?”

Mr Van Heugens looked briefly shocked, then he was back to his more usual, animated expression.

“I’m sure it was nothing,” he said, which struck me as the strangest thing he had said so far. Of all the things it was, “nothing” wasn’t one of them. “We must go,” he added abruptly. With that, he almost grabbed the egg from my lap, replaced it and ushered me through the door.

In almost no time at all, I found myself standing next to the windmill by the entrance, wondering what had happened. Mr Van Heugens had said I’d get some answers, but all I had in my head were more questions. I was sure about one thing – from this point on, my life was going to be very, very different.