Timothy's Tower

“You're sure you'll be all right, just for the one night?” Timothy's mother asked.” I must see to Grandpa.”

“ Yes, Mum. Don't worry.”

Timothy was actually looking forward to sleeping at Chrissie's. She lived in the street with a garden that backed onto the Tower.

The Tower was exciting Timothy. His mother had been so protective that he rarely played with other boys and got most of his amusement from books.

The tall flint tower looked just like something out of a storybook. He didn't tell Chrissie but he hoped he would be able to sneak out of her house and explore it. He'd packed a small telescope and a torch.

It was dark when he changed out of his pyjamas and began his adventure.

Next to the fence was a shrubby lilac bush, easy to climb, and once he was up he could see over the wall. He balanced precariously on the top and then launched himself into a nearby tree, dropping into the wilderness that was the garden.

The nearer he got to the tower the more imposing it seemed. He worried that it might be locked, but it wasn't. He tugged at the door, stepped inside and pulled it closed behind him.

It was darker inside, but not so dark that he couldn't see the walls and the stairs leading upwards. It was lighter the higher he climbed, and he had to stifle a cough as he reached the first floor. He went over to the window and looked out. There was no-one about.

The room was almost bare. It just contained a table and a chair. If he went up to the roof, he could use his telescope to see over the surrounding houses.

The final flight of steps led to a trapdoor. He unbolted it and heaved it open. It landed with a crash and he held his breath, waiting to see if he'd been heard. Then he put his head through the hole and clambered up.

It was thrilling to be on the battlements, although the tower was never a fortification. His mother had called it the Folly.

On three sides he could see only roofs of the houses and the church spires in the distance but on the fourth side he could just make out the sea.

Back on the middle floor, Timothy sat in the chair, resting his arms on the table.

Suddenly he was woken by footsteps down below. He could see a moving light on the staircase wall. Was he in danger? He didn't have a weapon.

There was a rough cough from below and then something scraped across the floor. There was the sound of liquid being poured. Timothy tip-toed to the top of the steps to look down but was stopped by the grunting of someone making an effort. Then came the smell of smoke. Was the person below going to set fire to the place?

Timothy hurtled down the stairs shouting “Don't- I'm here, don't burn the place!”

The sight that greeted him made him freeze. Seated on the floor, with his boots by his side and a pipe in his mouth was someone who looked like a pirate. He had a full beard, a blue coat and a large tankard in his hand.

“ Well, Sonny Jim, where have you popped up from?”

Timothy gulped. “Upstairs” he muttered.

“ And what made you venture upstairs?”

“I was just exploring.”

“ Ahh – and you wish to become a cabin boy?”

“ I hadn't thought of it,” said Timothy, puzzled. “Do they still exist?”

The pirate laughed. “ Come to my ship and find out.”

“Now?””

“ Of course. What do they call you?”

“ I'm Tim.”

“ Well, Tim, Why are you in the tower?”

Timothy could not explain his situation. He just knew he was more of a dreamer than his schoolmates.

“ Don't you have any friends?” asked the pirate.

“ There is a girl in my class who is kind to me but I don't want to be called a sissy.”

“ Well, lad, how about we try the tunnel?”

“ A secret tunnel? The only one I've seen is at the station.”

But the pirate was packing a bag and pulling on his boots.

“ This way, Tim lad,” he said and led Tim to where, under the stairs, was another door. Suddenly they heard a rumble and a rattle. 'It's a train,' thought Timothy,'We're going under the railway line.' but the pirate seemed unaware of the noise.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel.

“ There's my ship” called out the pirate, but all Timothy could see was a window. In fact, he could no longer see the pirate. Instead, he could smell the sea and feel the wooden floor of a shelter under his feet. There was the sound of chattering outside.

How had he got here? Had he been dreaming? A group of his classmates was searching among the pebbles and down on the tideline and among the seaweed.

They were picking up discarded cans, crisp packets and bottles.

“ What's happening?” he asked the nearest boy.

“It's a beach clean. Didn't you hear our teacher say we were to come on Sunday?”

“ I'd forgotten,” said Timothy.

“Tim!” came a squeal of delight as Chrissie ran towards them.” Where have you been? My mum's going out of her mind with worry. We thought you must have gone back home. I'd better tell her you're safe or she'll go to the police.”

“ I'm sorry,” muttered Timothy. “ I met someone who said I could go on his ship, but he disappeared.”

“ You and your stories,” she giggled.” I'll call Mum.”

Timothy looked wistfully out to sea. Had he been dreaming, or had he really met a ghost and was that a three-masted sailing ship he could just make out on the horizon?

by Julie C Round