The Discovery
Marshall was not a fan of Wednesday nights. This was not because there was nothing on television or the weather was bad but because it was pub night. Mum was working and dad would pack him into the car to go and ‘see Grandad’.
‘Going to see Grandad’ was a curious statement, which always made Marshall smile. Normally all he saw of Grandad was his back as he walked into the pub, dutifully followed by his dad. Marshall would have to go around the back of the pub and play with the other boys and girls. He didn’t really know any of theses children or go to school with them, but in those early years of the seventies everyone was a friend. The games here were fun and the sun always seemed to shine. There was never any anger or shouting and Marshall often used to think how it was a complete opposite to life within the pub. When the doors opened to the pub the children would all look up and listen to the shouting adults that were either enjoying a good joke or arguing over a game of dominoes.
Whilst his dad drank beer with his friends Marshall would play and drink his one solitary bottle of pop that tasted very little like the promised name on the label. If he was lucky he could look forward to a nice bag of crisps as well, but that would be it. Money wasn’t sparse within his family but at the same time they were not flush. If the question was a bottle of pop or another pint of beer, the pint of beer would win, much to Marshall’s disagreement. Luckily all the other children’s parents thought in exactly the same way and therefore all the children would run out of pop at the same time, which was normally two to three minutes into the game.
Around the pub was what everyone liked to call ‘The oval’. ‘The oval’ was a garden surrounded by a twenty-foot high-sloped bank. The overall radius of ‘the oval’ must have been two hundred feet and all along the ridge past a short path was a metal fence. The panels of the fence were padlocked together and held in place over it were thick black sheets which did a more than effective job of destroying any possible view beyond the border.
Marshall had asked his father many times what was behind the fence and he was content with the standard reply of a ‘pit that went wrong’, enough for the curious mind who was more interested in the game of tic. A bizarre game, which, to Marshall just seemed to involve one child being ‘on’ and proceed to chase the other children to ‘capture’ them. All of his friends loved being part of this ongoing and seemingly endless game and as quickly as it finished another game would start. The fence would often become part of the games they played, either as a den or a safe area in which you could catch your breath. No one ever tried to climb it or vandalise it, which in the days of graffiti, anarchy and punk rock seemed more than a little odd to Marshall.
The fence had been there for many years and looked like it would be there for many more. Its appearance had never changed in Marshall’s eyes. It had started to show some signs of aging around the edges but in general it served its purpose well, no more than a limit for the pub garden and the children’s imaginary games, all of which was fine in Marshalls mind.
Marshall was never the most adventurous of children but for as long as he could remember he had been very happy in his own little world. He was always careful around new people and to many this would come over as being shy, but Marshall wasn’t shy he was just thoughtful and would only speak if he had something sensible to say. What people didn’t realise was that all the time Marshall was quietly in his mind creating situations that he would have to solve, with his treasured toys, at home. This could be building new roads and buildings or dreaming up problems, with ever more extreme loads, for his toy lorries and cranes.
This particular sun drenched evening Marshall was sat alone at the top of the bank looking down at the old pub and although he was somewhat lonely, he was far from bored. It was the school summer holidays and he had spent a good part of the day engineering a move for his mum’s old black sewing machine. It could have just been carried across the room but for Marshall to get the most enjoyment from his day it would have to be moved by means of his many toys. The multitude of toys that Marshall had accrued over many birthdays and Christmas’s were practically all involved. Police cars lined the route as did toy soldiers, pen lids were lined across the carpet and made very effective road cones. The old sewing machine had been dragged onto the back of an old indestructible toy lorry and trailer, that could accommodate the weight, but there were problems with the turn half way across the room.
This, and many other problems that Marshall was perusing at great depth whilst lying alone on the bank, soaking in the early evening sun. The air was perfectly still and the weather was fine, for late July, the grass was badly mowed but green and dust had settled on the cinder path on top of the bank. In the immediate area he could hear the general noise from the pub and the occasional laughter. The road in front of the pub would occasionally offer a car, which would break the stillness with its revving petrol engine.
After a short time Marshall decided enough was enough and lay back on the grass that felt slightly damp but warm and comfortable. He lay motionless staring at the clouds for a while taking occasional sips from his drink that was labelled ‘cola’ but tasted more like warm, soapy bath water. Marshall looked back at the old fence wondering if one day it would come down and if not who looked after it. The fence was getting a little worse for wear in parts and he wondered when anyone came to maintain it. Perhaps they came in the day when the pub was closed or, as he liked to think, it was maintained at night when everyone was asleep because the government could not allow anyone to see the secrets behind.
He lay there for what seemed like an eternity staring into space and half thinking about the fence and half thinking about the Russian air force base right behind the fence which would burst into life at any moment staging a full on invasion of England, this made him laugh to himself as he thought at least he would have a good seat of which to view the impending war.
Marshall glanced down at the pub thinking it would be nice to get a fresh drink but there were no signs of life. He proceeded to lazily look around the oval noting its perfection; this fact alone made him stop for a moment. He had never noticed how perfectly oval it really was and the pub, which was a very odd looking building, was right in the middle. In fact it was perfectly in the middle he concluded as he continued to slowly survey the area. The triangular red roof of the pub, which reminded him of the dials on his Granddads cooker, pointed directly back at him like a huge arrow directing the way. The pub was triangular in shape as well. This was all new to his eyes as the only thing previously that building had ever been good for was pop and crisps and meeting his Wednesday night friends. ‘What an odd building in a lovely semi circle of earth’ he thought. Marshall imagined from the sky it would look like a huge cooker control, not the new ones but the old cookers with huge Bakelite controls. Marshalls imagination was now racing with all sorts of mad ideas. Perhaps it was a pointer for the Russian bombers to guide them home? or it pointed directly north for people in hot air balloons with no compasses? Marshall giggled to himself as he even thought of Aliens landing in the pub garden. Now he was getting restless and a little bit bored. His dad would be drinking and talking for hours to come and all of the cheap and nasty pop was gone, just leaving a sticky residue in the bottom of the bottle that would soon attract the local insects.
“Probably no crisps tonight either” Marshall said to himself.
With this hungry thought in mind Marshall started to meander about the oval occasionally looking up at the fence. After walking from one end of the garden to the other he made a swift turn and started to return to his resting place when he spotted a gap.
Marshall stood frozen to the spot.
He felt like he had broken it and was about to be reprimanded by his dad for doing yet another thing wrong. He stood perfectly still and listened to the breath entering and exiting his lungs as he tried to figure out what to do next. He could just ignore it and walk on pretending it wasn’t there, and continuing with his thoughts of sewing machine moving, or he could have a look. After all it was only a ‘pit that had gone wrong’, perhaps an embarrassment for the Coal Board, but not exactly a national secret! Then his mind began to wander as he thought perhaps it was something more sinister, like the soviets building an airbase!
In his heart he knew that there was only one way to find out, and that would be to climb through and have a look, but he was way too scared so he walked straight past the gap and pretended he hadn’t seen it.
Marshall walked all the way round to the other side of the garden and tried his best not to look at the fence.
“Marshall” came the loud cry in that deep Derbyshire accent that he knew so well
“ Pop!” came the second shout as Marshall finally caught his dad’s gaze and waved. His dad didn’t wait for Marshall to even move before he waved back and disappeared back into the pub. Marshall ran to the table grabbing the fizzy pink drink that tasted nothing like ‘bubble gum’ as promised on the label.
He took a great big gulp of pop and whilst his head was tipped back his eye was drawn back to the gap in the fence.
He really wished he had never seen it. For he knew that his brain would not forget it, he wasn’t that type of person, it would lodge in his sub-conscious and he knew it would nag at him whenever he relaxed.
In his mind he made an immediate and rash decision, there was only one thing for it, he would have to go through the gap and have a look. Marshall was not and had never been a brave child. Most films that were even half scary would be avoided like the plague and even a television programme that hinted at ghosts or anything remotely supernatural was to be avoided. Fear is a powerful emotion and behind the fence he may have to confront his greatest fear, it might just be very dark. He didn’t like to admit it but an extreme fear of the dark is no fun at all, often he would spend all day dreading ‘bedtime’.
‘Up the wooden hill!’, his dad would shout, and Marshall would go upstairs and lie in bed for the next two hours desperately trying to sleep.
‘Just shut your eyes and go to sleep’ he would be told by his loving mother, but how can you when doing that causes the one thing you are scared of?
The fence presented a massive dilemma for Marshall and his young brain. In one hand he wanted to go and look through the gap and on the other he didn’t want any part of it because it scared him to death. He then thought about waiting until the next visit when he could bring a case full of tools for exploring, but what could happen in the meantime? Apart from thinking about the fence night and day, some one else might find the gap and discover a secret Russian base! Foil the enemy and be a hero like the ones he read about in one of his many books and comics. Pride is also very strong emotion and Marshall knew that if someone else looked first he would forever feel like he had lost out on fame and fortune. At this moment a thought broke into his conscious that didn’t help at all. Every time he had been to the pub there had been loads of children playing everywhere, but, today there were none.
This thought sent his vivid imagination into overdrive.
Had a monster behind the fence eaten them all? Or had they found the gap and ran all the way home to get their own exploration kits? Would he let them beat him to the greatest discovery of the cold war? Could he let this happen? Would he get eaten?
The thoughts fired like exploding fireworks in his brain as he stood staring at the gap whilst finishing the last of the disgusting pop that seemed to last forever. He made the decision that he would have to look. It could not wait; he could not risk missing out on the fame of being known as ‘The Child explorer who stopped an invasion’. He could already envisage his face on the front of the papers and his mothers smile as she stood at Buckingham Palace collecting her medal for having such a brilliant son. She was so proud of his achievements at school already so he could only imagine her admiration for this discovery. Also the thankful drinkers who have been saved from certain death who would embellish him with drinks, crisps and sweets.
It was all too much and he finally made his decision. He would have to look right now.
Marshall slowly walked up the slope and kept his eyes firmly fixed on the gap; if anything jumped out he could get back to the pub quick. With this in mind he walked around the edge of the oval not quite on the cinder path, as he had convinced himself that the slope would give him a head start over anything that could spring out of the gap. He stood opposite the gap for a good five minutes before stepping forward looking at the fence. He noted one of the padlocks had rusted away and the fence had fallen forward slightly, allowing him access. He stepped forward and slowly squeezed through the gap.
What he saw next took his breath away.