Lying next to her, on the little table by the chair, lay the crumpled letter she’d just received from the SPS, the Social Police Services.
She’d screwed it up angrily and then flung it down amongst all the assorted detritus of teacups, magazines, half-eaten biscuits, and other bric-a-brac strewn there. Grannie Maddam was not well suited to orderly housework. She tapped her pipe on the over-filled ashtray and looked down upon the letter now with disgust.
“Well, there’s no needs fer a causin’ a kerfuffle for the child now, is there?” she muttered to herself. “Those SPs are full o’ their usual gobbledygook, sending their officious warnings, more like vicious yawnings, if yer asks me!” She scratched Jericho’s ear and took another big, relaxing draw on her pipe, then reached down and picked the letter up once more.
There, it clearly and callously stated, in the SPS’s usual bureaucratic monotone:
Dear Sir or Madam,
We have sent you repeated warnings regarding your legal standing, duties, and commitments in the proper upbringing of your Ward and Granddaughter, Miss Mary Maddam (age 13). The Social Police Service under the auspices of the Psychonomy, has noted that as yet, no heed has been paid to these warnings. So, we are herewith issuing this final, official warning letter to you.
You are hereby advised to adhere to the legal requirements as laid down by the Psychonomy of Inglande and the Greater Council for Under Lundun, regarding these aforesaid duties.
If your Ward continues to fail to attend her assigned school and regimen in the new term after the current summer break and/or fails to adhere to the correct dress codes of aforesaid institution, then your Legal Guardianship will be revoked and your Ward taken for placement in a facility for orphans and delinquents. Furthermore, you will be officially charged with all parenting violations that we now have on file.
An Officer of the Social Police Services will be attending your address on Monday the 10th August, at 10.30am, to officially inspect and ascertain your complete adherence and compliance. Please sign the enclosed copy of this letter in due acknowledgment of receipt of this warning.
We hope, forthwith, to find you fully complying with the Psychonomy’s official, ‘Parental Rules & Regulations.’ Your failure to do so will result in immediate action, as outlined above.
Yours Dutifully,
Miss. Abigail T. Watt. Esq. Parenting Psychonomist. SP Class 3. (Under Lundun)
“Load of argle-bargle,” she muttered again. But then frowned deeply. This was indeed a very worrying bit of argle-bargle. “Well, I’ll ’ave to speak to the girl ’bout this. We’ll ‘ave to be doin’ sumfin, but I’ll let ‘er ‘ave ‘er weekend free of worry fer now.”
Mary, meanwhile, was making her way through the woods, blissfully ignorant of such mundane but mendacious matters.
Today was Saturday, and this was Mary’s favourite time of the week, the weekend; when it was her and Gran and no one else; when her schooling and her chores had all been done, and she was free to roam wherever she wanted. But this Saturday, she had a particularly important job to do. She was off to find a good remedy to help cure her Gran’s arthritis. As Gran was getting older, her aching joints seemed to be getting worse every year. She wanted to help her Gran get better. She was, after all, all the family she now had left.
I’ll head down near the River Quaggy, sees if I can find some of that rare White-Willow Bark Grannie was telling me about the other day. Maybe I can get ‘old of some Angelica an’ Eyebright an’ even some Heartsease there as well, she thought hopefully, as she made her way ever deeper into, what she knew as, the Good Wood.
Mary walked happily and directly on towards the tree-lined banks of the River Quaggy, completely oblivious of Grannie Maddam’s worries, and heading for an adventure beyond her wildest dreams. She saw it was indeed a lovely day and the Good Wood felt friendly and familiar to her. This wasn’t at all surprising really, as she had spent nearly all her childhood playing in, exploring and discovering its many natural treasures.
Mary knew a lot about plants, and she was learning more all the time. She loved the wild woods; she loved nature and all the things it was made from; all of the amazing variety and wonder of the living things in it. Her favourite place in the whole Erf was the Good Wood, which luckily for her began just behind her colourful caravan home.
But as she made her way, on this lovely, late summer’s day, she tried to keep her mind on her mission and not be distracted by any other marvels of nature she might come across.
“I just wonder though,” she mused to herself, “I just wonder what it’s really like across the River Quaggy? I juss can’t believe all them horror stories they tell us at school about it.”
Mary made her way down the sloping trail she had used many times before, toward the winding river that bordered the south-eastern part of what was, in fact, a very large forest, known as the Great Forest of Lundun.
On the other side of the Quaggy stretched the dark and mysterious part of it which the locals in those parts called the ‘Bad Wood.’ And according to her sketchy geography lessons, this went as far as the old River Tymes. But what was on the North side of the River Tymes, was said to be even weirder and wickeder than anything on the Southern side.
“I bet if I dared crossin’ the Quaggy though, I could find some real rare an’ useful plants,” an’ I juss bet anything, I’d find some o’ that White-Willow Bark over there too.”
The Bad Wood was supposedly bad enough, but this morning, for reasons she couldn’t even begin to understand, she was feeling even more curious than usual about the many dark mysteries that it was rumoured to contain.
“Trouble is, that’s where the so-called ‘bad’ plants an’ animals are all supposed to live,” she sighed, as she trudged along. “An’ people just never go across the River Quaggy now, coz its considered way too dangerous; They says that people disappear if they goes off into them there Bad Woods for too long!”
Even Grannie Maddam had warned Mary to always keep to the paths of the Good Wood, and never to go across the River Quaggy. The Bad Wood had a very bad reputation indeed!
“Some nasty critters an’ even nastier plants,” was all her Gran would say on the matter.
But Mary had heard all the scare stories before; it was just common knowledge as you grew up, there were still some wild areas across the Planet Erf, and even in the more civilized country of Inglande, that Man had yet to fully conquer. The Great Forest of Lundun and its south-eastern part, known as the ‘Bad Wood,’ was but one of them.
Grannie Maddam was of ancient gypsy stock and had taught Mary a lot about all the different plants that grew in the Good Wood. Mary remembered when she was just a wee little girl how her Gran had always taken her out to the Good Wood and told her all about the plants and the animals there. Mary had loved learning and finding out where the different sorts of herbs and flowers grew. She was what her Grannie had called “a Nat’ral Herb’list.”
“But getting hold of some White-Willow Bark right now is my most important and pressing problem. This trip I’m determined to get some, no matter what,” she thought emphatically.
But as she sauntered through the green freshness of the wood, she began to daydream and think about her much-missed mum. She could hardly believe that two whole years had gone by since her mum had become very ill and had been taken away by the Psychonomists.