Extracts

Christmas Morning

Philip navigated his way downstairs, rubbing sleep from eyes that were oh so serious and sad. They’d been that way since his mother died a long, long year ago. This was supposed to be a new house and a new start, but Philip hadn’t left the old home behind, carrying it snail-like on his back, slow and heavy. His father did much the same, but he had filled a pillow case with gifts, trying to show his son that love and hope were both still words worth remembering.

Philip And His Father

In less than an hour, he and his father were ready and set off for the solicitors. Unsurprisingly, theirs was just about the only car on the road that Christmas morning.
“This is all rather unexpected, isn’t it Philip?” It was. “I don’t suppose you have any idea who’s left you this mysterious gift?” He had one idea, but he wouldn’t talk about it. “No,” Mr. King answered his own question. “Nor me. I wonder what it is? Pot of gold maybe? That would come in handy.”
“Maybe,” said Philip, “but I doubt it. I hope it’s something good though, to make things right again.”
“Something to make things right, Philip? No, we have to make things right ourselves, can’t rely on others. I try, you know that. I’d do anything for you.”
“I’d do anything for you too, dad.”
It was all Mr. King could do to keep steering the car in a straight line and not stop to blow his nose.

Unwrapping The Present

Beneath the wrapping paper was some protective corrugated card which they laid to one side.
“How wonderful!” said Mr. King.
He was admiring what had to be the final layer, it was so beautiful, swimming with colours that seemed to shift and shimmer and run into each other like liquid light. You just knew there was nothing beneath it but the mysterious present. When he touched it, Philip thought it felt more like fur than paper, rolling away easily and silently.
At last, there was nothing more to take away.

Instructions

This gift to you is given free,
On Christmas Day, as gifts must be.
Within its wondrous heart you’ll find
Ways to make what’s in your mind.

Follow with care the simple rules
To make your dreams with simple tools.
Let each piece in its place true fall,
For one piece out will ruin all.

The First Model

By chance, luck or something else, he put his finger on the page and as he moved it along, the instructions lit up, one at a time, even some that hadn’t been there before, like popup boxes on a computer screen. Philip looked at Sam who looked back and said, “Is this magic or what?”
“Magic’s not real,” said Philip. “It’s something else.”
“Well I don’t know what else it could be,” said Sam.
Whatever it was, they read the first instructions, opened the drawer they were instructed to open, which happened to be number 1, took out the bricks they were told to take and began laying the foundation.
Within half an hour the groundwork was complete and they moved on to the second level of instructions which told them how to build the lower front wall with the doorway and pillars, which drawers to use, which sections in the drawers, which rows and which number brick.

Dunces

“You’re dunces,” said Joanna. “Don’t you know anything? Don’t you go to school?”
“Of course we go to school,” said Philip.
“Then you must know Latin. The only thing we learn at school is Latin, and a bit of arithmetic.”
“Latin is the only thing we don’t learn,” said Philip. “Everything else, but not that.”
“What else is there?” asked Joanna.
“What else?” repeated Philip. “Everything! English, maths, geography, science, Victorians…”
“You’re dunces,” said Joanna again. “You should be locked up,” and she thought of turning away, but was rather fascinated by the two of them. “What’s … Vic … Vic…”
“Victoria, of course. She was a famous queen,” said Sam. “Now who’s the dunce?”

Taking It Apart

Dismantling was almost as painstaking as mantling, if that was the right word, which it wasn’t. He had to put each brick back into the correct segment in each drawer. This would have been impossible but for a feature of the kit whereby the orb glowed red whenever Philip tried to put a piece back in the wrong drawer.
“If you were really magic,” he moaned, “you’d be able to do this yourself.”
He didn’t hear a reply, but if he could have done, it might have been something like “If you weren’t so dim, you’d have got cracking days ago.”

Google Book Search

Click below to read more about The F.G.C. Kit