The train pulled up to the platform and our three heroes disembarked. Nics immediately put up her umbrella, and the two lads ran as fast as they could for the shelter of the terminal building because it was raining.
Nics’ umbrella was nearly knocked out of her hands as a small trout landed on it. She took a stronger grip on it as small shoal of minnows dropped out of the sky in front of her. Trying to to avoid stepping on them, she tripped and nearly fall over a large salmon instead.
A croak came from the ground ahead of her, only to be cut off rather abruptly as Chas' booted foot came down heavily and accidentally on its speaker.
"Chas!" yelled Nics. "You've just stood on a frog!"
In the shelter of the train station Chas looked glumly at the green and sticky mess on the bottom of his boot.
"It was an accident!" he said, looking a bit upset.
Nics joined them in the station, shaking her umbrella free of the small squid that had got stuck in its tip.
"What was that you were saying about your Grandmother and fish?" she asked Spud.
There was a taxi driver standing in the station with them, holding a card in front of his chest saying "Jenny".
"Don't get this sort of thing happening often around here," he said in a conversational tone.
"Does this happen often in other places then?" asked Nics, a bit out of curiosity, but mainly to be polite.
"Oh yeah," the taxi driver said. "All the time in places like South America and Brazil. Seen it on the Discovery Channel, I did."
"Ah, right," said Nics.
Thankfully the shower didn't last long. They got home with the minimum of fuss, though Chas was insisting on scraping his boot along the pavement to get rid of the frog guts.
"That really is disgusting," Nics told him.
"You'd prefer it if I ended up stomping it all into the carpet at home, would you babes?" he said with an evil grin.
Nics shuddered.
"Carry on," she said.
The golden Labrador, Sam, was laid down on their front doorstep waiting for them. Next to him was a small unmarked envelope, slightly damp from dog drool, and with the faint marks of teeth on it.
He wagged his tail happily when he saw them and sat up, picking up the letter in his mouth again. When Chas opened the front door and stood aside to let Sam in, in he went quite happily.
In the living room he presented the letter to Nics with all due formality.
"Thank you," she said, opening it. The paper used in the envelope was very thin and fine, the writing inside was almost spidery in script. The whole thing was very light indeed. And a very tiny portion of the bottom left hand corner was missing.
The letter read:
"I do hope that you will forgive the rather abrupt ending to our conversation earlier on today. This was due to circumstances completely beyond my control, but I do apologise for it. Young Jeremy is a very brilliant young clockmaker, but I do not know him well enough to judge his reaction to the object in your possession, and so chose to keep it secret.
I have given this letter to an old friend to deliver for me. I trust that it makes its way to you in all haste, as I fear time may not be the most abundant of commodities that we possess.
I cannot impress on you enough how precious the object you hold is, and how it must be kept safe. So much so that I am willing to risk your censure and disbelief and tell you that it is, in fact, a soul made into a physical form. Such things are rare beyond belief, as I'm sure you can imagine.
And lest you think that I am deluded, or merely mistaken, and that such a thing could not exist, then consider this. If I am wrong, I'm sure you'll agree that there are many others out there who are unstable enough to share the same delusion. And some of those, if they had wind of the existence of such a thing, might be driven to dangerous acts to get possession of it. And once they possessed it, might feel that it gives them the power to perform even more outrageous and dangerous acts, a situation that must be avoided.
And if I am right, well then, such a thing must be guarded as it is a treasure of inestimable value. So I beg you, keep it safe until you can find some worthy use for it. Do not let it fall into the hands of anyone who would use it for selfish or evil aims.
I appeal to your innate sense of justice and fair play, qualities, which I know you, possess, having remembered when and where I saw you last. And I wish you luck. If there is any help I can render in the coming times, just speak of it to me.
In haste, and with great hope and fear,
Sven Jorgensson
P.S. Please, keep the amulet as a gift from me. Consider it as a gift from the godfather who has been very lax in his duties up until now.
P.P.S The mice send their best wishes."
"What an odd letter," said Nics, handing it to Chas to read.
He agreed with her.
"What is it?" asked Spud.
"A letter from the silversmith we visited earlier today," said Nics absently. "Telling us how important the locket is, and why we have to keep it secret."
"Oh," said Spud, heading to the kitchen. "Anyone for a cuppa?"
Nics nodded absently, flumping down on the sofa. What on earth did he mean, godfather? She didn't have one, her parents were devout agnostics.
Chas had found his bit of coat hanger wire and was industriously scratching the back of his hand. A thought struck him.
"I know Sven told us that the maker's mark on the locket was a duck, but what were the other two hallmarks?"
"I dunno," said Nics, and she dug it out of the parcel to look.
"Well, besides the duck, there's the standard sterling silver assayers mark," she said, peering intently at it. "And the other's..."
"The other's a unicorn head, isn't it?" said Chas, his voice tight.
She looked up at him.
"You snuck a peek," she accused him.
"No, I swear, I didn't babes," he said, looking confused. "I just seemed to remember it somehow."
"Did someone say unicorns?" asked Spud coming back into the living room with two cups of coffee, a mug of herbal tea and a roll of biscuits all precariously balanced in full hands. "I remember Mum saying about how my grandmother was obsessed with them."
"Would your mum remember the locket, do you think?" asked Chas.
"Dunno," said Spud. "I'll ring her up now and ask her if you want."
He put the biscuits and mugs down on the coffee table, grabbed a digestive from the pack and shoved it in his mouth as he rapidly typed a number into the phone.
Nics offered Sam a biscuit. He wolfed it down happily and wagged his tail. Chas sat down on the sofa next to Nics, locket held in his non-plastered hand.
"Hello?" said Spud into the phone. "Sally? It's me. No, I'm not in trouble. Is Mum there? No, look I told you, nothing's gone wrong, everything's fine. Is Mum there? Oh, for heaven's sake, I'm fine, I'm not in trouble, and Mum's not there, is she? No? Alright, tell her I called, and I'll phone tomorrow."
And he put the phone down abruptly on the loud squawking that was coming from the receiver.
"My sister," he said apologetically. "Mum's not home."
"We kind of gathered that," said Nics dryly.
Chas was completely gone, lost in thought and staring at the locket. Abruptly he shook himself, put the locket down on the coffee table and announced that he was going to take a bath and then go to bed. He went up the stairs quickly, before either of the two in the living room could say anything.
Spud looked at Nics. "Is he feeling alright?" he asked.
"I don't know," said Nics, looking worried.
"It's just," said Spud, "I've never heard him talk about baths before."
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