Buch lesen: «William Calhoun and the Black Feather. Book I»

Aik Iskandaryan

Schriftart:

Illustrator Karina Alexandrovna Bezlepkina

Translator Irina Anatolievna Stoliarova

ISBN 978-5-4493-4108-2 (т. 1)

ISBN 978-5-4493-4109-9

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

William Calhoun and
the Black Feather

Chapter one
William named after two Williams

Number 7 in the Green Wiz Street belonged to an old woman, Mrs. Oliver, who was much over seventy. With each day, moving around was becoming more difficult for her, not mentioning walking near the house. She lived together with a boy called William Calhoun. Exactly seven years ago, as she was strolling around her house in the evening, about to head home to get ready for bed, Mrs. Oliver noticed a small bundle in the middle of the road opposite her house. The bundle looked like a piece of crumpled fabric thrown out of the passing car. However, since cars on the roads around here were rare, this find was quite a surprise. It was very quiet. Thinking that one of the locals must have thrown out some old clothes, Mrs. Oliver turned around and started walking towards her house. But she stopped when someone started crying. It was a baby cry, no doubts. She looked around and saw no one, but in a few seconds, she realized where the crying was coming from. Her walk somewhat unsure, she headed to the road and, as she came closer, took a good look at the bundle. It turned out to be a baby, wrapped in rags.

Mrs. Oliver picked the baby up. Sensing her care, he fell quiet. His big blue eyes stared at Mrs. Oliver and then the baby’s tiny mouth opened in a smile.

«Stop it,» Mrs. Oliver grumbled. «I’m not that old for you, young man, to make fun of my looks!»

No more doubts left, she took the baby home and brought him up as her own.

A teacher of literature in the past, Mrs. Oliver had retired long ago and now lived alone. Her husband passed away a year ago and they didn’t have children of their own. After that, the lonely widow lived waiting for the hour she would follow her husband. But she was destined to keep living for seven more years, which she had fully devoted to young William.

She came up with the name for the boy right away. She called the baby boy after two worthiest people, in her opinion, – William Shakespeare and William Blake. Besides that, there was a small white feather sticking out of the rags the boy was wrapped in. Pale yellow word was visible on the feather «Calhoun’. So Mrs. Oliver didn’t think on the last name much either.

«Some are born to sweet delight, some are born to endless night…» she quoted as she took the dirty rags off the boy. «What are you born to, mister?!»

From the very first day, she grew quite fond of the boy.

«You are likely destined to a very rare fate and a long life if you’ve ALREADY survived,» she told him each time.

It was probably a teacher habit to call her students «mister’ and «miss’ or, perhaps, she really thought the child to be special, but she always addressed the boy politely «mister Calhoun’!

Seven years have passed since that memorable event. Mrs. Oliver decided that the day the baby came into her life will be the boy’s birthday. So it was William’s birthday today. Mrs. Oliver had spent the whole day in the kitchen and made William’s favourite strawberry cake. As a gift, the boy got a set of warm clothes from her – a sweater, thick woollen socks and two shirts.

«You’ll need that for your trip when mister Hoggart comes, my dear,» Mrs. Oliver said.

Mrs. Oliver realized that she wasn’t getting any younger and it was time to find a family where the boy wouldn’t be a stranger. And it was time to send William to school as well. So, a month ago she sent a letter to distant relatives of her late husband where she asked to take William in, explaining that she didn’t have much time left and she didn’t want the boy to go to the orphanage.

The Hoggarts visited them once when Mr. Oliver was still alive. Mrs. Oliver understood back then that these relatives were very decent and intelligent people. They lived in London and were quite wealthy, so there were no doubts that William wouldn’t be a burden for them.

Two days ago, a letter came from London saying that the Hoggarts would be happy to have young William staying with them for as long as he wanted, and that this Sunday evening Edward Hoggart, the head of the family, would come for the boy.

William himself wasn’t taking the idea of moving away well. He had no desire to part with Mrs. Oliver, to change something in his life. And, as he often admitted to himself, it was pretty scary to just go and live in a family of people he didn’t know. Nobody was going to become his friend, because he didn’t know how to be friends with anyone. He happened to have no friends. There were very few people living in the Blackchester County, not mentioning the Green Wiz Street, with its five or six families. Mostly retired people. Until the very last moment, William was trying to convince Mrs. Oliver not to send him off to the Hoggarts.

«But grandma!» William had treated Mrs. Oliver as his grandmother all these years, though he knew the truth about his appearance in her house. «I like living with you! Why should I live with other people if I have you?!»

«Alas, my dear, you will have to go. I’m old and there’s little I can do. Life isn’t something eternal! There comes a time when we all go where we came from – to the other world! But you… your life is about to change. And you should greet those changes with a smile, not with an old woman who’s already standing with one foot in the other world.»

«Then I want to stand with one foot in the other world, too!» William didn’t want to give up.

«Don’t be silly, young man!» Mrs. Oliver said in her strict teacher-like voice. «How pitiful your life would be if it continued to consist only of an old woman and her house!» Then she added in a softer tone: «You’ll find friends, perhaps, even admirers…»

William listened to her silently.

«But, most importantly, a normal family!»

«But I don’t know anyone there…» he objected gloomily.

«Then use a chance to know those who aren’t your grandma! Besides, your parents, no matter who they are, should be proud of you, young man. Do your best! The Hoggarts will find a good school for you and if you study well, you’ll get admitted into a prestigious university!»

William gave it a thought, then said:

«But I know nothing about my parents, grandma. How do I know if they are proud of me or not?»

«That’s easy! Make the whole world proud of you! Then your parents will be among others as well!» said Mrs. Oliver passionately, she never stopped believing in what she was saying.

«Alright, whatever you say, grandma! I mean, I’ll try… They will be proud…» William said unsurely and added in a sad tone: «Even if they had left me.»

«Go and check your suitcase, young man,» said Mrs. Oliver as she tried to avoid this difficult topic. «Mister Hoggart will be here any minute.»

The boy went to his room obediently to check if he had packed everything for the road, while Mrs. Oliver kept standing there for another minute. And if William had been there with her, he wouldn’t have missed the tear that was running down the wrinkled cheek of the old lady.

Chapter two
«Well-Fed Wizard»

Seven years passed since the day Mr. Hoggart took the boy. William was going home at his customary slow pace. He grew up, and his golden hair had become even brighter than in his childhood. Unnatural dark blue of his eyes and smooth features gave him the air of mystery. On 1 July, he turned fourteen and he was going to finish school in a couple of years. Mr. and Mrs. Hoggart were rather kind to him from the first day he had started living with them. They gave him their last name, and over time, William almost completely got used to being a Hoggart. He seemed to have even forgotten that somebody had addressed him as «Mister Calhoun». All in all, William was rather satisfied with his life, but to his mind, it was rather boring. He had some friends but for some reason he wasn’t very close with any of them. William liked being alone, he liked pondering on different things.

So. On that September day, he was going back home from school and, as he was passing a café, he suddenly realized that he had never been in a place like that. First of all, he didn’t really have anyone to go there with, and, secondly, Mrs. Hoggart always remembered to put lunch into his school bag. But now he wanted to go in and see what was inside. Inside he saw people sitting at the tables and, when he spotted a barman, he walked up to him and was about to order a bottle of water when the other man spoke first.

«Bathroom’s to the right!» he snapped and started wiping a glass vigorously.

«What makes you think that I want to go there?» William said, surprised. «I simply want to drink some water.»

«Listen, lad!» boomed the irritated barman. «Either you’ll go to that bathroom and sit on the toilet, where you belong, or you’ll get the hell out of here and I continue serving demits without you bothering me!»

Surprised with his words, William thought that it was probably the rules: before sitting at the table, you need to wash your hands. He wanted to proceed to the room by following the directions on the wall, but the annoying barman intervened again.

«Is it your first time here or something?!» he bellowed. «To the right and straight on!»

In his heart, William was grateful to the patrons for talking so loudly that nobody heard this awful person yelling at him. He obediently walked in the direction the barman pointed him at, just to stop seeing his annoying face. As he walked, he couldn’t help wondering why he hadn’t simply turned around and left after this horrible treatment? But William’s train of thought was interrupted when he saw a strange picture on the bathroom door – a funny fat man sitting at a table in a night gown and a pointy hat.

For a while, William wondered what this meant, but couldn’t think of anything. He shrugged and walked right in. Upon entering, he started towards the sink to wash his hands, but then the door to one of the cubicles opened noisily.

A man in a porter uniform and with a strained smile on his face stared blankly and pompously invited William:

«This way, young sir! Have you got a reservation?»

The front of the man’s uniform had a large emblem depicting the same fat man in a nightgown and a strange hat. On that emblem, the man was sitting at the table and stroking his belly in a satisfied way.

William looked around to make sure that this weird man in pompous clothes was addressing him. But there was nobody else in the room. The porter was looming over the toilet as if he was standing by the entrance to a five-star hotel. He was wearing white gloves.

«Are you talking to me?» William asked as he collected himself.

The obligatory smile was gone from the porter’s face in an instant and his eyes that were staring blankly shifted over to William.

«Young sir! There’s nobody here besides us. I believe you have come to our establishment in order to quench your hunger and thirst. My duty is to see you to your table where you will wait for your order like all the rest!» The voice of this weird man was growing impatient. «And now would you kindly allow me to escort you?»

«Er… Well, let’s go!» William said, having decided that since he had never been in such establishments before he wasn’t aware of something. The second man today was looking at him like at an alien! No way! He had no desire to continue being a laughing matter! And William headed to the exit.

«This way, young sir!» the strange man said behind him.

William turned around and to his horror he saw that the porter’s finger was pointing directly at the toilet seat.

«No way! That’s it!» he thought. How had he even ended in a place like this!

William really wanted to leave this utterly weird establishment where everyone, at least to his mind, was treating him like an idiot. But something inexplicable didn’t allow him to do it. And, with a mental shrug, William decided that from now on he wasn’t going to be surprised with anything, no matter what happened. Even if he would be served his meal right here. He approached the strange man and he gestured at the toilet seat.

«Please, young sir!»

After a moment’s deliberation, William sat down and gave the porter a quizzical look. But the strange man just slammed the door shut and flushed the water.

William didn’t even have time to be surprised again when everything started spinning before his eyes, but in a moment everything was back to normal again. However, his stomach seemed to be still spinning and that unpleasant sensation made William throw up. The toilet came in quite handy in this situation. When William came round, he was going to apologize to the mysterious «porter», but the man was already offering him a white handkerchief, as if he had foreseen that something like that would happen to the boy. William thanked the porter and took the handkerchief.

The strange man opened the cubicle door before him and pointed towards the exit. William left the cubicle and as he turned around, he saw a really odd picture: the porter was calmly sitting on the toilet, buried in a fresh newspaper. Sensing William’s glance, he gave the boy a quizzical look and nodded towards the exit again.

«Enjoy your meal, young sir!» he said almost politely and continued reading.

William went to the sink, washed his face and left this really weird bathroom. Imagine his surprise when instead of the familiar corridor, he saw a completely different place. Now he was surrounded by a narrow pathway illuminated by candles, with voices coming from a distance. They were singing loudly. William made a few unsure steps along the pathway, without any idea where he was. Then he saw a door labelled «Common Hall». As he opened it, William made a few more steps and froze on the spot.

The boy saw a large hall illuminated by numerous candles in ornate holders, on the walls and hanging from the ceiling. Several semi-circle sofas by the table occupied one part of the room. The other part consisted of small compartment-like rooms, inside which William could make out smaller tables and people sitting around them. Nearly all of them were wearing robes, and he thought that there was some kind of a dress-up party in here. Some of the patrons were wearing cloaks and feathered hats. And the girls had feathers attached to their hair. Feathers! They were everywhere! And at the same time, all feathers were different: big, fluffy, of various colours and length.

William was looking at all that as he stood rooted to the spot. He felt completely out of place. And no wonder: he was wearing threadbare jeans, old shoes, and a sweater with a white collar sticking from underneath. William thought that he and his clothes really stood out from this background. Feeling at loss, he made a step back and at the same time someone he couldn’t see bumped into him, nearly knocking him off his feet. The clash ended with the sound of broken dishes.

«Hey, pal!» a female voice said. «Are you going to stand here all day?»

Barely managing to stay on his feet, William turned around and saw a young woman standing before him. Her clothes bore the same symbol like that on the porter’s.

Judging by her clothes, she was a waitress here.

«I’m sorry, ma’am!» William apologized and bent down to collect broken pieces from the floor. «How clumsy of me. I’ll clean it up at once!»

For a few moments, the waitress watched him with interest, then she asked:

«What are you doing?»

Her look told William that he was doing something improper.

«It’s my fault,» he said. «And I want to help you, ma’am!»

«Ma’am?» the waitress asked with a smile. «Where are you from, buddy?»

«I live here, in London,» William got up.

«And have you ever been in taverns before?»

«Er…» he blushed. «No… it’s my first time here.»

The waitress curiously watched him for another moment, then said:

«Alright, alright! I’ll clean it myself!»

Then she took a green feather out of her hair, waved it and said:

«Returno!»

His eyes wide, William watched the plate pieces soar up into the air from the floor and glue back together. Moreover, the spilled soup splashed into the plate and settled in there smoothly. And then a couple of spoons and a jug flew up, made a circle and settled on the tray in her hand.

After performing all that, the girl turned to him:

«Still here? Better sit over there,» she pointed at a table by the wall. «It’s vacant. Somebody will tend to you soon.»

After a bit, William came round, looked here and there and slowly walked to the table she pointed at. He was seriously considering the fact that it was just a dream. Then somebody all but slammed a thick book on the table in front of him.

This made William jump up. He looked at the book, which resembled a volume on the world history. He could make out green letters on the cover that read «Menu’.

«Good day, young sir!» somebody said.

William looked up and saw a tall thin blond man with large hands. One of his hands was tapping the table next to the menu. William thought that if the owner of this hand wished so, he could easily cover the menu with his palm.

«Look,» William finally broke the silence. «Where am I?»

«You are at the «Well-Fed Wiz…» the waiter’s voice broke off as if his mouth suddenly became dry.

He wasn’t even looking at the visitor, but he suddenly froze, then slowly turned his gaze on William sitting at the table.

«Sir,» the boy asked. «Are you alright?»

«I cannot believe my letters…» the waiter whispered slowly, his eyes round with surprise.

Even though the waiter said this phrase almost under his breath, William managed to hear it. Hear it, but not understand it.

«Sorry, what?»

But the waiter didn’t seem to be even listening.

«Yes! That voice… I cannot be mistaken…» he continued muttering, giving William an even more intent look.

«What are you talking about?» William said, confused.

«What is your name?» the waiter disregarded William’s words again.

«William! What does it have to do…»

«And your full name?» he interrupted.

«Hoggart! William Hoggart. Listen, what does my name have to do with it? Can you explain to me where I…»

«A liiiiie!» the waiter suddenly yelled, slamming his other hand into the table.

William jumped up in fear again.

«Green Monogram! This cannot be!» the waiter continued yelling desperately. «No, I simply refuse to believe it, sir!» His eyes bore into William, as if trying to find something in him.

«What can’t be?!» William asked angrily.

«But… your last name…» the waiter’s voice dropped to a whisper. «It is different!»

«Different?» William repeated.

He felt as if he was going to go mad if nobody explained to him what was happening. And WHAT WAS THIS PLACE he was at?!

«Is the name Calhoun familiar to you?» the waiter was persistent. «Calhoun? Perhaps you have heard the name Calhoun before?»

«Look, sir! Stop acting so odd! I don’t know the name Cal…» Now it was William’s turn to trail off.

The waiter leaned towards him so close that the boy felt the man’s uneven breath on his face.

«Why did you fall silent?! You have heard this name before, have you not?» he asked, peering into one William’s eye, then another one.

«Did you say – Calhoun?»

«Yes. That is what I said. Calhoun,» said the crazy waiter, patiently, but barely holding himself, as he kept peering into William’s eyes.

«I don’t know anyone with this name, sir…»

«Green Monogram!» the waiter shrieked as he straightened up. «Mailmages are never wrong! They… they simply cannot be!»

«Mail… who? Listen, sir, you didn’t even give me a chance to finish!» continued William, not restraining himself any longer. «I wanted to say that I don’t know anyone with the name Calhoun, but it seems familiar.»

In an instant, the waiter was in a dangerous proximity to his nose again. William even had to throw his head back a bit.

«Where?! Where have you heard it?» the waiter continued.

«Well… you may not believe me, but I have a feather with an inscription «Calhoun’…»

«A feather!» the waiter cried out madly. «By the Burnt Envelopes! I knew it! I just knew!»

William was staring at the waiter with deep concern, the same way as people look at a sick person.

«Are you sure you’re alright, sir?»

«Oh, I am more than alright!» the waiter said with satisfaction. But his smile was gone in an instant.

«Where do you live?»

«Why do you need to know where I live?» William decided that he wasn’t going to take part in that stupid act any longer. Enough, it was time to go home!

He got up and wanted to head to the exit, but the waiter said seriously:

«Knowing where you live is the most important thing I must know in my life, Master Calhoun! Please, answer me. I am begging you! On my knees!» Like promised, he fell to his knees with a thud and folded his large hands as if he was going to say a prayer.

«Blackfriars Lane» William took pity on this mad man.

«And House? Which House?!» the waiter asked in a trembling voice.

«Number 13.»

Upon hearing this, the waiter jumped up, tore the apron off him, threw it on the floor and stumped on the emblem embroidered on it. «Since this moment on I am not working in the «Well-Fed Wizard’ any longer!»

Giving William a loving look, he grabbed his shoulder with his large palm and said loudly:

«Number 13, Blackfriars Lane!»

William felt as if he was thrown into a kaleidoscope. Everything started spinning before his eyes, like vegetables in a blender in the kitchen of the kind Mrs. Hoggart. He felt a tight grip on his shoulder, but after a few moments, he was relieved to feel that the grip was lessening. The whirlwind was getting slower and after a moment, it stopped altogether.

He felt as if he was smashed into the floor, so sudden was his arrival. But to his surprise, he didn’t feel any pain. As he looked around, he noticed familiar items, furniture, bookshelves… It was hard to believe that it was really happening, but William was standing in the middle of his room, back in the Blackfriars Lane. And the crazy waiter was looming over him.