Violet never wanted to move to Perfect.
Who wants to live in a town where everyone has to wear glasses to stop them going blind? And who wants to be neat and tidy and perfectly behaved all the time?
Violet quickly discovers there’s something weird going on in the town – she keeps hearing voices, her mam is acting strange and her dad has disappeared.
When she meets Boy she realizes that her dad is not the only person to have vanished…and that the mysterious Watchers are guarding a perfectly creepy secret!
CONTENTS
ABOUT THIS BOOK
TITLE PAGE
DEDICATION PAGE
CHAPTER ONE: BOY
CHAPTER TWO: A SILENT PROTEST
CHAPTER THREE: THE SPECTACLE MAKERS’ EMPORIUM
CHAPTER FOUR: FIRST SONS OF PERFECT
CHAPTER FIVE: DREAMS OF GHOSTLY BOYS
CHAPTER SIX: SCHOOL RULES
CHAPTER SEVEN: IDDCS
CHAPTER EIGHT: A CHANGE OF HEART
CHAPTER NINE: IRIS ARCHER
CHAPTER TEN: AN URGENT MEETING
CHAPTER ELEVEN: INTRODUCTIONS
CHAPTER TWELVE: NO-MAN’S-LAND
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE WATCHERS
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: A NIGHT VISITOR
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: JARS OF COLOUR
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE WARNING
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: DEADLY COLD
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE GHOST ESTATE
CHAPTER NINETEEN: THE LOCKED ROOM
CHAPTER TWENTY: WICKHAM TERRACE
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: WILLIAM ARCHER
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: THE REIMAGINATOR
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: WELCOME TO ADEQUATE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: THE PERSUASION
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: TIME FOR TACTICS
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: THE TEA FACTORY
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: WILLIAM’S POTION
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: A POWERFUL FEAR
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: LITTLE HELPERS
CHAPTER THIRTY: RETURN TO THE ROOM OF IMAGINATIONS
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: THE REUNION
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: THE GIVEAWAY
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: LET THE BATTLE BEGIN
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: CHOICES
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: THE LAST STAND
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: OUR TOWN
AN AUTHOR CALLED HELENA
COPYRIGHT PAGE
To Mam, the original dreamer
He waited. Hidden by dusk and the garden bushes against the bark of an oak tree. Watching. The spot gave him full view of the house and gravel driveway.
Worrying about being seen felt weird.
Perfect had been alive with the news of Doctor Eugene Brown’s arrival for weeks. The doctor would help. Boy knew it, more than he’d ever known anything. He just had to get to the man before he changed.
As night closed in, George and Edward Archer strode by and mounted the stone steps to the house. The place lit up and Boy watched them move around inside.
Suddenly light darted across the grass by his feet and Boy pulled back further into the shadows. A silver car crunched along the driveway towards him and stopped. His heartbeat quickened. The engine purred to silence.
The large door of the house opened and the Archer twins stood silhouetted in the light from the hallway. As Boy watched, statue still, a shiver danced down his spine.
A man got out of the driver’s seat; a woman from the passenger’s side.
He hadn’t imagined the doctor would have company. The woman looked nervous, staring across the roof of the car at the man. He smiled awkwardly at her then walked towards the twins, greeting them with a handshake. The woman followed and the four of them disappeared inside.
Boy ventured a little out of the shadows, stopping short as the doctor called, “Violet. Come in from the car, pet, it’s chilly out there.”
The back door of the car opened a little, then quickly slammed shut as a breeze rustled the leaves above him.
Boy held his breath and pulled back into hiding. The car door swung open again, and this time a small, frightened girl dashed out across the gravel towards the house.
Boy couldn’t help laughing. She sped up, jumped the steps and rushed in through the front door, banging it shut behind her and plunging the yard back into darkness.
The car door hung open and Boy pushed it shut as he edged closer to the kitchen window. He just caught sight of the girl sliding into the room.
He sat down by the steps to wait.
Night rolled on. The Watchers would be patrolling soon and he couldn’t be caught outside the walls again. He’d come back in the morning, early, and speak to the doctor then.
He took one last look in the window. The girl sat between her mam and dad – a proper family. Something inside him stung as he thumbed the rub-worn note in his pocket.
Violet woke with a start as the car crunched to a stop over squashed gravel. It was dark. She pulled herself up from the warm leather seat and peered out the side window. The house was big, much bigger than their old one and looked like something from a magazine. The lights were on inside.
She gasped and ducked back down.
Two dark figures, one tall, one small, stood shadowed in the light from the open doorway. Violet’s father looked at her mother then unbuckled his seat belt and stepped out of the car.
“Ah, Mr and Mr Archer,” her father said, approaching the men, “we didn’t expect a welcoming committee.”
“Well of course, Dr Brown, we wanted to see you settled,” the taller one said, extending his hand.
“We’ve been preparing all day. The house is spick and span and we’ve the kettle on the boil,” the smaller man said, stepping in front of the larger one to grab her father’s hand. “Leave your stuff in the car and come in for a brew. I’m sure you must all be exhausted.”
“Of course, how kind,” her mother said, reaching the front door to greet both men, “we’d love a cuppa.”
The four entered the house leaving Violet to fume in her seat, seemingly forgotten.
“Violet. Come in from the car, pet, it’s chilly out there,” her father called from across the driveway.
He hadn’t forgotten her after all. That still didn’t mean he cared about her though. He only cared about this job. When he was offered it, her mother had said “it’s a job amongst jobs”. It was probably like winning an Oscar for opticians. Her dad’s exact words had been “I’d be stupid, utterly stupid to turn it down”.
Her dad was an optha…an opthalo…an opthalmologist, which meant he was an eye surgeon and cut up eyes all day. Violet thought that was disgusting, so whenever anybody asked, she said he was an optician. His work meant so much to him. Other people’s parents always seemed to talk about how much they hated their jobs, but not her dad. Violet was proud of him but that didn’t mean she was happy to pack up all her stuff and leave her friends just because of his new job. She thought he was selfish and had told him as much through her tears the night he’d announced they were moving.
She pushed open the heavy car door and poked her head out to look left and right.
The driveway was dark and surrounded by large trees. Huge twisted branches played on the wind, sweeping shadows across the gravel. Violet shivered as the leaves began to whisper. She jumped back and slammed the door, locking herself safely inside the car.
Her mam always said she had an overactive imagination. Violet wished she knew how to make it underactive as she looked out on the dark yard and imagined all the monsters that might lurk in the surrounding trees.
She’d have to make a run for it. She took a deep breath. On the count of three. “One, two, threeeee…”
She flung open the car door, jumped out and ran for the house. Without looking left or right, she bounded up the steps and leaped over the threshold.
Just as she slammed the front door, she thought she heard laughter echo through the trees. She slid down the wall onto the hall floor, trying to catch her breath. Surely it wasn’t laughter? Then the car door banged and she froze. Was there someone outside? Her heartbeat quickened.
“Violet, is that you, pet?” her mother called from a room down the hallway. “Come in and say hello to our guests.”
Violet shook the dark thoughts from her mind, putting all sounds down to the wind. There goes your imagination again, she scolded herself, getting up from the floor.
She pulled off her shoes and threw them down by the door. The hall was covered in shiny, cream tiles perfect for socks. She took a run and slid the whole way into the room straight ahead, coming to a stop against the kitchen table.
Four pairs of eyes stared at her, two in embarrassment, two in shock.
“Violet!” her father snapped. “We have guests.”
Violet didn’t respond.
She’d decided the night before that she wasn’t going to talk to her dad for as long as it took him to change his mind and move them all back home again. She hated not talking to him because she loved him more than a billion pounds. But she didn’t want the same things as her dad. Her mam didn’t really either. Rose Brown was an accountant in a successful firm and had lots of friends in their old town – but she’d told Violet that sometimes you had to do what was right, even though it was hard and you might not want to do it, and that this move was right for their family.
Violet had thought about not talking to her mam either but as an only child that would mean she’d have no one to talk to at all, at least until she made some friends.
Quickly her dad covered the silence, introducing her to the strange men who sat round the kitchen table.
“Violet, this is Mr George Archer.”
“Just George is fine,” the tall man said, standing up to shake her hand.
She tried not to laugh. George Archer was so tall he couldn’t stand straight in the low-ceilinged room. His head bent to one side almost touching his shoulder. Everything about him was long, from his snake-like arms and wormy fingers to his pencil-thin nose that almost divided his face in two. His head was completely bald and creamy white like a freshly laid egg. Clearly uncomfortable, he quickly sat back down.
“And I’m Edward. Pleased to meet you, Violet,” the smaller of the Archers said, as he stood to shake her hand too.
Again she had to stop herself laughing. Violet wasn’t even the tallest in her class, but she was the same height as Mr Edward Archer. What he lacked in height he made up for in width. He was square, like a loaf of bread. His head was attached straight to his shoulders as if he had forgotten to grow a neck and his eyes stuck out a little as though they were trying to escape from his face.
The two brothers wore the same brown suits and shiny brown shoes. Edward Archer had a funny bowler hat just like the one on her dad’s favourite painting of a man with no face. Mr George Archer had the same hat but his rested on the table beside him – he probably wasn’t wearing it because it would fall off every time he stood up indoors.
Both of them had weird reddish eyes hidden behind rectangular gold-framed glasses. They looked a little scary until George took his specs off.
“Oh, it’s just the glasses. I thought there was something wrong with your eyes!” Violet smiled at the taller twin. “Why are the lenses red?”
George Archer pushed his glasses back onto his nose.
“They’re rose-tinted.” He scowled. “We—”
“Well, Violet dear –” Edward Archer quickly interrupted his brother – “it’s a funny story really, one we hope your father will help us solve. You see this little town of ours is perfect except for one curious fact: every single inhabitant here wears glasses. After only a short time in Perfect, Violet, you and your family will find that your eyesight starts to get dusty, then the edges of your vision will blur. Eventually you will all go completely blind. We’ve had numerous scientists come to investigate our situation. They say it’s because we’re so close to the sun.”
“Mam!” Violet quivered, trying not to cry. “I don’t want to go blind. I like being able to see. I knew we shouldn’t have moved here.”
“Oh no, I didn’t mean to frighten you, Violet dear,” Edward Archer said, kindly. “I assure you the effects are only temporary. They wear off as soon as you leave this town of ours – although I’m quite sure you won’t ever want to leave Perfect, nobody ever does.” The stout man smiled. “In fact, we have found a clever way around our little problem. These glasses work a treat. You’ll find everybody here is wearing them; they’re quite in vogue as they say.” He adjusted his own pair a little, resettling them on his nose.
“You’ll have to visit our spectacle shop, dear, so we can fit you with a pair,” George Archer smiled.
Violet grabbed her mother’s pinstriped skirt.
“I don’t want to wear glasses, Mam, there’s nothing wrong with my eyes.”
“That’s why your father’s here, dear.” Edward smiled. “Hopefully soon nobody will need to wear them.”
The Archers were her dad’s new bosses. “Eugene was headhunted” her mam had said proudly to friends one evening. Violet didn’t think that sounded like a good thing and tried hard not to imagine her dad without a head. He’d won an award for his research and had been on the cover of Eye Spy magazine. Her mam said the whole world was talking about it, or at least the part of the world that loved eyes too. She said the Archers had read the article in Eye Spy and searched him out for the job.
“It’s only for a short time, Violet,” her mother shushed, looking anxiously at her husband. “Your father will fix the problem.”
“Don’t worry, Violet,” her dad said, reaching to rub her head.
She moved round her mother’s back, away from his arms.
“She’s tired,” he sighed, his cheeks a little red. “It’s been a long day, I think it’s probably time for bed.”
“Oh no, not yet,” Edward Archer said quickly. “You must try our tea. It’s a Perfect tradition.”
“Oh yes.” George Archer smiled, grabbing a teapot and cups from the worktop. “It’s our custom, I assure you.”
A small package sat on the table. Edward opened it, scooped out two large spoons of tea leaves and tipped them into the pot. The package was navy with “Archers’ Tea” printed in ornate gold letters under a brownish picture of the twins in their bowler hats and white aprons.
“It’s you,” Violet said, looking at Edward.
“Eagle-eyed I see.” The smaller twin smiled, pouring boiling water into the pot. “Yes it’s our tea. We own the factory that produces it; it’s a big employer in the town. Something we’re very proud of.”
“I don’t like tea,” Violet said, looking at her mother.
“You’ll like this one,” George Archer replied sharply.
“This tea is a speciality here. It’s harvested daily and delivered fresh to every doorstep in Perfect each morning. It’s made from the Chameleon plant, which is unique to our town. It’s very good for your health and has the most unusual properties. You’ll see what I mean. Most people here drink at least a cup a day. It’s a tea-mad town.” Edward smiled.
Violet didn’t like tea and she wasn’t sure about the Archers; there was something odd about them.
Eugene and Rose looked at each other as they sat down at the table; Violet sat between them. George Archer stared at her from his place opposite, as his brother poured the tea.
“Now imagine the nicest taste you can think of then take a sip,” Edward said, raising his mug.
Violet did as she was told. She imagined her father’s favourite drink, which was hers too – ice-cream sundae. Big chunks of cold vanilla ice cream dunked in fizzy orange. She pictured clouds of froth bubbling over the rim of a glass and could almost taste the burst of flavour. Her mouth watered as she raised the mug of tea. A waft of vanilla tingled her nose. She took a sip, careful not to burn her lips. The tea fizzed as she tasted orange and vanilla heaven. This couldn’t be tea. She opened her eyes to check no one had swapped the cups, but sure enough, a dull milky brown liquid smiled back at her. She glanced either side at her mam and dad; their eyes were still shut and silly smiles played on their lips.
“I think I’ll have another cup,” her father said, a little later.
“We thought you might,” the Archers replied in unison.
The Browns finished one pot and then had another as Edward told them all about their new home.
Edward was the chatty one and Violet warmed to him a little more than George, who just seemed to snarl and stare. Though, truth be told, she wasn’t sure she liked either of them very much at all. Violet heard her mother say the same thing to her dad as they waved goodbye to the Archers from the steps of their new home a little later.
“They give me the creeps, Eugene,” Rose whispered through a staged smile.
That night, Violet climbed beneath her new sheets in her new room. The town sounded nice enough from what Edward had said and the tea did weigh heavily in its favour. There were some strange things about the place though. Edward had told them about a curfew. He said it was so everyone got a good night’s sleep in Perfect. “Sufficient sleep makes for a happy and healthy town.”
She definitely didn’t like the idea of a curfew or going blind. And anyway, how could she ever live in a place called Perfect? She’d have to be neat and tidy; she’d definitely have to brush her hair and probably even clean her shoes. It just wouldn’t work.
Violet made up her mind: she didn’t and wouldn’t like Perfect. Then she turned over and slipped into a perfect night’s sleep, oblivious to the troubles the morning would bring.
The sun warmed Violet’s face, pulling her gently from her dreams as it shone in her bedroom window. She’d slept like a log in her new bed.
She’d already stretched and sat up before she realized something was wrong. She could faintly see the edges of her room but everything straight in front of her was covered by a big black blob, as if ink had leaked all over her eyes. She rubbed them but nothing changed – she still couldn’t see.
Her heartbeat quickened. She stuck her foot out of the duvet and stretched for the floor.
“Ouch,” she yelled, smacking her toe off something solid as she walked blindly towards the door. “Mam!”
“Violet, what is it?” croaked her dad’s sleepy voice.
A sudden crash shook the house.
“Eugene!” her mother cried. “Eugene, what’s happened, are you okay?”
Violet gingerly felt her way out the door and down the hall to her parents’ room.
She stumbled inside. “Mam, I can’t see!”
“Neither can I, pet,” her father replied, his voice strangely cheerful, “but it’s nothing to panic about, we were warned.”
“They didn’t say it would happen this soon, Eugene!” her mother called.
“No need to panic, girls,” he repeated, his voice now a little high-pitched. “Violet, come over and get into bed with your mother. I’ll go downstairs and see if I can get hold of the Archers. They’ll know what to do.”
“But how, Eugene? You can’t see either,” her mother sobbed.
“Don’t worry about me,” he replied, walking into Violet as she crawled across their bedroom carpet.
“Dad, watch out!” Violet shouted, breaking her vow of silence only because it was an emergency.
“Oh, what a good idea, pet!” her dad said, easing himself stiffly onto his knees. “I’ll be back soon with help, trust me.”
Violet’s father crawled across the room and out into the hall.
Trust him? He didn’t deserve her trust. This was all his fault.
“Ow,” she cried, as she banged into the side of her parents’ bed.
“You okay, pet?” her mother called from above.
Violet rubbed her forehead, searching for blood.
“Yes, I think so,” she moaned, crawling into the empty space beside Rose.
The mattress was still warm and the sheets smelled like her dad; she wriggled over closer to her mam.
“Good morning!” a voice called from below her parents’ window. “Isn’t it a glorious day, family Brown?”
“Mam, there’s someone outside.”
“I know, pet, stay here,” her mother whispered, getting up from the bed.
Rose stumbled across the room, then the window squeaked and cold air tickled Violet’s toes where they stuck out from beneath the duvet.
“Hello?” Rose called.
“Oh, good morning, Mrs Brown. I just stopped by to see how your first day is going and to offer Eugene a lift to work.”
“Oh, it’s you, Mr Archer,” her mother gasped, “what a godsend you are. I’m afraid we have all woken up a little worse for wear. The effects of the sun came on sooner than expected.”
“Oh no, that’s a pity. Sometimes it happens that way. Not to worry. We’ll have you back to normal in no time.”
In a few minutes, Mr Edward Archer – it was definitely him because he was almost the same height as Violet – led Eugene, Rose and Violet carefully out of the house and into the back of his car.
“Now on to our spectacle makers’ emporium,” he called, as the engine whistled into life.
Violet had always thought a “spectacle” meant she was doing something wrong, as her mam often told her to stop making a spectacle of herself. Now she discovered it meant glasses. Emporium was more difficult but she had a feeling it was just a posh word for shop. The Archers seemed to like posh words.
As Mr Edward Archer slowly led her by the arm out of the car, Violet decided she never wanted to be blind again. She liked seeing. Already she missed colour and longed for blue or purple or pinky yellow, or anything that wasn’t black and fuzzy. Even brown would do.
“Mr Archer,” she said, a thought suddenly hitting her, “we haven’t been in the sun yet. So how could it affect our eyes?”
“It was streaming in your window all morning, dear,” Edward Archer replied.
“But—”
“Some people are very sensitive to it, Violet,” he interrupted, squeezing her upper arm so tight she thought he might sever it off.
She squirmed away a little just as her toe hit something solid.
“Ouch,” she squealed, lifting her foot off the ground.
“Oh, silly me, I forgot to mention the steps,” Edward Archer said, easing his grip.
Holding Edward’s elbow tight, she gingerly inched up five wide steps, then suddenly the black got blacker and she stumbled.
“Oh, don’t worry, dear, we’re just coming inside, that’s why the light has changed a little.” He laughed.
Violet smiled as politely as possible. She’d half decided already but his laughing made it fact: she hated Edward Archer almost as much as his brother.
“Now I’m just going to lower you into this chair,” he said, grabbing her hands and easing her backwards.
She winced as the cold leather touched her bare legs. She was still wearing her short pyjamas, the furry love-heart pair. She blushed, picturing the pink and red pattern. She’d told her mam she was getting too old for love-hearts but parents never listen.
“I’m just going to get your mother and father, dear,” Edward Archer called, his footsteps fading into the distance.
Silence filled the shop.
Sometimes Violet liked silence, but not now. Blindness made silence scary. She pushed her hands under her thighs and swung her legs, trying to remember a happy song.
Suddenly she heard faint footsteps enter the shop at speed, growing louder as they paced towards her. She looked blindly in the direction of the sound.
“I need to speak to your dad,” a voice whispered in her right ear.
“Who’s there?” she gasped.
Then heavier footsteps entered the shop. “I’ve caught you now, you mangy orphan,” a different voice panted.
A chase ensued. Someone raced behind Violet’s chair, hitting the wood and rocking it sideways, before both sets of footsteps ran back out the door and faded off into the distance.
“Who’s there?” she cried, gripping tightly to the arms of her chair.
“Violet, what are you doing here?”
This voice she recognized. It was George Archer.
“Somebody was in the shop; there was a chase!”
“Really?” he replied, sounding worried. “Did you see them? What did they look like?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I can’t see but I heard them. One of them whispered in my ear!”
“Ah.” George Archer laughed. “You’ve gone blind already? Losing one’s sight can play havoc with one’s hearing, you know.”
“No, there really was someone here, I didn’t imagine it, I swear,” Violet insisted.
“No, there wasn’t, Violet,” George snapped, stopping the conversation dead.
Other familiar voices entered the shop.
“Mam, is that you?” she said, leaning out of her chair.
Someone grabbed her shoulders, pulling her back.
“Lots of glass to be broken here, Violet dear,” George Archer snarled behind her.
“Violet, don’t worry – we’re here, pet,” her dad soothed from somewhere on her left.
She wanted to reply but couldn’t. Silence hung in the air for a moment, then Edward Archer spoke. “Now, you’re first, Violet,” he said; it sounded like he was standing directly in front of her. “I do hope these fit. If not we can adjust them. You have a rather large head for someone so young.”
Violet winced and closed her eyes as a pair of glasses were shoved roughly onto the bridge of her nose. Warm, sweaty hands cupped her face and adjusted the frames. The arms of the glasses felt a little chunky and uncomfortable behind her ears.
“Now,” Edward said, “tell us what you see.”
Violet held her breath. What if she was still blind? Slowly she opened her eyes and gasped.
Colour filled her vision. Rich brown from the shining dark wood that panelled the walls of the shop, deep red from the thick carpet at her feet and bright gold from the rows of spectacles that rested inside sparkling glass cabinets. It was the poshest place she’d ever seen.
“Is something wrong?” Edward asked.
“No,” Violet stammered, looking around. “It’s just, I’ve never been anywhere quite like this before. It’s amazing!”
A look of pride passed between the brothers.
“We try our best.” Edward smirked.
She sat in her chair and watched the twins search the cabinets for glasses to fit her parents.
All the frames were the same, rectangular, gold-rimmed and delicate, with rose-tinted lenses. There was something unusual about the part where the arms of the glasses hooked in behind the ears. It was flat, boxy and rectangular, in contrast to the delicate frame. Violet adjusted hers. They were pinching the sides of her head.
“Try to leave them alone, will you?” George snarled as he caught her fiddling with her specs.
She sat on her hands and watched the Archers hover around her parents for a few minutes. Then, sure the twins were distracted, she slipped off the chair and looked round.
Everything in the shop was shiny. She could see herself in the gold handles of the glass cabinet doors that filled the wall in front of her, from floor to ceiling. Edward Archer, trying to reach a pair of glasses in the top cabinet, was perched on top of a huge wooden ladder with his back to her.
There was a panelled wall to her left and Violet noticed a thin thread of light leaking through a gap in the dark wood. She walked to the wall and gently pushed on the polished panel. It opened inwards to a secret room.
She stepped inside and found herself in a library, its dark wooden shelves lined with books. The books were old and some were so worn it was impossible to read their spines. They were the type her dad loved, the sort that he said told a story not just on the pages but about the people who owned them before. Her mam said that meant they were second-hand and smelly.
Violet pulled some books out, first An Optical Illusion, then Blind Man’s Bluff and finally Seeing Things. All the books were the same, they were all about eyes. She was reaching for another when she heard a voice behind her.
“Don’t even think about it.”
She turned on the spot and froze. George Archer stood in front of her.
“Perfect kids must act perfectly!” he barked.
“There you are, George,” Edward Archer said, peeping his head round the panel door. “I see you found Violet. We were worried, dear.”
Violet raced past Edward back into the shop and the safety of her mother’s side. She studied the Archers from behind Rose’s chair as the brothers carried on fitting her parents’ glasses.
Oddly, Edward didn’t seem as small as before; his head wasn’t as large either and his eyes were hardly bulging. George too had changed. He didn’t look overly long, his eyes fitted his face and his arms and legs weren’t so spindly. He even stood tall without bending his head. They were small changes, but added together they meant the Archers didn’t look quite so ugly. You could even say they looked nice. It didn’t mean she was starting to like them though.
Her parents both wore gold-rimmed glasses now too. Rose looked lovely but she had always been beautiful, everybody said so and Violet hoped someday they’d say the same about her. Her dad looked handsome too – he even seemed to have more hair. They were the perfect couple, why hadn’t she noticed it before?
“Violet,” her mam said, as they left the shop, “those glasses really suit you, pet. You’re beautiful!”
Perfect was sending them all a little mushy but Violet still wasn’t falling for it. She didn’t like the town for making her blind and she definitely didn’t like the Archers, especially George who seemed pretty angry most of the time.
Standing on the steps outside the Archers’ Emporium she lifted up her specs and looked around. Everything was a fuzzy, dark mess. She dropped her glasses back over her eyes and her sight returned.
She tried it a few more times and shivered. Without their glasses the three of them would see nothing at all. The same had to be true for everyone else who lived in the town. As far as Violet was concerned, this wasn’t her idea of perfect.
The Archers had given Violet’s dad the day off to settle in. So the family decided to head into the town and have a look around.
The best way to see Perfect was on foot, Edward Archer had said as he dropped them home, so that’s what they decided to do. They changed out of their pyjamas and had a quick breakfast, then Violet led her parents down their driveway. Rose stopped at the bottom and gasped. “Isn’t it beautiful, Eugene!”
They were surrounded by mountains. Greenish hills were to the front and blue mountain peaks loomed high behind them with nothing else for miles around. Perfect sat in the middle of the ranges, as if a scoop had been taken out of them leaving just enough space for the town. On the journey yesterday Violet had had the distinct feeling they were driving into the middle of nowhere – now she knew she was right.
After a few short hours she was already used to wearing her glasses. In a strange way it was like they’d been stuck on her face forever. Everything was now crystal clear and, she had to admit, the view was kind of nice.
Their house was on the edge of town, at the bottom of a long, tree-lined avenue. As they walked Violet noticed the trees were exactly the same distance apart – she measured them by counting her steps.
After walking for a few minutes they turned left off the avenue and the town centre came into view. A black iron plaque high on the wall of a building read “Splendid Road”.
The road was narrow and lined with three-storey, red-brick buildings. It ran the whole way to the Archer brothers’ optician’s which stood out like a beacon ahead of them. As they walked towards it, Violet noticed that every door on the street was painted black and a window box of flowers decorated every sill.
They reached the optician’s shop and the steps in front reminded Violet of where she’d bashed her toe earlier that morning. Now she saw the stone building in all its glory, sparkling gold letters proudly spelling out “Archer Brothers’ Spectacle Makers’ Emporium” above their navy-painted door.
To the left of the emporium was a high stone wall, to the right was a street of stone buildings which seemed to be filled with shops. Another black iron plaque, high on a wall, read “Edward Street”.
“Isn’t it beautiful, Violet?” her father smiled. “I love these old walled towns, lots of history.”
Violet held her silence. History was her least favourite subject in school.
The family continued on to Edward Street.
They walked past the Hatchet Family Butcher’s three doors down from the optician’s, and received a big hello from a man in a white hat, with a red-striped apron and gold-rimmed specs. He greeted them by name, which was odd, because they definitely hadn’t been introduced.
“It’s a small town, Rose, something we’ll have to get used to,” her father said, when her mother questioned the friendliness of the locals.
“Oh, I think I’m used to it already, Eugene. This place feels like home, it’s what we’ve been searching for. I’m so glad you brought us here.”
What? Violet’s mother hadn’t liked the thought of moving. She’d said loads of times that she was only doing it for the good of the family. She’d changed her mind quickly.
“I think we’ve made the right choice, Eugene.” Her mother smiled, squeezing her husband’s hand.
Her dad beamed and kissed her mam’s forehead outside “Sweet Patisserie”, the baker’s shop. Violet cringed.
Things were strange in the town. Firstly everyone wore glasses, the same rectangular, gold-rimmed, rose-tinted style. The streets were perfectly clean and orderly. There wasn’t any rubbish floating about, not even a single sweet wrapper. There was no chewing gum stuck to the black benches that lined the footpaths and not the tiniest bit of graffiti on the walls. The people were all skinny and though they weren’t really alike there was something similar about each person they passed. It was like a gloss or shine – somehow everyone glowed.
“They’re healthy, Violet,” her father said when she brought it up. “The Archers told me this is rated the healthiest town in the world.”
It was definitely true. There wasn’t a chippers anywhere and she loved fish and chips on a Sunday evening – it was a Brown family tradition. She noted that down as another black mark against the town.
While her parents were busy chatting to another local who knew them by name, Violet quietly slipped away.
She passed by the Town Hall, an old building with four stone columns decorating its facade. Violet stopped and craned her neck back to get a better look at the huge clock tower that sat on the top of the hall’s slated roof. She imagined it was possible to see the whole town and the mountains from up there.
Next to the Town Hall was the Archers’ Tea Shop, painted in the same navy and gold colours as the tea packet which lay empty on their kitchen table from the night before.
A little further down Edward Street, Violet noticed a lane off to her left. High up on the wall was another black iron plaque which read “Archers’ Avenue”.
She turned off the main street onto the spotless cobbles. The right-hand side of the avenue was lined with two-storey stone houses while on the left was a tiny, almost hidden passageway which appeared to run down by the back of the shops that faced onto Edward Street.
The passageway, called Rag Lane, was dark, shadowed by the back of the shops on the left and a high stone wall on the right. It was uninviting too, unlike everything else she’d seen in Perfect so far.
Something about it drew her in.
A little nervous, she walked down the narrow passage, stopping at regular intervals to see if anyone was watching from the shadows. Her heart was racing, but she kept going. This was the only thing in the town that wasn’t so perfect. It felt as if she was starting to walk downhill when the lane sloped a little to the right and she came to a dead end.
She turned around to go back and noticed she was behind the Town Hall. The glass windows of the clock tower loomed high above her.
She returned to the start of the passageway and instead of turning right towards Edward Street, she kept the wall on her left and decided to explore further along Archers’ Avenue.
One of the stone houses on the right-hand side of the Avenue had another black iron plaque and she crossed the cobble dash to read it.
The Original Homeplace of Messrs George and Edward Archer, first sons of Perfect.
There was something else scratched in above the lettering. It was very faint but she could just make out the words “and William” roughly scrawled into the sign.
It must be the same Archers, but she hadn’t heard of William.
She peered through the window beside her, curious to get a look at where the Archers were born. As her nose brushed the glass a face zoomed forward from the darkness inside.
An old woman stared out at her. Her skin hung so close to her skull that her blue eyes seemed to jump from her face. Her white hair wasn’t exactly messy but it wasn’t tidy either, like she hated brushing hers too. Her grimace was gapped with missing teeth and there was something else about her, something Violet couldn’t put her finger on.
Shocked, Violet turned and raced back up towards Edward Street. In her haste, she tripped over a loose shoelace, knocking off her glasses. As she fell onto her knees to search the cobblestones, laughter echoed round her. It was the same haunting laughter she’d heard in the driveway the night before.
Finding the frames she frantically shoved them onto her nose and sprinted back onto the main street. She spotted her parents outside the Archers’ Tea Shop.
“Oh, there you are, Violet,” her mother smiled, “will we have a pot?”
Violet nodded, catching her breath.
Her mother pushed open the door of the tea shop and a bell chimed in the corner of the store.
The wall behind the counter was lined with wooden shelves all filled with navy and gold packets of tea that bore the Archers’ portrait. Navy and gold mugs, tea strainers and pots hung from hooks in the rafters and beautiful, upturned wooden tea chests served as tabletops around the shop.
“Take a seat by the window,” her mother said, as she headed for the counter.
Violet and her dad sat down at a table looking out on the pretty streetscape. To cover the awkward silence between them Violet pretended to be engrossed in people watching.
Rose came over with a tray in one hand and an ornate tea chest in the other.
“What’s that for, Mam?” Violet asked, eyeing the chest.
“It’s for the Tea Man, Violet. The woman behind the counter told me everyone has them in Perfect. You leave them at your door and the Tea Man drops your daily supply in it each morning. Isn’t it beautiful? The tea is delivered fresh everyday, you know, just as the Archers said. No wonder it’s so tasty. They’re so nice here and the prices aren’t too bad either, Eugene.” Rose smiled, patting her pocket.
Eugene hadn’t heard a word and continued to look out the window as Rose began to pour the tea.
“Mam,” Violet said.
“Yes, pet?”
“My glasses fell off in the avenue just down there,” she pointed in the general direction, “and I heard someone laughing at me. I heard the same voice last night when we arrived. I think someone’s following me.”
“Violet.” Rose smiled, wrapping her arm around her daughter.
“Yes, Mam?”
“You know your imagination runs away with itself, pet. You’re just like your father,” Rose said, nodding at Eugene, who was still daydreaming through the window.
“But, Mam, I really did hear someone. What if it was a ghost or a monster or something? I don’t think I like this town.”
Rose laughed. “You’re always jumping to the craziest conclusions. You’ll be fine, Violet. What could go wrong in a beautiful place like this?”
She kissed Violet’s forehead and rubbed a hand through her hair.
“Now have some tea, pet.”
Violet did as she was told, trying to shake the voice from her head. Why didn’t her mam ever listen to her? What if it really was a ghost or something? She stared out of the window at the picture-perfect people walking by and took a sip from her cup. Vanilla heaven floated over her tongue and she forgot all her worries. Maybe tea was the answer to everything.