Writing for Fun
October 2018
The Experiment - Jan Norman
Jake sat beside the hospital bed holding his wife’s hand in a tight, warm grasp. He could not take his eyes off the monitor screen placed strategically on the other side of the bed so that he and Catherine could see the moving images. They were spellbound and tears were spilled by both in silent homage.
The screen showed his beautiful baby daughter, silently sucking her thumb, alive to all the senses within her watery world; wriggling now and again to avoid the pressure of the probe rolling over her mother’s stomach.
This had been an expense he did not regret. He had paid for this ultrasound for the sole purpose of finding out the sex of their unborn child. The added bonus was a few special ‘photos for their family album.
It was hard to believe that in only two more months she would be here with them in reality; a tiny soul placed in their joint custody, to love, cherish and guide to adulthood.
Now we all know that each and every parent wants their child to have a happy childhood full of good and memorable experiences but Jake was prepared to go the extra mile and ensure that his precious girl child definitely would have at least one huge pleasurable memory guaranteed to last a lifetime. At least that is what he hoped but he guessed it would be a bit of an experiment. To this end he had devised a plan, one that needed to be set up now.
Over the next few months he willingly threw himself into the task of finishing all the alterations necessary to make the house suitable for a growing family and redecorate to make it a beautiful and welcoming home.
Now all he had left to do was to set the scene for a magical memory that was to happen some years in the future.
In Clara’s bedroom – that was the name they had chosen for their daughter – he opened the tiny eave cupboard and climbed inside, tape measure in hand.
Three weeks later he stood back to admire his handiwork. Catherine had wholeheartedly embraced Jake’s vision and done her part to help. She placed the object she had crafted with so much love and care onto a ledge built by Jake in the cupboard. He then took off the cupboard door, removed the architrave, repaired the damage then covered the opening with thin wooden lathes, easy to break. Lastly he wall-papered the entire room. No one would ever know the cupboard had ever existed.
Jake scratched and scrawled on thin linen for nights on end until satisfied and then collected tiny bits and pieces from around the house. Old family souvenirs and bric-a-brac collected over years. A chance find at the local boot sale yielded a small battered chest the size of a sewing box into which he piled his work of art and past mementos. Stashing the chest into the attic he grinned. Now he could hopefully settle back and await his daughter’s arrival.
Six years later
‘I’m bored Daddy.’ On saying this Clara jumped onto her Daddy’s lap and entwined her arms around his neck and pleaded for him to play with her. The day was bleak; rain was incessantly drumming on the window panes and patio outside.
Unable to resist his daughter’s wiles he paused for thought then said, ‘Why don’t you and I explore the attic and see if we can find something to do?’
Immediately Clara brightened and, jumping off his lap, raced into the hall shouting, ‘Oh yes please Daddy. We might even find some treasure.’
Reaching the first landing he helped her climb the small but steep attic stairs. Opening the door he switched on the light. Clara darted past him and immediately began rummaging. Half an hour later having pulled out yet another battered cardboard box, full this time of old clothes, she saw something half hidden between a gap in the floorboards.
‘Oh look, Daddy I’ve found an old wooden chest. What’s in it?’
‘You know, Clara I don’t think I have ever seen this before so perhaps it could be treasure but don’t get your hopes up, you know in all the best tales you have to find a treasure map first. Pirates would hide their jewels and gold very carefully and make it hard for others to find.’
Clara, not to be deterred, wrenched open the lid and slowly sifted the contents of the box. With a squeal of pure delight and shear excitement she brandished a faded linen treasure map in front of his face.
‘Look, look, Daddy, I’ve found a real pirate’s treasure map.’
They poured over the map together and for the next hour or so they followed the arrows and cryptic messages all around the house until they found themselves in Clara’s bedroom. The last clue was to find an arrow marked on the ground. This would point to the treasure.
Clara was stumped. All she could see was carpet. No arrows.
Daddy suggested they pulled up the edge of the carpet to see if that would reveal arrows. Clara, with eyes like saucers at the thought of so much destruction whispered collaboratively, ‘But won’t Mummy be cross?’
‘Not if we find treasure, sweetheart.’
Once the carpet was rolled back they could see arrows pointing to a particular spot on the wall; the last clue on the map.
Clara was crestfallen.
‘Oh, Daddy, It’s pointing to the wall but there is nothing there.’
‘Don’t give up just yet; we need to break down the wall.’
Clara gasped, ‘Really Daddy, we can break down the wall? Wow this is so exciting. Mummy needs to be here.’ She rushed off screaming for Mummy to come and see her and Daddy knock the house down.
Daddy had fetched his tool box. With Mummy by his side Daddy solemnly handed Clara a big hammer and very blunt chisel.
‘Go for it, Clara.’
Nearly crying with excitement and with shaking hands she attacked the wall. Paper tore and wood cracked.
Behind her back Daddy pressed the remote control he had kept for so long and prayed.
Dropping all tools and the thin veneer of civilisation Clara clawed at the opening then fell back gasping with sheer delight.
There, before her eyes, was a pirate’s cave. In a dim red light she could make out the grey granite walls and seaweed strewn boulders scattered across the sandy floor. Pushing aside cobwebs she crawled inside, too excited to be afraid and utterly speechless. She made a beeline for a small treasure chest she could see overflowing with sparkling jewels, brooches and pearl necklaces on a ledge amongst the rocks.
Clutching the precious treasure chest to her bosom Clara, with eyes glistening, declared, ‘Oh, Mummy, Daddy, this is the best day of my whole life. I will never forget it.’
And she never did.