STANZAS WRITTEN IN DEJECTION NEAR PERIVALE
WRITTEN BY DAVID NIRVED
Ace stood and stared at the house. It was just like all of the others in the terraced row, except for the charred brickwork and the newspapers in place of the window panes. The wind picked up around her, throwing orange and yellow leaves in a tiny whirlwind of colour around her. She wrapped her red duffel coat around her tightly, and looked wistfully at this empty house. The Doctor had dropped her off here in her hometown of Perivale, just for a quick check-in, to see how her friends were doing - but it seemed that he’d gone too far forward, and all of her friends had moved on. She didn’t know what year it was, or whether it matched her current age (she’d giving up trying to keep track of things like age on the TARDIS), but no one was around. And yet there was one house that stayed, a constant reminder of her childhood. 92 Mont Blanc Avenue. The house that had acted as her sanctuary through her life.
For a minute she was too scared to go further. Did she really want to go back to her past? What if she never wanted to leave again? But the wind picked up again, almost pushing her towards the house. She quickly crossed the quiet road and dug her hand into her pocket, pulling a small rusty key out. She had never got rid of it - too much sentimental value. And she always dreamed of coming back, one day. This was that day, she supposed. She walked up to the dusty black door, still covered in scorch marks, and put the key in the lock.
She took a deep breath. It was time to go home.
***
Inside it was dark. The walls were singed black, the burnt curtains drawn. The floor, the window sills, all the surfaces, were coated with a layer of thick dust. Ace stepped gingerly into what had been the front room, breathing in the musty, smoky air. Since the incident, nothing had remained in this room except an old armchair, a footstool, and a mini fridge, all of which had been found in a skip and brought in by Ace over the years. She fell into the armchair, releasing a cloud of dust from the fabric. It had been so long since she’d last been here. The room, with that old musty smell, and the grey darkness surrounding her, brought back so many memories. Crying herself to sleep in the armchair, a can of beer in her hand, after arguing with her mum. Bunking from school when she was supposed to be doing a maths test. And of course, the night of the fire-bomb incident had never really left her - well, how could it? She closed her eyes, and she could hear the sirens that had wailed outside her bedroom and alerted her to the fact that something had happened. She could hear the screams of Manisha’s family, the frantic shouts to help them out, the thundering roar of the flames that had been engulfing her house. The look on her friend’s face - fear had lit up her eyes while the fire lit up her home. She could hear the beep of the hospital monitors, desperately trying to save the lives of the Purkayasthas. Manisha. Her brother Azyan. Her parents.
And then she heard, “who are you?”
Ace opened her eyes with a gasp. In front of her, peering through the doorway, was a young girl, no older than fifteen. She wore blue, loose fitting clothing, with a hijab wrapped around her head. Her wide brown eyes looked at her in shock.
Ace was shaken, and then she was angry. This was her safe place, her haven, for her and her alone. How dare some randomer steal it away from her?
“What are you doing in my house?” she snapped at the girl, who recoiled.
“Your house? But...this house has been abandoned for years.”
“I know,” Ace replied coldly, “but it’s mine. How did you even get in?”
“There...there was a spare key under a plant pot.”
Ace cursed herself for putting that there all those years ago. “That wasn’t an invitation for you to just intrude. Why are you here?”
The girl, now shivering with fear, looked at her scuffed black shoes. “I like to be here. I can be alone here,” she mumbled quietly.
And suddenly, Ace stopped. This girl was doing exactly what Ace had done when she was younger. She felt a pang of sympathy for the young girl. She sighed and looked at her.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have snapped. You have a right to come here. It’s just...I get protective of this place. I used to come here too, a lot.” She beckoned for the girl to come and sit on the footstool next to her. “I’m Ace. What’s your name?”
The young girl tentatively walked over, and perched on the edge of the footstool. “My name’s Dhaya.”
Ace beamed. “That’s a lovely name. Dhaya.” She leaned in close. “So tell me, Dhaya. Why do you want to be alone?”
“I come here to get away,” Dhaya replied timidly. “When it all gets a bit much. I like the silence, the peace, the...sadness.”
Ace looked at her. “You like the sadness?”
Dhaya nodded. “It makes me feel at home. Like it’s okay to be sad here. When I’m at school, or at home, I can’t feel what I want to feel. I have to pretend to be happy. I come here, and I can just be me. I’m allowed to be sad.”
“I can understand that,” Ace smiled. “Sometimes it all gets a bit much, doesn’t it? Work, and school, and family. And it’s nice to have a place to just leave it all behind for a bit. So, why is it you feel sad?”
“Because, well, it’s so difficult. I don’t have any friends and my parents are always arguing and I just feel like an outsider. Like I have no one to talk to.”
“Why do you feel like an outsider?”
Dhaya gave Ace a sideways look. “Isn’t it obvious?” She pointed at her hijab. “Growing up a Muslim in Perivale ain’t easy, you know.”
“I know,” Ace said sympathetically.
Dhaya tilted her head. “How would you know?”
“Because my best friend was Muslim. She used to live here, you know. Manisha, her name was. She had the most wonderful smile.” Ace laughed fondly. “That’s why this place was burned down. People didn’t like it, you see - a Muslim family trying to integrate into our society. They thought they were more entitled to Perivale than she was. So they threw fire bombs in here. It worked too: Manisha and her family had to move out of town, for their own safety. So I know how difficult it is, believe me.”
Dhaya stared at Ace, her wide brown eyes confused by her. “So why were you friends with her? Why did you act differently to every other white person in Perivale?”
Ace thought for a second, recalling the friendship the two of them shared. “Because...well, because I knew what it was like to feel isolated. I was always a very shy kid, I didn’t really have any friends, and I saw this girl sitting by herself in the playground, and I thought, ‘no one else should have to be alone’. So I went over to her, and we started chatting. And that was it really.”
“Didn’t that make life hard for you?”
“Oh yeah,” Ace nodded, “really tough. The shy little girl and the Muslim girl. I had to grow up fast…”
Suddenly, her mind flashed back to her childhood - and the first time she ever visited this house.
The gang…
Ace hesitated. But she couldn’t keep the words inside any longer.
“There was this one time. I’d just been to see Manisha at her house - this house - for the first time. We played all afternoon, it was so much fun. And then something happened…”
And as she began to speak, she could see that winter afternoon clearly in her head. The cold breeze blew her back, as she travelled back in time.
***
It’s cold out. I’ve got my big parka on. I’m walking home from Manisha’s. There’s no one else around - well, it’s a Sunday afternoon, no one’s ever out on a Sunday in Perivale. Perivale’s always been a boring place, and doubly so on weekends.
There’s a shortcut to my house - through an alleyway between the rows of terraced houses. Normally I’d take the long route home, because I like the time spent alone, but it’s cold and I want to go to bed. So I make a snap decision, and head down the alleyway.
Big mistake.
It’s not like those alleyways you see in gangster movies - dark, enclosed, with tall brick walls with graffiti on them, and empty dustbins. It’s just a grass path between two fences, separating rows of terraced bungalows from each other. There’s probably a garage at the end of it for one of the houses, because there are tyre marks all the way along the grass. I never go to the end of the alleyway, I turn off to the left to get to my house. Or at least, I usually do - but right now, there is a group of boys in front of me. They’re about fifteen or sixteen - a couple of years older than me. They’ve got tracksuits on - you know, the cool ones that everyone is wearing these days. Colour coordinated jackets and tracksuit bottoms. They’d look like members of a boyband or something - except for the surly expressions on their faces. I keep my head down; these boys clearly aren’t people to mess with, and I don’t want to make a fuss. I carry on walking, but suddenly they’re all in my way, stopping me from passing. I look up. They’re all staring down at me with that menacing look on their faces.
“Oi”, one of them says to me, “ain’t you that girl who’s best friends with the paki?”
Maybe I should go back. I turn away and start to walk back down the alleyway, but one of them grabs my arm, spinning me back to face them.
“I said, ain’t you the friend of the paki?”
“Don’t call her that,” I mumble. I can barely get my words out, I’m shaking with fear.
“What?” the boy asks me.
I clear my throat and try again, louder this time. “You shouldn’t call her that. It’s not nice.”
“Aww, is it not nice?” another boy jeers. “Are we upsetting the poor little paki? Is she going to go home crying to her paki parents?”
The first boy nudges him. “Oi, careful Jeff. She’ll set her goat on you.”
“She’ll poison your curry!”
“With any luck they’ll ship her off to her arranged marriage any day soon.”
All these comments are met by mocking laughter. I can’t bear this. Manisha has never been horrible to anyone - why are they saying such mean things about a girl they’ve never even spoken to?
“Stop it,” I whisper in a futile attempt to sound intimidating. “She’s not like that. She doesn’t have a goat, and she just eats normal food.”
And now the boys are laughing at me. Laughing at pointing and making stupid faces.
Suddenly, the one who has grabbed my arm pushes me. I fall to the ground, but my free hand breaks my fall. A searing pain shoots up my arm, but I’m too scared even to yell. I feel a sharp pain in my ribcage, as one of the boys kicks me.
“What’s wrong, little girl?” he yells maliciously. “Ganesh ain’t here to save you now!”
Another kick, this time in my arm. I’m in so much pain, tears are streaming down my face, and yet I still can’t even speak. Inside my mind is screaming. Stop! Please! It hurts! But the words won’t leave my lips. Another on my shoulder. I shut my eyes and wince. The pain is building up and up but I feel so trapped. Another on my leg. The pain is so overwhelming. I feel like I am going to die at any moment. It’s just more kicks and more pain and more sneers and the pain is building up and up and up and it’s getting so much I think I’m going to burst.
And then I can finally hear a shout. But it’s not my voice.
“Oi!” It’s an old woman. “Are you yobs back there? I won’t have yobs hanging around at the back of my house!”
The kicking stops. The pain doesn’t though. Every part of me aches.
“Fuck, it’s Marjorie,” I hear someone mumble. And then, louder, “fuck off Marjorie!”
“What? Who was that?” the old woman calls out. “How dare you! The ruddy cheek on you! Get out of here before I call the police!”
Footsteps thunder around me, making the ground vibrate beneath me. I open my eyes, just in time to see the boys running away down the alleyway. I still can’t move though. I don’t know if that’s the pain or the fear, but I feel paralysed. I can see the shadow of a disgruntled Marjorie behind the fence separating the alleyway from her garden. She can’t see me - she doesn’t even know I’m here. I want to call out to her, ask her to help me. But I’m still frozen. So she just tuts to herself and walks off back to her house, muttering, “ruddy kids”.
And now I’m left here. All alone. No one’s coming for me. I am covered in bruises. Mud stains my clothes, and tears stain my face. I can’t move. A weak whisper manages to break free of my lips. “Help me.”
But no one helps me. I lay there for a while. It’s probably only a few minutes, but it feels like hours. Eventually, I find the strength to sit up and brush myself off. Everything hurts, but I bite back the pain and try to stand up. After a few attempts, I manage to get to my feet. I look around. It’s getting dark now, and everybody’s gone home.
Everybody except me.
***
Ace blinked. The grass path had disappeared, replaced by the old stained carpet of Manisha’s house. The cold winter chill was still there. She wiped a tear from her eye, and focused on Dhaya, the young girl who was staring up at her intently.
“I had to grow up quickly. After that, I had to protect myself. And my friend. So I stole a baseball bat from the school gym. Always carried it round with me. I wonder if it became less about the protection, and more about the status. I joined a gang of my own. We never beat anyone up, don’t worry. We used to just go and light campfires up on Horsenden Hill. But it brought me that little bit of status. No one would pick on me anymore, not now. Cos I had a cool jacket and a gang and a baseball bat. Mind you, a baseball bat ain’t much use against a firebomb.”
“That’s horrible,” Dhaya whispered. “They were horrible.”
“Yeah, it was.” Ace nodded absently. “But it made me who I am today. It made me toughen up. And I learnt you had to fight fire with fire. Literally. Made my own explosive, didn’t I? Nothing too dangerous, mind. I’m not like a terrorist or anything. But I thought, if they’re going to threaten my friends, me, I have to have something to defend myself.”
Dhaya nodded. “You were so...tough.”
“Nah,” Ace scoffed. “That was all just a disguise. Baseball bats, Nitro-9, big bomber jackets. That was me putting on this bravado, this tough exterior. I wasn’t weak little Dorothy, I was streetwise Ace that-you-don’t-mess-with. Because there’s this unwritten rule in society - you can’t show fear. You can’t show insecurities. Cos that makes you weak. And if you’re weak, then you’re a target. Which never made sense to me, because...well, everyone’s got fears, everyone’s got insecurities. But no one’s allowed to show it. The whole world is made up of actors, pretending to be someone else. Aspiring to be this impossible role model. But that’s never the way to do it. I know that now. You can’t just go around covering up your insecurities. You have to face them, challenge them. And then you can feel better about yourself, and it won’t be an act. It will be real, true. It will be you.”
She leaned in close to Dhaya, and Dhaya leaned forward too. “You know,” Ace continued, “I never told anyone about the attack that evening.”
“Didn’t your mum ask where you’d been?” Dhaya asked in confusion.
Ace tutted. “She was out. She was always out. Me and my mum, we weren’t that close to be honest. And my dad...well, I never knew him.”
“I’m sorry.” Dhaya took a deep breath, as though she was going to say something else, but instead she just bowed her head. Ace looked at this young girl. So timid, so afraid to speak. As if she were going to be punished for telling the truth.
“You said something about your parents arguing,” she said to the girl. “Is everything okay at home?”
Dhaya hesitated, lacing her fingers together nervously. She seemed reluctant to say anything. Ace placed a hand on her knee and smiled kindly at her. Her hazel eyes sparkled with a warmth that made Dhaya feel like she could trust her.
“Well…” Dhaya sighed. “I think my parents are going to split up. They argue a lot. Most of the time, it’s over nothing, but it just spirals and spirals, y’know? Like, they’ll be talking about who left the keys out, and suddenly there’s death threats flying and I can’t hear myself think over the sound of my parents hating each other.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ace soothed sympathetically. “But remember, it’s nothing to do with you. They both still love you, nothing will change that. You are still their daughter, Dhaya.”
Dhaya shook her head. “It doesn’t feel like it sometimes. They shout at each other and then they shout at me. We don’t do anything together anymore. And...I think my dad’s probably going to leave us. But I don’t want him to, because...I quite like him really.”
Ace pouted, trying to think of what to say. “Sometimes...these things have to happen. It might not be what you want, but if your dad really thinks that not being in the same house is going to bring peace and happiness back to the family, then maybe that’s a good thing. But you’ll still get to see him. I mean, it’s not like he’s dead.”
“But it will feel like that. If he disappears, everything will be different. It will feel like the old dad is gone.”
“Listen to me. When someone leaves you, it’s tough. I know it is. It feels like your life is crumbling away, and you start to question how long everything lasts. Whether anything can truly last forever. Sometimes you blame yourself, sometimes you blame the person for leaving, but you don’t have to blame anyone. It’s just the way of the universe. This chapter of your life, it’s coming to a close, and that’s sad. But the end of one chapter means the beginning of a new one. And sure, tomorrow will be different from today, just as today was different from yesterday. We’re always changing, aren’t we? I’m not the same person I was five years ago. All those changes, all those endings - they made me better. Stronger. Wiser. So don’t be scared of the end. The end just means a new beginning. That doesn’t mean it won’t be sad. But you can keep going. You can.”
Dhaya looked down at her trainers. She had nothing to say. She knew that Ace was right. She didn’t know why, but this woman seemed to make her feel so comfortable. And she spoke the truth. “I suppose,” she finally mumbled. “I don’t know, it just feels like it’s all my fault.”
“It is absolutely not your fault. Listen, have you heard of rose-tinted glasses?”
“Yeah...when you only see the good things in life,” Dhaya replied.
“Basically. Well, right now, you’re wearing the opposite. Which would be...uh, I don’t know. Blue-tinted glasses?”
Dhaya giggled at Ace’s struggle to find the word. Ace smiled cheekily back.
“Yeah, blue-tinted glasses. Let’s go with that. Instead of seeing things as they are, you’re seeing things through a lens. A lens that makes everything seem bad. When you look at yourself, you see a loner, a weirdo, the girl who’s causing her parents to split up. But that’s not the truth. Your perception is being twisted, distorted by the blue-tinted glasses. Like, it’s difficult to see the real picture when you’re stuck behind this lens, but in order to ditch that lens, you need to listen to the people who can see without the blue-tinted glasses. Like me. Now, I’ve barely known you half an hour, and already I can tell that you are a smart, kind, funny young girl. I know you can’t see that right now, because of the glasses, but trust me.”
Slowly, Dhaya nodded, although it was clear that she didn’t quite believe what Ace had to say.
Ace thought for a second. “You know, I know exactly what it’s like. I’ve been where you are, you know. It’s exactly how I used to be with my mum.”
“Your mum?”
“Yeah. She was...not a great mother to say the least. She’d abuse me, neglect me, leave me all alone. I hated her. I truly truly did. But at the same time, I felt like it was my fault. Like, I’d caused her to be the spiteful, ignorant woman she was. And so I felt guilty for hating her.”
She cast her mind back, to her childhood, her frosty relationship with her mother. The dark scorched walls of the front room transformed into another place, another room - one that was all too familiar for Ace...
***
I slurp my soup noisily. Anything to disrupt the deafening silence, really. It’s been about 20 hours since my mum went out to the bar last night. She’s still not back yet. I’ve had to make my own dinner. And breakfast, and lunch, and dinner again. But I’m used to that. I’ve come to accept that my mother is not what most people would call motherly.
I look around this small, dingy flat that I call home - except, it’s not really home, is it? Home is somewhere you feel safe. Somewhere you always want to come back to. Home is where the heart is. But there is no heart in this grotty little space. Just wine stains on the carpet and heavy oak furniture that makes this tiny room feel even smaller. I hate being here. It makes me feel trapped. Like all this furniture and the dark walls and the low ceilings are all pushing into me, compressing me into a tiny ball and one day I’m going to be compressed so much that I’ll just...disappear.
Suddenly, a heavy thump outside shocks me out of my thoughts. Someone - or something - is on the other side of the front door. What if it’s a burglar? Or a murderer? Or something else entirely? Panic rushes through my head, and I hurriedly slip away from the kitchen table. Running into my box of a bedroom, I reach for my baseball bat underneath my bed. I grip it tight, and slowly edge my way into the hallway. The front door swings open suddenly. A woman stands there, in jeans and a stained cardigan. Her hair is messy, her lipstick stained. Emotionless, with empty eyes that say so much about her. She is a shell of a woman, almost like a ghost.
Or as I know her better, mum.
“And what sort of time do you call this?” I ask expectantly, lowering the bat.
Mum rolls her eyes at me, poised for attack with my baseball bat raised above my head. “Hello to you too,” she rasps in reply. She’s clearly still drunk from the night before. “Put that thing down Dorothy. Too tired for those silly games.”
“Silly games?! I thought you were a burglar!”
She shrugs. “Only thing I’m stealing is the wine. There’s still some left in the fridge, right?” And she trudges past me into the kitchen.
I gape at her, and yell aggressively. “Oh, no, definitely not! You’ve already had way too much to drink. Where were you all this time?”
Grabbing the half-empty bottle of Boone’s Farm, she sat down at the table and took a swig straight from the bottle. “I went out, didn’t I? Went to that Byron’s bar down in Greenford. And then I met some guy, don’t remember his name. Percy? Peter? Something like that. And he invited me back to his.”
“Leaving your daughter all alone.”
“Did I or did I not leave you food? I see you made yourself soup, so clearly you were fine. I could have stayed there forever, left you by yourself with no money or food. You ungrateful little bitch.”
I snarled. “Great. Thanks. And you finally decided to come back for your ungrateful little bitch, did you?”
She looked me dead in the eyes. Her own eyes were hollow and wearied, and underlined by wrinkles that exposed her tiredness. She stared at me and sighed. “Looking at the welcome I’m getting now, maybe I made the wrong decision.”
Unable to take it anymore, I storm off to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I stare at this box room that I sleep in. It’s been painted a pale blue, but that’s the only colour in here. No posters, no ornaments. Nothing to signify that this is a teenage girl’s bedroom. Nothing that says, “I live here. This is mine.” Because it’s not really. I just stay here. Like a little sanctuary. When my mum gets too much, I escape in my blue box and get away from it all. But it doesn’t work, does it? I’m still trapped in this hellhole. I need to get out. Right out. Just get away from the shouting and the abuse and the pain of seeing my mother waste away her life and take mine down with her. So I grab my jacket - I’ve started sewing some cool badges on it - and my rucksack. I shove my baseball bat into the top of the bag and sling it over my back.
I creep down the hallway. Mum is now sitting in the living room, watching some sitcom. She’s slumped in her armchair taking gulps from her wine bottle. I stare at her. I can see the pain in her eyes, and it feels like it’s my fault. Half of me wants to go over to her and give her a massive hug, tell her that I’m sorry that her life has been so awful. Sorry that the stress and the heartbreak and the struggles have been so much, so overwhelming, that she drinks all day to try and escape from the cruel reality of life. Sorry that she’s a victim of her merciless past. But then I remember the horrible things she says to me when she’s drunk. That she wishes I’d never been born. That I was a mistake. That I made her like this.
I need to get out. So I stalk down the hallway to the front door, open it, and leave my flat.
I don’t know where I’m going yet. Whenever I was feeling sad, I used to go to see Manisha. Her house, which always used to burst with colour and smell of exotic spices, felt like home. But Manisha’s gone now. Six months have passed since she was burnt out of my life.
The sun is shining on the street out here. So why do I feel cold?
My feet subconsciously start to walk. I don’t have any control over it really, but I know where I’m heading. The burnt house with the boarded up windows and the scorch marks.
Home.
***
And here she was now. At home. She looked around. She’d got so swept up in her thoughts, in her vivid recollections, that she had forgotten that Dhaya was even there. The young girl was staring, and wiping a tear away from her eye.
“Um…” Ace took a deep breath. “So I went to Manisha’s house - this place. She’d given me a key all those months before, just in case. So I let myself in. Surrounded myself with the smoke and the burnt things. Manisha’s things. And it still smelled like her, if that makes sense? I came here, and I cried all night, but I didn’t feel alone. I felt like Manisha was watching over me, taking care of me.”
“I wish I had someone like that,” Dhaya murmured. “I don’t really have anyone. I sit by myself at school, I spend my evenings alone.”
Ace smiled. “You have me. And whenever you come to this house in the future, you just remember that I’ll be here, watching over you. Helping you.”
“I haven’t even known you an hour,” Dhaya giggled weakly.
“But you do know me, don’t you? I’ve told you all about my life, you’ve told me about yours. You know me so well, far better than my mum ever did.”
Dhaya smiled, but there was a look of sadness in her eyes. Ace looked at her. “What’s wrong, Dhaya?”
“It’s just…” Dhaya didn’t know how to get the words out. “Your life was so sad. With bullies, and bad parents, and everything. What sort of a world is it where people as nice as you go through so much pain? And my life, it’s...it just feel so so awful. The pain, the loneliness. I don’t know how my life could ever get any better.”
Ace stared at the little girl. This young teenager, who had lost all hope, all joy. And Ace knew that she had to do something.
“Right, listen. Do you mind if I tell you one more story? Because my life didn’t end there. It very well could have done. I could have seen that my life was crap, decided that it wasn’t worth it, ended it. But I didn’t. I kept going. And one day, something magical happened. It’s a long story, but one day, when I was 16 years old, I ended up on a spaceship in the future. My life, my childhood, my mum - I’d managed to escape from it all. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s genuinely true.”
Dhaya gaped at her in shock. “You were in space?”
“You believe me, don’t you? You know I’m telling you the truth. So I ended up on this spaceship, and I stayed there for a bit. And then my life suddenly took a turn for the better.”
“What happened?”
“I met a man. The most magical man. His name was the Doctor. Appropriate, I guess - because he made me better. He lived in a blue box that went anywhere in time and space. And he took me on his travels with him. We went everywhere and everywhen. Oh, the adventures we had. I could tell you so many stories. They were wonderful, and scary, and so so exciting. The Psychic Circus; Egypt in 1902; Aziola. But there’s one place I went to, which I want to tell you about. The Doctor took me there once, when I was younger. The planet Eudaimonia.”
And even as she spoke its name, Ace could smell the flowers there, feel the cool west wind on her skin, hear the crashing of the waves. She let her mind travel across the galaxies, as she remembered…
***
“Wow! This is beautiful!”
I look around at the idyllic landscape. They sky above me is bright purple, with other colours coalescing and dancing like the Northern Lights. I am standing on a hill, surrounded by abnormally shaped bushes, that grow in weird rows all along the hill. This plantation spreads for miles and miles - as far as I can see, the hills are broken up by these long rows of low green shrubs. Interspersed throughout the bushes are tall trees, with brightly coloured flowers: ocean blue and daffodil yellow and hot pink. In front of me stands a great tree, almost like an oak - except it is covered in bright orange flowers, with petals flying around in the wind. To my left, the hills slope away to a sandy beach in the distance, where I can see the waves crashing. And miles away on the horizon, a grand citadel stands, glittering like it’s made of diamonds, encased in a globe of vines. I stare and stare and this wonderful view, and I can think of only one word.
Paradise.
I feel something behind me, and turn. The Doctor has stepped out of the TARDIS. He stands there, with his silly outfit. His question-mark jumper, his funny hat, his black and red umbrella. That outlandish, unique style that signifies, to me, hope and wonder.
“Welcome to the planet Eudaimonia, Ace,” he proclaims grandly, gesturing to the picturesque scene before them. “A world renowned for its sense of tranquility and serenity. Often called the most beautiful planet in the Universe.”
“So why are we here, Professor?” I ask inquisitively.
“We need to make a visit over there,” he replies, pointing to the globe in the distance. “The Citadel of Jewels. The Queen wishes to speak with us.”
“The Queen?” I look at him in shock.
The Doctor grins cheekily. “That’s right, Ace. Are you ready?”
I smile back. “Definitely.”
He takes my hand in his, and gives me a wink. His eyes, that are so old and so youthful at the same time, sparkle. And with that, we walk down the hill together, towards the shimmering city.
***
The imperial palace hall is nothing like you’d expect. You can barely see the walls, as they are covered in a kaleidoscope of colourful flowers. Exotic vines droop down from the high ceiling, creating a kind of curtain. And behind it is an immense throne, made from a tree stump that has been hollowed out and filled with plants and flowers and food. Sitting on the throne is a small woman in a large blue frilly dress and messy hair in a tall bun. She smiles at me, and then at the Doctor, who removes his hat and bows.
“Your majesty,” he addresses her. Then, to me, “Queen Mab here isn’t like the monarchs on Earth. She’s more like, say, a Prime Minister. She’s been elected by the people of this world to speak on their behalf - she has a parliament of representatives of all the world’s different cultures, which live in harmony with one another.”
I am in awe of this regal woman, so I just curtsy politely. “Nice to meet you, your maj.”
She beams. “Greetings Doctor. And greetings, Ace McShane. I am glad to make your acquaintance.”
“So why have you invited us here, your majesty, if you don’t mind me asking?” the Doctor asks.
Queen Mab stands up, her blue dress billowing out behind her. “Doctor, Ace...I have called you here today to thank you for the work you have done. We have been watching your work for a long time. You fight against injustice, help those in need, save people from danger. And the universe is a better place for that. You have been vital parts of the maintenance of goodness in the universe, and we on Eudaimonia wish to express our gratitude.”
She gestures to her left and right, and two young women skip forward. They are both green, and are wearing short brown tunics. Both have their hair tied in a plait, with leaves in place of ribbons. They each carry a necklace with a shining blue amulet. One of the girl steps forward, and places the necklace around the Doctor’s neck.
“This amulet holds the souls of the Ancient Ones. They were powerful beings who could see the trajectory of the universe and everything that was to come. They could see your path in life, and they knew how important you would be.”
The other girl walks towards me and holds out the amulet. I lower my head and let her slip the necklace around my neck. I look back up and smile at her. “Thank you.”
“No,” she shakes her head and looks at me. Her eyes are a brilliant purple. “Thank you. For everything you have done. The world, the universe, is a better place because of you. And you inspire me to be a better person. To help others.”
The two women take a step back, and Queen Mab nods. “These are gifts for you, from the people of Eudaimonia. Everyone on this planet has given these amulets their personal blessing, so the jewels contain the souls of not only the Ancient Ones, but of those still here today. Because everyone wants to tell you thank you for showing us the light. Thank you for helping us out of the dark.”
I pick up the amulet and turn it in my hands. It glimmers, and I can suddenly hear something. Almost as if the jewel is beaming words directly into my head.
You are wonderful. The universe is grateful. You bring joy to so many.
And in that moment, it’s like all the questions I’ve ever had are answered. I feel like I’m at peace. Like my whole life has been leading to this point. All those times I’ve doubted myself, hated myself, wondered why I even existed...it all makes sense now. There is a reason I’m here. I was meant to do good things.
I am important.
I am good.
I am happy.
***
The palace was gone. The queen, the two nymphs, they had disappeared too. Instead was a little girl sitting on a footstool in front of Ace.
“So you see,” Ace said to Dhaya, “no matter how dark the road ahead looks, there is light at the end. No matter how awful the world seems, there is beauty to be found. And no matter how worthless you think you are, there is meaning in your life. You just have to find it. And to find it, you have to keep fighting. Keep striving for better. Keep going, even though it’s going to be difficult.”
Dhaya looked out of the window, watching the orange leaves cascading to the ground. “I’d love to go to space,” she whispered.
“Maybe you will one day,” Ace patted her knee. And as she watched this young girl gaze out at the world, filled with a yearning for more, Ace had an idea. She fished into the pocket of her duffle coat. “Actually, Dhaya, I’ve got something for you.”
Dhaya turned to face Ace, a look of curiosity on her face. Ace pulled a long necklace out of her red pocket. Hanging from it was a shimmering jewel. Dhaya’s eyes lit up with it.
“Is that...the amulet?”
“The Amulet of the Ancient Ones. I was going to keep it, but I reckon you deserve it.” Ace placed it around Dhaya’s neck. The amulet rested against her heart. “Now whenever you wear this, I want you to remember the souls of all the people in there, all those who care about you, the people who know that you matter. And I want you to remember me, too. Because I’m not going to be in this house all the time. But I will be with you, wherever you go. However low you’re feeling, however lonely, I will always be there for you. In your heart.”
She looked at her watch. “I think it’s time I was off,” she continued. “I’d love to stay forever, but I don’t want to worry the Doctor.” She smiled at Dhaya.
Dhaya smiled back. “I wish you could stay forever.”
“I know. But like I said, I’ll always be in here.” And Ace gestured to her heart. “Now, some last-minute advice. Listening carefully?”
Dhaya nodded.
“Don’t give up. The road ahead is not going to be easy, but you have a place in this universe. You may think you don’t, but trust me, you matter. So keep fighting - even if that’s something as little as getting out of bed when you don’t feel like it.
“You’re different, sure. But that doesn’t make you an outsider. It makes you unique, special. Don’t lose yourself, don’t feel like you have to fit in. Embrace your uniqueness, because that’s what makes you...you.”
“Don’t be afraid to talk about yourself. It feels wrong, like you should keep it to yourself. Like you’ll just bother people, waste their time. But it’s not a waste of time. There are people out there who care for you, and who want to help you. And bottling up your emotions, keeping it inside you, is not going to do you any good.
“Remember, it’s okay to be sad sometimes. But don’t feel like you have to be sad, like you are defined by sadness. It’s okay to be happy too. You can cry, you can laugh. You are allowed to feel what you feel. That’s good.”
And with that, Ace stood up, as did Dhaya. They looked at each other. And suddenly, Dhaya threw her arms around Ace, embracing her. “Thank you.”
Ace smiled, and wrapped her arms around Dhaya. “You know what, Dhaya? I think you’re going to be great.” She let go, and held her hands.
“No, scratch that. You’re going to be ace.”
Dhaya beamed. She looked down at the amulet around her neck. Touching it, she immediately felt something shift. Like there was someone else inside her head, talking directly to her.
Dhaya, you are loved.
Those few words resonated with her. She knew she was going through troubles. Being the only Muslim in a white community? Fighting parents? None of it mattered. She’d get through it all. Because she was loved. She mattered.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door slamming. She looked up, and noticed that Ace had gone. She ran to the window just in time to see a red duffle coat disappear from the street, taken by the west wind. That remarkable enigma, that mysterious figure who had dropped into her life and then disappeared without a trace. The person who had made her better. Like a doctor.
Dhaya looked down at the shining amulet. This is not the end, she thought to herself.
It is only the beginning.
For a minute she was too scared to go further. Did she really want to go back to her past? What if she never wanted to leave again? But the wind picked up again, almost pushing her towards the house. She quickly crossed the quiet road and dug her hand into her pocket, pulling a small rusty key out. She had never got rid of it - too much sentimental value. And she always dreamed of coming back, one day. This was that day, she supposed. She walked up to the dusty black door, still covered in scorch marks, and put the key in the lock.
She took a deep breath. It was time to go home.
***
Inside it was dark. The walls were singed black, the burnt curtains drawn. The floor, the window sills, all the surfaces, were coated with a layer of thick dust. Ace stepped gingerly into what had been the front room, breathing in the musty, smoky air. Since the incident, nothing had remained in this room except an old armchair, a footstool, and a mini fridge, all of which had been found in a skip and brought in by Ace over the years. She fell into the armchair, releasing a cloud of dust from the fabric. It had been so long since she’d last been here. The room, with that old musty smell, and the grey darkness surrounding her, brought back so many memories. Crying herself to sleep in the armchair, a can of beer in her hand, after arguing with her mum. Bunking from school when she was supposed to be doing a maths test. And of course, the night of the fire-bomb incident had never really left her - well, how could it? She closed her eyes, and she could hear the sirens that had wailed outside her bedroom and alerted her to the fact that something had happened. She could hear the screams of Manisha’s family, the frantic shouts to help them out, the thundering roar of the flames that had been engulfing her house. The look on her friend’s face - fear had lit up her eyes while the fire lit up her home. She could hear the beep of the hospital monitors, desperately trying to save the lives of the Purkayasthas. Manisha. Her brother Azyan. Her parents.
And then she heard, “who are you?”
Ace opened her eyes with a gasp. In front of her, peering through the doorway, was a young girl, no older than fifteen. She wore blue, loose fitting clothing, with a hijab wrapped around her head. Her wide brown eyes looked at her in shock.
Ace was shaken, and then she was angry. This was her safe place, her haven, for her and her alone. How dare some randomer steal it away from her?
“What are you doing in my house?” she snapped at the girl, who recoiled.
“Your house? But...this house has been abandoned for years.”
“I know,” Ace replied coldly, “but it’s mine. How did you even get in?”
“There...there was a spare key under a plant pot.”
Ace cursed herself for putting that there all those years ago. “That wasn’t an invitation for you to just intrude. Why are you here?”
The girl, now shivering with fear, looked at her scuffed black shoes. “I like to be here. I can be alone here,” she mumbled quietly.
And suddenly, Ace stopped. This girl was doing exactly what Ace had done when she was younger. She felt a pang of sympathy for the young girl. She sighed and looked at her.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have snapped. You have a right to come here. It’s just...I get protective of this place. I used to come here too, a lot.” She beckoned for the girl to come and sit on the footstool next to her. “I’m Ace. What’s your name?”
The young girl tentatively walked over, and perched on the edge of the footstool. “My name’s Dhaya.”
Ace beamed. “That’s a lovely name. Dhaya.” She leaned in close. “So tell me, Dhaya. Why do you want to be alone?”
“I come here to get away,” Dhaya replied timidly. “When it all gets a bit much. I like the silence, the peace, the...sadness.”
Ace looked at her. “You like the sadness?”
Dhaya nodded. “It makes me feel at home. Like it’s okay to be sad here. When I’m at school, or at home, I can’t feel what I want to feel. I have to pretend to be happy. I come here, and I can just be me. I’m allowed to be sad.”
“I can understand that,” Ace smiled. “Sometimes it all gets a bit much, doesn’t it? Work, and school, and family. And it’s nice to have a place to just leave it all behind for a bit. So, why is it you feel sad?”
“Because, well, it’s so difficult. I don’t have any friends and my parents are always arguing and I just feel like an outsider. Like I have no one to talk to.”
“Why do you feel like an outsider?”
Dhaya gave Ace a sideways look. “Isn’t it obvious?” She pointed at her hijab. “Growing up a Muslim in Perivale ain’t easy, you know.”
“I know,” Ace said sympathetically.
Dhaya tilted her head. “How would you know?”
“Because my best friend was Muslim. She used to live here, you know. Manisha, her name was. She had the most wonderful smile.” Ace laughed fondly. “That’s why this place was burned down. People didn’t like it, you see - a Muslim family trying to integrate into our society. They thought they were more entitled to Perivale than she was. So they threw fire bombs in here. It worked too: Manisha and her family had to move out of town, for their own safety. So I know how difficult it is, believe me.”
Dhaya stared at Ace, her wide brown eyes confused by her. “So why were you friends with her? Why did you act differently to every other white person in Perivale?”
Ace thought for a second, recalling the friendship the two of them shared. “Because...well, because I knew what it was like to feel isolated. I was always a very shy kid, I didn’t really have any friends, and I saw this girl sitting by herself in the playground, and I thought, ‘no one else should have to be alone’. So I went over to her, and we started chatting. And that was it really.”
“Didn’t that make life hard for you?”
“Oh yeah,” Ace nodded, “really tough. The shy little girl and the Muslim girl. I had to grow up fast…”
Suddenly, her mind flashed back to her childhood - and the first time she ever visited this house.
The gang…
Ace hesitated. But she couldn’t keep the words inside any longer.
“There was this one time. I’d just been to see Manisha at her house - this house - for the first time. We played all afternoon, it was so much fun. And then something happened…”
And as she began to speak, she could see that winter afternoon clearly in her head. The cold breeze blew her back, as she travelled back in time.
***
It’s cold out. I’ve got my big parka on. I’m walking home from Manisha’s. There’s no one else around - well, it’s a Sunday afternoon, no one’s ever out on a Sunday in Perivale. Perivale’s always been a boring place, and doubly so on weekends.
There’s a shortcut to my house - through an alleyway between the rows of terraced houses. Normally I’d take the long route home, because I like the time spent alone, but it’s cold and I want to go to bed. So I make a snap decision, and head down the alleyway.
Big mistake.
It’s not like those alleyways you see in gangster movies - dark, enclosed, with tall brick walls with graffiti on them, and empty dustbins. It’s just a grass path between two fences, separating rows of terraced bungalows from each other. There’s probably a garage at the end of it for one of the houses, because there are tyre marks all the way along the grass. I never go to the end of the alleyway, I turn off to the left to get to my house. Or at least, I usually do - but right now, there is a group of boys in front of me. They’re about fifteen or sixteen - a couple of years older than me. They’ve got tracksuits on - you know, the cool ones that everyone is wearing these days. Colour coordinated jackets and tracksuit bottoms. They’d look like members of a boyband or something - except for the surly expressions on their faces. I keep my head down; these boys clearly aren’t people to mess with, and I don’t want to make a fuss. I carry on walking, but suddenly they’re all in my way, stopping me from passing. I look up. They’re all staring down at me with that menacing look on their faces.
“Oi”, one of them says to me, “ain’t you that girl who’s best friends with the paki?”
Maybe I should go back. I turn away and start to walk back down the alleyway, but one of them grabs my arm, spinning me back to face them.
“I said, ain’t you the friend of the paki?”
“Don’t call her that,” I mumble. I can barely get my words out, I’m shaking with fear.
“What?” the boy asks me.
I clear my throat and try again, louder this time. “You shouldn’t call her that. It’s not nice.”
“Aww, is it not nice?” another boy jeers. “Are we upsetting the poor little paki? Is she going to go home crying to her paki parents?”
The first boy nudges him. “Oi, careful Jeff. She’ll set her goat on you.”
“She’ll poison your curry!”
“With any luck they’ll ship her off to her arranged marriage any day soon.”
All these comments are met by mocking laughter. I can’t bear this. Manisha has never been horrible to anyone - why are they saying such mean things about a girl they’ve never even spoken to?
“Stop it,” I whisper in a futile attempt to sound intimidating. “She’s not like that. She doesn’t have a goat, and she just eats normal food.”
And now the boys are laughing at me. Laughing at pointing and making stupid faces.
Suddenly, the one who has grabbed my arm pushes me. I fall to the ground, but my free hand breaks my fall. A searing pain shoots up my arm, but I’m too scared even to yell. I feel a sharp pain in my ribcage, as one of the boys kicks me.
“What’s wrong, little girl?” he yells maliciously. “Ganesh ain’t here to save you now!”
Another kick, this time in my arm. I’m in so much pain, tears are streaming down my face, and yet I still can’t even speak. Inside my mind is screaming. Stop! Please! It hurts! But the words won’t leave my lips. Another on my shoulder. I shut my eyes and wince. The pain is building up and up but I feel so trapped. Another on my leg. The pain is so overwhelming. I feel like I am going to die at any moment. It’s just more kicks and more pain and more sneers and the pain is building up and up and up and it’s getting so much I think I’m going to burst.
And then I can finally hear a shout. But it’s not my voice.
“Oi!” It’s an old woman. “Are you yobs back there? I won’t have yobs hanging around at the back of my house!”
The kicking stops. The pain doesn’t though. Every part of me aches.
“Fuck, it’s Marjorie,” I hear someone mumble. And then, louder, “fuck off Marjorie!”
“What? Who was that?” the old woman calls out. “How dare you! The ruddy cheek on you! Get out of here before I call the police!”
Footsteps thunder around me, making the ground vibrate beneath me. I open my eyes, just in time to see the boys running away down the alleyway. I still can’t move though. I don’t know if that’s the pain or the fear, but I feel paralysed. I can see the shadow of a disgruntled Marjorie behind the fence separating the alleyway from her garden. She can’t see me - she doesn’t even know I’m here. I want to call out to her, ask her to help me. But I’m still frozen. So she just tuts to herself and walks off back to her house, muttering, “ruddy kids”.
And now I’m left here. All alone. No one’s coming for me. I am covered in bruises. Mud stains my clothes, and tears stain my face. I can’t move. A weak whisper manages to break free of my lips. “Help me.”
But no one helps me. I lay there for a while. It’s probably only a few minutes, but it feels like hours. Eventually, I find the strength to sit up and brush myself off. Everything hurts, but I bite back the pain and try to stand up. After a few attempts, I manage to get to my feet. I look around. It’s getting dark now, and everybody’s gone home.
Everybody except me.
***
Ace blinked. The grass path had disappeared, replaced by the old stained carpet of Manisha’s house. The cold winter chill was still there. She wiped a tear from her eye, and focused on Dhaya, the young girl who was staring up at her intently.
“I had to grow up quickly. After that, I had to protect myself. And my friend. So I stole a baseball bat from the school gym. Always carried it round with me. I wonder if it became less about the protection, and more about the status. I joined a gang of my own. We never beat anyone up, don’t worry. We used to just go and light campfires up on Horsenden Hill. But it brought me that little bit of status. No one would pick on me anymore, not now. Cos I had a cool jacket and a gang and a baseball bat. Mind you, a baseball bat ain’t much use against a firebomb.”
“That’s horrible,” Dhaya whispered. “They were horrible.”
“Yeah, it was.” Ace nodded absently. “But it made me who I am today. It made me toughen up. And I learnt you had to fight fire with fire. Literally. Made my own explosive, didn’t I? Nothing too dangerous, mind. I’m not like a terrorist or anything. But I thought, if they’re going to threaten my friends, me, I have to have something to defend myself.”
Dhaya nodded. “You were so...tough.”
“Nah,” Ace scoffed. “That was all just a disguise. Baseball bats, Nitro-9, big bomber jackets. That was me putting on this bravado, this tough exterior. I wasn’t weak little Dorothy, I was streetwise Ace that-you-don’t-mess-with. Because there’s this unwritten rule in society - you can’t show fear. You can’t show insecurities. Cos that makes you weak. And if you’re weak, then you’re a target. Which never made sense to me, because...well, everyone’s got fears, everyone’s got insecurities. But no one’s allowed to show it. The whole world is made up of actors, pretending to be someone else. Aspiring to be this impossible role model. But that’s never the way to do it. I know that now. You can’t just go around covering up your insecurities. You have to face them, challenge them. And then you can feel better about yourself, and it won’t be an act. It will be real, true. It will be you.”
She leaned in close to Dhaya, and Dhaya leaned forward too. “You know,” Ace continued, “I never told anyone about the attack that evening.”
“Didn’t your mum ask where you’d been?” Dhaya asked in confusion.
Ace tutted. “She was out. She was always out. Me and my mum, we weren’t that close to be honest. And my dad...well, I never knew him.”
“I’m sorry.” Dhaya took a deep breath, as though she was going to say something else, but instead she just bowed her head. Ace looked at this young girl. So timid, so afraid to speak. As if she were going to be punished for telling the truth.
“You said something about your parents arguing,” she said to the girl. “Is everything okay at home?”
Dhaya hesitated, lacing her fingers together nervously. She seemed reluctant to say anything. Ace placed a hand on her knee and smiled kindly at her. Her hazel eyes sparkled with a warmth that made Dhaya feel like she could trust her.
“Well…” Dhaya sighed. “I think my parents are going to split up. They argue a lot. Most of the time, it’s over nothing, but it just spirals and spirals, y’know? Like, they’ll be talking about who left the keys out, and suddenly there’s death threats flying and I can’t hear myself think over the sound of my parents hating each other.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ace soothed sympathetically. “But remember, it’s nothing to do with you. They both still love you, nothing will change that. You are still their daughter, Dhaya.”
Dhaya shook her head. “It doesn’t feel like it sometimes. They shout at each other and then they shout at me. We don’t do anything together anymore. And...I think my dad’s probably going to leave us. But I don’t want him to, because...I quite like him really.”
Ace pouted, trying to think of what to say. “Sometimes...these things have to happen. It might not be what you want, but if your dad really thinks that not being in the same house is going to bring peace and happiness back to the family, then maybe that’s a good thing. But you’ll still get to see him. I mean, it’s not like he’s dead.”
“But it will feel like that. If he disappears, everything will be different. It will feel like the old dad is gone.”
“Listen to me. When someone leaves you, it’s tough. I know it is. It feels like your life is crumbling away, and you start to question how long everything lasts. Whether anything can truly last forever. Sometimes you blame yourself, sometimes you blame the person for leaving, but you don’t have to blame anyone. It’s just the way of the universe. This chapter of your life, it’s coming to a close, and that’s sad. But the end of one chapter means the beginning of a new one. And sure, tomorrow will be different from today, just as today was different from yesterday. We’re always changing, aren’t we? I’m not the same person I was five years ago. All those changes, all those endings - they made me better. Stronger. Wiser. So don’t be scared of the end. The end just means a new beginning. That doesn’t mean it won’t be sad. But you can keep going. You can.”
Dhaya looked down at her trainers. She had nothing to say. She knew that Ace was right. She didn’t know why, but this woman seemed to make her feel so comfortable. And she spoke the truth. “I suppose,” she finally mumbled. “I don’t know, it just feels like it’s all my fault.”
“It is absolutely not your fault. Listen, have you heard of rose-tinted glasses?”
“Yeah...when you only see the good things in life,” Dhaya replied.
“Basically. Well, right now, you’re wearing the opposite. Which would be...uh, I don’t know. Blue-tinted glasses?”
Dhaya giggled at Ace’s struggle to find the word. Ace smiled cheekily back.
“Yeah, blue-tinted glasses. Let’s go with that. Instead of seeing things as they are, you’re seeing things through a lens. A lens that makes everything seem bad. When you look at yourself, you see a loner, a weirdo, the girl who’s causing her parents to split up. But that’s not the truth. Your perception is being twisted, distorted by the blue-tinted glasses. Like, it’s difficult to see the real picture when you’re stuck behind this lens, but in order to ditch that lens, you need to listen to the people who can see without the blue-tinted glasses. Like me. Now, I’ve barely known you half an hour, and already I can tell that you are a smart, kind, funny young girl. I know you can’t see that right now, because of the glasses, but trust me.”
Slowly, Dhaya nodded, although it was clear that she didn’t quite believe what Ace had to say.
Ace thought for a second. “You know, I know exactly what it’s like. I’ve been where you are, you know. It’s exactly how I used to be with my mum.”
“Your mum?”
“Yeah. She was...not a great mother to say the least. She’d abuse me, neglect me, leave me all alone. I hated her. I truly truly did. But at the same time, I felt like it was my fault. Like, I’d caused her to be the spiteful, ignorant woman she was. And so I felt guilty for hating her.”
She cast her mind back, to her childhood, her frosty relationship with her mother. The dark scorched walls of the front room transformed into another place, another room - one that was all too familiar for Ace...
***
I slurp my soup noisily. Anything to disrupt the deafening silence, really. It’s been about 20 hours since my mum went out to the bar last night. She’s still not back yet. I’ve had to make my own dinner. And breakfast, and lunch, and dinner again. But I’m used to that. I’ve come to accept that my mother is not what most people would call motherly.
I look around this small, dingy flat that I call home - except, it’s not really home, is it? Home is somewhere you feel safe. Somewhere you always want to come back to. Home is where the heart is. But there is no heart in this grotty little space. Just wine stains on the carpet and heavy oak furniture that makes this tiny room feel even smaller. I hate being here. It makes me feel trapped. Like all this furniture and the dark walls and the low ceilings are all pushing into me, compressing me into a tiny ball and one day I’m going to be compressed so much that I’ll just...disappear.
Suddenly, a heavy thump outside shocks me out of my thoughts. Someone - or something - is on the other side of the front door. What if it’s a burglar? Or a murderer? Or something else entirely? Panic rushes through my head, and I hurriedly slip away from the kitchen table. Running into my box of a bedroom, I reach for my baseball bat underneath my bed. I grip it tight, and slowly edge my way into the hallway. The front door swings open suddenly. A woman stands there, in jeans and a stained cardigan. Her hair is messy, her lipstick stained. Emotionless, with empty eyes that say so much about her. She is a shell of a woman, almost like a ghost.
Or as I know her better, mum.
“And what sort of time do you call this?” I ask expectantly, lowering the bat.
Mum rolls her eyes at me, poised for attack with my baseball bat raised above my head. “Hello to you too,” she rasps in reply. She’s clearly still drunk from the night before. “Put that thing down Dorothy. Too tired for those silly games.”
“Silly games?! I thought you were a burglar!”
She shrugs. “Only thing I’m stealing is the wine. There’s still some left in the fridge, right?” And she trudges past me into the kitchen.
I gape at her, and yell aggressively. “Oh, no, definitely not! You’ve already had way too much to drink. Where were you all this time?”
Grabbing the half-empty bottle of Boone’s Farm, she sat down at the table and took a swig straight from the bottle. “I went out, didn’t I? Went to that Byron’s bar down in Greenford. And then I met some guy, don’t remember his name. Percy? Peter? Something like that. And he invited me back to his.”
“Leaving your daughter all alone.”
“Did I or did I not leave you food? I see you made yourself soup, so clearly you were fine. I could have stayed there forever, left you by yourself with no money or food. You ungrateful little bitch.”
I snarled. “Great. Thanks. And you finally decided to come back for your ungrateful little bitch, did you?”
She looked me dead in the eyes. Her own eyes were hollow and wearied, and underlined by wrinkles that exposed her tiredness. She stared at me and sighed. “Looking at the welcome I’m getting now, maybe I made the wrong decision.”
Unable to take it anymore, I storm off to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I stare at this box room that I sleep in. It’s been painted a pale blue, but that’s the only colour in here. No posters, no ornaments. Nothing to signify that this is a teenage girl’s bedroom. Nothing that says, “I live here. This is mine.” Because it’s not really. I just stay here. Like a little sanctuary. When my mum gets too much, I escape in my blue box and get away from it all. But it doesn’t work, does it? I’m still trapped in this hellhole. I need to get out. Right out. Just get away from the shouting and the abuse and the pain of seeing my mother waste away her life and take mine down with her. So I grab my jacket - I’ve started sewing some cool badges on it - and my rucksack. I shove my baseball bat into the top of the bag and sling it over my back.
I creep down the hallway. Mum is now sitting in the living room, watching some sitcom. She’s slumped in her armchair taking gulps from her wine bottle. I stare at her. I can see the pain in her eyes, and it feels like it’s my fault. Half of me wants to go over to her and give her a massive hug, tell her that I’m sorry that her life has been so awful. Sorry that the stress and the heartbreak and the struggles have been so much, so overwhelming, that she drinks all day to try and escape from the cruel reality of life. Sorry that she’s a victim of her merciless past. But then I remember the horrible things she says to me when she’s drunk. That she wishes I’d never been born. That I was a mistake. That I made her like this.
I need to get out. So I stalk down the hallway to the front door, open it, and leave my flat.
I don’t know where I’m going yet. Whenever I was feeling sad, I used to go to see Manisha. Her house, which always used to burst with colour and smell of exotic spices, felt like home. But Manisha’s gone now. Six months have passed since she was burnt out of my life.
The sun is shining on the street out here. So why do I feel cold?
My feet subconsciously start to walk. I don’t have any control over it really, but I know where I’m heading. The burnt house with the boarded up windows and the scorch marks.
Home.
***
And here she was now. At home. She looked around. She’d got so swept up in her thoughts, in her vivid recollections, that she had forgotten that Dhaya was even there. The young girl was staring, and wiping a tear away from her eye.
“Um…” Ace took a deep breath. “So I went to Manisha’s house - this place. She’d given me a key all those months before, just in case. So I let myself in. Surrounded myself with the smoke and the burnt things. Manisha’s things. And it still smelled like her, if that makes sense? I came here, and I cried all night, but I didn’t feel alone. I felt like Manisha was watching over me, taking care of me.”
“I wish I had someone like that,” Dhaya murmured. “I don’t really have anyone. I sit by myself at school, I spend my evenings alone.”
Ace smiled. “You have me. And whenever you come to this house in the future, you just remember that I’ll be here, watching over you. Helping you.”
“I haven’t even known you an hour,” Dhaya giggled weakly.
“But you do know me, don’t you? I’ve told you all about my life, you’ve told me about yours. You know me so well, far better than my mum ever did.”
Dhaya smiled, but there was a look of sadness in her eyes. Ace looked at her. “What’s wrong, Dhaya?”
“It’s just…” Dhaya didn’t know how to get the words out. “Your life was so sad. With bullies, and bad parents, and everything. What sort of a world is it where people as nice as you go through so much pain? And my life, it’s...it just feel so so awful. The pain, the loneliness. I don’t know how my life could ever get any better.”
Ace stared at the little girl. This young teenager, who had lost all hope, all joy. And Ace knew that she had to do something.
“Right, listen. Do you mind if I tell you one more story? Because my life didn’t end there. It very well could have done. I could have seen that my life was crap, decided that it wasn’t worth it, ended it. But I didn’t. I kept going. And one day, something magical happened. It’s a long story, but one day, when I was 16 years old, I ended up on a spaceship in the future. My life, my childhood, my mum - I’d managed to escape from it all. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s genuinely true.”
Dhaya gaped at her in shock. “You were in space?”
“You believe me, don’t you? You know I’m telling you the truth. So I ended up on this spaceship, and I stayed there for a bit. And then my life suddenly took a turn for the better.”
“What happened?”
“I met a man. The most magical man. His name was the Doctor. Appropriate, I guess - because he made me better. He lived in a blue box that went anywhere in time and space. And he took me on his travels with him. We went everywhere and everywhen. Oh, the adventures we had. I could tell you so many stories. They were wonderful, and scary, and so so exciting. The Psychic Circus; Egypt in 1902; Aziola. But there’s one place I went to, which I want to tell you about. The Doctor took me there once, when I was younger. The planet Eudaimonia.”
And even as she spoke its name, Ace could smell the flowers there, feel the cool west wind on her skin, hear the crashing of the waves. She let her mind travel across the galaxies, as she remembered…
***
“Wow! This is beautiful!”
I look around at the idyllic landscape. They sky above me is bright purple, with other colours coalescing and dancing like the Northern Lights. I am standing on a hill, surrounded by abnormally shaped bushes, that grow in weird rows all along the hill. This plantation spreads for miles and miles - as far as I can see, the hills are broken up by these long rows of low green shrubs. Interspersed throughout the bushes are tall trees, with brightly coloured flowers: ocean blue and daffodil yellow and hot pink. In front of me stands a great tree, almost like an oak - except it is covered in bright orange flowers, with petals flying around in the wind. To my left, the hills slope away to a sandy beach in the distance, where I can see the waves crashing. And miles away on the horizon, a grand citadel stands, glittering like it’s made of diamonds, encased in a globe of vines. I stare and stare and this wonderful view, and I can think of only one word.
Paradise.
I feel something behind me, and turn. The Doctor has stepped out of the TARDIS. He stands there, with his silly outfit. His question-mark jumper, his funny hat, his black and red umbrella. That outlandish, unique style that signifies, to me, hope and wonder.
“Welcome to the planet Eudaimonia, Ace,” he proclaims grandly, gesturing to the picturesque scene before them. “A world renowned for its sense of tranquility and serenity. Often called the most beautiful planet in the Universe.”
“So why are we here, Professor?” I ask inquisitively.
“We need to make a visit over there,” he replies, pointing to the globe in the distance. “The Citadel of Jewels. The Queen wishes to speak with us.”
“The Queen?” I look at him in shock.
The Doctor grins cheekily. “That’s right, Ace. Are you ready?”
I smile back. “Definitely.”
He takes my hand in his, and gives me a wink. His eyes, that are so old and so youthful at the same time, sparkle. And with that, we walk down the hill together, towards the shimmering city.
***
The imperial palace hall is nothing like you’d expect. You can barely see the walls, as they are covered in a kaleidoscope of colourful flowers. Exotic vines droop down from the high ceiling, creating a kind of curtain. And behind it is an immense throne, made from a tree stump that has been hollowed out and filled with plants and flowers and food. Sitting on the throne is a small woman in a large blue frilly dress and messy hair in a tall bun. She smiles at me, and then at the Doctor, who removes his hat and bows.
“Your majesty,” he addresses her. Then, to me, “Queen Mab here isn’t like the monarchs on Earth. She’s more like, say, a Prime Minister. She’s been elected by the people of this world to speak on their behalf - she has a parliament of representatives of all the world’s different cultures, which live in harmony with one another.”
I am in awe of this regal woman, so I just curtsy politely. “Nice to meet you, your maj.”
She beams. “Greetings Doctor. And greetings, Ace McShane. I am glad to make your acquaintance.”
“So why have you invited us here, your majesty, if you don’t mind me asking?” the Doctor asks.
Queen Mab stands up, her blue dress billowing out behind her. “Doctor, Ace...I have called you here today to thank you for the work you have done. We have been watching your work for a long time. You fight against injustice, help those in need, save people from danger. And the universe is a better place for that. You have been vital parts of the maintenance of goodness in the universe, and we on Eudaimonia wish to express our gratitude.”
She gestures to her left and right, and two young women skip forward. They are both green, and are wearing short brown tunics. Both have their hair tied in a plait, with leaves in place of ribbons. They each carry a necklace with a shining blue amulet. One of the girl steps forward, and places the necklace around the Doctor’s neck.
“This amulet holds the souls of the Ancient Ones. They were powerful beings who could see the trajectory of the universe and everything that was to come. They could see your path in life, and they knew how important you would be.”
The other girl walks towards me and holds out the amulet. I lower my head and let her slip the necklace around my neck. I look back up and smile at her. “Thank you.”
“No,” she shakes her head and looks at me. Her eyes are a brilliant purple. “Thank you. For everything you have done. The world, the universe, is a better place because of you. And you inspire me to be a better person. To help others.”
The two women take a step back, and Queen Mab nods. “These are gifts for you, from the people of Eudaimonia. Everyone on this planet has given these amulets their personal blessing, so the jewels contain the souls of not only the Ancient Ones, but of those still here today. Because everyone wants to tell you thank you for showing us the light. Thank you for helping us out of the dark.”
I pick up the amulet and turn it in my hands. It glimmers, and I can suddenly hear something. Almost as if the jewel is beaming words directly into my head.
You are wonderful. The universe is grateful. You bring joy to so many.
And in that moment, it’s like all the questions I’ve ever had are answered. I feel like I’m at peace. Like my whole life has been leading to this point. All those times I’ve doubted myself, hated myself, wondered why I even existed...it all makes sense now. There is a reason I’m here. I was meant to do good things.
I am important.
I am good.
I am happy.
***
The palace was gone. The queen, the two nymphs, they had disappeared too. Instead was a little girl sitting on a footstool in front of Ace.
“So you see,” Ace said to Dhaya, “no matter how dark the road ahead looks, there is light at the end. No matter how awful the world seems, there is beauty to be found. And no matter how worthless you think you are, there is meaning in your life. You just have to find it. And to find it, you have to keep fighting. Keep striving for better. Keep going, even though it’s going to be difficult.”
Dhaya looked out of the window, watching the orange leaves cascading to the ground. “I’d love to go to space,” she whispered.
“Maybe you will one day,” Ace patted her knee. And as she watched this young girl gaze out at the world, filled with a yearning for more, Ace had an idea. She fished into the pocket of her duffle coat. “Actually, Dhaya, I’ve got something for you.”
Dhaya turned to face Ace, a look of curiosity on her face. Ace pulled a long necklace out of her red pocket. Hanging from it was a shimmering jewel. Dhaya’s eyes lit up with it.
“Is that...the amulet?”
“The Amulet of the Ancient Ones. I was going to keep it, but I reckon you deserve it.” Ace placed it around Dhaya’s neck. The amulet rested against her heart. “Now whenever you wear this, I want you to remember the souls of all the people in there, all those who care about you, the people who know that you matter. And I want you to remember me, too. Because I’m not going to be in this house all the time. But I will be with you, wherever you go. However low you’re feeling, however lonely, I will always be there for you. In your heart.”
She looked at her watch. “I think it’s time I was off,” she continued. “I’d love to stay forever, but I don’t want to worry the Doctor.” She smiled at Dhaya.
Dhaya smiled back. “I wish you could stay forever.”
“I know. But like I said, I’ll always be in here.” And Ace gestured to her heart. “Now, some last-minute advice. Listening carefully?”
Dhaya nodded.
“Don’t give up. The road ahead is not going to be easy, but you have a place in this universe. You may think you don’t, but trust me, you matter. So keep fighting - even if that’s something as little as getting out of bed when you don’t feel like it.
“You’re different, sure. But that doesn’t make you an outsider. It makes you unique, special. Don’t lose yourself, don’t feel like you have to fit in. Embrace your uniqueness, because that’s what makes you...you.”
“Don’t be afraid to talk about yourself. It feels wrong, like you should keep it to yourself. Like you’ll just bother people, waste their time. But it’s not a waste of time. There are people out there who care for you, and who want to help you. And bottling up your emotions, keeping it inside you, is not going to do you any good.
“Remember, it’s okay to be sad sometimes. But don’t feel like you have to be sad, like you are defined by sadness. It’s okay to be happy too. You can cry, you can laugh. You are allowed to feel what you feel. That’s good.”
And with that, Ace stood up, as did Dhaya. They looked at each other. And suddenly, Dhaya threw her arms around Ace, embracing her. “Thank you.”
Ace smiled, and wrapped her arms around Dhaya. “You know what, Dhaya? I think you’re going to be great.” She let go, and held her hands.
“No, scratch that. You’re going to be ace.”
Dhaya beamed. She looked down at the amulet around her neck. Touching it, she immediately felt something shift. Like there was someone else inside her head, talking directly to her.
Dhaya, you are loved.
Those few words resonated with her. She knew she was going through troubles. Being the only Muslim in a white community? Fighting parents? None of it mattered. She’d get through it all. Because she was loved. She mattered.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door slamming. She looked up, and noticed that Ace had gone. She ran to the window just in time to see a red duffle coat disappear from the street, taken by the west wind. That remarkable enigma, that mysterious figure who had dropped into her life and then disappeared without a trace. The person who had made her better. Like a doctor.
Dhaya looked down at the shining amulet. This is not the end, she thought to herself.
It is only the beginning.
writer - DAVID NIRVED
cover art - ED GOUNDREY-SMITH
story editors - ZOE LANCE & ED GOUNDREY-SMITH
producers - JANINE RIVERS & ED GOUNDREY-SMITH
cover art - ED GOUNDREY-SMITH
story editors - ZOE LANCE & ED GOUNDREY-SMITH
producers - JANINE RIVERS & ED GOUNDREY-SMITH