Shifting Sands

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Certain recent articles (linked to throughout the post) have gotten me thinking about the way that society is treating children in this age. I haven't seen a lot of research on this topic, and I'd love it if someone could point me in the direction of some studies. In the Victorian age, children were treated more or less as short adults. Society quite happily sent nine year olds down mines, and even younger children into factories and other menial jobs. Shorpy has some brilliant photos of kids hard at work. Around this time, children were considered to be no more than adults who weren't quite grown yet, and mostly they were treated (and beaten) as such. As time has gone on the pendulum, as in so many cases, has swung and children have gradually received more and more rights, and been viewed by society in a changing light. By the fifties children were still expected to be 'seen and not heard' but they were also - in most westernised countries - protected by child-labour laws. Child abuse (in terms of beatings by parents as well in sexual terms) was still pretty much ignored, but there was a growing trend towards children staying in school longer, and most beatings occurred behind closed doors. And the pendulum has continued to swing in the same direction - now children are protected not just by minimum-age labour laws but also laws that determine how many hours and on what days they can work, minimum wage and other labour laws. There are ongoing campaigns to 'think of the children' (which segues quite nicely into Conroy's Folly, but I'm not going to go into that here) and a burgeoning desire for - and delivery of - crackdowns on 'kiddy porn', leading to such nonsense as the baby swinging incident and the Simpsons Porn bust.

When does the pendulum start to swing back? I'm not advocating a return to Victorian ideals, and I certainly don't condone the fifties version either, but surely we can strike a happy balance here? Why can't we recognise that child porn is bad, people making and distributing child porn ought to reprimanded, and paedophilia should not be tolerated, but do it with just a touch of reason? Child porn and paedophilia should not be accepted, but why do we overreact so badly? Do we rezone apartment buildings because a potential murderer could spy on a potential victim?

We need to stop and realise that a crime that involves a child is horrible, sickening even, but it is still a crime - just like any other crime. It's bad, yes, but it's no worse (and in many cases, quite a lot better) than what adults do to other adults. Punish the crime, but stop putting such a high moral judgement on the thing.

Oh, and as for cartoon porn? If anyone actually got off on it, they'd make magazines of it with non-see-through covers and put it on newstands, or the websites would want your credit card number. It's not porn, it's humour. Get it? No, I didn't think so. ::sigh::

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The spirit of giving

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She gave me a cardboard box with apples
To use when there were storms about
Because my cart it got knocked over
And she didn't think I should have to go without


This year has been a year of growth and reflection for me. Spending a quiet year in the cottage, thinking about life and where mine is going; relationships and personalities; who I am and who I want to be. Part of the growth was a personal dedication to helping people less fortunate than myself. Where I don't have money to give, I do have time, ability, intelligence and willingness. In a first big step towards this goal, I have today completed a run through Canberra suburbs to distribute toys, clothes, shoes and other bits and pieces that I have decided we can live without. T and I took a cardboard box full of grocery items in to her day care centre on Monday to be given to charity, and I have contacted the Salvation Army about helping out with Christmas hamper packing and delivery. I also intend to put a present under the Wishing Tree - with T's help of course.

Which brings me to the main thing. All this giving is obviously good for the charities we're supporting, and it gives me a lovely rosy glow about having done something to help out those people who struggle around this time of year. But the really important thing, to me anyway, is the opportunities it gives me to talk to T about what we're doing. She's old enough to understand the concept of "making people happy" and I think it's important to teach her that we make people happy in ways other than blindly throwing money at them. Naturally sometimes it's money that's needed, but crying poor is no excuse for not giving, for not helping, or for pretending that you are more important than anybody else on this planet.



This year, I'm making an effort to give more than I receive, to make more than I buy, and to recycle more than I throw away. It isn't just a gift for now, this year, but a gift to our children, and their future.

Life Updates

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A couple of things have happened recently, all more or less related. Firstly, for anyone who remembers the Sheep Post, you might be interested to know that they have been shipped (sheeped?) off to stay out at my parents' place. Mum and Dad have about an acre and half and much better fencing than us, which means they can roam and munch to their little hearts' content without needing to be tethered. The other interesting story about the sheep is that a few days before they were due to be moved, we noticed something odd about Pixie - she's fat. And no, I don't just mean "I ate too much good grass"-type fat. I mean "I think I might be having little lambies"-type fat. I guess only time will tell. Mum and Dad seem reluctant to slaughter them, and have instead decided to breed off them and slaughter the offspring. Well, T will be happy anyway, and I guess I'll have to put away my carving knife for a little while longer. I wonder if mint sauce freezes well ...

Which brings me to the second piece of news. We're on the move again, which explains why the sheep have been shipped (why does the idea of shipped sheep make me giggle so much?). The Cottage has served us well for a year now, and we recently spotted this little gem online. We jumped in and grabbed it and we're moving four days before Christmas. Yes, I know, spectacularly bad timing, but you know what they say, strike while the iron is hot! In case you're wondering, it's a converted convent, complete with chapel (soon to become my new office), and housed the Brown Josephites order of nuns (that's the order started by the Blessed Mary McKillop) in between 1891 and 1975. It's privately owned now, and has been split virtually right down the middle into two dwellings, with the owner living in the other side. I'm hoping to be able to get some good pictures of the place - light streaming through stained glass and the like.

They are five

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Last weekend, we endured what has become known in our house as The Great Weekend Dancing Extravaganza. And extravagant it certainly was! A dress rehearsal and three concerts over the two days of the weekend - hair gel, curlers, make up, costumes, tights, ballet shoes, rehearsals, performances, tickets, intervals and grand finales. There were laughs, tears, frowns, smiles and, of course, many late nights.



By Monday, there were more tears than laughs and more tantrums than excited hugs. Despite days off on both Monday and Tuesday to recuperate, the little dancer was still tired and grumpy today, although I'd finally had enough and foisted her back on to her teachers (does that make me a bad mother, I wonder?). The whole thing was almost as though it was designed to be stress inducing - from the gruelling schedule, developed to contain either stupefying hours-long waits, or nosebleed-inducing rushes between performances, to the multitude of do's and don'ts (do ensure that children have spare pairs of stockings, they will not be allowed onstage with laddered stockings; don't be in the vicinity of the dressing room during concerts; do be at the dressing room immediately after your child comes off stage; don't ... well, you get the idea) the whole weekend left me reeling, exhausted and thinking - surely there's a better way than this?

And then, in the uncanny way these things have, I stumbled across this SMH piece (linked to by the lovely ladies over at Hoyden About Town), and I had a sudden utopian vision ...

I want to start a dance school. I'd call it "Get up and wiggle". It would be dance sessions (not classes) for little kids where we have one big room with mirrors, coloured lights, and a disco ball. We'd put on some funky music - different stuff all the time - and all the kids and all the parents would get out on the dance floor and wiggle. No rules, no special equipment, and no talent required. We'd even have a concert - we'd all get up on stage at once, say "Ready, Mister Music!" and then wiggle to our hearts' content. And we would get the audience to join in. Sounds like fun, doesn't it?

Anyway, the good news is, the dancer has decided to do swimming lessons next year. You have no idea how pleased I was to hear that. I've done my dash with dancing, I think. Hopefully for 2010 she decides to learn an instrument - a nice one, that doesn't make any noise ...

And they all lived happily ever after

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Well, it's over for another year. It all got a bit hairy there after falling sick at the beginning of the month, but a big push last weekend and a lot of late nights saw me cross the finish line a couple of days early. Which is just as well, really, since this weekend is the Great Weekend of Much Dancing Madness (more on that later).

How do I feel about the novel? Right now, reasonably ambivalent. I don't think it's as good as last year's effort (Stopping All Stations), but with a little bit of editing it might yet be an enjoyable read.

For those of you who have been reading along, thank you for your support. As much as I write this stuff for my own enjoyment, it's gratifying to know that there are people out there who are (hopefully) enjoying it also. For those of you who haven't read any of it yet - don't. Wait until I've given it a bit of a scrub and a polish, and that way you won't have to sidestep the typos and mind those plot holes.



Don't forget to check back next November for more NaNo madness, but in the mean time it's back to your regularly scheduled programming.

Behind These Eyes - Part The Last!

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Belle started at the beginning, telling how the worries out lived the dolls, and finished at the place where they had been when they were talking in the kitchen. “Basically,” she said, “Well, at least as far as I can tell, anyway, the worries sort of build up behind the mirror. They need to recycle the emotional energy, they can't store it, so they distill it down. That way it's not so ... potent, I guess. Gradually, the emotional energy builds up and the host – that's you, Mum, as far as I can tell – starts to feel a bit, well, I'm not sure. I would guess that stuff would start to happen to you that was a bit odd, and you would start to feel like you would want to move the mirror. Ideally, the mirror would be moved out of the house – given to someone else, or maybe even turned into some other kind of furniture, I don't know. But whatever it is that keeps the worries in – for us it's a mirror, but I guess it changes over the years – eventually ends up with someone else, and that person becomes the host instead. So to fix the problem, we need to give the dressing table away. I think.”
There was silence. The sudden quiet spun out like a thread of gossamer ... stretching and stretching until Belle became convinced that if someone didn't break it soon, she was going to have to break it herself, just to get rid of the tension out of the room.
Finally, words dropping like stones in the thick atmosphere of the room, Mandy stated "So you are both trying to tell me that I am a ... some kind of a conduit for emotional energy?"
Her eyebrow was arched, and her voice doubting.
Belle nodded earnestly. Alyssa took a sudden interest in her fingernails, thinking that the next thing out of her mother's mouth would be an hysterical laugh.

The gossamer thread of silence started to spin out again, until Belle took a deep breath and said softly, "How much time do we have left?"

Mandy checked the clock, "About fifteen minutes." she said archly, implying that there was no way that the girls could achieve this. Alyssa was thinking the same thing.

"Okay." Belle said suddenly, assertively, "Come with me."



--



By unspoken agreement, this time Alyssa waited out in the dining room, and Belle took their mother by the hand, and led her in to the nedroom. She called for Rudolph as they went, and in less than a minute he trotted into the room, and went straight to Belle's side. In the bedroom, Jamie who was reading in bed, looked up at the sudden intrusion. He shot an unspoken question at Mandy and she returned it with a loaded look.

"Sorry Jamie," Belle said, "But I'm going to have to ask you to leave the room for a little while. There's something I need to show Mum." She paused, and when Jamie didn't move in the bed, she added, "If you go out and wait in the dining room, Alyssa will let you know when you can come back in."

Jamie gave Mandy another glance, this one resigned, and moved to get out of bed. He slipped his feet into the slippers on the floor and, his finger still marking his place in the paperback he held, he padded reluctantly out to the dining room.

Belle turned around so that she was facing the mirror, and held out her left hand for her mother's. When she held it firmly in her own, she used her right hand to give a gentle low on her right leg, and Rudolph moved in closer. His breathing was calm, her mother's was not.

She started slowly, softly. Gently murmering the words under her breath. She was surprised when her mother suddenly joined in,

"Then it went red

And now they're all dead

I'm so terribly sorry

I had a little dolly

I told it my ..."



And then they were in. Alyssa and Jamie slipped into the room behind them, and Alyssa demonstrated how to join the group. Once Alyssa was in, Jamie joined them like a filament, and shortly afterwards there was a bright flash of light. Belle's sight doubled, tripled, quadrupled, before she could bring it under her own control, before she could focus on the one. Yet again she saw the faces of the worries int he mirror, grinning and crying, laughing and screaming. Yet again those faces gradually coalesced into one big face. The one. They were back behind the mirror.



--



Belle, Rudolph. Alyssa, Jamie. By what name does the host go by?

Uh. Um. I'm Mandy.

Mandy, then. Hello Host.

Ah ... hello. Who ... who is this?

Well, I should think you already know, Host - Mandy.

I ... I am afraid I don't. Why do you call me Host?

Because that is who you are. You are the host. We have been trying to reach you for a long time now. You are stubborn. And difficult. And blind.

I am not blind.

Oh, but you are.

No, it's Belle who is ...

Hush! Belle has more vision than the rest of you put together. She sees more, and she understands more. You, host, are the blind one.

I don't understand, what do you mean?

Stop asking questions. It is not your place to ask questions. If you listened more, and watched more, then you wouldn't need to ask questions. I no longer answer questions. I have answered enough. Now is the time for action, not words. Host - Mandy - I shall put this simply so that you understand it. You are to move the mirror to a new host. Immediately. Do you understand?

I ... no, I don't understand, what do you mean by move the mirror?

We need to move on. You must ... who is this?

Ahh ... it's Luke. Remember me?

Who invited you here?

I, uh, I wanted to come back, to apologise. I ran off before, but I wanted to come back. To help.

The help of people who run away is not wanted. Now leave!



--



When Belle woke up, she felt as though she had ben punched in the face - her head throbbed and her eyes felt like they were too large for their sockets. When she tried to sit up, a bolt of pain shot from both her temples into a spot just behind the centre of her forhead. She dropped back onto the bed and pulled the blankets over her head. Before long she was asleep again.



--



Alyssa spent most of the week trying to call Luke. His car was in their driveway, with the keys in the ignition, and after a few days she and Jamie took it back around to Luke's little flat. No one answered the door, and so they left it in the empty carport. They slipped the ignition key under the locked front door.



--



Mandy went to bed, and stayed there. Every so often, she got up long enough to go to the bottle shop and smuggle a litre bottle of vodka back into the house. She stashed it in the dressing table drawer, and tried not to notice the worry dolls, still pristine in their little snap lock bag, and looking like nothing more menacing than what they were - some little bits of twig with scraps of cloth wrapped around them. Depending on how much of the vodka she had sneaked direct from the bottle before she got it into the drawer, they sometimes spoke to her.



--



Jamie went back to work, and tried to bury himself in his job. He had always loved his profession, and he started to recapture some of the joys of general practise again. He found himself working longer and longer hours, to avoid having to face Mandy, and after a few months, he began to contemplate moving out of the house they shared. There was a block of duplexes across the street from the surgery, and one had just come up for rent. He told himself - and the two girls - that it was so he didn't have to travel so far on the nights he worked late.



--



Belle woke for only minutes at a time, and in agony, for the best part of two weeks. Alyssa and Jamie brought her meals, and eventually she managed, with help, to get out of bed and start moving around again. She went back to school, but started spending more time with her sister in her flat. When she went for an annual checkup, the opthamologist found that she had gained about five percent sight, after living fifteen years with none at all. He called it a medical miracle, and he wrote a paper that was published in the Lancet medical journal. A reporter from the local newspaper came out and took Belle's photograph, but few people outside of the medical establishment recognised the significance of the event. Five percent sight, after all, is still very much blind.



--



It was about a month later when Belle found herself in the house alone. Her mother had disappeared on some errand, of what variety Belle didn't want to know, although she could guess. Her mother was more or less a non entity in her life now. Belle sneaked into her mother's bedroom and, wrinkling her nose against the smell of the unwashed bed linen and stale alcohol, she stared into the mirror - seeing now a hazy outline instead of the blackness she saw last time she was here. She called Rudolph to her side, and started to mumble the little rhyme under her breath, but discovered that she couldn't quite remember the words. There was no energy in here any more. The worries, the dolls, and the one - if they had ever existed - were gone now.



--



Alyssa eventually stopped trying to call Luke, and when months later she had a phone call from the police, she told them the truth. She had last heard from him on the night when Mandy and Jamie had returned from their weekend away. He had seemed nervous, and had made an excuse and left. She decided to leave out the part where he had shown up in a collective hallucination about worry dolls living in a mirror. She definitely didn't mention the scorched bit of carpet that now existed in her mother's bedroom, right in front of the dressing table.



--



When Belle found her mother lying unconsious in bed one afternoon after school, she didn't immediately think much of it. It was only when she tried to wake her up a bit to have something to eat, as she did once a week or so, that she realised that she seemed even more unconscious than normal. She didn't respond at all, even to vigorous shaking, and Belle started to panic. She grabbed the cordless phone from the bedside table, and had begun to dial emergency services before she realised it was flat. She ran out to the kitchen, to the wall phone, and called triple zero. She had to put the phone down every so often to check on her mother as the emergency services operator asked her to do different things. At one point she left the operator waiting while she dashed outside to find Alyssa. Rudolph spent the whole time beside Mandy's bed, ocassionaly licking the hand that had drifted out from under the cupboards. Once Alyssa was inside, she took over in the bedroom, and the two commenced a shouted conversation, as the emergency services operator suggested different things to do. By the time the ambulance arrived, Mandy's heartbeat had dropped to dangerously low levels. By the time they got her to the emergency room she was dead. Some time later that night, sitting at the dining table with Belle, both of them in shock but not really shocked, Alyssa realised that she should have called Jamie hours ago.



--



The funeral was a dismal affair. Belle and Alyssa both cried in the front row, although a distant aunt later mentioned that she didn't think they had cried quite enough for her liking. The two girls distanced themselves from the relatives as much as possible. They knew that Mandy had never been close to her family, and they were beginning to understand why. The wake was held at the funeral, and they both agreed after five minutes to leave the others to their moaning. They escaped to a nearby McDonald's, and spent the rest of the afternoon discussing the complicated relationship they had developed with their mother in the past year. They did not mention the mirror, or what had happened beyond it.



--



Alyssa became Belle's legal guardian, to avoid Family Services having to track down their long absent father, and the two of them settled back into a semblance of normal life. They both missed a lot of school for a while, and Alyssa eventually took a year's leave of absence so she could work to support them both. She started work as a chemist's assistant, and shortly after she got her first paycheck, the two of them met up with Jamie to discuss a settlement. He was surprisingly generous, given that he had no financial obloigation to his girlfriend's children, and offered to give them the house they lived in. Not long after that they heard that he was going out with someone he had met at the surgery.



--



Belle took on a part time job after school, but was determined to make it through to the end of year twelve. She did, and then found a job as a teacher's assistant at a local preschool. She found the children incredibly stimulating, and enjoyed watching them learn and grow. In her spare time, she started writing picture books, and eventually was offered a publishing contract. The advance was enough to enable her to go to university, and she studied part time for her teacher's certifcate. She continued to write, and continued to help out at the school when her timetable allowed it.



--



Alyssa and Belle, over the years, gradually changed the house to reflect their own personalities. Alyssa moved back into the house proper, and converted the granny flat into a dual purpose room. One half contained a basic lab for her, and she resumed her studies. The other half was a writer's den for Belle, where she laid out the pages of her books, and met her illustrator. In the house, Alyssa claimed the spare bedroom for herself, and the main bedroom, despite having the ensuite, was made into a spare room. They gave the dressing table away to a second hand furniture store.



--



Epilogue



Richard and Deanne had just moved in together. They had been going out for just over a year and, after an anniversary dinner at a fancy restaurant, Deanne had nearly choked on an engagement ring hidden in her glass of champagne. They had held a backyard engagement party at Deanne's parents place and asked for money in lieu of gifts. The money had then been used with their individual savings to out down a deposit on a two bedroom unit in a nice suburb. It wasn't fancy, but it would suit them for now. Richard was a real estate agent, and he had decided that the area would only improve in value. After a couple of years, he told Deanne, we'll sell the unit and be able to upgrade to something bigger and a bit nicer. Maybe something with a backyard, because maybe by then they would be considering a child or two.



The unit was partly furnished, which suited them well. They moved in and had a big house warming party with all of their friends a few weeks later. The party was a big success, although Deanne drank a little too much punch, and ended up passing out on the loungeroom floor shortly after the last of the guests had gone home. They had both laughed about it afterwards, and Richard teased her about it for a few weeks until the incident was forgotten.



Life continued on for some time, and Deanne found herself wrapped up in wedding plans. It consumed most of her spare time, and Richard was working as hard as could to earn the extra commission. The comission money got put into a wedding fund, and their parents both contributed to the fund to ensure they had a good honeymoon that they would never forget.



It was when they returned from a week in the Maldives, that things started to go a little strange. They dropped three wine glasses in two days, and not long after that the toaster died. Shortly after that, the toilet backed up. Then one day Richard went to the washing machine to hang the clean clothes out, and water had flooded the laundry.

Richard burned himself quite badly retrieving a lamb roast from the oven. It required a visit to the emergency room for a dressing, and it left a scar on his left arm, but the burn wasn't as bad as they had at first feared, and they were told that the scarring would fade well, and be almost unnoticeable in less than five years.



Not long after that, they were both involved in a car accident when another can a red light in front of them, and barrelled into the passenger side. If they had been a mere metre further back, the car would have plowed into the place where Deanne had been sitting, and she would have been badly injured, or more likely killed. They considered themselves lucky, and Richard jokingly bought a lottery ticket to see if the adage held true. They didn't win the jackpot, but did manage to win back the price of the ticket. They laughed about it with their friends at a dinner party the following week.



Around about the same time, Richard was vacuuming in the bedroom when the vacuum cleaner sudndenly clogged up. He switched it off, and pulled apart the wand and hose to find the blockage. After some shaking, and the production of a lot of dust that, he realised grimly, would need to be vacuumed up yet again, he discovered a clutch of little dolls in the vacuum head. He tipped them out, wondering where they had come from, and sat them on the nearest piece of furniture. He put the vacuum cleaner back together and continued vacuuming, managing to whack his shins on the dressing table as he did so. It bruised quite badly, and he called himself a klutz for having done it.



Deanne unexpectedly fell pregnant, and all of a sudden the dressing table seemed to be jumping out at her all the time. She was constantly running into it, just like Richard had earlier, and her shins were a colection of colourful marks from her encounters with it. She put it down to the awkwardness that came with her expanding belly - the pregnancy books never seem to mention these things - and Richard and a friend were eventually convinved to move the offending piece of furniture. They had very little space in the tiny flat, so instead of re arranging everything, the dressing table was moved out into the garage.



The impending arrival was enough to spur Richard to start keeping an eye out for new a place to live. They put the little flat on the market, and spent the next three months in a flurry of manic house cleaning, open homes and strangers tramping through their house. Because of the conflict of interest, a colleague of Richard's represented them and it wasn't too long before he had found a buyer. With the flat sold, they began the whirlwind process of house inspections and open homes. They scoured the real estate pages of the paper, and Richard's colleagues kept their noses to the ground, trying to find something suitable for them. It was the week before the contract on the flat was going to settle, and they finally found a new, bigger house that was much closer to the beach. They made an offer, the offer was accepted, and it was only three weeks before they moved in.



Moving day was a disaster. The removalists showed up late, got lost on the way to the new house, and then dropped a box on the way in between the old kitchen and the removal truck. It was the box containing the crockery that Deanne's mother had given her for their wedding. It had been her grandmother's, and now about a third of the pieces was smashed. When Richard came into the kitchen in the new house to check on the progress of the unpacking, he found Deanne - now eight months pregnant - sitting on the floor surrounded by crumpled newspaper and broken pieces of vintage china, crying like a child. He sat on the floor and comforted her, and shortly afterwards went outside to argue with the removalists.



With all the problems they faced with the removalists, it was nearly a month before Deanne remembered the dressing table that had been languishing out in the garage at the flat. She wondered briefly what had become of that, and then thought that it was no great loss. Hopefully the new owners would find some use for it.

Behind These Eyes - Part Twenty-One

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Belle came back with a bowl piled high with vanilla ice cream, a generous crown of chocolate sauce, and a topping of coloured hundreds and thousands. A spoonful had already been dug out of the side of the dessert, and Belle held a smeared spoon in her other hand. She plonked herself down in the seat opposite Alyssa, and repeated, "You sure you don't want some? It's good."
"I'm fine." Alyssa said.
"Well, okay. As long as you say so. I don't mind making more, if you want."
"It's fine," Alyssa said again, "Now get back to the story. Please?"
"Hmm. Okay. Where was I?" Belle paused, "Oh right. Well, the worries - with or without the dolls - have been around forever,"
"I think we got that bit." Alyssa pointed out.
"Yeah, I guess so. Well, the point is that the worries have been gathering for a long time. Just building up and building up. People have been releasing worries since time began, and they all end up in the same place - behind the mirror. I guess what happens then is like a ... distilling process ... of sorts."
Alysa frowned, "This sounds pretty far out there to me," she said dubiously.
"What? And the idea of a bunch of worries collecting behind a mirror and having a chat to you every so often doesn't? Wait for it Alyssa, let me explain."
"Okay, go on."
"Right, well, the worries collect up into a big bunch, and then - somehow, I'm not sure how - they distill them down into something that's not so much a worry as a ... well, a mild annoyance, I guess. Then these are sent out again and - this is where it gets kind of interesting, Liss - they get sent back to the other side of the mirror, our side of the mirror."
"And what then? We all just wander around, bumping into mild annoyances? This is crazy, Belle. I mean, the whole thing is crazy, but this is so far out there, it's just ... no, this doesn't make sense. Sorry, Belle, but I just can't believe that."
At that moment, Rudolph's head perked up under the table, and he gave a little bark. Belle heard it next, a car pulling into the driveway. Soon, ALyssa and Luke heard doors slamming, and voices drifting in from the dark. Mandy and Jamie were home.

--

Mandy fairly floated into the house, her face tanned and her hair free. She graced everyone, uncluding Rudolph a radiant smile, and then went into the bedroom to set down the overnight bag she was carrying. Jamie followed her, looking relaxed and happy, despite his pink sunburnt ears, and carrying the rest of the gear. He said a cheery hello to everyone, and shook Luke's hand. When the bags were dropped, and Mandy and Jamie had made it back into the dining room, they both dropped into chairs with visible relief after the hours of driving. Belle offered ice cream, but no one took her up on the offer. Alyssa didn't bother asking, she just went and put the kettle on. By the time she arrived back in the dining room, with mugs for everyone, Mandy had already launched into an excited account of everythignt hat had happened on the trip.

--

When the story ahd been told, and the coffee drunk, and Mandy had promised - again - that she would upload the photos to the computer tomorrow for them, Jamie asked what they ahd been up to while they were away. Alyysa glanced at Belle and watched in shock as Belle said, "Well, it's funny you should ask, actually,"
Mandy raised an eyebrow, and then followed it with a hand, palm out in a stop sign, "If this is about worry dolls, I'm not interested right now."
"Mum ..." Belle said ominously.
"Well, I'm just not. I'll talk to you about it tomorrow if it's that important. But not right now."
Belle knew better than to push Mandy once she got that tone of voice on, so she dropped the subject. Alyssa felt relieved, even though she knew it was ony postponing the inevitable.
"Well, I should get home, I guess. My goldfish haven't been fed all weekend." Luke pushed out his chair, and stood to go. He gave Alyssa a chaste kiss on the cheek, and rech over to shake Jamie's hand again, "Welcome back, I'm glad you had a good time." he said politely, and with that, he was gone. Moments later, the sound of his car starting drifted to them and then even that was gone. Alyssa frowned.
"Did he just say that he had to feed his goldfish?" Belle pointed out disengenously.
"Yeah, I believe he did." Alyssa mumbled. "He doesn't even own any goldfish."

--

Mandy and Jamie made their excuses and ambled off to bed shortly after Luke's suspicious exit, and Belle and Alyssa tackled the mountain of washing up that had been left all weekend. Alyssa washed, and Belle dried. Alyssa took the opportunity to pick up from where she had left off when Mandy and Jamie arrived home.
"HOw have you come with this idea, then, Belle?" she asked.
"What idea?"
"The idea that these worries are ... what was the word you used? Distilled. The worries are distilled into what was it?"
"Minor annoyances."
"Yeah, minor annoyances. Where'd this idea come from?"
Belle shrugged, "Same place they all come from. What I get from the one is more than just the conversation. When I work out a little bit of the puzzle, like the hosts, then I can understand a little bit more - like the distilling."
Alyssa paused with her hands dangling in the sink, soap dripping from her fingertips, "Okay, so, presuming that I believe that these worries get distilled into ..."
"Minor annoyances." Belle interjected.
"... get distilled into minor annoyances, what happens to them then?"
"Well," Belle started slowly, "that's where the host comes in. They get pushed back out to the host."
"But I thought that the host was where the worries were coming from."
"Ah, no, you're wrong there. The worries come from everywhere, all around, all the time, everyone, everwhere. They're constant. That's why I said distilled, because they don't just reduce in emotion, they reduce in size, in quantity, as well."
"Okay, so these distilled worries get pushed back out the host. Is that all the host is good for?"
"Pretty much. You see, the one can't process the emotional energy that comes from the worries. The worries themselves stay, sort of like creatures of some sort, the idea of them never really leaves. But the emotional energy gets drawn out of them, and sent back out to the host. The host can process that energy, and send it back out into the world." Belle paused and thought for a second before adding,"Kind of like trees and photo ... what is it?"
"Photosynthesis." Alyssa said vaguely, she was still trying to work through the idea of distilling.
"Photosynthesis, yeah. The way the trees go through that process, and release oxygen back into the air, that's kind of like the worries. Because the worries - and the one - can't handle all that emotional energy, they put it back out into the world, to be recycled."
"Hmmmm. Well it makes a certain amount of sense," Alussa grudgingly admitted, "I still think it's pretty far fetched though. And what has it got to do with us anyway?"
"I don't think it's us," Belle said, her voice low, "I think it's Mum. I think she's the host."

--

"The host of what?" a voice send behind them. Alyssa dropped the plate she was washing back into the water, and a tidal wave of grotty washing up water slopped over the front of her t shirt, "Mum!" she said in surprise.
"Yeah, Mum," Mandy said dryly. She walked the rest of the way into the kitchen and pressed the button on the kettle. The silence that had descended was suddenly filled by the sound of the water heating in the jug. Mandy reached up to get a mug, and then dropped a teabag into it. "So, are you going to tell me what I'm hosting, then, or not?"
"I, uh ..." stammered Alyssa, "We were ... ummm. Belle?"
"We were talking about the worry dolls." Belle said in her usual blunt fashion.
"Oh my, not the worry dolls again." Mandy sighed, "I went on holidays to try and get away from this, and I found it's all you two have been thinking about all weekend. Don't you have better things to do with your time?"
"Mum," Belle interjected, "I think you need to listen to this though ..."
"No." Mandy interupted, "No, I don't need to listen to you, you two need to listen to me for a ..."
"Mum!" Belle yelled suddenly, "Mum. This is important. We can make the dolls go away. Do you hear me? We can make them go away. But we can't do it without you, so you need to listen to us." she dropped her voice again, "You need to trust us, and stop trying to run away from this situation."
Mandy, taken by surprise, dropped her voice slightly too, but hers was menacing, not conforting, "Belle, Alyssa, I love you both, but we need to stop talking about this. It's going to send me around the twist. It very nearly has already. Jamie and I were talking about it ..."
"It won't go away on it's own, Mum, it'll keep getting worse." Belle said queitly.
"Belle's right, Mum. It's not going to get better. I've seen the dolls, I've seen what they do to Belle, and I've seen what tey do to you. But I've been beyond the mirror too, and I know that we can make it go away. But you need to listen to Belle. She has the answers, and she can make it happen."
Mandy got the look of wildlife caught in headlights, and suddenly her defences dropped. Her shoulders sagged, and the lines around her eyes reappeared underneath her fresh tan, "Okay." she said finally, "I'm going to make a cup of tea, and then we're going to sit down at the table. You will both then have an hour to make me believe that what you're saying is true. Am I understood?"
Both girls nodded mutely, and both wondered how they were ever going to convince their mother that what they said was true, they hardly believed it themselves.