Chapter 4          

Enter Clarence; Senior Personage of the Pond

                            

Peter awoke to his second morning as Frederick's guest and listened.  He could hear nothing, and yet !  But wait,  what was that?. No hysterical sounds it was true; no weeping and wailing, no groaning and moaning.  But there was something, and it took only a moment to realize what it was.  So much had happened over the last couple of days that he had quite forgotten about food, and now he was enormously hungry.  His rumbling tummy was responsible for reminding him of that fact, and for the noise he had been hearing.  But what to do?.  His host and his kind got by very nicely on a diet of worms and snails, slugs and any unfortunate insect that came within range of their long sticky tongues.

     'Don't fancy that at all' he thought, not wishing to contemplate something still wriggling as it went down his gullet.  He made his way out of his little cave of stones, and looked about him.  There was a bewildering amount of plant life all around, some of which grew close to the ground spreading itself far and wide, which he could see until the defusing effect of the water rendered it invisible. Others lifted their stalks and foliage upwards and ever upwards until they reached the surface. Not only was there a variety in plant size and shape, but also of colour and texture.  Large leaves and small, long and thin, short and fat, and between every extreme was a myriad of shapes and shades. As well as this being his only likely source of food, it was home and shelter for an immense amount of the smaller species of pond life.

     So carried away with his discoveries was he, that Peter almost forgot why he was searching, until once again his hunger became paramount. With the tiniest bend of his knees, and a minute straitening of his ankle he floated slowly and elegantly upwards, gently handling the small upper growth of one particular plant.  This looked promising and he found some small new shoots, and, he found, the tips of some older shoots still were bearing seed heads.  Cautiously, and with some trepidation he put them to his mouth.  Finding the first sweet and flavoursome, and the second crisp and crunchy, he made a light meal of them. Not too much in case they were poisonous, or if, for any reason they did not agree with him. Enough however, to satisfy his hunger, and later - he told himself - if there were no repercussions he would have some more.  Nevertheless, he continued his search for other edible offerings.  

     Peter had been flung somewhat headlong into this new world, and had not really had time to take a good look around his new environment.  Now, as he searched amongst the plants he started to see things for the first time; things that as a child he would not have understood or appreciated; or things that as an adult he would  have little inclination to look for.  Just now he felt somewhere in between, and although he was not adult, he felt that in this unaccustomed watery world he was thinking like one. Indeed he had quickly realized that he had to, though more than once he had found himself asking 'what would granddad do now' or 'what might he say?'.

     But suddenly, for no reason he could think of he was behaving like the  youngster; laughing out loud as once more he hurled himself into open water to twist and to spin, and then to crash headlong into the jungle of growth, coming out at the other side guaranteeing complete surprise to any small creature who might be settled there. Inevitably it would shoot of in panic, no doubt feeling that it was under attack from some strange new predator.

      Sometimes he would surprise a school of small fish which would disperse in every direction, twisting and turning as they went, catching the light from above, glinting and flashing like an underwater firework display in their attempt to avoid the jaws of this new enemy.

     Peter was having the time of his life, and for a little while he was a child again, and thinking how much his grandfather would enjoy this wonderland.

     Once more he aimed at the waving greenery, and with a now accomplished kick of his legs, his arms in front to pierce the verdant screen he shot through, but this time to come face to face with the biggest pair of lips he had ever seen.  He struggled to avoid a collision, darting as quickly as he could back into the protection of the undulating strands, fearful that this time he might be breakfast.

     The pair of lips made no attempt to follow, and from a position of relative safety behind the water plants Peter could see that above the lips, which were open and closing in a gentle unhurried manner, was a large pair of eyes.  Both eyes and lips were set into the body of a fish, which, in this new order of things seemed to be as big as a whale.

     "Ahem." it said "Are you Peter?"

     "Yes." he answered in a voice which suggested surprise rather than fear.

     "What on earth were you doing?"  the lips asked in a haughty manner, not unlike Giles.

     "Sorry about that." Peter replied  "It’s all rather new to me and I guess that sometimes I do get a little carried away."

     "If you carry on like that you very soon will get carried away."  said the lips, this time in a rather condescending way, as if to suggest that he could hardly be bothered.

     "Yes of course, sorry again."  Peter was contrite. "Err ... you know my name, did you want me?"

     "Frederick came to see me, asked me to come and talk to you.  Said something about you being God or some such."      "Oh I see.  Well Frederick is a bit mixed up I think.  I didn't tell him I was God; just that all this is mine."

     "All what?"

     "All the water."

     “How can you own the water? It’s like you saying you own the air.”

     Peter was getting used to being surprised. “What do you know about the air?” he asked

     A few moments passed and a spray of little bubbles emerged from somewhere behind where the big fishes ears should be. “Not much it’s true,” he answered, “ but one hears things. You pick it up as you go. It’s up there I think.” As if to indicate his meaning his eyeballs lifted briefly to the top of their sockets.

      “Well yes in that case; it is a bit like that.” Peter responded, hoping that he would not be called upon to explain.

     "Are you telling me that all of Paradise belongs to you?"

     "Well yes, it does actually," Peter said, a little defensively  "at least it belongs to my grandfather. And the rest of the word as well." he added for good measure.

     "My goodness it gets worse all the time.  What with Frederick claiming to be a king, and this other chappie ..." he flicked a fin, "what's his name? ... Giles; yes, that’s the one ... claiming to be the descendant of a grand duke ..." he seemed to run out of words for a second or two  "and now you come along saying that you may or may not be God but that everything is yours ... whatever next?"

     "Alright alright!," said Peter, feeling just a little cross at the fish's rather grand attitude, and also that he was not getting much change out of the exchange  "and who are you then?"

     "I'm Clarence Carp; senior personage of the pond."

     "Ha." Peter shouted, and came out from behind his cover "Your just as bad as the other two."

     "As the oldest inhabitant of Paradise I deserve a little respect, don't you think?"

     "No-one deserves respect just because they're old, but just for the record, how old are you anyway?"

     "Nearly twenty they say."  Clarence answered in a certain way, waiting to be congratulated. But instead of congratulations Peter was quick to prevaricate.

     “How do you know?” he asked.

     “How do I know what?”

     “How old you are.”

     Clarence the carp was silent for a moment, but was not going to let it go. “I’m not sure; I mean, how does one know these things; but everyone knows; just ask around. In any case no one else claims to be older.”

     "Well my granddad is past fifty and so is my dog, so there."

     "Impossible." retorted Clarence, the fins on both sides beating in anger as he tried to weigh up this cheeky little fellow.

       Peter edged back a little, nearer to his barricade an attack by Clarence but when it came it was verbal again.  "How come I have never seen him if he is so old?"

     "Because we don't live in the water, and  I'm only here because there is trouble that needs sorting out - and he couldn't come."

     "Well at least you are right there. The newts you know. I pretty much ignore them but they are upsetting some of the smaller chaps."

     Sensing a slight change in the big fish's attitude Peter moved forward  again. "I want to sort out this problem before I go back to my home, but I will need some help."

     "Yes, that's what Frederick said. Asked me to come and see you."

     "Are you a friend of Frederick's then?"

     "No, I would not say a friend.  He's a bit too wacky for me, but I think he does his best for the frog community."

     "What about Giles?" Peter asked.

     "Oh there's no doubt that he is the trouble maker. The newts were very peaceful before he came and stirred things up. Now look at them."

     "Well I want it sorted, can you help me?"

     "Anything in it for me?" Clarence asked with a sly grin on those huge lips.

     "Not much except peace and quiet, and once we are gone you get to be the oldest inhabitant again."

     "We?  Who do you mean, we?

     "My granddad.  He's waiting for me." Peter gestured upwards, but forgot to mention that when last seen, granddad was fast asleep; and that was two days ago.

     Clarence made no further comment about granddad, his mind seemingly on more immediate matters "Frederick said something about sticklebacks ... now what's that all about?"  he asked, unsuccessfully  trying to hide an enormous yawn.  

     Perhaps a little alarmed by the size of Clarence's open mouth Peter moved back a little, but without any apparent effort Clarence was quickly by his side, apparently having deciding to cooperate. Together they moved off in a gentle glide into a more remote part of the lake where they could talk in private, and formulate a strategy.  Most of all Peter wanted to learn about the life in the pond, how each species got on with the others; who were the sinners and who were the saints.  As the oldest inhabitant - the senior personage - Clarence was just the one to tell him.  

        Clarence for his part was just as keen to know about life in the rest of the world.  They spent much of the day together in deep conversation, animated, intense, and full of surprises.  Clarence for instance could not get his head round the fact that while Paradise had existed for two hundred years, the rest of the world had clocked up two hundred million.

     "How do you know that?" the Senior personage of the Pond asked, unable to disguise the disbelief in his voice.

     "Because granddad said so."  Peter's answer was positive, though it was just a number that came into his head. Right or wrong, he knew that it had to be a big number.  

     "And you don't eat each other?" he had said at one point, incredulous "how do you survive?"

     "Peter laughed, albeit nervously  "Not any more we don't; at least not in the way you are thinking, and definitely not humans."  But he felt distinctly uncomfortable explaining about the cows and the sheep, the pigs and chickens.  Most of all he was especially careful not to say anything about fish and chips.

     As the day wore on a picture of life in the pond became clearer in Peter's mind.  He learned about the interchange between the species, of the interdependence each had of the others, and of the acceptance of natures way; that some, and in time all, had to sacrifice themselves for the overall good of their environment; and for the very survival of their Paradise.

     "And that is where I come in."  Peter asserted.  "This business with Giles and the newts goes right against the grain; against nature.  Once he has got rid of the frogs, who is he going to turn on next?"

     "Quite agree old boy," muttered Clarence; "but I don't see how we can stop him."

     "We have to find a way; we must; and I can't stay here forever."

     "Leave it with me and I'll have a chat with some of the others; see if anyone can come up with a plan."

     "Well please be quick, there is no time to lose."

     “Talking about time; I should get you back to the frog compound,” Clarence mouthed lazily, “before it gets too dark.”

     With that they drifted back towards that part of the pond that had become well-known to Peter, and in truth he was pleased to see those familiar surroundings again, and the little pile of rocks which had become his home. He said goodbye to Clarence, and having suffered no ill effects from his ‘breakfast’  set about collecting a more substantial meal. Thoughts of food had not been paramount during his day out with the big fish, but he was very hungry again, and now it was getting quite dark.

     Finding the same plant he had found earlier proved impossible, and in the failing light Peter had to rely on touch, for even close to the surface it was now too dark to see properly. He persevered as best he could and gradually he collected sufficient material - which he hoped would be edible - wrapped up in a large leaf. By this time it was dark, and Peter was alarmed to discover that due to his meanderings amongst the plants and the weeds he had completely lost his sense of direction. He was lost. For the first time since he entered the water he felt frightened, understanding at last Frederick’s warning. Paradise really was not what he had thought it to be, and lost on his own Peter knew he might be in danger. Deadly danger.

     Staying close to the bottom, Peter abandoned his ability to swim, and crawled in the direction, as well as he could remember, of the setting sun, for he had noticed as he returned with Clarence that they were heading towards the failing light. There he hoped to find the rocks in which he might find his dwelling.  He crawled; and crawled; and crawled some more, but he did not find the rocks, and eventually he gave up. He knew that he was lost, and that he would have to find a place to hide, but in the dark and in an environment that now seemed very hostile, that would very hard to do.

     Fear had just about given way to desperation when he came up against something hard and rough. ‘It’s a log’ Peter thought, forgetting for a moment that in his minuscule size, it was more likely to be a long submerged tree branch. Feeling around he found a little hollow, and quickly by scraping away some stones and lose mud, he fashioned a little cave where he hoped to spend the night. ‘It’ll be safer,’ he reasoned, than blundering blindly on. ‘Who knows what I might bump into?’

     Peter’s Plan might have been very sound, had he not chosen to make his shelter next to some other creature with a similar plan who did not wish to share the protection of its lair with a stranger. Without warning Peter felt a grip on his arm and a violent shaking motion from a being that either fancied him for its supper, or was telling him he was not welcome. Either way Peter shot up from relative safety of his little hideout into the dangerous open water.

     Dangerous it proved to be for in a second Peter felt himself being grabbed by powerful arms and being rushed away at an alarming speed. If he had ever doubted the danger of Paradise, those doubts disappeared now, and with an understanding far beyond his years, Peter accepted that his life might be over, for surly he was in the grip of a powerful predator. When he felt himself being dumped on the ground he waited for the fateful blow.

     “Found him way out by the ridge.” he heard a voice saying. Then another, a more familiar one. “Is he alright, what on earth was he doing out there?”

     Then Peter felt a hand on his arm, and once more he heard that well known voice, speaking softly , “It’s alright Peter, you’re safe now.” Frederick continued, not commenting to the others around that their young friend was close to sobbing. “We’ve been looking for you for ages, but you’re home now. You can tell us what happened tomorrow.”

     In all the activity of the night Peter’s carefully collected supper of fresh shoots and berries had been lost, so once again he went to bed hungry. But at least, albeit with a sore arm on which he could distinctly feel  two sets of mouth marks, he was safe.