George's Generations: Through the Magic Doors

Prologue

It was July 26th, 1986, the start of the school summer holidays, and in the small village of Meadow View in the North of England, there lived a boy named George Rainbow.

Meadow View was situated deep in the countryside, surrounded by moorland, rolling fields, hills, and a quarry located on the other side of a large forest. It was a small, relatively quiet place where everybody knew everybody else.

A typical 10-year-old boy, George lived in a small three-bedroom house with his two brothers - Sean, who was 12, and David, who was 14 - and his parents, Cherry and John, with most of his extended family living in the same village.

Just down the road lived his grandma and grandad, and across from them his great aunt Alice. On the outskirts of the village lived his great aunt Emma, and at the top of the village lived George’s dad’s two older sisters. As neither of them had ever married, they lived in the same house together. His dad said they were ‘thick as thieves’ together.

George’s grandma, grandad, Auntie Alice and Auntie Emma all favoured George; whenever he would go around to Grandma and Grandad’s house they would always fuss over him, asking him how he and his friends were doing and telling him to look after himself. He would always get a big hug and a kiss from his grandma, while his grandad would hug him before shaking his hand and calling him his ‘mate’.

He was an adventurous and daring soul, who always loved playing outdoors and doing all the things that 10-year-old boys normally enjoy doing: climbing trees, making hideouts, playing with his friends and just enjoying being free from school throughout the holidays. As soon as he was up in the morning he was out into the big, wide world - and he wouldn’t come back until it was time to be fed or go to bed.

Like most young boys he’d much rather play with his friends than his brothers, particularly as they were older and always picking on him. They often got him into trouble, persuading him to do them favours and lie for them to his parents.

Chapter One

The School Summer Holidays

It was a bright, sunny Saturday morning and my first day of the school summer holidays - my favourite time of year! This particular morning was the beginning of another red-hot summer’s day, and the sun woke me up, shining through a crack in my bedroom curtains.

I was tired for a second or two, my brain still foggy with sleep, but after a quick stretch I jumped up out of bed and quickly pulled the curtains open, revealing a clear blue sky above the rooftops of the village.

What a great day to play out, I thought.

Eager to get outside and on with the day, as quickly as I could I got dressed and went downstairs, where my mum was already up and making herself a cup of tea.

She was always the first up in the morning, opening the curtains and windows and getting the house ready for a new day.

Good morning, Mum! I said.

Morning, George, she replied. Do you want your breakfast?

Yes, please, I responded, so she made me jam on toast with just the right amount of butter underneath - my favourite.

As I sat there munching on my toast and gazing out of the window, wondering what I and my friends would get up to that day, Mum was pottering around the kitchen, listening to the TV that was on in the next room. I began to listen to the news reporter as my mind began to wander. She was speaking with a very excited astronomer from an observatory halfway across the world, in Australia.

They were discussing a large increase in solar flare activity that had erupted on the surface of the sun the day before, and what impact these would have on the planets night sky. The astronomer explained that they were expecting to see the Southern Lights across their night skies, which wasn’t that unusual, given that it was winter in the Southern hemisphere. However, the increase in activity would also prompt the Northern Lights to make an appearance, which was an unusual event for the summer months. The reporter said that people in Britain might be able to see them in the next few nights as far south as the Midlands.

I turned and looked at the TV, interested. Mum, what are the Northern Lights? I asked.

The Aurora Borealis, she replied and went on, when it was clear that I didn’t understand, it’s a phenomenon also known as the Northern Lights, where great ribbons of green and blue charged particles flow through the upper atmosphere, turning the sky green. It’s caused when huge radioactive explosions take place on the surface of the sun, causing solar flares.

Wow, I said.

The flares travel through space and hit the Earth’s atmosphere, causing a reaction that triggers the Northern Lights. Apparently it’s the most beautiful natural phenomena you will ever see, but I very much doubt it’ll come this far down.

You never know Mum, it might, I said excitedly, hoping that it would.

I took the last few bites of my breakfast and brushed the toast crumbs off my hands. I’m off out now, I told my mum.

Okay, she said. Play carefully and remember, you must come in when you hear me shouting.

Okay. Bye then, Mum! I shouted as I left the house.

I went around to call on my friends Thomas and Paul, who lived a few doors away from each other, just down the road from me.

Our parents always told us that we must remain in earshot and not to travel too far away from home, so they could find us if they needed to, and that we must always stick together.

The first instruction we found difficult to stick to, but we never had a problem sticking together as we were best friends. Thomas, Paul and I went everywhere and did everything as a group and on this morning we decided to go to the quarry on the far side of the woods.

The quarry was a huge expanse of water that had been there for over 60 years, It was about the size of two football fields or more, with a steep drop into the water of about six foot on one side, but shallower on the other. About halfway around, where the drop to the water was shallower, there were trees, bushes and open areas with long grass that flowed majestically to and fro in the wind. In good weather the sun would shine on it all day long. It was paradise. A lovely, peaceful place to be, with only the wind blowing through the trees and grasses, the birds singing, and no sound of the hustle or bustle from the village.

But, of course, this was a place we were not allowed to play! Our parents always told us of the dangers of the quarry - the long drops and the water - and reminded us that over the long history of the place three boys had drowned in the quarry. Their bodies had never been found, which made them a favourite subject among the older boys when they told ghost stories to scare little brothers.

10-year-old me didn’t understand why they worried though. I was, I thought, far too clever to fall in and drown. We were always careful when we played around the edge, but still our parents fretted and scolded and we weren’t allowed to go there. So, of course, we snuck down there without them finding out instead.

When we got to the water’s edge we would throw stones into the deep quarry pool, and whoever could throw their stone the furthest was the winner for that day. Occasionally we threw a plastic bottle in there and would try to hit it with our stones. It was such a simple game, yet we could happily spend hours on it. It was such fun! Occasionally, we would bring our slingshots, for greater distance and accuracy.

Every now and then we would go up to the old disused railway line above the quarry, where we would collect lumps of iron ore. These were small, heavy, misshapen ball bearings that worked really well as ammunition for our slingshots. This was much more fun, and we could get them so much further across the water than the stones.

That day we played for hours, just laughing and having fun, but because we knew we weren’t supposed to be there, every now and then we would stop and listen carefully for our parents shouting for us to come in as we were supposed to remain in earshot and down at the quarry we were a little bit too far away.

Eventually, we gave up. The sun was high in the sky now, so we knew hours must have had passed, and we had heard nothing from our parents.

I have to go in now, Paul said. We’re going to see my grandma in hospital, but I’ll be out again tomorrow.

Okay then, let’s walk up, I said as we threw the last of the stones into the quarry.

On our way home I spotted my brothers walking towards us across the old football field. I guessed they were looking for me.

Where have you been? Sean asked.

Nowhere! I told him, as we met in the middle. We’ve just been playing in the woods on the rope swing.

What rope swing? he asked suspiciously. He looked from one to the other of us, but none of us betrayed a thing. There is no rope swing down there. Mum’s been shouting for you for the last 20 minutes.

We must’ve been playing too loud, I guess, I said.

You better not have been down the quarry, he told me. I’ll tell Dad if you have.

There’s no need to tell Dad anything.

I waved goodbye to Thomas and Paul and said, I better go in before I get into trouble.

When I walked through the door, straightaway my dad asked me where I’d been.

Your mum has been shouting for you for the last 20 minutes, he said, cross. She was worried.

We’ve just been playing over the field, by the trees, on the rope swing. I couldn’t hear her, I lied.

You better not let me find out you’ve been playing down the quarry, or you’ll be grounded for the whole summer holidays, Dad threatened.

I wasn’t, I said.

Well, I’m just saying you better not!

Deep down I think he knew I was down there; he just couldn’t prove it. I got away with it that time.

Get washed up for dinner, then come back down, he said.

When I sat at the table Sean and David looked over and said, We know you were down the quarry.

I stared at them. How could they have known? Don’t tell Dad, I pleaded.

Okay, but you owe us, they replied, looking pleased with themselves.

That was usually a bad thing in my experience, but it was still better than getting into trouble with my dad.

Just then Mum brought our dinners in from the kitchen and placed them down on the table. She ruffled my hair as she passed my chair and went to get another couple of plates.

Chicken dinner - my favourite! Thanks Mum, I said - and meant it. I had worked up quite an appetite.

Dad, who had come in behind her with the cutlery and salt and pepper narrowed his eyes at Sean. What did you just say to George?

Nothing, he replied.

It’s important you don’t go down the quarry, boys, he said again. It’s far too dangerous!

Why, Dad? I asked, wanting to hear a ghost story about a drowned boy, like the ones Sean and David would tell me, trying to frighten me.

Dad sat down, a frown on his face. When I was about your age, I met some boys down the quarry, he said. One of them was called George, like you, he nodded in my direction. And the other one… He tutted at himself. I can’t for the life of me think of his name. Anyway, it was just before our school summer holidays when I first met George, the day after your Aunt Pamela’s birthday, and when we met, we became good friends straight away.

Mum came in with her own plate and a jug of water and motioned for us all to start eating while Dad told us his story.

We were always challenging each other to do silly things - you know, who could climb the highest, or run the farthest, whatever. The way you boys all do with your friends. He looked at the three of us and sighed. One day when we were out playing by the water I came up with this ridiculous, pointless, and highly dangerous challenge. I wish I’d never thought of it. I tied a tight rope across the quarry wall and challenged the others and myself to walk as close to the water as we could without getting our feet wet.

As dangerous and stupid as it was, we did it anyway and things very quickly went horribly wrong. I nearly fell in and he pulled me back. He saved my life that day - and not just the once, either. He was always pulling me out of trouble - but that day was the worst. And it was my idea, so it was my fault.

He rubbed a hand over his face.

George was a good friend to me, and that’s who we named you after, he told me, much to my surprise.

I didn’t know one of the drowned boys was your friend… and I never knew I was named after him, I gasped.

Dad nodded. Anyway, like I’m telling you - the same as my dad told me - you shouldn’t play down there. Because this wasn’t the first time something bad happened. Two boys also drowned there 30 years before George did.

Mum took his hand for a moment and he gave her a sad smile.

But we didn’t listen, Dad continued. When me and my friends played together we thought we were big and clever, like all kids do. We thought we could never get hurt, that we were invincible. But we weren’t.

What happened then? David asked.

Like I said, one day I decided to tie the long rope we had found from one side of the wall to the other, just above the water, Dad continued. As far as we knew it had never been done before, so it seemed like an excellent challenge.

Is that how you got the scar on your head? Sean interrupted.

No, he said, touching it lightly with his fingers. But I did get it down the quarry a few days earlier.

How? I asked, peering at the faded scar on the side of his head. I’d seen it so many times before, but I’d never thought where it might have come from. Neither, from the sounds of it, had my brothers.

An odd look came over Dad’s face. Well, it was the strangest thing, he told us slowly. I was playing on the bankside when a rock came out of nowhere and hit me on the head. Split the skin open - that’s how I got the scar.

Who threw it? Mum asked, interested.

I don’t know, but I threw it back hoping to hit whoever it was.

We all laughed.

Anyway, he went on, with a mixture of excitement about being able to share these tales of his youth, but also sadness at losing a friend. "Halfway across the wall I slipped and started sliding down towards the water. I panicked and shouted for George to help. Just then, he grabbed me by the arm and stopped me from falling in - but we both struggled as he tried to pull me up. We were both panicking and scared.

I really thought I was going to fall in! Dad’s voice quavered, which was unsettling. I had never seen him afraid before. Just as I managed to get my footing, George lost his and slid past me, banging his head on the wall and falling into the water head first.

All four of us had stopped eating now - myself, my brothers and my mum - all of us enthralled by the story, and by the fact that it had happened to Dad (though it was possible Mum had heard the story before). I hadn’t even really imagined him as a child before, but here he was, reliving the worst moment of his life.

I turned to try and catch him, but it was too late, he said, tears welling up in his eyes as he spoke. "George quickly slipped under the surface and there was nothing I could do to save him.

I jumped in and swam around the area where he fell, but there was nothing. The water is so deep there, I couldn’t see him - I couldn’t find him anywhere, Dad said, and I could tell he was still angry and upset about the events of that day, even though they had happened so long ago. I swam to the edge and climbed out, and ran around the whole quarry looking for him. I kept shouting his name, but he was nowhere to be found. He’d gone - he’d drowned.

I swallowed, truly understanding for the first time in my life why he and Mum were always so strict about us not going near the water. But his story wasn’t over yet.

I ran home as fast as I could and told my parents what had happened, he went on. "They were worried that the same thing could have happened to me and angry that I’d been playing near the quarry, but they quickly called for the police and a huge search party - including police divers and everyone from the village - went over to the quarry and started looking for him.

Divers went under the water with lights, but the water was too murky and deep and they couldn’t find him, Dad told us. They brought out police dogs and handlers - which were still pretty new then - and they sniffed around the bankside in case he’d climbed out and was lying injured in the long grass, or something.

Dad paused and took a long drink of the water Mum had poured out for him. It was so sad and tragic, he recalled. And eventually the police reluctantly concluded that he had most likely drowned. They spent the next three or four days searching for his body, but were unable to find it anywhere. They had experts come out and assess the quarry, but they said he had probably sunk into the soft mud beneath the water and it would be too dangerous for anyone to try and recover his body. His frown deepened a touch. He’s probably still down there, somewhere.

He rubbed tears away from his eyes and I exchanged worried glances with my brothers. We had never seen him cry before. He must have been really close to one of the dead boys - and we had never known, in all the years we had told and retold the ghost stories.

Who were his parents, what did they say? David asked. I bet they were devastated!

That’s one of the sad things, Dad told him. We never did find his parents and no boy was ever reported missing. The police thought he might be a runaway. Maybe he fell out with his parents and just ran away. Such a sad end to a short and probably quite sad life. He sighed heavily and looked up at us again. And this is why I don’t want you playing down the quarry.

He quickly rubbed his eyes, sniffed, and sat up straight in his chair. Right, no more talk of the past tonight.

But what about the other boys? I asked, interested.

Yeah, said Sean, the ones who drowned there 30 years before- He paused, catching Mum’s expression. Er… before the story you just told.

One of them was a friend of your grandma and Aunt Alice’s, so you can ask them when you go around to help your grandma weed the garden, like you promised, said Mum. Now eat up, or it will be stone cold.

Like the boys in the quarry, I thought, but didn’t say aloud.

By the time dinner had finished and as the evening drew in, my dad said, It’s time to go to bed. It’s getting late.

What about the Northern Lights? I asked.

The Northern Lights? he echoed, puzzled.

Yes! I told him, trying to remember what the astronomer had said. Mum and I heard it on the news this morning. They said we should see the Northern Lights due to some high solar activity on the sun.

You will do absolutely anything to avoid going to bed, Dad said, but then he laughed. Alright, if you want to see the Lights then sit there nice and quiet while I watch the telly, and you can stay up and we can all look for them together.

About an hour and a half later it started to become dark. Soon it was pitch black outside, and a clear night, so all five of us went out into the garden and sat down on a picnic blanket, gazing up into the night sky. Fortunately, it was lovely and warm for that time of night - given the heat of the day - and we rather enjoyed sitting quietly in the garden, staring up at the starry sky, waiting for something to begin.

Just as we were about to give up, I saw a flash of fleeting white-green meander across the sky like a ghost. It was there one moment and gone the next. Is that it? I gasped. I thought I saw something green in the sky.

No, Mum said - she hadn’t seen it. I think you might have imagined it just because you want to see it so much. Oh…

But as she was speaking, a big slow-moving flash of green and purple light moved across the sky in a wave, and all five of us gasped.

No one spoke. We simply looked up, following the eerie, beautiful light pass like a slow-moving river across the entire sky. There were other colours mixed in with the green: whites, blues, purples. Mum told us that in other cultures, people used to believe that these were their ancestors, watching over the Earth. I could readily believe it. It was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen, or would ever see again.

Unbeknown to any of us, the water of the quarry lit up, reflecting the emerald shades of the sky above it.

As the waves of colour in the sky grew in intensity, the quarry pool glowed brighter and brighter, the silhouette of the trees alongside becoming darker and darker against it. All of a sudden, arcs of electricity began to jump and dance above the glassy, still surface, travelling rapidly from one bank to another, all around the artificial lake.

These arcs seemed to join together to form one, great spark of blue-green and purple energy, which travelled majestically across the surface of the water, making small electrical cracking sounds as tiny sparks flew off it, hovering above the water for a