1 The Clockwork Giant in the Greenhouse.

By R.M. Hamilton

David and Debbie Montgomery were spending their school holidays with Uncle Octavius. Their parents were off on a zoological exploration in South America, and they had decided to leave David and Debbie behind in Australia.

“I wish we were going to the Amazon,” grumbled Debbie as the train rattled along towards the Southern Highlands. “Uncle Octavius is completely nutty.”

“Well, it’s all your fault they didn’t want to take us,” said David unkindly. “You’re the one that almost got swallowed by an anaconda last time we went.”

Debbie glared at him. “I didn’t do it on purpose. And you were the one that tried to tame a crocodile and keep it in the house as a dog.”

“Oh whatever,” snarled David. “The question is, how are we going to stand the Southern Highlands for the whole Summer? There’s nothing to do and Uncle Octavius won’t take us anywhere interesting and if we say we’re bored, he’ll make us learn Latin.”

“Maybe something will happen,” said Debbie. “Something interesting.”

Uncle Octavius met them at the Bowral train station. He wore a vague, faraway expression and he was wearing a plaid dressing gown. “He’s forgotten to get dressed again,” muttered David gloomily to Debbie inside the train. “A nice summer we’re going to have, babysitting him.”

They got off the train and went up to Uncle Octavius. “Hello, Uncle,” said David.

“Yes, yes, yes,” said Uncle Octavius. “That’s quite alright.”

Debbie tried to explain. “We’re your niece and nephew, Uncle. We’re spending the summer with you.”

“Ah,” said Uncle Octavius. “Romulus and Remus have arrived. You find us in a state of belli nebula. I think reinforcements are a good idea, all things considered. Come, my conveyance is parked behind the station.”

“What does that even mean?” hissed Debbie to David as they followed the tall, stooping figure of Uncle Octavius out into the car park.

“It means we’re in for an even more rotten summer than we expected,” muttered David.

“Things have been chaotic, most chaotic,” boomed Uncle Octavius as the car lurched through Bowral. “You know of my work of course. Long have I felt that the ugly modernity we suffer is both unsustainable and unnecessary. In light of that, I have cast aside my computer and my iPhone and I have had the internet disconnected from my house.  You will find my house to be a sanctum from twenty first century vices.”

Debbie and David looked at each other in horror. “No internet, Uncle?” squawked David.

“Indeed no, dear boy. All the technology that a human requires can be provided with the wizardry of clockwork. It is far more sustainable, and frankly, attractive. I regret to say that the conveyance in which you are riding is still powered by petrol, but I have yet to complete my clockwork car.”

The non clockwork car bounded around the edge of the Bowral golf course and whizzed down a narrow street lined with large oak trees.

“All the world’s ills can be fixed with clockwork,” continued Uncle Octavius, zooming into a drive with such force Debbie and David bounced in their seats. At least,” his face grew dark as he stopped the car with a jolt in front of a grand, brick house, “at least that was the theory. But Gamaliel has rebelled.”

“Uncle!” gasped Debbie. “Whatever’s happened to your house? It hasn’t got a roof!”

Uncle Octavius threw his car door open and jumped out. He stared at his roofless house and his face turned purple. He shook his fist in the direction of the garden. “Oh you flagitium hominis! You’ll pay for this!” He turned to Debbie and David. “A thousand apologies! I assure you, my abode had a lid when I left. This is a disgrace. Gamaliel has gone too far this time!”

“But who is Gamaliel, Uncle,” panted Debbie as they rushed after him into the roofless house.

“Well may you ask!” shouted Uncle Octavius. “He is a traitor, a fiend, and an invention who has no gratitude whatsoever. If I were to pinpoint the spot where it all went wrong, I would say that it was the day I added that part from a Victorian sewer pump to his parts. Before that, he was pure clockwork. But after the introduction of part of a sewer pump, he turned. He went from being a nice, polite clockwork giant who helped about the garden, to a nasty mean clockwork giant who stomps about at night, stealing parts to upgrade himself. You may have noticed the ruined town clock?”

Large splats of rain began to fall through the beams that had once held a roof in place. “Help me pull a tarpaulin out of this box.  we must sort out a makeshift roof before the storm sets in.”

“It’s awfully cold for summer,” grumbled David, digging cold sardines out of a tin and trying to avoid the splashes of rain that evaded the tarpaulin.

“Southern Highlands weather is erratic,” explained Uncle Octavius. “I am sorry dinner is so awful.”

“Uncle, do you have any nice fruit growing in your greenhouse?” asked Debbie.

Uncle Octavius scowled. “I do have some very nice fruit growing in my green house. I have the most enormous, sweet and juicy grapes you ever tasted in your life. Last winter, I developed something I call Grapus Magnus. Just a few grains of this extraordinary powder and ordinary grapes transform into something to make a watermelon feel like a pea.”

“That sounds a lot better than tinned sardines,” said David, standing up. “I’m going to get some.”

“Alas dear boy, that is where Gamaliel has decided to live. He likes the greenhouse. I don’t know why. And anyone who approaches to pick a few grapes decides it’s not worth it, pretty quick!”

“Isn’t there any way you can shut Gamaliel down? After all, you made him!”

“I did engineer him with a fatal flaw, in case something like this happened,” admitted Uncle Octavius. “But in the resulting chaos, I have forgotten both the flaw and where I put the piece of paper where I wrote down the flaw, in case of an emergency. In any case, it may no longer work, considering his upgrades.”

The next morning the rain had stopped, and the day was clear. Uncle Octavius was on the landline telephone trying to get someone to come and mend his roof. “Another piece of ugly modernity that I must endure for the sake of emergencies,” he apologized as he dialed the number. “At least your stay shall be free of WiFi and TV.”

“I’m going to have a look at this giant,” muttered David to Debbie. “I’m not afraid of an oversized grandfather clock! And it’s not like there’s anything else to do.”

Uncle Octavius lived on a large, old-fashioned section that seemed to go on forever. Once, the gardens had been so splendid that they were always included in the annual Southern Highlands Garden tour and people from all over Australia would come and gawk at the beautiful tulip beds and stylish topiary.

Unfortunately, Uncle Octavius had decided to introduce something interesting to the grounds to increase revenue. It hadn’t worked.  

“Eww, what’s the pong?” grumbled Debbie as she followed David deeper into the overgrown garden.

“Don’t you remember Mum telling us Uncle got ditched from the garden tour because he decided to plant corpse flowers instead of tulips one year? They smell like death when they bloom. I suppose the rain made them open. Look, there’s the greenhouse!”

It was a very grand greenhouse, but it was overgrown with ivy and flowering Morning Glories. “I don’t think Uncle comes to the bottom of his garden very often,” said Debbie.

“Would you?” gasped David. “I can taste the smell.”

Suddenly a sound came from the glasshouse. It was the sort of sound a bulldozer would make if it drove through a pottery exhibition.

“Ooh David,” gasped Debbie. “I bet that’s Gamaliel!”

“Well, I’m not scared of him,” said David fiercely, looking nervously toward the glasshouse. “Eating huge grapes is probably all the fun we’re going to get this summer.” He looked at his sister. “You can go back to the house if you like,” he said kindly.

“No, I’ll stay with you,” said Debbie bravely.

Secretly, David was relieved but all he said was, “alright.” Then he picked up an empty flowerpot lying by the path. He looked towards the greenhouse, and he yelled, “I want my grapes and I’m coming to get them and you’re not going to stop me!”

“Oh David, don’t make it MAD!” gasped Debbie.

“He can’t even understand what I’m saying,” said David scornfully.

“OH YES I CAN!” a crackly voice boomed out from the greenhouse. “I can understand every word you’re saying, and you WILL NOT GET ANY GRAPES!”

“How come you can talk?” shouted David. “I thought you were all clockwork with a bit of old sewer pump worked in!”

“I stole a gramophone player!” boasted the voice. “I robbed the Mittagong Antique store. I smashed the window last midnight and helped myself!”

Debbie, who had been hiding behind David started shouting, “then you’re nothing but a wicked old thief! And my brother is coming in there to bash you all up and take away all the grapes and get back that gramophone player!”

“Oh he is, is he?” snarled the scratchy voice. “We shall see about that!”

Loud thudding footsteps echoed from inside the greenhouse. Then a large, horrible looking pile of clockwork and mechanical parts, topped off with a gramophone, crashed through the glass doors.

“HO HO HO!” snarled the gramophone. “You’ll be sorry soon!”

“David, do something,” screamed Debbie.

David wasn’t quite sure what to do. Gamaliel looked a lot bigger than he had been expecting.

“Chuck the flowerpot at him!” shouted Debbie.

“Don’t listen to her,” said the gramophone sternly. “I am too huge to be conquered by flowerpots! Run away, run away!”

David threw the flowerpot at Gamaliel with all his might. It crashed into the giant, but Gamaliel was right. He was too huge to be conquered with flowerpots.

“You shouldn’t have done that, little boy!” snarled the gramophone. “Now I’m mad and when I’m mad, I rip people’s heads right off their shoulders!”

“Don’t let him rip your head off, David!” shrieked Debbie. She rushed into the shrubbery and returned holding a pitchfork. “Get him with this!”

David charged at Gamaliel and attacked the bit of him that he could reach. It was only the giant’s knees, but it was effective.

“OW!” shouted the giant.

“He’s coming down!” yelled Debbie. “David, finish him off!”

“I’m going away now!” screeched the gramophone. The giant turned and tried to run into the greenhouse, but David had succeeded in dislodging a clog from Gamaliel’s knee.

He crashed to the ground and Debbie and David rushed at him and pulled him all to bits.

It was later. David and Debbie sat perched on sacks of Grapus Magnus. A helpful wind was blowing the awful smell of the corpse flowers away from the greenhouse. “Jolly good grapes,” said Debbie appreciatively. “David, you were brave.”

“Thanks,” said David. Then, with a burst of generosity, “you helped. I probably wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t been yelling in the background. He looked at the piece of paper his sister was twisting about in her fingers, absentmindedly. “What’s that?

“Don’t know,” said Debbie. “It was stuck between the sacks of Grapus Magnus.

David took it and read, “note to self, in the case of Gamaliel, (invention #298) getting out of hand, remember, there have been giants before and there will be giants again, but faith will conquer them all.”

“It’s the fatal flaw Uncle told us about,” said Debbie. “Maybe all giants fall if you’re just brave enough to stand up to them. It was awfully scary though. He was very big!”

“Yeah,” said David thoughtfully. “But so are the grapes.” He stood up. “We should tell Uncle Octavius that he can stop worrying about his invention. You know what Debbie?”

“What, David?”

“I don’t think this is going to be such a boring summer after all.”

“Me neither.”

And David, with the gramophone under his arm and Debbie with the piece of paper in her hand, walked slowly back towards the house.

Writing © R.H. Hamilton. Photos courtesy of pixabay.