Short Story Sunday: The Gathering

The first time Thea became aware of the possibility of something more to life than polishing her school shoes on Sunday nights, remembering to feed her goldfish Fred every day and trying to keep up with Mrs Pritchett’s horrid times table quizzes was when she walked into a library. There were large mobiles swaying from the ceiling, each featuring characters and scenes from Roald Dahl books. Her eyes were drawn to the large text dangling below a depiction of The Minpins: “Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.” The quirky lettering seemed to mock Thea, as if to say that she’d never believed, had she? From that moment on, she became determined to find magic by believing in it almost as hard as she believed in Father Christmas, the Tooth Mouse and the Easter Bunny. Except for one small thing: whenever Thea tried to tell anyone about her magical mission, people laughed. They scoffed, called her childish and ridiculous and taunted her for voicing her vision to them. She began to wish she had never set foot in that stupid library and seen that quote, and who was dumb old Dahl anyway? What did he know about magic? He was making it all up. He was a liar.

She hardened herself to that kernel of hope and innocence that the idea of finding magic had brought and, in time, pushed away the memory of her visit to the library. Until, some months later, when her grandmother came to stay. Thea had never met her grandmother before, and her arrival rattled her parents, who retreated to the garden shed to have stage whisper rows while Grandma Iris stirred sugar into her tea on the front porch. There was something different about her grandmother: she looked old, with her grey hair and knitted shawls, but her eyes possessed a youthful glimmer and a spark of curiosity that made Thea want to look away.

“How old are you, Thea?”

“I’m twelve, Grandma.”

Her grandmother nodded. “I thought as much.”

Thea blinked at her, waiting for clarification that never came.

“Did your parents really never tell you about me?”

She shook her head.

“They never believed, you see.”

“Believed in what?”

“Magic.”

The strangest feeling came over Thea then, as though the kernel of hope and innocence was germinating within her.

“I don’t know if I believe in it either,” she said. “I tried to once, but everyone laughed at me.” Her eyes widened in surprise as her grandmother let out a chuckle.

“People always laugh and jeer at things they don’t understand.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. But I suppose that’s for the best. If everyone believed in magic then it wouldn’t be special anymore. It would be as commonplace as polishing your school shoes on a Sunday night.”

Thea’s eyes widened. Her grandmother tapped the side of her nose and winked at her.

“So it’s real? Magic is real?”

“Oh, yes. If you want it to be.”

The frowned. “I did want it to be real. I wanted to find it, like Roald Dahl wrote in that book. But I couldn’t.”

“Did you believe?”

“Oh, yes! Just like I believed in Father Christmas and the Easter Bunny.”

“Well, that explains it then.”

“It does?”

“Real magic is far bigger than that small fry Easter Bunny. Real magic is something you experience when you feel joy rising up in you and you laugh out of sheer happiness. Real magic is noticing the ordinary things that happen every day that make life that much more special.”

Thea was frowning again.

“When last did you watch a sunrise, Thea? Or really look at a rainbow? How long has it been since you wished on a star?”

“I can’t remember,” she mumbled.

“You see, the magic was right there; you didn’t see it.”

“But that’s not magic, Grandma. That’s ordinary stuff you see in nature.”

Grandma Iris smiled, and took a sip of her tea. “If you say so.”

Thea stomped inside after that, more confused than before. Just when it felt like she might get the answer, her grandmother stopped talking and got a mysterious look on her face. Why didn’t grown-ups ever explain what they meant? A noise from the shed made Thea lean out of her bedroom window. She could hear her parents debating how to get rid of her grandmother because she was a bad influence, and for once Thea agreed with them.

She didn’t know how long she had been asleep when she felt a knitted shawl tickle her arm.

“Wake up, darling. We’re going to find some magic.”

“But it’s almost supper time.”

“Well, yes, but I sent your parents out and they won’t be back until later. Please come with me. I promise you won’t regret it.” She retrieved a waxed paper parcel from her shawl and handed it to Thea. “This should tide you over until we get there.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

The surprise, as it turned out, involved a long walk up a hill behind the village. Her grandmother had driven them to the foot of the hill and announced that the surprise was at the summit. She had a strange feeling about it, but her curiosity got the better of her and she followed behind.

“Quickly, darling, the sun is going down and it’s about to start.”

Her cries of “What is?” got lost in a gust of wind that swept around them. She jogged to catch up to her grandmother, who was standing, staring.

“There, Thea. Look.”

She followed her grandmother’s gaze to a clearing, squinting at the last rays of the sun. There, below the tree line, she made out a circle of stones.

“It’s the Wishing Circle,” said her grandmother, answering her silent question. “That’s where the magic happens. Whatever you wish for in the centre of those stones must come true if you believe in it with all your heart.” She glanced at the sky. “But we must hurry. The sun will be gone soon.” She took Thea’s hand and led her to the centre of the stones. “Do as I do, Thea, and every time we raise our arms, send your wishes to the heavens. All right?”

She nodded.

Grandma Iris began to dance, her arms outstretched and her shawl undulating in the wind as she moved. Thea tried to copy every step and concentrated on sending up her wishes every time she raised her arms. She could have sworn music was playing, but it could have been a trick of the wind in the trees. They danced and moved in the circle and finally stood, arms aloft, as the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Thea was breathless, but happy. She had sent her wishes skywards and knew that all this dancing and swaying must mean they had a good chance of coming true.

“Let’s go home, Thea. You must be famished.” Her grandmother squeezed her shoulder. “You did well tonight. I am proud of you.” They walked back down the hill in silence.

When they reached the car, Thea said, “Did you ever bring mummy and daddy here?”

Her grandmother smiled. “No. You’re the first.” She locked eyes with Thea. “You’re the first because you believe.”

Thea wasn’t sure what that meant, but smiled anyway. It was all she could do to contain the exhilaration bubbling in her chest. “Can we go there again, Grandma? It was magical.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in magic.”

“This was different. I felt it.”

“That’s because we were at The Gathering.”

“What’s ‘The Gathering’?”

“It’s when two or more people dance, like we did, and send up wishes to the heavens. That’s when the real magic begins. Our dancing and wishes raise the energy around us and then whatever we wish for must come true.”

“Do other people do this as well, Grandma, or just you?”

“The Gatherings happen all over, darling.”

“But what if there aren’t two people at The Gathering? Won’t your wishes come true, then?”

“They do. It sometimes takes a bit longer. The more people you have at The Gathering, the faster things tend to happen.”

Thea nodded, although she wasn’t entirely sure she understood. “Can I tell you what I wished for, Grandma?”

“Only when it comes true. Now, what shall we have for supper?”

Some days later, strange things began to happen to Thea. She found she could recall all her times tables easily, much to Mrs Pritchett’s annoyance. Her goldfish rose up to greet her when she fed him and her school shoes never scuffed, so her Sunday nights were polish-free. Her parents no longer squabbled about her grandmother, and they all laughed together around the table at mealtimes. Things were going well. Too well.

“Don’t do that, Thea.”

“What, Grandma.”

“Don’t start questioning the magic. It’s shy and disappears as soon as it feels unwelcome.”
She swallowed. “How did you know, Grandma.”

Iris smiled. “I know many things, dear. Just remember what I said.”

It took time, but Thea learnt to welcome magic into her life. She was open to whatever it brought her, and her wishes came true more often than not. Little things she thought she had no control over suddenly started going her way. Nobody picked her last for sports teams anymore, her mother remembered that she liked the red cup for her tea and Julian started to notice her existence. She knew all this was because of the magic.

“It’s so unfair,” she heard Denise say in the girls’ cloakroom one break. “Thea gets everything she wants and it’s not like she even deserves it. I mean, look at her. Who does she think she is?”

The balloon of hope burst in her chest and her shoulders slumped. For the first time in ages, her eyes burnt with tears.

After that, things went wrong for Thea. She forgot the fifteen times table after fifteen times four, and Mrs Pritchett made fun of her in front of the whole class. Then, as she was walking home, Julian tripped her and she fell into a large puddle of mud.

“Thea, you are so clumsy,” she heard Denise say, as she crooked her arm around Julian’s and walked up the road with her friends.

When Thea finally made it to her house, she was caked in mud and miserable.

“What happened, darling?” Her grandmother was in her usual spot on the porch, stirring her tea.

“Everything!” wailed Thea. She relayed the conversations she’d overheard and the ridicule and shame she’d felt.

Her grandmother chuckled. “Don’t you see, darling? Denise is jealous of you. She doesn’t have the magic. And are you really that weak that you will let a silly tart like her get you down?” She stroked Thea’s cheek, smearing the mud. “Sometimes these things happen, but they almost always have nothing to do with us. Your job is to remember that magic that is in you and to act like a duck to whatever anyone else says: let it wash over you.”

“But I can’t, Grandma,” sobbed Thea. “It’s too hard. They all hate me and think I am clumsy and...”

“Do you think you are clumsy? Or undeserving?”

Thea sniffed. “No. It wasn’t my fault Julian tripped me. And I know the wishes came true because I asked for them, so I must have deserved them, mustn’t I?”

“Clever girl. So, you see, there’s a lesson in this for you.”

“What’s that?” Thea rubbed her nose on her sleeve.

“Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.”

Years later, Thea stood at her grandmother’s grave. The mist was rolling in, and in the distance a rainbow linked the hill to the valley. As much as she tried, she couldn’t be sad. Grandma Iris had taught Thea the most important lesson of her life, and she knew that some of the magic her grandmother had would always live on in her. She smiled in spite of the mourning around her and when she stepped forward to throw a fistful of rose petals on the coffin, she whispered, “I have found it, Grandma. I have finally found it.”