Gillian Vermillion – Dream Detective
by Chris Chalmers
Chapter One – Vernon Vermillion’s Very Good Idea
Gillian Vermillion gripped her Scottie dog’s collar even tighter.
Mustn’t fall off now!
She clung on with her knees as they reached the next hurdle and...
Hup!!
...Safely over the fertilizer bags! Just the wheelbarrows left to jump, then it was a straight sprint to the check-out...
As Redvers rounded the display of garden umbrellas, the little bell on his collar tinkled frantically. Gillian dug her slippers into his fluffy white tummy and crouched till his ears tickled her chin...
Three strides, two strides...
CRUNCH!! Two shopping trolleys collided dead ahead!
Redvers swerved.
Gillian tried to cling onto his thick fur but the little dog slipped from under her... Her fingers and ankles lost their grip and before she knew it she was rollingacross the shiny tiles of Dancing Daffodils Garden Superstore until – THUMP!
Gillian opened her eyes. But all she could see was a pair of big black boots.
“...Was it a garden roller or a paint roller you were after, madam?” asked the Security Guard. “...Though if you ask me, you’re a bit young to be shopping for either.”
*
Gillian opened her eyes again. Only this time she wasn’t dreaming.
It took her a moment to remember where she was. Boris, her little brother, was in the next camp bed. That meant it was the weekend and they were at Dad’s flat above the dry cleaner’s. It also explained why Redvers wasn’t fast asleep across her feet.
The clock on the desk said 08:22in glowing red numbers. Eight minutes till breakfast... Around the study, mysterious shapes appeared as the first sunrays peeped through the skylight. A red feather duster poked out of the junk box, like an exotic bird about to fly away. Dad’s favourite computer was on the desk, beside his scientific instruments and endless sheets of paper as big as picnic blankets.
“Are you awake, Gillian...?”
Boris sat up. Pete Rabbit was still tucked under his arm. He always brought a pillow pal when they came to stay at Dad’s.
Gillian nodded. “I was having such a funny dream, it woke me up!”
“Oh?” said Boris. He yawned – Uuu-uuh-waaah!! – and did a big stretch.
Gillian yawned too. “I was shopping somewhere with — now who was it?” She remembered perfectly when she woke up and now it had gone. But that often happened with her dreams; one morning she found Hector Lion dangling by his paws from the bedstead, with no idea how hegot there.
“Bum,” she said, flipping back her sleeping bag. “It was a good one, too...”
Ten minutes later they were in the kitchen with Dad and his girlfriend, Pansy. Dad was Vernon Vermillion, the not-very-famous inventor. They were waiting patiently for toast which Pansy was making on one of his latest inventions – a toaster powered by morning sunshine.
Pansy prodded the ingenious tangle of cables that was trailing out of the window to the bowl-shaped mirror on the roof.“Not sunny enough today, Vernon...”
“Shouldn’t matter, shouldn’t matter!” said Dad. “Should still be charged up from yesterday – you’ll see!”
Dad and Pansy made a funny couple. He was tall and pale while she was black and round as an autumn pear. She was blonde while his hair was dark, like Gillian’s, except on top where it disappeared completely. His eyes were like Gillian’s too – the colour of dewdrops on bluebells.
“So – have you invented anything this week, Dad?” she asked.
“Ah!” said Vernon, “I’m glad you asked me that, Gillian. Because it just so happens I’ve had a very good idea!”
She sighed. Last time it was a multi-coloured paint brush that would change the way people decorated their houses forever...Before that, an un-losable cheese grater that whistled like a canary when you phoned a special number...
Vernon touched the mouse on the kitchen laptop, clicking icons and opening files. “Now where did I put it...?”
“Vernon...” said Pansy severely. “Not at breakfast, if you please!”
Dad snatched back his hand from the laptop as though it was hot. “Quite right, quite right...” he twittered.
A fizzing sound and the smell of burning drifted over from the toaster.
He winked at Gillianas Pansy searched in the drawer for the plastic tongs. “I‘ll tell you all about it later...”
When they had finished breakfast – boiled eggs with crisp-bread soldiers instead of toast – Vernon led Gillian and Boris back to his study. Beside their camp beds stood his special cupboard. It was always locked. He unclipped the keys from his belt, opened it, and took down an odd looking object from the shelf.
“There!” he said proudly. “What do you think of that?”
Balanced across his fingers was a device like a mobile phone, only with a bigger screen and fewer buttons. It had a flex wrapped round it which ended in a small metal disc, like a doctor’s stethoscope.
Gillian and Boris looked at each other. The problem with Dad’s inventions was, no-one ever thought they were quite as amazing as he did.
“Er – wow...” said Gillian. “What is it?”
Vernon gave a little swagger.He pushed his glasses on top of his bald head so they looked like they were sitting on a little pink hill.
“This, Gillian, is my prototype personal, perfectly portable – Dream Detector!”
(Prototypeis a scientific word for an invention that isn’t finished yet.)
“What does it do, Dad?” asked Boris.
Vernon chuckled. “Ah well, that’s easy — the Dream Detector converts the sleeping mind’s atomic alpha waves into binary beta-form brain scans, interpreting the results into clear, conclusive data!”
The children looked blank.
He swallowed. “Putting it even more simply – it explains what your dreams mean!”
This time they both smiled. Boris even clapped.
“Fantastic!” said Gillian. “I could have done with that last night – I had a really funny dream but now I’ve forgotten it.”
“Ah,” said Vernon, “That’s why the Dream Detector’s such a great invention. It doesn’t just show what you’re dreaming, it records it too. So you can play it back when you wake up. Like recording a programme off the telly!”
“Dad, that’s incredible!” said Gillian. Then she frowned. “Does it, um, actuallywork?”
Vernon suddenly remembered the glasses on top of his head. He put the Dream Detector on the desk and slipped them off, chewing an earpiece thoughtfully. “Good question, Gillian. Yes, good question...” He turned to Boris. “Never be afraid to ask questions, Boris, my boy – very important, that...”
Here we go, thought Gillian. Dad had a habit of losing interest in his inventions before they made any money; she was pretty sure that was why he and Mum had split up. Maybe this time he just needed a bit of encouragement:
“Dad, why don’t we test it tonight? We could try it on Boris — couldn’t we, Boris? ”
Her little brother nodded, then looked worried. He wasn’t as brave as Gillian.
But Vernon shook his head. “No, no, it’s much too early for testing. Much too dangerous. I need to do more computer models, more calculations and more... things like that...”
Gillian frowned. “How long will it take?”
Dad put the Dream Detector back in the cupboard and locked it. “Hard to say,” he muttered. “Very hard to say... Ask me next time...” He clipped the keys back on his belt.
Gillian tutted to herself. But Boris looked quite relieved.
Soon the day was as bright and sunny as school summer holidays should be.
“Won’t need my jacket today,” said Pansy, putting on her navy blue hat.
She was getting ready to go on her round. Pansy was a traffic warden and the hat was part of her uniform. Gillian and Boris had noticed itwhile they cleaned their teeth that morning, hanging on the bathroom door beside her starfish shower cap. Gillian wondered if Pansy ever got them mixed up – which made them both giggle and spray toothpaste everywhere.
“What’s everyone else doing today?” asked Pansy. “It’s too nice to stay indoors...”
“Quite right, quite right,” said Vernon. “Come on, you two – let’s go for a walk on the Common!” He always liked to walk when he was working on something. He said, when the wind blows out a cobweb, it blows in a good idea.
Pansy saw them off at the door. “Now, I’m counting on you two to bring him back safely,” she told Gillian and Boris. “Last week he hopped on a bus going the wrong way... Ended up at the seaside.”
Vernon tutted. Then he kissed Pansy on the cheek.
The Common was just across the road from the flat. Not many of the houses at this end of town had a garden, so it was where everyone went to play or walk their dog, or just sit in the sunshine. It had a playground with swings and a sandpit and red rocking horses with springs instead of legs.
Birds were singing in the trees and not far away an ice cream van was playing a merry tune. Gillian and Boris sat on the swings, while Vernon made notes on one of Pansy’s old parking ticket pads. A squirrel, like the one who visited Gillian’s garden, scurried under his bench. But Vernon didn’t notice. Hekept on scribbling.
“Do you think he’s thinking about the Dream Detector?” whispered Boris, rummaging for something in his pocket.
“Don’t know,” said Gillian. “But I am.”
He found a raspberry chew. Boris was always hungry. Apart from pillow pals, sweets were his very favourite thing. He popped it in his mouth as Gillian said: “You know what Dad’s like, Boris – next time we’re here he’ll have pulled the Dream Detector to bits and made it into something to keep Eskimos’ toes warm... Mum’s picking us up tomorrow – so if we’re going to test it, our only chance is tonight!”
Boris frowned. “But how? It’s locked in Dad’s cupboard and those keys never leave his belt... And anyway, we’d have to wait till he’s in bed.” He was right. Dad and Pansy’s flat was so small they slept in the sitting room, on a bed that folded down from the wall. It was one of Vernon’s more successful inventions.
He swallowed the last bit of raspberry chew and started swinging. “Come on – bet I can go higher than you!”
But Gillian wasn’t listening. Dad and Pansy’s fold down bed had given her an idea. “You know what, Boris – I think I’ve worked out how we can get hold of the Dream Detector tonight...”