Thank You for the April Showers

One Tuesday thousands of lottery tickets fell from the skies. They all had the same numbers on them and when the lottery was drawn, sure enough, every ticket was a winner. With so many winners the lottery fund was stretched so thinly that the lottery company and the winners all agreed the fairest thing for everyone was to declare a rollover jackpot and exchange all lottery tickets for new tickets (all with different numbers) for the next draw.

The next month mobile phones and other electronic hardware started to rain down upon the local citizens. People ran everywhere in confused panic not knowing whether it was best to avoid injury or to try to catch a falling freebie. Accident and Emergency departments all over the city had waiting rooms full of people with bumps and bruises and broken bones. Luckily no one was seriously hurt but unluckily not much of the tech survived the fall.

Further bad luck came when it was discovered that the peculiar rain shower had been caused by a tornado that had descended upon a local factory, ripped it and it’s warehouses apart and scattered their contents far and wide. The factory owner would rebuild but meanwhile all the factory workers were now unemployed and struggling to pay their bills. People now looked nervously up at the skies before setting out on their journeys but, for a while at least, they saw nothing more unusual than birds, clouds and rain of the usual sort i.e. wet and drizzly and sure to ruin the plans of the day.

Then one cloudy day in Spring the heavens opened and food of all descriptions came pouring down from above. Children ran around catching candy of all different kinds, bringing out saucepans, buckets and bowls to maximize the amount they could catch and carry. Old Joe came back from his fishing trip with a basket full of fish, though his wife pointed out he couldn’t claim to have caught them as they were already filleted, battered and ready for the oven. Mrs Morris was surprised to find she could now do her entire grocery shop from her garden, including a fine joint of beef ready to be roasted for sunday dinner. In her eagerness to gather everything up she forgot to keep a wary eye on the skies and was suprised by a small, localised shower of frosted cupcakes that descended on her while she was picking bread rolls out of her rose bushes.

Gwen was walking home when she got smacked in the forehead by a falling sausage. She quickly sought shelter and watched the unusual deluge in safety from under a nearby bridge. Pork pies were bouncing onto the pavement and scotch eggs were gathering astonishing speed as they rolled down the street. Rashers of bacon draped themselves over hedges and parked cars and Mr Jones had his entire family in the street with hands full of newspaper ready to wrap anything they could catch. “Leave the sausages!” he screamed, “Grab the steaks!” “This is not normal” thought Gwen. “Time to have a chat with Nan I think.”

Once the downpour stopped, and she was no longer at risk of injury from falling charcuterie, Gwen walked home dodging puddles of smashed cakes and fallen fruits. She ran up the stairs and straight into Nan’s room.

“Nan, it’s happened again. This time it’s been raining food.”

“That’s nice love. Did you pick up anything for tea?”

“…erm no, I didn’t think.”

“Nevermind, hopefully something tasty will have landed in the garden.” said Nan putting her knitting down and looking closely at Gwen.

“Nasty bruise you have there.”

“Yes, Nan. I got assaulted by a meat product.”

Nan laughed, “Could have been worse, at least it wasn’t in a tin.”

Gwen didn’t find this funny at all and stood with arms folded waiting for Nan to stop laughing at her own joke.

“Oh, get over yourself girlie.” said Nan. “Unfold yourself, sit down and tell Nan what’s on your mind.”

Gwen settled next to Nan on the little sofa. “It’s not normal Nan, when it rains you should get wet not bruised. There’s something else going on isn’t there? I know the factory accident explained the freak phone storm but no one knows what went on with the lottery tickets and now all this food. It’s something funny isn’t it Nan? Like in the stories you used to tell me and Lucy when we were little.”

Nan thought for a moment before saying, “I think you may be right love but we need to find out for sure. Put your walking shoes on in the morning, I think I know where best to go to find out what’s what.”

The next morning Gwen was the last into the kitchen for breakfast and Mum poured her a cup of tea and passed her some toast to butter. “Your breakfast, my supper.” she said. “I’ll be glad when the factory reopens, I miss my old job. Working nights at the Care Home pays well but I only get to see your Dad in the doorway. Either he’s leaving and I’m getting in or he’s getting in and I’m leaving.”

“Don’t worry, Mum,” Lucy, Gwen’s older sister, said passing Gwen the milk for her tea. “Things will settle soon. Meanwhile, go to bed I’ll clear up down here and cook some lunch later for Nan and Gwennie.”

“Don’t worry about us Lucy Lou. Gwennie and I are going on a little picnic. I’ve already sorted the sandwiches. I found a tub of hummus in the birdbath this morning and rescued a multipack of assorted crisps from the shed roof.” Nan grinned, pleased with her foraging. “Gwen, pop and get my knitting bag and then we’ll be off.” Gwen fetched the big brocade bag that held a variety of needles and odd balls of wool. She had a small suspicion that it had a lot in common with Mary Poppin’s bottomless bag but she’d never dared to investigate. This was Nan’s bag and therefore Nan’s business and she knew well enough to keep her nose out.

Nan and Gwen walked into the city and after over an hour of turning down this street and that one, crossing roads and taking ‘short cuts’ through shuts and alleys Gwen began to suspect that Nan wasn’t entirely sure where they were going. Just as she opened her mouth to say something Nan stopped abruptly, clapped her hands in triumph and exclaimed “Found it!”

Gwen looked about her, “Found what Nan?”

“Over there love, between those two greystone buildings. That’s where we need to be.”

Gwen looked across the road and between the buildings Nan indicated she could see a tall iron fence with a solid metal gate in the middle of it. Nothing could be seen behind the railings as any view was blocked by hedges that had been left to grow wild. The fence itself was rusty and covered in layers of grafitti and bits of old torn posters. Gwen had never seen anywhere that looked so uninspiring, dull and unwelcoming. “You want us to picnic there?” she asked in bewilderment.

“Yes.” said Nan, “It’s the last piece of land not owned by the city. The last piece of my Great Grandfather’s farm. I used to come here with my Granny. It’s the last wild place and it’s ours. It can never be sold or used or even truly owned. It’s more, that our family are it’s guardians. Anyway, it’s a story best shown not told. Come on.”

Gwen and Nan crossed the road and Gwen pushed at the gate. “It’s locked Nan. It won’t open.” she said. “Of course not. You need the key.” said Nan as she removed from around her neck a key tied onto bit of string so old it could have come from Noah’s sails. “Here you unlock it. It needs to know you’re family too and have permission.” Gwen slipped the key into the lock and turned it expecting it to be stiff and creaky but the key turned as if the lock had just been freshly oiled and the gate swung open in silence.

Nan took the key back and locked the gate behind them. They walked forward through a green tunnel of evergreen hedge before coming out into a sun dappled clearing. The entire area was wooded with old trees of Chestnut, Oak and Birch. It was not densely forested but the trees grew tall and spread their branches wide so although the sun peeped through to the ground below the whole wood felt cool and very, very private. Gwen could no longer hear the traffic noise from the city even though they could have walked barely 200 yards from the gate. Instead there was bird song and buzzing insects. The whole place smelled of wild herbs and green leaves. It felt restful and refreshing all at the same time. “Nearly there.” said Nan and Gwen followed her down a path that was flanked by Rowan and Holly bushes.

Eventually, the path led them uphill to small patch of land in the centre of which there was a spring of cool, clear water. The spring bubbled up like a fountain between a large heap of rocks. The water had worn into the some of the rocks over the years and many had formed into natural basins collecting the fresh water that then overflowed and spilled down onto other rocks before eventually joining a very small stream which flowed downhill before disappearing into a narrow tunnel to carry on its journey underground.

Nan selected a nearby dry rock to settle herself on. “This should be done at midnight under the first full moon of September.” she said, “But as it’s April, somewhere round noon and my old bones don’t like camping out in damp woods this will do.”

“Do what?” said Gwen. She was used to Nan’s strange ways but was starting to wonder where the borderline lay between pleasantly eccentric and just plain bonkers.

“Get some answers girlie. That’s what we came to do isn’t it? Now don’t just stand there pass me some needles and wool out of my bag.”

“What size needles and which colour do you want Nan?”

“Honestly doesn’t matter love.”

Gwen passed Nan a pair of needles and a ball of buttercup yellow wool. “Now, Gwennie will you tie my scarf like a blindfold over my eyes please?” Gwen frowned and hesitated. “Come on love lets get on with it or we won’t get back in time for tea.” Gwen did as she was told. “Now what Nan?” she asked. “Go in my bag, there’s a candle and some matches. Set the candle and light it. Let me know when it’s lit and then let me know when the flame goes out. Other than that please don’t speak to me unless I speak to you. Do you understand?”

“Yes Nan.” Gwen did not understand, she did not have a clue but she was wise enough not to voice this and keen to get whatever this was over with she set the candle on a rock and lit it. “It’s alight now Nan.” she said. Nan started knitting and as she knit she hummed a melody that stirred memories in Gwen as she watched the flickering candle flame. Gwen remembered her Nan humming that lullaby at bedtimes and when she or Lucy were unwell. In fact, as she listened to the melody that was punctuated by by the click clacking of the knitting needles, she thought it might even be her very earliest memory. A half snatched glimpse of a fall and a scuffed knee, tears and Nan’s comforting arms around her. Feeling and hearing that melody as it thrummed through Nan’s chest beneath her ear as Nan rocked her and stroked her back. The wordless tune washing away the shock and ouchiness from her first small brush with danger and pain.

A cool breeze stirred her from her reverie and snuffed out the candle flame. “It’s gone out Nan.” she stated. Nan stopped knitting and removed her improvised blindfold. “Thank goodness for that” she said, “My hands had started to cramp. Right, let’s see what what then” she said and held up the results of her handiwork. “Hmm… see here, these stitches have formed a short ladder across this bit. There’s a God involved. Not one of the major ones though, the ladder’s too short. Also, look at these dropped stitches they look almost like teardrops.”

“Or raindrops?”

“Yes, that’s it!” Nan sighed, “Okay, come on out, show yourself. We can go through a ritual summoning if you want but they take time and I know you’re already here and listening; That candle didn’t blow itself out.” There was a rustle that sounded like rain falling on leaves and a young man sheepishly stepped out from behind the trees. “Hello,” he said with a nervous wave of his hand, “I’m Baran.”

“I’m Gwen and this is Nan, I mean Mrs Tilly.” said Gwen.

“Ok, Barry what’s going on?” asked Nan.

“It’s Baran, ma’am and the long and short of it is that I’m utterly fed up of being ignored and complained about. Before this city was built and this was all farm land people used to be grateful for a bit of rain.” moaned Baran.

“How old are you?” interrupted Gwen in amazement. “You only look about seventeen!”

“He’s probably a bit older than that Gwennie. Gods age differently to us. Anyway, Baz, you were saying?” Some little puffs of cloud appeared in the clearly spelling out BARAN before popping back out of existence. Baran gave Nan a meaningful glare before continuing, “There used to be shrines and offerings, people sang and danced in my honour. There were even sacrifices in the older times, not that I was at all keen on them.” Baran glanced nervously at Gwen, he didn’t want her to think he was one of those mead swilling, sacrifice demanding, power hungry gods. “Nowadays though all I get are complaints about ruining wash days, interrupting games, leaking roofs and so on. It seems like everyone is always wishing me away. But it’s not fair. It’s not my fault people don’t keep an umbrella with them. I don’t deliberately rain on their wedding days. I water gardens and make sure there’s plenty of water to drink for animals and people. I cool down hot days and make sure children have puddles to splash in. There’d be no ice skating on the village pond in winter if I didn’t keep it filled up ready for Jack Frost to freeze solid in Winter.” Reaching the end of his rant Baran looked glumly at his shoes.

“Okay,” said Nan, “I hear you, I get that you’re feeling a little underappreciated but I’m not sure how you thought endangering life and limb with unnatural showers would help?”

“I wanted people to like me again and people like money so I thought if they won the lottery they would be grateful and think I was wonderful. But I didn’t think it through and no one won anything because everyone won. So I listened at windows and doors and in the streets and lanes and it seemed that everyone I saw was deeply connected to their technology. One quick tornado later and there was enough falling out of the sky for everyone to have shiny new latest spec. tech. But again, I hadn’t thought it through and most of the tech broke as it landed and people got hurt too. That made me feel really bad.”

“It should do,” said Gwen. “People like my mum lost their jobs and some ended up with broken bones as well as bruises.”

“I know and I am so sorry. It wasn’t my intention and that why when I heard everyone complaining about the cost of living and not having enough food I whipped up a grocery storm.”

“Let me guess, you didn’t think that one through either?”

“No, no I did. This one seems to have been a success.” Baran beamed proudly at Nan and Gwen.

“Really? I got smacked in the head with a sausage. Look it left a bruise and I feel personally offended.”

“Why? Was the sausage rude to you?” asked Baran.

“No, because I’m a vegan!!” snapped Gwen glaring at the young rain god.

“Oh, is that like some sort of alien?” asked Baran innocently. “Are your people at war with sausagekind?”

“No, it means I don’t eat, wear or use any animal products.” Gwen had her fists clenched tight as her temper started to rise up.

“He knows that.” calmed Nan, “Unclench girlie, I think it’s his poor attempt at a joke.”

“Just trying to lighten the mood.” smiled Baran.

“Right,” said Nan. “Time’s ticking on let’s get this sorted so we can all get on without the fear of being brained by a shower of whatever ‘helpful’ solutions you come up with next. It seems to me you need a friend. Someone to appreciate you and also let you know when you are having a bad idea. Thank goodness you didn’t decide to give us all houses!”

It was agreed over sandwiches, hummus and crisps, that Gwen would regularly visit Baran at the spring and let him know his rain was indeed appreciated and he would, in return for her friendship, promise no unusual rainfalls unless they had Gwen and Nan’s approval.

“See,” said Nan. “All anyone, even Gods, need is a good friend. There’ll be no need for temples or sacrifices, though if you fancy dancing and singing then you do you. I won’t stop you.”

“Will dancing and singing help?” asked Gwen

“Not really love, but it can be fun.” Nan smiled, “I think this should be yours now.” she said as she hung the old key on it’s even older string around Gwen’s neck.