Clem's Cast

“He didn’t even switch the computer on”, grumbled Agatha. “I’m getting really fed up with this, I just want to give him a damn good shake!” Aggie grandstanded, hands firmly on hips. She stood in front of the compilation of children’s books which took pride of place on the middle shelf of the bookcase, the books chronologically arranged in order of publication date. Twenty-four published books in total. She was rightfully proud of the role that she played in these stories but only Clem could bring her to life on the page.

Agatha, was by far the most complex and courageous of the book’s characters. She was small of stature, her height being only half that of the books and significantly shorter than her fellow characters. This annoyed her but she understood why Clem had depicted her so. Her dark skin, on the other hand, she was proud of, her identity, the reflection of the lives and pain of her forefathers.   

“Aggie, calm down”, soothed Tabitha, “he will pick us up again when he’s ready.” Tabitha enjoyed peace, she strived for harmony. Her angelic composure reigned supreme. Tabitha, diligent and studious, aimed for achievements, sometimes in understated ways, knowing this demonstrated and built confidence, self-esteem and respect for their young readers. This is how Clem had created her. Tabitha didn’t like Aggie causing a ruckus, even though she too was concerned about the absence of their master’s productivity.

“When’s he going to be ready?”, demanded Agatha in her frustrated high-horse manner, throwing her strong arms above her head, forming an air question mark. “We need to push him into writing. He’s abandoned us! Can’t you all see that?” Her voice cracked a little. “We’re going to rot!”  

“Agatha, we’ve talked about this. We’re not abandoned, not going rotten.”  Gustav chimed in from his position on the fourth shelf of the bookcase, sitting with Tabitha, propped up against a photo frame. “Clem had his heart broken; we’ve seen him cry. You know he’s been in a state, always sad, not washing, very untidy, unusual aromas. It seems like this heart break thing is big for humans. As characters, we don’t understand grown up’s broken hearts as a concept. Once he writes about it, we’ll know more. We’ll understand. We just need to be patient.”   

“I agree Aggie” said Raphael, looking up from the Rubik’s cube he was always admiring and clambering over. His small body couldn’t manipulate the cube to create the necessary turns and alignments required but he made copious notes about the pattern of turns needed to solve it. “Give Clem some time, he’ll come back to us.” He turned to the Newton’s cradle positioned closely to the cube on the third shelf. He gave it a swing. Perhaps that would break the tension.

Aggie couldn’t stand the ambivalence of her fellow characters, but she did understand that Clem created each of them to think and act in a particular way. None of them behaved or had the complexity of Aggie. Ignoring the swinging cradle, she used her character traits to incite them.  

“Even the letters from our fans have dropped off, they used to arrive daily, asking where we are, demanding to know! Families, our reader’s families, missing our new releases so much, missing the work that we do in enriching children’s lives and bringing much needed life lessons to the pages in times that are difficult for kids to deal with. Now the letters have practically stopped. He didn’t bring any in today. And he’s not switching his computer on to look for the magic letters that travel through space. Our fans, our children, are forgetting us too!” 

With no reaction from the others, Aggie was deflated. She let out a sob and shrank back into a book jacket.  She didn’t like to let the others see her cry.  She was brave but very sensitive.  Her sensitivity, another aspect of her complex character. Clem regarded her as the character he relied upon most. She was crafted most specifically to relate to the sensitivities and challenges of young people.

Raphael who generally contributed little to the gang’s chatter, made a brave move, the Rubik Cube becoming his podium. “Listen everyone, I’m the character in our stories who does maths and science, right?  I’m the geek! I don’t understand love and all that, but I’ve got a few logical observations.”

“I’ve considered whether Clem might be retiring us, you know, if he’s bored with us, he’s struggling to come up with plots, or maybe replacing us. I’ve asked myself those questions.   But look at this logically. Logic is what I do guys, right?”

Tabitha stifled a yawn. She was created as a humanities character, that’s what Clem had said, not maths and science. What could Raph add to this conversation she wondered through maths and logic?

Agatha popped her head back out of the book jacket just enough to hear properly. It wasn’t often that Raph was stirred into saying anything except chattering on about the genius of Rubik and the momentum and energy of the swinging spheres of the cradle.  

Raph continued. “Remember when Clem wrote us into a story about a teacher who was retiring? He wrote that particular book to help the kids that she taught who were really upset that she was leaving them. They adored her and it really hurt them that she wouldn’t be their teacher anymore. Well, she’d been a teacher for forty years, we know that’s a long time from Clem’s descriptions and the flashbacks over her career that we explored in the book. Even if we don’t really understand human time, her leaving wasn’t because she didn’t love teaching or love the kids, she would always love them. Remember Clem made a real big thing of that?  That was the book’s overall message!

Raph shifted his footing slightly. “Well, Clem hasn’t been writing about us for forty years … I don’t think. If I’m right in my calculations of the human calendar, he’s been writing about us for about five years. J. K. Rowling took six years to write the first Harry Potter book!”  “It’s bloody brilliant though” said Raphael impersonating Ron Weasley’s voice!

They all giggled.

Raphael continued. “He’s not going to reinvent us guys. He’s told us over and over that he’s worked so hard with us to develop our characters, carved out our strengths and traits, he lives inside us as people. We come together in his writing to create an overall production, like a stage play. All that helps him convey really important messages to kids going through tough times. He was so chuffed when he made the massive breakthrough with that book “Don’t be the donkey”. Do you remember Aggie, you really took front and centre in that story showing kids how to stand up for themselves and what to do when things get tough?”

Raphael let Aggie digest his compliment for a moment.

“We’re so refined as characters. Aggie, you’re so clever, courageous and wise. Gustav, you’re a flippin’ superhero, and Tabitha, you’re the guardian angel that watches over all the kids, soothing, rocking them to sleep, giving comfort from all their fears and helping them live in peace not worry. We’ve all got important parts to play.” 

The study door opened, stopping Raphael from his delivery. The characters flew back to their book jackets. The Newton’s Cradle slowed. Clem, his freshly washed hair slicked back, his repugnant overgrowth of facial hair gone, strolled to the desk with a package and placed it down. His mood was light. He glanced around the study, settling his gaze proudly at the shelf that housed his collection of published works.   

The curtains had remained half closed for too long. He drew them back, particles of dust jumping and dancing in the sun’s rays which had long awaited admission to the room. He hooked the curtains over the backs of the Edwardian carver chairs placed at each side of the bay window, their sole purpose in life being grand curtain hooks. His grandmother would not be happy if she knew that they lacked a pride of place, becoming work horses instead.  But it worked for Clem, he needed to optimise natural light when he was working.

Agatha peered out from behind a book. A whisper from Gustav, “what’s going on Aggie?”   “Shush, Gustav!”

Aggie watched as Clem unwrapped a new computer from its packaging and set it down on the desk. A few buttons later, the computer was whirring into life. Clem was frantically making notes, the pen couldn’t write quickly enough to keep pace with his flow on the foolscap sheet. The title of the story, written in capitals and underlined three times on a foolscap notepad - “Recovery from a broken heart”.