These Dreams / Never Tear us Apart

**Atari Twilight Twist of Fate: These Dreams / Never Tear us Apart**

We return to the world of Garrett Maryland betwixted the ages. At the end of the 1980s but on the precipice of the 1990s. A decade of new boundless experiences new possibilities The sounds of Grunge and of Shirley Manson. Of TV shows like the *X-Files, The Outer Limits* and the curiously relevant *Sliders* that speak to young minds. An age in which our friends The Keystone Kids become the Keystones Teens and join the Autobots at Braddock High School. Yet to go forward we must go back to return once more to the spring of 1989. Because as they always do, and as *Bob Dylan* once wrote “the times they are a-changin’”. New people arrive in the Garrett that exists out of the shadow of the Loop.

Heather Jones could almost pinch herself. Was she awake or dreaming? It was hard to tell these days. Her life was a whirlwind. Even if she wasn’t currently engaged in saving the day with her friends. It had felt this way since the day in Bethesda when Mr Tyler and Madeline Bozzio had reunited her with her Aunt Susan. Susan Perevnise MacLoud. Her Great Aunt. Heather had the second biggest shock of her life when later the same afternoon a Maryland Judge had knocked at the door of her Aunt's home and joined them for tea. Resplendent in their robes as they’d come immediately from the courthouse. You didn’t keep Susan MacLoud waiting. The Judge had signed off on the preliminary adoption paperwork, her Great Aunt was now her legally appointed guardian until social services could perform a home visit to confirm Susan’s suitability to adopt. It was as if they shared the same thoughts by some sort of familial bond of mental telepathy. Heather had thought *I’ve just met you and now, I never want to leave you.* Her wish had been granted. Susan had anticipated what Heather wanted before she had developed the courage to ask for it herself.

Here and now at the beginning of spring break 1989. This leads the family of two, the Pevensies to be driving away from Susan’s home in Bethesda back to the only place Heather had ever thought of home in her life, beyond Narnia that is. Garrett in the highlands of Maryland. Aunt Susan had sworn that she had only packed the barest of essentials. Not that they’d sold the Bethesda mansion just closed it up. This was a woman who had been *“roughing it”* for the last few months in a 1920s Showman's Caravan, a very elaborate British built trailer in the Lewis barn. The caravan was named *Valiance* in honour of Susan’s beloved younger sister Lucy. The interior was both elaborate and opulent; it was the sort of mobile home that was used by the more traditional wealthy owners of travelling carnivals and circuses. A bit different from the ones down at Trade Winds. It was kept warm throughout winter by a pot-bellied stove. Susan had insisted that she provide her own quarters so that Heather could have the Lewis’ sole spare bedroom to herself. Because a teenage girl needs her own space. Susan would feel like a poor guardian living in a hotel in town. Hotels were not proper homes. She had spent enough time in them around the world to have learned this.

Three large articulated Kenworth cab-over removal trucks, that reminded Heather of another former Lewis farm temporary resident *Optimus Prime,* rolled down the interstate at speed towards Garrett Maryland. With her Aunt's distinctive Rolls Royce shooting brake leading the convoy at somewhere around eighty miles an hour. Not that the Rolls was built to feel fast. It was as gracious, stylish and deceptively utilitarian and practical as its owner.

Heather heard them and felt them before she could see them. As her Aunt drove her hair up in a headscarf, wearing huge sunglasses, with all the cars windows down. *Drive* by *The Cars* playing on the stereo. The sound was the throaty warble of the exhausts of two highly tuned V Twin engines as two motorcycles appeared in the rearview mirror of the Rolls. Moving like speeding bullets. The tiny hairs on Heather’s neck stood up. It was Mads, Agent Bozzio, one of the FBI agents who'd helped her find her Aunt. Along with her girlfriend Detective Joannie Wynne from DC Metro PD. A recent and very welcome addition to Mad’s complex and life. Heather hadn’t expected this police escort at all. Further back in the overtake lane she saw the light catch a low shiny sleek black car. Of course it was here. It was FBI Deputy Director Gene Tyler's car Mads Boss, though he acted far more like an equal partner.  Heather caught sight not only of Mr Tyler but his wife Rose in the passenger seat. Adoption paperwork could move rather rapidly if you had one of the leading criminal psychologists in the world to write a report and the clout of both judges and the FBI.

The very unique convoy wound its way along the interstate not to Garette propper but out towards Queen Lake. About half of the town was waiting along the roadside to aid with moving. This could almost put the annual fourth of July parade to shame. The whole town wanted to share in this joyous day. Scarlet had press-ganged not only her father and all the firefighters not at the Firehouse on standby to come out and help, but also her teammates, her brother and his teammates. They had enough Football talent here to make the most ardent and cynical College scout weep joyous tears.

Slowly the Rolls progressed along a freshly paved driveway into a farmyard. There it was, home. An expanded farmhouse known as *Queen Manor,* built around 1890. The main house was built of brick and stone. With subsequent additions, like a glasshouse for her Aunt. The house was full of original Queen Ann fireplaces, elaborate crown mouldings, cornices and wood panelling. There was even a whole oak-panelled library in the house. It was right next to Heather’s bedroom and had a hidden connecting door between bookshelves, just like in an Agatha Christie Book. The original owner had built it in the style of an English country house, and this suited Heather and Susan just fine. Heather supposed she was more English than this house was.

Aunt Susan immediately parks the Rolls out of the way in an open-fronted barn. With Heather's relatively small amount of boxes of personal effects in the back. Some of her paperback volumes would look really out of place in the library, not that Aunt Susan would dream of mentioning it. Heather hadn't quite grasped the concept of being old money quite yet. So her things were still modest. She knew she was supposed to buy things of quality like the Rolls or her new winter coat only once. That was the theory. Her boxes sat along with a large weatherbeaten trunk with stickers from places all over the world on it, for cruise liners, hotels and planes bearing her Aunt’s maiden name in gold lettering *SH Pevensie*. Heather’s beloved Lion plushy *Kitty* sat atop the trunk. To Heather, he seemed to be protecting the crown jewels of Narnia.

Susan immediately goes to marshall the troops. Being a warrior Queen never stopped for her had it? She had spent all her post-Narnia decades adventuring across the earth, not quite knowing what she was trying to replicate or how her wanderlust originated. Just a desperate need to be far from the memories of her home In England. Here she was giving a Speech worthy of Elisabeth, The First at Tilbury. Heather stuck her head out of the car and listened. Susan had only lived here a couple of months and seemed to know everyone by their first name and know exactly what they did for work and for pleasure. She had a mind as sharp as a razor and every time she said “Hello and what exactly do you do?” something Susan said often. She was clearly talking meticulous mental notes, about everyone and everything.

Today, *Queen Lake Farm* looked great. It had been part of the property acquired by The Loop for expansion. Though fowl means. Along with Lewis' top field. Bought with a substantial loan from the Garette Savings and Loan. As Director Tyler had been causing budgetary problems for them in Washington, by asking questions of the proliferations Sub Committee. Susan had spotted Mr George Bailey the mild-mannered Manager of the Main Street savings and loan assessing the property when she had been out on her horse Mister Tumnus for a *Hack,* a ride for pleasure, on her own early one winter morning. As Heather had just taken to the saddle, and farm life in general she found both early mornings and keeping up with her Aunt’s pace difficult still.  Susan had immediately expressed interest in the place. What a striking figure she must have made for the poor bank Manger. This striking English equestrian lady, on horseback. No doubt resplendent In her winter riding gear. Assuring Mr Bailey that an auction would be an unnecessary expenditure and that she’d be willing to take it all lock stock and barrel. To save the good people of the town money. Susan was quite familiar with the Loops' dodgy property dealings. It was of little surprise that they’d had this fine old historic home condemned. When there was very little wrong with it, nothing that some roofing work and a fresh coat of paint wouldn’t fix. In fact, as soon as Susan had gotten settled into life in Garette she had found a legal president to have the Lewis’ top field default back to them as the original owners.

Here they were a new home, and what Susan called a “small business venture”, to keep her occupied while Heather was at school. The business venture being a full Livery stable and equestrian centre. Where the English style of riding that Susan held a strong preference for would be taught. Even if she had been refusing to ride *side-saddle* since well before it became the done thing. Mr Lewis,  Ricky and several farmhands would take care of the grass pastures with brand new equipment, mowers and balers and muck spreaders.

That evening when half the town had helped with the boxes, the chores and cleaning. It was late now. They’d had a small potluck, which had turned out to be a house warming party for the whole town. Her Aunt could tap a keg of beer, this was one of the least surprising skills Susan had. Heather was still so full of energy so she retreated to her favourite room the library to get a head start on shelving books. Here in the library sat a Garrand turntable with some small speakers and an amplifier. On top of the dustcover sat a record *Heart* by the band of the same name. Heather counted the groves on side A placing the stylus on the run in for *These Dreams.*

Is this what a home of your own felt like? She could do what she wanted when she wanted? It wasn’t as if listening to her music at night would disturb her Aunt even if she was just the other side of the Oak panelling, the walls were so thick. It wouldn’t be a problem. Also, the master suite was in the other wing of the house. The Lewis place was clear on the other side of the hill so if Kitty wanted to go for a nocturnal walk in the walled garden that wouldn’t be an issue either.

A short while later Susan looks down into the library from the floor up. Resting her elbows on the ornate oak bannister. Spying her great-niece spark out on the overstuffed chaise lounge, in front of the fireplace at the other end of the main library floor, the gentle rhythmic sound of the stylus rotating around the runoff of the record. Susan trotted down the spiral stairs a blanket in hand. Tucking Heathers Lion and Heather in.

“Looks like you’re night-time perambulations will have to wait old boy, duty to the crown first.”

Susan whispered to Kitty, taking Heather’s open book and slipping a bookmark into it.

Susan straightened Heather’s hair and kissed her niece gently on the forehead.

“Looks like you’re new bed will have to keep for another night young lady”

Susan took the stylus off the record and stoked the fire, for a few hours to keep the chill of the spring night off. Returning to her own room with a smile on her face. Other people might think that her arrival had only changed Heather’s life for the better, but not much as having a family had changed hers. Susan paused in the portrait gallery that served as the upstairs hallway, pulling back a cover on a painting. An old family portrait that had been in storage for far too long. Mother, Father Peter, Edmund and Lucy.

“It’s Me, yes I’ve not been able to look at you for some time. I’m sorry about that and I am saddened to reveal, she can’t remember which one of you is her grandparent or antecedent, I don’t think that’s relevant, right now. Darling Heather reminds me of all of you every day. She is safe in my care. Even if she looks more like me, sorry Lucy. Anyway, we’ll both be seeing a lot more of you. Goodnight.”

Susan hefts the large portrait with deft ease as if the pain of her burdens were somehow lessened. The Portrait in its simple silver frame positioned in pride of place in the gallery to be hung in the morning. Heading back to her own rooms. As the old house settles for the night. We leave Garette once more pausing to look at the Billboard that says *Welcome to Gartte Maryland, Home of the Loop* as we take in the town from the Queen Lakeside. The Billboard now has the Loop part hastily painted out. Twilight has fallen and soon it will be a new day, a new decade for Garrett.