Sunday came too quickly, probably because they’d spent all day Saturday packing. When she wanted time to go slowly, it always went fast, so all day Saturday Violet begged for time to go fast, her mother called it ‘reverse scientology’, but it didn’t work, before she knew it, she’d cried her goodbyes and was in the back of the car on the way to Perfect.

“Where is this place Mam?” she asked, slotting her head between the two front seats.

“Ask your father pet, he knows more than me,” her mother smiled.

Violet sat back in her spot and let silence flood the car.

“Are you still not talking to me?” her Dad said, after a while.

She didn’t reply. She hated not talking to him.

“Well we’re not too far now pet,” he sighed.

He looked at his wife who gently squeezed his hand. Violet cringed, slumped down in her seat and closed her eyes.

She woke with a jerk, as the car crunched to a stop over squashed gravel. It was dark. She pulled herself up from the warm leather seat and peered out the back window. She gasped and ducked back down. Two dark figures, one tall, one small, stood shadowed in the light from the house door. Violet’s father looked at her mother then unbuckled his seat belt and stepped out of the car.

“Ah Mr. and Mr. Archer,” her father said, approaching the strangers, “we didn’t expect a welcoming commitee.”

“Well of course Mr. Brown, we wanted to see you settled,” the tall man said, extending his hand.

“We’ve been preparing all day. The house is spick and span and we’ve the kettle on the boil,” the small man said, stepping in front of the larger one to grab her father’s hand, “Leave your stuff in the car and come in for a brew. I’m sure you must all be exhausted.”

“Of course, how kind,” her mother said, reaching the front door to greet both men, “we’d love a cuppa. Great idea.”

The four entered the house leaving Violet to fume in her seat, forgotten again.

“Violet come in from the car pet, it’s freezing out there,” her father’s voice called from across the gravel yard.

She smiled, he didn’t forget. She pushed open the heavy car door and poked her head out to look left and right. The driveway was dark and surrounded by large trees. Huge twisted branches cast ghostly shadows over the gravel. She shivered. Suddenly the wind whistled through the yard and the leaves began to whisper. Violet jumped back and slammed the door, locking herself safely inside the car. She’d have to run for it, she took a deep breath. On the count of three.

“One, two, threeeee...”

She flung open the car door, jumped and ran, not looking left or right at the creatures who watched from the darkness. She raced for the house, bounded up the steps and jumped over the threshold. Just as she slammed the door, she heard laughter echo through the trees. She slid down the wall, onto the hall floor trying to catch her breath. Surely it wasn’t laughter, it must have been the wind.

“Violet is that you pet?” her mother called, from down the hallway, “come in and say hello to our guests.”

Putting the laughter to the back of her mind, she pushed up from the floor, pulled off her shoes and threw them by the door. The hall was covered in shiny, cream tiles perfect for socks. She took a run and slid the whole way into the room straight ahead, coming to a rest by the kitchen table. Four pairs of eyes stared at her, two in embarrassment, two in shock.

“Violet!” her father snapped, “we have guests.”

She didn’t respond. Quickly her father covered the silence introducing her to the strange men that sat round the table.

“Violet this is Mr. George Archer.”

“Just George is fine,” the tall man said, standing up from the table to shake her hand.

She tried not to laugh. George Archer was so tall he couldn’t stand straight in the room. His head bent to one side almost touching his shoulder. Everything about him was long, from his spindly arms and legs to his pencil thin nose that almost divided his face in two. His head was completely bald and creamy white like a chocolate egg. Clearly uncomfortable, he quickly sat back down.

“And I’m Edward, you must be Violet?” the smaller of the Archers said, as he stood to shake her hand.

Again she had to stop herself laughing. She was the same height as him and Violet wasn’t even the tallest in her class. Mr. Edward Archer was very small for his age. Though small, he was very wide and square, as though he were made from blocks. His head was square, his nose was square and squished. His eyes, the only part of his body that wasn’t square, stuck out a little, like they were trying to escape from his face.

The two brothers wore the same brown suits and shiny brown shoes. Edward Archer wore a funny brown bowler hat just like the one on her mother's favourite painting of a man with no face. Mr. George Archer didn’t wear a hat but that was probably because it would fall off everytime he stood up inside.

Both of them had redish eyes hidden behind round gold framed glasses, it looked a little scary until George Archer took his off.

“Oh it’s the glass!” Violet smiled at the taller twin, “Why is the glass red?”

George Archer pushed his glasses back onto his nose and scowled.

“Well Violet dear,” Edward Archer said, “It’s a funny story really and one we hope your father will help us to solve. You see this town is perfect except for one curious fact. Every single inhabitant here wears glasses. We’ve had numerous scientists look at our situation. They say it’s because we’re so close to the sun. You and your family Violet will find after only a short length of time in Perfect, your eyesight will get dusty, the edges of your vision will blur and eventually you will go blind.”

“Mam!” she shouted, trying not to cry, “I don’t want to go blind. I like being able to see. I knew we shouldn’t have moved here.”

“Oh no,” Edward Archer laughed, “I certainly didn’t mean to frighten you Violet dear. I assure you the effects are only temporary, once one has left this town of ours they wear off. Also, we have found a clever way around our little problem,” he said pointing to his glasses, “These work a treat. You’ll find everybody is wearing them. Quite in vogue as they say.”

“You’ll have to visit our spectacle shop dear so we can fit you a pair,” George Archer smiled.

Violet grabbed her mother’s skirt.

“I don’t want to wear glasses Mam, there’s nothing wrong with my eyes.”

“I know Violet,” her mother shushed, looking anxiously at her husband, “but it’s only for a short time. Your father will fix the problem.”

“Don’t worry Violet,” her Dad said, bending down to pick her up.

She moved round her mother’s back away from his arms.

“She’s tired,” he sighed, his cheeks a little red, “I think it’s time for bed.”

“Oh no, not yet,” George Archer said quickly, “you must have some tea. It’s a tradition here.”

“Oh yes,” Edward Archer smiled, grabbing cups from the worktop, “It’s custom I assure you.”

“I don’t like tea,” Violet said, looking at her mother.

“You’ll like this one,” George Archer smiled.

Violet didn’t like the Archers, there was something scary about them but if she didn’t have the tea she’d be killed and she was in enough trouble already. Her parents looked at each other as they sat down at the table. They seemed happy to drink it and they weren’t stupid Violet hoped. She sat down between her father and mother. Edward Archer sat on the other side waiting for his brother to finish pouring.

“This tea is a speciality of Perfect. You’ll find most people drink at least a cup a day. It’s a tea mad town,” Edward said when all the cups were filled,

“Now imagine the nicest taste you can think of then take a sip.”

Violet did as she was told. She imagined her father's favourite drink, which was hers too, ice cream sundae he called it. Big bits of cold vanilla ice cream dunked in fizzy orange. She saw the froth-like clouds bubbling over the top of the glass and tasted the burst of flavour as it hit her tongue. She was almost licking her lips as she raised her mug of tea. The vanilla tingled her nose. She tipped the mug to take a sip, careful not to burn her lips. The tea bubbled and fizzed as she gulped the mixture of vanilla and orange heaven. She couldn’t believe it. She opened her eyes to make sure no one had swapped her cup. The light brown coloured tea smiled back at her. She looked at her mother and father, their eyes were still shut and silly smiles sat on their faces.

“I think I’ll have another cup,” her father said a little later, reaching for the steaming pot.

“We thought you might,” both Archers replied in unison.

They sat round the table and finished the pot while the Archers filled them in on their new home.

Later that night, Violet climbed beneath her new sheets in her new room. The town seemed nice enough from what the Archer’s had said but she’d made up her mind, she didn’t and wouldn’t like it. She turned off the lights and slipped into a perfect nights sleep.