by Emily Rodda
There was a loud crack and a long, low thundering sound from the bottom of the hill. Danny jumped to his feet in fright. Around him people began to scatter. The wind roared, the sky grew dark and the ground began to tremble and shake. What was happening? Yelling men and women ran past him in panic, and then Danny was running too, looking wildly around for a place to hide.
At Chestnut Tree Village the clock had begun striking eleven – six minutes early. And Patrick was running past it, making for the TV set in the department store, the clock plans clutched flapping in his hand. He glanced sideways as he ran. Where were Claire and Danny? He’d been so sure that they’d be waiting by the clock. It was running fast, but they knew that, and Danny loved to watch it strike. He couldn’t think where they could be, but he knew he had no time to worry about it now. He had to get word to Max that all was well. That he’d found out what was wrong with the clock, and could get it fixed easily by the twelve o’clock strike.
He raced into the store, darted towards the TV aisle, and almost collided with a shop assistant patrolling the area. “Take it quietly, kid,” grumbled the man. “And tell your friends the same, will you? This isn’t a playground.”
Patrick nodded rapidly and tried to side-step him, but the man kept a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to wait. “Hear me, kid?” he demanded. “You know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen the three of you together. You tell them. The little tearaway and the girl, if you don’t mind. She’s old enough to know better. If I catch them playing Hide-and-seek or Sardines or whatever round these valuable sets again there’ll be trouble.”
Patrick shook his head in confusion. “Are Claire and Danny in here?” he asked. He heard the last clanging strokes of the clock die away. It was fast, he reminded himself, trying not to panic. Max wouldn’t try to cross the Barrier till the real eleven o’clock. He had six minutes till then.
The man released him and shrugged disgustedly. “Not now. But half an hour ago they were, and you can tell them from me that disappearing acts won’t get them out of trouble next time. All right?” He nodded severely, turned his back on Patrick and walked on, his hands behind his back.
Patrick waited until the man had moved some distance away, then slipped into the TV aisle. He padded to the end and stood to one side of the TV set, as Max had advised. He had to be careful. The line was open. It would be easy to cross over the Barrier without meaning to, if you stood in front. The TV screen stormed with snow. Max’s computer room was just visible, like a wavy shadow on the screen, but it was empty. No sign of Max, or Boopie, or anyone at all. Patrick sighed. He’d have to wait.
He looked back up the aisle, to make sure the cranky shop assistant wasn’t watching him. What had he meant, about Danny and Claire? Patrick wondered idly. Games of hide-and-seek around the TV sets? Disappearing acts? He couldn’t imagine Claire getting involved with anything like that. He moved slightly, and something rolled against his foot. He looked down, puzzled, and saw Danny’s golf ball. He picked it up and stared at it.
Disappearing acts … Oh, no! Patrick almost shouted the words aloud. For in a flash he’d remembered Danny’s face staring at him in wonder and curiosity as he staggered up the aisle after coming back from the other side of the Barrier the last time. Danny had seen him come back. He’d completely forgotten that! Finding Anna Varga had driven everything else out of his mind. But Danny had seen him coming back. Danny had come to this TV set to investigate. The golf ball was proof of that. And Claire. Claire had been coming to find Danny. She would have followed …
And they weren’t waiting at the clock. And the line to the other side of the Barrier had been left open. And the shop assistant had said … disappearing acts.
Patrick pushed his fist into his mouth to stop himself calling out. He stuffed the golf ball deep in his pocket and held it there. Claire and Danny had gone through the Barrier! He didn’t know how it had happened but he knew it, as surely as he knew his own name. And the Barrier was unstable. The computer was unreliable. They were in terrible danger! He knew what he had to do. He took a deep breath, and stepped in front of the TV screen.
“I’m ready,” he said, through clenched teeth. “Let me through!”
And again, stomach lurching, eyes tightly closed, he crossed the Barrier.
Claire was working shoulder to shoulder with Wendy Minelli, shovelling things back through the huge cracks that had zig-zagged across the Barrier in the last catastrophic break. Above their heads women in overalls were swarming over scaffolding. Objects fell about Claire like rain, striking her shoulders and back and piling up on the ground around her. The earth under her feet was quaking and growling. She could feel the sweat dripping down her forehead.
Far away up the hill she could hear people calling out and crying in fear and panic. Danny was up there somewhere. Her heart ached for him. And her arms and back ached agonisingly, too, as she bent and pushed, bent and pushed, over and over again. But if she stopped, even for a moment, the black-uniformed Agent barked at her, and Wendy nudged her sharply. “Keep working!” Wendy urged. “Don’t stop! Don’t draw attention to yourself, Claire, for goodness’ sake.”
“What are we doing? What’s happening? Where is all this stuff coming from?” Claire wailed, as a cardigan, a fluffy slipper, a sunhat, a dog’s lead, four odd socks and a necklace made of blue shells tumbled into her arms in a hopeless tangle. She pushed them back through the gaping hole in front of her. There was a violent gust of wind and the Agent’s smart black cap came tumbling down the hill. She grabbed at it in rage, looked quickly left and right to make sure no one was watching, and stuffed it into the hole with the other things. Serve him right!
“Your side,” said Wendy briefly. “I’ll explain later. Or Patrick will. Just keep going.”
“Your side”? What did she mean? Your side of what? And what did Patrick have to do with it? Patrick! Claire took a quick look at her watch. Eleven o’clock! He’d be waiting for her and Danny right now, at the Chestnut Tree Village Clock. Oh, what a mess!
Patrick opened his eyes and blinked. Where was he? A dark and silent place. Hard floor beneath his feet. Vague shapes looming up around him. And it was cold. He shivered. He began to feel his way around, hands stretched out in front of him, and then froze. Somewhere a door was opening. There were voices. Someone was coming. He had to hide! His hands, flailing around desperately, found the edge of something hard and high. He felt his way behind the object and crouched down, holding his breath.
One, two, three clicks, and light flooded the room. Bright, white light. Patrick shaded his dazzled eyes with his hand and drew a startled breath. He knew where he was now. In the Finders Keepers studio. The set was still in place. In front were the rows of chairs where the audience sat. Over at the side was the bench where the Seekers, Eleanor Doon, Clyde O’Brien and Wendy Minelli, had sat. And the high thing he was hiding behind was Lucky Lamont’s prize wheel. It was all exactly the same. But deserted, like a ghost town.
Footsteps sounded on the hard, shiny floor. Patrick shrank back in his hiding place.
“We’ll be OK here for a while,” shrilled a familiar voice. “Now, Max …”
Patrick peeped out from behind the wheel. Relief flooded through him. He jumped up. “Boopie!” he shouted. “Max! Estelle!”
The three of them fell back in shock, their mouths open, their eyes wide with fright.
Boopie was the first to recover. “Patrick!” she squealed. “Where did you spring from? Oh, you gave me such a fright!”
“Fright!” growled Max. “Fright’s not the word for it. You scared me half to death!”
“Patrick.” Estelle was pale and worried-looking. “You shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry we weren’t there to receive your message. They’ve put a guard on the computer-room door. They won’t let us in. They’re still saying the Barrier’s going to sort itself out, that they don’t really think it’s Finders Keepers, but I think they’re suspicious all the same. And they’re not taking any ris
ks. We came here to try to work out what to do. But we didn’t dream you’d …”
“Did you find the clockmaker?” demanded Max. “Do we know what’s wrong with the clock?”
Patrick nodded. He held out the plans Anna Varga had given him. “One of the regulators is missing,” he said, as Max took the paper and began unfolding it. “It’s a little bird. It must have fallen off last Saturday, when the clock got shaken up. The clockmaker had a heart attack or something when it happened. She’s still in hospital now. I saw her there. Her name’s Anna Varga.”
Boopie clapped her hands together. “Patrick, you did it!”
Max and Estelle exchanged glances. Estelle was smiling proudly.
“That’s fantastic, boy,” said Max. “Now. The bird might be somewhere underneath …”
“Oh, we found the bird,” said Patrick awkwardly. “My sister, Claire, found it this morning.”
“What?”
“Yes. She put it in her bag. She was going to hand it in on our way out.”
“Well –” Max tugged at his hair, trying desperately to keep his voice calm and even. “Well, Patrick, dear boy, why are you here? Why aren’t you over there, getting the bird from Claire and putting it back?”
“Because,” said Patrick, looking dully at their expectant faces. “Because Claire’s over here, Max. While I was with Anna Varga she came through the TV, through the channel you left open. With my little brother. She’s here. Somewhere. And the bird’s here with her.”
The others stared at him, then at each other. In a group they moved forward, and Estelle opened her arms. Patrick ran into them, burying his face in her shoulder. “Estelle, what will I do?” he sobbed. “Where are they? The computer could’ve dumped them anywhere. And Danny’s so little. And Claire’s got the bird. And soon it’ll be twelve o’clock, and …”
She held him close and patted his back gently. “We’ll find them, dear heart. Don’t you worry. You leave it to us now.” Her words were calm but he heard the fear in her voice, and felt her shaking slightly as she held him. He knew that she too was thinking of Danny, alone and terrified in a strange place.
“We’ll split up,” said Boopie quickly. “I’ll check this part of the studio building, because I can’t go outside without being recognised. Estelle can do the cafeteria and the offices and all that part, because they know her there and won’t be suspicious if she wanders round. And Max and Patrick can check outside, down by the Barrier. The computer put Patrick there once, remember? It might have done the same trick again this time. All right?”
Estelle and Max nodded. Patrick pulled gently away from Estelle and looked from one to the other. His heart sank. He could tell from their grave faces that neither of them believed there was time left to do anything. They would go along with Boopie’s plan only because they couldn’t bear not to do anything at all. Not because they thought there was any chance of success.
“Come on then,” cried Boopie brightly. She led the way out of the studio. “We’ll meet back here at ten to twelve if not before. All right?” Patrick saw that tears were glittering in her eyes. But she went on smiling. She gave Estelle a little push as she went through the door. “Cheer up, sis. It’s not the end of the world!” She paused. “Well, not yet, anyway!” she added, and lifted her chin. “Take care, all,” she whispered. “And good finding!”
15
Losers Weepers
The trembling of the earth stopped, as quickly as it had begun, and Danny dropped to his knees. Only then did he remember the little china bird. He’d put it down on the grass back there, and then he’d run away, leaving it behind. A wave of horror washed over him. What if he couldn’t find it again? He couldn’t bear it! He began trotting back the way he’d come, scanning the ground. The wind tore at his clothes and hair, and thunder still sounded from the bottom of the hill. But Danny noticed none of it. His thoughts were fixed on that little blue-and-yellow object that to him meant comfort in this awful place.
He looked up. Surely by now he was almost back where he’d started from. And then he skidded to a halt. Ahead of him was a tall, thin woman, standing quite still, looking at the ground. As he watched, she slowly bent down and put out a long arm, jangling with bracelets, to pluck something from a clump of grass. Danny’s heart gave a double thump. Oh, no! He began to call out, but before the words had left his mouth the woman had straightened up. In her hand was the bird. She examined it closely. Then she nodded to herself with satisfaction, stuffed the bird into her pocket, and began to make her way up the hill.
Danny ran after her, as fast as he could. In a minute he was beside her. He tugged at her flapping skirt. “Please!” he called.
The woman stopped and stared down at him. Danny dropped her skirt hastily. She looked like a witch. Her hollow grey eyes stared blankly from a crabby-looking face. Her hair was scraped back into a tight bun stuck with pins, and dozens and dozens of chains hung round her neck.
“What do you want?” the woman said in a harsh voice.
“You – um – you’ve got my bird,” stuttered Danny, eyes wide with fright. “The bird you picked up. It’s mine.”
The woman grabbed greedily at her pocket, holding it tightly shut. Her fingers were covered in rings, Danny saw. Why would anyone want so many rings? They winked and shone, and when you looked at them one by one they seemed quite pretty. But crammed all together like that they made her hands look ugly. “Finders keepers,” she mumbled. “Losers weepers.” She turned her back on Danny and hurried away.
Danny stood helplessly for a moment and then ran to catch up with her. Again he tugged at her skirt. “It’s mine!” he shouted. “Please give it back!” But this time the woman made no answer. She just pushed his hand away, and kept walking.
Danny followed. The woman looked over her shoulder once or twice, and saw him. And each time she did, she pressed her hand to her pocket and walked on, a little faster than before. But Danny went on following. His legs were sore and his shoulder hurt. But he wanted his bird back. And also, actually, he didn’t know what else to do. He had to do something, and somewhere underneath his fear and tiredness was the vague idea that this woman could help him. “Finders keepers” she had said. She must know all about the game. Maybe she could show him how to get home. So Danny followed.
Keeping his distance, he followed her up the hill and along a road, and up to a big old house standing all by itself behind a high wall. He followed her through the broken, rusty iron gates and up the drive where grass, weeds and ivy tangled together on a bed of little red stones.
The woman reached the front steps of the house and looked over her shoulder again. She seemed almost scared to see Danny standing on the drive. “Get away!” she called, waving a hand at him. “Get off! Or I’ll have the Agents on you!”
Danny kept walking. The woman backed away, clutching her pocket. She pulled out a key that hung on a long chain around her neck, and bent to fumble with the front door lock. Danny climbed the steps, and stood watching her.
The key turned in the lock and the tall door creaked open. Without even thinking about it, Danny sprang forward, ducked under the key chain between the door and the woman’s bent body, and wriggled through the opening into the house. The woman made a strangled sound. It was half a shout of rage and half a cry of fear. She struggled to pull the key from the lock to free herself and, finally succeeding, flung herself after him. The door slammed behind her with an echoing crash.
Danny and the woman stood facing each other, panting, in a huge, dim, square hallway. Doors led off from each side to rooms beyond. Dark, musty-smelling rooms. Despite the dimness and his fright, Danny could see that the hall was lined with dozens of shelves and cabinets, each crammed with silver, china and glass objects: statues and plates, cups and ornaments, fans and vases, little boxes and big boxes and pictures in silver frames. All sorts of stuff. In fact, he’d never seen so much stuff in one place before. He looked around in awe. As a collector himself, he found this room ve
ry interesting.
The woman’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Who are you?” she demanded, holding tightly to her pocket. “Why did you follow me?” She pointed a shaking finger at him. “You want to rob me, don’t you? Don’t you?”
Danny stared at her. “No,” he said simply. “I just want my bird. That’s not robbing. I found it. It’s mine.”
“I found it,” snapped the woman. “You left it. I found it. Now it’s mine.”
“That’s not fair! I didn’t mean to leave it!” shouted Danny, suddenly angry as well as frightened. He looked around the crowded hallway. “Anyway, you’ve got … you’ve got millions of things. You don’t need my bird. But I need it. It’s my prize. From Finders Keepers. You know.”
“Finders Keepers?” The woman frowned suspiciously. Her hand left her pocket and folded itself protectively over the fingers of her other hand. “What do you mean, ‘You know’? Did Finders Keepers send you here?”
Suddenly she drew back. She clasped her hands to her chest, hiding them from him. “That’s it, isn’t it?” she shouted. “Finders Keepers sent you. To take back the ring! I saw that other boy, the Finder, down by the Barrier fence. They’ve brought him back. He found my ring for me, but now they want it back, don’t they? That’s their little game. They want my ring.” Her hands shook as she pressed them to her.
“Or maybe there’s more to it than that,” she went on. “Maybe they want all my rings. Is that it? They saw them on me, and now they want them all. They’re nothing but a gang of thieves. That’s it, isn’t it?”
Danny had had enough. He backed away from her. “I’m not thieves! I don’t want rings,” he wailed. “I want to go home! I want my mummy!” He dropped down on the marble floor, and burst into tears.
