Charlie & Hamish: Trapped in Gondwana, #2

by JB Rowley

They heard Hamish talking to the horses.

  “Hey! Come on. Get going. Giddy up.”

  Charli and Nellie thanked Fairy Godmother, opened the carriage door and stepped down.

  “Hamish,” said Charli. “The tour is over. We have to get back to our adventure.”

  “Stupid horses,” said Hamish as he climbed down and jumped to the ground, “I didn’t tell them to stop.”

  Nellie and Charli exchanged a smile but did not say anything. Fairy Godmother leaned out of the carriage window.

  “Follow this path until you come to the fork, dear ones.”

  “And then what?” said Nellie.

  A mysterious smile passed over Fairy Godmother’s beautiful face as she answered.

  Choose the way that is best and you’ll pass each test

  Of false friends beware but never despair

  For in the room of pages beyond the words of sages

  Lies the secret track to take you back.

  Before Nellie could ask her what she meant Fairy Godmother, the carriage and the horses disappeared in a shroud of golden mist.

  6: Pizza

  “Some fairy godmother she turned out to be,” said Hamish. “Leaving us here to get lost in this stupid fairyland place.”

  Nellie smiled. “That’s one of Gondvan’s rules. We have to get through the tests by ourselves.”

  “Fine!” said Hamish. He marched down the road, his long strides clearing the distance quickly so that Charli and Nellie were left behind.

  “Let him go,” said Charli. “He’ll cool off after a while.”

  They followed Hamish but he was soon out of sight. When they came to the fork in the road that Fairy Godmother had mentioned he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Hamish,” called Nellie.

  “Where are you, Hamish?” called Charli.

  They waited but Hamish did not answer.

  “Now what do we do?” said Charli.

  “We’ll just have to choose a way and hope it is the same one Hamish chose. We can come back if we don’t find him.”

  “Okay,” said Charli. “Which way? Left or right? Didn’t Fairy Godmother say we should take the right path?”

  “I think she said we should ‘choose the way that is best’. Maybe that does mean the right way,” said Nellie.

  Not sure what to do, they stood looking at both paths for a few minutes. Finally, Nellie shrugged. “Okay. Let’s take the right path. If we hurry, we might catch up to Hamish.”

  The girls ran along the path, slowing to a walk when they saw a blue cottage. Smoke billowed from one of its chimneys. Steps led up to a front porch fenced with blue railing that matched the colour of the house.

  “Perhaps we have come to another fairy tale,” said Charli.

  “Perhaps, but it doesn’t look like a fairytale house,” said Nellie. “It looks like someone’s home.”

  “But we’re still in Fairytale Realm, Nellie.”

  As they approached the house, Nellie saw a smartly dressed gentleman sitting at a table on the porch reading a newspaper. He had thick dark hair, an elegant black moustache, side whiskers and a full beard. His beard and whiskers were so black they were almost blue. His dark blue pinstripe suit and crisp white shirt looked like rich man’s clothes. A long scarf, its navy silk fringed at the ends, was draped around his neck. Nellie nudged her friend but Charli had already spotted him. He did not seem to notice them. Tempting aromas wafted from the cottage.

  “I can smell pizza.”

  “So can I,” said Charli. “It smells so good. Should we go and talk to the man on the verandah?”

  Nellie hesitated. “Let’s go around the back and have a look first.”

  The gentleman on the porch did not stir as Nellie and Charli turned down the side. They crept through the trees along the side of the house, moved closer to the wall and peered through a window. Inside on a wooden table sat a large pizza, swirls of steam rising from the hot meat and vegetables filling its base. Three plates were set at the table.

  “There must be other people living in this house,” said Charli.

  “The three bears,” said Nellie. Charli giggled.

  “What do you see through the glass, mes enfants?” said a deep male voice with a French accent.

  Startled, Charli and Nellie spun around to come face to face with the gentleman in the pinstripe suit. Stroking his beard, he gazed down at them.

  “You must not be alarmed, mes enfants. I am not angry. You are most welcome to look through my window.”

  “We could not resist the smell of the pizza. We didn’t mean to be rude,” said Nellie.

  “Please, mon cherie, there is no need to apologise. There is food for all in my home. Come, join me for pizza.”

  The French gentleman walked toward the back door. Charli and Nellie did not follow. When the gentleman reached the door he turned and saw that they had not moved from the window.

  “Ah, I see you do not wish to enter my home. Of course, I understand. You are careful about strangers. That is very correct. I applaud your wisdom.” He smoothed his moustaches thoughtfully. “I have the solution,” he said. “Would it be agreeable to you if we enjoy lunch on the front porch?”

  Charli and Nellie were both thinking of how delicious the pizza would be. They nodded.

  “Excellent. Please go to the front and make yourselves comfortable at the table. I will deliver our lunch on a tray. Eating outdoors on a day such as this will be most pleasant. You have made a fine choice.”

  The door closed behind him as he entered the house.

  “What shall we do?” said Charli.

  “Well, he might be able to help us find Hamish,” said Nellie. “If Hamish used this path, he would have come here. I guess we should do as he said and wait on the porch.”

  They walked back around to the front of the house, climbed the porch steps and sat down on the wooden chairs at the table. Before long, the French gentleman appeared, carrying the pizza in one hand and the three plates and a flat serving paddle in the other. Hot steam wafted up to Nellie’s nostrils. She could almost taste the pizza.

  “Ah, splendid,” he said. “You have made yourselves comfortable.”

  After he placed the tray down and spread its contents on the table, the gentleman gave a plate each to Charli and Nellie and placed the third one in his own place. As he picked up the serving paddle and reached toward the pizza, fine gold bracelets clinked on his wrists. The rings on his fingers caught the light. One ring that shone brilliantly was larger than the others and Nellie was sure it was a diamond. He edged the flat paddle under a slice of pizza, lifted it and placed it on Nellie’s plate before lifting another slice onto Charli’s plate.

  “Allow me to introduce myself,” said their host as a he placed a slice of pizza on his own plate. “My name is Renard, Francois Renard.”

  “Hello, Mr Renard. I am Nellie, and this is Charli.”

  “Nellie and Charli; such charming names. I implore you to eat to your heart’s content.”

  “Mr Renard,” said Charli, “are you French?”

  “Yes, indeed, mon cherie.”

  “But pizza is from Italy, isn’t it?”

  “Pizza is from Italy, it is true, mon cherie. I might prefer a quiche or some exquisite truffles for lunch but children love pizza. For you I have pizza.”

  During their meal Mr Renard was attentive and spoke pleasantly. However, Nellie was troubled. He seemed very nice but something about him was not quite right. Why did he already have pizza prepared for them before they even arrived? She thought of the false friends Fairy Godmother had warned them about. Was Mr Renard a false friend? If so, perhaps Hamish was here somewhere. Maybe Hamish was being held prisoner in Mr Renard’s dungeon. She decided to take a look inside his cottage.

  7: Mr Renard’s Secret

  Nellie asked their host if she could use his bathroom.

  “You are most welcome, mon cherie,” said Mr Renard. “My home is a modest one, I might even say an ordinary one,
but I am sure you will find the facilities adequate.” He pointed to the front door. “Proceed straight along the hall to the third door on your left. There you will discover the bathroom.”

  Nellie entered the house, made her way past the hall stand where articles of clothing hung on elegant gold hooks and continued along the hallway. It was just as Mr Renard had said; an ordinary house with an ordinary bathroom. Nellie was beginning to think she had been foolish to be suspicious of Mr Renard when she noticed a table in the hall, the old fashioned type like the one in her grandmother’s house. In the middle of the table lay a key; a large, old silver key. Nellie thought it strange to have nothing else on the table except a key.

  At the far end of the hallway was a wooden door with a padlocked bolt across it. Why did Mr Renard keep that room locked? This must be the key for that door. Nellie picked it up. Her heart beat faster. Hamish might be a prisoner in that locked room. She made her way slowly along the hall. A faint, unpleasant odour hung in the air.

  When she reached the mysterious bolted door, the smell was stronger but Nellie could not identify it. With a trembling hand she placed the key in the lock and turned it. The padlock sprang open immediately. Nellie jumped back. She half expected the door to spring open and some sort of monster to pounce on her. At the same time she realised it was a silly thought because the heavy bolt was still across the door.

  She removed the padlock and pushed the bolt back. As soon as she opened the door a suffocating stench swamped her. It was the same smell she had noticed in the hallway. She covered her mouth and nose with one hand as she entered the room. The heavy window curtains were drawn, making the room very dark.

  “Hamish?” Her voice was no more than a whisper. The room was silent.

  Her hand searched along the wall for a light switch but found none. It took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the dark. Then, to her horror, she saw that the floor was covered with clotted blood. She hurried across to the window, flinging back the curtains. Matted fur littered the floor. Rows and rows of animal skins hung from hooks in the ceiling. They must be rabbit skins, thought Nellie. Looking more closely she realised they were not rabbit skins at all. Koala skins! Nellie gasped. Then she saw more skins: skins of platypuses, bandicoots, quolls, numbats, wombats and bilbies. Mr Renard was not such a nice man at all. Maybe he planned to skin her and Charli. She ran from the room and raced along the hall, bursting through the front door and onto the porch. Mr Renard was leaning toward Charli, offering her another slice of pizza.

  “Don’t touch Charli,” yelled Nellie.

  “Nellie,” said Charli. “What’s up?”

  Nellie pointed an accusing finger at their host. “That man is evil. He has koala skins in the back room,” she said.

  Mr Renard looked surprised. “Koala skins? But it is not so,” he said.

  “It is so,” said Nellie. “And there are other skins too; skins of platypuses, bandicoots, quolls. He has killed beautiful animals just for their skins.”

  “But it is not so, you are mistaken,” said Mr Renard.

  “It is so, Mr Renard. And I can prove it.” Nellie stepped quickly into the house and snatched from a hook on the hall stand a brown fur hat with white spots. “Look at this, Charli,” she said, stepping back out onto the porch and holding it up. “It’s a hat made from quoll skin.”

  Mr Renard sat back and spread his hands out in a gesture of innocence.

  “I bet you plan to kill us too.”

  “No, I would never... That is not so, not so at all. Do not accuse me of this treachery!”

  Nellie threw the hat on the table. Mr Renard looked at it as though he had never seen it before. “But it is not.... You must not think I would harm you, mes enfants. It is true I have often thought of the pleasure I would feel if I were to skin a smoothie.” As though in a dreamlike trance his hand touched the bare skin of Charli’s arm. An evil look spread across his face. He was no longer a handsome French man but an ugly werewolf. Charli pushed his hand away. Renard sighed.

  His face returned to normal as he continued. “But you are my guests. It would not be appropriate to harm my guests. But these,” he gestured toward the hat, “these are just animals.”

  “Just animals!” Charli leapt at him, scratching his eyes with her nails. Renard yelled in pain and covered his face with his hands. He gasped and spluttered and tried to protest. Charli swiftly yanked off his long silk scarf and used it to tie him to the chair with his arms bound. Mr Renard struggled to free himself.

  “You stay right where you are. You disgusting, despicable, grimy, gross, lousy, mean, rotten, revolting, vicious, wicked, odious, murdering monster. How dare you slaughter defenceless little animals just to make fancy clothes?”

  “You are a cruel, evil man,” said Nellie as he struggled to free himself, his eyes screwed shut. “And I know who you are. You’re Mr Fox. I also know what happens to you in the fairy tale. You get chopped up into little pieces. I’m sure there are lots of knives inside your house that you use to murder those innocent animals. We can use those, Charli, to chop him up into little pieces.”

  “Good idea, Nellie,” said Charli, glaring at Mr Renard. “Then we can find out what it’s like to skin a smoothie.”

  Renard let out a cry. In that instant he disappeared and so did his house. Nellie and Charli found themselves standing on the ground.

  “Good riddance!” said Charli.

  “Yes, what a horrible man,” said Nellie.

  “He deserved to be chopped into little pieces. Fancy killing beautiful animals just to make clothes.” said Charli

  “I know,” said Nellie. “It broke my heart to see all those animal skins.”

  “Do you think Hamish was in that house?”

  “No, Charli. I’m sure I would have found him.”

  “I’m worried about him, Nellie.”

  8: Wicked Witch

  “If Hamish had walked down this path, he would surely have come across Mr Renard so he must have gone down the other path,” said Nellie.

  “You’re right. Quick, let’s go back and take the left road.”

  They hurried along the path until they were back at the fork in the road. This time they took the left fork and walked along a path bordered by strange trees whose leaves were spangled with drops of silver. Eyes wide with astonishment, they passed the glittering silver-leaved trees, then trees with gold leaves and finally trees whose leaves gleamed with diamonds. When the enchanted forest stopped abruptly, Nellie and Charli saw an enormous cup cake with thick pink icing; a cup cake as big as a house. In fact, that is what it was; not a homely cottage like the one Mr Fox lived in but a cottage that might have come from the pages of a fairy tale.

  Nellie approached the cup-cake cottage and broke off a piece of the outside wall. “Look, you can eat it.” She placed the piece of golden wall into her mouth. “Oh, it’s yummy. Just like a real cup cake.”

  Charli broke off a chunk of the wall and placed it between her lips. Her face broke out in a wide grin.

  “Wow! Delicious. This is like the cottage from Hansel and Gretel.”

  At that moment, the door of the cottage opened. A large, round woman with rosy cheeks and a mop of black curls stood on the doorstep. She looked at them with eyes as green as the forest leaves. A friendly smile dimpled her cheeks.

  “You sweet children,” she said, holding out her plump arms in welcome. “You are just in time. I have just now, just this minute, taken some cup cakes out of the oven.”

  Nellie shrank back. “Thank you. You are very kind but we must keep going.”

  “We are looking for my brother, Hamish,” said Charli.

  The woman beamed at them and opened the door wider. “Your brother is already here, sweet child. Do come in. I am Em. Welcome to my little home.”

  The woman turned and went back into the cottage, beckoning them. Charli was about to follow. Nellie moved closer to Charli. Trying not to move her lips she said,“Charli, she’s a witch.”


  Charli looked at Nellie and laughed. “Don’t be silly,” she said. Charli stepped forward but Nellie grabbed her arm and pulled her away.

  “We have to go but we’ll come back later,” she called to the woman.

  Pulling Charli with her, Nellie ran away from the cottage. They stopped when they came to a forest of dark tree trunks that looked like slim black ghosts standing on a carpet of dead leaves. Charli pulled away from Nellie.

  “Why did you run away?”

  “I don’t trust that woman. It could be a trap. Hamish might not even be there.”

  “She seemed nice enough.”

  “Yes, and remember Mr Renard? He seemed nice. And remember the witch in Hansel and Gretel? She seemed nice too.”

  Charli looked thoughtful. “If she is like the witch in Hansel and Gretel,” she said, “we have to get Hamish out if he’s in there. You know what the witch did to Hansel in the story.”

  “Yes, she was fattening him up to eat him.”

  Charli shuddered. “Well, Hamish is a pain and sometimes I wish he would disappear but I don’t want anyone to hurt him; not really.”

  “I know what you mean,” said Nellie. “First we have to find out if Hamish really is in that cottage.”

  “Agreed,” said Charli. “Let’s sneak back and peep through a window.”

  They went back the way they had come. When the cottage was in sight they used the trees for cover, keeping low to the ground and darting from one tree to the next to avoid being seen.

  With their bodies pressed against the wall of the cottage, they made their way to a window. The delicious scent of lollies and cakes tempted Nellie. She had to stop herself from breaking off bits of the cottage to eat. They could not afford to do anything that might alert the woman inside.

  Charli raised her body so that her head was level with the window. Lace curtains made it difficult for her to see in.

  “Can’t see anything,” she said.

  Nellie gestured toward the back of the cottage. They crept along, staying low to the ground, until they came to a fence. Only the cottage was made of cake and icing it seemed, because the fence was made of wood. They heard voices and recognised one of them as Hamish’s.