The Remarkable Secret of Aurelie Bonhoffen

by Deborah Abela

  ‘A first love. Sometimes the heaviest love of all.’

  ‘Why is it the heaviest?’

  ‘A first love leaves a deep imprint that you carry forever.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘You know, I wouldn’t recognise you if you ever stopped asking questions.’ Lilliana pulled the curtain closed. ‘Someone very special.’

  ‘Is that the only reason he’s sad?’

  ‘Mostly.’ Lilliana sank back into her bed, holding up the quilts for Aurelie to slide in alongside her. ‘And, apart from that, it’s not my business to tell. Now, how about that story you came to read me?’

  Aurelie frowned, knowing that once Lilliana ended a conversation, it was closed. She reached for a book on the bedside table. It was made of handmade paper flecked with lavender flowers and touches of real gold. The pages of Lilliana’s diaries were the colour of tea, and each word was carefully written in black ink.

  ‘Can I ask one more thing?’

  ‘Just one.’

  ‘Did she die, Rolo’s love?’

  ‘No, she didn’t die, but something broke that Rolo found too hard to fix.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Only one question, remember?’ Lilliana lay back with a sigh and Aurelie began reading.

  ‘Has he gone?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Did he see us?’

  ‘He would have come looking for us if he had.’

  Julius and his rat friend, Feagle, lay face down on the ground behind the merry-go-round.

  ‘Do you think it’s a sign we should go?’ Feagle asked.

  ‘A sign from who?’

  ‘From above … or somewhere where signs come from.’

  ‘I think it’s a sign you shouldn’t have worn that extra-long coat you tripped over that made you drop the cage.’

  ‘You told me to wear black … My dad’s coat was all I had.’

  Julius lifted his head and crawled out to get a better view of the pier. He pulled his beanie down low. ‘Let’s just get this done.’

  Feagle crouched beside a large, rat-filled cage. The furry rodents swarmed over each other, struggling for room, tails squirming.

  ‘Come on, little darlings. You’re about to go on an adventure.’ Feagle opened the latch on the cage. The rats stumbled out, falling over each other’s fluffy, wriggling bodies, tumbling in their rush to escape.

  ‘There’s something special about watching a rat find freedom,’ Feagle said. ‘They really are beautiful creatures. Did you know rats are actually very clean and spend hours every day –’

  ‘What are they doing now?’ Julius asked.

  Feagle squinted through the darkness. ‘I’m not sure.’

  The rats began to slow down. They stopped and sniffed the air.

  ‘They’re coming back this way,’ Julius whispered.

  Julius and Feagle threw themselves on the ground for a second time, covering their heads with their arms. The rats scrambled over them in panic, their claws digging into their coats and hands, clambering through their hair and down the lengths of their bodies.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Julius whimpered.

  ‘I dunno. I’ve never seen ’em act like this before. Maybe it’s that sign I spoke about.’ Feagle gasped. ‘Or … it … could be that,’ he stammered.

  As the rats retreated in a swarm, Feagle and Julius stared at what seemed to be an almost transparent figure floating above the ground only metres before them. He wore boots, a floppy black hat and a long beard; a sword hung from his waist below a rumpled shirt. He seemed to be frowning at them.

  ‘What is it?’ Julius whimpered and rubbed his suddenly cold body.

  ‘I’m not sure, but I’m not sticking around to find out.’ Feagle tucked his cage under his arm and the two young men scurried after the rats, all of which had made a hasty exit from the pier.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Some Bad News

  Mayor Bog leapt out of bed the next morning. He felt a richer man. Richer in the way he had earned a lot of money while simply enjoying a good night’s sleep – and no one had been hurt in the process. There may be a few tears, but that was merely part of being human. No one had ever died from crying too many tears.

  He’d wait a day before calling the health inspectors to close the pier. The rats would then have time to make their way into cupboards and mattress stuffing, and leave enough trails of droppings to give any health inspector a heart-stopping conniption.

  By the end of the week, the problem with the pier should have disappeared. And so would Crook.

  Happiness was such an unusual mood for Mayor Bog to be in when he was with his wife and son that they were both startled when he arrived in the breakfast room, not only with a smile, but humming as well.

  ‘You look unseasonably happy today,’ his wife noted.

  ‘And that is because I am happy.’ He held his arms out. ‘Why would I have any reason to be unhappy?’ He smiled and flicked a napkin into the air, catching sight of a model ship on the sideboard. ‘What is that?’

  Rufus’s spoonful of scrambled egg stopped before his mouth.

  ‘That is a model of the Mary Rose. Rufus made it.’ Mrs Bog threw her son a smile.

  Mayor Bog dipped a buttered toast soldier into his boiled egg, having forgotten his question halfway through Mrs Bog’s answer.

  Rufus brought the spoon into his mouth.

  ‘Don’t you want to tell him what a fine job he has done?’ Mrs Bog asked.

  The front doorbell echoed around them. Bog frowned.

  A house servant in a crisp shirt entered the room. ‘Sir, your assistant, Julius, requests to see you.’

  ‘Ah, Julius.’ Mayor Bog crunched. ‘Tell him I’ll meet him in the study.’

  He quickly dipped two more toast soldiers into his egg, downing them with noisy sips of tea before dramatically wiping a napkin across his lips.

  ‘Good day to you both. I have urgent business to attend to with Julius.’ He nodded towards Rufus. ‘You would do well to follow Julius’s example, my boy. Not just playing with toys.’ He nodded towards the ship. ‘Why, it isn’t even seven-thirty and he is already here to start work. He would make any father proud.’

  Rufus opened his mouth but closed it again when Mayor Bog headed out of the room.

  Bog patted his well-fed stomach and climbed the stairs to his study, where he was met by Julius’s sallow face. His clothes were torn and his hands and face were smeared with dirt.

  Bog sat behind his desk and continued to grin as he waited to hear the good news. ‘You didn’t come through the front door like that, did you?’

  ‘Sorry, Mayor, I –’

  ‘Never mind. Tell me how last night went.’

  ‘You see, Mayor …’ Julius clenched his fingers so tightly that they were in danger of snapping off.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘It seems we … failed.’

  Mayor Bog’s mood fell, along with the tone of his voice. ‘Failed?’

  ‘The rats.’ Julius quickly tried to explain. ‘Top quality they were – Feagle handpicked them himself – but they … ran away.’

  ‘Ran away?’ Mayor Bog concentrated on not jumping across the desk and strangling him.

  ‘There must have been over a hundred rats in that cage but, when we let them loose, they moved only a few feet, then they turned and ran off the pier in a panic. Ran all over us.’ Julius shivered. ‘Some even jumped off the edge and into the ocean, and after the accident with the cage we thought …’

  ‘Accident with the cage?’ Mayor Bog’s voice deepened even further.

  ‘Ah … yes … a small accident where the cage kind of fell …’

  Mayor Bog turned away. He eyed the bin in the corner of the room in case his eggy breakfast decided not to stay put. ‘Did anyone see you?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘Don’t think so?’

  ‘Definitely not, sir. I’m sure of it.’ Julius rubbed his eyes, which had dark
circles lying beneath them like fat slugs. ‘No one, that is, apart from …’ Julius leant forward, his eyes wide with fear. ‘A ghost.’

  The mayor blinked once. ‘A ghost?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Mean and nasty looking and –’

  ‘There were no ghosts, Julius, just a monumentally simple task bungled.’

  ‘Sorry, sir.’ The young boy twisted his hands together. ‘What would you like me to do next, sir?’

  Many things flashed through Mayor Bog’s mind: a slow boat to China, the Trans-Siberian Railway, a sled dragged by well-fed huskies into the arctic wilderness.

  ‘Nothing. I need time to think. Meet me in the office.’ When Julius stood, Mayor Bog noticed his fully crumpled state – his untucked shirt, stained trousers and shoes. And there was a smell. ‘After you have had a shower.’

  Julius nodded like a battery-operated toy running low on power.

  ‘And use the back exit.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ He tiptoed quietly out of the room.

  Mayor Bog caught sight of himself in the polished silver of his mother’s urn. Her stern photo stared back at him with her thick frowning eyebrows and high-collared neckpiece that threatened to strangle her.

  ‘You were right, Mother. If you want something done, you need to do it yourself.’

  He strode out of his study and down the stairs. With each step his anger sizzled. He snatched his coat from the stand in the foyer and rammed his arms through each of the silk-lined sleeves. He pulled his hat onto his head with a vigour that would keep it fastened in the strongest wind. He swept his umbrella from the stand and opened the door.

  ‘Are you leaving, Mr Bog?’ His wife’s voice floated after him. ‘Because a goodbye would be nice if that was the case.’

  Mayor Bog gripped the handle of the door and sighed through gritted teeth. He straightened up, turned and entered the breakfast room, his face filled with a forced smile. ‘Goodbye to you both.’

  He turned sharply, his umbrella swinging behind him in a wide enough circle to make contact with the Mary Rose. Rufus heard the crack on the hull. The ship swayed briefly on its stand before keeling over onto the marble floor and splintering with a high-pitched crash.

  Rufus’s hands were clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms.

  ‘Oh, Mr Bog.’ Mrs Bog stood, her hands resting on Rufus’s shoulders.

  Mayor Bog stared at the broken mess. ‘I will buy you another,’ he said to Rufus. ‘An even better one.’

  Rufus said nothing.

  ‘Yes,’ Mayor Bog again pulled down on his already tight hat, ‘a better one.’ And he left the room, trailing a gloomy, shattered silence behind him.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  An Unexpected Gift

  Aurelie skidded her boots across the pebbles on the curved drive of Mayor Bog’s house. She came to a stop in a small whorl of dust when she reached the same sleek limousine she saw bring Rufus to school. She walked the length of the car and followed her reflection in the smudge-free chrome and through the polished windows. A driver with gloved hands and a hat slung across his face sat asleep at the wheel.

  The house was equally as grand, with so many windows Aurelie felt as if she was being watched. She climbed the white marble stairs to the veranda and reached for the shiny brass knocker – when the door swung open.

  Mayor Bog stopped mid-stride at the sight of a child on his doorstep. He looked around to see if there were any more of them. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m a friend of your son’s.’

  Mayor Bog stared. ‘My what?’

  ‘Your son. Rufus. Can I come in and see him?’

  Mayor Bog’s eyes flew to his sleeping driver. ‘I’m not sure my son is dressed to receive –’

  ‘It won’t take long.’

  Bog ran his eyes over the child with colourful cheeks and curly, everyways hair.

  ‘And who shall I say is calling?’

  ‘Aurelie Bonhoffen.’

  Mayor Bog’s puffed chest deflated. ‘Who?’

  ‘Aurelie Bonhoffen, and I’d like to –’

  ‘Bonhoffen?’ The last of Mayor Bog’s fake sincerity left him, and he looked like a man about to be very ill. ‘You’re Aurelie Bonhoffen?’

  ‘Yes. I go to school with Rufus.’ She leant in and whispered, ‘I’ve brought him a present, but don’t tell him. It’s a surprise.’

  ‘A surprise?’ Bog repeated absently, before pointing. ‘He’s in there.’ He stepped past her. ‘I must go; I have a very important …’

  The mayor and the rest of his mumbled sentence moved quickly away. He tapped sharply on the driver’s window before wrenching open the back door and climbing inside. He waved the driver on with annoyed flicks of his hand, and the car kicked up pebbles as it swerved down the drive.

  Aurelie wiped her boots and stepped into the foyer. The fine carpets absorbed the sound of her footsteps until she stood at a doorway and looked inside. Rufus was sitting at a long table, staring at the broken hull of the Mary Rose.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked.

  Rufus flinched. ‘Nothing. It was an accident. My dad’s going to buy me a new one. What are you doing here?’

  Aurelie stepped closer to the ship with its broken masts and twisted sails.

  ‘But you must have worked so hard to build her.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Rufus pushed the boat aside. ‘How did you get in here?’

  ‘Your dad let me in.’ Aurelie reached into her bag and pulled out an object wrapped in material. ‘I wanted to give you this.’

  Rufus eyed her suspiciously. ‘Why?’

  ‘You like boats, so I thought you’d like it.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘If you open it you’ll see.’ Aurelie held the gift out further. ‘It’s not going to explode.’

  Rufus looked over his shoulder. ‘I have to –’

  ‘Get to school. Me too. We can walk together.’

  Rufus took the parcel and picked open the material. Inside was a polished brass compass, its magnetic needle flickering across its ivory surface. It smelt old, with a faint hint of the sea and, instead of feeling cold, it warmed his hands.

  ‘Uncle Rolo says it’s very old and would have saved a lot of sailors’ lives.’ Rufus said nothing. ‘And Christopher Columbus said that the compass always seeks the truth. I like that.’

  ‘Why are you giving it to me?’

  ‘I told you, you like boats,’ Aurelie paused, ‘and I wanted to ask you a favour.’

  ‘What kind of favour?’ Rufus frowned.

  ‘The pier’s in trouble, and I need your help to save it.’

  ‘Sniggard was right – you were only being nice because I’m the mayor’s son.’

  ‘I was being nice because I liked your speech about the Mary Rose. I’m asking you to help me because you’re good with words.’

  ‘Why should I help you?’

  ‘Because you owe me for treating me badly when your friends are around, and because that’s a nice compass.’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  Aurelie pulled out a chair and sat facing him. Rufus backed away a little. ‘I want to ask everyone in Gribblesea who loves the pier to volunteer to rebuild it so it can go back to being as great as it used to be. Then everyone who helps will be invited to a special performance night in the marquee, just for them, with a brand-new show that has never been seen before.’

  ‘What kind of show?’

  ‘I don’t know – I’ve only just thought that bit up – but it’ll be great.’

  ‘It’ll have to be something special,’ Rufus said. ‘Does anyone else know about your plan?’

  ‘Not yet. I wanted to tell you first so you could help me write an invitation that nobody can refuse. Will you do it?’

  ‘I’ll see.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘I didn’t say I’d do it.’

  ‘You didn’t say you wouldn’t.’

  ‘You like getting your way, don’t you?’
/>
  ‘Maybe.’ She tried to smother a smile. ‘A little.’

  ‘Maybe?’ Rufus grinned.

  ‘Yes.’ Aurelie stood. ‘I’ll tell you the rest of my ideas on the way to school.’

  His smile fell away. ‘I … I haven’t packed my bag yet. You go without me.’

  ‘Okay.’ Aurelie pushed her chair in. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Why do you hang round Sniggard and Charles?’

  ‘They’re my friends.’

  ‘No, they’re not. They bully you into doing things you don’t want to do.’

  ‘They don’t bully me.’

  ‘And I’ll bet they don’t know anything about you.’

  ‘They know lots of things about me.’

  ‘Do they know what you like to eat or what your favourite book is or what you want to do when you’re older?’

  Rufus squirmed. ‘Boys don’t talk about that kind of stuff.’

  ‘I like waffles with ice-cream and hot fudge sauce. I love reading all kinds of books, but my favourite at the moment is about the explorer Marco Polo. And I want to run a pier when I’m older, which is lucky because I live on one now and we’re about to fix it up so I can make sure that happens.’

  ‘I have to get ready for school,’ Rufus said.

  Aurelie’s smile dissolved. ‘I’ll see you there.’

  Rufus watched through the window as she walked down the drive. Her red swirling skirt stood out against the grey pebbles, deep green lawn and perfectly shaped hedges. As she reached the gates, he ran to the front door and yelled from the veranda: ‘A pilot.’

  Aurelie looked back. ‘What?’

  ‘I want to be a pilot when I’m older.’

  ‘That’s a good choice.’ She waved.

  Rufus waved back and watched her walk out the front gates, the brass compass firmly nestled in his hand.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Uncle Rindolf and Uncle Rolo

  ‘There you are.’ Aurelie threw her hands into the air upon spotting Rolo sitting at the far end of the pier. He was behind the marquee, in an area closed off to the public and a favourite place for him to think. His legs dangled over the side and his arms threaded through the wooden railing. He was singing. Aurelie smiled at the faint strains of the tune and followed his gaze that led again to the house on the hill, but when she looked back, she stopped. Her breath squeezed from her chest. She blinked and shielded her eyes, thinking the glare of the late-afternoon sun was playing tricks on her.