Floods 8

by Colin Thompson

  ‘Did anyone ever see it?’

  ‘No, but after that, Lake Tarnish became more and more toxic until today it can turn not just your toenails but all of you into slime in about seventeen seconds.’

  They walked down the corridor towards the place where Winchflat’s scanner indicated there was life. As they approached it, they began to hear a gentle wailing.

  ‘Auntie Mould?’ called the Queen.

  The wailing stopped.

  ‘Is that you, Auntie?’ said the Queen.

  ‘Umm, possibly,’ said a voice from a dark corner under the roof.

  ‘It’s me, Auntie, your niece.’

  ‘Trevor?’

  ‘No, that’s your nephew.’

  ‘It’s been a long time,’ said Auntie Mould. ‘You forget things at my age.’

  ‘What are you doing up here?’ the Queen began.

  ‘Eating my breakfast.’

  ‘What’s to eat up here?’ said Betty.

  ‘Scabs,’ said Auntie Mould.

  ‘Yuk,’ said Betty.

  ‘Cool,’ said Morbid.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Merlinmary. ‘Can we have some?’

  ‘There’s only enough for me,’ said Auntie Mould.

  ‘Why don’t you come out and see us?’ asked the Queen.

  ‘Just a minute. I’ve got to mop up the blood.’

  ‘What blood?’ said Mordonna.

  ‘From picking my scabs,’ said Auntie Mould.

  ‘Oh yuk,’ said Betty. ‘She’s eating her own scabs.’

  ‘Well, there’s no one else’s to eat up here. Would you rather eat cockroaches?’ said the old lady.

  ‘Difficult choice,’ said Merlinmary.

  ‘What about all the bones everywhere?’ said Mordonna.

  ‘Nothing to do with me,’ said Auntie Mould. ‘They just appear every night.’

  ‘You mean there’s something else living up here?’

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  Eventually a shrunken little figure emerged from the shadows. She was wearing a very old, very baggy swimming costume covered in blood stains and all over her wrinkly skin there were little bits of faded wallpaper that the old lady had stuck on herself to stop the bleeding.

  ‘You’ve changed, niece,’ she said, staring at Betty.

  ‘That’s because she’s not your niece,’ said the Queen. ‘I am.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Auntie Mould. ‘My niece is a little girl. You’re an old lady.’

  ‘The last time I saw you, I was a little girl. I was nine and you were swimming in Lake Tarnish,’ said the Queen. ‘Remember?’

  ‘Remember? Remember what?’

  ‘Anything.’

  She didn’t, so Winchflat nipped back up to the van and got an aerosol of his special Memory-Freshener.

  ‘Ah, now, yes … umm,’ said Auntie Mould. ‘My most recent memory is eating breakfast.’

  ‘No, go further back,’ said the Queen.

  ‘Oh yes, I can remember eating dinner last night.’

  ‘No, no, much further back.’

  ‘What … lunch?’

  ‘No, no, a long, long way back,’ said the Queen.

  ‘It doesn’t really make any difference, dear,’ said Auntie Mould. ‘I’ve eaten nothing but my own scabs for years except one year when a millipede fell down between the slates. I had that for Christmas dinner.’

  ‘Ah, so you can remember Christmas Day then?’

  ‘Yes dear, it was this morning, just after Easter.’

  ‘You don’t have a stronger spray, do you?’ the Queen asked Winchflat.

  ‘No. I suspect she’s been got at,’ he said. ‘I think something’s wiped out her brain.’

  They sat Auntie Mould on an old box and Winchflat wired her up to one of his machines. It hummed and whirred, hummed some more and then caught fire.

  ‘Yes, as I thought, someone has been at her memories,’ said Winchflat after he’d put the flames out.

  ‘Can you get them back?’ said Mordonna.

  ‘Well, backup disks weren’t invented when Auntie Mould was young, but I’ll see what I can do.’

  He threaded a thick needle with electric wire, poked it in Auntie Mould’s left ear and wiggled it about until it came out of her right ear.

  ‘Oww, oww, oww, get out,’ Auntie Mould cried, but it wasn’t because of the wires. It was all the memories coming back.

  And everything came back: the submarine and the two divers who had dragged Auntie Mould beneath the waters of Lake Tarnish, wiped her memory and locked her away in Castle’s Twilight’s attic.

  ‘But who … why?’ said the Queen.

  What Auntie Mould and all the Floods didn’t know was that the why, like so many things in life, was to do with money. Transylvania Waters’ only scientist, Professor Flautist of Glackenstein, had been scraping up mud from the bottom of Lake Tarnish 5 and he had discovered the mud to be full of gold.

  As soon as the King (Queen Scratchrot’s father) found out, he had the professor locked up in Transylvania Waters’ most secure lunatic asylum – ‘Bluebell Meadows’ 6 – and devised a plan to make sure everyone would keep away from Lake Tarnish. If his wife’s sister Mould had to be locked away, that was a small price to pay for the huge amounts of gold that would soon be his.

  To make sure no one else could accidentally discover the gold, the King installed a secret pipeline that fed deadly acid into the lake. Then he had a small acid-resistant glass submarine built so he could go down and collect the priceless mud.

  Of course, the whole thing was a total failure because:

  The gold was not real gold, but fool’s gold. 7

  The deadly acid ate it all away as the King tried to scoop up the mud.

  After his first dive, the King was too scared to get in the submarine again and he didn’t trust anyone else enough to tell them about the gold.

  By the time the King realised all of the above, he had totally forgotten about Auntie Mould so she remained in the attic. Lake Tarnish went on to become the most horribly toxic place on earth after the tap to shut down the deadly acid pipeline was stolen by magpies because it was shiny and magpies like shiny things. The tap sat in a magpie’s nest for over fifty years until it fell out one day and killed a geography teacher. The teacher was quite happy to die because teaching geography in Transylvania Waters is a really depressing job because it is illegal to teach anyone anything about the world outside Transylvania Waters in case they realise how awful their lives are and they all run away to somewhere better like Belgium or Chernobyl or Bondi.

  At the geography teacher’s inquest, the coroner got a round of applause when he said it was the first time he had ever heard of anyone actually dying from a tap on the shoulder.

  The tap is now in a glass case in the Transylvania Waters Museum and is one of the most exciting and popular exhibits there even though no one knows its real purpose.

  ‘Well dear,’ said Auntie Mould, ‘if I remember correctly, which of course I don’t … What was the question again?’

  ‘Never mind,’ said Mordonna. ‘Before we do anything else, let’s give you some proper food. I’m sure that’ll help your brain work better.’

  Unlike the picky vulture, after so long eating nothing but her own scabs Auntie Mould didn’t care about too much salt and ate thirteen thick bacon sandwiches with extra sauce and dripping, scooping up the fat that dripped down her face and arms with amazing enthusiasm.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ she said as she collapsed against the wall with a big grin on her face. ‘I had forgotten just how wonderful bacon is. When we get out of here I will go and personally thank every pig I can find and then eat them.’

  Five more rashers of bacon, fourteen cups of super-strength double espresso coffee and a deep-fried Mars Bar later, Auntie Mould was ready for anything.

  ‘Especially teaching the King a lesson,’ she said to the Queen.

  ‘Excellent,’ said the Queen. ‘Though of course the King who imprisoned you
was my father and the one we are going to punish is my husband and he’s even worse than Daddy was.’

  ‘Whatever,’ said Auntie Mould. ‘Let’s crush the King’s crown, and I don’t mean the thing he wears on his head.’

  ‘First of all,’ said Mordonna, ‘we must find a way down from here into the castle.’

  ‘Well, I’ve been up here for years and years and I’ve never found a way out,’ said Auntie Mould.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Betty. ‘If there wasn’t a way out, we wouldn’t have got in.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Auntie Mould, ‘but is a way out the same as a way in?’

  ‘Well, Auntie…’ the Queen began.

  ‘Though of course we could always go to the way in and walk out backwards so we look like we are coming in, so the Door Fairies don’t realise,’ Auntie Mould continued.

  ‘Door Fairies?’ said several people at once.

  ‘Yes, look, there’s a notice on the wall.’

  There was. It said:

  ‘There’s no such thing as Door Fairies,’ said Mordonna.

  ‘Of course there is,’ said Auntie Mould. ‘It’s written on the sign.’

  ‘And you believe everything you read?’

  ‘Umm, probably,’ said Auntie Mould. ‘Though to tell you the truth, that sign is the only thing I have ever read in my whole life. When I was girl, living in the Castle, we had servants to do all our reading.’

  ‘So how did you learn to read then?’ said Betty.

  ‘I didn’t. I mean, I can’t.’

  ‘So how do you know what the sign says?’

  ‘I played this,’ said the old lady, pulling out an ancient clockwork record player with a very dusty old record on it. ‘Mind you, it took me three years to work out how to use it, because when I was a girl living in the Castle –’

  ‘Yes, we know,’ said Mordonna. ‘You had servants to wind it up for you.’

  ‘Wind it up? You can wind it up?’

  ‘Of course. How else do you play the record?’

  ‘Well, I was much younger and fitter then and I just ran round and round the machine very fast pulling the needle round the record,’ said Auntie Mould.

  ‘And the record told you what the notice on the wall said?’

  ‘Eventually.’

  ‘Eventually?’

  ‘Yes, I kept falling asleep from all the running and then I couldn’t remember what the record was saying,’ said Auntie Mould. ‘I thought about writing the words down, but of course I can’t write because when I was a girl living in the Castle –’

  ‘YOU HAD SERVANTS TO DO THE WRITING FOR YOU,’ everyone shouted.

  ‘How did you know that?’ said the old lady.

  ‘Just a hunch,’ said the Queen.

  ‘I noticed that, dear,’ Auntie Mould said. ‘If you straightened your back no one would notice it.’

  ‘Well, never mind all that, Auntie,’ said the Queen. ‘I can tell you for absolutely sure, there is no such thing as Door Fairies.’

  ‘So you say,’ said Auntie Mould.

  ‘Have you ever seen one?’

  ‘No, but then I’ve never seen the Going Out Door or the Coming In Door,’ said the old lady. ‘I deliberately didn’t go looking for them in case the fairies were there.’

  This went on for another thirty-three minutes until Auntie Mould said that she would go out of the Coming In Door as long as the Queen went first and then came back to prove the Door Fairies hadn’t got her and then went out again and came back again several more times just to make sure. This took another thirty-three minutes, until the whole family, except Auntie Mould, had climbed up and down the ladder to the roof five times. By then it was dark and Auntie Mould said that no matter how safe it was, there was no way she was climbing up in the dark in case the Darkness Fairies got her.

  So they all had some more bacon sandwiches and spent the night in the van.8

  The next morning, they blindfolded Auntie Mould and tied her up. Then they gave her five sleeping pills and six pieces of very burnt bacon, which they told her were angels’ scabs, and finally she was ready to go up the ladder to the roof.

  ‘Someone stole the ceiling,’ was the first thing she said when Winchflat’s Wake-Up Pills had taken effect.

  ‘It’s the sky, Auntie,’ said Betty.

  ‘Well, I don’t like it. It wasn’t there when I was a girl,’ said Auntie Mould.

  ‘It’s always been there,’ said the Queen.

  ‘I’ve never seen it before.’

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ said the Queen. ‘When you wanted to look up you had servants to do it for you.’

  ‘Well, of course we did,’ said Auntie Mould. ‘We didn’t want to end up with wrinkles in our necks from all that stretching. I had a special Looking Up Maid and a Looking Down Maid. Doesn’t everyone?’

  When Mordonna tried to explain that things weren’t like that any more, the mad old lady couldn’t believe it.

  ‘But you’d keep stepping in puddles,’ she said. ‘No, what I mean is that nowadays everyone does their own looking up and down,’ said Mordonna.

  ‘Oh, don’t be silly, dear,’ said Auntie Mould. ‘What would all those little peasants do all day if they didn’t have important jobs like looking up and down. You’ll be telling me there are no more Looking Round Corners Maids next.’

  ‘There aren’t.’

  ‘Well, I suppose when we take over the castle again we can put all that right and I can always get my Checking The Back Of My Neck Maid to do all the other looking for me.’

  ‘Auntie?’ said Betty. ‘What did you actually look at for yourself?’

  ‘My reflection, of course,’ said the old lady, ‘but not until my Still Gorgeous Maid had checked that I was still gorgeous.’

  ‘Right. Now we’ll just leave the servant problems until later,’ said Mordonna. ‘We’ve got things to do.’

  It was decided that Betty would go down into the castle first. She would go into the kitchens, pretend she was a kitchen maid and see how everyone felt about the King and his dreadful new wife, Countess Slab. At the same time Satanella and Brastof would go down into the town pretending to be normal dogs, and sound out things there.

  ‘Can we sniff lampposts?’ said Satanella.

  ‘You can indeed, my darling,’ said Mordonna. ‘And trees too. After all, they are like doggy newspapers.’

  ‘What about me?’ Merlinmary asked. ‘I want to go.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Winchflat. ‘Take this walkie-talkie and go down to the power station and if there’s a problem I’ll call you and you can make all the lights go out.’

  ‘Nice idea,’ said the Queen. ‘Just one flaw.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The only place in the whole of Transylvania Waters with electricity is the castle and then only in the King’s bedroom because he is afraid of the dark and is terrified a puff of wind might blow out the candles. Fifteen kidnapped Belgian geography teachers are imprisoned in one of the deepest cellars where they pedal fifteen bicycles night and day to generate the electricity to power the castle’s three pathetic light bulbs. For everyone else it’s candles and oil lamps,’ the Queen explained. ‘And you don’t want to know where the wax comes from or what they boil to get the oil.’

  ‘Yuk,’ said Betty.

  ‘Everything has its upside,’ said the Queen. ‘No one ever has blocked-up ears.’

  ‘And the oil?’

  ‘Don’t let your cat outside after dark.’

  ‘Cool,’ said Satanella. ‘Cat Oil Lamps. I like that idea.’

  ‘Well, Cat Oil does burn really brightly, but the smell takes some getting used to,’ said the Queen.

  While the family had been in the attic with Auntie Mould, Parsnip the crow had been flying around the town looking for his old friends and relations, and old they were. The few who hadn’t died were now very, very old and infirm. Parsnip had been kept fit and healthy by Mordonna casting Keep Fit And Healthy spells over him and Winchflat had plugg
ed him into his Old Bird Rejuvenator at least once a year. The result was that the old bird who should have been a crumbling wreck by now was almost as young as the day he had fled with his master, Vessel, and the Queen all those years ago.

  ‘All family has crumbly to bits,’ he said when he got back. ‘Favourite girlfriend not so favourite actually, all bald and very old fish smell.’

  ‘What about the people?’ said Mordonna.

  ‘How are they?’

  ‘All bald and very old fish smell too,’ said Parsnip.

  ‘Everyone?’

  ‘Snipsnip not actually look at everyone.’

  ‘Well, go and have another look,’ said Mordonna.

  Winchflat gave the bird a tiny two-way radio. ‘You can report back with this,’ he said.

  ‘Snipsnip do wreckonay, umm reconum, i-spy-ey thing,’ said the old bird and flew off.

  Meanwhile, Betty slid down a drainpipe, crept past the dustbins and down into the castle kitchens. The reek of boiled cabbage was so strong it turned the air green. Huge saucepans bubbled on the ranges and every single one appeared to be full of cabbages and nothing else – all except the last one, which was full of brussels sprouts.

  ‘Aren’t they sweet?’ said a small boy about Betty’s age.

  The boy was the lowest member of the kitchen staff. He was so low that he wasn’t even allowed to have a name and was simply referred to as ‘Oi you’. His job was to scan every cabbage for caterpillars and then eat them. Birds eat caterpillars and thrive on them because they are full of protein. Transylvania Waters caterpillars are not full of protein. They are full of runny stuff that tastes like very old cabbage.

  ‘Aren’t what sweet?’ said Betty.

  ‘The little baby cabbages.’

  ‘Where are all the other vegetables and the meat?’ said Betty. ‘Are they in a different kitchen?’

  ‘What’s meat?’

  ‘Well, umm … oh, I get it, the King’s a vegetarian,’ said Betty.