Before the Storm

by Sean McMullen

  For some moments Daniel stared in fascination, then he looked up at Emily’s face. Her expression told him that he should seriously consider feeling alarmed, or even consider the option of blind panic.

  Martha was serving as well as cooking. She brought in a rack of hot toast, and Daniel served himself at once. His theory was that something unimaginably harrowing was about to happen, so that soon nobody would feel inclined to actually eat breakfast at the breakfast table. Daniel glanced at Emily whenever it seemed safe to do so. She was not eating. That was also a bad sign. Emily always ate, even when she was not hungry. She ate with manners so maniacally good that even her parents could not match them. Emily actually read books about manners, memorising lengthy passages and tormenting Daniel with them. Now her elbows were on the table. That was bad manners, and so it was a very bad sign.

  Daniel was up to his fifth piece of toast and jam when Mr and Mrs Lang finally entered. They sat down, still discussing BC and whether or not a proper doctor should be summoned to examine him. This suddenly secured Fox’s attention. He assumed the expression of a tiger that had been sleeping in the sun and had awoken to find two lambs playing with his tail.

  ‘How shall I eat thee, let me count the ways,’ mumbled Daniel to himself.

  Nobody seemed to hear. Suddenly Mrs Lang finally noticed that her daughter had her elbows on the table.

  ‘Emily, attend your manners!’ called Mrs Lang in quite a sharp tone.

  Emily let her interlocked hands fall to the table. She did not attempt to move her elbows back. This is it, she’s going to take on Mother, thought Daniel. Why can’t I get something easy to do, like getting shot while saving BC? Emily turned and glared down the table in the direction of Mrs Lang. Should one have a big breakfast on Judgement Day? Daniel toyed with the idea of having a sixth piece of toast. After all, it was not as if being hungry was going to be much of an issue with the world about to end.

  ‘Liore needs a proper nurse, so I should have the rest of the week off school to look after him,’ Emily announced. ‘Mother, will you inform school?’

  ‘Well, I …’ began a very indignant Mrs Lang.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Emily brusquely before she could say anything else. ‘Now Father, Fox has seen the police, and they have recovered the things that were stolen from him when he arrived in Melbourne.’

  ‘Your pardon …’ began Fox, apparently distracted from thoughts of killing anyone who tried to prevent him caring for BC.

  Emily went straight on. ‘That means that Fox has no need to work as a delivery boy for a grocer. He should be going to a mechanics institute and learning about electricity.’

  ‘Oh, why yes, what good news,’ managed Mr Lang, reeling from the barrage of orders from his daughter.

  ‘Fox, notice, to Aitkinson, submit, this morning,’ ordered Emily.

  ‘Lockdown!’ Fox barked back at once.

  ‘But I could nurse the young lieutenant,’ managed Mrs Lang, rallying slightly.

  ‘Mother, you are busy with all the social engagements leading up to the opening of parliament,’ Emily stated in a tone that was not to be argued with.

  ‘But you will be alone with him!’ exclaimed Mrs Lang, deciding to argue anyway.

  ‘Martha and Henry will be in the house. Besides, Lieutenant Liore is honourable in the extreme, and he is recovering from a bullet wound to the stomach.’ Daniel noted that Emily’s eyes were huge and unblinking, like those of a cat gathering itself to spring onto a bird. ‘I am in no danger of being seduced.’

  What followed was the longest five-second silence of Daniel’s entire life. Emily had an odd talent of forcing people to do what they did not wish to, and now her utterly mortified brother realised how she did it. When Emily wanted something minor, and someone did not want to give it to her, she stepped out far beyond everyday, polite, conventional manners. Her victim then had the choice of touching off a major scene, or merely giving in to her for the sake of keeping the peace. Whether parting Barry from his bag at the point of a death ray, or saying something so unimaginably embarrassing to her parents that they would rather give her a week off school than discuss the matter further, Emily always won. Daniel tried to imagine Emily taking her clothes off and getting into BC’s bed. Daniel’s imagination screamed for mercy.

  ‘Well, of course I trust you both,’ babbled Mrs Lang at last.

  ‘Splendid, Mother, I just knew everyone would be mature and reasonable about this matter.’

  ‘Now just a minute …’ began Mr Lang, his face flushing red with anger.

  ‘Besides, Father, you and Mother were content to leave me alone in the house with Henry, before I knew the meaning of the word seduce,’ Emily continued smoothly. ‘Oh, and I had to find out the meaning of the word for myself!’

  The skin of Mr Lang’s face faded to a deathly pallor, and his mouth hung open, unmoving. This cannot be happening, thought Daniel. My sister has taken on our parents, and she is winning.

  ‘I am highly responsible about the temptations of the flesh, Father, even though you and Mother were too embarrassed to tell me about them,’ Emily continued. ‘Oh, and Daniel knows too, I thought it my duty to tell him.’

  I do believe the truth has just been run down and trampled by a herd of stampeding elephants, thought Daniel, cringing so low that his chin began pressing into the sixth piece of toast, which lay cooling on his plate. On the other hand, I don’t suppose that anyone wants to know that I really learned what bums, titties and dicks are for from Barry the Bag.

  ‘Well then, ah, so you know how babies are made?’ asked Mr Lang, staring at Daniel.

  If I stabbed my hand with my fork, perhaps it would distract people a little and they would change the subject, thought Daniel. Then again, perhaps they would not notice, and I would go through all that pain for nothing. Daniel flicked a glance at his father. Mr Lang was still staring at him. Well, the alternative is to stare at Emily, thought Daniel. I suppose he only needs to hear me say ’yes’, Daniel was concluding when Emily came to his rescue.

  ‘He also knows how they are not made, Father.’

  Mr Lang suddenly assumed the expression of a small mouse confronted by a large cat in a very tight corner. Mrs Lang put a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. Daniel tried unsuccessfully to sink through his toast, his plate, the table and the floor. Fox was aware of tension at the table, but was also aware that none of it was directed at him, and that Emily appeared to be mistress of the situation. Reassured that his commander was winning against superior odds, he continued eating his breakfast, perfectly at ease.

  ‘Well then, everything is really under control,’ Mr Lang said as he turned to the clock. ‘Look at the time, I’m late already, must dash.’

  ‘Wait, I have to go with you, remember?’ called Mrs Lang, getting up so hastily that she knocked her chair over.

  Daniel stood up as his mother left the table, and so did Fox. The piece of toast was stuck to Daniel’s chin.

  ‘Standing, are males, when females, leave table,’ said Fox as they sat down again. ‘Why?’

  ‘Manners,’ muttered Daniel, peeling the toast from his chin.

  ‘Manners, teaching Fox? Yes?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Daniel listlessly.

  Now Emily turned her gaze on Daniel, and she was smiling. That was bad, Daniel knew from experience.

  ‘As you have just seen, brother dear, I do not need to be holding a death beam gun that can melt steel in order to force people to do what I want. I am going to give you back that, that science book about making babies, and Barry can have his bag back too. Bring him here after school. I have orders for both of you. Now go.’

  ‘Babies, in hatchery, are made,’ said Fox, looking puzzled.

  ‘I have a book that I think you should read,’ replied Emily.

  Moments later Daniel was out of the door and hurrying for the sanctuary of the railway station.

  Press-ganged, thought Daniel. I’ve been press-ganged into some army that doe
s not even exist, and by my own sister. By the time he reached the station Daniel was singing the old song that he had learned from Fox.

  Well the next thing they did,

  They took me in hand,

  They lashed me with a tarry strand.

  They lashed me till I could hardly stand,

  Aboard of a man-o’-war, boys.

  ‘Thinkin’ of runnin’ away to sea, Danny Boy?’ asked Barry, who was loitering by the station gate.

  ‘Life at sea is starting to look good, even if I have to endure floggings and drink rum,’ sighed Daniel.

  ‘Problems at the big house?’

  ‘Emily has … well, to cut a very embarrassing story short, she is even ordering our parents around. I never thought I would be so happy to go to school.’

  ‘Any word on me bag?’

  ‘She will be returning the bag and the book after school today. On the other hand, she expects us to continue spying on the Germans.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yes. Sorry, but Emmy just has ways of making people do things.’

  ‘Dunno if that’s bad, I sorta fancy this stuff.’

  ‘What do you mean? This is not an adventure book, Barry, those are real spies with real bombs – and guns, and daggers.’

  ‘But it’s important. Like, when me, Barry the Bag, was hanging about with ya sellin’ French postcards, I wasn’t just a dirty little cove sellin’ French postcards.’

  ‘But Barry, you were a dirty little cove selling French postcards, and so was I. If my Mother ever finds out, bloody hell, don’t even talk about it!’

  ‘Danny Boy, ya don’t understand. Yesterday I was a secret warrior of the British Empire, I was important! I’se never been important. I keep thinkin’ that the king might give me a medal or somethin’, you know, for bein’ brave and loyal.’

  ‘I would rather not get the medal than have my mother find out about yesterday.’

  ‘Yeah, well, there ya go Danny Boy, but I’m different. One day yer old man will give ya lots of money and a job in ’is business, and yer’ll have yer own carriage and house, and be important. I’ll just be sellin’ tikkies for the rest of me days, but now I can think back and say, oi, I helped the king once.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’

  ‘Reckon I’ll dodge school for the rest of the week, an’ hang about, helpin’.’

  ‘But you dodge school anyway.’

  ‘Oi, that’s yer train comin’, Danny Boy. See ya, four hours past noon, an’ all that toffy stuff?’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose.’

  ‘Barry needs ’is proper bag, Danny Boy. Important spyin’ equippyments in the bag.’

  School dragged slowly for Daniel, even though it had the attraction of being time spent away from Emily. Predictably, there was a great deal about Australian history in general and federation in particular. Daniel listened to his history teacher speculate on what would follow federation.

  ‘Australia is destined to become the greatest nation in the Southern Hemisphere!’ concluded the teacher. ‘You boys are destined to become the leaders of the very finest nation in the British Empire of the future.’

  If only you knew, thought Daniel morosely.

  ‘And now, I want you all to write an essay on what Australia will be like a hundred years from today. Two hundred words, and you may go home once it is on my desk.’

  Daniel contemplated writing an essay about death rays, bombs that could destroy entire cities, the space service, Britain occupied by Germany and Melbourne as the capital of the British Empire. Tempting, he thought, before scrawling out a scenario of Britain’s industries transferred to Australia’s deserts so that the English countryside did not have to be so spoiled by soot from factories. As essays went, it was not among his best, but given all that was on his mind, Daniel thought it quite a credible effort. At three-thirty he met with Barry at the North Brighton Station, and together they set off for an audience with his increasingly fearsome sister.

  Emily met with the two boys in her bedroom. She sat on her bed while they sat on the floor. On her table were the bag and the book. Cradled in her arms, as if it were a favourite doll, was BC’s death ray weapon. Daniel noticed that one of her dolls looked suspiciously like BC.

  ‘You may have those, those objects on the table,’ Emily declared in a manner that was both regal and disapproving at the same time.

  Barry surged up and enfolded his bag in his arms, then tossed the book to Daniel. Daniel slid the book under his shirt. Emily tossed a coin to Barry.

  ‘What is that?’ she demanded.

  ‘Er, a shillin’.’

  ‘On target. It is the king’s shilling. Daniel, here is one for you. The pair of you have just taken the king’s shilling, and are thus in his service. It is important to keep old traditions alive, and besides, we need some ceremony for something as important as joining the SYS-IK crew.’

  Daniel examined his shilling. The monarch’s profile was that of a man, and the name was Charles III. The date was 1997.

  ‘Oi, there’s some of me postcards missin’!’ exclaimed Barry, who was by now rummaging in his bag.

  ‘I have requisitioned five of your French postcards for use in the fight against those plotting to bomb the opening of parliament.’

  ‘Wot, ya mean yer gonna change the future by mailin’ dirty postcards to –’

  ‘Trust me Barry, it’s a really bad idea to talk back to an officer,’ cautioned Daniel, ’especially when that officer is my sister.’

  ‘The cards will be returned to you at the end of the mission, BarryS1. Now here are your orders. You will return to those bohemian cafés in St Kilda, the ones where the artists gather to drink coffee, and …’

  ‘Talk about bein’ decadent!’ volunteered Barry.

  ‘What is decadent?’ asked Emily.

  ‘Er, sorta bein’ rude, but proud of it.’

  ‘Yes, well, I am sure you would know. Anyway, I sent FoxS3 there this morning, with a sketch pad.’

  ‘I thought spies needed guns and daggers,’ said Daniel, thinking it unfair that Emily had kept the death beam while it was Fox, Barry and himself who were facing danger.

  ‘It’s disguises, Danny Boy. It’s what Foxy calls camo.’

  ‘But, but surely if Fox had the death-beam gun he could shoot all the Germans at once, before the Exhibition Buildings are bombed.’

  ‘That’d be murder!’ exclaimed Barry.

  ‘No it would not,’ said Daniel. ‘As far as Fox is concerned, the Germans are guilty of murder a hundred years in the future, but a hundred years ago – for him. I mean, they would deserve to be executed if they had not escaped and died of old age or something, so now they are still alive and intend to kill all those people, so they are already guilty of murder.’

  Barry looked blank for a moment. ‘Danny Boy, you lost me back at “no”,’ he confessed.

  ‘You have forgotten one vital point,’ said Emily. ‘Just suppose there are more than those five Germans? The others will just be more careful.’

  ‘We could tell the people who run things,’ insisted Daniel.

  ‘And who would believe five children?’

  ‘We got a death beam,’ Barry pointed out.

  ‘Look, BarryS1, if we fronted up, told our story, then cut a tree down with one blast from this gun as proof, the gun would be locked away while the police tried to work out who we stole it from. Nobody takes children seriously!’

  There was nothing in all of the world that Daniel disliked more than to agree with his sister, but on this occasion she did have a strong and valid argument.

  ‘So what do we do?’ he asked.

  ‘We watch and wait. You and Barry will relieve Fox at the café, and he will go and scout around the Exhibition Buildings. Danny, be home by dinner-time, else Mother will worry. Barry, stay as long as you can.’

  ‘On target, DBC!’ said Barry smartly.

  Emily shot a suspicious glance at Barry, as if she suspected that he mi
ght be lampooning her authority. On the other hand, Daniel noticed that Barry was not smiling, or even grinning.

  ‘DBC, what if we have learned nothing useful by the opening of parliament?’ Daniel asked, now worried that his sister might have thoughts about leading them into real combat.

  ‘BC will be well enough to take over by then.’

  ‘But what if he’s not?’

  ‘Then I have a plan, a very simple plan. I shall be there, on the morning. Father plans to be in the grounds with Mother and us two. He likes to be present at important occasions. He says it is being part of history.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So if we have not yet uncovered the truth by then, I shall shoot this death beam at trees and the surrounding buildings, setting them afire and causing lots of panic. The opening of parliament will be cancelled, and everyone will be evacuated. I have everything covered, you see? We cannot lose.’

  By now Barry had gone very pale, and he sat rocking back and forth with his bag in his arms. Daniel suddenly realised that he was sitting with his own mouth hanging open. Deciding that there was very little point in trying to reason with his obviously manic sister, he said nothing.

  ‘I have spent the afternoon reading about the Duke of Wellington,’ Emily continued.

  ‘’Ere, weren’t he the cove wot told a woman wot he’d ’ad seductive relations with to publish an’ be damned?’

  Emily glared at Barry, but pointedly said nothing.

  ‘Er, Barry, remember what I said about talking back to officers?’ asked Daniel.

  ‘Yeah, oh! Sorry, DBC, like.’

  ‘If I may continue,’ said Emily coldly, ’the Duke of Wellington beat Napoleon, so he was a very good soldier and leader. He used to tell his generals to try to think like he did, so that when they were amid the confusion of battle, and separated from him, they would anticipate what he would want them to do.’

  ‘Wot’s anticipate?’ asked Barry.

  ‘Know without being told,’ muttered Daniel. ‘In this context, anyway.’