Whetū Toa and the Magician

by Steph Matuku

  “Get rid of them, Errant,” Ramses shouted. “If you’ve seen one chicken, you’ve seen them all.”

  Errant muttered something that sounded like “Alaka kalaka zalama zoo!” and the courtyard was empty except for a single chicken, scratching in the dust.

  “Buk, buk,” the chicken said.

  “She said, ‘Thank you,’” whispered Errant.

  “Oh, shut up,” muttered Whetū.

  5

  – DIAMONDS AND DIVISION –

  The ram graciously inclined his head. His little curling horns sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight.

  “Let us not begin on the wrong forefoot,” he began. “The bond between animal and keeper is a precious one. I am Ramses.”

  Whetū scrambled off the wagon. “I’m Whetū Toa. But I’m not your keeper. I think that would be my mum.”

  “And where is that most gracious lady?”

  “She was doing the dishes. But you’ll meet her sooner or later, I suppose.”

  Ramses frowned. “A keeper’s first duty is to her animals.”

  “Yes, but there’s no dishwasher,” Whetū explained.

  Ramses shook his head and sighed. “Should the erosion of common courtesies be blamed on the modernity of the age?”

  Whetū didn’t know what to say to this. The chicken, however, who’d been strutting around in lonely circles, replied with a loud, “Buk, buk!” before wandering back up its little ramp back into the coop.

  “How did you turn all the chickens back into one?” Whetū said to Errant.

  “Simple division,” said Errant. “Take three thousand chickens, divide them by three thousand chickens and what do you get?”

  “Er …” said Whetū, screwing up her forehead and thinking hard. “One?”

  “Exactly,” said Errant. “One chicken. Simple division.”

  He exchanged a knowing look with Ramses, who remarked, “I suppose they don’t teach that sort of thing in schools nowadays. It’s all robots and space monkeys and laser guns.”

  “We do do division,” said Whetū. “But only in maths. Not in real life.”

  The ram nodded. “There, you see? That explains everything.”

  Whetū wasn’t quite sure anything had been explained at all, but her mind was beginning to feel a little befuddled, so she decided to just nod and agree.

  “I was taking Whetū around to meet everyone,” said Errant. “We’d only just started.”

  “Then I won’t keep you. But be careful of the bull. He’s in a funny sort of mood today.”

  He nodded his head again. Whetū had a suspicion he only did it because he knew how pretty his horns looked when they caught the sunlight. They flashed and twinkled and sent little spots of light all over the yard.

  Ramses butted at the barn door, and it swung shut behind him. Everything seemed faded and grey now that he had gone.

  “Thank goodness,” Errant said, leaping off the wagon and landing with a thump in the yard. “Silly old fool! He gets on my nerves.”

  “I thought he was very nice,” said Whetū.

  “Of course you did,” said Errant rudely. “Some people think that gold and diamonds are the only things worth caring about.”

  “I do not think that!” said Whetū.

  Errant didn’t reply. He hopped off through the yard, careful not to tread on the piles of chicken droppings.

  “Your mum will have to clean up all the poo,” he called over his shoulder. “It’s part of the keeper duties.”

  Whetū wasn’t quite sure how her mother was going to manage the magician’s house and garden and accounts and paperwork and stage bookings – as well as Whetū herself and their own little cottage. There certainly wouldn’t be much time left to clean up after animals.

  She followed Errant over to the pig sty, not being too careful about where she put her feet because she was wearing her gumboots. The sty was built from grey stone and the walls were short enough to peer over if she stood on tiptoes. At each corner was a wooden pole which held up a rickety wooden roof.

  Errant thumped a foot against the door. “Get up, you lazy pigs,” he shouted. “The keeper’s daughter is here.”

  “Errant,” said Whetū. “I don’t think calling them ‘lazy pigs’ is very good manners.”

  Errant looked surprised. “But that’s what they are.”

  Whetū stretched up and looked over the wall. There in a bed of straw lay three of the most beautiful pigs she had ever seen. One was a creamy white, one a glossy black, and the third a mixture of black and white and pink blotches.

  The white pig opened one eye. “Pleased to meet you,” it said, and immediately fell back to sleep.

  The black one tried to raise its head, but only managed to lift its bristly chin a little. “What’s for breakfast?” Its chin dropped and it began to snore.

  The black and white and pink one didn’t say anything. It was still asleep.

  “You’re right,” said Whetū. “They really are lazy pigs.”

  “Sometimes they’re too lazy even to get up to be fed,” said Errant. “Your mother will have to sit in the straw and push apples into their mouths.”

  “There’s no way Mum will do that. She’s a very healthy, fit woman. She’ll put them on an exercise programme before they know it.”

  Errant snorted. “Your mother sounds awful.”

  Whetū glared at him. She’d had enough of Errant’s rudeness. “I’m going home now.”

  She strode away, pretending she couldn’t hear Errant calling after her. She clambered over the wire fence and began walking across the grass so quickly that Errant’s shouts soon faded away altogether.

  She was right in the middle of the field when she realised she’d gone the wrong way. She wasn’t in the empty field that led to her house. She’d wandered into the next field – the one with the bull in it.

  And there it was, standing right in front of her.

  6

  – INCONSOLABULL –

  It was as though her heart had turned to stone and the rest of her body had followed. She couldn’t breathe. She was frozen to the spot.

  The bull was also frozen, his eyes fixed on hers. He was huge. His flanks glistened in the sunlight. Shaggy hair fell under his chin like a beard. A silver ring glittered in his big wet nose. Saliva drooled from his mouth. He snorted, lifted a huge leg and pawed at the ground.

  Whetū knew he was going to charge. She couldn’t run, his four big legs would be way too fast for her two smallish legs. And her gumboots were red – didn’t bulls charge things that were red?

  From a distance, as if through a radio turned down low, she could hear Errant shouting, “Whetū! Whetū! Watch out for the bull!”

  Thanks a lot, thought Whetū. She already knew that.

  She couldn’t run, she couldn’t even move. There was only one thing to do.

  “Go away!” she shouted.

  The bull took a step back. And then, to Whetū’s utmost astonishment, the bull burst into tears.

  “Boo hoo hooo!” he sobbed. “You shouted at me!” Big blobby tears ran down his face and into his beard.

  Whetū didn’t know what to do. The bull flopped onto its side and howled. Glistening yellow bogeys streamed from his nostrils and dangled off his nose ring.

  “Now look what you’ve done!” Errant hopped up to the bull and patted its face with his paw. “There, there, dear. Never mind. Don’t cry!” He dried the bull’s face with his own soft, floppy ears, carefully avoiding the bogeys.

  “She’s new,” he said, jerking his head at Whetū. “And she’s not very good with animals.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Whetū said.

  She took a step towards the bull and he flinched in fear.

  “Keep her away! Keep the mean girl away! Oh, boo hoo hoooo!”

  Whetū felt awful.

  “Thank you very much,” Errant said crossly. “I’ll have a terrible job getting him back on his feet. He’s very sensitive. Didn’t you hear Ramses say
ing the bull was in a funny mood?”

  “Yes,” said Whetū. “But I thought he meant the bull was angry or something.”

  “Ang-ang-angry?” the bull gulped. “Who’s been saying I’m angry? Are you all talking behind my back now? Calling me names and laughing at me?”

  “No, no, of course not!” Errant glared at Whetū. “You see what you’ve done? I think you should leave.”

  “Oh, please, isn’t there something I can do?”

  “You can stop shouting mean things for a start,” sobbed the bull. “Telling me to go away! And it’s my field! At least, I thought it was my field …” He sucked in a shuddering breath and cried, “Are you throwing me out now? Am I homeless?”

  “Nobody’s throwing you out!” said Errant. “You’re our favourite bull in the whole world.”

  He hissed at Whetū. “Will you just go!”

  Whetū bit her lip. “I’m really, really sorry,” she said in a small voice.

  She walked slowly off towards the empty field, the bull’s wails echoing behind her. She climbed the fence and took the track that led to the cottage. She did feel bad about the bull, but it was an honest mistake. All the bulls she’d ever seen before were fierce and scary. And she had apologised. She’d find some way of making it up to him.

  She thought about her morning as she walked. She’d met a flock of chickens, a golden ram, some lazy pigs and a bawling bull. Was that all the animals on the farm? She remembered seeing horses from her bedroom window. She hadn’t met them yet. She wondered if they were odd creatures too. All the others were, and Errant was the worst of the lot. There was something about him she didn’t like at all. But they were living together now. It would be best if they all tried to get along.

  Soon she was scrambling through the bushes in the back garden. She ran up to the door and took off her gumboots before pushing it open.

  “Mum?” she called.

  The kitchen was empty. All the dishes had been put away. Whetū got out bread and butter and a banana and made a quick sandwich. After such a busy morning she felt quite hungry. As she stood there munching her banana sandwich, she heard voices coming from down the hall.

  Quietly she went to the doorway and listened. That was her mother’s voice, talking to someone who had a deep, rumbling voice that vibrated the floorboards.

  She tiptoed down the hallway towards the living room. As she passed a mirror hanging on the wall, her reflection blew her a kiss. Whetū walked straight past before she realised what had happened. She walked back and looked in the mirror again. Her reflection stared back, wearing the same blue shorts, checked shirt and white socks. For a moment they stood, gazing at each other, and then her reflection raised her hand in a cheery wave.

  Whetū waved back. Her reflection smiled.

  Whetū stared at her image for another moment, and then the voices began talking again. Leaving the mirror behind, she walked quietly down the hall to the living room door. It was only open a little way, but as she stood there, wondering if she should go in or not, the door swung wide open all by itself.

  Her mother was sitting on the couch under the window with a cup of tea in her hand. In the armchair next to her was a man in a black evening suit with a white bow tie and stripy black and white socks. He had big dark eyebrows and a black pointed beard.

  “You must be Whetū,” the man said.

  “Yes, I am,” said Whetū. “And you must be the magician.”

  7

  – ARRANGEMENTS –

  “I’m delighted to meet you,” the magician said. He got to his feet and bowed so low that his pointed beard poked a little hole in the carpet.

  Whetū nodded, feeling a little awkward in her grubby white socks. “I’m pleased to meet you too.”

  She crossed over to the couch and sat down by her mother.

  “As I was saying, Ms Toa,” said the magician, settling back down onto his armchair. “You shall be in complete charge while I am away on tour.”

  “Where are you going?” asked Whetū. She’d always thought that when she was grown up she’d buy a caravan, and then she could go wherever she wanted. She planned to have propellers installed and make it watertight so that she could also travel overseas.

  “I shall be touring three of the finest cities in Europe,” said the magician. “I like to do two shows in each city. One show is for rich people who must be entertained to prove how rich they are, and the other is for poor people who must be entertained to forget how poor they are. On the whole I prefer performing for the poor. Their dreams are bigger, and so their applause for my magic is much louder. And for a stage performer, applause is everything.”

  The magician gazed out the window with a far-off expression, before turning back to Whetū and her mother, who both looked confused.

  “Never mind. I shall be gone for a week, and then I shall be back to prepare for a big concert for the King and Queen. A great honour and very well paid. Ms Toa, I shall expect you to keep my house in good order and take care of all my paperwork. I understand you’ve been a personal assistant before?”

  “Oh yes,” said Mum. “I used to work in a bank. I didn’t have to clean anyone’s house, though.”

  “It’s more a matter of telling the brooms and dusters what to do,” said the magician. “They tend to slack off if I’m not here.”

  “Of course,” said Mum, shooting Whetū a nervous look.

  “You’ll also be taking show bookings and arranging travel documents and taking care of my accounts.”

  “I’m very good with the business side of things. What kind of computer do you have?”

  “Computer?” said the magician with a frown. “I don’t have a computer. I just write everything down on little bits of paper. They fill a huge room, right to the very top.”

  Mum gave a small gulp. “How do you find anything?”

  “Oh, I don’t. That’s why I need a personal assistant.”

  “I rather think you do. Never mind. I have my own computer, so I’ll sort it out for you.”

  “And then there’s the farm animals,” the magician continued. “As animal keeper, you’ll need to feed them and muck out the sheds and … yes?”

  Mum was shaking her head. “You didn’t say anything about animals! I won’t have time to take care of them and do everything else as well.”

  Whetū looked down at her hands. She’d known all along this would happen.

  The magician frowned. “I’m afraid the animals are very important. Did I not mention them at all?”

  “You did not,” said Mum firmly.

  The magician waggled his hands in the air and a bunch of bright red pōhutukawa flowers appeared. He presented them to Mum with a flourish.

  “The flowers are very lovely,” she said. “But not lovely enough to convince me to look after a lot of livestock, I’m afraid.”

  “Well then,” said the magician. “We may have a problem. I can’t just go away and leave the animals to look after themselves. Heaven knows what kind of mischief they’d get up to. One of the pigs turned her ear into a silk purse the other day. She couldn’t tell me why she’d done it. She wasn’t even going shopping! Oh no, it wouldn’t do to leave them alone for even a day, let alone a whole week.”

  “Then I suppose we’d better start packing. It’s a pity. I was just beginning to feel like it was a proper home.”

  Whetū sat up straight. She didn’t want to pack. They’d only just arrived! And where would they go? They had no home to go to, no family who wanted them and the car was far too small to live in. And besides, this was the most exciting place she’d ever been to in her life. They couldn’t just leave!

  “No, Mum!” said Whetū, and her tone was so firm that her mother jumped and dropped her cup (which was fortunately empty), and the magician’s bow tie spun round and round in circles.

  “We don’t have a choice, Whetū,” said Mum. “It’s impossible.”

  “I’ll do it,” said Whetū. “I’ll be the animal keeper.�
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  “But …” said Mum.

  “Excellent!” said the magician. “I’m glad that’s settled. And of course, I’ll be happy to pay you for your work.”

  He got to his feet and pulled out a pink hourglass from his pocket. “Good heavens. My bus leaves in half an hour. I must dash. I don’t suppose you’ve seen a big white rabbit around anywhere?”

  “He was with the bull,” Whetū said, hoping the magician wouldn’t ask any awkward questions. It certainly wouldn’t do for him to find out that his new animal keeper had already made one of the animals cry.

  “Excellent, excellent.” He patted his pockets and then drew out a roll of yellow paper tied with a red ribbon. He handed it to Mum. “Everything you need to know is written on here. See you in a week!”

  He shook their hands so vigorously, Whetū’s feet nearly left the floor. And then he was gone.

  Mum sank back onto the sofa cushions and stared at her daughter. “You’re going to look after the animals?”

  “I’ve met most of them already,” Whetū said. “They’re a little … unusual, but I think I’ll manage.”

  “I’m glad,” said Mum. “I didn’t want to leave just yet.”

  “Me neither,” said Whetū. “But we’ll see how we feel in a week, shall we?”

  8

  – JOBS –

  The yellow roll of paper the magician had given to Mum included a list that told Whetū exactly what she needed to do to keep the animals happy and healthy. She was pleased to see she only had to feed the one chicken. It wouldn’t have been much fun feeding thousands of them.

  “Lucky it’s the school holidays,” said Mum. “During term time you’ll have to get up early to finish all your jobs. But think of all the money you’ll make!”

  Whetū hadn’t really given the money much thought. Once her mother had paid the bills and groceries and rent, there had never been much left over for treats. Whetū had learned long ago that it was pointless to wish for the expensive toys and games that other children her age had, so she wasn’t much good at imagining them now. Maybe she could save it all up and get her mum something special for her birthday.