Once outside, Herman Astor continued to stride purposefully towards the square — specifically, a white rowboat moored at the swamp’s edge. As they approached, Woe wasn’t so sure that white was the best choice of colour for a swamp-travelling rowboat. Seated inside was a man in a tall orange cap. At the sight of the Swamp Master striding towards him, the man quickly picked up the rowboat’s oars.
‘To the fields, Christopher,’ said Herman, stepping gracefully into the boat. Woe stepped in too. As they rowed away from town, Woe sat opposite Herman who had his back to the rower. They sat in silence for a moment, until Woe noticed a stamp on the rower’s hand. It was the same size and shape as the one on Millie’s hand.
‘Stamps are common in Anywhere,’ Herman said, watching him. The Swamp Master couldn’t look more comfortable in the rowboat, his hands and head resting atop his cane. He motioned behind him to Christopher. ‘It’s how we keep track of a . . . debt.’
‘A debt?’ Woe questioned. From the way he sat, Woe suspected that the Swamp Master was rowed everywhere around Anywhere.
Herman smiled. ‘Food, lodgings, money borrowed, the school in town, the toilets in town. Anything and everything in the swamp, belongs to me. Everything . . . except for the air.’ He then stopped suddenly before squinting off into the distance. ‘But I’m working on that.’
Yep, Woe thought. Definitely stark-raving mad.
Around them the trees became fewer and the swamp became denser. The water turned from light green to a dark green that was almost black. Woe saw creases now lining the face of Christopher the rower from the strain of pulling and pushing the oars through the muck. Below them, he imagined the swamp to be more like cement than water. Soon, ahead of them, masses of people could be seen wading through the swamp. The swamp was almost at their shoulders. Surrounding them were floating platforms with huge vats of swamp mud and more workers holding buckets.
‘The fields,’ Herman said as the rowboat pulled up alongside the nearest group of workers.
Woe watched as a young man wearing large goggles waded in the swamp before them. Then he dived down below the surface and returned with armfuls of dark green goop. He waded over to the nearest floating platform and piled the goop onto the top of a vat before going back over to his spot in the swamp and diving under the surface again.
The swamp fields
Looking around, Woe noticed that each worker did the same thing and each had a rope tied to his or her uniform. Woe was reminded of how he used a rope to prevent he and his sister from falling overboard on The Sinker III. Then Woe realised the need for the rope. The quickswamp.
‘Anywhere Swamp can be a very dangerous place,’ said Herman slowly. ‘Particularly out here in the fields. Particularly this section of the fields. Particularly on a day like today. And particularly if you are . . . a child.’
Woe looked at the Swamp Master. The way the man in white fixed him with an unblinking stare made Woe nervous. It felt like the way Apoline sometimes used to stare at them. Like she could get rid of them at any moment. Is that why Herman brought me to the fields? Rapidly, Woe’s nervousness turned into fear. He looked around them. Everyone continued to work without paying them any attention. But after years of living at the Idle Slug, Woe knew impending peril when he sensed it. And the way Herman Astor looked at him was most definitely perilous. He thought of Whimsy. Was she all right?
Then Herman Astor said something that made Woe wish he had never gotten into the rowboat with the Swamp Master.
‘Have you ever felt the frightening pull of quickswamp?’
46
In which Whimsy discovers the beauty of sludge
How Zelia Astor managed to keep her parasol held perfectly aloft amongst the hustle and bustle of the factory was a mystery to Whimsy. She herself was bumped and pushed past countless times as Zelia led her into room after room of crowded workers, large machines and unusual smells.
The first room they entered held rows and rows of bookshelves filled with huge books. Some workers sat studying at nearby tables and others moved around quickly, running from one bookshelf to the next with pieces of paper. They all looked very serious.
‘The best minds in Anywhere,’ said Zelia proudly.
‘What are they doing?’ asked Whimsy.
‘They are working on a cure for swamp flu.’
‘Swamp flu?’ repeated Whimsy, alarmed. She imagined someone coughing up green sludge and hoped that the swamp disease wasn’t contagious.
‘It’s extremely contagious,’ said Zelia unhelpfully.
The next room they entered, Whimsy was forced to cover her ears. In front of them sat two rows of workers at long tables. All of them were bent over and shouting as loudly as they could at a plate in front of them. Looking more closely, Whimsy noticed that on the plates were small piles of sludge.
‘You don’t even know how to be sludge!’ said one worker.
‘You call yourself green? I’ll show you green!’ said another.
‘Yeah, that’s right. Just sit there. As usual!’
‘It’s called yell-therapy!’ yelled Zelia above the yelling. ‘Works every time!’
They made their way back out into the hall but instead of continuing to the next room, Zelia seemed to take a detour. She skipped the room nearest to them and opened a door that had a large red warning sign above it. Inside, the room was filled by a large round tank that reached from the floor to the ceiling. It was full to the brim with swamp water. A handful of workers crowded around the tank, clipboards and pens at the ready, waiting.
A fish tank? thought Whimsy.
Then, within moments, a yellow snake the size of a tree slithered into view behind the glass. Whimsy almost gasped at the sight of it, taking a step backwards. A worker nearby made a signal with their hand and then dozens of small white objects fell one after the other into the tank. The snake darted and dashed around after the objects. The handful of workers around them scribbled things down on their clipboards and murmured their observations to one another. As red clouds appeared in the water, Whimsy let out a small cry. She realised that the white objects weren’t just white objects at all. They were scrambling creatures. They were mice. Whimsy looked away quickly, a feeling of disgust and horror filling her stomach.
Zelia giggled beside her.
Whimsy dared a glance at Zelia only to find the woman looking down at her with a smile. Her eyes glistened with delight. Did she intentionally bring me here? thought Whimsy. As she looked up into the woman’s eyes, she felt an even greater uneasiness settle over her. Whimsy was beginning to think that the Astors were more dangerous than she had imagined. She was very, very thankful that they had left Eloise with Jeremiah.
Once they left the snake room, Zelia and Whimsy walked in silence through the rest of the factory. Zelia continued to proudly point things out and Whimsy looked for doors with EXIT written on them, waiting for the right moment to sneak away without Zelia noticing. But what about Woe? Her heart gave a nervous flutter. She hoped that he was all right.
‘You know,’ Zelia said as they walked down a hallway. ‘A boy came to Anywhere once. He was looking for someone, too.’
Whimsy tried to listen to Zelia but she had trouble shaking the ominous feeling she now felt in her presence.
‘He turned out to be bad news,’ the woman finished, opening a door marked BEAUTY DEPT. Whimsy wasn’t sure what was waiting for her in the beauty department but there was one thing she did know for sure, she couldn’t wait to leave Anywhere Swamp and Sludge Farm.
47
In which Woe feels fear in the fields
Woe swallowed. His heart thumped faster in his chest. How could he have been so stupid? They had trusted the Astors without even knowing them. But what could he do? He looked around him once more. There was nowhere to go. There was only swamp. He was at the mercy of the Swamp Master who now looked at him unwaveringly from the other side of the rowboat. Woe could only shake his head in response to his question.
&nb
sp; ‘The quickswamp,’ said Herman as he watched Woe, ‘is like many giant hands pulling you downwards. If one were to get caught in it, then there would be absolutely no telling what might happen . . .’
Then the Swamp Master held up two fingers. Immediately, all of the workers around them, the people wading through the swamp, the ones holding buckets on the floating platforms and even the divers with their large goggles, stopped what they were doing. Each and every one of them then turned towards Woe and Herman in the rowboat.
‘That’s why I insist that everyone who comes out here to the swamp is kept . . . safe,’ he continued.
Woe felt uncomfortable under the eyes of everyone in the swamp.
‘Do you feel safe, Mr Mordaunt?’ Herman finished.
As Woe looked at the Swamp Master, he noticed for the first time, the rope that attached itself from the man’s white belt to the inside of the rowboat. Christopher, Woe noticed, was also attached to a rope that connected to the rowboat. Woe felt his heart quicken as fear ran through him once more. He didn’t need to look down to realise that he wasn’t attached to a rope. He wasn’t fastened securely to anything. He was the only one in the swamp who wasn’t. The only one who was . . . not safe.
Herman smiled as he saw realisation colour Woe’s face. ‘Now, tell me, why are you really here?’
Woe knew that Herman had intentionally not fastened him to the rowboat with rope. That was why the Swamp Master wanted to show him the fields. He wanted Woe to be frightened into telling him the real reason he and Whimsy came to Anywhere Swamp. It had worked. Woe was frightened but they had already told the Astors the truth.
‘We told you,’ Woe said slowly, trying to sound calm. ‘We are here to find our parents.’
For a few minutes, Herman looked at Woe intensely like he was trying to solve a problem. Woe willed the man to believe him. Then Herman nodded slowly and put both of his fingers down. Obediently, the workers around them went back to work. Herman held a hand up to Christopher who turned the rowboat around and set off along the swamp the way they had come.
‘Sorry about that,’ said the Swamp Master cheerily. ‘Nothing like a spot of fear to get the truth out of someone!’ he chuckled. ‘I hope you don’t mind. We have to be very careful with guests these days.’
Woe tried to slow his breathing. He didn’t want to think about what could have happened if Herman hadn’t believed him.
‘Once, a boy like you came to Anywhere,’ said the Swamp Master as he gazed out into the swamp. ‘He worked in the fields for a time.’
Woe tried to focus on what the Swamp Master was saying but his stomach suddenly started doing somersaults. Was it the thought of being so close to being thrown into the swamp?
‘A very good worker . . . but he wasn’t who he said he was.’
When Woe’s stomach let out a gurgle, he was glad to see the town square as it came into view ahead.
Christopher parked the rowboat right where Whimsy and Zelia were waiting for them. Woe could tell by the look on Whimsy’s face that she was fuming. At least, he thought it was Whimsy’s face. Covering it were strokes and swathes of mauves and pinks. Make-up, Woe thought with a smile.
‘Whimsy, you look —’ he began, stepping out of the boat and making his way over to his sister.
‘Don’t,’ she said cutting him off before he could tease her.
By the look of the stare she gave Zelia, Woe was certain he knew what had happened. He was glad that it wasn’t anything close to what he had experienced with Herman out in the fields.
‘We should go,’ Whimsy whispered to her brother as Herman and Zelia greeted one another by the rowboat. ‘The Astors . . . I have a feeling . . .’ she stopped, unsure of how to express it. It was something about the way Zelia looked at her in the snake room. It sent a shiver up Whimsy’s spine.
‘So your parents,’ Herman Astor called to them, ‘they came to Anywhere?’
‘They were in a thespian travelling troupe,’ said Whimsy distractedly.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Zelia with a clap of her hands.
‘You remember them?’ asked Woe, surprised.
‘Remember them?’ replied Herman. ‘Why, they never left!’
48
In which Whimsy and Woe are so very surprised
Whimsy and Woe couldn’t help but stare at the Astors in shock.
‘They never left?’ repeated Woe, not sure if he had heard correctly.
‘They loved Anywhere so much that they set up camp,’ said Herman breezily.
‘What’s not to love about Anywhere!’ added Zelia.
Whimsy thought about it. Could it be? Are we really that close to seeing our parents again? She forced herself to push the ominous feeling about the Astors aside. This could be the moment they’d be reunited with their parents. The end of their journey. And it could also not be. The Astors could be talking about an entirely different acting troupe. Millie did say they were brilliant, which didn’t sound like the troupe they were after. But they couldn’t not go with the Astors, could they? Not when they were this close.
Woe, on the other hand, couldn’t push aside the ominous feeling. He tried to catch his sister’s eye. The way Herman stared and spoke to him in the fields made him hesitant to get back into another rowboat. But if they declined to go with the Astors, he knew he would be haunted by the possibility. The possibility of what if? What if their parents were at Anywhere Swamp and they left without them? Then a sharp cramp shot through his stomach.
‘They’re at the far end,’ the Swamp Master continued. ‘Here, we can take you there.’ He motioned them back to the rowboat.
Woe’s stomach cramped sharply once more. Something definitely wasn’t right. He pushed the thought aside and tried to ignore the dizzy feeling that had suddenly come over him. He didn’t want whatever was happening with his stomach to stop them from seeing their parents.
They had both come so far. Curiosity and hope moved Whimsy’s legs over to the rowboat and the sudden need to sit down moved Woe’s. Hesitantly, they stepped in after the Astors and sat down, their suitcases at their sides.
The rower steered the boat away from town and into the swampland. This time, instead of moving in the direction of the fields, they headed in the opposite direction, further into darkened waters. The ominous feeling Whimsy was fighting returned with their new surroundings. To her, it seemed like they were entering an unused part of the swamp. She wanted to be sure the Astors had the right troupe. She pulled out the locket from around her neck and showed the Astors the photographs of their parents.
‘Yep, that’s them,’ said Herman matter-of-factly.
‘Is that real gold?’ asked Zelia, eyeing the locket.
Whimsy was thrown by the irrelevant question and after their experience with the pirate in Cleeth Bay, she thought it safest to quickly put the locket back inside her dress. She looked at her brother. He was quiet. He must be just as nervous as she was.
They were well and truly far away from town. The swamp around them had continued to darken. The tree canopies above them were now so dense that little sunlight could get through.
‘How much further?’ asked Woe, the pain in his stomach now sharp. Whatever it was, it was steadily getting worse. He wasn’t sure he could keep it from Whimsy for much longer.
Herman smiled in response and pointed with his cane over the Mordaunts’ shoulders. Turning around, Whimsy and Woe were half-expecting to see a warm campfire, tents and a group of travelling thespians talking and singing merrily. But instead, behind them stood a small, lonely, brown cabin on stilts.
The Swamp Master whistled a tune as the rower parked the rowboat. Whimsy held on to her brother’s hand as they followed behind the Astors. It was clammy. It felt as though they were all walking in slow motion. Questions swirled inside their minds. Were their parents inside? Why were they living so far from town? Would they remember them?
Herman and Zelia waited outside the door of the cabin. Herman extended a hand to take the
ir suitcases. They hesitated briefly before handing them over. Then taking a deep breath, they entered the cabin as Zelia held the door open for them.
It was pitch black inside. They couldn’t see a thing. They walked in a little further.
‘Mum?’ Whimsy called.
‘Dad?’ Woe called.
Then the door behind them closed. And locked.
49
In which Whimsy and Woe are wrongfully accused
Whimsy and Woe turned around to find themselves face to face with a closed door. There was a small window with bars at the bottom of the door. They dropped to their knees and looked out at the Astors who were similarly crouched down on the other side of the cabin door. Except they were smiling from ear to ear.
‘Did you really think we wouldn’t know?’ asked the Swamp Master.
‘Kidnapped parents in a travelling troupe is the oldest lie in the book,’ said Zelia.
‘What?’ replied Woe defiantly. ‘It’s the truth!’
‘You’re bad news, just like him,’ said Zelia.
‘You want the Anywhere Swamp and Sludge Farm secrets,’ said Herman adamantly. ‘Who do you work for? The Bog Nettles?’
‘No! We are not bad news,’ Whimsy tried to explain from behind the bars. ‘We really are just looking for our parents.’
‘Millie brought you here. She works in a very confidential part of the factory. A coincidence?’ asked Herman.
‘Yes!’ insisted the siblings at the same time.
‘I think not,’ the Swamp Master continued. ‘We’ve had our eye on Millie. Since she lost her husband in the quickswamp, she has never been the same.’
Whimsy and Woe Page 14
