by Safari,B. C
‘How did you do that!’ the child’s father cried, ‘you came out of nowhere!’
Lost for words and gasping for breath, Junior managed a shrug.
‘What is your name young man?’ wheezed the father, ladling the child in his arms as a crowd of onlookers assembled.
‘My name is ... Allan, Allan Roterbee Junior.’
The onlookers issued Junior an exuberant applaud; it was not long before Charlotte and Luchia surfaced at the front of the crowd.
‘I see zat you’ve been acquainted with ze mayor,’ were the first words that Luchia said.
Mayor? Who on earth was she talking about?
‘Excuse my manners,’ said the child’s father, ‘I’m Mr. Brown, the mayor of Shorebridge.’
‘The mayor?’ gawked Junior.
Extracting a cheque book from his briefcase, the mayor announced, ‘every hero deserves a prize.’
In sophisticated calligraphy, Mr. Brown embellished the cheque with the sum of one thousand pounds.
‘I can’t accept that,’ Junior replied. Mr. Brown stuffed the cheque into Junior’s pocket indifferently.
‘Smile, Mr. Roterbee,’ sang the mayor, posing for photographs, ‘you’re the newest town hero.’
When they were back inside the bubble-gum wagon, Charlotte shrieked, ‘how did you do that…you were as fast as lightening!’
Junior shrugged impassively.
‘I mean I know you play football and everything, but I’ve never seen you like that.’
‘It waz like you were here one minute, zen zere ze next, Mizter Junior!’ cried Luchia, her beady eyes filling with amazement.
‘I... I don’t know, honestly, it just happened,’ said Junior. The idea of telling his sister that he had somehow tampered with the time–space continuum was as berserk as it sounded.
‘However you did it, it was bree-liant!’ cried Luchia, ‘I will be surprised if you are not on ze cover of ze Shorebridge telegraph tomorrow morning.’
‘The w-w-what?’ stuttered Junior.
Ignoring the startled boy, the housekeeper muttered, ‘to think Mizter Brown would give the newest town hero only one thousand pounds for saving ze life of hiz only daughter.’
‘I think that’s plenty,’ blurted Charlotte, ‘and seeing as both our trust funds are frozen, it’s only right that Junior shares it. Five hundred each.’
‘No way!’ Junior puffed.
Luchia chuckled, the strong frown lines on her forehead and mouth made it seem that her life had been devoid of laughter for many years. Charlotte could not shake the feeling that Dr. Willow had something to do with this. When the housekeeper pulled up at a large cottage which sat, perfectly, between two hills, overlooking the riverside, the Roterbee twins were pleasantly surprised.
‘Welcome to the Willow Lodge... your new home,’ announced Luchia.
Chapter four
‘The Doctor’
There was a still, bottle-green pond, over which stood an old tapered bridge; this served as the Willow Lodge’s only connection to town. At this time of the day, the pond was unusually motionless, despite the reverberating sounds of nature about it. The gentle trill of toads leaping about the large pond, and the incessant chirp of grassland crickets all gave the Willow Lodge a serene disposition. The cottage was embroiled with picturesque arrays of flowers; neatly trimmed hedges demarcated Dr. Willow’s land. A serrated pathway led to a large red door, etched, in sophisticated calligraphy, with the words ‘The Willow Lodge’. The same logo was inked into the rusty letterbox that had always leaned to one side of the cottage. The Willow Lodge was unlike anything Junior had ever seen. It was, in many ways, different from the Roterbee Manor back in London, which was stylish but not at all homely. This cottage was the polar opposite. It was as if the cottage had been designed to appear snug, and there was something more than its aesthetic landscape that abetted this notion. Once upon a time, a sweet little family must’ve lived here. Charlotte gawked at the lodge for some time, absorbing all the intricacies of her new home, before beginning down the pebbly path.
‘Look at that!’ exclaimed Charlotte, pointing at a hedge which had been moulded into a man.
‘Ze creative property of Dwayne, ze gardener,’ said Luchia, ‘he works on Monday, Wednesday and Saturday.’
‘He must be very skilled,’ said Junior, ‘this place seems as if it was handcrafted by Picasso, himself.’
Luchia dug into her handbag and pulled out a bulky set of keys. She fiddled between them until she found the right one.
‘Got ya,’ smirked the housekeeper, lugging at the large red door until it gave way.
The Roterbee twins tip toed into the lobby. The entrance was dark and heavily festooned with glossy, Victorian wood. In some strange way, the insides of the cottage appeared less majestic than the outward landscape.
After Luchia had granted them permission to explore their new home, Junior and Charlotte trotted into every room, endeavouring to note all the pieces of furniture and new, intriguing objects. It didn’t take long to assimilate that Dr. Willow was a hoarder of books, as in addition to his state-of-the-art library on the ground floor, the doctor had packed two of the four bedrooms with mighty stacks of literature, which towered from the ground to the ceiling. There was a narrow space to walk between them. One thing Dr. Willow loathed passionately was when his belongings were moved out of place; this was Luchia’s personal forewarning. And so, the Roterbee twins were not to touch anything… especially not anything of value. The doctor often got his way around here, and the housekeeper needn’t say it, for it was written over her face like a book. At first, Junior didn’t know what to make of Dr. Willow; his house, which bore no family portraits, gave little of persona away. One could survey the entire Willow Lodge, and the doctor would still be an utter mystery.
It was getting late and sundown was fast approaching. Luchia chaperoned the Roterbee twins about the grounds all evening; at suppertime, she invited them to her cabin at the backyard, offering tea and Romanian biscuits. Charlotte and Junior, who were both starving, could not refuse. Whilst the twins ran riot in the large cottage, familiarising themselves with every room, Luchia resourcefully delivered their suitcases to the allotted room. This room, on the second floor, was one of the two which Dr. Willow had not crammed with literature books, the other one was his own bedroom. The room was a great deal smaller than Charlotte’s bedroom had been back at the Roterbee Manor. She was less than pleased to learn that she would be sharing it with her brother. Junior called dibs on the top bunk before Charlotte had even entered the room. She dived into the bottom bed, accepting defeat.
‘I can do this,’ muttered Charlotte. Improvising to the best of her ability, Charlotte plugged her scented candles and juggled furniture about the room. Before long, the droning bedroom had gained some personality; it needed more work but Charlotte was not fazed. Luchia checked in on them every ten minutes and offered to help unpack each time. On each occasion, the housekeeper’s offer was declined.
‘What do you think of … Luchia?’ asked Junior, when the coast was clear.
‘She’s awfully picky, but I suppose she’s alright.’
‘I’ve never heard such a deep voice on a woman!’ sniggered Junior.
‘Junior!’ exclaimed Charlotte, chuckling under her breath.
‘Vat iz it?’ he answered, impersonating Luchia’s thick European accent. Junior’s mimicry of Luchia would not have been as funny if he did not proceed to parody Luchia’s signature posture (crossed arms and tapping heels). Charlotte chuckled loudly.
‘You sound more like Dracula,’ she snorted, tossing a fluffy pillow at her brother’s face. ‘That’ll shut you up.’
Junior caught the cushion in mid-air. Lately, his reflexes had been finely tuned. He replayed the moment that he’d bolted into the train tracks and saved young Maddie Brown, all in what seemed like less than a second. Strange.
The next time Luchia appeared at the doorway, she had a frothy e
dge to her voice. ‘Zere is someone who wants to meet you.’
The housekeeper turned brusquely and motioned the twins toward the hallway; they followed her down the steep wooden stairway. They were going to meet Dr. Willow, the man whom they’d heard little of, and knew less about. Charlotte could feel her heart bursting forth from her chest each time the floorboard creaked. Junior, who was rarely ever anxious, had even more unanswered questions. Would Dr. Willow like them? Would he care about them at all? What if he just didn’t like the look of them, would he send them packing? Thoughts ran rampant. Junior found solace in the idea of Dr. Willow disliking them instantly and sending them packing. If that were to happen, Peter and Sonia would be obliged to take them in. The visit to Shorebridge would be nothing more than a mini vacation.
A tall figure barred the doorway. The moonlight stroked his silhouette with such slightness that only a mild shadow was cast into the foyer. He had his back to his guests, and was peering into his beautiful front lawn. The doctor seemed to sense that his guests were approaching him, but left it until they were two small steps away before he turned on his heels. He was a man of large-build. A man who, like Junior, had strong individual features which, when placed alongside each other, appeared unusually gentle. He modelled a pair of round, obsolete spectacles which glossed as the light bounced from them. The doctor sported a fitting russet suit and ornate footwear. For a split second, Dr. Willow appeared to smile at his guests. Very quickly, this affable front ceased; the doctor’s blasé countenance was soon filled with pain. He turned from the twins and gestured Luchia away with two fingers.
In a quiet, airy voice, Dr. Willow murmured, ‘Mister Roterbee, Miss Roterbee…I hope you have made yourselves at home.’
‘Yes we have,’ blurted Charlotte, ‘your home is very beautiful.’
‘Thank you,’ said the doctor, evading the young woman’s eyes. Turning to Junior, the doctor muttered, ‘I should count myself lucky to be hosting Shorbridge’s newest male protagonist.’
‘And who would that be?’ replied Junior.
‘You of course,’ chortled Dr. Willow. ‘I received four detailed reports today, of how a local young fella rescued a child from being mowed over by a train. It was not until I ran into Mr. Brown that I discovered the young girl was his little one…and the brave hero was one of my own guests.’
‘Oh that…that was nothing, really,’ shrugged Junior.
‘Really!’ ejaculated Dr. Willow, ‘because ‘that’ is exactly the kind of episode that’ll make you very popular in Shorebridge...very popular indeed.’
It should hardly be fame. The speed at which news of Junior’s heroic episode had disseminated was enough to confirm that Shorebridge was an extremely close-knit town.
Somehow, Junior hoped he would be able to stay off the radar in Shorebridge, but this was no longer a possibility.
‘How exactly did you do it?’ pestered Dr. Willow, his eyes ablaze with curiosity. ‘The mayor seems to be quite bewildered at how you appeared out of nowhere. If I remember exactly, he said he was positive the train would’ve had her in the next second.’
Junior eyed the doctor tentatively, ‘in all honesty, I can’t remember exactly how it happened,’ he replied.
The doctor’s zeal was fading fast, it was as if he expected Junior to illustrate a more graphic, more spectacular, account than Mr. Brown had given. He glowered back and forth between Junior and Charlotte Roterbee.
‘Your father trusted me with his life,’ announced Dr. Willow, ‘at the very least, he trusted that I could look after the two of you. So if there is anything, anything–at–all, that you wish to tell me?’
The doctor shot Junior a suspicious leer and paused for a response…he was met with none.
‘If that is all,’ said Dr. Willow, finally, ‘up to your rooms, I wish you a good night’s sleep.’
The twins lumbered up the staircase and when they reached the top landing, they heard the doctor shout, ‘I trust Luchia has informed you about your new school…you start tomorrow.’
‘What a peculiar man,’ whispered Charlotte.
It took the Roterbee twins a while to fully recline after their first encounter with Dr. Willow, and once they had, they discussed the unusual doctor for most of the night. The topic of discussion then moved to their new school. The idea of starting a new college was daunting. Charlotte had since established an interesting statute of all collages: ‘All boys and girls must belong to a clique’. At Ridgewood high school, it was highly unlikely to spot a young boy or girl who did not belong to a clique. The plastics, the intelligent ones, the sporty ones, there was even a clique for the ones who didn’t belong to any clique. It was also an established statute that finding one’s niche within a clique was a tough job, and more times than never, new members would not be readily accepted. Knowing this, it was with great apprehension that the Roterbee twins pondered over their new school. Charlotte, being the occupant of the bottom bunk, had already taken ownership of her role as the one responsible for switching lights out at the end of the night. When she did, the room was pitch black and so quiet that one could almost hear a pin drop. The silence came with an intense feeling of loneliness, so every now and then, Junior would extend his hand down from the top bunk to check if his sister was still awake, and she would slap his palm if she was. He did this until he could no longer receive a response. Charlotte was fast asleep. The young man reflected on the events of his day, said his daily prayer and was soon, like his sister, in a deep, deep sleep. By the time midnight fell upon the Willow Lodge, each of its inhabitants was immersed in sleep, replaying the subconscious recollections of their day. Charlotte tussled within her bed, she was visited by the same dream that she had dreamed every night since her father’s death.
A dome stadium. Two masked figures, one dressed in white and the other black. She moans and hisses each time a contender is catapulted to the ground. ‘Finish him! Finish him!’ The onlookers shout. Then, she’s forced to the floor by a group of fanatics rising violently from their seats…she sees his face. Just like that, the dream ends at the arrival of daybreak.
Chapter five
‘Clique’
The notion of order within the Willow Lodge was a practice that was set in place prior to the arrival of Charlotte and Junior Roterbee. Dr. Willow was usually up by 6.30 am. By 7, he would’ve showered and dressed, all whilst Luchia fixed him breakfast. On a normal day, he would collect the Shorebridge telegraph from the rusted letterbox and consume his breakfast at the large dining room table, alone. Many times, Luchia felt to join him but had learned, from her countless years of servitude, that her master did not like to be disturbed. So, she would eat her own breakfast at the kitchen table and wait until the doctor was finished. He never took long. On days when he was working, Dr. Willow would pace out of the Willow Lodge by 7.45, and on days off, he would disappear into his study, where he would not be bothered for the rest of the day. If it had not already begun to, the arrival of two new visitors would soon transform the dynamics of the large cottage. This morning, Luchia had already added the task of hanging up two new sets of uniform by the twin’s bunk bed, as well as preparing thrice the amount of breakfast, to her busy schedule. At precisely 7 am, the Roterbee’s were awoken by a pounding alarm clock which Luchia had placed on Charlotte’s dresser. They were less than pleased to see murky brown uniform hanging against their beds.
‘What an awful combo!’ Charlotte moaned, pulling the mustard coloured over-the-knee socks up her long legs. How any school could permit students to sport such unsightly attire, she would never understand. Junior spent most of the morning laughing at his sister moan over her outfit. He, being a boy, did not need to wear the bright yellow socks but simply modelled the chequered brown blazer and matching trousers. By the time they’d groomed themselves and descended down the stairs, breakfast was already cold and Dr. Willow had already quit the lodge.
‘Dr. Willow sez I should wish you a great first day at school,’ sa
id Luchia, handing Charlotte a steaming mug of coffee.
Charlotte sifted the steam gently, ‘what’s the name of the school?’ she asked.
‘St. Andrew’s college.’
‘A Catholic school?’ mumbled Junior, biting into a piece of cold toast.
‘It has links with ze cathedral ... I will show you all of zese places when we walk down,’ said the housekeeper. Grabbing Dr. Willow’s already-read newspaper and scurrying to Junior, Luchia gasped, ‘look, here you are Mizter Junior!’
She passed the paper to Junior and pointed at two greyed out figures. Mr. Brown and Junior were shaking hands. ‘Mayor’s daughter Madison Brown saved by local hero.’
‘Let me see it!’ cried Charlotte, snatching the paper. She pressed it to her nose and studied the article still, ‘check you, Mr. Hero,’ Charlotte teased, tossing her brother a taunting glare.
Strangely embarrassed at Luchia’s and Charlotte’s excitement, Junior sighed, ‘women!’
When Luchia suggested they depart the lodge, Junior was actually pleased to be going to school (as it meant he could escape a house full of hyperactive females).
‘Could I have an umbrella, Luchia?’ asked Charlotte, stepping onto the front porch.
