Crooks and Straights

by Masha du Toit

  “What are you having, Gia?” asked Fatima.

  Gia studied the menu. It had a decorative border featuring cute werewolf pups rolling on their backs, or chewing over-sized cartoon bones.

  “Do you think they’ll have anything vegetarian?” she asked.

  Ben snorted, but Fatima said “Yep. On the right there. They call it a Half-Moon Burger.”

  To Gia’s relief, their order came quickly. She was starving after her run. But before she could take the first bite, Fatima held up her hand.

  “Hold on a sec.”

  She reached into the shopping bags, and took out a smaller bag.

  “Happy birthday!” she said, holding it out to Gia.

  “It’s from both of us,” said Ben.

  “Sorry, it’s not wrapped or anything,” said Fatima as Gia opened the bag to find a glossy paperback book.

  “Wow, thanks guys!” said Gia, flipping it over to read the back.

  “You don’t have that one do you?” asked Ben.

  “No. But it looks fantastic.”

  “What did your parents give you?” asked Fatima. “Did you do anything special?”

  “Well,” said Gia, putting the book down. “It was right in the middle of the move, you know. So it kind of got postponed.”

  Fatima’s eyebrows went up.

  “You mean they forgot? About your sixteenth birthday? That’s so typical of your mom.”

  Gia was surprised by a rush of protective loyalty towards her mother. “It’s not a big deal, really,” she said. Fatima seemed about to say something more, but to Gia’s relief she thought better of it.

  “Well then. Let’s eat.”

  The food was good. There was something comforting about the dark and noisy restaurant. Gia ate slowly and with enjoyment, listening to Ben’s account of the math camp, at which it seemed very little studying got done, and Fatima’s stories about her older brother’s latest escapades.

  “Did I tell you my parents bought him a new car? A new truck, I should say. It’s one of those ginormous four-wheel-drive things.” She sighed. “And here’s me, buzzing around on my little bike. I can’t wait to be eighteen, so that I can get my licence.”

  “Assuming you even get your licence,” said Ben. “The way you drive.”

  But Fatima was not listening to him. “Ben,” she said, digging in her handbag. “Before I forget. I wanted to ask you. I got a pendant from a second-hand shop, and I wondered if you could do your trick with it?”

  Ben looked at her.

  “Please, Bennie? Just quickly. I just want to know more about it.”

  With a sigh, Ben took the pendant, a silver disk dangling from a ribbon of black silk. He sat, looking down at it, and for a moment Gia thought he was going to refuse. But then he closed his eyes, threw his head back, and held the pendant up in a shaking fist.

  “I see a young lady,” he proclaimed, and Fatima sat up, startled.

  “A beautiful, young lady, though pale, pale as the moon and slim as a willow wand, with flowing golden hair and eyes as blue as the midnight sky. She has around her neck, this pendant, yes, this very pendant that I hold, here, today— ”

  “Oh, give it a rest,” said Fatima in disgust, slumping back in her seat. But Ben was just getting into his stride.

  “She has a brother— or no, it is her lover! Yes! I see him, approaching through the storm-torn night. Wait, it is fading— no— I can still see him. Oh, it is too horrible! He is strangling her with this very ribbon…”

  Ben slumped forward, one fist extended dramatically in front of him.

  “Ah, the pain! No, I cannot stand it— Hey! Stop!” This last was in reaction to Fatima, who was upending a glass of water down his neck.

  “Come on, Ben,” she said. “I’ve not asked you for ages. Don’t you see anything?”

  Ben sighed and mopped at his collar with a serviette. “Okay, okay, I’ll try again.”

  This time he simply held the pendant in one hand, and closed his eyes. After a moment he opened his eyes and gave the pendant back to Fatima.

  “Well, did you see anything?”

  Once again, Gia sensed his reluctance, and wondered if she should intervene. But she knew from past experience that once Fatima got fixed on an idea, nothing could divert her.

  “It’s quite old,” said Ben at last. “And it’s been in that shop, lying on a shelf for a very long time, but not on display. In some dark place, for many years. A drawer, maybe.

  “And before that, I feel several people, all women, I think. Sisters, probably, or maybe a mother and her daughters. They all seem similar, somehow. Very quiet and proper, with a smell of lavender, you know, and Ceylon tea. But not much other than that. That enough?”

  It seemed to be. Fatima tucked the pendant back into her handbag with a satisfied air. “I just like to know,” she said comfortably.

  “Would you like the bill?”

  It was the waitress, hovering anxiously. “I don’t want to bug you guys, but there’s a queue for tables—”

  “Okay, I suppose we better go,” said Fatima. “Do you need a lift, Gia? I’m meeting my mother and I’m sure she won't mind.”

  “No, it’s okay,” said Gia. “I better get home. I’ll take a taxi.”

  -oOo-

  For once, Gia flagged down a mini-bus taxi without any trouble. She was feeling a bit guilty about the way she’d run away. Once Mandy went home, Saraswati would not be able to work if there was nobody to keep an eye on Nico.

  The sooner she got home, the better.

  As always, spending time with Ben and Fatima had helped her forget her frustrations, and now she found it hard to remember why she’d got so upset. She looked dreamily out of the window at the landscape flashing by outside. The sky was a deep, midsummer blue, with little puffs and streaks of cloud. High in the blue drifted the moon. She frowned at it, pulled out of her thoughts.

  The moon was fattening, and only a few days from full.

  Her contentment chilled, and she shivered despite the sunny afternoon.

  Maybe it will be different now, in this new house. Maybe I was just imagining things.

  Then she had to pull her thoughts back to the present as the taxi slowed towards her stop.

  -oOo-

  It was only much later that evening that Gia finally got up to her room.

  Things had not been as tense as she’d feared. She’d come home to find her father out, and her mother much calmer, having found a place that rented overlockers at a reasonable rate. Disaster was averted, for the moment at least, and with the pie Mandy had made for supper, things seemed almost normal.

  Still, it was good to be by herself for a change.

  She took a careful look around her room, checking for the telltale signs that Nico had been there. He always used to do that in her old room back in Plumstead. Getting into her art supplies, or just generally poking around.

  But nothing was amiss.

  With the trapdoor closed, her room felt like a tree house, quite independent from the house downstairs. She wished that there was a rope ladder, instead of the fixed stairs, something that could be pulled up behind her. Since that was not possible, she contented herself with bolting the trapdoor.

  The first thing she’d done that morning after waking was to check if the envelope of things that had been in the newspaper nest was still there. She had not been surprised to find it missing.

  The knowledge that something had got into and out of her room, despite the closed trapdoor and the wards on the window, was a little unsettling.

  Still, she was not going to give up her room now. There was nothing she could do about her mysterious visitor. Best ignore it. After all, the most likely explanation was that the creature had moved out, now that its attic lair had been invaded.

  Her shelving plan had worked out fairly well; a row of plastic milk-crates stacked on their sides. The move had meant a purge of possessions, but she had kept her core collection of books, and her favourite dolls.<
br />
  These she now unpacked, and propped up on top of the shelf. Old dolls, faded and worn, with missing eyes and scraggly hair, still dressed in the clothes that Saraswati had made for them so many years ago.

  Gia was just opening the first box of books when she heard a thump on the floor behind her, followed by a low yowl. She turned and saw Pouf crouching on the floor. Sure enough, the black cat had something trapped between his front paws. He backed away as she approached, giving another self-satisfied miaow.

  “What have you got there, Pouf? Some poor bird?”

  She knelt down, hoping that the bird was already safely dead and would not need to be euthanized.

  For a moment her eyes refused to accept the unfamiliar shape and tried to turn it into a sparrow or a starling. Pale limbs, and dark, matted hair. Wings like plastic cling-wrap furled around the body. Gia drew back in shock, but as the thing did not move, leaned in for another look.

  Dead. It must be dead.

  But no, it had to be alive, or it would have crumbled into leaves and mud. This must be one of the haarskeerders from that nest they broke. She remembered the blurring shadow that had hovered just behind her, when she’d been looking at that gutted nest.

  A survivor.

  It lay face down on the floorboards, arms curled up underneath it, legs half bent. Its wings were long and thin, like those of a dragonfly, shot through with a web of black veins.

  So human.

  It twitched, and she started back. The movement was horribly like that of an insect.

  Gia sat frozen with indecision.

  What now?

  It was undoubtedly alive, but it was hurt, too. Broken limbs, or internal injuries. She remembered her father breaking the neck of an unfortunate bird that Minou had caught, giving it the mercy death. But how would she go about killing this thing? It was too large to stomp like a bug, and she knew she could never bring herself to touch it, never mind wrap her fingers around its little neck.

  Dump it in boiling water, like you killed a crayfish?

  Pouf, who’d finished washing himself, dabbed at the thing with a paw, eyes bright with good-natured interest.

  “Stoppit, Pouf!”

  She grabbed him by his scruff and to Pouf’s indignant surprise, carried him, dangling heavily, to the window, shoved him onto the roof outside, and slammed the window shut. She knelt on her bed, ignoring Pouf’s outraged face staring in at her through the glass. Then, mind made up, she stepped carefully round the thing on the floor and opened the trapdoor. Luckily her parents were both in the studio, working late. Nico was sleeping, so there was no one to disturb her.

  First, she ransacked the kitchen. An empty ice cream tub, several dishcloths, a wooden spoon, and, after a moment’s consideration, the washing-up gloves. A quick trip to her mother’s room for the hairdryer, and she was back up the stairs again.

  The thing had not moved.

  She plugged in the kettle, and waited impatiently for it to warm up.

  Not boiling. Just to make the water warm.

  She poured a little of the water into the ice cream tub, testing it with a careful finger. Then she put the tub down next to the thing, and hesitated.

  What if it flew up suddenly?

  She picked up the spoon and with infinite care, edged it under a shoulder, and lifted. The creature rolled over onto its back. She could see its face now, although indistinctly, through the straggle of long hair. It had a round face, with a curiously flattened and elongated nose. Its enormous eyes were closed, but she could see that it was alive. Its chest rose and fell as she watched.

  Gia put on the gloves, and tried to pick the thing up, but this proved too difficult. It was slippery with mud and cat spit, and the gloves were too large for her and made her clumsy. In the end she had to pick the creature up with her bare hands. It felt cold to her shrinking fingers, but not as nasty as she’d feared.

  Supporting the head with one hand, she lowered it into the ice cream tub. The water was still warm, and just deep enough to cover its legs and torso. There was an awkward moment when one wing got stuck to the side of the tub, clinging to it wetly, but she managed to get it settled at last.

  She crouched over the tub, holding the creature’s head out of the water.

  Better get some of this mud off.

  She sluiced some water over the tiny body.

  It was female, and still quite young.

  But who knew? Nothing says that these things develop in the same way people do.

  Its body looked human, except for the hands that had only three long fingers and a thumb, or the feet, that had toes that were nearly as long as its fingers. Its skin was covered in a silvery down that reminded her of hairy leaves. To her relief there were no obvious wounds. Some scratches, and some marks that looked like old scars, but nothing new. And as far as she could tell none of the bones were broken either. The water was cooling down too quickly. She’d have to add some more.

  The water in the kettle was still just warm enough. As she lifted it, she saw that the creature’s eyes had opened, and it was watching her.

  Gia froze, kettle held in the air.

  The haarskeerder looked much less human now. Those eyes were far too large, and they were entirely black.

  For the first time Gia thought about the danger of being caught in the thing’s glamour. The last time she’d looked directly at a haarskeerder, she’d been instantly hypnotised. But nothing happened.

  Tilting the kettle, she poured the water directly onto its body. It closed its eyes, and the chest rose and fell as it sighed. When she judged that it was warmed as much as she dared, she looked around for the dishcloths, and cursed under her breath when she saw that she’d left them on her bed, out of reach.

  Nothing for it.

  She slid her hands under the haarskeerder again, lifting it out of the water, holding it so that its head and shoulders rested on her wrist, while its legs dangled between her fingers. The matted hair clung to her skin and the wings hung down on either side of her hand. Its eyes were closed again.

  Gia carried the creature to her bed and, working one-handed, wrapped it in a dishcloth so that only the head was visible.

  What now?

  Her plan had been to dry it with the hairdryer, but looking at it now she did not know if that would be such a good idea. It would be too loud and too harsh. And besides, the hairdryer looked so very like a weapon.

  Instead, she turned to the boxes of books she’d been about to unpack, and up-ended one of them, emptying the books onto the floor. She lined the box with the rest of the dishcloths, and placed the creature inside.

  Then she sat back, thinking.

  It’s going to need to eat. What do they eat?

  With sudden inspiration she dug in her schoolbag for her copy of Brink and Moolman.

  The section on haarskeerders was long and not particularly helpful. It had a long list of the various names, and very little about their actual habits. Was it a water creature, an omnivore that lived on tadpoles and duckweed? Or was it a cattle-pricker that sucked the blood from cows?

  In the end she decided on the oldest folk remedy, milk and honey.

  Folding the top of the box closed, although it seemed unlikely that the thing would move, she once again went downstairs.

  Milk and honey were easy to find, as was a saucer. But there was no hot-water bottle, or any other way to warm it.

  The haarskeerder still lay as she’d put it, without moving.

  She bundled the dishcloths around it in a nest, and placed the saucer of food next to it.

  What now?

  It was certainly not warm enough, even in its dishcloth nest. In fact, she could see it shivering, big, convulsive shivers that shook its whole body.

  It will die if I leave it like that. Or should I just leave it alone? Maybe everything I do just harms it more.

  With a deep sigh, Gia reached into the box and lifted the creature out again.

  She pulled up her shirt and pu
t the creature on the bare skin of her stomach, and after checking that it could still breathe, pulled her shirt back down over it.

  It felt cold on her skin, and at first it lay, slack and unmoving except for the shivers that shook it.

  Gia shifted around until she was leaning against her bed, trying to find a more comfortable position on the hard floorboards. Gradually, she felt the shivers subside. She was just nodding off herself when she felt it move. It crawled further up inside her shirt, and finally came to rest, snuggling against her chest.

  She woke again some time later, uncomfortably cold.

  I can’t sleep with her like this. I’ll roll over and squash her.

  Gia extracted the sleeping creature from under her shirt, not without difficulty. Although she still seemed fast asleep, she was unwilling to leave the warmth of Gia’s body and caught hold of a bra strap, refusing to let go. At last Gia got her free and placed her back in the box again.

  The haarskeerder had lost that half-dead look. There was colour in her cheeks, and her body was warm to the touch. Gia covered her with a dishcloth, and folded the top of the box shut.

  Then she crawled into her bed, glad of her own warm blankets.

  The Changeling

  Gia woke with a start. Somebody was hammering on the trapdoor hard enough to lift it in its frame.

  “Gia! Open this at once!”

  She scrambled out of bed, slid on a pile of books, and nearly fell as she stumbled into a box in the middle of the floor. Still muzzy from sleep, she pulled back the bolt and the trapdoor opened to reveal her mother’s face.

  “Gia, you’re late— Gia, did you sleep in your clothes again?”

  Gia blinked sleepily, but Saraswati did not wait for a reply.

  “You’ve missed the bus already. Get dressed and get your things. Karel can give you a lift. He’s taking Nico this morning. And don’t dawdle, he won't wait for you, and then you’ll simply have to walk to school.”

  Before Gia could arrange her thoughts, her mother was already going back down the stairs.

  She sat back and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. An urgent thought was trying to get through to her. Something about the books she’d stood on, and the box—