by Jen Storer
Martha stared into it as if it were a crystal ball full of secrets. The old woman scrutinised her across the cabinet.
‘Go on, dear,’ she whispered. ‘Give it some shaking. Snow domes is meant to be shaked.’
Martha picked up the snow dome. As her fingers curled around it, she drew a sharp breath.
Angus rolled his eyes. ‘It’s hardly the Holy Grail,’ he said crossly.
Martha gave the snow dome a gentle shake and all the lights in the shops flickered.
Angus glanced at the old woman. She looked rapt, gleeful.
Martha gave the snow dome another shake and this time a furious storm, a howling blizzard of snow and ice, erupted inside the dome. It was so realistic that for a moment even Angus was startled.
‘Your father-relative was taken with this pretty too,’ said the old woman at last.
‘Our father?’ said Angus. ‘What do you mean?’
‘He has visited several times,’ said the old woman. ‘We have chatted about this and that and many other things. He has an interest.’
‘Um, well, yeah,’ said Angus. ‘I suppose so.’ For some reason his heart was racing. He felt cheated. What was his father doing coming in here, spending time with this weird crone, looking at all this junk? Surely there was nothing of historic value in this rubbish tip. He glanced at Martha. She hadn’t heard a word of this conversation.
‘Let’s put it back now, shall we?’ said the woman to Martha. ‘Back safe and bound in Reafen’s special viewing box.’
Safe and bound? thought Angus. Did she really say that?
‘Oh yes. Of course.’ Martha drew breath as if waking from a dream. ‘Put it back, please.’
The lights in the shop were now so dim they could barely see the junk, let alone the way out.
‘Come on, Martha.’ Angus felt angry and uneasy. ‘We need to get out of here.’
The old woman locked the cabinet and draped the key back around her neck.
‘Come again soon, won’t you, children?’ she called as Angus took Martha by the elbow and hurried her back out through the junk.
‘Of course we will,’ said Martha over her shoulder, but Angus pushed her along.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted a huge snow-white otter. It was preserved in an upright, snarling pose in a dusty display case in the centre of the shop. It even had blood on its old yellow teeth. Its claws were bared as if set to deliver a killing stroke. Angus hesitated. A giant otter, just like the one before him, flashed across his mind’s eye, proud and agile and vicious. It was like a memory, but how could it be? He could even smell it; it reeked of fish and seawater and ... warm blood. His heart thumped and he hurried on. Frozen in Time was giving him cabin fever and his mind was playing tricks on him. He felt hemmed in, under siege from all the overcoats and mannequins and gaudy baubles.
They stumbled through the red door, out into the sunlight and pulled up short under the awning.
‘Stop bullying me, Angus!’ cried Martha, shoving her brother’s hand away. ‘I can walk by myself, you know.’
‘Oh. Right. Sorry,’ said Angus, squinting up at the bay window.
The gold lettering danced and he rubbed his eyes.
‘Sorry, Martha,’ he said again. ‘But this place is totally grim. It made me feel sick and ... jumpy.’
Martha stepped aside as a man approached. He had thick chestnut hair slicked across his head with hair oil. Was his hair fake? It was hard to tell. But it was obviously dyed. He was tall and thin but his shoulders were broad. He had a black moustache, waxed and twirled at the tips. He wore a white shirt with garish gold cufflinks and carried a showy walking cane.
He strode up to the red door and stood for a moment with his hands on his hips, scowling at the sign and peering through the main window.
‘Rough old shop, hey?’ said Angus.
The man spun around as if he’d only just noticed them. ‘What?’ He glared at them.
‘The shop,’ said Angus uncertainly. ‘It’s a bit ... dodgy.’
‘You two should be in school,’ snapped the man.
‘It’s the holidays,’ said Martha.
‘Yeeesh. That’s precisely the trouble with today’s youth,’ said the man, turning back to the shop and looking it over. ‘Too much time on your hands. Running wild all over the place. Delinquents. All of you.’
Martha’s jaw dropped. ‘Delinquents?’ she cried. ‘Get real!’
He spun around again. He had a bony nose. And long, yellow teeth. ‘Why aren’t you at home? Where are your parents? Don’t you have chores? I suppose you carry spray paint?’ he said. ‘Drugs? Weapons? Are you ... pickpockets? Hmmm?’
‘You ...’ began Martha. ‘You —’
But Angus interrupted. ‘You need to get a life,’ he said to the man. ‘Come on, Martha,’ he added quietly. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
But Martha was ready for a spat.
‘You can’t talk to people like that.’ She eyed the man angrily. ‘How dare you? How dare you be so rude? If I had spray paint, which I never would, but if I did, I’d spray it all over your ugly face!’
The man ignored her and turned back to the shop.
‘Curse it,’ he growled, pushing against the door with his shoulder. He gave the door a swift kick. ‘I can’t get in.’
‘Lucky for the owner,’ said Angus under his breath, ‘with customers like you hanging around. She must have seen you coming.’
‘I hope you didn’t steal anything,’ said the man, rounding on Martha. ‘What’s in that bag? Quickly. Show me.’
‘Oh!’ Martha was speechless. She clutched her bag to her chest.
The man licked his dry lips.
‘Back off.’ Angus confronted him. ‘Back off, right now. Come on, Martha,’ he added. ‘We’re out of here.’
Martha huffed at the man, then spun on her heel. ‘Pinhead!’ she shouted over her shoulder as she followed her brother along the footpath. ‘Nutcase!’
But the man was immune to her insults as he ran his hands over the shop window, the boards, the railings. He leaned his ear against the door.
‘Frozen in Time,’ he muttered fervently. ‘Curious Curiosities. Buy now, pay later. The Happiest Place in the World. The Greatest Show on Earth. Yeeesh ...’
CHAPTER NINE
____________________________________________
Snow dome whimsy
The kids went out to the back verandah. It was after midday. They had been in Frozen in Time a lot longer than they imagined. Angus leaned over the lattice railing and watched a large stick insect walk earnestly around the edge of the birdbath. At the bottom of the garden a fight had broken out in the mango tree as rosellas and butcherbirds battled over territory.
Martha dropped into a deckchair and put her feet up on the railing. She had made herself a cheese and chilli toastie and was busy tearing it to pieces. Angus wondered why girls always played with their food. He spat watermelon seeds over the railing.
‘How was that guy outside the shop?’ said Angus, shaking his head. ‘What a creep. Where did he get off, saying stuff like that to total strangers? Making out all kids are criminals ...’
His sister nodded thoughtfully.
‘The old woman must have been quick to lock up,’ said Angus, frowning. ‘One minute we were in there, the next minute the place was in total shutdown. Weird.’
Martha still said nothing. She’d been quiet, almost withdrawn, since they returned from the shop.
‘Martha,’ said Angus, trying not to watch as she twisted melted cheese around her finger, ‘you were acting kind of freaky in that shop today.’
Martha nibbled at her food. The plate tilted, threatening to slide off her chest.
‘When you held that snow dome,’ said Angus, ‘you went all ... spacey.’
Martha stretched and the plate slid further. ‘I don’t know. It was just that it was so pretty. Sort of ... beautiful but sad.’
‘What?’ said Angus, surprised. ‘What do you
mean “beautiful but sad”?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Martha. Then she stopped. ‘One thing was really strange though.’ She frowned. ‘When I picked it up,’ she said in a low voice, ‘when I first held the snow dome, it was absolutely freezing, Angus. As if I was holding a block of ice. It was the strangest sensation. It was so cold, I thought I’d get frostbite.’
‘Right,’ said Angus.
‘And there was something else too.’
‘Yeah?’
‘I thought I could hear voices. Whisperings, you know?’
Angus stared at his sister. Her imagination had gone troppo. This was exactly the sort of nonsense he worked hard to avoid. ‘Stick to the facts,’ he said casually.
‘I knew you wouldn’t believe me!’ cried Martha, and the plate crashed to the floor.
‘No, no,’ said Angus quickly. He was stunned — his sister almost looked like she was about to cry. ‘I mean, I thought you were joking, that’s all.’
‘This was no joke,’ said Martha passionately.
‘Maybe the snow dome got cold from sitting in that cabinet,’ said Angus.
‘Yeah right. So you’re the science nut and you think it got frozen from sitting in a glass cabinet under hot lights. Correct?’
‘Well ... no,’ said Angus. ‘But logically, how could an ornament give you frostbite?’
‘And what about the voices? You think I imagined those too?’ Martha slumped back in the chair.
‘I don’t know,’ said Angus hesitantly. ‘Maybe there was a radio in one of those dark corners. Some crackly old thing talking away to itself ...’
‘There was no radio,’ said Martha darkly.
Angus sighed. After a moment he said, ‘The old woman reckons the Prof was interested in that snow dome. Apparently he’s been in there plenty of times. Before the shop was even open.’
‘The Prof?’ said Martha with surprise. ‘What would it mean to him? What business would it be of his?’
‘Well, he’s pretty wrapped up in archaeology these days. You know, since Mum died.’
Martha considered this for a moment.
‘Maxwell should stop playing games,’ she said resentfully. ‘He’s no archaeologist. He’s clueless ... He was probably looking for lost treasure. Some crusty old antique to impress his new girlfriend.’
Angus nodded. He could see no reason to argue, and besides, he didn’t have the energy. Frozen in Time wasn’t a shop — it was a dangerous hovel. It had sent his imagination into overdrive and made him feel gross. The sooner he put it out of his mind, got the whole episode out of his system, the better.
As for the man with the gold cufflinks and yellow teeth, well, this suburb was full of nutters. He was just one of many.
CHAPTER TEN
____________________________________________
Seeking shelter
Just before dawn, the glass display case in Frozen in Time that housed the huge, snow-white otter began to crack. At first it was a hairline split, so fine, so quiet, it was barely noticeable. Within minutes, the crack had gathered momentum, travelling across the surface of the glass like lines on a road map. Soon the glass began to screech and crackle.
From her makeshift bed in the back room, Reafen heard the noise and ran into the shop, her nylon nightgown tangled about her ankles. The noise was terrible now, unnatural and perverse. She covered her ears and cringed as the sound boomed and groaned like an iceberg splitting in two.
She crept further into the shop, her nightgown bristling with static electricity, just as the display case exploded and the otter sprang forth, hissing and spitting. It dashed blindly about the shop, hurling itself at furniture, lamps and shelving, sending knick-knacks, bric-a-brac and mannequins flying.
Reafen screamed. The otter flicked its head in her direction and flung itself forward, leaping and bounding over books and clothing racks. Reafen scrambled for a weapon — a spotted umbrella, a walking cane, a black-iron fire poker. Yes! Iron was what she needed.
She raised the poker. The otter launched itself at her throat, teeth bared, claws flashing.
‘NO!’ screamed Reafen. ‘Jeg tillater ikke at det! I will not allow it!’
Razor-sharp claws slid down her arm and tore her skin as Reafen belted the beast with all her might.
There was the stench of burning fur, and the bewitched otter catapulted across the room. It hit the wall with a sickening thud and fell to the floor, rigid.
Reafen dropped her weapon and staggered to the main counter, clutching her bleeding arm to her chest. Trembling all over, she sat down heavily and took out the snow dome. She peered into it. Behind the amber glass, the tiny snowflakes swirled, dark and furious. At its base, the serpent’s scales rippled.
‘No, no, no,’ groaned Reafen. ‘What a foolish old woman I am. This is all my fault.’ In her pocket the Wishing Stones shuddered. ‘Varla has found me ...’ she whispered shakily. ‘She has seen me ...’
Reafen sniffed the air. The shop reeked of scorched fur. She could literally see the putrid vapours hovering in every corner of her glorious establishment.
Reafen stared at the shattered display case. Varla had used the otter to look more closely, to enter Reafen’s world more fully. Varla had stared through the otter’s cold glass eyes, she had bent her Wild Magick to this appalling task, and for a brief moment she had sent her spirit forth and entered the dead otter’s body.
How successful had the witch been? Had Varla seen the pretty? It was impossible to know.
Reafen wiped her damp brow. For the time being Varla had been banished, perhaps even injured. But she would be back — there was no doubt about that.
‘Filthy witch,’ muttered Reafen. ‘Filthy, spying, tyrannous hag.’
Reafen winced, and reached for a cotton neckerchief under the counter. She wound the neckerchief around the gash on her forearm, then threw the lid off a shoebox. She would mop up the blood and tend to her injuries later — first she had to eat.
She sifted through her chocolate stash: Coco Mocha Chew-Chews, Cherry Twirls, Caramello Ripple bars. She would eat, then she would bury the otter ... along with a handful of rusty nails and a couple of iron trivets. Just to be sure. Just to be certain no witchcraft ever possessed the wretched beast again.
Later that same morning, Angus found the Prof standing by the sink, sipping coffee.
‘Hello,’ said the Prof brightly. ‘You’re up early.’
Angus shrugged. He was hardly going to say, ‘I’ve been listening out for you half the night ...’
‘Looks like another hot one,’ said the Prof, pushing up the window.
‘So how was the big date?’ Angus leaned against the doorframe. ‘I mean, you look pretty pleased with yourself.’
‘I wouldn’t put it that way,’ said the Prof with an uncertain chuckle.
‘But it was good?’ asked Angus.
‘Not bad,’ said the Prof. ‘Did you manage okay without me?’
Angus almost laughed. Was his father kidding? They’d been managing without him for four years.
‘So, she was nice then?’ Angus couldn’t help himself. He had to know about this new love interest.
‘Yes, she was nice,’ said the Prof. ‘Very friendly.’
‘And?’
‘And, well, the history of economics bores her rigid,’ said the Prof with a laugh. ‘But she shares my interest in Norse mythology. Vikings in particular.’
Angus felt a rush of jealousy. His mother had written entire books about Vikings. She even made a documentary. Had this new woman done anything that good?
‘And you’re going to see her again?’ Angus pushed on.
‘Probably,’ said the Prof, going back to his coffee.
‘When?’
‘Oh, you know. Sometime soon.’
This was cagey behaviour even for the Prof.
‘Look,’ his father said, tossing his coffee down the sink, ‘I was hoping to work from home today but something’s come up. I’ve got an ea
rly meeting at the university. You can manage here, I trust?’
Angus shrugged.
‘Good,’ said the Prof. ‘I’ve put a load of washing on. Hang it out, will you? I’d better be off. Tell Martha I’ll call her this afternoon.’
Liar, thought Angus as the Prof brushed past him, reeking of aftershave. You’re not going in to work. You’re having breakfast with Miss Nice and Friendly. She gets pancakes and maple syrup. We get Frosty Loops and burned toast. Angus hated her already. He resolved not to tell Martha anything of this conversation. Not even that their father had said he would call. She would only end up disappointed.
Over the next few days, the Prof was rarely home. Suddenly all his work had to be done at the university rather than upstairs in his study. Funny about that, thought Angus. Especially since it was semester break and the uni was practically dead. Even Martha had her suspicions but they avoided the subject as much as they could. And in the meantime, they took advantage of their freedom.
Martha was busting to have another look in Frozen in Time but Angus was determined to put her off for as long as he could. Every time she mentioned it, he just said the place needed to be bulldozed and he wasn’t going near it. As luck would have it, the weather was perfect and Martha soon stopped pestering him — there was too much other stuff happening to risk missing out. Buskers, street performers, even the carnival was open during the day. It had extended its borders too, as more and more carnival folk arrived in town. They pitched tents and set up rides along the full length of the boardwalk. Angus felt a bit dorky hanging out with his little sister but there was no way he could shake her off. Plus he was worried. He didn’t want her going back to Frozen in Time. He couldn’t explain why, but that place got his hackles up. He couldn’t stand the thought of Martha going in there on her own.
