The Fourteenth Summer of Angus Jack

by Jen Storer

  ‘On three,’ he said. ‘One. Two. Th-r-ee.’

  The pair heaved with all their might but the grille stayed firmly in place.

  ‘It weighs a tonne.’ Angus ran his fingers over its outer edges. ‘And it’s cemented in.’

  ‘Then how did the man open it?’ asked Martha.

  ‘There must be a knack.’ Angus sat back on his haunches and tried to think.

  ‘You’ve got our gnome, you rotten thief!’ yelled Martha through the grille. Her voice sounded feeble and childlike in the concrete vacuum.

  ‘Shush!’ Angus glanced about. He had the awful feeling they were being watched. ‘We have to be smart,’ he whispered. ‘We don’t know who we’re dealing with.’

  Martha scraped a handful of gravel from between the cobblestones and pitched it through the grille. It pattered like gritty rain on the cement floor.

  ‘Dogsbody!’ she yelled into the void. ‘Rotten thief! I know you’re in there. I know you can hear me.’

  ‘Martha,’ cried Angus, pulling her away. ‘What did I just say?’

  A loud clang resounded from above and the pair looked up. The fire escape was shuddering. They could hear running footsteps.

  ‘Someone’s watching,’ said Angus. ‘Let’s get out of here!’

  Angus bought souvlakis for lunch and they sat on a bench seat down near the foreshore to eat them. They shared a bucket of hot chips.

  Martha picked out pieces of charred onion and tossed them to a seagull.

  ‘Bad move,’ said Angus as more and more gulls appeared from out of nowhere.

  ‘Where do they come from?’ said Martha. ‘Seriously. First there’s one, then snap, there’s five hundred.’

  The wind blew fresh with the scent of pine trees. Out on the horizon they could see a navy tanker. From where they sat it looked like a Lego boat.

  ‘How cool that we know where Gurdy is,’ said Martha.

  ‘At least we know he’s not fish food,’ said Angus. ‘Now all we have to do is figure out how to get him back.’

  ‘Shouldn’t we ring the police?’

  ‘Maybe. But I reckon Gurdy would be bottom of their list.’

  ‘What about creepy coat-man?’ said Martha. ‘Why is he hanging around in the hat factory?’

  ‘Search me,’ said Angus. ‘The place is condemned.’

  ‘Maybe he’s a developer,’ said Martha.

  ‘A developer who steals garden gnomes, spies on old ladies and slips like a cockroach into abandoned buildings,’ said Angus.

  ‘And snoops along fire escapes,’ added Martha.

  Angus kicked at the gulls. They hopped about boldly and ignored him.

  ‘I don’t want to go home tonight,’ said Martha. ‘I don’t want to see Maxwell.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I hope he’s late,’ said Martha. ‘I hope I’m in bed when he gets home. Then I can pretend I’m asleep.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I really do hate him.’ Martha’s shoulders were hunched, her face grim. ‘I mean it.’

  Angus sighed.

  They finished their lunch in silence.

  ‘Okay,’ the Prof waved the menu at them, ‘choose whatever you like, but I’m definitely having tiramisu for dessert.’

  Angus and Martha looked at each other. Martha shrugged. The last person they had expected to see was their father. It was barely five o’clock in the afternoon.

  ‘It’s not that hard, is it?’ The Prof opened the takeaway menu and smoothed it out. ‘Pick a pizza, any pizza.’

  The kids leaned against the kitchen table.

  ‘How long is it since we’ve had a pizza night?’ said the Prof. ‘No. Don’t answer that. Tonight we make up for it. Pizza and your choice of DVD. A movie marathon, if you like. I’ve got ten here. But if none of them suit, well, we’ll go pick up more.’

  He dropped a bag of DVDs on the table.

  ‘And if you stick your heads in the lounge room,’ he added, ‘you’ll notice I’ve set up the surround sound. There is now a speaker hanging in every corner of the ceiling. Who said I wasn’t efficient?’

  Martha flicked through the DVDs. The Prof hovered anxiously.

  ‘See anything you like?’ he asked.

  ‘Angus can choose,’ said Martha. ‘I have to put food out for Jarly. In case he comes back. In case he’s still out there ...’ She glared accusingly at the Prof as if it was his fault the cat had run off. Martha took the bag of cat food and left quietly.

  ‘So the cat’s still missing,’ said the Prof when she had gone.

  ‘Guess so,’ said Angus.

  ‘A pizza night’s good though, isn’t it?’ The Prof gazed at the DVD pile. ‘It will help, don’t you think?’

  ‘Will you be here all night?’ said Angus.

  ‘Of course!’ said the Prof. ‘Now tell me, what pizza would you like? By the way, is Martha still a vegetarian?’

  The pizza night went well, all things considered, and Martha began to thaw. Occasionally she even laughed at her father’s jokes. And as for his part, well, he let her watch a teenage vampire film so Angus knew the Prof was feeling desperate. It will do him good, thought Angus. He needs to lift his game.

  Angus thought about when his mother had died. Martha was only six at the time. It was impossible to make her understand. Even harder to be honest with her. For a time she stopped speaking and withdrew from everyone. But now, four years on, she was making up for it. Now she was angry and fickle and full of resentment — more like a teenager than a ten-year-old. Angus wondered if the pain would ever go away. People were wrong. Time wasn’t helping. Things were different, that was all, they weren’t better. Not at all.

  Just before 11 pm, as Martha was dozing on the couch and Angus was setting up the next DVD, the Prof’s phone rang. Martha sprang awake and shot Angus a look that said, here we go.

  The Prof took the call out in the hall. When he came back into the lounge room, he looked uncomfortable. He fiddled with the phone as he spoke. ‘My new friend, the one I told you about — her hire car has broken down on the freeway. Help is on its way, but, well, she doesn’t know the city and she’s feeling a bit ... vulnerable. You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘Don’t mind what?’ Martha was playing dumb.

  ‘If I go and help her out,’ said the Prof. ‘It’s the right thing to do.’

  Martha crossed her arms. ‘I thought this was our night,’ she said pointedly.

  ‘Can’t she manage on her own?’ said Angus. ‘Why should our night be stuffed up because her stupid car broke down?’

  ‘I can’t leave her stranded on a freeway in a foreign country. And there’s no time to call a babysitter for you two.’

  ‘Babysitter?’ said Martha. ‘How many times do we have to tell you? We’re not little kids anymore.’

  ‘I’ve got my mobile,’ said the Prof, ignoring his daughter’s snide remark and tapping his shirt pocket. ‘I’ll be one hour, tops. It’s past your bedtime, anyway,’ he added.

  Martha spread a rug over her legs. ‘I’m watching another DVD,’ she said. ‘It’s a movie marathon, remember? Mar-a-thon ...’

  The Prof gave an exasperated sigh and hurried out. ‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ he called.

  The front door slammed.

  It was after midnight and the Prof still had not come home. Both kids had nodded off on the couch. The last DVD had finished and the menu was running on a loop when they both heard the eerie music. They sat up in unison. It wasn’t the DVD. It seemed to be coming from next door.

  ‘What is that?’ said Martha as she grabbed the remote and flicked off the TV.

  Angus scrambled off the couch, and his sister threw off her rug and followed him into the kitchen. They stood by the window and looked across at number thirteen.

  Reafen’s house was built on top of a deep slope. The shop was at street level while the back of the building was at least four metres off the ground and rested on tall timber posts which supported a wide verandah.
Reafen was there now, swaying in a long hammock. This was not so unusual. Many people slept outside on these hot nights. However, down on the ground directly below Reafen’s verandah stood the mysterious stranger. He was playing a willow flute.

  ‘Oh my God!’ cried Martha, and Angus put a finger to his lips.

  ‘Shhh!’

  Martha cringed. ‘Do you think he’s serenading Reafen?’ she said quietly.

  Angus pulled an ‘as if’ face.

  ‘Let’s get closer,’ said Martha, turning to go.

  ‘Are you insane?’ Angus grabbed her sleeve.

  ‘We can hide in the plumbago hedge,’ said Martha eagerly.

  Angus groaned. He seemed to spend his entire life hiding in bushes.

  The melody rose and fell. It was all too weird. Angus could not resist — he had to get a closer look.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘The hedge. If you promise to go no closer.’

  Martha gave him a withering look.

  ‘Follow me. Do exactly as I say,’ said Angus.

  Martha giggled. ‘It’s like the Phantom of the Opera,’ she said as they hurried out.

  ‘Hold on a second,’ said Angus, and he ran back inside and grabbed the fire extinguisher.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ____________________________________________

  The intruder

  From their spot in the hedge, the pair had a clear view. ‘Ouch,’ said Martha, picking a twig from her sock.

  ‘We should have worn shoes.’

  ‘Shh,’ said Angus.

  Unaware of their presence, the stranger continued to play his haunting melody, and within a short time, Angus and Martha felt gloomy and despondent. The music had no beginning and no end, as if the notes existed only on the air, to be captured and released in one perpetual, swirling melody.

  ‘It’s the saddest music I’ve ever heard,’ said Martha with a tremor in her voice.

  ‘It makes me think of Mum,’ said Angus. He did not add that somehow, on some level, the music was more familiar to him than anything on his iPod. That was downright creepy.

  Martha stared into the night. ‘Angus,’ she whispered, ‘sometimes I can’t remember her. Sometimes she seems so far away, like she never even existed ... I try to force her into my mind but I can’t see her properly. It’s like she’s fading. And I get scared. What if I do forget her, Angus? If I forget Mum, I won’t know who I am anymore.’

  Angus moved to take his sister’s hand but thought better of it. He didn’t want her to think he was being sentimental.

  ‘They argued a lot,’ said Martha sadly. ‘Mum and the Prof.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Angus. ‘But so what? So do we.’

  Martha smiled bleakly. ‘Do you think they loved each other?’ she asked carefully. The next question caught in her throat. ‘Do you think they loved ... us?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Angus. ‘I mean, totally.’

  Reafen was still swaying in the hammock. It was made of woven twine and decorated with wooden beads. She had a pink pillow under her head. Before long, they could hear her sobbing.

  ‘Maybe we should go over,’ said Martha.

  Angus shrugged. ‘It’s not really our business.’

  Finally the music stopped, and in the stillness that followed, Reafen’s sobs were replaced by deep, grinding snores.

  ‘Oh!’ said Martha. ‘The poor old thing has cried herself to sleep!’

  Angus shifted position. He watched closely as the stranger slid the willow flute inside his coat, adjusted his Panama hat and moved toward the house.

  ‘He’s going up the back steps,’ said Angus.

  ‘No!’ gasped Martha. ‘You don’t suppose he’s going to elope with her, do you? Or maybe ... maybe he’s going to kidnap her. Or ... or ... stab her!’

  Martha clung to Angus as the stranger climbed the stairs quickly and glided across the verandah like the silhouette of a cartoon villain. He leaned over the sleeping form of Reafen, and both kids held their breath.

  Slowly, stealthily, the stranger drew the chain with the golden key from around Reafen’s neck.

  ‘He’s robbing her,’ said Angus.

  Martha was frozen to the spot.

  The thief dropped the chain in his coat pocket, but before he could make off with it, Reafen sprang up.

  ‘Thief! Robber! Cotton-coated sleep-interrupter!’ she bellowed. The hammock swung wildly as she struggled to climb out.

  The stranger grabbed one end of the hammock and spun it so fast that Reafen was instantly cocooned like a fat, lumpy grub. Her startled cries and senseless insults were muffled by the tangle of twine and wooden beads encasing her.

  The stranger lurched toward the back door of the shop and disappeared inside.

  ‘Come on.’ Angus jumped up. ‘We’ve got to help her!’

  The pair scrambled out of the hedge and sprinted across Reafen’s backyard, their footsteps silent on the damp grass. Angus was in the lead as they bounded up the back steps, the fire extinguisher tucked under his arm.

  ‘You see to Reafen,’ he said when they reached the landing. ‘I’ll see to the intruder.’

  ‘Be careful!’ said Martha anxiously.

  Angus hurried past the mummified figure of Reafen, still struggling and cursing in the hammock. For a second he was awestruck by the speed with which she had been trapped. It was almost unnatural. Mountains of rubbish were strewn about her: gold and purple chocolate wrappers; crumpled cellophane bags of half-eaten fairy floss — pink, green and rainbow-striped; dozens of empty cola cans. He picked his way through the rubbish to the back door, his damp socks sticking to his feet.

  The door was shut.

  Angus leaned his ear against it.

  Nothing.

  He pushed.

  The door creaked open.

  Once again the smell of rose petals and vinegar hung in the air. All the curtains were open and the moon shone through the side windows, casting a gloomy pallor over everything. Angus looked about. There was not the slightest movement, nor was there any shape that resembled the intruder.

  He approached the main counter and ran his hand along Reafen’s ‘special viewing box’. It was wide open. He scanned the shelves. He could not see the amber snow dome. He edged further into the shop, deeper into the airless jumble. He moved in a straight line, climbing over whatever was in the way. This would bring him to the front door — and hopefully a quick escape. Now he was in there, he was having second thoughts. Since when have I been a hero? he asked himself as he peered about in the darkness. What if this coat guy has a knife? What if he has a gun?

  Angus slid aside coats and moth-eaten wedding dresses and peeked through the racks. Before long, he was forced to cross paths with the mannequins, the surly ones in their sun frocks and pillbox hats. They were propped up on pedestals, tall and proud, their stiff skirts so wide they pushed up against each other.

  Angus angled between the skirts and glanced up at the mannequins, his cheeks burning. The mannequins loomed over him. Did one of them roll its eyes? His heart thumped. He gripped the fire extinguisher tightly.

  He threaded his way between bookcases and hat stands. He slunk past a wall of porcelain dolls. The moonlight shone on their blood-red lips, their eyes stared straight through him. I’ve got to get out of here, he thought as panic rose in his chest.

  As he neared the front of the shop, he sensed movement.

  He swung around — and a polar bear lunged at him, its huge, yellow teeth only inches from his nose. Angus yelped, and tumbled over a footstool. The bearskin fell across him.

  Angus lay sprawled out on an oriental rug, his hands stinging with carpet burn. He raised his head slowly and began to crawl out from under the bearskin — just as a world globe shot across the room. Angus ducked. The globe hit a large display case packed with jewellery. As if in slow motion, the case cracked — then crumbled.

  Angus leaped to his feet and a tall beige figure swept by, shoving him aside as it made for the fro
nt door.

  ‘Hey!’ Angus stumbled after the figure, tripped on a picnic hamper and fell again.

  The stranger tugged at the front door.

  Angus got up and the stranger hurled a teapot at him.

  Within seconds, Angus was under fire. All sorts of objects came flying his way, ashtrays, teacups, vases, even Barbie dolls and building blocks. He managed to dodge them all, but when a hardback dictionary clipped his sore ear, he knew he’d had enough. Angus pulled the pin on the fire extinguisher, pressed down the lever and charged. ‘Yarrgh!’

  The stranger squealed. It was the most alarming, high-pitched scream. To Angus’s surprise, it almost sounded like a girl.

  The stranger huddled against the red door, his hands in front of his face. ‘Stop!’ he spluttered as his hat flew off. ‘We surrender. Please! No more firing at us. It hurts!’

  Angus lowered the fire extinguisher, his heart kicking in his chest, as slowly, reluctantly, the stranger removed his dripping trench coat — and revealed that he was not one but two.

  The top figure jumped from the shoulders of the bottom figure and there, in a shadowy puddle by the door, stood two shivering individuals.

  The mysterious stranger was not a man.

  He was not even two men.

  ‘Who are you?’ said Angus.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ____________________________________________

  Threats and accusations

  I’ll tell you who they are,’ came a voice from the back of the shop. ‘They are a pair of nasty sneakthiefs who have come to topsy-turvy this trading post and steal an old woman’s pretties. Now hand over my snow dome, you law-breakers, before my loyal friends here put you in ropes and padlocks.’

  Reafen flicked on the light. Martha was behind her.

  Angus gasped — now he could see the intruders clearly.

  They both stood about chest height to Angus, with deeply tanned, clear skin, round, open faces and gently pointed ears. Both were female and both looked to be quite young. In fact, they only looked about his age.