by Jen Storer
Suddenly Angus could see all too clearly how his father might have got in trouble over this thing — this narrare.
‘But, really,’ insisted Martha, ‘how does it work? You know, don’t you? I can tell.’
The Donut Lady thought for a moment.
‘Tell us,’ pleaded Angus. ‘Please.’
‘One must take it to a cavern in the Old Realm. These are ice caverns, extremely cold. All narrares sit on ice stalagmites in ice caverns. There are many, many narrares, many, many stalagmites When a narrare is to be read, it is taken to a ... how you say it ... anteroom. The narrare is placed on a singular stalagmite that is positioned to catch the cold light of the full moon.’
Martha was mesmerised.
‘Go on,’ urged Angus.
‘When the moonlight shines on the narrare, questions may be asked of those who have passed over and left their trace. There is no judgement. The narrare will freely give its secrets to whoever has the skill and the knowledge to use it. Bathed in the light of the moon, it will project its memories onto the black-ice walls of the anteroom.’
‘Man, oh, man,’ breathed Martha.
‘Remember,’ said the Donut Lady, ‘each memory is a delicate, complex snowflake — conditions must be perfect to ensure the snowflake and thus the memories shine out intact.’
A strange silence fell upon them. Perhaps it was awe. For a moment Angus forgot to check the time.
‘There are some who would go to twenty lengths to steal a narrare,’ said the Donut Lady finally.
‘You mean, any length,’ said Martha. ‘They would go to any length.’
The Donut Lady scowled.
‘And are there others?’ Angus asked quickly. ‘Aside from this one?’
The Donut Lady nodded. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘As I said, in the Old Realm there are countless narrares. Some are simply collective narrares and hold the memories of all and sundry. Others, I believe, are more specialised.’
‘But why has Reafen got this particular one?’ Angus would not let up. They had come this far, he had to know everything. ‘Why is she even here?’
‘I can only guess for this,’ said the Donut Lady with a shrug. ‘Reafen is in many ways a mystery. But she cannot be trusted. Of this I am certain.’ She stood up. ‘Now, I must go to this hat factory.’
‘Why?’ said Angus.
‘I wish to confront this Lynch.’
‘If you go there, he might blow you up!’ said Martha.
‘Bosh,’ said the Donut Lady. ‘I am not afraid of such bullies. They are my hobby. These goblin girls. They are there too?’
‘Well, they were there,’ said Angus. ‘But they mustn’t know where we are.’
‘Because you have stolen their narrare?’ said the Donut Lady. ‘Because you are thieves?’
‘If we don’t hand it over tonight, someone’s going to kill the Prof!’ cried Martha.
‘Who?’ demanded the Donut Lady. ‘Who is going to do such things?’
‘We don’t know,’ said Angus. ‘All we know is they want the snow dome, the narrare, or else ...’
‘Did your father leave a note? Did he telephone this bad news?’ They could tell the Donut Lady was thinking quickly again.
Angus shook his head. ‘This will sound crazy but Dad was speaking through the surround-sound system in our lounge room. Like he was in a radio station or something ...’
The Donut Lady frowned. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Your father, he is not in a station. Your father is no longer in this world.’
‘What do you mean?’ cried Angus.
‘Is he ... dead?’ Martha leaned forward, her face pale with fear.
‘Not at all,’ said the Donut Lady. ‘But my feelings tell me he is stuck. I believe he is tangled in the veil — the veil between our world and the Old Realm. How he got there, this is a mystery. But if your father has dabbled in the dealings of goblins, even if he has only stumbled into an Old Realm feud, then it is logical for him to be trapped in this space. Rare. But logical.’
Angus put his head in his hands.
This was not his kind of logic.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
____________________________________________
Rat boy
There was a knock on the annexe door and all three jumped. The Donut Lady stared at the door but she did not move. Martha scooped the narrare off the coffee table and slid it back into its case.
The knocking was sharp, insistent.
‘Don’t answer it,’ said Angus. ‘Please. Pretend we’re not here.’
‘It’s them,’ said Martha, looking about frantically for a place to hide. ‘It’s Lynch ... or the goblin girls. I just know it!’
The Donut Lady put a finger to her lips.
‘I know you’re in there,’ called a boy’s voice. ‘I seen youse before.’
‘Up to the loft.’ The Donut Lady nodded at the ladder. ‘Quickly.’
Martha slung the leather case across her body and she and Angus scooted up the ladder. On their hands and knees in the loft, they had a clear view of the room below. Silently they watched as the Donut Lady lifted the security chain and turned the deadlock.
A boy burst in, breathless with excitement. ‘Dad’s back,’ he cried. ‘He’s back an’ he’s askin’ for you.’
‘My Barney’s back!’ cried the Donut Lady.
Martha gasped when she saw the boy. ‘That’s —’ she began but Angus slipped his hand across her mouth.
She pushed his hand away. ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed.
It was the boy from the puppet show, the skinny teenager who played the Hammond organ. He had mousey hair cropped short with a single, scraggy rat’s tail dangling down his neck. The rat’s tail had coloured beads threaded on the end. Martha thought there was something very rodenty about him. Angus made a toothy face. He’d guessed what she was thinking.
‘He’s all banged up,’ said the boy, glancing about the room. The Donut Lady was hunting for her shoes. ‘An’ he can’t remember where he’s been. All he knows is that he woke up in the lane. You know, the one behind the hat factory.’
‘Tell him I will be there in one minute,’ said the Donut Lady, dragging her good sandals from under a chair. ‘Tell him I am on my way.’
The boy spotted the mess on the coffee table. The empty cans, hotdog wrappers and donut bags.
‘Where’re those kids?’ he said, looking up.
Angus and Martha jerked back their heads.
‘I seen two kids come in here,’ said the boy. ‘A scrawny geek with reddish hair and some snooty girl with binoculars round her neck. Weird lookin’.’
‘Stop it with your rude questions,’ snapped the Donut Lady, twisting open a tube of lipstick. ‘Now go,’ she mumbled as she painted her lips. ‘Quickly.’
The boy shrugged. ‘I’ll give him your message then wait for you outside,’ he gabbled. ‘He’s keepin’ his door locked. Scared witless, he is.’ The boy took off.
The kids peered down the ladder as the Donut Lady recapped her lipstick, took up a shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders. The day was growing cooler, the sea breeze had turned blustery and mean. They could hear the caravan’s canvas blinds fluttering.
‘Wait here in the big chairs,’ she said, looking up at them. ‘I should not be long. An hour maybe. Lock the door,’ she added as she left.
Angus and Martha looked at one another.
‘We can’t stay here,’ said Angus.
‘I know,’ said Martha.
‘Dad said come alone.’
‘I know.’
From the porthole window in the loft they watched the Donut Lady hurrying across the hill and through the pine trees to the carnival. They saw the boy jump down from the merry-go-round where he’d been waiting and grab her hand, talking excitedly.
When the Donut Lady and her skinny companion had disappeared from view, the kids bounded down the ladder, gathered up the last of the donuts and turned to leave.
There was another knock on
the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY
____________________________________________
Disaster
Oh, crud,’ said Martha.
Angus shushed her and they bobbed behind an armchair.
There was another knock, quiet, tentative ... dishonest. It sent a shiver up their spines. This wasn’t the Donut Lady come back with more instructions and it certainly wasn’t that skinny kid from the carnival. This was someone who was hoping the place would be empty.
They crouched closer to the floor. Martha held the leather case to her chest. ‘We didn’t lock the door,’ she said fearfully.
The knocking stopped and for a long moment quiet settled on the annexe.
The kids listened closely but all they could make out were the sounds of the beach as the fun wound down — the squeal of toddlers being herded by their parents, distant laughter caught on the wind, the ding of bicycle bells. Further off, on the esplanade, the hum of city traffic was gathering momentum as the afternoon faded.
‘Come on,’ said Angus quietly, ‘we’ve got to get out of here before anyone else sees us.’ He stood up. Martha rose slowly beside him.
Suddenly the door handle turned.
The pair dropped to the floor again as the door opened just a crack, as if by the lightest touch. They heard the hinges squeak, then footsteps, soft and hesitant.
Angus and Martha held their breath as whoever it was crept around the room. They heard the bottom rung on the ladder creak and at the same time the chink of china being inspected on the sideboard. There were two intruders.
Angus and Martha shuffled sideways around the chair and away from the footsteps.
The door was in full view and it was still ajar. Outside they could see grey sky — and freedom. This was their chance of a clean getaway. All they needed to do was get through that door, then hurtle down the hill and over the retaining wall. No-one would dare chase them on the beach. It was too public.
Creak, creak, creak.
Someone was creeping up the ladder toward the loft. The kids could not make out where the other intruder was.
The tip of a workboot appeared around the side of the chair and Angus looked up. Graini’s head appeared above them. She leaned over the back of the armchair, her green hair shoved up under a sunhat.
‘Run!’ cried Angus, and the kids burst out from behind the chair and made a beeline for the door.
Graini gasped with fright and lunged at Martha.
‘Get away from me!’ cried Martha, swatting Graini’s hands as the goblin girl grabbed at her top, trying to catch her.
Angus threw the door wide open and bolted, just as Graini clasped the strap on the leather case and wrenched it hard.
Martha jolted, lost her footing and fell backward. Her head hit the floor with a sickening thud, and she lay still.
Ava skidded down the ladder. She rushed to Martha and knelt beside her. ‘Oh, Graini,’ she said with horror. ‘What have we done?’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
____________________________________________
The Singing Stones
Angus was halfway down the hill when he realised his sister wasn’t with him. He spun around and sprinted back to the annexe door. When he saw her lying motionless on the floor, his heart turned to lead.
‘Martha,’ he cried, and he ran inside and threw himself down beside her. ‘Martha?’ He pushed her dark curls back from her eyes. ‘Can you hear me?’ His voice was small, snagged with fear.
Martha did not move. Angus picked up her hand and held it gently. Beside him, Ava stroked Martha’s hair.
‘This was never our intention,’ said Ava. ‘We would never hurt your sister-sibling. Never. She is kind and truth-speaking and she has been our teacher. We have shared moments and knowledge and laughter.’
Graini was standing over them but she had taken off the sunhat and tossed the beach towel that had been around her shoulders. Angus felt a rush of anger. These lousy goblin girls were cursed. They had brought nothing but drama and trouble, maybe even evil. He was fed up. He wanted to lash out, put his fist through the wall, smash something.
Graini winced and clutched her head in her hands. ‘Oooh,’ she groaned.
‘No, no, no,’ said Ava with a frightened gasp.
‘What is it?’ said Angus.
‘Poor dearest Graini feels Martha’s pain,’ said Ava as Graini lay down on the floor and curled up beside Martha. Graini was silent, her face closed and miserable.
‘This is how it happens,’ said Ava in a timid voice. ‘We hurt an Innocent and we feel the hurt also. We are reckless and unthinking and our stupidity leaps back at us. It is part of the testing ...’ She looked at Angus imploringly.
‘I ...’ he began. ‘I’m ...’ He was speechless.
‘We are peaceful, Angus Jack. Do you understand? Peaceful. The goblins of the Old Realm are aligned to the light. But here in this world, here in the New World, there is so much busyness, so many goods and chattels and frictions. It is hard for us to hold our balance. Even your food is our enemy. The sugar! Oh, the sugar, it is a great temptation to us, and it is also a great, all-consuming poison. One nibble and we risk addiction and madness.’
For a split second Angus thought of Reafen, her crazy ways and sugar scoffing. But this, this was too much. Ava was yabbering, he was sure of it, talking about tests and frictions and light. She was nuts. They were both dangerous, devious and nuts. They had come here to get revenge. That’s what this was all about. Revenge.
‘I wish you’d just get lost!’ he yelled. ‘I wish you’d get out of our lives!’
Ava sat up and glowered at him. ‘You stole from us!’ she said angrily. ‘We trusted you. I trusted you!’
Shame hit him like a hot slap. It was all so confusing. He was relieved to see the goblin girls, to know they were okay, but he was angry and suspicious at the same time. And now Martha was hurt!
He breathed deeply. ‘We have to get a doctor,’ he said. ‘An ambulance.’ He looked about. ‘There must be a phone in here somewhere.’
He rested Martha’s hand across her chest. ‘Do not leave her,’ he said as he got up. ‘Please, Ava,’ he added.
He made one final quick inspection of the room, then bounded up the ladder to the loft. The Donut Lady was a defenceless old woman — surely she’d have a phone on her bedside table. If not, he’d have to run to the carnival, see if someone there would lend him a phone. Or maybe he’d go to the beach. Perhaps one of the lifeguards could help. Were they even there at this time of day? His mind was racing.
The Donut Lady’s bedroom was stacked with battered suitcases and wooden trunks, and there was an old-fashioned dressing table with the mirror turned to the wall. Her bed was festooned with a mosquito net. The quilt was purple patchwork with a symbol at the centre. It looked like the stickers Angus had seen on the back window of hippy vans. It was a mandala, the symbol used to create a sacred space. The mandala was dotted with sequins, stitched with thick emerald thread.
Angus checked everywhere, even under the bed, but there was no telephone. If he wanted help, he was going to have to leave Martha. He hurried back down the ladder, struggling to keep his panic in check.
He stopped dead.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he cried.
‘Be still,’ said Ava, looking up, her eyes full of concern. ‘Do not be angry, Angus Jack. This is our remedy for invisible hurts to the head. This is what we are taught in our home. It uses the gentle energies. The singing vibrations that are trapped in the stones.’
Angus crept closer. ‘This is crazy ...’ he said as he dropped to his knees.
Ava had taken out a leather pouch and was drawing stones from it, placing them in a circle around Martha’s head. First, small clear pebbles, perfectly round and smooth, about the size of a five-cent coin. Then cloudy pink stones in an outer circle. From where Angus sat, it almost looked like a halo. With a flick of her wrist, Ava set each of the stones spinning. Angus caug
ht his breath as the stones rose and began to spin just above the floor. They turned slowly at first, then with so much speed they emitted a curious high-pitched sound. Angus had once heard someone play the theremin. The sound was like that, a lone soprano, eerie and otherworldly.
‘I have to go and get help,’ he breathed, and yet he could not bring himself to move — what was more, the colour was returning to Martha’s cheeks.
Ava leaned closer and they both waited. But still Martha did not open her eyes.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Ava as one by one the stones stopped spinning and dropped to the floor. ‘Why does your sister-sibling not wake up? Why does she not respond to the Singing Stones?’
Ava looked frightened as she glanced from Martha to Graini and back again.
Angus felt his jaw clench with anger. This was like some sick joke. He was wasting time. He was a fool to trust these goblin girls and their ridiculous Singing Stones. He felt trapped. Afraid to leave. And afraid to stay.
Graini groaned. ‘Ava,’ she said, ‘take this. This is what she needs.’ Without opening her eyes, Graini slid the silver bracelet from around her arm.
Ava gasped. ‘Are you sure?’ she said.
‘I have been foolish,’ said Graini, her eyes still closed. ‘Please, Ava. The girl is an Innocent — one who has no evil intent toward us; who does not wish us harm. One who would be our friend in any other circumstance.’
Ava carefully took the bracelet. Embedded in it was a row of emerald stones. One moment the stones were as bright and gaudy as cheap lime cordial, the next as dark and unfathomable as the night sky. Angus had never seen anything like them. The stones caught a ray of light from the window and shimmered as Ava slid the bracelet over Martha’s hand.
