by Jen Storer
‘My father and my father’s father, and further back than all of that, all of them were Russian traders,’ she said. ‘My father, he travelled to many places, on land and by sea.’
‘Go on,’ said Angus, crossing his arms. He felt she owed him a decent explanation. He had placed his trust in her many times, now it was her turn.
‘When I was old enough but not so old as Martha, I joined my father on his travels. Oh, those were wondrous times! We went through the veil many, many times,’ said the Donut Lady. ‘We grew to love those in the Old Realm, to accept our roles as diplomats and guardians. But over the years it became more difficult for us to move back and forth ... Eventually we had to choose. We had to decide where we should see out our remaining days — in the Old Realm or here in the New World. I stand before you today because of that choice.’
‘Exactly how old are you?’ said Angus.
The Donut Lady shrugged. ‘I do not have this answer,’ she said. ‘I lost many years coming and going. The gravitational field in the Old Realm, it slows the passage of time, you see. I am much older than you would reckon,’ she added slyly. ‘Old enough to understand the value of living a simple life ...’
‘I don’t suppose you’ll tell me your real name,’ said Angus as he bent to pick up a rain-soaked journal.
‘My name is my own,’ said the Donut Lady. ‘I prefer to keep it that way. I am happy to be whoever you think I am.’
‘So, with all your knowledge, all your experience, you’re happy to be an ordinary donut lady? Happy to lead a small, insignificant life? It doesn’t make sense.’
‘There are no ordinary lives,’ said the Donut Lady, scrutinising the room with her keen eyes. ‘Quiet perhaps, but not ordinary — and never insignificant. Surely you understand this.’
Angus shrugged. He didn’t understand at all.
‘Simply the fact that we are alive,’ said the Donut Lady, peeking into a box of research papers, ‘the fact that we are here struggling to make sense of this complex world, struggling to survive when all odds are against us — just this alone makes each of us special.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ said Angus.
‘We are all little heroes, Angus. Each and every one of us,’ said the Donut Lady firmly. ‘When you realise this, nothing you do will ever seem ordinary again. Life, all life, it is ineffable.’
Angus rubbed his forehead wearily. He would have to think on this — it seemed the Donut Lady was something of a philosopher. Well, good for her. For now he was both trapped in the moment and consumed by a future he scarcely dared to think about. A future without his sister. Without his father. A future as desolate and chaotic as this awful room.
He picked up a few books, righted a series of photo frames that had been knocked over. There was a photograph of his mother. It was taken back in England. Back when their lives were ordinary. Insignificant. He stared at the photograph for a moment and exhaustion swept through him.
‘What are we actually looking for?’ he asked impatiently.
‘I need a shard of glass,’ said the Donut Lady, lowering herself onto her knees and sifting through the rubble. ‘A shard of the broken mirror. The largest we can find.’
Angus scanned the room quickly. It was good to have something to occupy his mind.
‘Here,’ he said in no time at all. He eased a muddy shard from beneath an upended pot plant. He was surprised the Prof even had a plant in his study. Surely plants needed looking after? The thought was spontaneous but it was mean-spirited and it made Angus feel guilty.
He rubbed off the mud with his T-shirt. The shard was shaped like a large crescent moon. At its centre, it was wide enough for him to see clearly his own reflection. He looked ghostly. He looked ... grey.
‘Precisely what I need,’ said the Donut Lady eagerly. ‘Now come, sit beside me on the floor. Bring the shard, that’s right. Be prepared now. I am not certain what we will see. I am not certain how ... unpleasant.’
Angus knelt beside her.
The Donut Lady took up her sword and, with a mighty thrust, stabbed it into the carpet so that, when she released it, the sword stood perfectly upright.
‘I apologise for this carpet,’ she said.
Angus shrugged. He could hardly care less. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked under his breath.
‘Hand me this shard,’ said the Donut Lady.
Angus did so.
The Donut Lady laid the broken mirror at right angles to the sword, the tip of the shard jutting up against the blade. She leaned forward and peered into the mirror. Angus followed suit. They could see the blade clearly reflected, see its intricate markings, its razor-sharp edge. In the background they could see their own distorted faces. But that was all.
The Donut Lady twisted the sword slightly, this way, that way. The blade glowed softly ...
Angus continued to search in the mirror for something — any clue that might help him find his father. His sister.
‘Nothing,’ said the Donut Lady, pursing her lips thoughtfully.
‘Do you even know what you’re doing?’ Angus felt a rush of impatience again. ‘Shouldn’t we just get out there, get out on the beach, the cliffs, even the carnival, and just start searching?’
‘Hand me the Wishing Stones,’ said the Donut Lady quickly.
‘But you said —’
‘We are not making a wish,’ said the Donut Lady. ‘We will simply draw on their knowledge.’
Angus reached into his pocket. He felt the Wishing Stones shuffle about and retract, sinking further into the corner of his pocket as if they did not want to be disturbed.
‘Three will suffice,’ said the Donut Lady. ‘Too much of their power would not do us well.’
Angus took out three stones. He tried to hand them over but they jumped and flipped and spun like enchanted beans.
‘You will have to handle them,’ said the Donut Lady briskly. ‘Clearly they are yours and yours alone.’
With a jolt of recognition, Angus knew exactly what to do. It was almost as if the stones were guiding his hand. With great care, he placed them at three strategic points on the shard: top, bottom, centre. With a flick of his wrist, he set them spinning.
The Donut Lady smiled to herself as she watched him work.
‘Where’d they go?’ said Angus with surprise. The stones seemed to have vanished into thin air — one second they were spinning on the shard, the next they were gone.
‘They are still here,’ said the Donut Lady. ‘They spin so quickly it is difficult to see.’
She was right, of course. On a certain angle, Angus could just make out the blur of the stones as they spun. He listened for a moment. But unlike Ava’s Singing Stones, these runes were silent.
The Donut Lady turned the sword again and again. The shard sparked and all that was reflected in it flared.
Angus caught his breath as the image in the mirror expanded and became three-dimensional. Within seconds, it was deep enough to fall into. The Wishing Stones had risen into the air and now hovered directly above their bowed heads.
‘What is that?’ Angus shaded his eyes and stared into the shard.
The Donut Lady smiled proudly. ‘That, Angus Jack,’ she whispered, ‘that is — the veil.’
Angus lowered his hand and stared in awe.
The veil was intensely beautiful — it looked like a huge, dew-kissed cobweb, a crosshatching of the finest silver thread. But its beauty was ethereal and almost impossible to comprehend. Angus could sense that it was utterly pure. It was like nothing he had ever seen.
‘The veil,’ said the Donut Lady again. ‘It is everywhere and always. It is a cosmic conundrum. It defies all reason as we know it ... It allows for a parallel existence.’
Angus thought back to what the Donut Lady had said earlier about his father being tangled in the veil, and his heart plummeted.
‘The Prof is caught in that?’ he said incredulously.
The Donut Lady nodded. ‘It is my theory and also
my strongest feeling. Do you care to watch as I continue my search? I do not know what treachery I will find.’
Angus nodded, his heart hammering with fear.
The Donut Lady continued to twist the sword, driving it deeper and deeper into the floor of the Prof’s study.
‘If I am correct,’ said the Donut Lady, ‘the magick will have left a trace as your father was wrenched into the mirror. If I can find that trace and follow its threads ...’
She turned the sword again.
Fine purple threads began to appear, trembling and wavering, reaching up and out through the silver mesh. The Donut Lady tilted the sword and their view of the threads expanded.
‘There he is!’ said Angus. ‘Oh!’
To their immense horror, the Prof was hanging in the veil, suspended like prey in a spiderweb. His arms and legs were flung out widely. His head hung low, his face hidden.
‘Dad,’ said Angus. ‘Dad, can you hear me?’
There was no movement. No sign of life. ‘Dad,’ called Angus again.
But still there was no movement.
‘Oh!’ cried the Donut Lady and her voice broke. ‘We are too late.’ She reached out a comforting hand to Angus.
Angus met her tearful gaze but he could not, would not, give up so easily. He pushed her hand away. ‘Professor Maxwell Jack!’ he shouted. Still there was no response. Angus shouted again, his words infused with urgency.
The Prof flinched. With enormous effort, he raised his head.
‘He’s alive!’ said Angus.
The Prof looked about hazily. His face was bloodied and scratched. It was obvious he could not see them. And it was not clear what he could hear. But he had sensed something. And for one split second he seemed to look directly at his son.
‘Dad. It’s me, Angus.’
‘My son!’ said the Prof weakly. ‘My ... boy.’
His father’s shoulders slumped and his head dropped to his chest.
‘Oh, this is evil magick,’ said the Donut Lady. ‘Repellent magick. Varla will pay dearly for this. We cannot let this continue!’
The Donut Lady rose to her feet, her face fierce and determined. Before Angus could object, she wrenched the sword from its standing place in the floor.
‘Come,’ she said. ‘It is time we got on with it ... Your father will not last one more day like this.’
But Angus was glued to the spot, too horrified, too distraught to move. His limbs were numb with shock.
The Donut Lady hesitated, then, moving close, she curled her arm around him. She squeezed his shoulders. ‘Come now,’ she said softly. ‘I will do all in my power. Together we will sort this out. You have my word ... All is not lost, young man. Not by the longest shot.’
‘He looked terrible,’ said Angus unsteadily. ‘Really terrible.’
‘But he is alive,’ said the Donut Lady. ‘Alive!’
She shook his shoulders again, then released him just as someone came pounding up the stairs, yelling at the top of their voice.
‘Angus. Angus Jack, come quickly!’
‘Ava?’ Angus scooped up the Wishing Stones and raced out of the room. ‘Ava, what’s happened?’
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
____________________________________________
Coloured puffballs
Ava grabbed Angus by the hand as he hurtled toward her. She turned and ran back down the stairs, pulling him along in her wake.
‘What is it, Ava?’ He stomped clumsily after her. ‘What’s wrong?’
They raced into the lounge room. Graini was where they had left her. Her eyes were shut but the colour had returned to her face. She held a half-eaten apple between her hands.
Angus looked about quickly but everything else seemed to be in order. He had been afraid that something even more horrendous had happened. That Graini had died ... or some freak, Lynch perhaps, was trying to get into the house.
Ava led him to the couch and gestured for him to sit beside Graini.
Graini sensed his presence and opened her eyes. She smiled. Angus smiled too. When had Graini’s cheeky, buck-toothed grin become so familiar?
‘I have news of your sister-sibling,’ said Graini hoarsely.
‘What?’ cried Angus. ‘Did you remember something? Tell me!’
‘I remember nothing more,’ said Graini. ‘But your sister-sibling, she speaks to me just now ... She sends words and images and they explode like dandelion puffballs, bright and colourful, in my head.’ Graini smiled again. ‘She is alive, Angus Jack. She is alive. And she is reaching out to you.’
‘But what ...? How ...?’ Angus was lost for words.
‘It is the mingled energies,’ said Ava joyfully. ‘Do you recall Martha’s green curl? Do you recall the sharing of the Water Stone bracelet? They have a connection, Angus, and your sister-sibling is drawing on that connection. Martha Jack is indeed brave and ingenious. I am most impressed but not at all surprised.’
‘Where is she, Graini?’ pleaded Angus. ‘Tell me what she said. Quickly!’
‘Berkeley’s Shanty,’ said Graini. ‘Does this name have meaning for you?’
The Donut Lady came blustering in, brandishing her sword.
Angus looked up at her. ‘I know exactly where they are,’ he said. ‘Exactly.’
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
____________________________________________
Setting out
The Donut Lady loaded up her guitar case. ‘You didn’t think we would walk through the streets carrying swords, did you?’ she said to Angus.
‘I was just wondering,’ said Angus, pulling on his runners, ‘if we really need them? I mean, they’re swords. I don’t even know how to use one. I feel like an idiot every time I hold one.’
‘So,’ said the Donut Lady as she shut the case, ‘you would prefer to battle Varla with what? A teaspoon? A saucepan? Your witty banter?’
‘We’ll help you,’ said Graini, and she grimaced as she wriggled to the edge of the couch. ‘We are accomplished with all sorts of weapons.’
‘Oh!’ cried Ava as Graini stood up shakily and promptly crumpled to the floor.
‘You will be going nowhere, goblin girl,’ said the Donut Lady. ‘And Ava, you are to stay here too and watch over your friend.’
Ava turned to Angus. ‘It is my sad fate that I will not share this part of the adventure with you, Angus Jack.’
‘That’s, um, okay,’ said Angus haltingly. ‘Not a problem ... I’d rather you were here. I’d rather you were ... safe.’
Ava’s face glowed with pleasure.
‘What about the narrare?’ grunted Graini as Ava eased her back onto the couch.
‘We’ll be taking it with us,’ said Angus.
The others stared at him. Even the Donut Lady looked doubtful.
‘We have to take it,’ he said. ‘We have to have something to negotiate with.’
‘But we have risked everything to find it,’ said Graini. ‘Everything. It is our people’s most prized treasure.’
‘And it must never get into Varla’s possession,’ added the Donut Lady. ‘Crazy old Reafen was right, you know. With the secrets of the Narrare of Mevras at her fingertips, Varla would be not only brutal and insatiable. She would be ... indestructible.’
There was an uneasy pause.
‘This is my sister we’re talking about,’ said Angus. ‘My father. We have to take the narrare with us. We have no choice.’
Graini slumped back against the cushions.
‘I swear,’ said Angus, turning to Ava, ‘I’ll only use it as a trick. I won’t let Varla near it. I’ll think of something. I promise.’
Ava nodded. ‘You are gentle and courageous, Angus Jack,’ she said, ‘and I trust with all my heart that you will be true to your word.’
‘Lock the doors after we are gone,’ said the Donut Lady. She grabbed a packet of biscuits and some fruit from the kitchen and stuffed them into her pockets. ‘And push that ugly television onto its face. Trust no-one. No-one! D
o you hear me?’
‘Yes,’ said Ava. ‘Yes, of course.’
Ava leaned toward Angus. ‘Please come back safely,’ she said, and she kissed him on the cheek.
Angus could still feel the kiss as they left the house and hurried down the street.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
____________________________________________
Nurse Barney
Back at the Caravan of Delight, it had been a long night. Reafen had been restless and confused, a difficult patient in every sense of the word. But Barney had persevered. He was determined to win back the Donut Lady’s respect and he was full of remorse for his selfish and wicked behaviour toward the enchanted boat. He still was not quite sure what had come over him but he had been around magick like this several times in his life and it always knocked him off kilter. ‘I’m not the sharpest sausage at the barbeque,’ Barney often said to himself, and he meant it. He wondered if that was what made him vulnerable ...
As the night passed, Barney did exactly what the Donut Lady had ordered. He gave Reafen only milk, water and bread, and he regularly administered the Donut Lady’s strange but delicious-smelling tonic. Thankfully Reafen was more than happy to sip the tonic, and with each dose she rested more easily and a little more colour tinted her pallid cheeks.
Barney spent the night sleeping fitfully in an armchair, worrying about his beloved and those poor bloomin’ kids. Where were they now and what would become of them all? If it hadn’t been for his broken arm and burned hands, Barney would have insisted on joining the search. Yes, indeed ...
At dawn, Reafen woke abruptly and sat up. ‘Did you hear that?’ she said.
‘Hmm. What?’ Barney shifted awkwardly and rubbed his backside.
‘Wake up,’ hissed Reafen.
Barney sprang to life. He threw aside the knee rug and crept to the door.
Scratch. Scratch.
