Ariel, Zed and the Secret of Life

by Anna Fienberg

  ‘Good idea,’ said NZ. ‘Will McGull have a bike I could use?’

  ‘Yes, his bike is in the shed—I know where.’ Zed did a handspring on the sand. ‘And there’s two of us now, so nothing can stop us!’

  ‘Not with my incredible muscles,’ said NZ.

  And they scrambled up the sand, racing each other until Zed was too out of breath to do any more of his powerful Tarzan calls.

  18. JIGSAW PIECES

  ARIEL WOKE UP with a start. She dreamt she’d heard a door open softly. And something was growling behind it.

  She sat bolt upright in bed and peered into the darkness. A dull grey light was seeping in through the window, staining the room with shadow. But outside, in the hibiscus trees, the birds were quiet. It must be almost dawn.

  Ariel lay down again and tried to go back to sleep. But she felt anxious, as if the door in her dream were still open. She thought about last night. No, it wasn’t that—it had been good. For the first time she and Zed had really talked. She stretched in the dark, and smiled. It was so much easier to be with Zed now. Nice, even. Maybe because she felt easier inside. Last night he had opened up, and she’d liked what she’d seen in him. Maybe he was the open door in her dream. But what was growling behind it?

  Now a scratching came at her door, accompanied by a high-pitched whimpering. Ariel’s heart thumped. Then she relaxed. Mr Jones. Ariel leapt out of bed to let him in.

  ‘Well, this is a rare honour, sir!’ she said as she scooped the furry baggage up into her arms. But Mr Jones struggled and wriggled against her, and went on making his heart-rending whimpers.

  ‘What is it?’ said Ariel. ‘What are you doing out of Zed’s bed, eh?’ As she looked at Mr Jones, his face creased into the habitual worry lines, her anxiety grew. Still holding the monkey, she crept out into the hallway and went to Zed’s room. The door was ajar.

  The bed was empty and tousled. The jeans that were usually slung over the chair were gone. Zed was gone.

  Where would he go in the middle of the night? She must have heard him opening the door in her sleep, and dreamt about it. He could have gone three minutes ago—or three hours. She sat down on the bed. Zed was always such a heavy sleeper—you practically had to put a bomb under him each morning to wake him. And they’d gone to bed late last night. Why would he wake up in the dark, and go off?

  She stroked Mr Jones, and thought. He must never have gone to sleep, that was it. He was thinking, perhaps. Gone back to thinking about Goodshot. Maybe he was too angry to sleep. Maybe he went to see Goodshot—to tell him what he thought of him.

  Ariel groaned. He would do that. He’d be all fired up with fury, he wouldn’t think about that horrible man’s malice—or his tiger. You couldn’t talk to a man like Goodshot, you could only win or lose.

  Well, thought Ariel, I have to do something. She couldn’t go on sitting on Zed’s bed, worrying. She had to share this with someone.

  She left Mr Jones on the bed and padded downstairs. Quietly, she opened Bertha’s door.

  Bertha’s shape made little impression on the bed; there was only a small mound, like a bundle of sticks left under the sheets, with no head above.

  But Bertha’s snores emerged from under the coverlet like a rally of trucks backfiring.

  ‘Bertha! Ber-thaa!’ Ariel had to yell above the noise.

  ‘Six thousand, four hundred and seventy three!’ said Bertha as she swam up to consciousness. She spotted Ariel and added, ‘Four, by crikey.’

  ‘Four what?’

  ‘Whufflers,’ muttered Bertha. ‘Always dreaming about the darn things, and there’s always one missing. It drives me up the wall, across the ceiling and down the other side.’

  ‘Well there really is one missing now,’ said Ariel.

  Bertha blinked and sat up. ‘What?’

  ‘Zed,’ sighed Ariel. ‘He’s gone—taken off in the middle of the night.’ She sat down on Bertha’s bed and explained as much as she could about Goodshot and his lies and Zed’s anger.

  ‘Tigers and cigars,’ nodded Bertha wisely. ‘A bad combination. Poor old carrot-top. Well, let’s make a cup of tea and then we’ll see what’s what.’ She drew on her bed jacket. ‘Now Miss Heckle’ll be after me too,’ she mumbled. ‘Fancy losing one of my whufflers. Oh, they drive me up the wall, across the ceiling and down the other side, by crikey.’ But she bounded out of bed just as quickly as her knees would let her.

  They had just poured two steaming hot cups when there was a loud knock at the door.

  ‘Who’s that?’ shouted Bertha. Ariel could almost see the hackles rise on her neck.

  ‘It’s me, Leithe Brogan!’ a voice bellowed in strong Irish brogue. ‘A’ve got something important to be discussin’ with ye.’

  Brogan had to bend double to get in through the doorway. Next to him, Bertha plucked at his calves. ‘Watch out, luggerboots,’ she shouted, ‘and look where you put your big feet.’

  Brogan looked around him sheepishly, and hung his head.

  ‘Have a seat,’ Ariel said more gently.

  ‘And don’t break it,’ added Bertha, pushing the strongest one toward him.

  He eased his weight onto it with care, and gratefully accepted a cup of tea. In his hands it looked like a piece from a doll set.

  ‘So, what’s so urgent at four in the morning?’ rapped Bertha.

  ‘Would the boy Zed be at home then?’ asked Brogan.

  ‘No he wouldn’t,’ snapped Bertha. ‘And very worried we are too.’

  ‘Why, do you know where he is?’ asked Ariel eagerly.

  ‘No-oo,’ answered Brogan slowly. ‘Can’t say as a know for sure. But a’m wile worried too about the wain.’

  He took one sip of tea, and it was finished. Ariel and Bertha had to look straight up at an angle of ninety degrees in order to see his face, and Bertha already had a crick in her neck. He met their eyes, and looked away.

  ‘See, it’s like this,’ he began. ‘A was up late cobblin’ a shoe for the lisson tomorrow and a foun’ a was outa nails—right in the middle of it all. So, since a had te get ’em finished a went inte town te fine some more. Ali lives above his shop, ye know, and a thought he wouldn’t mine openin’ for me. So who should a see hangin’ outa hir window but Sleepin’ Beauty?’

  ‘She couldn’t sleep as usual, I suppose,’ said Bertha.

  ‘Yes, she was in a quare oul state,’ nodded Brogan. ‘She says this strange thing, thet “Everybody’s up an’ aroun’ tenight” an’ a says, “Like who?” and she replies “Like Goodshot an’ young Zed the Pessimist”.’ Brogan started to look agitated and he kept kneading his big fist in his palm. He drew a deep breath and went on. ‘She said she thought Zed had gone te McGull’s house te see Goodshot. Well, we chewed it over an’ in the end we both thought it a wile odd thing—at that time o’ night, in the dark, a mean te say.’

  Ariel’s heart began to beat uncomfortably. ‘I think we should go there now,’ she said. ‘There’s things about Goodshot you mightn’t know, Brogan. He’s bad, really rotten, and he’s after something, I know it.’

  ‘I know it well,’ Brogan breathed a great sigh, causing the napkins on the table to fly about in the gust. ‘Sorry,’ he said. Then, with shame and great hesitation he began to tell them of the day Goodshot pestered him about the cave and its treasure, and how he’d told him—well, just a little—but enough for the dratted man to get there.

  ‘You big buggerlugs!’ cried Bertha. ‘Why didn’t you act like a proper leprechaun and keep mum about the treasure. You should have listened to your author for once!’

  ‘Ye can talk an’ all!’ replied Brogan hotly. ‘Losin’ half yer children in one night!’

  They glared at each other until Ariel cut in. ‘So,’ she said impatiently, ‘when he took Zed to lunch—’

  ‘O aie!’ cried Brogan. ‘A know Zed was tricked somehow or other. He’s a dasent lad althegether, and he wouldn’t tittle-tattle te the man on purpose. But Goodshot hes his ways, an’ don’t a kno
w it.’ His huge green eyes boiled like twin seas, and in a rumbling voice he said, ‘We’ve got te get te McGull’s, an’ be quick about it.’

  ‘Okay, but wait a minute,’ Ariel interrupted. ‘Now why did Goodshot go to McGull’s when he knows he’s away? He must think there’s something valuable there—something to help him to get into the cave, maybe.’

  Brogan slapped his forehead. ‘The persimmons, thet’s it.’

  ‘So, Goodshot—and Zed—could have left there hours ago. Goodshot wouldn’t hang around there—he’ll be heading for the cave. That’s his goal, isn’t it? He won’t let Zed stand in his way. But I’ll bet Zed will be following him. I say we should go straight to the cave.’

  ‘Thet’s true!’ said Brogan, scratching his head. ‘A’ll go now an’ tell Electra te wake iveryone up. She’ll round up Ali and Rob Crusoe and Cliff, an’ Ermintrude o’ course—’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ breathed Ariel. ‘We’re all meeting at the foot of the cave, is that the plan?’

  ‘Ye can dipend on me!’ beamed Brogan. ‘Now Bertha—’

  ‘I’m coming too, you big lug,’ said Bertha. ‘But what with my knees, you’ll have to carry me on your shoulders.’

  ‘You’ll be light as a flea te me,’ agreed Brogan.

  ‘Great whizzing fizzballs,’ said Ariel who was about to explode, ‘let’s GO!‘

  20. MEMORIES

  ARIEL WAS KEEPING a close lookout for Zed on their way to the cave. The sun was already spilling over the hills by the time they set off, and Ariel burned inside as she watched people straggling behind, yawning.

  ‘How can they be so slow?’ she burst out to Electra who was riding beside her. ‘They look like a bunch of unravelled knitting. Don’t they realise Zed could be having bamboo sticks shoved up his fingernails this very minute?’

  She looked back at Cliff and Rob Crusoe who both had their eyes glued closed with sleep. How they kept perched on their bikes was beyond her. Ali Baba was even further back.

  The silk of his wide pants kept getting caught in the spokes of the wheels and he had to stop every few minutes to pull it out. And, more worrying still, Ariel couldn’t see Ermintrude anywhere.

  But up ahead was the giant, Leithe Brogan. He was walking at a good pace, which meant swallowing five metres at every stride. On his shoulders sat Bertha. Her little legs swung down against his chest and for the first time she could speak directly into his ear. She pointed out many things of interest as they went—lovely green lime groves and pear trees in flower. It was like being up in a helicopter, she said.

  They wound down now into a forest where the trees grew close together. With the sudden chill and the shadow, their spirits sobered. Ariel thought of Zed, riding alone in the darkness last night. Heaven knew where he was now.

  ‘Poor old Zed,’ said Electra, as if reading her thoughts. ‘He’d say this was typical. Missing out on all the excitement.’ She smiled at Ariel, trying to comfort her.

  ‘Poor old us,’ added Miss Heckle, who had caught up and was slightly out of breath. ‘If Goodshot has reached that cave, we’re finished. Dear oh dear, what would Merlin say? It’s all my fault, I should have picked it from the start—what with my experience in Villains. But really, you’d think Clara could have warned me—ooh, is that Red over there?’

  She pointed to her left and they slowed as a young girl in dark glasses, skin-tight pants and scarlet cape came jauntily toward them.

  ‘Hi there,’ she called, swinging her basket. She took off her Walkman and shook hands with Miss Heckle. ‘I heard you may need some help.’ She gave a low whistle and a huge placid wolf padded up, looking at her with adoring eyes.

  Miss Heckle surveyed them with disapproval. ‘I thought you had agreed to give up that ridiculous animal.’

  ‘Just temporarily,’ said Red quickly. ‘But I just had to go and see Woolfy when I heard the news. It’s put him right off his dinner, hasn’t it Woolfy, my little Smidgkin Midgkin, who’s mamma’s baby boy then?’ She tickled the wolf behind the ears and Miss Heckle clucked her tongue with disgust.

  ‘Come on then, there’s no time to hang about,’ she said. ‘Who knows, maybe that creature can look fierce.’

  ‘Oh, he can make the grizzliest greedy growls, and just look at those teeth! All the better to eat that nasty man with, aren’t they, mummy’s baby boy?’

  Miss Heckle told her then to stop burbling and go and get her bike.

  Finally the four of them (and Woolfy) set off together, quickening their pace. They could see Brogan up ahead, with Bertha wrapped around his shoulders like a scarf. But there was no sign of the others behind. ‘Still,’ Miss Heckle reassured herself, ‘Brogan’s strength and Woolfy’s teeth are probably our most impressive weapons.’ But she hoped Ali would remember one or two moves from his sword fighting lessons, too.

  The day was warming up now, and in the humid air their faces began to shine with sweat. The nearer they drew to the great cliffs of the south, the more quiet they became.

  Although the morning was hot a grey filter of cloud dulled the air. Ariel noticed that fewer birds flew across their path. She glanced at Red. She’d lost her jaunty air and her hands were clenched tight on the handlebars.

  The path became rough and sandy now, and the vegetation grew sparse. A gritty breeze with a tang of salt sprang up, stinging their eyes. And then they heard a shout up ahead. They turned the bend and before them lay the rocky southern coast with the grey sea churning beyond.

  NZ climbed up and found a ledge jutting out of the black stone above the cave. He felt for another and dragged himself up. He looked back. Zed was still wedged between the base of the boulder and another sharp rock.

  ‘Just climb up and put your foot where I did,’ called NZ.

  ‘Didn’t I tell you I was scared of heights?’ Zed called back.

  ‘It’s all in your mind!’

  ‘So are you,’ said Zed. ‘So watch it.’

  NZ grinned. ‘Okay, just don’t even think about being scared. Put one foot after another, like I’m doing.’

  Like I’m doing. Zed ached to do everything like NZ. When he looked at him he felt solid inside, like a round apple without any bites taken out of the sides. Complete. Together he felt they could do anything, and even his mother being half a world away somehow mattered less.

  But as Zed thought of his mother, a darkness came creeping. He remembered the twisted face in the eye of the shadow. His nightmare. He thought of his mother now, how she really was, her disappointed face the night she had left him at Ariel’s. She’d had tears in her eyes in front of everyone and he hadn’t even said goodbye. A rush of eagerness swept over him. When he got back he’d tell her about the nightmare, he’d tell her about the Island, about NZ, and how much thinking he’d been doing. They’d stay up late and he’d tell her about himself. But the shadow moved over his heart again, like a checker moving onto the next square. What about the other sadness, said the shadow, the father sadness? See it again, said the shadow, the mouth full of earth. Say it again, said the shadow, dead, dead and buried. Under the earth.

  ‘Zed!’ From further up NZ called down. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Thinking,’ said Zed. ‘I was thinking that if Dad was here, he’d have Goodshot in a headlock by now. I was thinking that Dad’s—dead, gone. I keep thinking of him like that. Lying there all—dead. But I want to remember him alive.’ The way he sang those daggy songs out of tune when they went camping, the way he made those incredible puns, going on for hours until Zed got a stitch in his side from laughing and Madeline had to run screaming from the room. The way he laughed, like his whole face was about to break. Even if you weren’t feeling like it, one look at Dad’s face scrunched up like a piece of paper, and you’d collapse. Zed grinned, remembering.

  ‘See,’ said NZ, climbing down nearer to Zed, ‘you do remember him, just like he was. He’s a part of you, always will be. Like me.’

  ‘Yes but you’re different—separate from me. You’re not sca
red of things, you’re a kind of hero.’

  ‘And you’re not? You invented me, remember.’

  ‘I know.’ Zed tensed. He felt he was on the very edge of something. ‘When I wrote you,’ he said slowly, ‘I suppose I wanted to see what it was like to be brave, sort of wild and happy without actually having to go and do it.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Because I have to stay sad, that’s why, thought Zed. Otherwise I’ll forget my Dad, and he’ll go on lying there forever, on and on, without me. ‘Because I have to remember my Dad,’ he said.

  ‘But being sad means you’re not remembering him right. You can take him with you wherever you go.’ NZ tapped his chest. ‘Just like me.’

  Zed looked at the boy. His heart ached with love. Slowly he moved off the edge of his thought and onto a clean bright surface. It went for miles in his mind like the sparkling sand at Opal Beach. Untrodden, undiscovered. The rest of his life could be like that. And he could take whoever he wanted with him.

  He smiled at NZ and hauled himself up onto the ledge. He made sure he didn’t look down. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I’m ready.’

  21. THE FOURTH DIMENSION

  BEYOND THE WHITE CIRCLE of light the cave was drowned in darkness. Goodshot clutched the torch tightly. It ringed the walls, the floor and now the long black tunnel that seemed to go back to the ends of the earth. He took a step toward it. He took another. Then he stopped. Now he heard it—that great rushing wind like waves crashing—he smelled the pungent tang of fruit rotting and a great dark creature emerged from the tunnel and came toward him. His torch lit up the face and he screamed.

  It was soft and furry, with a dog’s snout, but behind the hair were a pair of human eyes. They were as black as the cave, flecked with slivers of gold. They were so beautiful, so deep and dark and sad that they almost hurt. They stared at him, unblinking, as if they could see right into his heart. Goodshot shuddered and put out his hand. Lying on his palm were the two persimmons.