‘Is anybody here?’ Aubrey called out.
The emptiness of the desert was so perfect that the emptiness itself seemed alive. You would not have been surprised if the air had given a heat-shimmer and emptiness had stepped out of it, like a person coming through a door.
‘Oh yes,’ said a voice.
There was no one there.
‘Where are you?’ Aubrey demanded.
‘Just here,’ said the voice.
‘Why can’t I see you?’
‘I don’t want to be seen.’
‘Why not?’
There was another listening pause.
‘Why NOT?’
‘Oh very well,’ said the voice, and there was a hissing and a slipping, a slithering sound, and a shape began to resolve in front of him.
Aubrey prepared himself for something huge, something terrible, a thing of vast height and power. He looked around wildly for some sort of weapon, even a stick, but there was nothing. Now the shape was taking form.
At first Aubrey thought it was the shape of a man, but then it hunched over and its shoulders grew huge, like a bear or a giant hyena. Now it changed again, into a twisting thing, something like a tree made of serpents. Now it spindled and legs grew out of it, a writhing scorpion, indistinct. Now it was ragged round the edges and bullish in the centre, now it had eyes, then no eyes, now horns, now none.
‘Make up your mind,’ Aubrey said, refusing to sound frightened, though his heart was beating fast. ‘Stop wriggling about – be something.’
‘This is the thing I am,’ said the Yoot. ‘What do you want with me?’
‘I want to fight you,’ Aubrey said, ‘if you won’t go away and leave us alone.’
‘You can’t beat me and I can’t go away,’ the Yoot answered. It looked something like living barbed wire now, coiling and spiky.
‘Why are you picking on my father?’
‘Because I like him.’
‘You like him? Why do you make him miserable? Do you enjoy making people miserable?’
‘Enjoy?’ the Yoot said, as if it had never thought about enjoyment before. ‘Of course not! It’s just what I do.’
‘Can’t you do something else?’
There was a pause.
‘Sometimes I think I can. But when I try…’ the Yoot’s voice trailed away.
‘Don’t stop, Yoot!’ Aubrey cried. ‘Talk to me! What happens when you try?’
There was a pop like a balloon bursting. On the sand dune at his feet a large black beetle appeared. It was about the size of a golf ball. Aubrey bent down to take a closer look. The beetle’s carapace was a shiny green-black, shot through with colours which changed from dark ruby reds to gleaming blues.
‘Is that you?’
‘Yes,’ said the beetle.
Aubrey was extremely surprised that such a monster should appear as such a small beast – admittedly quite big for a beetle, but very small indeed compared to what Aubrey had been expecting. He sat down on the sand. The beetle began to run around distractedly until it came upon a lump of dung.
‘Camel dung,’ it said, almost to itself. The beetle went up onto its front legs, rested its back legs against the dung ball, and by pedalling them it began to roll the dung up the sand dune. Imagine walking backwards on your hands while using your feet to roll a giant beach ball made of muck up a hill. The Beetle-Yoot did this as though it was perfectly normal.
‘What are you doing?’ Aubrey asked.
‘Exercise,’ puffed the beetle.
‘Here, let me help,’ Aubrey said, reaching for the dung.
‘Leave it!’ shouted the beetle. ‘Don’t you understand? Look around – this is the Desert of Misfortune! This is my home!’
The beetle was so worked up it could hardly speak. It heaved and heaved at the ball of dung, pushing it slowly up the dune.
‘Tough place to live,’ Aubrey said, calmly. ‘Why don’t you go somewhere else?’
‘Tough? It’s hell! Nothing here but scorpions and lizards and the occasional camel which drops dung; nothing to do, no one to talk to – and this is where I am from. This is where I am me. Unless I come to your world, and as soon as I do that I am the Terrible Yoot again, the horrendous Terrible Yoot who everyone hates and fears. It’s incredibly lonely. And I’m drawn to all sorts of people, good people like Jim, but when they start listening to me you know what happens! EURGH!’ shouted the beetle, in a rage.
‘So – what are you doing with the dung?’ Aubrey asked, gently.
‘Pushing it to the top.’
‘Then what?’
‘Then it will roll back down and I’ll go back to the bottom and push it back up to the top again, and so on.’
‘I see,’ said Aubrey, after a minute.
‘It’s thrilling,’ said the beetle, sulkily. ‘It could not be more exciting.’
‘And you do it because…?’
‘Otherwise I’ll go crazy!’ cried the beetle. ‘Look at my choices! I can sit around here all day, boiling, waiting for the evening when it cools down a bit, and then I can sleep – but if I haven’t done anything all day I can’t sleep, and then I lie awake having staring competitions with the moon. It never blinks! Or I can go to the world and be a monster.’
The beetle was straining mightily now as it pushed the dung up the dune towards the crest.
‘So I roll this – wretched dung – all the way – to the top! There!’
‘Well done!’ cried Aubrey. Beetle and dung ball rested on the crest, the dung wavering slightly as it balanced on the lip of sand.
‘Thanks,’ said the beetle, and took its back feet off the dung. The brown matted ball immediately toppled and rolled, faster and faster, with little jumps and bounces, all the way to the bottom, where it came to a stop.
‘B minus,’ said the beetle. ‘When you get a really A-grade ball it’s much harder but it rolls further.’
The boy and the beetle looked at the dung, and the beetle sighed and set off back down the dune.
‘You know,’ said Aubrey, ‘you’re not horrible at all – to look at – you’re really a very beautiful beetle, with those glowing reds and blues, you’re quite magnificent – really specially sort of shiny.’
‘Iridescent,’ said the beetle. ‘When something dark is specially sort of shiny it’s called “iridescent”. Thank you. This is the only place I can be myself. When I go to the world I’m all those disgusting shapes you saw – whatever people imagine me to be is what I become. You have no idea how ghastly it is to be the worst thing people can imagine.’
‘I am sorry, Beetle-Yoot,’ Aubrey said. ‘I can see it’s not your fault. But can’t you just stay away from the world?’
The beetle had reached the bottom of the dune now. It manoeuvred itself around the ball, did a handstand, rested its back legs on the ball and gave it a heave.
‘I’ve tried,’ it said. ‘Believe me, I have tried. But how long could you last here? You try not to, you think of other things – but your mind keeps going back to the world, to all the countries, and the glittering cities, and the great wide sea, and the villages and towns, and all the people with all their lives, and you think, I can’t resist it, just a quick look, just a peek to see how they’re getting on. I’ll just pop over and – as soon as you think it, there you are, and you’re looking down on Rushing Wood, for example, and there’s Jim, and I like Jim, but the next thing you know you’re in his mind. And even if you want to say something kind to him, which I do, it doesn’t come out the way you intend. So instead of saying, “You look good today, Jim,” you find yourself saying, “That shirt doesn’t go with that jacket – can’t you find something better?” And it goes on like that, and you’re trapped, giving voice to all these horrible thoughts, until you’re saying dreadful things to him, and he’s miserable! Do you understand? My company is toxic! It’s death!’
And with that the beetle stopped pushing and the ball rolled back down and the beetle threw itself into the sand and howled a sma
ll desperate howl.
‘I am only what I AM!’ it howled. ‘I wish I was different but I’m NOT. This is ME. This is MY EXISTENCE! OH HOW I HATE BEING TRAPPED IN ME!!’
Aubrey couldn’t hate a creature in such misery. Only a short while ago he would have crushed it under his foot in revenge for all it had done, but now as the beetle lay there, pounding its feet against the sand, Aubrey wanted to help. Gradually the beetle’s tantrum subsided from sobs to sniffs to a sigh. The boy reached out and stroked it, running his finger along the beetle’s hard shiny back.
‘How did you get your name?’ Aubrey asked.
‘I don’t know,’ the beetle sniffed.
‘That might be a clue!’ Aubrey said.
‘A clue to what?’
‘To how we untangle the mystery!’
‘What mystery?’
The beetle was looking up at him. It was not a happy beetle, but it was curious now.
‘The mystery of your true nature. How can you be such a sensitive beetle, and the Terrible Yoot at the same time? It doesn’t make sense, does it?’
‘Some things don’t,’ said the beetle, gloomily.
‘Don’t be so sure,’ Aubrey said. ‘Everything makes sense if you can find the right way to look at it. What we need is a new perspective.’
The beetle looked around the Desert of Misfortune. The desiccated bushes waved slightly in the wind.
‘Well,’ said the beetle, ‘I don’t know where we’re going to find one of those round here.’
The heat and the thinking about the beetle’s troubles were making Aubrey’s head heavy. He could feel sleep coming for him and he knew that when it reached him he would find himself back in the world.
‘Beetle-Yoot,’ he said, urgently, ‘trust me on this. I know where to go for a new perspective. Keep your spirits up! There is an answer – we will find it. We’ll find it, we’ll…
…Aubrey cried, sitting upright in bed. It was morning. The garden was sparkling with frost. For all his extraordinary adventures in the night he was not tired at all: he felt as though he had had a deep sleep. ‘Right then,’ he thought, as he pulled the covers back and swung his legs out of bed. ‘A day for new perspectives!’
CHAPTER 13
When the Time is Right
Jim was in a fine mood at breakfast. He had made a pile of bacon, two eggs each, and lots of toast.
‘I’ve made an appointment,’ he told Aubrey. ‘I’m going to see a special nurse, someone who I can just talk to without worrying that I’m worrying her.’
‘Well done, Dad!’
‘It’s about time,’ Jim said. ‘You and your mum saved me – really saved me! I feel quite different this morning – and hungry too! Properly hungry for the first time in months!’
Suzanne smiled and took both their hands.
‘We’re through the worst,’ she said. ‘From now on things are going to get better. My brave husband and my wonderful son! Better every day, right everybody?’
‘Yes!’ said Aubrey, but he said it with more conviction than he felt. His father was still shaky, he could see that. Jim was putting on a great show, no doubt about it. He obviously didn’t want to worry anyone, and he was definitely better than he had been, but now Aubrey’s mind was racing with thoughts of the Beetle-Yoot. How to solve the mystery? And how much time did he have? How long before the Beetle got fed up with rolling dung up sand dunes and came back as the Terrible Yoot?
Jim said he was going to do the housework – he was going to give the whole place a clean, do the laundry and make the house ready for Christmas.
‘Then I’m going to plan some lessons for next term,’ he said. ‘I am going to go back to work, if I feel better, which I’m sure I will.’
‘Well,’ said Suzanne, ‘in that case I’m going to take a proper day off, for once. So I’ll see you both later – hurrah! I haven’t had a day off for ages!’ She called her friend Caroline, made plans to go to a gallery later, packed her swimming things, and away she went with a wave. Jim started tidying up, humming to himself. Aubrey put on his coat and set out for Rushing Wood.
He walked up through the wood, noticing the holly berries and the frosty moss which looked like mint ice cream. He climbed up all the way to the moor and thought back to the Desert of Misfortune. In daylight, under a bright sun, the moor looked similar, icy patches all sparkling and a cold smell of earth in the air.
‘Good morning!’ said a musical voice.
A hare hopped out from behind a frozen tussock. Her fur was a winter patchwork of whites and browns, which made her almost invisible. Her eyes were a beautiful dark gold and the tips of her ears were black.
‘Lepus!’ Aubrey exclaimed. ‘You saved us!’
‘Not at all,’ Lepus replied, embarrassed, scratching one long ear with one long hind foot. ‘I didn’t do anything. How is Jim?’
‘He’s much better. But now I’ve got another problem. It’s the Beetle-Yoot. If we don’t solve his mystery he’ll come back and Dad will be in trouble again. I need to talk to someone very wise – could you pass a message to Athene Noctua?’
Lepus twitched her nose.
‘Athene gave me a message for you. She said, “When the time is right, go to High Peak. Someone will be there to meet you. And take Jim.”
‘Someone – who?’
‘Ah, well, someone you should meet, but someone I tend to stay well away from,’ Lepus said, and her flanks twitched and the muscles in her long legs tensed, as if she wished she were somewhere else.
‘Someone dangerous? Who is it?’
‘Ah. Well, she’s very big and – rather intimidating. She’s visiting from the Far North.’
‘How far north?’
‘From Furthest North – from the Enchanted Mountains,’ said Lepus.
Mr Ferraby lowered his binoculars. He had come up to the moor because a bright winter morning was a very good time for birdwatching. He sometimes saw peregrine falcons going over, looking for grouse. There were no peregrines this morning – just Aubrey, talking with a hare. ‘Extraordinary!’ he said, and hurried home, unable to keep a word of it to himself a moment longer.
‘I’ve got to tell you!’ he cried, bursting into his wife’s study. He was so excited he was flushed. ‘But you can’t tell anyone else! It’s just magical!’
‘What’s that, Athelstan?’ Mrs Ferraby asked. She was working on her Master’s degree in psychology. She needed peace and quiet.
‘Aubrey talks to hares. And squirrels, and that heron – he’s best friends with that heron. I’ve seen an owl hanging around too – I bet Aubrey talks to him.’
‘You talk to the cat, dear. People talk to dogs, goldfish, swallows. I’ve heard Suzanne talking to the woodpigeons. It obviously runs in their family.’
‘But the animals and birds answer him! You should have seen him with the hare! A wild hare, and they were chatting away like old friends.’
‘Have you talked to Aubrey about this?’
‘Oh no! No no! No I couldn’t. It’s his business. I don’t want to embarrass him. But don’t you think it’s absolutely amazing? What a gift! How I’d love to talk to animals!’
‘I think you’ll be babbling to the bats any minute now,’ Mrs Ferraby said.
Mr Ferraby stared at her. They both burst into laughter.
‘He has an incredible gift, Eunice! We are living next to the only boy in Britain who can talk to animals! I’m so relieved to have told you. I’ve been bottling it up – can you imagine the hullabaloo if anyone ever found out? There would be TV people queuing from here to the village. Japanese reporters climbing over the wall, French newscasters pushing offers through the letterbox, satellites buzzing over the house like bees! It would be a perfect nightmare! You won’t tell anyone, will you?’
Mrs Ferraby looked her husband right in the eye.
‘I won’t say a word to anyone about anything, Athelstan,’ she said. ‘Be-lieve me!’
When the time is right, Aubrey thought to himsel
f, as he made his way home. How will I know when that is?
Maybe I could just ask him one question, or maybe two, Mr Ferraby thought. He doesn’t have to answer. I won’t pressure him. But I would just love to know something, anything, about what the animals say.
‘There’s snow on the way,’ Jim told Aubrey, as they ate pasta for lunch. ‘Huge falls they say on the radio, coming in from the far north. It’s going to be a very white Christmas indeed!’
‘Coming in from the far north?’ Aubrey repeated. ‘Is what they said?’
‘Yes – it’s coming tonight, apparently. I’m going to go to town and get the stores in. If it’s deep the lanes will block. We don’t want to carry all the Christmas food up on our backs. Do you want to come and give me a hand?’
Aubrey said he would.
By five o’clock the snow was falling in thick goosefeathers. By seven the street lamp outside seemed to flicker in a whirl of flakes. By nine there was a good inch or two on the ground, and it was still falling. The family had their supper and went to bed.
Aubrey woke up in bed with a start. A noise had brought him up from sleep – was it someone going downstairs? He looked at his clock. Midnight precisely – 00:00, said the numerals, and now one of them changed: 00:01.
‘When the time is right,’ Aubrey breathed. ‘I’ll know. It’s now!’
Aubrey and the Terrible Yoot Page 7
