by James Erith
‘TA-DAH!’ he said, moving in for the kiss.
‘Hello, Williams,’ said a curiously familiar voice.
Gus stopped just in the nick of time, his lips still puckered.
Then he stumbled and collapsed down on the bed.
‘Y ... YOU? HOW?!’
ONE HUNDRED ELEVEN
THE ILLUSION CRUMBLES
Every time Daisy stared at her plateful her stomach churned. ‘It’s the smell, Old Man Wood, I can’t do the stink, you know that!’ she looked exasperated. ‘We don’t have a dog, because I can’t handle the whiff! I don’t do it!’ Her lips quivered and her eyes began to water. ‘I can’t—’
‘Look at me, Daisy. Now,’ Old Man Wood ordered. ‘You must overcome your fears. That’s what this is about. Push fear out of your mind and draw in the things you love.’ He looked deep into her eyes. ‘You can do this, no sweats, but you must concentrate, littlun. So, close your eyes, sweet Daisy – there, that’s it – and imagine something apple-tastically delicious. Imagine it exactly, imagine every last little piece. Imagine how yummy that first bite is – the texture, the aroma, that apple-crunchiness, the smoothness. And remember, that thing in front of you is only an illusion.
‘You saw me do it, didn’t you?’ Old Man Wood continued, ‘so you must believe me when I tell you that the reward is well worth the trouble.’ An idea popped into his head. ‘Daisy, I want you to keep your eyes shut, understand?’
She nodded.
‘Would you like me to give you a spoonful of your... your...’
‘Duck. Crispy, aromatic, Peking duck,’ Daisy said, quickly.
‘Yes. A great choice,’ he said. ‘With cucumbers, spring onions and a blob of plum sauce?’
‘Ooh yeah. Exactly,’ she said and a flicker of a smile briefly turned up the corners of her mouth.
Daisy took a deep breath, clenched her eyes tight and licked her lips.
‘Good. Now imagine the scene. It’s your birthday party at that Chinese restaurant,’ Old Man Wood said. ‘Everyone is smiling, laughing – there’s music and the waiters show you over to an immaculate white tablecloth where you take a seat. You’re wearing your new red dress. Mum and Dad are squabbling over the wine list. Mrs. Pye is tidying Archie. Then it arrives; your fabulous crispy duck on a large platter. Everyone stops and stares, jealous of your excellent choice ... and it’s all yours. Your face lights up when you see it. Doesn’t it smell wonderful?’
‘Yes. Oh yes!’ Daisy said. ‘That’s lush. Keep going, please.’
‘Now, concentrate on the smells of the aromatic duck. It’s been stripped off the bone and you’ve added a spoonful of plum sauce and sprinkled spring onions and cucumber on top. Now I’m rolling one up for you.’
Old Man Wood cut off a portion of the steaming dog turd from Daisy’s plate.
‘By goodness this is the finest pancake I’ve ever seen,’ he said. ‘Would you like to try it?’
Daisy nodded, her eyes closed tight.
‘Open your mouth. I’ll pop in your first delicious mouthful.’
Archie’s eyes were bulging out of his head as he watched Daisy and his cheeks began puffing in and out. He pulled his hands up over his eyes and stared through the cracks of his fingers. A small squeal escaped from his lips but Old Man Wood flashed him an icy stare.
Daisy opened her mouth and took in the first mouthful, and it really was the most delicious mouthful of crispy aromatic duck she had ever tasted.
‘Another bite, Daisy?’ asked Old Man Wood gently.
‘Oh my God, YES! It’s AMAZING!’
Old Man Wood sliced another chunk off the large pile of canine excrement and raised it to her lips.
She opened her mouth wide as a tiny maggot crawled out of the poo. ‘Mmm mmmmm. Guys, this is absolutely, divinely, scrumptilious,’ she said. She took the whole mouthful in one go, licking her lips.
But suddenly, from the other side of the table came a loud
GA-DONK!
Followed by a crash.
ISABELLA LAY MOTIONLESS on the filthy floor. A thin trail of blood extended from the side of her head where she had clipped the stone table.
‘Ah! No. Deary me,’ Old Man Wood said, as he rushed over to her side. ‘Are you there, littlun? Come along, wakey-uppy.’
He dabbed the cut with a handkerchief. She stirred and groaned and then wretched loudly, the noise reverberating around the room.
With Old Man Wood’s help, she sat upright and felt for her head. ‘OW!’
He kissed her forehead. ‘Apples alive! Oh my! Oh my!’ he said solemnly. ‘This is harder than I ever would have thought, my specials,’ he said, as if in private to Isabella.
‘I don’t think I can do this, Old Man Wood,’ she said groggily.
‘OH GOD! Get it off! GET IT OFF!’ Isabella screamed. ‘NO! NO! NOOO!’
She jumped off her stool and pointed at it accusingly, all the while backing away. ‘I CAN’T EAT THAT,’ she yelled. ‘NO WAY!’
On Isabella’s plate lay a decaying rat. Its inners crawled with hundreds of maggots that seemed to move as one body. Suddenly the rat with the maggots crawling inside it grew.
Isabella screamed and she shut her eyes, trembling. Then she curled up in a ball on the floor.
‘But I think you can,’ Old Man Wood said firmly. ‘It’s about what’s going on in here.’ He tapped his head.
‘But it’s impossible. You don’t understand.’
Old Man Wood sighed and, while making a fuss of her and checking there were no obvious signs of concussion, he helped her up.
He turned to the table. For a moment he wondered if his eyes had deceived him.
‘What in all the apples?! How ... how did you manage that?’
Daisy’s plate sat empty. Archie’s too.
‘Daisy licked her plate clean,’ Archie said, squirming. ‘It was quite easily the most repulsive thing I have ever seen. Anyway, everlasting gobstoppers are the dumbest things to choose, so I thought I’d shut my eyes and swallow them whole. They actually weren’t that bad. Could have done with a glass of water to wash them down.’
Without warning, much to his and the others’ surprise, Archie belched long and loud, the sound reverberating around the stone chamber rather eerily like a huge frog-croak.
In any other circumstance, it would have propelled the twins into uncontrollable hysterics, but this burp carried on and on and, as it did, a peculiar balloon grew from his mouth, expanding as he expelled the air. When he’d finished, he peeled it off his face, and left it to hang in mid-air, as if were a helium balloon on a string.
‘Fab-tab-e-dozey! It’s the belching from the family belly!’ he cried, delighted with himself. ‘If we all do one – and join them up, then surely that’s the way to get the second tablet!’
Daisy turned to Archie rather seriously. ‘Archie. Girls like Isabella do not go round burping, and certainly not blowing out sticky bubbles,’ she looked at him rather seriously. ‘And for your information, neither do I.’
Unfortunately for Daisy a long, trumpet-like noise blasted out of her throat for the best part of thirty seconds. Out popped out a similar, sticky, golden balloon.
Stunned, she peeled hers off and joined the balloon to Archie’s.
Almost immediately, an enormous deep croak, like a tree crashing down, grumbled out of Old Man Wood’s mouth that went on and on and ended with another bubble. He instantly turned red and apologised profusely.
Archie could barely control himself. He convulsed until tears rolled down his cheeks. But his laughter ceased when they turned towards Isabella, who sat shaking in her chair, her face pale and sweaty.
Then their stares turned towards her plateful and collectively they gasped.
The size of the dead rat crawling with white maggots had now quadrupled to the size of a small cat.
Since all three of the children had, at various times, vomited in the tiny chamber, the aroma in the room was akin to a lavatory on a ferry boat full of sea-sick
passengers.
But Isabella in particular had other things to concentrate on. For every minute that went by, the pressure was mounting. She curled her fingers up so that her nails dug into the palm of her hand to stop herself blacking out and, helped by Old Man Wood began some calming breathing measures.
‘Your sister and brother have done it. And me, too – and utterly fan-tab-ulicious it was too. So you can do it. You know it’s all about that smart head of yours, littlun.’
Isabella’s lips began quivering. ‘But I had months of therapy because of this.’ She sobbed. ‘Months ... and now this ... this ... torture.’
‘Come on, Bells,’ Daisy said, moving in beside her and giving her a sisterly hug. ‘It’s simple – you know, mind over matter.’
She flashed a smile at Archie. ‘If it’s any help, mine was the most delicious dog poo I’ve ever had—’
‘Don’t be disgusting—’
‘I’m not. It was perfectly cooked.’
‘Firm on the outside with a nice soft centre,’ Archie said.
‘If I had half a brain,’ Daisy said, ‘I should have chosen a chocolate log.’
‘Or lemon turd.’
‘Or a big brownie.’
The twins howled with laughter.
Isabella’s face, however, was set like thunder. Daisy noticed.
‘Oh, come on Bells. I’m only joking. Look, all you have to do is concentrate on something you really, really want.’
‘Why not try the Old Man Wood method? It was brilliant on Daisy,’ Archie said, nudging the old man. ‘Want to give it a go?’
Isabella nodded.
‘Great.’ Archie took a deep breath. ‘Come on, you can do this. Now, shut your eyes. I’m sure your maggoty... er...
Daisy fired him a look.
‘...your plateful, will be as delicious as, um, as, er...’
‘...as mum’s banoffee pie...’ Daisy said, quickly.
‘With an extra helping of my special thick cream,’ Old Man Wood added. ‘I know how much you love it.’
‘With a couple of jelly babies on top?’ Daisy said, licking her lips.
For the first time Isabella’s lips crinkled into something that resembled a smile. Her face had more of a controlled look upon it. ‘Yes. That sounds good.’
‘Now, really, really believe it,’ Old Man Wood said, his voice soft, deep and mellow. ‘The sweet smells, how it feels in your mouth, how fabulous it looks…’
She forced herself to utterly concentrate until all she could think about was the sweet, textured, chocolaty toffee, and the dollops of cream and the squishiness of the bananas.
Old Man Wood cut out a slice off the rat and filled her spoon with a few stray maggots.
‘The first amazingly scrumptious helping of thick banoffee pie coming up,’ Archie said, as the old man offered up a heaped spoonful, complete with decaying dark fur, sinews and claws, to Isabella’s mouth.
‘With a few assorted jelly babies,’ Daisy added, noticing the maggots.
The twins could hardly bear to watch.
As the spoon rose, silence filled the little room.
As Isabella’s mouth closed over the spoon, Daisy let out a tiny gasp.
Then Archie emitted a kind of high-pitched squeak, a noise made not in horror, more in shock.
Isabella’s mouth closed over the spoon, but she’d lost her concentration and instead of banoffee pie, the foul things she saw, rather than the toffee treat that had filled her mind, swamped her mouth.
She screamed, phleaux-ing and retching and hysterically flapping her arms, spitting endlessly.
As fast as he could, Old Man Wood draped his arms around her and held her tight, saying gentle things.
When the sobbing and moaning ceased, he released her.
Isabella looked at her plate and then across to the pale faces of her siblings.
On her plate was the maggoty rat, now the size of a fully-grown badger, dead and stinking and writhing with not hundreds, but thousands of maggots.
For the second time in only a short while, Isabella passed out.
DAISY SHOOK HER HEAD, her expression betraying deep worry.
‘She’s out cold and that thing on her plate is ... huge. She’ll never do it on her own.’
‘And it’s beginning to stink.’
‘Just like that trapped-under-the-floorboards-Archie-shoe-pong,’ Daisy added, unhelpfully.
‘Shut it, Daisy,’ Archie fired back. He stroked a hair spike. ‘Can’t we just eat it?’ he said. ‘I mean, I’m game if you are.’
Daisy shrugged. It was a good idea considering the choices. ‘OK. Nice one. What’s it going to be?’
‘Well, I was quite getting into the idea of banoffee pie. Those eyeballs didn’t really fill me up. I think I can still feel them moving around.’
Daisy closed her eyes for a minute, imagining the Italian desert. ‘Yup. Banoffee pie it is,’ she said. ‘Old Man Wood, you look after Bells, we’re going to finish this off for her.’
The twins leaned over the table and stared at the vast meal of a deteriorating rat filled with maggots. They each picked up a fork and glanced at one another for reassurance.
‘Right,’ Daisy said. ‘On the count of three, the most delicious banoffee pie, in the universe.’
‘In the universe,’ Archie agreed.
‘One, two ...’ and before they even got to three, the twins plunged their forks into the sticky mess.
A millisecond later, a massive electric charge shot through their forks.
Their bodies zinged and catapulted backwards. They thudded into the wall and collapsed to the floor.
Archie groaned. ‘So,’ he said, as he rubbed himself down, ‘no sharing. That’s nice and clear.’
He looked over towards Daisy who lay motionless in a puddle of vomit.
‘Oh! Great! Looks like she’s out too,’ and then he looked at the rat which was now the size of a medium-sized dog.
‘What do you suggest, Old Man Wood?’ he asked. ‘Because if we don’t come up with some way of getting Isabella to eat this, pretty soon we’re going to die in the remains of a decaying rat. And maggots are going to eat us alive. If you’ve got an idea, now is the time to say something.’
But Old Man Wood stared back, his face as white as chalk, shaking his head. ‘I ... I don’t know. It may already be too late.’
ONE HUNDRED TWELVE
SOLOMON AND SUE
Sue made quite a fuss of Mrs. Pye.
After several minutes where Mrs. Pye stared at the wall, her body moving back and forth, Sue finally managed to get Mrs. Pye to look at her.
‘It’s me – Sue,’ she said. ‘I’m here with the headmaster and my boyfriend, Gus Williams.’ It was the first time she’d ever said my boyfriend to anyone and the words slipped out with ease, and filled her with pleasure.
In fact she had a good mind to run around the courtyard singing: ‘I’ve got a boyfriend and he’s amazing and he loves me too-oo-ooo’, adding in things like ‘he’s clever, he’s cool, he’s sweet but also hunky, la-la, in a kinda geeky way!’ and then she’d whoop and scream in a stupidly high pitch fashion. And then she’d look about hope no-one was watching.
‘We – Gus and me, survived the storm,’ she said, barely controlling herself. ‘I got a text from Bells. Amazing isn’t it? Old Man Wood found them, didn’t he?’ she said, admiring herself in the mirror. Her skin exuded radiance. Was this from the spell of love?
‘It was Bells’ idea,’ she continued, ‘and Gus’ genius at woodworking that saved us, I suppose. A, what would Old Man Wood say, “apple-tastic” miracle, Mrs. Pye, that’s what it was.’
Sue sat down on the bed and took one of Mrs. Pye’s hands in hers. ‘The world’s gone crazy since I saw you last, and that wasn’t even ten days ago. I hope those men weren’t nasty to you? I don’t think they meant to be. I guess they’re just as confused as everyone else. A horrible man interrogated me. He had stinky breath and hard, calculating eyes that gave me t
he shivers. Anyway, it’s a bit of a fluke that we managed to get away.’
Sue stood up and wandered around the room, picking up little pictures of the smiling, often toothless, de Lowe children growing up in the assorted frames on her mantelpiece.
‘You don’t know where they are, do you? We reckon they left in a bit of a hurry, probably in the night or early this morning. There’s a terrible mess everywhere. Have you seen it? It looks like they’ve been in some kind of fight. Were there other people involved?’
Sue spotted a flash of alarm in Mrs. Pye’s eyes. Did it relate to the missing children or the messy house?
‘Let me get you a nice cup of tea,’ she said. ‘You look like you could use one. If I find a crumpet, I’ll bring one over. Bit of jam – would that be alright?’ Sue smiled sweetly. ‘Now, don’t you be going anywhere. I’ll be back in a bit.’
Sue headed out of the door and, as she turned back to Mrs. Pye, for the first time, Mrs. Pye looked at her and smiled in her very odd way. ‘Thank you,’ she croaked, her voice shallow and troubled.
Sue smiled back. ‘You really don’t have to thank me, Mrs P. You’re the one who needs thanking – for looking after them so beautifully.’ Sue went over to her and planted a big kiss on her cheek. ‘Back shortly.’
She turned and slipped away with a spring in her step, down the wooden stairs, around the rim of the foggy courtyard and back into the picture-filled mess of the cottage.
SOLOMON LOOKED up as she walked in. He was studying a selection of older portraits on which the figure of an old-looking man with a strong family resemblance stared back. Each bore a similar, subtle-patterned background with date-marks a century or more apart. ‘Any luck with Mrs. Pye?’
‘She spoke two words: Thank you,’ Sue said. ‘Amazing, isn’t it, the power of a cup of tea? Do you want one?’ she asked.
‘Yes, please. That would be lovely. Horrible tea at the hotel – a little too fancy for me,’ Solomon said, returning his gaze to the pictures. ‘It’s really most strange.’
