The Loblolly Boy and the Sorcerer

by James Norcliffe

  ‘Look …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Perhaps …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look, I’m really grateful, but …’

  ‘No worries,’ said Mel. ‘As you said, there’s absolutely nothing else.’

  ‘I reckon, but if you’d rather …’

  ‘Course I’d rather!’

  All the same, shortly afterwards he heard her more-or-less cheerful, ‘Well, I’ll be off then. Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone.’

  ‘Ha! Ha!’ the loblolly boy called, but Mel was already running off.

  The loblolly boy moved away from the door and settled down to wait. This time though, he didn’t squat on his haunches, instead, he lay down at full length after bunching up one of the old sacks to use as a pillow. He found himself lapsing into a deep gloom as he considered all that had happened and all that could still possibly happen. The immediate problem was somehow getting out of this prison cell, but even when sooner or later that hurdle was jumped, there remained the ongoing problem of Benjy.

  It was now blindingly clear that Benjy had no intention of ever Exchanging.

  Where did that leave him?

  A loblolly boy forever, condemned to hang about his once-home and from time to time see his father grow older, more troubled and more disillusioned.

  It was just too depressing.

  Then there was another tap on the door.

  Surprisingly, Mel was back already.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘There’s a repair shop of some sort across the road. I thought I’d try Plan B.’

  ‘Plan B?’

  ‘Bolt cutters.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They’re bound to have them. I’ll spin them some story about losing something, my bag or whatever, then come back and let you out.’

  Mel made it sound so easy.

  ‘How do you know they’ll have bolt cutters anyway?’

  ‘Of course they will. They’re a repair shop. They might even have something better than bolt cutters!’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Well, ’cause the shop’s called “The Gadget Man”.’

  4

  He should have expected something like this, he thought, brightening, suddenly more hopeful. He remembered how the people in the song had come to him. The Jugglers arrived out of nowhere. He hadn’t deliberately been looking for them.

  The Sorcerer was not only there, but seemed to have been anticipating him.

  And now, like a rabbit out of a hat, the Gadget Man, whoever or whatever he was.

  Soon the loblolly boy heard footsteps, and judging by the number and noise too many for one rather small girl. There were voices, too, but he couldn’t as yet hear what they were saying. One seemed to be Mel’s and the other deeper, probably a man’s.

  Then the voices were closer.

  ‘Ahh,’ he heard the man say. ‘I see what you mean. This is a problem.’

  ‘Can you fix it?’ asked Mel

  ‘Most things can be fixed,’ said the man, ‘if you have the right gadget.’

  ‘Do you reckon you have the right gadget?’ the loblolly boy heard Mel ask.

  ‘I think so,’ said the man. ‘I think my little skeleton key should be able to deal with this. Stand aside now.’

  Then he heard the man’s voice again. ‘Good fellow!’ he said.

  Shortly afterwards the loblolly boy heard a clearly audible gasp from Mel, and then a scrabbling sound at the lock.

  The next thing he heard was the man’s voice saying. ‘Oh I say! Good little fellow!’ And then the loblolly boy heard the bolt being drawn and suddenly sunlight splashed into the room as the door was opened.

  Blinking against the light, the loblolly boy saw a chubby little man wearing a brown dustcoat, which came down to his calves. His pate was bald but he had, otherwise, long wispy white hair that hung down in a rather fluffy fashion to cover his collar. He was peering into the gloom of the room over half-glasses.

  Mel stood a little behind him, half-grinning at the loblolly boy, half-shrinking from the little figure immediately in front of her.

  At that point the loblolly boy realised that the man wasn’t staring into the gloom at all, he was staring at him.

  Clearly he was quite visible to the little man.

  ‘Come out, come out, my good fellow,’ said the man. ‘I’m sure you’ve been in there long enough.’

  ‘Oh, I have,’ said the loblolly boy. ‘Thanks, Mel,’ he grinned. Then he turned to the man. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No trouble, no trouble at all,’ said the man.

  He waited until the loblolly boy had left his prison, and then he closed the door behind him, secured the lock and then bent down to pick up the padlock which was lying on the ground. He secured the padlock to the bolt and pushed the hasp home.

  Mel was still looking in awe at the little man.

  ‘Let me introduce myself, young man,’ said the man. ‘I am …’

  ‘The Gadget Man?’ asked the Loblolly Boy.

  ‘Well, yes,’ said the man, nodding. ‘How perceptive you are! I was going to say Daniel Flynn. But, yes, people do call me the Gadget Man.’ He smiled and added, ‘Dan, Dan, the Gadget Man. Actually, my shop’s just across the road and when this young lady …’ he turned and gestured at Mel, ‘said you were in trouble …’

  ‘But I didn’t,’ protested Mel. ‘I said I’d left my skateboard in the room and accidentally …’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ said the Gadget Man. ‘I know what you said, but I’m talking about what you meant.’

  Mel looked at him with even more alarm.

  ‘Thank you,’ said the loblolly boy. ‘We didn’t have a clue how we were …’

  Mel interrupted him. ‘Show him,’ she said.

  She was talking to the Gadget Man who turned to her and raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question.

  ‘Show him how you opened that lock,’ she said.

  ‘It was nothing special,’ said the Gadget Man. ‘I simply used my skeleton key.’

  ‘Show him the skeleton key,’ insisted Mel

  ‘Shall I get it to open it again?’ asked the Gadget Man.

  Mel nodded, eyes wide.

  Then the Gadget Man withdrew something from one of the bulging pockets of his dustcoat. At first the loblolly boy thought it was one of those slinky toys. It was metallic, perhaps stainless steel, and seemed to be made up of slithering loops, thin rods and rings with a somewhat more solid element at one end like a large ball bearing. It was quite small, the length of a ball point pen. The loblolly boy could not see it clearly at all, as much of it was concealed in the Gadget Man’s hand. Whatever it was it was not a key, at least not like any key he had ever seen before.

  The Gadget Man bent down and placed the object on the ground before the door.

  Once the Gadget Man stepped back and whispered, ‘All right, good fellow? Unlock it again, little man.’ The object rose to its feet. ‘Good fellow!’ cried the Gadget Man.

  Mel gasped and put her hand to her mouth.

  What had been a disconnected heap of metal objects rather like a pile of paper clips miraculously stood up as if it had come to life. And now, that it was standing erect, the loblolly boy saw to his amazement that it had become a tiny skeleton, a perfectly articulated miniature skeleton. The loblolly boy’s eyes widened with disbelief. What he’d thought to be a large ball bearing was in fact a tiny silver skull, with large hollowed sockets and little square teeth shining like iron filings.

  However, the ultimate astonishment was to come. The tiny skeleton ran towards the door and then shimmied up it like a lizard with spread-eagled arms and legs propelling it ever upwards. When it reached the bolt, it climbed fluidly on to the lock. Next it bent double, feet bones on the brass housing of the lock and hand bones and arm bones gripping the hasp. It seemed to strain for a few seconds until, all at once, the hasp sprang free.

  ‘Good fellow!’ cried the Gadget Man.

  He gathered the t
iny skeleton into his hand once more and slipped it back into his pocket.

  ‘It was alive!’ whispered Mel, her voice trembling.

  ‘Not a bit of it,’ said the Gadget Man. ‘It just looks that way. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.’

  He snapped the hasp down again and turned to the others.

  ‘Well,’ he said clapping his hands. ‘I think we deserve a cup of something. I might be able to find some lemonade for this young lady, and …’ he turned to the loblolly boy, ‘I might be able to find a pair of ears for you, as I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you have quite a lot you’d like to tell me.’

  The loblolly boy and Mel exchanged glances. He could sense she might have misgivings, but she gave him a quick little smile and nodded.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Sounds good.’

  The Gadget Man clapped his hands. ‘Excellent!’ he said, and then he led them out of the yard and down the narrow alley to the main road.

  5

  It wasn’t much of a shop. Around the walls were shelves with bins that contained all manner of old-fashioned-looking bric-à-brac and bits and pieces of the gadget kind. There were meat-grinders, and coffee-grinders and nutmeg mills. There were corkscrews and can openers, devices for turning hair clips into hair-springs and machines for turning butter back into cream. There were larger items, too: old mangles, a dentist’s chair and a large split-cane bird-cage with a moth-eaten parrot fixed to a perch. The parrot had been clumsily stuffed.

  There was a wooden counter stretched along one side with shelves and bins behind it and in the middle of the shop was a long trestle table loaded with boxes filled with gimcracks, assorted gewgaws and paraphernalia. All was covered with dust, smeared with grease marks and spotted with paint.

  The Gadget Man locked the shop door behind them and then led them through the establishment to a door leading into the rear. This he opened and then he gestured them through.

  They found themselves in what was probably his private apartment, although it looked to be just a continuation of the shop, except that the place was a little tidier and the junk while ancient-looking, was a little more upmarket, treasured. The loblolly boy thought he’d stepped into one of those rooms from a couple of centuries ago that are recreated in museums. The walls were covered in old oil paintings of mountains, Greek temples and sailing ships; ancient photographs of grim women with black bonnets and billowing skirts and grimmer-faced men with mutton-chop whiskers; and here and there sad, mounted animal heads: trophies from safaris a hundred years ago. The furniture was all leathery and buttoned with wobbly legs and moth-eaten cushions.

  Standing in pride of place in one corner was a life-sized gorilla, apparently stuffed. Its eyes, however, were dark and shiny and seemed to follow you round the room.

  Mel gasped. ‘Is it real?’ she whispered.

  The Gadget Man shook his head. ‘Oh, no, no, no. It’s not real.’

  ‘It looks real,’ said Mel.

  ‘Well, it’s not. I don’t like real things,’ added the Gadget Man.

  Mel shrugged. ‘I’m real,’ she said.

  ‘In your case, young lady,’ the Gadget Man said generously, ‘I’ll make an exception.’

  What about me? thought the loblolly boy. Does that mean he likes me?

  ‘Here,’ said the Gadget Man. He handed Mel a small black cube with white buttons.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘A remote,’ said the Gadget Man. ‘What does it look like?’

  ‘A remote,’ grinned Mel.

  ‘Press a button.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Point it at the gorilla.’

  Mel glanced at the loblolly boy. ‘Okay,’ she said.

  She pointed the cube at the gorilla and pressed a button.

  To their astonishment the gorilla immediately lifted both arms into the air and moved its head from side to side. More astonishingly, it began to sing a jaunty little song in a reedy voice.

  Silly monkey up the tree

  Pick a coconut for me!

  Pack it in a pocket book

  Sock it like a hockey puck

  And kick it, monkey, down to me!

  The mouth shut. The head stopped moving. The arms dropped. The eyes fixed themselves once more on the trio in the room.

  ‘Hey,’ whispered Mel.

  ‘I had a radio once, but it began to bore me.’

  ‘Does it know any more?’

  ‘Hundreds,’ said the Gadget Man airily.

  ‘Could I?’

  The Gadget Man nodded. Mel pointed the remote and pressed …

  The gorilla’s head swayed with the music. The raised arms beat time. The reedy voice sang.

  From Zanzibar to Marzipan

  From Span to Spic and Spic to Span

  From the Burning Fire to the Frying Pan

  Seek the Jugglers, the Sorcerer

  and the Gadget Man!

  A parrot, a cockatoo, or one toucan?

  Ask the Jugglers, the Sorcerer

  or the Gadget Man!

  Eee Diddly Eye Do — Bam Bam!

  At the Bam Bam! the gorilla kicked a hairy leg out violently and then immediately stood as mute and as immobile as before.

  The loblolly boy’s initial surprise faded quickly. I should have guessed, he thought.

  ‘Weird songs,’ observed Mel.

  The loblolly boy nodded. Parrot? Cockatoo? These were new. He turned towards the Gadget Man to find the man staring intently at him.

  ‘Does that mean?’

  The Gadget Man shrugged.

  ‘Anything,’ he said. ‘It could mean anything …’

  6

  ‘A singing gorilla! That’s wild!’ grinned Mel.

  ‘My new version will cook sausages and eggs as well,’ said the Gadget Man.

  ‘Hey!’ said Mel.

  ‘Yes,’ said the Gadget Man dead-pan. ‘It’ll be a singing griller …’

  Mel and the loblolly boy glanced at each other, unsure how to take this.

  ‘Now excuse me, I must put the kettle on. Now what was it, young lady? Lemonade?’

  ‘Please,’ said Mel, but a little cautiously.

  When the Gadget Man came back with the glass of lemonade, he had taken off his dustcoat. He was wearing underneath a loud checked sports jacket with a purple handkerchief tucked into its breast pocket. With his fluffy white hair and disarming smile, he looked like everybody’s grandfather.

  The loblolly boy was not so sure. He could hear the words of the Captain’s ballad haunting him.

  Live and let live and catch as catch can

  Believe the Jugglers, the Sorcerer

  and the Gadget Man

  Now those words were beginning to make a little more sense. They meant that the Sorcerer and this Gadget Man operated by different rules somehow. It meant that right and wrong as he’d always understood these words, didn’t really apply. The Sorcerer didn’t seem in the least perturbed about causing him to lose his father just after he’d found him. Who knew where the Gadget Man might be coming from?

  He might have to rely on their help, he realised, but if they gave it to him it would probably be in spite of themselves and not because it was the right thing to do.

  7

  The Gadget Man had returned to the kitchen and now came back with a tray carrying a pot of tea, a cup and saucer and a plate of biscuits. He placed the tray on a small table and poured himself a cup of tea.

  ‘Help yourself to a white duck, young lady,’ he said to Mel. ‘One of my great passions and my only vice, I confess.’

  ‘A white duck?’

  ‘Well, a cream quacker to you.’

  Mel groaned, and glanced at the loblolly boy. The biscuits provided no problem for her, though, for she took two and then retreated to her chair.

  The Gadget Man himself sat down and then turned to the loblolly boy.

  ‘I hear you’ve had some difficulties, dear boy. I’d love to hear all about them.’

  Almost nothing wa
s surprising the loblolly boy at this stage, but he did wonder at this.

  ‘You’ve heard?’

  The Gadget Man nodded.

  ‘From whom?’

  ‘From my windy partner.’

  The loblolly boy thought, and then he asked, ‘Windy partner?’

  ‘We play draughts together.’

  Mel, in the corner, groaned again.

  ‘Do you play draughts with the Sorcerer?’ asked the loblolly boy.

  ‘Sort of draughts,’ he said. ‘I always have to let him win. He’s such a bad loser otherwise and would take the huff. Goodness knows what he’d do then. It’s terribly unsatisfactory, really.’

  ‘You talked about me?’ asked the loblolly boy.

  ‘He did say he’d met you and that you’d joined him for dinner one evening.’

  ‘Did he have fish?’ asked Mel.

  ‘I really don’t know what he had,’ said the Gadget Man, surprised at the question. ‘Perhaps. Perhaps he had rabbit.’

  ‘If we’re talking about the Sorcerer, he had fish,’ said the loblolly boy. ‘Turbot, to be precise.’

  ‘Turbot to be, or not to be,’ said the Gadget Man. ‘Ah, I’m glad that’s settled.’

  ‘What did he tell you?’ asked the loblolly boy.

  ‘Ah, all sorts of things,’ said the Gadget Man mysteriously. ‘He did mention you were having problems arranging to Exchange with your predecessor?’

  The loblolly boy nodded.

  ‘However, my friend is so unreliable, so likely to put a negative slant on things, and so likely to embroider a good story with black threads, I’d much rather hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.’

  ‘From the beginning?’

  ‘Naturally. Always the best place to start.’

  Thus once again the loblolly boy told his tale, this time including his visit to the Captain, his encounter with the Jugglers, and all that had happened since he arrived in the city.

  ‘Ah, Captain Bass,’ mused the Gadget Man. ‘I once fashioned a very special telescope for him, you know. He tells me it’s been very useful from time to time.’