by Emily Rodda
“These three people,” Lucky continued, “have one thing in common. They have all lost something. Something very special to them. You’ve heard their stories, folks. You know they’ve tried their utmost to find the thing they’ve lost on our side of the Barrier. You know they’ve failed. And you know why.”
The music began to rise, and Lucky’s voice rose too. Patrick stood rigidly to attention. His hands were sweating. He didn’t understand any of this. What was this Barrier Lucky kept talking about? Who were these people?
“Our Seekers believe, and we agree with them, folks,” Lucky was saying, “that their missing treasures have gone through the Barrier.” He paused impressively. “They need a native from the Other Side to track them down. They need a Finder. We’re going to give them one.”
The music swelled. The audience burst into excited applause. Patrick blinked in the dimness. He felt a hand on his shoulder and a feather tickled his arm. “Get ready,” breathed Boopie Cupid in his ear. He stiffened as she slipped away. Ready for what?
“Patrick!”
There was a blare of trumpets. Lucky swung round to face Patrick and jerked him into the spotlight. “You are our Finder, Patrick,” he cried. “And here’s what you can win!” He turned Patrick to face the huge wheel, now lit by another bright spotlight. Boopie stood beside it, her feathery yellow dress shining and her white teeth flashing.
“Tell us all about it, Boopie!” whooped Lucky.
“Well, Lucky, there’s a fabulous range of prizes this week,” trilled Boopie. “For the first Find, Patrick can win …” She held up her hand to the wheel and it began to spin. Pictures appeared on its whirling surface, and the audience started clapping and cheering. “… This superb set of diamond jewellery,” cried Boopie, as a picture of necklaces, bracelets and rings appeared. “… Or …” the picture changed to one of a dark-grey computer “… this great Ezy-way computer with twelve different games programs, including the ever-popular Temple of Terror 2, or …” The picture changed again, to one of a set of garden tools, but Patrick could see nothing in his head but that computer. Imagine if he could win that! With all those games! For the first time since he’d begun this crazy adventure he felt really excited instead of just plain scared.
Boopie was still talking, and the pictures were still changing. Lounge chairs, statues, a music box with horses that went round and round, a mirror with a curly gold frame, golf clubs, a huge camping tent for four people, cameras, watches, clocks … the list went on and on, the pictures changed. Then at last the final picture disappeared and only the spinning wheel could be seen. “So, Patrick,” said Boopie, turning to face him with a beaming smile, “any of these wonderful prizes could be yours today – when you play … Finders Keepers!”
6
The Seekers
“Right, Pat my friend, so now you know what you can win,” beamed Lucky, squeezing Patrick’s shoulder and twinkling at the audience. “Now we’re going to see what you have to find. But first, we’ll take a break for this message.” He froze, smiling, for a moment, then the lights went on, the sound of an advertising jingle filled the air, and everyone started talking and running around. Lucky abruptly dropped his arm from Patrick’s shoulder, and a girl in a pink smock trotted over to him and began patting a powder puff over his shiny red face.
Patrick looked round helplessly. If only he knew what he was supposed to do! That computer would really be worth winning. He’d like to see Claire’s face when he … Then he remembered his mother, and a stab of pure panic made him jump. She would be looking for him. Right now she’d be combing the shops and plazas of Chestnut Tree Village, panicking, thinking he’d been kidnapped or something.
A canary-yellow figure appeared beside him, and shook its curls. “Having fun, Patrick?” trilled Boopie Cupid.
Patrick opened his mouth and shut it again. Boopie didn’t look to him as though she could decide on what to have for breakfast, let alone help him with a problem like this. But Lucky was having his jacket brushed now, and everyone else was racing around the place looking intent and busy and definitely not interested in him or his worries. He decided to try his luck.
“My … my mother will think I’m lost,” he said to her awkwardly. “I didn’t tell her – well, I didn’t really know – that I was coming, see. I wasn’t sure … and now, I …” To his horror his voice failed, and his eyes began to prickle. He swallowed violently.
Boopie put her hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, sweetie-pie,” she said seriously. “When you move across the Barrier this way, time more or less stands still for you. All being well, you’ll be back on your side before your mum even notices you’re gone.”
“True?” The relief was enormous.
“Oh, yes. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re OK.” She paused, and just for an instant the light died from her face, as though a shadow had crossed it. “I can do that, at least,” she murmured. Then in a blink of an eye the smile was back. “So – that’s settled,” she beamed. “Now, are you clear on the game?”
“Well … sort of,” Patrick said, glancing up at her nervously. “I have to find something, and if I do I win a prize. Like that computer.”
“That’s right, sugar-plum. You’ve got it fine.” Boopie flashed him another brilliant smile and turned to go. Desperately he caught at her arm. A bright yellow feather flew off her sleeve and floated to the ground. “Oh, sorry,” he said.
“Never mind,” she said gaily. “Lots more where that came from! Something else wrong? Be quick, the ad break’s nearly over and I’ve got to get back to the wheel, sweetie-pie. They like to record the show all in one go, you know. They don’t like to have to cut out gaps afterwards. The computer’s been playing up too, since–” She broke off abruptly and looked confused.
“What’s the Barrier?” gabbled Patrick. “Where am I?”
“Ten seconds!” boomed a voice from the air. Boopie gave a little squeal. “Got to go. Tell you later. See you!” She whirled around and scuttled away, leaving another yellow feather in his hand. He blushed and shoved it into his jeans pocket, out of sight.
Lucky appeared at his side once more and adjusted his tie. The lights dimmed and the spotlight came on. “Four, three, two, one …” boomed the voice, and then Lucky was speaking again.
“We’re playing Finders Keepers, the million-dollar game,” he told the camera. “Now we’re going to introduce Finder Patrick to our Seekers for tonight. And they’re going to tell him just what they’re looking for.”
Suddenly he swung round to face the desk, and the three people sitting there. A spotlight flashed on to the elderly woman on the left. She stared at Patrick with hollow grey eyes.
“What is your missing object, Eleanor Doon?” cried Lucky dramatically.
The woman dabbed at her lips with her handkerchief, and began to speak in a high, cracked, sing-song voice.
“My first is in fur but not in fun,
My second means just me alone,
My third is third as well in run,
My fourth begins my saddest groan.
I have three hearts of deepest red,
In shining gold they make their bed.”
Patrick looked at her wildly. Was she crazy? What on earth did she mean?
“I must have it back,” whispered Eleanor Doon, “I must.” But Lucky quickly held up his hand. “Ah-ah-ah, Eleanor! No more clues. You know the rules,” he said, shaking his head at her. She put her hand to her mouth. Her long, thin fingers were covered in expensive-looking rings, Patrick saw. Around her neck hung dozens of shining chains and necklaces. She must be very rich.
The spotlight moved to the man sitting in the middle. He stared out at the audience and the camera, stony-faced. He didn’t look at Patrick.
“And what is your missing object, Clyde O’Brien?” demanded Lucky.
“A tree has died to give me birth,
But still I shelter feathered friends.
I’m large and heavy, coloured earth,
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With golden fringes my tail ends.
And where my name and others be,
My owner’s name is plain to see.”
The man delivered his message without a quiver. He didn’t even blink while he was speaking. But Patrick noticed that his forehead was shiny with sweat. Was the spotlight making him hot? Or was he very, very nervous? Whichever it was, his poem didn’t make any more sense to Patrick than Eleanor Doon’s had done. At this rate, there was no chance of getting that computer. Patrick turned to the last of the Seekers as the spotlight moved on. Maybe this one …
“And our last Seeker, Wendy Minelli,” said Lucky, throwing out his arm towards the freckled, red-headed young woman. “Wendy Minelli, what is your missing object?”
She smiled nervously at him, and gave a little spluttering laugh.
“Um … I’m pink and bright … oh … um … sorry,” she mumbled, blushing. “I’m a bit nervous.”
“No need to be nervous, Wendy!” boomed Lucky, smiling fiercely. “Just go ahead. But we’re running out of time, dear, so let’s go!”
Patrick leaned forward, listening as hard as he could. He felt sorry for Wendy, and she had a nice face. He felt he would like to find whatever it was she’d lost, quite apart from any prize he might win.
“I’m … I’m pink and soft with bright blue eyes,” whispered Wendy Minelli.
“My ears are floppy, larger size,
Around my neck there is a bow,
So you can take me when you go.
And if you pull my yellow ring
A song about a star I sing.”
“Well, an easy one for you, Pat!” cried Lucky gaily. “What do you think?”
Patrick nodded dumbly. It was true. This time he could see what the rhyme might mean. Wendy’s lost treasure sounded as though it must be a child’s soft toy – probably a rabbit, if it had floppy ears that were “larger size”. A soft, pink rabbit with blue eyes and a bow round its neck. And obviously it played a tune when you pulled a string. Patrick had seen toys like that.
A smile crept across his face. The computer was practically his. All he had to do now was get back home and start looking. And at that thought the smile faded. For, of course, he had no idea at all how or where to start doing any such thing.
7
“Good Finding!”
“OK!” Lucky clapped his hands together. “Now Pat, our Seekers have written down their clues for you – Boopie!”
Boopie wobbled forward on her high heels, holding up a silver basket.
“Now, Pat, for the chance to win one of those wonderful prizes, choose your first Find!” Lucky pointed, beaming, to the basket. There was a roll of drums. The three Seekers leaned forward anxiously.
“But – um – can’t I just decide which to find?” muttered Patrick.
Lucky laughed. “Oh, no, no! Not so easy, my friend. You’re chosen by chance and you take your chance in Finders Keepers. Isn’t that right, folks?”
“Right!” yelled the audience delightedly.
The drums went on rolling. Boopie jiggled the basket invitingly above his head. Patrick closed his eyes, crossed his fingers for luck, stood on his toes, and plunged his arm into the basket. His fingers closed on a folded piece of paper and he pulled it out, hoping for the best. He unfolded it, and read the message inside. “A tree has died to give me birth …” it began. Oh, no! He’d chosen the worst one of all!
Lucky, looking over his shoulder, crowed, “Clyde! Clyde O’Brien!” The audience began to cheer and clap.
The grim-faced man’s mouth relaxed into what might have been a smile, for him. His hands gripped one another on the desk top. Patrick looked at the other two Seekers. Eleanor Doon’s face was crumpled with disappointment, and Wendy Minelli’s smile was so crooked that it was obvious she was nearly crying. He felt awful.
“Find Seeker Clyde’s missing treasure, Pat, and you’re a winner!” Lucky was shouting. “And you qualify to try for your second Find, and more great prizes!” He clapped Patrick on the back so hard that Patrick stumbled forward, almost knocking over Boopie Cupid and sending a whole cloud of yellow feathers flying. “Ah, there you go, you really have got dancing feet, haven’t you, Pat? Shame Boopie’s moulting or she could join you. Ha, ha! Now, you pop off round the back with Boopie to get kitted up, and then you can be on your way.” He turned back to the camera, and the audience. “OK, folks, he’s on his way! Good Finding, Pat!”
“Good Finding!” roared the audience.
Rousing music began to play. Patrick ducked his head in embarrassment, pushed the piece of paper into his pocket, and let Boopie lead him away. As they passed the Seekers’ desk Wendy Minelli smiled anxiously at him and Eleanor Doon stared and bit her lip. Clyde O’Brien simply nodded, but again Patrick saw that his forehead was gleaming with perspiration. He tried to say something to Boopie, but she smiled and shook her curls, and tripped gaily on, across the studio floor, past the great wheel, through a gap in the curtain behind it, and out a heavy door into an empty corridor.
Once the door had shut behind them, Boopie stopped and, with an enormous groan of relief, kicked off her shoes. “Oh, thank goodness, I didn’t think I’d make it through,” she wailed. “Oh, my dear, they were killing me!” She wriggled her toes and bent over, with difficulty, to rub them.
Patrick watched her awkwardly. After a few more moments of rubbing and sighing Boopie looked up at him through her curls. “Something wrong, sweetie-pie?” she asked kindly.
“Ah – no!” he exclaimed. “It’s just … I can’t believe this is happening to me! I mean, Claire, that’s my sister, and all of them, they all said it couldn’t be true, and now …”
“Well, now you know Claire and all of them were talking through their pointy hats, don’t you?” cried Boopie. She grabbed his arm and padded quickly off along the corridor, pulling him with her past rows of green-painted doors.
“So,” she said brightly, looking straight ahead. “You have a sister called Claire. I have a sister too. She runs the cafeteria here. She’s a wonderful cook. She’s away at the moment, but she’ll be back soon. Very soon, now. In fact, you’ll probably meet her next week when you come back. Would you like that? She makes the best meat pies you’ve ever eaten, honestly … Quickly, Patrick, let’s hurry … Now, what was I saying … oh, yes, the loveliest meat pies, do you like meat pies?”
Patrick was just concentrating on keeping up. Somehow he didn’t think Boopie really wanted an answer. She seemed to be chattering about one thing while her mind was really occupied with something else. He wondered what it was.
The green-painted doors all looked exactly the same, but after a few minutes Boopie stopped at one, knocked three times and went in, pulling Patrick behind her.
Patrick looked around. He was in a small, bare room, painted green like the door. There was a TV set hanging on one wall, a chair, a small cupboard. And in a corner, a thin, grey, tired-looking man punching away at a computer. Patrick saw with interest that it was an Ezy-way Plus 3, a jazzed-up version of the one on Boopie’s prize wheel.
“Where’ve you been?” the man growled, without turning around.
Boopie shrugged. “Maxie, this is Patrick, the Finder. He’s going for …”
“I know, I know,” grumbled the man. He scraped back his chair and stood up wearily. “Come on, we’re running over time as it is. We don’t want any delays for this young chap. Especially the way this thing’s acting at the moment. I can’t work miracles, you know.”
Boopie nibbled at her bright red lips. “Oh, we all know you can,” she chattered nervously. “You’re just tired, Max, that’s your trouble. And we’ve got ages yet, really.” She turned to Patrick.
“Now look, sugar-plum,” she said. “I know you’re confused, but everyone who plays is at first. There’s really nothing to it. You just go back where you came from, and you find Mr Whatsis – Clyde O’Brien, I mean – you find his lost thing. It’s right in your neighbourhood. All three things are.�
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“But – how do you know?” asked Patrick, feeling even more confused.
“Because Max has tracked them down there, of course,” said Boopie patiently. “That’s why your area got the invitation. That’s why these three Seekers were chosen, if it comes to that. They only choose Seekers whose things Max can find.”
Patrick stared at her. “So – you mean you already know where Mr O’Brien’s thing is?”
She shrugged. “More or less. Don’t we, Max?”
The thin man grunted. He opened a red box that stood waiting beside him on the computer table, and took something out. He stretched out his hand to Patrick. “Put this on,” he said.
He was holding what looked like a brooch, with a small pearl at its heart.
“I’ll do it, sweetie-pie,” said Boopie. “Don’t want it to show, do we?” She quickly fastened the little brooch to the inside of Patrick’s T-shirt, tickling his nose with her feathers. Patrick sneezed violently.
“Bless you!” said Boopie cheerfully. “Now, kidlet, when you hear that little gizmo start to go beep-beep-beep, like that, you know you’re getting near what you’re after – Mr Whatsis’s whatever-it-is, you know. Clever Max has set it so it’ll do that. He’s an absolute genius, Maxie is! A computer genius!” She hugged Max enthusiastically.
“Aw, talk sense, will you?” growled Max, and sneezed.
“I – I don’t really understand, still,” said Patrick hesitantly. “I’m sorry.”
“Look, darling heart, it’s really simple–” Boopie began, putting her hand on the computer. But Max cut in on her, firmly brushing the hand away.
“Don’t touch, Boopie,” he barked. “Don’t you ever learn? And I’ll explain it to him. He’d never understand you if he tried all week! It’s a wonder to me that any of them ever do. And he’s just a kid.”
“OK!” Boopie backed away and dropped down into Max’s chair, looking suddenly pale and harassed. “But you’d better hurry up. We are getting late now.” She turned her head away and began smoothing down her feathers. Patrick saw that her fingers were trembling and felt sorry for her. Max surely didn’t have to be so crabby, however tired he was.
