by Susie Bower
‘And you would never have found out,’ hissed Murgatroyd, ‘had missy here not discovered she had a twin, and ended up at your pathetic School for Freaks.’
It was all beginning to make sense. I turned to Murgatroyd.
‘So that’s why you pretended to be the Bird. And I bet you were spying on me at Nobodies all the time—’
Murgatroyd winked his yellow eye. ‘A bird can eavesdrop anywhere. Up a chimney in a library. Hidden among the branches in a wood. I’d been keeping watch on Gold for seven years, making sure that he suffered and grieved for his lost family. Then you arrived at Nobodies, looking for your twin, and I feared that you—or he—might discover the truth. So I hatched my little plan…’
‘You made me think my twin was definitely at the school next door,’ I whispered. ‘And you made me want to escape there—just to get me away from Mr Gold. Only, then I found Feral in the forest—’
Murgatroyd spat. ‘I hadn’t counted on you rescuing him. After that, it was vital to stop you finding out who he and Gold really were.’
‘You told me Feral was the Shapeshifter, and that Mr Gold was a coward and a murderer—’
Mr Gold gasped.
‘And then you shapeshifted into Silver, and told me that if I came through the mirror into the school next door, we’d be together forever.’
‘Correct,’ snarled Murgatroyd, crushing my wrist so that I cried out in pain. ‘I knew that tonight, Halloween night, is the only night of the year when bad magic is so strong that I could pull you through the mirror and separate you from your uncle and twin forever. What I didn’t bargain for was the boy becoming attached to you. So attached that he was prepared to sacrifice his precious hair to be with you.’ He glared down at Feral’s hair, lying in a circle around my feet. ‘But tonight is Halloween, just as it was seven years ago—and this time, Gold, there will be no rescue. Tonight, you will watch your beloved niece die…’
He took a deep, hoarse breath, his thin chest filling with air and his eyes squeezing shut with the effort. As he did so, Mr Gold leapt to my side. Throwing his arms around me, he tried to drag me away from Murgatroyd’s grasp, but Murgatroyd held my wrist like a vice.
Then Murgatroyd breathed out.
A torrent of flames streamed, red and yellow, from his open mouth, scorching my face. They caught at the strands of Feral’s hair lying around my feet, and suddenly—and it could only have been the bad magic of Halloween that made it happen so fast and so furiously—we were surrounded by a blazing wall of fire. The fire was everywhere, licking at our clothes. There was no way out, or through. Murgatroyd’s crazy laughter echoed through the room. Mr Gold tightened his arms around me, shielding me from the savage flames with his body. And I thought, If I must die, this is how I want it to be. Safe in my uncle’s arms.
Somewhere, in the distance, I heard a familiar sound, almost drowned in the roar of the flames and the high screams of Murgatroyd’s laughter. The sound came nearer and nearer. Then I realized what it was.
It was Rule Boy’s violin. And it was playing ‘The Circus March’.
ALL FOR ONE, AND ONE FOR ALL
‘HELP!!!’ I screamed.
The music stopped abruptly. Then everything seemed to happen at once. Murgatroyd let go of my wrist and drew his hand back inside the mirror. A huge roar split the air. And a chorus of voices shouted.
‘ALL FOR ONE, AND ONE FOR ALL!!!’
Through the wall of flame, I glimpsed Rule Boy, Feral and Saddo. Rule Boy wore his top hat and carried his violin and bow. Saddo wore his clown’s outfit, with his hoodie on top. Feral’s woolly rug hung down, brushing the floor. And then I saw Custard, bringing up the rear, clutching her yellow blanket. But what was that, sitting on her shoulders?
I screwed up my eyes against the smoke. Four grey wings were fluttering and I heard two familiar, soft cries:
Turrrr! Turrrr!
‘Feral told us you were in trouble, Antsy!’ Rule Boy yelled.
‘We’ve come to save you!’ shouted Saddo.
‘And we’re n-not scared!’ squeaked Custard.
Feral gave another gigantic roar and threw himself towards us, but Custard grabbed him and pulled him back.
‘No!’ Mr Gold yelled. ‘Stay away from the fire!’
‘Your little playmates can’t help you now, missy,’ Murgatroyd hissed from inside the mirror. ‘Like me, they can only watch you burn.’
I stared up into his face, twisted with cruelty. He was safe behind the glass. The fire couldn’t hurt him.
Then, out of nowhere, I remembered Silver’s words.
‘You must never, ever break the mirror. If you do, the doorway will be destroyed—and so will I.’
I raised my free hand and brought my fist down, as hard as I could, on the glass.
Nothing happened. The glass was too strong.
‘We must break the mirror!’ I screamed.
Mr Gold stared at me for a moment, sweat pouring down his face, then he turned and began beating at the glass with his fists. But the glass stayed unbroken, and Murgatroyd, safe behind it, cackled. The heat was unbearable now. A tongue of flame caught Mr Gold’s baggy trousers and I smacked at them, my palm blistering, trying to put it out. Mr Gold ignored it. Now his sleeves were smouldering, but he kept on battering the glass, while Murgatroyd’s cackles of glee tore the air. The flames licked at our faces, as if hungry to eat us.
A voice called from beyond the flames.
‘Antsy! CATCH!!!!’
I watched as, as if in slow motion, Rule Boy’s violin sailed into the air, its polished wood caught for a moment in the light of the flames. It seemed to hover in the air before falling down, down, down…
… into my waiting arms.
For a moment, I just stood there, staring at it. Then I grabbed its long neck with both hands, raised it high above my head and I smashed it down against the mirror with all my strength.
The mirror shattered. Shards of glass flew in all directions. A terrible cry echoed through the room, followed by the sound of beating wings. The circle of flames surrounding us died away as suddenly as it had started. Then all was silent, and I stood looking at the mirror, or what was left of it: nothing but an empty, carved frame and a blackened, wooden back. I gave a sob, and turned to hug Mr Gold.
I gasped at what I saw: his clothes were aflame. Tongues of fire were eating at his trousers, his shirt, his red braces, even his hair. He stood, still as a statue, staring at the flames as if hypnotized. He must be in shock.
‘Mr Gold!’ I screamed. ‘You’re on fire! WAKE UP!’
But Mr Gold didn’t move. It was as if he was locked in a trance.
‘HELP ME!’ I screamed.
Then Rule Boy was at my side, frantically beating at Mr Gold’s clothes. But it was impossible. No sooner did we douse one flame than another licked its way up his body.
Three figures came running.
Feral tore his woollen rug from his shoulders and wrapped it around Mr Gold’s baggy trousers.
Saddo pulled off his hoodie and covered Mr Gold’s burning shirt.
And Custard hesitated, then tore her yellow blanket from her shoulders and stood on tiptoe, waving it at Mr Gold’s burning curly hair.
‘I’m n-not tall enough,’ she shrieked. ‘Help me!’
Turrrr! Turrrr!
The two little doves circled Custard, fluttering their grey wings. Then they swooped down to Custard’s blanket. Each dove snatched a corner of it in its bill and soared up, up to hover above Mr Gold’s head. Then, as one, they dropped the blanket over Mr Gold’s rusty, burning curls. For a split second, he stared at the doves as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. Then he grabbed the blanket and pressed it to his head and a singeing, smoky smell rose from his hair.
For a long moment, I stared at Feral, Custard, Saddo and Rule Boy. Their face paint was smeared and their eyes were pouring with tears from the bitter smoke. But they were grinning at me.
‘You all gave up your most important posses
sions,’ I whispered, as the doves came to settle on me, one on each shoulder. ‘You saved me—and you saved Mr Gold.’
Rule Boy grinned and wiped his glasses. ‘Just like the Three Musketeers,’ he said.
Mr Gold held out his arms to Feral and me and the others, and we hugged and hugged and hugged, while the two little doves fluttered and hovered around us.
‘What,’ barked a voice, ‘are you thinking of, Felix?’
We all turned. Miss Cruet stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips, hairpins clattering to the floor. She was dressed in a knitted evening gown with multicoloured stripes, and wore a fluorescent green shawl around her shoulders. A pair of binoculars hung from her neck, and she was clutching an embroidered fan in one hand and a hot-water bottle in the other.
‘I have been waiting in the Amphitheatre for the last forty-five minutes, and no sign of the show. And here you all are…’ she peered at the area around our feet, ‘with the floor covered in glass… hugging.’ She gave a sharp sniff. ‘And if I am not mistaken, someone has been smoking. This will not do, Felix. It will not do at all.’
And we all burst out laughing and crying at the same time.
‘Apologies for keeping you waiting, Euphenia,’ said Mr Gold, winking at me.
‘Not only me,’ snapped Miss Cruet, ‘but the children’s families.’
‘My sister?’ said Saddo.
‘Indeed,’ said Miss Cruet. ‘She’s come down from university especially.’
‘My mum?’ said Custard.
‘Yes. She’ll soon be well enough to look after you again.’
‘My dad?’ said Rule Boy, his face full of hope.
‘Correct,’ said Miss Cruet. ‘He’s been given special permission to come tonight. They are all waiting for you.’
Mr Gold took my hand, and Feral’s.
‘Your uncle will be there too,’ he said, and that warm, chocolatey feeling filled my heart.
‘But what about my violin?’ said Rule Boy, looking at the pile of shattered wood and strings on the floor. ‘There’ll be no music.’
‘And my cuddly?’ said Custard. Her blanket was nothing but a charred square of wool.
Saddo tried to pull his hoodie over his eyes, then remembered he didn’t have it any more.
‘Mane.’ Feral ran his fingers through what was left of his hair, and gave a tiny growl. ‘Gone.’
‘You have learnt a very important lesson,’ said Mr Gold quietly. ‘Remember rule three?’
‘One possession only!’ said Rule Boy. ‘Only now they’re all gone.’
‘You each gave up your most precious possession in order to save Flynn and me,’ said Mr Gold.
‘And Feral gave up his mane because he loved me,’ I said.
‘And you, Flynn, risked everything to find out the truth.’ Mr Gold peered round at each of us, one by one. ‘I may not be able to see your faces, but I know one thing.’
‘What’s that?’ said Saddo.
‘There isn’t a single Nobody standing before me. Each of you has proved, by your sacrifice and your bravery, that you are a Somebody. A Somebody to be proud of. And from now on, you will choose what you want to be called. You have each earned your name.’
Everyone looked proud. But Miss Cruet was tapping her knitted boot.
‘Felix,’ she said, ‘they’re all waiting for the show.’
‘H-how can we do it, now all our things are burnt?’ said Custard.
Mr Gold smiled. ‘There’s an old circus saying,’ he said. ‘No matter what happens, the show must go on.’
And he led us down the stairs, closely followed by a muttering Miss Cruet.
AFTERWARDS
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Rule Boy led us round and round the ring, as the audience applauded. A huge frying pan—the one Miss Cruet used to make her Specials—hung from his neck as he beat it with a wooden spoon. Two saucepan lids, strapped to the insides of his knees, clashed together like cymbals. With his free hand, he held a comb covered with tissue paper to his lips and blew. The Amphitheatre echoed with the sound of the notes.
Saddo lumbered along the tightrope in his outsize trousers and shoes with a beaming smile. He carried a tray full of glasses of water and plates of sandwiches and kept almost tripping up and spilling them, much to the horror of Claude, who was sitting near the front in his cummerbund and bow tie. Feral was scaring Sonia with his ear-splitting roars, while Custard, who’d wrapped a towel around her neck for a cloak, kept him in check with Mr Gold’s stick.
And me? I leapt into the audience and grabbed Miss Cruet’s binoculars, fan and hot-water bottle and juggled them, sending them high up into the air. Then I cartwheeled round and round the ring in my gold leotard until I had no breath left.
As we all took a bow, Rule Boy’s dad got to his feet and shouted, ‘BRAVO!!!!’ Saddo’s sister and Custard’s mum cheered. Even Sonia clapped daintily, and Claude’s belly jiggled with laughter—haw-haw-haw!
As for Mr Gold, his whole face lit up, and he stomped and whistled and punched the air, his eyes no longer sad but filled with pride and love.
And the two little doves swooped and dived between Feral and me, brushing our faces with their soft wings. Then they gave their gentle cry—turrrr, turrrr!—and spiralled up, up into the night sky, their grey wings caught by the moonlight. I watched them until they disappeared.
That night, Miss Cruet excelled herself. Her Extra-Super-Special Halloween cake—dripping with sticky black icing and spaghetti spiders’ webs and cream-cheese ghosts and fizzing sparklers—towered a metre high, and we all had a gigantic slice, along with her Halloween soup, which was green and wriggly with jelly Loch Ness monsters floating in it.
Feral and I showed the others our tattoos and I told everyone about how Feral had been my twin all along and how his name was really Finn. And Feral told us about his ‘mama’, Kula: how they’d lived together in the forest until the day she was captured. And Mr Gold told the story of the fire, and Murgatroyd, and how he discovered he was our uncle.
‘Mr Gold—’ I said.
‘I think it’s time to call me Felix, don’t you, Flynn? Or Uncle Felix… if you want to, that is.’
‘I do want to,’ I said, and Feral nodded furiously.
‘Uncle Felix,’ I said, and my heart felt all warm and cosy as I said the words, ‘there’s just one thing I don’t understand.’
‘What’s that, Flynn?’
‘Why did you let Sonia and Claude adopt me? Why didn’t you take me to live with you, after you rescued me from the fire?’
Mr Gold shook his head. ‘I was in the hospital, unconscious, for months. When I woke up, my leg was shattered and I could barely see. The first thing I asked about was you. They told me you’d been adopted by a rich couple who would give you a wonderful life. As for me, I was a wreck, with no money, no job and little sight. What could I offer you? I believed you would be better off with them.’
‘I hated living with Sonia and Claude,’ I said, and Mr Gold’s face changed.
‘If I had known you were unhappy, nothing—nothing—would have stopped me from finding you and getting you back.’
I knew, by the look in his eyes, that he was telling the truth. He wiped his eyes.
‘When I was able to walk again, and see a little, I decided to become a teacher… I wanted to help children who were alone and unloved… who were Nobodies. I wanted to help them find their true gifts and to learn to believe in themselves. But for seven years, there was not a single day—a single hour—that I didn’t think of you.’
He took my hand. ‘Is there anything else you don’t understand?’
‘Yes,’ I said hesitantly.
‘Tell me,’ said Mr Gold.
‘The doves,’ I said, ‘and their messages. The message in the balloon, telling me how to find my name. The message on my leotard, saying my twin was alive. The message in the leaves, telling me my twin was living next door. And the message in Miss Cruet’s hairpins, warning me about the S
hapeshifter. Who really sent them? It wasn’t Murgatroyd, though he pretended it was.’
Mr Gold put down his mug.
‘I don’t know,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘But there are only two people who would have wanted you to know these things, who would have wanted to keep you safe…’
‘Leonora and Fred? My mum and dad?’ It still felt really strange to call them that.
Mr Gold nodded.
‘Your mother and father wore golden costumes—just like the one you’re wearing now. And remember how I told you that Leonora hatched two turtle doves, and how they loved her so? Perhaps, just perhaps…’ He stopped, and shook his head. ‘Some things will always be mysteries. But I do know one thing—’
‘What’s that?’ asked Rule Boy.
‘People may die, or be lost, or sent away,’ said Mr Gold, ‘but love doesn’t die. It can’t—not while it lies safe in our hearts.’
‘Love,’ said Feral. ‘Family.’
I put my arm around him and he licked my nose.
11TH JUNE
It was going to be the best birthday ever.
I woke early, to the sound of tapping on the wall.
HAP-PY BIRTH-DAY TO YOU!
I tapped it back.
Lying on the bottom of my bed were five envelopes.
Custard sat up and rubbed her eyes, yawning. She had a different name now, Ariale, but she still looked just the same, with her yellow wispy hair and her wide eyes.
‘Happy birthday, Flynn!’ She pulled out yet another envelope from under her pillow and padded over to me.
I tore it open. Inside was a card with a picture of Wonder Woman on it.
‘It reminded me of you,’ said Ariale. She didn’t stutter any more.
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘It reminds me of you too.’
And we grinned and hugged one another.
The second card was from Miss Cruet, in loopy purple ink:
Happy birthday, Flynn.
And congratulations on earning your name.
With best wishes,
Euphenia Esmerelda Boudica Cruet (Miss)
