by Emily Rodda
The woman blinked. She stood quite still and watched him for a moment. Then she unclenched her fists and thoughtfully rubbed her mouth with her hand. Her brow wrinkled.
Danny cried on. He couldn’t try to be brave any more. He cried for his home, and his parents, and for Claire and Patrick. He cried because he was lonely and frightened and lost. And he was in a crazy woman’s house. And no one would help him.
A foot nudged his leg. “Take it, then,” a voice said.
Danny looked up, sobbing. The woman was standing frowning over him, holding out the little china bird. She jerked her hand impatiently. “Take it,” she said again.
Danny put up his hand and took the bird. He rubbed his fingers over its smooth, round body and held it up to his hot cheek. It was cool and comforting. His sobbing quietened. His thumb stole into his mouth. He rocked slowly to and fro. His eyes closed.
“You’re lost,” the woman said almost wonderingly, as if she’d just discovered something amazing.
Danny kept his eyes closed. That way he couldn’t see her, or this strange house. He couldn’t see how lost he really was.
“You don’t have to cry. They’ll look for you,” the woman went on, still in that quiet voice. “Your parents will, won’t they?”
Danny’s eyes opened. He took his thumb out of his mouth. “And Claire,” he said.
“Who’s Claire?”
“My sister. She’ll look for me. And Patrick will too.”
“My brother got lost,” the woman said dreamily. “I was just remembering. Johnnie got lost once. When we were kids. I was supposed to be looking after him. But he wandered off, and got lost in the bush at the back of the house. There were gullies there, then. And snakes. And a creek. We looked for him the whole afternoon.”
“Did he get finded?” asked Danny, with a last, shuddering sob.
“Yes.” The woman almost smiled. “Dad and I found him. He was sitting under a tree, crying. Like you were crying just then. That’s what made me think of it. You looked like him, for a minute. He was crying, sucking his thumb. Poor little boy.” She looked over Danny’s head, remembering. “We were so happy when we found him. We took him home. Then Mother cried. We had jelly and ice-cream for dinner. Even me. And it was all my fault.”
“Is Johnnie here now?” Danny looked around the echoing hallway, as if expecting to see a little boy emerge from one of the doorways.
“No. No one’s here,” the woman sighed. “That was a long time ago. No one’s here now, except me. And my things.” She looked around, her eyes lingering on the crowded cupboards and shelves.
“They’re nice,” said Danny, wiping his eyes and peering up at her.
She nodded slowly, still looking around her. “I don’t bother with people. I just look after my things now.” She paused. “Things don’t die,” she added strangely. “They don’t leave you. They’re always the same. Better than people.”
Danny bit his lip. It seemed to him that this wasn’t true at all, but he thought if he said so she might get angry again, so he said nothing. He didn’t want her to get angry. He wanted her to stay gentle. Because he wanted her to help him.
16
Two Out of Three
“Keep close to me,” Max warned Patrick, as they reached the brow of the hill. “We’ve got to be careful. Especially with that Doon woman hanging around. Looks like she didn’t recognise you the first time. When the Agents were questioning us they didn’t know you were here, anyway, so no report had been handed in. But we mightn’t be so lucky again.”
Patrick squinted against the wind and looked down. The hillside swarmed with Barrier-combers. Along the fence stood a double line of Agents, sticks held high. Down by the Barrier red-coated Barrier Guards worked feverishly, while objects piled in great heaps around them.
“Can you see them?” asked Max.
Patrick strained his eyes, trying to find two familiar figures in the crowd. “Not so far,” he said at last. “We’d better go further down.”
They moved down towards the fence. As they drew closer they could hear the restless muttering of the crowd clustering behind it.
“Let us through, you morons,” shouted an old man with snow-white hair and a Santa Claus beard. “The Guards can’t cope. Look at it! Stuff everywhere. Let us through! We’ll clean it up for you quick smart.”
“Scavengers’ rights!” called a woman beside him.
The crowd murmured angry agreement. The murmur grew and spread, like ripples on a pond.
A thin little woman standing beside Patrick stirred uneasily. “I don’t like this, Perce,” she muttered to her companion. “It’s getting ugly again. They’re getting ready for something. And I keep thinking about that last break. The way the ground shook. It’s not safe here. Let’s go home.”
The man she was speaking to pulled his red-and-blue-striped woolly hat more firmly over his forehead. “You’re right. Should’ve kept away after the last time, I reckon,” he said. “OK, love. Hold tight. Don’t want to lose you, do I?”
They grinned at one another, linked arms, and began to push their way through the crowd back up the hill.
Patrick looked desperately from right to left, but he still couldn’t see Claire or Danny. Just a sea of bodies and grim, mischievous, scared or intent faces, eyes fixed on the Barrier.
Danny finished the glass of water the woman had brought him and gave a sigh of contentment. He’d been so thirsty. He looked up at her. “Can you take me home now?” he asked confidently.
She stared at him, frowning. “Oh, I can’t do anything like that,” she said slowly.
“Why not?” Danny pressed his lips together hard, so as not to start crying again.
“I just can’t. I – I’ve got too much to do,” said the woman, clasping and unclasping her hands. “You can get home by yourself. I’ve got my things to see to. You get along now.” She turned and strode to the door. She pulled it open. “Get along now,” she repeated. “Go home.”
“Please!” Danny looked at her beseechingly, his mouth quivering. “I don’t know how.”
The woman twitched her head from side to side as if trying to get rid of some annoying fly or worrying thought.
“Please!” Danny said again.
She looked around helplessly, wanting an easy way out. But the objects on the shelves stood silently under their film of dust. No answer came from there. “Where do you live?” she said finally.
“A-hundred-and-twenty-seven-Beswick-Street-Langley,” gabbled Danny. “Or you could bring me to the lost boys’ place at the police station. Or you could bring me to Chestnut Tree Village. That’s where me and Patrick and Claire were. Where the TV is, that I came through.”
“TV?” the woman frowned. She was really confused now.
Danny squeezed his hands together. “Yes, you know,” he pleaded. This woman knew about Finders Keepers, didn’t she? So why was she looking at him so strangely? “The TV. The Finders Keepers TV. That you talk to and then it goes dark and you get to that windy place with all the things on the ground. You know!”
“You’re not from this side,” the woman whispered. She peered at Danny. “They brought you over too, through the Barrier, like the other one. No wonder the Barrier’s breaking up. Everyone knows it’s the Finders doing it. And now they’ve brought two of you. Why did they do that? Disobey orders like that?”
“No one broughted me. I came by myself!” cried poor Danny. “I was naughty to Claire. I’m sorry. I want to go home!” Tears began to gather in his eyes again.
“Now, don’t start!” said the woman hastily. She fiddled uncertainly with her rings, twisting them on her fingers. “This changes things. I’ll have to do something. I can’t leave it like this now. I’ll have to report it. Come on.”
Danny ran up to her and hugged her legs, through her skirt. “Thank you,” he said.
She looked down at him, then at a faded old picture in a silver frame on a table near the door. The picture showed a serious-looki
ng little girl in plaits and a small boy with shining hair and a round face. She looked down at Danny’s head again, and her grim face relaxed for a moment. “You’d better tell me your name,” she said abruptly. “What’s your name?”
“Danny – I mean, Daniel Thomas Minter,” said Danny. He dropped his arms, and followed the woman out the door. “What’s yours?” he added shyly.
“Eleanor. Eleanor Mary Doon,” said the woman.
Danny jumped from one step to another and stood on the veranda while the woman locked her door, testing it once, twice, three times. “Can we go now?” he pleaded at last. “Can we go home, Eleanor?”
Her eyes shifted. “Come on,” she said in a flat voice.
Danny and Eleanor Doon walked away from the big locked house, down the long ivy-choked driveway and on to the road beyond the gates. After a while, Danny took her hand.
“Now!”
It was impossible to tell where the shout had come from, but on the signal hundreds of Barrier-combers pressing against the fence reacted as one. They pushed forward violently, flattening it with a single thrust. Scattering the fearsome-looking Agents by their sheer numbers, they pounded down the hill.
Patrick and Max were forced to run with them. It was that or be crushed. Down towards the Barrier they stumbled, concentrating only on keeping their feet. In front of them they could see the lines of Barrier Guards turning to face them, their hands full of the objects they were battling to return to the other side. But it was obviously a battle they weren’t winning. They all stood knee-deep in tangled heaps of things. Their exhausted faces were evidence of the hopelessness of their task.
One Guard turned more slowly than the others. Her face was pale. Her long hair fell untidily over the collar of a red jacket that seemed too big for her. And under the jacket she was wearing jeans. Patrick looked at her. Saw her face change, her mouth open. He yelled with shocked joy.
“Claire!”
“Patrick!”
They flew into each other’s arms.
17
Hide-and-Seek
“Patrick!” cried Claire, holding her brother tightly. “Oh, Patrick, what are you doing here? Oh, I’m so glad to see you.” Then she pulled away. “I’ve lost Danny,” she whispered. “Patrick, Wendy’s told me about Finders Keepers and everything. I could hardly believe it. But we’re here – it must be true! Danny came through the TV set and I came after him. And I saw him, walking up there near the fence, but I couldn’t get to him, and …”
Max and Wendy Minelli moved around to shield them from the curious eyes of the people nearby. “Keep your voices down,” ordered Wendy, casting a worried glance behind her. “Nothing’s changed, Claire. If anyone works out who you and your brother are, or where you came from, the Agents’ll be on to you both.”
“Patrick, the bird,” Max reminded him in an undertone. “We haven’t got time to waste.”
Patrick tried to pull himself together. His knees and hands were shaking violently. He stiffened himself all over, to stop them. “Claire, where’s your bag?” he said hurriedly.
She stared at him. “In Wendy’s hut. But …”
“We’ve got to get it. Quickly.”
Wendy glanced around her again, thinking fast. Agents, Barrier-combers and Guards were milling all around them, scuffling and dodging as the officials tried to drive the invaders back.
She put her hand firmly on Patrick’s shoulder. He jumped in surprise. “Come on, you!” she said in a loud voice. “You’re not getting away this time! Claire! Take the other one.”
Claire blinked once. Wendy nodded at her, frowning. Immediately Claire understood. She pushed Max forward. “Get going!” she ordered.
They marched together towards Wendy’s hut. No one interfered with them, or even looked twice. Two scruffy Barrier-combers being escorted away by two Barrier Guards. Nothing unusual about that.
“Wait here!” barked Wendy as they reached the red hut. She darted inside and came out with Claire’s shoulder bag. She thrust it into Patrick’s hands. He pushed his hand inside, felt around and then looked up at them, dismayed.
“It’s gone!”
“What’s gone?” demanded Claire. “Someone tell me what’s going on!”
“The little china bird. Off the clock!” Patrick was panic-stricken. “It’s important. We need it. Where is it?”
“In the bag, where I put it!” Claire retorted. She snatched the bag from him and felt inside. Her irritation changed to confusion. “It’s gone,” she said. “But how – oh, I know! It must have fallen out when the bag tipped over. At the back of the hut. Come on!”
They hurried to the spot and searched the grass. Nothing. Wendy finally shook her head. “A Scavenger’s got it, for sure. They’ve been picking the ground all around here. It’ll probably turn up for sale on a stall later.”
Max looked at his watch. His face was grey and old-looking. “There won’t be a later if we can’t find it in the next fifteen minutes,” he said. “The Barrier won’t be able to stand the twelve o’clock strike.”
Wendy sprang into action. “I don’t understand any of this, but if the birdie’s that important we’ll just have to find it, won’t we?” she said crisply. “Come on, prisoners! We’ll get you up to the fence and then you can spread the word we want it. Ruby’ll help, if you can find her. You’ll have to offer a reward, of course. A big fat one. Is that all right?”
“Anything,” said Max, and bowed his head.
“OK,” Wendy said. “Off we go then.”
She and Claire took up their positions again, and marched Patrick and Max off between them. They hurried up the hill. Around them strode other Guards and a sprinkling of Agents, driving Barrier-combers before them.
At the fence Wendy stopped. Agents stood shoulder to shoulder along the damaged section. She frowned ferociously at Patrick and Max. “Get between them, you,” she told Claire in a loud voice. “You can take them on alone. I have to go back to my post. Don’t take any smart talk, and don’t let them get away.”
“Yes, sir!” Claire hurried to obey. Patrick and Max kept their eyes down, but Patrick could feel the glare of the Agents’ eyes on him.
“Watch it, all of you,” said Wendy. Her voice was harsh, but Claire, Patrick and Max knew she was saying goodbye and take care, in the only way she could.
“Yes sir!” Claire answered for them all in the only way she could. “Thank you, sir!” She pulled at Max and Patrick’s arms. “Come on, you two,” she said roughly. “Let’s go.”
They marched up to the fence. The Agents, eyes blank behind their black sunglasses, stood firm for a moment, then moved aside to let them through. They marched on, through a scattered crowd of jeering Barrier-combers. They didn’t look back. No one tried to stop them. “Claire, can you see Danny anywhere?” asked Patrick after a moment.
“No,” she whispered. “And listen, what will we do about spreading the word about the bird and the reward and everything?”
“Wait till we’re a bit away from the fence,” said Max. “Then we’ll see.”
They strode on for a moment, then slowed and came to a halt. They were nearly at the top of the hill. There were no Agents here. Just groups of Barrier-combers sitting on the grass as though they were having a picnic, the objects they’d just taken from around the Barrier spread out in front of them.
“Fools,” said Max bitterly. “Worrying about that stuff when everything’s coming down round their ears. Time’s running out. Literally. How can they even think about their stupid little free bits and pieces? Fools!”
“They’re not fools, Max,” said Patrick, watching the people sitting hunched in the wind, looking at their finds. “They’re only doing what they always do, aren’t they? They don’t know how serious things are. Only we know.”
Max sighed. “You’re right. What’s the point in being angry with them? I’m the fool!”
It was getting darker. The sky was almost black. Patrick shivered as the wind bit throu
gh his sweat-soaked T-shirt. He scanned the groups of people, looked further up the hill. And then he saw her. Ruby was standing looking down at the Barrier, her cardigan wrapped around her, her skirt flying backwards, her white hair wild. “Come on!” Patrick yelped. “Up there!”
He pulled the others with him up the hill. Alarmed, Ruby watched them come. As they reached her she primmed her mouth and jerked her head in Patrick’s direction. “You could give the kid a break, couldn’t you, mate?” she said to Claire, carefully casual. “Go on! Leave him with me. I’ll see he doesn’t get into trouble again.”
“It’s OK, Ruby,” Patrick said softly. “This isn’t really a Guard. It’s my sister, Claire. Wendy fixed her up with a Guard’s coat.”
The old woman’s face broke into a delighted smile. “Well, trust Wendy to come up with the goods,” she chortled. “You had me going all right. When I saw you trailing up with a red-coat between you I thought you’d been done for sure.” Then the grin faded. She rounded on Max. “You got two of them here now, have you? The kid and his sister,” she accused. “What do you think you’re playing at, you nutcase?”
“It was a mistake, Ruby,” Patrick explained quickly, before Max could retort. “And, look, we need help, really fast. We’ve lost something. Down by the Barrier.”
He told her about the bird. She listened carefully.
“I’ll spread the word,” she promised. “Reward, huh? That ought to do it. Might take a bit of time though.”
“Time’s just what we haven’t got, Ruby,” Max put in. He glanced at his watch.
“Five minutes,” Ruby said. “Have we got that long?”
Sweat was glistening on Max’s forehead. “Just.”
The old Barrier-comber turned to go, but Patrick stopped her. “One more thing, Ruby,” he said. “Our little brother Danny’s here somewhere.”
“A little boy in a blue T-shirt and shorts,” Claire added. “He’s got fair hair. He’s four.”