by Maurice Gee
So they looked across the city and the sea at Rangitoto, and looked into the crater at Mount Eden. The places were ordinary enough, perhaps a little dark, a little threatening, but that, they thought, was because clouds had come up from the south and hidden the sun. After a while Theo said, ‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes.’
‘How do you do this?’
‘I’ll tell you one day.’
‘Will we meet you?’
‘Soon.’
There was quiet. ‘Thank you for saving us,’ Rachel said.
‘Thank you for being what you are. And now, children, go back to your car. Your aunt will start to worry soon.’
They turned to go back. And they saw the old man on the rim they had come from, standing against the sky. They ran again, through the trees, over the flat, along the broken ground on the crater rim. When they reached the cars he had vanished again. They ran across the parking lot and looked down the mountain side, but saw only grazing cattle. ‘How does he do it?’ They clambered into the Mini, red-faced and breathless. Aunt Noeline put down her magazine.
‘What energetic children.’
‘Did you see him?’
‘Who?’
‘That old man.’
‘My dears, I’ve been reading …’
Ricky got in the car.
‘Did you see him, Ricky?’
‘An old man in a red shirt.’
‘He was over the other side and then he came round here.’
‘I saw him,’ Ricky said. ‘That was old Jonesy.’
‘Who?’
‘Old Jonesy. Mr Jones. The bloke I was telling you about. He hangs around the Wilberforces’ place. Wonder what he was doing over here.’
‘He was the one who saved us when we were lost.’
‘Now, children,’ Aunt Noeline said, ‘that was just fantasy.’
They said no more, were sorry in fact that they had said so much. Ricky drove down the winding road on the side of the mountain. Aunt Noeline smiled. ‘I wouldn’t worry, dears. Mr Jones may be a bit odd but he’s very kind. Ricky, keep your speed down … And I’ve got just a tiny suspicion this is one of your games.’
‘What games?’
‘Those ones you used to play when you were smaller. Finding things.’
They blushed. There had been a time when they had been able to send messages to each other – telepathy, their father had called it. Their favourite trick had been for one of them to hide something in a room and then with closed eyes concentrate on the object, sending its picture to the other, who would walk in and go straight to it – an ear-ring or marble or paper-weight in some unlikely place. But they had given that up. It was part of their ‘twinship’, which they were anxious to drop. They wanted to be themselves. So they sat quiet on the drive home. The old man – Mr Jones – was not a game. They were certain of that. He was the one who had saved them. And turning their minds back to that time, to their night in the bush, their dreaming comfortable sleep, and their happy waking, they remembered, for the first time in eight years, that he had spoken of a task he would call them to do. Now he had shown them the mountains – Rangitoto, Mount Eden. So the task was there. At the poles. Theo puzzled about the word. Poles were things that were opposite, but joined. He could not work it out. At the other end of the seat, Rachel watched Rangitoto. As they drove up the harbour bridge the island seemed to climb up from the sea. She felt cold.
In Takapuna she asked to be let down. She made the excuse of wanting to go to the library. The truth was she wanted to be by herself to think things out.
Theo said, ‘I’m going to have a canoe ride on the lake. Get me a book, though.’
‘And me,’ Aunt Noeline cried. ‘Here’s my card. A nice murder. Not too gruesome.’
The library was down a street towards the beach. For a while she wandered about, trying to make sense of the things that had happened. But it all seemed part of a dream. In this bright place, full of people and books, with happy-looking girls behind the desk, it seemed impossible that any of it could really have happened. A voice inside her head, an old man who vanished, a task that must be done – and the smell of the lake, people who sniffed at hairs. Impossible. And yet – Mr Jones had saved them, he had been there in the bush eight years ago. She was certain of that.
Rachel sighed. It was too difficult. She hoped that soon he would come and explain. In the meantime, it was nearly closing time. She must get some books. She chose two for herself and two for Theo. Then she hurried to the rental shelves and started pulling out murder mysteries. Their covers made them all seem horrible. What was a ‘nice’ murder? But at last she found one that seemed as if it would do. It was called Lost in the Lake and its cover showed a stretch of dark water with a twisted hand coming out of it. At least there was no blood.
She pushed the other books back into the shelves. One slipped out and fell on the floor. She bent down to pick it up, pushing her arm round the base of the shelves. But as her fingers closed on it she felt something grip her. She gave a small cry of surprise. A hand had taken her arm, a long, old, very brown hand; and she made no move to get away, for the touch was warm and not in the least alarming. She stood up and looked in to the eyes of the old man in the red shirt – Mr Jones. He was watching her with friendliness and sadness. She knew she had nothing to fear. The warmth of his touch was creeping up her arm. It was almost as if she were lowering it slowly into a bath of warm water. He kept his grip, firm and light, and seemed to be listening. She knew she was being tested, some message was passing through her skin to his hand. She longed for it to be the right one and she kept very still.
At last he smiled. ‘Don’t be frightened, Rachel.’
‘I’m not frightened.’
He let go her wrist and turned away. In a moment she saw him go out the door and walk away down the street. She took her books to the desk and had them issued. Then she walked home. The warmth in her arm grew stronger. By the time she reached the lake it had crept through the whole of her body.
Theo was in his room, sitting on his bed and staring at his hands with an odd excited look.
‘Rachel, you’ll never guess what’s happened.’
‘I want to tell you what happened to me. The old man –’
‘No, me first. I went across to the other side of the lake and when I got out of the canoe to look at the yachts the old man was there.’
She knew exactly what he was going to say.
‘He came up and took hold of my wrist. As if he was taking my pulse. Right here. And then he just looked at me for a while. And he said, “Don’t be frightened, Theo.” And the funny thing was, I wasn’t. I’m not.’
‘What time was it?’
‘About twenty minutes ago. Five o’clock.’
‘That’s when he was with me in the library. Within a few minutes anyway.’
‘Rachel, that’s teleportation. You know, moving yourself with thought.’
‘What about the warmth? Have you got that?’
‘Yes. It’s right through me. But I don’t feel hot. I mean sweaty. It’s different from that. Wait on.’ He hurried out of the room and came back with a thermometer. ‘I found this in the bathroom. Open your mouth.’
They took Rachel’s temperature first, then Theo’s. Both were normal – thirty-seven degrees.
‘But I feel about fifty-five degrees.’
‘Me too. But listen Rachel, he told me to stay off the lake.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. All he said was, “Never go on the lake. Tell your sister.” I had to pull the canoe back round the shore. It must be because of – them.’ He nodded out the window.
‘The Wilberforces?’
‘Have you noticed the smell? You can tell it comes from there.’
They looked at the Wilberforces’ house and for a moment felt colder. But then they sat on the bed and the warmth returned.
‘What do we do?’
‘Wait for him to get in touch
with us.’
‘I hope he’s not too long. There are a lot of questions I want to ask.’
‘Like, who is he?’
‘What is he?’
‘Yes,’ Theo agreed. ‘And what are the Wilberforces?’
3
THE STONES
They slept with their windows closed to keep out the smell. The warmth stayed in their bodies but somehow gave them the temperature they required. Their sleep was as deep and comfortable as any they had known, although once in the night Rachel dreamed she heard a slithering sound outside her window and a coughing like a cat trying to be sick. But it lasted only a moment and after that she slept as soundly as before.
After breakfast they stayed around the house. They agreed they should wait for the old man to get in touch with them. Halfway through the morning Uncle Clarry called them outside.
‘There’s a funny sort of dust all over the grass. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like flour but it’s sort of sticky and grey. Have you kids been touching something you shouldn’t?’
‘No, Uncle.’
‘It’s under your windows. It even goes a couple of feet up the walls. Are you sure you didn’t throw something out?’
‘No.’
‘I wonder if Ricky’s been messing with something.’
The twins touched the dust with their fingers. It had an unpleasant feeling and clung to their skin. And it carried a trace of the rotten cabbage smell. Uncle Clarry did not notice that.
Later in the morning they went up to Rachel’s room and looked at the Wilberforces’ house. They studied it through Uncle Clarry’s binoculars. Some of the windows were painted over and others had blinds drawn down to the sills. The roof-iron was rusty and the fancy woodwork under the eaves was rotting away. Broken down-pipes crawled down the walls like snakes. Nothing moved. And nothing stirred outside. There seemed to be no birds in the trees or hedges.
The postman came up the street. He passed the Wilberforces’ box without a glance. But as he went by the stone fence and the padlocked iron gate, one of the blinds in the house seemed to tremble. The twins shivered.
‘I wish Mr Jones would come,’ Rachel said.
They took their library books and went down to the living-room. It was warm down there.
After lunch Ricky found them sitting on the sofa.
‘What’s the matter with you kids?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Well, get outside. The sun’s shining.’
‘I got sunburned yesterday.’
‘Me too.’
‘Put some cream on then. Come on. You both look as if you’re missing Mummy.’
‘Cut it out, Ricky.’
‘Tell you what. I’m not doing anything. We’ll go for a spin in the boat.’
‘Hey, that’d be great.’
‘Get into your togs then. We’ll go out to Rangitoto.’
He hooked the boat to the buggy while they were changing. They climbed in beside him and he drove up the right-of-way on to the road. Theo and Rachel looked back towards the Wilberforces’. The iron gates of the old house were open. A huge black car nosed out like an eel from a hole and set off after them.
‘Ricky, have you seen that car before?’
He looked in his rear-vision mirror. ‘Yeah. It belongs to those weirdos up the street. Converted hearse. They probably keep bodies in it.’ He laughed.
The car followed them all the way to the beach, keeping well behind. But as Ricky was backing down the boat-ramp it turned about and drove away up the hill towards the main road.
‘Maybe they’re watching to see we don’t meet Mr Jones,’ Theo whispered. ‘Can you see him?’
They searched the beach with their eyes until Ricky yelled at them to give him a hand. ‘What a dozy pair. I can’t launch this thing by myself. Hold it while I get the buggy parked.’
Soon he was back and they climbed into the boat and set off along the edge of the reef towards the open sea. The day was calm and the Sea Lady sped along as Ricky opened her up. She drummed on the water, scarcely touching the swells, and the twins forgot the Wilberforces in their excitement. The spray flew back and wet their faces.
‘We’re wide open now. Want to drive?’
They took turns, curving the boat in wide sweeps, but always straightening her up towards Rangitoto. They closed on the island at a startling rate. The twins hadn’t realised it was so close.
‘How far is it from the beach, Ricky?’
‘About ten kilometres. We can do it in quarter of an hour.’
The coastline behind them had flattened out. They picked out the beaches – Takapuna, Cheltenham, Narrow Neck – with cliffs between them. The houses were tiny boxes clustered together and the trees no taller than grass. But it was the island that held their attention. It seemed to grow taller and bend over them. It was much larger than they had thought and the bush was thicker and wilder. A walk to the peak would take hours.
Suddenly Rachel did not like it. She did not like its black rocks or the colour of its bush.
‘I don’t want to go ashore, Ricky.’
‘I wasn’t going to. We’ll just cruise in by the lighthouse and then head round towards the Noises.’
‘We should have brought fishing lines,’ Theo said.
Ricky shook his head. ‘There’s nothing here. Something seems to have scared them away.’
When they were a hundred metres from shore Ricky took the wheel. He dropped the boat’s speed and they went in close to the lighthouse. Yachts and run-abouts were dotted over the channel. An oil tanker, low in the water, was picking up its pilot. Close to the island the Sea Lady was far from them all.
Rachel moved close to Theo. ‘Can you smell it?’
‘Just a whiff.’
‘That means they come out here.’
The rocks on the water’s edge were broken and jagged but here and there were patches of sand. Ricky took the boat in close and crawled her along almost touching the black lava. For ten minutes they made their way north along the shoreline. High above them the mountain lost its shape. The sky clouded over and the bush turned the colour of mud. Out in the channel the tanker let out three sounds like the roaring of a bull. Rachel shivered.
‘I’m getting cold, Ricky. Can we go back?’
‘We’ve just got out here.’
‘I think it’s going to rain.’
But Ricky was staring behind her. ‘Porpoises. Look.’
Back in the direction of the lighthouse three grey shapes were cruising towards them with their fins breaking the water.
‘You don’t often see that,’ Ricky said.
Theo was peering closely at the fish. Suddenly his eye caught a movement deep in the water. Something was surfacing fast towards the boat.
‘They aren’t porpoises,’ he cried, ‘they’re sharks.’
He lunged past Ricky and pulled the throttle open. The boat stood up on its stern, then jerked away at a speed that had them clutching the sides to keep their feet. It careered wildly until Ricky grabbed the wheel. He straightened her up. A huge black shape broke the surface on their left and leaped high in the air. It twisted in its flight, lashing at the boat with its tail, then fell back with a splash that threw water across the cabin.
‘He tried to ram us,’ Ricky shouted. The boat jolted sideways, nearly throwing Theo out. Another shark had struck a blow on its side.
‘Down. Lie in the bottom.’ Ricky had the throttle wide open and he drove the boat on a zig-zag course. The two sharks dived for another attack. But the Sea Lady was at her top speed and in a moment they appeared again twenty metres behind. The others were even further back.
‘We’re losing them,’ Ricky yelled. He had the boat headed for Takapuna. In a moment he called the twins up to the middle. ‘She’ll run better with the weight here. Keep your eye open for leaks. That was one hell of a bang she took.’
‘Sharks don’t attack like that,’ Theo said.
‘These ones did. It’s lucky
they weren’t real big ones. That first bloke that had a go at us was only about a couple of metres. Still, if he’d hit us square on he would have smashed a hole.’
‘It wasn’t just anyone they were after,’ Rachel said – but Theo gave her a look and she kept quiet.
In ten minutes they were back at the ramp. Ricky went for the buggy while the twins held the boat in the shallow water. The sharks had dropped from sight not far from Rangitoto.
‘This is getting serious,’ Theo said.
‘I could smell them, Theo.’
‘So could I.’
‘All I want is to get my feet out of the water.’
They helped Ricky haul the boat on the trailer. A grey mark like a bruise ran up its side. Ricky went pale when he saw it. ‘Talk about lucky. If you hadn’t seen them when you did, Theo, we’d be dead.’
He drove up the ramp and set off up the hill. The twins sat close together, wrapped in their towels. In spite of the warmth still in them from the old man’s touch they were feeling chilled. They kept a lookout for the hearse, but the streets were full of camper-vans and cars pulling caravans. Ricky stopped at the corner to let traffic go by on the main road. It was Rachel who saw Mr Jones first. She felt her head drawn round by a force like magnetism. He was standing on the footpath by the hotel. Today his shirt was blue. He smiled at her. Theo felt the same force. They forgot the sharks. ‘Rachel, Theo, come with me,’ his voice said in their minds. At once they climbed out of the buggy.
‘Hey, where are you going?’ Ricky yelled. Then cars behind him sounded their horns and he had to drive away.
‘Tell Auntie we’ll buy a pie for lunch,’ Theo yelled after him.
Mr Jones had crossed the road and was walking up a footpath that led to the lake. Some way up he stopped and waited for them. They crossed and followed him, always a dozen metres behind, as though this were an instruction. They turned a corner and went along a street of houses built in brick and tile. They had concrete or wrought-iron fences and plaster seals with bird-baths on their noses. But halfway along was a high green hedge with a red iron roof behind it. The old man opened the gate and went in. The house was a white cottage with flowers growing wild over its lawns.