Frankie Fish and the Great Wall of Chaos

by Peter Helliar

  Frankie clapped his hands over his ears. ‘Nanna, stop! We haven’t got time for you to be gross. Are you sure that that Guard With The Scar didn’t murder him and take his hook?’

  Nanna shook her head. ‘Absolutely not! That’s Hui, he’s one of the nice ones. He told me Grandad made a deal with him. He promised to give up his hook if Hui would throw a message in a bottle into the ocean for him.’

  Frankie stared at Nanna. Grandad must have been desperate, because that plan sounded as crazy as predicting a miniature poodle would win the Melbourne Cup. But then the puzzle pieces locked together. The bottle Hui had thrown into the sea must have been the one Lieutenant Bugg found in Japan in 1945!

  ‘Nanna,’ said Frankie. ‘We need to get out of here, break Drew out of his cell and find Grandad.’

  ‘Your friend Drew is here?’ said Nanna, surprised.

  ‘Yes. It’s a long story, but he came along and then we met Ping and Mei Mei.’

  ‘Who and what what?’ quizzed Nanna.

  ‘Ping’s our friend. You’ve met her, actually,’ Frankie explained. ‘You and Grandad went time-hopping, right? She was begging and you gave her a book.’

  Nanna frowned for a moment. ‘Does she have a necklace? With a bird carved on it?’

  ‘Yes,’ confirmed Frankie.

  Nanna nodded. ‘Oh yes, I remember her. Poor child. All I had to give her was my Chinese-English dictionary. How is she?’

  ‘She’s sick,’ said Frankie, his throat suddenly tight. ‘I’m hoping you can help her.’

  Nanna nodded solemnly. ‘I’ll do what I can, Frankie.’

  The match went out again, but Nanna quickly struck a new one and passed it to Frankie.

  ‘How many matches do you have, Nanna?’ asked Frankie curiously. ‘And where do you keep them?’

  ‘In my hair, of course.’ Nanna turned her head as Frankie held the lit match and investigated Nanna Fish’s hairdo, careful not to set it on fire. He spotted at least half-a-dozen matches hidden amid her purple perm.

  ‘What else do you have in there? Keys to the lock on the cell door?’ Frankie joked.

  ‘Sadly no,’ sighed Nanna. ‘The only other thing I have are some bobby pins. Got to keep looking nice, even when you travel, eh?’

  If this were a movie rather than a book, then at this point there would be – you guessed it – a guitar strum.

  ‘You have what?’ Frankie asked eagerly.

  ‘Bobby pins. It’s like a clip for your hair,’ Nanna explained.

  But Frankie didn’t need an explanation, because he knew exactly what bobby pins were – and what they could do. Frankie (and this is a secret he hadn’t shared with anyone, ever) had once used a bobby pin to pick the lock on Saint Lou’s secret, private diary. He had been totally sure she was writing mean stuff about him, and he needed to gather evidence to bring before the High Fish Court to put an end to this incredible injustice. But it turned out Saint Lou hadn’t written a single word about Frankie in her diary, which offended him deeply. I am her brother, he remembered thinking at the time.

  ‘Nanna,’ said Frankie now, ‘I REALLY need a bobby pin.’

  ‘Sure thing, sweetie,’ Nanna said, extracting a pin from behind her right ear. ‘But I like your hair the way it is. It’s very … modern.’

  Frankie reshaped the bobby pin into a very wide V, licked one of the tips and then, making sure there were no guards nearby, inserted it into the keyhole of the padlock fastening the cell’s gate closed. He gently jiggled and wiggled it.

  ‘Where did you learn to do that?’ Nanna whispered, watching.

  ‘Oh … um … I saw somebody do it on TV. One of those police shows,’ lied Frankie.

  ‘You really are such an intelligent boy,’ sighed Nanna admiringly.

  A little embarrassed, Frankie concentrated on the lock. Finally there was a faint click and the lock popped open. As quietly as he could, Frankie unhooked the lock from the bars and cautiously pushed at the cell’s gate. It creaked open just enough for Nanna and him to slip out.

  Yes! He’d done it!

  ‘Oh, we mustn’t forget the ooza-majig,’ Nanna whispered.

  ‘Oops! Thanks,’ Frankie whispered back. He sneaked over and grabbed the Sonic Suitcase.

  The Suitcase’s charge was now down to twenty-six per cent. This was a worry. It had taken seventeen per cent to get Frankie and Grandad back from Scotland 1952. Surely it would take more battery to get four people back home from seventeenth-century China?

  Frankie held Nanna’s hand as he ushered her down the gloomy, smelly passageway. He stopped outside the cell where the guard had deposited Drew.

  ‘Psst, Drew?’ he whispered.

  ‘I’m here,’ replied Drew from the darkness, like a very weird game of Marco Polo.

  ‘And so am I,’ replied an older, but very familiar voice.

  ‘Grandad?’ called Frankie, his heart leaping. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘Of course it is, ye daft boy. Who else would it be? Darth Vader?’

  Frankie grinned. He had never been so happy to be insulted in his life!

  This lock was even easier to pick than the last one, and in no time at all Frankie, Drew, Grandad and Nanna were standing together in the dark, gloomy cell.

  ‘Have ye got the suitcase, lad?’ asked Grandad. Even in the dark, Frankie thought he looked weird without his hook.

  ‘It’s right here, Grandad,’ Frankie said, trying to keep his voice from trembling. ‘Are you guys OK? How did you get thrown in jail?’

  ‘Nanna was looking for the lav and the guards here thought we were spies so they locked us up. I knew ye’d find us though, lad,’ Grandad said, ruffling his grandson’s hair. ‘All right, hand the suitcase over and let’s get home, eh!’

  For a moment, Frankie felt chuffed by the praise. Then he remembered that he was actually EXTREMELY peed off at his grandad.

  ‘Well, I shouldn’t have had to find you,’ Frankie burst out angrily. ‘We agreed to never use the Sonic Suitcase ever again. Remember that? You should. It was YOUR idea!’

  With that, he dropped the suitcase on the ground and put an indignant foot right on top of it. He knew they needed to get moving – it wouldn’t be long before the suitcase’s battery was completely flat – but he wasn’t going anywhere until Grandad gave him some answers.

  ‘I know, I know,’ Grandad admitted. By now, everyone’s eyes had got used to the dark and Frankie thought Grandad looked a bit guilty. ‘I went back on my word and for that I am truly sorry,’ the old man continued. ‘I’ll buy ye an ice-cream when we get home.’

  ‘An ice-cream!’ spluttered Frankie. Not even a whole ice-cream truck would make up for the trouble Grandad’s betrayal had caused.

  Nanna gave Frankie’s arm a squeeze. ‘We are all together now, though, and isn’t that the main thing?’ she said sweetly.

  But Frankie was not in the mood for being calmed down. ‘Nanna, we are currently several thousand kilometres and four hundred years away from home!’ he bellowed.

  ‘I have a question,’ said Drew, turning to Grandad. ‘How did you know the message in a bottle would get to Frankie? Seems like a bit of a long shot.’

  ‘Now that’s a good question,’ said Grandad, clearly relieved to change the topic. ‘The answer is … I didn’t know. I just, er … hoped.’

  ‘Hoped?’ Frankie roared. ‘Unbelievable! You hoped?’

  Grandad looked a little huffy. ‘Well, it worked, didn’t it? I threw a mystery into the ocean hoping that some mystery-loving people would find it. And they obviously did.’

  ‘Would have been nice if it’d landed in the hands of slightly less crazy mystery-loving people,’ snickered Drew.

  ‘So you don’t know who Lieutenant Oscar Bugg is? Or the Texan twins?’ questioned Frankie.

  ‘Not if they started tap-dancing in my porridge,’ retorted Grandad. ‘Who are they?’

  Frankie face-palmed. ‘I’ll tell you later,’ he said, still feeling grumpy. But having Nanna’s han
d on his arm was calming him down just a little. ‘Right now we should head home before the suitcase’s battery goes flat.’

  ‘Good idea,’ agreed Nanna. ‘If we get moving we can have those pancakes for supper.’

  ‘Sounds great!’ enthused Drew.

  Frankie was just lifting his foot away when he remembered something. He slid his foot back on top of the battered ruby suitcase. ‘We can’t go back. Not yet,’ he said, shaking his head.

  ‘What?’ spluttered Grandad.

  ‘Why not?’ asked Nanna.

  Frankie slapped his forehead. ‘I can’t believe I forgot about Ping.’

  ‘Ping? Who’s Ping?’ snapped Alfie Fish impatiently.

  ‘Ping’s our friend and she needs help,’ explained Frankie, crossing his arms tightly. ‘She’s sick. I am not going back without knowing she’ll be OK.’

  ‘They have great doctors in China, boy. She’ll be well taken care of,’ Grandad assured him.

  ‘But those doctors are all centuries away from being born,’ Frankie countered. ‘Ping needs help NOW!’

  ‘She was pretty sick,’ Drew agreed, looking worried. ‘She kept grabbing her side, like this, and the pain was coming and going, and just before, she looked like she was going to spew! It seemed bad.’

  Nanna’s eyes narrowed. ‘Was your friend experiencing pains down here?’ She pointed to her lower tummy.

  Frankie caught Drew’s eye and nodded. ‘Yeah, I think so. Sometimes she could hardly move.’ Then he swallowed, and added, ‘Nanna, I think it’s my fault. I gave her some shortbreads from the Cocoa Pit –’

  Nanna looked grave. ‘I’m not a doctor, Frankie, but I don’t think your cookies had anything to do with it.’

  For a moment, Frankie felt relieved – Ping’s tummy pangs weren’t his fault!

  But then Nanna added, ‘I’d say there’s a fair chance your friend has appendicitis. And if her appendix ruptures, she will most likely die.’

  Frankie’s skin went ice-cold. No!!

  They all stood there in silence for a moment, staring at Grandad, who finally groaned. ‘What’s the battery life on the bloody suitcase?’

  Frankie considered lying to Grandad, and then said honestly, ‘Twenty-six per cent.’

  ‘Twenty-six per cent?’ Grandad yelled, before rubbing his face with his left hand.

  ‘Is that good?’ asked Nanna.

  ‘I’m guessing not,’ guessed Drew (correctly).

  ‘It’s about as far from good as I am from joining a boy-band,’ growled Grandad. ‘We need at least twenty per cent to get all four of us back, and unlike 1952 in Glasgow, there are no television sets here to drain electricity from, so we are six per cent away from extinction.’

  Suddenly, something dawned on Frankie, and he started to feel oddly calm. If he was going to find Ping, he would have to do it alone. It wasn’t fair to drag the others along too.

  Without saying a word, Frankie took his foot off the Sonic Suitcase and handed it to Grandad. ‘Here you go,’ he said quietly. ‘You should take Nanna home. Drew, you should go too.’

  ‘But how will you get back, Frankie?’ asked Nanna, horrified.

  ‘You can come back and find me once the suitcase is charged again,’ Frankie replied. He knew this plan was extremely risky. Every trip through time could disrupt the time path, and there was a very real chance that Nanna and Grandad would never be able to find Frankie ever again. He could lose his family forever – just like Ping had.

  But he had to do it. He had to see if he could find Ping and make sure she was OK.

  ‘That’s maaaadness!’ Drew protested, like a sheep who’d been told that wool was out of fashion.

  Frankie knew Drew was right, but he also knew he had to do it.

  ‘Ping took big risks to help us,’ he said. ‘Now I have to help her. I only have two friends. I can’t afford to lose one of them.’

  Drew Bird stared at Frankie. For possibly the first time in his life, he was speechless. But his eyes were also full of respect.

  ‘Wait as long as you can,’ said Frankie, biting his lip. ‘But not a minute more.’

  Then, before he started blubbering and totally ruined his display of bravery, Frankie Fish turned and ran up the walkway, bobby-pinned the lock on the exit gate and disappeared.

  Possibly forever.

  Like a camel in a sandstorm, Frankie had no clue what he was running towards or what to do when he got there. He had only one thing on his mind. He had to find Ping and get her to Nurse Nanna Fish for urgent medical help.

  Nanna helped save Grandad’s life after he crashed in the Big Race, Frankie thought. Surely she can help Ping’s tummy ache now.

  He paused for breath behind the tree near the dungeon gate, listening to the sounds of drums and firecrackers. Peering past the trunk, he could see a makeshift stage at one end of the courtyard. An excited crowd was milling around it. Frankie’s eyes darted around like a fly trapped in a car as he desperately tried to spot Ping in the sea of faces, but she was nowhere to be seen. Frankie knew that the only way to find her was to get out there among the crowd.

  Frankie was still in his neck-to-toe silk dressing gown, but as a precaution he put on a weird-looking hat that he found on the ground. If you turned it upside down, you could use it as a salad bowl. It had a button on top with red tassels hanging from it, and if that wasn’t enough there was also a black peacock feather protruding from the back.

  Frankie found himself imagining what kind of reaction he would get if he rocked up to school wearing this thing. The Mosley triplets would probably laugh so hard their heads would explode. But here it was different. Frankie realised he’d probably feel stranger if he were walking around the Forbidden City in a baseball cap.

  He paced the courtyard, his head down but his eyes up, scanning every last corner and shadow for Ping and Mei Mei. He obviously couldn’t ask anyone for help, partly because he didn’t speak the language but also because he couldn’t risk asking the wrong person and getting recaptured.

  ‘Ping?’ Frankie called occasionally. ‘Ping?’ But no reply came.

  As he searched, he wondered if Grandad, Nanna and Drew had already left for the future. The thought made Frankie feel more alone than ever.

  Then, very faintly, he heard a familiar sound. ‘Woof!’

  Frankie’s head shot up like a rocket. ‘Mei Mei?’ he hissed, trying to work out which direction the sound had come from.

  Back and forth across the large courtyard he ran, yelling ‘Mei Mei!’ at the top of his voice, no longer caring if anyone saw him. If he found Mei Mei now, there might still be a chance that everything would work out.

  ‘Woof! WOOF!’

  The loud, frantic barking was right behind him. When he swung around, Frankie couldn’t believe his eyes. There was Mei Mei, pulling at one of the guard’s bootstraps in front of the makeshift stage. The guard, finally noticing the persistent little fuzzball slobbering all over his boots, shooed her away.

  ‘Mei Mei!’ Frankie called, and this time she heard. She barked joyfully and in a flash was running towards him as fast as her little paws could carry her. Frankie held out his arms and Mei Mei leapt into them, enthusiastically licking his face like he was the world’s tastiest ice-cream.

  ‘Where’s Ping?’ Frankie asked her. ‘Is she OK?’

  ‘Woof, woof!’ barked Mei Mei. She jumped from his arms, ran ahead a few steps and then looked back at Frankie as if to say, ‘Are you coming or what?’

  Of course he was. Frankie darted along behind Mei Mei as she weaved her way through the crowd in the courtyard, until they reached a secluded corner. It was shielded by a large red flag adorned with the face of the Emperor.

  Frankie pushed the flapping material aside and there, huddled in a corner, was poor Ping, her eyes squeezed shut and her cheeks streaked with tears. Frankie rushed over.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Frankie asked, although clearly she wasn’t.

  Ping shook her head weakly.

  ‘We nee
d to get you to my nanna,’ said Frankie urgently. ‘She’s waiting in the prison cells.’

  Ping grimaced. ‘Not – going – to – prison.’

  ‘You must, Ping,’ Frankie pleaded. ‘My nanna thinks you have appendicitis, so we need to go. Now.’

  Mei Mei barked sternly, as if agreeing with Frankie. After a long silence, Ping nodded and allowed Frankie to help her up. She winced with pain the whole way.

  When they finally emerged from behind the giant Emperor flag, a man in very fancy-looking clothing with a long, wispy beard was addressing a silent, respectful crowd.

  ‘Is that the Emperor?’ asked Frankie, nervously.

  ‘No,’ muttered Ping. ‘I overheard someone … the Emperor is away …’

  ‘Away? Doing what?’

  ‘I don’t know … Emperor business, I suppose,’ Ping said. ‘That man is second in charge.’

  ‘Oh, I get it. It’s like that time I tried to return my skateboard but the guy at the shop refused because the actual manager was on holiday in Hawaii,’ said Frankie, momentarily forgetting himself.

  Luckily Ping was in too much pain to even try to make sense of anything Frankie had said.

  The Second-in-Charge (or possibly the Regional Manager Emperor) was screaming the way Principal Dawson screamed at the Mosley triplets when they made rude noises with their armpits. Every now and then he’d stop to lick what looked like a stick of red candied fruit that he held in one hand. Frankie got the distinct impression that the people watching were only pretending to like this guy, and were longing for the real Emperor to return.

  With Mei Mei firmly tucked under one arm, Frankie carefully helped Ping through the crowd towards the gateway for the Secret Prison, his head bowed as he hoped like mad that Grandad, Nanna and Drew were still waiting there.

  They were about halfway there when a spotty pigeon flew above the crowd, flapping its wings like it was heading to the Boxing Day sales. The frantic bird caught the attention of Mei Mei, who started barking furiously.

  ‘Oh no …’ groaned Frankie.

  Heads turned as Mei Mei’s bark echoed throughout the courtyard. The pigeon flew away, but unfortunately for our heroes, the barking had caught the attention of the Second-in-Charge Manager Not-Emperor, who stopped mid-sentence and stared over at Frankie and Ping. Then, speaking loudly and angrily, he pointed in their direction and exclaimed something very loudly in Mandarin.