Adults Only

by Morris Gleitzman

  Then the magazine people saw him.

  ‘Hello,’ said the magazine man, holding the plastic spade frozen in mid-pat. ‘What have we got here?’

  The magazine woman dropped the bucket and gawped. ‘I told you,’ she said to the magazine man. ‘I told you.’

  Jake took a deep breath.

  ‘I’m not going to try and lie to you,’ he said, looking them in the face. ‘I’m a kid.’

  He waited a moment for this to fully sink in, then continued.

  ‘It’s not Mum and Dad’s fault,’ he said. ‘They didn’t want me. I was an accident. If you don’t believe me, look in their photo album. They’d had such an unhappy childhood they decided never to have kids of their own. They were devastated when I came along. It totally ruined all their plans for an exclusive adults-only holiday facility. Don’t punish them more by writing a bad article, please. They’ve suffered enough having me.’

  Jake stopped, too out of breath and too miserable to continue.

  The magazine people were staring at him, open-mouthed.

  I think it’s working, thought Jake. First rule of hotel management. Always tell the truth.

  Then he heard a moan from behind him.

  He spun round. It was Mum, eyes wide and tearful. She and Dad must have followed him down.

  ‘Jake,’ she said, coming towards him. ‘It’s not true. We did want you, love. We did.’

  Don’t, thought Jake desperately. Don’t spoil it. I’ve told the truth and it’s working. Don’t spoil it with lies.

  Mum turned to the magazine people. ‘We wanted a baby so much,’ she said. ‘We tried to have one for years. But the doctors said it was impossible for us. That’s why we came here and started an adults-only guesthouse. To get away from children. Seeing other children was too painful for us because we so desperately wanted one of our own.’

  Mum, pleaded Jake silently. Don’t. No more stories. Next she’d be telling them she had a really happy childhood.

  ‘We thought it was hopeless,’ said Dad.

  ‘We thought we’d never have what our parents had,’ continued Mum. ‘A much-loved son or daughter.’ Her face lit up through her tears. ‘And then, about a year after we arrived, miraculously, I got pregnant.’

  ‘The doctors said it was an accident,’ said Dad. ‘I mean, it happened in the normal way, but after all the trouble we’d had, they said it was an accident of nature.’

  Jake stared at him.

  ‘That’s why we called you our little accident,’ said Mum.

  There was a silence. Nobody spoke. Only the waves made a sound, and they seemed to be sighing like people do when they hear something they’ve never thought of before.

  Keep going, said Jake silently, chest thumping. I want to hear more.

  The magazine people looked as though they did too.

  ‘We shouldn’t have carried on with the guesthouse,’ said Mum. ‘But we didn’t have a choice.’

  ‘We’d borrowed so much money from the bank,’ said Dad, ‘we were scared to walk away. Even though we knew this wasn’t a good place for a kid.’

  Jake couldn’t stay silent any longer.

  ‘If you wanted me,’ he said, ‘why were you so miserable? I saw the photos.’

  Mum stroked Jake’s cheek. ‘I was being greedy,’ she said. ‘Having you around was such a joy, I wanted more. I wanted another baby. And I wanted a brother or sister for you so you wouldn’t be so lonely here.’ Mum looked down at something in her hand. Jake saw it was Gwen’s cardboard doll.

  ‘But,’ said Mum, ‘it didn’t happen.’

  Jake suddenly felt like he needed a slow-motion replay of the last few minutes, just to take everything in. He felt weak and shaky all over, like he’d been chained to a bed for most of his life.

  Mum turned to the magazine people. ‘There’s lots we’ve done that we shouldn’t have,’ she said. ‘But the thing we most shouldn’t have done was give you Crusher.’

  She stepped over and picked Crusher up and brushed the sand off his head.

  ‘Crusher’s the one who’s helped Jake get though the last eleven years,’ she said, ‘and we should never have taken him away from Jake.’

  Jake held his breath.

  ‘Kevin and Fiona,’ said Mum, ‘write what you like, but we’re taking Crusher back.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Dad. ‘Write what you like, we don’t care. But it would be good if you could mention the cooking.’

  Jake didn’t hear much of what was said next because after Mum handed Crusher to him he spent the next few minutes with his face buried in Crusher’s fur.

  ‘Sorry Crusher’, he whispered. ‘After all this time apart, the first thing I do is make you soggy.’

  He could tell Crusher understood.

  Then Jake looked up and saw the magazine people walking away towards the house. He saw something else. The sandcastle they’d been building was in the shape of the island. It was a pretty good likeness, except for one thing. They’d got the house wrong. Instead of one building they’d got about four.

  Jake didn’t have a chance to look at it for long because Mum and Dad both put their arms round him and Crusher.

  ‘We’re sorry,’ said Mum.

  ‘Incredibly sorry,’ said Dad. ‘Incredibly. Incredibly. Incredibly.’

  Jake realised, as the four of them stood there on the sand hugging, that it felt more like a family than he could ever remember. Specially as all four of them were sobbing.

  And a little while later, when Jake opened his eyes and blinked the tears away and peered over Mum’s shoulder and saw two faces watching them from the undergrowth, he felt as if Gwen and Mabel were part of the family too.

  18

  Jake walked with Crusher up and down the beach for a long time, trying to find a solution.

  He couldn’t.

  Every argument he came up with fell flat.

  Nothing he could think of would make the awful truth go away. Sometimes the truth could make you feel really sick.

  ‘I’ve got a mum and dad,’ Jake said to Crusher at last. ‘She hasn’t. She needs you more than I do.’

  Even through his tears he could tell Crusher understood.

  So he didn’t bother trying to come up with any more arguments. He spent the rest of the time swapping memories with Crusher of all the things they’d done together.

  The adventures they’d shared.

  The joy and sadness they’d been through.

  The ants they’d stared at.

  The bank robberies they hadn’t actually done but had enjoyed thinking about.

  Then it was time to say goodbye.

  ‘Thankyou Crusher,’ whispered Jake. ‘I’ll always love you.’

  He could tell Crusher felt the same.

  Jake gave Crusher one last hug, then walked over to where Gwen and Mabel were waiting at the edge of the beach. As he got closer, he saw Mabel’s dark eyes fixed on Crusher. They were slowly widening, as if she couldn’t believe what was happening.

  Jake held Crusher out to her.

  ‘Alfonse,’ she whispered.

  She reached out and took Crusher and hugged him tight. For the first time since Jake had met her, a smile crept across her face and her eyes shone with happiness.

  Then she did something that Jake knew, even as he stared in stunned amazement, he would remember for as long as he lived, and possibly longer.

  She held Crusher in front of her face and whistled softly to him.

  It wasn’t a TV jingle but it was just as good.

  Even though sadness was gripping his throat, Jake could tell that Crusher was enjoying the moment too. Despite the inconvenience of having to get used to his old name.

  Jake felt Gwen step close to him and gently touch his arm.

  ‘Thankyou Jake,’ she said softly. ‘Mabel will always be grateful to you. I will too.’

  She wasn’t grinning at him like she usually did. She was smiling a soft smile that made Jake want to have her around f
orever.

  ‘Some of the kids didn’t think you’d give him back,’ she said. ‘But I knew you would. I knew you’d turn out to be that sort of person.’

  Jake didn’t quite understand what she meant, but there was something more important he had to ask her.

  ‘Will we see each other again?’

  ‘I hope so,’ she said. ‘One day.’

  She pressed something into Jake’s hand. Before he had a chance to look down to see what it was, he heard someone sob behind him.

  He turned and was surprised to see Mum and Dad standing a short distance away on the sand, watching. He was sure they’d gone back up to the house after the magazine couple.

  Mum was clutching Dad’s arm, staring at Gwen and Mabel in tearful amazement.

  ‘Frank,’ she said. ‘Look. It’s happening again.’

  Jake didn’t understand what Mum was rabbiting on about. Right now, though, he had more things to ask Gwen.

  He turned back.

  Gwen was gone.

  So were Mabel and Crusher.

  Jake struggled not to call out Crusher’s name. He looked down to see what Gwen had put in his hand.

  It was a piece of bubblegum, still wet and warm.

  Jake plonked the last of the magazine people’s bags down on the jetty.

  At least now he was an official member of the family he could help Dad with the bags.

  That was one consolation.

  Not much of a one, thought Jake, given that the magazine people are probably going to write an article that’ll make us bankrupt.

  Mr Goff came up from below decks and Mum and Dad said g’day to him, but Jake could tell their hearts weren’t really in it.

  Jake tried to be optimistic. Perhaps, he thought, the magazine people had a really good time playing with my stuff on the beach. Perhaps they’ve remembered how much fun they had as kids. Perhaps they’ll write really nice things about how good this place is for relieving executive stress.

  The magazine people came striding down from the house. They didn’t look like people who’d rediscovered the joys of childhood.

  ‘Bye, Kevin and Fiona,’ said Dad. ‘We do hope you enjoyed your stay.’

  Jake felt proud at what a brave face Dad was putting on.

  The magazine man looked at Mum and Dad for a long moment. ‘Frank,’ he said, ‘Maureen, I’m not going to beat around the bush. As an exclusive adults-only holiday retreat, this place sucks.’

  Jake saw Mum and Dad both slump visibly, as if someone had whacked them across the back with a big leather strap.

  ‘Bluntly,’ continued the magazine man, ‘our readers expect something a little more from a sophisticated adult establishment than rolling down sand dunes, treading in what appears to be rotting Easter eggs, and prodding seaweed with sticks.’

  ‘Oysters,’ said Jake before he could stop himself. What hope do we have, he thought gloomily, if they can’t even get that right.

  ‘And Frank,’ said the magazine woman, ‘our sophisticated international readers expect something a bit better in their pancakes than seaweed.’

  ‘And,’ said the magazine man, looking at Jake, ‘finding the place crawling with kids.’

  ‘And nearly drowning in a cave,’ said the magazine woman.

  The magazine man glared at her. She blushed deep red.

  ‘OK,’ said Mum. ‘That’s enough. You didn’t like it here and you’re going to write bad things about us and we’ll never get another booking again. We get the message. Rather than standing around here insulting my family, I think you’d better leave.’

  ‘Engines all fired up and raring to go,’ muttered Mr Goff. ‘It could be a bumpy trip.’

  I don’t get it, thought Jake. They really liked the place when they first arrived. When I was under the bed they were raving about it.

  What was going on?

  Then Jake remembered the movie he’d seen on TV about the explorers. When they’d discovered an ancient tribe’s gold mine, they’d threatened to blow it up if the tribe didn’t sell it to them.

  Jake held his breath.

  ‘Of course,’ said the magazine man, ‘there is another way this could turn out.’

  Jake could see Mum and Dad still didn’t know what was going on.

  ‘You could sell us the lease to this place,’ said the magazine man.

  ‘OK,’ said Jake.

  ‘What?’ said Dad.

  Mum, stunned but starting to look delighted, put her hand over Jake’s mouth.

  ‘We know some investors who want to get into up-market accommodation,’ said the magazine man. ‘With the right people behind it, this place could be a quality boutique executive resort.’

  ‘And who says we’re not the right people,’ growled Dad.

  ‘We do,’ said Mum, looking as though she was about to push Dad into the water.

  ‘She’s right,’ said the magazine man. ‘You haven’t got a clue. You think small. You need at least twenty rooms to make this place pay. Plus you’ve got a kid. And you don’t even charge for drinks.’

  Even though Jake didn’t like hearing Dad’s faults being discussed like this, he felt his heart trying to do a happy dance with his kidneys.

  ‘What sort of money are we talking about?’ said Dad.

  ‘Enough to pay off the bank,’ said the magazine man.

  Jake caught Mum’s eye and he could see she felt the same as he did. Like doing a jig down the jetty and a quick bit of jazz ballet with Mr Goff.

  ‘We’d want more than that,’ said Dad.

  Jake flinched. That’s it, he thought. He’s headed for the water. With a lobster pot jammed on his privates.

  Before Mum could do anything, though, the magazine man looked hard at Dad.

  ‘How much more?’ he said.

  ‘Enough for a deposit on a small motel on the mainland,’ said Dad.

  The magazine man thought for a moment. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I think we can say yes to that.’

  It was only later, after the magazine people had gone and Dad had cooked lobster and chips for dinner and Mum had made mango cream tarts and they’d all made lots of excited plans about moving to the mainland, that Jake had a thought that made him smile a lot.

  All those up-market child-free executives. He hoped they had fun meeting the ghost kids.

  Then Jake stopped smiling because suddenly he’d had an awful thought.

  He sat staring at his plate, mango cream curdling in his guts.

  What if leaving the island meant he never saw Gwen and Mabel and Crusher again?

  19

  Mr Goff threw another bed onto the fire and the flames roared high into the night sky.

  Jake threw the last of the desks on and the flames shot even higher.

  I don’t get it, thought Jake. I was sure Gwen and Mabel would come back for this. Burning all the children’s home furniture they hated so much.

  Mr Goff was having a great time, dancing about, splintering wood with his feet. Even Mum and Dad were enjoying themselves. These days they were more romantic together than Jake had ever seen them.

  Jake sighed.

  Two weeks since he’d given Crusher to Mabel, and not a sign of them.

  He’d tried everything. E-mails. The school radio. Leaving notes in the Blue Room. Telepathy. He’d even written a message in the sand in huge letters.

  Gwen, where are you?

  Nothing.

  Not even a sprinkle of icing sugar on the stair carpet.

  The weird thing was, even though he was missing Crusher heaps, he was missing Gwen more.

  Jake put his hand in his pocket and felt the lump of bubblegum. It was cold and hard now. Not much to remember your first ever real live friend by.

  He peered across the dark water at the distant star-swept horizon.

  No sign of them.

  ‘I just don’t get it,’ said Jake.

  He had persuaded Dad to have the bonfire on the highest point of the island, even though it had taken them hou
rs to carry all the furniture up here. Flames this size would be visible from hundreds of kilometres away.

  Thousands probably.

  So why weren’t they here?

  ‘What don’t you get?’ asked Mum, slipping her arm round Jake’s shoulders. Dad put his arm round from the other side.

  ‘I know sadness attracts them,’ said Jake. ‘And I’m feeling pretty sad at the moment. So where are they?’

  ‘Give them time,’ said Mum. ‘We’re not moving for a few months yet. They’ll be back.’

  She kissed him on the hair. Dad squeezed him hard.

  That’s probably the trouble, thought Jake as he cuddled into them both. I’m not sad enough.

  He stared past the leaping flames up at the stars. He decided to ask Mum about something he’d been puzzling over for the last two weeks.

  ‘Mum,’ he said. ‘On the beach that day, just after I said goodbye to Crusher, why did you say “it’s happening again”?’

  Mum didn’t answer for quite a while.

  From her body movements, Jake guessed Mum was swapping looks with Dad.

  ‘It’s a bit hard to put into words, love,’ she said at last. ‘I’m not sure if I really know why myself. Let’s wait and see. Perhaps one day we’ll understand.’

  20

  Jake stood in the back of the boat as it chugged away from the jetty, staring at the island.

  The sun was setting. The house and the hills and the rocky outcrops were silhouetted against a flaming sky.

  ‘Goodbye Crusher,’ whispered Jake. ‘I hope you’re happy with Mabel.’

  He closed his eyes and concentrated hard. And deep inside he had the faint but definite feeling that Crusher was happy.

  Jake opened his eyes, wiped them dry, and looked again at the pink sky.

  ‘Goodbye Gwen,’ he whispered. ‘I wish I’d seen you again.’

  ‘Hang on everyone,’ yelled Mr Goff with the cheerful tone of a man who’d decided to retire and sail round Australia. ‘Full steam ahead.’

  Jake hung on.

  All around him, furniture and suitcases and cardboard boxes hung on too.

  I knew this bit would be hard, thought Jake. Leaving for the last time. Wondering why Gwen never came back. But I didn’t know it would hurt this much.