Mumbersons and The Blood Secret, The

by Crowl, Mike

  Stevedore took a great leap, soared over the skaters and onto the bonnet of the police car. He barked loudly at its occupants. ‘Stevedore!’ shouted Olivia. She was going to get out of the car, but Mrs Mumberson wrapped her arms tightly around her.

  Billy couldn’t see what was happening clearly because he was sitting in the back of the Fiesta behind Jerry. ‘What’s going on?’ he said, starting to open the door.

  ‘Stay inside the car, Billy!’ shouted his father.

  The skaters whizzed faster and faster around the police car until it seemed as if there was a long coloured chain encircling it. If Lavitch and Slaggard wanted to escape, they had no way of even opening the doors.

  ‘Seems to be a day for magic,’ said Mr Mumberson.

  ‘I’ve had enough magic for one day,’ said Jerry, his fingers tapping furiously on the steering wheel. ‘I just want to get Billy to the hospital.’

  Stevedore continued to balance on the bonnet of the Commodore, barking more and more wildly. The cable car conductor had given up shouting at the skaters to move. He, the driver and the tourists all stared at the sight without the slightest idea of what was happening. Some of the tourists thought it was a special show put on just for them, and were impressed that it was included in the price of the cable car ticket.

  Liam suddenly broke out of the whizzing circle, flipped his board up, caught the end, and stood looking on. It was like a signal. The police car lifted off the ground inch by inch. Lavitch and Slaggard’s faces slowly rose above the skaters’ heads. They were very unhappy, and seemed to be floating inside the car - it didn’t help that in the rush they hadn’t put their seat belts on. Their heads bumped on the inside of the roof. The Commodore, which had now turned green again, rose further and further.

  Stevedore was still on the bonnet. ‘Stevedore!’ shouted Olivia through the open car window. The dog turned briefly, gave her a friendly bark and ripped off first one windscreen wiper and then the other. Lavitch and Slaggard gaped.

  ‘Stevedore! What are you doing?’ The dog woofed loudly again without turning. He kept his balance on the bonnet, even though the car continued to rise. Then with his teeth he tore a great hole in the windscreen, as if it was made of clear plastic. When he flicked it over the heads of the skaters, however, it shattered on the road.

  He put his head through the gap and barked. It wasn’t the friendly bark he’d given Olivia. It was the noise a dog makes when a stranger comes to the door, loud and insistent. Lavitch and Slaggard scrambled to try and get into the back of the car, their arms and legs flailing in all directions as each one pushed past the other.

  Liam gave one of his piercing whistles again. Stevedore turned his head sharply towards him and for a moment seemed to think about joining him. Then he leapt onto the top of the car and howled loud enough for twenty dogs. It was like some sort of signal.

  The police car stopped rising, and hovered in mid-air as if it wasn’t sure what to do next.

  As one man the skateboarders ceased their circular whirling. They shot their fists high above their heads with an almighty shout. The effect this had on the police car was considerable. It shook violently, pulled itself together as though it was making its mind up about something, then shot forward at immense speed - straight over the roof of Jerry’s car - and rocketed off into the dusk.

  Billy, Olivia and the others bolted out of the Fiesta to see where the police car had gone, but it was travelling so fast there was already nothing but a tiny dot heading towards the horizon. And then, with a blink, that too vanished.

  ‘Stevedore!’ cried Olivia, and burst into tears.

  Billy shouted at Liam. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘They’ve been sent to the ends of the earth,’ he replied cheerfully, as though it was the sort of thing that happened every day. ‘The witches sent my ancestors there centuries ago. My ancestors, the dwarves, that is. We’re only too happy to have the chance to return the favour. We’ve dispatched what’s left of the witches’ nasty gang to the same place. Finding their way out of that’ll give them something more useful to do than what they've been up to lately.’ His grin was almost as wide as his face.

  ‘But what about Stevedore?’ said Olivia, grabbing hold of Liam and shaking him. He continued grinning even though she seemed to be threatening to shake his teeth out.

  ‘You mean my dog that you’ve been borrowing all this time?’ He laughed, and that made Olivia weep even more. ‘You mean the dog that’s standing right behind you?’

  Olivia turned round. Stevedore was right there looking his usual ordinary doggie self. He

  gave her face an enormous lick. And barked a friendly bark to top it off.

  ‘He’d much sooner stay here than go to the ends of the earth,’ said Liam, chuckling. The dog danced around Olivia with delight, licking her and barking until he was hoarse.

  The skateboarders stood around for a minute more, cheering and hollering, doing high fives with each other and with the tourists. Some posed for more photographs, then sailed quietly off again. Suddenly there seemed to be very few of them.

  The cable car began to move on, while the tourists jabbered with excitement at the spectacular show.

  ‘We need to get you to hospital, Billy,’ said Jerry, getting back in the car and starting it up. But Billy stayed where he was, still puzzling over the Commodore’s disappearance.

  ‘Don’t fuss, Mr Mumberson,’ said Liam, putting his head in the driver’s window. ‘Madeleine has it all in hand.’

  ‘What?’

  Liam stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled, more melodiously this time. A short and stocky skateboarder in a multicoloured beanie slid over to them. ‘Yeah?’ he said, gruffly. Then he noticed Billy’s bandage. ‘Ah. Right. Sort that out, eh?’ He tore Jerry’s shirt-sleeve bandage off Billy’s wounded hand in the blink of an eye. Then, cupping Billy’s hand inside his own two huge fists - fists that were much too hairy for a teenager - he nodded to himself a couple of times and said, ‘That’ll do.’ Then he skated off into the darkening evening.

  Billy looked at his hand. It was as good as new, so clean there wasn’t even a spot of blood anywhere. The bandage was nowhere to be seen. ‘Thanks,’ he said to Liam, because the skater who’d healed his hand had vanished. Liam gave him one of his enormous grins, and skated off with a wave.

  ‘Dad, did you hear what Liam said? He talked about Mum.’

  ‘I’m not deaf, Billy,’ Jerry rested his head for a moment on the steering wheel. ‘We need to go home,’ he said, with a sigh. ‘Need to figure out what just happened.’

  ‘Forget the figuring,’ said Mr Mumberson, climbing in beside him. ‘Cup of tea would be good.’ The others bundled back into the car. Stevedore leapt in at the last moment with a great Woof, and sat across Olivia and Mrs Mumberson’s laps, panting furiously, and giving Billy’s newly-mended hand an occasional lick.

  ‘What’s that smelly dog doing in my car?’ asked Jerry.

  ‘Be quiet, Gerard,’ said Mrs Mumberson. She turned to Olivia. ‘Have you rung your parents, to tell them where you are?’ It was getting dark outside.

  Olivia shrugged. ‘Not yet. They won’t have noticed I’m not there.’

  ‘Well, you better have something to eat at our house, then,’ said Mrs Mumberson. ‘And then Gerard can drive you home.’

  ‘What? What do you mean, “our house”?’ said Jerry.

  ‘The house we’re staying in. For the moment.’ His mother patted him on the shoulder. Without another word Jerry started up the car and drove down the hill.

  Billy kept feeling his hand to make sure it was still healed. It was. He could hardly believe it, but then it had been a day of things that were hard to believe. And if he found it hard to believe, what about his father? He wondered what he was thinking about it all.

  The streetlights had come on by the time they reached sixty-nine Fivefold St. Adiblo’s car was still parked outside. In all the excitement, ev
eryone had forgotten about him. ‘He’s probably still standing on the road wondering where the police car went,’ said Olivia.

  Jerry drove into the driveway. ‘Who left the house lights on?’ he demanded. No one answered because no one knew. Jerry was just getting out of the car when the front door of the house opened, letting out a beam of light. A woman came down the steps. She walked along the path, giving them all a wave.

  ‘Madeleine!’ Jerry got such a shock he banged his head on the car door frame.

  She leaned down and gave his head a rub. And a kiss. ‘I hear your bosses at the Factory have left,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll have your old boss back again on Monday. His long holiday is finally over.’

  ‘My old boss? What do you mean?’ Madeleine took his hand and he stood up, dazed - and not just from banging his head. He was finding it hard to believe she was here, back at home, and not three hundred kilometres away. And when he’d last seen her she’d been talking the same sort of fairy tale nonsense that had caused all the arguments a year ago, before she’d left. But something had changed...

  Instead of worrying any further, he pulled her close to him, and kissed her. ‘I think I’ve been a fool, haven’t I?’ he said.

  Madeleine just smiled, and kissed him back. ‘Maybe just a little.’

  No one else had moved from the car. Even Stevedore had managed to hold in his usual Woof and was barely panting. Then suddenly everyone was everywhere, crowding around, with the dog leaping in and out of the garden squashing geraniums in his enthusiasm.

  Madeleine let go of Jerry - or he let go of her, reluctantly - and she turned to Billy. ‘Thank you for everything you did today, Billy. I always knew you’d be brave.’

  Billy didn’t know what to say. It didn’t matter. His mother hugged and kissed him, and all the questions he had went out of his head.

  ‘It’s wonderful to see you, Madeleine,’ said Mrs Mumberson, holding Olivia’s hand, ‘but I think it might be an idea if we went inside, out of the cold night air.’

  ‘And let’s put the kettle on,’ said her husband, stomping ahead of them all, but managing to give Madeleine a peck on the cheek as he passed.

  Sometime later, when they were all sitting around the kitchen table, enjoying hot drinks and some of Mrs Mumberson’s seemingly endless supply of home-made biscuits, Jerry said to Madeleine, ‘I can’t even begin to work out how you know what’s been going on here.’

  ‘Oh, Gerard, how do you think she knows?’ said Mrs Mumberson, sipping her tea.

  ‘Because she’s magic, Dad,’ said Billy, his eyes shining.

  Madeleine laughed. ‘Billy, you know we’re not allowed to talk about magic. Not in this house.’

  Jerry reached across the table, took her hand, and sighed. And grinned. ‘We can make an exception. This time.’

  The End

  Thank you for reading my book.

  If you enjoyed it, would you please take a moment

  to leave me a review with your favorite retailer?

  Or you can write to me at:

  mailto:mcrowl@gmail.com

  ***

  Grimhilda! – a fantasy for children and their parents, the first book in this series,

  was published in January 2014, also as an e-book.

  You can purchase that book on Kindle

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  About the Author

  Mike Crowl has published articles, a weekly newspaper column, blog posts, and short stories. He is also as a composer of songs and piano pieces, and has acted in several theatrical productions in recent years.

  He has been happily married for forty years, has five grown-up children and eleven grandchildren. Though born in Melbourne, Australia, he has lived most of his life in Dunedin, New Zealand.

  This is Mike’s third book.

  Grimhilda! – a fantasy for children and their parents, was published in January 2014, also as an e-book.

  Diary of a Prostate Wimp - the aftermath of a prostate biopsy, was published in April 2014, as an e-book.

  Follow me on Twitter: http://twitter.com/@mcrowl

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  Mike Crowl

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to Brenda Jones, Ben Crowl and Jason Goroncy for their assistance and encouragement.

  Photo of the author by Steve Murphy.

  Thanks as always to our good friend Cherianne Parks. She was involved in the imagining of the book early in the process, and once it was written she thoroughly dissected it, making sure it always improved. Her ideas permeate the story.

  Publishing Details

  Frank Joseph Publishing

  127 Glenpark Avenue

  Maryhill

  Dunedin 9011 New Zealand

  mcrowl@gmail.com

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of New Zealand.

  New Zealand ISBN 978-0-473-30543-7

  Copyright Mike Crowl 2014

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

  First published by Frank Joseph Publishing in November 2014