The Remarkable Secret of Aurelie Bonhoffen

by Deborah Abela

  ‘She’s going to guess,’ Rindolf hissed and handed Rolo another chair.

  ‘She mightn’t.’

  ‘She’s a smart one; she’ll work it out.’

  ‘Work out what?’ Aurelie’s eyes widened.

  Rolo stopped mid-chair-lifting. ‘That … that –’

  ‘She’s the most beautiful niece an uncle could ever hope for,’ Rindolf finished.

  Aurelie folded her arms across her chest. ‘Nice try, but I don’t believe you.’

  Rolo clutched both hands to his heart. ‘Oh, the pain of accusations slung at my heart like an arrow.’

  ‘Okay, Mr Overacting, who is going to work out what?’

  Rindolf loaded the last of the chairs into the shed. ‘It’s late and you’d best be getting to bed.’

  Aurelie’s shoulders sank. ‘Bed?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Rindolf closed the door of the shed. ‘You have school tomorrow, and it’s already nine o’clock.’

  ‘But I thought –’

  ‘Wait,’ Rindolf interrupted. ‘It’s our turn to check that the lights are switched off in the marquee.’

  ‘You know, you’re right, Rindo. Ha, I almost forgot.’

  Aurelie’s smile lifted. This was more like it. She knew, of course, there were no lights to check. Her family had been secreting things away from her for weeks. They’d break from whispered huddles when she walked into a room and pretend to pack things into boxes as an early spring-cleaning effort. This was a dead giveaway. The Bonhoffens never did spring cleaning. Each of her family dreaded throwing things away: ticket stubs from movies, feathers, odd-shaped beach pebbles that resembled people.

  ‘Every little thing you are given contains a part of the person who gave it to you,’ Lilliana would say. ‘To throw it away would be to throw a part of them away. To other people it may look like junk, but it’s never just junk.’

  So it wasn’t spring cleaning.

  Regally positioned, like a jewelled crown at the end of the pier, stood the marquee. Its tall, pointed tips rose into the air at every angle and fluttered with flags and glowed with coloured lights. This was where the performances on the pier were held – where clowns juggled, trapeze artists swung through the air and fire-twirlers swung flaming batons that coiled as if they were alive.

  ‘It’s dark.’ Aurelie stood before the silent marquee.

  ‘Looks like the lights are off,’ Rindolf said.

  ‘Let’s go inside to be sure.’ Rolo pushed aside the canvas flap. ‘Come on, Aurelie, you go in first.’

  They followed her inside.

  Rindolf shot his brother a sneaky smile before he threw a switch, which filled the marquee with hundreds of tiny lights.

  ‘Happy birthday!’ The cry of a small crowd was punctuated by two cannons blasting confetti into the air. Balloons spilled from a net above the circus ring, and strings of lanterns glowed beneath the canopy in bright reds, yellows and blues.

  ‘It’s good we checked the lights after all.’ Rolo shrugged.

  Aurelie threw herself at her uncles. ‘Thank you.’ She squeezed them tightly. ‘You’re terrible liars.’

  ‘We’ll take that as a compliment.’ Rindolf nodded.

  Aurelie’s father and mother stepped forward. ‘Happy birthday, Aurelie.’ Amarella Bonhoffen swept her daughter into her arms.

  ‘You didn’t really believe it was time for bed, did you?’ Argus Bonhoffen winked at Rolo and Rindolf.

  ‘I never know what to believe with these two,’ Aurelie answered.

  Even though he’d worn his best suit, Argus always had an edge of scruffiness about him he couldn’t shake – a gangliness with permanently wind-rumpled hair. He leant down and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘But your party has only just begun.’

  Amarella had wisps of long, flowing hair that she would try to sweep into a bun behind her, but small restless curls would always sneak out around her face. She had a soft smile and eyes so alive that Argus would swear he’d be kept awake at night by the light tucked inside them. ‘Come this way,’ she whispered.

  The small crowd peeled away into the shadows as Argus, Amarella, Rolo and Rindolf led the birthday girl to the tiered seats of the marquee. They stopped before a large object on a platform, hidden beneath a sheet. Beside it was her grandmother, Lilliana.

  ‘Thought you were never going to get here.’ She smiled. ‘Let’s see what’s under this, eh?’

  Aurelie grabbed the end of the sheet and pulled it away, revealing a wooden throne-like chair lined with soft satiny cushions.

  Aurelie gasped. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘Happy birthday.’ Argus held out his hand and helped her onto her queenly chair. Aurelie rubbed her hands along the silk-covered arms and wriggled into its soft, cushioned seat.

  ‘Any room for me on that?’ Lilliana asked.

  ‘There’s always room for you.’ Aurelie shoved over. Her grandmother sat beside her while the rest of her family hurried to the orchestra pit. Amarella sent Aurelie a wink before lifting a fiddle to her chin. Rolo raised a trombone and Rindolf positioned an accordion against his chest, his foot resting on the pedal of a drum kit.

  A single spotlight trained on Argus in the centre of the ring. ‘Let Aurelie Bonhoffen’s birthday show begin!’

  The orchestra launched into a high-paced tune. Argus only just got out of the way of a backfiring jalopy full of clowns. The contortionists followed, bending into impossible forms, tumbling and vaulting into human pyramids that seemed to defy gravity.

  Aurelie and her grandmother applauded and whooped before the band stopped playing and the marquee snapped into darkness. A single spotlight shone into the air, followed by another. The lights searched the roof until they settled on two raised platforms resting on the ends of towering poles. On these platforms stood To and Fro, the famous trapeze artists. The band struck up a grand ta da! before breaking into a speedy melody.

  Firmly clutching their trapezes, To and Fro swung into the air, gliding from an arm, a bent leg, sometimes from a single ankle.

  Aurelie’s clapping was interrupted by Rolo’s drumroll. To and Fro faced each other on opposite platforms. To held the trapeze before her. She took a short breath before launching herself into a deep arc. With each swing she gained speed and was soaring higher and higher. The band played faster until, with a single crash of a cymbal, To let go, flinging herself into a triple somersault. Aurelie gasped as To twirled and fell, sinking through the air until Fro, clinging to her trapeze with bended knees, swung out and plucked her from the air with strong, careful hands.

  Aurelie jumped to her feet and cheered. Lilliana leant over and whispered, ‘They’ve been working hard on getting that last bit right.’

  The lights faded to black. A small flame tumbled into view, followed by another, and another, until four fire-twirlers stood in the centre of the ring.

  In perfect unison, they swung their fiery batons in their hands, twirling them into blazing figure eights. They hurled them around either side of their bodies before throwing them into the air and catching them behind their backs.

  A tall muscled man, whose arms were a canvas of snake tattoos, stepped forward.

  ‘It’s Enzo!’ Aurelie shifted to the edge of her chair.

  He threw her a smile and lifted his baton above him. He held it there momentarily, before dropping his head back and plunging it into his mouth. He closed his lips around the flames, holding it there for what seemed too long, before snapping it aloft.

  Aurelie and Lilliana rose to their feet, applauding and whistling and crying for more. Enzo bowed deeply. He laid the baton at his feet and walked over to Aurelie. He cupped his hands to his mouth and blew, waiting a few seconds before opening them out to reveal a flame dancing in his palms.

  Enzo smiled, clasped his hands shut and reopened them quickly. The flame had gone, and in its place was a red gemstone.

  ‘It is a star ruby.’ He slid the gem into Aurelie’s hand. ‘When you hold her to the light, you ca
n see a glowing star, like she has a fire inside her.’

  Aurelie held it up. ‘I can see it.’

  ‘Keep it close when you need to be strong.’

  She leapt from her chair into his arms.

  ‘Happy birthday.’ Enzo held out a pair of long, fire-resistant gloves, decorated with bright, orange flames. ‘Now it’s time for you to join us.’

  ‘You think I’m ready?’

  Enzo nodded.

  Lilliana leant over. ‘I guess that means you’re on.’

  Aurelie slipped the ruby into her pocket and pulled the gloves up to her elbows. She took Enzo’s hand, and he led her into the centre of the ring. Aurelie tied her curls back while he lit four batons, handing two to Aurelie.

  ‘Just like we practised.’ Enzo nodded and they threw the batons to each other in a fiery two-person juggle. Flames swooped between them in glowing circles. Streaks of fire lit their faces as they threw them higher and higher, until Aurelie spun around in a rapid twist and held out her arms, catching both batons in quick succession.

  Rolo and Rindolf led the cheers, whooping and hugging each other.

  ‘I knew she could do it.’ Rolo wiped away a tear.

  ‘She’s a natural,’ Rindolf said, ‘just like I was.’

  Enzo doused the flames in a bucket of sand. He held Aurelie’s hand high and they bowed to the applause.

  ‘How was I?’ Aurelie whispered.

  ‘Not bad.’ Enzo’s face stretched into a smile. ‘Now for the grand finale.’

  Rindolf played a drum roll from the pit. Each of the fire-twirlers lifted their batons above them. A flash of sparks ignited several fuses, sending snaking flames racing along a bent wire frame, curling and coiling.

  Enzo slipped his hand into Aurelie’s.

  And there it was, blazing like hundreds of sparklers: Happy Birthday Aurelie. Argus wheeled out a small cart carrying a giant candle-covered cake and a wooden barrel.

  ‘Blackforest cake and cloudberry juice. Your favourites,’ Argus said. ‘Lilliana made them.’

  Lilliana rushed over and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I used extra Belgian chocolate and the finest fresh berries.’

  ‘You better blow out the candles before they melt all over the cake.’ Rolo leant in.

  Aurelie blew a swirling pattern over the candles until every last one was out.

  The party lasted until long past midnight, with singing, dancing and enough cake for everyone to have three helpings each. Even when Aurelie’s feet ached and her eyes strained under the tug of sleep, she refused to have it end. She sat in her new chair and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, she looked up to see the faces of Rindolf and Rolo, who were laying her gently into bed.

  ‘Happy birthday, sweet Aurelie.’ As they tucked her in, Rolo took the star ruby from her hand and laid it on the bedside table.

  ‘It seems not so long ago since she was born.’ Rindolf sighed.

  ‘And now she’s old enough to know the secret,’ Rolo said.

  ‘Do you think she’ll be okay?’

  ‘She’s our Aurelie. She’ll be fine. I’m sure of it.’ Rindolf’s smile was crooked and unsure.

  The uncles took turns kissing Aurelie on the forehead. They stole one last look before tiptoeing outside.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Secret

  ‘So she saw?’ Lilliana Bonhoffen, it would be safe to say, looked a little peeved.

  ‘Yes, but we’re not sure what she saw, only that she saw something. Maybe it wasn’t what we thought she saw, but something she saw that was quite altogether not what we thought she saw at all.’

  Rolo knew he wasn’t making any sense and, even though he was a man in his forties, his mother had the ability to make him feel eight years old and in serious trouble.

  There was a small knock at the door. Aurelie poked her head inside. ‘Argus and Amarella said you wanted me to have breakfast up here this morning.’

  ‘Yes. I thought it’d be a nice change.’

  Lilliana’s room was above the ice-cream parlour – a building resembling a large cup of ice-cream, complete with a glazed cherry on top. The parlour was located in the cup, with a swirling staircase on the side leading to Lilliana’s room in the scoop of icecream. Small heart-shaped windows in its rounded, bulging sides looked out over the sea, while letting in the smells of freshly made cones, wild vanilla, honey and rich, rich chocolate.

  Aurelie gave her uncles an inquisitive look. Rolo opened his mouth, but Lilliana answered for them. ‘Your uncles were just leaving.’

  ‘Yes,’ Rindolf replied. ‘See you this afternoon at the train.’

  ‘Have a good day at school.’ Rolo blew her a kiss. Aurelie caught it and slipped it into her pocket.

  ‘For later,’ Rolo whispered and pulled the door closed behind him.

  Lilliana walked over to a small kitchen area and opened the oven door. ‘Pour yourself some tea.’

  Aurelie dropped her school bag and drew her tired body to a table in the centre of the room. She poured a sweet-smelling tea and sat on a small stool. Her hair was wet from a bath that did little to wake her up. She sipped her tea and let her eyes wander around Lilliana’s room.

  Embroidered cushions sat like curled-up cats on brightly coloured lounges. Scarves hung from mirrors and stands. On a marble dressing table were bracelets, necklaces and a twirling porcelain ballet dancer on a music box covered in gold leaf.

  Every part of Lilliana’s room told a story. Every trinket, dried flower and postcard. There was a red silk sash from the king of Spain and a giant conch shell from the sultan of the Maldives. Shelves swept around the curved edges of the room and held leather-bound photo albums and armloads of books in different languages. There were racks flowing with dresses and handmade shoes threaded with sequins. Each object whispered stories of a young Lilliana riding plumed show horses, or performing on luxury ships. But Aurelie’s favourites were the framed photos of her grandfather and grandmother in their circus days when Lilliana was one of the most famous performers in Europe.

  ‘Did you enjoy your party last night?’

  ‘It feels as if it only just finished.’ Aurelie yawned and slumped further into the chair.

  Lilliana held out a plate of warm brioche lined with swirls of cinnamon. ‘Some of this might help.’

  She sat beside Aurelie in a chair not unlike Argus’s present from last night. It was hand-carved so that turns of wood framed her like a crown, and it was lined with velvet. When Aurelie looked closer, she noticed in parts it was worn and tattered.

  ‘We should get this repaired,’ she mumbled through a mouthful of brioche.

  Lilliana stroked the frayed armrest. ‘Your grandfather made this for me as a wedding present. He sat me down, sank to both knees and promised that all my life he would take care of me.’ She smiled. ‘He was an old softie.’

  ‘And you loved him for it.’ Aurelie popped the last of her brioche into her mouth.

  ‘From the first moment I saw him.’ Lilliana flashed a cheeky grin. ‘He reminded me a lot of his brother, Lukash. Big, bold men who were very funny. The two of them were inseparable – had been since they were tiny kids. It was the saddest day of your grandfather’s life when they nearly lost him.’

  ‘What happened?’ Aurelie sipped her tea.

  ‘They were swimming in the ocean not far from here. There was a strong current that day, and they were told not to swim out too far. Lukash was never one to be told what to do, so he waited until no one was looking and swam out further. Pretty soon he was in trouble. The ocean gripped him like hands around his legs and pulled him out to sea. Your grandfather swam out to rescue him. Lukash struggled against the current, but he soon became tired. Your grandfather swam faster, but eventually Lukash gave up and disappeared under a wave.’

  ‘What did Grandad do?’

  ‘His legs ached and his eyes stung from salty waves crashing over his head, but he wasn’t about to give up. He forced himself forward, dived
under and, through the churning sea, he saw Lukash. He swam further down, grabbed him under the arms and dragged him back to the surface.

  ‘By the time they got to shore, he laid his brother on the sand. He tried resuscitation, but Lukash’s skin had already turned a pale blue.’

  ‘He died?’ Aurelie let her cup drift onto the table.

  ‘You could tell by the looks of the passers-by that they knew it was too late. Your grandfather held Lukash’s body and cried so hard you could hear it all along the beach. But then, Lukash opened his eyes.’

  ‘He did?’

  ‘He gave a soft smile and said, “Probably shouldn’t have gone out that far.” Your grandfather laughed and hugged him so hard that Lukash had to tell him to go easy.’

  ‘So he didn’t die.’

  ‘Yes, he did.’ Lilliana took a deep breath. ‘Aurelie, I need to tell you something very important. About our family.’

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘No. Not wrong.’ She stroked Aurelie’s hair. ‘For as far back as we can trace, the Bonhoffen family have had a … gift.’

  ‘What kind of gift?’

  Lilliana met her granddaughter’s eyes carefully. ‘The ability to come back to life after they’ve died.’

  Aurelie paused. ‘Like ghosts?’

  ‘That’s one name given to them, but it isn’t quite correct. Ghosts are spirits who were once human and appear to certain people, usually if they have a message for them. They’re forever at the age they were when they died – but our gift is different.’

  ‘So what happened to Lukash?’

  ‘It was later, when he was alone with your grandfather, that he explained it. He said when he was lain on the beach, he felt calm and quiet. He knew he’d died and was floating above his body, but he wasn’t scared. What scared him was looking down and seeing how broken his brother was without him. So he decided to come back.’

  ‘He came back to life,’ Aurelie said, ‘just like he was before?’

  ‘Not exactly. When someone comes back, they age as they normally would, and laugh and cry, and hurt when they stub their toe, just like you and me, but they have some of the marks of a ghost.’