The Remarkable Secret of Aurelie Bonhoffen

by Deborah Abela

  Argus hoisted up his loose trousers. ‘Call me Argus, and I guess you’d better come in.’

  Lucien took off his hat and walked into the twisted building, which was strewn with books, posters of performers and circus troupes, old wooden chairs with faded, lumpy cushions and the damaged heads of laughing clowns.

  ‘Please, sit down.’ Argus pulled a chair into the centre of the room. On his desk, along with accounting books and papers, were, Lucien noticed, a large pile of overdue bills.

  And a plastic skeleton.

  ‘Sorry about him.’ Argus lay the skeleton on a bench. ‘Normally he flies out in the ghost train, but his head fell off and it’s on my list of things to fix.’

  Lucien wiped the chair with a handkerchief and turned the leering face of a clown away from him. ‘I would like to do business with you.’

  ‘I am always open to doing business,’ Argus replied. ‘But first, tea.’ He stepped towards a small gas stove and picked up a colourfully painted pot. ‘I can promise you this is the finest tea you will ever taste. Hand-grown, picked in a secret mountain location and nurtured as if each leaf was precious.’

  Lucien scowled. He liked to decide the way he did business, the way meetings would run, but here was this man offering tea.

  Argus handed Lucien a steaming cup. ‘See what you make of that.’

  As soon as Lucien sipped, he knew in his toes that he’d tasted something special, something rare that left him with a slightly … elevated feeling.

  Argus smiled. ‘I knew you’d like it. Haven’t met a person yet who doesn’t.’ He sipped. ‘What can I do for you, Mr Crook?’

  Lucien looked to have momentarily lost his thoughts. He lowered his cup. ‘I’d like to offer you a substantial sum for your pier.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘A substantial sum, money, a free ticket out of the world of debt and worry.’

  ‘I’m not sure what to say.’

  Crook held up his hand. ‘Oh, don’t thank me, I –’

  ‘No, I mean, the pier is not for sale.’

  Crook was thrown. Briefly. ‘It’s not for sale now,’ he resumed, ‘but only because you do not know the full extent of what I am offering. Think about it, Mr Bonhoffen –’

  ‘It’s Argus.’

  ‘Argus.’ Lucien smiled. ‘The pier is very special to this town, but the costs of repair and maintenance, the wages, the upkeep … the money left over for you and your family must be a pittance. And on top of that, there are taxes that bite at our heels, never letting us move forward, always dragging us back into the dark world of …’ he whispered, as if he was saying a dirty word, ‘debt.’

  Argus felt a dull pain in his chest. It had been there often and lately had been keeping him awake until dawn.

  Lucien lifted his head. ‘We all need, at times, to do things which are difficult, or may even cause uneasiness, but we do it for the greater good, for progress, for …’ Lucien winced at what he was about to say, but it had worked in other business transactions so he decided to use it again today. ‘For love.’

  He paused to let the word take its full effect.

  ‘Imagine. The money I am offering you will enable you to buy a fine house, perhaps on a green, rolling hill that drifts down to the sea. Land enough for some chickens, a cow, even some goats. You could live the rest of your days watching your children and grandchildren from the veranda, knowing that it was you who made that once wise decision to remove them from a business that was in its last days, but one that had brought joy to the hearts of thousands in the glorious years it had been the pride of this town.’

  Argus stared through a pointy-topped window to the pier.

  ‘What do you think?’ Lucien’s eyebrows rose with a flourish.

  ‘What will you do with it?’ Argus asked.

  ‘Make it greater than it ever was,’ Lucien said with a flick of his hand.

  ‘It would be nice for it to be made great again,’ Argus said quietly. ‘I will talk to my family.’

  Crook inflated. ‘You will see. What I am offering makes sense. It is reason, it is fate, it is progress.’

  He shook Argus’s hand. Argus took it back, cradling it as if it had been burned.

  ‘I’ll look forward to your answer.’ Lucien handed Argus a card. ‘You’ll see my offer on the back. I always find it so uncouth to mention large sums of money out loud.’ He stood up. ‘Good day, Mr Bonhoffen.’

  Once outside and with the door closed behind him, Lucien’s broad smile collapsed into an irritated sneer. He firmly secured his hat and lifted his handkerchief to his nose.

  With clipped and determined steps, punctuated by the snap of his cane, he hastily made his way off the pier.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Family Meeting

  In her room above the ghost train, Aurelie sat on her birthday chair. A breeze floated in through her skylight that opened onto a full moon. Light spilled everywhere: over her books, her shiny quilt, pillows and the pier music box Rolo had made for her.

  In her hands was Principal Farnhumple’s sealed envelope. It would tell Argus and Amarella about the ruined dress, the insolence. It would tell them their daughter wasn’t good enough. It would break their hearts.

  But what could she do?

  She stood from her chair, closed her bedroom door and crept into the night to Argus’s office.

  The lights were still on. He’d been working late for weeks. When she moved closer, she heard voices and circled round the side of the building until she found a slightly opened window. She upturned a bin, climbed on top and poked her head up just high enough to see her family’s serious faces.

  ‘It is a good offer,’ Uncle Rindolf reasoned. ‘Enough to resettle in a smaller town, with smaller expenses. Start again, perhaps.’

  ‘Why start again when all we want is already here?’ Lilliana asked.

  ‘Because sometimes I think the only thing keeping the pier afloat are the barnacles,’ Argus joked.

  No one laughed.

  Aurelie frowned. Argus looked tired, as if someone had found a secret valve and let the air out of him.

  Lilliana softened her voice. ‘Thoughts like that only make people sink, and we’re not the sinking kind. How bad is it?’

  ‘It’s not good.’ Argus shook his head.

  ‘Then together we’ll work out a way to make it better. We’ve done it before, we’ll do it again, you’ll see.’

  Aurelie watched as Argus rubbed his forehead. ‘Each month there are new debts. If we accept Crook’s offer now, we have a chance to set up somewhere else. If having this family provided for means giving up the pier, maybe it’s the best thing we can do.’

  Amarella reached for Argus’s hand.

  ‘But what would we do?’ Rolo asked. ‘I scare people, throw knives, fix rides and play the trombone. That’s all I know.’

  ‘We could learn new trades, perhaps.’ Rindolf shrugged.

  ‘We can’t leave,’ Lilliana said.

  ‘Leave?’ Aurelie whispered.

  ‘Staying may mean our ruin,’ Argus said.

  ‘There will be no ruin.’ Lilliana smiled. ‘Generations of Bonhoffens have worked hard on this pier. The spirit of each one of them fills every splinter of wood, and we owe it to them and us to keep it going for a good few generations yet.’

  ‘But everything has its time,’ Argus replied.

  ‘This pier has been in our bones too long for us to give it away now,’ Lilliana said. ‘It would be like giving away the thing that makes you breathe. The very thing that keeps you alive. Without the pier, we would be nothing.’

  Argus’s head fell forward – just a little. Enough for everyone to miss, except Aurelie. She’d never seen him like this. Or maybe she just hadn’t noticed, hadn’t looked closely enough.

  ‘You can’t leave the thing that makes you breathe.’ Rolo leant back in his chair. ‘Even a simple man knows that.’ He sat forward again. ‘Sorry, Argus,’ he said quickly. ‘I didn’t mean you ar
e … I meant …’ He wrenched his hands in his lap and lowered his voice. ‘You have my support, Argus. You always will.’

  ‘So we reject the offer?’

  Everyone nodded.

  Argus looked away towards the window. Aurelie jolted out of sight, until she realised he couldn’t see her. He was staring at his own reflection in the glare of the windowpane. She wanted to touch his face. He’d once told her a single touch of a hand could melt rivers and hearts alike, could make men want to climb mountains or lead revolutions.

  Just a touch.

  ‘I will tell Mr Crook of our decision,’ Argus said.

  Aurelie stepped down from the bin and folded Mrs Farnhumple’s letter into her pocket. She stepped away from Argus’s office and walked past the amusement arcade with its painted castle facade. She noticed the flags were frayed and torn. One of the turrets had been worn through and was now home for a family of pigeons. Her eyes drifted to the merry-go-round. The noses of the horses were chipped, and so were their bellies where shoes had kicked into them from the stirrups. By the entrance to the Hall of Mirrors, the statue of the laughing man with his wobbling belly-o-jelly was so faded that his lips were the same colour as his face.

  Aurelie clasped the star ruby in her pocket.

  The door of the office opened behind her and she slipped out of the light, hugging the shadows until she made it back to her room.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Principal Farnhumple

  The limousine pulled away from the kerb, leaving Rufus Bog struggling with a large backpack, a sports bag and an oversized lunch box.

  ‘Need a hand?’ Aurelie asked from inside the fence.

  ‘No,’ Rufus puffed. ‘I’m okay.’

  As he walked through the gate, his school jacket caught on the latch and his lunch box jerked out of his hand, spilling two bulky sandwiches, two apples, a banana and a piece of chocolate cake.

  Aurelie bent down and helped him pick them up, except for the cake that had crumbled into a chocolatey mess.

  ‘Thanks,’ Rufus said into his shirt.

  ‘You’re late.’

  ‘I had a dentist’s appointment. Mum wants me to get braces.’

  Aurelie bent her head and stared into his mouth. ‘But your teeth are really straight.’

  Rufus kept his lips close together. ‘Mum thinks they can be straighter. What are you doing here? School’s already started.’

  ‘Juggling stones.’

  ‘Juggling stones?’

  ‘Enzo says you need to practise whenever you can, so you don’t get rusty.’ Aurelie sighed. ‘But mostly I’m waiting for my uncles.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Principal Farnhumple wants to see my family. She thinks I’m “in danger of moral corruption”.’

  ‘Moral corruption?’

  ‘Because of the balloon incident.’

  Rufus’s head hung low. ‘I’m sorry about –’

  ‘It’s okay. You didn’t do it.’

  ‘But I did.’

  Aurelie smiled. ‘I mean you wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t let those boys talk you into it.’

  Rufus frowned. ‘They didn’t talk me into it.’

  ‘Okay then,’ Aurelie shrugged, ‘if you say so.’

  ‘Aurelie!’ Rindolf and Rolo hurried towards the school gate. They’d worn their best suits and hats, and even put fresh daisies in their lapels.

  ‘Sorry we’re late,’ Rindolf puffed. ‘Genius here thought it’d be quicker to take the backstreets and – who would have known? – we got lost.’

  ‘Not lost,’ Rolo breathed. ‘We just went a little astray.’

  ‘Astray?’ Rindolf shook his head. ‘So if we ended up in Siberia, would you say that we went a little bit missing?’

  Rolo refused to answer and instead looked to the boy standing near Aurelie. ‘And who’s this young man?’

  ‘Rufus.’ Aurelie smiled. ‘He’s a friend.’

  ‘We’re Aurelie’s uncles. I’m Rolo and he’s Rindolf, and we –’

  Aurelie grabbed Rolo’s hand. ‘Are late for the meeting.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  They hurried towards the office. Rolo straightened his tie. ‘Do I look okay?’

  ‘All the office ladies will be throwing themselves at you.’ Aurelie kissed his cheek.

  ‘Or running for cover.’ Rindolf smirked. ‘Come on, handsome.’

  Aurelie turned to see Rufus hadn’t moved; she waved. Rufus gave an uncertain wave back.

  They climbed the stone steps of the main school building and rushed down the dead-straight corridors, which were lined with gloomy portraits of dusty principals and grim-faced kings and queens.

  Behind a glass sliding window, an office lady with a nest of perfect curls piled on her head raised a curious eyebrow. Her eyes ran down the length of the two men in the same way they might if a mangy hound had tracked mud through her house.

  ‘You must be the Bonhoffens.’ Her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. ‘Please sign here.’ The assistant placed a pen on the register and whispered into her telephone receiver. After Rolo and Rindolf had signed in, she slid carefully past them and knocked on the principal’s door.

  ‘Come,’ a voice intoned.

  The assistant opened the door onto Mrs Farnhumple perched behind her wide desk. She finished a letter with a flourish and looked up. Her momentarily smiling face nosedived into an agitated scowl. ‘Aurelie, can I see you for a moment? Outside.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Farnhumple.’

  ‘Please sit down, um …’

  ‘I’m Rindolf and he’s Rolo.’ Rindolf held his hat to his chest so tightly he almost crushed it.

  Mrs Farnhumple looked as if she had a bad case of indigestion. ‘Quite. Well.’ She clutched her stomach. ‘Please sit down, Mr Rindolf and Mr Rolo.’ She motioned towards two seats opposite her desk. ‘We won’t be long.’

  Mrs Farnhumple stared at the doorhandle long enough for Aurelie to realise she was waiting for her to open it. Aurelie leapt at the door, turned the handle and followed Mrs Farnhumple outside.

  ‘Where are your parents?’

  ‘My parents?’

  Mrs Farnhumple eyed her with a look edged with frost. ‘Your parents. Your mother and father. The ones that look after you and send you to school. The ones I asked to see.’

  Aurelie thought about her answer carefully, but no matter how much she tried to think of one the principal would like, she knew it would come out wrong.

  ‘You mean … Argus and Amarella?’

  ‘You call your parents by their first names?’

  Aurelie needed to get the sour expression off Mrs Farnhumple’s face. ‘There are lots of people who look after me. Not just Argus … I mean my father and mother.’ She smiled. ‘Lilliana always says, why settle for one set of parents when you can have many?’

  ‘Lilliana?’

  ‘My grandmother.’

  What followed next was the kind of quiet that preceded something bad happening. When someone is about to get it.

  Mrs Farnhumple’s eyes squinted. ‘You can’t have more than one set of parents. That … is … ridiculous.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Farnhumple.’

  Mrs Farnhumple’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Who’s inside my office then?’

  ‘Uncle Rindolf and Uncle Rolo.’

  ‘Uncles, eh? Well, I guess my only choice is to talk to them.’

  Her hand wrenched the doorhandle like she wanted to pull it off.

  ‘Ah, gentlemen, sorry to keep you waiting.’ She was suddenly all smiles and ballet steps as she danced to her seat. Aurelie stood beside her uncles. ‘This is a highly unusual situation. Usually when I ask to see the parents of a student, it’s the mother and father who keep the appointment.’

  ‘They’re busy. Lots to do back at the pier. Plus,’ Rolo winked at his niece, ‘we don’t mind one bit.’

  ‘We’re always here for Aurelie,’ Rindolf added.

  Mrs Farnhumple smiled through tightened lips. ‘T
he reason I asked you here today is that I’m very concerned about Aurelie.’

  Rolo’s face creased. ‘She’s okay, isn’t she? There’s nothing wrong with her, is there?’ He placed his hand against his niece’s forehead.

  ‘No, not physically wrong, Mr Rolo, but not as they should be.’ Mrs Farnhumple took a large file out of her top drawer. ‘Here at Gribblesea College, we like to take a special interest in each child. To see that they learn the essentials for becoming good, honest, upstanding human beings.’

  ‘That’s our Aurelie, all right,’ Rindolf said proudly as he squeezed his hat out of shape even more.

  ‘Yes.’ Mrs Farnhumple paused. ‘Certainly. You see, the thing is, Aurelie isn’t quite like the other children.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Uncle Rolo adjusted his tie and smiled.

  ‘I don’t necessarily mean that in a good way, Mr Rolo.’

  ‘Oh,’ Rolo said.

  ‘Best if we just listen, I think.’ Uncle Rindolf shivered a little in the dark, mud-coloured office. His nose twitched from the dust that had settled into the rows of papers, cluttered shelves and thick, musty curtains. Surrounded by so much dust and darkness gave Rindolf the eerie feeling of being buried alive.

  ‘For instance, it is absolutely inexcusable that a student would throw a paint-balloon at a teacher.’

  ‘Oh, that.’ Rindolf smiled. ‘Aurelie told us. It’s all fine, though. She said she didn’t do it.’

  ‘Of course she did.’

  Rindolf frowned.

  ‘There were no other children around except Aurelie. No one else could possibly have done it. But that’s not all. I have been wanting to talk to Aurelie’s family for some time. She doesn’t seem to have the same idea about things as the other children.’ Mrs Farnhumple paused. ‘In dress, for example.’

  Aurelie dropped her eyes to her lap and the cutup patchwork of materials that made up her skirt. Lilliana had sewn them together out of old costumes and favourite dresses she used to wear when she was young.

  ‘Excuse me for asking, Mrs Farnhumple.’ Rindolf leant his head to one side. ‘But what does the way someone dresses have to do with anything?’