Rolo seemed to be disappearing.
‘Uncle Rolo?’ she yelled.
He startled and attempted to stand but bumped into the railing. He sat down and rubbed his head. ‘Aurelie. I didn’t see you … um …’
She said nothing.
Rolo held out his hand. ‘Come here.’
Aurelie’s heart sent pounding thuds through her body. She slowly walked over to her uncle and sat beside him. She stared at his legs, his shoes, his hands squeezed together in his lap, all now fully visible.
Waves slammed against the support poles beneath them.
‘Sea looks a bit edgy. Might be a storm later.’ Rolo fidgeted, swinging his legs, blowing hair out of his eyes, picking at his scrubbed nails. He tried to catch Aurelie’s downcast gaze. ‘How was school?’
‘Good.’ Aurelie’s answer disappeared on the wind as quickly as it was spoken.
‘You’re lucky. A real natural at learning. I remember when I started to teach you to –’
‘You came back, didn’t you?’
‘What do you mean?’ Rolo’s nervous laugh flickered between them.
‘The Bonhoffen secret. You’re the one who came back. And it’s got something to do with the house on the hill, hasn’t it?’
‘Who’s been talking to you? Was it Rindolf? He’s got such a big mouth. Wait until I –’
‘So it’s true.’
‘No, I didn’t mean … it’s just that …’ Rolo sighed and dropped his head forward. ‘Yes. It’s true.’
‘So you’re a ghost?’ She whispered shakily.
‘No. Not exactly. I’m still me, too. The same Rolo you’ve known all your life.’ He reached his hand out to touch her, but she pulled away.
‘I saw you disappearing.’
Rolo winced. ‘It happens sometimes when I’m tired or not concentrating.’
Aurelie turned to him. ‘Like in Mrs Farnhumple’s office? When you fell off the chair?’
Rolo shrugged. ‘She was going on so much and not making any sense that I … switched off.’
‘That’s why you could rescue Rindolf, on the roof, on the night of my birthday?’
Rolo shook his head. ‘Clumsy sod.’
Aurelie snuck a sideways look. ‘Are you real?’
‘Yes, I’m real. I age and ache as I get older. If I hit my head, it hurts. I get hungry and thirsty, just like everybody else. But I also have this kind of extra dimension that other people don’t have. Like the disappearing thing you saw … or didn’t see.’
Aurelie eyed him warily. ‘Lilliana says people who come back can walk through walls.’
‘It’s true, but I don’t do that very much. It was exciting at first, but after a while I preferred opening doors in the regular way. Rindo, though, he can get lazy and –’
Aurelie gasped. ‘Rindolf too?’
Rolo bit down on his lips and slumped. ‘Yes.’
‘What happened?’
Rolo paused. ‘There was an accident. At night. On the western cliff road. Rindolf was driving. It was raining hard, and when the road twisted at Deadman’s Bend, a rabbit jumped in front of the car. Rindolf swerved to avoid it, but the wheels lost their grip and we went over the edge.’
‘And you died,’ Aurelie said softly.
‘For a few seconds. Until we decided to come back.’
Aurelie’s gaze dropped into the swirling ocean. ‘So you’re not like a regular uncle?’
‘Oh.’ Rolo took a hanky from his jacket and blotted Aurelie’s cheek. ‘I am every inch your uncle. I’m not sure you can call me regular in too many ways.’ He sat straighter. ‘But if being a “regular uncle” means that I’d jump from the tallest building or throw myself in front of a pack of wild horses to save you, then, yes, regular is what you’d call me.’
‘You didn’t get the scar from a knife-throwing trick, did you? And your leg – you don’t limp because you fell from a horse.’
Rolo shook his head. ‘When the car toppled over the cliff, I cut my forehead on the windshield, and the steering wheel jammed into my leg. Other than that, I am alive, exactly the same as I was before the crash. Except for a few ghostly qualities.’
‘When did it happen?’
‘Before you were born.’
‘Does Lilliana know?’
‘They all know.’ Rolo bent his head and tried to meet her eyes.
‘What did it feel like,’ she winced, ‘when you died?’
‘Like being under water. Everything was slow and muffled. We were trapped in Rindolf’s car at the bottom of the cliff, perched on a boulder, tilting this way and that, threatening any minute to be pulled into the sea. But we weren’t afraid because, well … we’d both died the moment the car hit the rocks.’ Aurelie felt her breath squeezed out of her chest. ‘But we came back.’
‘For the woman in the house on the hill?’
Her uncle nodded. ‘Please don’t be scared, I …’ He reached out to touch her.
‘I have to go.’ Aurelie grabbed the railing and pulled herself up. Rolo watched her run away and only just miss colliding with a dark figure before disappearing into the night.
The silhouette walked towards Rolo and sat beside him. ‘She knows?’ Rindolf asked.
‘She knows.’ A single tear fell down Rolo’s cheek.
‘She’ll be okay. She just needs time.’
Rindolf put his arm around his brother’s shoulder, and the two of them stayed on the pier for what felt like hours.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A Brilliant Plan
Mayor Bog hadn’t slept all night. The weight of his weariness sank into his body and he slouched over onto his desk. Only his hand moved, slowly circling one word with a pen: Bonhoffen.
‘Bonhoffen. Bonhoffen.’ He circled and scribbled until he had obliterated the name with ink.
His hair was wild and his eyes were red and bloodshot.
The phone sprang to life at his elbow. Bog stared in horror before gathering his breath and doing his best to sound calm. ‘Hello?’
‘Bog? It’s Crook. When can I have my pier?’
‘Mr Crook,’ Bog oozed. ‘What timing – I was working on the final details now.’
‘So it will happen by the end of the month?’
‘Just as you asked.’ Bog wiped his brow with his sleeve. ‘And might I say how grateful the town will –’
Bog’s ear rang with the click of Crook hanging up. He replaced the receiver and dropped his pen onto the desk. It rolled across a newspaper and stopped, pointing to a headline:
Delinquency on Our Streets
By Percy Codswothel
Gribblesea citizens have been at the mercy of a spate of child delinquency. Police have been faced with an increase in the number of broken shop windows, snatched purses and stolen garden gnomes. This outburst of wayward behaviour …
Mayor Bog’s reading was interrupted by a knock at the door.
‘What?’ he shouted.
A member of his house staff entered and bowed. ‘Mrs Bog asked me to let you know breakfast is ready, sir.’
‘Yes. Right. Coming.’
He hoisted his body upright, ran a hand carelessly across his hair and caught a brief look at his tousled and unshaven reflection in the mirror before sighing and turning away.
‘Dear me, Mr Bog.’ Mrs Bog stared at his wild hair, crooked gown and slippered feet. ‘Is something wrong?’
Mayor Bog felt like telling his wife that everything was wrong. That his career and reputation were on the brink of ruin, and they were about to lose the life that had taken years to build.
But all he said was, ‘Sorry, dear. Bad sleep.’
‘Bad sleep or not, we must still maintain standards.’
‘Yes, dear,’ he mumbled. ‘Standards.’
The clatter of knives, forks and teacups was the only noise to fill the room before Mrs Bog spoke up. ‘Rufus and I have been having a lovely chat. Is there anything you’d like to ask him?’
Both Mayor Bog and Rufus
looked up.
‘Ask him?’
‘Yes,’ Mrs Bog answered.
Mayor Bog lifted his fork. ‘How are you, son?’
‘Good.’ Rufus coughed and almost choked on his toast.
‘He’s good,’ Bog reported to his wife.
‘And perhaps you’d like to ask him how school is?’
‘School?’ Mayor Bog stopped in the middle of dipping another soldier into his runny yellow egg.
‘Yes,’ Mrs Bog said. ‘School.’
Mayor Bog sighed. ‘How … is school?’
‘Fine, sir.’
Mayor Bog smiled overly wide. ‘You see, dear? School’s fine.’
Mayor Bog and Rufus turned back to their breakfasts.
‘You could ask after his friends,’ Mrs Bog said.
Mayor Bog looked up with a strained smile. ‘And how,’ he asked, ‘are your friends?’
‘Good.’
‘And there you are, my dear; his friends are –’
‘I have a new friend,’ Rufus found himself saying. ‘She’s funny and knows how to juggle and reads books on explorers and her name’s Aurelie Bonhoffen. She was named after her great-, great-grandmother and it means golden, only she was in trouble with the principal the other day, who thinks she’s a delinquent, but she isn’t because –’
‘Did you say Bonhoffen?’ Mayor Bog eyed his son with renewed interest.
‘Yes.’ Rufus noticed an unusual glint in his father’s eye. ‘Aurelie Bonhoffen.’
‘And she’s a delinquent?’
‘She’s different from other kids, but I don’t think so. In fact, she gave me –’
‘I read an article recently about delinquency,’ Bog mused.
‘But she’s not –’
‘It said delinquency was the fault of the parents.’ Bog stood abruptly, dropping his spoon with an eggy splat. ‘My boy.’ He kissed Rufus on the head. ‘I’m glad we had this chat.’
Rufus’s smile was unsure as his father hurried from the room.
In his study, Mayor Bog laughed, quietly at first, then louder. The full width of his belly wobbled at each chuckle. He strolled over to his mirror. His eyes rose from his slippers to his now victorious face. ‘You, Mayor Bog, are a genius.’
He winked at himself and flicked his unkempt hair out of his eyes.
‘And the best thing of all,’ he said with a syrupy grin, ‘it’s perfectly legal. Not only that, it will be in the best interests of Aurelie Bonhoffen.’
‘How kind, Mayor Bog, to take time out of your busy schedule to have tea this afternoon.’
Mayor Bog was sitting in his council office with a small table of cakes, cups and teapots between him and the principal of Gribblesea College.
‘I don’t mean to sound my own trumpet, Mrs Farnhumple, but I think it is the mark of a good mayor when he or she takes an interest in the education and well-being of the town’s school children. Oh, and this is for you.’ Bog opened a desk drawer and pulled out a small, but very expensive, box of chocolates.
‘Why thank you, Mayor Bog. You are really too kind. And, might I say, the statue being built in your honour is not a moment too soon in coming.’
‘Yes, well, one doesn’t have time to think about statues when there’s a town to look after. Take, for example, the current spate of juvenile delinquency and numerous concerns from the public about the pier.’
‘Concerns?’
‘Yes, there have been suggestions of rats, chaos and somewhat loose moral behaviour. I worry for the children who frequent the pier, but particularly the Bonhoffen girl who lives there.’
Mrs Farnhumple’s eyes widened at the mention of Aurelie, and she held her chocolate eclair aloft. ‘I’ve had my concerns about that girl for some time.’
‘Have you?’ asked Mayor Bog.
‘Yes, I’ve always thought the pier was no place for a child to live. It stays open past dark and is full of characters not fit for a young girl to mix with. On some occasions, when I’ve been passing, I’ve seen teenagers out well after the hour they should be home. When I spoke to the girl’s uncles recently about correct behaviour for students, they seemed to have no idea what I was talking about.’
‘It does sound serious.’ Mayor Bog nodded, using one of his most concerned looks. ‘What do you suggest we do?’
‘I think it would be a good time for Saint Barnabas to investigate, before we lose what should be a fine young girl.’
Saint Barnabas was a group of concerned Gribblesea citizens. Its full title was Saint Barnabas’s Society for the Welfare of Young People and Encouragement of Good Manners, and Mrs Farnhumple was one of its key members.
‘You must do as you see fit,’ Mayor Bog offered. ‘My assistant, Julius, will be at your service if you need him.’
‘You are a good, kind man, Mayor Bog.’
The mayor looked away humbly. ‘Call me Finnigus.’
Mrs Farnhumple blushed. ‘Of course, Finnigus.’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A Ghostly Demonstration
‘I know what I’m doing, Frank.’ Rolo turned from the busted generator beside the marquee and pointed a spanner into the air. ‘I’ve done this a million times.’
‘It’ll be best if you just let him do it, Frank,’ Rindolf said over his shoulder. ‘You know how stubborn Old Grumpy can get.’
‘It’s not about being stubborn or grumpy, I –’
‘Shhh.’ Rindolf caught sight of Aurelie weaving through the afternoon crowds of the pier.
‘What do we do?’ Rolo asked.
‘Act normally,’ Rindolf answered.
‘Act normally how?’
‘I know acting normally is hard for you,’ Rindolf said, ‘but just try.’
The two men turned their attention back to the generator. Rolo began whistling a lively tune when Aurelie walked up behind them.
‘Aurelie, sweetheart!’ Rolo said with more than a little surprise. ‘Look, Rindolf, it’s Aurelie. We were just acting normally, fixing the generator, and who should walk up behind us but our favourite niece!’
Rindolf threw his rambling brother a frown. ‘How was school?’
‘Good.’
‘Good.’
Aurelie scuffed her shoe into the ground. ‘I’m sorry I ran away from you before, Rolo.’
Rolo scrambled to his feet and clutched the spanner before him. ‘Oh, but you needed to. You had to. What else could you do?’
‘I was scared.’
‘There’s no need to be scared. No need at all. What can I do to make you feel better?’
‘You can be more careful about where you are when you disappear,’ Aurelie scolded. ‘Make sure no one’s around who doesn’t know.’
‘I will.’ Rolo put his hand on his heart. ‘I promise. No more disappearing in inappropriate places.’
‘And I’d like something else,’ Aurelie said.
‘What? Anything. You name it and it’s yours.’
‘I want to know about coming back.’
Rindolf and Rolo swapped a careful look.
‘What would you like to know?’ Rolo asked.
‘Lilliana says people who come back have the marks of a ghost. Is that true?’
‘Yes,’ said Rolo. ‘There’s the walking through walls and …’
‘I’d like to see it.’
Rindolf stood beside his brother. ‘It’s a little … unusual at first. Are you sure you want to see?’
‘Yes.’
Rindolf held open a flap of the marquee. ‘Then let the show begin.’
Rolo threw the switch for the lights. Above the circus ring were two giant, painted angels suspended between strings of coloured lights.
Aurelie sat in the front row of the stands.
‘If you get frightened, we can stop,’ Rolo said.
She shook her head. ‘I won’t be frightened.’
Rolo and Rindolf took canes, top hats and suitcases from an old trunk of props and stood at either end of the marquee. They began walking
towards each other. Rolo doffed his hat to imaginary people before coming across Rindolf. ‘Ah, good morning, old chap.’
Both men put their cases down and shook hands.
‘And good morning to you. What a glorious day!’
‘Ah, I say, old chap … it seems you are disappearing.’
‘Oh bother.’ Rolo began to fade. ‘I think you might be right. Cheerio, then.’ He continued to disappear until even his gleaming smile was a memory.
Rindolf looked around and sat beside the suitcases. He opened Rolo’s and took out an imaginary sandwich and began to eat. ‘He won’t be needing this then.’
Rolo reappeared and knocked Rindolf’s hat off his head. ‘Hey! That’s my lunch.’
Rindolf’s cheeks bulged with the imaginary sandwich. ‘’orry.’
The two men stood and bowed.
‘What else can you do?’ Aurelie asked.
Rolo snuck behind a side curtain and into the wings while Rindolf grabbed a newspaper from the trunk and stuck it under his arm. He whistled as he strolled across the ring towards the giant support pole in the centre. As he walked, he looked at his watch and, just as he should have collided with the pole, stepped right through it, stopping on the other side to read his paper.
Rolo drove out in a small pedal car from behind large black curtains. He spun the wheel back and forth as if he’d lost control. He honked the horn twice at Rindolf as the car swerved all over the ring. He honked again, but still Rindolf wouldn’t move. The car swerved closer, turning until it drove straight through him. Rindolf turned the page of his paper and continued reading.
Rolo wiped his brow in exaggerated relief, until the car swung round towards Rindolf again. But, just as the car was about to slide through him, Rindolf rose from the floor as if he was being pulled upwards by invisible strings. The car drove under him and straight into the pole. Steam shot out of the engine as Rindolf floated back to earth and rushed to help a dizzy Rolo from the car.
The Remarkable Secret of Aurelie Bonhoffen Page 8