The Remarkable Secret of Aurelie Bonhoffen

by Deborah Abela

  Ernestine sucked in a sharp breath, her lips pursed. ‘I’m going to have to disagree with you, Mr Bonhoffen. It is draughty, small and has none of the things a young girl her age should have – dolls, a set of hairbrushes. The curtains are patch-worked rags, and she sleeps above the devilish art and general horror of a ghost train.’

  ‘Well, I … I …’ Argus looked around, puzzled.

  ‘We have seen enough. Thank you, Mr and Mrs Bonhoffen.’ Mrs Farnhumple led the small group through the maze of fairy floss stands, gaming booths and statues of laughing clowns. Julius turned back to offer his hand in goodbye but fumbled his case and folder, his papers again falling from his grasp. He scrambled after them.

  ‘Come on, Julius,’ Mrs Farnhumple’s voice cut through the air. Julius clutched the papers to his chest, nodded at the Bonhoffens and hurried after the women of Saint Barnabas.

  ‘What did they want, Argus?’ Amarella breathed.

  ‘I don’t really know. Only you’re not to worry. I’m sure we can sort out whatever it is.’ He smiled and kissed Amarella on the cheek. ‘Meanwhile, Rindolf and Rolo have some explaining to do about that school visit – and it better be good.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  A Sad Farewell

  ‘Am I to read from this that you are suggesting the girl be removed from her home?’

  Mayor Bog held the hastily written report on Aurelie Bonhoffen, requesting her removal from the pier.

  ‘Not only removed, Mayor Bog, but removed immediately.’

  ‘So it is as serious as I thought?’

  ‘Gravely serious, sir.’

  The mayor ran his stubby fingers over the black ink. ‘At least we have comfort knowing we are providing the girl with opportunities she’d otherwise never have.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Mrs Farnhumple said. ‘My only hope is that we will be in time to rescue her and undo the damage already done.’

  ‘The council and I have an important session after lunch and, owing to the urgency of the situation, I’m sure I can have this approved as quickly as possible.’

  ‘You are a good man, Mayor Bog.’

  Bog stared at the report as if his mind was somewhere else. ‘Pardon? Yes, well. A good man. Indeed.’

  ‘It’s brilliant!’ Rufus blushed as Aurelie declared for the fifth time that his invitation was brilliant. ‘Really brilliant.’

  She stood in her overalls in the marquee where she and her uncles were painting props for the performance. She held the flier carefully in her hands and read dramatically: ‘Bonhoffen’s Phantasmagoria.’

  ‘It’s got a lovely ring to it,’ Rindolf said.

  ‘It means a series of images that make you feel as if you’re in a dream,’ Rufus explained. ‘I thought it was the perfect name for the show.’

  ‘I’ve done many performances in my life,’ Rolo said, ‘but I’ve never been involved in a phantasmagoria before.’

  Aurelie read out the whole flier:

  * * *

  Welcome to

  Bonhoffen’s Phantasmagoria!

  Bonhoffen’s Seaside Pier invites you to partake in a weekend of repairs and rejuvenation of Gribblesea’s finest attraction.

  In return, you will enjoy a never-before-seen performance of spectacular proportions that will delight, amaze and bedazzle.

  * * *

  ‘We just have to add the dates,’ Rufus said.

  ‘I knew you were the one to help.’ Aurelie threw her arms around Rufus. He blushed even more.

  ‘Not only is he a good man; he’s smart too.’ Rindolf wrapped his arms around both of them.

  ‘Come on, my turn.’ Rolo wiped his eyes and joined in the hug. ‘And for your reward, you get to have a sneak preview of … the Box of Incredulity!’

  ‘The box of what?’ asked Rufus.

  ‘Incredulity. Sit with me and you’ll see.’ Aurelie jumped up into the tiered seats and patted the bench beside her. ‘Everyone’s been preparing so hard for the show. Lilliana’s even helping To and Fro with a brand-new trapeze act. She was one of the best, so it’s going to be brilliant!’

  The marquee lights dimmed to black. Slowly, one spotlight spilled down over the tall, skinny, upright box. On the front, in letters framed by a swirling mist, Rolo had painted, The Box of Incredulity.

  The uncles could be seen standing on either side of it. Rindolf held two large cymbals, and Rolo held his hands behind his back.

  ‘Lady Aurelie and Gentleman Rufus,’ Rolo cried, ‘welcome to Bonhoffen’s Phantasmagoria! A show where you will be mesmerised and astounded, fascinated and flabbergasted. Why, you may even be mesmeroundedfascingasted!’

  Rindolf clapped the cymbals together.

  ‘I am the Riveting Rolo, and he is the Rambunctious Rindolf.’ They both bowed. ‘And this is the Box of Incredulity.’

  Rindolf clanged the cymbals again, only this time so close to Rolo’s ear that his eyes crossed and he teetered from side to side.

  ‘Sorry about that.’ Rindolf shrugged.

  Aurelie and Rufus smiled.

  ‘Why Incredulity?’ Rolo regained his balance and pulled a giant saw from behind his back. ‘Because I can saw a person in two through it, right before your very eyes.’

  Rindolf’s eyes shot wide open. ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t worry. It won’t hurt a bit.’ He pointed the saw towards the box. ‘Please step inside.’

  Rindolf hesitated. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I haven’t lost a man yet.’

  Rindolf placed the cymbals on the ground and rubbed his palms against his trousers. He edged towards the box.

  ‘That’s the way,’ Rolo encouraged him.

  He slipped inside and Rolo closed the door behind him.

  ‘I, the Riveting Rolo, am now going to saw the Rambunctious Rindolf in half.’

  A muffled scream came from inside the box.

  ‘There is absolutely nothing to worry about,’ Rolo cried. ‘Not when we have the Box of Incredulity!’

  A small whimper was heard as Rolo lined up his saw against the side of the box and began to move the blade forward and backward, slicing and cutting. Wood shavings sprinkled onto the ground.

  ‘Will he be okay?’ Rufus asked.

  ‘Sure he will.’ Aurelie smiled. ‘Watch.’

  The blade reached halfway. Rolo stopped to wipe his brow before recommencing. The blade ate further into the box, its teeth protruding through the other side, until finally it had sawn right through. He dropped the blade and took a deep breath.

  ‘And now, let’s see how our good friend Rindolf is.’

  Rolo flung open the door. Rindolf stood inside, his eyes shut tight. ‘You can come out now.’

  Rindolf slowly felt his body: his legs, his stomach, his face.

  ‘See?’ Rolo asked. ‘In the Box of Incredulity, you’ve been perfectly safe.’

  Rindolf stepped out. The two brothers held their hands in the air and bowed.

  ‘Bravo!’ Rufus and Aurelie cried out.

  Rindolf stepped towards their seats, but when he did his top half went one way and his legs went the other. His top half bowed.

  ‘Ah … Rindolf?’ Rolo stared at his sawn-off brother.

  ‘What is it? I’m enjoying … aaah!’

  Rolo pulled the two halves together, shoved him back into the box and began to wheel it out of the tent to the muffled cries of his brother inside.

  Aurelie jumped to her feet and applauded.

  ‘But that really looked like Rindolf was in two pieces.’ Rufus’s mouth hung open.

  ‘I know.’ Aurelie clapped and cheered. ‘I told you they were good.’

  It was precisely 7 am the following morning when Mrs Farnhumple, Ernestine Bloomfield, Julius and two police officers arrived at the pier.

  ‘Wretched wind.’ Ernestine grabbed at her hat and held it in place. Her skirt, however, was whisked into the air, revealing a generous portion of her leg.

  Her shriek coincided with the two police officers smirking and turn
ing away.

  ‘Let’s go,’ she growled.

  Ernestine knocked on Argus’s office door. She could hear nothing over the constant squawking of seagulls. She knocked again.

  ‘Mr Bonhoffen? Are you in there?’

  A window in the building beside her opened and Argus, wearing only a singlet, poked his head out into the morning light.

  ‘Oh, Mr Bonhoffen!’ Ernestine and Mrs Farnhumple spun away. ‘We’d, um … like to talk to you.’

  ‘Certainly.’ Argus shielded his eyes and shook his head to wake himself up. ‘I’ll be right down.’

  Argus disappeared from his bedroom window and reappeared at the door, pulling his shirt over his head. ‘Bit of a late night last night. We’re planning a big performance, and we got a little carried away.’

  ‘Carried away?’ Mrs Farnhumple stared at the dishevelled man in front of her.

  ‘You know how it is with musicians. Once you hand them a mandolin and a squeezebox, there’s no stopping them.’

  Mrs Farnhumple and Ernestine Bloomfield had no idea how it was with musicians.

  Argus felt their silence like a piano string pressing against his neck. He stepped back. ‘What can I do for you?’

  Mrs Farnhumple nodded to Julius, who searched through his case, took out an important-looking piece of paper and began reading: ‘By order of the …’

  ‘What is it, Argus?’ Amarella pulled her long woollen jacket tightly around her chest and blinked into the cold sunlight.

  ‘I’m not sure, but I’m about to find out.’

  ‘Don’t let these people stand there in the cold. Where are your manners, Argus? Please, come in.’

  None of the small group moved.

  Ernestine eyed the mayor’s young assistant, who stared at the ground. She elbowed him in the ribs. ‘Julius? Don’t you have something to read?’

  ‘Ahh … yes, I,’ he looked at his paper. ‘By … by order … of the … Office for the Welfare of … Young People and Children, it has been seen fit that due to habits of … moral negligence and an unstable living arrangement that …’

  Julius looked up and caught Amarella’s face. The sadness that circled her wide eyes snatched away his ability to read any further.

  ‘I’m sorry. I …’

  Ernestine grabbed the paper from his hands.

  ‘By order of the Office for the Welfare of Young People and Children et cetera, et cetera, it has been decided, in accordance with Article 327 of the Child Betterment and Protection Act, that Aurelie Bonhoffen be taken from her place of residence at Bonhoffen’s Seaside Pier to be placed in another location far more suited to her needs, until the living arrangements of the girl can be altered sufficiently to convince the Office of the fitness of that abode or, in the failure to do so, until the aforementioned child’s eighteenth birthday, from whence it will be the child’s decision where she may reside.’

  Argus and Amarella stood rigid. A cold wind swept off the sea.

  ‘Visiting rights allow you to make contact with the child at the discretion of the court-appointed guardian. Refusal to obey the guardian’s directions may result in court proceedings against said refuser and a possible jail sentence.’

  ‘Jail sentence? Visiting rights?’ Amarella slowly repeated the words.

  ‘Yes.’ Ernestine Bloomfield’s nostrils flared slightly. ‘And as this case is in particular need of urgent attention, a lot of work must be done. So I have decided that there will be no visiting rights until further notice.’

  ‘You can’t mean this.’ Amarella’s voice was so light it dissolved into the rain that had been threatening all morning to fall.

  ‘Every word of it.’ Mrs Farnhumple held her purse over her head. ‘Julius? The report?’

  ‘Oh … um … here’s a copy of the report and Article 327.’ He held them out to Argus.

  The two policemen looked down at their hats cradled in their hands, the increasing rain dripping down their faces.

  Julius pulled his overfilled case to his chest and offered Amarella and Argus the only thing he could: a small, crooked smile.

  ‘You will need to show the officers where the girl is so they can collect her and a few belongings immediately,’ Mrs Farnhumple said.

  ‘Where will she be taken to?’ Amarella pushed a drowned curl from her eyes.

  ‘We will let you know when we feel it is appropriate,’ Ernestine replied.

  ‘Can they do this, Argus?’ Amarella asked.

  Argus looked down at the report with its small letters crammed together, blotted by rain. ‘It seems they can.’

  Argus and Amarella remained fixed to the pier like ice sculptures, with only a moment before they would melt into the sea.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Bonhoffen?’ Ernestine spoke pointedly. ‘So we all don’t catch our death?’

  Argus and Amarella turned and walked towards Aurelie’s room. The two women followed, the officers close behind.

  ‘I will go to the courts and sort this out.’ Great streams of water now ran off Argus’s nose. He reached his arms around Amarella and folded her into a hug. She was shaking. Argus held her even tighter to make it stop, but he knew the shivering wasn’t from the cold. No matter how close he held her, it would be a long time before she would stop.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Highgate Mansion

  ‘I won’t!’

  Aurelie stamped her foot onto the polished wooden floors of Highgate Mansion, while Ernestine’s patience frayed.

  ‘You will and now!’

  Aurelie kicked the side of the bucket, sending sprays of soapy water into the charged air.

  A second woman stepped in. ‘Perhaps the child needs time to rest. After all, she has only just arrived and maybe –’

  ‘Rest, Sister? There’s no time for rest. It is imperative that this child learn the essential lessons of life – hard work, discipline and manners.’

  ‘I’ve learnt those things already from my family.’ Aurelie glared.

  ‘Did they also teach you to respect your elders?’

  ‘Yes, they did, but I’m not sure I see many here worth respecting.’

  Ernestine’s face burned a deep red. ‘Maybe you’d like to rethink that sentence in your room.’ Aurelie remained where she was, staring back, hardened and defiant. ‘Now.’

  If this was a contest, Ernestine had no intention of losing.

  Aurelie stepped forward and kicked over the bucket of water before running, two steps at a time, up the curved staircase.

  Ernestine stepped away from the spreading puddle. ‘This is far worse than I thought.’

  ‘I’ll see if she’s okay.’ The sister turned to climb the stairs.

  ‘Leave her!’ Ernestine’s fury was like boiling lava. ‘She will stay there until she learns some manners. Or until she gets hungry enough to realise her failings and apologise. Whichever comes first.’

  ‘But she’s –’

  ‘Leave her.’ Ernestine’s words jabbed into the air.

  ‘Why is she here?’

  ‘Mayor Bog was worried for her and alerted me to the conditions she was living in at the pier.’

  ‘The pier?’ The sister’s words snagged in her throat.

  ‘Yes. Terrible place to bring up a child. No order, no decorum. It’s even more wretched than it used to be. You should see where she slept, and everywhere you turn there is an overwhelming stench of barnacles and seaweed. She will be better off with us.’

  ‘How long do you plan to keep her here?’

  ‘As long as it takes,’ Ernestine declared.

  ‘And her family? They must be …’

  ‘Until they move from that decrepit pier and decide they want to give the girl a proper up-bringing, in a proper house, they will have to do without her.’

  Ernestine called to her housemaid to clean up Aurelie’s mess.

  ‘I must leave. I’m due at the mayor’s office to report on what has happened. And to tell him the girl is in much more need of our help than I thought
.’

  She snatched a pair of gloves from the side table, fixed her hair in the foyer mirror and opened the front door.

  ‘Rain,’ she complained. ‘Haven’t we had enough for one day?’ Ernestine seized an umbrella from the hallstand and left.

  The sister waited until Ernestine had driven through the front gates before entering the kitchen. She made a hot chocolate with marshmallows, filled a small plate with macadamia biscuits and climbed the stairs to Aurelie’s room. She raised her hand to open the door, but the sound of crying stopped her. She drew a steadying breath and knocked.

  ‘Go away!’

  ‘Please, Aurelie, Ernestine has left. Can I come in?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk to you.’

  ‘Please?’

  Silence.

  She carefully turned the doorhandle. Aurelie stared out the bay window, clutching her knees to her chest. She seemed so small in this grand room filled with antique wardrobes, chests of drawers covered with doilies, porcelain dolls, plump lounges and cushions.

  ‘I thought you might like something to drink.’ The sister placed the chocolate and biscuits on a small side table and stepped away.

  Aurelie said nothing. Her eyes were red and her lashes welded together by tears.

  ‘Your being here may seem strange, but my sister is only doing what she thinks is in your best interests …’

  ‘Your sister doesn’t know anything about me.’

  She inched closer but Aurelie moved away, squashing herself up against the windowpane. The room had a direct view onto the pier in the far distance. It was clouded in grey rain and a creeping mist.

  ‘Ernestine says you live on the pier?’

  Aurelie pulled her knees tighter.

  ‘I loved going to the pier when I was younger. I knew someone who worked there.’ She said it almost to herself. ‘It was a long time ago, before you were even born.’

  Aurelie didn’t move.

  ‘He was someone who …’ She stopped. ‘Well,’ she straightened her skirt, ‘if you need anything, please ask. We’re not bad people, Aurelie. We’re only trying to help.’