The Remarkable Secret of Aurelie Bonhoffen

by Deborah Abela

  Aurelie’s tears and the raindrops on the window blurred her view.

  ‘Your bathroom is through that door. There are fresh towels and soap and specially scented bath lotion if you like.’

  Aurelie turned to her for the first time. ‘I want to go home.’

  ‘You will. In time. If you need anything, please ask. My name’s Valentina.’

  Aurelie flinched at the mention of her name and turned back to the window. The door clicked shut behind her.

  ‘Valentina,’ Aurelie whispered and wedged her chin into the gap between her folded arms. She stared until the day faded into night and she could see the lights of the seafront through the rolling mist. In the centre of it was the pier. From anywhere in town you could see it standing out like a many-coloured lighthouse: the ferris wheel, the merry-go-round, the moon-shaped lights that ran the length of both sides. It had withstood some of the ocean’s fiercest storms. Some, Lilliana said, that were worthy of knocking the splinters right out of the wooden poles beneath them – but it had never given in.

  She smiled as the pier’s sign glowed. It blazed into the night until one string of lights burned out. The sign now read:

  onhoffen’s Seaside Pier

  Aurelie sprang to her knees, flicked the latch on the window and forced it open. The rain lashed its way in, spilling onto her face and dress.

  She held onto the window frame and threaded one leg outside, hooking the toe of her shoe into a square of lattice attached to the wall. Two Dobermans sprang into view. Aurelie snatched her leg inside as they leapt against the lattice below, snarling and barking, their sharp teeth glinting in the light from her room.

  Soaked through, she pulled the window closed. She took the star ruby from her pocket and held it tightly in her hand. Huddling against the cold glass, she kept watch, afraid that if she took her eyes off it, the pier might disappear forever.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ‘Pier Closed’

  ‘It has come to this.’ Argus’s body slumped forward in his chair, as if it was too heavy for him to keep upright. His elbows leant into the crumpled pile of bills, notices and unopened, official-looking letters. ‘We must sell the pier.’

  ‘Sell the pier?’ Rolo felt his ears clogged with Argus’s news and shook his head. ‘We can’t. It’s all we have. And Lilliana won’t let you.’

  Lilliana had fallen ill since Aurelie had been taken. She stayed in her bed, buried beneath layers of blankets, looking smaller and paler than her family had ever seen.

  ‘I’ve been to the courts,’ Argus replied. ‘They consider Aurelie being raised here as an unfit situation for a young girl, and so our only option is to leave.’ He hauled in a tired breath. ‘If this is the only way for Aurelie to be with us, then this is what we are going to do.’

  Amarella sat quietly beside her husband, her eyes dull and clouded by fear.

  ‘I have spoken to Mr Crook, whose original offer is no longer available, but he has agreed to take it for a lesser price.’

  ‘A lesser price?’ Rindolf squinted as if this would help him understand. ‘But his original offer wouldn’t have bought the wood that went into building the pier.’

  ‘He doesn’t want to run it as a pier,’ Argus confessed quietly. ‘He said there was no money in that, so he’s decided to tear it down and build a luxury hotel instead.’

  Amarella’s eyes snapped shut.

  ‘Tear it down?’ Rindolf whispered to himself. ‘But the pier has been here for over one hundred years.’

  The rain shuddered against the roof.

  ‘What money we have left after we pay our debts will be divided among everyone here.’ Argus lowered his head and said, ‘Amarella and I are sorry.’

  Rolo stole a look at Amarella’s drawn face and rubbed his hands up and down his dirt-smeared overalls. ‘This will not do!’ His head swung high in challenge, and his heart pounded in his chest. ‘We will not sit here and take this.’

  Argus held up his hand listlessly. ‘They have the law behind them.’ He held out the pages of the report, its rain-blotched creases blurring some words. Rindolf took it and began to read.

  Outside, the wind threw fistfuls of rain against the office walls and windows.

  ‘What could they do if we went back to the courts and demanded Aurelie come home?’ Rolo asked.

  ‘They could use it as proof that we are willing to ignore the law.’ Rindolf stared at the report in his hands. ‘And give them reason to think we are even more unfit to bring up a child responsibly.’

  Amarella winced but kept her eyes on the floor.

  ‘I’m going to have to ask you to leave,’ Argus said quietly. ‘Crook will be here in the morning with papers to sign, and there is a lot to organise before he arrives.’

  ‘But –’ Rolo began until his elder brother tugged at his sleeve, placed the report on the desk and led him outside.

  Rindolf buttoned his coat against the rain and headed for the shelter of the waffle stand, sitting heavily in a teacup seat. ‘We have said enough for now.’

  ‘But we haven’t even begun to have our say.’ Rolo flicked his rain-soaked hair from his eyes and paced back and forth. ‘Courts and governments and societies for good manners have been having all the say. Why, if I had my way, I’d step right up to them and – aah!’ He stopped abruptly and held his hand to his heart. ‘I swear, one of these days, Frank …’

  ‘Sorry about that.’ Frank’s floating head was joined by his materialising body.

  ‘You’ve heard?’

  ‘Most of it.’ Frank pulled his floppy hat off and held it to his chest. ‘Sad business. Where is she?’

  ‘We don’t know, but we’re going to get her back,’ Rolo declared.

  ‘How?’ Frank asked.

  ‘We haven’t worked that out yet.’ Rindolf frowned.

  ‘What was the report Argus had?’

  ‘It’s from the courts.’ Rolo kicked the teacup table. ‘It says the pier’s not a fit place for a young girl to live.’

  ‘But that’s –’

  ‘Crazy.’ Rindolf nodded. ‘We know.’

  ‘A judge was able to have Aurelie taken because of an article. A small sentence in a law book.’ Rindolf shivered against the cold.

  ‘Do you remember the number of the article?’ Frank asked.

  ‘Article 327 of the Child Betterment and Protection Act.’ Rindolf said it like he could never forget.

  ‘I know that one.’

  ‘You do?’ Rolo asked.

  ‘With the decades of spare time I’ve had since being dead, I often go to the library and read. Especially at night when it’s quiet. I find the law very interesting. In fact, if I hadn’t been so good at entertaining crowds, I would have made a cracking lawyer.’

  ‘Do you know any way around it?’ Rolo perked up.

  ‘I’d need to read the court’s notes.’ Frank pulled his hat back on his head.

  ‘We need to have a plan before Argus signs those papers tomorrow morning,’ Rolo added. ‘Think you can do it?’

  ‘Not if we stand here talking about it.’ Frank gave them a toothy grin. ‘Gentlemen, we’ve got a courthouse to break into.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  A Rescue Plan

  Aurelie woke in the night to the sound of barking dogs. Huddled beneath a blanket in the bay window of her room, she quickly rose to her knees and put her hands against the pane in time to see two Dobermans race past.

  She blinked and rubbed her eyes as Ernestine rushed onto the lawn. Her hair was piled under a scarf, and a long dressing-gown swept around her feet as she swung a torch over the grounds. The dogs’ barking reached the far end of the property, where it suddenly stopped. Moments later they hurtled back, stumbling over each other and cowering around Ernestine’s heels with pitiable whines. She patted one of them on the head and kept her torch trained towards the front drive of the house.

  ‘What is it, boys?’ She moved forward and urged the dogs to follow, but they cowered even low
er. She shook her head and marched into the night alone. The dogs whimpered and backed away before running in the opposite direction.

  Aurelie carefully opened the window and stuck her head outside. The rain had stopped and the night was still. She craned her neck, squinting into the darkness. When Ernestine’s torchlight swung into view, she stole back inside. After a few minutes the door closed beneath her, and the security bolts slammed shut.

  Aurelie dragged the blanket over her and buried her head into her arms.

  Until she heard a soft bump on the floor of her room.

  She lifted her head to see a paper aeroplane. She crept over and picked it up. It had something written on the inside. She unfolded it and read, ‘Look out the window’.

  Aurelie leant out to see Rindolf, Rolo and Frank waving from below. Rolo put his finger against his lips. He adjusted a coil of rope slung over his shoulder. His long black coat swirled behind him as he scaled the latticework.

  Frank disappeared, and seconds later he was standing beside her. ‘Never fear, the rescue party is here. I hope I’m dressed okay.’ He held out his arms and did a brief turn to show off his fireman’s outfit.

  ‘You look good in uniform.’ Aurelie’s eyes welled.

  ‘That’s what I think.’ Frank smiled.

  Rolo clambered onto the window ledge. ‘Don’t listen to him; next he’ll tell you he’s the …’ His foot became tangled in his rope. He tumbled onto the cushions and slid onto the floor. ‘Hero.’

  Aurelie dropped to her knees and hugged her uncle. ‘They said I have to stay here,’ she whispered. ‘That the pier’s not a good place for a young girl to live. I kept telling them it’s not true, but they wouldn’t listen.’

  ‘They who?’ Rolo asked.

  ‘Ernestine Bloomfield and her Society.’

  ‘She’s always been a meddler.’ Rolo smiled and tapped his forehead. ‘We’ve found a way to make them listen.’

  Frank interrupted with an ‘Ahem’.

  ‘Oh, well, that is, Frank found it really.’

  Frank grinned. ‘We’ve just had a very interesting visit to the courthouse to have a look at those documents that allowed you to be brought here, and I discovered a small hole in the law that means you can come home right now.’

  ‘You have?’

  ‘Yes.’ Rolo gathered up the rope and got to his feet. ‘Who would have thought old Frank here would finally come in useful?’

  ‘Thank you, Frank,’ Aurelie said. ‘I’d hug you if you weren’t a ghost.’

  ‘Seeing your smile again is enough of a hug for me.’ Frank pulled an envelope from Rolo’s pocket and placed it on the bed. ‘The hole is a very small but very important one they neglected to address in court and are now about to fall into.’ He flicked his head towards the window. ‘How are you at climbing?’

  Aurelie smiled. ‘But the dogs?’

  ‘Don’t worry about them – animals are dead-scared of ghosts.’ Frank stood with his legs apart and put his hands on his hips. ‘You’re safe as long as you’re with me.’

  ‘Our hero …’ Rolo tied the rope around the leg of the heavy bed and unrolled it out the window. ‘Let’s get out of here before his head becomes too big for his puny body to hold up.’

  It was 2 am when they arrived at the pier.

  Aurelie kissed her uncles goodnight and climbed the stairs to Lilliana’s bedroom.

  She gently kissed her grandmother’s cheek. ‘Lilliana. It’s me. Aurelie.’

  ‘Eh? What is it … who?’

  ‘I’m back.’

  Lilliana focused slowly on her granddaughter. ‘Oh … Oh my dear.’ She began to cry. ‘Is it really you? How did you get here? Have you run away?’

  ‘Sort of. Rolo, Rindolf and Frank came to rescue me, and they say the courts will never be able to take me away again.’

  ‘Are you sure? Because I’ll give up the pier – anything I have – to keep you close.’

  Lilliana sniffed and lifted the duvet. Aurelie kicked off her shoes and climbed inside, sinking into its familiar warmth. ‘We’re not leaving. I have a plan to make sure of that. Rindo says you haven’t been well.’

  ‘It is nothing. I just … got a bit of a scare when …’

  ‘I’m here now and this is where I’m going to stay for a very long time.’

  Aurelie wriggled further into her grandmother’s arms. Lulled by the gentle stroking of her cheek and the duck down quilts, she was drawn into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  An Unpleasant Morning

  ‘What do you mean the child has gone?’ Mayor Bog gripped his newspaper tightly after Mrs Farnhumple delivered the news.

  ‘Miss Bloomfield went up to her room this morning and she wasn’t there. And she found this.’ The principal held out a letter. It was written on fine paper below the name and insignia of a London law office.

  Julius stood by the door of Mayor Bog’s office like a nervous schoolboy. A twitch began in his eye, which he tried to stop with firm blinking. Had Mayor Bog looked up, it may have appeared that the boy was winking at him.

  Mayor Bog dropped the newspaper and began to read the letter.

  ‘Ernestine has no idea how it got there.’ Mrs Farnhumple clutched her hands together. ‘She assures me the girl’s room was locked and that her guard dogs are normally very good and …’

  Mrs Farnhumple continued to talk while Mayor Bog read the letter silently with clenched teeth and pursed lips:

  … and, as you must understand, all processes of a legal nature must be carried out in full accordance with the law. It therefore stands that the child in question, Miss Aurelie Bonhoffen, was removed from her parents without the necessary documentation, notably Form 549B-2 entitled ‘With Respect to the Removal of a Child Due to an Unsatisfactory Situation and/or Habitation’.

  Hereon and forthwith, the child is to be returned to her parents and remain with them at the residence of Bonhoffen’s Seaside Pier until such a time as the necessary paperwork can be filled out and a date fixed so that the full extent of the case can be laid before Her Majesty’s court, in the presence of a judge and all elected representatives of both parties concerned.

  Signed,

  Frank W. Fotheringham

  Frank W. Fotheringham

  The Law Offices of Frank and Gribble, London

  ‘And that is why I am deeply worried for the welfare of that child,’ Mrs Farnhumple concluded with a sigh. ‘I simply do not understand how one single letter can undo all the good work and intentions of respectable people who are only trying to –’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Farnhumple.’ Mayor Bog cut her off. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll speak with my council colleagues without delay.’

  ‘Thank you, Mayor Bog, and again I am so deeply –’

  Mayor Bog stood up from his chair and held out his hand to the principal. ‘Please don’t say another word,’ he almost snarled. ‘I will see to it that this unfortunate state of affairs is rectified immediately. Julius?’

  Julius’s eye twitched again. ‘Yes, Mayor?’

  ‘Please escort Mrs Farnhumple outside.’

  ‘Certainly, Mayor.’

  Bog thumped into his chair, flinging the letter across his desk. Julius returned a few minutes later.

  ‘This is a fine pickle, Julius. At least nothing more can happen to make my day any worse.’

  Julius took a deep breath before announcing, ‘I quit, Mayor.’

  ‘You what? Don’t be ridiculous.’

  Julius squared his shoulders. ‘I thought working in the mayor’s office would mean helping people. I never realised politics would be about rats and taxes and children being taken from their homes – so I quit.’

  ‘But Julius, you can’t be –’

  ‘Goodbye, Uncle.’

  Mayor Bog’s mouth dropped open as he watched Julius leave. He tugged at his collar and made his way to the window. He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. When he opened them, he saw Lucien Crook step out of his limous
ine. From the way Crook’s cane snapped onto the footpath, the way he tugged down on his gold embroidered vest and strode through the front door, Bog could tell he knew about the letter.

  Mayor Bog searched around for an avenue of escape. The coat closet? Beneath his desk? Out the window? His face paled.

  ‘Bog? I need to talk to you.’ Crook barged into the room and sat down.

  ‘I know about the girl. Clever plan, I admit, and it almost got the Bonhoffens to sell. But she is back this morning and they are again refusing to sign. She was even at the gates with those two scruffy uncles of hers, handing out fliers for some kind of performance. She’s causing trouble, getting people excited. I want her and the pier taken care of.’

  Mayor Bog was finding it hard to talk.

  ‘Well?’

  Bog tried to compose himself and spoke through a rush of air. ‘I think the way to move forward now is to leave well enough alone. The Bonhoffens are obviously –’

  ‘I want them gone.’ Crook’s voice was low.

  ‘But I’m not sure it’s fair –’

  ‘We have a deal.’

  ‘Yes. The deal. I’m not sure I want to be part of this deal any longer.’

  Crook stood and leant forward, the stripes on his leg-hugging trousers immaculately straight, the cuffs of his shirt pristinely white beneath his expertly tailored jacket. He smiled. ‘You’re too far in to be backing out now.’

  Mayor Bog gulped, his hand against his throat.

  ‘If you don’t get those wretched people off that pier by the end of this week, I will have to resort to this.’ Crook pulled a piece of paper from his inside jacket pocket. He unfolded it to reveal the front page of his newspaper, with the headline:

  Mayor Steals Council Funds

  ‘But that’s not true.’ Bog shivered. ‘I’d never –’

  ‘Ah, but you see, Bog, all I have to do is print this in my newspaper and people will think it is true, and you are smart enough to know that even the hint of scandal will ruin your career.’