The Remarkable Secret of Aurelie Bonhoffen

by Deborah Abela

  The man sitting before him wore fingerless gloves and chewed on a foul-smelling cigar, puffing clumps of smoke into Mayor Bog’s face. Bog coughed.

  ‘That is the name you call me,’ he said in a raspy voice. ‘Real names don’t interest me.’

  Mayor Bog slipped onto the bench opposite the man. He leant low across the table. ‘But you know who I am,’ he whispered.

  Cicero eyed Bog. ‘I don’t want to know who you are.’

  ‘Good. Good.’ Bog took a hurried sip from his lemonade. The bubbles tickled his nose, worrying him that he might sneeze. ‘You know why I am here?’

  Cicero sucked in a breath over his stained teeth. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I have tried a few times to –’ he looked around him, ‘– to finish with this business, but this time I need it to work.’

  The man smiled into the smoky gloom. One gold tooth glinted in the meagre light from above them.

  ‘How serious are you?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Serious enough to accept that someone may get hurt?’

  Mayor Bog’s breathing grew sharp and strained, as if coarse fingers were slowly tightening around his throat. ‘No. No one must get hurt.’

  The man picked up his glass and drained it in a flick of his head before slamming it onto the sticky wooden table. He nodded to the bartender. ‘For that I’ll need to be more careful, more planned, and that will cost you more money.’

  ‘How much?’

  A new, excited glint shone in his eye. ‘Double.’

  ‘Double?’ Mayor Bog said it loudly and attracted the unwanted attention of the other hunched, tooth less patrons around him. The bartender chuckled softly.

  ‘When do you want it done?’

  ‘Within twenty-four hours.’ Bog leant forward. ‘But there has to be a limit. I need you to cause enough damage to make it so expensive to fix that they’ll have to leave, but don’t ruin the pier. It’s to be redeveloped.’

  Cicero snorted into his drink. ‘Looks like someone’s been telling the mayor fibs. Word is, it’s to be torn down.’

  ‘No, no. Mr Crook said –’

  Cicero laughed. ‘It’ll be done after midnight tonight.’

  Bog looked to the door. He reached into his pocket and jammed a clump of notes into Cicero’s hand, knocking over the lemonade. The man barely flinched as he held Bog’s gaze.

  ‘I’m sorry, I …’ Bog used his cape to wipe the drink up. He drew his hood firmly down over his head and stumbled out of the bar into the bitter salty air. His eyes watered as he ran through the cold smog and mist, winding through darkened alleys towards the lights at the centre of Gribblesea. He tripped in his haste and fell to his knees in a public square. His breath steamed around him in foggy bursts. When he looked up he saw the nearly finished sculpture of the proudly posed mayor standing over him.

  He felt the energy drain from his body. He pulled his hood down even further and ran without stopping until he reached his home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  A Terrible Feeling

  A sleepy walk down the corridor of the Bog residence at 3 am to visit the bathroom led Rufus past his father’s study. A small finger of light crept from the barely open door and fell across the corridor. His bare feet stepped cautiously towards it. He blinked to help him wake up and snuck a careful look inside. His father was hunched over his desk, his hair dishevelled, his eyes bloodshot. He clutched his phone to his mouth.

  ‘Yes, yes, I did as you said,’ he insisted. ‘No, this time it won’t fail. Trust me, I –’ Mayor Bog recoiled from the phone as if he had been slapped. ‘He says it will be done after midnight tonight –’

  He stopped again, this time wiping a sleeve across his brow.

  ‘I know I’ve said that before, but you have to understand that what you are asking is very –’ Bog winced. ‘Yes. You’ll see. Within twenty-four hours from now, the pier will no longer be a problem.’

  Rufus frowned and leant in a little closer.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Bog stammered. ‘There’s no need to worry, I’ll see to it that –’ He slowly pulled the phone away from his ear. ‘It happens.’

  He replaced the receiver and sat with his face buried in his hands. Rufus waited for his dad to move. When Bog did, he strode quickly to the door, opening it before Rufus could hide.

  Up close, Rufus thought he looked smaller and greyer.

  Mayor Bog patted down his hair and tried to pull some order into his crumpled and damp clothes.

  ‘It’s cold,’ he said. ‘You should get back to bed.’

  Rufus walked past his dad with soundless steps before stopping at the bathroom door. ‘Night, sir.’

  Mayor Bog gave his son a weary smile. ‘Night, Rufus.’

  ‘Rufus!’ Aurelie sidestepped through the packed lunchtime frenzy in the corridor outside their class. ‘Rufus!’

  This time he slowed to a stop and Aurelie caught up.

  ‘I’ve been calling you,’ she puffed.

  ‘Sorry,’ he hoisted his bag onto his shoulder. ‘I didn’t hear you.’

  Aurelie took a handful of fliers from her bag. ‘I was thinking we could pass these out as we walk through the yard. We’d cover more ground that way and make sure …’ Rufus looked away. ‘Are you okay? You don’t look very good.’

  ‘I don’t think I …’ He sighed.

  Sniggard ran into the back of Aurelie with his bag. ‘Sorry, did I hurt you, Fire Girl?’

  Rufus’s body tensed.

  Aurelie smiled broadly over her shoulder. ‘No, I’m much tougher than that.’

  ‘I’m glad.’ Sniggard tried to answer sincerely, but sincerity was never a trait he managed to pull off all that well. ‘Happy to be back home then? Things must be pretty bad at your place if they had to take you –’

  ‘Leave her alone,’ Rufus warned.

  A few faces looked up from the swirl of bags and lunches.

  ‘What did you say, Bog?’ Sniggard edged closer to Rufus, looming over him.

  ‘I said, leave her alone.’

  Sniggard and Charles turned to each other. ‘Ooooh, looks like little Bog here has a crush on Fire Girl.’

  Charles slapped Rufus on the back so hard that his bag fell to the floor. ‘Aurelie and Rufus, Aurelie and Rufus,’ he sang.

  Rufus flinched. ‘Get your hand off me, Charles.’

  ‘Or what, Bog?’ Sniggard’s face hardened. He shoved Rufus in the shoulder. ‘Or what?’

  ‘What’s the hold-up here?’ Rufus looked up to see the perfectly straight black fringe of Mrs Sneed standing above him. ‘Rufus, what’s your bag doing on the ground?’

  Rufus eyed Sniggard. ‘I dropped it, Mrs Sneed.’

  ‘Well, pick it up.’ She reached into her pocket for a hanky to cover her nose. ‘And you, Sniggard and Charles, move along – you’re blocking the corridor.’

  Sniggard glared at Rufus. ‘Watch yourself, Bog,’ he whispered, before squeezing his way through groups of tittering kids. Mrs Sneed followed, doing her best not to touch any of them.

  ‘One day they’ll get bored,’ Aurelie said. ‘They may even find something genuinely entertaining to amuse themselves with.’

  Rufus picked up his bag. ‘I have to tell you something.’ His face was serious.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Not here.’

  He led Aurelie outside and around the back of their classroom.

  Rufus paced, his eyes flicking around him. ‘Something is going to happen.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Something bad’s going to happen. To the pier.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Aurelie asked.

  ‘I heard it.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘I can’t tell you.’

  ‘When did you hear it?’

  ‘Last night.’

  ‘At your home?’ Aurelie frowned.

  Rufus didn’t answer.

  ‘What’s going to happen?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Rufus’s face
screwed up. ‘All I know is that it’s going to happen after midnight tonight. I don’t know anything else. I promise.’

  Aurelie stared at his downcast look. ‘Does it have something to do with your dad?’

  Rufus lunged, pushing Aurelie in the shoulders and sending her sprawling backwards onto the ground. The fliers fluttered into the air around her. ‘No!’ he shouted. ‘It’s got nothing to do with my dad.’

  Rufus clamped his lips shut. Aurelie pulled herself up.

  ‘I need to get back to the pier.’ She shot a look at the out-of-bounds perimeter fence. ‘Don’t tell anyone I’ve gone.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Rufus promised.

  The clamour of the schoolyard at lunchtime faded behind her as Aurelie made for the fence.

  ‘The pier?’ Rolo shut the door to the room he shared with Rindolf. ‘Why would anyone want to harm the pier?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Aurelie sat on her uncle’s bed and caught her breath. ‘All Rufus said was that he’d heard something bad was going to happen.’

  ‘Heard from who?’ Rindolf asked.

  ‘He wouldn’t say, but he looked scared and sort of … sad.’

  Rolo sat before Aurelie on a small piano stool.

  ‘Does he know what is going to happen?’ Rindolf asked.

  ‘He said he didn’t, just that it’s going to happen after midnight tonight.’ She paused. ‘I think it’s got something to do with his dad.’

  ‘The mayor?’ Rolo asked. ‘Why would the mayor want to do anything to us?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I think Rufus was protecting someone. When I asked him if his dad was involved, he shoved me to the ground.’

  ‘He shoved you to the ground?’ Rolo cried. ‘He can’t do –’

  ‘It didn’t hurt,’ Aurelie said. ‘He was upset when I said it, which makes me think it’s true.’

  ‘The report to have you taken away was signed by Mayor Bog,’ Rindolf remembered.

  ‘And the mayor’s assistant was here both times,’ Rolo said.

  ‘And it’s his office that’s been behind all the tax increases,’ Rindolf added.

  ‘But why would the mayor want us off the pier?’ Aurelie asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Rolo smiled, ‘but I think it’s time we asked him what’s going on in person. Don’t you, Rindo?’

  Rindolf saw the gleam in his eye. ‘You know, brother, I think you’re right.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Aurelie clung onto her uncles’ inflating spirit.

  ‘We’re going to pay a visit to the mayor to show him we can’t be bullied by his taxes and his welfare society women and his assistants with their reports and articles.’ Rolo threw his chest out and tossed his hair back in a dramatic flick.

  ‘And let’s show him a little of what his life may become if he doesn’t cooperate!’ Rindolf raised an eyebrow.

  ‘When do we go?’ Aurelie asked.

  Rolo paused and his shoulders fell slightly. ‘It might get a little dangerous. It’ll be better if Rindo and I go on our own.’

  ‘You’re not going without me.’

  ‘I don’t think –’

  ‘I’m coming, so there’s no point wasting time talking about it.’

  Rolo and Rindolf exchanged a look. ‘Okay, but you have to promise to stay close to us,’ Rindolf said.

  ‘Promise.’ Aurelie’s smile lit up her face. ‘What do we do?’

  Rolo grabbed a pen and a notebook. ‘We need to work on the finer details and, of course, decide what to wear.’

  ‘We’ll need Frank,’ Rindolf said.

  ‘Frank?’ Rolo sighed. ‘If he comes with us again, he’ll never stop raving about what a hero he is.’

  ‘Did someone call my name?’ Frank shimmered into view on top of the piano.

  ‘It wasn’t me.’ Rolo crossed his arms. ‘And get off my piano.’

  ‘We’ve got a little job to do, Frank,’ Rindolf said. ‘And we need you to help us.’

  ‘Lovely.’ Frank floated off the piano and onto the floor beside Rolo. He put his arm around his shoulder. ‘Anytime I can be of assistance, I’m yours.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Under Cover of Darkness

  A bent silhouette of a man rowed under cover of darkness. The night was still and deathly cold. His breaths came out in foggy bursts as he pulled the oars through the icy sea.

  The pier stretched before him in the distance, gently lit up by the lights of the city. Serene, quiet and without movement.

  He lifted the oars into the boat and rubbed his hands vigorously together, blowing three bursts of air into them for warmth. At his feet was an empty glass bottle, a tin of kerosene and a pile of old rags. He poured kerosene into the bottle, and with a calloused finger stuffed the neck tightly with a torn rag. Wedging the bottle upright in a corner of the boat, he made sure the cap was firmly secured on the tin of fuel.

  He gripped the handles of the oars and plunged them back into the water. As they drew him slowly to the pier, a small box of matches rattled in his pocket.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  A Poisoned Confession

  A thick mist curled into the night and filled the air with an eerie sense of dread. Of unease. Of restlessness.

  Of ghosts.

  ‘How do I look?’ Rindolf stood in a narrow lane, not far from Mayor Bog’s house. He wore a pair of long black pants and a black velvet morning coat. He’d greased back his curls and swung a gold-edged cane into the air.

  ‘I didn’t know you could scrub up so well.’ Rolo’s hand rested on the handle of a large sword. ‘And what about me?’

  Rindolf stood back and examined his brother’s high hat with a white fluffy feather, long suit coat and bright, embroidered waistcoat. ‘I like the touch of colour in the waistcoat.’

  ‘And me?’ Aurelie stood before her uncles in her silk dress from her ghost train performance, complete with a bloody gash to the head. But this time she wore a long, blonde wig.

  ‘Is there a finer looking young girl? Oh dear,’ Rolo pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed his eyes, ‘if I cry my face powder will run.’

  ‘All we need now is Frank.’ Rindolf searched the dimly lit laneway.

  ‘How can a ghost, with all of eternity on his side, always be late?’ Rolo complained.

  ‘I’m here.’ Frank’s wizened face appeared through the mist. ‘Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean I don’t want to look good.’ He held open one side of his navy jacket fringed with gold epaulets.

  ‘Is that an axe wound?’ Rindolf asked.

  Frank smiled and opened the jacket further to reveal a deep gash in his side. ‘If I lean far enough over, I can almost split myself in two. It might come in handy if the old guy refuses to cooperate.’

  ‘It’s unlike you to want to outdo everyone else?’ Rolo’s lip curled.

  ‘Can’t hold back my natural qualities.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re going to be okay with this?’ Rindolf asked his niece.

  ‘Are you kidding?’ Aurelie’s eyes widened. ‘I’ve never been so excited about a performance. Now let’s go save our pier.’

  The group of four set off. They rounded a bend that led them to Bog’s house, which was surrounded by a perfectly manicured hedge.

  A hedge the uncles and Frank walked straight through.

  ‘Hey!’ Aurelie whispered.

  Rolo reappeared through the bush. ‘Sorry. Forgot you can’t do that.’ He lifted Aurelie over the hedge while Rindolf grabbed her on the other side. Frank disappeared through a wall of the house and unlocked the front door, opening it with a deep bow.

  They tiptoed up the spiral staircase. All except Frank, who floated a few steps ahead of them. He wafted through the walls on the second floor, before silently beckoning the others to a room at the end of the corridor.

  Mayor Bog was in his bed, a sleep mask across his eyes. He tossed and turned, filling the bedroom with a rumbling snore.

  ‘Looks like he isn’t sleeping so soundl
y,’ Rindolf observed from the foot of the bed. ‘Wonder why that is?’

  ‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ Rolo smiled cheekily. ‘Places, everyone.’

  Aurelie lay down on the settee and arranged her dress so that it draped gently around her. She slipped her hand into her pocket and rubbed her fingers over the smooth surface of the star ruby. Rindolf and Rolo positioned themselves on either side of the bed, and Frank disappeared.

  Rolo leant over Bog, pursed his lips and released a soft, mournful wailing. ‘Ooooh.’

  Mayor Bog kept snoring.

  Rolo wailed a little louder. ‘Ooooooh.’

  The mayor snuffled and snorted and rolled over.

  Rolo frowned. He leant in closer and let out another sad wail.

  Mayor Bog swished his hands in front of him. ‘I’m trying to sleep, Mrs Bog.’

  ‘Hmmm.’ Rolo straightened up, took a jug of water from Bog’s bedside table and poured it over him.

  Mayor Bog leapt forward, lifted his soaked sleep mask and ogled the two oddly dressed strangers before him. ‘Who are you and how did you get in here?’

  ‘Oh, we’re simply two men who’d like to ask you a few questions,’ Rindolf intoned in his finest posh voice.

  ‘Get out. This instant. I am Mayor Bog, and I demand that –’ He suddenly became aware of his bedside table hovering beside him. ‘And what have you done to …’ He waved his hands above the table. ‘How can you do that? Where are the wires?’

  The table slowly lowered to the floor.

  ‘What is happening? Who are you? What do you want?’

  ‘What do we want?’ Rolo walked slowly round the room with his fingers tapping together before him. ‘Mmm … what do we want?’

  Aurelie sat up from the settee. ‘We’d like some answers, Mayor Bog.’

  ‘Aaah! How many of you are in here?’

  ‘That doesn’t matter. What does matter is what you know about the pier.’ She smoothed down her dress.

  ‘How dare you come charging into a man’s house with your tricks and illusions and –’

  ‘Oh,’ Aurelie shook her head and wagged her finger. ‘These are not tricks. These are the workings,’ she leant forward with a gleeful smile, ‘of ghosts.’