Crooks and Straights

by Masha du Toit

  But she’ll ask me why I’ve not told her before. She will get angry, and we’ll be fighting again. Rather leave it.

  “Gia, what do you think of this one?” Saraswati pushed a drawing towards her. “The waist is a bit bulky,” she said. “The back of the bodice extends down into this folded bit here, and then drapes down into the skirt.”

  “Is it one continuous piece?” asked Gia. “That’s pretty much how I pictured it. Would that be possible?”

  She reached for the pencil, forgetting her doubts as she was drawn into the challenge of turning pen and ink into three dimensions of sculpted cloth.

  -oOo-

  The rest of the afternoon was without drama, although everyone still felt the reverberations of the invasion. Karel went to fetch Nico, and Mandy, who was still rattled by the search, burned supper. Saraswati insisted that they could not afford to buy takeaways, so their evening meal was an unpleasant affair. Gia, who would normally have complained or refused to eat, ate quietly enough, not wanting to disturb the fragile peace. She comforted herself with the thought of the cardboard box the police had found in the pantry cupboards.

  Mandy had refused to touch it after the police left, and no one else seemed particularly interested, so Gia had smuggled it upstairs to her room, planning to have a close look at it after supper.

  There must be something interesting about it, to make that werewolf think it’s magical.

  It was only much later that evening, when everyone else had gone to bed, that she got her chance.

  After double-checking that the trapdoor was bolted, she opened the box. It was filled with small boxes and bottles, all very old and covered in dust. Some of the things she recognised, such as the Sky Blue brand laundry bluing, which she knew from Mandy was often used in purification rituals. Other things were not so familiar.

  A spice-bottle with a handwritten label that said “Rattlesnake Salt”.

  Another full of black powder that was unexpectedly heavy for its size.

  So far, not very exciting.

  She lifted out one of the small cardboard boxes. It had once been brightly coloured, and even now, faded with years, it was pretty under its coat of dust.

  Curly writing in what she supposed was Arabic script, surrounded a calligraphic painting of a rose and several rose-hips. There was a label stuck on this one too, with the same handwriting.

  Rose-hip tea, it said. Small pinch in water just off the boil. A talkative tea, lazy, but without guile. Partial to honey. Very particular about its china. Use a quality cup.

  Gia’s eyebrows went up.

  Now that sounds interesting.

  She carried the box over to the tea corner where she’d set up the kettle and mugs.

  Might as well try some of this.

  She went downstairs to fill the kettle and get some honey. After some hesitation, she went to the living room and opened the glass-fronted cabinet where the good china was kept. She took one of the cups, a delicate rose-pink china so thin it was nearly transparent.

  Better not break this.

  “Gia.”

  Her heart bumped, and she nearly dropped the cup.

  “Nico,” she whispered. “What are you doing up? Go back to bed.”

  Nico stood in the door, blinking sleepily at her.

  “Tea,” he said, looking at the cup in her hands.

  “Nico. You’re supposed to be in bed.”

  She expected to hear her parents’ bed creaking, and her mother’s voice asking what was going on.

  Nico opened his mouth to say something else.

  “No,” Gia hissed. “Shh! Don’t speak.”

  He closed his mouth, and stood there, staring up at her. Something stirred at the breast of his pyjamas, and Poepie’s head emerged, whiskers twitching.

  “And you’re not supposed to have that rat out at night, anyway.”

  Nico shrugged. Gia saw that she was not going to get him back into his bed without a fuss.

  “Okay, then,” she said. “Come along with me. But you’ve got to promise to be quiet. And don’t touch anything. Okay?”

  He followed her up the stairs to her room, where he looked about with interest.

  “No, you don’t,” said Gia. “Don’t touch anything. Sit there.” She indicated the bed. “And don’t let Poepie run around.”

  Nico sat obediently. Now that he had his way, he was perfectly willing to do as he was told. He watched with interest as Gia switched on the kettle and dropped a pinch of the rose-hip tea into the cup.

  When the water finally boiled, Gia let it cool for a few seconds, then carefully poured a little onto the tealeaves.

  The air filled with the fragrance of a sunny rose garden. Curls of steam rose from the tealeaves, then more, and more and for a moment Gia wondered if the water had been too hot.

  Nico sat forward, peering at the steaming cup, as fascinated as she was. Even Poepie was staring, ears forward, eyes bright, whiskers stiff as bristles.

  Instead of drifting away, the steam gathered over the cup, forming a small cloud. It curled around itself in a curious way. Was it her imagination, or was it shaping itself into—

  “Salaam aleikum!” said a voice. “Some more hot water, if you would be so kind, my mistress.”

  Gia nearly dropped the kettle in her surprise, but quickly added a bit more water to the teacup, careful to keep her hand well away from the steam which was now taking a definite shape.

  Nico’s eyes were wide, but he did not seem to be frightened. He slipped off the bed, rat cupped in both hands.

  “Nico!” whispered Gia, but he ignored her, squatting down next to her and staring at the steaming cup.

  “Ah,” sighed the voice. “That’s better. Gives me more puff, you know.”

  Gia could see the speaker now. The steam had shaped itself into a tiny figure that drifted over the teacup.

  He had a plump face topped by a neat white turban. His head and shoulders were distinctly visible, but lower down his body became transparent and faded out into curls of steam.

  “Mrs Moses is no longer with us, I presume?” he said.

  For a moment Gia was at a loss. Then she remembered that the caretaker had referred to Mrs Moses, too.

  “Is that the woman who used to live here?”

  The tea genie nodded gravely. “Indeed, Mrs Moses was resident in this house— if this is number five, Lever Road? I’ve not been in this room before, my mistress used to receive me in her sitting room.”

  He looked about the attic, and Gia wished she’d taken the time to tidy it before experimenting with the tea.

  “Nico!” said Gia. Nico had slipped the rat into the collar of his pyjamas, and was about to poke a finger into the steam.

  “Get back. Now!”

  He shot her a measuring look and apparently decided that she was in earnest, as he returned to his seat on the bed.

  The genie took no notice of this exchange. He was peering at the cup below him.

  “I cannot fault your taste in china. A most becoming cup. What is its mark?”

  “I don’t know,” said Gia.

  “Oh well. Never mind. But I am forgetting myself. Introductions are in order.”

  He drew himself up, then bowed deeply and declaimed: “Salaam Aleikum, young mistress. I am Maarouf Asghar, genie of the rose-hip tea. Your wish is my command.”

  “Salaam,” said Gia, hoping this was the appropriate greeting. “Um. I’m Gia. And this is my brother Nico.”

  Then she bit her lip. Weren’t you supposed to keep your name secret from magical beings? Oh well, too late now.

  Remembering the stories she’d heard about genies, she decided to be careful.

  “What exactly do you mean by your wish is my command?” she asked. “Is there a limit to the number of wishes?”

  “Not at all. Although I cannot promise that I will be able to grant them all. Is that a rat?”

  He looked at Poepie with distaste.

  “Yes,” said Gia. “His na
me is Poepie. He’s Nico’s pet.”

  Nico held Poepie out for inspection and for a moment the genie and the rat studied one another.

  “So,” said Gia. “What can you do?”

  The genie bobbed around on his column of steam to look at her. “You do like to get to the point, don’t you,” he said. “Very well. I am a genie of the cup. The cup, not lamp or drum, so my powers are, shall we say, circumscribed. But I am by no means a weak tea. Not at all. I prefer to refer to my abilities as subtle.” He adjusted his robe. “Not everybody needs to go around building castles, or creating entire armies out of thin air. Obvious, and crude.”

  “Of course,” said Gia, seeing that this was a sore point. “I would never ask for anything like that.”

  The genie seemed mollified. “My expertise lies in finer skills. I can provide small items of clothing and food, unlock doors, find items you have mislaid, sort, count, weigh, and measure. I can also answer questions, although of course, only on topics of which I have knowledge.

  “For example, I can spy on your lover— provided he is not warded— but I cannot tell you what he is thinking, or what he might do. I cannot foretell the future or read minds. And my strength is limited at all times by my tea. When that has drawn past a certain point, I will fade, and only wake again if you add another pinch to the cup.”

  “I see,” said Gia and opened her mouth to say something more, but Nico had his own ideas.

  “Supper!” he said, and before Gia could say anything, the genie drew himself up again and flourished both hands.

  “Your wish is my command!”

  There was a pop of displaced air and a plate appeared next to the genie’s teacup. Then with three more pops, a knife, fork, and serviette. The plate was blue and white china, and it held a piece of pie and a baked potato, split open and topped with a pat of butter.

  Nico gave a squeak— a similar plate and cutlery had appeared on the bed next to him.

  “Wow! Thanks!” said Gia, and reached for the fork, breathing in the delicious scent of chicken pie and melting butter. Then she paused.

  A piece of the pie was missing. And on closer inspection, both the knife and fork had clearly just been used.

  She put the fork down.

  “Don’t touch it, Nico,” she said sharply. Nico gave her a startled look and put the plate down again.

  “This is somebody’s supper, isn’t it?” said Gia to the genie.

  The genie shrugged. “Of course. The food has to come from somewhere. You surely don’t expect me to make it from scratch.”

  Gia was horrified. “You just took somebody’s food out from in front of them? You’ve got to put it back!”

  The genie looked mulish.

  “At once!”

  “If you insist.” With a sulky look he made a gesture and the plates disappeared again.

  “Oh!” said Nico.

  Poepie jumped off his arm and sniffed at the spot where the plate had been. Gia was not sure which of them looked the most baffled.

  “I only follow your orders,” said the genie huffily. “Do make up your mind. Do you want food, or not?”

  “I didn’t know you were going to do it like that.” Gia frowned. “What if I gave you some money? Then you could get me some food, and leave some money in exchange. But it’s got to be something that’s already for sale. From a shop, or a restaurant.”

  “Very particular, you are.”

  Gia found her wallet and dug out a few rands.

  “I’d like another pie. And one for Nico too.” The words were hardly spoken when the money disappeared from between her fingers, and a moment later two paper-wrapped parcels plopped down: one on the table, and one on the bed.

  “Happy now?” said the genie.

  “Yes, thank you,” said Gia. The parcel bore the label “Mamma’s Pies” and the pie inside was quite cold. Nico bit into his, sending a cloud of dry pastry flakes drifting onto her bed.

  Gia thought with regret of the golden pastry of the vanished supper.

  “Don’t you want something too?” said Gia, remembering the instructions on the tea box. “Some honey, maybe?”

  “Honey? Well now,” said the genie, swaying on his column of steam. “I would not say no to a drop or two.” He watched avidly as she opened the jar, and added a teaspoon of honey into the cup.

  “Ah,” he closed his eyes. “No, don’t stir. Just leave the spoon in, don’t want to waste any.”

  Gia ate her pie, watching with amusement.

  The genie seemed to enjoy honey as though it were a scented bath oil, breathing in the fragrance that rose from the cup below him. He glowed with pleasure, the wisps of steam that made up his not-quite-solid body changing hue from pink to purple, or glowing in little honey-coloured spangles.

  It almost made up for the dryness of the pie, which was mostly crust.

  Nico gave Poepie a lump of pastry to nibble on, and happily ate the rest of his pie.

  “If you can find lost things,” said Gia quickly, while Nico’s mouth was still too full to speak, “can you tell me what happened to the haarskeerder that disappeared from here the other day?”

  “Hey?” The genie seemed to have some trouble focusing. “You’ve lost a haarskeerder?” He yawned. “How very careless.”

  “My cat caught it and brought it in,” said Gia. “So I helped it get clean, but then it just went missing. I think it’s still around.” There was no answer. Gia found that the genie’s sleepiness was infectious. Her own eyes were closing and she suddenly felt very tired.

  Nico’s head was nodding too, and in a moment he had curled up on top of her blankets, with Poepie nestled up against his chin. Still, she shouldn’t sleep yet. It was a waste, not to get the genie to do more things for her.

  His words swam into her memory.

  “… find items you have mislaid, sort, count…”

  She jerked awake.

  “Wait,” she said. “You can sort things? And find lost things?”

  “Yes,” said the genie sleepily.

  “Do you have to be able to see the things to sort them?”

  “Ideally, yes. And be in the same room as the lost things, to find them. Why?”

  Gia unbolted the trapdoor and looked down into the house below, listening. All was dark and quiet. Nico was fast asleep.

  “Come,” she said, picking up the genie’s cup with both hands. She carried him over to the trapdoor.

  “Where are we going?” said the genie, looking down the ladder. “Surely not—”

  “Shush,” whispered Gia. “We don’t want to wake anyone. No more speaking.”

  She climbed down the ladder, careful not to jar the genie or tilt the cup.

  He bobbed gently as she climbed, glancing nervously at the drop below, but to Gia’s relief he kept quiet.

  The house was dark, but the genie’s glow was just strong enough for her to make her way to the living room without bumping into anything.

  She knelt down and put the cup on the floor.

  “Now,” she breathed. “See that box over there?”

  The genie peered, then nodded.

  “It’s full of beads. All mixed up. Can you sort them? There’s a whole bunch of little bottles and tubes in there as well. Put each kind in its own container. Do I have to open the box?”

  “It would be easier.”

  Gia opened the box and took out the large jar that contained all the beads. Then she unpacked the little containers, popping open their lids.

  “There’s probably some beads on the floor still,” she whispered. “Under the furniture, or in the cracks between the floorboards. Find those, and sort them too.”

  “Your wish is my command.” The genie bowed deeply, and came out of his bow with his hands flourishing.

  Gia had expected him to be a little sulky at being asked to perform another task so soon, but it was clear that he was enjoying himself.

  At first, nothing happened. Then, like a miniature earthquake, the beads
in the jar started to shift about.

  “Hmm,” said the genie. “By colour, and by shape. And size too, I presume.”

  She could hear the beads moving now, rasping against the side of the jar.

  Then without warning the jar leaped, and Gia had to jump forward to stop it from falling over as a fountain of beads rushed up into the air. She ducked, expecting to hear the crash as they hit the floor but instead, the beads separated into multiple strands of colour, like searching tendrils. Soon each strand earthed itself in a small container and pattered neatly down inside.

  Gia had hardly recovered from her surprise before the last bead tinkled into place and it was all over.

  “Wow!” she breathed. “How did you do that! That was amazing!”

  The genie beamed with pleasure.

  “Ah, that was nothing. A few beads, a few colours—” He shrugged modestly. “But we're not done yet. There are still beads on the floor?”

  He closed his eyes.

  “Ah. Yes indeed.”

  Gia felt a light breeze, and with a series of clinks and plinks, a few more beads dropped into various containers.

  “And that,” said the genie, brushing off his hands with a satisfied air, “is that. Your wish, my mistress, has been granted.”

  -oOo-

  Back in her attic bedroom, Gia gave the genie another teaspoon of honey.

  “You deserve it,” she said, which made the genie glow anew with pleasure.

  “If you could just put me over there by the window, my dear, then I could look out at the view as I fade. I do so love seeing the lights at night.” He sighed deeply. “Candlelight, it used to be. Or lamplight. Or when I was with the soldiers, hundreds of campfires glowing away into the distance…”

  Gia fitted his cup into the space between the edge of her mattress and the window. She packed the tea back into the box.

  Nico was still fast asleep. She doubted she could wake him, and he was too heavy to carry all the way down to his bedroom. She moved him to the side of the bed and pulled the blankets over him, checking that the rat was safely in his pocket. Then she switched off the light, and crawled in next to him, propping up her pillow so that she could share the genie’s view.

  His glow reminded her of the night-light she’d had when she was very little and too afraid to sleep in the dark.