by Jen Storer
People kept coming and going from Frozen in Time but Martha had backed off. Angus wasn’t sure if she was wary of the old woman’s temper or alarmed by the Donut Lady’s warnings. Either way, it suited him just fine. He knew he couldn’t stop Martha if she made up her mind to visit again but he hated the thought of going back there — it wasn’t a shop, it was a death trap, a depressing fire hazard and the owner was a demented crone who obviously couldn’t be trusted.
By the third morning of their ‘Mysterious Stranger Stakeout’, Martha had grown impatient.
‘I’ve had it with this,’ she said, flicking a leaf on the potted fig. ‘Let’s follow him.’
‘We can’t do that,’ said Angus, still crouched behind the plant.
‘Why not?’ Martha lowered her voice. ‘He might be planning to rob the shop.’
‘That dump? Why would you bother? It’s full of junk.’
‘What about the man we met on that first day? He was desperate to get inside. Hammering on the door. Sticking his nose against the window. Muttering and pacing.’
‘My point exactly ...’ said Angus. ‘He was clearly insane. The place is a magnet for nutters.’
Martha thought for a moment. ‘Maybe he’s going to kidnap the old lady,’ she said enthusiastically.
Angus got up. He had no further interest in playing detectives. ‘Martha,’ he said, ‘you’ve lost the plot.’
‘I’m bored,’ she huffed. ‘Bored, bored, bored.’
‘So?’ Angus watched as the stranger lowered his hat and headed off down the hill. ‘What if he really is dangerous? What if he’s a crim?’
‘Who cares?’ said Martha, jumping up. ‘We’re smart. We’re fast. We can keep our distance.’
Angus headed back inside. His sister was determined. He knew he was only delaying the inevitable.
‘Tomorrow morning,’ he said. ‘If he’s there again, we follow him. If not, we forget the whole thing.’
‘Excellent!’ said Martha. ‘You won’t regret it, Angus. This’ll be so cool, like a real adventure ...’ She stretched out over the railings but the stranger had already disappeared.
‘I’ve got a feeling about this,’ she called after her brother.
‘That’s helpful,’ said Angus as he disappeared down the hallway.
The truth was he had a feeling too.
Only it wasn’t a good one.
CHAPTER TWELVE
____________________________________________
Mirror, mirror
Wake up, Angus.’ Martha shook her brother’s shoulder. When he groaned and barely moved, she dug in her fingers until he yelped.
‘Hey!’ he said, springing up. ‘Watch it!’
‘Shh!’ said Martha. ‘Quick. Follow me ...’
Angus could tell by her face that she was serious. He slid out of bed and followed her silently down the hall to her room. The sun was up but it was still early.
Martha pushed the door gently. She pointed to her dressing table. ‘Go over there. Look in the mirror,’ she said.
The dressing table was in the far corner. Angus angled past the bed and the jumble of clothes and books and stuffed toys on the floor. Man, his sister’s room was a mess.
He looked in the mirror, expecting to see a huntsman spider crawling up it. Or a giant cockroach that needed squashing.
‘What the ...?’ He could only just see himself through the shadow. Somehow it seemed to float inside the mirror. It lurched and Angus stepped back.
Martha crept up beside him. ‘What is it?’ she said.
Angus shook his head. The shadow had no particular shape.
‘Open the curtains,’ he said. ‘Let in some light.’
Martha tore open the curtains and the shape faded. The next second it was back. This time it was more defined. Was it a head, a face? Suddenly the mirror rattled and Martha screamed.
The dressing table shook. It shook so hard, things began to fall off. First a hairbrush. Then seashells, sunblock, pens and pencils, hairbands and nail polish.
‘Is it an earthquake?’ Martha looked about fearfully. But they both knew it wasn’t. Nothing else in the room was moving.
The drawers rattled, their metal handles shuddering and clinking. Martha’s music box tumbled over the edge. ‘Oh!’ She reached out to catch it but Angus pulled her back.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Keep back.’
The mirror began to crack.
Angus pushed Martha to the floor and dived over her as the mirror exploded. Shards of glass shot around the room. Angus felt his ear burn. He pressed his hand over it and felt the blood, warm and sticky.
The room became quiet again. Angus looked up slowly. The rattling had stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
‘What on earth?’ Their father stood in the doorway. ‘What are you doing?’ he said, looking at them hunched on the floor. ‘Are you two fighting again? I thought you’d grown out of that nonsense.’
‘The mirror,’ said Martha. ‘It exploded!’
The Prof strode into the room. ‘This is ridiculous,’ he said. ‘Get up off the floor this minute. What is wrong with you two?’
‘But we didn’t do anything,’ said Martha, getting to her feet.
Angus sat on the edge of the bed, avoiding the broken glass and dabbing his ear with a wad of tissues.
‘I’m fed up with the pair of you,’ said the Prof. ‘I work day in, day out to keep this family afloat and this is how you repay me? Clean up this mess. Angus, put a plaster on that ear. You’re lucky it’s not worse. Fighting like a pair of brutes. It’s shameful.’
The Prof looked around at the rest of the room. ‘This room is a pigsty, Martha. I did not raise you this way.’
‘It’s only a pigsty because you don’t care!’ yelled Martha.
The Prof stared at her.
‘You’re a rotten father and you’re never here and I hate this house and I hate this room and I hate you most of all!’ Martha’s fists were clenched, her face white with fury.
Angus stood up and put his arm around his sister.
‘She doesn’t really mean it,’ said Angus dutifully when he saw his father’s stunned expression.
‘I do so mean it,’ said Martha hotly.
‘Well, yes, I see.’ The Prof shifted uncomfortably. ‘Thank you for your honesty, Martha.’ He nodded as if he were addressing a pair of students, surveyed the mess one more time, then left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.
Martha threw the glass-spattered quilt aside and flung herself on the bed. She hurled a pillow at the wall.
Angus knelt on the floor and began picking up the shattered glass.
For the next half-hour, the kids lay low in Martha’s room, half-heartedly tidying up but mostly just whispering about what had happened. Martha pulled a sheet off her bed and threw it over the dressing table. She couldn’t bear to look at it. Their father did not look in on them or speak to them again and it was a relief when they finally heard him leave the house.
‘You probably shouldn’t have yelled at him like that,’ said Angus.
‘Why not?’ said Martha angrily. ‘He deserved it. It’s like he doesn’t even see us anymore, Angus. We’re invisible. Professor Jack and his invisible kids ...’
Angus touched his sore ear and winced.
Martha picked up her music box from amongst the jumble and opened it. The tiny ballerina turned smoothly, Brahms’s Lullaby tinkled clearly — and a fraction too fast, as always.
‘Thank goodness,’ Martha sighed as she looked at it lovingly.
‘I’ll get the dustpan,’ said Angus.
‘I’m coming with you,’ said Martha. She didn’t want to be alone in the room.
‘Angus,’ she said as they walked down the hallway, ‘you don’t think this house is haunted, do you?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Angus. ‘There has to be a logical explanation for what just happened.’
‘But what about Jarly? He still hasn’t come back, and what about the D
onut Lady and the robbery and the guy in the coat? Maybe he’s watching our house, not the shop next door. Maybe he’s some kind of ... ghost buster.’
‘Woah!’ said Angus. ‘Slow down, Nancy Drew. Let’s just handle this calmly, okay?’
‘Okay,’ said Martha reluctantly.
‘We need some breakfast,’ said Angus. ‘I’ll make you a milkshake.’
‘But what about the broken mirror?’
‘It can wait,’ said Angus.
As he raided the fridge, pulling out bits and pieces for breakfast, Angus thought about what Martha had said. Her ghost theory was typically nutty, but there were more than a few things that bothered him about the events that had happened recently.
He thought about the shadow he’d seen in the hall mirror previously. He thought about the shop next door and the way Martha went all weird when she held that creepy snow dome. He thought about the white otter and his ... irrational reaction to it.
‘Martha,’ he said as the toast popped and he flicked off the milkshake-maker, ‘you know when we were in Frozen in Time ...’
‘Yes,’ said Martha expectantly.
‘Did you see any mirrors?’
‘Huh?’
‘Mirrors. Think back. Did you see any? Any at all?’
Martha’s brow crumpled. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘I saw a heap of old dressing tables and a couple of sideboard thingies. But you know what, they all had their mirrors missing.’
Angus joined his sister at the table.
Martha grabbed his arm. ‘What are you thinking, Angus? Tell me!’
Angus shook his head. ‘I don’t know what to think. Maybe it’s all just a freaky coincidence. Maybe we’re seeing things that aren’t there because we’re bored and, you know, fed up.’
Martha crossed her arms. ‘We’re not imagining things,’ she said emphatically. ‘No way.’
‘Do you still want to follow the man in the long coat?’ Angus spoke through a mouthful of toast and Vegemite.
‘Do I ever,’ said Martha.
Later that morning, after they had swept up the mirror glass and done a slapdash tidy of Martha’s bedroom, the pair decided to hide in the hibiscus bushes across the road. Martha insisted it was the best place to wait for the stranger and Angus was happy enough to play along. After all, his sister had had a rough morning.
‘Have you got any food?’ asked Martha as they settled into their hiding place.
‘What do you think I am?’ said Angus. ‘A milk bar?’
‘I know you’ve got something,’ said Martha.
Angus pulled out a bag of corn chips. ‘Don’t scoff them all at once,’ he whispered but he didn’t know why he was whispering. It was ten past ten and there was no sign of the stranger.
Martha popped the bag. She nodded at Frozen in Time. ‘Shopsh open,’ she said through a mouthful.
Angus stood up carefully so as not to be seen and raised the binoculars — just as the old woman stepped outside. Today she was wearing a brown zip-up slack suit with enormous white lapels and deep white cuffs with gold buttons. Her hair was tizzed up again and she had a floaty leopard-print scarf tied in a bow at her throat. A stack of orange and white plastic bangles clonked at her wrists.
‘Quick, she’s going back inside,’ said Martha, grabbing for the binoculars. ‘Let me have a look.’ She squinted through the lenses. ‘Oh, I don’t like that outfit at all. Brown is definitely not her colour.’
Angus rolled his eyes.
Another ten minutes passed. Customers came and went from Frozen in Time while the kids sat amidst the bushes and discussed the exploding mirror.
‘Maybe it was an earth tremor,’ said Angus. ‘Small, localised ... unpredictable.’
‘Yeah,’ said Martha, ‘they happen under dressing tables all over the world every day. Not.’
She checked her watch. It was one of her most prized possessions — a purple surf watch she had won in a soccer club raffle two years ago and never taken off.
‘Ten-thirty,’ she said glumly.
‘He’s not coming,’ said Angus.
‘You can give up but I’m not,’ said Martha.
‘I’ll go home and get us some water,’ said Angus, stuffing the corn chips bag in his pocket.
‘He’s here!’ cried Martha, jumping up.
‘Get down,’ said Angus.
From this angle, they could see the mystery man clearly. His large lace-up shoes were split and scuffed and the Panama hat was grimy.
The man began digging through his coat pockets. He tottered as if trying to keep his balance, then pulled out some kind of snack bar.
‘Maybe he’s drunk,’ said Martha.
The kids took turns with the binoculars. They couldn’t see the man’s face but they could tell that he was tearing the wrapper with his teeth. The wrapper fluttered to his feet but instead of eating the snack bar, he poked it inside his coat at about chest height.
Angus and Martha glanced at each other.
A few more minutes passed as the pair watched the stranger stare at the shop.
When he started to turn around, Martha jumped up. ‘He’s going! Come on!’
‘No, wait,’ said Angus. ‘We need to put some distance between us.’
They peeped through the bushes as the stranger headed down the street.
‘Now!’ said Angus.
They were scrambling out of the bushes when a man roared up in a four-wheel drive. The window slid down and music boomed out. Doof, doof, doof.
‘Hey!’ he bellowed. ‘Get out of my hibiscus!’
The stranger in the coat glanced over his shoulder, spotted Angus and Martha, then hurried off down the street.
‘You kids better not be up to anything,’ said the man in the car.
‘Just looking for our cat.’ Angus tried to act casual.
The man grunted, his window slid up and the music faded to a dull throb.
‘Rats!’ said Martha. ‘That creep’s just blown our cover.’
They stumbled onto the street, brushing leaves and hibiscus petals from their hair. They were just in time to see the stranger’s hat in the distance.
‘After him!’ cried Angus.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
____________________________________________
Step through the veil
They followed the stranger to the bottom of the hill, where he stopped for a moment and looked about. Martha and Angus ducked behind a postbox.
‘What’s he doing?’ Martha was crouched behind her brother. It was difficult to see.
‘Looking at the main road ... I think he’s going to cross.’
But the stranger did not cross the road. Instead he turned left and headed toward the city.
Angus and Martha stayed close behind, slipping in and out of driveways, bobbing behind chairs and tables outside cafes, ice-cream parlours and fish-and-chip shops.
One block. Two blocks. At the corner of the third block, he turned left again. It was another hilly street lined with workers’ cottages, small businesses and cavernous warehouses that had been converted into apartments and funky restaurants.
They passed Miss Darling’s Deportment Studio and came to a pub on the corner. It was open and a few patrons sat at tables on the footpath. The stranger dipped his head and veered into Bag Knot Lane.
The kids followed him down the bluestone lane. Past loaded skips. Past discarded boxes and packing crates. Past overflowing garbage cans with seagulls squabbling and pecking at slops. The stench of wet cabbage and rotten potatoes hung on the hot morning air.
They reached a tall red-brick building and the stranger slowed down. The kids hid behind a dumpster.
‘It’s the back of the old hat factory,’ said Angus, gazing up at the walls. ‘I read about this place when I was researching the suburb.’
Martha rolled her eyes. Sometimes her brother was such an egghead.
The factory was several storeys high, with rows and rows of narrow timber-framed windows, al
l of them barred, except for what looked like toilet windows on the top floor.
A corroded metal staircase, at one time a fire escape, zigzagged the full height of the building, dipping and dangling, barely attached in many places. Graffiti scarred the lower walls. I am, therefore I don’t have to think, said one witty slogan.
‘That’s profound,’ said Angus, and Martha tugged him aside.
‘Step through the veil,’ she whispered.
‘What?’
‘That’s what it says,’ said Martha, pointing. ‘Over there. Where the stranger has stopped.’
They watched as the stranger swung open a wrought-iron grille at the base of the hat factory wall. Suddenly he appeared to shrink, his long coat swamped him — and he slid like a beetle into the basement of the building.
Martha and Angus rushed from their hiding place.
By the time they reached the building, the grille was back in place and the stranger had gone.
‘Hello?’ called Martha, squatting down and sticking her nose through the elaborate grille. ‘Anyone there?’
Angus sat on the cobblestones and leaned against the wall. ‘He’s not coming out,’ he said.
‘Maybe not,’ said Martha. ‘But look, Angus — Gurdy’s in there!’
‘What? You’re kidding.’ Angus peered through the grille. It was dark. At first he could see nothing. But as his eyes adjusted, Angus spotted the squat, stocky form of Gurdy standing alone and abandoned in the cheerless basement. Angus could only see Gurdy from the back, but it was definitely their gnome. He would recognise Gurdy’s faded red jacket and chipped yellow beanie anywhere.
Angus planted his feet firmly and threaded his fingers through the coils of the grille.