The Fourteenth Summer of Angus Jack

by Jen Storer

  ‘Have you seen this proof with your own eyes?’ The Donut Lady had that look again. Was she toying with him?

  ‘My father’s an academic,’ said Angus impatiently. ‘And I’ve been to museums, read books, got straight As in history and science, written essays for school.’

  ‘But have you uncovered this proof for yourself? Or have you relied on the explanations, the theories, of others?’

  Angus was silent.

  ‘This is odd,’ said the Donut Lady. ‘You believe when you have not seen for yourself. You even write about these things you have not seen. And yet when the proof sits before you in a sun frock and workboots, you do not believe.’

  They stood for a time and considered Reafen.

  Angus looked around — at the world globe, the broken teapot, the upended coat racks.

  The Donut Lady followed his gaze. ‘What do you know about this mess?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Angus.

  The Donut Lady tut-tutted. ‘Your father,’ she said, plonking her bottom on the steamer trunk, ‘is he well?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Angus quickly.

  ‘It worries me,’ said the Donut Lady. ‘Such a nice man. Such a thoughtful man. It worries me that he is poking about in here. I would not like to see him get tangled in Reafen’s affairs ...’

  ‘The Prof can look after himself,’ said Angus.

  ‘May I ask you a question?’ said the Donut Lady.

  ‘I suppose,’ said Angus suspiciously. Where was this leading?

  ‘Your father, did he move you all here, to this street, to this house next door, did he move you here ... on a whim? Was it a surprise, a rash decision, an unexpected circle of events?’

  Angus was floored. That was exactly what this move had been like. ‘We, um, it was sudden,’ he sputtered. ‘Actually, it was totally random.’

  ‘I thought as much.’ The Donut Lady squeezed his arm. ‘Be careful,’ she said. ‘If you need help, I am in my caravan. I am always in my caravan.’

  Suddenly Angus thought of Martha, sleeping like Snow White, alone in their house with the back door wide open.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry your boyfriend’s missing,’ he said quickly. ‘And I’m sorry Reafen’s in this state. But I have to go.’

  He ran through the shop, tripping over junk as he made for the front door.

  Reafen groaned. ‘The faaather,’ she slurred loudly after him, ‘tell him to visit me.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Angus, jiggling the doorknob. ‘No problem.’

  The red door fell open and Angus burst outside.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  ____________________________________________

  The lost voice

  Angus skidded into the house. It was deathly quiet. He ran to his sister’s room and pounded on the door. No reply.

  He threw the door open. The room was empty.

  Angus ran from the bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen and back into the hallway. He had an idea — and a twinge of hope. Maybe, just maybe, his father had not slunk off to work without saying goodbye. Maybe he and Martha were upstairs in the study ... chatting. Okay, it was a long shot but ...

  Angus thumped up the narrow staircase and flung the door open.

  He stopped dead. Papers and books were strewn across the floor. Drawings and sketches had fallen off the walls as if a tornado had ripped through the room. The Prof’s chair was upended. The curtains lay in a tangle on the floor. Bookcases had been tipped over.

  Angus stepped into the room. ‘Dad?’ he said quietly.

  Something crunched underfoot. Angus looked down. Shattered glass littered the floor. The cheval mirror, the one his mother had given the Prof years ago, was in ruins.

  Angus crept across the rubble and stood before the mirror. Not a trace of glass remained intact. Even the mahogany frame was splintered and broken.

  His heart pounded. On the floor in front of the mirror lay a huge dead bird.

  Angus knelt cautiously. There was fresh blood on its beak and talons. A strip of leather hung from its leg as if it were some kind of pet ... or captive hunter. Perhaps it was still alive? Angus picked up a sliver of wood and prodded the bird gently. To his horror, its body collapsed. In an instant all that remained of the creature were its feathers, its talons and its eyeless skull.

  Angus sprang to his feet and bolted down the stairs. As he reached the bottom, he heard a voice calling him.

  ‘Angus. Angus, are you there?’

  It was his father’s voice. Thank God!

  Angus ran into the lounge room. It was empty like the rest of the house. He looked around, his heart thumping.

  ‘Angus?’ said the voice. ‘Can you hear me?’

  Angus spun around. ‘Where are you?’ he said. ‘I can’t see you! What’s going on?’

  ‘There’s no time to explain,’ said his father, and Angus felt a lurch of fear. The voice, his father’s voice, seemed to be coming from the surround-sound system. First one small speaker, high up near the ceiling, then another. His father’s voice was bouncing around the four corners of the room.

  ‘Dad,’ said Angus angrily, ‘you’re freaking me out.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ll explain later.’

  ‘But this is a joke, right?’ Angus felt ridiculous talking to thin air.

  ‘Angus,’ said the voice urgently, ‘don’t argue. Please! That old woman next door ...’

  ‘You mean Reafen?’

  ‘She has something ...’ said the Prof. ‘Something valuable.’

  There was a high-pitched whistle in one of the speakers.

  ‘Dad?’ said Angus cautiously.

  ‘It looks like a snow dome. It has a silver serpent —’

  ‘At the base,’ said Angus. ‘I’ve seen it.’

  There was a pause. ‘Angus, I need you to get it for me.’

  ‘But it’s not for sale,’ said Angus.

  ‘You don’t understand. You’ll have to steal it.’

  ‘What? Why? I can’t do that,’ said Angus.

  ‘Angus,’ said the Prof, ‘there’s no time. She ... It ... She will kill me, Angus. Do you understand?’

  Angus felt his legs turn to water.

  ‘There’s a carnival in town,’ said the Prof.

  ‘I know,’ said Angus. ‘We’ve been there.’

  ‘Get the snow dome,’ said the Prof. ‘Take it to the carnival tonight. Be at the Vanishing Lady’s tent at midnight. Make sure you’re not followed.’

  Angus felt his stomach clench. ‘I’ll call the police,’ he said.

  ‘No!’ cried the Prof. ‘They can’t help us. Please, Angus. For once, just do as I say.’

  ‘But how?’ asked Angus, his mind spinning.

  ‘Find a way!’ said the Prof.

  Angus stared up at the speakers.

  ‘I’ll be in touch again soon,’ said the Prof quickly, his voice fading.

  ‘But how? Where are you? Dad?’

  There was another piercing whistle, so shrill it made Angus double over.

  When he straightened up, the room was silent.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ____________________________________________

  A frantic search

  Angus ran out to the front verandah. First things first, he thought, trying to calm himself. He had to find his sister. Then he’d worry about the snow dome.

  Martha’s bike was gone but her beach towel was still on the railing. Okay. So she hadn’t gone for a swim.

  He thought about the girls. Those goblin girls. Martha had been fascinated with them. He gazed at the front yard, his eyes drawn to the circle of dead grass where Gurdy used to stand. No. Surely she hadn’t gone to reclaim the gnome?

  Angus pulled on his cap, grabbed his bike and headed for the old hat factory.

  He sped down the footpath and along the boulevard. Past shops, cafes and terrace houses. Past shoppers, commuters and dreamy holidaymakers, until he came to Bag Knot Lane. By now there was a lunchtime crowd at the pub. Men and wo
men spilled onto the footpath talking business, drinking beer from icy glasses. Several whistled as Angus swung his bike into the lane and whizzed by.

  The cobblestones rattled the old bike and the front wheel threatened to buckle. Angus wondered if the bike would hold out. But he did not slow down.

  At the hat factory, he spotted Martha’s bike. He tossed his own bike to the ground and ran to the grille at the base of the building. Step through the veil. He knelt down and peered into the darkness.

  Martha was in there! She was sitting on some kind of over-stuffed hessian sack about the size of a single-bed mattress, the contents of her tote bag spread around her.

  Angus was about to yell at her when he noticed that she was not alone. Ava, the goblin girl with the silver dreadlocks and elaborate earrings, was sitting beside her. They were deep in conversation over a hairbrush.

  Angus tugged on the grille. It would not budge.

  Ava turned the hairbrush this way and that. The basement glowed with soft candlelight. Martha took the brush from Ava and raised it to her own hair.

  ‘Let me show you how,’ said Martha. She caught sight of Angus. ‘Hello,’ she said brightly. ‘You finally woke up.’

  Ava looked up and stared at Angus peering through the grille. ‘Please,’ she said, ‘no more squirting us.’

  ‘He won’t squirt you,’ said Martha. ‘I promise. He doesn’t have anything on him, do you, Angus? No weapons at all. Not even a stick.’

  Now the other goblin girl, the sour one called Graini with the forest-green hair, emerged from the shadows.

  Angus pulled at the grille, sweat gathering under his cap, his scalp itching. He shifted his cap and replanted his feet. He had to get Martha out of there!

  ‘If we let you in, boy,’ said Graini, scowling at Angus, ‘do you sincerely swear that you will not take action against us?’ Her hands were on her hips.

  ‘Martha,’ hissed Angus, ‘what in God’s name do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘I’m talking to the goblin girls,’ said Martha. ‘They’ve never seen a plastic hairbrush. Or a surf watch. Can you believe it?’

  Ava held out her arm. She was wearing Martha’s purple surf watch.

  ‘Get that thing off!’ gasped Graini.

  ‘Graini,’ said Ava gently, ‘it’s perfectly safe and reasonable. It is a timepiece. It has practical purposes and a very superficial history.’

  Ava held the watch to her cheek and closed her eyes. ‘Made by machines,’ she said dreamily. ‘Had a short water trip from Asia, spent some time in a box made from petroleum products and then more time behind a brightly lit, polished window. Then it came to Martha Jack — one owner, kind and truth-speaking.’

  ‘Well, I don’t trust it and I want you to take it off,’ snapped Graini.

  Ava sighed and stood up. She removed the surf watch and handed it back to Martha. Martha was still nestled in the sack, happily brushing her hair.

  ‘Let my sister go,’ said Angus darkly.

  ‘She came of her own free will,’ said Graini.

  ‘Would you like to join us, Angus Jack?’ asked Ava.

  ‘No, I would not,’ said Angus, and he gave the grille another tug. ‘Now open this stupid thing and let my sister out.’

  ‘Open it yourself,’ said Graini.

  ‘Graini,’ scolded Ava, ‘it is not polite to tease.’ She jumped onto a stepladder below the grille. ‘Come on, Angus Jack. Come in and talk with us awhile.’

  Ava pushed against the grille and to Angus’s astonishment it swung outward, like a cat flap — he had to pull back to avoid being hit in the face.

  ‘Feet first is best,’ said Ava. ‘You will find the top of the stepping ladder directly below. Be sure you are not witnessed,’ she added urgently.

  Angus looked down the lane. The hotel patrons were drinking, laughing, absorbed in their own small worlds. Close by he thought he glimpsed a shadow, tall and broad. Did someone duck behind that dumpster?

  Angus shaded his eyes and squinted. Was he being followed? Surely not. As if anyone cared what a kid like him was doing. He was feeling strung-out, that’s all. And Ava’s comment had pushed him over the edge.

  Certain there was no-one there but seagulls, Angus got down on his stomach and lowered himself feet first through the wrought-iron grille.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ____________________________________________

  Goblins and gnomes

  Angus tried to look cool as he sauntered across the basement floor and stood before his sister. The grille had closed behind him.

  Ava sat on the stepladder, her legs crossed, her dangling feet tapping to some internal melody of her own. Graini had disappeared somewhere in the dark recesses.

  ‘Martha,’ said Angus quietly, ‘we have to go. Now.’

  Martha stopped brushing her hair. It floated about her head like charged nylon. ‘But we’ve only just dropped anchor,’ she cried.

  Ava laughed. ‘That sounds like something Reafen would say.’

  ‘Reafen did say it,’ said Angus tersely, and he squatted down and nudged Martha’s arm.

  ‘Come on,’ he urged, ‘pack up your stuff. The Prof really needs us at home.’

  ‘Huh? Very funny, Angus,’ said Martha. ‘Besides, I like it here. It’s not often you get to hang out with goblin girls.’

  ‘We have to go,’ said Angus, trying to make Martha see the urgency in his eyes. ‘Seriously.’

  ‘And there’re no hard feelings,’ said Martha blithely. ‘Ava is happy to give us back Gurdy as long as we take better care of him.’

  Angus had forgotten all about Gurdy. He noticed him now, on a wooden workbench.

  ‘Why did you take our gnome?’ he asked Ava.

  ‘Perhaps I should not have removed him into my care,’ said Ava carefully, and she stepped down off the ladder and came to sit beside Angus. ‘But it does press my heart to see such neglect. The gnomes are a wise and knowledgeable race. They are of the Kuwald, a noble and ancient race of dwarves. We think highly of gnomes in my homeland. It saddened me to see this figurine so abandoned and pitiful. I had planned to take him home with us — provided Graini would allow it.’

  ‘De hominibus parvissimis,’ said Graini, emerging from the shadows.

  Ava nodded. ‘The smallest of men,’ she said. ‘They should be amused to see a statue such as this. It would delight them to know they are still thought of, still remembered, in the New World. Of course, I would not mention the neglect,’ she added softly.

  ‘You can have him!’ blurted Martha. ‘Please. Take him. I’m so sorry we didn’t look after him.’

  Graini came further into the room. Angus could not see where she had been, the light only extended so far. He craned to see. Was there a door back there? Yes, it opened onto a passageway.

  He caught his breath. Graini was holding the snow dome!

  ‘That’s Reafen’s,’ said Angus. ‘You robbed us and you robbed her.’

  ‘You cared nothing for the gnome,’ scoffed Graini. ‘As for the “snow dome”, as you call it, we have only retrieved what is ours. Reafen should be thankful we didn’t tie her in ropes and bindings and drag her back to the Old Realm with us.’

  ‘Ropes and bindings.’ Angus turned to Martha. ‘Do you really want to hang out with this pair?’

  ‘It’s just a joke,’ said Martha. ‘It’s not serious.’

  ‘No, not serious at all,’ said Ava quickly. ‘Now, no more joking outbursts, Graini. We have the narrare; that is the purpose of our weary search. As for Reafen, she lost all that was precious to her years ago: her home, her people, her pride. And for what? No further punishment is necessary, surely?’

  ‘Narrare?’ said Angus.

  ‘You call it a snow dome,’ said Graini, placing the dome on the workbench. ‘But you are incorrect. It is a narrare and it belongs to our people.’

  Graini took up a leather case with a long strap. The case was brown with emerald felt lining. It reminded Angus of a binocular
case. The leather was aged but well oiled. Graini gently slid the snow dome into the case and snapped it shut. It had two clasps, silver ravens with outstretched wings. She passed the case to her companion. Ava lowered the strap over her head and arranged it across her body.

  ‘The sooner we get out of here the better,’ muttered Graini.

  ‘When are you going?’ Angus tried not to stare at the snow dome. His mind was racing. He had to get this thing, this narrare, before these girls disappeared to wherever it was they came from.

  ‘We set sail at dawn,’ said Ava.

  ‘Tomorrow?’ Angus could not conceal his surprise. This was worse than he thought. He glanced at the case again. How was he supposed to get the snow dome while it was attached to a goblin girl?

  Graini followed his gaze. ‘Your father-relative is interested in such artefacts,’ she said.

  ‘Possibly,’ said Angus. ‘He’s a history professor. It’s his job to be interested.’

  ‘The narrare would not serve him well,’ said Ava. ‘It would only bring him grief and confusions.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Angus had no desire to discuss his father a second longer than was necessary. Just the mention of him made Angus queasy with fear.

  ‘Pack up your stuff, Martha,’ he said sharply.

  ‘Can’t we stay just a little longer?’ whined his sister.

  They heard a scraping noise on the footpath outside and all four looked up — just as the light from the grille faded.

  ‘Hey!’ cried Angus, and he got up and ran across the room.

  Ava followed him up the stepladder and peered over his shoulder.

  ‘The grille,’ he said, pushing and pulling. ‘Look! It’s been blocked. Someone’s pushed a great whopping dumpster in front of it.’

  ‘No,’ said Ava. ‘This cannot be ...’

  Somewhere deep inside the building they heard a door slam.

  ‘Are there others in here?’ Angus looked about wildly. ‘Well?’ he demanded.

  Graini shook her head. ‘There is only us.’ She spoke softly, warily, as if she wasn’t quite sure.