Ariel, Zed and the Secret of Life

by Anna Fienberg

  ‘I’ll treasure it all my life,’ he said in a sarcastic voice.

  There was silence.

  ‘What the hell’s the matter with you?’ Ariel burst out suddenly. ‘You don’t like anything, do you? Nothing makes you happy. You’re like a horse with blinkers, always staring at your own nose. At least I’m interested in things outside myself.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Zed, angry. ‘You just stare at what’s around you, like it’s all a movie. You drink it all in, believing anything. You don’t think about what you see, you just let it all pass through you, then switch onto the next thing. That’s a sign of low intelligence, in my opinion. An inability to think. The first form of life. A jellyfish, that’s what you remind me of.’ And he glared at her enviously.

  Ariel sprang up from the table. ‘And you remind me of a bloody boa constrictor, squeezing the life out of everything! No wonder your mother dumped you!’ She stalked into the kitchen and crashed the plates in the sink.

  ‘Great whizzing fizzballs!’ she cried, striding back into the room. ‘What makes you think you know what’s going on inside me? You big misery guts, you don’t know anything about me or how I feel. You’re always thinking about Zed, that’s why. The Big Subject. Why can’t you just enjoy yourself? There’s all this island to explore, beaches to swim in. Can’t you look on the bright side?’

  ‘I don’t see any bright side,’ said Zed icily, ‘living in a shoe with a jellyfish.’

  Ariel marched back into the kitchen and turned the taps on hard. She wished Zed would float down the drain with the bubbles.

  8. THE ELIXIR OF LIFE

  SINGLE-HANDED, Miss Heckle ran the School for Rebellious Characters. It was she who put up the plaque on the wall thirty years ago and, with her hand over her heart, pledged to quell the rebellious spirit of her pupils. She swore to teach all characters to behave as their authors decreed, to make giants act like giants, and heroes pull up their socks (if their authors dressed them that way, of course).

  But the School was far older than Miss Heckle, or any of her pupils. No-one knew exactly when it began, but there was a club still hanging on the wall that was said to have been used by a certain caveman to bring his main character, Feebleman, into line.

  Miss Heckle had once been an author herself, although these days she was far more interested in being a chef, and she ran the only restaurant on the Island in her spare time. It was called La Dolce Vita (The Sweet Life) and she specialised in desserts. With her growing interest in food, her teaching had become rather distracted, and she encouraged her pupils to swap recipes and seedlings, as well as to behave, of course. Her students in turn were delighted with their headmistress’s new hobby (which was much less annoying than Character Lessons) and found that they could sometimes waste the whole morning if they set her talking about the best way to roast potatoes or grill snails. Only when visiting authors (like Ms Anna Fienberg) dropped in, did Miss Heckle hurriedly revert to strict rules on Playing the Part. Luckily, when Ariel and Zed arrived, no visiting authors were to be seen, or expected.

  Ariel led the procession of bikes into Chapter One. Zed wobbled behind her, followed by Bertha and McGull. The day was as hot as a dragon’s breath, and Bertha had cursed all the way from the Shoe, her ear lobes flapping in irritation. But McGull was cheerful, having hailed them under the archway, his top pocket bulging with two new shells to talk about at Show and Tell time.

  Soon they all had to dismount from their bicycles and head toward the School on foot. The streets were just as narrow as Ariel had described them, and Zed felt a growing unease as if he were being drawn deeper and deeper into a labyrinth.

  ‘Ooh, look, there’s one of those bat things!’ cried Ariel suddenly, and pointed to the wall at their right.

  Zed didn’t look immediately, as they were still not talking to each other after last night. But when he saw McGull and even Bertha stop and close their eyes for a moment, he couldn’t resist.

  There, built into the wall like a small safe, was a glass cabinet. Behind the glass was a shiny shell with outspread wings, mounted on a bed of fresh flowers: the Vespertilio gigante. It was not as large as McGull’s specimen but it glowed with the same pearly sheen.

  Zed stared at Bertha and McGull. Their eyes were open now but unseeing, their faces calm and meditative as they gazed at the shell, as if it were an old and trusted friend.

  Ariel glanced at Zed, her eyebrows arched in a question mark. Zed made a fish face at her, his mouth opening and closing like what he hoped was an exact replica of a jellyfish. Ariel kicked his shin and Zed let out a yelp of pain. That seemed to wake up Bertha and McGull, who blinked, and then they all proceeded on their way.

  Soon they came to a street bright with flowered window boxes, and at the end stood a building that towered over the rest. It was whitewashed, too, but instead of being rounded it rose up to a point like a witch’s hat. It’s just like my mother’s writing shed, thought Ariel, and she felt a sense of comfort, like an arm around her shoulders. Grouped around it were smaller peaked buildings, all connecting. Over the door of the main building hung the sign ‘SCHOOL FOR REBELLIOUS CHARACTERS’.

  Zed’s mouth dropped open. But he wasn’t looking at the School. He was staring at Bertha and McGull and a smooth fat man in harem pants who came out to meet them. An icy chill crept along Zed’s neck. There was something strange about these three people standing together in the sunlight. Something missing. He looked down at their feet. Just the sunlight, and the stones. These people had no shadows!

  Zed checked his own. There it was, the familiar spindly shadow, thin as a lollipop. And beside it was Ariel’s, solid and big-eared. Zed wiped his face with his hand.

  ‘Greetings, young man,’ said the man in harem pants, stepping toward him.

  Zed stepped back, putting his hands in his pockets. ‘I refuse to talk to anyone without a shadow!’ he snapped, and that was his final word. He was staying put, outside that School. He was going nowhere, and that meant nowhere, with shadowless aliens. Well, not until he’d had a full explanation from McGull, anyway.

  The big door of the School was left open for light as it was rather dark inside. The ceiling arched high above, all hung about with lanterns. The heavy stone walls helped to shut out the heat, which was just as well, as the room was full to bursting with hot, chattering bodies. Glancing around quickly, Ariel thought it looked like a particularly good fancy dress party.

  People sat around the room on armchairs, sofas and stools. Ariel could see no desks or exercise books, but some carried notebooks and pencils on their laps. One enormous man stood out from the rest. He was a giant, with feet as long as Ariel’s arms. He was dressed in green trousers, green waistcoat and a green jacket laced with gold. Way up there on his head sat a cocked hat with a green feather. The giant seemed intent on sewing a shoe.

  Near the giant lounged an extravagantly beautiful woman. She was slim and graceful, with a waist that curved in and out like a violin, and a satin gown decorated with tiny crystal roses flowed right down to her sequined shoes. Tucked into her curls was a golden crown.

  Ariel just wanted to sit and gape. There was so much to take in—she wanted to get a good look at that gentleman, for instance, in the black tuxedo with the conductor’s baton. And the sleepy man next to him, with the long curly beard. He was covered in animal skins from shoulder to knee. And there behind him, wasn’t that Cliff Robertson, who had stayed with them last year?

  ‘Cliff!’ yelled Ariel.

  The earring flashed and the man looked up. ‘Ariel!’ he called. ‘Honey chile! Come over here!’

  Ariel squeezed past the chairs and fell into Cliff’s warm hug.

  ‘What are you doin’ here? Doody da dooda… When you never shed a tear?’ Cliff sang into her ear.

  ‘Are you into Rhythm and Blues now?’ asked Ariel, grinning.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Cliff. ‘It’s the only music—it’s what I really want to do. But what about you, baby blue?’

 
Ariel told him about her life at the Bay, her rotten school, about Zed (where was he? Must still be outside, interrogating poor McGull) and how she needed a holiday, but first, she wanted the lowdown about this School.

  ‘Don’t you have to study Law here?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, well,’ sighed Cliff. ‘I do a coupla hours a day of that stuff—Conveyancing, Last Wills and Testaments, Torts, Paragraph 3, Article B, and all that rubbish. Miss Heckle stands over me wearing that damn judge’s wig. But when it’s all over, I go back to strummin’ my guitar. I’ve got this great pad in town, next door to Sleeping Beauty.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Electra, she calls herself. She’s the Sleeping Beauty, you know, who’s supposed to be in Slumber Land for one hundred years before the Prince comes, and all that. Only this Sleeping Beauty is an insomniac, which is one of the things that made her author furious.’

  ‘You mean she can’t sleep?’

  ‘Yeah—they’ve tried everything. Yoga, camomile tea, hypnotism. Electra’s just not interested. She’s the nervous type. Thinks sleeping is a waste of time. She likes making films, going to dinner parties, and just hanging out.’

  Ariel looked over at the beautiful woman in the long satin gown. She was talking animatedly with the man in the tuxedo, and every now and then she jabbed the air with her cigarette holder, as if making her point.

  ‘And that giant over there, sewing the shoe? Who’s he?’

  Cliff smiled. ‘Oh, that’s Leithe Brogan. He’s a Leprechaun, supposed to be tiny as a mushroom, but he can’t stop growing. He hated doing leprechaun things like cobbling shoes. Instead of hiding his gold, he always went out of his way to help people find it. He’s as gentle as a lamb, old Broges, but strong as a mountain.’

  Suddenly there was a hush in the room and Ariel saw a short plump woman hurrying up to the front. She had an apron round her waist and a ladle in one hand, as if she’d just finished stirring something. In the other was a covered dish. When she turned to face the class Ariel saw her orange fringe and sliding eyes. Miss Heckle, the Principal of the School for Rebellious Characters.

  Into the hush Miss Heckle said, ‘Well, School, let’s get the show on the road! It’s Show and Tell time, and today I’ll begin with my Bombe Alaska. Have you ever seen anything so pure, so sugary, so tall and sweet?’ Miss Heckle poked a finger into the creamy mountain of dessert and licked it.

  ‘Recipe! Recipe!’ chorused the class and Miss Heckle’s sliding eyes shone.

  ‘Well, if you really insist!’ she crowed and pulled down a blackboard on the side wall.

  When she had finished she clapped her hands and said, ‘Now—to work. I want to see what you all have to show me. Remember, the lesson is Stay in Character, so speak just as if your author were here.’ (A general moan.) ‘Yes, Ermintrude, you can begin.’

  A young woman in a loose, flowery dress stood up. She had a daisy chain round her neck and one round her ankle, and she kept fiddling with the black hat sliding over one eye. It was the plant woman Ariel had met in the square!

  ‘Miss Heckle,’ said Ermintrude, holding up a purple flower, ‘I’ve just crossed the primrose plant with the Ipsidiasical and have found a new flower to bring life and energy into tired bones.’

  ‘Hmm,’ sighed Miss Heckle. ‘That’s all very well Ermintrude dear, but haven’t you got anything more wicked to show me? You are supposed to be a wicked witch, sweetheart. What about brewing up some nice frogs or toads, an eye of newt or a snake’s liver. Now couldn’t you do something with them, hmm?’

  Disconsolately, Ermintrude plucked a frog out of the air. It wriggled slimily in her hand, and she wrinkled her nose. ‘And do try to look a bit greener, dear. Not quite so glowing with health. And there’s a nice false nose in Ali Baba’s shop that would suit you. Now, who’s next?’

  Ariel watched, fascinated, as people got up to show their wares. There was a Used Car Salesman who kept telling them about the defects of a station wagon he was supposed to sell, and the man in the tuxedo, who was a Conductor, sang them a song out of key. ‘Music should Disturb,’ he said, ‘not Tranquillise,’ but Miss Heckle did not agree. He said that he’d been born in the wrong century, and Miss Heckle told him that he’d better start liking Mozart or she’d throw his baton in the sea.

  Ariel’s eyes flickered to the back of the room. Creeping in through the door, keeping his back to the wall, came Zed. He was sidling along, trying to camouflage himself like those insects that turn green when you put them on a leaf. Ariel made a face at him but no-one else seemed to notice. They were too interested in Show and Tell. Invisibly, Zed made his way toward Ariel. Hateful and rude as she was, she was still the only being on this island, as far as he could see, who had a shadow.

  ‘Now, now,’ Miss Heckle said, lifting her ladle for quiet, ‘I almost forgot. We have a visitor here today, and I haven’t introduced her!’

  Alarm rustled through the room, and the giant in green, Brogan, called out, ‘Is this a VIP visitor? An author?’ Everyone shuddered. Zed froze, but no-one had noticed him.

  ‘No, no,’ said Miss Heckle, and over the sigh of relief, added, ‘this is a Child on Holiday. She’s here for a Change. Come on, dear, come up here, er…’

  ‘Ariel,’ said Ariel and reluctantly she left Cliff’s side and went to stand at the front of the room near Miss Heckle.

  ‘Yes, Ariel, of course, I’ve known your mother for years. Well, tell us a little about yourself. Have you anything to Show or Tell dear heart?’

  Ariel looked at the crowd of faces turned toward her. Her face grew hot and she stared down at the ground. My ears must be as red as fire, she thought, I bet they’re sticking out like flags. An image of her class at the Bay flashed through her mind, the time she’d had to give that talk and everyone had sniggered as if she was some kind of alien. Now her face became so hot that it seemed to paralyse her brain.

  ‘Prince’s britches, who wrote you like this?’ a voice rasped into the quiet. ‘Poor girl, hasn’t your author given you any lines? You’re one of those silent types, I suppose, quietly seething, and then you explode, right? You must have an extremely repressed personality. Is that the angle?’ Sleeping Beauty was staring at her, flicking off a column of ash with her long red nail.

  ‘I’m not written!’ Ariel burst out. ‘And I’m not repressed! Some people think I’m a bit weird, but I do talk. They even say I’m a motormouth.’

  ‘But it’s excellent to be weird, don’t you know,’ said Sleeping Beauty in her husky voice.

  ‘Why?’ asked Ariel, surprised. ‘Weird Windwood’ was what they had called her at school, and it had not been ‘excellent’.

  ‘I don’t see anything “excellent” about not having a shadow,’ whispered Zed disdainfully into Ariel’s ear, ‘and that’s weird enough for me.’ He was standing behind her now, and she could feel his breath warm on her neck. God, that was all she needed.

  ‘Well,’ said Electra, ‘it all depends what you mean by weird. If you ask me, it means different from the average goose, wild, individual, interesting. It’s excellent to be strange. That’s why we’re all here. We’re the true part of our authors—the part they don’t even know about themselves.’ Electra peered at Ariel, her huge blue eyes like lakes on a perfect porcelain plain. Great whizzing fizzballs, she was beautiful; it was all very well for her to say being weird was okay. She could say anything and people would still leap off cliffs for her.

  ‘Put that cigarette out, sweetness,’ said Miss Heckle, who was not one of those people. ‘You know it’s not in Character, and what Prince would ever kiss a mouth smelling of ash? Do try to look at least drowsy, dear heart.’

  Ariel had never seen a person look less drowsy than Electra. She was as thin and determined as an exclamation mark.

  ‘As a famous author once said,’ Electra went on, ignoring Miss Heckle, ‘a novel should tell what everybody is thinking but nobody is saying.’ Electra paused for effect.

  Ariel looked blank.

>   ‘Don’t you get it? We characters are the true thoughts of our authors, the wild untameable part.’ She pointed to herself. ‘We can be the excellent part don’t you know. We’re born from their thoughts, their innermost dreams. We say what everybody is thinking!’

  ‘But I’m not a character!’ said Ariel. So was it still ‘excellent’ to be weird?

  ‘Does this all mean,’ whispered Zed slowly into Ariel’s neck, ‘that these people really come out of books? Is that why they have no shadows?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ariel out of the side of her mouth.

  ‘God!’ he said loudly, and fell into Ariel’s back.

  ‘Who’s that?’ demanded Miss Heckle sharply. ‘Do we have another visitor?’

  Zed came out from behind Ariel. He looked very pale, and his mouth was pulled to one side, as if in pain.

  ‘Ah, yes!’ cried Miss Heckle. ‘Now I remember.’ She turned to Ariel. ‘Your mother said you were bringing along a little friend. And what’s your name, dear heart?’

  ‘Zed,’ said Zed in a low voice.

  ‘What, dear?’

  ‘Zed!’ he shouted. ‘You know, like the last letter in the alphabet, an afterthought, the empty useless page you scribble on in your address book! ZED!’ he finished in disgust.

  ‘This is easy,’ said Electra. She pointed at Zed with her cigarette holder. ‘Your author wrote you as a Pessimist.’

  ‘I am not a Pessimist,’ said Zed hotly. ‘I just see things realistically. There’s not much to be cheerful about. Two thirds of the population are starving to death, you know.’

  ‘Do go on,’ urged Electra. ‘I’m making a film called Pessimism in the Modern World. Tell me, how do you see the future with nuclear power?’

  ‘Very black,’ said Zed morosely. ‘There is no future.’

  ‘Excellent!’ crowed Electra. ‘You are perfect!’

  Zed stared at Electra. Her hair glowed softly in the lantern light and her blue eyes, as round and neat as a doll’s, glittered with an opal fire. She was the most magnificent creature he had ever seen. And she had said he was perfect.