Ariel, Zed and the Secret of Life

by Anna Fienberg

  The creature bent down and took them in its mouth. Its tongue was soft and indescribably sweet on his skin, like the sole of a baby’s foot that has not yet touched the ground. For the second time in his life Goodshot felt a twinge of regret. He closed his eyes.

  When he opened them, the creature had gone. At his feet lay a crystal bowl. Inside it gleamed a liquid that matched the golden slivers in the creature’s eyes. It sparkled and rippled under the torchlight and, as Goodshot looked, the colour deepened like a sunrise illuminating the night sky.

  So this is it, thought Goodshot. He picked up the bowl and marvelled at its lightness in his hands. It felt like air. Sparkling, topaz air.

  So this is it, he whispered into the dark. The Elixir. The twinge came again, a stubborn splinter digging into his heart.

  ‘I’ve wanted this too long,’ he told it. ‘Go away, by jiminy. This is going to be my fortune!’ As he spoke his conviction returned and the twinge subsided. He walked carefully through the darkness out into the daylight.

  ‘There he is!’

  Goodshot started, and looked up to see a crowd of people standing just a few metres from the cave. Ariel was at the front, coming toward him.

  ‘Stay where you are!’ he shouted. ‘If anyone moves I’ll tip the whole thing onto the ground.’ Damn and blast, how did they get here?

  Ariel froze. She looked back at Miss Heckle. Infinitesimally, Miss Heckle shook her head. No-one moved.

  Goodshot’s eyes darted around. He couldn’t go forward, they’d grab him. That great oaf Brogan could crush him with one blow. And where did that wolf come from? He wished he’d kept his tiger with him. He glanced up at the cliff above. He’d have to climb up and over—that was it. It would be hard not to spill the Elixir, but there was no other route. He’d go that way.

  But as he looked he saw a figure emerging from a crevice above the cave. A boy. Ginger curls. Zed! Damn him, why wasn’t he at the bottom of the sea? As he stared, he saw another figure join him. A boy. Ginger curls. He looked just like Zed—it was Zed.

  The first boy held out his hand to the second. With a smile the second boy reached over and took it in both his hands and they stood clasped together, there on the peak.

  And as Goodshot and Ariel and everyone else watched, the first boy began to fade, drifting with the ease of falling mist into the second until all that remained of him was the fierce smile that the new Zed wore on his face.

  ‘The boy’s a wizard, by jiminy,’ moaned Goodshot. ‘Why didn’t anyone tell me? Now what am I going to do?’

  He stared down at the Elixir in his hands. Its golden surface winked and rippled in the sunlight. Unspeakable beauty, and it had nearly been all his. The splinter nudged his ribs. He thought of his logo: Good Shot for Eternal Life. He saw his mansion on the beach with a hundred servants and his yacht in the bay. He saw himself having brunch with the President. All ruined. All smashed—just because of these bananas-for-brains Islanders. A spasm of rage shook his body.

  ‘If I can’t have it,’ he screamed at them, ‘then no-one will!’ And he dashed the golden treasure onto the ground.

  A gasp of pain came up from the crowd. Ariel buried her face in her hands. Zed, scrambling down the cliff, stopped and stared in horror. He watched the shimmering liquid seep forever into the stones. The silence at the cave was deep. But to Zed it was louder than any curse or cry or recrimination. He didn’t see how he could live with the silence.

  But the crowd of people at the cave was parting.

  ‘Quick,’ cried Electra, ‘let Ermintrude through!’

  Ariel turned to see her friend pushing her way to the front. She was clutching a small plant with a tiny blue flower to her chest. Her soft lips were set into a grim line.

  Lifting her chin high, Ermintrude began to chant in a clear, urgent voice:

  ‘Thyme is a treasure that my garden grows

  Nourished by the sun whose seed it sows

  Deep in itself where the seed’s held fast

  Another Time waits, Time of the Past.

  World Time, Sun Time, moon-white power

  Turn back time when I pluck this flower!’

  On the last word, Ermintrude plucked the small blue flower from the base of the plant and held it high. Around it the air began to tremble. In rhythmic waves the air shimmered and moved like ripples that form on water when a stone is thrown in. The light dimmed for a second and a shudder that seemed to come from inside the earth travelled along the ground and into the sky.

  Suddenly Zed found himself back on the top of the cliff again. The whole world was on rewind. Goodshot was staring up at him as if he’d just seen a ghost.

  ‘The boy’s a wizard, by jiminy. Why didn’t anyone tell me? Now what am I going to do?’

  The crowd was gazing at him. No-one moved.

  Goodshot glared down at the Elixir shining in the golden bowl. ‘If I can’t have it,’ he screamed, ‘then no-one will!’

  ‘World Time, Sun Time, moon-witch flower,

  Freeze that man while I save our power!’

  Ermintrude leapt forward and grabbed Goodshot’s frozen arm. He stood rigid, as if made of stone, his fingers still clutched tightly round the lid of the bowl. Carefully, one by one, Ermintrude prised each finger away. Goodshot didn’t move a muscle. She carried the bowl with its precious liquid into the cave and placed it there on the ground, perfect and shining.

  When she came out she clicked her fingers in Goodshot’s face, and went back to the waiting crowd.

  ‘Long live the moon-witch! Merlin would have been proud of you!’ sang Electra and she flung her arms around Ermintrude’s neck, spraying her with kisses.

  ‘Bomb and blast the beetling lot of you!’ cried Goodshot, come to life and fury. ‘The devil take you and your island and your maggoty tricks and your—’

  ‘That will be enough!’ A cool voice pierced the tirade.

  Goodshot’s mouth dropped open. Threading her way through the crowd was an attractive woman in a business suit, carrying a portable computer. It was no other than Clara Krantzbur herself.

  ‘Another word out of you, you blustering air-bag, and I’ll delete you!’ Her finger was poised on the Delete key, and she meant business.

  Goodshot crumpled. He sagged to his knees like a bag of old potatoes.

  ‘How could you disgrace me like this?’ Clara went on. ‘Didn’t you learn anything? Where are your Morals, your Business Ethics, your People-Management Flair?’

  The splinter jabbed hard into Goodshot’s heart and he winced.

  ‘So, are you ready to listen to Reason, Goodshot? Or will I have to delete you?’

  Miss Heckle stepped forward. ‘I think, dear, that Goodshot might have learnt his first lesson. And loathsome as he is, sweetness, we must remember that authors should never delete their history. For if we forget our mistakes, we are condemned to repeat them.’

  Clara hung her head. ‘So what should I do—just let him roam around like some ruthless, redneck crocodile?’

  Miss Heckle shook her head. ‘No, dear heart, take him back with you. But first you must learn to accept him—accept his character as some difficult part of your own. Only then will you be able to work with him.’

  Clara looked at Goodshot. His safari suit was crushed and stained, and the hair that was usually swept over his bald spot was hanging listlessly down one side.

  ‘Come on then,’ Clara said to him in a more gentle tone, ‘say sorry to these nice people and we’ll be on our way.’

  ‘Sorry shmorry,’ mumbled the crumpled Goodshot.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘You heard me—how many times do I have to say it? Sorry.’ ‘Shmorry,’ he added under his breath.

  ‘All right, that’s a start,’ cut in Miss Heckle. ‘And now I think a spot of celebration is in order. We’ve got to toast our own dear Ermintrude, and hear the story of Zed—’

  ‘Who went out alone in the middle of the night to stop him,’ interrupted Ariel, pointin
g at Goodshot.

  ‘And we won’t be forgettin’ young Ariel,’ put in Brogan, ‘who toul us all of the danger—’

  ‘And so tonight you will all be my guests at the gastronomic paradise, La Dolce Vita!’ Miss Heckle finished with a flourish.

  ‘Great whizzing fizzballs in space!’ cried Ariel, and Zed, who had managed to climb down the cliff, suffering only a grazed elbow and delayed shock, grabbed her round the waist and kissed her right on the ear.

  ‘What did you kiss me there for?’ said Ariel.

  ‘Only place I couldn’t miss,’ said Zed, but the smile he gave her would have melted the ice caps off Antarctica, and it told her practically everything she wanted to know.

  No-one had ever seen La Dolce Vita looking so splendid as it did that night. A balmy breeze blew starlight in through the windows, and the gardenias floating in their bowls on the tables looked like moon flakes that had drifted down from the sky. The evening was blessed, everyone agreed, and they were all as hungry as a pack of wolves. (No offence to Woolfy, of course, who picked at his food while he eyed Goodshot’s plump calves.)

  Down the centre of the room the tables were joined together in a long line and, as everyone had so much to say, particularly to someone at the other end, there was a lot of hollering and deafening noise.

  Goodshot sat between Clara and Miss Heckle (just in case) and he listened to the speeches in much discomfort. This was not only due to the fact that he was the Bad Guy in all the stories but also because the splinter was tugging away at his ribs. When he mentioned it to Clara she grinned and told him to watch out, he might be developing a conscience. By jiminy, that was all he needed. Wasn’t there something he could take for it?

  After dessert (strawberries and mango ice-cream), and Ali’s juggling act with the coffee cups, the lights dimmed and the projector rolled. On the white wall at the far end of the restaurant Pessimism in the Modern World made its debut.

  ‘A perceptive, penetrating and intimately persuasive film,’ the Conductor said thoughtfully when it was over. ‘I especially liked the musical score for that bit on the Greenhouse Effect. Most effective, I would say, but of course that part was my contribution, so I could be a trifle biased.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Shoeburg, I’ll see you have a special mention in the press releases,’ said Electra breezily. ‘It’s going to be shown internationally next year, don’t you know, so you’ll all be stars. No, no, no, don’t thank me, it was a pleasure.’

  ‘Zed was definitely the best Pessimist,’ said Ariel. ‘“In my opinion,”’ she quoted in a deep depressed voice, ‘“there is more chance of getting struck by lightning than winning the lottery.” I think he has real star quality.’

  ‘You mean everybody’s going to see me say that?’ Zed turned to Electra. ‘I’ll have to grow a beard!’

  ‘We can’t wait that long, you know,’ Electra sympathised. ‘Look at it this way. Being cast as a Pessimist in your first role isn’t so bad. Who knows what role you’ll play in my next film?’

  ‘But we’re going home soon,’ said Ariel, and she and Zed exchanged a tragic glance.

  Silence dampened the room and Ali Baba’s eyes filled with tears. But Clara stepped in briskly.

  ‘Yes, it’s time to go back to the real world.’ She looked at Goodshot meaningfully. ‘You two can come back in the seaplane with me if you’d like.’

  ‘Walloping fizzballs,’ cried Ariel. ‘I never thought I’d get to ride in a seaplane.’

  ‘You nearly didn’t,’ sighed Clara. ‘I had a terrible time convincing the pilot that no tiger would appear in the cockpit while I was around, so I’m telling you,’ she turned to Goodshot, ‘you just keep your eyes on the view and no funny business, business man!’

  But Zed had more on his mind than seaplanes. ‘We’ll be coming back here for visits, won’t we? I mean, I’d say this was my favourite holiday resort.’ And you’re like family, he added silently. How could he bear to leave Mr Jones?

  ‘Of course,’ said Miss Heckle. ‘And very pleased we’ll be to see you. But real life is often just like books, and you never know where the plot will take you.’

  22. HAPPILY EVER AFTER?

  ARIEL OPENED THE GATE and Zed followed her through the garden and up the steps. As the front door opened, Ariel’s heart pumped so hard she felt faint.

  ‘Hullo, woolly one,’ said her father.

  Ariel flew into his arms and stayed there. She took great whiffs of old cotton shirt, paint, turps and biscuits. True father smells. The best smells in the world.

  Over her head, Frank Windwood smiled at Zed. He put a hand on his shoulder and drew him close.

  ‘Wonderful to see you both,’ he said.

  ‘Ditto!’ cried Concetta. ‘You’re brown as berries!’

  ‘How’s the best-seller going?’ asked Ariel.

  ‘Oh, I’ve finished that book,’ said Concetta. ‘Now I’m onto a detective story. Amos Avery, that’s my new hero. Tall, distinguished, eye like an eagle. You’ll meet him soon. Now, come in and tell us everything.’

  Inside, when they were in the kitchen, Ariel examined her father carefully.

  ‘You’re growing a beard!’ she said accusingly. ‘And you’ve got very thin.’

  ‘You see, I go to rack and ruin without you and your mother.’

  ‘Like this house,’ snorted Concetta.

  ‘And there’s been no work done in the garden,’ Ariel said disapprovingly. ‘I’m going to have to weed, and personally, I think the whole style of the garden has to be changed. The careless look is out.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said Concetta, ‘but you haven’t told us anything about the Island. Was it everything the brochures cracked it up to be?’ She grinned at Zed.

  ‘It was fabulous,’ he replied. ‘But you can’t always vouch for the clientele that go there.’

  ‘It was good for a change,’ said Ariel, looking straight at her mother. ‘But I wouldn’t want to live there.’

  ‘Good heavens, what an idea!’ cried Concetta. ‘Well I’ve got some news for you, too.’ She got up and burrowed amongst the papers on the fridge. Then she turned to Zed. ‘Read this!’

  Zed opened the piece of paper. It was a telegram.

  my own dear zed stop ticket money for kenya coming in next mail stop advise me of flight stop miss you terribubbly stop crisis over but victims need much care stop come quickly stop love madeline

  Zed read it four times. How amazing. A few weeks ago he would have just about jumped over the moon to have this news. And he was excited, he could feel his pulse doing a marathon race.

  ‘So,’ bubbled Concetta, ‘are you pleased? I couldn’t help reading it of course. You’ll have to tell me when you want to book your flight.’

  Zed looked at Ariel. He felt a dreadful pull as if two people inside him were heading off in different directions. He had been looking forward to staying here with Ariel, going swimming together, even starting school with her. Being in one place for a while had seemed like a treat. Especially when you had a best friend.

  ‘I’ll have to think it over,’ he said. He glanced at Ariel, who was trying to look pleased at his news.

  ‘Of course you’d miss a dreadful lot of school if you went,’ she said.

  ‘That’s true,’ said Zed, and they looked at each other for a long time.

  Later that afternoon, when Zed and Ariel were sitting in the garden with Lancelot, they were surprised to see two girls opening the gate.

  ‘Hi,’ said Lynn.

  ‘Hullo there,’ said Mandy. ‘We heard you were back. Been overseas have you? That must have been cool.’

  ‘Actually, it was very hot. We went to a tropical resort with coconut palms and white sandy beaches.’

  ‘Really?’ said Lynn, but she was looking at Zed. She sat down on the seat next to Ariel. ‘Is he your boyfriend?’ she whispered.

  ‘He’s my best friend,’ said Ariel loudly.

  ‘Yeah?’ Lynn’s eyes were full of admiration.

>   ‘Yeah,’ said Ariel. ‘He’s a traveller like me, and because he’s seen so much of the world, he only likes weird girls.’

  ‘Weird?’ echoed Lynn.

  ‘You know, the wild kind, true to themselves. Isn’t that right, Zed?’

  ‘Absolutely. A girl with a weird streak, that’s my type. Fabulous.’

  ‘I’ve got an aunt who levitates,’ said Mandy.

  ‘My mother sleepwalks,’ said Lynn.

  ‘Hmmm,’ Zed considered. ‘That’s small-time. But we can work on it.’

  ‘Okay!’ the two girls clapped hands.

  ‘You’ll have to wait until he gets back from Africa,’ said Ariel, getting up. ‘We weird types never stay in one place long, see.’

  Zed stood up too. ‘Nice meeting you,’ he said to the girls, and he took Ariel’s hand firmly in his as they strolled up the steps together.

  About the Author

  Anna Fienberg gets her ideas from her own dreams, people she meets, snatches of overheard conversation. She always carries a notebook with her in case she hears something interesting.

  Anna likes to live in books as well as real life. She was once Editor of School Magazine, where she read over a thousand books a year. She wrote plays and stories for the magazine and then began writing her own books. She has written picture books, short stories, junior novels and fiction for teenagers and young adults.

  Anna’s first novel, Pirate Trouble for Wiggy and Boa, was shortlisted for the 1989 Australian Children’s Book of the Year awards, The Magnificent Nose and Other Marvels was the winner of the 1992 Australian Children’s Book of the Year Award for younger readers, and Tashi was shortlisted for the same award in 1996. Power to Burn was shortlisted for the 1996 NSW Premier’s Literary Award, and Borrowed Light was given the ACT Top YA Read Award in 1999.