‘With the Universal Terror of Existence, I mean. How does it help us with that?’
Bubo Scandiacus the Snowy Owl smiled an owl smile that Aubrey felt but did not see, because now his gaze was crossing the great plains of Africa, where he could make out giraffes sleeping among the trees.
‘What are the two sides of the Yoot?’ she asked.
‘Huge monster and tiny beetle,’ Aubrey said, without thinking.
‘And what are the two sides of existence?’
‘Oh it’s … huge … beautiful … infinite … infinite wonder,’ Aubrey said, dreamily.
He was looking diagonally across the whole of Africa to the Indian Ocean, where he could see the spouts of whales, and their great flipping tails.
‘Yes – and the other side?’
‘Terror and fear,’ said Jim, in a low voice.
‘True,’ said the owl. ‘So how do you live with both of them, then?’
‘Easy!’ Aubrey exclaimed. ‘If I ever meet the monster, I will remember the beetle. And I will talk to the beetle in the monster.’
‘Yes!’ Jim cried, in his excited teacher way, ‘And if I meet terror and fear I will know they are only the other side of infinite wonder, and I will try to look past the fear to the wonder!’
‘Then,’ said the great owl, ‘you have seen the miracle and you have learned the secret. When you wake up you will remember everything. I wish you peace … and Merry Christmas!’
Jim and Aubrey do not know how long they stood there, staring across the whole world. When they got home it was Christmas morning. First they had to tell Suzanne all about their adventure. Aubrey knew she would believe them, and she did.
Later on there was a knock on the door which turned out to be a very pleasant man from France named Serge who worked for a television station. He had heard a rumour that there was a boy in Woodside Terrace who could talk to animals.
Aubrey explained that he did not talk to animals, he communicated with them in his mind. Serge might have been a bit disappointed but he did not show it, which was remarkable considering how far he had come.
‘I am based in London,’ he said. ‘But in my job if it is a huge story like this one – like this one could ’ave been – you ’ave to go whatever day it is. I have brought my wife, Francine, and my daughter, Esmeralda.’
‘You must all come in and have lunch with us!’ Suzanne said.
So Serge and Francine and Esmeralda did. Esmeralda was Aubrey’s age exactly. She spoke perfect English with a French accent and sometimes added French words to her sentences. They were both rather shy but they smiled at each other as they all sat down to the feast Suzanne and Jim had made.
After lunch Mr and Mrs Ferraby came round with presents. Mr Ferraby and Serge seemed to know each other somehow, and Mrs Ferraby spoke excellent French, so she was soon chatting away with Francine, and Suzanne and Jim served everyone mulled wine. Then they stood talking to their guests, Jim’s arm around Suzanne’s shoulder, and they looked very happy. ‘Would you like to see the garden?’ Aubrey asked Esmeralda. ‘It’s quite good in the snow.’
‘Ah oui – yes please!’ Esmeralda said.
They slipped out through the back door and walked through the garden, noting the bright red berries of the hawthorn, and the pink Christmas roses, and the mistletoe in the plum tree. They paused at the pond, which was frozen icy green.
‘Is it true you can talk to animals, O-bree?’ Esmeralda asked.
She pronounced his name O-bree. He liked the way she said it.
‘In a way,’ Aubrey said. ‘It’s hard to explain. I hear their voices in my mind and I answer with my thoughts.’
He thought Esmeralda would think that was silly but instead she nodded.
‘What do they say?’ she asked.
‘It depends,’ Aubrey said, feeling foolish. ‘On the animal and the subject.’
Esmeralda laughed and pointed at something on top of the post at the edge of the wood. ‘So what does that insect say?’
Aubrey looked closer. On top of the fence post was a large green-black beetle, shining – iridescent.
‘It’s the Yoot! And he’s come as a beetle, not a monster at all! How amazing – hello Yoot!’ he said. ‘Look at you – how wonderful!’
Esmeralda watched closely. The beetle waved his antennae at Aubrey, exactly as if he was replying.
‘What is he saying, O-bree?’
‘He says he is glad he knows now what his name means, and that there are two sides to him. He can come here now as himself, not as the monster. It’s complicated. He says he would like to be friends,’ Aubrey explained, ‘if we don’t mind. And he thinks you’re very pretty and very clever.’
Aubrey blushed as he said it, and Esmeralda laughed.
‘He is a most polite beetle,’ she said. ‘Of course we can be friends. What’s he saying now?’
‘Christmas cake,’ Aubrey said. ‘He says if we have any spare, he would love to try it. He’s never had it before. And – oh! Oh. Never mind.’
‘Quoi? What was that?’ Esmeralda asked, keenly, and she laughed at Aubrey with her eyes, it seemed to him.
‘Nothing,’ Aubrey said. ‘Nothing much. Shall we get some cake?’
‘Yes,’ said Esmeralda. ‘But wait … I like this garden.’
‘Me too!’ Aubrey said, feeling full of joy. ‘Let’s make a snowman! I mean, we could, if you like?’
As he said it he thought Esmeralda might feel it was a babyish idea but her face lit up immediately.
‘We can make a snow beetle,’ she said. ‘We can make him enorme.’
And so Aubrey and Esmeralda began to make the biggest snow beetle the world had ever seen, and the iridescent insect watched them from the top of his post, and the world turned, and later on everyone had Christmas cake – even the Terrible Yoot, for the first time in his existence, which was not so terrible now. Esmeralda and Aubrey got on very well. Esmeralda turned out to be just as rambunctious as Aubrey. (She had a laugh like a wild goblin.) Indeed, as she whispered to him, there was only one thing in the whole world that made her scared – araignees! Which is a French word, and she told Aubrey what it means. Aubrey said he would try to help her with the araignees, though he was a bit scared of them too. But that is another adventure, for another time.
FOOTNOTE: Aubrey will return in
AUBREY AND THE
TERRIBLE SPIDERS!
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
CREATORS: Jane Matthews, genius, Robin Tetlow-Shooter, Penny Thomas and Claire Brisley made it come true. Rebecca Shooter has had my back through thick and thin. I will love you always. Thank you, darling. Jennifer Shooter: if not for you we would be so busy looking after Aubrey we would have run out of work and money a long time ago. Thank you. Aubrey Shooter Clare: I borrowed your name and six-week-old character. This book is for you.
Sally, John and Alexander Clare; Roy, Sarah, Cynthia and Sheila Clare; Emily Simonis; Ursula, Ben & Hugh Williams, Sophie and Richard, William and Twins, Martina and Niamh Williams, Sian, Ioan and Ffyon Williams; Gerald, Emma and Chris and Jamie Shooter – what a family! Geoffrey Williams and Janey Clare we miss and love.
MAKERS: Lexie Hamblin of Rogers Coleridge & White: the first person after Penny to believe in it. Thank you so much, Lexie! Zoe Waldie, greatest agent, just keeps guiding me. Thank you Zo! If anyone reads this book it will be due to Megan Farr, Michael Morpurgo and Frank Cottrell Boyce. Thank you.
FRIENDS: Roger Couhig, Merlin Hughes, Anna Rose Hughes, Elizabeth Mann, James Mann, Mike White, Sadie Campbell, Chris Kenyon, Suzanne Fogg, incredible Diarmaid Gallacher, Candace and Taylor Cade, Mary Generelli, Flavio Dossi, Alison ‘Tig’ Finch, Sally Spurring, Mo Bakaya, Rob Ketteridge, Sarah Dunant and the Great Ant, Hannah Duguid, Jeremy Grange, Dominic Williams, Menna Elfyn, Anthony Trance Jones, Julian May, Seamus May, Sarah Hemming, Adele Gardner, Tom Morris, Sandeep Parmar, Elizabeth Passey, Lawrence Pollard, Peter Florence, Becky Shaw, Carole Williams, Henry Howard, Megan Lloyd, Kevin Jackson, De
ryn Rees Jones, Barnaby Rogerson, Rose Baring, Ben Hardiman, EJ Major and God’s Own Rev Richard Coles, whether you knew it or not, you kept me going. Thank you.
WRITERS & TEACHERS: Rupert Crisswell, John Venning, Ken Corn, Peter Browne, Niall Griffiths, Debs Jones, Julia Bell, Jay Griffiths, Jim Perrin, Sian Walker, Jan Morris, Anne Garwood, Robert Macfarlane, Anna Gavalda and Lady Laura Barton: the things you send and say have meant it all. It is an honour to be in the same trades as you, at the same time. Gods love you and thank you, with all my heart.
SECRET SPIRITS: Janey Clare and Thomas Schmidt, who met once in this world (special friends, surely, in the next) we pray you rest in joy and peace. Amen.
www.fireflypress.co.uk
About the Author
Horatio Clare grew up talking to animals. He started with dogs, cats, sheep and cuckoos. He now talks to Little Owls every night! (It is not difficult. You go where they are, wait until they hoot, and hoot back.) Horatio has written several books for adults. This is his first book for children and it was more fun to create than anything he has made before. Horatio thinks all children should read, write and talk to animals, and he is keen to help them do that whenever he can.
Copyright
First published in 2015 by Firefly Press
25 Gabalfa Road, Llandaff North,
Cardiff, CF14 2JJ
www.fireflypress.co.uk
Text © Horatio Clare 2015
Illustrations © Jane Matthews 2015
The author and illustrator assert their moral right to be identified as author and illustrator in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act 1988.
All rights reserved.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form, binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library.
Print ISBN 9781910080283
epub ISBN 9781910080290
This book has been published with the support of the Welsh Books Council.
Design by: Claire Brisley
Printed and bound by: Bell and Bain, Glasgow
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