CHAPTER 13
The shark circles
Thirty minutes before Ling Ling started throwing random things into matching designer luggage - Destination: Anywhere-But-Here - Fok Wee Mung, a.k.a. Crazy Mother of Fok’s Bakery in Sydney’s Chinatown (a ten-minute ride from Newtown on the 428 bus, City to Canterbury Service, official stop Dixon Street, Haymarket), was looking at her Little Black Book through delicate, tortoiseshell glasses.
Had Fok Wee Mung been fifty years younger and ten kilos lighter, the Little Black Book might have contained a list of boyfriends, their contact details and perhaps a rating out of ten. Had Fok Wee Mung been a lover of literature and words, like Emma, the Little Black Book may have been filled with poetry. Or had Fok Wee Mung had culinary leanings, the Little Black Book might have described an old family recipe for mushroom and chicken feet soup. But alas, Fok Wee Mung, a.k.a. Crazy Mother, was none of these things. She was from Macau, a tiny peninsula sixty kilometers west of Hong Kong. A place which understands gambling better than Las Vegas, and the Little Black Book was full of tidy numbers in red and black.
Fok’s Bakery was the legitimate front for the loan shark business that Fok Wee Mung operated. There were only so many steamed buns and mooncakes a person could sell in a day, after all. The Little Black Book detailed the amount of money Fok Wee Mung loaned. They were Substantial Sums. Fok’s Bakery only dealt in Big Money. The names and numbers in the columns were written so small that Fok Wee Mung’s very small eyes needed +4.0 lenses to see them. The clap of beads from an ancient abacus made one name in particular stand out. Fok Wee Mung tutted and repeated the calculation two more times to make sure.
Fok Wee Mung’s hair was whiter than white, sparse and thinning. She wore her hair in a top knot so that it looked like a steamed bun balanced on top of her head. Fok Wee Mung’s skin was made fair with a skin-whitening face powder from Japan. But the real secret, she said, was a diet of homemade soy bean milk and pumpkin seeds which she cracked open with her teeth. Crack went the seeds. Clap went the abacus. All day long. She was very proud of her teeth which were Original. Made in China. The best porcelain chompers money could buy. But it was her eyes which gave Fok Wee Mung her nickname, Crazy Mother. Eyes which stared in two different directions. That, and a filthy temper which had seen hundreds of tea cups smashed against the wall.
“Please, I’ll have the money next week. My baby needs milk!” “Please, my father has cancer!” “Please, the bank is repossessing my house!” Nothing moved her.
Fok Wee Mung did not mind the unflattering pseudonym. Or the whispered fear at the mere mention of her name. In her business, fear was an asset you worked hard to attain.
“Shu Ling Ling,” Fok Wee Mung announced to the shadow waiting by her elbow. “It is time to collect.”
...
What makes Shu Ling Ling’s hair stand on end? What gives her goosebumps? What makes her tremble in her boots?
It isn’t the dark.
CHAPTER IV
It’s all her fault!
When the “owner” of the dead body came to claim her, Katriona blamed Emma. After all it was all Emma’s fault that the pilgrimage to see Ms. Minogue was doomed from the start. After a certain high-speed car chase last year (no, really, I said don’t ask), Emma had gone to Dodgy Dave’s Car Yard. True to form, Dodgy Dave gave Emma a great little deal on a Kombi van that had seen one too many sunsets. The Volkswagen Camper had a full-length mermaid swimming up one side and a dolphin splashing down the other. Two large daisies encircled the front headlights and an even larger peace sign took center stage. Rainbows. Sunbeams. Fairy dust. It was a living work of art, claimed Dodgy Dave, and a steal at that. Gone was Emma’s beloved car - may it Rest In Pieces - and with it all confidence she could drive.
“I know,” Emma said, “I’ll navigate. New GPS. It’ll be fab.”
It was not fab.
“Fab” - according to Katriona - is when you punch in the right coordinates and it directs you south, toward Antarctica, but not as far. “Fab” is when you stay awake for the trip and provide witty conversation, and glow-in-the-dark beverages with colorful mini-umbrellas. “FAB” IS WHEN YOU GET TO MEET KYLIE MINOGUE AND NOT GET CHASED BY THE POLICE FOR STEALING A GIANT PINEAPPLE.
It was a giant mango, actually.
WHATEVER!
It was true. Emma did put in the wrong coordinates and pressed the wrong buttons which sent the trio hurtling north into God’s Country - the veritable WoopWoop of Anywhere-But-Here. When the GPS instructed Ling Ling politely to turn left, she turned left. When the GPS instructed Ling Ling politely to turn right, she turned right. Shu Ling Ling drove as if the very devil were nipping at her Jimmy Choo heels. She did not let Katriona’s wailing of “I’m-old-I’m-old-I’m-old-I’m-old-I’m-old-I’m-old!” or Emma’s steam train snores distract her from her mantra of Drive-Just-Drive.
Night followed day followed night and so it went on until suddenly there was only sky. And millions of stars. And no road at all, no matter what the GPS was insisting.
Ling Ling threw the empty container of Doze-Killer over her shoulder. It hit Emma awake. Katriona stopped mid-whine to take a breath. Ling Ling pulled over.
“Wah,” she said as she fell out of the driver’s seat onto the red earth, “so many bling bling, loh!”
CHAPTER 15
No, it’s all her fault!
When the “owner” of the dead body came to claim her, Emma blamed Ling Ling. After all, it was all Ling Ling's fault they were lost, packed everything but the phone charger, and drove off in the wrong car.
The three women's worst fears were confirmed the next morning when the scorching sun replaced the blanket of stars under which they’d camped. They were like three lobsters cooked on both sides.
“My face!” Katriona screamed at the sunburn which puckered her skin and chapped her lips raw.
“My hair!” Emma screamed at the red earth caking her now-frizzy locks.
“My nails!” Ling Ling screamed and then stopped when she realized none of them were chipped. “Phew! That was lucky.” She turned. “Aiyeh! Why like that?” Ling Ling gasped at the sight of her two friends.
A large bird of prey circled the trio who spent the next ten minutes running around the van, yelling and screaming. It could smell panic. It could sense fear. The odd-looking animals were obviously helpless and fast losing energy. It was only a matter of time. The bird was hungry. The three looked bony but the bird decided that combined, they would do nicely. One of them in particular, had a meaty rump that would last for weeks -
“Shoo! Get lost!” Katriona threw a large stone at the bird. Its huge wings opened as it moved to another branch.
“Oh, don’t hurt it,” cried Emma, ever the animal lover.
“Ummm, I have bad news,” interrupted Ling Ling. Her long, fake eyelashes were clumped with red clay. They blinked nervously.
Katriona squinted at the sun and paused midaim as the bird readjusted its grip. “What? We’re not in Tasmania? We know.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Ling Ling said. “I don’t know if it is bad news, actually.” She bit her lip and paused. “What color is the poisonous one again?”
“Poisonous wha? Katriona closed her eyes against the sun’s glare and threw a bigger stone at the bird.
“Snake,” said Ling Ling.
Emma would not be consoled by the fact that, in the end, the snake - not poisonous, but not vegetarian either - had made alternative arrangements for lunch.
“It was us or the bird,” Katriona reasoned.
Emma looked over her shoulder at the strange lump inside the python’s body which lay motionless a couple of meters away. Katriona’s stone had apparently found its mark and the bird had fallen to the ground like a gift from heaven. Emma shuddered. She could almost see the bird, watching her from within the snake’s stomach. Except...
“Caw!”
The three women turned. On the branch of another tree was the bird of prey. Black. Smug.
Alive.
“See! I missed!” said Katriona.
Emma refused to be comforted. “So what’s that, then?” she said, pointing at the lump still staring at them.
Ling Ling peered into the van. “Ummm ... has anyone seen Jinx?”
...
Beyond the snake, through the bush scrub and up the hill, Emma and her friends were being watched.
Just not by Katriona’s pet cat, Jinx.
CHAPTER 16
A dark secret revealed
“Alana’s mom has a hobby like that,” said Jefri.
The seven youths were discussing Will and Alice’s dad’s pastime of “rogue taxidermy” - the artificial creation of mythical beasts from the stuffed parts of more than one animal. That explained the strange animals mounted in the room where Will and Alana had danced. The ones that made Alana lean away in revulsion, and Khalilah, Maddie, and Sofia giggle in half-fear.
Alana was the first to admit that Emma’s bad luck with animals was catastrophic. Cats ran away. Guinea pigs had heart attacks. Guts the goat bit the dust after consuming a football. Even Choo Choo, Alana’s hamster, had died from cannonballing out of a Vespa’s exhaust. But at least her mom didn’t stuff them and put them on display!
While Khalilah was trying to kick Jefri quiet (not easy, since the Victorian dining table with walnut veneer was four meters long and seated eighteen), so he wouldn’t say anything else upsetting, Alice jumped up with a suggestion. “Let’s play with the Ouija board!”
Will led them up the wide staircase to a winding, narrow staircase, which led to the turret room where the Ouija board lay on a small, round table. Nobody except Will and Alice had played the game before but Sofia had heard of it. The aim of the game, she explained in a hushed tone, was to connect with the spirit world. A ripple of energy ran through the group - part dread, part excitement. A board which allowed you to talk with the dead?
Alice showed them how it worked. Everybody, she said, had to place the tip of one finger lightly on the planchette, a wooden pointer which was flat and shaped a bit like a pear. The pointer would move around the alphabet to spell a word or point to basic answers like “yes” and “no,” depending on the question. It was very important, she continued, that they showed the spirits respect, and lastly, the planchette had to point to the word “goodbye” before they finished the session or else the spirit would stay with them, forever. While Alice was condemning them to a lifetime of haunting, Will lit the candles of the antique brass candelabra. He then switched off the lights. Alana noted the turret room had no window. Rapunzel would have no hope escaping here, she thought. Then again, neither do we, Alana realized. There was only one exit. Khalilah gave a squeal as she felt something tickle her ear. Maddie, as it turned out.
Jefri rubbed his hands in anticipation. “Come on, don’t be a wuss,” he chided. “Let’s get on with it and play this doovalacky, thingummyjig, whatsit.”
Seven fingers rested on the planchette. Alana felt a cold prickle of fear tap-dance down her back.
“Are there any spirits present?” Alice asked the room.
The planchette didn’t move.
“Are there any spirits present?” Alice asked again.
The planchette stayed where it was.
Will shifted with impatience. “Are any spirits with us?” he said loudly.
The candles flickered. Shadows on the wall stretched and grew long. Then the planchette began to move.
Y.E.S.
Will’s voice rose in excitement. “How many spirits are there?”
The planchette moved again. Its movement was undecided. At first it moved toward the number five. It veered suddenly to the right toward eight and then swooped in the opposite direction. It settled on a number with a jerk.
1.
Alana shot her friends a look. Are you moving it? her gaze said, but everybody shook their heads. If the planchette was moving it wasn’t because of them.
“Thank you for gracing us with your presence, oh Spirit,” Will intoned, eyes closed in concentration. “What would you like to tell us?” All eyes were glued on the planchette as it was dragged from one letter to the next, dragging their fingers along with it.
W...
O...
O...
F...
Sofia jumped up and ran from the room with a shriek. Maddie, Alana, Khalilah, and her brother, Jefri, were not far behind. Down and around the spiral staircase the five of them fled. Down the wide staircase, past the grandfather clock, and through the entrance hall. Free!
Almost...
“Friends?” said a hunched figure in black, blocking their getaway at the front door. The man would have been taller if he could have straightened his back. The wiry hair that escaped from his bowler hat was as dark as midnight and his gaze cut through them as sharp as a scalpel. He had the same hooked nose as Great Aunt Esme and the same unnatural pallor as his children. The man could only be Will and Alice’s father. “Please, stay for dinner,” he urged, revealing two rows of sharp, pointy teeth. “Tonight is steak tartare!”
“No, thank you. Goodbye,” they whimpered, beating a hasty retreat to Alana’s home.
Alana’s nice, boring, and spirit-free home.
Safe at last.
Or were they?
CHAPTER 17
A spirit reaches out
Once Sofia calmed down long enough to stop sobbing, she was able to explain why she was so upset. Maddie’s reassurances that it was just a joke and Khalilah’s claim that Will or Alice must have moved the planchette, fell on deaf ears. The message, Sofia insisted, was real.
“I should know,” she sniffed, “since I murdered him.”
!!!!!
!!!!!
!!!!!
Sofia twisted her mood ring. It was something she did whenever she was anxious and now the ring was the color of crude oil, thick with murk and sludge. Then Sofia reminded them of an evening long gone, of fingers jumping through candle flames and talk of fire. Did they remember? Yes, all but Jefri said because he was not there, they did. How could they forget last year’s mystery arsonist setting Sydney’s schools on fire? Everyone wondering, would their school be next? For Alana, the memories were particularly poignant. Hadn’t she spent most of the year stalking their friend, Flynn, thinking he was the culprit, to find he was only guilty of protecting his brother instead?
While Maddie’s violin, Khalilah’s pet cat, Sushi, her diary and pillow, and Alana’s mom sat in an imaginary pile of Things Saved, Sofia was hiccuping and sobbing hard. It was some time before she could speak again. “And remember,” Sofia whimpered, “I’d said that if there was a fire and I had to choose what to save, I wouldn’t take Nostradamus because Mom or Dad would bring him, so I would save my lucky charms, my drumsticks, and my favorite T-shirt instead?” They nodded. Sofia buried her face in Jet’s (now-soaking) face in printed 100% cotton and howled. “Well...THEY DIDN’T!”
Sofia was convinced that Nostradamus, the mongrel stray the Luciano family saved from the animal shelter, had crossed the spiritual planes to say, “Woof.” There was nothing anyone could say to persuade her otherwise.
CHAPTER 18
Emma strikes again
Sofia’s parents, Mr. Luca Luciano, newly awarded 1-star Michelin chef and Dr. Nicolette Luciano, a chemical engineer from the University of New South Wales, were more philosophical about Nostradamus’s demise and their subsequent move.
“The poor dog was half-blind,” she said.
“ — lost his sense of smell, so dinners were tasteless - ” he shuddered.
“ - and don’t forget, he’s been on Death’s Door ever since we rescued him - ” they agreed.
The fire had certainly set a number of things in motion. Like looking for a place with enough room for five growing boys. And somewhere with more privacy for Sofia. Or creating a space where Luca Luciano could work from home (a rooftop herb garden, living space, restaurant, and research and development area in the basement
kitchen). On top of which, after Emma’s disastrous visit to Luca’s restaurant, Gastroniment, last year (again, don’t ask, but customers were seen fleeing the premises), reinventing oneself had become an Economic Necessity. Thus, it was with mixed feelings that Sofia invited her friends and Emma to visit the new family home in Surry Hills which was nearing completion.
Ignore the dark facade of the restaurant at street level, with its chrome trim and smoky glass oozing discretion and excessive zeroes.
Ignore the interior with its rich velvets, decadent brocades, and references to Marie Antoinette’s boudoir.
Bloodsuckers and Blunders Page 5