by Paul Stewart
‘Down, I think,’ said Corby miserably. ‘Yes, definitely down.’
Mrs Flood smiled warmly. ‘Thank you, darling,’ she said, twisting it back up on top of her head. ‘Oh, and while you’re here, perhaps you’d like to try and persuade your father to get out of bed and have dinner with us this evening. It seems that nothing I say has any effect on him. After all, we’ve got to learn to make the best of things and try to stay cheerful!’
With the Brotherhood of Clowns on her trail, Corby felt anything but cheerful – but she had her father to think about.
‘I’ll give it a go,’ she said with a weak smile, ‘but I’m not sure it’ll do any good. After his disappointment, Father doesn’t seem to listen to any of us any more.’
‘Well, do your best, there’s a good girl,’ said Mrs Flood cheerfully.
Winthrop Flood was the most brilliant engineer of his generation, renowned for building some of the most famous bridges in the world – bridges Corby had seen in the large photograph album he kept on the desk in his study.
There was the majestic eight – span steel – arch bridge which crossed the Terinaki Gorge, the MacDonald Bluff suspension bridge, the Hootenanny Falls bridge, the Lafayette cantilever bridge over the Hoobly River – and the famous bascule bridge at South Bay Gap, designed to be raised so high that even the largest ships could enter the Shadrak Channel.
His latest, biggest and most impressive project had been the Tamberlaine – Marx Crossing, a series of interconnecting bridges linking East Point to Western Reach across the Dandoon Delta. From the outset the work had been hampered by the mosquitoes infesting the swampland and hindered by the unpredictable tides.
Many said it could never be done. But Corby’s father had been determined to prove them all wrong and earn the title of the greatest bridge builder in the world.
And he would have – Corby was convinced of it – if it hadn’t been for a very tiny but extremely important thing called an ampersand escalating threading – bolt.
Usually, Winthrop Flood personally designed and supervised the construction of every single item used in the building of his bridges. But the week they were making the ampersand escalating threading – bolt, Corby had had a bad case of the croup (she was only a year old at the time) and Winthrop had taken some time off.
Seven years later, the magnificent Tamberlaine – Marx Crossing was ready for opening, and the Begum of Dandoon, in her best hat, was standing with a pair of solid gold scissors ready to cut the pink ribbon and declare the crossing open. The whole family was there, and Corby could remember how proud of her father she had felt.
And then it had happened. The ampersand escalating threading – bolt had failed to escalate.
This was very important, but not being a brilliant engineer like her father, Corby wasn’t sure why. What she did know was that it was a very bad thing, because the Tamberlaine – Marx Crossing made a sound like a sinking fire engine and slowly – as if a herd of invisible elephants were having a jumping competition on them – the inter – connecting bridges trembled, lurched, writhed and arched sharply upwards. The next moment there came a series of loud cracks as the bridges began breaking in two, one after the other, until the entire crossing was one big wreck.
The Begum was very understanding and said that it was nobody’s fault, but Winthrop Flood couldn’t help blaming himself. Following that fateful afternoon he
had not looked at a blueprint, picked up a pencil, or even gone near a spanner. In fact, Corby’s father had
taken to his bed. He had only got up once since the great disappointment of the Tamberlaine – Marx Crossing disaster, and that was to come on board the S.S. Euphonia for the voyage home to Harbour Heights. Once they arrived there, Mr Flood had announced, he would retire from bridge – building for ever. He was no longer going to travel with his family round the world, but instead would work for his brother – in – law, H. H. Luscombe, designing umbrellas – and his children were going to attend school whether they liked it or not.
Corby knocked on the bedroom door. ‘Father,’ she called, ‘are you awake?’
‘Go away!’ came the gruff voice from inside. Corby decided not to ask him about the snuff just now.
‘Like a bear with a sore head,’ said Mrs Flood. She turned to her daughter. ‘You’d better go and get ready yourself. Off you go now, darling,’ she said as cheerfully as she could manage, but Corby could see that there were tears in her eyes.
Corby went to her own cabin, which she shared with Serena, and pushed open the door. It was small compared to her parents’ suite, but it still took her breath away. It was one of the S.S. Euphonia’s self – tidying cabins which, when the ship was new, had been an even greater marvel than the mechanical deckchairs on the starboard deck.
In the self – tidying cabins, everything
folded neatly away – beds, tables, cupboards, wardrobes, shelves, bookcases, shoe – racks, wall – lights and ceiling fans, even the framed pictures on the wall – until the cabin was an empty box. The fun part was pressing the buttons and switches on the wall to make everything appear. Even though Corby had already been on board the S.S. Euphonia for three weeks, she still hadn’t got tired of it.
She reached out and pressed the button nearest her, and a fully made bed lowered itself silently from the wall. Corby sat down on it with a contented sigh and reached out to press the button for the bedside table.
Boing!
The metallic sound echoed loudly through the cabin, as the bed abruptly flipped upwards, and Corby was tossed into the air.
‘Aaarrgh!’ she cried out as she found herself being propelled across the room.
Touch!’ she hollered as she slammed into the wall opposite and a tiny bathroom swung out.
As it did so, a shower head appeared from above and sprayed water down upon her, ice – cold and full – blast.
‘Aaiiii!’ Corby screamed, spinning round and tripping over a foot – spa.
From the wall behind her, an array of items suddenly sprang out. There was a mechanical toothbrush, buzzing and scrubbing at thin air, a hair – dryer blowing hot and cold, and a magnifying shaving mirror which captured the bewildered expression on her face as it went in and out, in and out, on an extending arm.
‘Stop it! Stopffmmth—’ Her cries were smothered by the volley of cotton – wool balls being launched from a protruding nozzle.
All at once there was a loud hiss, and an eau – de – Cologne dispenser flew towards her, spraying the air with sweet perfume. Corby staggered backwards, tripped over the automatic trouser press which had slid out from the alcove next to the doorway, and landed with a thud on the bed.
As she did so, there was a second loud boing! followed by a clunk and a hiss, and the bed flew upwards again, this time slamming shut against the wall – and trapping Corby inside. Outside in the cabin, Corby could hear a hissing sound, like a kettle
coming to the boil, getting louder and louder. With all her might, she pushed against the bed.
It didn’t open, but it shifted slightly, allowing her just enough room to thump on the padded wall she was pressed against. On the other side of the wall was her parents’ cabin, where her father lay in bed.
‘Father!’ Corby shouted with all the breath in her body. ‘Father! Help! Help!’
The hissing was getting louder, and the walls of the cabin were beginning to rattle and shake. From the other side of the wall she could just make out her father’s voice.
‘Corby?’ it was saying. ‘Corby? Is that you?’
‘Help!’ screamed Corby. ‘HELP!’
There was the sound of bumps and things crashing, and then a big jolt as the door to the cabin was thrown open. The next second she heard her father bellowing, ‘Stand back!’ and the confined place she was trapped in filled with a scraping, scratching and scrabbling, and the sound of screws being hurriedly undone.
Suddenly, there was another loud hiss, followed by a click, and the bed lowered itself
elegantly to the floor.
‘Corby!’ an excited and relieved cry went up, and everyone gathered round her. There was her mum (her hair up) and her dad (in crumpled pyjamas), Cedric, Hubert, Ernest and Toby – and, at the back, Serena. The next moment everyone was asking questions at the same time.
‘I don’t know … I haven’t a clue … I don’t have the foggiest idea …’ she answered one after the other. ‘One minute everything was fine, the next it all went wild. The shower, the mirror, the cupboards, the bed …’
Mr Flood, who had been examining the pipes and gauges and electrical circuitry in a small concealed box to the right of the door, tutted loudly.
‘Looks like the steam pressure,’ he said, and shook his head. ‘It was lucky the whole lot didn’t blow up.’
As his words sank in, everyone in the room fell still. The thought of what might have happened was too horrible!
‘Problem is,’ said Mr Flood, looking down, as if surprised to see the spanner in his hand, ‘the whole ship’s been so badly neglected over the years, it was an accident just waiting to happen
Everyone looked at each other, then back at Mr Flood.
‘Anyway,’ he said, clearing his throat, ‘since I’m out of bed now, perhaps I’d better make myself useful and check out a few more things while I’m about it. After all, I’m still an engineer – not an umbrella designer. At least, not just yet.’
Everyone gathered round him, laughing and smiling. Only Corby noticed the sinister figure walking past the open door, and glancing in briefly before continuing along the corridor.
It was Mr Times – Roman, leader of the Brotherhood of Clowns.
6. Love Fish
m so tired. Now I shall close my eyes and sleep. Perhaps, when I wake up, I’ll be back in the palace gardens and the palace cymbal will sound, and the little girl will come …
Captain Belvedere poked his head round the cabin door and waggled his moustache mournfully.
‘Dreadful business,’ he said to anyone who would listen. ‘Something similar happened to Binky Beiderbecker, as I recall, just after the Halfway – There Ceremony on our maiden cruise. Never went near another cocktail shaker again…’
Behind him, the concerned face of Lieutenant Jon – Jolyon Letchworth – Crisp appeared. ‘What a shambles!’ he exclaimed. ‘My dear Miss Flood, are you harmed in any way?’
Jon – Jolyon pushed past the captain and clasped Serena by the hand.
‘I’m fine, silly,’ she smiled. ‘It was Corby who—’
‘Thank goodness!’ exclaimed Jon – Jolyon. ‘Now, come away from that mess this instant. I’ll get Arthur to see to it’
He turned and led Serena away, his voice echoing down the corridor: ‘Arthur! Arthur! Where are you, blast your eyes! Arthur! ’
Just then, the gong sounded for dinner.
‘Come along, everyone,’ said Mrs Flood brightly. ‘We mustn’t let a little accident spoil our appetites.’
Corby shivered. She was far from convinced that it had been ‘a little accident’, as her mother put it. The Brotherhood of Clowns was behind this, she was sure of it. But who was going to listen to a little girl? What Corby needed was proof.
‘Oh, and Winthrop, dear,’ her mother was saying as she noticed her husband’s crumpled pyjamas. ‘Do go and change into something a little more suitable.’
‘What’s that, dear?’ said Mr Flood, looking up from a tangled mass of pipes and wires he was pulling from the wall and examining. ‘Yes, yes. Won’t be a moment … Just checking … Ah, yes … Mmmm
Mrs Flood gave an exasperated shrug. ‘Cedric! Hubert! Ernest! Toby! Time for dinner!’
‘I could eat a horse,’ said Cedric, following his mother.
‘I could eat a camel,’ said Hubert.
‘I could eat an elephant!’ exclaimed Ernest.
‘And I,’ cried Toby, ‘could eat a whole whale!’
They trooped out of the cabin.
‘How about you, sis?’ called back Hubert.
‘Oh, I’m not very hungry,’ said Corby. The last thing she felt like was having dinner with the Brotherhood of Clowns. ‘I think I’ll go on deck for a little bit.’
She left her father happily dismantling the cabin and went up onto the top deck.
It was a perfect night. The air was balmy and still, and the sea was like a millpond. Corby lay back on a padded deckchair and stared up at the hazy spread of twinkling stars above her head. Then she picked up her pencil and opened Hoffendinck’s Guide …
HOFFENDINCK’s GUIDE
TOWNS OF THE DALCRETIAN COAST
FEDRUN
The pretty coastal town of Fedrun is renowned for its pancakes and sweet cucumbers. Wander through its winding cobbled streets and soak up the quaint, rustic charm.
The hat – making district is particularly interesting. Don’t miss the chance to have your head measured and fitted for a ‘fedrun’ – the famous conical hat worn by the local fishermen.
See also the famous dancing pig of Fedrun, which is reputed to know over two hundred different dances, and performs at Fedrun’s riotous ‘Longest Afternoon’ festivities.
‘Oh, look!’ came a voice from her left.
Corby closed Hoffendinck’s Guide and looked across the deck, and there – leaning against the safety rails and bathed in the flickering light of the ship’s hanging lanterns – were Jon – Jolyon and Serena. Jon – Jolyon had one arm around her sister’s shoulder and was pointing ahead with the other.
How like Serena, thought Corby. Out on deck, gazing up at the stars. It was like a scene from one of those cheap romantic novels her sister was always reading. They had titles like The Yearning Heart and Love Finds Letitia.
Corby sighed. Give me Hoffendinck’s Guide any day, she thought.
‘A shooting star,’ Jon – Jolyon was saying. ‘Did you see it?’
‘N … no, I don’t think I did,’ said Serena dreamily.
‘Oh, well, never mind,’ said Jon – Jolyon. ‘Make a wish anyway. Hurry now
Serena giggled. ‘Oh, how romantic. I’m going to wish for—’
‘Sssh!’ said Jon – Jolyon, turning and placing his index finger against her lips. ‘Don’t say it out loud or it won’t come true. Besides, Serena, at the risk of flattering myself, I think I know what your wish is …’
‘How conceited,’ Corby muttered to herself.
Jon – Jolyon leaned forwards, his eyes closed, until his face was inches from Serena’s.
Just then, there was a faint hissing sound as a dazzling white meteor appeared out of nowhere and sliced down through the sky.
‘Look! Another shooting star!’ cried Serena, clapping her hands with excitement. ‘Did you see it?’
Jon – Jolyon opened his eyes. ‘Y … yes,’ he said.
But Corby knew he hadn’t.
‘Now it’s your turn to make a wish,’ said Serena.
‘I wish …’ said Jon – Jolyon, leaning closer to Serena once more, ‘that
‘Oh, Letchworth – Crisp!’ came Captain Belvedere’s voice, floating up from the dining room. ‘Letchworth – Crisp! Come quickly! There seems to be a problem with the automatic tables. There’s rice pudding all over the ceiling … Letchworth – Crisp!’
‘It’s that Arthur’s fault!’ muttered Jon – Jolyon tetchily. ‘Still, what can one expect from a third engineer? I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ he told Serena as he strode off.
Serena turned back to the sea. Far away, down on the horizon, the full moon was beginning to appear. A golden sliver it was at first, which grew as it rose, until a shimmering light stretched out across the ocean towards them like a yellow – brick road. Corby was just about to join her, when she heard a strange clanging noise just behind her.
She spun round, heart racing, half expecting to see Mr Times – Roman and the Brotherhood of Clowns. But instead, she caught sight of a sooty head poking out of a rusty funnel.
‘Sorry if I startled you, miss,’ said the head, which was
smiling and, Corby could see as he clambered out of the funnel, belonged to a young man in grubby overalls. The name’s Arthur.’
The young man held out a grubby hand.
‘So you’re Arthur!’ said Corby. The third engineer!’
That’s right, miss. Pleased to meet you – although not so much third engineer as only engineer on this old tub. As well as ship’s cook, ship’s doctor and ship’s dogsbody. Just can’t get the crew these days!’ He gave her a dazzling smile, and Corby couldn’t help smiling back.
‘I was just checking this intake duct because – I don’t know if you’ve noticed, miss, but we’ve been having a little trouble in the galley.’
‘Please call me Corby,’ she said, shaking his hand. ‘And you’re not the only engineer on this tub. My father’s an engineer, too – and a very good one at that!’
‘Really?’ said Arthur. Is that a fact? Well, you tell him from me, Miss Corby, that if he ever feels a little rusty and fancies keeping his eye in, then there’s a poor, harassed, overworked third engineer who could certainly do with some help!’
Arthur turned and made for the stairway down to the lower deck.
‘I will, Arthur,’ she called. ‘As soon as he’s finished mending my cabin.’
But Arthur didn’t hear her. He’d stopped stock – still in mid – stride and was staring at Serena, who was standing a few feet away, beside the safety railing where Jon – Jolyon had left her. The silvery moonlight was glinting on the waves and, as Arthur and Serena’s eyes met, the sound of a thousand tiny, flapping wings filled the air.