by Paul Stewart
‘Your mother, your father, your sister and your brothers?’ said Nico.
‘I know, I know,’ said Corby, tears streaming down her face. It was the most difficult decision she had ever had to make, but she knew she couldn’t board the Queen Rita II and simply sail away, not with the Brotherhood of Clowns on the loose. Turn round!’ she sobbed. ‘Just turn round!’
Spiro shook his head, and Nico muttered in the
language that Corby didn’t understand, but they turned the boat in a wide arc and, as the great ocean liner glided past, headed back to Doralakia.
It was then that it happened.
The rickety old engine gave a wheezy, choking, rattling cough and spluttered to a stop. The boat began to drift out to sea.
‘What now?’ said Corby, trying to sound calmer than she felt.
Nico and Spiro produced two small paddles.
‘We sail, how you say …’
‘Under our own steam,’ said Spiro.
‘Only,’ added Nico, ‘it might take rather a long time!’
19. The Longest Afternoon
have been bathed and my skin has been oiled. I am wearing garlands of sweet – smelling flowers. It is almost as if I was back in the palace gardens, only better …
But what is this? A sweet white petal? Where did that come from?
It tastes good … Look, there is another … And another …
Mmmm!
Doralakia looked spectacular. All morning the townsfolk had worked feverishly, making the garlands of flowers and preparing the brightly coloured banners that now festooned every tower house.
They had strung rows of paper lanterns on ropes between the tall walls of the buildings, and set out long tables round the harbourside, which they were now piling high with all the delicious food that Doralakia had to offer. Strings of spicy sausages and great jars of juicy olives nestled between huge platters, piled high with honeyed pancakes and sweet cucumbers. Flat, oven – fresh bread filled the harbour air with a delicious aroma, as did the huge dishes of espadoriots – rich custard flans for which Dalcretia was rightly famous.
In pride of place was the table outside the Hundred – Years – Old Grocery Store, on which Mama Mesapoliki had laid out her most treasured tins: AMBERSIDE’s STEWED PRUNES; TARTAN BOB’s CORNED BEEF HASH WITH ONIONS. And the magnificent corrugated – sided square – shaped tin with two keys stuck to its lid – ARCHDUKE FERDINAND S SARDINES ON BUTTERED TOAST, WITH EXTRA TOAST!
The front of the Hundred – Years – Old Grocery Store was bedecked with garlands of flowers from the mountain meadows, and a wooden ramp covered in red carpet had been placed at its front steps. Outside, the Doralakia town band – in freshly laundered red caps with tassels on the ends – were tuning up their eighteen – string baloukies – large stringed instruments, made of brass, that could be played with a bow and blown into at the same time.
Everywhere, people were talking and singing, dancing and clapping, laughing and exchanging excited greetings. Not just the townsfolk of Doralakia either, for news had spread fast along the Dalcretian coast that today Doralakia was to have a Longest Afternoon. All morning, small parties had been arriving from Fedrun, Lissari and even Mesapoli, bearing gifts and contributions for the festivities.
There were fishermen wearing tall fedrun hats carrying jars of honey, Lissari matrons in colourful turbans bringing fabric banners, and a party of five old ladies in the black cloaks, long dresses and large turbans of Mesapoli, carrying an enormous rolled – up carpet. They seemed to be in rather a bad mood, so nobody paid them much attention.
The streets and tower houses of Doralakia buzzed with rumours and gossip about the extraordinary creature in the grocery store. Some said it was a sneezing bear, others that it was a reciting dog, while others were utterly convinced that a laughing goat had returned to Doralakia.
But whatever the truth or otherwise of these rumours, one thing was certain. Neither Mayor Pavel nor Mama Mesapoliki was saying a word, and nor was the clockmaker or his beautiful daughter, Lara. And as for Spiro and Nico Mesapoliki, well, nobody had clapped eyes on them since they’d taken the little girl in the bumblebee costume to catch the big ship.
‘Wait till twelve o’clock,’ was all Mayor Pavel would say with a huge smile and a wag of his long white beard, when anyone asked him. ‘But one thing I will tell you is that you won’t be disappointed!’
The sun was high in the sky by the time the pale – blue boat finally reached the shore. Despite Spiro and Nico paddling furiously, the strong Dalcretian tides had swept them down the coast, far from Doralakia.
‘At last,’ gasped Spiro, pulling the boat onto the pebbly beach. ‘On land we will make fast time, Corby Flood.’
‘Now we travel as the goat gallops,’ said Nico, stooping down so that Corby could climb onto his shoulders. ‘Up and over the mountains to Doralakia. Spiro, he know the short cut.’
They set off, leaping from boulder to boulder as they scaled the mountainside in front of them. Corby looked back. Nico was right, they were travelling fast. Already the beach was far behind them, and in a few
minutes they were almost at the top of the mountain. As they came over the peak, the bleats of the mountain goats filling the air all round them, Corby saw the tower houses of Doralakia in the distance.
Down the mountain they ran – as sure – footed as the mountain goats – and up the other side. Half an hour later Corby could see, not only the tops of the tower houses, but also the streets between them and the pretty harbourside, thronging with the colourful crowds who had gathered for the Longest Afternoon.
‘Not long now,’ panted Spiro.
Almost there,’ gasped Nico.
‘Watch out!’ cried Corby.
For there, in the middle of the rocky goat track, sat five little old ladies in yellowing underwear, their arms tied firmly behind their backs.
‘Aunties!’ shouted Nico and Spiro, coming to an abrupt halt. ‘Where are your black cloaks, your long dresses, your large turbans … ?’
Twelve o’clock arrived and the big crowd in the pretty harbour square could scarcely contain their excitement. Mayor Pavel raised his hand and the Doralakia
town band broke into a spirited rendition of The Lament of St George’. As it finished, Mama Mesapoliki opened the door of the Hundred – Years –Old Grocery Store and the crowd waited …
And waited …
And waited …
A low buzz spread through the crowd. Where was the amazing creature? Mayor Pavel and Mama Mesapoliki exchanged puzzled glances and disappeared inside the grocery store. Moments later, they emerged.
‘Mama Mesapoliki, she say,’ gasped Mayor Pavel, ‘that the back door is wide open. And the creature, it has disappeared!’
Just then, there came a chorus of indignant shrieks as a bunch of tiny old ladies in yellowed underwear came rushing down the steep, cobbled streets, shouting at the tops of their voices, together with Spiro and Nico, who had Corby Flood up on his shoulders.
‘Mama’s sisters from Mesapoli,’ shouted Nico. ‘They say five men in green hats the colour of bottles, they stole their clothes and their second – best picnic carpet!’
‘Look!’ shouted Corby, pointing. ‘Over there!’
The crowd turned and there, down by the harbour quayside, were the five old ladies in black cloaks who everyone had assumed were from Mesapoli. They were sneaking out of town, clutching an enormous rolled – up carpet. The crowd looked at the tiny old ladies in their underwear who had surrounded Mama Mesapoliki, and were waving their arms about like tiny windmills, then back at the old ladies at the harbourside. The puzzled murmurs grew louder.
‘Don’t just stand there!’ cried Corby helplessly, as Nico and Spiro tried to barge their way through the crowd. ‘Somebody … anybody! Do something!’
As the last of the cloaked old ladies disappeared round the corner of the quayside square, the crowd surged forwards, pointing and shouting and waving their hands in the air. Up t
he steep cobbled Street of Hatmakers they ran, through Fishwife Square and down Laughing Goat Lane, chasing after the old ladies – who seemed remarkably quick and strong for their age. Then, as they rounded the water pump at the end of the Avenue of Tassel Weavers, the crowd came to a stumbling halt.
Up on Nico’s shoulders, Corby looked round desperately. Which way had they gone? She didn’t know – and neither, it seemed, did the crowd, who were all pointing this way and that and scratching their heads.
Just then, from the top of the tallest tower house in Doralakia, a familiar voice rang out.
‘The mayor,’ said Spiro excitedly to Corby, ‘he say, they went that way!’
‘Back to our pretty harbour,’ said Nico.
The crowd surged back down the hill and, sure enough, there at the quayside once more were the old ladies – four of them still clutching the rolled – up carpet, while the fifth struggled to untie a gently bobbing fishing boat.
‘Stop them!’ Corby shouted. They’re getting away!’ As the crowd closed in, one of the old ladies slipped and bumped into another, who slipped and bumped into the next, who slipped and bumped into the next.
All four old ladies fell over and lay there, waggling their feet in the air.
Somebody in the crowd giggled. Then somebody else, and then, like a wave breaking on the harbour quayside, the whole crowd burst into laughter.
The fifth old lady spun round and tore off her cloak.
‘Mr Times – Roman!’ shouted Corby above the laughter of the crowd.
‘Nobody laughs at the Brotherhood of Clowns!’ snarled Mr Times – Roman, shaking his fist. ‘And gets away with— Pplplpp!’ A custard espadoriot sailed through the air and landed squarely in his face.
‘Oi!’ shouted the second old lady, throwing off his cloak in turn.
Splat!
Mr Franklin – Gothic, too, received a face full of Dalcretian custard flan, and the crowd roared with laughter all the louder.
Splat! Splat! Splat!
Mr Bembo, Mr Palatino and Mr Garamond all got a face full. They tripped over the enormous carpet and fell into the harbour, taking a wildly flailing Franklin – Gothic and Times – Roman with them.
The crowd broke into loud applause. Moving out from behind a quayside table piled high with espado – riot flans, four boys stepped forward and took a bow.
‘Cedric! Hubert! Ernest! Toby!’ Corby cried, as Nico reached the front of the crowd and helped her down from his shoulders.
‘Those naughty clowns,’ said Spiro, beside him.
‘We help them out of the water,’ said Nico, ‘then Mama, she have a very stern word with them!’
‘Hi, sis!’ cried Toby, giving her a hug. ‘Thought you looked as if you needed a hand.’
‘Well played!’ laughed Ernest.
‘Nicely done!’ agreed Hubert.
‘Crisp as a Gibbons shirt on washday,’ added Cedric.
Corby gave each of them an enormous hug.
‘And Mother and Father?’ she asked. ‘And Serena?’
‘They’re right behind us,’ said Toby, pointing out to sea. ‘Father said we could come on ahead in one of the lifeboats he’s modified. They’re brilliant!’
Around her, the crowd had broken into wild cheering as the deep sound of a ship’s horn rang out. Corby turned and there, coming into the harbour of the little town of Doralakia for the first time in so, so long, was none other than the S.S. Euphonia herself!
20. Mr. Hoffendinck
here am I? It’s dark …
I can hear laughter … clapping … cheers …
The S.S. Euphonia docked at the harbour quayside in moments, and a gangplank descended smoothly on perfectly functioning mechanical arms. The crowd cheered and threw their red tasselled caps high in the air as the Doralakia town band struck up The Lament of St George’, which was the only tune they all knew.
Mr and Mrs Flood waved to the crowd as they came ashore, followed by Serena and a shifty – looking Lieutenant Jon – Jolyon Letchworth – Crisp.
‘Darling!’ exclaimed Mrs Flood, rushing up and hugging her youngest child. ‘We were so worried!’
Mr Flood took off his glasses and seemed to have something in his eye. ‘Daughter!’ he said, and knelt down and embraced Corby.
‘Father!’ Corby cried. ‘I tried to tell you about the creature but—’
‘Jonny!’ came a loud shriek, and Lara, the clock – maker’s beautiful daughter, came rushing through the crowd. ‘Jon – Jonny! Is you! From the big ship!’ She clasped Lieutenant Jon – Jolyon Letchworth – Crisp in a big hug.
Jon – Jolyon looked distinctly uncomfortable. ‘Ah, Serena,’ he said, as smoothly as he could manage. ‘Let me introduce you to Lara Fulda. I made her father’s acquaintance a few years ago, when I was … er … fourth engineer aboard the Queen Rita…’
‘The big ship!’ said Lara. ‘But Jon – Jonny, why you so cold? And why you no come back? You said you loved me, remember, Jonny?’
‘Please, Serena,’ said Jon – Jolyon, trying to prise Lara off. ‘Let me explain—’ Thwack!
Serena slapped his face, then marched over to a smiling Corby and hugged her.
‘Lara, please, I—’ began Jon – Jolyon. Thwack! Lara turned and marched off towards her father’s tower house.
Just then, Arthur appeared at the top of the gangplank. He was standing next to the man from Cabin 21, and he had his arm around his shoulders. He seemed to be coaxing him to step onto the gangplank, though without much success.
‘Come on, Father,’ Arthur was saying. ‘It’s been so long since you last set foot on dry land …’
‘Father?’ said Serena, turning and running back up the gangplank. ‘I had no idea that you were Arthur’s father,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ said Arthur, a little sadly, Corby thought. ‘Father is the reason I cannot leave the Euphonia.’
Serena turned to Arthur’s father and smiled sweetly. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Take my hand. It’ll be all right, trust me.’
The man from Cabin 21 trembled, but put a foot tentatively on the gangplank all the same.
‘That’s the way,’ smiled Serena. ‘You can do it.’
Slowly and unsteadily, the man from Cabin 21 crept down the gangplank and, pausing for an instant, stepped onto the quayside of Doralakia.
‘My old friend!’ cried Mayor Konstantin Pavel, rushing up and falling to his knees. ‘How can you ever forgive me and Doralakia for your terrible loss?’
The man from Cabin 21 took off his dark glasses with trembling fingers and looked deep into Mayor Konstantin’s eyes.
‘It’s been too long, Konstantin,’ he said in a shaky voice. ‘All those years I shut myself away with my memories …’ He looked at Arthur and Serena, who were holding hands, and back at the mayor. ‘The time
has come to move on,’ he said. Of course I forgive you, old friend.’
Just then, Konstantin saw Corby, and he motioned her to join him. ‘I have someone here I’d like you to meet,’ he said. ‘Corby Flood, this is Mr Hoffendinck.’ And he smiled at the look of surprise on Corby’s face.
‘Very pleased to meet you, Corby Flood,’ said Mr Hoffendinck. ‘Very pleased indeed.’
For a minute, Corby was lost for words. Then, her fingers trembling, she held out her copy of Hoffendinck’s Guide. ‘I’ve read every word,’ she breathed.
At that moment Mr and Mrs Hattenswiller appeared together with Captain Boris Belvedere who, for once, wasn’t looking his usual gloomy self. Instead, he had a twinkle in his eye and a positively jaunty spring in his step as he walked down the gangplank.
‘Ah, there you are, little girl!’ he smiled, twitching his walrus moustache. ‘The Hattenswillers here are full of admiration for your courage and quick – witted – ness.’
‘They are?’ said Corby.
‘Whiffl – whhiffl!’ said Mrs Hattenswiller.
‘Mmumm – mmumm!’ said Mr Hattenswiller.
‘You see!’ said Capt
ain Belvedere delightedly. ‘The Hattenswillers are world – famous private detectives. They specialize in clown crime and have been on the trail of the Brotherhood of Clowns for months.’
‘You mean, you can actually understand what they’re saying?’ said Corby, amazed.
‘But of course, clear as a bell,’ said Captain Belvedere with a dry laugh. It was the first time Corby had heard him laugh. ‘They heard of the theft of the personal property of the Begum of Dandoon.
Snatched from the palace gardens, they tell me. They recognized it as the work of the brotherhood straight away. They were planning to spring their trap when we got to Harbour Heights, but that was before the Brotherhood of Clowns ran into you …’
‘Mmumm – mmm,’ said Mr Hattenswiller, nodding his conical hat at Corby.
‘Precisely,’ said Captain Belvedere with another dry laugh. ‘Very well put, Hattenswiller, old chap. Anyway, you – my dear little girl – have caught them red – handed! I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t a substantial reward, knowing the Begum!’
But Corby wasn’t listening, because she’d heard a sound. It was like a sad wolf singing to the moon, or a lonely songbird calling to its mate … And it was coming from the enormous rolled – up carpet on the quayside.
Corby rushed over to it, followed by the mayor, Mr Hoffendinck, her parents, her brothers, Captain Belvedere, the Hattenswillers, Arthur and Serena, Lieutenant Jon – Jolyon Letchworth – Crisp, who was ruefully rubbing two very red cheeks, Mama Mesapoliki, her sisters, and Spiro and Nico with five very wet clowns in their clutches.
‘Stand back, everyone!’ commanded Mayor Konstantin Pavel. The Longest Afternoon is about to commence,’ he announced, as Corby leaned down and gently unrolled the carpet …
Epilogue