A Tangle of Magic

by Valija Zinck

  Granny Elizabeth was kneeling down in the vegetable patch in front of the dragon house, between the celery and the carrots, doing some weeding. She looked up as Penelope hopped up the wooden steps. ‘Ah, there you are. You can give me a hand. Lucia needs some peace and quiet, and I’m going to tackle these dratted creeper corms. As it’s hardly rained this year, maybe we can knock them on the head once and for all. The pointed shovel’s over there,’ she said, tugging at a stubborn root.

  ‘Maybe later, Granny!’ she called out, cheerfully. Penelope had no intention of doing any weeding right now. She wanted to tell her mother about Tom’s cinema vouchers first, even if she did need peace and quiet. She quickly slipped into the house before Granny could protest.

  ‘Muuuuum! Guess what happened today?’

  Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the wall.

  ‘Mum?’ Penelope put her backpack down and went over to the table. Her mother didn’t say anything, but simply nodded to the envelope in front of her. A grey envelope with a sticker on it.

  ‘Has he only sent five pounds again?’ Penelope’s lip trembled slightly. She didn’t want to think that the man who was her father could do such a thing.

  ‘No,’ said her mother tonelessly. ‘He’s sent sand.’

  ‘Sand?’

  ‘Yes. Sand and feathers. Look in the envelope. That’s what he expects us to live on this month.’

  Penelope took the envelope. She could feel little grains through the paper.

  ‘If I could get my hands on that man, I’d . . .’ whispered her mother. ‘Why can’t he just stop this? He can keep his stupid money as far as I’m concerned, I can manage without it. But why does he have to torment me like this? Hasn’t he got anything better to do? What’s he getting out of all this? I’ve never done anything to hurt him. Never. I don’t understand . . . we loved each other so much.’

  Penelope was at a loss for words. She didn’t understand it either. She wanted to comfort her mother, but had no idea how. Her chest felt tight; in the same spot where music and happiness had been only yesterday a choking feeling was taking root. The feeling spread through her lungs, tightening her chest. Penelope had never felt so full of rage, had never felt such an uncontrollable fury as she felt towards the man who had sent this envelope. And that anger drove her upstairs and into her room, where she pulled the book out from its hiding place under the mattress.

  I’ll find something in here. Something that will hurt you, Leo Gardener. I swear it.

  Her hands shaking, she leafed past the wheel pictures in search of the book’s contents page, but there was nothing but greyish pages tangled with green tendrils, one after another.

  ‘Fine. I don’t need the contents, I can find what I need myself!’ She carried on turning the pages, trembling, but every one was identical to the last.

  She remembered last time – how the words had bloomed gradually before her eyes. ‘OK, I get it. I’ve got to wait,’ she growled, and stared grimly at the green shoots. ‘Well, get on with it, then.’ She stared and stared, but nothing happened. ‘OK, then, just forget it!’ The book clattered on to the floorboards. ‘To heck with you, Alpha Regius – I’ll find some way of getting back at him without your help.’ She stared out of the window with a poisonous look on her face. ‘I need a few good ideas, that’s all.’

  But the good ideas would have to wait. Good ideas didn’t like anger, Penelope knew that – they tended to keep their distance until the anger had spent itself. But that just made Penelope even madder. She looked around the room wildly, searching for something she could break.

  She heard a miaow outside her bedroom door. She opened it, shouted, ‘Push off, Coco!’ and was about to slam the door shut, but Coco had already squeezed her way in and was looking at Penelope so scathingly that she had to bite her lip.

  The cat sat down next to the book on the floor and stuck her nose in the air. She sneezed, then jumped on to the bed and gazed into Penelope’s eyes expectantly. Penelope looked away at first, but after a while she picked the book up off the floor and laid it on the table. ‘Happy now?’ she grumbled. Coco yawned, turned around several times on the spot, and sank into the cushions. Penelope waited, but the cat ignored her.

  ‘What is it now?’

  Coco was washing her back vigorously.

  Penelope sat down on the bed. Coco just carried on washing.

  ‘OK, OK. I’m sorry.’

  Immediately a paw landed in her lap. That meant: Apology accepted, you may stroke me now. Penelope didn’t need telling twice. She stroked the grey fur, again and again, her heart calming a little every time she moved her hand over Coco’s sleek coat. The last traces of her anger faded away and finally vanished altogether. And as Coco licked her hand, Penelope saw the first glimmer of a plan taking shape in her mind’s eye.

  She had to go to Blackslough. There were no two ways about it. She had to go there and track down her father and stop him from tormenting her mother any longer. Finding him might be rather difficult, without an exact address – but then again, maybe it wouldn’t be too difficult, for in a month’s time her father would send another of his grey envelopes. They always arrived on the seventh . . .

  Penelope would go to Blackslough the day before, then, on the sixth of July. She’d camp out at the post office. No – first she’d have to make sure all the postboxes in the village were out of order. Some superglue might do the job . . . yes, she would glue up the flaps on all the postboxes – except the one at the post office, then anyone in the village who wanted to send anything on the sixth of July would have to use that one. Then all Penelope would have to do was wait. If a man came along and posted a letter in a dark-grey envelope, she’d follow him. She’d trail him back to his house and then she would . . . Penelope glanced out the window at Granny weeding the front garden. That’s it, she would throw creeper corms into his garden! It would be perfect. If he didn’t weed them out right away, they’d overgrow his whole house and garden, clinging to the walls and slowly destroying his foundations.

  Or she could pour sand into his letter box. Or she could paint his window panes grey and leave some of her red hairs drying in the paint. Or . . . she could simply ring the doorbell.

  Yes. That was it. She’d pour water over her head, ring the doorbell and say, ‘I’m Penelope Gardener!’ She’d look at him through narrowed eyes. ‘If you think your grey envelopes are funny, you’re wrong. In future you can keep your money and build sandcastles with your stupid sand, for all we care!’ Perhaps her father would take a breath and start to say something, but Penelope would be quicker. ‘Save your apologies for someone who wants to hear them.’ Then she would simply turn around and walk away.

  ‘Penelope! Wait, please!’ Her father was bound to follow her, but she wouldn’t stop. Maybe he’d say something else, but she wouldn’t listen. She would have already taken root, shouted ‘Semus triokko!’ and taken off into the sky. She’d leave him behind, his words crumbling to dust around him. And then she’d throw the creeper corms down too, for good measure.

  Yes. That was a better plan. But in order to carry it out, she’d have to:

  Find out where this Blackslough was, and how to get there.

  Dye her hair grey again. She didn’t want her father to sense her presence before she rang the bell, after all – that would totally defeat the object.

  Buy some brown hair dye to cover the grey, because her father would be sure to notice a grey-haired child at the post office. And he’d know exactly how she came to have hair like that – he was the one who’d made the ash paste, after all.

  ‘Pennyyyyy!’ Mrs Gardener’s warm voice echoed up the stairs. ‘You said you wanted to tell me something. Come down, let’s not let that idiot ruin our day.’

  Oh, yes – Penelope still hadn’t said anything to her mother about the cinema trip tomorrow. Her heart lightened at the thought – plus, she realized, she’d be able to buy some brown hair dye at the shopping centre. The movie marat
hon really was a double stroke of luck.

  20

  Movie Marathon

  The next day at eleven o’clock, Penelope was standing with Tom and Pete on a very long escalator, travelling up to the cinema. The Ring Centre was an enormous glass complex, with lots of shops, restaurants, hair salons and cafes, crowned by a multi-screen cinema on the top floor.

  ‘We’ve definitely got to see Killer Whale 3 first,’ said Tom, grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘Stuff that,’ said Pete. ‘We’re starting with either Horror Fighter or The Mushrooms of Terror, like we agreed.’

  Penelope was beginning to wonder whether a movie marathon with the two boys had been such a great idea, but suddenly they both snorted.

  ‘Just kidding. We know we’re in the presence of a lady.’ The boys laughed uproariously, leaning on the escalator railing. But when she said, ‘Well, in that case I think we should see The Moon Dust Fairy Finds Her Magic Pony,’ they grew oddly silent and Penelope smirked behind her hand.

  On arriving at the cinema, they finally settled unanimously on Storm on the High Seas as their first film, and settled down with cups of slush in the huge, almost empty theatre. The film was a bit boring, Tom and Pete started a running commentary on the actors’ hairstyles and noses, and Penelope found herself creasing up with laughter. She really liked Tom, and she really liked Pete, but as a double act they were simply unbeatable. They had the knack of making almost anything seem funny. But the boys were quiet during the next film, Save Yourselves from Soramo, as that one was totally gripping. Penelope almost grabbed Pete’s hand during one especially exciting bit, but she pulled herself together.

  Later they recovered with popcorn in the foyer. Penelope’s heart was still beating a little faster than usual, and the noises around her seemed far too loud. Tom stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth and wiped his fingers on his jeans. ‘Hey, look – The Lord of the Seven Kingdoms is starting in a minute. Shall we get some more ice creams and go back in?’

  ‘I could do with a bit of a break, guys,’ said Penelope decisively. ‘Why don’t you go and see the killer whale film? I’ll go for a bit of a wander round the shops, and we can meet up again at five, maybe?’

  Tom and Pete pretended to be indignant, but Penelope could tell from the way their eyes lit up that the killer whale idea was a winner. Penelope took the escalator down to the shops and walked along past windows full of garish clothes, jewellery and stationery. I’d just better watch I don’t get lost in here, she thought.

  The next moment a fleeting shiver suddenly passed across the back of her neck and ran down her spine.

  Someone like me!

  Penelope spun round. There was someone around here somewhere who was the same as her! Her curiosity started to fight her caution – she had longed to find someone like her, someone to advise her and answer her questions . . . she had to speak to them! They were really close by, too – she could feel it. But where? There were so many people pushing past her that it was difficult to tell. She looked to the left, to the right, she rocked up on to the tips of her toes. She tried to gaze into the eyes of the passers-by, but far from their eyes lighting up as they recognized one of their own, people appeared to be unnerved. The person like her was growing further away, not closer, the feeling was weakening, and suddenly it vanished altogether. Penelope felt sad and frustrated, as if she’d lost something precious. She waited, scanning the crowd, but she couldn’t feel anyone.

  After a while, she gave up. She carried on browsing the shops until a shoe shop caught her eye. It had shoelaces in the window – shoelaces in all the colours of the rainbow! Less than a minute later she was the proud owner of a pair of electric-blue laces. She’d finally be able to give Pete his shoelace back.

  She glanced at the clock. She had quite a while before five, when she’d promised to meet up with Tom and Pete. Plenty of time to locate a chemist’s shop in the huge complex, and buy a packet of brown hair dye.

  Penelope eventually found herself in the chemist on the ground floor, but as she scanned the endless shelf of hair dyes, she started to wonder whether she had enough time after all. Choosing between light, medium and dark brown was just the start – how on earth was she supposed to choose between Mahogany Brown, Chestnut Brown, Rust Brown, Cocoa Brown, Lanzarote Brown, Alder Brown and Hazel Brown? Or what about Icelandic Earth Brown?

  She took a box of Icelandic Earth Brown off the shelf, and was about to read the back of it when her neck tingled again, and a fleeting tremor passed down her spine. Before Penelope could turn around to find the person like her, someone tapped her on the shoulder.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ exclaimed a girl’s voice. ‘We’ve been living here for three years, and I’ve never met a single person of our kind until now!’

  A slender girl with strawberry-blonde hair, a little taller than Penelope, was standing opposite her. She was wearing a bottle-green dress and ankle boots, and was staring at Penelope through pale, close-set eyes.

  ‘Where have you sprung from all of a sudden?’ asked the girl. But all Penelope could do was stare open-mouthed at the girl, too tongue-tied to reply. Someone like me! she kept thinking, excitedly. Someone who could help explain . . . everything!

  ‘Are you just visiting or do you live here? Why are you looking at hair colouring stuff – does it work on you, then? Nothing happened whatsoever when I tried it. My mum said that was normal for people like us – the colour just won’t go in, no matter what you do. And one time my brother tried . . . Oh, I’m sorry, I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Gina. What’s your name?’ The girl held out a slim, pale hand to Penelope.

  ‘Penelope,’ she managed to say, slowly coming out of her trance. She reached for the girl’s hand and shook it.

  21

  Gina

  ‘That’s an interesting name. So, what’s up?’ ‘I’m here with my friends,’ Penelope said. ‘We’re having a movie marathon – but I’m skipping the killer whale movie.’

  ‘It’s so cool to finally meet one of us! Hey, want to come back to mine for a bit? I mean, I know we’ve only just met but I live right round the corner and it would be cool to talk properly without, you know . . .’ She waved her hand at the crowds of people in the shopping centre.

  If anyone else had asked her that, Penelope might have tapped her forehead and said, ‘Excuse me? I’ve known you for exactly three seconds. Why would I want to come back to yours?’ But it was different with this Gina: Penelope wanted to go with her, to see what her house was like, and her family, and her world. The girl was certainly peculiar, but that was the point: Penelope was peculiar too, and she’d never met anyone else like that.

  ‘OK. But I’ve got to be back up at the cinema by five. My friends will be waiting for me,’ she said.

  ‘Friends? Are they . . . ?’ A slightly greedy expression came over Gina’s face, then vanished immediately as Penelope shook her head. ‘Oh, well, I guess that would be a bit much, all in one day. Anyway, we can get you back here for five, no worries. Like I said, I live really close by.’ She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, linked her arm through Penelope’s and pulled her towards the checkout. Penelope paid for the hair dye, and then Gina led her out of the Ring Centre and towards a large block of flats across the road.

  On the way Gina asked Penelope so many questions that her head began to ache. She answered the non-stop stream as best she could; she told Gina that she hardly ever came to town and that up until a short time ago her hair hadn’t even been like this. She didn’t really want to explain that any further – after all, even though Gina was just like her, that didn’t mean Penelope had to spill the beans on everything. But she did tell her that she’d inherited her hair, and other things, from her father, and that she didn’t know him. In turn, Gina told Penelope that she and her family felt a little bit lonely living here. It was easier for her brother, Gian, because he was already fourteen, so he could go on ‘courses’ in the school holidays.

  ‘Wh
at kind of courses?’ asked Penelope.

  ‘Well, there are these training courses run by the Alpha Regius people. They don’t let you start till you’re eleven. Don’t you think that’s stupid? But I’ve already taught myself a whole bunch of stuff, and . . . oh, hi, Mrs Jaluschek,’ Gina nodded to an old lady who was just coming out of the glass door of an apartment block, ‘sorry, no time to chat right now!’ and pulled Penelope by the arm into a rather dingy stairwell.

  ‘Who is Alpha Regius?’ Penelope asked, recognizing the name from her book.

  Gina’s eyebrows rose up.

  ‘Is? Who was Alpha Regius would be the better question. He isn’t alive any more, but he started the whole training thing.’

  Before Penelope could ask any other questions, they rode up to the eighth floor in a lift that smelt of cigarette smoke. Penelope could feel the shiver on the back of her neck again, much more strongly than before. More people like me!

  Gina was just about to unlock the door to her flat when it flew open of its own accord. A tall freckled lady with a black sun hat in her hand stood in the doorway, beaming.

  ‘Oh, Gina! You’ve brought a guest! Wonderful, that’s wonderful – come in, you two. I must say, it’s very refreshing to see someone like us around here. Would you like some lemonade? Or would you prefer juice? Of course, there’s coffee as well . . . I could put some ice cream out . . . would you like some cherries to take up to your room? Or . . . no, you must come and sit with me on the balcony, I’ll put the shade on it so we don’t get too hot. Gian is in his room, we’ll fetch him too, of course – and then, my dear fire-red child, you must tell us where you—’

  ‘Mum!’ Gina flashed a look at her mother.

  ‘Oh, I beg your pardon! I’m sorry, of course, I understand, you girls want to be alone. So, just give me a shout if you need anything, and if you do want to come and join me on the balcony, then . . . um, yes, OK, I’ll just . . .’ She darted down the hallway and disappeared behind a door.