by Emily Rodda
“Do you want another biscuit, Patrick dear?” asked Estelle. “More milk?”
“I will, I will!” Danny piped up, holding up his plate and glass.
“No, I’m right, thanks,” Patrick mumbled. He checked Estelle’s hand again, just to be sure. Yes, there was no doubt about it. Her ring fitted the description in the clue exactly, except for one thing. It didn’t have the rich, glowing colours he’d imagined. The band was pale yellow instead of bright gold. The three heart-shaped stones were a rather watery pink, instead of ruby red. But upstairs in the bathroom, Patrick had realised that this was the final proof that the ring came from the other side of the Barrier. Boopie’s yellow feather had looked faded and cream-coloured when he brought it home. The pictures in Clyde O’Brien’s book had looked delicate and soft at Chestnut Tree Village, but boldly colourful at Finders Keepers. Obviously, things that crossed the Barrier didn’t show their true colours.
“Patrick, you aren’t feeling sick, are you, dear heart?” Estelle leaned over the kitchen table to feel his forehead. “You’re a bit warm. Maybe you’d better have a little lie down.”
“I’m OK,” said Patrick, trying to smile. He looked under his eyelashes at her hand as she drew it away. “Estelle,” he went on, in what he hoped was a casual way. “You know your ring? Have you had it a long time?”
She jumped a little nervously, and put her left hand over the ring, as if to protect it. “Oh … I don’t really know. Why, Patrick?”
He shrugged, and looked around the room as though he was thinking about other things. “I just wondered,” he said after a moment. “You always wear it, don’t you? And you were worried, when you left it at home on Saturday. I just wondered … you know, if someone you like gave it to you, or something.”
She was silent for a moment. She uncovered the ring and looked at it with a strange expression on her face. She touched the three pink hearts with a gentle finger. “No, no one gave it to me,” she said quietly. “As a matter of fact, I found it, Patrick. On the street one day. I thought it was the loveliest thing I’d ever seen. I took it to the police station, of course.” She shook her head. “I was very tempted just to take it home. But then I thought, well, that’s just the same as stealing, isn’t it? So I did take it, and hand it in. I really hated leaving it, especially as they didn’t seem to think it was very valuable or anything.” She sighed, looking at the ring.
“But you got it back?” asked Patrick, watching her.
“Oh yes, I got it back. No one came and claimed it and so in the end they said I could keep it. I was so happy! And I haven’t taken it off since. I don’t know why I love it so much, I really don’t, Patrick.” Estelle smiled at him. “Except that for some reason it seems to cheer me up. Ever since I got it I’ve felt better in myself. Funny, isn’t it? Silly, really.” She laughed at herself, but again her left hand covered the ring protectively.
“Can I find a ring like your ring one day, Estelle?” chirped Danny, craning his neck to see it.
She laughed again. “You might, Danny. You should keep your eyes open when you walk down the street. Then you might find one.”
“I do keep my eyes open,” said Danny seriously. “I find things, but not rings. I found a golf ball in the park. I found half of a chocolate, but Mum said I had to throw it in the bin. Patrick …” Danny tugged at his brother’s sleeve. “Patrick, do you want to see my golf ball? Patrick?”
Patrick shook his head. “Not now, Danny.” He slipped from his chair and walked into the living room.
“Patrick always says that,” he heard Danny complain. “He always says ‘not now’ to me.”
“Never mind.” Estelle’s voice was soothing. “Never mind, little boy. Patrick’s just thinking about something else at the moment. He’s got something on his mind, I think. A bit of a problem. Poor Patrick.”
Listening, Patrick put his head in his hands. Estelle had hit the nail on the head this time. Boy, had she ever! She sounded sorry for him. But what would she say if she knew just what his problem was? And how on earth was he ever going to solve it?
16
Patrick’s Argument
All day Tuesday Patrick thought about Estelle and Eleanor Doon’s ring. He found he was having arguments with himself about it.
“Estelle will give me the ring once I tell her it belongs to someone who wants it back,” one side of his mind would say.
“No, she won’t!” the other side of his mind would answer. “She loves that ring so much. She won’t give it up just on your say-so, dimwit! And anyway, how could you even think of making poor Estelle give away something she cares about so much?”
“It doesn’t really belong to her,” the first side of his mind would argue. “It belongs to Eleanor Doon.”
“Eleanor Doon is a horrible woman, it seems to me,” his softer side would say. “And Estelle’s sweet and kind.”
“So what?” his other side would sneer. “The ring belongs to Eleanor Doon. It doesn’t matter what she’s like. It doesn’t matter what Estelle’s like. It’s not up to you to decide who deserves the ring. All you have to do is return it to its rightful owner. And go on to the third Find, for Wendy. And win the computer.”
At that, the other side of his mind would pounce. “Aha! ‘And win the computer’ – that’s the real point, isn’t it? You just want to win that computer, and you don’t care who you hurt to do it, isn’t that right?”
“No, it isn’t!”
“Yes, it is!”
“No, it isn’t!!!”
And Patrick would grind his teeth, and push his hands through his hair, and try to forget about the whole thing. And he would try to listen to Miss Beale talking about Antarctica, or Michael going on about his dad’s Porsche, or the school librarian reading aloud. But sooner or later he would find himself thinking again, and the whole argument would run itself through one more time. And there was never any real answer.
On Wednesday Patrick dragged his feet as he walked up the path to the front door. He’d started feeling guilty every time he even thought about Estelle, and he was dreading having to see her and talk to her, and having to keep his eyes from straying to her thin finger where Eleanor Doon’s ring sat pale and unwinking.
It was so unfair! He sat nibbling biscuits in the kitchen while Danny chattered like a grubby little bird beside him and Estelle moved around tidying up, looking kind and defenceless. Of all people, why did it have to be Estelle he was being asked to betray? Because by now he knew that to take the ring from her would be a sort of betrayal. Estelle had so little. Eleanor Doon had so much. Eleanor Doon’s fingers had been crowded with rings of every shape and size, and round her neck gold chains threaded with shining stones had hung. What could one little ring mean to her? But it was all Estelle had, and it made her happy. If she lost it …
He had to make up his mind. If he didn’t ask Estelle for the ring today it would be too late. She didn’t have a phone, and this was the last time he’d be seeing her this week. He had to have the ring for Saturday morning, for ten o’clock, for Finders Keepers. He had to. It wasn’t just the computer. There was Wendy Minelli to think of, too. She was depending on him to get his second Find so he could go after hers, and help her get her job back. Oh, what a mess! He put his face in his hands.
“Are you going to be sick, Patrick?” asked Danny with interest, peering at him.
Estelle spun around from her work at the sink.
Patrick lifted his head and tried to smile. “I was just thinking,” he said.
“At kindy, when my friend Timmy put down his head like that, he got up and was sick,” said Danny. “All on the table and his chair and the floor and his shoe. Yuk! And you know what,” he added in a hushed voice to Estelle, “his sick had peas in it, and corn, and these little red things …”
“That’s enough, Danny,” cried Estelle quickly, looking a bit sick herself.
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” said Patrick firmly. He took a deep breath. “Lis
ten, Estelle –”
“Patrick, I was wondering,” said Estelle, at the same moment. They laughed, and stopped.
“You first,” he said. He hadn’t really worked out what he was going to say, anyway.
“Well,” she began, “I was wondering whether you’d like me to take you to Chestnut Tree Village again this Saturday. I’m going, to do some shopping. I just thought I’d ask, you know, to see if you …” Her voice trailed off, and Patrick realised that he was staring fiercely at her.
“That’d be great, Estelle,” he heard himself saying. “Thanks a lot.”
“All right, then,” she said, turning back to the sink. “I’ll pick you up at half past eight, like last time, will I?”
Patrick nodded, and watched her frail shoulders as she bent over the dishes. So Estelle had made up his mind for him. She would wear the ring to Chestnut Tree Village. She would sit down and have a coffee, like last time. All he would have to do would be to borrow the ring and get it from the coffee shop to the TV set. Then it would all be over. Simple.
Patrick sighed. It was simple. His problem was solved. He just wished he felt happier about it.
That night, Patrick had a very bad dream. He called out and cried in his sleep, and woke sweating and terrified with Judith bending over him. “Estelle … Estelle …” he sobbed, and Judith hugged him, and gave him a drink of water, and tried to comfort him.
“It’s OK, Patrick darling, I’m here,” she soothed. “Everything’s OK.”
“Estelle was lost,” cried Patrick. “She was so scared and lost and there was a monster coming to get her. And then I was Estelle, and the monster was going to get me, and there wasn’t anywhere to hide, and …”
“It was just a dream, darling. All over now.” Judith rocked him in her arms. She was warm, and he could hear her heart beating under his ear. Slowly he started to calm down, and relax into her arms. She turned his pillow over and laid his head down on the cool cotton. She covered him lightly with his sheet, and blew softly on his hot forehead, stroking his damp hair back. “Go back to sleep now, sweetie. Everything’s all right now. Do you want to go to the toilet?”
He shook his head, and shut his eyes. Judith stayed beside his bed, stroking his head softly, just as she used to do when he was Danny’s age, and had nightmares he could never remember when morning came. He still found it very comforting. But he lay there with his eyes closed and knew that this was one nightmare he wouldn’t forget. For he hadn’t told Judith the really frightening part. He’d told her that in his dream he had become the lost and frightened Estelle. What he hadn’t told her was that he was the monster, as well.
17
Time to Decide
On Saturday, Patrick and Estelle took the roundabout bus to Chestnut Tree Village, and again arrived at the escalator just as the blacksmith’s clock was striking half past nine. Patrick was very quiet. He thought about how he had felt last Saturday, full of fear and excitement. How different he felt today. He had succeeded in his second Find. But it felt more like a failure than a success. He tried to focus his mind on Finders Keepers – on Boopie’s congratulations and Wendy’s relief, on the cheering audience and on the Ezy-way computer that would soon be his. But it was no good. Estelle’s trusting, friendly face kept breaking through his rosy dream, and making it crumble.
“I’ll have a cup of coffee at that nice café, again, Patrick, will I?” asked Estelle. “And you can look around up here again – that is, if you promise not to run around like you did last time. I don’t want you hurting yourself again.”
“I’ve got some money, Estelle,” said Patrick quickly. “So I can have a drink with you, if that’s OK.”
“That would be lovely, dear heart. Come on, then – there’s a table free just near the clock.”
They sat down and gave the waitress their orders.
“This is nice,” sighed Estelle. “Nice to sit down – and nice to have company.” She leaned back in her chair. “I don’t get out much,” she added. “Except to go shopping, of course, and to work.”
“Why don’t you?” asked Patrick, really wanting to know. If Estelle went out more, and made more friends, he thought, she wouldn’t need an old ring to cheer her up.
She shrugged, and took her coffee from the waitress with a timid smile. “Oh, well, you know, some people are good at that sort of thing, and some people aren’t, Patrick. I don’t … I don’t seem to have the confidence, you know?” She fiddled with a paper napkin and looked embarrassed. “You’re a bit young to understand what I mean, I think, dear heart,” she murmured.
They drank in silence for a moment. Patrick pushed his orange juice away half finished. His stomach was churning so much that the drink was making him feel sick.
“Don’t you want to explore, like last time, Patrick?” Estelle asked, sipping at her coffee. “This is rather hot, and I’m afraid I can’t drink it too quickly.”
“Sure.” Patrick stood up. He couldn’t stand sitting there any longer, and it was still only a quarter to ten. He remembered the money in his pocket, and put some on the table. “I’ll leave this, just in case,” he said. “I’ll be back soon.”
He walked away, past the clock, over to the magic shop, and pretended to be looking at the things in the window. The more time he spent with Estelle, the meaner he felt. What was he going to say to her when he got back from Finders Keepers without the ring? He’d planned to tell her that the lady who owned the ring came by and recognised it while he was holding it, and took it back. That would be true, sort of. But now that the moment had almost arrived he could see how thin and unlikely that story seemed.
And even that wasn’t the worst thing. So what if Eleanor Doon was the ring’s rightful owner? On this side of the Barrier the rightful owner was Estelle. And Estelle was his friend. And he was planning to steal her treasure away from her.
It was the same old argument all over again. Patrick turned away from the magic shop’s display of false beards, plastic cockroaches and flowers that squirted water, and looked back to where Estelle sat, sipping her coffee. She lifted her head and saw him, and waved.
His heart sank. He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t do it to her. No prize, no promise to Wendy Minelli, nothing was worth hurting Estelle like that.
He put his hands in his pockets and slowly walked back to her over the shining tiles of the plaza. Well, that was that. The game was over, for him. He hoped Wendy would understand.
In five minutes Patrick and Estelle were riding down the escalator again. Patrick looked back and sighed. He knew he’d made the right decision, but that didn’t stop him feeling depressed. He knew it was unreasonable, but he felt almost cross with Estelle, too, just for being so helpless and alone that he hated the thought of hurting her. If she’d been a different kind of person she wouldn’t have cared about the ring. Then he could have taken it, or asked for it, and bought her another one or something, and that would have been that. But oh, no. Estelle had to be the one person on this side of the Barrier who would care about a little, ordinary-looking ring she picked up on the street.
She glanced at him anxiously. “Are you all right, dear heart?” she fluttered.
“I’m fine,” he answered shortly, and pretended not to see the hurt look in her eyes as she smiled and quickly faced the front again. I’m just fine, he thought, as they stepped off the escalator and he followed her to the bread shop. I’ve just lost a chance in a million, that’s all. And Wendy’s lost her chance to get her job back. And everyone at Finders Keepers will think I couldn’t find the ring. They’ll think I’m no good as a Finder. But I am good. I am!
He looked sourly at Estelle’s reflection in the mirror beside the bread shop. She was so pale and sick-looking all the time. So confused and vague and sort of weak. No wonder it took so long for her to get served. She always had to wait for ages, because the people behind the counters seemed hardly to notice her, and she was too timid to call out. The woman standing next to them was crabby and
weatherbeaten – but at least she looked healthy. Compared with her and the other customers, Estelle looked like a sad ghost. He felt even crosser with her.
He looked at his watch. Five minutes to ten. Almost too late now to get upstairs and into the department store, even if he changed his mind.
Patrick gave himself a little shake. This was no good, thinking like this. He’d made his decision and he had to stick to it. It was probably for the best, anyway. After all, with the computer breaking down all the time there was a real risk that he’d be stuck over the Barrier for too long. And the pie-eating workman had said what that could mean. Trans Barrier Effect. He shivered at the thought.
Well, at least he’d had the experience of Finders Keepers. And not just Finders Keepers either. The things he’d seen! The Barrier! He started thinking about the Barrier, and the Guards, and the terribly efficient Department of Barrier Works Squad. He thought about that boss Guard, Annie Fields, with the ham sandwich on her head, and smiled. He thought about the old Barrier-comber, Ruby, and smiled again.
“Oh well, it’s nice to see you smile, dear heart,” said Estelle, beside him. “It won’t be long now, I’m sure. Would you like me to buy you a doughnut? A chocolate-iced one?”
He nodded firmly. “Yes, please, Estelle.” It was a way of saying sorry to her for having been unfriendly. None of this was her fault.
Estelle went back to her patient waiting for attention, and he let his thoughts drift back to the Barrier. Maybe old Ruby and her friends would find the chief Guard’s rabbit for Wendy. It might just fall through the Barrier one fine day. It easily might. No one this side would care about it. It’d be very pale and dull and easily overlooked. Like Clyde O’Brien’s book, and Eleanor Doon’s ring.
Ruby would be so happy if she found it. She obviously really liked Wendy, and she was a nice old lady, even if she did look a bit strange and her “sweeties” were old and covered in fluff. She must be short-sighted, Patrick thought, remembering how she hadn’t seen him at first, even though he was standing right next to Wendy.