Finders Keepers

by Emily Rodda

  He nodded slowly. “I started thinking about how you were so pale, and people often didn’t notice you. Then I thought how it was the same for me, over here. Then I thought about how you loved the ring, that no one was supposed to care about on our side, and–” He stopped, suddenly remembering. “Oh, Estelle, Eleanor Doon’s got your ring!” he wailed miserably.

  “Dear heart, I don’t care about that old ring any more,” laughed Estelle. “I must have been attracted to it then because it was part of home. Same reason I felt happy at Chestnut Tree Village, where the clock kept the Barrier thin and home was closer. I didn’t realise it, because by then I’d forgotten what had happened to me, who I was, where I’d come from. TBE works on your side as well as on ours. I was just … fading away.” She shivered slightly. Boopie moaned and clutched her more tightly.

  Max cleared his throat noisily and turned his head away. “Well, that’s that, then. You lot wait here, will you?” he said gruffly. “I’ve got to get to the studio and see what I can do for Lucky. He’ll be going berserk in there. I’ll be back as soon as I can. The computer’s holding together at the moment, but we’ve got to get the boy back through the Barrier while the emergency power holds out.”

  “Right, Max,” said Boopie. “We’ll wait. Don’t worry.”

  Max put his hand on Patrick’s shoulder, gave him a surprisingly gentle pat, and then grunted and went out, closing the door behind him.

  Left alone, Patrick, Boopie and the strange, bright-eyed Estelle looked at one another. “You’re Boopie’s sister,” said Patrick, feeling his way. “The sister who used to run the cafeteria. Who was … away.”

  “We couldn’t tell anyone what really happened, Estelle,” said Boopie, wiping her eyes and clinging to her sister as though she was afraid she’d disappear again. “If we had, they wouldn’t have let me stay on here, and I had to stay, I had to. I had to help Max try to find you with the computer, before it was too late. It was the only way, our only chance. Oh, Estelle, I’ve been so miserable, so worried. We knew the TBE took months to work, but it had been months, and we still couldn’t find you. Oh, and it was all my fault. Can you ever forgive me?”

  Patrick stared. If TBE took months to work, he hadn’t ever been in any real danger at all on his short trips to Finders Keepers. Even if he’d been stuck here for days he would have been fine. So Boopie hadn’t deceived him. All her worry about time running out, her talk to Max about TBE, had been because of Estelle!

  “Boopie, don’t. It’s all over. It wasn’t your fault.” Estelle shook her head.

  “It was my fault!” said Boopie. “All my fault.” She bit her lip and turned to Patrick. “It was one morning, four months ago. Estelle came in with Maxie’s tea and biscuits like always, and I was here, but he’d popped out. He’d left everything on, though. And I was just showing her, you know, how it all worked, and then suddenly … she was gone. Gone!” She put her face in her hands. “And then Maxie came back, and saw what had happened – it was awful. He was frightened. Really frightened. And he did everything, he tried everything, but she was gone. Oh, I’ll never forget it, Estelle. Never, never! Every night, every day, ever since, without anyone knowing, we’ve been trying to find you. Max has nearly killed himself trying. And time was running out … We remembered that Finder who decided to stay here, years ago. What happened to him …”

  “Sshh!” soothed Estelle. “I came back, didn’t I? Thanks to Patrick.” She smiled at Patrick’s bewildered face. “He ended up in the studio, like he was supposed to, and I woke up in this room with the computer shooting sparks and Max having kittens!”

  “No wonder everything’s gone bung,” Boopie whispered fearfully. “The system’s not built for two people coming at once – and anyway the computer hasn’t been the same since … I did what I did four months ago. Max has covered it up, but there’d be real trouble if anyone found out.” Then she threw her arms round Patrick’s neck. “But, oh, sweetie-pie, you clever thing. To work it all out and bring her back! Just when Max and I had nearly given up hope!”

  “If you’re sisters,” said Patrick curiously, “why haven’t you got the same last name?”

  “Oh, Cupid’s just my TV name, sweetie-pie!” gurgled Boopie. “Good heavens, who’d have a name like Boopie Cupid in real life? That’d be ridiculous! Oh, where’s Max? I wish he’d hurry!” She trotted to the door, opened it and looked out.

  Estelle held out her hand to Patrick again, and winked. And at last Patrick’s feeling of shyness at seeing her so changed, so alive, so happy, just melted away. He took the hand, stepped forward, and hugged her tight. She was still Estelle, and he loved her – on his side of the Barrier, or hers.

  “Come and look at this!” exclaimed Boopie, beckoning furiously.

  Down the corridor moved a solemn party wheeling a long trolley covered hastily with a curtain from beside Boopie’s Wheel of Fortune. The curtain was rising and falling on either side in a regular rhythm. Max was leading the party, with a ferocious scowl on his face.

  “Silly, blockheaded bundle of bolts insists on walking,” he growled to Boopie out of the side of his mouth, as he reached them. “I keep telling him he’s flat on his back but he’s not having any. Now look, you lot wait here now. I’ll be right back.”

  Lucky’s smiling face popped out from under the sheet. “That’s all, folks!” he announced to Estelle and Patrick, and giggled.

  “You’re telling me,” said Max crossly, and the strange procession disappeared into the gloom of the long corridor.

  “Dear, oh dear,” said Boopie, shaking her head. “We’ll be off the air for ages. Weeks, probably. Maybe months. Still,” she brightened up, “it’ll give Max a chance to get the computer absolutely fine again. And a holiday will be nice. And I wouldn’t change Estelle for a million Finders Keepers.”

  “Excuse me –” A voice spoke from the shadows, making them all jump. “Could you tell me what’s happening, Miss Cupid? Will the game be going on? I have to know. It’s my only chance. Oh, Patrick, I didn’t see you there. Are you …?” The voice faded as Patrick, Estelle and Boopie stared helplessly through the dimness at Wendy Minelli.

  They had all forgotten about her, and now, watching the hope slowly drain from her kind, freckled face, none of them could think of a single thing to say.

  20

  Win Some, Lose Some

  “I’m really sorry, Wendy,” said Boopie gently, breaking the awkward silence, “but I’m afraid we’ve had to stop the show. Lucky is … isn’t well. And the power’s failed. We’re using the emergency generators now.”

  “Oh, yes, I see.” Wendy looked down for a moment. “That’s that, then.”

  “I’m really sorry,” Boopie repeated. “It seems so unfair that you should be the one to miss out. The other two … well …” She screwed up her face.

  Wendy shrugged, and then raised her head and smiled at them. “It’s not your fault, love,” she said. “And that’s the luck of the game, isn’t it? Win some, lose some. It was worth a try, anyway.”

  “Maybe Ruby or one of the others will find Annie Fields’ rabbit,” Patrick said, slowly unpinning the used-up beeper-brooch from his chest.

  “Maybe they will,” Wendy answered. “And if they don’t, well, it’s not the end of the world, is it? I can’t growl. I’m better off than poor Eleanor Doon, who only has things to love. Or that O’Brien man, who only has money. I’ve got a few other things that money can’t buy.” She leaned over and patted his arm. “And so have you, love. You go home to them, and for goodness’ sake don’t worry about me. You did your best.”

  “And a very good best it was too,” said Boopie, nodding, and glancing at Estelle. “You’re a champion Finder, Patrick. The best.”

  “OK, OK, break it up!” Max strode up the corridor towards them and ushered them all into the little room. He grinned broadly around, looking ten years younger. “Save the celebrations, girls, we’ve got to get this young bloke home quick smart. Out of the way, Boop!
And you get over there and watch the TV, son,” he ordered.

  Patrick did what he was told and watched Max begin to push buttons and type furiously on his computer’s keyboard.

  “Heavens, Max, are you doing it now?” exclaimed Boopie.

  Max paused and looked up irritably. “Of course I am!” he snapped. “Didn’t I tell you time was running out?”

  “But we haven’t said goodbye!” Boopie cried. “Hold it, just a second.” She started desperately searching through the cupboard.

  “Boopie!” roared Max. “We haven’t got time …”

  Wendy stepped forward and shook Patrick’s hand. “Goodbye, love,” she smiled. “Take care.”

  “You too,” he answered. He saw Estelle come towards him, tearing a piece of paper from a little pad.

  “Give this to your mum – to Judith, will you, dear heart? And you’ll ring home from the shops, won’t you, for someone to pick you up? Don’t try to take the bus by yourself,” she urged. “And Patrick–”

  “These are yours, sweetie-pie,” puffed Boopie, descending on him, feathers flying, and pushing a plastic bag into his hands. “Not much, for all you’ve done, but there’s nothing else here – and, oh Patrick, you never got your computer …”

  “Boopie!” The computer whined over Max’s roar. Patrick felt Boopie and Estelle, one on each side, hug him tightly and then jump back.

  “Don’t look away, son!” called Max. “Cross your fingers all – here goes!”

  Patrick felt himself begin to tremble all over. The room around him seemed to quiver too, moving in and out of focus, from light to dark, dark to light.

  He saw four figures huddled together, waving. He heard four voices.

  “Take care, love.”

  “Go, son, go!”

  “Goodbye, sweetie-pie.”

  “Dear heart, thank you.”

  Then the darkness engulfed him.

  “You can’t sleep here, mate,” said the man with the department store name-tag pinned neatly to his chest. He nudged Patrick gently with his foot, and then bent down to take a closer look. “Are you OK?”

  “Yes,” said Patrick. He clambered to his feet and stood upright, holding his head to try to stop it spinning.

  “You dropped something.” The man bent and picked up two brown paper packages lying on the floor beside a plastic bag. He pushed the parcels back into the bag and handed it to Patrick.

  “Thanks,” Patrick managed to say. He began to stumble towards the exit, trying to get his thoughts in order. He had to get to the coffee shop to meet Estelle – no, no – he shook his head impatiently – Estelle wasn’t here. She was over there, over the Barrier. She was home. She was home, and happy, with Boopie, and Max and the others. Now he could go home, too.

  But how? He felt weak and sick. Estelle had said he should ring home, but he didn’t even know where to find a phone box here.

  Patrick’s eyes filled with tears. He had used up every last bit of strength. Now he just felt tired, and alone, and very young. He looked out helplessly across the crowded plaza, clutching his plastic bag, searching the sea of faces for someone kind-looking who could help him.

  And then he saw Claire. She was sitting with a group of friends outside the coffee shop. Weak with relief, he stumbled towards her. He didn’t care that she might be embarrassed to be lumbered suddenly with a grubby little brother. He didn’t care that he was crying like a little kid. He didn’t think about what her friends might say. All he thought about was that he was in trouble, and he needed her.

  And that must have been all Claire thought about, too. Because as soon as she saw him, she stood up and ran over to him. She put her arms round him and she didn’t look embarrassed or try to make him be quiet. And then, when he was feeling better, she wiped his face, said goodbye to her friends, and took him home.

  Patrick woke up in bed and blinked. It was warm and sunny in his room. He’d been sleeping in the daytime! He never did that. Then he remembered. Claire had brought him home. He’d asked her not to say she had. He didn’t want his mother to be cross with Estelle. But Judith hadn’t even asked about Estelle, or how he’d got home. She’d taken one look at him and made him sit down on the couch. She’d washed his face, and given him a drink of juice. And then he must have fallen asleep, because he didn’t remember another thing. Dad must have carried him up to bed like a baby.

  He looked at his watch. Three o’clock. He’d been asleep for hours. He’d missed lunch! Far away downstairs he could hear the TV. Danny’s favourite movie again. In Claire’s room, next door, music played. He smiled. It was very good to be home.

  Beside his bed, on his desk, lay the plastic bag Boopie had given him. He rolled on to his side and lazily pulled the bag towards him. He looked at the parcels inside. Both of them bore big labels: “Congratulations from Finders Keepers”, the labels said in faded writing. There was a big, heavy one, book-shaped. He thought he knew what that was. Clyde O’Brien’s bird book. Boopie must have decided that he could have it, since no one else wanted it.

  The other package was a square one. He knew what that was, too. The music box.

  Something hard was pushing uncomfortably into his hip, and he dug down into his pocket. The little jewel box with its trailing Finders Keepers label. He’d almost forgotten about that. He pulled it out and opened it up. The little locket lay on its velvet bed, quietly gleaming. It didn’t look rich and expensive any more, but it still looked very pretty, he thought. He shut the box and slid it on to the desk with the parcels. For a moment he lay back with his hands under his head, thinking. Then he got up and pulled from the desk drawer two crumpled slips of paper and a creamy-coloured feather, and put them with the other things.

  He put his hands on his hips and surveyed the collection. Well, he knew what he was going to do with the book, and the music box, and the locket. That left one problem.

  Patrick put the jewel box into the plastic bag with the two parcels, ready to take downstairs. He put the clue-notes and the feather in his desk drawer again. They were his to keep. The sum total of his souvenirs of Finders Keepers. No – there was one more thing. Digging right down into his jeans pocket, his fingers caught hold of a hard, sticky, round thing. Ruby’s “sweetie” was still there. He laid it carefully beside the feather. Despite having gone through the washing machine at least once, it was still dirty and fluffy, but he wasn’t going to throw it away, that was for sure. He picked it up and went to the bathroom to wash it. And as it began to come clean under the warm running water, Patrick stared, and then began to laugh. His last problem had just solved itself.

  “Patrick, what a great old book!” said Paul, looking through Birds of the World with fascination. “Are you sure you want to give it to me, and not keep it in your own room?”

  “Oh, no, really,” mumbled Patrick shyly. “You like birds, and old books – and stuff – so I thought you’d like it.”

  “I do like it,” grinned Paul, and gave him a hug.

  “I love my prize, Patrick!” announced Danny. He wound up the music box for the twentieth time, and the little horses began to bob up and down, around and around. He sighed with satisfaction, and laid his head down on the table, to watch it from below.

  “I thought he was making it up, about Finders Keepers!” said Claire. “But it was true all the time. Chestnut Tree Village is always running those competitions and raffles and things. I should’ve realised. I didn’t see any notices about it, or I would have gone in it, too. Then I could have won some prizes.”

  “But Patrick was the one chosen to go in it,” Judith reminded her. “And by the state he was in when he got home this morning, winning the prizes wasn’t so easy. Poor Estelle must have been very worried! She’s so nervy.” She shook her head. “And, Patrick, you’ve given your prizes away to Dad and Danny and me, bless your heart.” She looked at her locket, gleaming in its little box, and touched it with a gentle finger.

  “Oh, I know,” said Claire, and was silent. Patr
ick could wait no longer. He dipped his hand into his pocket.

  “I’ve got something for you, too, Claire,” he said gruffly. “Not really from Finders Keepers – but sort of.”

  He reached over and put a twist of paper in her hand. Staring, she slowly unwrapped it. Ruby’s “sweetie” lay inside – newly washed, stripy-bright. Claire screamed in delight.

  “My earring! My lost earring! Oh, Patrick, you darling! Oh, thank you. Where did you find it?”

  “Someone else found it on the ground and gave it to me,” said Patrick honestly. “I didn’t realise what it was at first. Anyway, that’s your present. Are you really pleased?”

  “Oh, am I what!” And Claire was honestly beaming.

  “Patrick, this is beautiful!” said Judith, clasping the little locket around her neck.

  “Whose picture are you going to put in it, Mum?” asked Claire curiously.

  “Mine, mine!” shrieked Danny, ecstatically winding up his music box again.

  Judith smiled.

  “Whoever you love best in the world,” Patrick said, looking at her. “That’s who you put in a locket.”

  “That’s right,” she said. “So it’ll have to be all of you, won’t it? All of you, together.”

  21

  Third Time Lucky

  On Sunday morning Patrick gave Estelle’s note to Judith. She frowned over it for a moment. “Oh, I can’t believe it,” she said finally. “Paul, Estelle’s leaving us!”

  “What?” Claire and Paul were all agog. “What does she say?”

  “‘Dear Judith,’” read Patrick’s mother slowly. “‘I’m sorry, but I can’t look after the children after school any more. I’ve been given the chance to go home. It was very sudden – I’m sorry about the short notice. I’m very happy, but will miss you all more than I can say. Much love, Estelle.’” She shook her head. “I can’t believe it,” she repeated. “Home? Where’s home?”