Billy and the Golden Gate (9 page)

The sun is starting its daily descent; it will be dark in less than a few hours. Miss Beetle stands up and flips the book shut. It makes a small whack sound.

“Hey you lot, time we were headed home, school tomorrow, remember?”

The four children look at Miss Beetle. Rex gallops over to her, eager for a scratch. They stand up; Billy pops on his now much lighter backpack. They walk out through the gate. Peter pauses and hooks the gate shut; the creaking noise is immense.

When they get to Miss Beetle, Daisy looks at the other gate – it has turned so black it's like looking at a big dark hole.

“Miss Beetle,” she says, “did you see that?” Daisy points at the gate.

Jasmine Beetle looks at the gate.

“Yes I did,” she says, and scratches at her shoulder blade.

“Miss Beetle, Mr Sharpie went on fire and he's behind that gate, he is!” Daisy says.

“Who did you say?” Jasmine Beetle replies.

“Mr Sharpie, Gunner Sharpie, Gadriel Sharpie.”

“I thought that's what you said, can't be right though,” she says. The four children are staring at her now.

“Why?” They all exclaim together.

“But you saw him Miss, you looked at him, you
talked
to him,” Daisy says.

“Hmmm, I've been reading the book – apart from that sneeze. I'll hold on to the tissue, Billy,” she says matter-of-factly.

Billy nods.

“Gadriel Sharpie is long dead, children. Infamous around these parts. Did you even read this book?” she says.

Billy's three friends turn and look at him. He shakes his head.

“I only read the map, is all, and all the pages after are blank anyway.”

“Really?” Miss Beetle says. She flicks a couple of pages; they are filled with words. “All about him is in that very book you were holding. You lot should be thankful he is long gone. He was just very fond of hurting others; a bad, bad, dark man – well, in this mortal life anyway. Who knows really what torment his poor soul is in,” Jasmine Beetle says seriously. “Now come on, it's high time we were headed back.”

“It'll take us ages,” Peter says, “with the quarry and the forest and the river and the road.”

“There's never only one way, Peter Tweddle,” Miss Beetle replies brightly. “We'll follow the other brick road
¹²
, come on now.” She starts marching ahead. Rex trots beside her, gazing adoringly up at her.

Peter tilts his head.

“But, Miss, what do you mean, ‘other' brick road?”

Miss Beetle looks at Peter.

“That's what it's called, used to be yellow until the naming committee from Kansas complained, so now it's ‘other'.”

As they walk, Miss Beetle tells them about Gadriel Sharpie; about the day he murdered his wife and hid her in his cottage, locked the door to the room; about the other women and men that he hurt, murdered and dumped in the river. She doesn't go into the detail because she doesn't need to. Death is death; murder is murder.

The four children look at Miss Beetle, astonished.

“But Miss Beetle!” they say.

Daisy pipes up, “Miss Beetle, he gave us our dinner and he kept on talking about God and how good he was, and he smiled, a lot.”

Jasmine turns and looks at Daisy and asks her, “Did he talk about God or the Lord?”

Rufus replies deliberately, “The Lord.”

“I see,” Jasmine says. “You know, in my experience the people who spend a lot of time talking about all the good that they do or how brilliant they are, well, often it's just a load of old rubbish.”

“You mean he lied?” Peter asks.

“I don't know. What I do know is that he did an amount of terrible things and that's a fact. You know that the facts tend to speak for themselves, children,” she scratches her shoulder blade again.

“I don't understand,” Billy says. “He was walking and breathing and everything.”

“Well, Billy, you said it yourself – today is the Day of the Dead.”

“Then how come I didn't see Dad?” he says angrily.

Jasmine furrows her forehead, just a little.

“Your dad was a good man, Billy, you know this, but he has moved on. His soul was not so troubled that he needs to wander among us in human form on the Day of the Dead.”

Billy's eyes well up, but he doesn't cry. He nods; his calm blue eyes gaze up at Miss Beetle. She bends down and gently squeezes his shoulder.

“I don't understand any of it,” he says gently.

“No, Billy, of course you don't. How could you? There are things, big things that your mind is just not able to understand. That's the truth,” she says and nods at the same time.

Daisy's eyes squinch up a bit and she purses her lips.

“Is Madge in that book too?”

Miss Beetle allows herself a half smile, “She is, Daisy.”

“Hmmmm,” Daisy says.

Miss Beetle marches on. The brick road stretches out ahead of them. There is no sign of the quarry but in the distance they can see the forest. The bricks on the road are small and expertly fitted together, the path wide enough for all of them. They are a golden yellow colour, like sunshine.

The grass flanking the path is green and lush. There are rabbit holes and bees and blue bottles and dragonflies and ladybirds, and tiny little flowers – all sorts of colours that clash riotously.

Rex has fallen in love; he never takes his eyes off Miss Beetle. A rabbit jumps close to the road and looks at Rex, but Rex pays no attention to it whatsoever.

Rufus sees this and mutters, “That is just typical.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and shuffles along.

“Miss, can I see the book?” Daisy asks.

Jasmine nods briskly and hands her the book.

“Now mind it, that spine is very fragile.”

“Yes, Miss,” Daisy replies primly. Daisy walks and reads at the same time. Every few moments, she either gasps or whistles. The conversation among the boys has died down; they are actively listening to the noise Daisy is making and just following Miss Beetle.

When they reach the forest, Daisy looks up and says, “Can we go to Madge's house, just for a minute? We've time.”

“OK,” Miss Beetle says, “but only for a minute.” She raises her arms and gives her back a big stretch. It is a cat-like movement.

They step into the forest; with the falling sun, it is a much darker place. The bats that call it home ricochet between the trees, making funny clicking noises. There are an awful lot of them.

“Hey, where are the wolves?” Peter says.

“That's weird, I totally forgot about them,” Billy says.

Daisy cuts in, “Well, you had a lot on your mind, Billy.”

Rufus says, “Oh, they left us when we started along the other road. I think that they wanted to go back the old way, see?” Rufus points into the darkness of the forest. “There they are.”

The wolves are sitting in the clearing beside a tumbledown ruin of a building. One of them is rolling on his back, giving it a good scratch. He is moaning contentedly with each movement. The other wolves are just chilling.

Daisy looks at the ruin.

“I thought as much,” she says.

Rufus looks at the rubble, for that is all there is to be seen – just some bricks and rocks, with a yew tree growing right in the middle of it all.

“But, this doesn't make any sense. We were here today and there was a door, and windows, and Madge and that narky cat, remember? Rex?” Rex whines.

“Rufus, it's all in here, she's gone ages, says here.” Daisy waves the book.

Jasmine Beetle chides her, “Be careful with that spine, young lady.”

Daisy colours slightly.

“Sorry Miss, I'll mind it.” This isn't the first time today she has been told off by her teacher. It is still an unpleasant and unwelcome experience.

Rufus asks, “What do you mean, Daisy?”

“It's all in here, Rufus, we've been duped.” (Another word from one of her dad's spy novels).

“Eh?” Rufus says.

Daisy takes a deep breath. There is a lot of explaining to do, particularly for the boys. “Well, it's like this: Madge is dead, has been for – like – ages. People thought she was weird, that's why they called her ‘Mad Madge'; they thought she was a witch. However they came up with that!” Daisy pauses for another breath.

Peter looks at the two other boys and rolls his eyes heavenward; it's a funny expression behind his big serious brown glasses. Rufus laughs.

“And so they never visited her, cause they were afraid of spells an stuff, but she was a really kind quiet person. Always looking after her animals; Grimsby used to sleep in her bed with her. Then she got sick and she couldn't do anything, and no one came…” Daisy's voice trembles uncharacteristically, “and she got really hungry an then she died.”

Billy says, “But–”

Miss Beetle replies before he has finished what he wanted to say.

“She gave so much love, Billy, but no one was there for her when she got sick. She's been wandering these past years waiting for someone to show her a little bit of unconditional love, which is exactly what you all did for her today.”

Daisy has wiped her eyes. She purses her lips.

“Em, Miss, how did you know we did stuff for her today; that we were even here?”

“You each looked at what you saw and once you got beyond how it initially made you feel and reached inside – a little deeper than normal, because normally our initial reaction is to run away from the unusual, but you didn't – you cleaned, you cooked, you mended, but most of all you gave time and love,” Miss Beetle finishes. She stretches again and then pulls at her polo neck.

Daisy looks at Miss Beetle “Miss? Miss?”

“Yes, Daisy, I did hear you the first time. It's just one of life's mysteries, you know? We can't explain everything… that's the way it is, even if we are living in an age of reason,” she smiles broadly.

“What should we do?” Peter says.

Billy walks over to the rubble and starts rooting around; there are bricks and rocks everywhere. Daisy joins Billy and starts sifting by carefully moving the rubble. It is dusty and covered in moss in parts. Every time a rock is shifted millions of the little armour-clad insects are disturbed, like the ground is alive with movement. Rufus has found an old hammer and some rusty-looking nails. He picks up some planks of wood that haven't rotted through and starts chipping at them with the hammer. Peter gathers up some dry rushes and starts weaving them into a crude brush.

Daisy sees something glinting underneath the rubble. Gently she lifts and moves – there it is, the hairpin – the silver gleams and when she picks it up, the light skates around the little circle. It is in perfect condition.

“It's a wonder the magpies didn't spot it,” Billy says.

Billy keeps searching and after a little time, he finds one of her old pots. It's a bit battered and dented and the handle is broken. Rex mooches back to the children and plops something at Rufus's feet – it's a dead mouse. In fact, it's been dead for a long time. It's closer to a skeleton than a body… when it plops down, a couple of bones roll off on their own.

“OK,” Peter says. “Well, we remember, we should always remember, I figure.”

The three others nod in agreement. Daisy stands beside the yew tree.

“We could put it here,” she says and taps the ground with her cerise pink boot.

“Yeah, yeah,” the three boys chime together.

“Miss Beetle, do you think that would be the right thing?” Billy asks.

Jasmine looks very serious and says, “Not for me to decide, that one. If you are each listening to your stout hearts, well then, that's the important thing.”

The children stack their items at the base of the yew tree; pot, hair pin, makeshift brush and mouse bones all share the same spot on the ground.

“We could dig, I suppose,” Daisy muses.

“Nah, why don't we use the rocks and bricks and stuff and stack em properly,” Rufus says.

Both Billy and Peter answer in agreement with him, and then Daisy says, “OK, OK!”

The children slowly and methodically move the bricks and rocks. First they build a small circle, encasing the items they have placed on the ground. Daisy just picks out the hairpin and moves it to one side. The stone circle is built up until it looks like a beehive. The children keep stacking other rocks and bricks just to ensure it is solid and reinforced – after a time, it is.

Rufus picks up the two planks of wood that he has nailed together in the shape of a simple cross. He places it at the head of the mound, the beehive, and taps first then whacks it into the ground. It sinks and when it doesn't budge anymore, Rufus stops. Daisy takes the hair pin and gently slides it into the intersection between the two pieces of wood, slap bang in the middle. The hair pin slides in and a droplet of sap wells and trickles down the middle of the cross.

“What should we say?” Peter asks.

“What does anyone say at times like this?” Billy says.

Rufus thinks and thinks.

“I figure if you want to say something, say nothing.”

“Nothing,” his three friends chorus.

Billy adds, “That doesn't make an awful lot of sense, Rufus.”

“No, like we shouldn't say anything at all. We should just be quiet, like.”

“Oh, well, yes, that does make more sense really,” Billy replies.

The four friends stand silently for a few moments. Rex jumps at the yew tree and rests his paws on the tree trunk. He barks four short sharp loud barks, then he jumps back and goes over to sit beside Miss Beetle. He gazes at her, again.

“Tick tock children, time to keep moving.” Miss Beetle stretches and chirps.

The four of them stand still for another moment; in turn, they each rest a hand on the cross.

“Yes, Miss,” Billy says. They follow their teacher back to the brick road, on their way home.