Felix and the Red Rats (6 page)

‘Get a load of that statue,’ he whispered.

She gave him a strained grin. ‘Yeah,’ she muttered, ‘pigs might fly!’

‘Quiet!’ barked their captor.

The willowy rider in the statue was leaning forward in a saddle holding the reins in one hand to allow the other arm to be raised aloft, flourishing what seemed to be a scroll. From a distance, Felix had presumed the rider was waving a sword in the air, and was a little relieved that the statue celebrated something slightly less war-like. He was relieved, too, that the rider looked to be laughing in delight. He was beginning to think that every person in this odd place had succumbed to a plague of extreme grumpiness.

Certainly their captor had caught that plague if there had been one. When Felix, against his better judgement, called out to him, ‘Who’s the guy in the statue?’ the little creature simply turned, gave him a venomous look and then spat on the pathway.

‘Thanks,’ said Felix. ‘I thought it might have been.’

They were led up the wide steps and into a
marble-tiled
foyer, then through a heavy set of doors into a reception area. To one side there was a long counter with a series of glass-fronted booths rather like an
old-fashioned
bank. Their captor pulled them towards the only one of these that was occupied and, leaning into the circular hole in the glass, growled simply: ‘Rebels. Four.’

Sitting behind the booth was a female version of their captor, except that instead of the usual dark glasses she had ordinary glasses with the butterfly-wing design making her look more like a moth than a wasp. They didn’t make her any friendlier, though.

‘So?’ she snapped.

‘So,’ snarled their captor, ‘I’ve delivered them safely, not without considerable trouble I might add, and I want a receipt so that I can collect my reward.’

‘You’ll get no reward, you scavenger, until it can be ascertained that these …’ she peered distastefully through the hole at the trussed quartet, ‘… particularly scruffy specimens have been checked and verified as genuine rebels.’

‘No need of that, you pernickety pen-pusher,’ said their captor, all but shoving his head into the hole. ‘Of course they’re rebels. They came through the Way Station without authorisation or tickets. So stick that in your protocol!’

‘I don’t care whether they came in a hot-air balloon,’
sniffed the receptionist. ‘Procedures and protocol must be observed! You’ll get no reward until they’re checked and verified, verified and checked, so a very unpleasant morning to you!’

Their captor was beaten and seemed to know it. Still, he demanded, ‘You have to give me a receipt — I know my rights!’

‘You’ll get a receipt and that’s all you’ll get,’ snapped the receptionist, scribbling on a piece of paper as she said so. As soon as she was done, she flung the receipt through the hole. Their captor snatched it and studied it suspiciously.

‘Hey,’ he protested. ‘There’s four, here. This receipt says three and a half!’

The receptionist pointed at Myrtle. ‘That one’s only a half,’ she said. ‘Look at her.’

‘She’s bigger than me!’ cried their captor.

‘My point exactly,’ snapped the receptionist. ‘Be off with you!’

She pressed a button and a bell rang, and then she slammed a shutter down, closing her booth.

Felix caught Bella’s eye and gave a tight little grin. ‘Friendly place,’ he whispered.

‘Really warm and fuzzy,’ she said. ‘I think we’re going to like it here.’

The bell was presumably a summons, because not long afterwards a door opened into the reception area and a
figure stepped through. Felix looked at this figure with some interest. Unlike everybody he’d seen so far, this person was tall and, like the rider on the statue, rather willowy with long fair hair and no sunglasses. Indeed, his eyes were china blue, but no warmer for that. In fact, he looked for all the world like one of their captor’s detestable humans.

He glanced expressionlessly at the children and then studied their captor coldly. He had a clipboard and he now took out a pen.

‘Answer my questions directly,’ he said, ‘and without comment. If any elaboration is necessary, I will ask for it.’

Their captor nodded.

‘Name?’

‘Spleen, your honour.’

‘Spleen will do. Just answer the question.’

Their captor swallowed and nodded again.

‘Where did you find these?’

The fair-headed figure gestured towards the captives, but did not so much as glance their way.

‘These two,’ said Spleen, pointing to Bella and Felix, ‘I discovered in the Way Station at the top of the mountain. These two,’ he pointed to Myrtle and Moonface, ‘must have found their way into the Way Station later, as they set off my alarm.’

‘So you are?’

‘I’m a Way Station attendant, your—’

‘I see.’

The fair-headed figure now did look at the captives, studying each in turn as if they were scientific specimens.

‘And in your view, Spleen, these are rebels?’

‘I believe so, your—’

‘Why do you believe so?’

‘Because of where I found them. Unauthorised entry. No tickets. No papers.’

These answers were noted on the clipboard and then the man looked up.

‘No papers?’

‘Well, this one,’ Spleen pointed at Bella, ‘had a diary, she called it.’

‘What was in it?’

Spleen now looked a little uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know. I checked it and didn’t think it contained anything but a few smelly secrets, so I threw it away. This one,’ he pointed at Myrtle, ‘picked it up and gave it back to her.’ He pointed at Bella once more.

‘Who still has it?’

‘I should think so, your—’

‘Well, Spleen, that is just as well,’ said his interrogator coldly, ‘for if that diary and its so-called smelly secrets had been lost, that would have been a gross dereliction of duty, would it not?’

Spleen nodded unhappily.

‘Sufficient, of course, to lose you any reward you might be entitled to.’

Spleen nodded again.

‘That is, if you’re entitled to any reward. I agree, that the arrival of these visitors among us is a little, shall we say, unorthodox, but that does not necessarily mean they are rebels or, indeed, know anything about the rebellion.’

‘Oh, I agree. I agree.’

‘Good. Then, we have your details, so you can leave now.’

And without further ado, he turned his back on Spleen and stood studying the captives thoughtfully once more.

Mum’s suggestion about our going for a walk up the hill must have agreed with Uncle Felix, for after breakfast he announced that, as there was nothing much going on at the festival that required his presence, he’d rather prefer to stretch his legs and wander around his ‘old haunts’ as Mum had put it.

‘And I understand, David,’ he said smiling at me, ‘that you’d be happy to accompany me?’

‘Sure would!’ I said.

‘Get your jacket,’ said Mum. ‘There’s a cool wind out there.’

For an old guy, Uncle Felix was a pretty fit walker. He wore a checked cap and a matching jacket, and his usual
bright waistcoat and bow tie. This time, though, he carried a silver-topped walking stick which he swung about him to gesture with when he was talking. I’m quite certain he didn’t need it for walking. I think he just needed it for effect.

Our place was in a relatively new cul-de-sac on the lower slopes. We wandered up a couple of streets until we got to the main road that climbed up the spine of the hill. Here the houses were much older, and Uncle Felix brightened.

‘Ah, these are familiar.’

As we followed this road uphill, we passed other familiar landmarks: a stone church, a small triangular park with a roundabout, see-saw and swings, an old disused quarry. We reached the school and I pointed out my classroom.

‘Ah, but that’s the new school,’ said Uncle Felix. ‘The old school was further up the hill.’

‘Old school?’

I thought my school was pretty old. Had there been an even older school?

‘Oh, yes. It was up near the top of the hill. But it was much smaller in my day, only four or five classrooms. That’s probably why they built the new school.’

A little later we reached the site. Uncle Felix was saddened to see that houses now occupied the land.

He gestured around him with his stick. ‘There were a couple of classrooms there,’ he said, ‘for the big kids. And another couple over there for the little kids.’

‘Only four classrooms?’

‘And they were quite small, I recall. Much of the space
was taken up by the big iron stove they used to keep us warm in the winter.’

He then gestured further up. ‘Over there was the old scout hall where the Heberson gang had their
headquarters
. It’s gone, too.’

I looked at him in surprise. ‘There really was an old scout hall?’

‘Of course.’

‘And there really was a Heberson gang that used to hang out there?’

Uncle Felix smiled and tugged at his moustache.

‘Of course, I’m not that imaginative!’

I looked at him to see whether or not he was pulling my leg, teasing me. But he was still staring at the place where he reckoned the Heberson gang headquarters had been. He seemed to be far away. I guessed he was picturing it again in his memory.

I remembered what Mum had said. When she’d told me that Uncle Felix had put his childhood places in the books I thought she merely meant that he’d used the hill as a setting. She’d said the rest of it had come out of Uncle Felix’s ‘strange brain’. I’d imagined there would have been a sharp line between the two, but if the Heberson gang had really existed, then that line must have been much fuzzier than I imagined.

At length, Uncle Felix sighed, and then said, ‘Well, where to now?’

‘What about the pine forest and the—’

His eyes twinkled. ‘The concrete shed?’

‘Will it still be there?’

‘Possibly. It
was
made of concrete.’

‘Yeah, but the pine trees might not be there.’

‘True, but I can tell you where they were.’

We walked down the hill. The view was great from up here. In front of us was the expanse of the ocean and when I looked left I could see the sweep of the great bay and the mountains beyond. I was glad of my jacket, though, as the wind coming off the sea was cool.

It suddenly occurred to me that the road we were taking must have been the same as the one taken by Bella and Felix after they’d recovered Bella’s diary and were racing away from the Heberson gang.

I asked Uncle Felix if it was.

‘Oh yes,’ he said, ‘this is the way we took.’

‘We?’

He laughed. ‘I mean
they
. You do somehow get mixed up in your own stories!’

Again I had a nagging feeling that the line was fuzzy.

It wasn’t long after that, he stopped and turned towards me.

‘What do you know!’ he said.

‘What?’

‘The shortcut — it’s still here. Look!’

I looked and there it was. Just as in
Into Axillaris
the path was almost inconspicuous until you were suddenly upon it. I looked over the hillside and could see it zigzagging downwards. More exciting still, the path disappeared as it was swallowed by a plantation of old and gnarly pine trees.

‘The trees are still there too!’

Uncle Felix took some moments to appraise the scene. ‘The plantation is a lot narrower, I think,’ he said. ‘I think in the old days the trees spread out more. Or perhaps,’ he added, ‘it’s because I’m looking at it now with eyes of a grown-up. Things often look smaller and shabbier than you remember them.’

‘I reckon,’ I said. Even I had had that experience, and I was only a fraction of Uncle Felix’s age.

‘That’s why sometimes,’ he said, ‘it’s not a very good idea to go back to places, especially places that hold fond memories.’

‘Can we go down?’

‘Of course. The path will lead to the other road. But we can get back to your place from there.’

The path looked too narrow for us to walk side by side, so Uncle Felix let me lead the way. I was in quite a hurry to check out whether the concrete shed was still there so I didn’t waste any time. However, the pace didn’t seem to trouble Uncle Felix. When we eventually turned a bend and I could see the unmistakeable sight of the concrete shed, he was almost at my shoulder.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It’s still there.’

 I hurried down the last few metres to check out the shed. It was almost exactly as the book described it. Plastered concrete walls, the plaster cracked a little in places, and an iron roof of a faded green. It had to have been painted several times since Uncle Felix’s day, and it looked like it could do with another coat still.

And there was the door.

It was a solid door, with a heavy iron bolt locked in a bolthole. Securing the bolt was a powerful-looking brass padlock.

‘It’s just like it is in the book!’ I said.

Uncle Felix seemed a little moved. He didn’t say anything, but gave me a cautious smile.

‘Except,’ I added, ‘that the door’s locked.’

Uncle Felix glanced at the lock. ‘Oh yes,’ he whispered. ‘The door’s certainly locked.’

He was transfixed. He stood quietly for some time, hardly moving, except once or twice almost blindly reaching to touch the plastered wall of the shed. Eventually, he shook himself a little and turned to me.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘such a surprise.’

I didn’t really know why he should have said it was such a surprise. He’d told us at dinner the previous night that it would probably still be there. Perhaps he meant because the school and the clubhouse had gone, the shed might have been gone, too.

I looked at the locked door with a welling sense of disappointment. The lock looked very secure. It was so frustrating.

‘Uncle Felix,’ I whispered.

‘David?’

‘Do you think we might be able to break in?’

‘David!’

‘I mean the door must be pretty old …’

‘So?’

‘So, if we both put our shoulders to it and shoved, we might be able to break inside.’

Uncle Felix looked at me carefully. ‘And get arrested for damaging council property? Not to mention breaking and entering?’

I looked down, feeling a little stupid.

‘I guess …’

‘And anyway,’ said Uncle Felix, ‘if they wanted us to go in, they would have left the door unlocked.’

I didn’t have a clue what he meant by ‘they’, and I didn’t get a chance to ask him either, for, without adding anything else or even giving me a teasing smile, he brushed past me and continued down the path towards the lower road.

This was the second time Uncle Felix had broadsided me with a really weird comment. The first, of course, was when he told me that he feared the rats turning red had everything to do with Axillaris. That had come out of left field. And now this. When he made the first comment I was given the distinct impression he’d immediately regretted
saying what he’d said, and it was the same now.

I followed his uncommunicative shoulders down the zigzagging path, my mind racing. I remembered hoping to find some clue to the rats in
Into
Axillaris
. I’d read quite a lot more since then, but I was still none the wiser.

Magic
, Dad had said.

Mystery
, Mum had said.

Gray thought him a
weirdo
and Martha had thought him a
fake
.

I didn’t really know what to think, apart from realising that Uncle Felix was a puzzle, a Rubik’s cube with different faces all made up of different colours.

When we got home, my heart sank to find Gray sprawled on a couch in the living room fiddling with his mobile.

He glanced up as we entered the room. I was worried that he might make some comment to Uncle Felix about the rats, but all he did was give us both a surly look before immediately returning to peck at his phone.

Uncle Felix gave me a curious glance and I shook my head warningly. He took the hint, said nothing, and we passed in to the kitchen where Mum was much more friendly.

‘Coffee?’

‘Please,’ said Uncle Felix.

‘I take it there’s been no improvement?’ I asked.

‘The rats? No, red as ever,’ Mum said.

‘I thought so,’ I said. ‘Gray’s in there looking like thunder.’

‘Well, did you show David your old stamping grounds?’ she asked.

‘I surely did,’ said Uncle Felix. ‘We wandered all over the place. I showed him the site of the old school. All houses now.’

‘Everything’s changed, I suppose,’ said Mum.

‘Not everything,’ I said. ‘You know in
Into Axillaris
when the kids find that old concrete shed which turns into a Way Station?’