Goddess of Gotham (7 page)

Ma was still staring at the duster, trying to figure it out. She was not to know that it was just about Kumari’s only trick. Every other charm she tried was so far doomed to fail.

‘So, where you from, girl?’

There was no answer to that one. Kumari shrugged her shoulders.

‘You telling me you don’t know?’

Ma looked at her, incredulous. Kumari shook her head.

‘Guess I can’t talk,’ said Ma. ‘Me, I’m from all over the place. Puerto Rican, Irish, Jamaican, you name it. My blood is so mixed up it’s a wonder it
don’t need therapy. My folks moved around so much it just shook it up all some more.

How ’bout your folks, honey? Where are they now?’

Searching desperately for an answer, Kumari had a brainwave. She whipped Mamma’s portrait from her pocket.

‘M-mamma,’ she stammered.

Ma took it gently in her hands. ‘What you saying? That’s your mother? So where is she now, honey?’

At that, Kumari crumpled.

‘Someone killed her,’ she managed to whisper. As the tears trailed down her cheek, Ma’s eyes widened in shock and began to well up as she crushed Kumari to her chest.

‘There, there, sweetie, you let it out. Everything’s going to be just fine.’

Snuffling into the endless acres of Ma’s bosom, Kumari knew that this was not the case. It was good to hear it, though, to feel Ma’s reassuring pats. They reminded her of her Ayah.
She, too, was kind of big. Many a time she had taken Kumari on her lap and told her everything would be all right. The thought of her Ayah only intensified her longing. As her sobs increased, Ma
rocked her back and forth. Even if Ma were willing, there was no way she could help. The kingdom had no name, no location on any map. Kumari’s one hope was that someone would could come and
find her. Right now, it was a possibility that appeared frighteningly remote.

Many thousands of miles away, inside his palace, the god-king paced to and fro. His face was thunderous. The courtiers had never seen him so angry. In point of fact, they had
never seen him angry. But this was different. His only child was missing. Vanished without a trace. Somehow she must be in the World Beyond. And he blamed the night guard. Roused from the stupor
into which he had sunk, the god-king’s face ran with sweat. The very effort was weakening him, but still he raged.

‘You should have spotted her,’ he cried, as the Ayah wept noisily.

Before him, the guard hung his head. No words would suffice.

Beside the god-king stood the RHM. His eyes bore into the Ayah’s. They stared back at him, red-rimmed, glinting with suspicion.

‘RHM!’

‘Your Excellency?’

The RHM bowed low before his ruler.

‘You must be the one to go. You will find my daughter.’

The RHM stiffened momentarily.

‘Yes, your excellency,’ he murmured.

The RHM’s impassive face hid a multitude of emotions. It had been a long time since he had left the kingdom. A lifetime, in fact. He, too, was granted only a year and a day in the World
Beyond. He would have to move swiftly. And the king was ailing. It would be foolhardy to leave his side for long. Besides, there was another reason to keep any absence to the minimum. He stared at
the Ayah once more. He dared not leave her to her own devices.

The Ayah met the RHM’s gaze with equal mistrust then glanced away quickly. His eyes followed hers to the empty throne where once the queen had sat. On it, the queen’s portrait, a
picture at once lovely and terrible. So much was at stake here; so many possibilities.

Kumari’s life.

The royal line.

The very kingdom itself.

KUMARI’S JOURNAL

(TOP SECRET. FOR MY EYES ONLY.

EVERYONE ELSE KEEP OUT!)

THIS MEANS YOU!

The World Beyond

Day 5 – 361 days to go

At least now I’ve found the moon I can tell precisely how long I’ve been here. If I climb up and look through the bathroom window I can see it above the lights.
Almost a moon’s quarter has passed since I left home – Time really does move fast in the World Beyond. It’s easier now that I can understand them. It’s pretty cool, this
Gift of Tongues. Makes me think there’s good bits to being a goddess.

I mean, I know there’s good bits because Mamma told me so – as did Papa and the Ancient Abbot. The RHM doesn’t seem so sure, but then I think he’s jealous. Weird how I
miss even him. It’s not what I expected, being here. I thought the World Beyond would be so exciting, but really it’s sort of
grey. I don’t mean grey in colour –
although it is in parts -especially the buildings. I mean it
feels
grey, like there’s a heavy weight pressing down on my shoulders. I think it’s because they have no
Happiness.

Or at least they don’t seem to have a lot of it although Ma is generally always smiling. But I watch the people in the street and they don’t look so happy. I guess there is no
haze of Happiness and no one tending its fires. When I asked CeeCee and LeeLee they looked at me as if I were mad. They do that quite often. They do things differently in the World Beyond – too many
things to list them all.

They have all these amazing machines, for example, they even talk to one another by a machine called the ‘phone’, which is pretty cool. And they have this thing called a
‘computer’ which seems to do just about everything. It sits in LeeLee and CeeCee’s room and they said they use it to send messages to their friends. What is wrong with just going
and talking to their friends, that’s what I want to know! Although I wish I could use it to send a message to Papa, to tell him where he can come and get me. That’s got to be why no
one’s come for me – they can’t work out where I am.

So many machines and yet they can’t stop Time. Makes me think they should have been concentrating on that rather than on coming up with more mechanical things. Weird thing is, they have
all these people on the TV who talk about creams which can perform miracles and stop people from ageing. Perform miracles – what a joke! As if a cream can perform a miracle. It’s hard
enough to perform miracles if you’re a goddess and I should know.

I like the TV though, and the people on it – especially
Oprah
and
The Simpsons
. The Simpsons are
not like any family I have met before – for one thing, they’re yellow. Marge, though, is very kind and Homer reminds me of the Ancient Abbot. Not that the Ancient Abbot has the same
personality but he does get things wrong. Actually, he isn’t much like Homer at all. Homer gets pretty angry. That’s the other thing about people’s faces here – they all
look sort of tight.

CHAPTER 5

S
imon Razzle smiled over the tops of his designer spectacles. He did not strictly need them, but they added a certain
sang-froid.

‘Come, my dear,’ he purred. ‘There is no need to cry. A little nip here, a tuck there and you’ll be restored to your former self.’

Sitting on the opposite side of his imposing desk, the blonde woman dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

‘You really think so?’ she simpered, blue eyes awash with tears.

‘But of course,’ insisted Simon. ‘You have the bone structure. Your natural assets . . . ’

He said the same to all his patients but she was not to know that. She patted her blond curls. Dyed, of course, like her eyelashes. Under them, her forehead stretched too tight, testament to a
bad Botox job. Simon was the king of Botox; he knew just where to inject it, along with his impressive range of fillers, smoothers and plumper-uppers. Fake, the lot of them. But now the ultimate
cure was in sight. A wholly natural cure for ageing. A way to turn back the clock.

Simon drummed his fingers on the desk, impatient now to get rid of her. When the blonde looked at him, startled, he covered with a smooth smile.

‘Finger exercises,’ he said. ‘Excellent for youthful hands.’

‘Oh, really?’ she sounded intrigued. ‘I must try them some time.’

Surreptitiously, Simon pressed the concealed button located under his antique desk. A moment later, his secretary buzzed through. Simon raised a regretful eyebrow.

‘My next client has arrived.’

‘Oh, I see,’ she fluttered.

Simon smiled and half-rose from his chair. Luckily, she took the hint.

As soon as the woman had gone, Simon picked up the intercom.

‘No interruptions until I tell you,’ he barked.

‘Yes, sir,’ came the reply.

Simon sat and stared at the telephone, willing it to ring. This was the most important call of his life; the one that would tell him
she
was here. His eyes almost crossed with the effort;
a bead of sweat trickled from his brow. No Botox for Simon. He preferred a more long-term solution. And if this girl was all that had been promised, she would provide it. The ultimate cure for wrinkles; eternal youth at his fingertips. The
passport to billions. Global fame and respect.

So caught up was he in his reverie, Simon jumped a foot when the phone rang. Fumbling, he dropped it, then recovered himself.

‘Simon Razzle,’ he said, smiling into the receiver. At last, the signal. The girl
was
here!

Thirty seconds later, he was scowling.

‘What do you mean they
lost her?’

Two minutes later, he shouted into the phone. ‘You’d better find her, you hear?’

Thrusting his leather chair backwards, Simon leapt to his feet. He kicked his desk once, twice, then slammed down his fist.

‘Are you OK, sir?’ It was his secretary, full of concern.

‘No I am not!’ Simon shouted. ‘And shut that darn door!’

Throwing himself down on his couch, Simon pounded the cushions. So near and yet so far. They had let the girl slip. Some cock-and-bull story about her running off into the Macy’s Parade,
then getting picked up by the police and carted off they knew not where. In viciously succinct fashion, Simon had made it clear that was not good enough. He expected a return on his investment.
They had to bring him the girl.

Alive, if possible.

But a well-preserved corpse would do.

Kumari surveyed the Hoodoo Hair salon, taking in the orange walls and silver fittings.

‘What do you think?’ said Ma proudly.

‘Ay caramba!’
said Kumari.

Kumari had been at the apartment seven days now and her vocabulary was growing, fed by a constant diet of TV and her one-sided chats with Ma. Ma had an opinion on everything. It was what made
her such a good hairdresser. People came from miles around to Hoodoo Hair, just to hear what Ma had to say.

‘You gotta leave him girl,’ she would counsel and the client would nod in relief. It was one thing hearing it from your own mother, quite another getting it straight from Ma. And
then there were the potions. Ma mixed them up individually, dispensing them with all the gravitas of a pharmacist and a word of wisdom on each.

‘You stir that into his coffee, you’ll soon see an improvement. But you mark my words, girl, you gotta change in yourself.’

Kumari watched as the clients nodded gratefully, carefully stowing away the potion until the time was right. Meanwhile, Ma wielded her scissors and wove fantastical creations on their heads. One
old lady arrived grey and dowdy and left pink-tinted and permed. Another, younger woman, beamed as Ma transformed a rat’s nest into a rivulet of curls. Ma performed magic with her fingers;
her potions were superfluous. Entranced, Kumari munched the candy that Ma handed out to her customers, amazed at all the things that buzzed and whirred, at the very fact of electric light.

Kumari could not help but flick on and off the switches. Badmash loved it too, once he had figured out that hot light bulbs hurt. Like a heat-seeking missile he had started by dive-bombing them.
One bruised beak and a few scorched feathers later, he had learned to leave them well alone. Electricity was only one of the many marvels of the World Beyond. There was the telephone, for instance.
Now, how cool was that? Speak into one end and you could talk to someone else miles away! Kumari glanced at it wistfully. She wished she could call home.

‘Hey, honey’

Kumari looked up. Mrs Brinkman was beckoning. The old lady came in every day for a wash and set, it seemed. Ma reckoned she liked the company.

‘Ol’ Mrs Brinkman,’ she would say. ‘Been living round here for ever. Her friends, they all gone and died. She ’bout the last one left.’

Kumari liked Mrs Brinkman. She had shrewd eyes that twinkled out of her wrinkled face. Kumari tried hard not to stare at the deep folds that scored her skin. The ravages of Time seemed so
unfair.

‘This is for you,’ said Mrs Brinkman, pressing a candy bar into Kumari’s palm. It was as if she knew how much Kumari loved candy. It was the most marvellous thing about the
World Beyond. She even loved the gaudy wrappers that encased her sweet treats. Peeling it off with care, Kumari bit through chocolate to the caramel beneath, pausing so she could feel it begin to
melt in her mouth, coating the insides of her cheeks. Eyes half-closed in ecstasy, she happened to glance at the mirror. What she saw made her hesitate and lean in for a closer look.

On her chin there was a large pink bump. Kumari had never seen anything like it. In the kingdom, these did not exist. She pressed herself right up to the mirror, examining it in detail. The
thing looked angry, volcanic, as if it was about to erupt!

Oh my god,
thought Kumari, clapping a hand over her chin.
I have caught some kind of disease! I am going to die. Or at least, be disfigured forever. This thing is disgusting. I
can’t let anyone see it . . .

She sat frozen with terror for so long that eventually Ma noticed.

‘Kumari, is something wrong?’

Now they were all staring.

‘I’m diseased,’ Kumari wailed, keeping her hand clamped tight to her chin.

‘Have you gone crazy, girl?’ Ma was beside her in an instant. Impatiently, she pulled at Kumari’s hand, trying to drag it from her face. Finally, she succeeded and stared in
puzzlement at her chin.