The Loblolly Boy and the Sorcerer (11 page)

‘What time?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Mel. ‘The clock doesn’t work.’

The loblolly boy grinned. ‘Two dead hands probably.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Sorry,’ said the loblolly boy. ‘Something that guy said to me once.’

‘Do you know him?’

‘I’ve met him,’ said the loblolly boy. ‘I went to dinner with him, actually.’

‘You’re putting me on?’

‘No honestly. He had fish and he turned the waiter into a dog.’

Mel turned and stared at him. ‘You’re weird,’ she said.

Although he had misgivings, the loblolly boy felt that the only course was to find the Sorcerer again. He knew he should beware of him, even fear him, but it was a possibility he had to explore. The alternative was being the loblolly boy forever.

However, although over the next few days he regularly haunted the street corner where he and his father had first seen the strange busker, and though he often returned to the floral clock with two dead hands, he at no time caught as much as a glimpse of the tall, thin man in the dinner suit with a violin.

He did, however, see a considerable amount of the boy who had stolen his life. Now that it had been made quite clear to him that Benjy had no intention of ever Exchanging with him again, the loblolly boy had fewer scruples about annoying him. There was nothing to lose now. Instead, in a rather perverse way, he rather enjoyed letting Benjy know
that he was still around, sitting in a tree nearby, hanging out on the barbecue in the back yard, or even at times sneaking inside the house itself and chatting to him as he was trying to eat or watch television.

‘Bug off!’ Benjy would snarl.

The loblolly boy would laugh and Janice would ask Benjy in an aggrieved tone, ‘What’s eating you?’

For all that, it was a small satisfaction and it did not get him any closer to solving his predicament. Moreover, there was the pain of seeing his father’s distress, for Benjy had clearly reverted to type. He was lippy, smart, always on the edge of an outburst of temper and ever ready with a hurtful comment or sarcastic aside. All of this his father bore with bleak acceptance although he stayed away from the house as much as possible, thereby leaving Janice and Benjy free to badmouth and laugh at him in his absence.

Some days later, in the late afternoon sun when the loblolly boy had retired to his linden tree, he saw Mel wandering towards him. She looked up, waved, and then hurried forward and began to climb swiftly and expertly.

She arrived at the loblolly boy’s branch quite breathless.

‘Somebody wants to talk to you,’ she said.

Immediately, the loblolly boy leaned forward excitedly.

‘Who? The man with the violin?’

Mel appeared to have forgotten about the Sorcerer for momentarily she looked a little puzzled. Then she said, ‘No, Benjy. The little creep is over by the ramp. He seemed to think I might know where to find you.’

Somewhat intrigued, the loblolly boy flew over to the ramp. Benjy wasn’t hard to find; he was standing talking with a small group including the large kid, Gavin, whose skateboard the loblolly boy had dropped into the lake.

It was quite clear that Benjy was holding fort, entertaining the others with a laughing, bragging account of how he had dealt to the store manager and the school principal.

‘I told her she could take her sucking school and stuff it down the toilet!’

‘Sheesh,’ laughed one of his mates, ‘and what did she say to that, Benjy?’

‘Well, she went all sort of beetroot and went like, “You’re expelled!”’

The other kids laughed encouragingly.

‘What a mole!’ said Benjy.

‘What happened then?’

‘I just told her, you can’t expel me lady ’cause I’ve already quit! I’m out of here!’

At that point he noticed the loblolly boy at the edge of the circle and shook his head imperceptibly and then gestured him back. The loblolly boy understood and so he withdrew several metres.

The talk and the laughter continued for some time before Benjy was able to free himself. Eventually he came across and stood close to the loblolly boy. He put his hand to his mouth and whispered urgently, ‘I can’t talk to you
while all these kids are about. I’d look like a real dick!’

The loblolly boy glanced at him. He thought he looked and sounded like a real dick in any case, but he didn’t mention this.

‘So?’

‘I’ll meet you across the road. There’s a place …’

‘What’s it all about?’

‘Tell you later.’

And at that, Benjy left him and wandered back to the group.

The loblolly boy shrugged, then flew up above the skateboard area, before gliding over the gates and the road and coming to land in front of an older two-storey brick building across the road from the entrance to the park.

Some minutes later, he saw Benjy, now detached from the others, saunter through the gates and make his way across the busy road.

‘Well?’ demanded the loblolly boy.

Benjy looked left and right. There weren’t many people on the footpath but there was the occasional pedestrian in sight.

‘Not here, either,’ he whispered. ‘Follow me.’

The loblolly boy thought that, for a guy who was prepared to draw attention to himself by tagging, coining cars and nicking PlayStations, he was being a little unduly sensitive. However, Benjy was calling the shots, and he was interested in what it was all about. So obediently he followed Benjy down a narrow alley between the old brick building and the more modern one beside it.

The lane ended in a small asphalt yard enclosed by buildings and fences. It was used as a car park with access from the other direction. Two cars and a pick-up truck were squeezed together in narrow car parks. There was a small brick building in one corner that appeared disused. The fences and the brick structure had all been heavily tagged, but the area was so far out of the public eye that no effort had been made to paint over the ugliness.

Benjy made for the little building and pushed at the door. It was unlocked. Looking about him nervously, he stood at the open door and beckoned to the loblolly boy.

‘It’ll be okay in here,’ he said.

It would have been okay in the yard, thought the loblolly boy. It was completely deserted. What was wrong with Benjy? All at once his cockiness seemed to have deserted him.

‘What’s wrong with here?’ asked the loblolly boy.

In reply, Benjy pointed to a faded sign painted on the wall of the building proper.
Private Property
it read.
All Trespassers Prosecuted
.

‘I’m in enough strife already,’ he muttered. ‘Any more and I’ll probably end up in gaol.’

Ah, so that’s it, thought the loblolly boy. He’s in even more trouble. Perhaps he wants to Exchange again so that I can take the rap once more. How stupid does he think I am?

All the same, there was no harm in humouring the guy so he shrugged and pushed himself around the pick-up truck and stood at the door.

It was gloomy inside with little illumination except from
the door itself and a pair of small wooden louvres at each end. The room was quite empty apart from a couple of old sacks and a scatter of empty cans. Dozens of cigarette butts littered the floor. The loblolly boy guessed this was some sort of hideout for the skateboarders.

He joined Benjy inside, asking, ‘Well, what have you done this time? Burned down a church?’

Benjy shut the door, plunging the room into an even deeper gloom. In the shafts of light from the louvres, motes danced like tiny life-forms.

‘What?’

‘You said you were in enough strife already, so I thought there was something else?’

Benjy shook his head nervously. ‘No, no, nothing like that.’

‘What then?’

‘Your old man’s giving me a real hard time. He’s been even worse since you took my place.’

‘Your choice,’ said the loblolly boy.

‘He and Janice too,’ added Benjy. ‘You know …’

The loblolly boy nodded. ‘So?’ he asked.

Benjy paused. ‘Funny thing,’ he said, ‘when we Exchanged, I knew what I was doing …’

‘Yeah,’ said the Loblolly Boy. ‘You were setting me up.’

‘You would have done the same,’ said Benjy.

The loblolly boy let that pass.

‘But,’ said Benjy, ‘at the same time I’d forgotten.’

‘Forgotten?’

‘I’d forgotten just what a buzz being the loblolly boy
was. It all came back to me the moment I ran out of the front door and leapt into the air and just kept climbing. The flying. Man, that is fun. And the invisibility. So good …’

He looked so pleased with the memory that the loblolly boy wondered exactly to what use he’d put being invisible in the few hours they’d Exchanged.

All the same, the conversation was taking an interesting turn. Benjy obviously had something to offer.

‘But …’ Benjy’s face clouded.

‘I know,’ said the loblolly boy. ‘No tomatoes.’

‘Or fried chicken,’ said Benjy.

‘Tell me about it,’ said the loblolly boy.

‘Well, last night it suddenly occurred to me. Janice and your Dad were at it again hammer and tongs and all I wanted was to be out of there. Suddenly I realised that you and me, we’re ideally placed!’

‘I don’t follow,’ said the loblolly boy.

‘Don’t you see,’ said Benjy. The loblolly boy could sense his growing enthusiasm. ‘It’s possible for us to Exchange whenever we want. When I get really hacked off with things back at the ranch, I could let you know and we could Exchange for a week or so. Then I could have all the fun of being the loblolly boy.’

‘And then when you felt a craving for fried chicken, we could Exchange back?’

‘Precisely! What do you reckon?’

The loblolly boy stared at him. Was he serious? His first thought was that the idea was crazy. It didn’t mean an
escape from being the loblolly boy at all, just an occasional holiday and then one mainly at the whim of Benjy; and nor did it mean an escape from being Benjy. Probably the time he’d most want to escape into being the loblolly boy was some other time when he was waist deep in the manure and needed out.

He decided to stall.

‘Can I trust you?’ he asked.

‘You know me.’

‘Exactly,’ said the loblolly boy grimly.

Benjy looked hurt. ‘Of course you can trust me. Isn’t it a win-win situation?’

The loblolly boy shrugged. ‘It could be, possibly.’

‘It would be, absolutely,’ said Benjy.

The loblolly boy stared at him doubtfully. Even in the half-light, Benjy’s face was shining with sincerity.

‘Okay,’ said the loblolly boy finally. ‘Let’s shake on it.’

For a brief moment, the loblolly boy saw a flicker of caginess show itself in the sincerity and then Benjy said in a more urgent tone of voice.

‘What was that?’

The loblolly boy listened. He’d heard nothing.

‘Someone’s out there. Wait!’

Benjy moved swiftly to the door and opened it a fraction and peered out.

‘Wait!’ he repeated.

Then he swung the door open, leapt out and immediately thrust it shut behind him. Before the loblolly boy could react he heard the sound of a bolt slamming home.

The next sound he heard was Benjy’s laughter.

‘Hey, Loblolly! Enjoy your new home! Do you know you’d just about win every gold medal in the Stupidity Olympics?’

The loblolly boy heard Benjy giggle once more at his own wit, then footsteps running away, then silence.

CHAPTER EIGHT

T
HE GADGET MAN

O
f course, the loblolly boy rushed at the door pushing at it furiously. Of course, it was as solid as a rock wall. Of course, he knew that it would be.

He glanced hopelessly up at the tiny louvres. He doubted a cat could have got in through those small gaps, even if there weren’t wooden slats clearly nailed in.

There was no need to check the rest of his small cell. Brick walls, concrete floor, bolted door.

The word for his position was trapped. Trapped like a pig in a poke. He had no idea what a poke was, but he was sure it was something a pig couldn’t get out of.

And he was equally sure he had no way of getting out of this mess.

Fool!

How many times did he have to learn the lesson that Benjy could not be given a centimetre.

He now realised that Benjy was far worse than simply untrustworthy, a vandal, and a thief.

Benjy was utterly and relentlessly toxic.

He’d locked him in here and wandered away and he had no intention of ever coming back.

With growing alarm, the loblolly boy realised he’d be staying in this dismal cell until some other person happened along.

That could be days.

Weeks.

He looked down at the scattered cans and cigarette butts. How often did kids come here for a drink and an illicit smoke? Every few days? Once a month?

He sat down on his haunches and put his head in his hands. How unutterably foolish he’d been yet again.

The whole thing had been a set-up, of course. Benjy had, through a mixture of convincing logic and clever — so very clever — acting, baited the hook and dangled it before him. And once again he’d swallowed it. Snap! Foolish! Foolish!

Probably he’d been stupid to goad Benjy with his presence. He’d taken some small pleasure in annoying him, in getting in his spiky hair. He should have realised that Benjy wouldn’t put up with this for long.

Benjy was smart. He was toxic. And he was utterly ruthless.

In the event, his period of isolation was not nearly so long as
he feared. He was still squatting, brooding on his foolishness when he heard a faint tap at the door.

‘Hello? Anybody there?’

‘I’m in here,’ he called. ‘Can you hear me?’

‘Loblolly Boy?’

‘Yes. Who’s that?’

‘It’s me — Mel!’

‘Mel? Thank goodness! Wonderful! How on earth did you find me?’

Mel’s voice was a little muffled and the loblolly boy couldn’t make out her answer.

‘What?’

‘I said I didn’t trust that little creep, Benjy.’

‘You’re smarter than me.’

‘I thought he was up to no good.’

‘So?’

‘So I followed him.’

‘Oh god, I’m so glad you did. I could’ve been here forever!’

‘What a low-life that guy is!’

‘Can you get me out?’

‘No.’

‘No? Why not?’

‘There’s a great brass padlock on the door!’

The loblolly boy sank to his haunches again, flooded with despair. All at once, Benjy’s ruthless rating went up several more points and started the red light flashing. Of course he would have locked the door. He didn’t want some passer by coming along and releasing the loblolly boy. He
wanted the loblolly boy stuck in the cell for a long, long time. He would have had the padlock in his pocket all the time he was trying to ‘tempt’ him with his proposition.

The chances of Mel getting the key off Benjy were less than zero by several miles.

He probably didn’t even have the key any more, thought the loblolly boy bitterly. He could have already thrown it into the lake. It could be lying in the mud down there along with Gavin’s skateboard and Jason’s bag.

‘You don’t have any keys on you that you could try?’ suggested the loblolly boy, knowing it was an impossible long shot.

‘Actually I do,’ said Mel.

‘None fit?’

‘Right, first time. I tried them already.’

‘Of course you did,’ said the loblolly boy.

The nature of his predicament was becoming more and more stark. He could ask Mel to get somebody from the building to break open the door, but what would she say? How would she persuade anybody? They would shout out and not hear any answer. They might peer through the louvres and see absolutely nothing except some sacks and cans.

They’d think she was nuts.

‘I don’t suppose you have a bolt cutter or something like that on you, do you?’

‘I left it at home,’ said Mel. ‘Couldn’t see any use for it today.’

‘Bad call,’ said the loblolly boy.

‘Dunno what to do,’ said Mel.

‘Neither do I right now,’ said the loblolly boy.

He didn’t, either. So far, in all of his comings and goings in the city he’d come across only two Sensitives: Benjy who was determined to put him away forever, and Mel. One wouldn’t help him, and the other couldn’t help him.

No, he then realised, there weren’t only two Sensitives.

There was one other.

The Sorcerer.

He could send Mel to find the Sorcerer. But where would she find him? How would she find him? He himself had been looking for him for days and had seen not a sign of him. Without the advantage of wings, it could take Mel weeks.

And then, even if she did find him, why would the Sorcerer help anyway? He’d probably find the whole situation amusing. He’d no doubt consider it was making the plot of the loblolly boy’s life more complicated, more interesting.

And even if he came, it wouldn’t probably be to help. He’d probably come to laugh.

The loblolly boy shook his head. He only had straws to clutch at now. There was nothing else left.

‘Are you there, Mel?’ he called.

‘Still here,’ she replied.

‘There’s only one thing I can think of,’ he began.

‘He’s creepy, though,’ protested Mel.

‘He’s probably worse than that,’ said the loblolly boy. ‘But there’s absolutely nothing else.’

‘Well, if you say so,’ said Mel. ‘I’d rather try to get hold of a set of bolt cutters.’

‘Do you know how to use them?”

‘No.’

‘Do you know what they look like?’

‘No.’

‘I’m sorry, then. But I reckon the Sorcerer is the way to go.’

‘If you say so,’ Mel repeated.

Even through the door, the loblolly boy could hear her doubts and misgivings. Having insisted on the Sorcerer, he now had his own doubts and misgivings. The Sorcerer was unpredictable. He was a loose cannon. Should he really be exposing Mel to him?

‘Look …’

‘What?’

‘Perhaps …’

‘What?’

‘Look, I’m really grateful, but …’

‘No worries,’ said Mel. ‘As you said, there’s absolutely nothing else.’

‘I reckon, but if you’d rather …’

‘Course I’d rather!’

All the same, shortly afterwards he heard her
more-or-less 
cheerful, ‘Well, I’ll be off then. Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone.’

‘Ha! Ha!’ the loblolly boy called, but Mel was already running off.

The loblolly boy moved away from the door and settled down to wait. This time though, he didn’t squat on his haunches, instead, he lay down at full length after bunching up one of the old sacks to use as a pillow. He found himself lapsing into a deep gloom as he considered all that had happened and all that could still possibly happen. The immediate problem was somehow getting out of this prison cell, but even when sooner or later that hurdle was jumped, there remained the ongoing problem of Benjy.

It was now blindingly clear that Benjy had no intention of ever Exchanging.

Where did that leave him?

A loblolly boy forever, condemned to hang about his once-home and from time to time see his father grow older, more troubled and more disillusioned.

It was just too depressing.

Then there was another tap on the door.

Surprisingly, Mel was back already.

‘What is it?’

‘There’s a repair shop of some sort across the road. I thought I’d try Plan B.’

‘Plan B?’

‘Bolt cutters.’

‘What?’

‘They’re bound to have them. I’ll spin them some story
about losing something, my bag or whatever, then come back and let you out.’

Mel made it sound so easy.

‘How do you know they’ll have bolt cutters anyway?’

‘Of course they will. They’re a repair shop. They might even have something better than bolt cutters!’

‘How so?’

‘Well, ’cause the shop’s called “The Gadget Man”.’

He should have expected something like this, he thought, brightening, suddenly more hopeful. He remembered how the people in the song had come to him. The Jugglers arrived out of nowhere. He hadn’t deliberately been looking for them.

The Sorcerer was not only there, but seemed to have been anticipating him.

And now, like a rabbit out of a hat, the Gadget Man, whoever or whatever he was.

Soon the loblolly boy heard footsteps, and judging by the number and noise too many for one rather small girl. There were voices, too, but he couldn’t as yet hear what they were saying. One seemed to be Mel’s and the other deeper, probably a man’s.

Then the voices were closer.

‘Ahh,’ he heard the man say. ‘I see what you mean. This is a problem.’

‘Can you fix it?’ asked Mel

‘Most things can be fixed,’ said the man, ‘if you have the right gadget.’

‘Do you reckon you have the right gadget?’ the loblolly boy heard Mel ask.

‘I think so,’ said the man. ‘I think my little skeleton key should be able to deal with this. Stand aside now.’

Then he heard the man’s voice again. ‘Good fellow!’ he said.

Shortly afterwards the loblolly boy heard a clearly audible gasp from Mel, and then a scrabbling sound at the lock.

The next thing he heard was the man’s voice saying. ‘Oh I say! Good little fellow!’ And then the loblolly boy heard the bolt being drawn and suddenly sunlight splashed into the room as the door was opened.

Blinking against the light, the loblolly boy saw a chubby little man wearing a brown dustcoat, which came down to his calves. His pate was bald but he had, otherwise, long wispy white hair that hung down in a rather fluffy fashion to cover his collar. He was peering into the gloom of the room over half-glasses.

Mel stood a little behind him, half-grinning at the loblolly boy, half-shrinking from the little figure immediately in front of her.

At that point the loblolly boy realised that the man wasn’t staring into the gloom at all, he was staring at him.

Clearly he was quite visible to the little man.

‘Come out, come out, my good fellow,’ said the man. ‘I’m sure you’ve been in there long enough.’

‘Oh, I have,’ said the loblolly boy. ‘Thanks, Mel,’ he grinned. Then he turned to the man. ‘Thank you.’

‘No trouble, no trouble at all,’ said the man.

He waited until the loblolly boy had left his prison, and then he closed the door behind him, secured the lock and then bent down to pick up the padlock which was lying on the ground. He secured the padlock to the bolt and pushed the hasp home.

Mel was still looking in awe at the little man.

‘Let me introduce myself, young man,’ said the man. ‘I am …’

‘The Gadget Man?’ asked the Loblolly Boy.

‘Well, yes,’ said the man, nodding. ‘How perceptive you are! I was going to say Daniel Flynn. But, yes, people do call me the Gadget Man.’ He smiled and added, ‘Dan, Dan, the Gadget Man. Actually, my shop’s just across the road and when this young lady …’ he turned and gestured at Mel, ‘said you were in trouble …’

‘But I didn’t,’ protested Mel. ‘I said I’d left my skateboard in the room and accidentally …’

‘Ah, yes,’ said the Gadget Man. ‘I know what you
said
, but I’m talking about what you
meant
.’

Mel looked at him with even more alarm.

‘Thank you,’ said the loblolly boy. ‘We didn’t have a clue how we were …’

Mel interrupted him. ‘Show him,’ she said.

She was talking to the Gadget Man who turned to her and raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question.

‘Show him how you opened that lock,’ she said.

‘It was nothing special,’ said the Gadget Man. ‘I simply used my skeleton key.’

‘
Show
him the skeleton key,’ insisted Mel

‘Shall I get it to open it again?’ asked the Gadget Man.

Mel nodded, eyes wide.

Then the Gadget Man withdrew something from one of the bulging pockets of his dustcoat. At first the loblolly boy thought it was one of those slinky toys. It was metallic, perhaps stainless steel, and seemed to be made up of slithering loops, thin rods and rings with a somewhat more solid element at one end like a large ball bearing. It was quite small, the length of a ball point pen. The loblolly boy could not see it clearly at all, as much of it was concealed in the Gadget Man’s hand. Whatever it was it was not a key, at least not like any key he had ever seen before.

The Gadget Man bent down and placed the object on the ground before the door.

Once the Gadget Man stepped back and whispered, ‘All right, good fellow? Unlock it again, little man.’ The object rose to its feet. ‘Good fellow!’ cried the Gadget Man.