Washy and the Crocodile (15 page)

“He might have been,” answered Annie. “I just couldn't say. I'm sorry.”

“Never mind,” said the police officer, and smiled encouragingly. “You're a good witness, Mrs Armstrong.”

“Annie.”

“Annie,” repeated the police officer, and for a moment it seemed as if he'd forgotten why he was there.

“What was his voice like?” He went on, when he had recovered himself.

“I don't know,” said Annie.

“No idea?” Said the police officer, neutrally.

“No. I'm afraid not,” said Annie, who was trying her hardest to remember. “I don't think he said a word, from start to finish. I know it sounds absurd but... he didn't seem to communicate that way.”

“So,” said the policeman thoughtfully, “if he didn't use words, how did he communicate?”

“With his hands. And his face. And his smile. And his whole body, really. He made you see things. What was in his mind. What was in your mind.” She shrugged, baffled by how to explain it. “Things.”

The policeman lent forward, his eyes on her face. “And what was he
like
?” He asked.

“He seemed to be very calm, I thought.” Said Annie, as if only the two of them were in the room. “About everything. He wasn't excited, like everyone else. “

“No,” said the police officer, as if he knew exactly what she meant; and stopped.

“You wouldn't have thought there was a robbery going on at all!—Or that he was being threatened by a man who was holding a shot-gun, and had already fired it into the ceiling to show it was real!”

“As if he'd seen it all before,” said the sergeant, slowly.

“Yes,” replied Annie, equally slowly. “It was as if he'd seen it all before. As if he'd seen everything before. That's very perceptive.”

“Thank you. Go on, please. Annie. Go on with your story. So this tall, dark, young-looking stranger came into the bank, and found a robbery in progress. It seems. So... what did he do?”

“He went up to the robbers, and he looked at them. In the eyes. He could see their eyes. Through their masks.”

“He
looked
at them,” repeated the police officer. But he didn't write it down.

“Yes,” said Annie, her eyes still on the fire. “And then he smiled. It was an extraordinary smile. I've never seen anyone smile like that. No-one could resist that smile. It lit up the world.”

The police officer opened his mouth, but no words came out.

And then the stranger spoke with his hands,” said Annie, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. “He pointed to the shot-gun, and the man laid it on the floor. Just like that. And he took off his mask. And the other men took off their masks too. And the four men all smiled at each other. And then they started laughing, as if the whole thing were a great joke. And the stranger did a dance.”

“A dance.”

“Yes. He danced as if he were a wombat.” Annie couldn't help it. She had to tell the truth. No matter how it sounded.

“A wombat,” said the friendly sergeant.

“It's a marsupial animal only found in Australia,” said Jack before he could stop himself. “They're herbivorous and creepy. Or something like that. I don't think creepy is the word I want, really,” he added. “After all, this is a police investigation. So I do need to tell the truth, the whole truth, and...” He stopped.

“And nothing but the truth,” said the policeman kindly, and without the slightest hint of patronising him. “Well done, Jack. Well remembered.”

“Thanks,” said Jack.

“As it happens, I know what a wombat is,” said the young police officer. “They have them in the zoo. And the word that you meant to use is crepuscular. That means they tend to come out mainly at dawn and dusk.”

“Like rabbits,” said Evie simply. After all, she had been listening intently; and she didn't see why Jack should get all the attention.

The policeman nodded, and smiled at her too. He had a nice smile, she thought. An open, honest smile. He might not have been a policeman at all. What a lot she would have to tell her best friend Samantha! Sam would be
insanely
jealous, thought her friend with pleasure; for although Evie was not a nasty little girl, she had no plans to be a saint.

“We'd better go back to your mother,” said Sergeant Wilton, and this time he actually grinned, as if he were enjoying himself. “We left her in the lobby of the bank. Remember?” He turned to Annie, and his face became serious again.

“It was a very funny dance,” Evie's mother went on, as if no-one else had spoken at all—which was most unlike Mummy. “We could all see the wombat. It was a funny little thing. Very fierce, but very vulnerable at the same time. It was puzzled by the rain. It couldn't understand what rain was. And then it tried to fight it. To fight the rain. With its hairy little fists. And we all laughed.”

“We?”

“Everyone in the bank was watching by now. Even Mrs Jones. “

“And then?”

“The four men, the three robbers and the stranger, left the bank together, laughing.”

“Laughing,” said the policeman, as if that were the most natural thing in the world, too; but he didn't write it down. He was too absorbed.

“As if they were the best of friends,” said Annie, “who had known each other for a very long time, and wanted to catch up; but knew they had plenty of time to do that, and were just enjoying each other's company. Like when you meet a really old friend.
You
know.”

“I know,” said the police officer, and closed his notebook and put away his pen. “Thank you, Mrs Armstrong. Annie. You've been most helpful.” And he stood up to go, and Tommy came and nuzzled his hand, which was most unusual, and the police officer tickled the dog just behind his left foreleg, which was just where he liked to be tickled, so that Tommy shivered with delight, and then—

“Is that it?” Asked Jack.

“That's it,” answered the policeman, who had produced his cap, and was fiddling with his impressive radio. “It's all over. Our enquiry is complete.” He snapped shut his notebook, and stowed it away in a huge pocket.

“But... what about the robbery?” Asked Jack, his eyes on the radio. What was its range? Could Sergeant Wilton call in the back-up squad from headquarters, with it? Could he make contact with the police helicopter?

“What robbery? Nothing was taken from the bank. And there have been no complaints,” said the police officer, smiling.

“But... the shot-gun,” said Jack. “What about the shot-gun?”

“That's true,” said the police officer, thoughtfully. “A good point. You're a bright lad. If we'd found a shot-gun, that would have been evidence. Of something. But we didn't.”

“Did the manager make a statement?” Asked Annie.

“He did. He said he was very happy with how the morning had turned out. That someone might have brought an old shotgun in the bank by mistake, but that it wasn't there now. And that he'd extended your overdraft,” concluded the policeman, smiling broadly.

“Oh, Mummy,” said Jack. And cried. He was only a small boy, after all, as he told himself. And Daddy had been dead for an awfully long time. He couldn't be expected to cope with everything. So the police officer let hold his official radio, and showed him how it worked, and told him the right procedure, and then got him to call the station. Honestly!

Then the sergeant got up to go, and seemed to take a very long time to say good-bye to Mummy, and offered to come back and check that she had all the right crime prevention measures, if she'd like him to do so. When it was convenient. And Mummy seemed very pleased at the idea, and actually took his hand again, and seemed to hold on to it for far longer than was necessary, thought Jack. Evie looked quite pleased, and Jack thought that she was probably planning to tell her friend Sam all about it, and he would have to put a stop to that, although he wasn't quite sure how, or even why.

The sergeant left, and they all sat down exactly where they were, and no-one said a word; and they were still sitting there in silence when Uncle Otto came in.

He looked very pleased with himself, and quite proud, as if he had done something really important: but he hadn't done anything at all. Apart from talking to a tree, thought Jack.

“The rain's stopped,” said Otto, as if that were important. “And there's a fine sunset. It's worth watching. Especially at the top of the hill. Why don't you two children go and look? You might see something that you'll never forget.”

Uncle Otto didn't normally say things like that; and Jack and Evie took his advice—although Jack noticed that Otto didn't come with them.

***

When the children looked up into the sunset, they could see a tall, dark stranger walking steadily and purposefully away from them and over the crest of the hill, as if he had a long way to go.

He was a very tall man, with a very long stride; and he cast an elongated shadow. When he reached the top of the hill he stopped, and turned and waved. He seemed to be waving to them. But he couldn't possibly have been. After all, he was a very long way away: and he didn't know them from Adam.

He waved with his right hand, in which he seemed to be holding a long, dark object. Jack felt that something was tugging at his heart; and he grasped his sister by the hand.

“What's going on?” He asked. “Why is he waving to us?”

“Oh, Jack,” said his sister, almost sadly. “When will you understand?”

“Understand what?” Asked Jack.

His sister looked at him as if she were infinitely older than he.

“Why do you think Uncle Otto asked us to come out here?” She asked. “Or don't you think at all?”

“You mean—”

“Yes, Jack. I mean.”

And they both stared.

“What's he wearing?” Asked Jack. “I know. He's wearing a dark suit! Just like I thought! That's what he must have worn. In the bank.”

“No, he isn't,” said his little sister steadily.

“What is he wearing, then, Miss Know It All?” Asked her brother.

“Look, Jack. Just look,” said his sister. “He isn't wearing any clothes at all. And look what's in his hand! How will he be able to get on the plane, with something like that in his possession? They'll never allow a
spear
—”

And they both stared, as hard as they could. But the stranger had disappeared.

Uncle Otto came to join them, and somehow he seemed to know exactly what had gone on before he came, and he knew their thoughts, and—

“He left you something, Jack,” said Uncle Otto.

“What?” Asked the boy.

“In case you needed it,” said Otto.

Jack looked at what was in the other's hand. “What is it?” He said.

“You know what it is,” said Otto.

“Won't he need it?” Asked Jack.

“He'll find another one,” replied Otto. “The next time he comes to a Eucalyptus tree.”

“Yes,” said Jack. “He will.”

There was a pause.

“Did he say anything?” Asked Evie, who had been very quiet.

“Who?” Asked Otto, who could be very obtuse at times.

“Your... old friend,” said Evie.

“Oh, him,” said Otto. “He did. He told you to be very good children. And to look after your Mother. And always to do what Uncle Otto tells you.”

“You made up that bit yourself,” said Evie.

“Yes, I did,” agreed Uncle Otto. And he smiled. “But he did say that he loves you.”

“How can he do that?” Asked Evie. “He hardly knows us!”

“No,” answered Otto. “What he meant was—was that—”

“That he loves all children,” said Jack. “I know. I'll explain it to her later.” He spoke as if he were a hundred years old at least, thought Evie: but for once she wasn't irritated.

“Thank you, Jack,” said Otto. “That would be very kind.” And they all looked up at the spot where they had last seen the tall dark stranger striding with his infinite stride, his spear on his shoulder, and his wavy brown hair bouncing as he strode. Otto put his arms around their shoulders, and there they were when Mummy came to call them in. They were to have their baths, and to go straight to bed afterwards, and if they were really lucky, someone would read them a bed-time story.

“Who?” They asked, jealously. “Uncle Otto does that.”

“I know you won't mind... Uncle Otto.” She said doubtfully. “Just this once. After all, you must be tired of reading to them.”

And Uncle Otto said, of course, that he didn't mind at all. And they all knew that he wasn't telling the truth. But that wasn't the same as lying, said Evie, when the two children were brushing their teeth, before they heard the story. Was it?