Corby Flood Page 7

  ‘Bumblebee!’ laughed the little old lady uproariously. ‘Bumblebee! Bumblebee!’

  Finally they reached the top of the stairs, and the little old lady opened a pair of doors that led out onto a wide flat roof. Corby gasped. They were standing at the top of a magnificent tower house, surrounded by a hundred more. And in the distance, far out to sea and disappearing over the horizon, was the S.S. Euphonia.

  Corby rushed to the far wall, waving her arms and

  shouting wildly, ‘Come back! Come back! Mother! Father!’

  The little old lady tutted and fussed over Corby, who was battling not to break into floods of tears.

  ‘Mama say, they cannot hear you,’ said Spiro. ‘But the ship, she returns with new groceries next year.’

  ‘Next year!’ wailed Corby, breaking into floods of tears.

  The old lady enveloped her in strong, wiry arms and patted her head gently. ‘Bumblebee, bumblebee, bumblebee,’ she crooned, over and over, softly in her ear.

  When Corby had calmed down a little, Mama Mesapoliki turned to her sons and spoke for a long time, waving her arms about like a tiny windmill. Spiro turned to Corby.

  ‘Mama say you must see the mayor,’ he said simply. ‘He will know what to do.’

  14. The Sad Tale of the Laughing Goat

  uch a beautiful dream …

  ‘If engineering has taught me anything,’ said Winthrop Flood, wiping his oil – stained hands on the rag Arthur had just handed him, ‘it is that the smallest things can often be the most important. Take the sprocket ratio of the Wibbler mesh – wheel, for example.’

  He paced up and down the gangway of the engine room between the smoothly operating pistons.

  ‘It was the way Hubert caught that sardine sandwich the other night that put me onto it. The way he grabbed it by the tail and sort of flicked it. Of course! I thought. It’s the sprocket ratio! You see, Arthur, the smallest things! And they can so easily be overlooked.’

  Arthur smiled and followed Mr Flood along the gangway. ‘Well, you’ve certainly got rid of that mysterious clunk,’ he said. ‘You’ve worked miracles, Mr Flood. The deckchairs are all working perfectly – not to mention the parasols and the self – adjusting railings, and as for the galley

  ‘Oh, just tinkering, dear boy,’ smiled Mr Flood. ‘Just tinkering.’

  ‘But you’ve taught me so much,’ said Arthur in admiration. ‘You’ve transformed the Euphonia. I’ve never seen her pistons working so smoothly. We’ll reach Harbour Heights in no time at this rate, and—’

  As the words left his mouth, his face fell and his mood suddenly seemed to change.

  ‘Oh, don’t mention it,’ said Mr Flood happily. He turned and saw the look on Arthur’s face. ‘My dear chap! Whatever is the matter?’ He patted the young man on the shoulder. ‘You can visit us in Harbour Heights any time. You know you’ll always be welcome. Serena would love it.’ He smiled. ‘My wife tells me she’s taken quite a shine to you—’

  ‘Oh, but it’s hopeless, Mr Flood,’ said Arthur, turning away and gripping the safety rail. ‘I can’t leave the Euphonia. I promised my father, after all. He’s never recovered from my mother’s death, and I’m all he’s got …’

  ‘Most commendable,’ said Mr Flood, clearing his throat and fiddling with the oily rag. ‘Children are such a blessing in difficult times.’

  ‘Father! Father! Come quick! Mother wants you!’ cried the Flood boys, dashing down the stairway into the engine room.

  ‘What’s all this commotion?’ said Mr Flood. ‘Careful of the flange – levers, Ernest! Watch those wangle – manifolds, Hubert!’

  ‘It’s Corby!’ the boys shouted as one. ‘She’s disappeared!’

  ‘What do you mean, “disappeared”?’ said Mr Times – Roman in a quiet voice. ‘How can a great big crate just disappear?’

  ‘Dunno, boss,’ said Mr Franklin – Gothic.

  ‘Eez a mystery,’ murmured Mr Palatino.

  ‘Search me,’ wheezed Mr Bembo.

  ‘Someone had definitely been down there,’ muttered Mr Garamond. ‘First there was that blasted mop in the broom cupboard, then the marshmallows ‘ad been tampered with …’

  All eyes turned to Mr Garamond. Just then, from the starboard deck, came Mrs Flood’s anxious voice.

  ‘Corby! Corby! Where are you?’

  Corby peered over the large counter and tried to stifle a sneeze.

  ‘Mama say, if you are to take tea with the mayor,’ said Nico, ‘you must bring him something extra special!’

  The old lady climbed a set of steps on wheels and teetered about at the top. She then reached out towards the pyramid of tin cans, swaying slightly as she did so. Corby could hardly bear to look. Surely the whole lot would come crashing down at any moment.

  The old lady’s hand closed around a can at the very centre of the pyramid. Slowly and gently, she pulled it free. The pyramid shuddered and creaked. The hundreds of ancient tins seemed to shift slightly and realign themselves. The whole thing tottered, but it didn’t fall. The old lady held up the tin triumphantly.

  ‘People come from as far away as Lissari just to see Mama pick a tin!’ said Nico with a huge smile.

  The old lady shuffled down the steps and handed Corby the dusty tin can. SNEAD AND MOPWELL’s MACARONI CHEESE IN CHEESY SAUCE, it said. Then she shuffled across to the ancient cash register and stabbed a key with a bony finger. A cloud of dust flew into the air, and a NO SALE sign popped up, accompanied by a rusty ker – ching!

  Corby sneezed.

  ‘Come,’ said Nico and Spiro together. ‘We take you to see the mayor.’

  Outside, the cobbled street that led down to the pretty harbour was full of black, brown and grey goats bleating loudly as several shepherds looked miserably on from their table outside a rundown tavern. Nico reached down, picked Corby up with one massive hand and placed her on his shoulders. Then they set off up the hill, through the bleating flock.

  ‘Which one is the laughing goat?’ asked Corby, looking down at the jostling, shaggy bodies.

  Spiro looked up at her sorrowfully. ‘None of them,’ he said sadly. ‘The laughing goat, she dead.’ He shook his head.

  ‘I’m terribly sorry,’ said Corby, trying to keep her balance as Nico strode up the steep cobbled street.

  ‘The Tale of the Laughing Goat,’ said Nico, ‘is a sad tale.’

  ‘It bring shame and sorrow on all Doralakia,’ nodded Spiro.

  ‘What happened?’ asked Corby.

  ‘In Fedrun, they have a dancing pig,’ said Nico. ‘In Lissari, an ox that can count. Even Mesapoli, where Mama was born, has a donkey that can cough “The Lament of St George”.’

  ‘Here in Doralakia,’ Spiro continued, ‘we had the laughing goat. And people of Dalcretia, they come from far and wide to our Longest Afternoon, just to hear her laugh.’

  ‘And what a laugh!’ said Nico. ‘Never was such a laugh heard, before or since.’ He smiled sadly. ‘And then one day

  A washday,’ said Spiro.

  ‘A washday,’ nodded Nico. ‘With all the clothes hanging from the washing lines between the towers.’ He pointed up, and Corby saw that there were indeed washing lines stretching from one tower house to the next, far above them.

  ‘The goat,’ he continued, ‘she see the mayor’s trousers.’

  ‘Trousers?’ said Corby.

  ‘Trousers,’ nodded Spiro. ‘High up on washing line. And she climb up to the top of his tower.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Corby.

  To eat his trousers, of course,’ said Nico. ‘What a goat!’ He shook his head in admiration. ‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘she climb his tower and reach out to take a bite … further and further …’

  ‘And further,’ added Spiro, ‘until …’

  ‘She fall!’ said Nico, coming to a sudden halt, and almost causing Corby to topple off his shoulders. ‘Right there!’

  He pointed to a spot, just in front of them, outside the door of the tallest tower house Corby had y
et seen.

  ‘The mayor’s house?’ asked Corby.

  Spiro and Nico nodded sadly.

  ‘That’s terrible,’ she said. ‘Dead?’

  Nico nodded.

  ‘It gets worse,’ said Spiro.

  ‘There was someone knocking on the mayor’s door when the goat, she fell,’ said Nico. ‘Someone very important. A great friend of the mayor, and of Doralakia.’

  ‘Who?’ said Corby.

  Nico stooped and Spiro helped her down off his shoulders.

  ‘The world – famous author of that guide you are carrying,’ said Nico, pointing to the battered leather book under Corby’s arm.

  ‘Not …’ said Corby.

  Spiro and Nico both nodded. ‘Hoffendinck.’

  ‘Dead?’ breathed Corby.

  Spiro and Nico shook their heads. ‘No, by the grace of St George,’ said Spiro. ‘The laughing goat, she missed him.’

  ‘His wife, on the other hand,’ said Nico. ‘She not so lucky.’

  15. Tea at the Tower House

  open my eyes and see that I am still trapped in this hollow tree. The palace gardens, the little girl – it was all a dream. A wonderful dream …

  I am awake now, and still trapped …

  But wait. It is not the same. The forest seems different … What is it?

  My nose is tickling … I think … I think I’m going to … sneeze …

  Nico carefully approached the doorway of the mayor’s tower house and took a crab – like sideways step so that he now stood with his back to the wall beside the door. He looked across at Corby and his brother.

  ‘No one stands in front of the door,’ whispered Spiro to Corby. ‘Not since Mrs Hoffendinck, she stand there, that terrible day.’

  Corby nodded, staring at the mayor’s front step and imagining the awful scene. Nico stretched out an arm and stiffly pulled on a heavy iron bell – pull three times. Far above her head, Corby heard the faint tinkling of a bell.

  The Mesapoliki brothers! Nico and Spiro!’ came a voice. ‘You have brought me a young visitor, I see.’

  Corby looked round and noticed a short, ornately decorated copper and silver tube protruding from the wall. The voice was coming from it.

  The mayor,’ whispered Spiro. ‘He never miss a thing. If a cat sneeze in Doralakia, the mayor, he knows about it.’

  ‘Let the young visitor in, and give my best wishes to Mama Mesapoliki, won’t you, Nico and Spiro?’ said the mayor’s voice.

  Nico pushed the heavy wooden door open. The mayor, he will help you, Corby Flood,’ he said, motioning her to step sideways inside. ‘He a very wise man!’

  Corby did as she was told. The next moment the heavy door closed behind her with a loud creak that echoed up inside the tower, and as it did so, the entrance hall she had stepped into was plunged into gloom.

  ‘Climb the stairs, young visitor,’ the mayor called down. ‘We shall take tea on the roof. It is the custom here in Doralakia.’

  So Corby began the long climb up the tower – and it was a long climb. A very, very long climb …

  While the outside of the tower had been constructed from the pinkish stone that was found locally, the inside – stairs, doors and platform floors – had been made from hardwood, which had darkened to near blackness over the centuries.

  The stairs wound their way up the square tower in a sort of angled spiral, with each twelve – stair flight bolted into the wall and changing direction at every corner. After six flights, Corby was already getting short of breath. By twelve, she was beginning to feel very nervous about the long drop beneath her. The only thing that was keeping her going was the sight of her destination – a ceiling that was coming closer and closer. At the top of the eighteenth flight she found herself going through a hole in the platform, and abruptly the ceiling became the floor.

  ‘Oh no,’ she groaned. ‘I thought I was there!’

  But she was nowhere near. On and on the flights of stairs went. Every so often, Corby would look out of one of the narrow windows, each time noting how the cobblestones of the street below had become yet smaller.

  Six platforms there were in all. One hundred and eight flights. One thousand, two hundred and ninety – six stairs …

  Until finally, red – faced, gasping for breath and clutching her Hoffendinck’s Guide in one hand and the tin from the Hundred – Years – Old Grocery Store in the other, Corby stumbled into a large room. It was furnished entirely with richly patterned carpets and huge, plumped – up cushions. On the largest of these sat an old man wearing a red cap with a tassel on the end, and with the longest, whitest beard Corby had ever seen.

  ‘Greetings, young visitor,’ the old man said, his eyes twinkling. ‘It is a long climb, but it is worth it, I assure you. I am Konstantin Pavel, Mayor of Doralakia. Welcome to my tower house!’

  Thank you,’ gasped Corby, struggling to catch her breath after the long climb. ‘My name’s … Corby … Flood …’

  ‘Please, follow me, Corby Flood,’ beamed the mayor, standing up and deftly tucking his trailing beard over one arm to avoid treading on it. He walked across the room and flung open some double doors to reveal a rooftop even bigger than Mama Mesapoliki’s.

  At one corner stood an enormous telescope mounted on a sort of turntable. At the other was a round table covered with a white tablecloth with place – settings for two. The mayor motioned for Corby to sit down on one of the large cushions beside the round table. As she did so, Corby looked out over the low wall that ran the length of the roof terrace, and gasped at the wonderful view.

  Below her lay the small town of Doralakia, its magnificent tower houses golden in the glow from the setting sun. There were hills to the north, followed by agricultural plains, with fields and orchards, and distant snow – topped mountains beyond. To the east and west, the coastline wound its way along in a series of sandy beaches, rocky outcrops and tiny offshore islands, while to the south, the sea – as still as a great turquoise millpond – continued unbroken to the horizon and beyond.

  ‘Doralakia is beautiful, no?’ said Konstantin.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Corby. ‘It’s the most beautiful town I’ve ever seen

  ‘And yet,’ said Konstantin, ‘I see by your face you are not happy to be here in Doralakia.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ said Corby, tears springing to her eyes. ‘It’s just that I’m here by accident. I was travelling on the S.S. Euphonia with my family, when I climbed into a crate in the cargo hold—’

  ‘You climbed into a crate?’ said the mayor.

  ‘Yes, I was hiding from the clowns.’

  ‘Clowns?’ said the mayor.

  ‘Yes, because they’d imprisoned a creature in a wooden box, and it was singing the saddest song.’

  ‘Saddest song?’ The mayor was shaking his head now and stroking his long white beard. ‘I’m not sure I quite understand, Miss Corby Flood.’

  ‘Well, that’s not important right now,’ Corby hurried on. ‘What is important is that when I woke up, I wasn’t on board the Euphonia. I was in the Hundred – Years – Old Grocery Store and the Euphonia was out there, sailing away over the horizon, with my mother and father, and sister and brothers …’ Tears were flowing freely now, but Corby didn’t care. ‘And Mama Mesapoliki said that the Euphonia wouldn’t be back for another year!’ she wailed. ‘But that you would know what to do …’

  Konstantin Pavel stopped stroking his long white beard. ‘It is true what Mama Mesapoliki says. The Euphonia passes Doralakia once a year, but she doesn’t stop here … Not any more …’ His face clouded over and he was silent for a moment. ‘Mama Mesapoliki’s boys, Spiro and Nico, take their boat and motor out to her, and the captain, he slows down only long enough for them to unload their mama’s groceries.’

  He smiled kindly, leaning forwards and patting Corby’s hand. ‘It seems this time, as well as their mama’s groceries, Nico and Spiro unloaded you, too. But don’t cry, little one. Konstantin Pavel will get you back to your paren
ts and your sister and your brothers

  ‘You will?’ said Corby, wiping her eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ said the mayor. ‘But first I must know one thing.’

  ‘Yes?’ said Corby.

  ‘Why,’ said the mayor, ‘are you dressed as a bumblebee?’

  ‘But as I told Mr Times – Roman,’ said Captain Belvedere gloomily, ‘turning back was quite simply out of the question. He and his associates would have to take their complaint to Head Office in Harbour Heights.’

  ‘I blame Arthur,’ said Lieutenant Jon – Jolyon Letchwor th – Crisp.

  ‘After all, it’s hardly a first officer’s job to check the labels on the crates in the cargo hold, now is it?’

  ‘Most unfortunate,’ said Captain Belvedere, patting the ship’s wheel. ‘And just when the Euphonia was running so well. Listen to her engine, Lieutenant. It sounds brand new. Why, it takes me back to the Euphonia s maiden voyage with Binky Beiderbecker and Queen Rita—’

  ‘Yes, well, sir. Like I said,’ interrupted Jon – Jolyon tetchily, ‘the clowns have taken the lifeboat and slipped away into the night, the whole lot of them. The Hattenswillers woke me up this morning to tell me. Couldn’t understand a word they were saying, mind you – they had to write it down on funny little notes. Seemed quite upset about the whole thing …’

  ‘Dashed poor show, is all I can say,’ said Captain Belvedere, shaking his head. ‘Still, I’m not turning round – missing crate or no missing crate.’

  Just then, the door to the bridge flew open and the entire Flood family came crashing in. The entire Flood family, that is, except for Corby.

  ‘Show the captain what you found, boys,’ said Mrs Flood, her arms folded.

  Toby stepped forward and held out a rusty tin with a faded label on it which read: MULHOLLAND’s CUSTARD AND BANANA PUDDING. Ernest held out a clump of matted straw.

  ‘We found these in the cargo hold,’ they announced solemnly.