Authors: Catherine Jinks
Newt wasn’t impressed. She just scowled at him.
‘Yuk! Algebra!’ was all she said.
It was Jake who seemed to grasp the importance of Sterling’s brainwave. ‘Well? Go on,’ Jake urged, shifting restlessly from foot to foot. ‘Why don’t you push the buttons?’
‘With Prot’s hand,’ Marcus added quickly. ‘Don’t forget Prot’s hand.’
He passed the hand back to Sterling, who promptly used it.
Click. Click. Click.
As soon as the last button was pushed, the lift responded. It jerked and clanged. Then it started to drop.
‘This is good,’ Coco said nervously. She appealed to her husband. ‘This is good, isn’t it? It’s never gone down before.’
‘We’ll see,’ he replied.
‘What’s an embassy, Dad?’ Edison asked. ‘Is it some kind of ship?’
‘It’s . . . um . . .’ Sterling trailed off, scratching his head as he tried to think of a good definition.
At last Holly supplied one for him.
‘It’s a little bit of your own country in a foreign place,’ she told Edison. ‘You go there when you want to be protected from the country you’re in.’
‘Oh.’
‘Where’s
my
phone, by the way?’ Newt demanded, turning to Marcus. ‘You had it last.’
‘It broke,’ Marcus had to confess. ‘I dropped it.’
Newt flushed – but before she could say anything, the lift stopped with a bounce.
Ping!
went the door. It trundled open.
They found themselves staring at a dull, drab, stuffy, ill-lit, unoccupied, thoroughly dismal waiting room.
T
HE ROOM WAS A PLAIN GREY BOX
. I
T HAD BEEN FITTED
out with grey carpet, grey plastic seats and a drooping, greyish plant in a stainless-steel pot. The only splash of colour was a poster advertising ‘Getaway Island – the Perfect Escape’.
Opposite the lift was a service window with a metal grille over it. The dark-grey door beside the window was firmly shut.
Marcus was reminded of the office where his mother sometimes went to pay her car insurance.
‘Is this the embassy?’ Edison queried.
‘I don’t know.’ Holly peered at the sign on the counter, which said ‘If unattended, please ring bell’. ‘We’d better ask.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Jake offered. He picked up his suitcase and strode across the room to the service window, where he vigorously rang a small silver bell. After about half a minute, someone answered his summons – but the grille over the window was so heavy, and the glass behind it was so thick and smeared, that Marcus could only make out a vague, dark silhouette hovering behind the counter.
‘Can I help you?’ a woman’s voice queried.
‘Yes,’ Jake replied, as Holly rushed to join him. ‘We need to get out of here.’
‘We need to go home!’ Holly interrupted. ‘We’re completely lost and looking for a way back to the real Diamond Beach, which is where we originally came from.’
‘We were kidnapped by Miss Molpe,’ Marcus added, from the lift. He had a feeling that the woman behind the counter might know Miss Molpe.
And he was right.
‘Ah. Yes. Miss Molpe,’ the woman said. She had a young, gentle, heavily accented voice. ‘I understand.’
‘Can you help us?’ Holly implored. ‘Can you send us back home?’
‘You will need a visa for Getaway Island.’ The young woman pushed a bundle of paper through the narrow slot between the grille and the counter. ‘Just fill in these forms and we will process them for you.’
‘Forms?’ Holly echoed, as if she couldn’t believe her ears.
‘How do you mean, “process” them?’ Newt demanded, from the safety of the lift. ‘How long is that going to take?’
‘Who are you, please?’ asked Coco. When there was no response, she marched over to the service window – where she jostled Jake aside so she could rap on the grille. ‘Hello?’ she snapped. ‘I’d like to know
exactly
where we are and who’s in charge here.’
But the young woman had already vanished back into the shadows from which she’d emerged. Jake, meanwhile, had picked up the topmost form.
‘
Application for visa to Getaway Island
,’ he read aloud, rather slowly and awkwardly. ‘
Please complete questions
one to thirteen in BLACK OR BLUE PEN ONLY and
submit to embassy staff.
’
‘How can we do that when we don’t have any pens?’ Coco exclaimed. She put her mouth to the slot under the grille. ‘Hey! Excuse me! We don’t have anything to write with!’
‘I do,’ Jake remarked. When Coco and Holly turned to stare at him, he patted his suitcase. ‘I packed a bunch of stuff in here when I first ran away – fishing line, and a torch, and some pens, and a cigarette lighter—’
‘How many pens?’ said Coco.
‘I’m not sure. I’ll have a look.’
‘Maybe we should try phoning someone else,’ Marcus suggested. He felt very uneasy. ‘Maybe this is just another nightmare holiday . . .’
But Holly wasn’t convinced. ‘It’s not my nightmare,’ she informed him.
‘Or mine.’ Coco was watching Jake unload his few scrappy possessions from the suitcase. ‘One . . . two . . . three . . .’
‘Four pens,’ said Jake.
‘We can double up,’ Holly decided. ‘I’ll fill in both our forms, Marcus – and you can do the same for Newt, Coco.’
‘And I’ll do Edison’s,’ Sterling offered. He went to retrieve the piece of paper that Coco waved at him. ‘I hope they don’t ask for proof of identity . . .’
Marcus was amazed. He couldn’t understand why the adults seemed so happy to fill in forms.
They probably
like it because it feels normal
, he concluded, knowing that Holly’s life was always full of forms to lodge.
‘I’ll just stay here and hold the door open, shall I?’ he said.
Holly gave a preoccupied grunt; she was already scribbling away. So was Coco, who stood at the counter beside her. Jake was using his suitcase to write on. He didn’t seem very confident, and kept looking sideways at Sterling’s answers.
‘
Do you have any criminal convictions?
No.’ Coco ticked a box. ‘
Are you carrying goods received or purchased from
Miss Molpe?
No.’ She ticked another box.
‘
Which false realities have you visited in the last two
weeks? Please attach complete list . . .’
Holly chewed at her pen. ‘Well, let’s see now . . . there was Diamond Beach Paradise, and the Crystal Hibiscus Health Spa, and the sinking ship—’
‘And my fairground,’ Edison weighed in. He was helping Marcus to prop open the lift door. ‘And Newt’s dance club. And the fake caravan.’
‘Does the lift count as a false reality?’ wondered Sterling, who was sitting beside Jake with Prot’s hand on his lap.
‘I’m going to include it,’ said Holly. ‘Along with the cellar.’
Marcus sighed. ‘Don’t forget this place,’ he observed. ‘This is fake too.’
‘Yes, but it might be good fake, not bad fake,’ Edison pointed out. Marcus wasn’t convinced, though – and neither was Newt. She stomped over to the closed door, which she tried to open. When it wouldn’t budge, she gave it a sharp kick.
‘Oi!’ she shouted. ‘Let us out, or we’ll set fire to this place!’
‘Newt! Hush!’ Holly was scandalised. ‘You know very well we can’t do that!’
‘Yes, we can. Jake just said he had a cigarette lighter,’ Newt rejoined, as her stepmother rang the little silver bell.
‘I’m finished,’ Coco announced. ‘
Hello! Are you
there? I’m finished!
’
‘Me too,’ said Sterling. He passed his completed forms to Coco, who pushed them under the metal grille. Holly’s forms soon followed, though there was a slight delay before Jake was ready to surrender his. ‘How do you spell “parallel universe”?’ he wanted to know.
Only after his form had been signed, dated and returned to the pile were all seven forms suddenly whisked away by the faceless young woman, who had reappeared from some unseen back room. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘Could you take a seat, please? We’ll be with you shortly.’
‘Who will?’ Coco snapped. ‘You and who else? Hello?
Hello?
’
‘It’s no good,’ said Jake. ‘She’s gone again.’
‘Hey!’ Newt banged on the door with her fist. ‘
Hey! Open up!
’
‘I hope this doesn’t take too long,’ Holly fretted. ‘I mean, it’s not as if there’s a queue . . .’
Sterling shook his head. ‘In my experience, when people talk about “processing”, you should always be prepared for a bit of a wait,’ was his view. ‘An hour or two at least.’
‘I’m not waiting here for an hour!’ his wife protested. ‘They don’t even have any magazines!’
Holly seemed resigned. ‘At least they didn’t tell us to go away and have a coffee. If they’d done that, we’d have been looking at half a day minimum.’
‘Half a day? Are you kidding?’ Marcus was beginning to lose patience. Didn’t they understand? This was magic, not red tape. ‘We could be here for days!’ he cried. ‘Weeks!
Months!
We could be here
forever
!’
It was at this precise moment that the grey door opened, to reveal a beautiful, black-haired gypsy girl.
‘Will you come in, please?’ she said. ‘The ambassador will see you now.’
‘T
HAT WAS QUICK
,’
SAID
S
TERLING
.
The gypsy girl smiled. She had a wonderful smile. Her eyes were big and brown and she wore colourful gypsy clothes: hoop earrings, a long skirt, a ruffled blouse, lots of scarves. She was the prettiest girl Marcus had ever seen.
He still didn’t trust her, though. He suspected that she might be the siren in disguise – despite the fact that she wasn’t rhyming everything she said.
‘I don’t think we should
all
go and see the ambassador,’ he advised warily. ‘Maybe some of us should stay here, just in case.’
‘If you stay, you will never leave,’ warned the gypsy girl. ‘The only exit is through this door.’ She gestured gracefully at the long grey hallway behind her. ‘Come. Shibilis awaits.’
‘Shibilis?’ Coco had trouble pronouncing the word. ‘Is that the ambassador?’
‘Yes,’ the girl replied. ‘Shibilis is the Ambassador of Travellers and the King of the Gypsies – the
Bulibasha
, as we call him. He has much power. He can help you. Only he.’
‘Was he the one I spoke to?’ asked Holly.
‘You spoke to him,’ the girl confirmed. ‘He heard your plea from the shadows and summoned you into the half-light.’
Holly blinked. Then she rephrased her question. ‘No – I mean, was he the one on the phone?’
The girl cocked her head. ‘What is a “phone”?’ she inquired.
‘Oh, come
on.
’ Newt’s tone was a mixture of disgust and disbelief. ‘You don’t know what a phone is?’
‘Shibilis will know. He knows all. He sees all. He heard you in the whistling wind and saw you in the smoke from his fire.’ The girl laid a hand on her breast. ‘I am his
martiya
– his spirit of the night. I am his messenger, sent to find you. Without his help, you will never escape this curse.’
‘Curse?’ Holly echoed. And Coco said, ‘What curse?’
‘The curse that entraps you. The curse of Miss Molpe.’ When everyone continued to stare at her doubtfully, the gypsy girl tried to explain further. ‘Miss Molpe is a monster. A
chovexani.
We call her
Trushal odji –
the Hungry Soul. Shibilis has fought her many times.’
‘With magic, you mean?’ Marcus suddenly began to feel more hopeful. ‘Is he a wizard, or something?’
‘He is a seer.
Drabarno
. Also a warrior, a healer and a judge. He communes with the spirits and with captive souls like yourselves.’ Without warning, the girl leaned towards Jake and gently touched his elbow. ‘Come,’ she urged. ‘Speak to him. He will show you the right door and tell you how to open it.’
Jake flushed as he shook her off. He then retreated a few steps. Marcus and Holly exchanged questioning glances. Newt was wearing her usual scowl, while Edison was leaning against his father, looking pale and pinched and ready for a nap.
Sterling scratched his neck. ‘I don’t know,’ he murmured. ‘It’s tempting . . .’
‘Does anyone recognise this?’ Marcus asked quietly. ‘Is this anyone’s dream or nightmare holiday?’
‘No,’ said Sterling.
‘No,’ said Coco.
‘No,’ said Holly.
‘Are you kidding?’ said Newt. ‘What kind of loser would come up with a dumb idea like this?’
‘Not me!’ her brother protested, as if he’d been accused of something. And then Jake spoke, his voice deep and harsh.
‘We’ve got my suitcase,’ he declared, ‘and your steel hand too. If this girl does turn out to be Miss Molpe, we can smash her skull with the hand and throw her in the suitcase again.’
Holly winced. ‘Oh, Jake . . .’ she remonstrated. But no one else seemed troubled by Jake’s plan. Marcus, in fact, found it quite reassuring.
‘I vote we talk to this Shibilis guy,’ Sterling proposed. ‘Unless someone’s got a better idea? Because
I
certainly haven’t.’
‘Me neither,’ said Newt.
‘I don’t think we’ve got much choice,’ Coco agreed.
Holly looked at Marcus, who nodded. She then addressed the gypsy girl, announcing tartly, ‘We’ll only come if you
promise
to get us home.’
The gypsy girl laughed. ‘How can I make such a promise?’ she rejoined. ‘Shibilis will show you the portal, but only you can pass through it.’ She lifted a hand as she turned her back on them. ‘If you wish, you may follow. If not – farewell,’ she concluded.
‘Wait!’ Coco rushed forward to catch the grey door, which was starting to swing shut. ‘We’re coming, okay? We’re coming right now. Aren’t we?’ She appealed to the rest of her family, who mumbled in agreement. So did Holly and Marcus and Jake. ‘Let’s go,’ Coco instructed. ‘Kids at the back, men at the front.’
They set off after the gypsy girl, who led them down a very drab, narrow hallway. Fluorescent lights in the ceiling leached everything of colour; a worn grey carpet deadened the sound of their footsteps. At the end of the hallway was another door, which the gypsy girl opened with a flourish.