Billy and the Golden Gate (3 page)

The path is wide enough for three of them to walk abreast in comfort. As they proceed the path seems to close up behind them, the hedges and thicket quickly grow towards each other. Small animals poke through and watch the group with interest.

Billy sees the old man before the others do. The man is standing still, his face framed in greying hair, his tweed jacket and plain grey trousers are well-made, but, like him, showing signs of age. When Billy reaches him, he stops. Rex keeps going and trots past him. Billy looks up, the man is smiling, kindly-shaped crow's feet span out from the corners of his eyes.

“Hello there, young sir! I'm Mr Gadriel Sharpie, pleased to make your acquaintance! You look like a busy young fellow. These your friends?”

Billy nods and the three catch up with him. Daisy and Peter are bickering about nothing.

Peter says, “Well I don't see how, I mean, if you listened it might be different, you know you're not
always
right.”

“My dad always says if you want to go somewhere you need to know where you are going,” Daisy replies.

Peter looks at her, straightens up his glasses and huffs.

The old man smiles.

“You lot must be hungry, day like this. Tell you what, my lunch is on and while I don't have much I've more than enough for the four of you, even a little bit for Mr Doggy over there.”

“Rex, come ‘ere!” Rufus yells. Rex ignores him and sits down.

The old man points down the path.

“See there? That's my little cottage, I was just gathering some twigs when I noticed you.” Sure enough, the outside pocket on his jacket is bulging with little sticks.

Billy glances at his three friends. He's hungry: a Curly Wurly will only get you so far and he's just heard Rufus's belly growl. He looks from the cottage to the old man, who looks lonely, and Billy's gentle heart melts just a bit.
There's plenty of time
,
why not
?

“Sure, that'd be nice,” he says.

Daisy is about to cut in but Billy looks at her quickly and she decides to stay quiet.

*

It takes them a while to reach the cottage as Rex is as slow as Christmas, as if he just does not want to go anywhere near the cottage. It is thatched, very pretty, with ivy creeping up the walls and a half door that's painted bright pink. The door knocker is polished brass and in the shape of a ship's anchor. The old man opens the door and welcomes the motley crew inside.

Rufus asks, “Can my dog come in?”

The old man replies immediately, “Of course, all the Lord's creatures are welcome in my home,” and smiles kindly.

Rex lingers for a while at the door. In the end, Rufus yanks at his collar – a black leather studded number with a metal disc that spells his name as ‘Reximus' – and pulls him in, his paws scraping along the floor.

Inside the cottage, the walls are painted white. There is a big Aga range facing them where there would have been a large hearth at some stage. Several pots bubble on its top. A big oak table sits to the right with mismatched chairs and patchwork cushions. To the left are two doors and a simple wooden staircase.

“Sit yourselves down and tell me all about you,” the old man says gently. He moves across to the range and starts stirring the stew that is in one of the pots.

“I've never seen you in the village before,” Daisy says.

“Oh I keep to myself,” he smiles. “You are a very pretty young lady, bet you don't miss a thing and I'd say brains to boot.”

Daisy sits up straight.

“I did get nine out of ten in my maths test, best in the class.”

The three boys roll their eyes; Daisy is insufferable when she is top of the class – this happens quite frequently.

“I thought as much, clever girl. Are you minding these three fellas?”

Rex walks over to the doors on the left and starts sniffing; his nose pokes along the base over the saddle. He nudges the door at its corner but it is closed fast.

Daisy replies, “Sort of, I mean, they're OK I guess, we're…”

Billy cuts in. “Out for a stroll, and well then we saw the path and here we are.”

“We're on an adventure,” Peter says. Billy glares at him but says nothing.

“An adventure you say! Isn't that a fine and glorious thing, the Lord be praised, he moves in mysterious ways. So who's for stew?”

All four nod; they have each realised just how hungry they are. The old man lifts the lid off the pot and stirs assiduously. The stew smells delicious; the scent wafts throughout the room. The old man ambles over to a cupboard and takes out some shallow bowls. Just below the counter, he pulls out a drawer and selects forks and soup spoons. The cutlery is put on the table while the old man places the bowls down on a cool part of the Aga. He ladles a couple of spoonfuls into each bowl and carefully hands the generous portion to each child.

As they are tucking into the stew, Peter glances up at the old man, who is watching them with delight.

Peter says, “Aren't you having any, Mr Sharpie?”

The old man shakes his head.

“It does my heart good seeing you enjoy my food, best compliment ever. I'd rather watch ye eat than eat myself.”

Rex has turned his back on the side door that so intrigued him and is now watching all humans, his tail is low. Rex has an unscrupulous look in his doggy eyes. The stew is nourishing and warms them up no end, so much so all four have ruddy cheeks by the time they are finished.

“I do love a good adventure, keeps the heart ticking nicely wouldn't you say?” Mr Sharpie says.

Rufus is looking at the pot; it would be rude to ask for more when it wasn't offered but it was very good stew.

“I say, what class of adventure is it, something an old soldier such as myself could get stuck into?”

Billy looks at Mr Sharpie.

“You were a soldier, where?”

“First battalion, Gunner Sharpie they called me, was always getting my mates out of trouble, just missed out on the Victoria Cross, got a special commendation for my bravery though. I was always the man to have at your back,” he nods firmly.

“Son, what is it you are looking for?” Gunner Sharpie finishes, looking directly at Billy.

Being called ‘son' generates the strangest feeling. There was only one person who called Billy son and it has been a very long time since Billy has heard the expression. Billy lifts his gaze from his bowl and stares at Gunner Sharpie.

“It's just a trip really.” Billy pauses, weighing up in his honest mind how much to tell. “A trip to the Golden Gate,” he finishes.

“The Golden Gate, you say? There's many a folk as want to get there, easier said than done…”

“Have you ever been there, Mr Sharpie?” Daisy interrupts.

“Oh, no, not me, my wife went there, never came back…” he pauses. “Searched for her I did, to no end. She was a fine woman.” Gunner Sharpie's eyes mist over as he recalls her memory.

“Erm, oh..” Daisy rocks slightly in her chair, clearly uncomfortable at this revelation but Billy jumps in, his heart again dictating his brain.

“Mr Sharpie, I'm sure she will come back, we will look for her on our way.”

“That's awful nice of you; you are a good boy. What's your name?”

“Billy, I'm Billy, this is Daisy and Peter and Rufus.” Billy gestures each of his friends in turn. Poor Mr Sharpie could do with some nice friends.

“I have some custard and rhubarb crumble…would you like some? I like to cook and it's all the sweeter when I get to cook for such a fine young bunch of, what to call ye, adventurers!” Gunner Sharpie beams.

Custard and rhubarb crumble, that is just too good to pass up. Peter gathers up the stew bowls and cutlery. A couple of the spoons fall to the floor, clattering on the flagstones. Daisy hisses and jumps up to get them. Rufus is still looking at the stew pot – he looks like he has fallen in love.

“Now, Billy? Will you just dig out some of the little bowls from that press,” he gestures. “Just there.” Billy walks over to the press and pulls out the bowls, he hands them to Gunner Sharpie.

The pudding is delicious, so much so it turns Rufus's affections away from the stew. Too soon, the bowls are empty and all four young faces look just a bit crestfallen. They are each too polite to ask for more. Gunner Sharpie appears to be unaware.

Billy rises from his chair.

“Mr Sharpie, that was really nice of you but me and my friends need to get going. We will look for your wife, promise.”

Gunner Sharpie's face breaks into a grateful smile.

“Son, you are such a good boy. May the Lord watch you.” He ruffles Billy's hair and then grips and gently squeezes his shoulder. “A good boy.”

Rex barks quickly and runs at the front door. He hasn't had any stew but doesn't seem a bit bothered by that. He wants to get going. He jumps up at the door trying to catch the latch with his paws but he can't budge it.

Billy picks up his backpack and follows Rex to the door, briefly looking back at Gunner Sharpie.

“Promise.” Billy nods, lifts the door latch and follows Rex out. His three friends follow him.

Peter rights his bike and clacks along.

“Billy, hold up. Billy!”

Gunner Sharpie watches them as they go, a slim smile appears and vanishes as quickly as an extinguished flame. He turns back into his cottage, the front door closes quietly behind him.

“Billy, Billy, open the map. Look, there's the river, down there, look, down there!” Daisy bounds ahead of Billy, her hair has dried off and the curls are even more frantic. They snake out around her head as her boots trample over the cobblestones.

Rex starts barking, loud piercing noises, while Rufus covers his ears. Billy pulls out the book and unfolds the map. Their route is drawn moving from the path to the banks of the river – they have to follow the bank to the ferry. Daisy is already way ahead of them when Billy sees the monster on the map, a monster that wasn't there a moment earlier.

“Daisy! Wait, hey
Daiseeee
, ah come on, will you listen to me!” Billy folds up the map as he breaks into a run after his headstrong friend. Peter and Rufus look on. They don't start to run.

Peter mutters to Rufus, “You know, if she wants to get there first, I figure let her. What chance does a monster – no matter what size – have against her?”

Rufus watches Rex.

“He just will not listen to me; and me looking out for him, the whole time,” Rufus sighs.

Rex catches up to Daisy and yaps at her ankle. He grabs the base of her boot, stopping her. Daisy stamps her foot and turns on Rex.

“Rex, I am not the monster, stop biting me, or, or…” Daisy recalls the spy book her dad keeps on quoting. “Or I will be bad for your health.” She folds her arms determinedly. Rex looks up at her, his ears cocked. He mumbles a bark under his breath.

Daisy nods. “That's right.”

Seeing the entire exchange Rufus says, “Ah, come on, she's a girl Rex.”

“Daisy Milicent, you are one stubborn mule, look.” Billy shoves the map in front of her, as he does so they hear a distant ominous roar. Billy looks in the direction of the sound but he doesn't see anything.

“Daisy, if we are doing this we need to do this together.”

“Billy.” Daisy looks down at his feet. “Billy, your lace, you'll trip up. OK, OK, together, I get it, but it would help if you just… keep up.” Daisy sounds exasperated.

“You know, my mum says,
patience is a virtue
, Daisy. Together.” Billy's voice is determined.

Rex is scratching again and by now Rufus and Peter and the bike have reached them. Daisy scrutinises the map and sees the monster. He is pretty grim, and big.

Peter leans in over her shoulder.

Daisy mutters, “Peter, you smell of stew, yeuck.” Peter reddens slightly and pokes at the map.

“Well, if you could read this properly you might be going somewhere.”

Daisy purses her lips and stares at the map.

“Monster, water, and we have to pass by him to get to the ferry, easy-peasy.” She looks smug.

Now it is Peter's turn.

“Uh huh, easy-peasy, oh yes? And, eh, how do you propose we get past the monster, little miss clever?”

Daisy turns and glares at Peter.

“And your glasses are crooked. Again.”

The map doesn't really help as it is clear the monster guards the passage over the river very seriously.

“Right, let's get a move on then.”

This time, all four walk together. Rex is still doing his own thing; he is absorbed with chasing the dangerous rabbits and hedgehogs they happen across – a difficult and arduous task.

Together they see him. The monster is big, and grim. He stands beside the ferry dock with his arms folded. His skin is coloured green with blotches of purple; his nose is huge, flat with wide flared nostrils. Even at a distance Daisy can see his luminous green snot.

“Uuugh, that is disgusting.”

He is wearing a woolly waistcoat, dark brown with sort of matching shorts; both items are in dire need of some patching. His feet are huge with curled horn-like toenails.

Rex has caught up with the four of them. He is walking a fraction behind Daisy. Daisy pulls at the hood on her rain mac and straightens herself up. It's important to present herself properly. Rex nudges at her calf muscle.

They get to within ten feet of the monster when Daisy whispers, “Now leave this to me, I know how to deal with this sort.”

Peter rolls his eyes and straightens his glasses. Rufus thinks about custard and Rex, while Billy opens his backpack, crouching slightly.

Daisy takes a few brave steps.

“Now look here, monster, we are not frightened you see. You must let us pass, and that's that.”

The monster – in olden times he'd have been called a troll – looks at Daisy and he belches
⁶
with such gusto Daisy's hair blows back. He stamps his foot in the mucky riverbank and the mud sploshes up, partly covering Peter's glasses and coating Rufus. Peter has a bit of a hissy fit.

“Oh yeuck!” He takes off his glasses and wipes them on his T-shirt, the bike keels over. Peter's eyes blink several times – without the glasses framing them they are huge, like two pools of mercury.

Rufus looks at his clothes. He wipes a bit of the mud off but gives up after the slightest effort; mud is just mud.

Daisy has turned a little bit green herself and taken a step back. She glares at the troll.

“You nasty evil monster!” she yells.

The monster looks at Daisy and his lower lip starts to quiver. Daisy scrunches her eyes and watches the monster suspiciously. He breathes in deeply, a loud unhealthy wheeze trundles through his lungs. He sounds a bit like a dodgy accordion or bagpipe. Daisy's eyes widen in shock; she tilts her head to one side and stares at him. When the monster wheezes a second time, she says, “Is it you? It can't be.”

The monster says nothing but continues to wheeze.

Billy steps forward and looks at the monster.

“Excuse me, sir, we would like to use the ferry you see.” Daisy turns and looks at Billy mouthing, ‘What are you doing?'

The monster watches Billy.

“May we? Please?”

“Urr wharr,” the monster replies.

Billy looks down at his feet and thinks for a moment.

“Or what? Well, I suppose or nothing. We just need to get to the other side, you see, to the forest and then beyond…”

“Noffren,” the monster says, shaking his head. He looks at Daisy.

Billy tilts his head, again thinking.

“Well the five of us are friends. We could be your friend too?” Billy reaches into his backpack and pulls out the ball of wool. It still smells of wet sheep and wee.

“Mr Monster?” Billy pauses, mulling over what to say next. “Erm, that hole, there.” Billy gestures towards one of the unravelled bits of the monster's tunic. “I have some wool; I'd love for you to take it and put it to good use, if you'd have it? It's a bit old, see, and a bit smelly.” Billy gently reaches forward and holds out the ball of wool.

The monster says, “Loff.” His mouth widens, showing gaping and chipped teeth; he is smiling – oddly, but still smiling. Billy returns the smile and it widens into a grin. The monster takes the wool and smells it. His face takes on a look of ecstasy. “Fankoo.”

Another pause and Billy replies, “You are very very welcome.”

Daisy looks at the monster and then Billy. She shakes her head and sighs. She walks over to the monster and tugs gently at his tunic to get his attention. The monster peers down at Daisy.

Daisy thinks for a moment, then says, “Um, sorry about yelling at you.” She pauses, thinks some more. “Is it you?” she finishes quietly.

The monster narrows his eyes but then his face softens again and he smiles.

“I'm Daisy.”

The monster leans forward gently touching Daisy's chin and says, “Daze-eee.” Now his face is beaming.

“It is, I know it is, oh Horace
⁷
; everyone thought I made you up, that you weren't real. And then you left. I looked everywhere for you. Mum thought I'd gone cuckoo, why did you leave me?”

Horace shrugs his solid shoulders, breathes and wheezes, “Wazz time, Daze-eee.” He hangs his head.

Daisy grabs his hand in hers, though really she can only manage to hold on to his thumb. His hands are so big, they make Daisy's look like those of a china doll.

“Kennot liff forever, Daze-eee, kennot.”

“Oh Horace, I miss you. Can't you come with us?”

Horace shakes his head.

“I mind the liffing ere, Daze-eee.”

Daisy throws her arms around him, oblivious to the mud and muck and Horace hugs her tenderly.

“Boat readeee, Daze-eee, frens.” Horace nods his head deliberately.

Daisy stands straight and says, “I will come back, maybe not today, but I will come back, Horace. I promise.” She pauses. “And when I do, I'll bring chalk. Can we?”

“Yuss, harpskotches
⁸
, yuss.” Horace nods and smiles in response.