My new book will be released into the world later this week – on Amazon, Kobo, Apple and B&N.
You get to see the first two chapters first.
CHAPTER 1
Windy Mountain Show Day, one Saturday in March
Clarrie ‘Oodles’ Noodle was glad he had left his walking stick at home. That thing would’ve been useless after last night’s downpour.
The 87-year-old’s gumboots squelched on the muddy path as he hurried to the next livestock pen.
Imagine the tedium if he’d had to jab the stick into the sludge at every step, hunting for firm ground, then pulling it loose, over and over.
He wrinkled his nose. The footy oval at the Windy Mountain Recreation Ground, better known for the smell of liniment, was taken over once a year by pens and temporary sheds that stank of animal dung.
Oodles’s eyes lit up at the sight of the cows ahead.
Bert ‘Wish-Wash’ Whish-Willson, 84, lumbered behind, slightly out of breath. He clutched a half-eaten toffee apple in one hand and the stick from a Dagwood dog in the other. His shirt had come untucked again, and his purple vest stretched a little tighter than it used to. The emergency cigarette he’d tucked behind his left ear had long fallen into the mud.
“Look at the size of that udder.” Oodles clutched the rail, brushing the gold ribbon with his sleeve. “This cow could keep half of Tasmania in milk.”
Wish-Wash groaned. “For crying out loud, Oodles, you’ve dragged me through every livestock shed at this show. Can we please do something fun now?”
“Fun?” Oodles said. “You don’t understand the importance of—”
“Chooks, cows, sheep … yeah, yeah.” Wish-Wash waved his sticky fingers. “Can’t we go to Sideshow Alley before I pass out from boredom?”
Oodles turned his gaze to the next pen, where another prize-winning Jersey had its nose in a feed trough. But Wish-Wash grabbed his arm and tugged him away.
“Come on, cobber. You’ve had your turn. Now it’s mine.”
OODLES FOLLOWED Wish-Wash through the gaudy gold-painted gate and into Sideshow Alley.
The pong of dung hung about for a while, but step by step it was elbowed aside by grease, sugar and frying oil. The bleating of beasts vanished, replaced by shrieks, bells and spruikers hollering for business.
Wish-Wash’s face lit up as he spotted a stall selling fairy floss.
“I’m starving,” he said, before heading that way.
He returned with an enormous puff of red fairy floss, already tearing off pieces and cramming them into his mouth.
His loud vest already bore toffee streaks and grease spots, and now a growing constellation of pink fluff was going to present another challenge for the dry-cleaners.
Oodles shook his head. “You don’t think all this is a bit disrespectful?”
“Disrespectful?” Wish-Wash frowned as he waved the fairy floss. “In what way?”
“Well, we only buried poor old James two days ago.”
“Are you suggesting we should be wet blankets like that bozo? I doubt he ever went to the show in his life.”
“He must have. He probably even opened it back when he was mayor.”
“That doesn’t count. Stuffy speeches, a meat-and-two-veg C.W.A. dinner, and maybe casting a nervous eye over a champion merino ram. But he was never here in the throbbing heartbeat of the show.”
Wish-Wash’s free hand swept across the bright lights of Sideshow Alley.
He broke into a grin. “Think of this as us celebrating his miserable life.”
THEY WANDERED up and down the alley, stopping to watch a man juggle flaming torches and a strongwoman lift a car tyre above her head. Wish-Wash had a crack at a ring toss and missed every time.
As they neared the glittering entrance to the Maze of Mirrors, a voice called out behind them.
“There you two are.”
They turned to see Daisy Rowbottom waving from the other side of the walkway. She crossed the sawdust-covered path.
It looked like she’d had her hair permed specially for the occasion. Pale blue.
She wore a floral blouse that clung tightly across her generous bosom. A red cardigan hung over one arm.
“Daisy,” Wish-Wash said, casting a quick glance at Oodles. “What brings you to Sideshow Alley?”
“Broadening my horizons,” Daisy said. “And you, Bert? Still chasing sugar like a 10-year-old.” She nodded at the fairy floss.
Wish-Wash spluttered. “Well, it is show day …”
Her eyes twinkled. “You know, I’ve always admired a man who knows how to enjoy himself.” She leaned forwards. “Notice anything different about me?”
Wish-Wash studied her, baffled, then aimed another bite at the fairy floss. His chin intercepted it, leaving more pink fluff tangled in his grey stubble.
“I’ll take that as a no.” Daisy smiled at him. “Think about it. It’s bound to come to you.”
After they parted ways, Oodles elbowed him. “She’s got the hots for you, old mate.”
“She’s just being friendly,” Wish-Wash said, fishing fluff from his stubble. “Too old for me though. She must be nearly 80.”
Oodles snorted. “Four years younger than you then. Perfect age.”
“For crying out loud. She used to iron James Northan’s shirts.”
“So? He’s dead.”
“She also had a thing for that randy old priest.”
“He finally died too. Which means you’ve done a Bradbury.”
Wish-Wash sighed. “Have you forgotten how she carried on as matron at the district hospital? The power went straight to her head.”
“She’s mellowed. Didn’t she volunteer her services during the pandemic?”
Wish-Wash shook his head. “The less I know about her services, the better.”
Oodles laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, you rum’un. And if we never make it out of this place, remember it was your idea.”
Chapter 2
It was like stepping into a kaleidoscope, something Wish-Wash might have enjoyed but it just made Oodles feel uncomfortable.
The lighting was strange. Reflections bounced in every direction, multiplying them endlessly: 50 versions of Oodles and even more Wish-Washes.
Oodles’s eyes struggled to adjust. Blurred, odd colours, shapes that didn’t make sense.
A sudden burst of laughter ricocheted through the maze, followed by the thud of someone walking into a dead end.
“Where are we supposed to go?” Oodles asked, spinning slowly, unsure which version of Wish-Wash to follow.
“Forward?” one of the Wish-Washes said.
A child shrieked with delight and darted past, trailed by a flustered adult who bounced off strangers, breathlessly apologising as he gave chase.
A woman in a red-speckled feathered hat recoiled as her own indignant glare bounced back at her from every angle.
“Outrageous. This isn’t the chook pavilion,” she clucked, jabbing a gloved finger at the nearest reflection.
Head held high, she began backing out the way she’d come — bumping into herself again and again.
She vanished around the corner, leaving a single feather drifting gently to the floor.
The scent of popcorn and sweat lingered.
It was a sensory ambush. Sight, sound, smell, all jumbled together. Even time seemed to be bent.
“WHERE have you been?” They turned to see Katy steering a pram towards them.
A small tan dog was tethered to the pram’s frame, trotting alongside with his tail wagging.
Inside sat three-year-old Jack, wide-eyed, gnawing on the ear of a soft-toy wombat. His face lit up when he spotted his godfathers in this strange place.
“Katy. Fancy meeting you here,” Oodles said, reaching down to pat the dog, Jimbo.
“I’ve been looking for you for 20 minutes,” Katy said. “Lucky I spotted you coming in here.” She looked around. “A mirror maze? Really? At your age?”
Wish-Wash grinned, plucking strands of fairy floss from his vest. “Exactly the point. You never know when it’s your last show day. So why waste a chance for an adventure?”
Katy parked the pram near a bend in the maze and folded her arms, giving Oodles the sort of look that made him feel like he’d been caught with his hand in the biscuit tin.
“Where’s your walking stick, Oodles?”
“I must … er … have left it somewhere.”
“I know where,” Wish-Wash said. “At home. Accidentally on purpose again.”
Oodles glared at him. “Dobber.”
“Really?” Katy said. “Didn’t Doctor Jenkins insist you always use it?”
She was right, of course. But he hated being reminded. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. You won’t tell on me too, will you?”
Jimbo pressed his nose against the nearest mirror, tail giving a tentative wag. The shifting reflections clearly confused him. Poor mutt probably thought he was surrounded by an entire pack of dogs — tall ones, fat ones, skinny ones, sausage-shaped and balloon-bodied all staring back at him.
Katy let out a long breath and her tone softened. “No, I won’t snitch. Far be it for me to question your choices. Besides, I only came here because I need a favour. A big one.”
The two old men exchanged glances.
“WE’RE GOING to the United States for two weeks to look for potential investors,” Katy said.
Wish-Wash’s eyes widened. “You’ve got to be joking! You can’t sell the Tassie Tiger museum. It’s become a local treasure.”
“We’re hoping it doesn’t come to that.” Katy bit her lip as if she was fighting back tears. “But I won’t lie to you. The business hasn’t been going so well. We’re hoping to find the right silent investor, who’ll be happy for us to continue to run the museum.”
“You’re not seeking local investment?” Oodles said.
She looked blankly at him. “Know of someone, do you?”
Oodles hung his head and mumbled.
“Thought not,” Katy said. “Fortunately, Tim does. Though they’re all in the States.”
Wish-Wash’s eyes widened again. “So? You’re going there! That will cost a bomb.”
Katy shook her head. “Tim’s footing the bill. He’s going too, of course, as well as Joffa, Moose and me. But we need someone to mind things while we’re away.”
“You mean … us?” Oodles said.
“Yes.”
“Have you forgotten about the native cat incident?” Wish-Wash winced as though he was reliving it.
Katy smiled. “That was years ago, and this is different. You’d just need to keep things ticking over, this time there’d be no need to go into the field.”
“And Jack?” Oodles nodded towards the blue pram.
Katy knelt to check on her son, who was now trying to unbuckle himself. “Uh … I was getting to that. He kinda comes with the package.”
Wish-Wash’s mouth dropped open. “You want us to look after the museum and a toddler? We’re old men.”
“Older men,” Oodles said, frowning at him.
Katy stood up. “Yeah, but look at you two. You said it yourself, Wish-Wash. You wouldn’t be in a mirror maze if you weren’t up for an adventure.”
Oodles jabbed a finger in Wish-Wash’s direction. “That’s his philosophy. I get my daily thrills from a single shaving mirror.”
“Please,” Katy said. “Look, Jack’s easy. Sleeps through the night, eats most things and he loves stories. He’s crazy about you two. You’ll be fine.”
“When does all this start?” Wish-Wash asked, still looking sceptical.
“In about a week, if we can swing it.” Katy checked her watch. “Which is why I’ve got to dash. Things to organise.”
“Hang on a minute.” Oodles raised a hand. “We need time to think this through.”
Katy reached out and touched Oodles’s arm gently. “Pretty please. I know you both love Jack. And deep down, you love the museum too.”
Oodles opened his mouth but nothing came out.
“It’s only two weeks,” Katy said. “You can handle two weeks. Right?”
Wish-Wash scratched his head, looking down at Jack, who was now waving the plush wombat at them like a victory flag.
“See?” Katy said. “He already knows you’re the fun ones.” She leaned over and ruffled Jack’s hair. “You’ll manage.”
“All right,” Oodles said. “But if anything goes wrong … ”
“It won’t,” Katy said. “I have complete faith in you both.” She smiled, then checked her watch again. “I really do have to go. Thanks, you two. You’re lifesavers.” She untied Jimbo from the pram handle and grasped the lead.
“Another favour. Do you mind looking after Jack for a couple of hours? It’ll be good practice for you.”
She didn’t wait for an answer. By the time the old men looked up from the pram, the two figures were already vanishing into the maze of mirrors searching for the exit.
JOHN MARTIN 