CHAPTER 1

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.

CHAPTER 3

Oodles squinted at the reflections stretching endlessly in every direction. The mirrored walls made it impossible to tell where Wish-Wash actually was. 

He adjusted his grip on the pram handle, trying to focus on the path instead of the dizzying sight of himself multiplied a hundredfold. His thoughts drifted.

Tim. That boy had come a long way since they’d taken him on at the museum as an intern in 2019 — a pimply face fresh out of university in his home state of Texas. 

Back then, he couldn’t tell a Tasmanian Tiger from a native cat, and Oodles still winced at the memory of the fiasco that blunder had caused. The press had torn them to shreds.

Of course, the old blokes had taken the fall. They couldn’t let the kid’s career be ruined before it even started. Handing over the museum to Katy, Joffa and Moose had been hard. But they’d done a bang-up job running it, far better than he and Wish-Wash ever could. Still, it stung to hear the place was struggling now.

But Tim? Tim had stayed. He’d worked through the pandemic, bunked in with a cantankerous Moose. That couldn’t have been easy.

Oodles couldn’t help but admire the lad. He hadn’t bolted back to the United States, despite his family’s wealth. His rich grandfather had been the spark behind the museum. Long story, that. So long ago too. Last century, in fact.

A faint voice cut through Oodles’s thoughts. “Left again,” Wish-Wash called from somewhere deeper in the maze.

Oodles pushed the pram forward with a sigh and one last thought: now Tim’s grandfather had died, the boy was worth millions. No, billions.

CHAPTER 4

Oodles rounded yet another corner in the mirror maze. At last he caught up to Wish-Wash, who had found the exit and had his hand on the doorknob.

Reflections of the three of them stretched endlessly in every direction, Wish-Wash grinning on every face.

But Oodles also noticed Jack’s darkening scowl. The toddler had been remarkably patient until now.

Jack’s face crumpled, his tiny fists clenched, and an ear-splitting wail erupted.

“Oh no,” Oodles said, stepping back. “We’ve hit meltdown mode.”

Wish-Wash sighed. “Hand him over, cobber. Him and I think alike.”

Oodles passed the pram to Wish-Wash, who crouched down and offered the sobbing boy an exaggerated grin.

“How about we get you something sweet, eh? You like toffee apples, Jacky boy?”

Jack sniffled, eyeing Wish-Wash suspiciously.

Something flickered in Oodles’s peripheral vision. He glanced up.

“Did you see that?”

Wish-Wash didn’t even look. “See what?”

“Daisy. She’s in here somewhere.”

Wish-Wash gave a faint laugh, not quite buying it. “I reckon you’re seeing things, cobber.”

Oodles narrowed his eyes. “I reckon she’s following you.”

Moments later, they emerged into the noise, colour, smells and bustle of Sideshow Alley.

Wish-Wash wheeled the pram straight to a food stall, where a red toffee apple soon replaced Jack’s tears with a sugar-fuelled grin.

But peace didn’t last. Jack sank his teeth in, smeared his face scarlet, then let the sticky orb tumble on to his shirt before it bounced out of the pram. As if rushing to the rescue, the plush wombat leapt after it, only to be crushed under a wheel, jolting Jack and grinding the furry toy into the mud and sawdust.

Jack howled. His scream turned heads across Sideshow Alley.

Wish-Wash stopped and looked behind him.

“Get for me,” Jack sniffled.

Oodles shook his head at the muddy roadkill. “Yucky now.”

“Don’t worry,” Wish-Wash said. “We’ll get you a new one.” He scanned the stalls. “Dagwood dog first? I could do with one myself after that bit of drama.”

He swung the pram towards another vendor. Over the loudspeaker, a sing-song voice promised they were “making, baking all the while.”

Wish-Wash gobbled his battered sausage on a stick in three bites. Jack’s kept him happy for about three minutes — until he dropped it.

“I know. What do you think of popcorn, Jacky boy?”

“I know what I think,” Oodles said, “Katy won’t be happy you’re spoiling him, you know?” 

“Don’t start,” Wish-Wash shot back before walking over to yet another stall.

When he returned, he bent down and thrust a paper bag of popcorn into Jack’s hands. Bad move again. The toddler spilt more than he ate, leaving a trail of kernels behind the pram.

“Look, Jacky boy,” Wish-Wash said quickly, steering the pram towards the clowns game before the next disaster. “See the funny fellows?”

With great gusto, Wish-Wash flicked ping-pong balls into the clowns’ mouths as they swivelled left, right and back again. Jack giggled, clapping his sticky hands in delight.

“Me now?” Jack said

“Why not?” Wish-Wash said, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

Jack did no better than Wish-Wash. No worse either.

But the sign said: Every Child Wins a Prize, which Wish-Wash loudly reminded the attendant.

Wish-Wash eyed an enormous teddy bear on the top shelf, but what he got was a small stuffed rabbit. Half the size of the wombat. He didn’t look impressed as he turned it over in his hand.

He still pressed it into Jack’s hands with a wink, earning a squeal of delight.

“Wombat back.”

“Actually, no,” Wish-Wash said. “… but never mind. We’ll call this one Flopsie.”

Oodles pointed towards a ride where tiny boats drifted slowly around in a circle. The Jolly Sailor.

“Jack might like that one,” he said.

Wish-Wash snorted. “Those are for babies, aren’t they, Jack?” He shot Oodles a grin. “You heard Katy — us boys are out for adventure.”

They were halfway to the dodgems when a familiar voice cut through the din.

“Bert. Clarence. We meet again.”

They turned. Sure enough, Daisy Rowbottom was striding towards them.

She frowned at the pram as she came to a stop. “You seem to have picked up a hitchhiker since I last saw you.”

“You didn’t see us with it in the mirror maze then?” Oodles said.

She looked puzzled. “The what — maize? Like a cornfield?”

Wish-Wash rolled his eyes. “Not maize. Maze. And this is Jack, our god-son. We’re just minding him for a couple of hours.”

She bent to Jack’s level. “Silly old me. Aren’t you a lucky boy, having two godfathers spoiling you?”

Jack stuck his thumb in his mouth, eyeing her warily.

Daisy pulled out a white handkerchief, moistened it with a little spittle, and dabbed Jack’s sticky cheek.

“Right, well, lovely seeing you, Daisy.” Wish-Wash began pushing the pram and a howling toddler away. “We’ve got a date with the dodgem cars to keep.”

Oodles waited until they were out of earshot before snickering. “I’m right, aren’t I? She’s stalking you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Wish-Wash said, pushing ahead. “I told you it wasn’t her in the mirror maze.”

“Then she must have a doppelgänger.” Oodles trailed behind, grinning.

At the dodgems, Oodles watched in horrified fascination as Wish-Wash balanced Jack on his lap, steering with one hand while the boy squealed with glee. Other riders were less amused, especially after Wish-Wash accidentally rammed a teenager’s car head-on.

By the time they stumbled over to the Gee-Whizzer, Oodles was sure he could see the sugar-induced mania in Jack’s wide eyes.

“You sure about this, old mate?” Oodles asked.

“Absolutely.” Wish-Wash grinned. “He’s having the time of his life.”

Oodles watched from the safety fence as Wish-Wash handed Jack to a bemused ride operator and climbed in. The joker jerked a thumb at the seatbelt.

“Strap the sprog in. Can’t believe he even met the height restriction.”

Wish-Wash wrangled the belt across Jack’s lap. It wasn’t easy, but it made sense it was so long when he remembered a fat kid had just vacated the bucket. Only once they were wedged in, did he notice Jack had brought his new toy with him.

“Oh, terrific.” He prised it free. “Wishy better hold Flopsie. Imagine her flying off and knocking out that tight-arse bloke at the clowns.”

Jack started crying but his tears vanished and his eyes widened as soon as the ride began and picked up speed to the backdrop of upbeat music: AC/DC’s Highway to Hell.

The Gee-Whizzer spun faster and faster, centrifugal force pinning them to their seats. Now Jack screamed with laughter, his cheeks flushed with excitement. The rabbit flapped wildly with each turn, and Wish-Wash, trying to keep hold of both boy and toy, was starting to feel queasy.

When the ride finally juddered to a stop, Wish-Wash staggered out on jelly legs, Jack tucked under one arm and the rabbit clenched in the other hand. He passed both to Oodles.

Oodles strapped the toddler into his pram, turning just in time to see Wish-Wash drop to his knees beside a rubbish bin and lose the battle with his stomach.

Jack, clutching his prize again, watched with wide eyes.

“Wishy sick,” he said.

Oodles pushed the pram over and patted Wish-Wash on the back.

“You’re a real hero. But next time let’s pace ourselves, yeah?”

Wish-Wash groaned.

Jack leaned forward in the pram, holding out the slightly soggy plush rabbit.

“Here, Wishy,” he said.

Wish-Wash looked up.

“For me?” he rasped.

Jack nodded.

Wish-Wash took the toy with a trembling hand and managed a weak smile.

“Bravest bunny I’ve ever seen.”

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