Armitage Shanks: Chapter 6

[Shanks is back with a vengeance in the next exciting episode ...]

After his couple of days of mischief, Terrence went to bed feeling contented. He stretched out in the lumpy bed and stared up at the sagging, discoloured ceiling without really seeing it. He wriggled his toes free of the bed clothes and began to tap them on the wooden bed-end in a military sort of way. Geoffrey Boycat had been almost pleased with the boy's report, and had shown it by not sitting on his lap, and not sharpening his claws on him.

He looked over at his sleeping sister and smiled. It was not a "good-night-sleep-tight-hope-the-mozzies-don't-bite" sort of smile. It was more primitive. The sort that younger children smile just after they've poked their tongues out and said "nyaa nyaa nyaa nyaa nyaa." Terrence secretly wished he was still young enough to do that, but he knew it might look a bit silly. Right now nothing was worse than looking foolish, or at least looking foolish in public. He was aware that talking to a cat, and even more taking orders from a cat, would not have looked too good. But he was content that no-one knew about it. To Terrence that was as good as it not being foolish at all.

But Peg's talking to animals was another story altogether. She'd made the mistake of doing it so someone else knew. Worse still she'd tried to be a smarty pants and pretend it had never happened. And by being smart she meant to make him look dumb like she always did, sticking her nose in books all the time; giggling when he got his words wrong; giving his mum hints about trouble he'd got into at school; and just generally making him feel dumb. These were things Terrence had brooded on for a long time. Today's effort had been a satisfying start to his pay-back plans.

All of this left Terrence wide awake, his mind a slurry of vengeful and happy thoughts. In a drawer next to his bed were some old books his Pa had left for the grandchildren. Though he was not a great reader, he pulled out a couple of large and musty volumes and started looking at them. They might help him sleep. Two cowboy books, and a laughably old-fashioned space adventure were discarded before he finally settled on one called `The Bumper Book for Boys'. It had a picture of a boy about his own age on the cover, cradling a football in his arms and running away from a cluster of other boys. His brow was furrowed and mouth turned down. Perhaps he was supposed to look determined, but to Terrence he just looked sad. Somehow that odd combination of feelings drew Terrence in.

He turned over the thick, stained pages, looking first at the drawings. He chose a story mid-way through the book. It had quite a few drawings, and the intriguing title `The Dormitory 'Tecs'. Above all it was only a few pages long. Terrence wrinkled his nose at the musty smell, but settled back and read: "Huge was a bully, likewise a glutton. Queer, isn't it, how the two things go together; anyway, they did so in old Huge." By the second line Terrence found he was reading in a different accent. It was a very proper English accent such as he'd heard on wildlife documentaries.

But instead of telling him about the mating habits of badgers, this story was full of `chaps', and `chums' who saved up their `prog' from `exeat days'. And how one chap nicknamed Holmes did a bit of `super-'tecking' in the `dorms'. It was a world Terrence could barely find any connection with, but he read on, anxious for some reason to know what would happen to `old Huge'.

It was more than a disappointment to get to the end and find that Matron and Holmes had caught Huge out for stealing `prog'. "Huge got a swishing, and deserved it; next term he was moved to pastures new." Terrence threw the book to the floor. More smarty pantses and pushy females getting the better of people. Irritably he turned on his side and flicked the lamp off.

As the boy lay in his bed, he was watched from the top of the cupboard by a very interested cluster of eyes. The eyes had watched him staring and smiling at the girl asleep in the other bed; had seen him throw his shorts and shirt at the foot of his bed; had observed him pull on his pyjamas and get into bed. The spider had also noticed the wriggling toes that protruded from the end of the bed, tapping a happy tune. Shanks had lifted a couple of his legs involuntarily, as though to do a march of his own. But he stilled them and smiled. A little patience. When the boy finished reading, the light would be turned off, and his breathing would soon match the girl's. Then it might be time to do a little light-footed marching.

* * *

At the end of a long dark tunnel stood a severe bespectacled woman holding a long stick. She tapped one foot impatiently as she waited for the boy to come and get his punishment. The boy tried to look away, hiding a plastic bag full of something that wasn't his. "Come on Boy. Give it here to me!" He looked up, and saw that the woman was now a huge cat, ginger coat flecked with grey, and a pair of rimless glasses perched on her nose. She/it still held a long cane, but now it curved and tapered at the end like a giant claw.

He reached into the bag and took out one item, as if it might appease her. It was a chocolate-coated fish head. The woman/cat began howling angrily. He dropped the bag, turned and tried to run, but suddenly the tunnel filled with water, and he was washed towards the cat. In the dream the boy had forgotten how to swim. The water slapped coldly into his face. He took one, two huge unwanted draughts, before going under completely. Wildly his arms thrashed about for something to pull him up. Almost at the height of his panic he felt something long and spindly and inflexible grip him. He was hauled out of the water by an enormous spider. Though he had no air for it, he screamed violently as the spider softly began to say "You shouldn't have done it. You shouldn't have done it."

Terrence was shaking uncontrollably, his heart beating to bursting point, as he woke out of the nightmare. He frantically looked around the half-familiar room, trying to remember where he was. It took one awful minute for him to convince himself that everything was alright. He was at his Nan and Pa's shack, he'd had a bad dream, but there was nothing to worry about. There was nothing to worry about.

Just as his heart beat was slowing, he heard softly but distinctly in his left ear "you shouldn't have done it to poor old Shanks". Terrence threw his bedclothes off and leapt up, thrashing his arms about his head as if swishing at deadly wasps. He reached for his bedside lamp, but knocked it to the floor, breaking the globe with a thin audible crack. He swung around towards the main light, fumbling for fully thirty seconds before finally turning it on.

In the full light he desperately reached for his slippers, shaking them carefully before putting them on. Then he looked right around the room, all the time breathing quick and shallow. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he did it thoroughly. And he found nothing. He even checked under Peg's pillow. She stayed asleep the whole time, a peaceful blankness on her face.

Terrence finally sat back on his bed. It was time to think a bit more calmly. He'd had a rough couple of days after all. He'd met and fallen in with a very smart cat, and a very ... well, a dog as well. And he'd fought a cunning battle with a nasty spider, having to overcome his fear of creepy things. Of course it wouldn't be unusual to dream about these things, given the circumstances. That's all it was. The darkness plus his fears had made the dream seem more real than most. If he just relaxed for a while, he'd soon be able to sleep again.

Still, Terrence left his light on for another twenty minutes before deciding he'd be okay again. He then gave his bedclothes another thorough check, looked in all the drawers, and even under the bed. When he was sure everything was clear, he crept over and turned off the light. He then jumped back into bed almost without touching the floor and pulled the sheet up around his ears with a shiver. The steady breathing of Peg became a surprising comfort to him, and he decided he was glad she was there. But he was still occasionally shivering when at last he floated off to sleep again.

From the dark peace of this dream-free sleep, Terrence fell suddenly into the waking world of voices. Again, as small and clear as a pimple he heard "shouldn't have done it. He'll haunt you. Shanks'll haunt you." It was all he could do not to scream. He repeated his mad tarantella, then rushed straight for the door, this time without his slippers. He wasn't staying in that room for any money.

So Terrence spent the rest of a very long night huddled up in a wicker chair in the living room. He kept warm under his grandfather's woollen duffle coat, but slept only fitfully. He was in that position when his Pa came out to fill the kettle at 6.30.

Armitage Shanks: Chapter 5

[When Peg gets back to Bruny there's a surprise or two in store]

The 4 o'clock ferry would have left on time had Mrs Flanagan not hove into view, waving, tooting and shouting, just as the crew was raising the ramp. "Silly old duck" said Peg's Pa. "She's always late. And she'll expect them to drive on for her too, you watch." Peg couldn't bear to. She walked to the front of the ferry, kicking at the rounded rivets that mushroomed out of the rusty floor. As she leaned on the chain across the bow, she booted a half-eaten apple over the edge. It plopped satisfyingly into the surging water beneath - a small satisfaction, and all she'd get on the whole trip back.

Though they had been first onto the ferry, their aisle was the third one off. This meant that Mrs Flanagan drove off ahead of them, and stayed in that position for the whole twenty winding kilometres from the ferry terminal to the shack. If Peg's Pa was no speedster, Mrs Flanagan drove like a snail on valium - or so her Pa said. As the old ute puttered up the drive it was well past 5 o'clock.

The trio was greeted by a surprisingly chirpy Terrence, who enquired most politely what sort of day they had had. Peg simply shoved past her brother and ran inside. As he half-listened to his Nan's comparison of morning tea and lunch, Terrence counted in his mind. When he got to twelve, there was a loud scream from the region of the toilet. He smiled, then joined his grandparents as they rushed inside.

By the time they got to her, Peg had stopped screaming. She came out of the toilet so fast that she half-collided with her grandfather. As she spun off him, she dodged deliberately towards her brother and aimed a boot straight into his shin. "You slimy pig's bum!" she shouted, while Terrence hopped up and down holding his leg. "Peg!" both grandparents called after her, but for once Peg ignored them and stomped into her room, slamming the door shut with surprising ferocity.

"Now what's all that about young fella?" His Pa looked upset enough for Terrence's shrug to freeze on his shoulders. "Just a little joke Pa." He shuffled, thrusting his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans. His grandfather waited. "Look all I did was stick a sort of dead spider on the toilet, just to scare 'er a bit, you know . . ." His Pa opened the toilet door and scooped up the spider shell, holding it out for them to see. "She can't take a joke Pa, she's useless. I mean that wouldn't scare anyone, would it." His Pa knew that it didn't deserve the reaction Peg had had, but he felt there was more to it. And he didn't like the way Terrence treated Peg. "Listen T, I want you to just leave her alone for a while. Stay outside until it's dinner time, all right?" Terrence gave a slight nod, and disappeared out the back door. By the time he reached the neighbours' house, he was smiling broadly. He could tell Geoffrey that Part 1 of the plan had gone smoothly. Soon he could try Part 2.

* * *

Terrence crept towards the toilet door. He stopped, looked around, then held his breath the better to listen for any sounds in the house. Hearing none, he stooped to listen at the door. He then gave a soft, low whistle, remarkably like the one he had heard Peg give. In one hand he held an empty margarine tub; in the other a stiff piece of paper. He took great care not to rattle them as he listened hard for any response from the spider. Finally he caught what sounded like a faint humming. It was an old tune he had heard somewhere before, but he couldn't have put a name to it. Still, it was enough. Taking a deep breath, he gripped the door handle hard, then burst into the spider's home.

Shanks was distracted that morning. Peg had only come for a brief visit, and hadn't even arranged another meeting for the day. She had seemed very upset about something, and Shanks was worried. So when he heard the soft whistle, he immediately put aside a piece of roast moth he had been absorbing, and came out from the cornice.

Expecting to see Peg, he was happily humming "God Save the Queen". Instead when the door was flung open, it was the boy who rushed into the room with a whoosh of wind that almost knocked the spider over. Before Shanks could recover, his world had gone dark and echo-ey. Then it had turned upside down and all around. He tumbled in helpless orbit, his feet giving him no grip on the plastic of the tub. He didn't even know which way was up.

When he next saw light, he had almost no chance to use it. The tub was being thumped violently, and he was falling, then landing upside down in water. Barely a second later it was dark again, and a thunderous rush of water was spinning him over and over, propelling him between dark walls, as helpless as a flea in a flood. Despite all this, Shanks did have the faintest idea where he was. In his tumbling fall he had glimpsed some words, and they were not just any words. He had seen in plain black on white, and very close up, the words ARMITAGE SHANKS.

So as Shanks was tossed helplessly through the water, he at least knew where he was. He had been put down his own white throne and flushed away. Though close to panic, he managed to think one calm thought. It was something he'd picked up from the box, though he'd never had occasion to use it - until now. As he turned over for the ninth time, with the water rushing him mercilessly towards he knew-not-what, Shanks half smiled as he said to himself "I think he would've wanted to go that way."

* * *
It was not to be. During his twelfth tumble, a couple of Shanks' legs touched on something rough enough to give grip. Instinctively he caught hold and dragged himself out of the water, and up onto some kind of narrow shelf. Shanks gulped the air gratefully, then sang faintly "Long to Ray Noverus" as a kind of prayer. It was still totally dark, but the flood of water was slowing. He guessed that the level was dropping too. As his senses slowly returned, he pieced together where he was, and why. A slow, wet anger smouldered against Terrence. "That collargrime of a boy will pay! Oh in a thousand ways he'll pay." But meanwhile Shanks had to think about the less pleasant task of getting back home. Though he felt he'd done enough swimming for a lifetime, he soon came to the gloomy conclusion that the only way back was the way he had come. He would have to unflush himself!

The return journey was much slower than his outward journey. And just as dangerous. If the boy or anyone else pushed the silver button again, he would be lost forever. That wasn't his only worry. There would be a long section of underwater travel, and he wasn't sure how good he was at holding his breath.

In the end however, he found that the upper surface of the pipe gave enough grip to let him hold it all the way back. Even in the panicky underwater sections, the solidity of the wall gave him the confidence to go on. So after a very long three minutes, Shanks surfaced into the darkness at the bottom of the toilet bowl. A faint chink of light showed where the ill-fitting seat met the rim of the bowl. After a tricky slippery ascent, he squeezed himself under the seat, and out into the light-flooded room.

Once back under the cover of the cornice, he began to dry out. As his fear left him, it was replaced by anger. Just as quickly, the perfect plan suggested itself to Shanks. A plain and simple plan; a plan with poetic justice. He smiled briefly, then went off in search of food. He would need his strength.

* * *

Armitage Shanks: Chapter 2

[an Armitage Shanks toilet, newer than the one at the Bruny Island shack. Photo courtesy heatandplumb.com]

[the plot thickens ... with some more action in the toilet]

Shanks had some difficulty understanding what happened next. From the T.V. he had learned what a male needed in order to be popular with females. He could check himself off against the list. Handsome? Yes. Slim? Yes. Tall? Yes. Tanned? Yes. He was all these things and more.

So it was something of a blow when Peg's first reaction to him was to stifle a scream, haul up her pants, and reach for the door. Fortunately Shanks did two things to save the situation. Firstly, he did nothing. That is he stayed perfectly still. Then, and he had no good reason for doing so, he began humming "God Save The Queen." Perhaps his royalist streak came out under pressure. Whatever the reason, it had the desired effect.

Peg's hand froze on the doorknob. She stood there gawping. A tinsel-thin tuneful rattle was coming from the direction of a spider on the toilet wall! It crossed her mind that Terrence had put a trick spider there - one of those things with a computerised tune inside it. But the sound was too random, too "animal", to be electronic. It wasn't even in tune. And the creature she was staring at looked far too realistic. Then, as she stood there open-mouthed, the sound changed. The spider was speaking. She swallowed hard to clear her ears, but it altered nothing. The spider was speaking to her.

In his mind Shanks had gone through all kinds of clever opening lines. Perhaps he'd try "Do you come here often?", or "We must stop meeting like this", or even "Hello, this is Armitage Shanks. First the headlines." There was no shortage of patter he'd picked up. Yet somehow when it came to it, he fell back on old spider habits. "Like a bit of cockroach?" was all he could manage.

Peg closed her mouth, and appeared to swallow, before she replied. "I ... err... thanks. I mean no thanks. I ..?" She seemed just as lost for words as her host. Suddenly Shanks remembered his manners. "Oh ... please sit down." With that he gave a broad friendly smile. What Peg thought of it was unclear, but she accepted his invitation and sat back on the toilet seat (this time its cover was down.) She adjusted her clothing, all the while keeping her eyes fixed on the spider.

"Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm Armitage Shanks, Benign Huntsman, Lord Of All That You Survey." He bowed and flourished one of his front legs as he said this. All the chivalry he'd learned from a recent television series was being recalled. Peg strained forward, unable to hear clearly the wispy speech coming from her host. But she picked up the name. Armitage Shanks. Where had she heard that before? She had no time to think now. The spider was rocking gently up and down on his feet, obviously waiting for a returned introduction from the squatting figure.

***

"Oh.. um, I'm Peg Priddle. But everyone calls me Square Peg ... 'cause I don't fit in." She gave a little laugh, but she didn't really look amused. Shanks wasn't either. Peg began to blush, but quickly covered it up by blurting out "Anyhow, how come you can talk?" Shanks hadn't expected that question. It crossed his mind that being benign might mean you could talk to humans. But Aunty Scuttle was benign too, and she'd never said a word to a person as far as he knew.

"I watch the old box" he replied, slipping into Televisionese. Peg just looked puzzled. "You what?" "I learned it from the telly. You know, Play School, Sesame Street, Neighbours, Eastenders.." He would have gone on to list his Top Forty programs, but Peg interrupted. "You mean you learned how to speak by watching television?" "Correct. Please wait till I say your name." Shanks was still quite nervous. It was only with a conscious effort that he didn't break into "God Save The Queen" again.

"But I thought all spiders were .." Peg stopped herself from insulting her host. "Were what?" Shanks asked innocently. Before she had a chance to think up a good reply, they both heard footsteps followed by a voice calling out. "PAIRG...Peggy". They recognised Peg's Grandfather. "Coming Pa," she bellowed, then turned to Shanks as she got up to leave. "Look I'm gonna have to go. Can I meet you here again? After lunch?" He nodded. "Sure thing. Adios till then." With a quick if still bewildered grin, Peg left his room.

Shanks sat there stunned. Then he slowly began to feel warm all over. He'd actually got to meet the girl of his dreams. And what's more, he had a date to see her again. In near ecstasy he bounded off towards the ceiling. "Oh bloated blowfly, what did Shanks do to deserve this. Ah moldy mosquito, my numbers have come up! Oh curdled cockroach..." Which reminded him. He slipped off into the ceiling to have one of these delights. No, blow it all, he might have all three!

As Peg came out of the toilet, her Pa gave her a queer look. "Who were you talking to in there?" With a perfectly straight face Peg said simply "Oh, I was talking to a spider." "Not another bloomin' Huntsman? I oughta spray the whole place." Peg opened her mouth in horror, but her grandfather was continuing. "But I s'pose they'd soon be back. And they say Huntsmen are benign enough. Matter of fact, I parcelled one up in paper and took him out to the garden last night. Don't reckon they bite, but I weren't takin' chances." Then, almost as an afterthought he added, "Besides they give mum the creeps." He'd never met a woman who wasn't scared of spiders, and he wondered at Peg casually talking to one in the confines of the toilet.

***

As Peg walked furtively along the hallway to the toilet, she was sure she was alone. It was three days now since she'd met her extraordinary new friend, but she was still being careful. She had the feeling no-one else was quite ready for him yet. Yet in her own mind she felt she'd always known him. He was so interesting; so little like a spider, or what she had imagined spiders to be like. Other girls could have their dumb rabbits and kittens. She would have her talking Huntsman any day. Cute and cuddly wasn't all there was to look for in an animal friend. Still, just at present he would be her secret friend.

Outside the toilet she gave her special whistle to let Shanks know she was coming. She looked quickly around to see if she had been noticed. Nothing. She turned the wobbly doorknob and went in, looking up to see if Shanks was in his usual spot. Catching sight of him she smiled, greeted him, and turned to latch the door. At the same moment there was a creak and a thump, and the door was suddenly flung open straight into Peg's forehead. She shouted in pain and slumped to the floor, holding her head.

Ignoring her, Terrence pushed his way into the room. "Who do you think you're talking to?" Peg lay moaning on the floor, but as Terrence tried to get past her, she knew she had to stop him. Just as he saw the large brown spider, she started screaming at him. He gave her one hard look; did the same to the spider, then calmly left the room before his grandparents arrived. There'd be plenty of time to get her back, and find out all about this grotesque thing she'd been talking to.

***

The large tom-cat stretched, head low, tail high, a bumpy, gingery slippery dip. Geoffrey had had a hard morning following the sunshine around the veranda. It would still be two more moves before the sun reached his basket. Till then he would have to make do with hard floorboards. Such was the lot of Geoffrey Boycat, retired mouser, ratter, birder and blue-tonguer extraordinaire. Venerable though he was, he felt hard done by. Surely a retired champion should be treated with more respect. Why, for instance, wasn't his basket moved around for him? As he settled back down on the floor-boards, he vaguely wondered whether the sun might be asked to move for him.

As Geoffrey contemplated this, he was disturbed by the one bane of his life. A yap, a shuffle of paws, and a disgusting snuffling sound told him he had a visitor. Lump Sum, the Pekinese dog, had come to see him. Geoffrey should have been impressed. Lump Sum was a profoundly aristocratic dog. He had a long pedigree to prove it. He had blue ribbons from the Electrona and Snug District Dog Show. And he had a venerable Pekinese name, even if he was too stupid or lazy to remember it. (Was it Lap Sang Sou Chong? Or was that the type of tea Mumsy liked?)

Regardless, Geoffrey most definitely did not venerate this pathetic excuse for a dog. The thing would make a better floor mop. Geoffrey turned his face away from the wheezing wimp, and pretended to be asleep. He could not help twitching his ears and wrinkling his nose at the awful smell that hovered around Lump Sum. The dirty thing had been rolling in rotting fish again.

Lump Sum was too thick to notice any of this. He waddled up to Geoffrey and nudged him with a dribbly muzzle. When this brought no response, he barked loudly in the cat's ear. With a slow, measured movement of the head, Geoffrey turned to face the dog. At the same time, he aimed a lightning-fast pawful of claws at the rumpled face. Dumb or not, Lump Sum was also quick. He effortlessly dodged the paw, yapped once more, then launched into excited chatter.

"Guess what ... guess what ... hruhh hruhhh!" He slobbered sibilantly. "Spider can talk! Talk 's good as me! Over nek door. Hruhh hruhh ... Spider talk ... 's good as me!" Geoffrey raised one sarcastic eyebrow, but didn't comment. Despite himself he was interested in what this gibbering idiot was saying. Lump Sum went on. "The girl, the boy, the visders ... hruhh hruhhh ... you know, nek door. Over nek door." He pointed his mangled muzzle in the general direction. ("You're not a pointer old thing", thought Geoffrey with a scornful sneer. "More of a panter, really.") Lump Sum continued to wheeze and waddle as he told more of his news.

The cat lay there waiting. Economy of movement was one of his creeds. He knew the Lump would get to the point eventually. There were several agonising minutes while the dog put the English language through torture. Eventually Geoffrey worked out that something genuinely unique was happening "nek door". Something he could use to add to his already considerable fame and prestige. He might need help, someone to do the dirty work. But he could see that the capture and execution of a notorious spider would set him up for life. He knew how much They (the Feeder and the Adorer) loathed spiders. Especially the Adorer. Please her and you pleased the Feeder. Please the Feeder and ... ahhh ... Food, Fame and Fortune.

As he lay there the wheezing background of Lump Sum's chatter became waves lapping on a tropical shore. As Geoffrey slipped off into a delicious dream, one pearl was washed up on the shore. Among the dog's rabbitings he distinctly heard "... but the boy he hate the spider. The visder, the boy ...oooh my words, he hate the spider." Now that could be useful. Soon. Meanwhile sleep took priority, even over food, fame and fortune. There would be time for those soon enough.

* * *