CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Unrequited Hate

Pickering paced back and forth in his cell. Something was bothering him and he couldn’t put his finger on it. The angry shouts from the man in the cell next door were irritating, yes, but it wasn’t that that was bothering him.

‘I mean, of course, I’ve been bitten by a billion nasty beetles,’ he muttered to himself, scratching at his itchy thighs through his bright green cotton jumpsuit. ‘That must be it.’

He’d hoped for a tuxedo, or at least a suit, to wear when he finally got to see the lovely Lucretia, but Dankish had said the only spare clothes in the place were the overalls used for mucking out the beetles. Pickering hadn’t realized beetles could be mucked out, but he didn’t protest about the lurid green jumpsuit handed to him, it was clean and far better than his dirty pants. Humphrey had struggled into the largest size they had, but the poppers didn’t do up over his belly, so his waxy white stomach bulged out. Pickering had been secretly delighted. Any fears that he’d had that Lucretia would be more attracted to his cousin than him were banished by the amusing sight of Humphrey bursting out of the outfit like a giant bald baby in an ill-fitting Babygro.

He shook his head. No, it wasn’t the bites or the scratches and bruises from the past week in the jungle that were bothering him. It was something else. He was feeling decidedly odd. It was like there was a black hole inside him. He patted his tummy. He wasn’t hungry any longer. Dankish had brought him a massive bowl of vegetable stew with a hunk of bread, and it was one of the tastiest things he’d ever eaten. He’d wolfed it down, and now his body was full, but he wasn’t happy.

‘What is wrong with me?’ Pickering sighed and sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the white cell wall, drumming his fingers on his kneecaps.

It must be because I’m going to be seeing my true love soon. He smiled to himself at this thought. Yes! What he was feeling were the butterflies he’d read about in Harriet Harooroo’s romance novels. He was nervous and excited, because he knew that once his sweetheart Lucretia heard that Dankish had mistakenly thrown him and Humphrey into the cells, she’d rush here and liberate them. He pictured the delighted expression on her face when she realized that they’d come all the way to the jungle especially to see her. She’d be outraged at their treatment, and apologetic. He imagined her bursting through the doorway, in tears, clasping his head to her breast, apologizing again and again, begging for his forgiveness.

The vision pleased him, but it didn’t soothe the black hole in his chest. It’s like someone has died, he thought. Although, he’d known people who’d died, and he’d never felt like this. Maybe he’d caught some kind of disease in the jungle? He wished that Humphrey was with him, so that he could ask him about it. He frowned, and reminded himself that he and Humphrey were only stuck together because they wanted the money that Lucretia Cutter had promised them. Once they got it, they’d go their own separate ways, and good riddance. Humphrey was a stupid greedy bully, who’d made his life a misery for years.

He looked around the empty white triangular cell. It wasn’t very friendly. If he didn’t know that Lucretia Cutter would be delighted to see him, he might be a little bit afraid. After all, he was in the middle of a jungle, in a foreign country, in a prison cell, and no one knew he was there. This would all be very scary if he wasn’t such good friends with Lucretia Cutter. He wrapped his arms across his chest and hugged himself, wondering how long it would be before she came.

He had to admit, it was boring without Humphrey around. He had no one to talk to. No one to shout at or prod. He hadn’t been separated from his cousin in months. They’d shared a prison cell, stayed in the hospital in adjacent beds, slept rough together, journeyed to LA together, squished into bins and the helicopter together, fought the jungle together, waded through the river together – and after all that, they’d been separated.

‘Oh, no!’ Pickering covered his face with his hands. ‘I miss him!’

He couldn’t believe it. He scrambled to his feet and punched himself hard in the face, knocking himself to the ground. He sat up, examining how he felt, but despite his throbbing nose, he felt the same. He had a giant Humphrey-sized hole inside him. He was never frightened when he was with Humphrey, because his cousin was strong and violent. They did not agree on anything and they argued all the time, but they’d been on the same side since they’d met Lucretia. Pickering didn’t have any friends, but Humphrey would at least suffer his company. He was family.

When I next see Humphrey, Pickering thought, I’m going to thump him really hard and give him a dead arm. He felt a bit better.

There was a noise outside the cells, voices. Whoever was in the cell next door started banging on the door and shouting to be let out.

Pickering sprang up. Perhaps it was Lucretia Cutter, finally come to get him. He arranged his face into what he hoped was a winning smile and walked to the cell door, expecting it to slide open. When it didn’t, he pressed his face up to the little window.

Mawling’s chair was empty. There was no one there.

‘I must be going mad!’ Pickering muttered.

‘You were already mad,’ came Humphrey’s gruff voice.

Pickering turned his head, trying to look to his left, but he couldn’t see round as far as the cell next door. ‘Humphrey, is that you?’

‘Who else is it going to be, you thickie?’

Hearing Humphrey’s voice cheered Pickering up. ‘We won’t have to stay much longer in these cells,’ he said. ‘I’m sure Lucretia Cutter will come and get us out as soon as she learns we’re here.’

‘I don’t mind it in here,’ Humphrey sniffed. ‘It’s better than being out there with the spiders and the snakes.’

‘But don’t you want to get our money?’

‘I’m beginning to think this is way too much effort for a bunch of money,’ Humphrey harrumphed. ‘I’ve had my peanuts bitten by beetles, my front teeth knocked out by monkeys, and I haven’t eaten a pie in months. I want to go home.’ He sighed. ‘If we’d ignored Lucretia Cutter when she’d come to our front door with a handful of dead beetles, we’d still have the Emporium.’

‘No, we wouldn’t,’ Pickering replied. ‘The council was going to throw us out, remember?’

‘That was your fault for writing to them,’ Humphrey grumbled.

‘I think you’ll find you wrote to them too,’ Pickering snapped back.

Humphrey fell silent.

‘Don’t get downhearted, Humpty. We’ll get the half a million pounds Lucretia Cutter owes us, fly home first class and buy a new place to live – we might even be able to find one above a shop.’

‘I thought you were going to marry Lucretia Cutter and live with her?’

‘Oh, well, err . . . um, obviously, I do love her . . .’ It hadn’t occurred to Pickering that if he married Lucretia Cutter he’d have to live with her. He looked at the walls of the cell. He wasn’t keen on living in the jungle.

‘Sorry, I thought for a minute there, you were saying you and I should live together when we get back home.’

‘What?’ Pickering screeched out a high peal of forced laughter. ‘Why would I do that? I mean, we hate each other!’ He paused. ‘Don’t we?’

‘Yeah. I hate you,’ Humphrey said, moving away from the cell door. ‘I’m going to sleep. Night-night.’

‘Oh, right, OK.’ Pickering turned and looked at his roll mat, then dragged it over to the wall beside Humphrey’s cell. ‘Sweet dreams,’ he called out as he pulled the blanket over himself.

‘Weirdo,’ Humphrey called back.