Aunt Effie's Ark by Jack Lasenby Page A

well as her cellar of wines and champagne . We tried them but screwed up our noses. The little ones spat it out. Daisy wouldn’t try any of it and said, “I’ll tell Aunt Effie, as soon as she wakes up, if I see a single one of you under the influence!”
    At once, Alwyn hiccuped, crossed his eyes, sang, burped, and fell over. Daisy stared at him and wrote something in her diary. That night, she wrote a couple more sentences in her diary as he tried to sing but got the words twisted around his tongue, as if it was too thick for his mouth. When he fell out of his berth, Daisy wrote a couple more sentences. By the time he lay snoring on the deck, Daisy had written several pages to show Aunt Effie. But, as she closed her diary, Alwyn sprang up, huffed over Daisy, blew out her candle – and all she could smell on his breath was the lemonade we’d had after tea.
    â€œDo you mind!” she said.
    â€œMind you do!” Alwyn replied. That was another of his exasperating tricks, repeating backwards whatever you said.
    At first the keel scraped and bumped against trees, fence posts, and the hill between us and the school. As the flood deepened, we drifted in a circle over Walton, Morrinsville, Ngatea, Thames, and Paeroa. At night, we looked down through the water and saw the streetlights still burning, and people sitting at the table, having tea in their kitchens. We collided with Mount TeAroha, shoved off with long poles, and the wind blew us south. We could see people stranded in cars and buses, waiting for the floods to go down.
    â€œI hope they’ve got plenty to eat with them,” said Ann.
    â€œThe police will organise something,” Marie said.
    At Hinuera, halfway between Matamata and Tirau, we floated over the Rotorua Express stopped on the railway lines. No smoke was coming out of its funnel. We looked down through a couple of hundred feet of water and saw the lights still on in the carriages, and the passengers reading papers and playing cards. The guard got wet through every time he ducked from one carriage to another.
    â€œAt least he gets a chance to dry out,” said Marie. “It’s the driver and the stoker I’m sorry for. See them in the cab? On the footplate? Holding their breath till the flood goes down.”
    â€œHow do they go to the dunny?” asked Jared.
    â€œI suppose it’s pretty easy,” said Jazz. We looked at each other and laughed, and Daisy went, “Tsk! Tsk! Tsk!”
    â€œAt least they’ll be warm,” said David.
    â€œNo, they’ll be cold,” Ann told him. “They’ll have to shovel out the wet ashes and light the fire all over again to get up steam, once the water goes down.”
    â€œListen everyone,” said Peter. “Marie and I’ve had a talk about You Know Who.” We all knew whom Peter meant by You Know Who. “We haven’t seen him since the day he ate our snowman.”
    â€œPoor snowman!” said Casey, and the little ones burst into tears.
    â€œMarie and I think it would be a good idea if we never say You Know Who’s name aloud, if we pretend we never saw him, and if we keep our fingers crossed.”
    â€œWhat about that cabin?” asked Lizzie. “The one Alwyn howled at, and something howled back, ‘ Ooowhooooo !’ from behind the door.”
    â€œI had a look this morning,” said Marie. “They’re just ordinary timber-wolves in there. Quite friendly, really. And they brought their own food; they showed me. They eat only timber, so there’s no need to be afraid of them!
    â€œPeter and I think You Know Who probably drowned in the flood. Don’t say his name aloud. Keep your fingers crossed. And pretend you never saw him. That way, he might never come back.”
    We all nodded. It was hard, at first, doing up our buttons and brushing our teeth with our fingers crossed, but Marie said we’d get used to it.
    When the wind