Fiona Dunbar

The Truth Cookie

Lulu Baker leaned over the banisters and heard another shriek of laughter from Varaminta. Was she ever going to go to bed? Not any time soon, by the sound of it. Lulu had had no time alone with her dad all evening, and any prospect of it was fast disappearing.
  Lulu sighed heavily and headed back to her room. She opened her dresser drawer and took out the tin. It was an old, round tin meant for storing cake, but Lulu used it for her Wodge of Stuff. She always turned to it in times of crisis. And if ever there had been a crisis, this was it.
  As she opened the tin, the Wodge un-wodged itself all over the floor. Lulu bent down to pick up the pictures, notes and cards. Here was the Glitter Monster that Mum had made for her when she was little, to scare off the other monster that lived under the bed. It had worked, too. Here were Lulu's favourite photographs, like the one of Mum and Dad holding baby Lulu between them, and Lulu's most treasured of all, the lovely, laughing Mum-in-Muddy-Wellies photo. And here was the photo of Lulu on her fifth birthday, almost completely hidden by a gigantic cake shaped like a fairytale castle. Mum had used loo roll holders for the turrets. Long after every trace of pink icing was gone, Lulu had insisted on hanging on to the crumpled cardboard tubes.
  As Lulu stared at the picture, a tear rolled down her cheek. Will I ever be that happy again? she wondered.
  They'd made the cake together. Well, Mum had made it really, but she had managed to make Lulu feel as essential to the process as flour and eggs. After putting it in the oven, Mum had crouched beside the cooker. 'Come and have a look.'
  Lulu had stepped forward and peered through the glass oven door to watch as the cake puffed itself up.
  'It's biggering!' Lulu had said.
  Mum had laughed and put her arm around her. 'That's it!' she'd replied. 'That's exactly what it's doing; it's biggering!'
  Lulu had stood and breathed in the delicious buttery aroma as the cake swelled some more. Now Lulu remembered how the light from the oven had made Mum's face look as if it glowed from within, as she had turned and whispered excitedly, 'It's like magic, isn't it?'
  There was no fairytale cake for Lulu's sixth birthday.
  Crossing the street with her shopping on a rain-soaked day in March, Mum had been hit by a speeding motorbike. The biker had just started work that week with Eatza Pizza, and was in a hurry to deliver the food while it was still hot. Lulu had not been able to eat pizza since.
  Like any five-year-old, little Lulu couldn't understand that someone could just not be there any more. And as there was no Mum to talk to, she settled for the next best thing: Mum's picture. It was a habit she still clung to seven years later, especially when Dad was away. And Dad was away or busy a lot nowadays, especially since he had won the Sweet Nothings advertising account several months ago...and since he had started dating Varaminta le Bone around the same time.
  Dad wasn't away right now, but he might just as well be. Whenever Varaminta was around, Lulu felt unwelcome. She had sensed the frostiness the first time she'd met the tall, glamorous, pencil-thin ex-supermodel, whose bubbly friendliness always turned to icy silence as soon as Dad's back was turned.
  And today had been the worst day yet. Lulu curled up with the Mum-in-Muddy-Wellies photo, and told her all about it...

(Several chapters later...)

Lulu found herself in a very different part of town. The crowds of shoppers were gone and most of the buildings were offices; only an occasional pedestrian strolled by. She hadn't the slightest idea what to do next, and now the excitement was wearing off she felt rather foolish. It had been very satisfying to run off but she couldn't escape the feeling that at some point she would have to turn herself in at the nearest police station, lost. And then it would be back to the Varmint and the Torment, and the knot of elastic bands that just kept growing inside her.
  Then a most peculiar shop caught her attention.
  The peeling window frame gave onto an old fashioned display of ancient books. Two huge eyes stared out at Lulu from between them, and she jumped, then sighed with relief when she saw they were attached to a large, dusty, stuffed owl. Some of the books lay open, showing illustrations of antelopes and lilies and churches. Beautiful, exotic foreign dolls stood here and there, like lost characters spilled from a story long ago.
  Then Lulu spotted a large bowl of fruit-coloured sweets near the entrance inside the shop. They looked delicious. Her mouth watered; she moved to the shop door, and squinted at a faded, handwritten sign on it. 'Out...to...Lunch. Back in...5...mins,' she read. Strange; I thought I saw someone moving around in there. Lulu pressed her face up against the glass door, which suddenly vibrated and made her nose quiver.    Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt! Lulu leapt. Had she pressed some alarm, or something? Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt! it went again, and now she noticed another tiny sign on the door.
PUSH WHEN BUZZER SOUNDS.

Lulu pushed; the door clicked open. After the bright sunshine it was like entering a tunnel, and she paused to let her eyes adjust.
  'Good afternoon!' said a man's voice.
  'G-good afternoon,' said Lulu, although she could see nobody. Gradually, she made out the books - lots of them, floor to ceiling - and gave a start when the face of an old man appeared in the gap between some of the books. 'Oh, er...hi!' she said. The man came around from behind the shelves and ambled over to a large, cluttered desk. He was tiny, and rather tortoise-ish, Lulu thought, with his rounded back, shiny head, and stringy neck sticking out from the frayed collar of his shirt. He wore milk-bottle glasses, which magnified his eyes. He sat down and beamed at her, but said nothing.
Lulu tugged at the sleeves of her cardigan. 'Erm...it says you're out,' she said.
  'Otto!' he announced.
  'I'm sorry...?'
  'Otto Lunch, that's me,' and he pointed to another sign on his desk. This one was printed. It read:
Otto Lunch
Bockin Smins

'Most people call me Mister O,' he added.
  'What's "Bockin Smins"?' asked Lulu.
  'Who.'
  'Who?'
  'Bockin Smins. Mr Smins is my partner. He's not here today, though!' he uttered cheerfully.
  'But it looks as if the sign on the door says you're out to lunch and will be back in five minutes.'
  'Does it?' Mister O knitted his brow. 'How extraordinary.'
  Lulu didn't know what to say to this, so she said, 'Can I have a sweet?'
  'Of course, of course, help yourself!'
  'Thank you.' Lulu took one and gazed around. The shop had the aroma of grandma's spare bedroom, mixed with a sort of two-week-old-sandwich-in-a-backpack smell. As well as the stuffed owl, there were other stuffed creatures: a fox, a puffin, and a pelican. And books, books, books. Books along the walls and books forming great towers here and there on the floor, threatening to topple over at any moment. In the middle of the room stood a table where more piles of books had grown together into a gigantic pyramid.
  'How does anyone find a book in here?' she asked, helping herself to another sweet. The first one had been delicious.
  'Ha-ha, very amusing!' chuckled Mister O.
  Lulu stopped sucking and frowned. Mister O said, 'Oh, you're serious? Well, I'm proud to say that no one has ever found a book in this shop. If you want to find a book you'd best go somewhere else. Good day!'
  Lulu gave an exasperated sigh. 'I didn't say I wanted to find a book, I only meant... Oh, never mind,' and she turned to leave. As she did, she brushed against a tower of books and they came tumbling down, sending up a cloud of dust and knocking over the stuffed puffin. 'Oh! I'm sorry!' she gasped.
  'You won't be,' remarked Mister O cheerfully. He didn't budge from where he was sitting, his feet up on the desk. Lulu coughed in the dust as she replaced the bird on its stand and fumbled around with the books, trying to restore some sort of order. She stacked them up, only to have them come crashing to her feet again.
Still Mister O didn't move. He just sat there, with an irritating smile.
  'Can't you see I need some help?' she growled at him. 'What sort of shop is this, any-'
Suddenly she stopped dead. Something had caught her eye. The book in her hand was open at the flyleaf. On it, in faded handwriting, were the words:

For my lovely Lulu.

Happy Birthday!

Lots of love,
Mum

'OH!' she cried, and clapped her hand over her mouth. For a moment she didn't move. She just read the words over and over.
  'It's found you, then!' said Mister O, as jovial as ever.
  'It's - what?'
  'As I said before. People don't find books in this shop. Books find people. It's found you.' The words went around in Lulu's head as she stared at the book; found you...found you...
  'FOUND YOU!' screeched a voice outside the door. 'That's her, officer, in there!'
  'Oh, no!' gasped Lulu. 'Varaminta!'

The Truth Cookie © Fiona Dunbar 2004. Published by Orchard Books.