199. A Bad Case of A.D.

199.  A Bad Case of A.D.

When we  got to the fay  inn where  we meant to spend the night we were received by an overwhelming welcoming committee.

“Where are those clowns?” Mum asked me the minute she set eyes on me.

“Clowns? What are you doing here, Mum?”

“My stupid brothers. Your silly uncles, Arley.”

I decided to pretend I didn’t know what Mum was talking about until she mentioned Wildgale and Richearth by name. I wanted to avoid getting them into trouble if her grievance happened to be about something else.

“But what is this about?” I asked.

“Who does the fairy in the cave mean to marry?” asked Mum.

“The fairy in the cave?”

“Don’t pretend to be stupid yourself, Arley. It won’t work. I know you are not. This is a very serious matter. We could all die of hunger this winter. Because a couple of mefirsters  have gone off gallivanting.”

“Look, Arley,” said my cousin Arabella, because the blue twins were present too, “your mother means Uncles Richearth and Wildgale, who, it seems, went to check Clepeta out to see if she is worth courting. Now they have dissolved into thin air and nobody knows where they are. We’ve lost contact with them.”

“Ah!” I said. “Well, I don’t know where they are either.” 

That was not the complete truth, but it was the truth. I hadn’t  the least notion where Richearth was. And as for Wildgale, I couldn’t be sure exactly where he was just then either.

“You haven’t seen them anywhere?”

That question was more difficult to answer. I decided to go back in time.

“When I took our horses to a spa for animals that belongs to a Romanian fairy named Krakula…” I began.

“Oh, no! That’s all we need!” groaned Mum. “Romanian fairies! Are those the roving  gypsy fairies or is  that the Hungarians? My brothers can’t have run off with the gypsies. They are too fastidious for a roving life.”

I knew the bit about Romanian fairies would divert our conversation and I would gain some time to think. Someone with a name like Krakula had to switch sirens and red lights on.

“What have they done to you?”

“To me? The Romanians?  No, nothing. I…I only saw that my uncles had signed this book Krakula had there for visitors. You know what kind of book I mean. The kind you sign when you visit a place. I signed it and saw they had too. But I didn’t get to see my uncles. They had already left.”

“The cavewoman is also Romanian? They  are very pretty, but I don’t know much about these girls. Does anyone know anything about Romanian fairies?  Are they dangerous? What they are famous for in Romania is vampires, no? Oh, horrors! Who wouldn’t want to bite my succulent little brothers?”

Mama turned to the rest of our welcoming committee. Don Alonso was there, and so were Michael O’Toora and Finisterre Fishfin, all three quite openmouthed, but wordless. Trying to locate us, Mum had dropped by Santiago and come across them. Finisterre, who knew the Death Coast area well, offered to act as  guide and all three had accompanied Mum and the twins to our inn in case she needed their support against yet unknown threats. Such as someone called Krakula.

“No, Auntie, no! Clepeta isn’t even Romanian,” said cousin Belinda. “Nor is she dangerous. I don’t think she has drank your brothers’  blood or anything like that.”

“If she hasn`t thrown Alpin into her cauldron and eaten him up, I doubt she has attacked the uncles," contributed Arabella.

“Yes, people who live in caves do things like eat people. But how could you send those two reckless halfwits on a date with a cannibal?" shouted Mum. “They can’t be taken anywhere. Much less be sent anywhere by themselves!”

“You are not getting the picture right, Aunt Titania. We´ve told you a thousand times that we did not send our uncles to see the cannibal. We sent Alpin,” said Arabella, souding as offended as she could.

“You wanted my girlfriend to eat me?” asked Alpin suddenly.

“Nobody is going to eat you, Alpin. And the halfwits went to see her on their own, Auntie,”  insisted Belinda.

“If you don’t mind, Alpin and I are going to retire for the night,” I said. “We´re very tired and Alpin has to sleep well to look good tomorrow for Clepeta.”

While Mum and the twins continued arguing about cannibals, vampires, roving tribes and cavepeople, Alpin and I sneaked off  to our room.

“I want to know why those dorks are fooling with my girl,” said Alpin.

“They aren’t doing that, Alpin. Rest assured.”

“Why not? You know more than you are telling! What are you keeping back, Arley?”

“I know that Clepeta won’t marry any of my uncles. If she marries anyone, it will be you.”

“Why is that?”

“Because my uncles are silly but they aren’t cradle snatchers. What they like to do is quarrel. They clearly favor belligerent, Wagnerian women or catty, serpentlike vixens they can run risks disputing with. And, Alpin, because you have obviously taken Clepeta’s fancy.”

 “You think she likes me?”

“Oh, yes! That’s why she is going to cook octopus for you tomorrow. Why else would she?”

“Well, hearing you say that makes me feel more confident, Arley.”

That was exactly what I wanted. For Alpin to calm down so we could sleep. I was very tired. Beaches always reduce my blood pressure.  Tomorrow would be another day.

And what a day it was!

While we were having breakfast with Mum and the twins and Don Alonso and Michael and Finisterre, my crystal ball rang. It had been silent for months, but now it was ringing like crazy.

“Answer that, Arley,” said cousin Arabella. “It’s getting on my nerves.”

“Later,” I said. “I´m having breakfast.”

Why had I not thought to turn off the ball?

“Answer,” said Mum. “That could be your grandmother. She has already called me seven times this morning. She is completely hysterical thinking she will have to tell your grandfather about Richie.”

“We want to make it clear that this is in no way our fault,” said Belinda.

“We shall see,” said Mum. “Answer, Arley! Arabella is right. That ringing noise is very annoying!”

Mum and the twins cornered me with their eyes and I had to answer. And yes, of course  it was Uncle Wildgale.

“I couldn´t wait,” he said, sounding very excited. “Look what I have for you!”

And Uncle Wild began to project photo after photo of Clepeta onto my crystal ball.

“The child Clepeta,” he said, projecting a photo of the plump kid who had received us the morning before.  “Photo taken at eight o’clock this morning.”

Then he projected a second photograph.

“The teenaged Clepeta. I just took this picture.The most recent of the photographs.”

That was the Clepeta Alpin and I had lunched with.

And there was a third photo.

“This is the Clepeta Richearth and I had dinner with at around seven o’clock p.m. Taken yesterday at about that hour.”

The Clepeta in this third photo looked like a young woman anywhere between twenty-five and thirty-five.

“And this,” said Uncle Wild, projecting a fourth photograph, “is the Clepeta you must have seen in your crystal ball, Arley.”

This was the photograph of a buxom, middle-aged woman who looked exactly like the woman I had seen cleaning fish. In fact, that was what she was doing in the picture.

“I took that yesterday. The sun sets very late here. And, surprise, I have yet another photograph.”

The fifth photo showed an unkempt old woman who also looked like Clepeta.

“I took that late last night, Arley. And you know what? These photographs are all of the same woman.”

“Oh, my Og!” shouted the blue twins in unison. “This is the worse case of A.D. that we have ever seen! How awful! How could she have kept this from us?”

“Why are those meddlers with you, Arley?” cried Uncle Wildgale. “Don’t tell  me you called them!”

“I called them!” yelled Mum, tearing the crystal ball from my hands. “And now I am calling you! Get yourself and our baby brother right here this minute. And don’t blame my son for anything, because he has been as tight as a clam about this and hasn’t breathed a word about being in cahoots with you two scoundrels. It´s disgusting how you men cover up for each other. Stop harassing that poor woman and come here at once, Wild!”

“No. I don’t want to. Because you are going to scream at me and I don’t like that.”

“I’m already screaming at you,” said Mum.

“From up close it sounds louder,” said Uncle Wild.

“Where is our silly baby brother?”

“That’s what I would like to know. So if you have any idea, please tell me.”

“What is A.D.?” I asked.

“Age Disorder. It’s a sort of illness. A handicap,” explained Belinda.

“We fairies can look any age we want to look. Usually, our physical age reflects our mental age. That is what’s normal. Our body chooses the way we look according to our character and our interests. But we can change that sometimes. Have you never changed the way you look,  Arley?”

 “Once I turned myself into my grandfather so I could buy lottery,” I said.

“That’s it. We can change at least for a while without a problem. But there are fairies who can’t control these changes. Some get stuck at a certain age,” said Belinda.

“Peter Pan, for example,” said Arabella.

“Others have it worse. Clepeta has a very bad case of A.D. She can’t help changing the way she looks four or five times a day.  You don’t have photographs of a baby Clepeta, do you Uncle Wild?” asked Belinda.

“No. She hasn’t turned into a baby at all. The old lady went to sleep and woke at the age of seven.”

“Thank goodness. Because turning into a helpless baby is the worst case of A.D. ever,”  said Belinda.

“Someone has to care for you,” said Arabella. “You can’t live on your own.”

“A second degree A.D. is probably what Clepeta has. She is always of age, but a day doesn’t go by that she doesn’t turn from a seven year old child into a granny,” said Belinda.

“I,” said Don Alonso, “was thinking this woman could be like Sir Gwayne’s Loathly Lady. She was under a curse that made her look lovely for half the day and horrid for the other half.”

“Yes, that is a similar case,” said the girls. “The Loathly Lady was probably a fourth degree case of A.D.”

“The wizard Merlin is also affected, isn’t he? Instead of growing older he grows younger as time goes by,” said Michael.

“Yes, him too! Reversed age disorder.” said the twins.

“What will become of poor Clepeta?” I asked. “Do you still want to marry her Alpin?”

“What I really truly want is her cauldron. Tell that witch, girls, that I will find her a husband if she gives me her cauldron. It won’t be me, but she will have to make do with the fellow I find for her.”

“What do you mean you will find her a husband? Who are you to do anything like that? That would be professional intrusiveness.”

“I am somebody who is going to do things better than you did,” said Alpin. “Want to bet?”

“No betting!” cried Mum. “That poor woman has to be extenuated, having to change the way she looks four or five times a day. Just thinking of it makes me age. I can see why no one would want to marry her. Being next to her has to be terribly taxing.”

“Of course, Richearth and I could share her,” said Alpin. “I would take the kid and the teenager and he can have the broad and the hag. But the cauldron has to be mine and only mine.”

“For goodness sake, Alpin! That cauldron is probably the only magic treasure she has! Stop wanting to take it from her!”

“No bigamy!” said Mum. “That is all Richearth needs to add to his curriculum!”

“Clepeta doesn’t want anything to do with Richearth,” said Uncle Wildgale, daring to show his head in my crystal ball.

“Thank goodness!” cried Mum. “She’s a wise woman, obviously. It has taken others longer to learn. Is this illness contagious?”

Arabella and Belinda glanced at each other.

“It’s not always an illness. It’s sometimes just a curse. The trouble is that living with someone who changes faster than Heraclitus’ river is a strain on anyone,” they said in unison.

“Richearth cannot go through something like that. He has to be in top form to be able to do his job. We don’t want bad harvests or defective crops.”

“How do you catch A.D.?” I asked.

“You can be born with it, that's not frequent, but it can happen. If not, the likeliest thing is you catch it because someone lays a curse on you.”

“What can be done if you are born with it? Because if it is the result of a curse, that could be undone, couldn’t it?”

“Curses can usually only be undone by the person who has laid the curse. One would have to find that person and twist his or her arm. But I think that Clepeta has to have been born with it, because if not, she would have done something about it.”

“You can file a complaint,” said Mum. “There are societies that fight against unjustified curse-casters.”

“Yes. And she hasn’t. So it must be natural.”

“Allow me, queenie,” said Alpin, and he took my crystal ball from Mum.

“Project those photographs all over again, Wildgale,” said Alpin to my uncle. He gave Finisterre Fishfin a push forward and put the ball right under his nose and asked him, “What do you think of this broad?”

“She’s gorgeous,” said Finisterre.

“Would you marry her?”

“Without question.”

“There you have him you useless twins,” said Alpin. “The perfect husband for Clepeta.”

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” exclaimed the twins.

“You don’t mind her age disorder?” Mum asked Finisterre.

Finisterre shrugged.

“If one acquires this condition through a curse, well someone can curse me and we will be the same, won’t we? That should make it easier.”

“Grandmother mine!” exclaimed the twins. “He is perfect for her! Madly in love, without doubt. How did we not see his potential?”

“I told you I would do things better than you have,” said Alpin. “To each Jack, his Jill.  Finisterre is the best match.”

I had seen Alpin stick the enamouring grass in Fishfin’s pocket when he gave the man a shove. But I knew the grass Alpin had employed was not the real article. I had switched the stuff, as I said before. This was true love, not vile enchantment. But if Alpin thought his grass has done the job, he would want to use some again some other time unless I told him the truth. I looked at Finisterre. He seemed so happy I thought he ought to have his chance with Clepeta. I would say nothing for the moment.

“You won’t mind moving to the cave, Terry?” Wildgale asked Fishfin. “Clepeta said that was an unnegotiable condition. She doesn’t want to leave her home.”

“Her home shall be my home and her people my people,” said Finisterre.

“But her cauldron is my cauldron,” said Alpin.

Mum and I busied ourselves in dissuading Alpin to claim Clepeta’s caulron as a price for his services. When Mum threatened to turn him into an unkissable toad, he gave in. But he didn’t stop grumbling.

By then it was almost noon and we all flew off to see Clepeta so Finisterre could propose to her. She loved him at first sight, even before Alpin could slip the useless herbs in her pocket. And all there was left to do was put a curse on the future bridegroom.

“We will do it,” said the twins, who were dying to have something to do with this union.

“No way,” said Mum. And she herself did the honours. She murmurred a spell, and I caught some of her words,  "Ticking clocks and whirling hands...green to silver, from seven to a hundred, shine or rain...all in one day, tomorrow again and every day, everafter... tears or laughter...he will match the pace she sets. He's asking for it, and that's what he gets."

Finisterre turned into a skinny teenager in a twinkling.

We celebrated the ceremony of the marriage proposal with a grand lunch that included faux scallops au naturel, faux clams fisherman’s style, false oysters a la viguesa, rice with faux lobster and, of course, a cauldron of resurrectable octopus. Finisterre and Clepeta then promised to invite us to a colossal wedding dinner before a month was up. Mum would be Clepeta´s matron of honour, the blue twins would be bridesmaids and Alpin would be Finisterre's sullen best man. 

“Wait and see how Daddy will react when he hears he has lost one of his chefs,” Mum whispered to Uncle Wildgale. “He will never let another of his employees go on holiday.”

“Blast that doddering tyrant!” muttered Uncle Wild.

“Don’t say that about our daddy. And start thinking where you can look for Richie.”

“Blast that conceited brat too!” cried Uncle Wild.

 “Don’t get worked up. It will upset your stomach,” Mum advised him.

 “Arley, have you got crunchies?” my uncle asked me.

“No. But I have a hunch where Uncle Rich might be.”