Hotel Ambrose

Chapter 8.1

"What you got there, son?" said Bill of Bill's Antiques.

"Clock," I said. I put my bag up on the counter, unzipped it, and peeled it off the clock.

Bill was a fat guy. He had a big round red face and sweat stains on his shirt. He smiled a lot. Bill's Antiques was a tiny, cluttered shop. He had all kinds of crap in there. In the back room I could see two little kids playing a game that involved chairs and a lot of leaping about, while a woman polished a chair nearby.

"Fifty bucks," said Bill, after he'd looked the clock over.

Fifty bucks! I thought. I'd never even seen fifty bucks before.

Bill turned the clock upside down and his face drained of colour. I wondered what was wrong wiht him. He glanced over his shoulder at the chair-polishing woman, then he turned to me. "Here take it," he said, pushing the note into my hands.

I did. I got out of there fast. I was scared he'd change his mind. I went into the lane next to Bill's shop and sat between two rubbish skips and looked at the fifty dollar note. I smelled it. It was real alright – as real as anything.

As I left the lane I saw something that made me forget all about the note.

It was a poster on a lamppost. MISSING CHILDREN it said. There was a blurry picture of me, and a better one of Sophie, with our names underneath. There was no picture of Fred – they probably didn't have one – but they mentioned him underneath. I never thought anybody would want us back bad enough that they'd bother going to so much trouble. I figured they'd look for us for a couple of days then give up. It's not like we had families or anything. I stood there frozen, reading the poster over and over. Then I tore the poster off the lamppost. It had about a mile of tape on it, so didn't come off in one piece. I put all the pieces in my pocket, and got away before anyone saw me. My heart was going like crazy.

I wanted to go straight back to Ambrose, but after I'd walked along for a while the shock began to wear off. I didn't see any more posters. Perhaps there had only been one. So I decided to go to The Chinas after all.

When I got there I bought a packet of gum for the little China and one for myself, and I went outside with him, and we chewed gum together. I found out his name. It was Tim. A normal name. Interesting.

I went back inside and bought all the stuff we needed. The Ungle asked about the baby and I told him that the milk had been a great success. The Ungle laughed like crazy at this. Chinas always laugh and smile whether they understand you or not. I showed him my fifty bucks, and he said, "Oooh! Rich boy!" He didn't ask me where I'd got it or anything – not like most adults do – how they're immediately suspicious of you having anything good, like fifty bucks for example.

I put everything in my bag and paid the Ungle what I owed him, and I still had ten bucks left over. I'd bought some stamps and envelopes. I borrowed a pen off the Ungle and wrote the address of Crapper on one of the envelopes then put my letter for Dirty Joe inside. On the way back to Ambrose I found a mailbox and posted the letter.

I found The Cripple and the Singing Dogs near a church. There were lots of little kids around. I saw a toddler point at the dogs and say something to his mum.

"Justin, you see doggies everywhere. Come on."

The toddler started to cry. "I wanna see the doggies mum!"

"I don't have time for this Justin. Stop it, people are looking."

"Doggies!" the kid wailed. He was getting worked up something chronic.

"There are NO DOGS," she said. "Let's go." And she dragged the screaming kid away up the street.