Matty and Bill for Keeps (10 page)

‘T
he Maggot Project – it's an elegant scheme!' pronounced Crispin. ‘And the singing part calls on the universal poetic spirit. It's the perfect finishing touch.'

‘Universal poetic spirit?' asked Bill.

‘He means that being able to make good poetry exists in people all around the world, even if the poets haven't heard of each other,' explained Mat in her matter-of-fact way.

‘Precisely,' said Crispin.

Mat, Bill and Crispin had spent Friday lunchtime polishing their plot to deal, once and for all, with Maggot. Crispin's enthusiastic reaction to Nan's singing meant that he almost overlooked the gravity of the situation.

‘If this goes wrong, Bill's family might be in trouble,' Mat sternly reminded him. ‘And from what Bill has offered to do, he might come into danger. Make sure you do your bit properly.'

‘I am rightly rebuked,' said Crispin. ‘What say I ask Aunt Victoria if I can stay with you chaps tonight and we'll get started straight after school?'

‘Great idea,' said Bill.

That afternoon, the three friends, in the company of Uncle Len, disappeared down the back of Mat's property. They were carrying various pieces of equipment in hessian sacks, a large coil of bright red synthetic rope and a long wooden plank. About 7pm, they staggered back up the hill covered in mud. They each got into the Think Tank and washed themselves off. Uncle Len refused to co-operate with the washing process and, therefore, was left outside.

After dinner, Mat, Bill and Crispin were so weary from their secret labours that at 8.30pm they announced they were going to bed. Mat's parents looked amazed. This wasn't normal behaviour for a Friday night. But Nan smiled and quietly said, ‘Rest: the sweet sauce of labour.'

Saturday morning was bright with sun and birdsong. The children gulped down some breakfast.

‘Why didn't you sleep in?' asked Tessa. ‘You're all jumpy and ants-in-the-pantsy.'

The three friends would've liked to have slept longer, but too much was at stake that night. The action would not begin until rendezvous time at 7pm. It was going to be a long day of waiting. They did their best to fill in the time. They checked the set-up down the back a number of times. They re-read Maggot's emails and sent a short email to confirm that everything was okay. They scooped the muddy water out of the Think Tank and filled it with fresh water. Most importantly, they had one last meeting with Nan and checked the location from where she'd be singing. Then they mucked about until late afternoon, when suddenly time seemed to race. After all that waiting, it now felt as if they didn't have enough time.

At 5.30pm, the children had some fruit and yoghurt (none of them felt very hungry), borrowed Tom's mobile, told Tessa they'd be down the back until after dark and gave Nan a hug. They tried to leave Uncle Len behind in the house, but he snuck out and joined them. By agreement, no one spoke as they walked down the hill past the vegie patch, the fruit trees and into the bush at the bottom of the valley.

Down at the creek, it was already dark because of the overhang of branches from the wattles, tall mountain ash and tree-ferns. Each of the children got into their agreed positions. Mat clambered up a gum tree and perched on a branch that leaned towards the creek. Crispin and Uncle Len crouched next to the plank that bridged the creek. Bill set off towards the school. It was to the left of the Grubs' place and about a kilometre along a narrow, muddy track that ran parallel to the creek. But, apart from the clearer area on the Grubs' land, thick clumps of trees and scratchy blackberry bushes blocked access. Bill found his way down the track by following the trees marked with red rope.

Suddenly, the birds fell silent. All seemed strangely quiet. It was as if the world were holding its breath. All you could hear was the music of the bubbling, rushing creek water. Crispin looked up at Mat. She cupped her hands around her mouth and gave an owl hoot. Another owl hoot replied from further down the track. Then a soft weeping sound crept across the valley – three notes floating downwards followed by a mournful flat chant. Over and over again. It didn't stop. With that, a breeze sprang up which quickly gathered force. Soon it was a strong wind that whipped the branches about and made such a noise that you couldn't tell what was chanting and what was wind.

At this moment, Bill came face to face with Maggot. He was well named. He was a tiny man, shorter than Bill, with a hatchet-hard face. Maggot had watery, cold eyes, a veiny red nose and his mouth was just a slash across his face that never lifted up at the corners. He was carrying two heavy cans.

‘Whoyou?' questioned Maggot in a flat voice, running his words together.

‘Troy's son,' said Bill, trying not to let his voice squeak with fear.

‘WhynoTroy?' mumbled Maggot.

‘I'm supposed to tell you that he had to do something with Mum. He sent me first. He'll be here later.'

‘Whatwasthatnoise?'

‘What noise?' asked Bill.

‘Howlin'cryin'noise.'

‘It'd be the wind,' said Bill.

‘Givestheshivers. Showuswherethen. Hurryupthese-areheavy.'

‘I'll lead the way,' said Bill. ‘The red ropes around the trees mark the path.'

He started walking about two metres ahead of Maggot. There was no speaking, except for the angry grunts Maggot made when one of the cans hit his leg or branches flicked his face.

After fifteen minutes of walking, Maggot called for a halt. Bill could see that the metal handles of the cans were digging deep into Maggot's palms.

‘I'll show you where we're going, then Dad can help you with the other cans,' said Bill. As he spoke, Bill was desperately trying to think how he could get ahead of Maggot. The Maggot Project depended on him getting to the chosen spot at the creek with at least three minutes to spare. Bill was starting to realise this was a poorly thought out part of the plan.

Just as he was trying to figure out a solution, Bill noticed a strange growl coming from the direction they had walked. Maggot was crouched with his cans on either side of him and gave Bill a suspicious look. Bill shrugged and shook his head to show he didn't have a clue what was happening. This was not part of the plan. Both of them froze. Then a high-pitched squeal split the air. Maggot took hold of his cans. Like a bull charging, a huge brown wombat rushed along the track towards them. He was hissing, swaying his head back and forth and, in the short time Bill looked, it seemed like its teeth were bared.

‘Run!' yelled Bill. ‘Follow the path.'

Bill ran for his life. At the same time, he was thinking,
Nan's singing sure did work on that wombat!
Maggot was somewhere behind him, lumbering along with his cans of poison. When Bill reached the part of the creek where he'd started from, Crispin and Uncle Len were guarding the plank that bridged the stream. On the Grubs' side of the creek was a marshy bit, which became a stretch of clear, running water that reached the other bank. Bill ran across the plank to the other side of the creek. Crispin hauled the plank back, just like a drawbridge, and hid it deep in the bushes; then he disappeared with Uncle Len into a tangle of bushes and weeds.

A moment later, Maggot staggered around the corner, huffing and puffing.

‘Whyyouseoverthere?' he asked Bill.

‘Dad told me this is where you have to chuck the stuff in,' said Bill. ‘Where the water is running. Gets rid of the evidence.'

‘Noway,' said Maggot. ‘Toomuddy.'

This wasn't part of the plan, either. Maggot was supposed to walk into the creek. Even worse, another growl was rumbling from the bushes. Bill knew it was Uncle Len. But Maggot must have thought it was a wombat coming at him from a different angle.

Without another thought, Maggot waded into the marshy creek edge with his heavy cans. He was halfway across when he got stuck. His legs were sinking rapidly into the squelchy muck. He'd start pulling one leg up, but would sink further on his other side – right up to his thighs. Maggot was bellowing a string of very ugly words.

All of a sudden, Uncle Len charged from the bushes and barked ferociously at Maggot. He wasn't pretending to hate Maggot; he really did. His hackles stood up in a ridge along his back and his lips were pulled back so he looked like a hungry wolf. The children had never seen him look so fierce.

Maggot was stuck. If he made it to the bank, Uncle Len would get him. Then Matty, from up in the tree, threw Maggot the end of a length of rope. ‘Tie it under your armpits and I'll make sure you're saved,' she called.

Maggot screamed at her, ‘Whatthehell?!' and then lots of other words. Every second word was a swear word.

‘Just helping Bill,' she called. ‘Do what I say, or we can't help.'

‘How'dyougetovertherewithoutgettin'bogged?' Maggot bellowed at Bill.

‘Lucky, I guess,' he said, gesturing helplessly with his hands. ‘Do what my friend says and we'll get you out.'

After Maggot had tied the rope tightly around himself, Matty tied the other end to the branch she was sitting on.

‘Okay, you're safe now,' called Mat. ‘You can't sink past your shoulders.'

More swearing came from Maggot. In response, more ferocious barking came from Uncle Len. Meanwhile, Crispin used Tom's mobile to dial the local police station. He got through and gave a clear explanation of the problem and their location.

When Maggot heard the police siren, he went ballistic. He let go of the cans, grabbed the red rope and then lay flat across the mud. He started pulling himself along and was soon on the Grubs' bank. Uncle Len was barking and snapping at Maggot so he grabbed a stick and crashed it across Uncle Len's head. Uncle Len whimpered and drew back for a moment.

‘You creep!' cried Mat. She threw herself down from the branch, right onto Maggot's back, her arms around his shoulders. He fell face first, but twisted himself about and pinned Matty to the ground, putting his hands around her neck. Uncle Len dived at Maggot's leg and grabbed hold of his pants, but Maggot was so furious he didn't seem to notice.

Crispin appeared with the plank and hastily placed it across the creek to let Bill get back to his friends. By the time Bill reached the bank, Crispin had thrown himself onto Maggot to help Matty. But with a vicious twist, Maggot managed to keep Matty pinned with one hand and, with his free hand, punch Crispin in the stomach. Crispin lay writhing on the ground, unable to catch his breath.

Bill then threw himself on Maggot. He clung like a monkey, wrenching away at Maggot's neck. Suddenly, Maggot did another roll, released Mat and aimed a mighty punch at Bill who wriggled to one side. Maggot grabbed Bill by the shirt collar so that their faces were close. Bill knew that one punch to the head from Maggot could cause terrible injury.

At that very moment, the sounds of shouts and running feet came along the path from the direction of the school.

Maggot looked around. Into the clearing burst Sergeant Smith, followed closely by Donald, Tom and Aunt Victoria. Out of the bush from up the hill came Nan and Tessa.

Maggot was surrounded. He swung his head about, his eyes wild, and then made a dash for the creek, but Uncle Len bounded across and stopped him. While he was trying to ward off the furious dog, Sergeant Smith grabbed Maggot and swiftly handcuffed him.

Uncle Len realised he was everyone's hero and kept running back and forth along the creek's bank, snarling and barking even more savagely. Maggot looked ridiculous. He was covered from head to foot in mud and snarling worse than Uncle Len.

‘Got you, mate – up to your neck in muck!' said Sergeant Smith.

What Maggot replied to the sergeant was very rude. Bill was sure it would just get Maggot into even more strife down the line. Meeting Maggot had further strengthened Bill's belief that a life of crime was an incredibly stupid waste of time.

I
t turned into a very late night for the three friends. With their families, they had to go to the police station to make statements. It was eleven o'clock before they were home, showered and sitting around the Grubs' open fire, wrapped in blankets and sipping hot chocolates. As a mark of respect for Uncle Len's heroism, he was also allowed, unwashed, to lie in front of the fire. Tom gave him a very meaty bone to chew.

Mat still had red marks around her throat where Maggot had strangled her. Crispin had a sore stomach and Bill had red-blue cuts, grazes and bruises on his face and hands. They realised that one of them could have been killed if the grown-ups hadn't turned up.

‘Thanks for what you all did for us,' said Bill, turning to Tessa, Donald, Tom and Aunt Victoria. He was silently grateful that none of them had been angry about what now seemed a very dangerous plan for kids to get involved in.

‘What made you tell though, Nan?' asked Mat.

‘You see, my dears,' explained Nan, ‘I knew deep in my heart that you children were doing a good thing fighting evil. But I was very troubled today. Children should never be alone with evil. It was right to make sure you were safe, and to let the other grown-ups in our families know.'

‘I'm only sorry we didn't get to you sooner,' said Tessa. ‘We left a bit too late.'

‘Was it because you were singing, Nan?' asked Mat.

‘Yes,' said Nan. ‘And talking of singing, my girl, your courage today has earned you great respect. You know what I'm saying, don't you?'

‘Thanks, Nan. That's a real honour,' said Mat, giving her a hug. ‘You've got to be the best at singing in the whole wide world.'

‘Oh,' said Nan, ‘I was rushing to get to you as well, so I'm not sure I did that good a job.'

‘It spooked Maggot and I'm sure it stirred up an old wombat,' said Bill. ‘But it also sort of calmed me, knowing you were there.'

‘You're family to us, Bill,' said Tessa. ‘You don't have to worry about dealing with dark secrets and battling enemies all by yourself.'

‘Let's be straight,' said Donald. ‘We know your dad has kept some bad company, and we also know that it's hard to shake off so-called friends who are determined to hold you back. We're not just talking about Troy here, we're talking about all of us. If we're being honest, we'd have to admit that, at some point or another, each one of us has been influenced by a dodgy “friend”. Would you agree?' asked Donald, looking around. Nan, Aunt Victoria, Tessa and Tom all nodded.

‘We've all had bad types try to muck up our lives,' added Tom. ‘And it's a credit to you, Bill, for wanting to protect your dad from that sort.'

‘I thought you might be furious with me,' said Crispin to his aunt.

‘I'm actually proud of the lot of you,' said Aunt Victoria. ‘Maggot was caught red-handed. And his violence towards you three was despicable. He'll be in trouble for a long time.'

In a rare moment of physical affection, Aunt Victoria gave Crispin an enormous hug. From out of the folds of Aunt Victoria's huge, home-knitted cardigan, everyone heard a muffled, ‘I love you, Aunt Victoria.'

At school that Monday, Mat, Bill and Crispin were unusually tired. They were also still sore and achy from their brawl with the violent Maggot. Their adventure had been such a terrifying ordeal that it was not something any one of them felt like discussing with other school friends. Besides, it would be hard to explain what had happened with Troy and his criminal connections without embarrassing Bill.