Matty and Bill for Keeps (8 page)

Matty used the word ‘elegant' to describe the plans that the club had put together. There had been a unanimous decision to approach the Maggot problem from three angles. Matty set it out on a large piece of butcher's paper.

Part one: spy on Maggot and thus determine what his scheme is.

Part two: (to be conducted simultaneously) remove the object from danger.

Part three: disrupt and destroy enemy's scheme.

When the paper was pinned up on the sloping attic ceiling, it looked like a military plan of attack – the sort you see in war movies. Matty had arrows swirling down from part one to part two, and from part two to part one, and then from both parts one and two to part three. Bill was impressed.

However, after a few minutes of gazing at Matty's diagram, Bill realised that there was only one definite and achievable goal at this point in time – part two of the plan. The ‘object' was Troy, Bill's father. Removing him from danger meant ensuring that Maggot could not get in contact with him. Sending Pam up for her holiday with Troy would help with that.

‘Right,' said Bill. ‘Keep Dad away from Maggot. I get that. But do either of you have a clue how we're going to find out what Maggot is up to? Part three of the plan is impossible to discuss unless we have completed part one.'

‘That's correct,' said Mat. ‘But this plan is the overview. The big picture.'

‘Absolutely,' agreed Crispin. ‘Broad brush strokes to begin with. We must not let ourselves be distracted by small details.'

‘How we figure out what Maggot has up his sleeve is not a small detail,' said Bill.

‘It's there in the blueprint,' said Mat, indicating with a stick to part one. ‘See. It says
spy.
'

‘Indeed,' said Crispin, ‘sometimes simplicity is deceptive. It's quite clear that the first thing we do is spy on this Maggot fellow.'

‘Go on,' said Bill.

‘Well, as a network of spies we need to pool our skills,' said Mat. ‘After that, we can make a decision about how we will use them to trap our target.'

Mat produced another sheet of paper and this is what was written onto it:

Bill: athletic; good hand–eye co-ordination; reasonable at tunnelling underground; physically strong; brave; quick thinking.

Crispin: handy with cricket bat; small and short – useful for small spaces; illusionist skills; performance ability; good at schoolwork; language skills, including Latin and Pig Latin; can knit.

Matty: thinks outside the square; intimate knowledge of local area, geography, flora and fauna; excellent general knowledge; good with words; good writing, singing and dancing ability; basic sign language.

‘Now just quietly look at the list and let the ideas rise to the surface,' said Mat.

Mat, Bill and Crispin sat in the gloom staring at the sheet of skills. Bill was slightly distracted because he was getting a sore backside from crouching on the hard floor. He started listening to the sounds underneath – doors banging shut, footsteps, Tessa calling to Donald, Nan calling to Uncle Len. Waiting for ideas to come was a bit like being told to pray when you really didn't feel like it. But then something did happen. His bottom got used to the discomfort, and the sounds down in the house became softer and blurred. Bill felt a bit dreamy and then wham! An idea popped into his head.

‘Got it,' he said.

Mat and Crispin looked at him.

‘Go for it,' said Mat.

‘We get a message to Maggot to say Dad's interested to know what he's cooking up. We tell Maggot that Dad is not able to telephone, but that he can email. We rig up an email in Dad's name and start writing to Maggot.'

‘And then?'

‘Depending on what Maggot has planned, we move in to sabotage his crime.'

‘Which skills on this bit of paper will we be using?' asked Mat.

Bill quickly scanned the sheet. ‘We use yours and Crispin's cleverness with words to write the contact letter,' he said.

‘How can we send it to him?' asked Crispin.

‘I still have Maggot's real name and his address.'

‘How's that?' asked Crispin.

‘A few weeks back, Mat and I had to track Maggot down,' explained Bill. ‘He was being a bad influence on Dad. We had to separate them.'

‘I understand exactly,' said Crispin.

‘Yeah,' said Bill. ‘Anyway, I reckon you two should write a letter to Maggot in really grown-up language. Down the track if we need to, Crispin can make phone contact with Maggot using a weird accent. When we have figured out Maggot's plans, we get him here to deal with him. That's where Mat's general knowledge and her knowledge of the area come in. Then we can speak in Pig Latin to each other when we communicate in public. I'll be available for any physical tactics.'

Bill was pleased with his word ‘tactics'; he wasn't absolutely sure what it meant, but he knew it fitted with the idea of confronting an enemy. Mat certainly didn't question Bill's use of the word. In fact, she looked really impressed with his flow of ideas.

‘Brilliant, Bill,' she said.

‘I rather fancy using my best Cockney accent to speak with Maggot,' said Crispin. ‘In most of those English detective movies on TV, the baddies have Cockney accents.'

‘What's that?' asked Bill.

‘Cockneys are people born in inner London,' explained Crispin. ‘They not only have a distinctive accent, they also have a secret language to conduct their illegal business.'

‘They do?' asked Mat, excitement gleaming in her eyes.

‘It's called rhyming slang,' said Crispin.
3
‘For example, instead of saying, “Pass me the tomato sauce”, you say, “Pass me the dead horse”.'

‘Why would you need to have a secret language to ask for the tomato sauce?' asked Bill.

‘It's just an example,' said Crispin. ‘Cockneys can chatter away in rhyme and outsiders just get lost in the words.'

‘It's a brilliant move,' said Mat.

‘'Ello china plate, how 'bout a pig's ear?' said Crispin, holding his hand to his ear like a phone.

‘What did you just say?' asked Bill.

‘Hello mate, how about a bee
r
?
' said Crispin.

‘But what if Maggot doesn't understand rhyming slang?' asked Bill.

‘You just use a bit to establish your credentials,' explained Crispin. ‘A touch of slang will lend authenticity.'

Bill understood this to mean that Maggot would truly believe that the email was from a crim mate. Privately, Bill wasn't convinced that this rhyming slang business was all that authentic for Australian criminals, but Mat and Crispin seemed so sold on the idea that he kept quiet.

‘Okay,' said Bill, ‘but first things first. I've got to get Mum up to Sydney. Somehow I have to make sure she and Dad go away somewhere. It's also important that Dad doesn't have his mobile with him. Deactivated would be even better.'

‘Let's make next weekend our action weekend,' said Mat. ‘Or should I say, “Etslay akemay extnay eekendway ouryay actionyay eekendway”?'

‘Esyay!' said Bill and Crispin together.

That afternoon, Bill could not believe his luck when he climbed through the fence and returned home from the attic meeting. Mrs Mabel Flint had dropped in with some lamingtons. She was still keeping what she called a ‘motherly eye' on his mum since their arrival in Dewey Creek more than a year before.

It was Mrs Flint who had warned Pam about the big louts who sometimes hung about the primary school. Bill thought Mrs Flint could sometimes be a bit of a busybody, but he was glad that his mum had neighbours who cared. Mrs Flint had been at the film night, so it was natural that over a cup of tea and a fresh lamington, Mrs Flint suddenly said, ‘Why on earth haven't you headed up to Sydney yet?'

Pam answered, ‘Troy had another computer test coming up, so I waited for that to be over and then things just got busy.'

‘
Just got busy
? That sounds like an excuse, my dear.'

Pam hung her head. ‘I really want to go, but I worry about leaving Bill. I've never been away from him for even a day of his life. Not overnight, I mean.'

Bill sat himself down at the kitchen table. ‘I'll be right, Mum. I want you to go,' he said. ‘And you're not right about never being away from me. I've had sleepovers at Mat's and just the other day she and I went camping on our own.'

‘That's different from me being in another state if you ever need me,' said Pam.

‘We'll all keep an eye out for young Bill here,' said Mrs Flint.

‘We'll see,' said Pam.

Bill felt a bit annoyed by his mum's delaying tactics. His mum had been ecstatic when she'd been given the money for the trip. Now it sounded like she had cold feet. Usually, Bill would never, ever be cross with his mother. He respected her for being strong and dependable when she was all he had in life. But now he thought he could use that slightly annoyed feeling to give him the confidence to speak to her – like one grown-up to another.

After Mrs Flint left, Bill asked to have a talk with Pam. He said he wanted her to sit in the lounge room. She looked very surprised, but she did what he asked. Bill reminded her that he and Mat had gone to a lot of trouble to raise the money for her plane fare.

‘It took guts for me to get into those stupid tights and be Romeo, Mum. I only did it for you,' said Bill.

‘Thank you, love,' said Pam. ‘The whole night just blew me away. The amazing film you and Mat made. And so many people turning up – they were really kind. I've just been waiting for the right moment.'

‘That's a bit of a fib, Mum,' said Bill. ‘You just told Mrs Flint that you don't want to leave me.'

‘And that,' said Pam, looking like a schoolgirl who was in trouble.

‘You heard what Mrs Flint said, Mum. Everyone wants you to spend time with Dad. But more than anything else, I want my mum and dad to be happy together.'

‘I know,' said Pam smiling. She reached across and hugged Bill.

‘The Grubs'll take good care of me.'

‘Of course they will, love,' said Pam. ‘I've been too anxious, that's all.'

After Bill's pep talk with Pam, she rang her boss at the laundromat and asked for time off. The boss said, ‘Go for it, Pam. Take as much time as you want.'

Then Pam walked straight across to the Grubs' place and asked Tessa and Donald if Bill could stay for the weekend. They told her she should make the most of the trip and stay for a week at least. Tom offered to book her ticket on the internet. Within minutes, Pam had a discount airfare leaving for Sydney on the Wednesday afternoon and returning the following Wednesday evening.

When Bill climbed into bed that night, Pam sat at the end next to his feet. ‘You've made me happier than you'd ever believe,' said Bill. ‘Now I have just one thing that I want you to promise me.'

‘Like what?'

‘Something that will make your second honeymoon with Dad go really well.'

Pam laughed. ‘How would you be such an expert?'

‘For starters,' said Bill, ‘I happen to know that you two need quality time. And quality time and mobile phones don't go together.'

‘What are you getting at?' asked Pam.

‘You know that Dad is always on his mobile – he can never switch it off, Mum,' said Bill. ‘You even said yourself that he and his mobile are like conjoined twins.'

‘Yes, he is like that,' said Pam.

‘According to some psychologists, people are losing the ability to enjoy life. All this texting and talking means they're not appreciating what's around them, what they're doing just then. It's called a “constant state of distraction that inhibits living in the moment”.'

‘Goodness me,' said Pam. ‘Where'd you get that from?'

‘Just read it somewhere,' said Bill. In fact, Matty had shown him the newspaper article after their attic meeting. Bill had been practising the line over and over. He'd had a particular problem with the words ‘distraction' and ‘inhibits'. He kept saying ‘attraction' and ‘inhabits' which, when put together in the original sentence, would have given quite the opposite meaning. However, Mat had coached him well and he'd eventually mastered the words.

Pam looked thoughtful. ‘You know, you're right,' she said. ‘It drives me nuts the way Troy can't leave his phone alone, even when we're supposed to be enjoying each other's company.'

‘So when you get up to Sydney,' said Bill, ‘you tell Dad that he has to choose between you and the phone. He'll choose you, of course. Then you tell him to turn his phone off and leave it in a drawer. You tell him you'll have your phone with you for emergencies. I won't phone you though. I'll just text if there's something I need to tell you.'

‘You're a wise young man,' said Pam, leaning across and giving him a big hug. ‘I promise I'll do that. I adore you, my son.'

‘And I awindow you,' said Bill, hugging Pam back.

Bill slept peacefully and deeply. His mum always kept her promises. When he woke on the Sunday morning, the sky was clearing and it looked like the sun might come out. Bill made his mum toast and a cup of tea and brought it to her in bed. ‘I'm going across to Mat's for a while, Mum,' he said, carefully putting the plate and cup on her bedside table.

Pam mumbled thanks and Bill ran out of the house. Mat was outside washing Uncle Len. He was covered in mud from going, all by himself, on an adventure down to the creek. Mat had tied him to a tree with a rope attached to his collar because he hated being washed. Bill offered to hold him still while Mat scrubbed away at the muddiest parts and hosed him down.

‘I reckon he must have seen a platypus or something,' said Mat. ‘It's unusual for him to get wet.'

‘There's a platypus in your creek?'

‘Yep,' said Mat. ‘They're shy things, but I've seen one twice. Both times at sunset when I was sitting down there by myself.'

Uncle Len's usually fluffy coat was plastered close to him. He looked thin, bony and not nearly as big a dog as usual. He also seemed to realise he must look awful. His tail was between his legs and he wasn't smiling. In fact, his eyes were downcast and Bill was sure he felt embarrassed.

‘You mustn't chase wildlife,' Bill said, leaning down to speak to Uncle Len. ‘Platypuses are protected. And you can see what trouble you've got yourself into.'

Uncle Len licked Bill's face. Bill picked up a towel and started rubbing the miserable dog down. Mat turned off the hose.

‘How'd you go with your mum last night?' asked Mat.

‘She's promised to deactivate Dad's phone,' said Bill. ‘When do you reckon we should have another meeting?'

‘To deactivate Maggot?' smiled Mat.

‘Exactly,' said Bill.

Uncle Len shook himself so that water sprayed over the two friends. They laughed and darted away. Uncle Len gave a happy bark. Matty untied him from the tree and let him loose.

‘We'll give Crispin a call now,' she said.

Later that morning, the club members met in Mat's attic for a third time. The first job the children set themselves was creating an email address for communicating with Maggot. Bill suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable about using his dad's name for a fake address. How right was it to use this sort of trickery to catch a crook? When he said this to Mat and Crispin, they both suggested he come up with a better way to keep Troy out of trouble. ‘And anyway, it was your idea to start with!' said Mat.

‘Come on, Bill,' said Crispin. ‘As soon as the case is closed, we'll close the account. Now how does troyahoy@ sound? I rather like the poetic touch.'

‘It sounds a bit like the email address of a sailor,' said Mat. ‘How about troyannoy@?'

‘He can be annoying,' said Bill, ‘but I don't think Dad would choose that for himself. I think he'd go for something simple like troy_oconnell@.'

Matty looked at Bill with respect. ‘Your ideas are getting better and better,' she said. ‘I like troy_oconnell@. It's plain and simple.'

Crispin agreed.

The three friends climbed down from the attic and went into Tom's room where the computer was kept. Tom had gone for a walk with Marguerite Bell and the Dewey Creek Girl Guides through the forest, so his room was conveniently empty. Because Crispin already had an email account set up so that he could write to his cousins in England, it was easy creating the new troy_oconnell@ address. Then Mat, Bill and Crispin typed up a letter to Maggot. This is what they wrote:

G'day, china plate,

Heard on the pipeline you want to make contact. Told you're not happy about the success of our last party. Don't want a bull and cow over that. Did my best. The remote area where I'm living means my phone is out of reception. It's best if you email me: [email protected].

Hear from you silver spoon,

Troy.

Most of the letter was created by Mat and Crispin. The rhyming slang was Crispin's contribution. Bill had doubts about the slang.

‘Silver spoon?' he asked Crispin. ‘Why would a person talk about that?'

‘It's code for “soon”,' explained Crispin.

Bill said he didn't think Troy would normally speak or write like that, but Crispin insisted that this was criminal insider talk. The club members decided that the letter should be sent first thing Monday morning. Bill then realised that the place they sent the letter from was important.

‘If Maggot sees that the letter was sent from the Dewey Creek Post Office, he'll get suspicious and think I sent it,' said Bill. ‘I told him on the phone that Dad's not around.'

‘What do you suggest?' asked Crispin.

‘I've an idea,' said Mat. ‘Marguerite works down in the suburbs. I think she's coming home with Tom for dinner tonight. I'll ask her to post it during her lunch hour.'

Shortly after this decision was reached, the three friends had put the letter in an envelope and addressed it to Maggot by his proper name – Garry Baker.

Marguerite did come to dinner. Mat was able to speak to her privately and the letter was handed over. According to Matty, Marguerite asked no questions about who Garry Baker might be, but still somehow realised that the matter was very private and shouldn't be discussed with anyone, not even Tom.

For the club members it was now, as they say, a waiting game. Matty reckoned that letters were delivered on average three days after being sent. That meant Garry, otherwise known as Maggot, might send an email on the Wednesday. This would also be the day Pam flew to Sydney. It would give the children no more than seven days to get Maggot completely out of the O'Connell family's lives.