Matty and Bill for Keeps (9 page)

Pam O'Connell had her bags packed. She was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea with Mrs Mabel Flint, waiting for Donald to arrive who was going to drive her to the airport. Bill was fussing around making sure nothing important had been left behind. Suddenly, Mat and Crispin appeared in the kitchen.

‘Aggotmay ashay ittenwray,' she muttered to Bill.

‘Omecay ownay,' added Crispin.

‘Okay,' he said, ‘I'll go with you. Back in a minute, Mum.'

Mat, Bill and Crispin tore across the garden and through the fence. Fortunately, Tom had gone out with Marguerite, so Mat had the internet up on his computer. She clicked on the only email in the troy_oconnell@ inbox. Bill's heart sank.

Dear Weirdo,

My mate, Troy, would never send an idiot letter like the one I got today. But just in case you've had some sort of brain meltdown, I'll give you one more chance. What's the one thing that only you and I know about?

M.

‘What now?' asked Mat.

‘I have about twenty minutes to see if Mum might have some inside information. You know, something Dad might have let slip. Leave it with me.'

Back at his house, Bill asked to have one last private chat with his mum before she went. Mrs Flint was very understanding, gave Pam a kiss on the cheek and left for her own house.

‘You're getting very dramatic at the last moment,' said Pam. ‘I thought you couldn't wait to get rid of me.'

‘It's a bit of both,' said Bill. He had to think very fast. How on earth was he going to do this? ‘Mum, I don't want you to be led astray by Dad when you're up there. You know how he gets crazy ideas?'

‘William O'Connell, how can you be saying this to me?'

‘Well, I s'pose Dad and his mate Maggot have told you a few big stories over the years.'

‘Don't mention Maggot.'

‘He's given us a lot of grief, hasn't he? You know, the things he's got Dad involved with.'

A tear rolled down Pam's cheek. ‘Yes,' she said.

Bill felt awful making his mother cry, but he pressed on. ‘Do you think you know everything they got up to?'

‘I'll never know,' said Pam with a sob. ‘When you've done time with someone, you share a lot of secrets. Even about ridiculous things.'

‘What do you mean by “ridiculous”?'

‘I don't suppose it'd do any harm to tell you. Your dad told me that Maggot has this obsession with putting tomato sauce over his ice-cream. The inmates teased him so badly that one day he broke down and wept. After that, your dad would help Maggot out by sneaking tomato sauce and ice-cream into his cell.'

Bill laughed and wrapped his arms around his mother. ‘That just goes to show my dad has a good heart. Have a wonderful time with him, Mum.'

At that moment, Donald called out and knocked at the door. Bill picked up his mum's bag and the three of them walked out to the nature strip. The Grubs' colourful combi van was covered in streamers, flowers and even balloons. Mat and Crispin were standing there with Tessa, Nan, Tom, Marguerite, Aunt Victoria, Mrs Mabel Flint and Mr Herbert Riley. Uncle Len was bouncing around barking. He knew this was a special occasion.

‘It's like a wedding car!' cried Pam. ‘Who did this?'

‘We all did it while Bill was talking to you,' said Mat.

Pam thanked and kissed everyone. Mr Riley said, ‘The best thanks we can have is for you and Troy to have a happy holiday together. Bon voyage, love!'

Pam gave Bill one last hug and kiss and stepped into the van. As the combi drove off with a stream of dust furling out behind, Bill felt a lump in his throat. But then he felt an arm around his shoulders. It was Tom. ‘You look like you need a good feed, young man.'

‘I've made a big pot of pumpkin soup for everyone. And I mean everyone,' said Tessa. ‘Come on. We need to help Bill celebrate getting his mum away at long last.'

The group moved into the Grubs' garden and towards the house. As Crispin, Bill and Mat led the way, Mat whispered to Bill, ‘Any luck?'

‘I think so,' answered Bill.

‘Straight after soup then,' said Crispin.

It was a noisy, happy throng around the Grubs' kitchen table. Aunt Victoria, Nan and Mrs Flint talked about pumpkin soup recipes. Mr Riley, Donald and Tessa discussed the qualities of different species of pumpkins and the best conditions to grow them in. Tom and Marguerite tossed ideas back and forth about how to make Girl Guides more challenging. The three friends slurped their soup and then slipped off to the computer in Tom's room.

‘I'm writing this time,' said Bill. ‘I know how my dad writes.'

‘How's that?' asked Crispin.

‘Plain and short,' said Bill.

Maggot,

Ice-cream with tomato sauce topping.

Now tell me what your scheme is.

I'm interested.

T.

‘Ice-cream and tomato sauce,' said Mat. ‘Triple yuk. Is that some sort of code?'

‘Yes and no,' said Bill.

‘Apart from the disgusting ice-cream and tomato sauce, that's an awfully dull letter,' said Crispin. ‘Couldn't we add just a teeny-weeny bit of rhyming slang?'

‘No way,' said Bill, and then he clicked the ‘Send' button.

Thursday at school passed with painful slowness. Bill, Mat and Crispin were desperate to know if Maggot had replied to Bill's email. Crispin had permission to go to the Grubs' place to play so, when the bell went, the three children raced each other home.

Because Tom was now working at an art gallery down in the suburbs, his computer was sitting there waiting to be used. Crispin logged on and the children held their breaths.

‘Yeah!' said Mat when a new email titled ‘Keep it shut' popped up.

‘Open it,' said Bill. ‘Quick.'

Crispin clicked on the email. Here was Maggot's reply:

Occer,

Okay. You've proved your identity. But keep it shut about the tomato sauce. Don't even write about that sort of stuff.

Our enterprise involves dumping some factory waste. The authorities are over the top with all that environment carry-on. Mate of mine will pay well for our help.

Have been looking at the map of your area. There's a handy creek down the back of your lady's place at DC. Nice and out of the way. Perfect for the purpose. Could do with a bit of inside info from you about best spot to get rid of the goods.

Need to move this w/e.

Reply quickly if you're interested.

M.

Bill, Mat and Crispin had some discussing to do. It was clear that Maggot was looking for somewhere to dump toxic chemicals from a factory. Bill explained that the ‘Occer' was probably short for O'Connell. He also told Mat and Crispin the tomato sauce and ice-cream story. But the email was vague in other places.

‘The “DC” means Dewey Creek,' added Mat, ‘and the next bit means he wants to dump the toxic waste this weekend.'

‘If he puts that stuff near our creek, it will poison the water and kill the wildlife like the platypus you told me about,' Bill said to Mat. ‘We have a serious situation here.'

‘First things first,' said Crispin. ‘Bill, you need to write back and give the go-ahead. Ask for exact details.'

Bill wrote:

M,

Won't mention the red stuff again.

Count me in.

Give exact details.

T.

‘It's got the ring of authenticity,' said Mat in an approving tone.

Bill guessed Mat meant he had done a good job figuring out how Troy might really write. The club members started discussing what they thought Maggot's plans might be when, suddenly, a reply flashed up on the screen.

I'll direct message you about our catch-up. Much easier.

M.

‘None of us can meet Maggot face to face. Even in disguise he'd recognise us. And besides, we're too short,' said Mat.

‘I could get on top of Bill's shoulders and we could cover ourselves with a long black cape,' suggested Crispin.

‘No way,' said Bill firmly. ‘Somehow we have to agree to meet Maggot and yet make sure he never actually sees us.'

‘But still manage to catch him red-handed,' added Mat.

Bill took over the computer and started typing:

Troy writes . . . Waiting for instructions.

A reply popped up:

Maggot writes . . . Saturday night. Midnight. Truck with ten 20L jerry cans.

Troy writes . . . What equipment do we need?

Maggot writes . . . I'll look after that.

Troy writes . . . Just you or others?

Maggot writes . . . Solo.

Troy writes . . . Give me a minute to think this through.

‘We need to come up with some way of getting Maggot down to the creek without him ever seeing us,' said Bill.

‘Tell him you can't risk your wife seeing anything. Just say you'll mark the trail to the creek,' said Crispin.

‘Good idea,' said Mat. ‘We can tie coloured rope around trees. And how about we tell Maggot to get to the creek from the back of the school? Then there's no risk of our families knowing anything.'

Maggot writes . . . Hurry up. I've been waiting more than a minute.

Troy writes . . . Go down the back of Dewey Creek Primary, past their vegie garden. There you'll find a track going down towards the creek. I'll meet you along there at 7pm. If I'm held up for any reason, I'll send my Bill.

Maggot writes . . . Can he be trusted?

Troy writes . . . I would trust him with my life. He's loyal.

Just as Bill had finished typing, Mat said, ‘You're not taking him on face to face, Bill! He's dangerous!'

‘It's the only way,' said Bill. ‘I have to get that worm out of our lives.'

Then Mat said, ‘I've got second thoughts.'

‘Surely not you!' said Crispin.

‘Not about getting Maggot, no,' explained Mat. ‘But about
how
we should get him.'

‘So what are you thinking now?' asked Bill.

‘I'm thinking we need a bit of wise help,' said Mat.

‘You mean Nan?' asked Bill.

‘I do,' said Mat.

‘Can you do that without her knowing all the details?'

‘I'm pretty sure,' said Mat. ‘We really could do with some Koori knowledge to help us deal with this sort of enemy.'

‘Koori?' asked Crispin.

‘Indigenous. Aboriginal,' explained Bill.

‘Secret knowledge!' said Crispin. ‘Sounds good.'

After Crispin had gone home for the evening, Mat and Bill sat on the verandah next to Nan. She was in her armchair sewing together her crocheted squares. A single frog croaked from somewhere out in the garden.

‘Ah, my sister calling,' said Nan. ‘Tiddalick only talks to me on special occasions nowadays.'

‘What's this going to be, Nan?' asked Mat, nodding at the squares of coloured wool in her grandmother's hands.

‘A rug for the Red Cross,' said Nan. ‘What are you kids up to? You only stop your running around and sit with me when you've got some scheme up your sleeves.'

‘You're right, Nan,' said Bill.

‘It has something to do with water,' said Nan. ‘I can tell that.'

Bill was amazed. This emergency was in every way about water – about protecting the creek from Maggot's evil pollution scheme.

‘I told you we needed to see Nan,' said Mat to Bill.

Mat came straight out with it. ‘What would Kooris do in the old times when they wanted to scare an enemy away?'

‘Good and proper?'

‘Yeah,' said Bill. ‘Forever.'

‘Did they point bones?' asked Mat.

‘Not in Victoria,' said Nan. ‘That was for nations in other parts of this big land.'

‘What then?' asked Mat.

‘Well,' said Nan, breaking off her cotton and tying a knot, ‘you'd probably sing someone.'

‘What's singing?' asked Mat.

‘You sing a special chant, over and over, so your enemy is weakened or runs away. You can also call in the help of animals or the forces of nature.'

‘How do you sing, Nan?' asked Mat.

‘It's passed down in the family,' said Nan. ‘Like the bards in old England.'

‘Cool,' said Bill. ‘Crispin will like this.'

‘So he's in on this, too?' smiled Nan. ‘I can't say I'm surprised!'

‘How do we find a person who can do the singing?' asked Mat.

‘You're looking straight at her,' said Nan. ‘My father inherited the gift and passed it on to me. It's a spiritual gift, kids. You don't use it just because you're annoyed with someone. The situation has to be serious.'

‘I promise you, it is,' said Bill.

‘I believe you, my boy. But I have to warn you, the gift only comes if it wants to. You see, it is given by the Great Creator Spirit who speaks into your heart. And I have to admit I might be a bit rusty; it's years since I did anything like that.' Nan put down her rug and looked deeply into Mat and Bill's eyes. ‘Before we go any further, you have to give me some information to work with.'

As carefully as they could, Mat and Bill explained that somewhere in the Hills was a criminal plot that would endanger the environment if successfully carried out. For reasons they couldn't disclose, if the police got involved it could get Bill's dad into trouble. They wanted the criminal behind the plot to be so frightened that he'd never return to the area again.

‘I'll help,' said Nan, ‘but only if you promise me something.' Nan looked out over the moonlit garden. Tiddalick was still croaking. A mopoke hooted from one of the trees. The thick, exotic scent of summer-flowering jasmine wafted through the air. ‘My Irish grandfather was a sensible man. He always used to say that he was a “belt and braces man”. Know what that means?'

‘Nope,' said Mat.

‘Not a clue,' said Bill.

‘It means you have to use several methods to be safe, not just rely on one,' explained Nan.

‘Or else your trousers might fall down?' asked Bill.

‘Exactly,' said Nan.

‘He had another saying, too. “Trust in God, but keep your powder dry.” I like that one, too. It means you should use spiritual and physical methods. And what I want you both to promise me is that you won't put yourselves in danger. You need to have police back-up. If Troy is innocent – and I'm sure he is, being up in Sydney with Pam and everything – then you should trust that justice will be done. If you can give me your word on that, I'll sing for you.'

‘Give us a minute, Nan, to talk it over.'

Mat led the way down the verandah steps into the garden. She and Bill wandered across to a garden bench where they sat for a while looking up at the starry night sky.

‘We need to think about what we're trying to achieve,' said Mat.

‘Well,' said Bill, ‘we want to scare the heck out of Maggot so he doesn't creep back into Dad's life ever again.'

‘How come we haven't thought of going to the police?'

‘I suppose we didn't want the police involved because Maggot might drag Dad into it – you know, lie his head off and dob Dad in somehow. And a good old fright seems easier.'

‘Yeah,' said Mat. She was quiet for a moment and then added, ‘But I'm beginning to wonder if Maggot will just find somewhere else to dump his toxic chemicals.'

‘You're right,' said Bill. ‘I hadn't thought of that. Maggot and whoever is behind him need to be properly stopped. But the law needs to know my dad has nothing to do with this. I reckon we include the police, but make sure we catch Maggot red-handed.'

‘Good one,' said Mat. ‘We'll just modify our existing plan.'

‘Modify?' asked Bill.

‘Make small changes. Polish it a bit,' said Mat.

Bill nodded. After some more discussion about what Matty now called the Maggot Project, they walked back to the verandah where they promised Nan to get the police involved.

‘Okay kids, I'll sing that Maggot right out of this valley forever,' said Nan.

‘Hey, Nan,' said Mat. ‘Will you pass the gift to me?'

Nan looked serious. ‘I'll be watching you closely, my girl. You've got to earn it by the works that you do. Nothing is given freely. You have to earn the respect from the ancestors of the land as well as the elders of the tribes. They'll all be watching you.'