Puppy Pie (18 page)

‘Wherever Cyril Sprogg goes, farmers get hurt,' Jake says.‘And he was out at Jimmy's place recently,' Shirley adds.

‘But why are you working for the enemy?' Lucy asks suddenly.

‘Well, for the money. And,' she says slowly, ‘I want to know why the Bank's in a rush to take our three properties. I've been wracking my brains over this. What is it that we have in common?'

‘Well,' Jake says, ‘they're all next door to each other.'

‘And they're big,' Tom adds.

‘But is it that simple?' Shirley asks. ‘No,' she says shaking her head, ‘I keep thinking there must be more to it.'

‘Is that all that's bothering you?' Gull asks.

‘No,' Shirley says shaking her head. ‘It's just that Getalong's a community. And overnight, the Bank's gone from being a big supportive part of the community to some sort of sinister presence.'

‘You know,' Gull says, ‘I think you're right, Shirley. I mean, from the day the bank manager came out here, things started going wrong. First,' she says counting on her fingers, ‘a whole box of Useless' puppies appears from nowhere and from no one. Secondly, Helen falls asleep. Then the hemp falls over, and now the overdraft is being called in. That's four. Yep, it's definitely the bank manager's fault,' she says grimly.

Tom looks over at his cousin and raises his eyebrows. ‘Uh, Gull,' he says quietly, ‘remember, you arrived out here the same day as the bank manager? So he'd probably say it was all your fault.'

‘That's a dreadful thing to say,' Gull says, looking shocked.

‘Stop,' Lucy says trying not to giggle. ‘I'd trust Gull over our bank manager any day. Anyway, she's our cousin so she must be alright.'

‘Yes,' Shirley says staring into space. ‘The Bank …'

‘You really think the Bank has something to do with the hemp falling over?' Tom asks. ‘I didn't know banks were that powerful.'

Shirley sighs loudly. ‘Oh, I wouldn't go that far. And I know it sounds far fetched. But I just get the feeling something's going on that we don't know about.'

‘A lot's going on we don't know about,' Tom mumbles.

‘Well, everybody,' Lucy sighs glancing at the clock, ‘time to hit the road. We've got five minutes. Shirley, want a lift?'

‘Great,' she nods as everybody begins to clear the table.

Jake says, ‘Coming Gull? Now that Helen's off your hands, you're free to work like a slave with us.'

‘Don't worry,' Tom grins. ‘We'll start you on the easy stuff. Oh, by the way,' he adds cheekily, ‘there isn't any easy stuff.'

‘Leave the back door unlatched, Gull,' Lucy calls out as she heads for the ute. ‘The CWA will be over later: they're making lunch for the shed workers and the farms. This is now,' she says proudly, ‘the hub of Getalong.'

Five minutes later, Shirley and Gull climb into the back of the ute with Jake. ‘Just drop me off at the top gate, Lucy,' Shirley calls out from the back. ‘I'll walk home from there. It'll give me time to think a few things through. Once I'm home, all I do is find more things to do.'

* * *

That evening at the end of another hard day, the gang piles out of the ute and collapses onto the kitchen chairs. Gull and Jake rest their weary heads and arms on the kitchen table. She thinks to herself,
I won't need any more exercise for the rest of my life: hold the hemp up, gather it, pile it onto the truck and then start all over again. Boy, am I bushed.

‘Too much exercise, eh?' Jake smiles at his cousin. Tired, Gull manages a small smile. Just then the phone rings.

‘Probably Mum,' Tom sighs reaching across to the wall phone. A moment later, he passes the phone to Gull. ‘Shirley for you.'

Gull sits up and takes the phone. ‘Hi Shirley. Yeah? Really? Uh huh, uh huh. Yep. Fine. See ya.' She passes the phone back to Tom to put on the wall.

‘Glad that's sorted out,' Tom says, trying not to look curious.

‘You mean you understood all that?' Lucy asks as she staggers over to the fridge and peers inside.'

‘Not a clue,' Tom replies. ‘So, what's happening, Gull?'

‘I've got a new assignment,' Gull beams.

‘Really?' Tom says. ‘Doing what?'

‘I'm going with Shirley to the Bank as from Monday,' she replies.

‘Exactly what is Shirley going to be doing at the Bank anyway? Robbing it to pay off the overdraft?' Tom asks.

‘No, clerical work, she says. And just some basic computer stuff.'

‘So how come she's taking you with her?'

‘Shirley's just told me I'm too young to be left at home alone: after all, I'm only seven.'

‘No, you're not,' Tom frowns. ‘You're nine. And anyway, you're out working with us,' he murmurs. ‘Not home alone.'

‘Remember Gull? We all made the big trip down to the city to go to your ninth birthday party in Centennial Park? Yep, you're definitely nine,' Jake nods.

Gull grins from ear to ear. ‘Not any more: now I'm seven.'

‘Impossible,' Tom says bewildered. ‘Are you in a Time Machine?'

‘Well, a nine year old might be able to take care of herself. But there's no way a seven year old can,' Gull says winking hugely.

‘Oh!' Lucy breathes.

‘Oh!' Tom echoes. ‘Funny how your memory plays you tricks even at my age. I'm sure I remember stuffing my face… '

Lucy throws a tea towel at him and asks Gull, ‘But what will you do all day? Won't you be bored?'

‘Yeah. In a Bank! It always looks so boring,' Tom chimes in as he starts reading the writing on the tea towel.

‘Oh, I don't know,' Gull answers breezily. ‘I might just play some games on the computer or read people's e-mails or just hang out with Shirley. Who knows?'

‘Ah ha! So you're a spy in training,' Jake grins.

‘Maybe. Maybe not! Anyway, Shirley thinks I might stumble across something important.'

‘You're going to be a computer hacker?' Tom asks surprised.

‘Er, not exactly. Anyway, isn't that illegal?' Gull asks innocently.

After a quick dinner, the gang collapses untidily in the lounge room. Gull curls up in a high backed lounge chair and daydreams about her puzzling find in the Folly, now hanging up in the hallway. Opposite her, Lucy quietly sketches her cousin, while the twins play Scrabble on the floor.

A while later, they hear Ted's ute pull up, the door slam and the ute drive off. The gang runs into the kitchen eager to talk to Harry.

‘Hi kids. Bye kids.' Harry yawns. Patting each of them on the head as he goes past, Harry goes into the bedroom and closes the door firmly.

‘But Dad, what's happening about the overdraft?' Lucy shouts through the door. ‘And what about some dinner?'

‘Not hungry. Talk tomorrow,' Harry shouts back before they hear him turn on the shower.

‘Yeah, sure. You know, tomorrow never comes,' Tom grumbles as they walk back into the lounge room.

Lucy frowns, bitterly disappointed. ‘I know he's tired but… '

‘It's just not fair,' Jake says finishing his sister's thoughts. ‘After all, we're the ones doing all the worrying.'

‘But he does know about the overdraft,' Gull says optimistically. ‘So, I reckon he's just hatching a secret plan to foil the Bank. After all, you're always saying “Dad can fix anything.” So, the overdraft's just another thing for him to fix. Right?'

The three cousins gaze at Gull, lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, Lucy says slowly, ‘I guess you could be right. After all, Dad's an adult and, as far as he's concerned, we're just the kids. So, I suppose we should trust him enough to leave it up to him.'

‘Right,' Jake says thoughtfully. ‘So we'll just give up worrying about the Folly from now on.'

‘Yeah, sure,' Tom murmurs quietly. ‘Dad'll fix it.'

Gull looks at the three faces in front of her. She can see her cousins trying hard to believe Harry will save the day.

‘Oh, alright,' Gull says eventually. ‘I give up. I suppose Harry really does need our help whether he knows it or not. And, let's face it, it's really up to us to save the farm.'

The cousins' faces break out into huge smiles of relief, as they throw their arms around Gull.

‘The weather is supposed to be a real scorcher tomorrow. And as we're all going to be farm hands again, we need a good night's sleep starting about two hours ago,' Lucy sighs.

Four weary heads nod in agreement. Then without another word, the gang trudges up the stairs to bed.

* * *

While the humans are working on their problems, Useless is resting comfortably on his bed in the puppy pen, his progeny scampering all around him. Ma is suddenly alert.
What's that humming? I know I've heard it before. And where's Cha-Cha? No, still sulking. You'd think she was human, the way she carries on.
Ma frowns, annoyed.
Well, I'm not going to waste my time on her. This is urgent.
‘Max?' she says turning to her one constant companion, ‘track down O Solo Mio.'

‘O Solo Mio?' Max repeats mightily surprised.

‘And don't ask questions,' Ma says irritably. ‘On second thoughts, get me Cha-Cha as well.' Max scampers off. Ma frowns:
if Cha-Cha's going to insist on singing all day, she must recognise this humming.

Mentally hounding her, Max rounds up O Solo Mio. She steps forward timidly, Max right behind her. ‘What's that sound?' Ma says sharply. ‘That beat?'

O Solo Mio, warned by Cha-Cha of Ma's latest obsession listens intently.

‘Latin!'

Ma gives her a mental ticking off. ‘That's what Cha-Cha says. But Latin's a dead language. So, I'll ask you again: what language is it?'

O Solo Mio sighs then listens more intently. Finally she says, ‘Indistinct', knowing Ma won't be pleased.

To her surprise, Ma is silent. ‘Need more volume?'

‘How'll we do that?' O Solo Mio asks curious.

‘Get closer,' Ma says shortly. With a well-placed nip on Useless' rump, the dog staggers up and jumps neatly over the low, puppy-proof fence in the big shed. Trotting out, he then breaks into a run, jumping fences until he stops at the unharvested hemp crop. Ma guides Useless into an area where she can hear more clearly. She stops biting Useless, and he plops down in the middle of the hemp and sighs. ‘Volume's up! What is it?' Ma demands.

O Solo Mio listens again. ‘Definitely European.'

Ma senses a movement behind her. ‘Cha-Cha, come here,' Ma growls impatiently. Out of Ma's shadow Cha-Cha steps reluctantly. ‘Can you hear it clearly?'

Cha-Cha nods.

‘Now what is it?'

Cha-Cha listens with all her might. She starts to dance in time to the rhythm of the humming. ‘Ma,' she volunteers, ‘all I can say is that it's got a Latin beat. But I don't understand the words.' She waits for Ma to slap her but no slap comes.

Ma hunkers down into herself and thinks.
Latin beat, Latin beat. Well, you won't beat me,
she thinks to herself.
This is too important. The Folly is threatened. Latin beat indeed!

With that, she gives Useless a quick nip: he gets up immediately and then, with more encouragement, runs back to the puppy pen and jumps in. Once inside, he sinks down comfortably, happy to be among his offspring once more. Jam sits on the fence and purrs contentedly: she likes having Useless around.

‘Now,' Ma says, quickly lining up her best mites into Units, ‘I want each of you to land on a puppy that is a different nationality from our home grown Useless. He has grown friendly with French Poodles, German Shepherds, Mexican Chihuahuas and several other nationalities. The list is too long, so we'll work on just a few at a time. Now, you will bite those puppies and they will yelp in their mother tongue, seeing they're still so young. As soon as they have, you will jump back onto Useless, and then you report to me.'

Tiny, hoping to be chosen, stands up as tall as her imagination will allow. As usual, Ma ignores her.

‘Unit 1,' Ma calls, and several mites under the command of Max step forward. ‘Go and bite the fluffiest puppies: listen and memorise their yelps: they'll be in French.' Ma then commands the second Unit to step forward, led by Terra, her most down to earth mite. ‘Go and bite the brindle puppies. Listen and memorise their yelps: they'll be in Italian.' Calling the third Unit led by Dizzy, she says, ‘Go and bite the black puppies. They will yelp in Spanish.'

Deflated and dejected, Tiny decides to make a meal of the latest arrivals. Taking a bite of each of the warm, fat, white and tan puppies, Tiny then jumps back on Useless' tail in order to forget that Ma has overlooked her again.

‘Now,' Ma says giving Useless a quick nip, ‘we're going out to listen again to that humming in the hemp. And carefully this time because this might take all night to go through all those puppies. If I'm right, those mites will be singing their swan song pretty soon: most important, I feel they're losing their power. They can't last forever. Not like us who can live forever,' she adds proudly.

Soon, guided by Ma's persistent nipping, Useless is lying among the humming hemp. Ma calls O Solo Mio and Cha-Cha to stand on either side of her. In front of her stands the first Unit. ‘Now, sing!' Ma commands. Max and his Unit immediately start to sing. ‘Well?' Ma asks quickly, mentally turning from one side to the other.

‘No,' O Solo Mio and Cha-Cha say in unison.

So not French,
Ma thinks to herself. Then she calls the second Unit to the front. ‘Now, sing!' she commands again. At the end of the short piece, Ma repeats ‘Well?'

Again, after listening, O Solo Mio and Cha-Cha chant “no”.

Ma frowns:
so it's not Italian either.
‘Last one,' Ma mumbles to herself: ‘this had better be it:
I don't want a long night.
Unit 3!' she barks, ‘step forward. Now, sing.' Immediately, Dizzy and her Unit step forward and start singing.