Puppy Pie (20 page)

‘Stop,' Lucy shouts. ‘Go back, Tom. Click on “crops”.'

‘Why?'

‘Just a hunch,' she shrugs. ‘They've got crops. We've got crops. Might pick up a few hints.'

Tom clicks on “crops”. He starts reading aloud: “Argentina is famous for its wheat, blah blah blah, the Pampas, blah blah, wheat yield, blah, wheat uses, blah, wheat export.' He stops and sighs heavily. ‘So boring! Who cares anyway?' He stretches and wanders over to the window with Curious now perched contentedly on his head.

‘Argentinian farmers care,' Lucy says seriously as she takes Tom's place next to Gull, scrolling through. ‘There might be something useful here.'

‘Like what?' Tom asks walking back to stare at the screen.

‘Hemp!' Jake says. ‘Hey, look: they're using hemp to make didgeridoos. Shouldn't we be doing that?'

‘Probably!' Tom yawns. ‘So, what else is new?'

‘This!' Lucy shouts suddenly.

Chapter 10

She points excitedly.
‘Look, look everybody. It says, “Even though hemp has no natural predators, a new and as yet unclassified pest has emerged. Nicknamed the “Argentinian Siesta Mite”, it seems that these miniscule mites send off a vibration well below human hearing level. Apparently, their vibration has been known to cause crops, such as wheat and hemp, to fall over or, as we like to say in Argentina, have a “siesta”. This makes it very difficult to harvest, and farmers have been known to resort to old-fashioned farming methods such as scything and slashing in order to bring in as much of the crop as is humanly possible”.'

‘What?' Jake bursts out. ‘Like us?'

Lucy nods vigorously and continues reading: ‘Scientists are working on an antidote for the “Argentinian Siesta Mite”. They believe that they may have been “manufactured” by combining several mites to produce a hybrid. Scientists believe that they only last one generation, i.e. do not reproduce. So far, their greatest effect has been on hemp crops. Unfortunately, Argentinian wheat farmers have also been affected, falling asleep for long stretches.'

‘Stop right there,' Gull says suddenly.

‘Why? What?' Jake and Lucy ask together.

‘Don't you see? Listen, “farmers … also affected: falling asleep for long stretches”.'

Lucy and Jake stare at each other, light dawning.

‘Of course!' Jake says amazed. ‘Well, that explains Dad.'

‘And Mum,' Lucy says, relief flooding her voice.

‘But Mum hasn't been out harvesting,' Tom says.

‘No but she's sensitive and psychic, remember,' Jake says. ‘That's why she's been falling asleep, even before Dad. The vibration of those South American mites started affecting her long before the crop started falling over.'

‘That's right,' Gull says eagerly. ‘The Argentinian Siesta Mites have been singing Helen to sleep. And, and,' she adds excitedly tripping over her words, ‘remember when Helen first started falling asleep, Lucy? You said at breakfast, “it's almost as if someone's singing her to sleep”.'

Lucy's eyes open wider. ‘Oh, yes, I did, didn't I?'

‘Wow!' Jake grins. ‘Now things are beginning to make sense. So, what else does it say, Lucy?'

She continues to read, ‘It says here “Nobody knows how the Argentinian Siesta Mites travel through the crops or how many were manufactured. However, if they start to affect more wheat crops, as well as the hemp crops, then Argentina would be devastated, as a great percentage of its export is wheat and other crops. This would cause financial ruin to many families. The good news is that their lifespan is only 30 days.” '

‘Wow! Wow! Wow!' Gull breathes, clapping her hands happily. ‘Now we really do have a reason for the crop falling over.'

‘And Mum and Dad falling asleep,' Tom adds walking back to the computer. ‘They're not sick or …'

‘Or lazy after all,' Jake adds, ‘they're just victims of these all singing, all dancing mites.'

‘Just humming at this stage,' Tom says quietly. ‘Even I can't imagine mites singing and dancing.'

‘Whether they're humming, singing or dancing, I bet they're here in our hemp,' Lucy frowns. ‘But we have to be certain. There are still a lot of things we don't know about them. Like … '

‘Like how they arrived here, for one thing,' Jake continues. ‘I mean, how did they get here? Swim? They'd have to be gold medallists if they did.'

Gull says seriously, ‘Doubt it. No, they would have to be carried into the country, sneaking past Customs …'

‘That's a bit far-fetched,' Tom says dismissively. ‘You'd have to travel to Argentina, sneak them back into the country somehow without being caught, come out here and … '

‘And what?' Lucy asks. ‘Just let them loose? But why? Just for fun? Just to prove you could?'

‘I don't know,' Tom shrugs mystified. ‘That's why I think it's so far-fetched.'

Lucy walks away from the computer and sits down on the floor beside the coffee table, frowning deeply. ‘Why? Why? Why?' After a minute of deep thinking, she says ‘Wait a minute, let's calculate.'

‘Calculate what?' Tom asks.

‘Well, if these mites only last thirty days, when do they die and stop affecting the hemp? Now, let me think. Can anyone remember when the crop started falling over?'

‘Ah, it was about a week after the first day of harvest, wasn't it?' Jake asks.

‘But when was that?' Lucy sighs. ‘Everything's a blur.'

‘That's because we've been harvesting every day, all day, non-stop,' Tom says. ‘Every day feels like yesterday and tomorrow.

‘Wait on,' Jake says. ‘It'll be on the calendar in the kitchen: Dad always writes it down. I'll check.' He runs into the kitchen.

Within seconds, he's back. ‘Right! Dad started harvesting with Ted and Jimmy here the day after Gull arrived, which makes it second January. They were all here about a week. Then didn't Ted and Jimmy go off to other farms? Now, whose crop fell over first?'

‘Ours did, dopey,' Lucy laughs. ‘

‘But Ted's and Jimmy's crops didn't fall over at all, remember?' Tom adds.

‘But that's because they'd done their harvesting between Christmas and New Year. Remember?'

‘So,' Gull murmurs, ‘there were no Argentinian Siesta Mites before New Year's Day.'

‘Right,' Jake says slowly. ‘So Dad's hemp was the first to fall over that we knew about. Wait a minute. Wasn't that the day they decided to split up and work on the other farms?'

‘So, it must have been on the seventh, about a week after they started. Right, so seven from thirty gives us twenty-three days to go from the seventh. Does anybody know today's date?'

Everybody looks blankly at each other. Jake rushes back into the kitchen to look at the calendar. ‘Today's the twenty-third,' he yells back.
Uh, oh
, he thinks.
The thirtieth is the day before Dad's overdraft is due
. He runs back into the lounge room.

‘Is that all?' Tom asks surprised. ‘I thought we'd been harvesting for at least two months, not two weeks. It's the same old thing day after day: hand out the reaping tools, tie up the stalks, hand out the food, tie up the stalks, gather the hemp, tie up the stalks, put the hemp in the ute, tie up the … '

‘Stalks. Okay, okay, we get the idea,' Jake says shortly. ‘We're there too, you know.'

‘Yeah, but you don't seem bored,' Tom says mystified. ‘Why am I the only one who's bored?'

‘We're just not talking about it all the time like you are,' Jake answers irritated.

‘Oh, stop it you two,' Lucy says. ‘Honestly! Now, let's see, today's the twenty-third. So, we've got one more week of these pests. And then?'

Lucy glances over at Jake who is looking particularly solemn.

‘And then,' Jake says, ‘the day after the mites keel over for good is the day the overdraft on the farm is due. That's the thirty-first.'

‘Oh!' everybody says simultaneously.

‘What a coincidence,' Tom says glumly.

‘Yes,' Lucy says very slowly. ‘A very big coincidence.'

‘Hold on. Maybe we should backtrack,' Gull suggests as she's been busy at the computer checking to see if the Argentinian Siesta Mite has spread throughout South America. ‘Those mites didn't just fly over from Argentina and land on the Folly's doorstep. The big questions are who smuggled those exotic mites into the country? And why?'

‘You're right,' Lucy says. ‘Who would do such a thing? And why? Hold on,' she says running out of the room suddenly and rushing up the stairs to her room. In no time, she's back in the lounge room, clearing clutter off the coffee table.

Unrolling huge sheets of the butcher's paper she uses for sketching, Lucy hands a sheet and a pen to her brothers. ‘Go spread out on the kitchen table and start writing everything that's happened from New Year's Day onwards. Gull, you can type on the computer. And put a date beside each entry. And don't talk to each other because we'll all remember different things. When you've finished, come back to the computer and we'll compare notes.'

For the next three quarters of an hour, the house is completely silent, except for the ticking of the clock in the kitchen.

By the time Gull finishes writing, Lucy is carrying in a tray with four mugs and a plate of coconut biscuits. ‘Bring your sheets over to the computer,' Lucy commands.

Standing up, clutching their mugs, the gang looks over at their sheets and Gull's spreadsheet.

‘I can type in what everyone's written down,' Gull tells Lucy.

Lucy looks across at her brothers' sheets and starts to giggle. ‘Look how different they are: Jake's is neat and orderly as if he's writing out recipes; Gull's spread sheet is jam-packed because everything is new to her, and Tom's is … well, what can I say?'

The other three stare at his sheet and giggle.

‘What?' Tom asks.

Lucy shakes her head, ‘Tom, you would be the most unobservant person I know,' she says. ‘Hasn't anything happened in the last month? And what's this? A stick figure?'

‘That's Gull. I drew her. That's the day she arrived,' Tom says.

‘Very artistic, I don't think,' Lucy laughs. ‘Let's see, Tom, you've written “chores, Gull, more chores”. And then, you've written for almost every other day, “the same plus harvesting.” No wonder you're bored.'

‘Well, what has happened, smarty?' Tom asks grumpily.

‘Let's see,' Gull murmurs as she studies her spreadsheet she's been typing into.

‘Right,' Lucy says as she begins reading the columns. ‘Everybody agrees Gull arrived on first January, New Year's Day.'

She continues, ‘Next item is “Harvesting begins the second”. Better type in ‘Harry, Ted and Jimmy at the Folly.' Let's see, what else is there?' she says, studying the sheets. ‘Oh, I almost missed it,' she says backtracking. ‘On the same day Gull arrived, Dad meets the new bank manager.'

‘That's right,' Tom says laughing. ‘And Useless almost ate him up.'

Lucy looks hard at their information. ‘No mention of Useless chewing bank manager anywhere.'

‘Oh, sorry,' Gull says. ‘It only happened when Tom and I were going off to look at the puppies.'

‘Well, somebody,' Lucy says sternly, looking at no one in particular, ‘should have written it down.'

‘Why?' Tom says. ‘It's no big deal. Dad just got me to hold him by the collar until the bank manager got back into his car.'

Lucy sighs irritably. ‘But that's what I mean, Tom. Have you ever known Useless to act like that around anybody else? This could be very important.'

Gull flies to Tom's defence. ‘We thought it was because he'd picked up Useless' new puppy, and he was being very protective. Oh, wait a minute, ' Gull says, ‘I left something else out too.'

‘What?' Lucy sighs.

‘Well, when that man was bending over the puppies, I remember seeing a glimpse of silver. I didn't know what it was.'

‘Hold on,' Lucy says. ‘Just back up a bit.'

Gull shrugs. ‘That man, the new bank manager, was talking to Harry,' she says slowly as she pictures it. ‘He seemed only to notice the puppies on his way out. Then he said something.' Gull is thinking hard, a frown on her face as she tries to remember. ‘His voice is as hard to remember as he is: it's so quiet, almost a whisper. Anyway, the new puppies, the ones in the box were mewling. That man said something about them being hungry. Then he bent down and opened the box. I remember seeing something silver, yes, that's right, a flash of silver in his hand as he bent down to pat them. He put his hand right into the box. It was shaking.'

‘The box was shaking?' Jake asks confused.

‘Yes. I mean, no. I mean the man's hand was shaking, like you do when you're shaking salt over a meal. And when he stood up, he was holding a puppy. And that's when I saw the watch: I saw him close it. Then, when he was talking to Harry at the car, I saw him opening and closing his watch several times. That must have been the flash of silver I saw.'

Lucy scribbles some notes on her sheet.

‘But what kind of watch opens and closes?' Jake asks.

‘Um, one of those grandfather watches,' Lucy shrugs. ‘What are they called?'

‘A fob watch,' Jake says suddenly. ‘Remember? Great Uncle Fred's got one. That's why he's always wearing that horrible, mustard waistcoat so he's got somewhere to put his watch, in his fob pocket.'

‘You mean the bank manager was wearing a waistcoat and jacket on New Year's Day? But it must have been almost forty degrees,' Lucy says. ‘How weird!'

‘No, he wasn't wearing his jacket. I remember he was carrying that. And then, after he'd put the puppies down, he slung the jacket over his shoulder. That's why I remember the waistcoat because I could see it clearly then,' Gull says.