Matty and Bill for Keeps (11 page)

The exhaustion and stomach bruising might have caused Crispin's accident the next afternoon at the after-school rehearsal for the Extravaganza. Bill was a witness because he had agreed to sit in the school hall and walk Matty home.

At first, everything was going smoothly. Mat was warbling away; then came a dance routine she shared with Crispin. This was where the leaping came into it. Crispin had to spring across the stage. He managed his first leap, but with the second, he tumbled to the ground and twisted his ankle. He lay snorting with pain through clenched teeth. All the grown-ups in the hall rushed up to Crispin and formed a tight knot around him. Mat couldn't see what they were doing, so she dropped to her knees and wriggled her way through to her friend.

Bill had rushed up onto the stage when he saw Crispin's accident, but Isabelle Farquay-Jones from the dance chorus momentarily caught his attention. Bill heard Isabelle snigger and say spitefully to one of the other girls, ‘Pride comes before a fall.'

Neither Mrs Facey, nor the music teacher, Mrs de Graaf, nor the band of parent helpers had heard Isabelle because they were so worried about Crispin. Bill quickly turned his attention to his wounded friend. He peered over the circle of concerned adults and saw Matty arranging a small cushion under Crispin's head. Although Mrs Facey had put an ice pack on his ankle, it had obviously made little difference to the pain he was in. Crispin's eyes were shut tight and he was breathing raggedly. Mrs Facey used her mobile to call Aunt Victoria who came and picked Crispin up to take him to the doctor.

Crispin's fall meant that the rehearsal finished early. Mat and Bill walked home slowly. Mat talked about her worries for the Extravaganza now that Crispin was hurt. Bill said almost nothing in response. A strange tiredness in his body and spirit had overtaken him.

The next morning, Bill's tiredness hadn't gone, even after a good night's sleep. It hung about him like a dark cloak. The rest of the Tuesday at school seemed as bleak as a stretch of road running in a straight line across a desert. Nothing seemed fun to do. And to make things worse, Crispin wasn't there.

That evening, Bill and Mat rang Aunt Victoria only to discover that the doctor had examined Crispin's ankle and decided it was severely sprained and might possibly have a hairline fracture. Crispin was not allowed to walk on it for several days. Bill was still staying with the Grubs and, despite not feeling like it, he tried his best to join in with conversations at dinner, or help with jobs like washing dishes, weeding Donald's vegie patch and helping Nan sort wools.

Two mornings after Crispin's accident – a Wednesday – Bill and Matty received startling news. Firstly, Pam was having such a happy time in Sydney, she wasn't returning for another day. The second bit of news wasn't just startling, it was devastating. Aunt Victoria rang to say that Crispin's parents had decided to withdraw him from Dewey Creek Primary. They thought Crispin was better off touring the east coast of Australia with them rather than lying around at Aunt Victoria's.

Tessa said, ‘It's sensible, kids. Crispin will be going home to England soon and who knows when he'll be back? We're all going to miss him, but he should see a bit more of Australia while he has the chance.'

Bill was surprised at how hollow he felt when he heard the words, ‘Who knows when he'll be back?' Matty was dreadfully upset. She was not only losing a friend, but as she also quite rightly pointed out, ‘The fate of the Extravaganza hangs in the balance. Crispin has the only male part.'

Time sped up and, before Bill knew it, Crispin's parents had arrived in their van to take him away. Tessa and Donald drove Mat and Bill up to Aunt Victoria's to say goodbye. Tom followed them in his car with Nan.

Crispin was lying on the sofa, a tartan rug over his knees and a pillow behind his head. He was still as pale as the white pillow cover. His red hair made the contrast look even stronger. His parents were sitting on either side of him in armchairs.

Bill didn't want to like them. They were taking his and Mat's colourful friend far away. But April and Martin de Floriette were hard to dislike. They were cheerful, enthusiastic people who had lots of funny stories to tell about their adventures. The Grub family got along with them like old friends.

Aunt Victoria made the grown-ups a big pot of tea. She also produced her famous homemade dandelion wine for everyone to taste. They moved to the kitchen to drink, chat and eat some Anzac biscuits that Nan had brought along. This left Bill, Mat and Crispin alone together one last time.

‘I'm just so sorry to let the Extravaganza down, Mat,' said Crispin. ‘But I can't even stand on my foot yet.' Crispin turned his head away. ‘I always seem to be retreating.'

‘None of this
Nunquam
stuff,' said Matty. ‘You haven't let the family motto down. And you've done our club proud. In fact, I was going to ask Bill if he minded if we made you a full member.'

‘I reckon!' agreed Bill. ‘You stood up to Isabelle and refused to kiss her; you scared the living daylights out of Freckles and his gang with that trumpet blowing; and you helped to protect my dad from Maggot. Together we got rid of him from our lives.'

‘So without any further tests of courage and endurance, I hereby declare that Crispin de Floriette is forthwith a full member of our club,' announced Mat.

‘Honoured, indeed,' said Crispin, graciously bowing his head. ‘And I need to thank you two for being such wonderful friends. My time in Australia has been the best adventure of my life.'

‘If you're around Matty, you'll always end up in an adventure,' smiled Bill.

‘You've also been so loyal to me, especially being my legal and Union reps at that hideous meeting with the Farquay-Jones family and their lawyer,' added Crispin.

At the very same time, Mat, Bill and Crispin pulled disgusted faces when they thought about the confrontation.

‘You two look as if you've just eaten raw oysters!' joked Matty.

‘Never again in my life,' said Crispin. ‘I swear.'

‘You'll have to change your family motto to
Nunquam oysters
,' said Bill laughing.

Donald ducked his head into the room. ‘Three minutes more and we have to head off.'

‘How come?' asked Matty.

‘We have a 5am start for the market tomorrow,' said Donald.

When Donald returned to the other grown-ups in Aunt Victoria's kitchen, the three friends looked at each other like they were saying goodbye forever to someone who was about to be executed. That's what it felt like. Bill wondered if he'd ever in his life see the other side of the world where Crispin lived.

‘I'll send you postcards from some of the places we visit on the coast,' said Crispin, trying to be cheerful.

‘And photos of your ruined tower in England?' asked Mat.

‘Of course. I'll email photos and we'll write, too. I'll never forget you chaps,' said Crispin, his voice cracking. ‘But you can visit me, too, you know. I mean it.'

‘Even if we do get to England,' said Bill, ‘we'll probably be grown-ups by then. It must cost a lot of money to buy the plane ticket.'

‘It will be different without you,' admitted Mat. ‘The three of us have been an unbeatable team.'

‘Things won't ever be the same again,' said Bill sadly.

‘Come on you guys,' called Tessa from the kitchen. ‘Time to call it a day.'

Crispin looked sadly at Bill and Matty.

‘
Valete
, my friends,' he said.

‘What does “
Valete
” mean?' asked Bill.

Even Matty didn't know, but she leant across and hugged Crispin.

‘It's Latin for farewell,' said Crispin.

What a final sort of word ‘farewell' sounded. Bill's eyes pooled with tears. He walked across to a window and pretended to stare out into the dark night.

By the end of the week, Bill was badly missing Crispin, but in the meantime his mother had safely returned from Sydney, and that was a comfort. Bill watched her closely to see if she was different in any way. And she was. There was a lightness in her voice and even in her step; she also smiled more often.

However, Bill's pleasure in seeing his mother's happiness was complicated by a nagging worry. He needed to tell Pam about the Maggot drama. Tessa, Donald and Nan had said Pam should know. He thought so, too. But when was the right time?

On her first evening home, Pam invited the Grubs over for coffee and dessert to tell them about the wonderful time she'd had with Troy. She told them how they'd caught the Manly ferry and spent a day at the beach. They had also gone to a concert at the Opera House, and they'd wandered the city hand in hand. Bill was so glad to hear all this that he wanted to postpone telling his mum about Maggot in case it wrecked her cheerful mood. But eventually Pam had asked, ‘Anything exciting happen while I was away?'

Donald nodded at Bill. ‘Your young bloke has quite a tale.'

‘Tell me then!' said Pam.

‘To cut a long story short,' began Bill, ‘that Maggot was in contact, trying to get Dad involved in some dirty business . . .'

‘Please no! Oh, no!' cried Pam, holding her hands to her face.

‘It's okay, love,' said Nan, putting her arm around Pam's shoulders. ‘Your boy did you proud.'

‘He gave that shifty loser the fright of his life,' said Donald. ‘He won't be back!'

‘Everyone was in on it,' added Bill.

‘You can't leave me in suspense,' said Pam. ‘Tell me everything.'

So everyone pitched in with their parts of the story. It was a noisy, exuberant, even slightly exaggerated telling of what had happened and, by the end, Pam was laughing.

It was a relief for Bill to have the Maggot episode explained to his mum, but by the Saturday of the following week, Bill had another problem to face.

Bill kept going over and over in his mind how it had all begun. Matty had appeared in his kitchen that morning, chattering away in Pig Latin. No one else was there, just him and Mat.

‘Omecay omehay, iyay avehay omethingsay otay owshay ouyay.'

‘I'll come over when I finish the dishes,' said Bill. ‘I promised Mum.'

‘Ouyay areyay upposedsay otay eakspay Igpay Atinlay,' said Mat.

Suddenly, the whole Pig Latin game seemed ridiculous. Everything that was fun about the games he, Crispin and Mat had played seemed silly. It was like walking around a corner in some big city and having no way of finding your way back.

‘Yes,' said Bill.

‘Esyay,' corrected Mat, but Bill ignored her. He saw a flash of pain in Mat's eyes. He felt like he had kicked a friendly dog for no reason.

He had eventually gone across to Mat's place only to discover that the something interesting she wanted to show him was a collection of cicada shells. She was particularly proud of finding one of the black prince species. Only a short time ago, Bill would have thought that was cool. But nothing seemed fun anymore. Bill tried to look interested, but his restlessness gave him away.

Then Matty tried to capture Bill's interest in a piece of broken plate. ‘I found it when I was digging in Dad's vegetable garden,' she said, holding up the splinters of blue and white crockery. ‘This is historical. Mum says it probably belonged to the pioneer family who lived in this house one hundred years ago. We could dig for more, like real archaeologists.'

‘Maybe another time,' said Bill. He didn't like seeing the disappointment on Mat's face. But today, the last thing he wanted to do was scavenge for cicada shells or dig in the garden for ‘treasure'. They'd done the treasure thing when they'd buried the time capsule, dug it up and re-buried it, then dug it up yet again and buried it a third time. It was a pointless waste of energy. He couldn't understand why he'd ever liked those kiddie games.

Worst of all was at lunchtime when Mat had invited Bill into the Think Tank for a chat. He'd looked reluctantly at the leafy, twiggy water that filled just an ordinary bath. ‘Think Tank' was a dumb name. It was way over the top. How could Bill ever have let himself think that this greenish water was a special place to meet up with Mat?

Bill was surprised by his own thoughts. Since when had the excitement gone out of life? Nothing seemed worth the effort anymore. But there was Mat, already sitting in the bath, her big, hopeful, brown eyes looking up at him. It was a very hot day and he was wearing shorts, so Bill thought at least the water might cool him off. For that – and for the sake of friendship – Bill had climbed in with Mat.

‘Hey, your legs are getting hairy!' commented Mat with surprise.

Bill felt like storming out of the bath. She was right, of course, and she meant no harm. But Bill hadn't wanted her to notice. He was hoping like mad she wouldn't see that his feet had grown, too. On the end of his skinny legs, they looked like flippers to him. He was feeling like the ugly duckling.

‘Maybe I'm getting too big to share this bath,' said Bill.

‘There's always room for you in here. I don't mind squeezing up,' said Mat. ‘Anyway, I need to ask you something important.'

‘Okay,' said Bill. ‘Shoot.'

That's when Mat came straight out and asked Bill to take over Crispin's solo male role in the Extravaganza.

‘No,' said Bill.

‘We've waited for someone to step forward and rescue us, but no one has. Please, Bill, we're doomed if you don't help us out.'

‘No,' said Bill even more firmly.

‘Why not?' asked Mat.

‘I've told you,' said Bill. ‘It's not my thing. It never will be.'

‘Crispin was willing.'

‘Crispin was different.'

‘So you're above all this, are you?'

‘I'm not saying that, Matty,' said Bill. ‘You're better with words than I am. But I'm sorry, I just can't. No way.'

This Think Tank squabble had been replaying in Bill's head the rest of the day. Even back at his mum's house, helping her with the housework, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd failed Mat yet again. And to make it worse, the pressure to rescue the Extravaganza felt like it was coming from Crispin, too. During the week, a postcard had arrived from Crispin and was now displayed on Pam's fridge door. He had written:

Hello fellow club members,

I write from the sunny beach of Merimbula. My parents' plan to show me Australia was a thoughtful one; they meant well, but my ankle is still too sore to even hobble on it. It's torture to sit on a bench and watch kids down on the beach playing ball games and then running into the surf to cool off. I'm also worried about how the Extravaganza is going. Please let me know. You can always email me. Sometimes we stop off at an internet cafe.

Your friend,

Semper fidelis,

Crispin de Floriette

Crispin had been such a mate. Despite his dorky dress sense – his short shorts and his socks and sandals – he was gutsy, tough and a complete individual. He was almost like the male version of Matty. They were both full of brilliant ideas and a positive ‘you can do it' approach to life. Bill had never known a boy like him. The things Crispin thought, talked about and did had stretched Bill's idea of what a bloke could be. Bill owed him a debt of loyalty.

At the same time, Bill felt he needed a break from the sort of schemes and adventures Matty and Crispin dreamt up. He'd been suffering from a flat feeling ever since the latest Maggot drama ended. He was realising more and more how dangerous their plan to trap that vicious little criminal had been. Back then, with all the secret messages and Cockney talk, it had seemed like fun. Not anymore.

And trying to replace Crispin in the Extravaganza? It was a crazy idea. Not in a million years could he leap across the stage like Crispin did. Bill and his hairy, skinny legs with the big feet hanging off the ends. Everyone would laugh. It would wreck the Extravaganza.

From then on, Bill couldn't bear to see Mat's downcast face, so he started avoiding her. Anyway, he wanted to be by himself – for reasons he only half understood and was struggling to explain to himself. Just like Matty, he was feeling miserable.