chapter 21
Lance took a deep breath. "I think Milko's been kidnapped by the Phillips brothers, Kath. And they've told Sal they'll kill him if she lags."
Okay, he'd said it at last! He waited for her to fall about laughing. Either that or to stare at him like he'd lost the plot. No way would she be interested in him now. Who wanted to date a thicko? She was way, way out of his league anyway, what with letters after her name and qualifications and certificates in thingummyjig subjects that he couldn't even spell, let alone figure out the meaning of. But he'd had to say it. If anyone was intelligent enough to sort out the tangle little Sally seemed to be in, it was Kathy Murray.
"Lance, you're a genius!" Kathy reached across the Diner table and squeezed his hand in delight. Of course! Kane Phillips had acquired an invisible friend, by an amazing coincidence also called Milko, around the same time that little Sally Keating appeared to have lost him. And what about that strange conversation in the playground when Kane and Scott had hinted that Milko might drown? It all suddenly made perfect sense!
Lance blushed to the roots of his hair. "Waaall, I wouldn't go that far..." He protested bashfully, but pleased to see she was stoked. "I'm no Ernie Stein."
"Who?" Kathy asked blankly.
Lance shrugged. "Don't rightly know who he was, Kath. But I've heard he was a very, very clever bloke. Maybe he won heaps of TV quiz shows or somethin'."
"Or somethin'," Kathy agreed, smiling in gentle amusement as the penny suddenly dropped. Ernie Stein - Einstein! It was a mistake one of her own Summer Bay Primary students might have made, not a grown man.
But Kathy's heart lurched all the same. Lance may have been at the back of the queue when brains were being handed out, yet he was the sweetest guy she'd ever met. Why hadn't she ever noticed before how that kind, caring smile lit up his face and eyes and made a happy little knot tighten in her stomach?
Of course, Summer Bay being a small town, Kathy already knew who Lance Smart was, but they'd never exchanged more than two or three words until the day the flower garden had been trampled.
Kathy's much older colleague, Janice Drummond, suffered greatly from arthritis in her knee and, on particularly bad days, would need a walking stick to help her get around. Lance had happened to be passing by Summer Bay Primary just as she'd parked and, seeing her struggling to carry a box for a school project from her car, had offered to help. And so they came round the corner just as Kathy had discovered the damage.
"You know, we can fix this. And fast," Lance had said, as much for the kids' benefit as Kathy's. Some of the youngsters were sobbing their hearts out and, with only one exception, they were all obviously upset.
The exception was Kane Phillips, who was whistling under his breath as he surveyed the scene and watching Lance and Kathy out of the corner of his eye in case he overheard a snippet of information he could perhaps use to his advantage some time. Like his brother Scott, Kane was always on the alert to making a fast buck.
However, noticing that Kathy was just as angry and upset as her young pupils and probably needed to sound off, Janice had wisely begun to lead the children back inside. They could discuss the obvious vandalism in the staff-room later, where little ears didn't get to hear what they shouldn't.
Kathy glanced round, taking comfort from his strong, kind voice, but also feeling a stab of guilt. It was almost as if he knew about her secret deal with a national Australian newspaper. After all, the old, crumbling indoor games block at Summer Bay Primary, that also housed the locker rooms and even a small stage, had been condemned and was scheduled for imminent demolition. There being no money in the coffers to build a new block, the kids had no choice on rainy days but to sit at their desks inside stuffy classrooms during recess or games periods. Or maybe not...
...If...
...Kathy, as she had, arranged for a journalist to call on Summer Bay to write about the talent show as a human interest story...and showed same journalist round Summer Bay Primary...and people read of the kids' plight...and the newspaper started a fund-raising campaign...
But, having grown up in a rough, tough city, the young teacher was no naive backwoods country hick and she knew that papers could do just as much damage as they did good. News, Kathy realised, especially bad news, was what sold newspapers, not technicolour toytown all-is-well-with-the-world bedtime stories. She was well aware that if any journalist saw the ruined flower garden, he or she might decide instead to focus on the problems of vandalism in a little seaside town and give Summer Bay a publicity it could well do without.
Kathy decided to take Lance into her confidence and "'fess up" as one of her kids might say. Lance proved a willing listener.
"See, what we need are a few volunteers to help fix it," he said thoughtfully.
"But time's running out, Lance. How would we find volunteers fast enough?" Kathy asked worriedly. "This isn't a TV show. People have busy lives even in small towns."
"Oh, they don't have to do waste time doing boring stuff like volunteering!" Lance grinned. "I think we might save them all the bother and do the volunteering for them..." He and Kathy exchanged a conspiratorial look. Where kids were concerned, they were a formidable team.
Kathy smiled again. After the day the flower garden was ruined, they'd both been so busy with drumming up press-ganged "volunteers", repairing the damage and then preparations for the talent show that they hadn't had time to talk properly until now. But, despite their intellectual differences, Lance was kind and funny and loved kids as much as she did, and Kathy had a feeling that they'd share a great many more heart-to-hearts.
"You know, Lance, I wrote about kids and their imaginary friends as part of my thesis and even I couldn't come up with that answer. But you understand what goes on in kids' heads. Better than anyone," she said in admiration. "And I think if we put our heads together, we just might be able to figure out a way to kidnap Milko back..."
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Perhaps there had been other starry summer nights as breathlessly beautiful as this one. But, if there were, Carly never knew them. All she knew was the breathless beauty of this night as she and Zammo, arms entwined around each other, strolled along the silvery water's edge, their toes digging into the warm, gritty sand while the white foam of cold, quiet waves rolled gently across their bare feet.
For some reason, Carly felt more comfortable with Mike "Zammo" Langford than she'd ever felt with any other guy. Maybe there was something in going out with a guy her own age instead of trying to impress older guys who weren't interested, she thought, surprised to realise the world wasn't a bad place without the fog of alcohol to blur its sharp edges. Or maybe it was just something to do with being with Zammo, the way his voice sent tingles down her spine, the way he looked at her that made her heart patter furiously and her knees weak.
She squealed in delight as another rush of icy water ran over her toes.
"It's magic!" She laughed, looking up at the twinkling stars and down at the moonlight-tinged sea with the excitement of a small child. "I wish I'd tried kicking off my shoes and walking along the water's edge before."
"You've never done this before? Not even when you were a kid?" Zammo couldn't keep the astonishment out of his voice.
Carly shook her head. "We didn't leave close enough to the beach when I was a kid."
"But everywhere in Oz is close to a beach!" Zammo protested in surprise.
Carly smiled sadly. "My olds were always too busy to take us. And the au pairs we had to look after us...They never had time to take us to the beach either. They left as fast as they arrived. It wasn't Sammy's fault. It was mine."
Zammo heard the tears in the last three words and he pulled her closer.
"Carly, stop that!" Judith said firmly, looking nine-year-old Carly straight in the eye.
Carly gave a small, patient sigh. Didn't she know she COULDN'T stop? Oh, she knew she was spoiling the picnic. But then she was EXPECTED to spoil things, wasn't she? She always was. The moment Judith had picked up the picnic bag ready to leave with her charges, Dad had warned Carly, "And don't you be bullying Sammy like you usually do." "Yeh, well, tell Snotty Sammy not to LOOK at me like that!" "I'll look at you how I want!" Her twin sister Sammy fired back, wrinkling her nose like Carly was a bad smell, and dusting off her shoulder the grass that Carly had just furiously thrown at her. "You're common as muck, Carly Morris, and you eat like..." Carly snatched up another handful of grass. "This might have ants in! I'm sure I saw some crawling!" She cried gleefully as she poured grass and soil over her twin's head, well aware that Sammy was terrified of all insects, but especially ants. Poor Sammy jumped up, screaming, doing what looked like a funny little dance as she frantically tried to shake grass out of her hair, which made Carly cruelly laugh all the more. "Sammy, Sammy, keep still! There aren't any ants! Carly was joking," Judith said, hugging the little girl to her. Carly almost pitied her. Carly had seen off several au pairs. Judith was brand new to this looking after kids lark. She was around nineteen, fresh out of college with a clutch of impressive qualifications, and believed in doing everything by the book. "Okay, Carly, that was your first warning," she said, looking sternly at her. "This is your second and last. Stop throwing grass at Sammy. Or your Mum and Dad will get to hear about it and there'll be no more picnics." "So what?" Carly said defiantly. Yeh, like her olds gave a stuff about her! She picked up a fistful of their empty food wrappings and, dodging round Judith, threw them over Sammy's head. "It wasn't grass! It wasn't grass!" She yelled triumphantly to Judith. "But it's food so it'll DEFINITELY have ants in!" She added helpfully for Sammy's benefit, though Sammy was already screaming hysterically. Of course, Judith left. The latest in a long line of childminders who couldn't cope with Carly. And yet again Dad predicted Carly would end up in jail and yet again Mum predicted that meanwhile Sammy would have a high-powered job. Maybe in fashion; she was so delicate, so pretty, so clever. And Carly would, they both agreed, end up dependant on drink and drugs, inadequate and alone, dividing her grown-up life between prison and living on welfare hand-outs.
Mum and Dad were forever warning her about her bad behaviour before it actually happened. Carly felt she had to live up to it. Where else could all the anger inside her go?
Carly bit her lip to stop the tears at the bitter memories, glad of Zammo's arm round her. Life was so different now with Tom and Pippa Fletcher. They believed in her and, slowly, tentatively, Carly was beginning to believe in herself.
"Hey, there's my bro just ahead!" She yelled, suddenly espying him. "Yo, Steven!" Carly wolf-whistled and yelled in a manner that would have horrified her parents and Sammy had they been there to witness it.
"Everything okay, mate? You look like you just lost a million bucks!" Zammo observed as they caught up with him.
Steven shrugged. "Oh, just got things on my mind."
"Yeh? Like the latest mathematical calculation to reach...oh, I dunno! Three trillion x squared equals xyz!" Carly grinned. She was hopeless at math and didn't have a clue what she was talking about.
Steven laughed, picking up on Carly's good humour. Normally they were at daggers drawn over something or other and the teasing would have been laced with acid. But it was easy to love the world, and even brothers, when you felt so loved. And Carly did feel loved this breathlessly beautiful night. Sally and Lynn were safe. She had a home where she belonged and a family who cared about her. She had handsome Zammo, who made her knees weak and her heart patter furiously, walking her home.
She smiled warmly. "Guess being the smartest kid in Summer Bay High you like chewing over algebra and stuff. Your brain must be like a computer!"
Steven smiled weakly back. Carly hadn't meant anything by what she said. She was actually making a huge effort to be nice and for once the word geek hadn't even crossed her lips. But that was the trouble. He wasn't a robot. He was a human being. And being the smartest kid in Summer Bay High was the loneliest place on earth to be.
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"So, okay, he took your guitar, but..." Jenny said.
"I'm not gonna lose face, Jen." Frank had inherited a lot from the man he admired most when he was young. His father Frankie didn't believe in losing face either. No matter how much trouble it caused.
Frank remembered the time Frankie Morgan had staggered home with a broken nose, two black eyes, several teeth knocked out and $500 out of pocket, and all because he'd refused to back down over a stupid argument, made when he and the guys he'd arranged the bet with had been pumped full of grog and that none of them could recollect with any particular clarity anyway.
Seven-year-old Frank had jumped out of bed and run downstairs immediately he heard his father cussing as he staggered home after a boozy night out. Dad's latest girlfriend, yet another shapely blonde with a prematurely aged face from too drinking and too many cigarettes, was puffing away on yet another cigarette and yelling at him to keep still while she tried to stem the flow of blood.
But Frankie ignored her to turn to his son, drunkenly waving his arms to ward off the chick's attempts to bathe his injuries, although blood was flowing copiously down his nose and chin and seeping a large crimson patch into his shirt, to Frank's wide-eyed terror.
"You listen good and you remember, Frank. A Morgan never backs down. Don't matter what over. We got our pride and we don't back down. Not EVER."
Since then Frank had had another father figure to admire. Tom Fletcher lacked Frankie's swagger and aggression but, just like he had when Eddie Brookes had tried to gain a new customer with underhand practice, in his own quiet way Tom stood his ground too. But with one vital difference. Frankie Morgan didn't back down out of vanity. Tom Fletcher stood up for what he believed was right.
Frank often found himself torn in two. His loyalty to the father who loved him in his own way was unquestionable but, more and more, he couldn't help feeling Tom Fletcher's way of dealing with things was a far better way.
"You don't understand, Jen," he added, feeling he had to justify himself because his argument sounded so inadequate. "It's a guy thing."
Jenny glanced across the table at her older sister. Kathy was chatting animatedly with Lance and Jenny smiled as she noticed her smitten expression. Lance would never dream of breaking her heart and two-timing her like her last boyfriend, madly-in-love-with-himself Robert "scumbag" Jenkins had. Jenny may have been youngest, but she'd always felt fiercely protective of soft-hearted Kathy. And she understood far more than Frank realised. It wasn't a guy thing. It was a family thing.
Living in the shadow of a sibling who breezed through school and then uni while you struggled to string two sentences together to produce a half decent essay was no fun. And yet Jenny saw something else.
"You know, Frank, it's tough being perfect," she said quietly.
"What?" Frank spluttered with laughter, genuinely believing she was having a lend of him.
"I'm serious. Think about it. You and me, we got it easy. We flunk an exam and nobody's surprised. But If Kath or Steven ever flunked an exam there'd probably be a world international outcry at Prime Minister's Question Time - well, okay, not quite. But almost." She added, seeing his frown. "So Steven took the guitar. So big deal. Maybe he just wanted some time out from all the pressure on him."
"Yeh, well, you don't know this jerk." Frank plucked absently on the strings of said guitar resting on his lap. "He's been picking on little Sal since day one. What'd little Sal ever do to him?"
"Oh, right. So that makes it okay for you to pick on him?"
Frank sighed. Jenny made him feel ashamed of himself. Using fists was Frankie Morgan's way and Frank was a better person than that. Living with the Fletchers had taught him that violence was never a solution.
"Okay, okay, you win! I won't bash Steven for taking the guitar."
"Thanks! I always suspected you were a much nicer guy than the dropkick you keep pretending to be!" Jenny teased, jumping up and kissing him quickly on the cheek as she snatched the guitar out of his arms. "What's it worth to get it back?"
Frank laughed. Steven Matheson didn't seem very important when he was with a beautiful girl with mischievously sparkling eyes and his cheek still tingling deliciously from where she had kissed him. Oh, but Frank hadn't forgotten he owed Steven! And he had another plan. A much better one. Like he'd promised Jenny, Steven wasn't going to get bashed. But he wasn't going to get off scot free either...