Chapter 6

Dinner time with the Tracy brothers is always noisy. There's the scraping and banging of cutlery and people talking over each other. Gordon and Alan shout a lot. Scott and John, when John is here, get into the most heated debates over nothing. Mrs. Tracy remembers funny things that happened a long time ago. Poor Brains- when he's not ensconced in his laboratory- will attempt to get a word in, but it's only Mr. Tracy or Virgil who ever notices unless it's important. Tonight it's no different. I spear peas with my fork and chew slowly as the noise level rises around me. I think of poor John eating his dinner alone in Thunderbird 5, but he's a sweet, thoughtful man and he seems to enjoy the solitude.

Mr. Tracy is talking about something he's heard on the news. Bush fires over in Australia.

"These things can get quickly out of hand," he says. "We ought to start monitoring the situation."

"It's when arsonists start lighting them deliberately that they get out of hand," Scott mutters. "Those people are just idiots."

"We let the authorities deal with them, son," Mr. Tracy admonishes. "Our organization is not here to judge."

"Yeah, well." Scott lifts his glass and takes a long drink of water. He's annoyed, but his mood will soon pass.

"I'll contact John after dinner," Mr. Tracy continues. "I'll ask him to keep an eye on things, although I'm sure he's already on the ball."

After dinner there is coffee and Mrs. Tracy's freshly baked Angel Food cake. The Tracy boys love their cake. Scott's the worst- he'd wolf the whole thing if he could. I watch him now as he devours an entire slice in three bites while I'm still picking off my icing. He takes a gulp of his coffee and starts chatting to his father. When he reaches for his second piece of cake, I roll some icing into a ball and throw it across the table. I can't believe my luck- it hits him squarely on the nose, bounces off and lands with a little splash into his coffee.

"Good shot!" Gordon shouts. I squeal nervously at the look Scott gives me.

"I'm sorry." Mr. Tracy says sternly. "I didn't realise I'd been invited to a chimps' tea party."

"Then maybe you should have a word with the chief chimp over there," Scott retorts. He finds a leftover pea and throws it at my head. I duck, and it sails past me and lands on the carpet.

"Oh, you're all as bad as each other," Mrs. Tracy declares, but she looks delighted.

Mr. Tracy sighs and pushes his chair back. "Well, if anyone's interested, I'm going to have a word with John!"

John's face looms large in the centre of his portrait. He stands to attention in his neat blue uniform with the lavender sash.

"I've been listening in to the Australian emergency services," he tells us. "They seem to think they have the situation under control. There's one fire that needs watching though. It's a little too near a cluster of settlements out in the middle of nowhere. From what I can gather it's not heavily populated, maybe seventy people or so. If they have any sense they won't wait for the wind to change, they'll start getting out now." He turns his blue eyes onto me.

"Hey there Tin-Tin," he smiles. "Hope they're looking after you down there."

"I'm quite good at looking after myself, John," I smile back. "I have a yellow belt in Origami. When one of my paper swans hits you, you know about it."

"That's our Tin-Tin," he chuckles.

Scott has come into the room. He stands close to me. "Hey John, how's Alcatraz?"

"Hey Scott, how's Palookaville?"

"Okay boys," says Mr. Tracy, but all four of us are smiling.

"Don't worry about it anyway, dad," John reassures his father. "I've got all the channels open, and the minute anything happens I'll let you know."

"I know you will, son, but I hope we're not needed," says Mr. Tracy. "Well, you take care of yourself John, and we'll talk to you soon."

"Sure thing dad. Oh, and tell Alan, I overfed his hamster, and unfortunately it died."

"You didn't!" I say, shocked.

"No, of course I didn't." He and Scott are both chuckling. "But you can tell him I did, just to see his face." He cuts off the connection, and he is gone for now.

"We'd better run a few checks on our machines in the morning, just in case we're needed," Mr. Tracy mutters. "I'd better go and have a word with Brains." He leaves me and Scott standing in the room together.

"What do you think?" I ask.

He tilts his head quizzically. "What do I think about what?"

"About these fires, silly."

"I just think we should do what dad says and make sure we're ready in case John gets a distress call. And you know what else I think?" There's a glint in his eye. I shake my head nervously. "I think you should apologise for ruining a perfectly good cup of coffee!"

I stick my tongue out at him and run away laughing. I feel lightheaded. As I pass the sofa I pick up a cushion and brandish it at him.

"Don't come any closer," I warn. "This cushion is loaded."

He doesn't get the chance though, as the next minute everyone else starts arriving. He goes over and powers up the large wall-mounted television. There's a spare seat on the sofa next to Alan. He pulls me down to sit next to him.

On the television screen, livid flames shoot up into the sky and our faces become bathed in an orange glow. The news reporter is talking animatedly. He seems almost excited at the sight of so much destructive power. Virgil whistles softly under his breath. "Doesn't look to me like they've got it under control."

"We have to believe what John says," replies Mr. Tracy. "We can't intervene unless we get a call."

"Besides, the news is probably making it look a lot worse than it is," says Mrs. Tracy. "You know what they're like, a bunch of sensationalists."

"Even so Grandma," says Virgil, "that's hardly a bonfire in someone's back garden."

"Australia's a mighty big place," his grandmother persists. "It could burn for hundreds of miles and not touch anybody."

"What about those settlements John mentioned?" I chip in, but as the news continues there's no mention of any immediate danger to human life.

"All right," says Mr. Tracy, "let's consider ourselves on standby. Routine checks on Thunderbirds 1 and 2 first thing tomorrow and we keep all available channels open. Until then there's not much more we can do."

The mood settles. The TV stays on but Scott lowers the sound. Virgil goes back to the piano and starts to play a gentle, soothing melody that is totally at odds with the angry flames raging on the screen. Gordon suggests playing Backgammon and Alan agrees, even though Gordon cheats at Backgammon. I decide to stay and have a few games with them. Scott goes over to the glass doors and stands there for a few minutes looking out at the night. I wonder what he's thinking as he stands there leaning casually against the door frame. I get so wrapped up in my thoughts that I don't realise it when he turns around and catches me looking. It's a few moments before it actually hits me that our eyes are locked together. I am startled back to life, but it's too late. My heart releases inside me like a capsule of warm gel. A blush rises steadily from my chest, creeps up my neck and settles in my cheeks where it radiates like sunburn. It is Scott who finally looks away first.

The next morning at 7.30am I am in the cockpit of Thunderbird 1 with Brains when Scott shows up. Scott is always up at the break of day. He goes for a run, usually along the beach then inland around the lagoon and back through the forest where he is sheltered from the rapidly rising heat of the sun. It's a good five miles all round, but he's fast and he's sure-footed. He comes back to the house, showers, changes, and then goes to the kitchen for coffee. He's holding a mug now, and he grins at us as he steps through the hatch.

"So, how's my baby?" he asks. He's wearing a yellow button-down shirt and jeans. His dark hair is still damp from the shower and he smells soapy and clean. He's very handsome. I feel another blush rising and have to look away.

"Ah..ah..all s-systems appear f-fully f-functional Scott," Brains stutters.

"Great," says Scott. "And how about Thunderbird 1?" He laughs out loud and tickles my head as he passes behind me and climbs up into the pilot's seat.

"Very funny," I smile. Brains just looks confused, and pretends to study his schedule intently.

"N-now, ah. I-is there anything you ah..think you ah..need, Scott?"

"We-ell," says Scott, looking around, "I could use a cup holder."

"We'll be sure to put that right at the top of the list." I pull a face at him. He grimaces back.

"Ah..I d-don't th-think that's a p-priority at the.." Brains falters when he sees both our faces.

"He's joking, Brains."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes. He is."

Poor Brains is bewildered by any human exchange that doesn't involve calculus or logarithms, so he decides to take my word for it. "I-in that case Tin-Tin, we ought to m-move on to Thunderbird 2." Having re-established his schedule and regained some of his confidence, he tucks his clipboard under his arm and climbs out of the cockpit. I move to follow him.

"Hey,Tin-Tin." Scott stops me in my tracks. He's still in the pilot's seat, beckoning me over. "Come over here."

What was that that just lurched in my chest? I take a cautious step towards him. "What is it, Scott?"

"Come here," he motions with his head.

"What do you want?" I'm at the footplate. I can't get any closer. Can I?

"Up here."

I put one foot on the plate and climb halfway up. "What is it, Scott?" Any closer and I'll be sitting in his lap, the thought of which makes my throat go dry. He leans forward until I can almost count every one of his long dark eyelashes and runs his index finger slowly down the side of my nose until I'm cross-eyed. Then he holds his finger up in front of me. There's a grey smudge on it.

"You had some dirt on your nose." He leans back and wipes it off on his jeans.

"Is that it?" I'm indignant. "Is that what you called me over for? To tell me I had a bit of dirt on my nose?"

"Yep," he grins, looking pleased with himself.

I squeeze his leg hard, just behind the knee. I know he's sensitive there. He yelps and spills coffee all down his nice clean shirt.

"Tin-Tin!" he hollers, "get back here!" But I am already half way out the hatch, and I can't stop laughing.