Just Annoying! (14 page)

‘Yuck!' says Danny. ‘I don't think we should make him feel
that
good.'

I set my tape player up on the porch. I insert Jen's tape and press play.

The music comes on. A long, low synthesiser note. It sounds like bird noises over the top, although it's hard to tell. It could be just the squeaking of the tape player's motor.

‘Louder!' says Danny. ‘It's too soft.'

‘It's meant to be soft.'

‘Yeah, but Mr Broadbent will never hear it. Turn it up.'

Danny's right. I turn the volume up. It makes it louder alright, but kind of distorted as well.

‘It doesn't sound very rainforesty,' says Danny.

‘I know, but it's better than nothing.'

‘Hey,' says Danny, ‘what if we sprayed the hose onto Mr Broadbent's roof? That might help.'

Why not? Rain on the roof is a very relaxing sound. How is Mr Broadbent going to know it's not real?

I cross the yard to the tap. The hose is not actually going to reach over to the fence because it's in a huge tangled knot from the last time I used it. And this is no ordinary knot. This is a knot that will take forever to untangle. And we haven't got forever. Mr Broadbent could come rampaging up the driveway any second.

I turn the tap on full blast and drag the hose as far as I can before the knot threatens to cut off the supply. The water makes it over the fence but not onto the roof.

‘It's not going to work!' I yell.

‘Tighten the nozzle!' calls Danny.

I screw the nozzle tighter. That's better. Especially if I point the hose up higher. It makes a perfect arc of water right onto the roof above Mr Broadbent's office. A few minutes of rain on the roof combined with the rainforest tape will mellow Mr Broadbent for sure.

It's risky, though. If the water pressure drops, the water will hit Mr Broadbent's office window. He might think we're doing it to annoy him.

Danny gives me the thumbs up.

We're almost out of trouble.

But I don't want to take any chances.

Not when our lives are at stake.

I've still got the incense sticks.

I wave to Danny.

He comes over.

‘Danny,' I say. ‘I need you to light the barbecue.'

‘You can eat?' he says. ‘At a time like this?'

‘No,' I say. ‘I'm not hungry. I want to use it to burn some incense. We can waft the smoke across to Mr Broadbent's house. The smell will help to calm him even more.'

‘Anything is worth a try,' says Danny. ‘What do I do?'

‘Here,' I say. I give him the incense. ‘Light the fire and then chuck these on top. If we burn them all at once it will be really intense.'

‘Where's the barbecue?'

‘In the carport. But you'll need to wheel it closer to the fence.'

Danny wheels the barbecue—half a forty-four gallon drum mounted on a frame with wheels—down to the other end of the drive away from the hose spray. He grabs a branch full of dead gum leaves from the garden and puts it in the top of the drum.

‘Got a match?' says Danny.

‘Your face and a monkey's bum.'

‘Don't joke! This is serious.'

‘I'm not joking,' I say.

Danny shakes his head. He falls for it every time.

‘Just tell me where the matches are.'

‘They're under the barbecue.'

He pulls the box out and lights a match. He drops it into the middle of the dead leaves. A thin white strand of smoke rises almost immediately.

‘Quick!' I say. ‘Put the incense on top!'

Danny throws the incense on.

The leaves burst into flame, but the blaze is too strong. The smoke is going straight up into the air.

‘It's not working, Danny. You need to fan the smoke across the fence.'

‘How?' he says.

‘I dunno—use your shirt or something.'

Danny pulls his T-shirt over his head. He starts flapping it wildly. The smoke billows around him. He coughs.

‘Is it working?' he says. ‘I can't see a thing.'

‘Not exactly,' I say. ‘You'll have to fan harder.'

Danny goes into fanning overdrive.

The smoke starts heading towards Mr Broadbent's office.

‘That's it, Danny! Keep going!'

I can just imagine Mr Broadbent. He's probably sitting back with his feet on the desk. Arms behind his head. Eyes closed as he listens to the calming music and the relaxing rain. Taking deep breaths of soothing incense. Forgetting all about his work, his problems and, most importantly, his threat to murder us.

Danny is piling more leaves onto the barbecue.

‘Hang on, Danny, I think that will do,' I say.

But Danny doesn't hear me above the crackling of the fire. He keeps piling on more leaves. Showers of sparks fly into the air. The ends of half-burnt branches are falling to the ground. Danny keeps fanning.

‘Danny! Stop it!'

His fanning is sending a torrent of sparks towards the fence. There's smoke everywhere.

Uh-oh. Just as I feared.

Not all of the smoke is coming from the barbecue.

Dad is always saying how he's going to pull the old dead passionfruit vine off the back fence. Well, he won't have to bother now.

‘Danny! No more fanning! The vine is on fire.'

Danny comes to his senses.

‘Huh? What? Help!' he yells. FIRE!'

I remember I'm holding the hose.

I point it towards the fire but it's too short to reach. I try to pull it closer but the water almost cuts off completely because of the tangle.

The flames are leaping high into the air. The whole fence will go up unless we do something fast.

‘What do I do?' yells Danny.

There is a pile of fresh grass clippings on the other side of the driveway. They're only a couple of days old. They might help to damp the blaze.

‘The grass clippings, Danny! Behind you! Throw them on the fire!'

Danny throws great armfuls of grass all over the fence and onto the barbecue.

It puts the fire out alright.

But now we have a new problem.