Mister Cassowary (8 page)

I crashed the dishes angrily into the sink. Why wouldn't Dad tell me about Big Blue and Grandad Barney? Didn't I have a right to know? Anything so terrible needed to be shared, not hidden. I rinsed the plates feeling angrier and angrier.

I snatched the salt and pepper off the table. Why didn't Dad trust me? I was old enough to understand. Maybe I could even help.

I was about to go to Grandad Barney's room when I heard a sound. It wasn't the wind rattling the windows. Or the branches scratching the roof.

It was a short, high-pitched sound.

I stood still and listened. There it was again!

‘Peep. Peep. Peep.'

Could it really be them? My hide-and-seek chicks, searching for me to look after them? The peeps were coming from the other side of the kitchen door.

I checked for Dad down the hallway. When I couldn't see him, I tugged open the door, spilling light from the kitchen into the yard.

‘Peep. Peep. Peep.'

I stepped outside, closing the door quietly behind me. Rain tore at my face as I peered around the yard. ‘Peanut? Jumble? Where are you?' I whispered.

The wind ripped at the trees, tossing and turning them like the inflatable men that flapped outside the pizza shops near home. Hundreds of leaves blew like confetti across the lawn.

‘Peanut? Jumble? It's me, Flynn.'

Crack. I swirled to my right. A huge branch split from a tree and crashed to the ground. I pushed back against the door. Maybe I'd imagined the peeps? I'd better get back inside.

‘Peep. Peep. Peep.'

There it was again! I looked to my left. Peanut! He was huddled under a fern that was growing close to the kitchen door. ‘Here, little guy,' I whispered, squatting down beside him. He kept his head down as I scooped him into my arms and hugged him close. His heart hammered against mine.

‘Where's Jumble?' I asked, peering under the fern. ‘Is he in here too?'

The kitchen door slammed open.

‘Flynnie! Are you crazy? What are you doing outside?'

I fumbled with Peanut, trying to keep my back between him and Dad. ‘Dad, I—'

‘Come inside! Quick! It's too dangerous out here.' Dad marched over, grabbed me by the shoulders and yanked me inside. Then he rushed to the radio and began flicking through stations. He didn't notice the damp yellow lump I had clutched against my T-shirt.

Unable to find a clear channel, Dad began barking out instructions. ‘You go wait in the bathroom!' he shouted, while jamming old towels under the doors. ‘And fill the bath with water. Grab the torches on your way. I'll bring a mattress in shortly.'

‘A mattress? But the bathroom's tiny. We can't sleep in there.' How would I hide Peanut from Dad in the bathroom? And what about looking for Jumble?

There was a loud crash outside the kitchen window.

‘Flynn! This isn't a ride at the Ekka. This is serious. I haven't got time to argue! Just go to the bathroom and shut the door.'

‘Where are you going?' My heart thumped. I didn't want to go to the bathroom. I wanted to go look for Jumble.

‘Flynn, NOW!'

Keeping my back to Dad and Peanut close to my chest, I ran down the hall to the bathroom and crouched on the floor beside the bath. I turned on the taps and then reached down and kissed Peanut's head. He smelt damp, like a wet school jumper. Where was I going to hide him? In the cabinets under the sink? But then how would he breathe? A shower cubicle might have worked, but Grandad Barney's shower was only a nozzle over the bath. Maybe the dirty clothes basket? I stood up to check it out, with Peanut squirming wildly in my arms.

‘You're okay, little fella,' I murmured. ‘You're safe in here with me.'

But what about Jumble? What would happen to him all alone out there? I'd seen pictures after cyclones, and there wasn't much rainforest left. Houses were shattered, and trees were ripped and beheaded, looking like matchsticks jammed into the soil. Jumble would be killed for sure.

I lifted the lid off the clothes basket. Although it was made of plastic, there were holes in the lid for Peanut to breathe. It was perfect. I leant down to stash him inside but, as I did, he wriggled out of my arms. ‘Poor little guy,' I soothed, as he hopped onto the bathroom tiles. ‘You're missing Jumble.' I reached out and stroked him as he pecked at my toes. His feathers, although wet, were soft and reassuring. Touching him seemed to calm him down, and made me feel better, too. I
smiled as he pecked my toe again. ‘You're hungry.' I
rummaged through the box of food Dad had placed on the bench next to the sink. Under the Spam and baked beans, I found three boxes of sultanas. I quickly grabbed one, and tipped the entire box into the wash basket. Then I placed Peanut inside. I'd just lowered the lid when Dad burst through the door.

‘Dad!' I yelped. ‘I wasn't doing anything. I was just,' I glanced at the half-full bath, ‘filling the bath.'

Dad pulled a mattress through the doorway, leaned it against the towel rack, and closed the bathroom door behind him. Just as he went to sit down on the edge of the bath, the lid of the dirty clothes basket popped open. Peanut's fuzzy head appeared, and he uttered a frightened ‘peep'.

Dad's face went bright red.

‘Flynn! Is that a—' He wasn't able to say the word.

‘Dad, this is Peanut,' I said, scooping Peanut out of the basket. ‘I found him and his brother Jumble near the swamp.' I offered my feathery bundle to Dad, but Dad
backed away, like I was offering him a
burning torch
. ‘They've lost their dad, and they need me.'

‘No, Flynn,' said Dad. He moved further away from Peanut. ‘It was bad enough with your grandad, I'm not going through it all again. That bird has to go.'

‘No!' I shouted. ‘He's scared. He's only a baby. I have to look after him!'

‘Flynn! You can't go around playing with them and treating them like kittens!'

‘But …'

The walls of the bathroom started shaking. Dad gripped the edge of the bath. I pushed myself closer to the mattress, and Peanut leapt from my arms.

‘Flynn! Get him away from me,' cried Dad, lifting his legs so that Peanut couldn't reach his feet. If Dad leant away any further, he'd topple straight into the bath.

There was another crash and then a thud. The house shuddered. Peanut hopped closer towards Dad, but Dad leapt from the side of the bath and flung open the bathroom door. ‘Put it out!' he ordered.

‘No!' I shouted. My chest heaved. I wouldn't cry. I couldn't cry. I had to be brave and protect Peanut. ‘He's all alone without his dad and brother,' I said. ‘We have to look after him! Why won't you listen to me?'

Before Dad could answer, Peanut darted between his legs, and straight out the door.

‘Peanut!' I shouted, jumping around Dad and after my little hide-and-seek chick.

‘Flynn!' yelled Dad, grabbing me in a rugby tackle. I tried to push him away, but he held me too tight. I stuck my elbows out and squirmed, and even tried to kick, but Dad wasn't letting go.

Dad dragged me into the bathroom and pushed the door shut with his foot. As it closed, a loud crash made us both jump. It was followed by the sound of smashing glass.

‘Peanut!' I screamed.

The bathroom was pitched into darkness.

‘Quick. Under here.' Dad pulled me down and hauled the mattress over our heads.

‘Peanut!' I sobbed.

‘Shhh, mate, it's okay.' Dad pulled me into a bear hug. We lay like we were in a cave, Dad taking the weight of the mattress, both of us inhaling its stale, musty smell. ‘He'll be in the house somewhere. We'll go and find him when all this is over.'

Instead of fighting Dad this time, I sank into his arms. His shirt was still wet, but he smelt familiar, like deodorant and washing powder. I could feel his heart thumping against my back. ‘But when will it be over?' I whispered.

‘Soon, mate, soon.' Dad sucked at his teeth. ‘But meanwhile, staying in here's the safest thing,' he said. ‘It's best to wait these things out.'

‘But Dad …'

‘You'll just have to trust me,
Flynn. I know that's hard. With me being away and everything, we haven't exactly got to know each other, have we? But I'm here now, and I'm going to look after you.'

I sniffed.

‘I'm sorry, Flynn. Shall we call a truce?'

‘Why can't you just tell me the truth?'

I felt Dad's chest rise.

‘Trouble is,' he began, ‘I've been feeling all over the shop since we arrived at the farm. Especially when it comes to cassowaries. I don't know … maybe it's because I've been here before. With Grandad Barney.' He let his breath out in a whoosh. ‘Perhaps it would help if I start at the beginning.'

I froze. Was Dad finally going to tell me the truth?

‘It was after Cyclone Glenda and I was a bit younger than you,' he said, holding me even tighter. ‘I remember being evacuated and waiting with all the other kids in the hall. It's all so clear, like it was yesterday. I can picture the devastation. We lost the entire roof of this house. The banana plants were ruined. When we were finally allowed to go back home, Dad had to fix all the damage. I remember he was trying to pull a branch off the carport when he heard the first cheeping sounds.'

I swiped my nose with the back of my hand. I knew those sounds.

‘He found the bird stuck under the fallen washing line. All tangled up it was, and he carefully eased it out to show me. Not much bigger than your little Peanut it was, and soaking wet. We gave it some pawpaw and some watermelon and, after watching it for an hour, your grandad was hooked.' Dad paused and gave me a squeeze as the bathroom door rattled from the wind.

‘Was it Big Blue?' I asked.

Dad's cheek brushed mine. ‘Yes, it was. Although we hadn't named him then. Your grandad cared for
that chick like it was a baby. I didn't mind at first. It
was kind of fun sharing the house with a cassowary. But then it got ridiculous. Once word spread, people started bringing over every injured and orphaned cassowary from miles around. Grandad cared for every one of them. He built hideouts and shelters and started bulldozing banana plants to grow more rainforest. To create corridors, he said, to link the coast to the forest. Like Cathy explained, they didn't call him Mister Cassowary for nothing.'

‘But I still don't understand why you don't like cassowaries,' I said.

Dad let out a long sigh. ‘If Grandad Barney wasn't cutting up fruit for the fruit stations, he was out planting trees. If he wasn't planting trees, he was off finding out how to save them. He didn't really have time for me.'

I squirmed out of Dad's arms. ‘But why are you scared of them?' I asked, staring where I thought Dad's face was. ‘Is it because Big Blue killed Grandad?' I blurted.

Dad pulled me back towards him. ‘I've been silly thinking you were too young to hear the truth. After what I saw today, I'd say you're old enough now. And I'd prefer you heard it from me rather than try to piece together all those rumours.'

A fresh burst of rain drummed the roof and I strained my ears to hear Dad's words.

‘I was in my final year of school and home by myself, as usual,' he said. ‘Grandad was off at his latest planting project, and Grandma had long since passed away. I thought I'd surprise Grandad by cleaning up after the harvest, like what you were doing with me the other day – picking up blue plastic, tidying the place. So, there I was all on my own, only just turned seventeen, when Big Blue rocks up out of nowhere. He must have seen the plastic and thought I had food. He wanted to see what I had in my hand and, when I tried to pull it away, he went ballistic. And then … well, he went for me.'

I'd always wondered about Dad's scar. It was an ugly pinched line running right under his ribs. ‘One of the workers found me and took me to the hospital. Ten stitches later, I was fine, but Grandad wasn't having a bar of it. He didn't believe a word I said.'

‘He didn't?'

‘No. He said I shouldn't have provoked Big Blue, or some rubbish. We argued, and I told Grandad how much I hated his obsession with cassowaries. How it was his fault the farm was going downhill, and how he shouldn't spend every last cent on those birds …'

I shifted my shoulders under Dad's arms.

‘But he didn't listen,' continued Dad. ‘So, as soon as I got my high-school certificate, I left. I worked my way down to Brisbane and, three years later, I met your mum.'

‘And you never saw Grandad Barney again?'

‘No. He visited us a few times in Brisbane. Even met you. Fond of you, he was. But it was too difficult. I couldn't forgive him for choosing Big Blue over me, and I didn't make an effort. We didn't see him for years. In the end, this place proved too much for him on his own. He had money troubles and heart troubles, and then, one day …'

‘One day … Big Blue attacked him?'

Dad coughed. ‘No. While doing one of their patrols, Cathy and her team of rangers found Grandad Barney lying on the rainforest floor. It looked like he was sleeping – except he was face down in the mud and had a nasty gash across his eye. It'd been a stinker of a day, over 38 degrees and, apparently, he'd been out planting more wretched trees. He'd had a heart attack.'

‘But Abby said … Wasn't it Big Blue?'

‘No, mate. It wasn't Big Blue. When the press found out there was a man dead in the rainforest, they had a field day. There'd been a few attacks about town around that time, and the papers loved it. Splashed all sorts of gory headlines over the news, and it caused quite a sensation in a sleepy town like Mission Beach. But I didn't care. Dad was dead. Nothing would bring him back. Plus, why would I care what people said about Big Blue? I hated that ugly bird.'

‘But now everybody thinks cassowaries are killers and the most dangerous birds in the world.'

‘They are killers, Flynn. When they're frightened, or looking after their young, they do what all animals do. They protect themselves. But in my mind, I suppose,
it
was
the cassowaries that killed Grandad Barney. It
was because of them that he and I fought, and it was because of them that I left the farm for him to manage on his own.' He sighed. ‘I didn't correct the papers because, in a way, they were right. The cassowaries
did
kill Grandad Barney. But for a different reason than they thought.'

I snuggled deeper into Dad's arms. ‘I'm sorry you and Grandad didn't get along. But don't you think he would want everyone to know the truth? So that people don't blame the cassowaries?'

‘But what can we do, Flynn?' said Dad softly. ‘There's nothing we can do.'

‘What would Grandad want us to do?'

Dad shrugged. ‘I don't know, Flynn. I just don't know.'

Outside, the cyclone was still raging. The wind howled and the rain lashed the house. But inside, Dad's breathing became steady and reassuring. I leaned my head against his shoulders, my eyes growing heavy as I breathed in his familiar smell. All that time I'd worried about Grandad Barney being killed by a cassowary, for nothing. I wished Dad had just told me the truth from the start.