The Week at Mon Repose (5 page)

 

 

Under the shade of the blue striped tent, the argument went on and on.

Ahmed relaxed on a pile of cushions and kept falling asleep. Marilyn kept waking him to ask him questions. For a genie, Ahmed seemed remarkably untalented. He explained regretfully that he couldn't make himself or his horses invisible, and he couldn't cause locked doors to fling open.

“I haven't learned to do all those sorts of things yet.”

“Well, what about calling up another horse that you can win a race on?” Marilyn demanded.

“None are as fast as Caliph, and I have no surety of winning on any other horse.”

“So that's that!” Marilyn said, letting Ahmed fall asleep again. “We have to concentrate on stealing Caliph, and anyway, it isn't really stealing.”

“We will still have to return him to the Pound before the Ranger discovers he's missing, before we collect him again,” Allie reminded them.

“This is all getting too complicated,” Jenny said with a sigh. “There must be some other way.”

“Well, there isn't,” Marilyn said. “Now, what about some ideas.”

“That padlocked gate looked pretty burglar proof,” Jenny said.

“Can you jump Caliph over the fence?” Allie asked waking Ahmed up again.

“Caliph needs more room than was in the yard to jump so high a fence,” Ahmed explained.

“I might be able to pick the lock,” Marilyn admitted. “One of my uncle's is a locksmith, and he taught me a few things.”

Allie and Jenny looked impressed.

“We'll get up early tomorrow and sneak the horse out before the Rangers arrive,” Marilyn said. “Ahmed can ride him across to the meeting and rest him until it's time for him to race.”

“Caliph is a pretty striking horse. He was the only black one in the Pound,” Jenny said. “The Rangers are sure to notice if he's gone, and we will be just as badly off.”

There was a silence. A striking black horse missing from the Pound, and a striking black horse winning at the races might be too much of a coincidence for the Rangers to swallow. And they might be at the race meeting. All the locals probably attended the midweek country races.

“There were a few other horses in the Pound. I think I can organize something,” Marilyn said. She sat up suddenly. “How much money have you both got?”

“Two dollars,” Allie said. “What do you need it for?”

“And you?” Marilyn asked, turning to Jenny.

“Five.”

“Are you asking for a loan or a contribution?” Allie demanded.

“An investment,” Marilyn said. “My three dollars will make it up to ten dollars to bet on Caliph.”

“The prize money should be sufficient,” Allie protested.

“You don't know what extra expenses we might have,” Marilyn said as she nudged Ahmed awake. “And I need to go into the township this afternoon.”

“Certainly, it is time to leave,” Ahmed agreed, as he collected the lightened picnic basket and his saddle. “Let us not delay.”

As they walked out to the camels, he clicked his fingers. The red carpet and cushions faded. An untidy clutter of bunk beds and boxes suddenly crowded the tent.

“What do we tell Mrs. Marybone about the camels?” Jenny asked, as she shoved her saddle onto one of the camels and climbed up behind it.

“I will return them before we reach Mon Repose,” Ahmed promised.

He settled on his camel with the picnic basket and his saddle in front of him. It rose, and the others lurched to their feet after it.

“What about the tent?” Marilyn asked, as the camels walked back along the riverbank and up towards the path.

“It stays,” Ahmed said.

At that moment a four-wheel drive with several men inside, its roof rack loaded with fishing rods, lurched past them to park with a squeal of brakes beside the tent. They didn't seem to notice the four camels walking along the path.

“Fine start to our fishing holiday, getting stranded between here and the pub!” one of the passengers grumbled as he got out. “You might have had your heap serviced before we left.”

“I did,” the driver protested. “Even the mechanic couldn't work out why the engine died halfway back from the pub in the middle of nowhere.”

“Forget it,” another passenger called as he started unpacking stuff from the car. “We're here, and I need a drink.”

“You said you couldn't do anything magic,” Allie accused Ahmed, suddenly realizing who the tent belonged to.

“The petrol blockage in the carby was easy to arrange,” Ahmed explained. “I just can't shift anything living around.”

“But you shifted the camels,” Jenny said.

“And the carpet and cushions,” Ahmed said. “But not very well.”

“You've picked up about how motorcars work very quickly,” Jenny remarked.

“Indeed,” Ahmed said with his broad grin. “I am delighted to learn all about them. Who would waste their time with unreliable flying carpets when they could have a motor car? I would give anything to learn all about the most beautiful motor cars.”

“Except you aren't allowed to get a licence to drive one before you are eighteen,” Marilyn explained.

“Indeed,” Ahmed said, and his smile faded. “And in this place and time I am too young, much too young.”

They reached a sparse huddle of trees. Ahmed clicked his fingers. The camels folded themselves down. Ahmed pulled the picnic basket and the saddle off his camel. The girls slid down from the camels.

“Leave the saddles,” Ahmed said. “They can return with the camels.”

He clicked his fingers. Allie looked around. The camels had vanished.

“Mon Repose is just across the paddock,” Marilyn said. “That saved a lot of trudging.”

“Why are we going to the township?” Jenny asked.

“You don't have to come,” Marilyn said. “I just want to look at some stuff.”

“What sort of stuff?” Allie asked.

“Just stuff. If it works I'll tell you about it.”

“I wouldn't mind visiting the township,” Jenny said. “Mrs. Marybone said it's got a good arts and craft centre.”

“Going to be a pretty hot walk,” Allie reminded her.

“Might be able to get a lift in with Mr. Marybone,” Marilyn said. “He usually drives down every afternoon for the mail.”

Mon Repose seemed very peaceful in the hot afternoon sun. They went into the kitchen where Mrs. Marybone poured out glasses of raspberry vinegar. Mr. Marybone said he was about to leave for the township, and they were welcome to come with him.

“I'm only going to be there half an hour, so if you want to stay longer, you'll have to catch the six o'clock bus back.”

Allie nudged at Marilyn to remind her that they didn't have any bus fares, but Marilyn seemed unconcerned.

“Half an hour is plenty,” she promised. “We just want a quick look around.”

They strolled down to the garages with Mr. Marybone. Ahmed had his head under the bonnet of the battered Ute.

“I adjusted your timing,” Ahmed said to Mr. Marybone with his bright smile as he lowered the bonnet. “Turn her over.”

Mr. Marybone turned the engine on and listened. “You've got a real gift for motors, Ahmed. You should think about becoming a motor mechanic.”

“Indeed,” Ahmed said. “I would like that above all things.”

He waved goodbye to the girls. They settled into the front seat of the Ute for their twenty-minute drive to the township.
Hardly big enough to be called a township
, Allie thought as they drove into it.

One side of the road had an old hotel, a service station, the general store, and four small houses before the paddocks started. On the other side of the road were the arts and crafts centre, a baby health clinic, a shabby doctor's surgery, the local fire brigade, and seven houses before the paddocks started. The only sign of life was a black dog asleep in front of the general store.

“The general store is the agency for the post office,” Mr. Marybone explained. “I've got to collect the mail and pay a few bills.”

“Just toot your horn when you're ready to leave, Mr. Marybone,” Marilyn said. “We're just having a quick look around.”

“Look for what?” Allie demanded. “This is the deadest hole I've ever come across!”

“I'd like a quick deco at the arts and crafts centre,” Jenny said.

Marilyn seemed agreeable. They walked across the road and inspected the centre. There were postcards, pottery, paintings, mainly of the interminable dried out paddocks and occasionally gum trees; displays of needlework and wood carving; heavy jumpers and thick cloaks and skirts with notices saying they were woven or knitted from mohair, alpaca or goat fibre.

Allie glanced around to notice the bent figure of Mr. Marybone moving into the hotel from the general store.

“Think I'll head into the general store,” Marilyn said suddenly.

“Think we'll come with you,” Allie said. What was Marilyn up to?

The general store seemed to stock everything. There was a supermarket section, a post office agency, a haberdashery and clothing, a section for tools, seeds, and even wet weather gear.

Allie and Jenny drifted away from Marilyn, who was prowling through the supermarket section. They inspected the long, waterproof wading boots on display.

“Wonder what they would want those for?” Jenny was saying. “The puddles around the area are only ankle deep.”

“Maybe it gets wetter in the winter,” Allie suggested.

“Thief!” a woman shouted. “Someone help! I've caught a shoplifter!”

“Gone senile!” Marilyn jeered. “I didn't touch a thing.”

A dog started barking. “Thief,” the woman called again over the barking of the dog.

Jenny and Allie looked at each other. What sort of trouble had Marilyn got herself in to? They sprinted back to the supermarket section.

The fat little lady, who had been dozing at the cash register when they entered, struggled with Marilyn. She had a firm grip on her arm. The black dog danced around, barking at Marilyn, teeth bared.

“Need your eyes tested,” Marilyn said, but she looked white and frightened. “I didn't take anything.”

A shadow darkened the doorway, and a tall, skinny man sprinted in. He grabbed Marilyn by the shoulders.

“What's all this, then, Mrs. Crosby?” he growled.

Mrs. Crosby lifted up Marilyn's loose black mesh top and pulled four packets from under the back of her stretchy shorts.

“Shoplifting,” she said. “The girl's a thief!” She pointed at Allie and Jenny. “And those two came in with her to distract my attention. They're her accomplices!”

Allie and Jenny stared in horror. This was absolutely dreadful! Marilyn had been caught shoplifting, and because they were with her, they were in trouble as well.

 

 

“Ring for George. He should be at the Worgal Police Station this time of day,” Mrs. Crosby ordered. “It's about time we made an example of these townie kids coming up here with their thieving ways.”

The tall, thin man held Marilyn firmly with one hand and produced a mobile phone from the pocket of his overalls with the other. He put it on the checkout counter and started pressing buttons.

Allie stared at his phone in fascinated horror. Mobile phones were disgusting inventions. This was instant justice with a vengeance! What was her mother going to say when she heard about it? Would she be believed if she protested that it was all just an accident of timing? They weren't to know Marilyn was into shoplifting!

“You're jumping in a bit fast with your accusations,” Jenny suddenly said in her cool way. “We just came in to look around, and Marilyn to buy something. She even showed us the ten dollars she had to spend.”

“That's right,” Allie stammered. “She's got ten dollars to spend.”

The thin man paused his dialling.

“You rushed up and grabbed Marilyn before she had even reached your cash register to pay for what she bought,” Jenny continued.

“She was hiding what she had pinched,” Mrs. Crosby accused.

“She hadn't taken a basket for such little things,” Jenny pointed out. “Where was she supposed to put them while she reached for her money?”

Allie stared in awe at Jenny. This was a Jenny who sounded very superior, cool, courteous, and logical.

Just then, there was an impatient toot. Mr. Marybone was ready to leave.

“If you stop clutching me, I'll get my money out,” Marilyn said. She was still sulky, but the white, scared look was fading from her face. “Or do you fill up the local lockup with all your customers? Suppose that's why the township is so deserted. You must arrest everyone who walks into the shop.”

The thin man released Marilyn but stood in the doorway blocking their escape. Mrs. Crosby put the four packets on the counter. “Four packets at two dollars fifty each comes to ten dollars.”

Marilyn pulled out the waistband of her shorts with one hand and delved into what seemed a pocket on the underside of them with the other hand. She came up with two two-dollar coins, a one-dollar coin and a five-dollar note. Jenny and Allie gloomily watched their betting money get whisked into the cash register.

“Well, if I've made a mistake, I'm sorry,” Mrs. Crosby said as she slammed the four packages into a plastic bag. “But you have to admit, it did look suspicious.”

The tall, thin man turned and left the shop without a word. The dog yawned and trotted outside after him. Marilyn snatched her purchases off the counter. The three girls ran out of the shop and jumped into the Ute.

Allie looked back as Mr. Marybone drove the Ute out of the township. The black dog was already asleep in front of the general store, and the street was lifeless and deserted again. The fire station gates were open, and the tall, thin man was cleaning the fire engine.

She looked at Marilyn. Marilyn avoided her eyes. Her face still had its sulky “drop dead” expression on it. Allie's suspicion grew to certainty. Marilyn was being honest when she said the money they gave her was for betting on Caliph. The evasiveness about the “just stuff” she said she wanted was because she had intended to shoplift it anyway!

She stared at the plastic bag Marilyn was clutching. What were the mysterious purchases that had been bought with most of their money? Her anger grew. What was wrong with Marilyn that she couldn't have been honest and told them what she wanted the money for? She looked at Jenny, but her cousin was gazing out the window at the endless brown paddocks they were driving past.

By the time they reached Mon Repose, thanked Mr. Marybone for the lift, and were walking back towards their room, Allie's dislike for Marilyn had flared into full-blown life.

Marilyn might have been fun, but only Jenny's quickness had saved them from being arrested or, at the very least, suspected of being shoplifters. She paced faster. Marilyn was one of those people her mother had warned her against, a thief and a loser.

She was well ahead of Jenny and Marilyn by the time she reached the front steps. She paused. Small children were playing chasey, and women sat drinking tea around rickety tables. It was cooler under the shade of the veranda, and she suddenly realized how hot and bothered she felt. She looked back as Jenny and Marilyn appeared around the clump of Agapanthus shielding the front path.

Marilyn had a pinched, unhappy expression on her face. Allie's anger drained away. Why was she blaming Marilyn? No one had forced them to jump the horses into the National Park. They knew it was wrong. They had deserved having the horses taken from them for going into the Park anyway.

Why didn't Marilyn explain about the “just stuff” she wanted? They should have made her spell it out. Allie sighed. She had really liked Marilyn. She was smart and funny and quick-witted.

Was it only because she had got a scare about being involved in the shoplifting that she was thinking such bad thoughts about Marilyn? Marilyn might be a bit dodgy in her ideas, but it was wrong to blame her when they went along with her all the time.

Jenny led the way into the bedroom. As soon as she shut the door, Marilyn burst into speech.

“Look, I didn't mean to get you involved in that scene, honest.”

“Why didn't you tell us what you wanted the money for?” Jenny asked. “We would have gone along with whatever you wanted to buy. Aren't we supposed to be friends?”

Marilyn flushed dark red. “You've been so super to me. I didn't want to say anything until I spotted that they sold it, and then I didn't want to waste our betting money anyway.”

“Well, it is wasted, isn't it,” Jenny pointed out.

“I'll pay you back. The nerd gives me ten dollars a week for helping with the brats, but I don't get paid until Fridays.”

“What did you want so badly that you were prepared to risk shoplifting?” Allie asked, eyeing off the plastic bag curiously.

Marilyn tipped the four plastic packets on to the bed. “Clothes dye.”

“What for?” Allie asked.

“I thought we could dye the big grey in the Pound black so that no one notices when Caliph is gone. I didn't want to say anything before I discovered whether they sold the right sort of clothes dye.”

Allie was awed and forgot her nasty thoughts about Marilyn. “What a brilliant idea!”

“Except I don't know a thing about dyeing,” Jenny said.

“I do,” Marilyn confided. “My dad's got black hair, and I dye my hair, which is brown like yours, just to remind the nerd that I am not his daughter. Also black hair takes purple and lilac highlights better. Could do a job on yours too. You both would look fab with silver highlights.”

“Thanks for the offer, but our mums would both screech,” Jenny said nicely.

“I'll get moving then, and we can discuss our plans after dinner,” Marilyn said. “I'm going to bathe and change my brothers for dinner and try to earn some betting money from the nerd.”

She ran out of the room. There was a thoughtful silence. Jenny picked up the packets and stacked them neatly on the dressing table.

“You're pretty smart,” Allie told Jenny.

“No, I'm not,” was the terse reply. “If I had been smart, I would have objected about us going into the National Park with the horses, and we wouldn't have gotten into this mess. Whatever happens, we're going to have to find the money for the Pound fees.”

“Which means we are going to have to steal Caliph out of the Pound,” Allie said. “I've never gone in for horse stealing before.”

“I don't suppose it is really stealing, as Caliph belongs to Ahmed,” Jenny said.

“Hope we don't get caught. Could we ask our Mums for the Pound fee money?” Allie said.

“Four hundred dollars,” Jenny said with a shudder. “They wouldn't have it, so why bother to even think about it?”

“That means we're stuck with stealing Caliph from the Pound.” Allie said. “And if Ahmed doesn't win some prize money at the race meeting, we're still in trouble. “

“And if Mr. Masterton doesn't turn up, and if we can't find a way to send Ahmed back, he's in real trouble,” Jenny said with a sigh. “Some holiday we're having at Mon Repose.”

“Let's go and offer to help Marilyn bath her little brothers,” Allie suggested. “All this worrying is giving me a headache.”