Authors: John Marsden
‘Here. You owe me a thousand bucks. Now get out.’
I got out, feeling a laugh rising inside me. At six o’clock this morning, if anyone had told me I’d be inside Jamie Anlezark’s bedroom . . .
I still don’t know what Jamie’s parents thought. I jumped down the stairs three at a time, yelled ‘Thanks’ to both of them as they stood in the kitchen door and was away before they could recover.
Gavin, still sitting in the ute, and getting cold, made a face at me. ‘What?’
‘You’ll see.’
I tore back to the lagoon, hoping desperately that the cow wasn’t under the water and blowing bubbles. Or worse, not blowing bubbles. It seemed to take an age for Gavin to get out of the ute and open each gate. At one point I blasted the horn to make him hurry, and of course he heard it in the clear morning air, and scowled at me. He recognised the sound all right.
There she was, tired eyes barely open, head half off the kitchen table. She only had minutes left to go. I waded into the lagoon, giving a yell as the cold water bit into me again. I struggled out there to her. ‘This is bloody crazy,’ I thought, opening the little plastic bag. I tipped the tablets into my hand. There were only twelve. I got her mouth open and pushed them down her throat. She offered no resistance. ‘Wish I’d asked him how long these take to work,’ I thought. I offered her the biscuit of hay as well but she’d given up on food now. There was nothing more I could do in the lagoon itself. I backed away, watching with fascination and hope. Would anything happen?
My original plan had been to use the calf to motivate the cow, and I thought I should still do that. We got a lasso on him and dragged him around till he was as close as possible to his mum. I was still watching her to see if there was any reaction. I felt that something had to happen, sooner or later. Surely she couldn’t swallow all that stuff and not be affected? Were cows so different to humans?
I turned away from her to get the other rope, to help drag her out. Gavin suddenly pulled at my arm. He pointed. There was the cow, shaking her head, then a moment later tossing her head backwards and forwards. She was certainly coming to life but she didn’t look too happy. Maybe she was hallucinating little green men or little green bulls.
Now was our chance. I whacked the calf hard on the nose a couple of times. I’m not sure if any of the agriculture manuals would have advised this, but it was all I could think of. They probably wouldn’t have advised using Ecstasy either.
Well, the calf played his part. He set up a wailing and a hollering that would have put a baby with a burnt bum to shame. I looked around anxiously at the cow, just in time to see her rise up in a wild eruption out of the mud. She came floundering towards us, her white eyes looking murderous. Smelly bucket-loads of mud slid from her flanks, the water splashed around her, she mooed fit to burst, and I had the feeling she’d forgotten all the favours I’d done her during the night. Drugs or no drugs, she still wanted to look after her kid.
I grinned at Gavin. He was wide awake now. We had about two and a half seconds to get the lasso off the calf before we were butted into a weekend in late September. It was a close thing too, as the more desperately I tried to get it off the more I fumbled it. In the end I dragged it clear when she was two steps away. Gavin and I ran like hell, laughing hysterically. We slipped on the frosty grass, and rolled down the hill together, still laughing.
For the first time since the shootings I felt good. I had no idea what the long-term effects on the cow would be. Maybe I’d poisoned her so badly that she’d be dead by lunchtime. Maybe her calf would get a dose of Ecstasy for himself by feeding at her udder. Maybe when she eventually went to the Great Slaughterhouse in Stratton a hundred people would take a wild trip by eating steak and sausages carved from her side. But for the time being, a cow that should have been dead was alive. Alive and out of the swamp.
The shivers were getting worse, so we didn’t spend much time on the cold ground. The cow was bucking around and looking nervous and more than half crazy. She was spooking her calf too. But she was eating from time to time, and the calf had managed to get one good long suck.
There was nothing more we could do for either of them at the moment. I wouldn’t dare tell a vet what I’d done as we’d have the inspectors on the doorstep in five minutes and be struck off for a hundred years. So we pushed the cow and calf back into the paddock, put the fence up again, and drove home in a hurry. The bus wasn’t going to wait for us.
I didn’t learn much in school that day. I reckon I fell asleep in half a dozen different lessons. And I only had half a dozen classes. Jess elbowed me awake a few times, then she gave up. At least Bronte lent me her History notes, and warned me about the Legal Studies test. That’s what I call friendship.
T
HE VERY NEXT
day I saw another Liberation article in the paper. It was similar to the first one, only this time it was on the front page. Either this was a slow news day, which seemed quite likely, as there was also a story on the front page about Elvis Summers getting remarried, or else the group was becoming better known and starting to get serious attention.
A group calling itself Liberation has been credited with another successful cross-border raid.
It is believed the group rescued a man and a woman who were being held on suspicion of espionage. The names of the couple have been suppressed.
Sources close to Army Headquarters say they strongly discourage vigilante activities, but there had been grave fears for the safety of the couple.
The group is believed to operate in a number of areas but a division based around Stratton or Wirrawee has been credited with the latest mission.
It was frustratingly lacking in details. I read it in the library at school. I’d cancelled Mum and Dad’s sub-scrip tion to the paper, as another small way to save money.
At lunchtime I went and found Homer. It was raining on and off and he was in a classroom at the end of the corridor, with Bronte and Jess, along with Sam Young, Shannon’s twin, the comedian from our bus. I didn’t want to mention the delicate subject of Liberation in public, so I just settled into the conversation, which was about the usual subjects: the war, the peace, the prospects for the future. And relationships.
Jess said slyly, ‘I reckon Homer and Ellie’ll get married and never leave the farm and just walk around all day chewing on bits of hay and talking about the weather.’
‘Yeah right, Jess,’ I said. But I knew I was a bit pink. ‘Homer’s only ambition in life is to find a bimbo, the blonder the better. Someone who’ll bring him breakfast, lunch and dinner in bed.’
‘And serve herself covered with trifle as the dessert,’ Sam added.
I rolled my eyes at Bronte. She just grinned back.
‘You guys know me so well,’ Homer said, smirking away like he really thought it was going to happen.
‘Whatever happened to Lee, Ellie?’ Jess asked me.
Jess was always so, I don’t know what the word is, forceful. You were never left wondering about her opinion. And she liked to know everything. She’d never even met Lee, as far as I knew, but she sounded like she and he were old buddies.
I shrugged. I didn’t feel like telling them all the details of my love life. I didn’t want to tell them about the flow of letters I got from Lee straight after the shootings, letters where he raved with such passion about what had happened that I started to worry he was cracking up. I didn’t want to tell them about the way the letters had stopped suddenly and how I hadn’t heard from him since. And most of all I didn’t want to tell them about the nights I spent in bed on my own or with Gavin, dreaming of nights with Lee, longing to feel his hot hard body against me again.
So I just shrugged.
‘Tell us about your love life, Jess,’ Bronte said provocatively, like she was winding her up.
‘Ah, wouldn’t you like to know?’
I wasn’t sure if I would actually, but it was good to have the spotlight off me again. The truth was, my mind went like a washing machine on spin cycle when I thought about Homer and Lee. Was it possible to like them both at the same time, to be attracted to both of them, even to be in love with both of them? And to have regular rage attacks towards Homer as well? Oh, and by the way, Jeremy Finley wasn’t so bad. I didn’t necessarily want to leave him to Jess.
‘You know who really likes you?’ Sam asked Jess.
‘Well, pretty much everybody,’ Jess said. ‘But who in particular did you have in mind?’
‘He’s in our year. He’s a townie. I reckon he’s pretty gay myself, but the girls don’t seem to think so.’
‘Cal Graham?’
‘He’s not a townie,’ Homer said.
‘Someone in this room had a relationship with him,’ Sam said.
Well, seeing that Bronte was new and it obviously wasn’t Jess, that didn’t leave many possibilities.
‘Steve,’ Homer guessed.
Sam just grinned.
I tried not to react. Seemed like it wasn’t enough that Jess had my old black top, the one with the silver edging. She had to pick up my old boyfriend too. There was a pattern here.
I had been with Steve for a long time before the war. We’d kept away from each other since school started again. I don’t know why. With some people it seemed like the stuff that had happened was too much to cope with. You couldn’t talk about the war because it was too big, and you couldn’t talk about trivial things because compared to the war they were too insignificant, so you were left with nothing.
But I liked Steve. I’ll always like Steve. He was funny, nice, friendly to everyone, confident. He believed in himself and what he could achieve. And I didn’t think I wanted him to be in a relationship with Jess. That’s the thing about relationships, once you’ve been in one you think you have some kind of ownership of the person for the rest of your life.
Of course the other thing about Steve is that he’s pretty immoral. He’d go with a vampire if he thought their blood groups matched.
It was a frustrating lunchtime because I wanted to ask Homer about Liberation but it was hard to get a chance. He looked tired and was yawning a lot. Well, I could relate to that. But as we headed off to class I said to him casually, ‘I saw another Liberation article in the paper today.’
‘Oh yeah? Scarlet Pimples I call them.’
‘So what’s your connection with them?’
‘Connection? Who said I’ve got a connection?’
‘No-one. But you gave me that article to read . . .’
‘I just thought you might be interested.’
‘Well, I am.’
‘Well, good.’
‘So you’re not connected with them?’
‘I’ve heard a few things,’ he said cautiously.
‘Homer! This is me you’re talking to, remember?’
‘Oh yeah! Isn’t that funny? I could have sworn it was Kevin.’
‘Thanks very much. So, what have you heard?’
‘Ellie, don’t you think you might have enough on your plate already? Sometimes it’s a case of what you don’t know can’t hurt you.’
Ouch! Right on my sore spot. And I fired up. ‘So you’re going to decide what I should and shouldn’t know? Anything else you want to decide while you’re at it? You want to go through my wardrobe, or check what shampoo I’m using?’
‘Yeah, thought I’d come over at the weekend. Whatever you shampooed with today smells a bit minty for my taste. Hey, that looks like Mrs Slatter. I think we’re late. Ouch!’
If he’d ouched me I’d ouched him, with a good punch to the upper arm. I hoped he would feel it all the way through Maths and Chem. But I still didn’t know any more about Liberation.
The next day there was a hearing about my guardianship. I had to go to the Courthouse. ‘Be there at 10 am’ the notice said. ‘Be punctual. If you are running late you must ring the Clerk of the Court.’
It turned out everyone had been told the same thing, so there were like forty cases all scheduled for the same time. It didn’t take a genius to work out that they weren’t going to hear forty cases simultaneously. I settled in for a long wait but then Fi’s mum came out of a side door to tell me she’d fixed for me to go on early.
They only did it because Fi’s mum had come from the city and they didn’t want to keep her hanging around Wirrawee all day. Nothing like having powerful friends.
It was great to see her, just great. These days I was willing to take a bit of mothering wherever I could find it. A bit here, a bit there. Even if I’d blown her house to smithereens, even if she’d chopped our farm into five and given four of the parts away, I loved and admired her. She was one of the really important people of my childhood.
She went back in to get ready. I waited outside for Mr and Mrs Yannos, who were sure to be running late, no matter what the notice said. I got pretty anxious because I didn’t think they’d impress the court if they weren’t there when the hearing was called. As I waited it did strike me that the whole situation was kind of funny, in that whereas I had to go through all this legal stuff, no-one was a bit concerned about Gavin, who was much younger than me. Even his school was just taking it for granted that I was his ‘parent’. They sent me notes and I signed his homework diary and consent forms and it didn’t seem to bother anyone. I suppose that legally Gavin hardly existed: he was just part of the flotsam and jetsam of the war, a little boy with no connections, no records, no official identity.
I was a bit startled in the middle of all these thoughts to see Mr Sayle walking up the steps. He detoured around the smokers and came straight for me. He was very businesslike, giving me a pile of papers and explaining them so fast that I only understood about one word in every four.
At the end of that he looked around and said, ‘Where are these people, the . . . ah, the ones you want as guardians?’
‘They’ll be here in a minute,’ I said.
‘They’re not here yet?’ He looked around as though they were probably standing near us and I just hadn’t noticed them. Then he said, ‘Look, Ellie, I have to say I don’t think you’re getting very good advice in all of this. What I want to suggest is that I take on the role of guardian to you. It makes perfect sense, when you think about it. If I’m the guardian as well as executor of the estate, it’d be easier to coordinate everything and to make sure the decisions are in accordance with your best interests.’