Bitter Enemies

by R. A. Spratt

  ‘Who keeps their car this clean?’ asked Melanie. ‘At home, we have a butler who cleans the cars once a week, but even we don’t have cars this tidy.’

  Thunder rumbled overhead, and the first fat drops of rain began to fall.

  ‘Perhaps we should invade Dr Wallace’s privacy later,’ said Melanie as she looked at the sky, ‘when the weather is better.’

  ‘Let’s try the boot,’ said Friday, reaching under the seat and pulling the lever. ‘If there’s nothing there we can give up.’

  They walked around to the back.

  ‘Bingo!’ said Friday. There in the middle of the boot lay a scuba tank and respirator.

  ‘You were expecting to find this?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘It was one of the possibilities I had under consideration,’ said Friday.

  Just then they heard the crunch of gravel.

  ‘Someone is coming,’ whispered Friday. They peered around the back of Mr Fontana’s filthy Land Rover.

  ‘It’s her!’ exclaimed Melanie.

  ‘We’d better hide,’ said Friday.

  ‘Where?’ asked Melanie. There weren’t any obvious hidey holes at the far end of the teachers’ car park. There were just high brick walls on two sides. They couldn’t move the other way because to do so would take them closer towards Dr Wallace. The rain was getting heavier.

  ‘Get in,’ said Friday, nodding at the boot.

  ‘You’re kidding,’ said Melanie.

  ‘It won’t be so bad,’ said Friday. ‘You’ll get to lie down.’

  Melanie shrugged. She did like lying down. She climbed in and Friday followed, pulling the boot shut behind her.

  They heard footsteps outside then the sound of a car door opening.

  ‘She’s going to drive somewhere!’ said Melanie.

  ‘Why else would she be in the car park?’ said Friday, as she fumbled around in the dark.

  ‘What are you doing?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘Looking for this,’ said Friday as she switched on a flashlight.

  ‘Why do you need a light?’ asked Melanie. ‘You’re not going to use it to read a book are you?’

  ‘No, we need to get this working,’ said Friday, as she began to fiddle with the scuba gear.

  ‘Why?’ asked Melanie. ‘It’s a strange time to be thinking of deep sea diving.’

  ‘Because this is an old car,’ said Friday. ‘And I haven’t got faith that this boot is sealed from the carbon monoxide exhaust.’ There was a hiss as Friday switched on the valve.

  ‘Here, breathe from this,’ said Friday, holding out the mouthpiece to Melanie. Melanie took a deep breath and then handed it back to Friday. The car started to move and the girls kept breathing in this way.

  ‘I just hope we arrive at our destination before the air runs out,’ said Friday.

  ‘How much air have we got?’ asked Melanie.

  Friday looked at the gauge. ‘It’s full, so given that we’re above water and we’re going to be physically inactive I’d say … about sixty minutes’ worth.’

  A boot is not a fun place to take a ride. Apart from the darkness, the smell of not terribly clean carpet and the car exhaust, it was also deeply unpleasant every time the car turned a corner because Melanie and Friday were pushed up against each other and the heavy scuba tank.

  Friday had been whacked in the shin for the fifth time by the scuba tank and in the eye for the third time by Melanie’s elbow when the car finally pulled up and the engine turned off.

  ‘Thank goodness,’ said Melanie, dropping the scuba mouthpiece. ‘Can we get out now?’

  ‘Shh,’ said Friday. ‘We have to wait until she’s clear of the car. If we get out now, she’ll catch us red-handed.’

  The girls waited and listened. It was hard to hear anything because it was raining heavily outside and the constant downpour drowned most things out. But they could here traffic noise outside and the bustle of people walking past.

  ‘It should be safe now,’ said Friday. ‘Let’s see where we are.’

  ‘Wait,’ whispered Melanie. ‘We’ve been driving for nearly an hour. We could be anywhere. In movies, gangsters always take people to meat packing factories when they are going to get whacked.’

  ‘Wherever we are,’ said Friday, ‘we’ll be in a better position by getting out of the car boot.’

  Friday reached and undid the safety latch, holding on to the lid so that it only opened slightly. She peeked out. It was raining heavily.

  ‘What can you see?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘It’s taking a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light,’ said Friday. ‘It looks like … an ordinary suburban street of shops.’

  Friday let the boot swing open and sat up. It was definitely just normal street shops. A newsagent, a greengrocer, a couple of cafes, but the car was parked immediately in front of a gym.

  ‘A gym?’ said Friday.

  ‘You don’t suppose she went in there do you?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘Some people like going to the gym, I believe,’ said Friday unconvincingly.

  They both scrambled out and stood on the pavement.

  ‘But Dr Wallace is supposed to be sick,’ said Melanie.

  ‘Perhaps that’s why she’s here!’ said Friday. ‘Pretending to be sick in bed is exhausting. Perhaps she’s inside jogging on a treadmill right now! We’ll catch her red-handed.’

  ‘I think technically it would be red-footed,’ said Melanie as she trailed behind Friday, who was already hurrying to the gym’s front door.

  It was surprisingly hard to get past the gym’s receptionist. Friday had to tell the young athletic woman behind the counter that her mother was inside and that she had just got word from the hospital that she had been approved for a liver transplant. The young woman tried to stop Friday, saying that she could summon her mother over the speaker system. But Friday hurried past her saying that would never work because apart from having advanced liver failure her mother was also profoundly deaf.

  Once inside, it took a few seconds for Friday’s brain to adjust. She had never seen so much exercise equipment in one room before. She had, however, seen illustrations of torture chambers in medieval castles, so it was strangely familiar. Friday knew what a stationary bicycle was for and she understood the concept behind a treadmill, but there was a machine that you apparently stood on while it attempted to rip your arms out of your sockets. Even Friday’s giant brain could not fathom how it was of any health benefit.

  ‘Over there,’ said Melanie.

  At the far end of the room, Dr Wallace was waiting outside the aerobics studio. A highly-energised class was bouncing through their routine in time to the blaring music and the enthusiastically bellowed directions from the instructor. The music volume turned down and the bouncing stopped.

  ‘That’s a relief,’ said Friday. ‘Even I struggle to think when there is music that loud.’

  The class were all lying on the floor now, stretching out. The instructor was taking them through a series of yoga-type poses.

  ‘That instructor looks familiar,’ said Melanie.

  ‘She does?’ asked Friday. Friday’s eyesight was not as good as Melanie’s.

  ‘Does Mrs Thompson have a younger, thinner sister?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘Friday took a pair of binoculars out from her backpack and peered through the glass wall. ‘That’s not Mrs Thompson’s sister! That’s Mrs Thompson!’

  ‘But she drowned in the swamp,’ said Melanie.

  ‘Evidently, she got better,’ said Friday.

  ‘And lost a lot of weight,’ said Melanie. ‘She looks super athletic.’

  ‘It all fits,’ said Friday to herself.

  ‘Oh, come on,’ said Melanie. ‘This is just weird. How can this all fit together?’

  ‘I bet she’s good at swimming,’ Friday muttered to herself.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘Call the police,’ said Friday.

  ‘Oh no, girls. I can’t allow yo
u to do that.’

  A firm hand grasped Melanie and Friday by the scruff of their necks. They looked round to see the Colonel standing behind them.

  ‘You’re coming with me,’ said the Colonel, as he dragged them towards the back of the gym where he shoved them into an office. Mrs Thompson and Dr Wallace were already standing around a desk. Sitting on the other side was Mr Novokavic. He didn’t look like a confused old man now. He looked razor-sharp and scary.

  ‘What’s this?’ asked Mr Novokavic.

  ‘I found them spying on us,’ said the Colonel.

  ‘They’re going to ruin everything!’ exclaimed Mrs Thompson.

  ‘You know, you look really well,’ said Melanie, peering at the transformed Mrs Thompson. ‘How did you lose all that weight?’

  ‘She was wearing a padded outfit,’ said Friday. ‘It was a disguise. It explains the padding I found on the channel marker.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Melanie, ‘I guess that explains how her hair grew so quickly as well.’

  ‘This doesn’t change anything,’ Mr Novokovic said to the other headmasters. ‘We still proceed with the plan. We just need to keep them out of the way until the lawyers meet tomorrow.’

  ‘Put them in the hydrotherapy room for now,’ suggested Dr Wallace. ‘Until we can make a better arrangement.’

  Friday and Melanie really were shoved into the hydrotherapy room. Then the door locked behind them. Friday pressed her ear to the timber.

  ‘What can you hear?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Friday.

  ‘They can leave us locked in here for as long as they like,’ said Melanie. ‘It’s geography this afternoon. I’m quite happy to miss class.’

  ‘They’re ruthless criminals,’ said Friday. ‘They might want to do something far more sinister than keep us locked in a room.’

  Melanie looked shocked. ‘They aren’t going to force us to use that exercise equipment, are they? That’s just inconceivable.’

  ‘We’ve got to get out of here,’ said Friday. ‘The police have to catch them before they have a chance to get on a plane to Vanuatu.’

  Friday looked about. It was a windowless room.

  Melanie peered into the flotation tank. ‘If we were tiny fish we could swim out through the plumbing.’

  ‘Even if we were detained in here for so long that we lost massive amounts of body fat,’ said Friday, ‘we would still never fit through a five-centimetre diameter drainpipe.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ agreed Melanie.

  ‘The air is quite dry in here,’ said Friday.

  ‘Really, we’re going to have a conversation about the weather now?’ said Melanie.

  ‘I mean there must be some sort of ventilation system,’ said Friday. She climbed on top of the flotation tank, reached up and grabbed the air vent panel in the ceiling. It didn’t move. Friday jumped up and clung onto the vent so that all her weight was hanging off it. The vent immediately gave way, falling out of the ceiling and bringing down several years’ worth of dust and rat droppings. Friday collapsed flat on her back on top of the tank.

  ‘Did you mean to do that?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘Yes, but I didn’t imagine it would go quite that way,’ said Friday, scraping the dust and rodent droppings off her face. She stood up and looked up into the hole. ‘Can you give me a boost?’

  She knew Melanie, on principle, did not give boosts.

  Melanie looked at her. Then at the floatation tank. ‘You know, if you open the door of the flotation tank up wide, you could climb up on that and you’d easily be able to get into the ceiling.’

  Melanie was right. With the door fully open, the top was only a couple of feet from the ceiling – an easy distance to manage. Friday was soon inside the air conditioning duct.

  ‘Are you coming?’ she called down to Melanie.

  ‘Are there rat droppings up there?’ Melanie asked.

  Friday briefly considered lying. ‘Do you really want to know?’ she asked. ‘Would you prefer rat droppings to hardened criminals?’

  ‘It’s a fifty-fifty call for me,’ said Melanie.

  ‘Okay,’ said Friday. ‘Use the fire extinguisher to barricade the door. If you can’t get out, you’ll at least be safe if they can’t get in.’

  ‘All right,’ said Melanie, as she blocked the door. ‘Hurry up, though, I don’t know how long I can stay awake and there’s nowhere to lie down in here.’

  ‘You could always get in the tank and have a float,’ said Friday.

  ‘That’s a good idea!’ said Melanie. ‘Why not? Just because I’m being held hostage is no reason not to have a nice relax.’

  Friday left Melanie and started shuffling as fast as she could through the ducting. It was very awkward. Friday was a skinny, undersized twelve-year-old, but the square metal tube was not meant as a transport route. The only way to move was to wiggle her legs and shoulders, shuffling forward an inch at a time. She made a right-hand turn at a fork in the ducting, which in her judgement had her heading towards the back of the building. Friday started to wiggle faster. She needed to get out of there and raise the alarm. But just then there was the distinctive sound of a metal rivet giving way, and the duct suddenly lurched downwards an inch.

  ‘Oh no,’ said Friday. She desperately tried to scramble forward but then one rivet after another started to fail and before she knew it, the ducting had torn away from the ceiling and she was tumbling headfirst towards the floor. Friday tried to tuck and roll, she’d seen stunt men do similar things in movies and the physics made some sense. But she didn’t impact with the floor as she expected to. She slammed into something softer, warmer and more bony.

  Friday wiped the dirt and rat droppings out of her eyes and looked around. She had landed on a person, and despite the filth now on that person, she could clearly see that it was Ian Wainscott.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.

  ‘Making sure you’re all right,’ said Ian.

  ‘But how did you know where I was?’ asked Friday.

  ‘I was following Abotomey,’ said Ian.

  ‘Why?’ said Friday.

  ‘He was acting suspiciously. He was following you,’ said Ian.

  Friday rolled her eyes. ‘He’s always following me.’

  ‘We saw you and Melanie get into Dr Wallace’s boot,’ said Ian.

  ‘Does Abotomey really make you jealous?’ asked Friday.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ lied Ian.

  Suddenly Binky appeared at the far end of the corridor. ‘Wainscott, could you stop flirting with Friday and help with this door?’ asked Binky. ‘I think Melanie is stuck inside.’

  ‘Binky? What are you doing here?’ asked Friday.

  ‘He drove us,’ said Ian. ‘Binky, you find Abotomey and call the police. We’ll get Mel out.’

  ‘Rightio,’ said Binky, running back towards the front entrance.

  Ian tried the door. ‘Something seems to be blocking it.’

  ‘Yes, a fire extinguisher,’ said Friday.

  ‘Melanie, open the door!’ yelled Ian.

  ‘She won’t hear you,’ said Friday. ‘She’s in a flotation tank.’

  An office door opened a few metres away. The Colonel stood in the doorway. Dr Wallace was right behind him. ‘Get them!’ cried Dr Wallace.

  ‘Run!’ yelled Ian.

  Friday and Ian burst out through the back door and found themselves standing in a carport that opened onto an alley. On the near side of the alley were the back entrances of all the shops. On the far side was a big, open stormwater drain. A beaten-up old balustrade was the only thing separating the narrow alley from the two-metre-deep drain. It was still bucketing down rain.

  ‘We’re going to get wet,’ said Friday.

  ‘I’d rather get wet than get caught,’ said Ian. ‘Come on!’

  They ran out into the rain and down the alley. Rising water was gushing in the stormwater drain alongside them. Up ahead they could see
the cross street over three hundred metres away. Friday was panting hard. Ian was naturally athletic but she was not. She was struggling to keep up.

  There was a screech of tyres behind them and the angry sound of a car changing up through the gears. Ian glanced over his shoulder.

  ‘They’re going to run us down!’ he exclaimed.

  Friday looked back. The Colonel was in the driver’s seat. Dr Wallace was sitting alongside him. She could see the hatred in their eyes.

  Ian surged forward faster, pulling Friday after him.

  ‘We can’t outrun a car,’ yelled Friday over the sound of the pounding rain.

  ‘We’ve got to try,’ said Ian.

  The tyres were squealing as the car accelerated towards them.

  ‘Quick, into the drain!’ yelled Friday.

  ‘What?’

  But Friday had already leapt headfirst over the balustrade. She splashed into the fast-moving water.

  ‘Wait up!’ yelled Ian. He vaulted over the barrier and landed much more elegantly in the water, just as the car smashed into the balustrade where he had been standing.

  Ian swam as hard as he could to catch up to Friday, clutching hold of the back of her collar before she disappeared into the darkness under a bridge.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

  ‘I think so,’ spluttered Friday.

  ‘How do we get out of here?’ asked Ian.

  ‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead,’ said Friday.

  They were swept out into the open drain again. They looked up to see the Colonel’s car speeding along beside them. The Colonel kept glancing down from the road to make sure he was keeping pace with their progress.

  ‘There’s no point getting out while they’re still following us,’ said Friday.

  ‘They won’t be able to follow us for much longer,’ said Ian. ‘Look!’

  Up ahead, the stormwater drain disappeared into an underground tunnel.

  ‘We’d better get out!’ panicked Friday.

  They both started thrashing towards the wall of the drain, but there was nothing to grab hold of. The walls were slippery with water and moss. The water was pulling them closer and closer to the tunnel. Friday was more scared than she had ever been. And she had been pretty scared several times before, like when she woke up to find herself on a cliff ledge or when she was being chased through the woods by illegal mink farmers.