Serves me right if I’m lost forever, thought Keith gloomily. A person who ruins his dad’s life and his best friend’s life and can’t even fix things up with a two hundred square foot mural deserves to be lost.
Dazzle started to wail softly.
Keith patted his head.
‘Don’t be upset,’ he said, ‘we’re not really lost. We’re somewhere in South London.’
Dazzle kept on wailing.
He knows, thought Keith, he knows we won’t be able to stay in South London with Aunty Bev here.
And suddenly Keith wanted to wail himself.
He wanted to snuggle inside Mum’s jacket, or Dad’s, and tell them how scared and unhappy he was.
He looked around for a street sign to help him get home but all he could see was a gatepost.
A gatepost with a jagged slash of new wood on it.
Mr Mellish’s gatepost.
Dazzle’s wails got louder and Keith suddenly knew why.
‘He’s gone,’ he said softly to the trembling dog. ‘There’s nothing you can do.’
Keith felt wetness on his hand.
You poor little thing, he thought, you’re crying.
Then Keith realised the tears weren’t Dazzle’s, they were his.
Please be home, Mum, thought Keith as he softly closed the door.
As his eyes got used to the darkness he saw that Mum’s bed on the settee was empty.
Then he heard it.
The quiet sobbing coming from the bathroom.
Oh no, he thought, I knew it was too good to be true.
I knew it was too much to hope that Mum and Donald could find happiness together what with them both being parking inspectors and under so much stress.
And now they’ve split up.
Poor Mum.
Keith knocked softly on the bathroom door, then pushed it open.
He could just make out a figure sitting on the edge of the bath in a dressing gown, shaking with sobs.
‘Don’t sit here in the dark; he said softly, and put the light on.
Aunty Bev blinked at him with red-rimmed eyes.
Keith blinked back.
He saw she was holding the tattered photo of herself as a kid in one hand and a half-empty packet of chocolate fingers in the other.
‘Sorry,’ said Keith.
‘That’s OK,’ said Aunty Bev. ‘I’m just feeling a bit weepy.’
She looked at the photo, then at the chocolate fingers.
‘Can I tell you something just between us?’ she said.
‘Yes,’ said Keith, hoping desperately she wasn’t going to lecture him about how eating chocolate fingers would give him puppy fat.
‘It’s not going to work with me and your dad,’ she said sadly. ‘He thinks I nag him too much.’
‘Oh,’ said Keith.
Aunty Bev put a chocolate finger into her mouth.
‘I haven’t had a chocolate finger for nineteen years,’ she said.
‘That must have been awful,’ said Keith.
Aunty Bev wiped her nose on the back of her hand. ‘It’s not a lot of fun,’ she said, ‘staying thin and beautiful.’
Keith wondered if he should let her know she looked nicer with red eyes and a brown mouth.
‘Do you know what I’ve always wanted to do for my holidays?’ said Aunty Bev.
‘Go to Nepal?’ said Keith.
‘Spend two weeks with a normal tummy like your dad and comfy hair like your mum,’ said Aunty Bev.
‘Why don’t you?’ said Keith.
16
Keith stumbled downstairs to the cafe rubbing his eyes, Dazzle panting at his heels.
That, he thought, was the best sleep I’ve had in months.
Then he stopped.
Something was wrong.
Why couldn’t he smell frying?
It was after midday and Tracy and Aunty Bev would be arriving for Sunday lunch any sec and Dad should have been well into cooking the fish and chips.
Then he saw Dad sitting at one of the tables in his Simpsons T-shirt and baggy old trousers, shoulders slumped, staring into a cuppa.
‘You alright Dad?’ he said.
‘Fine,’ said Dad, looking up and trying to smile.
‘Dad,’ said Keith quietly, ‘is it Aunty Bev?’
Dad stared into his cuppa.
‘Son,’ he said after a bit, ‘can I tell you something just between us?’
‘Yes,’ said Keith.
‘It’s not going to work out between me and Bev,’ said Dad softly. ‘She wants someone thin and good-looking.’
Keith sat down at the table, heart pounding, and started sorting out in his mind all the things he had to tell Dad.
How Aunty Bev had discovered her real self.
How she wouldn’t be nagging anyone any more.
How Dad and her could fall in love and have a long and happy life together in comfy clothes.
Keith opened his mouth but before he could start Aunty Bev’s voice rang out from the doorway.
‘G’day Vin, g’day Keith.’
Keith kept his eyes on Dad’s face, waiting for Dad’s reaction when he saw what Bev was wearing. One of Mum’s baggy old tracksuits probably and a pair of her sensible shoes and flat hair and no make-up.
Keith waited.
‘Hello Bev, hello Tracy,’ said Dad, face still serious.
Keith waited some more.
Oh no, he thought, Dad’s eyes really have gone this time.
Keith turned round.
His stomach sagged.
Aunty Bev was wearing her tight pink tracksuit and her shiny red shoes and her hair was bouncing gently around her perfectly made-up face.
‘Sorry,’ said Dad, standing up, ‘I’m a bit behind with lunch.’
‘No worries,’ said Aunty Bev. ‘Won’t hurt Tracy to wait a bit. We won’t be eating much in Nepal so she might as well get used to it now.’
Keith looked sadly at Tracy.
Poor thing, he thought.
Tracy turned to Aunty Bev.
‘You can wait if you want,’ she said, ‘but I’m starving.’
‘Eh?’ said Aunty Bev.
Keith stared.
‘Come on,’ said Tracy, ‘let’s all get stuck in and help.’
Keith didn’t get a chance to speak to Tracy in private until they were at the sink together peeling the potatoes.
‘Good one,’ he said.
‘Thanks,’ said Tracy.
‘How did you do it?’ he said.
‘It was easy,’ replied Tracy. ‘I just have to remember she’s not really nagging me, she’s nagging herself.’
Keith looked at her happily.
Good old Tracy, he thought. Wish I was as quick as her at catching the drift.
He took a deep breath.
Now for the tricky bit.
‘Sorry,’ he said.
Tracy finished scraping the eye out of a potato and gave him a long look.
She didn’t say anything.
Keith took another deep breath.
‘Sorry I’ve spent most of your trip being a wally,’ he said.
Tracy grinned. ‘You mean a prawn.’
‘Yeah,’ he said.
‘You weren’t,’ she said. ‘Though I did think I’d lost a best mate there for a bit.’
Everyone at the airport looked like they’d just got off a long flight, even the people who hadn’t started theirs yet.
Except Aunty Bev.
Keith decided to give Tracy her present now so Aunty Bev could get used to it and not throw a tizz on the plane and perhaps pierce the fuselage with her high heels.
‘Here,’ he said to Tracy, ‘this is for you.’
‘Ripper,’ said Tracy, opening the bag and taking out the four egg, bacon, sausage, onion and Vegemite rolls. ‘These’ll keep me going all the way to Nepal. Thanks.’
Keith saw Aunty Bev’s lips tighten.
‘It’s OK,’ Tracy said to her, ‘I’ll walk around the plane while
I’m eating them.’
Before Aunty Bev could say anything, their flight was announced.
Aunty Bev and Dad shook hands, then kissed each other on the cheek.
Keith and Tracy hugged each other, and Dazzle licked Tracy on the face.
‘I’m going to miss you,’ said Keith.
‘I’m gunna miss you too,’ said Tracy. ‘How many plates was it you have to wash up to pay for a ticket to Australia?’
‘Eighteen thousand,’ said Keith.
‘Think positive,’ said Tracy.
Keith grinned.
While Dad and Tracy were saying goodbye, Aunty Bev gave Keith a quick hug, then glanced around to make sure nobody could hear her.
‘You’re a good painter,’ she said quietly, ‘keep at it.’
As Tracy and Aunty Bev walked through the departure gate, Keith sent Tracy an urgent message.
Stay in touch.
Bugger it, he thought, the problem with silent messages is you never know if they’ve got through.
‘Stay in touch,’ he called.
Tracy stopped and turned and grinned at him.
‘No worries,’ she said. ‘Best mates always do.’
17
‘Nice,’ said Mr Dodd, looking up at the wall. ‘Very nice.’
‘Hope it sells some paint,’ said Keith, wiping his hands on a rag.
‘Can’t miss,’ said Mr Dodd, ‘not with lettering that big.’
‘Hmmmmm,’ said a voice behind Keith.
Keith turned.
It was Mr Browning.
‘“Dodds Hardware For All Your Paint Needs”,’ read Mr Browning. ‘“Expert Advice. Rock Bottom Prices.” Very effective. I particularly like the contrast between the blue background and the ochre lettering.’
‘It’s Suntan Gold actually,’ said Mr Dodd.
‘Pity about the mural though,’ said Mr Browning, ‘it was very good.’
‘I liked the second version best,’ said Mr Dodd. ‘That well-built woman in the Pond Green swimsuit.’
‘They were both fine examples of non-realist art,’ said Mr Browning.
‘You’re right there, thought Keith, smiling to himself. They were a bit unrealistic.
After Mr Browning had gone, Mr Dodd invited Keith into the shop for a drink and a cake.
‘Thanks,’ said Keith, ‘but I’m a bit pressed for time. I’ve got to organise an art exhibition.’
After Keith declared the art exhibition open, he handed round tea and chocolate fingers.
It didn’t take long because there were only two people at the viewing.
‘Nice tea: said Dad.
‘Yummy chocolate fingers: said Mum.
Then they talked with the artist about his work.
Keith explained that the two paintings used to be one, but he’d cut it in half so they could each have their own bit.
‘Yours is called Nude Dad With Frying Pan,’ he told Dad. ‘Don’t touch the bald patch, it’s still a bit wet.’
‘It’s brilliantly life-like: said Dad. ‘You’ve got my saggy tummy and wobbly bottom down to a T.’
‘Art should be truthful: said Keith.
He told Mum the title of hers.
‘Venus Soaking Her Corns: she grinned. ‘I like it, though it should really be called Venus Soaking Her Corns And Droopy Shoulders.’
Keith explained about the shower curtain, and offered to paint it back in, but Mum said what was good enough for Rembrandt’s models was good enough for her.
Then it was time for Dad to go to the cafe and Mum to go and meet Donald at the pictures.
They each took their painting, and thanked him so much that by the time they’d finished he felt about six pineapple boxes tall.
They both put their arms round him and gave him a hug.
Funny, thought Keith, they both seem a bit shorter than the last time we did this.
Perhaps they’re shrinking with old age.
Then another possibility hit him.
He ran into Mum’s bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, guts tingling with happiness.
His face beamed back at him, grin included.
Keith wondered if he should send a message to the chicken nuggets and peas in his stomach. Let them know it wasn’t a big drama, he was just excited to be growing again.
No, he decided, I won’t. They’re big chicken nuggets and peas and they can look after themselves.
Morris Gleitzman grew up in England and came to Australia when he was sixteen. After university he worked for ten years as a screenwriter. Then he had a wonderful experience. He wrote a novel for young people. Now, after 36 books, he’s one of Australia’s most popular children’s authors.
Visit Morris at his website:
www.morrisgleitzman.com
Also by Morris Gleitzman
The Other Facts of Life
Second Childhood
Two Weeks with the Queen
Blabber Mouth
Sticky Beak
Gift of the Gab
Belly Flop
Water Wings
Wicked! (with Paul Jennings)
Deadly! (with Paul Jennings)
Bumface
Adults Only
Teacher’s Pet
Toad Rage
Toad Heaven
Toad Away
Toad Surprise
Boy Overboard
Girl Underground
Worm Story
Aristotle’s Nostril
Doubting Thomas
Grace
Too Small to Fail
Give Peas a Chance
Pizza Cake
Once
Then
After
Now
Soon
Extra Time
Loyal Creatures
Misery Guts first published 1991 in Piper by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd
Worry Warts first published 1991 in Piper by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd
Puppy Fat first published 1994 in Piper by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd
This collection published 2015 in Pan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd
1 Market Street, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia, 2000
Copyright © Gleitzman McCaul Pty Ltd 1991, 1994
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.
Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available from the National Library of Australia
http://catalogue.nla.gov.au
EPUB format: 9781743538715
Typeset by Midland Typesetters
Cover design: i2i Design
Cover illustration: Nigel Buchanan
The characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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