Charlotte and the Starlet 2

by Dave Warner

  'Darn ants.'

  'What sort of ants?'

  'Big. Black and green and mean.' Out of the corner of her eye she caught the tent flap moving. 'Gotta go.'

  Charlotte wanted to talk to her forever. 'I love –'

  But that's all she got out before the connection went dead.

  Pat emerged from the tent looking around, suspiciously. Leila had heard him in the nick of time and kicked the phone. It slid back to the stump like a hockey puck. After a quick reconnaissance, Pat moved back into the tent. That had been close. She tried to tamp down the excitement she felt. Charlotte knew. The kid was smart. But trying to find her was going to be ...

  '... A needle in a haystack.'

  Charlotte gloomily estimated the odds for Miss Strudworth. They were sitting in Strudworth's office, puzzling over how to proceed. Charlotte had told Strudworth it had been an anonymous informant.

  'Come, Richards, don't be downcast. It's a very good lead. We know she's alive and in the bush, at least.'

  Strudworth advanced to a large map on her wall. It showed the surrounding districts. Nearly all bush, thousands upon thousands of hectares of it. Strudworth batted on bravely, 'We also suspect the operation is in a national park. We can tell the authorities first thing in the morning.'

  'She said she only had forty-eight hours before she became pet food.'

  'I'm sure they can send up a helicopter. This really is very encouraging.'

  'She said there were parrots nesting nearby. Blue wings and hood and yellow breast.'

  Like she'd been fired from a cannon, Strudworth shot backwards on her office chair to a crammed bookcase which touched the ceiling. Her long arm shot out like a lizard's tongue. Her fingers rattled across the spines of books, stopped and hooked out a large hard cover.

  'This is what we need.' She slapped the cover. 'Has every bird in the state in it.'

  She flipped it open on her desk, found 'Parrots' in the index and turned to the appropriate chapter. Each big glossy page had coloured photographs of the parrots and a description of their habitats, complete with maps. It took them several minutes before they found the one they were seeking.

  'The Yellow-Crested Yeoman,' Strudworth read aloud. For a moment Charlotte's heart leapt with excitement. Then it came crashing down as she looked at its habitats. It was reasonably common.

  'Remember we're looking for national parks,' advised Strudworth, reading Charlotte's disappointment. If they concentrated only on national parks in the greater district, they had two possibilities, Gumblemattong National Park to the north and Yirramandee National Park to the west. Both were massive. Charlotte mentioned that 'the informant' had also said she heard running water in the distance.

  'Hmm.' Strudworth cast a hawk-like eye over the parks.

  'Then it has to be Gumblemattong, Lake Kavenagh region.' She stabbed the map with her finger.

  Once more Charlotte dared to hope.

  'And ants. She was being bitten by big, green and black ants.'

  'I'm no entomologist. That, I'm afraid, had best be left for the Parks people, but it should narrow the field further.'

  Strudworth folded the book closed.

  'Now go on back to bed. There's nothing more we can do tonight. We have a lot to do in the morning and you have to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for class.'

  'Can't I work on this with you?'

  'I wish you could. Mr Graham is coming to stay tomorrow to keep an eye on how you girls are doing in class.'

  As head of the JOES, Mr Graham could determine who remained a JOE.

  'We mustn't lose sight of the big picture, Charlotte.'

  For Charlotte, the only picture that counted was one of a pretty bay mare.

  'Will you call the Parks people?'

  'First thing. I promise. Illegal logging is a big no-no. Don't worry, they'll get right onto it.'

  With that assurance, Charlotte allowed herself to be led back to her room. Hannah was still fast asleep. Charlotte had almost forgotten what a good night's rest felt like. She tried to sleep but she was too excited and worried for Leila. Leila must have been having a terrible time but Charlotte pushed that thought out of her head and forced herself to imagine their reunion.

  Chapter 13

  Charlotte was at Miss Strudworth's office door at six a.m. Strudworth had been expecting her.

  'The Parks people aren't in the office till nine a.m. but I have left a message to call me urgently.'

  'Thanks, Miss.'

  Strudworth gazed out of her window to see a car arrive in the driveway below.

  'Here's Mr Graham now. You best get off to your morning drill and I will let you know news as soon as it comes to hand.'

  Charlotte filled Hannah in as they went through their morning drills. Charlotte was again riding Mikey.

  'So who was the woman who called?'

  Hannah's voice exuded a certain amount of tremolo as she bounced on Lightning's saddle during a canter.

  'She didn't say.'

  'So she could be scamming you.'

  'No. I am one hundred per cent sure she was telling the truth.'

  Emma and Rebecca rode past.

  'How's Lucinda doing?' called out Charlotte.

  'How should we know?' replied Emma.

  'So much for being a friend,' commented Hannah.

  They finished up and returned to the stables where Charlotte was pleased to find Bevans.

  'Good to see you back, Bevans.'

  'Nice to be back, Miss Charlotte.'

  His smile was short-lived as Emma came striding up, grumbling that her horse needed to be reshod.

  'Sometimes it's good to let the hooves have a little bit of breathing space,' offered Bevans.

  'If I wanted your opinion, I'd ask,' snapped Emma before hustling out.

  Bevans turned a stoic face on Charlotte and Hannah.

  'Mostly it's nice to be back,' he said.

  Charlotte forced herself to have breakfast and did her best to concentrate during Miss Batt's maths class. Mr Graham sat at the back of the class making small notations about the pupils. At the end of the class, Strudworth appeared at the door and called Charlotte over.

  'Good news.'

  'They've found her?' Charlotte quivered with excitement.

  'Not that good. I spoke to the Head Ranger at Gumblemattong. He was very interested to hear about illegal logging. He has sent up a spotter plane.'

  'It's still a big area to search.'

  'Not so big with that information about the ants. The black and green ones are called Humbug Ants and are only found west of the lake, so that narrows the search considerably.'

  The news heartened Charlotte. Surely with a plane they would spot the loggers.

  If it weren't for the fact that Leila knew Charlotte would be sending a search party, Leila would not have been able to keep going. Yesterday she had a little stamina to begin with but the exertions of the previous day had drained all that from her, a thousand times worse than the long walk home from the Oscars after-party. The straps from the harness were cutting into her shoulders, splitting her coat and exposing her flesh, which stung with each step. Flies had begun to buzz around her, searching for blood and gore. She fought them off as best she could but she daren't stop for fear of another lash from trigger-happy Pat. The loggers were putting on bigger logs today, determined to get as much lumber as they could from the forest. Leila's muscles ached. She had hoped the Parks people would send a spotter plane or a chopper but by midday she had heard nothing. Her confidence was flagging fast. Come on, Charlie, find me.

  'No good, I'm afraid.'

  Strudworth broke the bad news over lunch in the dining room. Charlotte had virtually no appetite to begin with but that news made her feel like throwing up.

  Strudworth elaborated. 'They sent up a spotter plane that did circles over the entire area. The canopy is very dense in parts so it could be difficult to see the logging. The ranger has gone in himself in a four-wheel drive but, so far, he has se
en nothing suspicious.'

  'They have to keep looking.'

  Hannah reached across and held her friend's hand. Strudworth did her best to reassure them. 'The ranger will continue to search on the ground but I'm afraid they've had to call the plane away for a bushfire to the south.'

  Charlotte felt herself being dumped in a big black wave of misery. Time was running out for Leila.

  'Don't they realise how urgent it is?' she pleaded.

  'The trouble is, we can't be sure the call was legitimate. It's not as if the caller gave her name, is it?'

  'I know it was real.'

  Strudworth nodded.

  'You want it to be but I'm afraid that's not quite enough for the Parks people.'

  'If only Leila could talk,' said Hannah.

  Charlotte was so tempted to say something. But what was the point? Nobody would believe her anyway. The bell sounded for the end of lunch. Strudworth announced she had to drive to the city for a meeting with her lawyer and Lucinda's father.

  The news panicked Charlotte.

  'But who is going to push the Parks people?'

  'Charlotte, there's nothing more I can really do. We've narrowed down the area, now they're either there or not. I'm hoping that with this meeting I will be able to get Lucinda's father to be reasonable. Otherwise ...'

  Charlotte understood. It could be the end of Thornton Downs. She offered Strudworth the best of luck and hoped there was enough to go around because Leila needed plenty too.

  'Now I want to look at expressive writing, the use of adjectives, adverbs and metaphor.'

  Mr Craven had a habit of moving his long thin hands around as he talked.

  'Could you give me an example of an expressive sentence, please ...' His finger rolled out backwards and then pointed out. 'Rebecca?'

  At that moment Rebecca was sucking a strand of her long red hair, contemplating the ceiling, trying desperately to decide if she should wear the black and white one-piece bathers or the side-tie green bikini to the pool party at Michaely Billingsworth's next month.

  'Rebecca?'

  It took her a moment to realise everybody was looking at her.

  'What?'

  Hannah nudged Charlotte. Mr Graham was rolling his eyes. Mr Craven swallowed almost apologetically.

  'An expressive sentence, please. About anything you like.'

  Rebecca's mind didn't so much flash into action as very slowly engage.

  'Hmm.' A moment or two passed. 'Yup, I've got it.'

  Silence followed. Mr Craven suggested nervously that she share it.

  'Oh.' A confident smirk passed Rebecca's lips, she began her masterpiece. 'The party was soooo cool. Like, really super-cool and the girl in the white onepiece was like really, kind of ... hot. And there were no salads or rubbish like that, just really cool stuff to eat. And the music was great.' Rebecca beamed to her audience and almost bowed. Emma shot her a thumbs up. Craven nervously glanced Mr Graham's way. Mr Graham remained impassive, making a small mark in a notebook.

  Mr Craven picked up some printed sheets from his desk.

  'Thank you, Rebecca. There is a certain teen veracity in your prose but let's look at another example.' He cleared his throat and began reading. 'Her bedroom was almost a cell, small, rectangular, unadorned, with only one high slit for a vent. The air so thick it might have been just boiled by a giant's kettle. Wallpaper curled from pitted plaster like old band-aids but to Bella, her surroundings mattered not. For she was possessed by imagination. She lay on her back, staring at the willow patterns, imagining she was far from this melancholic apartment block in this festering city. The sound of night traffic from the bridge was carried to her through the vent on an almost airless breeze. Laying there, eyes closed, she could imagine it was a stream in a pretty forest, with the whispers of impish nymphs floating above.'

  Craven put down the papers as if expecting applause.

  'I like mine better,' said Rebecca. 'All that stuff about band-aids – gross.'

  'Who wrote it?' somebody asked.

  Craven blushed and Charlotte realised it had been Craven himself.

  'Just a piece of writing.'

  The class began to debate the merits of Rebecca's effort against his but Charlotte wasn't really listening. There was something worrying her like a pebble in a boot. Something about ...

  She had it! That bit at the end about the whispering traffic. From a distance it could sound like a stream. Maybe what Leila had heard wasn't water but traffic from a road.

  'They're searching in the wrong place.' She was feverish, shouting down the line to a woman at the National Parks authority.

  'Well, where should they be searching?'

  'I think, perhaps, Yirramandee National Park.'

  A voice boomed in her ear.

  'Charlotte! Class.'

  Mr Graham stood behind her, pointing at the class room. Charlotte desperately urged the woman at the other end of the phone to let the rangers there know what she had just told her.

  'I will try and get a message through to the Head Ranger but it might take a while.'

  'What about a helicopter?'

  'We've got fires. They get priority.'

  'Charlotte.'

  Mr Graham's voice was even firmer now. Charlotte told the woman she had to go. She put down the phone and raced off to class, noting Mr Graham write something in his notebook.

  Later, as she and Hannah dressed for the afternoon drills, she announced breathlessly, 'I'm going to have to go there.'

  'To Yirramandee?'

  'Yes. By the time the ranger gets the message, if he gets the message, it might be too late.'

  Hannah was trying to understand.

  'But it's fifty kilometres away and you can't go. Strudworth isn't back and you have to go to classes.'

  'That's where you come in.'

  Charlotte indicated her bed. Arranging pillows and a mop, she had made it up to look like she was sleeping.

  'Just say I'm sick. Act a bit.'

  'I should come with you.'

  'You have to cover for me here. Besides, I have a plan.'

  She told Hannah her plan.

  'Okay. But you call and let me know you're fine.' She handed Charlotte her phone. Charlotte hugged her tight.

  'Let's do it.'

  As they passed Mr Graham on the way to the stables, Hannah said loudly to Charlotte, 'You really do look pale. Are you sure you're up to it?'

  'I'll be fine. Just a bit off colour.'

  'Don't you think she looks pale, Mr Graham?'

  Mr Graham peered at Charlotte.

  'Yes, she does a bit.'

  It had been Hannah's strategy to draw Mr Graham's attention to it. The power of suggestion, she called it. You tell somebody something and they agree with you. When Charlotte didn't come down for dinner, it would be so much more believable that she was sick in bed.

  Hannah and Charlotte worked the slalom poles and the jumps. There was a crossover period between groups of girls coming in from other areas. Charlotte and Hannah dawdled during the change-over period till the arena was free. Then they galloped for the bush, past the boundary with Milthorp, the school where the boy JOES resided, right up to a strand of gum trees adjoining the stable area. The boys were just finishing up for the day. Charlotte dismounted and handed the reins to Hannah.

  'Wish me luck.'

  'You got it. Remember, call me or I'll be worried.'

  Charlotte waited while Hannah turned around and rode back, leading Mikey. The plan was for Hannah to get into the stables before any of the other girls. Hannah would then say Charlotte hadn't felt well and had gone straight up to bed and nobody would be any the wiser.

  Constructed on the fly, the next part of Charlotte's plan was skimpy. If Todd got to the dining room, she was sunk. He'd be surrounded and impossible to contact. She had to locate him beforehand and that meant finding his room. She had no idea where that might be but she hoped that Milthorp, like Thornton Downs, might have a list of everybody's ac
commodation in the foyer. It was still light, so whatever she tried would be risky. When the stablehand had moved off, she sprinted as hard as she could for the front door. She was panting heavily when she arrived and was just about to open the door when she spied a male teacher heading out. Fortunately he didn't see her. There was nowhere to hide and no time to run back towards the stables. She threw herself flat against the wall as the door opened and the teacher strode out whistling. If he turned she was dead meat. However, he kept going. She slipped in.

  And there it was just to her right by the staircase, a floorplan of Milthorp with a list of names and their rooms attached. Greycroft, Todd, was on the second floor, fourth room, eastern wing. She was about to take the stairs when she heard boys beginning to descend. She had just enough time to charge back out the door. There was nothing for it, she would have to find Todd's room from the outside. The building was made of thick sandstone foundation topped with bricks. Flower beds trimmed the perimeter. She darted through them, apologising to the delicate flowers as her boots crushed them. Fortunately, on this side of the building, as long as she crouched, all the windows were above her head. People inside looking out couldn't see her if she stuck close to the wall.

  She reached the corner and moved around. This was the eastern wing where Todd's room was. She now had to walk out backwards away from the building to count the second-floor windows. Okay, that was the fourth window up there. How to get up? No trees presented themselves as a natural step ladder. But there was a downpipe.

  She got her boot into the cracks between the sandstone slabs easily enough and hauled up. About two metres up, the sandstone gave way to brick. It was a lot harder to get purchase on the smooth brick with her boots but she was able to use the downpipe to lever herself up. It didn't take her long to reach the window of the room directly beneath Todd's. A darkhaired boy was sitting at a computer and, from the look of excitement on his face, playing some game. So absorbed was he that he failed to notice her. When she had edged up past him, for the first time since her climb began, she allowed herself a glance down. The ground was a long way away. She was at the height where real injuries would be caused if she fell. Putting that out of her mind, she continued.