I can see the blue sky through the eye sockets. But to anyone above I am no more than a half-buried skull peering up from the sand. I am invisible.
Time passes slowly. The weight of the sand around my chest makes it difficult to breathe. I feel faint. It’s like being encased in concrete. Think, think, think. Don’t faint. Don’t fall into that dark night. Once you are there, that’s it. There is no returning.
Think about anything. Anything at all.
My thoughts wander off as if I have no part in where they go.
All right, how much pee do you put in to make a baby? Why is that so funny? Use your brains, Hedley. Put two and two together and get … Four.
All of a sudden a light bulb goes on in my head. I realise why they were all laughing at me. I have been so dumb. Of course. You fool, Hopkins. You do not put any pee in. It’s not pee at all. I have remembered what happened to me when I hugged my pillow. When I was thinking about the twelve dancing ladies.
That sticky white stuff that came out of my stiffy … that’s what makes babies.
Even though I am buried and about to die, I still feel enormous relief. I have not caught some terrible disease. God is not punishing me. I bet every other boy has the same thing happen to him. They probably think about naked ladies too. Probably every boy in the country dreams about twelve dancing ladies. They probably all hug their pillows and have wicked thoughts.
Like me.
I am normal.
Hooray.
Suddenly life seems good. I don’t want to die buried beneath the sand. Someone please come and save me.
What’s that? I feel a faint tremor above me and then another. Like silent drumbeats seeping through the dunes. Footsteps. Someone is coming.
Kate?
Victor?
Mr Hooper from Billabong?
‘Gently, gently,’ I pray. I pray very hard. ‘Don’t disturb the sand. Don’t choke off my air.’
Voices. Muffled. I have heard them before. My stomach lurches. All my happy feelings vanish.
A voice speaks.
‘It’s filled in. Some fool has filled in the grave.’
‘Shit.’
‘If that little Pommie Headless Hopkins put the skull back, it’s all over. We’ll never get it now.’
My heart pounds louder than ever. It is Ian Douglas, Frank Kelly and Henderson. Mouse isn’t with them. They have come for the skull. Will they see it? Do I want them to see it? A leg comes into view and a sprinkling of sand showers down through Major Manners’ nose holes. Please don’t step on me, I pray again. Please don’t drown me in sand.
The leg disappears. What if they just grab the skull and run? I will die. What if they see me here? Will they leave me to perish? No, never. Even mean kids like Ian Douglas and his gang wouldn’t do that. They aren’t criminals. They wouldn’t let me choke to death in sand. They’ll dig me out. They will, they will. They must, they must.
They might, they might …
But they will keep the skull, that’s for sure.
Never mind that. I want to live. Badly.
I decide to call for help. It’s my only chance. More sand trickles down. My mouth is so dry that I have trouble spitting it out. I try to say ‘help’ but all I can manage is a choked cry. A long, hopeless wailing cry of despair.
The voices above fall silent. Three heads stare down.
Silence. But only for a few seconds.
‘Aaagh,’ the three heads scream. ‘Aaagh.’
The three heads vanish.
Vibrations through the sand again. Pounding. Footsteps fleeing into the dunes.
They didn’t see me. They saw the skull. Staring up from a grave. They heard it cry out.
They heard a dead man talking.
Even though I am about to die, I start to laugh. My cackling voice from the grave erupts from Major Manners’ mouth. His whole head shakes with mirth. Handfuls of sand pour down through the skull’s eye sockets on to my face.
The world turns black.
I am dead.
26
angels
LAUGHTER, LAUGHTER. THAT’S all I hear. Crazy laughter. Mad laughter. I have taken my joke of a life into the next world. The angels are chuckling with me. They are staring down with big grins. But they are weird-looking angels. Not what I expected. One of them is bald. One has no teeth. One has a runny nose. Another stands on one leg yelling out ‘bloody’ at the top of his voice. One of them is Victor. He shoves a boiled lolly into my mouth. A gobstopper. It is covered in sand and makes me choke. I see angels but I am not in Heaven. And I am not in Hell.
The smallest one of all bends down and smiles.
‘I went into Billabong,’ says Kate. ‘And got Mr Hooper.’
I am lying on the sand surrounded by the boys from Billabong. There are fifteen of them. Mr Hooper has brought his class and they have dug me out. I have been saved by a class of, of … kids. They have saved me. They prance and dance and shout. Victor has Major Manners tucked under his arm. He is so happy.
I am so happy.
I jump up and kiss Victor on the cheek. Victor kisses Major Manners. Suddenly everyone starts to kiss each other. They think it is so funny. Like ancient people in front of a crackling camp fire, they dance around the collapsed grave. The Billabong boys stand on their hands. They jump and laugh and shout. I am too weary to join in but I hug Mr Hooper – a teacher – I actually hug a teacher. And then I hug Kate.
The word ‘bloody’ rings out every now and then. In the end the pace starts to slow. They are all exhausted. They fall to the ground complaining good-naturedly.
‘I’m knackered.’
‘Puffed out.’
‘Stuffed.’
There is much laughing and puffing and holding of sides.
Above us the bright sun smiles at the joke.
Inside I am laughing. I’m feeling so good. For once in my life I have come out on top.
Somewhere in the distance Ian Douglas and his mates will be puffed out too. I bet they have run to the Police Station and are trying to get enough breath to explain that they have heard a voice from the grave. They are going to feel so silly when they find out.
That it was only me.
27
who did it?
KATE AND I are happy as we walk over the sand dunes. We are happy as we splash along the beach. We are happy making our way along the pavement towards home. But we are not happy when we get to our street and see what lies ahead.
‘What sort of car does Mr Hooper have?’ says Kate.
I stare at the black FX Holden parked outside our house. All my warm feelings disappear like water running down a plughole.
‘Not one with POLICE written on the side,’ I say. ‘We’re really in for it now.’
For a second I think about running away. But I don’t. Mum and Dad are standing there with a policeman and they don’t look too pleased.
‘Quick, get the sand off,’ says Kate.
She starts to stamp her shoes on the footpath to remove the sand which clearly tells the story of where we have been.
Mum spots us. ‘Here they are,’ she shouts in a relieved voice. She hurries down the street, grabs Kate with one hand and me with the other, and drags us quickly back to where Dad and the policeman are waiting.
Mum bends down and whispers urgently. ‘Pull up your socks,’ she says. ‘You are in big trouble.’
I let go of Mum’s hand and bend down to pull up my socks. Mum sees the back of my legs. ‘How did that happen?’ she asks.
Before I can answer, the policeman asks a question of his own.
‘Did you rob that grave, Hopkins?’ he says. ‘Did you help steal a skull?’
What can I say? It’s true. I open my mouth to speak but Dad cuts me off.
‘Don’t answer,’ he says firmly.
The policeman doesn’t seem pleased. ‘I think we had better go to the Police Station,’ he says. ‘We have a few other vandals down there as well.’
‘By all
means,’ says Dad. ‘Let’s sort this out once and for all. We may want to call a solicitor.’
Normally it would be great riding in a police car. But I hardly notice what’s happening. Dad’s in the front and I am between Kate and Mum in the back. I suppose I’m in the middle so that I can’t make a run for it. I just feel terrible. This is not the happy ending I wanted. The way it is going I will end up in prison. Mum hisses in my ear wanting to know all sorts of things about what’s happened but I hardly know what I am saying as I answer her. All I can think about is vandals and dunny men and people being horsewhipped.
And a cold, damp prison cell.
In no time we are in an office at the Police Station. Mr Hooper is there and for a few seconds I feel a bit better. He nods to me and forces a smile. Behind a desk is a different policeman named Sergeant Clifford. He is tall and strong and has a stern expression. The feeling of doom returns. This is not looking good.
Ian Douglas is here with his father who seems angry. I know who he is because he is on the vestry at church with Dad. Henderson and Frank Kelly are sitting with them trying to appear innocent. Mouse isn’t here. Sergeant Clifford points to empty chairs and we all sit down.
‘I don’t know what Ian and his friends are here for,’ says Mr Douglas sharply. ‘All they have done is report a crime.’ He turns and frowns at me. ‘But this lad has broken into a grave and vandalised it.’
I gasp loudly. This is so unfair. I want to scream out liar. But I would need a million words to tell the whole story. Not just one. And no one would believe me anyway.
‘That’s right,’ says Ian Douglas. ‘Hopkins did it.’
‘Quiet, if you don’t mind,’ growls Sergeant Clifford. ‘I’ll do all the talking for the present.’
‘No, you won’t,’ Mr Hooper cuts in. ‘You came to Billabong and took my boys. I want them back.’
‘Your boys are a menace,’ says Sergeant Clifford. ‘They are in a cell down below.’
Ian Douglas and his mates try not to look smug at this news. Kate frowns.
‘On what charge?’ says Mr Hooper angrily.
Sergeant Clifford’s eyes narrow. ‘They are a danger to the community,’ he says. ‘They’re crazy. They are locked up for the public good. One of them won’t stop swearing. And the bald one just repeats everything you say.’
A cold shiver of despair runs from my head to my toes. Victor must be terrified in a damp dark cell. Now he has gone back to his echo way of talking.
Sergeant Clifford taps a large square tin which sits on his desk. On the side is a label saying ARNOTT’S BISCUITS. Underneath someone has written: STAFF ONLY – NOT TO BE GIVEN TO PRISONERS. For a second I think Sergeant Clifford is going to offer us refreshments.
But instead he says, ‘It was the bald one who stole the skull. My officers caught him red-handed.’
I realise with a shock that Major Manners’ head is inside the biscuit tin. Victor must have run off with the head and got caught.
‘Not so,’ says Mr Hooper. ‘I tried to tell you earlier. My boys didn’t do it.’
‘I think you’ll find I’m right,’ says Sergeant Clifford. ‘But whoever it was that did do it, could well end up in a reformatory. A prison for wayward youths.’
I can’t help thinking he is saying all this especially for my benefit. Mum and Dad are alarmed. I am scared.
Mr Hooper has other things on his mind. ‘Bring my boys up here,’ he says firmly. ‘They’re only children.’
‘They won’t understand a thing,’ says Sergeant Clifford.
‘They have a right to be heard,’ says Mr Hooper. ‘I’m not saying another word until they’re released.’
There is a long silence.
Sergeant Clifford stands and leaves the room. Mr Hooper gives me a small smile. The gang nudge each other knowing they have nothing to worry about.
I wonder what it is like in a reformatory.
After a bit I hear a familiar sound.
‘Bloody, bloody, bloody.’
Sergeant Clifford comes in pulling Michael behind him in his cut-down pram. Victor, Russell, Randolph and Richard follow silently. Michael and Russell have tears in their eyes. Richard’s nose is running. They are a sorry lot and they rush over to Mr Hooper’s side like lost infants finding their mother.
‘It’s okay, boys,’ says Mr Hooper gently. ‘Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise.’
There is a bit of snuffling but the Billabong boys settle down.
‘These are the culprits,’ says Sergeant Clifford. ‘These retarded people opened up the coffin and took out the skull. Hedley Hopkins here and the other normal boys tried to talk them out of it. Hedley got half-buried in the sand trying to stop them. He was lucky to get off with his life.’
Dad starts nodding. ‘That’s right,’ he says. ‘They are not too bright. They didn’t know what they were doing.’
Sergeant Clifford talks to Victor. ‘I know you are involved in this,’ he says. ‘We caught you running down the street with the skull. We know you vandalised the grave. Own up, boy.’
Victor says nothing but he looks around with frightened eyes.
‘Own up,’ says Sergeant Clifford crossly. ‘Just tell us the truth and it will all be over. It’s simple, boy. Say the words – I … did … it.’
Oh no.
Victor doesn’t hesitate. ‘I did it,’ he echoes.
Sergeant Clifford smiles grimly.
‘Yeah,’ says Ian Douglas. ‘It was the loonies.’
The room falls silent again. This explanation seems to suit everyone.
Except Mr Hooper. He does not look pleased at all.
And the Billabong boys are confused.
Randolph stands on one leg. ‘Bloody, bloody, bloody,’ he says.
Michael is rocking in his pram like a baby. He is dribbling a bit and just keeps saying the one word. ‘Didn’t, didn’t, didn’t.’
Russell shakes his enormous head with a puzzled look. It’s as if he is trying to find some words inside there that have become lost.
Richard wears a guilty expression.
‘You were all in it, weren’t you?’ Sergeant Clifford says to Richard. ‘What was your part in this?’
‘Cut the wire,’ Richard mumbles.
‘Ah ha,’ says Sergeant Clifford. Now he is certain that he knows the truth. He reminds me of Miss Marple, the detective in a book, when she has cracked a case.
I am ashamed about letting the Billabong boys take the blame. But I am too scared to own up. I don’t want to go to a reformatory.
‘As I said, these boys are retarded and don’t know any better,’ says Sergeant Clifford. ‘They have no place with normal people.’
Mr Hooper keeps looking at me as if he is expecting me to say something. He is probably thinking there is no way Victor can go to our school now.
I feel terrible.
The whole thing is my fault.
I take a deep breath.
‘This is all wrong,’ I say. ‘I took the skull.’
28
blue heaven
EVERYONE TURNS TO look at me. They gasp.
‘Told ya,’ yells Ian Douglas. ‘We never went near it. Headless stole the skull.’
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ say Henderson and Kelly.
Now I’m well and truly on the hook. Dad and Mum are worried. Mr Hooper is looking at me with sad approval.
‘Careful, lad,’ says Sergeant Clifford. ‘We may not want to hear this. Think before you say any more.’
I do think. But not for long.
‘The kids from Billabong are heroes,’ I say. ‘They saved my life. I would be dead if it wasn’t for them.’
‘Me too,’ says Kate. ‘Victor saved us.’
‘Victor saved us,’ says Victor.
‘Heroes,’ says Russell proudly.
‘Bloody, bloody, bloody,’ says Randolph.
‘This is what really happened,’ I say quickly. ‘Kate and I found the grave with the skull already in the bo
ttom where someone had broken in and taken it out of the coffin and Ian Douglas and his gang dared me to get it and if I did they would let me join the gang so …’
My story is blurping out in one long rush. Ian Douglas and his friends are shaking their heads as if all this is untrue but I don’t let that stop me. I take in another huge breath and the words pour out like monkeys escaping from a cage.
‘… I got the ladder where they told me it was kept and went and took the skull but Major Manners was sad so I went to put his skull back but Kate and I fell in and the Billabong children saved us when the walls caved in.’
I have said it.
I have told the truth.
I have stepped off the diving board.
‘It’s true,’ says Kate. ‘They saved our lives.’
Mum is staring at the Billabong boys in shocked appreciation.
Sergeant Clifford fiddles with a pair of handcuffs and frowns at me as if I am Jack the Ripper. I am the guilty one. I have confessed and now I will have to pay the price. My life is over. I expect the reformatory will be full of kids like Ian Douglas.
‘Who on earth is Major Manners?’ says Dad.
‘He is,’ I say pointing to the biscuit tin on the desk.
‘The Hopkins kid is nuts too,’ says Ian Douglas’s father. ‘And anyway, my boy didn’t have a ladder.’
‘He did,’ I shout hopelessly. I am all choked up and can hardly get the words out. ‘They hid it under the pier. And …’
Sergeant Clifford interrupts. ‘If this is all true,’ he says. ‘Who took the skull out of the coffin in the first place? All we are getting here is lies. One little detail ruins your whole story, Hedley Hopkins. If it wasn’t you, who was it? I bet you can’t answer that one.’
He is right. I can’t. Maybe Victor did break into the coffin. Or it could have been Ian Douglas. Kate and I both turn in his direction.
‘Don’t look at us,’ yells Ian Douglas. ‘The whole thing was already broken open and a ladder was there. Someone was coming so we pinched the ladder and raced off with it. But that’s all we did. Headless is lying. He busted open the coffin before we got there. Or one of the loonies did.’
How Hedley Hopkins Did a Dare... Page 11
