by Dianne Bates
Luna nodded, long and slow, and everyone laughed, especially Pop. Then he knelt and patted Bitsa, whose tail beat up and down as if the floor was a drum. When Pop stood up, Mum handed him a present wrapped in silver paper.
‘Aw gee, thanks.’
Mum threw her arms around him, and then, along with Dad, Luna and Rory, she boomed, ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY!’
There were two presents. One was a new white coat to wear when Pop played lawn bowls.
‘Just what I wanted.’ He tried it on. ‘Fits me like a glove.’
‘No it doesn’t.’ Rory waited until everyone was looking at him. ‘It fits you like a coat!’
‘Good one.’ Pop loved corny jokes.
The second present was a t-shirt. Pop spread it out in front of him so the family could see what was written on it.
COOL DUDE.
‘Yep, that’s me, all right.’
Before long, Auntie Michelle and Uncle David, and Jack and Pippa arrived.
‘Hiya, handsome.’ Auntie Michelle kissed Rory on the cheek.
Then he scored high-fives from Jack and Pippa, and a monster bear hug from Uncle David (who must have had hugging lessons from Pop).
In the backyard, Rory and Luna played soccer with their cousins. Rory was much bigger and a far better player, but he was also a good sport. When he kicked the ball it was with the lightest of taps. He wanted to make sure his sister, and Jack and Pippa – who were aged five and six – had as much fun as he did.
‘Me, me!’ Luna leant forward, hands on her knees.
Rory dribbled the ball to her. She steadied herself, drew her leg back. Then launched an almighty kick. That missed. She landed flat on her bottom, and laughed just as hard as her brother and cousins.
Mum clanged a spoon against a glass. ‘Lunch is ready. Come and get it.’
As everyone held out their plate, Dad clicked the tongs over the barbecue like snappy silver jaws. ‘Sausages, chicken or chops?’
Rory’s favourite was sausages. With extra onions. He wrote his name on the sausages with tomato sauce. It was so much fun he wished he had a longer name. Then he heaped his plate with pasta salad.
‘You’re going to explode if you eat all that.’
‘Only one way to find out, Mum.’ Rory dug in.
The adults sat around the big table on the patio. The kids sat at the smaller table. The food was yum and fun to play with – Luna had tomato sauce streaked across her face like lipstick.
Dad started talking, even though his mouth was full. ‘Does anyone know anything about goats?’
Fantastic! Dad really was thinking about it.
Pop raised his glass. ‘We used to have them when I was a young bloke. You need strong fences to hold them in. They can just about chew through the wire.’
‘And you’ve got the fence-building champion of the world right here if you need a hand.’ Nan flexed her muscles. ‘I’ve built some fences in my time.’
‘You’ve got plenty of room.’ Pop swivelled in his chair so he could check out the yard. ‘Yeah, I’d say go for it.’
‘The right goat can be lots of fun. I’d like to have one myself.’ Nan drummed a finger on the back of Pop’s hand. ‘Maybe we could get one, too.’
‘I wouldn’t mind that. Be good, actually. But not until I retire from the council. And that day’s not too far off.’
‘Do you remember the goat your gran had, Steph?’
‘Of course I do, Mum. Daisy, wasn’t it?’
‘That’s right. We were all so fond of her. We had to keep an eye on her, though. Used to eat the clothes on the washing line – buttons and all. The rascal.’
Pop wiped his chin with the back of his hand.
‘You’ve still got a bit of food in your beard, lovey.’
‘Keeping that for later.’
‘Oh no, you’re not.’ Nan passed him a serviette.
Grumbling, Pop dabbed his beard clean.
Mum smiled. ‘You’re so cute, both of you.’
‘You know all about the council’s planning rules, Pop …’ This time Dad’s mouth was empty. ‘Would we be allowed to have a goat here?’
‘Can’t see why not. This area is semi-rural. There are cows grazing up on the hill, and I think there’s a turkey farm back there, too.’
Rory nodded. ‘I hear them all the time.’
‘There you go, then. Just make certain the goat is well housed – a fair distance away from the neighbours – and keep it clean. You’ll be right.’
‘That’s one problem sorted, but here’s the biggest hurdle: if we got a goat, who’d clean up after it? And milk it?’
Rory waved both hands in the air. ‘I’ll do it! It’ll be heaps fun!’
‘That’s today. But will you still feel the same in a month’s time?’
‘Yeah, Dad.’
‘What if it’s freezing cold and pelting down?’
‘Won’t matter.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘A thousand per cent! So can we get one?’
‘Still thinking it through, mate. We’ll let you know.’
After everyone had finished with the barbecue, Auntie Michelle came out from the kitchen holding a chocolate birthday cake, decked out in flickering sparklers.
‘Sorry we didn’t get one for every year.’ Uncle David licked a blob of icing off his finger. ‘But you can’t fit a hundred candles on a cake this size.’
‘What are you talking about – a hundred candles!’ Pop elbowed Uncle David. ‘I’m only 99!’
Then Pop took a deep, deep breath.
‘You have to make a wish first.’
‘Already done that. I wished for—’
‘Don’t tell us!’
‘Okay.’
‘Just blow out the candles!’
‘I’ll do my best.’
Pop blew as hard as he could. And Uncle David took care of the rest.
Then Nan rested her head on Pop’s shoulder as the family sang ‘Happy Birthday’.
Long after everyone had gone home and Luna was tucked into bed, Rory tried to watch a movie with Mum and Dad. It was so old it was in black and white! About halfway through, he felt his eyes drooping. The next thing he knew the TV was off and the conversation had gone back to goats.
‘The milk’s good for anyone with allergies and digestion problems.’
Rory’s ear was itchy. But he didn’t dare to scratch it.
‘And a goat could keep the grass down. I wouldn’t miss not having to mow all the time.’
‘It would be so nice to have our own goat cheese.’ Mum sighed. ‘But would Rory be able to take care of it? That’s the thing that worries me.’
Rory couldn’t pretend for a second longer. ‘I can,’ he said, sitting up. ‘I’ll wash it and clean up its poo and take it for walks – and everything!’
‘You were listening.’
Rory hung his head. ‘Not very much.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Mum raked a hand through his hair. ‘You really want this goat, don’t you?’
‘More than anything.’
‘It’s not just a toy that you can forget about if you get tired of it, you know. It’s a living thing.’
‘I won’t ever get tired of it.’
‘Do you promise to look after it?’
‘I promise. I’ll look after it every single day.’
Mum faced Dad. ‘What do you think?’
‘I suppose we can give it a try.’
‘Let’s take a vote on it. All those who think we should get a goat put up their hand.’
Mum and Dad both put up their hands.
‘Yes!’ Rory almost jumped out of his socks.
‘But if it’s a problem, the goat goes. That’s the deal. Okay?’
‘Deal! Thanks, Dad! Thanks, Mum!’
It wouldn’t be a problem. It would be the best goat EVER!
‘One last thing,’ said Mum. ‘Perhaps you could share the goat with Trang. So you’d both be responsible for looking after it. Do you think he’d like that?’
‘I know he would. The goat was his idea. He’d love to help me. For sure.’
‘Good.’ Mum took out her mobile. ‘Before you say anything to him I’ll make a quick call to Cam and Vinh, to make sure they’re okay with it.’
She walked out to the garden, shutting the door behind her. Rory watched from a window as Mum talked and nodded.
If only he could read lips!
A few moments later Mum was back. ‘They think it’s a great idea. We’ve left it for you to ask Trang. You never know, he might not want to be part of it with you.’
Straightaway Rory texted Trang.
‘I’m getting a !’
‘COOL.’
‘Wanna help me look after it?’
‘!!!’
First thing on Sunday morning, Dad and the boys set to work designing a goat pen.
‘We should be able to lift up the pen and move it from place to place,’ Dad said.
‘My uncle does the same thing with his goat.’ Trang ran a finger under his nose. It was only an itch, but he pretended it was snot, and smeared it on Rory’s sleeve.
‘Hey! Watch it!’
Trang ignored Rory. ‘When you move the pen, the goat can have new grass to eat.’
‘That’s the plan.’
‘It has to be pretty big, too.’ Rory flicked the pretend snot back at Trang. ‘Goats need plenty of room to move around.’
‘They do indeed. Good work, men.’
After they drew up their plan they drove to the hardware store. Mr Nguyen arrived just after them.
‘Sorry I’m a bit late.’ He nearly always wore a suit and tie, but today he had on a t-shirt and board shorts. ‘I’m not much of a carpenter, but I’ll do my best.’
‘Don’t worry, Vinh. Building a house for a goat is easier than building one for people.’
‘Maybe it’s easy for you, Todd, but not for me.’
Mr Nguyen was a doctor. He wasn’t used to working with hammers and nails.
‘You’ll soon get the hang of it.’
‘Hope so. I was about ten when I last built something. It was a tree-house.’
‘What happened to it?
‘Fell down.’
‘Were you in it, Dad?’
‘No way. I’m not silly. I got my little sister to test it.’
‘Auntie Mai?’
‘Hmm. She wasn’t hurt, but it was the last time she ever agreed to test anything for me.’
The words were hardly out of his mouth when Rory and Trang spotted the trolley bay.
‘Race!’
They ran ahead, grabbed a trolley each and, pretending the trolleys had suddenly become racing cars, tore up and down the aisle.
‘Guys!’ Dad jabbed a finger at his watch. ‘We haven’t got time for that.’
‘Alll rightttt.’
They plodded back to him.
Now Mr Nguyen pushed the trolley. ‘Do we know what we need?
‘Got it all under control.’ Dad took a list from his pocket. ‘We better get the wire first. That’s closest.’
‘I’ll get it!’
‘Beat ya!’
Rory and Trang took off.
‘They’re really fast.’
‘Sure are, Vinh. Too bad they’re going the wrong way.’
Back home again, they nailed the timber together, and then attached the wire and metal stakes to hold it up. There was still a lot more work to do, but they’d made a great start.
It was the first time Rory and Trang had built anything.
‘You reckon we’ve done a good job, Dad?’
‘Real good so far, Rory. Professional.’
‘Yeah, I think so, too. Might be a builder when I grow up.’
Dad rubbed his chin. ‘Last I heard you wanted to be an astronaut.’
‘And I thought you wanted to be Gory Rory the wrestler.’
‘Still do, T. But can’t I be a builder as well?’
‘It might be hard to do all three jobs, Rory.’ Mr Nguyen took a break from hammering. ‘Especially those jobs.’
‘Yeah, you’re probably right.’
‘You can do it, Roar.’
‘How?’
‘Easy. You can be Gory Rory the wrestling astronaut who stays on the ground – and builds things.’
‘Works for me!’
Mr Nguyen gave Trang a double thumbs-up.
And Dad, who hardly ever said ‘cool’, said, ‘Cool.’
They got back to work, screwing on four rubber wheels to the base of the pen so they could move it around, and fitting a gate to the frame.
Finally the goat pen was finished.
‘It’s pretty good.’ Trang took a long hard look at it. So did Rory. ‘But something’s missing.’
Together they howled, ‘A goat!’
Mum and Dad promised they would buy a goat soon, but before that happened Rory and Trang had to do something important.
Once a month they had a sleepover at each other’s house. Tonight it was Rory’s turn to stay at Trang’s.
‘Let’s play trampolines!’ The boys were in Trang’s bedroom. ‘You take Auntie Mai’s bed. And I’ll take mine.’
There was a spare bed in Trang’s room in case his auntie visited and stayed overnight.
‘I can bounce higher than you,’ said Rory.
‘No way.’ Trang looked like he might crash into the ceiling. He didn’t care.
Boing. Boing. Boing.
‘Hey! Stop jumping on those beds!’ Grandma Nguyen glared from the doorway. ‘The beds will jump on you if you don’t watch out.’
When she’d first come to Australia, nearly thirty years ago, Grandma hadn’t spoken any English at all. Her English wasn’t perfect now, but she had no problems letting the boys know when they were in trouble.
‘Sorry, Grandma.’
‘Me too,’ mumbled Rory.
The moment the door closed, they fell about giggling. Then Rory had a great idea.
‘Pillow fight!’
They pushed their beds close together and each grabbed a pillow.
‘Here’s a present!’ Rory whacked Trang on the side of the head.
‘Here’s one for you!’ Trang whacked him back.
They couldn’t stop laughing.
Everyone in the house must have heard them. Including Trang’s dad.
‘What’s going on, fellas?’
‘Nothing, Dad.’
‘That’s the loudest nothing I’ve ever heard.’
‘Sorry.’
‘I only came in to tell you dinner’s ready. Are you hungry?’
‘Dinner!’ Trang had one more bounce.
Boing.
‘Food!’ So did Rory.
Boing.
Mr Nguyen folded his arms. And stared.
One of the best things about sleeping over at the Nguyens’ was dinnertime. Usually Mr Nguyen was the cook. Everything he made was yum. But tonight Grandma was in charge. She was an even better cook! Tonight she served pho, a noodle soup.
Trang scooped up something squashy and gulped it down. ‘Best sheep’s eyeball ever.’
Grandma winked at Trang when Rory wasn’t looking.
Rory had eaten pho before, but still he hesitated. ‘Eyeball?’
‘They’re only teasing you,’ said Trang’s mum.
‘Got you!’ crowed Trang. ‘It’s just a Chinese mushroom.’
‘I knew that.’
‘Yeah, right.’
R
ory hooked into the rest of the pho to show there was no way he’d been tricked.
There was still plenty of room left in his tummy when Grandma brought out the next course.
‘Banh xeo.’ She set the plate down as if it was a birthday cake. ‘Very good.’
Rory had a sniff. ‘I love this!’
The pancakes were filled with prawns, pork pieces, bean sprouts and egg. Rory dipped his in a spicy sauce. ‘Awesome!’
‘Everything Grandma cooks is awesome.’
‘I know, T.’
‘Even sheep’s eyeballs!’
After dinner, Rory and Trang lay on their beds reading. Rory read funny lines from his favourite joke book, cracking up even though he’d heard them before. Trang read out some wild and crazy world records. There was even one about two boys who had camped for a week in a haunted graveyard. One thing led to another. Soon Rory was telling Trang about horror movies he’d seen on TV, and scary books he’d read.
Trang wasn’t impressed. ‘That’s nothing. I heard about this kid who saw a ghost. He used to go to our school.’
‘Who was he?’
‘Levi.’
‘I don’t know anyone called Levi. How long since he was at our school?’
‘I’m not sure, but I know one thing about him.’
‘What’s that?’
‘When you switch the letters of his name around, you get EVIL!’
Rory tossed the letters about in his head. He was good at Scrabble. ‘You also get vile and veil … and live.’
‘They’re not as good as evil.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because – do you want to hear this or not?’
Rory didn’t believe in ghosts, but he loved ghost stories.
‘Can’t wait.’
‘Well, it was super cold and there was a thick fog.’ Trang’s voice was low and creepy. ‘Levi couldn’t see a thing. He just heard this moaning noise, coming closer and closer …’
Rory could hear the blood pulsing in his ears.
‘Levi was losing it. Man, was he scared. He yelled, “Who’s there? Who’s there?” And then, you know what happened?’
‘What?’
Before Trang could answer, the bedroom light was snuffed out. Blackness. Can’t-see- your-own-hand-in-front-of-you blackness.
Then they heard a groan. Evil and ghostly.
‘ARRGGH!’
