by Dianne Bates
Jellybean stood calmly, only now and then flicking her stubby tail back and forth.
No milk this time either.
‘Come on, we’ll do it together.’ Dad placed his hands over Rory’s. They squeezed the teat hard. This time a long stream of milk squirted out.
‘We did it!’
After a while Dad moved his hands away. ‘She’s all yours. You can do it.’
Rory squeezed. The teat felt like one of Mum’s rubber gloves.
Milk spattered into the bucket.
‘I did it! All on my own. I did it!’
Maa!
‘I think someone’s telling you not to forget her.’
‘Sorry, Jellybean.’ Rory stroked her head. ‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’
Then he jumped up and ran to the door.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To tell Mum.’
‘But she’ll still be asleep.’
Rory kept running.
A few minutes later he was back, with Mum beside him.
‘I milked Jellybean. Look.’
He held the bucket in front of her and swirled it around. It was half full of frothy milk.
‘I’m impressed.’ Mum kissed him on the forehead. ‘It was even worth getting up for.’
‘Dad helped.’
Maaa!
‘And Jellybean helped a real lot!’
It was mid-morning when Trang came over. Rory could hardly wait to share his good news.
‘I did it! With Dad’s help.’
‘Did what?’
‘Milked Jellybean.’
‘How was it?’
‘The best! You should see all the milk she gave me. Mum’s going to boil it and then we can drink it. I’ll make sure you get half.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Is anything wrong, T?’
‘I’m zapped, that’s all. Jellybean kept me up for a long time last night. Mum and Dad didn’t get much sleep either. Even Grandma was awake, and she can sleep through an earthquake.’
‘My bad.’
‘You mean Jellybean’s bad. Was something the matter with her?’
‘We’re not sure. Dad said she might have been missing the other goats back on the farm. She was out in the rain, too. But not for long.’
The Nguyens weren’t the only ones who were unhappy with Jellybean. As the morning wore on, two neighbours rang Rory’s house to complain about the noise.
‘I told them how sorry I was.’ Mum chewed her fingernails. ‘But that’s not enough.’
Trang felt as bad as Rory when he heard about the phone calls.
‘I just wish our neighbours could meet Jellybean. If they saw her they’d like her.’
‘That’s it!’ Rory clicked his fingers. ‘They can meet her. We’ll take her to them – right now. You coming?’
‘Lead the way.’
‘I’m proud of you boys for doing that.’ Mum opened the fridge. ‘I think you should give our neighbours a present, too. It’ll be a way of saying sorry for keeping them awake.’
Neither Rory nor Trang could guess what kind of present she had in mind, but they soon found out. They watched as she filled five small jam jars with goat’s milk.
Presents straight from Jellybean.
The jars fitted neatly into a basket, with just enough room for one more special present, for Grandma Nguyen.
First on the list was Mrs Patel.
‘Good morning, boys. Who’s your friend?’
Rory edged forward. ‘Her name’s Jellybean.’
Trang stayed back. ‘We came to say sorry if she kept you awake last night.’
Mrs Patel glared at Jellybean. ‘So you’re the creature to blame for that commotion, are you?’
Maa.
‘I suppose that means yes, does it?’
Maa.
‘Is that all you can say?’
Maa. Maa.
‘Well, you may be a nuisance, but you’re also cute.’
‘We brought you this.’ Rory offered Mrs Patel a jar of goat’s milk.
‘How much is it?’
‘Nothing. It’s a present from Jellybean.’
‘Well, how about that! I’ve never been given a present by a goat before.’
‘It’s still a bit warm because it’s been boiled,’ Trang said, ‘but when it cools off, it’ll be nice.’
‘I’m sure it will be.’ Mrs Patel ran her hand along Jellybean’s back. ‘Since your goat’s given me a present, it’s only fair I give her one, too. Do you think she’d like a treat?’
‘If it’s food—’
Trang finished the sentence for Rory: ‘She’ll love it.’
Mrs Patel fed Jellybean some apple peelings. They were gone in seconds. Jellybean looked up to see if there were any more. There didn’t seem to be until, from behind her back, Mrs Patel took out a cooked potato.
‘Here you are, Mrs Goat. Are we friends now?’
Maaa.
Next they went to see Ms Atkins.
‘I’m sorry about all the noise last night,’ Rory said. ‘It was our goat, Jellybean.’
‘What noise? Did I miss something?’
Oh, that was right! They’d forgotten she had trouble with her hearing. Even though Jellybean hadn’t kept her awake, they still gave her the milk. They both liked Ms Atkins.
‘She looks hungry. Don’t you feed her?’
‘Yeah, she gets heaps.’ Trang shrugged.
‘I have some leftover salad. Do you think she’d like that?’
This time Jellybean didn’t answer, but Trang pushed down on her neck so it looked like she was nodding.
‘What a smart goat you are.’ Ms Atkins patted Jellybean. ‘I’ll give you an extra-large helping.’
Then it was on to Mrs Herman’s house. She was one of the neighbours who’d rung to complain about the noise. Rory really didn’t want to press the doorbell. Mrs Herman could be grumpy.
‘Leave it to me.’ Trang stood on the welcome mat. ‘I know what to do.’
‘What?’
‘I’ll dazzle her! Just like this.’
He flashed his best toothpaste ad smile.
‘What do you think?’
‘Great. Apart from the bit of lettuce caught in your teeth.’
‘Oh, what?’ Trang poked at his tooth and ran his tongue over it. ‘How did that get there?’
Rory pressed the bell.
The door opened, just a crack. Mrs Herman peeped out from behind it.
‘Sorry if you got woken up last night.’ Trang was careful not to show his teeth. ‘It was our goat.’
‘We’ve brought you some of her milk.’ Rory held out a jar.
‘No thank you.’ Mrs Herman waved the milk away. ‘I don’t like milk. However, I do like goats.’
Great! She wasn’t grumpy after all.
‘Except’ – she stared at Jellybean – ‘for loud ones that keep me awake half the night.’
All Rory and Trang had a chance to say was, ‘But.’
‘Goodbye.’ Mrs Herman shut the door.
‘Oh well.’ Rory turned to go. ‘At least two of our neighbours like Jellybean.’
Finally it was time to say sorry to Trang’s parents, and to Grandma.
The Nguyens were pleased to see them. And they loved it when the boys gave them each a jar of goat’s milk.
‘As for you’ – Mrs Nguyen rubbed the bridge of Jellybean’s nose – ‘we still like you. You just had a bad night, that’s all.’
Then Grandma came to the door. She was the other neighbour who’d rung the Hunters to complain.
‘You!’ She pointed a bony finger at Jellybean. ‘You big noise machine! All night! Maa – Maa – Maa!’
‘You’re exaggerating, Mum. It w
asn’t all that bad.’
‘Oh yes it was. No more goat. It has to go!’
‘No way.’ Rory jumped in front of Jellybean, his arms spread wide to protect her.
Trang joined him. ‘Don’t be mean, Grandma.’
‘Mum,’ said Mrs Nguyen, ‘Jellybean’s a pet. It would make the boys really sad if they had to get rid of her. You wouldn’t want that, would you?’
Grandma considered it for a second, and then shook her head.
Rory took her special present out of the basket. ‘These are from our garden. Just for you.’
There were long-stemmed red roses, with a note attached.
Mr Nguyen read the note aloud: ‘To Grandma. Love from Jellybean.’
Grandma sniffed the roses. ‘Only three?’
‘Oh Mum. The flowers are lovely. Don’t be too hard on the boys.’
‘All right then.’ Grandma got up really close to Jellybean’s face. ‘I’ve changed my mind, goat. You can stay.’
Rory and Trang spent the rest of the day with their families – shopping, playing board games, watching movies – all the fun things, except maybe the shopping. Then, when it was nearly dark, they laid an old piece of carpet on the shed floor. They covered it with layers of newspaper. Then they scattered handfuls of hay and grain. That would keep Jellybean busy for a long time, and she wouldn’t be hungry. Next they left a bucket filled with water in the shed. Then, before they gave her a goodnight pat, they put Bitsa’s bed beside Jellybean’s mat, so the two friends would be together.
That night, with plenty to eat and drink, a nice cosy place to sleep, and Bitsa close by, Jellybean didn’t make a sound.
Rory and Trang’s classmates had a million questions when they heard about Jellybean. Their teacher, Ms Ghazi, had only one: ‘Why don’t you bring your goat to school? I’m sure we’d all like to meet her.’
The friends lived only two streets from Fernley Primary. So early the next morning, off they went with Jellybean.
A few heads turned in surprise to see a goat clip-clopping past. A couple of people frowned. One lady even crossed to the other side of the road. But mostly it was as if this happened every day.
The principal, Mrs Smith, didn’t think it was good idea to let a goat into a classroom.
‘I’m sure there’s a rule against it somewhere.’ She took off her glasses and cleaned them with a hanky. ‘But before class goes in you can give a talk in the playground about your goat.’
‘And,’ said Ms Ghazi, ‘while you’re doing that, I’ll take Jellybean around among the children, so they can meet her up close.’
With their parents’ help, Rory and Trang had searched through books and websites to learn about goats. Mum still worked two days a week as a teacher – she had been working full-time before Luna came along. And Mrs Nguyen was a librarian. Together they were a super-talented team. Before long they had found some cool goat facts, and printed them out. Now the boys were ready for any questions.
Rick stroked Jellybean’s neck. ‘I didn’t know goats were brown and white.’
‘They can be lots of colours.’ Trang sounded calm and confident, like an expert. ‘Some are black. Some are brown. Or black and white.’
Mark put up his hand. ‘Where does Jellybean live?’
‘At my place, but she’s Trang’s goat, too.’
Shari had a question for Trang. ‘Is there much work?’
‘Masses. She has to be washed and brushed, and we have to clean up after her.’
‘Jellybean makes a lot of poo,’ explained Rory.
A few children laughed at that. But when he said, ‘My dad calls her Superpooper,’ they all laughed.
They laughed even louder when Jellybean burped.
‘Oh, I forgot about that,’ said Trang. ‘Goats have four stomachs. That’s probably why they’re such big burpers.’
‘Not as big as me!’ Jonathan stood up tall and straight. He was the most famous burper in the school. He could burp anytime, anywhere. Just to prove it, he let rip with one of his biggest and best efforts.
There was so much laughing and giggling that Mrs Smith had to use the loudspeaker to be heard. ‘Quiet, please, everyone.’
The second it became quiet, Jellybean burped again.
A chant went up: ‘Burp off. Burp off. Burp off.’
Jonathan wasn’t going to let a goat out-burp him.
‘Burp off. Burp off.’
Mrs Smith wagged her finger. ‘Don’t you dare!’
BURRRRP!
Jonathan dared.
‘Not another sound from you, young man.’ The principal gave him the death-stare. ‘Is that clear?’
Jonathan hung his head.
The questions started again.
Bella wanted to know if goats were smelly.
‘Not girl goats like Jellybean.’ Trang had been nervous about giving a talk, but he wasn’t anymore. ‘But boy goats can really pong.’
‘Typical.’ Bella nodded. ‘Like all boys.’
Girls: ‘Yessss!’
Boys: ‘Noooo!’
Mrs Smith clapped her hands, and stared.
Once things had settled down, Trang and Rory took turns at reading straight from the fact sheet that their mums had prepared.
Trang went first. ‘White goats are called Saanen – S-A-A-N-E-N.’
‘Brown goats are called Toggenburgs – T-O-G-G-E-N-B-U-R-G–S,’ said Rory. ‘They can climb trees, and they live for about twelve years.’
Blake asked about the dangly bits under Jellybean’s neck. For once Rory and Trang didn’t know the answer, but Ms Ghazi did.
Taking her eyes off Jellybean, just for a moment, she told the class, ‘Those strange things are called toggles. They’re not there for any special reason. They’re just there.’
As she spoke, Jellybean became interested in the art teacher, Mr Elliott. He was an ordinary-looking man, except for his long red hair, which he always had tied in a bun at the back of his neck.
‘You’re very friendly,’ he said as Jellybean moved closer and closer to his wheelchair. ‘I haven’t got anything for you to eat. Sorry to disappoint you, girl.’
Rory and Trang knew something about goats that Mr Elliott probably didn’t know – they liked to eat hair.
Jellybean lunged, nipping at Mr Elliott’s bun. It came loose and long red hair toppled down his back.
As fast as he could he pushed his chair away, but not before Jellybean had got hold of a strand of hair, and swallowed it.
‘Ouch!’ Mr Elliott rubbed the back of his head. ‘That hurt!’
‘Are you okay?’ said Mrs Smith.
Mr Elliott dabbed at his eyes with a hanky and pretended to cry.
‘My precious hair,’ he sobbed. ‘I shampooed it this morning.’
The more he wailed, the funnier it became. Everyone laughed. Then he rubbed Jellybean’s head. ‘It’s okay. I forgive you. I needed a haircut anyway.’
‘We’ll stop right there.’ Once again Mrs Smith had to speak into the loudspeaker. ‘I think we’ve all learnt a lot this morning about goats. I know I have – they have four stomachs, they are excellent burpers, and they can climb trees. Can you think of anything else you’ve learnt?’
‘I can,’ said Mr Elliott. ‘They’re really good barbers.’
Soon after, Mum and Luna came to the school to walk Jellybean home and let the children get back to their classes.
‘Did everything go okay, Rory?’
‘Yeah, Mum. Jellybean was a star!’
At recess Rory and Trang ran up to Mr Elliott in the playground. Trang reached him first. ‘Sorry about Jellybean eating your hair.’
‘Forget it. It only hurt for a second. And I had a lot of fun. By the way, I think I know why she did it.’
‘Why?’
‘She coul
d smell goat’s milk soap on me. It’s all I ever use. It’s amazing stuff.’
‘I didn’t know you could get soap from goats.’ Rory looked at Trang. ‘Did you?’
Trang shook his head. ‘I knew you could make cheese, but not soap.’
‘That’s just the start of it.’ Mr Elliott wheeled his chair closer. ‘From goat’s milk you can also make yoghurt, buttermilk, cream, ice cream, shampoo and lots of skin care products.’
Trang could hardly believe it. ‘All that from just one little goat?’
‘Definitely. Hey, if you boys ever decide to go into the goat product business, I’ll be a customer.’
By the time Rory arrived home he had some big news to tell Mum. Trang was there to share it with him.
‘We’re starting up a business.’
‘Oh good. I hope you’re going to make lots of money. And give it to me.’
‘Not all of it. But some.’
‘That’s fair. So what kind of business is this?’
‘We’re going to use Jellybean’s milk to make soap.’
‘You can help us if you like, Mrs H.’
‘I’ll be in that – I’ve heard you can clean up with soap.’
‘Muuuuuuum.’
‘What?’
‘Your jokes are as bad as Dad’s.’
‘Well, I liked it, Mrs H. It almost made me laugh – but not quite.’
‘Er … thanks, Trang.’
‘See if you can guess what we’re going to call our soap, Mum.’
‘I bet you’ll tell me if I tickle you.’
‘No, no.’ Rory dodged away. ‘You have to guess.’
‘Let’s see … Bubbly Jubbly Soap?’
‘No.’
‘Slippery Slidey Soap?’
‘You’re not even close.’
‘Okay then. Tell me.’
‘Jellybean Soap!’
Rory and Trang said the name together, just as Luna came in all sleepy-eyed after her nap.
She laughed. ‘I like that name!’
‘That settles it,’ Mum said. ‘If Luna likes it, so do I. Let’s make soap.’
Over the next few days Mum and the boys found out all about making goat’s milk soap. A lot of the information came from the internet, and even more from Pop and Nan. They seemed to know everything about goats. By the weekend everything was ready.
