by J A Mawter
Mio scooted over and planted her bike between them. ‘You’re driving me crazy, Bryce, with your stupid, stupid songs. Give it a break.’
Bryce hung his head, pretending to be hurt. But he had to have the last word. ‘Music, is mah li-i-i-fe.’
Clem intervened, holding up her hand like a policewoman stopping an angry crowd. ‘Enough! Bryce, hold the songs. And, Mio, stop being so tushy.’
Mr Lark laughed, but his voice was firm when he said, ‘Yes, you two. We’re not in a war zone here.’ He shook his head and his voice grew softer. ‘Seen enough war to last a lifetime.’ The kids knew that Mr Lark was once a soldier. But they also knew he didn’t like to talk about it. It made him far too sad.
Clem dropped her bike on the lawn then ran up the stairs and flung her arms round Mr Lark. ‘You’re the best,’ she said as she gave him a hug.
Mr Lark chuckled and his eyes sparkled. ‘Flattery will get you everywhere, young lady.’
Clem pulled away to stand beaming at Mr Lark. ‘That’s what Dad says!’
‘What about you, Mio?’ asked Mr Lark. ‘D’you have mulberry pie in Japan?’
‘No.’ Mio smiled at the thought. ‘We don’t. But they use mulberry wood for making the green tea scoop for tea ceremonies called chashaku. I learnt about it for a school project. And I think the bark is used for making paper.’
‘They use mulberry bark to make paper in Vietnam, too. But mulberry pie is delicious,’ said Mr Lark. ‘Take some home for your mum and dad. They’ll love it.’
‘Thank you,’ said Mio but inside she was thinking, No, they won’t. Ever since her father was transferred for work her parents had clung to the old ways. They didn’t feel like they belonged in this new country. To them, it would always be their Number Two home.
‘Tree’s fit to burst,’ said Mr Lark, holding out several plastic ice-cream containers. ‘When these fill up I’ve got stacks more.’
‘Let’s get going, then.’ Darcy rested his bike on its stand, grabbed a container and headed for the back yard. ‘Ladders still in the garage?’ he asked over his shoulder.
‘Yep. Where you left ’em last time.’
Darcy set up two ladders under the tree, making sure to lock the safety chains into position. ‘Clem, you and Mio take these.’ He waved his hand at the ladders. ‘Bryce and I are taller so we can reach.’
For once, Mio didn’t object. She scrambled up one ladder and Clem climbed the other. They began to fill their containers, reaching the reddish black fruit with ease. On the ground the boys got going on the lower branches. As they got into a rhythm mulberries squished beneath their bare feet.
Mr Lark exchanged full containers for empty ones, keeping up a steady patter. ‘Mrs Lark, bless her, and I planted this tree when our Jonnie was born. He and his mates were always up that tree. Ate more mulberries than they picked, the scallywags.’
Clem joined in. ‘Where’s Jonnie live now? I’ve never met him.’
Mr Lark answered, ‘Don’t see him much.’ His voice was clipped, signalling the end to the conversation. The kids worked hard till container after container was overflowing with delicious mulberries. Mr Lark continued to oversee their work. ‘Nearly finished,’ he announced, rubbing his hands together. ‘Then we can start the baking!’
‘My favourite part,’ said Bryce.
Clem laughed, saying, ‘Typical male! All you think about is food.’
‘And music,’ said Bryce.
‘Food and music. Music and food.’ Mio ticked them off on her fingers. ‘Is that it?’
Bryce chose to ignore her, which worked for him. Fighting with Mio was like tackling a hungry crocodile. Sooner or later she ate him. ‘One for me, one for you,’ chanted Bryce, alternating between placing the mulberries in his container and in his mouth. He opened his mouth wide and stuck out his tongue, jiggling it about.
‘Gross!’ Mio went back to her picking.
‘You look like you’ve sucked a dark red gobstopper,’ said Clem.
Bryce poked his tongue in and out like a Maori warrior.
From the back veranda Mr Lark laughed. ‘In Vietnam people chew betel nuts and look like that permanently,’ he told them.
‘A tongue tattoo.’ Clem wrinkled her nose at the thought. ‘Yuck!’
Bryce pretended to look offended but then he shoved a handful of mulberries in his mouth, chewed for a second, and opened up to reveal a mish-mash of berries. Juice shot out and dribbled down his chin.
Clem scrunched up her face as she inspected his mulberry-stained feet. ‘You look like you’ve got some sort of weird foot-and-mouth disease.’
Bryce leapt over to the ladder and grabbed Clem’s ankle, saying, ‘Take that back!’ Clem squealed and kicked out but the force of the movement overbalanced her. Down came the ladder and down came Clem. Splat! went the overripe fruit.
Mr Lark chuckled.
‘Why, you…’ Clem grabbed a handful of berries and lobbed them at Bryce.
‘Great shot!’ Mr Lark was enjoying himself immensely. ‘You look like you’ve got a bloody nose, Bryce.’
It was Bryce’s turn then. He grabbed a stalk of berries and chucked them back at Clem. Clem ducked so that they hurled past and hit Mr Lark full on the forehead.
Mr Lark froze for all of one millisecond, then with an almighty roar he scooped up some fruit and pitched it back, hollering, ‘Food fight!’
Perched on top of her ladder Mio shook her head. Some customs she didn’t understand. All of a sudden the firm frame beneath her was plucked away and…down she came. Clean clothes turned ruby red. ‘Bryce!’ she yelled. ‘Mum will freak.’
And then it was on. A free-for-all.
‘Cop that!’
‘No, you.’
Berries were flying, missing more than hitting their targets. Except for Mr Lark, who was throwing with deadly accuracy.
‘Oh!’
‘Oomph!’
Pulp and juice splatted everywhere. It looked like someone had tried to make a berry smoothie but had forgotten to put the lid on the blender. Mr Lark peeled away and stood near the veranda picking mulberry out of his ear. Every so often he giggled and, unable to resist, another mulberry hit the mark.
‘Aaaaghh!’
Darcy decided to sit on Bryce so Clem sat on Darcy.
‘Here I come!’ Mio crash-tackled them all. They skidded across the sodden grass, laughing and screaming. Mio couldn’t remember ever having this much fun.
When the shots got more desperate and started to go over the fence it was time to stop. ‘Oy!’ Mr Lark shouted. ‘Enough!’
The kids froze, looking like contestants in a paint-ball fight.
‘Time for the hose.’ Mr Lark stumbled to the rear of the yard, picked up the hose, then turned the nozzle on himself. Most of the pulp and juice washed away but some purplish stains remained. ‘Bit of soap and hot water should fix them,’ he said, handing the hose to Darcy. ‘Your turn.’
‘Me next,’ said Clem.
Bryce stood beside her flicking off bits of mulberry. ‘Third!’
Mio shrugged good-naturedly and said, ‘Guess I’m last.’
When everyone was hosed down there was still the problem of the dirty, wet clothes.
‘We look like we’ve been targeted by mulberry-eating pigeons,’ said Clem.
‘Nuh, uh,’ said Bryce, shaking so hard that water flew in all directions. ‘We look like we’ve been to a Holi festival. They’re mad. My friend Saanjh took me to one and we got covered with red dye. Worse than this.’
‘Can’t have you going home like that,’ said Mr Lark, heading for the laundry. A few minutes later he came back. ‘There’s a bucket of warm soapy water, a brush and an armful of old clothes in the laundry. Scrub up, put them on, then dump your gear in the washing machine. Some boiling water and OxyGleam will soon have them looking like new.’
Half an hour later, their skin glowing and hair cleaned, the kids huddled in the warm kitchen. The washing machine worked overtime.
/> Mr Lark stood looking out the window. ‘Back yard’s a bit of a mess,’ he said, the understatement of the century. ‘And there’ll be no mulberry pie. Shame.’
Clem and Bryce hung their heads. ‘Sorry,’ they said.
Darcy fought to keep a serious face. ‘Yes, sorry.’
They turned and waited for Mio to apologise.
‘Mio?’ prompted Darcy.
Mio sat in the kitchen wearing a tracksuit ten sizes too big. She looked at her rolled-up sleeves and rolled-up trouser legs. She looked at the war zone of a back yard. Her eyes began to twinkle. Her lips twitched. ‘I’m not sorry,’ she said.
Clem gasped.
Mr Lark cleared his throat.
The room fell silent.
Mr Lark ran his fingers through his snowy hair. Then he smiled, snorted, and said, ‘Neither am I!’
Chapter Four
It was almost a week before the kids got to visit The Van again.
‘I’m sure someone’s been in our van and I’m going to prove it,’ said Mio, striding out of their classroom and talking as she went. With each step her hair swished across her shoulders, shimmering like silk in the afternoon sun. ‘My trap’s going to work.’
‘You bet.’ Clem linked her arm through Mio’s, saying, ‘Clever, Mio. We’ll soon know if there’s been an intruder or not.’ Darcy and Bryce caught up with the girls. They grabbed their bikes from the school rack and headed off.
At the doorway of The Van they hesitated. Inside was a sea of darkness. The sunlight exploded behind their eyes till finally it dimmed and they could see.
There was the TV in the centre of The Van. There were the four milk crates placed around it. And there on top of the TV was the piece of cord. The bottle of water stood undisturbed.
‘I don’t get it,’ said Mio, reaching for the cord. It was twisted and tied in the shape of a tortoise, a loop for a head and interwoven strands for the shell. ‘Kame no Ko Musubi,’ she muttered, then translated for the others, ‘turtle shell knot.’ Her voice grew wistful. ‘It’s a knot my grandmother taught me for basketry. In Japan.’
‘Cool,’ said Bryce. He touched the pattern made by the cord. ‘Reminds me of a graffiti tag I once saw.’ He shrugged, then smiled at Mio. ‘Last year. Bad memories. Shouldn’t go there.’
Clem interrupted, asking, ‘Did you tie the turtle knot, Mio?’
‘It wasn’t me,’ said Mio, with a firm shake of her head. She turned the knot over and over in her hand, admiring the handiwork. The last time she had seen a knot like this was the day before she left Japan. Her neighbour gave her one for good fortune. Mio remembered her saying, May it bring you ten thousand years of happiness.
‘Who, then?’ Bryce pointed to the knot. ‘It looks pretty complicated.’
‘It is,’ said Mio. She ran her fingers over the cord’s twists and turns.
‘Give it to me.’ Darcy took the turtle shell knot from Mio and held it in his open palm. ‘Pretty amazing. Wonder who did it?’
Bryce plucked at an imaginary guitar. He put his foot on a milk crate, crooning, ‘Who dat whisperin’ in de trees?’
‘Looks like you’ve been outsmarted, Mio,’ said Darcy, handing her back the knot.
Mio shrugged, trying to look like she didn’t care. Expertly she untied the knot, then looped the cord around her fingers, deep in thought. Finally, she spoke. ‘Whoever it was they know their knots. I used a kicho musubi, a precise knot, for the bottle. It’s almost impossible to undo.’ She slipped the cord in her pocket.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the air. ‘Come back here, you no-good beagle.’
‘It’s them!’ Clem dashed to the window and looked out, her eyes narrowing as she remembered the last time she saw the man and the dog. Darcy, Mio and Bryce followed.
‘Stupid dog,’ yelled the man, twirling a lead with a choker chain attached to the end. ‘Come back ’ere or I’ll give ya a hidin’.’
Clem’s heart started thumping. Blood rushed to her face. She gripped the curtain as she thought out loud, ‘Hurt that dog, mister, and you’ll answer to me.’
‘Where are ya, ya blubber-brained beagle?’ The man was getting closer and closer to The Van. ‘You in here?’ He whipped the lead against the side. The choker chain clanged against the metal, making the kids jump. They exchanged frantic looks and hand signals.
Clem appeared in the doorway, her arms clenched at her sides as she asked, ‘What do you want?’
‘Ohhh.’ The man jerked with fright, then leaned against The Van with his hand over his heart. ‘You scared me.’
‘Me? Scare you?’ Clem stepped down from The Van. She halted in front of the man. He was taller than her by a good thirty centimetres so she had to look up. ‘You’re the one banging The Van and making threats.’
The man squinted as he inspected Clem and said, ‘You the girlie who wuz ’ere before?’
‘Yes.’
‘You a runaway?’ The man scratched the stubble on his chin and eyed her up and down. ‘You live ’ere?’
Before Clem could answer, Darcy poked out his head, then he, too, came outside. He sidled close to Clem but directed his question to the man.
‘What’s the problem?’
Mio and Bryce stayed inside.
Woof! It sounded close.
‘Bloody dog,’ said the man, whirling around. His face was brewing scarlet. A muscle in his jaw went twitchety-twitch as he paced in frustration, straining to locate the bark.
Woof, woof
The man slammed his hand against The Van. ‘Mongrel!’
Clem scanned the alley as she asked, ‘Lost your dog? What sort is she?’ She was hoping that the beagle was getting away. But the next woof was still loud and Clem’s heart twanged with disappointment.
‘She’ll regret this.’ The man’s face had gone from red to pimple purple. ‘That dog’s a prize pain in the butt.’
‘Really?’ asked Clem, trying to distract him. ‘How come?’
The man hitched up his pants which had slid below his belly. ‘I’m a dog trainer, see. I get the troublemakers, the ones failin’ at sniffer dog school.’
‘Sniffer dog school? You’re joking.’
‘No, I’m not.’ The man’s shirt parted, revealing a mound of flesh in a forest of hair.
‘Sniffer dog school. Is that like for airports ’n’ stuff?’ asked Clem as she tried not to look at his tummy.
‘Yup.’ The man swung the choker chain so it wrapped around his hand. ‘I’m the dogs’ last chance, see. Toe the line and they’re on the squad.’
Clem spoke to the man but her eyes kept flitting down the alley. ‘And if they don’t?’
The man grinned, exposing a row of yellowy-brown teeth. ‘Send ’em to the pound.’
‘The pound!’ The breath caught in Clem’s throat. Her eyes widened. ‘Why would you send them to the pound?’
The man sniggered as he unwound the chain from his hand. ‘At the pound it’s all up to the dog, see. Act nice and they’re off to a good home. Act up and it’s the big kennel in the sky.’ His laugh made Clem shiver. ‘No great loss. They’re only rejects.’
Clem put her hands on her hips, saying, ‘But that dog’s beautiful. You wouldn’t dump it at the pound.’
‘Yes, I would.’
‘Why don’t you give her to me, then? I’ll take her.’
The man snapped, ‘’Cause I’m not done with her, that’s why.’
Before Clem could reply there was another woof! The man jiggled the choker chain, saying, ‘Wait till I get my hands on her.’
Clem stepped forward. With as much control as she could muster she said, ‘Hurt that dog and I’ll report you.’
The man’s lip curled. His chest heaved, his breath catching with raspy gasps. His eyes narrowed and almost disappeared. To Clem he looked like a rampaging bull and suddenly she realised that he was dangerous.
‘Threaten me, will ya?’ The man leaned down, going eyeball to eyeball, and Clem was hit by stale cigarette fumes a
nd body odour. ‘Think you’re tough? I’ll show you tough.’ He slammed the lead against The Van.
Darcy jabbed his finger at the man, saying, ‘Beat it, mister. You’re not welcome here.’
Mio and Bryce stuck their heads out. Then they climbed out of The Van and stood beside the others.
‘No, you’re not.’
‘You should go.’
The kids stood in a semicircle. The man huffed himself up and clenched his fists but then a woof came from the direction of the warehouse. With one last glare, the man took off, calling the beagle a ‘waste of bloody space’.
‘He’s going to kill her,’ said Clem, unable to keep the panic from her voice. ‘We’ve got to stop him.’ She ran after the man but after only a couple of steps she pulled up. A few paces away stood the beagle, wagging her tail with the full-bodied swing of a hula dancer. Her eyes were sparkling and the ears were slightly raised.
Clem crouched on her haunches and held out her hand. ‘Here, girl!’ she crooned. Clem stayed still, not wanting to frighten the dog. The others stayed still, too. ‘Hey! Did that dog wink or is it my imagination?’ The dog winked again and Clem giggled. She winked back. Then with a gooey voice she scolded, ‘You’re in big trouble, little miss.’ The dog drew back its muzzle to show its top teeth, its mouth hanging open. Clem giggled again, then said, ‘She looks like she’s laughing.’
Mio peered at the dog. ‘She does a bit. Either that or she’s about to bite you.’
‘Never!’
Mio stepped closer. She pulled the cord from her pocket and held it up, saying, ‘We’d better catch her.’ She jerked her head in the direction of the warehouse. ‘Before he does.’
Bryce turned to Mio and asked, ‘And then what?’
‘I’m not giving her back!’ Although Clem smiled at the beagle her voice was like steel. ‘I’m not.’
‘Fine,’ said Mio, swinging the cord. ‘But we’ve still got to catch her.’
Darcy looked down the alley, his face grim. ‘And we’d better be quick.’
‘Come to dadd-y-y-y.’ Bryce held out his hand but the dog stayed out of reach. Bryce’s sleeve rode up, revealing inked-on symbols and patterns.
‘Still doing body art?’ Darcy asked. ‘Hey! You could cover your whole body and go on Oprah!
