Pippa tried to cheer everyone up, would say things like, ‘I know! Let’s bake cupcakes! Pink and green cupcakes—hospital green!’ In the mornings, she’d go out the front and collect the paper, carefully peel off the plastic wrap and take the smoothed-out news to Mum to read while she had her cup of tea in bed.
Even at dinner, when they were taking turns with the talking stick, Mum would pass.
Eventually, Spencer decided to talk to her.
‘We should never have let you go up there, Spencer. You’re—you’re a boy, for goodness sake!’
‘Mum, I asked to go. I wanted to go. I hassled to go!’
‘That’s not the point.’
‘Well, sort of, it is. It ... it wasn’t Dad’s fault, you know.’
She welled up then.
He waited awkwardly.
‘I’m sorry, Spence.’
‘Sorry, Mum.’ He waited, then began again. ‘You know, even the SAR guys agreed: that storm came out of left field. Even the weather forecasters hadn’t picked it.’
‘SAR guys?’
‘Search and rescue. The search-and-rescue guys who got Dad out.’
‘Oh, right. Yes.’
‘We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time when the wind got up.’
Mum was silent.
‘And Reg said he’s never seen a glider flip in all his twenty-five years of tow-ups. So we were really unlucky. And really lucky.’
She nodded, reaching out to him. ‘You’re amazing, Spencer Gray, you know that?’
Spencer sighed. ‘Yeah. I’m just amazing. I know, Mum. So...’
‘So?’
‘So will you give Dad a break now?’
She nodded, and squeezed out the last of her tears.
45
Reg came over to visit, once things had settled down. He had a newspaper-wrapped parcel with him.
‘What’s that?’ Pippa asked, wrinkling up her nose.
‘Well, I went fishing this morning and the King George whiting were jumping out of the water to get on my line. Must have been casting into a massive school of ’em. Thought you Grays might like a few for ya dinner.’
‘Oh, Reg, that’s lovely of you—thank you!’ Mum said.
Dad opened a corner of the package and looked impressed. ‘Nice catch there, mate.’
Mum turned to Reg. ‘Can I get you a cuppa, Reg? We were just about to put the kettle on...’
‘That’d be lovely, Suzie,’ Reg grinned. ‘Thank you.’ He turned to Dad. ‘Maybe you should ... act a bit more like one of ya patients. If you get my meaning ... Sort of lie around ... Isn’t that what you’d be telling them to do? Aren’t you meant to be keeping your feet up?’
Dad fairly huffed. ‘Oh, those bloody health professionals, you don’t want to listen to everything they say—they’re a bunch of killjoys, let me tell you.’
‘He’s not a very good patient, is he?’ said Reg to Mum.
‘Shocking,’ she said. ‘He’s itching to get back to work. He puts all this crankiness down to the dent in his head but he’s always been like that, if the truth be told.’
Spencer snorted. ‘The dent!’
‘Oy!’ Dad said.
‘You do have a bit of a dent there now, Dad,’ Pippa said, standing up on a stool to get a close-up look. ‘See? It’s like a crater!’
‘Don’t worry, Dad, the hair will grow back—some day,’ Spencer said, straight-faced.
‘Well it might not,’ said Mum. ‘According to the surgeon, it might never grow back. Might always be a bald spot.’
‘Well, you could always have that hair replacement surgery.’
‘Oh, gee, thanks mate. What does a man have to do to get a little sympathy around here? Isn’t surviving a plane crash enough?’
46
When Spencer finally went back to school, Mr Petrich devoted the first ten minutes of athletics to talking about what had happened. ‘Spencer’s cross-country technique—because that is what it was, people: that was a real cross-country course—was incredible. His stamina, his focus, his commitment, were amazing. We could all take a leaf out of his book.’
Charlie whispered, ‘You’re a mazing, Spence. Amazing!’
Yep. That was him. The Amazing Spencer Gray.
Leon elbowed him. ‘But you’re still pretty ordinary on a skateboard.’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many thanks to:
Meg McKinlay, who, on a long walk in Balingup, was the first person to hear of the idea for this book and gave me the confidence and encouragement to start writing.
Cate Sutherland, for always insisting on better, deeper, truer, scarier! I’m so grateful for her guidance and unerring support.
Claire Miller, Clive Newman, Jane Fraser, Georgia Richter, gun proofreader Naama Amram and designer Ally Crimp at Fremantle Press, for their enthusiasm and commitment and their warm welcomes when I drop by the office.
Zoe Thurner, for her encouragement and help in working through some of the tricky bits, not just in the book.
KH, for hassling me in the best way possible and getting me into the skies above Narrogin on that glorious November day in 2012 and answering a million questions since; and all the pilots at the Narrogin Gliding Club for their generosity in making me feel so welcome.
Jim O’Toole of the Beverley Gliding Club, for patiently answering my many early gliding queries, and Jean-Marc Rivalland, Mark Adams and Harry Berry who also fielded impromptu questions and generously shared their personal flying experiences.
Stew, who fielded many weather questions and bad moods, gave me time and space, read draft after draft, and still managed to serve us homemade pizzas most weekends.
The friends and family who so generously gave me writing time in 2011 and 2012—bless your cotton-picking socks!
My mum, dad and brother, and my two gorgeous children, Jerry and Pippa—my biggest fans!—thank you for your enthusiasm, and your love and care.
DEB FITZPATRICK
Deb Fitzpatrick lives and works in Fremantle. A freelance editor and writer, she is the author of two novels for young adults — 90 Packets of Instant Noodles and Have You Seen Ally Queen? This is her first work for younger readers.
The Amazing Spencer Gray Page 9
