Feeling sorry for Celia

by Jaclyn Moriarty

  GIVE ME A BREAK

  (But very cool. I mean, it was kind of a turn on.)

  With my mother he got me to do the talking, and then he spoke a bit himself, like a super polite private school boy, and then he asked if – get this – he asked if ‘he might have his own mother phone her and assure her of my safety!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’

  Which put my mother in this really difficult situation, because she happens to hate his mother. (His mother’s a local councillor and my mum had a kind of full-on fight with her about rollerblading in the shopping mall.) (I know. Rollerblading.) (I know. In the shopping mall.) (I know. My mother.) Anyway, my mother was in this dilemma, because she hates Saxon’s mother, but she had to be a good parent to me and ensure my safety.

  So you know what she came up with? She gave Saxon my FATHER’S phone number and said Saxon’s mum had to call my FATHER.

  My God!

  So my father must have been confused out of his mind. With some strange woman calling and saying ‘Can your daughter go away with my son?’

  Actually I felt a bit sorry for him. He really wanted to do the good parent thing, but he didn’t have a clue who Saxon was or who Celia was. (He probably had a bit of trouble figuring out who I was, too.) But he got a bit annoying, trying too hard, see, getting me to explain the whole story, and talking to my mum, and Saxon, and Saxon’s mother again, and even asking to call the aunt and talk to her.

  But finally, it all worked out.

  Everyone said it was fine, and Saxon phoned for train tickets.

  So now you know where I am.

  I’m on a train.

  I’m on the way to Coffs Harbour.

  And Saxon and I are going to stay with Saxon’s aunt.

  And we’re going to rescue Celia.

  But right now I’m going to stop writing because Saxon’s saying we have to eat our chocolates and Pringles, and he’s telling me I have to stop talking to you and start talking to him.

  I’ll get him to say hi to you before I stop. This is Saxon:

  Hi Tina. SORRY. Liz just told me you hate being called Tina. SORRY. Hi, Christina. Can you make Liz shut up and talk to me for a change instead of you? No offence, but I’m bored and starving. And she just wrote the longest letter I ever saw to you, so you’ve had her attention for like the entire trip, and I’ve just been sitting here neglected. I thought she was writing a novel or something. See you around. Saxon.

  PS Liz just told me I had to apologise again for the Tina thing, but I can’t really believe you’re still angry. OKAY, OKAY. Sorry, Christina.

  Hi, it’s me again, and I really have to go, I’m actually feeling a bit train-sick. Maybe I just need some Pringles. Oh well, wish us luck with our Quest to rescue Celia.

  I hope you’re fine, and have a very nice day, and eat something delicious for breakfast tomorrow.

  Love,

  Elizabeth

  Coffs Harbour at Night!

  Dear Mum,

  Don’t worry. We didn’t fall under the speeding train wheels and we’re not lost in a banana plantation. Saxon’s auntie is really nice and she gave us cinnamon toast and hot chocolate as soon as we arrived. Her house is right on the beach so we had the cinnamon toast looking through the window at the water, and then we did our run along the beach (and we were way too slow, considering that the Trail Run is exactly one week away, but it was still fun). The auntie also has a lot of plants and a lot of giraffes. (She collects them.) (Not real giraffes.) So far, we haven’t seen Celia but we know where the circus is and we’re going there to find her tomorrow.

  Love from Elizabeth

  PS Sorry about this postcard. I know you think these are just stupid and completely unfunny, but they were on special.

  Caffs Harbour in the Mist!

  Dear Dad,

  Just letting you know that we arrived okay, and Saxon’s aunt seems nice and nothing like an axe murderer.

  Have you ever been to Coffs Harbour? It’s got bright colours.

  Well, I’ve run out of room.

  Lots of love,

  Elizabeth

  PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL MESSAGE FOR CELIA BUCKLEY

  Celia,

  IF ANYBODY IS LOOKING AT YOU, PRETEND THIS IS A LETTER FROM READER’S DIGEST ASKING YOU TO BUY A CONDENSED VERSION OF THE CATCHER IN THE RYE AND MAYBE WIN FREE TULIP BUDS.

  Now turn around really casually and walk away, kind of murmuring, ‘Hmm. Catcher in the Rye, that’s an okay book. Wouldn’t mind a few tulips around the caravan either.’

  OKAY

  Are you safe now?

  Are you sure nobody is watching?

  HI.

  It’s me, Elizabeth. I am here to rescue you.

  I caught the train up with Saxon Walker – he was in your Geography class, you know? We are staying with his auntie and she’s very very nice and she makes cinnamon toast and collects video games, giraffes and cricket memorabilia.

  We have put an empty Sprite can in the tall grass next to the rubbish bin (it doesn’t look suspicious, it just looks like someone threw it and missed the bin) by the gates.

  You should put a reply note in there telling us the best time to rescue you.

  We will hide behind the rhododendron bush after we leave this note for you, to make sure it falls into your own hands.

  NOW RIP THIS LETTER INTO VERY SMALL PIECES AND EAT THEM. (I don’t really think you should eat them cause I think that could be unhealthy especially if you have glandular fever coming; they might clog up your glands or something. But Saxon says you have to. He’s going mad on me right now for saying that at all. He says you HAVE to eat it. (I still don’t think you sho–

  OKAY. Good luck Celia.

  We are with you in spirit.

  Elizabeth and Saxon

  Lizzy!!!!!!!!!

  My God!!!!! I can’t believe you’re here. I never felt so weird as when I saw your handwriting wrapped around a cricket ball that was rolling towards me. (That was weird for very many reasons which I’m sure I don’t need to go into.) But it’s fantastic that you’re here.

  You know what though? You don’t really need all the espionage stuff. This is just a circus, not a concentration camp. Next time you come by, why don’t you just knock on my caravan door instead of hiding behind the rhododendron bush? I’ll be there this arvo, around four. Can’t wait to see you.

  Celia

  Caffs Harbour – A Bright Afternoon!

  Dear Mrs Buckley,

  Hi! This is just to let you know that CELIA IS FINE. We have rescued her. She is looking forward to coming back to see you and starting school again. She’s got a bit of a cold at the moment, so we’re going to stay with Saxon’s aunt for another few days, then we’ll all get the train back together. Celia says hi to you and hi to Ben. The weather is fine.

  Best wishes,

  Elizabeth

  Cqffs Harbour – A Cloudy Night!

  Dear Dad,

  Hello, how are you? I’m fine. Just letting you know that I’m still fine. We found the circus where my friend Celia was and we rescued her. So she’s fine. Except a bit sick. I just phoned Mum and told her all about it. I hope you are well. It’s pretty cool here and Saxon’s auntie is still nice.

  Well . . .

  Hope to see you soon.

  Love,

  Elizabeth

  Elizabeth Clarry

  c/o Auntie Robbie’s house,

  The second house after the milkbar

  with the two rusty wheelbarrows

  and the broken giraffe head on the front lawn

  Coffs Harbour

  Dear Ms Clarry,

  Those postcards to your dad and to Celia’s mum were really wonderful. Very imaginative and perfectly structured.

  No, really. You should be, like, a writer or something?

  The Society of Talented and Interesting Correspondents

  Dear Christina,

  The rescue mission is complete. Not meaning to blow my own trumpet or whatever, but you know what I am, don’t you?
I’m a hero. A HEROINE. I’m probably the best friend ever to live in the history of the world.

  We made contact with Celia in a very clever and tricky way. Okay, this is what we did. First, we dressed completely in green. Saxon said we had to, for camouflage. We got Saxon’s aunt to drop us off about a block away from where the circus was stationed, and then we slipped from tree to garbage bin until we reached the circus gate. We found a rhododendron bush and hid behind that, and we were perfectly silent. Except for when I burst out giggling. Saxon always looked at me solemnly when I did and said he was amazed that I could consider putting the mission into jeopardy with such frivolity. That only made me worse of course.

  Saxon is a big astronomy freak so he brought this minitelescope along, so we could watch what was going on everywhere. We saw people walking along footpaths on their hands, people changing tyres, people singing together and people drinking tea around barbecues. It looked pretty cool actually and I suggested that we dump the whole rescue mission idea and just join up ourselves. Saxon looked even more amazed and said he was beginning to doubt my commitment to the task ahead.

  ‘In a situation like this,’ he said, ‘it is vital, Elizabeth, that we operate as a team – as a well-oiled machine, a perfectly functioning, shiny and silver rocket-ship. Or a vending machine. One that gives change, Elizabeth, one that responds instantly when you touch the button that you want, instantly dropping a packet of barbecue chips into the container below, and pushing another packet forward to replace the ones that you just bought, Elizabeth!’

  I said, ‘I really hate barbecue-flavoured chips.’

  He found this almost as ridiculous as my suggestion that we abandon the rescue mission, and started to demand what could possibly be wrong with me but he had to stop because at that exact moment we saw Celia come out of a caravan.

  Amazing, I know. You don’t have to tell me.

  She was wearing pyjamas and a bathrobe and she had this terrible cough. She sounded like a sea lion.

  Saxon didn’t lose a single second.

  He took the cricket ball that we had prepared (an old one from his aunt’s collection), made sure that our note was wrapped around it carefully, and rolled it straight across the grass towards her. It landed right in front of her feet.

  This may seem unbelievable, that somebody could aim so well, but it’s true, he did.

  I think he was pretty proud about it, actually. I noticed him doing a few kind of imaginary underarm rolls afterwards, looking happy.

  So, we watched Celia stare down at this ball for about half an hour. Then she picked it up, her mouth fell open (Saxon started writhing in agony then, going ‘Celia! Close your mouth! Walk away! The danger! The danger!’ which made me even more hysterical) and she read it. Just standing there looking tiny in her pyjamas with her hair all messy and her bathrobe flapping in the wind.

  Then she went to the shed which I think was the bathroom, and back to her caravan.

  It was incredible. To see Celia again after all this time. It made tears blur my eyes.

  Saxon and I went for a walk to the beach next, and I got sand in my sneakers which I still can’t get out. Honestly, I’ve shaken my sneakers upside down at least two thousand times and every time I do it there’s still sand in them. It’s kind of weird, isn’t it?

  When we got back to the circus, we found a note from Celia in the Sprite can where we told her to put it. She told us a Safe Time and a Safe Place where we could meet her, and we went for another walk along the beach until that time, and then we slipped unseen, invisible, silent, exactly like a well-oiled vending machine, to the Secret Meeting Place.

  And there was Celia.

  It was so fantastic to see her, we just hugged each other and burst into tears, and Saxon stood beside us looking solemn for a minute and then he decided to hug us both too. I think he even had tears in his eyes.

  I have to say though. Up close? Celia looked shocking. I’ve never seen her so wrecked. She’s seriously sick I think. Her face was completely grey except for the big purple circles under her eyes, and she looked even skinnier and tinier than usual, and practically every time she opened her mouth to speak she had to cough. So she couldn’t speak. One of those coughs that turn into a really deep sound, like a guard dog, so you can’t really believe it’s coming from a person’s mouth. You know?

  I also have to say that when Saxon hugged me he had great arms, and a great chest and it was hard to concentrate for a minute.

  Saxon’s auntie came to pick us up and she took one look at Celia and said, ‘In the car. I’m taking you to the doctor.’

  So that was kind of dramatic too. We went screeching off to the doctor’s, Celia still in her pyjamas. Saxon’s auntie was like a Speedway driver.

  The doctor did a blood test but we won’t get the results for a few days. He’s given her some antibiotics and stuff, and said she has to go to bed for the next week. So Saxon’s aunt has insisted that we all stay with her for a week, and we phoned home and it’s fine, so we’re all staying and it’s very cool.

  Although it means we’re going to miss the Trail Run. Don’t tell anyone but I’m a bit disappointed about that, because I’ve actually been training for it for about four months. Plus I came in the top twenty last year, so I had this secret dream that I would win. Anyway, I’m sure I wouldn’t have won it, and Celia’s far more important, so I don’t really mind.

  Celia seemed to kind of collapse when we got back to Auntie Robbie’s. She’s had a really hard time it sounds like, but she was so determined to not just quit. Now she’s got Saxon’s auntie taking care of her, and being shocked about all her experiences, and saying she wants to sue that circus manager for sexual harassment. It’s making Celia go droopy – maybe she actually likes not being in charge for a change, and she’s just lying around being pathetic. Sorry. I have to go. Saxon’s auntie’s asking me and Saxon to do some shopping for her. See ya.

  ---

  Hi again, it’s the next day and it’s so so so so so so so so so so so lovely to be here at Saxon’s auntie’s place. Saxon even looked up his copy of Runner’s World and he noticed that the Forest Hill Half Marathon is on in about two months. That’s a really famous run and I always wanted to go in it, and Saxon says he always did too. So we’re going to train for it. We’ve already started running again – we did our stretching together on the back verandah, and then we ran along the beach, and then we stretched together again.

  At the moment, we’re all sitting around in the living room drinking hot chocolate. Saxon’s auntie has this huge window looking right out across the beach which is completely deserted. It’s kind of a wintry day, with a pale grey sky, and the ocean looks still and moves around lazily, and the sand is white, and there are Twix chocolate wrappers blowing in the wind. BEAUTIFUL.

  Celia is resting on the couch just over there, all bundled up in blankets, surrounded by her medication and her tissues, and reading old cricket magazines.

  Saxon is sitting at the table polishing his telescope and cleaning out the sand.

  Saxon’s aunt is playing a very violent video game in the other corner.

  It’s so nice and peaceful. The only sounds are the ocean waves, the wind, and an occasional burst of machine-gun fire.

  WELL.

  I guess I should finish this and send it to you, so it gets to you before I’m home.

  I’m looking forward to hearing from you again. It’s strange writing to you without hearing anything. It’s like you and Celia have swapped places suddenly – she’s here and you’re far away. I hope you’re not far away when I get home. I hope Derek is fine, and I hope you’re fine, and I hope school’s not too stupid.

  See you soon, I mean write to you soon,

  Elizabeth

  Dearest Elizabeth,

  Well now. That’s more like it.

  Truly, best friend behaviour.

  We see you have travelled many hundreds of kilometres to save your friend from a situation of direness and dis
tress. We see you are having long conversations with your friend again – we see you are in the same room as her! Amazing!

  Congratulations!

  We welcome you back into our fold.

  Best Friends Club

  Dear Ms Clarry,

  You have probably never heard of our society. That’s just as well, as we are a top-secret association and nobody ever hears of us. Not even our most prized members. We ourselves are never even entirely certain that we exist.

  For you, however, an exception.

  What a star you are! What a genius! Cross-country train journeys, camouflage, telescopes and strategies! A mission to rescue a fairy princess! Accompanied by a gallant young prince with excellent biceps! A life-saving dash to the emergency room!

  We will carry you high in a velvet throne while crowds throng to catch a glimpse of you! We will bathe you in maple syrup, and crown you in silver-coated emeralds!

  We will send you gossamer wings so that you can fly across the ocean on a seaweed-scented breeze!

  Okay?

  Yours,

  mysteriously,

  The Secret and Mysterious Association of Secret and Mysterious People

  Dear Elizabeth,

  You and Saxon Walker make something of a team, don’t you?

  Together, you have rescued Celia. Together, you are spending your days running up and down the beach, sitting on the sand and squishing sea grapes at each other. Together, you are shopping for Auntie Robbie, fetching fruit and vitamin C tablets for Celia, taking turns reading books to Celia until she asks you to please shut up.