Fleeced

by Hazel Edwards

  Each signpost Amy checked. So far, none seemed to look like the background of the half photo.

  Christopher carried his map in a plastic cover. Other maps had turned to mush in the rain.

  ‘There’s the Bus Stop!’

  It was a shelter, beside fast flowing water which came straight down the hill. Alongside them, the water boiled into white froth . They had to cross that. Usually the rocky path stuck out well above the water level. And there were wooden posts with linking chains as hand rails in the dangerous parts.

  ‘Where’s the Bus?’ Stan was puzzled.

  ‘It’s a joke. Sometimes we have to wait to cross. It’s often flooded at this time in the season,’ explained Zoe.

  ‘But not usually as high as this.’

  ‘So why is it called the Bus Stop?’ asked Stan.

  ‘Because we have to stop here when the water is high,’ suggested Amy.

  ‘Right.’ Zoe smiled. ‘You stop.’

  ‘So where’s the bus timetable?’ asked Stan, looking around.

  Could he be that stupid? Or was he just pretending not to get it? Amy wasn’t sure.

  The others, glad to sit for a moment, ignored Stan. A few dropped their packs.

  Zoe went ahead to check on the route. By the time she returned, Big Jon had caught up. His rod was folded and stuck out of his pack as he strode up the path, alone.

  Gertrude was sitting inside the Bus Stop shelter. She checked her big sheep-shaped watch. She must have bought that in New Zealand, thought Christopher.

  ‘You were quick Jon. No fish?’

  ‘A couple of big ones. Fast fishing.’ Big Jon indicated his pack . ‘Wrapped in plastic. I’ll ask the cook for a favour tonight.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to show us your big fish?’

  ‘Already wrapped up.’

  Christopher smiled about fish coming out of the water, then being wrapped in plastic so they didn’t get wet from the rain. Strange.

  Zoe waved the others on. ‘ Take your time. Use the chains. The rocks are slippery. Single file.’

  Rocks stuck out of the fast flowing water. Gertrude was first and looked nervous. She held the chain with her left hand. The chain was bolted to the posts, but had a bit of slack. Gertrude grasped the chain and put all her weight on it. The chain went tight and she swung forward. Gertrude wobbled on her chosen rock. She lost her nerve. Her weight was off-balance. She leaned forward, forgetting the weight of her pack. The chain swung out. She tipped over, headfirst into the rushing water. Gertrude’s left arm struck out, the watch caught on a branch, the band broke, and her watch fell in the water.

  ‘Help! Save my watch.’ Gertrude floundered in the water. She tried to stand, and was knocked sideways by the water force. Christopher tried to grab her arm. Big Jon who had caught up, turned, but he was too late. Still on the riverbank, Amy used her Amy-made walking stick to catch the watch as it floated past.

  ‘Got it!’ Luckily the water wasn’t very deep there , although it was fast. Meanwhile, Big Jon had yanked

  Gertrude upright and hauled her out of the water, like a beached whale.

  ‘Thanks Jon. Got my watch Amy?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Why was Gertrude was fussing about a cheap watch when the rest of her was so wet? Finding a dry towel, Zoe wiped her down.

  Before returning the watch to the damp Gertrude, Amy looked closely at it. Animal watches were fashionable now for kids and ‘greenies’. Not that the sheep were a threatened species. So what was all the fuss about?

  ‘Isn’t it waterproof?’ asked Christopher. ‘Is that why she was fussing?’

  ‘Has your watch been opened before?’ asked Amy .

  Gertrude gave her a strange look. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Because , if you’ve put in a new battery, they don’t guarantee it’s waterproof anymore. If the back’s been opened once, then water might get in.’

  Mum’s Singapore jeweller told Amy that, after Amy had dived off the top boarding her inside-out clothes for Christopher’s twenty dollar April Fool’s Day dare. Amy’s watch was not guaranteed water-proof anymore.

  Gertrude’s watch was most unusual. The watch band was fluffy like wool. Instead of numbers, it had tiny sheep-shapes.

  ‘Is it a fake?’

  ‘Fake sheep?’ asked Stan. ‘Of course it’s a fake. It’s a copy-watch.’

  ‘Where did you get it?’ Mum helped Gertrude to rearrange her pack. Mum hated silly souvenirs. Once, at Bangkok airport, when Amy bought the tin of fresh air, with the tin opener attached, Mum chucked a mental.And when Christopher opened the tin, to check, Mum went right off.

  ‘My son gave it to me, just for this trip. No it’s not waterproof now,’ replied Gertrude slipping the watch in her pocket. ‘Okay ,I’m ready now.’

  ‘Right Gertrude? Let’s go.’ said Zoe. ‘No more walking on water, please.’

  Dad and Dr Al were well in front and hadn’t realised about Gertrude’s slip into the river. The Japanese group had also passed a while ago, in single file.

  After walking steadily , for two hours, they stopped for lunch. Stan had been nibbling from his pack for the last half hour. He carried seeds, nuts and dried fruit snacks.

  Bird food,’ said Gertrude dismissively. ‘Have a piece of my chocolate.’

  The snacking reminded Amy of the diabetic chocolate wrapper. She checked. Gertrude’s chocolate wrapper was ordinary.

  ‘D’you ever eat chocolate without sugar?’

  Gertrude shook her head, ‘My son does. He’s diabetic.’

  ‘There’s the lunch hut !’ pointed Zoe who was walking last to keep them moving.

  ‘And the loo,’ said Mum thankfully.

  The wooden hut roof peaked out between the dense bush. The Falls were behind and rushing water could be heard. Another guide had hot water ready. The first arrivals made their own coffee , chocolate or hot soup.

  But locals were also waiting. Lunch turned into a bird snack attack!

  ‘Don’t feed the kea,’ warned Zoe. ‘They mustn’t learn to depend upon us for food.’

  While Zoe was speaking, a kea walked behind Christopher , pecked his map and took off, the folded map between his beak.

  ‘Dumb bird.’ Christopher chased him.’You can’t eat that!’ The bird fluttered upwards and sat on a branch, just out of reach.

  Hiroshi whipped out his camera. ‘Photo opportunity!’

  ‘Maybe the kea doesn’t know where he’s going.’ Amy laughed as Christopher grabbed back his bird-beaked map. There were little beak marks on the plastic cover. ‘He’ll be a Mac Kea Burger if he’s not careful,’ threatened Christopher.

  ‘Please?’ Hiroshi indicated that he wanted Christopher’s photo holding the beaked map bag.

  Christopher posed.

  Another kea hopped across and pecked near Stan who was flicking through his bird book, checking something.

  ‘Look out!’ The bird took Stan’s orange, rolling it along the ground like a ball.

  ‘Wants to play soccer... or rugby?’

  ‘Wrong shaped ball,’ joked Big Jon.

  ‘Mountain parrot. That’s what they are. There’s one kea story I’ll never forget ...’ As Dr Al told his story, another big, greyish-green bird walked up as if it owned the place. ‘They’re cheeky thieves,’ continued Dr Al.

  ‘Work in pairs. Like con artists. One distracts you and the other takes the food. The story goes that some bird smugglers tried to take a couple of kea out through the airport. Our birds are worth a lot when sold to secret collectors in Europe. Drugged them ,of course, but the birds woke up early. One pecked out of the carry-on bag while the other pecked the smugglers’ passport. They were caught and swore they’d never carry kea illegally again. ‘

  Everybody laughed as Dr Al bit his meat sandwich.

 
‘Was that true?’ asked Stan.

  ‘Con merchants. Thieves, with charm, that’s what the keas are,’ winked Dr Al.

  ‘What a scam!’ Mum filmed the kea hopping near Stan. ‘Fleeced by a bird!’

  ‘Ninety percent of smuggled birds die in transit, so it’s a very cruel trade,’ added Zoe looking at Stan who was fiddling with his binoculars now.

  ‘Bird lovers exist worldwide.’ replied Stan.

  The twins weren’t sure what he meant by that. Did he think birds like keas should be smuggled out of New Zealand?

  Camera ready, Mum had been watching the kea closely. ‘You’ve heard of ‘meals on wheels?’

  Amy nodded. They were meals delivered for oldies stuck in their own homes.

  Just then a kea hopped away with part of Dr Al’s meat sandwich.

  ‘Well, instead of meals -on-wheels, there goes your lunch- on- legs,’ Mum followed with the camera.

  ‘Meals in flight,’ added Zoe. Like Mum, Zoe enjoyed word-games.

  Christopher wondered if any birds were vegetarian. That kea ate the meat sandwich, so it wasn’t. And then the kea’s mate stole Gertrude’s sandwich. She hadn’t even unwrapped it.

  ‘ ‘Hey!’ Gertrude was ultra-upset. She grabbed the sandwich back and stuffed it in her pocket.

  Once they’d finished lunch, or the keas had stolen it, people left at their own pace. There was a slight mix up with the backpacks. Most people had left theirs resting against the wall. Amy had left 108 leaning on the seat. Gertrude had left 801 nearby.

  ‘Our numbers are the same, upside down,’ Amy observed, helping Gertrude with her pack. Her woollen jumper had dried already. ‘Easy to mix up.’

  ‘My lucky numbers,’ said Gertrude. ‘I always use 1 and 0 and 8 for everything. In advance, my son especially requested that number backpack from Zoe. He had it too. But there was a mix up. She gave me 801 instead. My lucky numbers, but in the wrong order. I even live at number 108. My son used to live with me. ‘

  ‘Where does he live now?’ asked Amy.

  ‘On a farm.’

  Amy thought about those numbers. ‘When did your son walk the Track?’

  ‘A few weeks ago.’ Then Gertrude’s face looked sad. ‘He’ll be cross that I nearly lost my watch in the river. He likes unusual watches. He gave me that.’

  ‘But you’ve still got it.’ said Amy comfortingly. Sometimes Gertrude didn’t seem veryclever. Was there some reason that her son thought she might remember those numbers? Could he have been the one to leave the half photo? But there must have been several trekkers using that backpack in-between. Amy noticed that Gertrude put her uneaten sandwich into her pack. Perhaps she just wasn’t hungry? Or was there another reason?

  ‘Don’t you like crunchy peanut butter sandwiches?’ Amy asked.

  Gertrude shrugged. ‘Not today. I’m saving it for later.’

  Zoe was hurrying the stragglers to start. Dr Al was already at the top of the roughly built steps made from sleepers. They were moving into a dank and green forested area now.

  ‘Keep your eyes open for tiny native orchids,’ said Zoe.

  ‘Could you pretend to sling your pack on again, please, Dr Al?’ Dad was sheltering his lens from the rain.

  The drizzle had turned into a regular shower.

  ‘Now?’ Dr Al was very obliging.

  It wasn’t like Dad to mess up shots. But the constant rain was making filming difficult as Dr Al climbed the sleeper steps, again. The camera also picked up Gertrude’s numbered pack as she walked down the track. 801.

  Amy decided to check on how often packs were recycled.

  Chapter 7

  Dr Al’s 70th

  ‘Lights out! Sing,’ directed Dad.

  ‘Happy birthday dear Dr Al, Happy 70th to you.’

  Christopher helped Zoe carry the cake. The 7 and the O candles were stuck on top. Trekkers sang loudly, in their own languages. Birthdays were international.

  After blowing out the candles, Dr Al seemed overwhelmed. ‘Where did you get the special candles?’

  ‘Christopher’s backpack.’ said Amy. ‘ Zipped side pocket.’

  ‘Carried instead of that computer game,’ said Mum quickly.

  ‘Thank you Amy and everybody else. Have a slice of my cake.’

  ‘Dr Al’s 70th birthday is tomorrow. That’s why we’re making the documentary,’

  Dad told Hiroshi as they ate the cake. ‘The Milford Track is where he started training for his explorations.’

  ‘Pompolona is an unusual name for a hut,’ said Hiroshi in very correct English, checking the map.

  ‘Like the wart thing I got on my foot?’ asked Amy. Last term she’d gone to the doctor about her sore foot.

  ‘That was a pap- something.’

  ‘Papaloma? No. ‘ Zoe shook her head. ‘ This is named after a pan scone. We’ll have some for supper. The explorer Mackinnon used to melt mutton fat candles into a pan when he was cooking pancakes. A special flavour. The original spelling of the dish and the hut was Pampalona. But someone got it wrong.’

  That made Amy think about the backpack numbers and the sign. Had someone got something wrong there? Had things been left by accident? Or planned?

  Gertrude gave Dr Al a golf ball for his birthday. Then Christopher gave a hand-drawn card. It showed Dr Al flying over the International Date Line, wearing boots and a walking stick. ‘ Happy Birthday International Explorer’ was written in Christopher’s best calligraphy.

  Puzzled, Big Jon looked at the birthday card. ‘What is it? Dog poo?’

  ‘No. It’s a line of dates. This is how I see an international date line,’ said Christopher quickly. ‘Would you like me to draw a rugby match?’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  Christopher knew that people thought in different ways. He thought in pictures.

  Amy thought in words. Dad said he thought in camera shots. But Christopher wasn’t sure how Big Jon thought, so he drew a match stick and then he drew a rugby scarf wrapped around it. ‘A rugby match? What’s your team’s colours?’

  ‘The All Blacks?’ said Big Jon, amazed that anyone should ask. The New Zealand ‘All Blacks’ were so famous. ‘They play the game , not the match of rugby.’

  Christopher used black texta to make the scarf black. When he showed the picture to Big Jon, he stared so long, Christopher began to feel uncomfortable.

  ‘ER, it’s great Christopher. Is it meant to be a goal post? In rugby, the post is shaped like an H. Here, let me draw it for you.’ Big Jon seized the pen.

  Amy looked at Big Jon’s giant watch. ‘When you fly over the International Date Line, you have to alter your watch. As you fly from east to west you go back in time by a day . As you fly from west to east you go forward in time. We’ve flown over it a few times. It’s an imaginary line down the world.’

  ‘Dr Al , if you had a birthday when you were flying over the International Date Line, would you have one birthday, two or none?’ asked Christopher.

  ‘That’s a thought. Depends which direction I’m flying,’ said Dr Al. ‘Love the card. Thanks Christopher.’

  Amy had been thinking.’ Maybe it’s like Leap Year. If you’re born on 29th February, you only have an official birthday once every four years. Then you’d only be seventeen and a half Dr Al!’

  ‘You don’t look seventy, Dr Al,’ said Stan, admiring his walking stick.

  Dr Al whipped his passport out of his bum bag. ‘Proof.’ He proudly showed them the date of birth and the photo. Christopher was reminded of Stan’s passport photo.

  ‘Is your date of birth on your passport?’ Christopher asked Stan.

  ‘Isn’t everybody’s?’ replied Stan.

  Dr Al was a legend. Seventy was old, old. Age was a funny thing, thought Amy. When you were ten you wanted to be eleven. But you were the same inside.
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  Quickly Christopher tried to think of a reason to get Stan to show his passport again.

  ‘Does your passport show your height?’

  ‘Yes, but not my weight.’

  ‘Is yours an Australian passport?’ asked Christopher.

  ‘Why shouldn’t it be?’ Stan wiped his walking stick carefully.’ I was born there.’

  The heli-pad was outside the kitchen window of the lodge. Injured trekkers were flown out from there. On sunny days ,the staff ate their lunch on the heli-pad which was just a flat square.

  Dr Al and Gertrude were talking about golf. ‘ Ever played golf in the Antarctic?’

  Amused, Gertrude shook her head. ‘Played everywhere else.’

  Christopher interrupted,’ If you lose a ball down a fish or seal hole, it costs two strokes. Or if you hit out of bounds.’

  ‘How do you know that? Have you been there?’ asked Gertrude.

  No ,we went to the Antarctic Centre in Christchurch. It was in the display there.’ said Christopher.

  ‘That’s where Mum bought you those penguin underpants,’ added Amy.

  Christopher blushed. Luckily he’d already managed to lose them.

  Dr Al smiled. ‘The Antarctic is a cold desert. I’ve worked there a few times. But it needs protection too. It shouldn’t become a rubbish dump.’

  Later, the twins’ parents explained that Dr Al’s fee from the film was going into an Antarctic Conservation Fund.

  ‘Do you have any Antarctic stickers?’ Amy asked eagerly. She already had some kiwi stickers.

  ‘Not with me. Some in my backpack,’ offered Dr Al. ‘Give you them later.’

  ‘Want to play a game after dinner?’ Amy really missed television. The lodges had only old-fashioned games and books about local birds and trees. Such a time-warp!

  ‘Will we play Scrabble in English? ‘ asked Mum politely. Two of the Japanese mountaineers bowed.

  The German couple shook their heads.

  ‘Why don’t we play in our own languages?’ suggested Amy.