‘Sure thing. Not a worry,’ replied Walter, reaching to squeeze my shoulder. ‘Abby, you right to stay here?’
Abby smiled. ‘Of course, Pop. See ya later, Flynn. And don’t worry about Big Blue. Cathy’ll look after him.’
Waves thundered against the beach as we drove back towards Grandad Barney’s farm. The palm trees bent further than ever, their leaves streaming like long hair in the wind. Cars raced past us, headlights blazing through the lashing rain, even though it was only one o’clock.
Walter glanced at Dad. He sat hunched in the passenger seat, his eyes glued to the road.
‘How about some music?’ Walter turned on the radio. But instead of a song, an urgent newsflash filled the car.
‘Residents of Mission Beach have been warned to be prepared as Cyclone Peter creeps across from Fiji towards the north-Queensland coast. With winds of over 190 kilometres per hour, Peter is expected to hit as a category 2 sometime tonight. A spokesperson from the Bureau of Meteorology warns—’
Walter listened a little longer before turning down the volume.
‘Is it going to hit us?’ I asked.
‘Hard to tell,’ Walter replied. ‘In my experience, it could come in anywhere along the coast. Cairns, Port Douglas, it’s too early to predict, but by the looks of that wind out there, it’s coming. Category 2 isn’t exactly a big one, but you never know what might happen.’
*
The rain was teeming down by the time we pulled up at Grandad Barney’s farm. ‘Got tape for the windows, Steve? Just in case?’ asked Walter.
Dad nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said, taking a deep breath. ‘We’ll be right.’
Dad sounded nearly normal.
‘Okay, but take it easy all right? Bad shock you had today, nasty trip down memory lane. Make sure you give me a bell if you need anything, won’t you?’
‘Will do,’ said Dad.
‘Bye, Walter.’ I opened my door, but then pulled it closed again as rain beat against my legs. ‘And thanks for saving us from Big Blue.’
Dad and I were soaked by the time we’d run into the house. I expected Dad to head straight to his room to dry off, but the minute Walter left he went into overdrive. He must have thought the cyclone was coming straight for us. Not to Cairns or Port Douglas. Straight for Mission Beach!
‘Can you phone Mum?’ he said, handing me the mobile. ‘She rang while we were at the centre and I missed her calls. Tell her we might lose our signal if the cyclone hits.’ Dad started closing all the windows, making sure they were latched tight. ‘She’ll be worried if she doesn’t hear from us for a while.’
A while? My heart thumped. How long did a cyclone take? I took the phone and headed to Grandad’s bedroom.
‘I won’t be long,’ called Dad. ‘I’m just going to the shed to grab some tape.’
My fingers shook as I selected Mum’s number. I looked out the window as I waited for her to pick up. The trees were nearly horizontal, and the rain slashed down like daggers. I couldn’t hear any birds. What would Peanut and Jumble do if there was a cyclone? How would they know they had to hide?
‘Hi, Mum. It’s me, Flynn.’
‘I know it’s you, honey. How are you?’
‘Okay, I guess. But there’s a cyclone coming and Dad and I nearly died today.’
‘What!’ exclaimed Mum.
‘Yeah. It was a cassowary. Not just any cassowary. The world’s most giant cassowary. He was trying to chase after Dad, so I yelled at him and frightened him away with a rake. Dad was completely freaked out. But then Walter and Cathy came, and they darted the cassowary and took him away. It was really scary.’
‘Oh my goodness! Are you okay now?’
‘It was Big Blue, Mum. Grandad Barney’s old cassowary.’
Mum gasped.
‘I think Dad went into shock. You know, like when that guy fell off his bike at the park? Dad was like him. Kind of weird. All shaky and out of it and everything.’
‘Can I speak to Dad, Flynn?’
‘No he’s busy. That’s why I’m calling. He’s getting ready for the cyclone now.’
‘That’s why I’ve been trying to ring.’
‘Mum, what if Grandad Barney’s house blows away?’
‘Oh, honey, it won’t blow away. The cyclone’s not supposed to be too big. I hope it won’t come anywhere near you. Just listen to Dad. He knows what he’s doing. Don’t forget, he used to live up there when he was your age. He’s seen plenty of cyclones. Now, what have you got for tea? Maybe you could make something for Dad seeing as he’s not feeling too good?’
‘Walter gave us shepherd’s pie.’
‘Perfect. Well promise you’ll make Dad eat something? And tell him to call me soon, okay? Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.’
‘Okay. Bye, Mum.’
‘Bye, honey.’
‘Want to give me a hand, mate?’ Dad asked, ducking into the bedroom. His shirt and hair were soaking wet. ‘I don’t know how long we’ve got, and I want to get these windows taped.’
He showed me how to stick tape across the windows to stop them from cracking. Then, while the wind howled and the house creaked, we packed a box with torches, candles, matches and an assortment of food.
When everything was ready, Dad sank into a chair at the kitchen table. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. ‘Sounds like it means business out there, doesn’t it?’ he mumbled. ‘Just what we need, more mess to clean up.’
I remembered Mum’s suggestion and heated up the shepherd’s pie. It wasn’t really lunch, and it wasn’t really tea, but it seemed like a good idea to eat it if a cyclone was coming. I pushed a loaded plate in front of Dad.
‘It’s really yum,’ I urged, taking a bite. ‘Nearly better than Mum’s.’
Dad smiled a wobbly smile. He picked up a fork and held it over his plate.
‘Dad?’ I said.
‘Yes, Flynnie?’
‘What do birds do in a cyclone?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Birds? What do they do?’
Dad pushed his fork into the mashed potato. ‘Um, birds, well birds seem to know when there’s a cyclone and they take off inland somewhere.’
‘Even cassowaries?’
‘Don’t know about cassowaries.’
‘So baby cassowaries wouldn’t know there was a cyclone, would they? Do they maybe hide in a cave or something?’
‘Flynn, is there something you want to tell me?’
‘It’s just that …’
Dad put down his fork and looked at me.
‘Um. No,’ I murmured. I tried to eat my mashed potato but I couldn’t swallow. Dad’s breathing seemed loud in the silence that followed, despite the wind and rain outside. ‘So, was Big Blue … Did he … Was he the cassowary who …’
‘Stop asking me about cassowaries, Flynn! I think you should know by now that cassowaries are not my favourite animal.’
‘But why are you so frightened of them?’
‘Flynn!’ shouted Dad, pushing his plate away. ‘For goodness sake! I don’t want to talk about it!’ He stood up, not having taken one mouthful of food. ‘I need to check the battery supply and double-check outside. Can I trust you with the dishes?’
Dad wrenched open the back door and slammed it hard behind him.
I crashed the dishes angrily into the sink. Why wouldn’t Dad tell me about Big Blue and Grandad Barney? Didn’t I have a right to know? Anything so terrible needed to be shared, not hidden. I rinsed the plates feeling angrier and angrier.
I snatched the salt and pepper off the table. Why didn’t Dad trust me? I was old enough to understand. Maybe I could even help.
I was about to go to Grandad Barney’s room when I heard a sound. It wasn’t the wind rattling the windows. Or the branches scratching the roof.
It was a short, high-pitche
d sound.
I stood still and listened. There it was again!
‘Peep. Peep. Peep.’
Could it really be them? My hide-and-seek chicks, searching for me to look after them? The peeps were coming from the other side of the kitchen door.
I checked for Dad down the hallway. When I couldn’t see him, I tugged open the door, spilling light from the kitchen into the yard.
‘Peep. Peep. Peep.’
I stepped outside, closing the door quietly behind me. Rain tore at my face as I peered around the yard. ‘Peanut? Jumble? Where are you?’ I whispered.
The wind ripped at the trees, tossing and turning them like the inflatable men that flapped outside the pizza shops near home. Hundreds of leaves blew like confetti across the lawn.
‘Peanut? Jumble? It’s me, Flynn.’
Crack. I swirled to my right. A huge branch split from a tree and crashed to the ground. I pushed back against the door. Maybe I’d imagined the peeps? I’d better get back inside.
‘Peep. Peep. Peep.’
There it was again! I looked to my left. Peanut! He was huddled under a fern that was growing close to the kitchen door. ‘Here, little guy,’ I whispered, squatting down beside him. He kept his head down as I scooped him into my arms and hugged him close. His heart hammered against mine.
‘Where’s Jumble?’ I asked, peering under the fern. ‘Is he in here too?’
The kitchen door slammed open.
‘Flynnie! Are you crazy? What are you doing outside?’
I fumbled with Peanut, trying to keep my back between him and Dad. ‘Dad, I—’
‘Come inside! Quick! It’s too dangerous out here.’ Dad marched over, grabbed me by the shoulders and yanked me inside. Then he rushed to the radio and began flicking through stations. He didn’t notice the damp yellow lump I had clutched against my T-shirt.
Unable to find a clear channel, Dad began barking out instructions. ‘You go wait in the bathroom!’ he shouted, while jamming old towels under the doors. ‘And fill the bath with water. Grab the torches on your way. I’ll bring a mattress in shortly.’
‘A mattress? But the bathroom’s tiny. We can’t sleep in there.’ How would I hide Peanut from Dad in the bathroom? And what about looking for Jumble?
There was a loud crash outside the kitchen window.
‘Flynn! This isn’t a ride at the Ekka. This is serious. I haven’t got time to argue! Just go to the bathroom and shut the door.’
‘Where are you going?’ My heart thumped. I didn’t want to go to the bathroom. I wanted to go look for Jumble.
‘Flynn, NOW!’
Keeping my back to Dad and Peanut close to my chest, I ran down the hall to the bathroom and crouched on the floor beside the bath. I turned on the taps and then reached down and kissed Peanut’s head. He smelt damp, like a wet school jumper. Where was I going to hide him? In the cabinets under the sink? But then how would he breathe? A shower cubicle might have worked, but Grandad Barney’s shower was only a nozzle over the bath. Maybe the dirty clothes basket? I stood up to check it out, with Peanut squirming wildly in my arms.
‘You’re okay, little fella,’ I murmured. ‘You’re safe in here with me.’
But what about Jumble? What would happen to him all alone out there? I’d seen pictures after cyclones, and there wasn’t much rainforest left. Houses were shattered, and trees were ripped and beheaded, looking like matchsticks jammed into the soil. Jumble would be killed for sure.
I lifted the lid off the clothes basket. Although it was made of plastic, there were holes in the lid for Peanut to breathe. It was perfect. I leant down to stash him inside but, as I did, he wriggled out of my arms. ‘Poor little guy,’ I soothed, as he hopped onto the bathroom tiles. ‘You’re missing Jumble.’ I reached out and stroked him as he pecked at my toes. His feathers, although wet, were soft and reassuring. Touching him seemed to calm him down, and made me feel better, too. I smiled as he pecked my toe again. ‘You’re hungry.’ I rummaged through the box of food Dad had placed on the bench next to the sink. Under the Spam and baked beans, I found three boxes of sultanas. I quickly grabbed one, and tipped the entire box into the wash basket. Then I placed Peanut inside. I’d just lowered the lid when Dad burst through the door.
‘Dad!’ I yelped. ‘I wasn’t doing anything. I was just,’ I glanced at the half-full bath, ‘filling the bath.’
Dad pulled a mattress through the doorway, leaned it against the towel rack, and closed the bathroom door behind him. Just as he went to sit down on the edge of the bath, the lid of the dirty clothes basket popped open. Peanut’s fuzzy head appeared, and he uttered a frightened ‘peep’.
Dad’s face went bright red.
‘Flynn! Is that a—’ He wasn’t able to say the word.
‘Dad, this is Peanut,’ I said, scooping Peanut out of the basket. ‘I found him and his brother Jumble near the swamp.’ I offered my feathery bundle to Dad, but Dad backed away, like I was offering him a burning torch. ‘They’ve lost their dad, and they need me.’
‘No, Flynn,’ said Dad. He moved further away from Peanut. ‘It was bad enough with your grandad, I’m not going through it all again. That bird has to go.’
‘No!’ I shouted. ‘He’s scared. He’s only a baby. I have to look after him!’
‘Flynn! You can’t go around playing with them and treating them like kittens!’
‘But …’
The walls of the bathroom started shaking. Dad gripped the edge of the bath. I pushed myself closer to the mattress, and Peanut leapt from my arms.
‘Flynn! Get him away from me,’ cried Dad, lifting his legs so that Peanut couldn’t reach his feet. If Dad leant away any further, he’d topple straight into the bath.
There was another crash and then a thud. The house shuddered. Peanut hopped closer towards Dad, but Dad leapt from the side of the bath and flung open the bathroom door. ‘Put it out!’ he ordered.
‘No!’ I shouted. My chest heaved. I wouldn’t cry. I couldn’t cry. I had to be brave and protect Peanut. ‘He’s all alone without his dad and brother,’ I said. ‘We have to look after him! Why won’t you listen to me?’
Before Dad could answer, Peanut darted between his legs, and straight out the door.
‘Peanut!’ I shouted, jumping around Dad and after my little hide-and-seek chick.
‘Flynn!’ yelled Dad, grabbing me in a rugby tackle. I tried to push him away, but he held me too tight. I stuck my elbows out and squirmed, and even tried to kick, but Dad wasn’t letting go.
Dad dragged me into the bathroom and pushed the door shut with his foot. As it closed, a loud crash made us both jump. It was followed by the sound of smashing glass.
‘Peanut!’ I screamed.
The bathroom was pitched into darkness.
‘Quick. Under here.’ Dad pulled me down and hauled the mattress over our heads.
‘Peanut!’ I sobbed.
‘Shhh, mate, it’s okay.’ Dad pulled me into a bear hug. We lay like we were in a cave, Dad taking the weight of the mattress, both of us inhaling its stale, musty smell. ‘He’ll be in the house somewhere. We’ll go and find him when all this is over.’
Instead of fighting Dad this time, I sank into his arms. His shirt was still wet, but he smelt familiar, like deodorant and washing powder. I could feel his heart thumping against my back. ‘But when will it be over?’ I whispered.
‘Soon, mate, soon.’ Dad sucked at his teeth. ‘But meanwhile, staying in here’s the safest thing,’ he said. ‘It’s best to wait these things out.’
‘But Dad …’
‘You’ll just have to trust me, Flynn. I know that’s hard. With me being away and everything, we haven’t exactly got to know each other, have we? But I’m here now, and I’m going to look after you.’
I sniffed.
‘I’m sorry, Flynn. Shall
we call a truce?’
‘Why can’t you just tell me the truth?’
I felt Dad’s chest rise.
‘Trouble is,’ he began, ‘I’ve been feeling all over the shop since we arrived at the farm. Especially when it comes to cassowaries. I don’t know … maybe it’s because I’ve been here before. With Grandad Barney.’ He let his breath out in a whoosh. ‘Perhaps it would help if I start at the beginning.’
I froze. Was Dad finally going to tell me the truth?
‘It was after Cyclone Glenda and I was a bit younger than you,’ he said, holding me even tighter. ‘I remember being evacuated and waiting with all the other kids in the hall. It’s all so clear, like it was yesterday. I can picture the devastation. We lost the entire roof of this house. The banana plants were ruined. When we were finally allowed to go back home, Dad had to fix all the damage. I remember he was trying to pull a branch off the carport when he heard the first cheeping sounds.’
I swiped my nose with the back of my hand. I knew those sounds.
‘He found the bird stuck under the fallen washing line. All tangled up it was, and he carefully eased it out to show me. Not much bigger than your little Peanut it was, and soaking wet. We gave it some pawpaw and some watermelon and, after watching it for an hour, your grandad was hooked.’ Dad paused and gave me a squeeze as the bathroom door rattled from the wind.
‘Was it Big Blue?’ I asked.
Dad’s cheek brushed mine. ‘Yes, it was. Although we hadn’t named him then. Your grandad cared for that chick like it was a baby. I didn’t mind at first. It was kind of fun sharing the house with a cassowary. But then it got ridiculous. Once word spread, people started bringing over every injured and orphaned cassowary from miles around. Grandad cared for every one of them. He built hideouts and shelters and started bulldozing banana plants to grow more rainforest. To create corridors, he said, to link the coast to the forest. Like Cathy explained, they didn’t call him Mister Cassowary for nothing.’
‘But I still don’t understand why you don’t like cassowaries,’ I said.
Dad let out a long sigh. ‘If Grandad Barney wasn’t cutting up fruit for the fruit stations, he was out planting trees. If he wasn’t planting trees, he was off finding out how to save them. He didn’t really have time for me.’
Mister Cassowary Page 8
