Meanwhile, in 6H, Max had managed to sit across from Van and snatch a couple of quick conversations during the lessons before lunch. He asked for the boy’s help with a comprehension exercise and another activity he said he couldn’t understand, gently stroking Van’s sizable ego and wheedling his way into a friendship. As for their teacher, Max decided that Mr Hook’s reputation was far worse than the man deserved. Fair enough, he had a leery look which silenced the class in a nanosecond, but apart from that he never raised his voice. His teaching style was rather dull, especially compared to Mr Reffell’s nutty antics, and he would never have won an argument against Miss Witherbee.
As they were packing up their things, Max leaned forward and tapped Van on the shoulder. ‘What do we have this afternoon?’ he asked.
‘Do you need to get your glasses checked?’ the lad said with a grin. He motioned towards the front of the room, where it was clearly written on the whiteboard that they had a year-group meeting followed by Science.
‘Oh, sorry, that was stupid of me. Just finding my feet,’ Max said, feeling like an idiot. ‘Is there somewhere you usually sit at lunchtime? I mean, the Year Sixes?’
‘You can hang out with me, if you like,’ Van said. ‘But I have to see Mr De Vere about the cricket match on the weekend. We’re playing on Bradman Oval in Bowral against a team from Moss Vale.’
None of that meant a thing to Max and his face must have betrayed his lack of knowledge.
Van looked at the lad quizzically. ‘You do know who Sir Donald Bradman was, right?’
‘Sure.’ Max nodded, hoping Van wouldn’t ask him anything more. He’d be looking that up as soon as he got home. ‘My dad’s the new assistant coach of your team,’ he said, as the pair retrieved their lunch boxes from the lockers and walked out to the courtyard. ‘What do your parents do?’
‘Dad runs a company and Mum looks after us – when she’s not shopping or having her hair done or going to lunch with friends,’ Van replied. ‘What about your mum?’
Max shook his head. ‘She’s not around.’
Fortunately, Van left it at that. Max couldn’t work out of if the boy was sympathetic or if he didn’t really care. Either was fine as Max preferred not to weave the web of lies any tighter than he needed to. The deceit was one of the things that bothered him most about his new career path. It wasn’t something that came naturally at all; no wonder they had to have specialist lessons in the craft.
The playground seemed clearly marked by year-group boundaries. Max sat with Van and some of his friends on a patch of grass beneath a leafy oak tree while he spied Kensy with Curtis on the seats outside the entrance to the Year Five block. Ellery was nowhere in sight.
‘So, what’s your sister like?’ Van asked out of the blue.
‘Oh, Kensy?’ Max faltered. ‘She’s funny and blunt and she’s really clever. Don’t tell her I said so, but she’s probably a better skier than me – technically, at least.’
‘It sounds as if you actually like her,’ Van said.
‘Most of the time. We have our moments. Why? Don’t you get along with your sister?’
Van shrugged. ‘She’s okay in small doses, but she can be a total brat. She’s really good at getting her own way with Dad. I wouldn’t necessarily choose to hang out with her, but maybe she and Kensy will be friends.’
Max spotted Ellery and a posse of three girls heading towards Kensy and Curtis. They stopped in front of them, blocking out the sun.
Kensy looked up. ‘Hi,’ she said. She knew that one of the girls was called Ruby, another was Mia and the third was Candice. Ruby was in her homeroom class, while the other two were in Mr Percival’s Maths class.
‘Would you like to come and sit with us?’ Ellery asked.
Kensy looked at Curtis, whose blue eyes instantly brightened.
‘Sure, thanks,’ Kensy said. She and Curtis both stood up.
Ellery giggled. ‘Not you, Pepper. As if.’
The other three girls laughed.
Kensy’s first instinct was to tell them that, if Curtis wasn’t invited, she didn’t care to be with them either. She had to fight her fury as her mouth opened before she clamped it shut again. Ellery was her mission. Curtis was her neighbour and for how long was anyone’s guess. She had to rationalise it this way or else it hurt too much. Being a spy was much harder on her emotions than she’d thought it would be.
‘Well, are you coming or not?’ Ellery asked, flicking a braid over her shoulder.
Kensy hesitated, then picked up her lunch box. ‘I’ll catch you after school,’ she whispered to Curtis.
‘Oh.’ The boy quickly smiled and nodded. ‘Okay, see you on the ferry.’
Kensy waved and walked off with the girls, hating herself more than she had for a very long time. In her head, she kept repeating that this was her job and she had no choice, but right at that moment, all she wanted was to rush back to Curtis and give him a great big hug.
Tinsley Chalmers pulled the letter out of her handbag and opened it. She read the words again – confirmation that staying was no longer an option. There was no one she could tell – who would believe her? Her heart was pounding as she contemplated her next move. It would be the biggest of her life. All the way to France. She had already purchased the farmhouse in a little village just outside Bergerac in the Dordogne region. It was a place she had spent some time after university, before she’d met Dash and been swept off her feet. Strangely, it wasn’t an adventure she’d ever told him about, even though she’d lived there as a nanny for six months. Bergerac was her escape route. She would take the children and, if things went according to plan, he would never find them – at least until they wanted to be found. The children would hate her to begin with. She was fully prepared for that.
While Tinsley hadn’t earned a cent of her own money since Van and Ellery were born, for the past five years she’d had a nest egg locked away in a term deposit. It had come as a complete shock upon her father’s death to learn that he had left her over six hundred thousand dollars. Unlike her husband’s family, her own parents weren’t wealthy, though they were fiercely proud, which was probably why Dash hadn’t bothered to attend the reading of the will with her. Tinsley had been so enamoured by her husband and his glamorous and exciting life. It galled her to think of the way she’d abandoned her family – that she’d felt embarrassed by them when they were the people who had truly loved her the most in the world. They were the best sort of people, but that was something she’d realised far too late.
Tinsley looked up the address of the travel agent. She needed to go to the bank first and withdraw the money. There was no way she could touch the joint account she shared with Dash – he questioned the tiniest amount, even the weekly grocery bill. Everything had to be paid in cash with no paper trail and they were certainly taking the long way around. Three tickets to New York. Then they would need false passports so they could leave their old life far behind. That part of the process was proving a little trickier. Tinsley didn’t know any criminals, but this afternoon she was planning to meet one. She just had to be back in time to pick up Ellery from her dance class and Van from cricket and the clock was ticking.
Kensy dumped her backpack on the seat beside her brother and sat down.
‘How was your dance class?’ Max asked, without taking his eyes off the field.
‘It’s not really my thing,’ she said. ‘But Ellery’s into it and I think I’ve managed to convince her that I am too. She’s asked us round for a swim when we get home. Have you worked out a way to get yourself on the team yet?’
Max turned to look at her. ‘You can’t be serious. I’ve never played more than tip and run. And that’s the top team you’re talking about – I’d be lucky to make the bottom side here.’
‘Well, I hate to point out the obvious, but it’ll be easier to stay close to Van if you’re out there with him,’ the girl replied.
On the field, Van had just directed a couple more of the boys to stand in
closer to the batsman.
‘Come on, this one’s ours,’ shouted a tall lad.
At the bowler’s end, Van took his run up, past Fitz, who was umpiring, and sent the ball flying down the pitch, smashing middle stump clean out of the ground.
‘Howzat!’ Van shouted. He and his team mates leapt into the air, having just claimed another St Mark’s wicket. Fitz raised his pointer finger in the air to give the batsman out.
‘I’ve got an idea,’ Kensy said with a glint in her eye. She reached into her schoolbag and retrieved a tiny ring box.
‘What? Oh no,’ Max said, shaking his head. ‘You said it wasn’t ready yet.’
Kensy shrugged. ‘Maybe it isn’t, but this is the perfect place to test it out. Your poison-dart glasses haven’t got a long enough range, so this is the next best thing. Don’t be such a wuss.’
Max watched as his sister pulled out what looked like a bee and a tiny controller. She’d been working on it for weeks now and, having most recently chased Song around the kitchen with it, was very pleased with her handiwork.
Kensy fished about for her glasses, which were in another case at the bottom of her bag. She put them on, then pressed the invisible button on the side. ‘Here goes nothing,’ she said as the insect whirred to life. She stood up and eyed her target – a skinny lad near the fence closest to them. Via the controller and her magnified glasses, she manoeuvred the insect towards the boy, landing it on the back of his neck so gently he didn’t feel a thing.
Van took his run up for the last ball of the innings, but stopped short when the lad clutched his neck and began to scream. ‘Something stung me!’ the boy yelped.
Another fielder ran over to help and was soon jumping around and shouting too. A third wound up squealing like a stuck pig. All the while, Kensy couldn’t help giggling. Her bee was perfection and, while its victims might have felt a sharp pinprick, there was no venom in the sting. It was just a jab – at least until she could work out how to store a liquid sedative in it, but she was going to need a lot more help with that.
Fitz stopped play and the Wentworth Head Coach, Jaco De Vere, raced onto the field.
‘Pfft, what a load of carry-on for a fake bee sting,’ Kensy said, rolling her eyes. She held out her hand for the bee to land on and packed it away, popping the case, glasses and controller into her bag.
‘Good job, little sister,’ Max said, grinning.
Kensy shot him a warning look. ‘Really? You really want to go there, after seeing what my bee can do?’
The skinny lad was now the colour of his cricket whites. ‘Sir, I’m allergic to bees,’ he whimpered.
Jaco wasn’t prepared to take any chances and was on the phone to the school nurse, who arrived at the ground minutes later. She whisked the three boys back to the infirmary, where she was going to keep them under observation until their parents arrived. Jaco called to Fitz, who was busy checking the score and hoping to goodness he hadn’t made any mistakes. He walked to the bottom of the grandstand. ‘Gerry, we’re going to be a player short. Is your boy perchance any good with a bat?’
Fitz was wondering if they might call off the rest of the game, but apparently cricket was more important than a few boys with bee stings and potentially life-threatening allergic reactions. Wentworth Grammar were due to go in to bat after a short drinks break.
‘You can thank me later, little brother,’ Kensy said, nudging Max in the ribs.
‘I’d love to play, except I don’t have a uniform,’ Max yelled to the coach.
Mr De Vere held up his hand. ‘Leave that to me.’ The man made another call and not twenty minutes later a young fellow arrived with a bag of cricket whites.
By the time Max emerged, ready for action, the home team was four wickets down. Van was batting and the only one to be scoring any runs. There was a shout and Fitz’s finger rose into the air again. Five down. It seemed that St Mark’s was about to give Wentworth Grammar a lesson in how to play cricket.
‘You’re up, Max,’ Jaco De Vere said, to the boy’s great surprise.
‘But I thought it was Ted’s turn …’ Max frowned at a stocky lad with red hair who was scoffing a bag of crinkle-cut chips.
‘I already know how he plays, but I haven’t seen you in action,’ the coach said. ‘And we might be in need of some new blood for the weekend, if you’re any good. I have a feeling Errol’s mother will take him home and wrap him up in a big wad of cotton wool for a month. BJ’s is just as likely to do the same.’
Max had already padded and gloved up. He put on the helmet, then spent a couple of seconds trying to think if he had everything he needed.
Ted looked at him. ‘What about Hector?’ he asked.
Max frowned. He couldn’t remember any of the boys being called Hector.
The boy tapped his crotch, which echoed loudly. ‘Hector the protector. You don’t want a googly in the gonads.’ The boy pulled a face. ‘Trust me.’
Max quickly grabbed the box and stuffed it into his trousers, hoping that no one was watching. Then he picked up a bat and trotted down the stairs and onto the oval.
‘Go, Max!’ Ted shouted, giving the boy in front of him a chip shower.
‘Show them how it’s done, Max,’ Kensy called.
At the crease, Van glanced up and flashed the girl a huge smile and a wave. Kensy shrank down in her seat and turned the other way.
Max walked to the opposite end of the pitch. Fortunately, he’d paid close attention to the earlier innings and now stood with his bat poised, waiting for Van to hit the ball.
‘Just breathe, Max,’ Fitz whispered. ‘If I can do this, so can you.’
The bowler ran in beside them and unleashed a bouncer. Van swung and hooked the ball to square leg. ‘Run!’ he yelled, as Max hot-footed it to the other end of the pitch. Max turned to run back as he really didn’t want to be on strike, but Van held up his hand, motioning for him to stay put.
Max took a deep breath and stared down the bowler, who was rubbing the red ball against his white pants. ‘You’re gone,’ the boy mouthed, before he took a longer than usual run up and unleashed the ball, which whizzed past the stumps and into the wicketkeeper’s gloves. Max had swung and missed and was feeling rattled.
The wicketkeeper slapped his gloves together and crouched behind the stumps. ‘This one’s ours,’ he snarled.
‘Don’t worry, Max, you can do it!’ Kensy shouted.
This time Max kept his eyes on the ball. The bowler took his run up and sent it hurtling down the pitch. Max swung and connected. The hollow sound of bat on ball was glorious. The ball sailed into the air and over the fielders’ heads towards the boundary. Max couldn’t believe his eyes as it came down on the other side of the fence. Six! The team went wild, clapping and cheering. Kensy was on her feet screaming too.
‘Well done, Max,’ Jaco yelled.
Van gave him a nod and a grin.
Max connected with the next ball too. This time they got three runs and Van was back on strike. The score began to climb and it looked as if the horror run of wickets had come to an end. Before anyone knew it, there were three balls left and the home team needed eight runs to win. Max was back on strike and loving every second.
Kensy felt as though her heart was about to burst through her chest. She was thrilled and terrified for her brother all at the same time. ‘Come on, Max,’ she whispered.
They scored two runs off the next ball and then Max walloped a four.
Ellery arrived just in time to see the last delivery. ‘Are they going to win?’ she asked.
‘They will if my brother has anything to do with it,’ Kensy said, hoping her confidence was not misplaced.
The boys in the grandstand were going wild. ‘Go, Max! You’ve got this!’ they yelled, then started chanting ‘Wentworth’ followed by three loud claps. Max was trying to block out the noise and concentrate on the ball. They needed two runs to win and it was all down to him. It was sort of like a dream, although he suspected that, if he mis
sed, the situation might turn into something akin to a nightmare.
Max gripped the bat tightly and watched as the final ball sped towards him. It bounced up, and he smashed it into the outfield. One boy ran backwards and leapt high, but the ball clipped the tips of his fingers and flew over the fence. Six! Max and Van took off towards each other on the pitch, high-fiving and hugging. Wentworth Grammar had won the match.
‘Woohoo!’ Kensy was jumping up and down and shouting. Ellery had been swept away in the moment too and was cheering wildly.
The boys shook hands with their opponents and gathered together at the side of the oval to sing the team song. Their spirits were soaring.
‘Your brother is amazing,’ Van said to Kensy as the pair walked into the stand. ‘He totally saved us.’
‘Max is good like that,’ Kensy replied with a wry grin on her face.
‘Ah, Kensy’s not too bad either,’ Max said with a nod. It wasn’t lost on him that the only reason he’d been out there was because of his sister’s ingenuity.
Van looked at the girl and smiled. ‘She is pretty awesome.’
Kensy’s cheeks lit up like a Christmas tree.
Ellery rolled her eyes. ‘Do you still want to come to our place for a swim when we get home?’ she asked.
That was about the last thing Kensy wanted to do, but she could hardly say no. ‘Sure,’ she said, ‘that would be fun.’
Ellery looked at her watch. ‘Ugh, I don’t know where Mum’s got to. She’s supposed to be picking us up. I’ve tried calling, but she’s not answering.’
Fitz joined the children. ‘You could have a lift back with us if you like,’ he offered.
Kensy had felt bad about not catching the ferry home with Curtis. She’d quietly mentioned her new dance class to him at the end of the day and he said that was fine and he’d see them in the morning. But she could sense his disappointment – and if not his, then her own.
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