The coat smelled like his father. Rusty felt tears prick his eyes. ‘Sorry, Bongo, it’s a bit chilly, isn’t it?’ he said in a bright voice, trying to keep their spirits up. He was homesick, and he’d only been gone a day.
Nearby, a lone fisherman sat on a fold-out chair, his fishing line dangling into the choppy water many metres below. Hair the colour of orange juice poked out from under the man’s battered bucket hat. His enormous frame threatened to collapse the tiny chair at any given moment. It seemed an odd day to go fishing, but Rusty didn’t know much about English people. Perhaps they enjoyed sitting on a freezing cold wharf as the wind whistled through their flimsy, fluttering jackets.
‘England’s not like Sydney, boy,’ his father had said, standing at Rusty’s bedroom door the night before his flight. ‘It gets flaming cold over there.’
His father had stepped from foot to foot, looking — most unusually — like he wanted to talk. He’d held the heavy Driza-Bone over one arm and run a hand through his thinning hair. ‘Mind you,’ he’d added as he shoved the coat at Rusty, ‘your mother and I spent some lovely summer evenings in Hyde Park on a picnic rug watching the sun set.’ Mr Mulligan had looked past Rusty then, remembering. ‘They have beautiful sunsets in London.’
After a long moment of silence, his father had cleared his throat. He looked his son in the eyes. ‘Anyway, take my old coat,’ he’d said, then added, ‘Do us proud, boy.’
‘I’ll try, Dad.’
They’d both turned to Bongo then, watching the lizard chew messily on a piece of apple before regarding them with his beady black eyes.
Rusty swallowed, wishing he had the confidence of his friend, Charlotte. Even when Charlotte was terrible at something like skipping — Charlotte was terrible at skipping, it was how she broke her arm the first time — she always believed in herself. As he felt the chill on that cold wharf, Rusty was not at all confident. He wasn’t confident in himself. And, sadly, he wasn’t confident in Bongo either.
‘Rusty Mulligan,’ called Maximilian. ‘The others have arrived. Come and meet them!’
Rusty turned. Both boys stood near the limousine while their chauffeur peered at himself in one of the car’s side mirrors, examining his hair from different angles. Behind them, another limousine, exactly like theirs but lime green, pulled up.
A second black-suited and capped chauffer climbed out. He walked around the car and opened its rear door with a flourish.
The three boys all looked at each other, then back to the car. Finally, a small Asian girl stepped lightly from the open door. She had short bobbed hair and wore an oversized black T-shirt that even from a distance they could see read AC/DC, as well as bright purple skinny jeans and big black boots. Perched on her outstretched finger was a small green bird. The girl reached into the car and pulled out a black duffel bag, slinging it over her shoulder. When the chauffeur motioned to carry it for her, the girl shook her head and started to walk towards them.
An even smaller blonde girl tumbled out of the green limo next. She wore a pink skirt and matching top. Shopping bags hung from her arms. Her long white socks stopped just below her knees and on her feet were bright pink high heels. She spoke to the chauffeur, pointing at the green limousine several times, before appearing to hand him some money.
‘Tipping the staff,’ Braithwaite said with a disapproving shake of his head. ‘She must be the American.’
‘That’s all of us,’ Maximilian said in the factual way of a person who had done his research thoroughly. ‘Akira Tanaka and her crested budgerigar, Sora, and Shelby Simmons with her guinea pig, Porky.’
Now Rusty could see Shelby had passed her bags to the green limousine’s chauffeur. He was skinnier than the man who had carried Braithwaite’s luggage, and he struggled with Shelby’s matching suitcases and shopping bags. Shelby held a small animal carrier strung with pretty fairy lights and coloured tinsel.
The newcomers arrived and introduced themselves. Up close, Akira had delicate features and spoke very quietly in halting English. Shelby was more forthright.
‘Hey, guys,’ she began confidently, her American accent sounding to Rusty like someone from a TV show. ‘So where do ya think Miss Einstein is? I’m dying to meet her. Can’t wait to teach my little Porky here how to talk. He’s going to make us famous, aren’t you, my bootiful-wootiful Porky Pig?’
The chubby beige and white guinea pig was extremely well groomed, right down to the little ponytail sticking up on the top of his head. He blinked at Shelby, batting his long eyelashes, and she cooed at him in return.
Braithwaite gave an unimpressed snort, and Bismarck raced over to sniff the girls’ shoes, their luggage and pets.
‘I very much want to discover the exact method Miss Einstein will use to teach my Hannah to talk. Are you not also wondering this about your own pets?’ Maximilian asked the group, his hand moving to touch the gold pen in his breast pocket as though he was itching to start learning right that second.
‘Maybe she’ll hook the pets up to a machine and run electricity through their bodies. That’d do it.’ Braithwaite grinned as he spoke. ‘I believe Bismarck might enjoy a little electrical buzz.’ He laughed, then jerked and jolted his limbs as if 40,000 volts ran through him.
Akira glanced at her budgerigar with concern and frowned at Rusty.
‘No, no,’ replied Maximilian. ‘She will employ far more scientific methods than that. Laboratory experiments. Space-age technology. Knowledge gleaned from the study of alien life forms, perhaps?’
‘You’re so wrong,’ Shelby said, with a natural confidence Rusty envied. ‘It’s magic, for sure and certain. Maybe spells. Miss Einstein is probably a witch. Or a wizard. Can girls be wizards? Anyway, she probably casts spells better than Harry Potter. Better than Hermione.’
At that they all fell silent, each pondering, with varying degrees of concern, how Miss Einstein would work her ‘magic’.
‘I don’t know about you guys, but I’m beat,’ Shelby finally said, sounding anything but. ‘It’s been a real long day. I left my dads this morning — well, I think it was this morning. What day is it here again? I think the time difference means I’ve gone backwards or something. Anyway, we just had the best coffee — well, I had an iced tea, as obviously I’m too young to drink coffee yet; I’m only eleven. How old are you guys? Anyway, we were in this little café in downtown LA. It was already mega-hot. It’s certainly colder here than in LA, I can tell you that. Did I mention what my daddy told me about London’s weather? My first daddy I mean. Daddy told me —’
‘Look!’ Akira softly interrupted. She had wandered over to one side of the wharf. Coming towards them at a fast pace was a sleek speedboat.
‘It’s her,’ breathed Maximilian. ‘She’s here.’
CHAPTER 11
THE BOAT ARRIVES
The children moved to the side of the wharf to watch the boat approach. Within moments, it had neared enough to slow and pull alongside them. A gigantic, bald man emerged from behind the tinted glass. At the sight of his enormous height, the children took a simultaneous step backwards.
Tattooed across one side of the man’s face was an octopus’s head, the tentacles of the octopus twisting and coiling their way down his wide neck to disappear under his T-shirt. Rusty could see the tentacles reappear on his forearms, where they wound their way right down to the tips of his fingers.
Did they cover his entire body?
The man ignored the children as he tossed thick ropes over nearby poles and secured the boat to the wharf. After pulling the ropes tight, his huge biceps flexing, he stood to one side and gestured for them to board, still without saying a word.
‘Where’s Miss Alice Einstein?’ asked Shelby.
The man said nothing, and Shelby seemed about to object, but after another look at his octopus-inked, stony face, she apparently thought the better of it.
‘I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side,’ muttered Braithwaite, before whistling at Bismarck and descen
ding to where the boat waited.
The others followed. Each of them moved cautiously past the massive man, who had light blue eyes, adding to his unusual appearance. He still didn’t say a word. The children sat on the bench seats that lined three sides of the boat, their pets close by. The chauffeurs trailed after them with all of their luggage and piled it up in the centre of the space before disembarking.
The children and animals stared at one another as the boat pulled away from the wharf. With a zhroom of engines, it picked up speed, and they all gripped their seats and held onto their pets as the boat left the mainland.
‘Here we go, Bongo,’ Rusty whispered to the lizard, who was again perched on his shoulder. ‘We’re really on an adventure now.’ He bit his lip, looking at the other children, all so different from him. ‘I’m sure it will be a great one, just like Charlotte said.’
He turned for one last look at the mainland. The skinny chauffeur was walking back along the wharf. But the other one, the muscular one from the airport, hadn’t left with him. He stood at the end of the wharf, staring after the departing boat. As Rusty watched, he pulled off his chauffeur’s cap and tossed it into the sea.
That’s odd, thought Rusty.
The chauffeur was joined by the large, orange-haired fisherman, who removed his bucket hat to reveal fluorescent orange afro-styled hair. The fisherman towered over the chauffeur, so much so that from where Rusty sat they looked like father and son. The pair stood in silence, watching the boat leave.
Rusty frowned. He had a bad feeling about the two watching figures.
A very bad feeling.
CHAPTER 12
SECRET AGENTS ON THEIR TAIL
Kyle Strummer stared at the speedboat as it pulled away.
‘The boat?’ he asked without looking at his companion.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Wilhelmina had removed her hat. Her round orange afro would be a beacon on the end of the wharf. He’d told her not to, but that was Wilhelmina for you. She never listened. Or she did, but only when it suited her.
Kyle sighed, trying not to get annoyed. He’d known his partner for almost twenty-five years. He was familiar with her many faults. She’d probably say she knew his, if he had any. He grinned at his own wit, then turned to look up at her.
Wilhelmina’s hair was so bright, Kyle wished he’d worn sunglasses. It was so thick and wiry, the gusty wind didn’t even budge it.
‘The boat?’ he repeated. ‘Is it ready?’
‘Ready,’ Wilhelmina grunted in reply.
Kyle shook his head. His partner was a woman of few words. ‘Let’s go then. Before they get too far ahead.’
CHAPTER 13
ARRIVING AT DOCENS ANIMALIS
Rusty put the strange pair on the wharf out of his mind. It wasn’t hard to do, since he was about to arrive on a secret island and visit a school for talking pets. The children were silent as the boat flew across the water. Even Shelby sat mutely. Then Maximilian finally spotted something in the distance.
‘There,’ he said, his voice high with excitement. ‘Can you see? I think it’s Docens Animalis.’
On his lap, Hannah meowed in agreement, though she didn’t avert her gaze from Akira’s bird, Sora, who remained neatly perched on his owner’s outstretched finger. Hannah had turned her attention from a potentially chewy Bongo to the plump budgerigar, and she watched him like . . . well, like a hungry cat watches a small bird.
Rusty had never seen a bird like Sora before. Akira had introduced him as a Japanese crested budgerigar. In most ways, he looked just like a normal green and yellow budgerigar. There were lots of them in Australia. But Sora was different — his feathers formed a little yellow cap on top of his head, like he wore a tiny, feathered beret. Looking at him made Rusty want to laugh.
Just then Sora tilted his head to examine Rusty, letting out a single tweet. The intelligence in the bird’s eyes was as obvious as Bongo’s bright blue tongue. Sora flapped his wings and Hannah’s body rippled with excitement as she followed his movements with her pale blue eyes.
Rusty turned to the island. At first it was little more than a dark green blob on the horizon, but as they approached he started to make out some details. To the far left was a small cluster of trees on a rocky shore. This forested area was met by flat grassy land that became rolling hills until it finally ended in a rocky cliff that was probably as high as the Sydney Opera House. Straight ahead, along the middle of the island, was a narrow beach. A wharf extended out into the ocean from midway along the pale yellow sand. Presumably this was where their boat was headed. Parked beside the wharf was a school bus.
A glint from the cliff caught Rusty’s eye. He squinted at it, starting in surprise. Hanging from the bluff — and apparently defying the laws of gravity — was a glass building. It was like nothing Rusty had seen before. Like nothing he had imagined before. The building was kind of triangular-shaped. Its widest part was level with the cliff, topped with a glass dome. As it dropped lower towards the ocean, it grew narrower, tapering down to a point.
His heart thudded hard in his skinny chest. Incredible!
Miss Alice Einstein’s School for Talking Pets.
They were here!
CHAPTER 14
THE PINK HOUSE
The children broke out into excited chatter as they piled onto the yellow school bus. Their tattooed guide stowed their luggage, climbed on board and took the driver’s seat, still without saying a word.
‘Do you think he can speak at all?’ Braithwaite murmured to Rusty from the seat behind him as the engine rumbled into life.
Rusty didn’t answer. He was a little bit scared — OK, a lot scared — of the man with the octopus tattoo. He glanced at the man furtively, hoping he hadn’t heard Braithwaite’s comment.
They drove away from the beach on a narrow but neat dirt road and turned inland, heading between two lush green paddocks. Rusty’s jet-lagged eyelids drooped almost immediately despite his excitement, but cries from the others brought him instantly wide awake.
‘Heiliger Strohsack!’ muttered Maximilian.
‘Sugoi!’ exclaimed Akira.
‘It’s a-maz-ing,’ breathed Shelby.
They had just rounded a bend in the road, and Rusty’s eyes flew open to see something he’d never, ever expected on an island in the middle of nowhere.
It was a house. But not just any old house. It was huge — long and rectangular, two storeys high, with evenly spaced windows all along the front. In the centre, a rounded section was supported by a semicircle of columns standing as high as the building. The house reminded Rusty of something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
But the most interesting thing about the building was that it was completely pink. Not pale pink or baby pink. The house had been painted the hot pink colour of a flamingo. Of a celebrity’s lipstick. The exact colour of the shoes Shelby was wearing at that very moment.
‘Ha!’ smirked Braithwaite, also noticing the resemblance. ‘It looks like the White House, but it’s pink. The Pink House! Miss Alice Einstein has a decidedly odd sense of humour.’
The bus stopped at the enormous pink front door. All of them exited the bus, quieter now, subdued by the sight of such a huge pink house. Their driver produced a pink key and turned it in the lock. The door swung open and he gestured for them to enter. They all filed in.
Inside, to Rusty’s surprise, nothing was pink. Instead everything was green. Carpets were the colour of mown grass, high ceilings had been painted the exact shade of autumn’s freshest apples, and the walls were papered with vibrant tropical leaves and vines. Actual potted plants scattered around the rooms added to the natural feel. A wide staircase faced the front door.
The big man nodded at the stairs before heading back to the bus to unload their luggage. The bus trip had been short but handy, Rusty supposed, given Braithwaite’s large suitcases and Shelby’s numerous shopping bags. Now, Braithwaite and Bismarck led the way, the dog sniffing as single-mind
edly as before, and the others followed.
‘We’ve all got our own bedrooms,’ Braithwaite called from somewhere off to the left, down the wide corridor. ‘I’m down here. Max and Rusty and their pets too. You girls must be in the other direction.’
Rusty carried Bongo and headed towards Braithwaite’s voice. Taped at his head height on the first door along was a piece of paper. Rusty and Bongo it read in neat handwriting.
He pushed the door open and was hit by the most delicious smell. Sausages. He found himself in a large, comfortable-looking but otherwise normal bedroom. It was not particularly green or pink, and had regular-sized furniture, to Rusty’s slight relief. He wasn’t sure how he’d have got to sleep in a jungle or in a room the colour of a celebrity’s nail polish.
Near the door was a small bathroom with a toilet and shower. A large bed in the centre of the room faced an unlit fireplace. A lizard enclosure — exactly the same as the one Bongo had at home — had been set up next to the bed, complete with heat lamp, food and water bowls. In the food bowl, live earthworms wriggled.
Rusty put Bongo in the enclosure. The lizard immediately licked up the topmost worm and began chewing. Rusty left him and moved towards a table and chair near the tall window. The mouth-watering sausage smell came from that direction.
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