Chloe's River Rescue

by Samantha Turnbull

  ‘No pedalling, pushing, paddling or propulsion allowed,’ the marshall says. ‘And if you crash on the way down, you’re disqualified.’

  Another official blows a whistle and yells: ‘Ready?’

  I bend in close so Bella can hear me through her helmet. ‘Go, Bella. And be safe.’

  Phweeeeeeeeet. Four officials open the four gates and the billycarts roll forward. The crowd begins to cheer.

  The carts start slowly. The fancy rocket ship look-alike is immediately a nose ahead.

  Bella rocks her body back and forth to get some momentum. I find myself unconsciously mimicking, willing her along, until I realise and force myself to stand still.

  ‘Look at the sidelines,’ Emily says. ‘There are hundreds of people here.’

  The cheers get louder as the carts get faster. Joan of Arc edges ahead of the pack.

  ‘She’s winning!’ Grace yells.

  One of the carts veers sideways and crashes into a fire hydrant. The driver is a girl about our age. She rubs her knee as she stands up, but she doesn’t seem to be seriously injured as she drags her cart off the road.

  With just a few metres to go, the rocket is neck-and-neck with Joan of Arc.

  ‘Oh no,’ Emily says. ‘That rocket thing is going to beat her.’

  An official flourishes a chequered flag as the rocket crosses the line just centimetres ahead of Joan of Arc.

  I clutch Emily’s forearm, accidentally digging my fingernails in.

  ‘I think second place is the least of our worries,’ I say. ‘Bella can’t stop.’

  Grace sprints off down the hill. Emily and I aren’t far behind, frantically parting the crowd to get through.

  ‘She mustn’t have brakes,’ a girl says.

  ‘She’s crashed!’ says a woman.

  I jump and try to see. The crowd is too thick and I’m too short.

  ‘Coming through!’ Emily screams.

  We finally reach the finish line, where we find Joan of Arc upside down and wedged between some hay bales.

  Grace gets there first and helps some officials pull Bella out of the cart.

  ‘Bella, are you okay?’ I ask, crouching down to her level. I’m expecting blood. Or at least tears.

  Bella slips off her helmet, revealing a huge smile. ‘That was amazing,’ she says. ‘Can I do it again?’

  Mission Revhead: complete.

  Emily slaps her laptop shut. ‘It’s so simple!’ she says. ‘I was overthinking it, but I’ve finally figured out the truth behind the duck pond. We’ve got to get back to the fair.’

  ‘Dad!’ I yell. ‘We need you to take us to the showground, fast! And please!’

  ‘Why are you girls so desperate to get to the fair?’ Dad asks, grabbing his keys. ‘Is it one of your princess club missions?’

  ‘It’s anti-princess club, Dad,’ I say. ‘And, yes, we do have a mission to complete.’

  I jump in the front passenger seat as the other anti-princesses pile into the back of the van.

  ‘So, tell me,’ Dad says as he starts the engine.

  ‘I’m bringing down the sideshow alley, Mr Karalis,’ Emily says. ‘I’m unveiling the secrets behind the carnies’ games and unmasking them as the fraudsters they really are.’

  Dad makes a ‘hmmmm’ sound as he takes a left turn. ‘You know, girls,’ he says, ‘it’s a hard life these carnival folk lead. They rely on those few dollars you hand over for a game to make their living. And I don’t think they like being called “carnies”, either. “Stallholders” is a much nicer word.’

  ‘Why is he defending them?’ Emily mumbles in the back. ‘They’re criminals.’

  Dad and I overhear. ‘I admire your ethics,’ he says. ‘They might technically be criminals, but they’re hardly comparable to big-time thieves. Just have a think about whether they’re causing more harm than fun.’

  Dad has a point. The anti-princesses could be ruining the livelihoods of entire families, and I guess fairs wouldn’t exist without them.

  We get out of the van and I kiss Dad goodbye. ‘Thanks, Dad,’ I say. ‘We’ll remember what you said.’

  Emily’s not in so much of a rush to get to the duck pond now. She strolls through the sideshow alley with the stallholders watching her warily. ‘It does look a little less crowded today,’ she says. ‘Do you think it’s my fault?’

  No one quite knows the answer.

  ‘You again,’ the stallholder says when we get to the duck pond.

  Emily leans in close and speaks quietly. ‘If I pulled all of those ducks out of the pond and arranged them by number, what would I find?’

  His gaze shifts sideways.

  Emily answers for him. ‘Every number under those ducks corresponds with a cheap prize, doesn’t it? It’s impossible to win the fancy prizes because you haven’t marked any ducks with the numbers that match them.’

  He grunts and kicks the base of the plastic pond.

  ‘Here’s the deal,’ Emily says. ‘I won’t make a fuss and call you out public if you compromise with me.’

  The stallholder reaches into his canvas bag and extends a handful of money to Emily. ‘You win. How much do you want?’

  Emily pushes his hand away. ‘I don’t want to be paid,’ she says. ‘I want you to take two of the good prizes down and put them away. Then, grab one duck out of the pond and write the number of the remaining good prize on that duck.’

  The stallholder takes the pogo stick and the doll down from his display. Then he takes a duck and writes ‘18’ on the bottom – the same number as on the remote-controlled car left on his shelf.

  ‘Now you’ve got forty-five ducks in that pond and just one good prize on offer,’ Emily says. ‘They’re still great odds for you. Who knows, you might even get to keep the car at the end of the day.’ She hands him two dollars. ‘I’ll be your first customer now that the game’s fair.’

  The stallholder’s eyes soften as he passes Emily a hook. She reaches into the pond and pulls out a duck. ‘Number 26.’

  He shrugs sheepishly and offers Emily a striped pencil.

  ‘No, thanks,’ she says. ‘Just don’t under-estimate the brains of the kids at your next fair.’

  The carnie takes off his cap and rubs the top of his head. He stares at us, dumbfounded, as we walk away.

  ‘I’m proud of you, Emily,’ I say. ‘You exposed the tricksters, but this time you were fair about it.’

  Mission Carnie Cracker: complete.

  I can’t believe our holiday is almost over.

  Part of me wants to get home to my telescope. As well as my microscope. And my stethoscope. All of my things ending in ‘scope,’ really.

  But another part wants to stay here eating doughnuts for breakfast and watching the sunrise with the anti-princesses.

  I sit up in bed and see Grace stretching quietly on the floor while Bella and Emily sleep.

  ‘Good morning,’ Grace whispers. ‘I think the whole house is still snoozing.’

  That’s strange. Yiayia is usually up before everyone and has at least a pot of chamomile tea brewing.

  I step out of bed into my slippers and shuffle into the kitchen. It’s cold and empty.

  I tiptoe down the hall to Yiayia’s bedroom and push the door open. ‘Yiayia? Wakey, wakey.’

  But Yiayia’s not there. She must have woken extra early so she could enjoy her final proper morning on holiday. Tomorrow we’ll be packing up and leaving straight after breakfast.

  I walk to the back door. A gust of wind makes me shiver as I step onto the deck.

  ‘Yiayia?’ I call. ‘Are you there? Yiayia! Where are you?’

  ‘What’s wrong, Chloe?’ Mum asks, appearing at the door with Alex behind her. ‘What are you yelling about?’

  ‘I can’t find Yiayia.’ My voice shakes.

  Mum goes into leader mode. She’s always been good at keeping calm and delegating. I notice it the most when she’s in the restaurant – she’s an amazing maître d’.

  ‘Alex, c
heck all the rooms inside and then look around the yard,’ she says. ‘Chloe, you and the girls do a quick run to the beach, but come straight back. Your dad and I will go for a little drive around the block. We might spot Yiayia from the van.’

  I’m so focused on finding Yiayia, I don’t bother changing my slippers to proper shoes. I don’t even realise Grace, Bella and Emily are puffing along behind me until we get to the path through the dunes.

  We all stop when we reach the empty beach.

  ‘Yiayia?’ I scream. ‘Yiayia!’

  Emily puts her arm around me. ‘I’m sure she’s fine, wherever she is. Don’t get too worked up, Chloe.’

  ‘I think Yiayia might be really sick,’ I sob. ‘The doctor thinks she could have diabetes. I wanted to wait until the test results were in before I told you.’

  Grace tries to be the voice of reason. ‘Let’s not jump to conclusions. We’re assuming the worst too soon.’

  I sprint to the water and scan the shoreline as far as I can see. Grace checks the dunes near the beach path, while Emily and Bella run up and down the sand.

  ‘Let’s go back!’ I call. ‘She might have turned up already.’

  We all run back to the house and see Mum, Dad and Alex at the front door.

  ‘Was there no sign of her at the beach?’ Dad asks. Alex and Mum look to us hopefully.

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘There was no one down there at all.’

  Alex starts to cry. He doesn’t show his emotions very often. He must be really scared.

  ‘We’ll take the van out again – you can come with us, Alex,’ Mum says. ‘An extra pair of eyes could help.’

  I open the van door and Mum shakes her head. ‘No, Chloe,’ she says. ‘Stay here with the girls in case Yiayia comes back.’

  As the van reverses out of the driveway, I sob uncontrollably. Emily, Bella and Grace put their arms around me.

  ‘Let’s boil the kettle,’ Bella says. ‘We’ll have some tea waiting for Yiayia.’

  ‘I propose a mission,’ I say, wiping my nose on my sleeve. ‘Mission Yiayia: find my grandmother.’

  Emily, Grace and Bella hold hands and raise their arms together.

  ‘Of course we’re all in favour,’ Emily says. ‘It’s our most important mission yet.’

  I hope it’s a mission we don’t actually have to complete. I hope Yiayia comes home on her own, safe and sound.

  Mission Yiayia.

  The words on Emily’s laptop screen seem surreal.

  The one person who’s never far from my side has disappeared into thin air.

  ‘I’m going to do another whip around the beach,’ Grace says. ‘Just to be sure.’

  I decide to take an umpteenth trawl around the inside of the house.

  I open a cupboard in the hallway – nothing but spare sheets and pillowcases. I look in the pantry – nothing but jars, bags and boxes of food. I peer under Mum and Dad’s bed – nothing but a pair of shoes and a book.

  ‘Why would Yiayia be under your parents’ bed?’ Bella asks from the doorway. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’

  I take off my glasses and rub my temples. Sometimes this helps me think. ‘Of course it doesn’t make sense,’ I say. ‘Yiayia disappearing doesn’t make sense either.’

  Having a scientific brain means I sometimes struggle with mystery. I believe there’s an explanation for everything, and when an answer isn’t obvious I can’t rest until I figure out the truth.

  Emily knocks on the door. ‘Grace is talking to the surfer kids out there,’ she says. ‘I think they might have some info about Yiayia.’

  I yank the window shutters open and see Grace standing with Kailani, Taylor, Ash and Tex. ‘Have you seen Yiayia?’ I call out to them.

  ‘A little old lady with grey hair?’ Kailani calls back. ‘And a purple robe?’

  That’s Yiayia and her fluffy purple dressing gown. It has tiny violets on it if you look closely. Violets are the national flower of Greece.

  I burst through the back door and jump down all six steps between the deck and the lawn.

  ‘They saw Yiayia this morning,’ Grace says. ‘Tell her, Kailani.’

  Our van pulls up in the driveway and Mum leaps out. The panic has finally set in for her. ‘We couldn’t see her anywhere. I’m going to call the police.’

  ‘Wait,’ I say. ‘These kids say they saw Yiayia earlier.’

  Mum, Dad and Alex bombard Kailani, Taylor, Ash and Tex with questions.

  ‘Where was she?’

  ‘When did you see her?’

  ‘Are you sure it was her?’

  Kailani picks up her surfboard and holds it in front of herself like a shield. ‘Slow down! I’ll answer all your questions,’ she says. ‘We saw her walking up the beach this morning.’

  I don’t understand why Yiayia would’ve been on the beach without me. ‘What time?’ I ask.

  Kailani spits on her watch and rubs its face with her sleeve. ‘It’s nine o’clock now, so I’d say it was about half past five.’

  Mum isn’t buying Kailani’s story. ‘Aren’t you the kids who were picking on Grace when we arrived?’

  I pull Mum aside. ‘We settled things,’ I say. ‘You can trust them.’

  Taylor steps in to defend her friend. ‘Look,’ she says, ‘we were out for a super early surf. There’s no tourists in the water at that time. And we saw her walking along the sand.’

  Grace is bouncing from foot to foot, ready to launch into an Olympic-speed sprint along the beach in search of Yiayia.

  ‘She was heading north,’ Taylor continues. ‘We lost sight of her around the main beach entrance. You know, where we stuck the surfers’ code of conduct.’

  Grace is off.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘We’re supposed to be heading home tomorrow, so if we don’t see you around I guess we’ll catch up next time we’re in town.’

  Kailani jumps in front of me and I almost dart away until I realise she wants a hug. I open my arms and accept her embrace.

  ‘I hope you find your grandma,’ Kailani says into my hair. ‘And we’ll see you next holidays.’

  Bella and Emily are the next to cop cuddles. It’s all very sweet, except I don’t have time to be mushy. I need to find Yiayia. I run along Grace’s track of footprints in the sand.

  Before the voices of the local kids fade in the distance I hear Tex yell, ‘Tell Grace she can surf all right!’

  I guess that’s a compliment.

  ‘Yiayia!’

  ‘Yiayia, are you there?’

  ‘Yiayia, where are you?!’

  The anti-princesses, as well as Mum, Dad and Alex, are pacing around the beach track where the local kids last saw Yiayia.

  The shouting is useless. Even if she was here earlier, she’s not here anymore.

  ‘If Yiayia’s fallen ill somewhere, time is racing against us,’ Mum says. ‘I’m calling the police and heading back to the house – someone should be there.’

  Dad yells out for Yiayia one last time. His voice echoes into nothingness. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he says to Mum.

  Alex is hesitant to leave. ‘I might hang around just a bit longer. If she really was here, she might come back.’

  Bella, Emily and Grace turn to me for guidance. ‘What do you want to do, Chloe?’ Bella asks. ‘Should we go back with your mum and dad?’

  We’ve already combed the beach between our holiday house and the surfers’ code of conduct sign. We need to go somewhere new.

  ‘I don’t think we should go back along the sand,’ I say. ‘Let’s go into town. It’s just a few blocks. Yiayia might have had the urge to do some window shopping or something equally ridiculous.’

  Mum and Dad have already left, so I can’t ask their permission. They’ve let us walk into town on our own before, so long as we stay together as a group.

  ‘Alex, I promise we’ll be back in under an hour,’ I say. ‘Tell Mum and Dad, okay?’

  He nods. Alex knows he can trust me.

  The anti-princesse
s and I link arms and walk past rows of beach houses along the road leading into the main street. We stop outside a hair salon called Crops and Bobbers. I’d laugh at the clever name if I wasn’t so worried about Yiayia.

  ‘Eight shops on each side on the road,’ Emily says. ‘Let’s pop into four shops each and ask if they’ve seen Yiayia.’

  I knew I could rely on her for mathematical logic. ‘Good plan. Let’s meet at the general store up the end,’ I say. ‘No one move from there once you’re done. We don’t want to lose another person.’

  I open the sliding door of Crops and Bobbers. ‘Excuse me,’ I say. ‘Have you seen an older lady with grey hair this morning, possibly wearing a purple dressing gown?’

  A man with a comb between his teeth laughs. ‘We see plenty of grey hair here,’ he says. ‘But no purple dressing gown today, sorry. We’ve only been open a few minutes, mind you – don’t usually open at all on Sundays but we thought we’d make the most of the tourist trade. You need an appointment?’

  I shake my head and run next door to the seafood shop. The smell of raw fish hits my nostrils as I pop my head in. ‘I’m looking for my grandmother,’ I say. ‘She’s short, grey-haired, and was wearing a purple dressing gown this morning. Have you seen her?’

  The dead fish look more lively than the fishmongers, who stare at me blankly.

  I have no more luck in the bakery, and the real estate agent’s office is closed, so I make my way to the general store where I find Grace and Emily waiting.

  ‘No sightings here at the general store or either of the cafes, and the gift shop was shut,’ Grace says.

  Emily is also the bearer of bad news. ‘Nothing from the bait-and-tackle shop, the newsagent or the burger place – and the solicitor’s office was closed.’

  Bella’s last to arrive and I can tell by her mopey expression that she failed too. ‘Sorry, Chloe,’ she says. ‘Ralph and Jim’s garages were both locked up.’

  I fight the urge to cry again. Tears aren’t going to be any help right now. ‘I guess we should just head home,’ I say. ‘Let’s see what the police say.’