Taking the Chequered Flag

by Pam Harvey

  ‘Talks to you?’ E.D. asked. ‘Yeah? Are you sure? Let me see.’ Angus passed the navigator back to him. ‘It’s been dropped or something. It’s cracked, and it’s gone rusty.’

  ‘So it’s probably no use. Someone’s dumped it then.’

  ‘Pretty expensive item to dump. You’d think they’d try to get it fixed.’

  Angus shrugged. ‘Only one of us would know how to do that.’

  ‘Not me. Must be you, then.’

  Angus shook his head. ‘Not you or me. I meant Miss Electronic Gadget.’

  E.D. grinned. ‘Yeah. Let’s go and show it to Hannah.’

  Chapter 7

  A Visit to the Hospital

  Friday, 14 January

  Hannah took a couple of days to work it out. She rang E.D. early on Friday.

  ‘And you said you found it dumped in an old railway truck?’

  ‘Yeah. Under some rubbish.’

  There was silence as Hannah thought about that.

  ‘So?’ said E.D. impatiently.

  ‘Well, it definitely won’t work. Water’s got into it somehow and the crack went through some circuits. If I had a better set of tools I might have been able to get some connection, but what with the rust and all that I don’t think it would’ve made a lot of difference, even though I tried using Mum’s best tweezers and a soldering iron Dad gave me for my birthday but that was meant to be for—’

  ‘Han,’ interrupted E.D., ‘I get that it’s broken.’

  ‘Oh. Right. Well, that’s not the main thing.’

  E.D. sighed. ‘What is the main thing?’

  ‘Even if I could fix it, I couldn’t. I don’t have access to parts. We don’t have access to parts.’

  ‘Well, of course we haven’t got access—’

  ‘I mean that the country hasn’t got access to parts. This GPS isn’t from here. It’s like nothing that’s available in this country. It must’ve come from overseas.’

  ‘Someone might’ve brought it back from holidays.’

  ‘They’d be pretty unhappy that they dropped it. It would be an expensive item in any country. Not that it does anything much different from the GPS kits here—it’s just faster and more accurate. Even broken, you could still sell it for a fair bit just because of its parts.’

  It was E.D.’s turn to be silent.

  ‘E.D.?’

  ‘So it’s a techo GPS from overseas that’s worth a lot even if it’s broken, but someone’s broken it and left it in an old railway truck where normally no one would find it for a million years.’

  ‘That’s it in a nutshell.’

  Not a nutshell, E.D. thought as Hannah hung up. Just nuts.

  Saturday 15 January

  E.D. woke early. Sunlight was just tinting the edge of the sky. He lay on his bed, staring out of the window. Besides Hannah’s phone call, the last couple of days had been quiet. It had been really hot and E.D. had stayed in the garage, fiddling with his motorbike and trying not to look at Tony’s, parked along the wall and covered with a dark blue tarp.

  Yesterday, Angus had turned up and stood leaning against the work bench watching E.D. He’d stayed there for almost half an hour before he’d said something.

  ‘What?’ E.D. didn’t catch it the first time.

  ‘King is still limping. The vet says it might be weeks before I can ride him again.’

  As he remembered this, E.D. rolled over in bed onto his stomach. The sadness on Angus’ face had made him angry. It had been Jack Proctor on that green bike chasing Angus; there was no doubt about that. Jack had also been at The Moon when Tony had had his accident.

  Tony.

  That was what had woken E.D. so early. Today was the first day he could visit Tony since he’d been taken to hospital.

  E.D. sat up, hugging his knees to his chest. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to visit Tony—but part of him was scared. Mario had been with their mother to the hospital and he’d said that Tony looked okay. E.D. hadn’t been convinced. Mario was too quick to turn away from his brother, rushing outside to help their dad before E.D. could ask any questions. What if Tony was more badly injured than anyone had let on?

  Eventually, there were noises from the kitchen. Mrs De Lugio was making breakfast. Every Saturday, she got up early and made a huge cooked meal for everyone. It was the only day of the week that the family was together for breakfast—usually Mario was at work and Tony left early to catch the bus to get to TAFE. E.D. got up, pulled his clothes on, and went to help her.

  Mrs D had the kettle on, but that was all. She was sitting at the kitchen table, her hands clasped together in front of her.

  ‘Mama?’ said E.D. softly, stopping at the door. ‘Are you alright?’

  Mrs De Lugio looked up and E.D. thought he saw traces of tears on her cheeks. But she stood up quickly and put her hands on her hips. ‘Now, where was I? Breakfast for the boys. I’d better get going.’

  E.D. walked over to his mother and stood awkwardly by her side. ‘Are you really alright?’

  Mrs De Lugio sighed. ‘I’m alright, Emilio. I was just thinking that Antonio won’t be here for breakfast.’

  ‘But he might be next week, Mum.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what the doctors say. By next week, he should be ready to come home. It’ll be alright next week.’ She looked up at E.D. and gave him a sudden smile. ‘And you are going in to see him today!’

  ‘Yes.’ E.D. moved away, bending down to the cupboards and taking the big frypan out so that his mother wouldn’t see his face. ‘I’m going in with Mario this morning.’

  ‘He’ll be glad to see you. Now that he’s feeling stronger, he wants to see everybody.’

  There was the sound of loud laughter and Mario and their father came into the kitchen. It was suddenly normal again—lots of noise, lots of pushing and shoving as Mario and his dad elbowed each other around the room, and lots of delicious breakfast smells. It was only when they finally sat down at the table that Tony’s empty seat became obvious. E.D. nearly choked on his eggs when he saw it. Mario noticed him and gave him a brotherly slap on the back. ‘Cheer up, little brother. It’ll be okay.’

  He said it again on the drive to the hospital. E.D. was staring out of the window, his heart thumping in his chest. He’d only been to hospital twice; once when he’d cut himself on a piece of glass after standing on a broken bottle and then when Tony had been taken there in the ambulance. Both times it had been like stepping into another land; a white, scary place where people hurried by on their way to save lives.

  ‘Cheer up, little brother. It’ll be okay.’

  The hospital was at the edge of town. It was a brand new building surrounded by empty paddocks, gleaming white in the sun. Mario parked under the shade of a gum tree and walked with E.D. to the entrance. ‘You go up and see him. I’m just going to buy him a magazine from the shop.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  ‘No, you go on.’ Mario pushed his brother towards the ward. ‘You might as well go,’ he said, glancing up at the little shop in the foyer that sold flowers and toothbrushes and a range of newspapers and magazines. E.D. looked as well and saw a girl behind the counter. The girl was staring straight at Mario.

  ‘Oh, I get it.’ E.D. grinned at his brother. ‘Going to buy a magazine, huh? Right.’

  ‘Go on. I’ll be there in a moment.’ Mario was already walking away.

  E.D. followed the corridor until a sign told him he was in the right ward. He stopped at the entrance, looking around nervously, until a woman in a blue nurse’s uniform saw him. ‘Have you come to see someone?’

  ‘Tony De Lugio,’ said E.D. in a croaky voice. ‘He’s my brother.’

  ‘You mean Antonio? He’s in bed 23. Come on, I’ll take you there.’

  E.D. had to hurry to keep up with the nurse and almost ran into the back of her when she stopped. She pointed to the bed in the corner. ‘There he is. Have a good visit.’

  There were four beds in the room. E.D. walked
slowly towards Tony’s, unsure that the person lying covered by a white sheet was really his brother. Tony never lay in bed. Even when he was at home sick, he managed to struggle down to the couch so he could talk to the family traffic as people came and went. He was the first one up in the morning and the last to bed at night. Seeing him in bed—and in old man pyjamas—was almost too much for E.D. He stopped in the middle of the room.

  But Tony had seen him.

  ‘Emilio? Come closer, I won’t bite.’ Tony’s voice was thick, as if he was angry.

  E.D. stepped up to the bed and stood at Tony’s shoulder, staring at him. Tony’s dark hair was all over the place, as if he’d been tossing and turning. His face was pale and whiskery. ‘Hi.’ It was all E.D. could think of to say.

  ‘Good news, bro. I’m allowed home this week. They finally think my head’s okay.’ Tony gave a wry grin.

  ‘Your head was never okay,’ E.D. joked then felt ashamed. Tony had been unconscious for nearly a day—they’d taken scans of his head and kept a close eye on him but he seemed to have recovered. ‘How’s your leg?’

  In answer, Tony swept back the sheet. E.D. gulped in fright. Tony’s right leg was swollen and bruised and a line of dark stitches ran down either side of his ankle. ‘It’s not too bad, actually,’ said Tony, sitting up a bit to look critically at it. ‘It’s better than it was. See where they did the operation? They had to put metal plates in my leg to hold the bones together. At least that means I don’t have to have plaster.’

  ‘Can you walk?’

  ‘Only with crutches. I’m so slow.’ Tony groaned in frustration. ‘You’d think walking with crutches would be easy after all the stuff I’ve done.’

  E.D. knew what he meant. Tony had been into skateboarding and BMX riding before motorbikes, and could do the best ollie E.D. had ever seen.

  ‘Hey, buddy!’ Suddenly, Mario was there, reaching across the bed to ruffle Tony’s hair. He glanced down at the exposed leg and whistled. ‘Sexy legs, bro.’

  Tony grinned and flicked the sheet back over his legs.

  E.D. leaned on the windowsill and watched his brothers talk. Inside, he felt strange, a bit sick. He could see that basically Tony was alright, but it didn’t feel alright. Tony shouldn’t have been hurt, he thought. Suddenly it was clear: it had been Jack Proctor’s fault that Tony had fallen. They’d been okay until he’d joined the practice at The Moon. All this—the hospital, Tony’s battered leg, E.D. feeling sick—was Jack’s fault. It was Jack’s uncle who had sized up Angus in the laneway, and E.D. was sure those big guys had been hanging around Croft’s where Tony had been threatened. They might have put him up to causing Tony’s accident.

  Then E.D. realised Tony was talking to him. ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘I said, take this and look after it for me,’ Tony said, holding out a sleek black wristwatch. Mario smiled as E.D.’s face lit up.

  ‘No way, Tony. That’s worth heaps.’

  ‘Take it. Use it. It’s no good to me for the next month or so. And if I give it to Mario, he’ll probably sell it.’ Tony grinned as Mario punched him playfully on the arm. ‘But look after it or I’ll kill you.’

  ‘Wow, thanks.’ E.D. moved away to a chair in the corner of the room. This was no ordinary watch. It could record the temperature and your heart rate and had a sophisticated stopwatch built in as well.

  ‘Promise me you’ll break some sort of time record before you give it back, okay?’

  E.D. nodded at his brother. ‘You bet.’ He put on the watch, noticing as he did that the face was scratched. Probably from the fall, he thought, and his anger at Jack welled up again.

  They left after about an hour, Tony getting out of bed and walking—well, hopping on his crutches—with them to the door of the ward. He looked more like Tony when he was standing up, but his pyjamas were skewed and he had a brown dressing gown on—one of Dad’s, thought E.D. It just didn’t look right.

  ‘Hey, Mario,’ E.D. said as they were driving home. ‘Drop me off at Angus’?’

  ‘Sure.’ Mario made a left-hand turn and was soon pulling up in front of Brookwood Racing Stables. ‘You right to get home?’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll walk.’ E.D. waved to his brother and stood for a moment watching as Mario spun the wheels on some loose gravel and took off down the road.

  He found Angus leaning on the gate to King’s paddock. The big chestnut was eating strands of lucerne hay out of Angus’ hand. ‘Hi.’

  Angus looked up miserably. ‘E.D. I didn’t hear you turn up.’

  ‘Mario dropped me off. We went to see Tony.’

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘He’s…’ E.D. couldn’t describe what he was feeling. ‘He’s alright. What about King?’

  In answer, Angus climbed through the gate and held the hay out for King. The horse walked a few tentative steps towards the boy. Even to E.D., it was obvious that he was limping. ‘I thought the vet said it wouldn’t take long for him to be better.’

  Angus shrugged. ‘That’s what he said. That’s not how it’s turning out.’

  ‘All of this is Jack Proctor’s fault,’ E.D. said angrily. ‘King and Tony—all Jack’s fault.’

  ‘We don’t know for sure.’ Angus walked over to his friend but E.D. had turned around. ‘E.D.?’

  ‘He’s going to pay, Angus.’ E.D.’s voice was harsh. ‘Jack Proctor is going to pay.’

  Chapter 8

  Gabby Learns to Ride

  Saturday, 15 January

  Gabby hunted through her wardrobe and pulled out a sundress. For once, she really didn’t care what she wore. Her dad’s friend—Mr Mills—lived with his wife and kids in a house that didn’t have a pool or a games room. Indeed, it had a huge outdoor entertaining area with a gigantic barbecue, a theatre room with a movie projector screen, and a shed full of brand new cars.

  Gabby had been to lots of parties there before and each one had been the same; they ate gourmet sausages, listened to Mr Mills talk about his kids—two primary school aged boys—and then they watched endless movies, mostly thriller adventures, while their parents chatted on over brandy and cards. The Mills’ place was one of the least thrilling places to go to on a Saturday night.

  She changed her mind, and pulled out shorts and a T-shirt. Sometimes there were other kids from school at these parties but most of her friends had gone away on holidays. If only E.D. had agreed to come with her. Gabby scowled. Not that he wanted to, of course. Not that he could bear to go anywhere with her.

  ‘Are you ready, Gabriella?’

  ‘Coming, Mum.’

  Gabby ran down the stairs and jumped into her mother’s four wheel drive. Her father smiled at her as she slammed the door. ‘Ready for the Mills’ kids’ latest success story, Gab?’

  ‘Great, Dad. I can’t wait.’

  When they got there, the party was in full swing. The smell of tomato and basil sausages wafted out to meet them. Mrs Mills came to the door and ushered them to the back where Mr and Mrs Hunter were quickly drawn into the crowd of grown-ups, leaving Gabby to find a soft drink and wander around to the theatre room.

  About ten little kids were already lounging around on couches and pillows on the floor. A huge car chase was screening, complete with thumping rock music and the sound of crashing vehicles as the hero of the story made his way through several impossible road blocks. ‘What’s on?’ Gabby yelled at Adrian Mills.

  ‘Road of the Damned. Isn’t it cool?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Gabby without enthusiasm. ‘Most unbelievable car chase I’ve ever seen.’

  Adrian looked at her crookedly and she shrugged. The kid turned back to the movie and Gabby scanned the crowd. There was no one over the age of ten in the room and it had looked like the group of people in the backyard were all at least as old as the birthday boy. Terrific, thought Gabby. So I’ll either end up as a babysitter to a bunch of Grade 4s or I’ll be a drinks-and-food runner for the parents. She backed out of the theatre and wandered into the lounge room at the front o
f the house where it was quieter.

  From the large bay window, the Mills had a good view of Teasdale. The house was on a hill by itself, with vacant blocks on either side. At the bottom of the hill, houses sat side by side all the way to town. Gabby looked out through the window. She’d said to E.D. that the party was close to his place, but she hadn’t realised how close. She could see E.D.’s house from where she was. Its roof tiles were covered in lichen and a cluster of ratty looking sheds filled the yard. The only thing that kept the scene from looking too ugly was an old peppercorn tree at the side of the De Lugios’, its branches waving in the breeze.

  Something appeared in the front yard of the house. It was a motorbike that was twisting in and out of the few scraggly bushes that made up the De Lugios’ front garden. Gabby strained to see who it was—E.D. or Mario?—but she was too far away to recognise them. She looked back into the house. An enormous crash came from the theatre room as several Hollywood cars bit the dust. Through the open back door, women laughed and sausages cooked. They wouldn’t miss me if I went to see E.D., thought Gabby. I won’t be too long.

  She slipped out the front door, closing it quietly behind her—not that anyone would hear it click shut—and walked down the hill towards E.D.’s. A hot breeze rolled over her and she wished she was at home in her pool. Still, visiting E.D. had to be better than staying at the Mills’.

  The motorbike was still going up and down the driveway when she got there. Clouds of dust flew up behind it and Gabby wondered how Mrs D put up with it. She stopped at the gate and waited until the bike completed its circuit and came towards her again. The rider saw her at the last moment and skidded to a stop just a metre away.

  ‘Gabby!’

  It was Mario. He thumbed the kill switch and the bike went quiet.

  ‘Hi,’ said Gabby. ‘I was just up there,’ she pointed up the hill, ‘and thought I might come and see E.D.’