by Duncan Ball
Okay, so I didn’t actually say it — but I was about to, when Postie holds out the necklace to Mrs Trifle.
‘I found this in the telephone table,’ he says. ‘I was looking for a piece of paper to write you a note.’
‘Oh, thank you, Postie!’ Mrs T says, giving him a big kiss. ‘You are wonderful!’
‘You’re very welcome,’ Postie says, going all red in the face (but you could tell he was pleased). ‘I was going to ask you not to lock your front door if you want me to pat Selby. But, obviously, it wasn’t locked after all.’
‘We never lock it,’ Mrs T says. ‘And we’re pretty sure Selby doesn’t either.’
They’re all staring at me again.
Gulp.
And then they all let out a big laugh.
‘Selby? Locking doors?’ Postie says. ‘Wouldn’t that be strange. I’m speechless, Mrs Trifle.’
And, fortunately — so was I!
‘These people were savages,’ said Professor Krakpott, the Trifles’ old friend and digger-upper of ancient things.
Selby and the Trifles were on Death Island, helping the professor search for signs of the Shark People.
‘Did you say savages?’ Mrs Trifle asked. ‘Surely we don’t call people savages just because they have different customs to ours. I’m sure they’d have been lovely people once you got to know them.’
‘Yes, but they would have been hard to get to know,’ Professor Krakpott said. ‘Before you got a chance to shake their hands, the Shark People would have tied you up, tortured you, cut off your head to play football, and then cooked and eaten you.’
‘Gulp,’ Selby gulped. ‘They sound like savages to me.’
‘They do sound a bit … well, unfriendly,’ Mrs Trifle said, looking around nervously. ‘Are you sure they aren’t here any more?’
‘They died out hundreds of years ago. No one lives on Death Island now,’ the professor said, picking up a skull. ‘Goodness, it looks like someone lost his head. Ha ha. Another one for the museum’s collection.’
‘Sheeesh,’ Selby thought. ‘This place is one big graveyard.’
‘What do you know about these Shark People?’ Mrs Trifle asked.
‘Not a lot,’ the professor admitted. ‘They carved pictures of sharks everywhere,’ he said, pointing to the outline of a shark on a nearby rock. ‘That’s why we call them the Shark People.’
‘I hear there’s a curse,’ Dr Trifle said.
‘Well, there was an incident a few months ago. A group of people anchored their boat here and came ashore. They claim they were captured by a wild man.’
‘A wild man?’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘What sort of wild man?’
‘The sort that’s painted with red and white stripes and wears palm leaves for clothes and a shark’s skull for a mask.’
‘What happened to the people from the boat?’
‘He tied them up and grunted and screamed. Then he made a fire and ran off to get his friends. Eight people were probably more than one cannibal could eat by himself.’
‘Sheeesh!’ Selby thought. ‘I don’t think I like it here.’
There was a crash nearby and Selby and the Trifles jumped.
‘Just a falling coconut,’ the professor said. ‘Nothing to worry about.’
‘Is he kidding?!’ Selby screamed in his brain. ‘Bones, cannibals and falling coconuts! What next?’
‘Did you hear the one about the cannibal who had a wife and eight children?’ the professor asked. ‘Get it? He ate children? Ate children?’ Professor Krakpott let out a long laugh.
‘Hey, that’s one of Gary Gaggs’ jokes,’ Selby thought. ‘So why aren’t I laughing?’
‘What happened to the people who were captured?’ Mrs Trifle said.
‘They got away.’
‘You sound like you don’t believe the story.’
‘Frankly, I don’t. They were a bunch of writers. You can’t believe anything writers say. They make things up. They certainly got a lot of publicity when they returned to Australia — and they loved it,’ the professor said. ‘Of course, there was also the Gladys Mystery.’
‘The Gladys Mystery?’
‘A teenage girl named Gladys fell off a cruise ship last year. Apparently she was washed overboard by a freak wave when no one was looking. Her shoes were found on the beach right here on Death Island. Her parents combed the island over and over again, but they never found her.’
‘Do you think she was eaten by a Shark Person?’
‘No, there aren’t any. She simply drowned, and her shoes floated ashore here,’ the professor said, picking up some more bones and putting them in his backpack. ‘Hmmm, very nice.’
‘I can’t believe this place,’ Selby thought. ‘It’s spooky.’
That night Selby slept in the tent with the others. But every time he dozed off, even the slightest noise would wake him.
‘Why did we have to come to Death Island?’ Selby wondered. ‘Why couldn’t we have gone to Happy Island or Have A Good Day Island or Let’s All Have A Wonderful Time And Not Get Cooked And Eaten Island. Anywhere but here! Why do I always have to go to the loo when I’m scared?’
Selby crept out of the tent and went to the loo in the bushes. He was about to go back to the tent, when he saw the first rays of sunlight coming through the trees. He made his way to the water’s edge and sat watching the sun rise over the ocean.
‘That is soooo beautiful!’ Selby thought. ‘Maybe it’s not such a bad place after all. If you forget about the curse, it’s like a bit of paradise. I can imagine myself living in a little shack on the beach with all the things I love: the Trifles, of course, lots of books, great food, a satellite dish for TV, a good CD and DVD collection and —’
Selby was snapped out of his daydream by the sudden sound of breaking branches and screams — Trifle screams. He jumped to his feet and ran back to the tent — but the tent was gone!
‘Oh, no! The Trifles have been kidnapped!’
But more Trifle (and Krakpott) screams caused Selby to look up. And there, swinging by a rope, was a big squirming bag full of screaming people.
‘It’s the tent!’ Selby thought. ‘How did it get up there?!’
‘Get us down!’ Mrs Trifle screamed. ‘Somebody get us down!’
Selby spotted a rope tied to a tree nearby.
‘That rope is holding the tent up there,’ he thought, as he started to untie the knot. ‘Who could have done this?’
No sooner had that question formed in Selby’s brain than he had his answer. A net dropped over him and a pair of eyes stared at him through a shark mask. Selby stared at the hideous creature painted in red and white stripes and wearing palm leaves for clothes.
‘Oh, no! It’s a Shark Person!’ he screamed in his brain.
The Shark Man tied the net tight around Selby, letting out grunts and screams all the while, and then slung it onto his back and bounded off into the rainforest, towards the other side of the island.
‘He’s going to eat me!’ Selby thought, as he bit furiously at the net. ‘Then he’ll get his friends and eat the Trifles and the professor! This can’t be happening!’
But of course it was, and soon the creature was on top of a huge cliff. Holding tightly to the net, he leapt down from ledge to ledge and then swung into the mouth of a cave. He threw Selby into a corner and started breaking sticks to start a fire.
Selby struggled against the net, but it was no use.
‘I’m dead,’ Selby said out loud. ‘He’s going to eat me. I’m probably just the right-size meal for a hungry cannibal. And then he’ll eat the Trifles.’
The creature stared at Selby.
‘Who are the Trifles?’ he asked in plain English.
Without thinking, Selby answered.
‘They’re my owners. Please, please don’t eat them. Hey, you just talked people-talk!’
‘That’s because I’m a people,’ the creature said. ‘What’s your excuse? You’re a dog. You shouldn’t be talking.�
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‘I know, but I can so I am.’
‘How come you can talk?’
Selby thought for a moment. Nothing mattered now, so he explained how the Trifles got him from the RSPCA when he was a puppy and how he suddenly could understand people-talk one day when he was watching TV. And, as he talked, the Shark Man took off the mask and started wiping the paint off his face.
‘Hey!’ Selby said, interrupting himself. ‘You’re a girl!’
‘That’s right. I’ve been one all my life.’
‘You must be that Gladys who fell off the ship.’
‘You guessed it.’
‘Then how’d you get to be a Shark Person?’
‘I’m not. There aren’t any Shark People. They died out ages ago.’
‘Are you going to eat me?’
‘No.’
‘Why not? I mean, I was just wondering.’
‘Well, for starters I’m a vegetarian. I do eat fish sometimes but I’d never eat a dog.’
‘How about people?’
‘Are you kidding?’
‘So what are you going to do with the Trifles and Professor Krakpott? You can’t just leave them hanging there.’
‘They’ll get away. And they’ll sail off and never come back.’
‘Hey, but how about me?’ Selby said. ‘I have to go with them.’
‘Sorry, you’re staying with me. You’ll be good company.’
‘You don’t understand,’ Selby pleaded. ‘I love the Trifles. And they won’t leave without me.’
‘They’ll never find you here,’ Gladys said. ‘No one ever found me after I jumped off that ship.’
‘You jumped?’
‘That’s right. And when I saw you and those people coming ashore, I thought, “I could use a pet to keep me company.” And now I have something even better: a pet that talks.’
Selby thought for a moment.
‘Why did you run — that is, swim — away?’
‘Because my parents were horrible to me. They hated me. They picked on me all the time. “Gladys, do this.” And, “Gladys, do that.”’
‘I’m sure they didn’t hate you,’ Selby said.
‘Are you kidding? If you loved someone, would you name them Gladys?’
‘Well probably not, but —’
‘I hate that name! It was my grandmother’s name, for heaven’s sake! Why couldn’t they have named me Coralie, Alesha, Jacinta, Margeaux — with an X at the end — or Liberty, after the singer. Liberty would have been great.’
‘Okay, I’ll call you Liberty,’ Selby said.
‘Thanks. My parents never let me do anything! “Gladys, brush your teeth.” “Gladys, it’s nine o’clock — time for bed.” They wouldn’t let me get tattoos or wear nose rings or studs in my tongue or anything!’
‘It sounds like they were just being parents. I’m sure they miss you.’
‘I reckon they don’t. What’s your name?’
‘Selby.’
‘Okay, Selby, tell me this: do your owners make you make your bed every morning?’
‘Ah, well, no, because I don’t have a bed.’
‘Do they make you clean your room and not let you watch TV till you’ve done your homework? And make you practise the piano for half an hour every day? And make you write thank you notes when you get prezzies even if you hate the prezzies?’
‘Well, actually, no but —’
‘There, you see? You’re a pet. They treat you like a king. They’d do everything for you because they don’t expect anything from you. You’re a dog and all they ever want you to be is a dog. It’s a good thing they didn’t know you could talk or your life would have been horrible.’
‘You’ve got a point,’ Selby said. ‘But they do make me eat Dry-Mouth Dog Biscuits which are mostly sawdust.’
‘What would you rather eat?’
‘Anything else, but especially peanut prawns.’
‘You mean like prawns cooked in satay sauce? I used to love them! That’s something I do miss. But I make a nice fish stew with coconut milk. Do you want me to make you some?’
‘Not right now … Liberty. I only just got up.’
‘Oh, Selby, don’t you see? You and I are going to be great mates forever and ever and live the rest of our lives in peace and quiet. I’ll teach you how to fish and how to climb trees to get coconuts and —’
‘Sorry, Liberty, but no can do. I’ve got to go with the Trifles.’
‘Don’t you like me?’
‘You’re okay but I’d miss the Trifles. I’d miss a lot of things.’
‘Like what?’
‘I’d miss the computer, and Blake Romano books and my CDs and DVDs. Don’t you miss TV?’
‘A bit,’ Liberty admitted. ‘There was this really good series called Fang Blood —’
‘I love Fang Blood!’ Selby said. ‘It’s a movie now.’
‘No! Does it have Jason Rodolfo in it?! He’s such a dreamboat!’
‘Yes, and that girl who plays Marcella! I just saw it,’ Selby said. ‘Liberty, I can’t stay here with you. You must miss lots of things. I know I’d miss the sound of birds in the morning —’
‘There are birds here.’
‘Yeah, but they’re different. I like the ones I’m used to — Bogusville birds. And I’d miss Postie Paterson and Melanie Mildew and —’
As Selby went on and on about the people and the things he’d miss, he could see tears begin to form in Liberty’s eyes.
‘But most of all,’ Selby said, ‘I’d miss my owners, the Trifles. They are the dearest, most wonderful people on earth.’
‘Okay, stop!’ Liberty said, untying the net as tears streamed down her face. ‘I’ll let you go.’
‘Thank you, Gladys — I mean, Liberty,’ Selby said, giving her a big doggy cuddle. ‘But I can’t leave without you.’
‘Yes, you can. I can’t go. How would I ever explain to my parents what I did? I was so cruel to them.’
‘Well, you wouldn’t have to tell them straight away. Listen to me,’ Selby said, ‘I’ve got a plan …’
Later that morning, the Trifles and Professor Krakpott had eventually struggled free and were standing on the ground, when a teenage girl came running along the path.
‘Save me! Save me!’ she cried. ‘The Shark People are after me! They’re going to kill me!’
‘It’s you!’ Mrs Trifle gasped. ‘Gladys!’
‘Liberty,’ the girl said. ‘I’ve changed my name. Yes, it’s me! Please help me escape!’
‘How did you find us?’
‘I followed your dog.’
‘Our dog? Selby, you darling dog! It’s you!’ Mrs Trifle cried, sweeping him up into her arms.
‘Selby!’ cried Dr Trifle. ‘That awful man didn’t eat you! Quickly! Everyone to the boat!’
And so it was that Professor Krakpott, the Trifles, Selby and Liberty sailed back towards Australia.
Liberty’s parents were waiting at the wharf to meet their daughter, and threw their arms around her and cried buckets. And so did she.
After they’d all said goodbye, she climbed into her parents’ car and, as she did, she looked back at Selby and gave him a wink.
And Selby gave a sneaky little wink back when no one was looking.
‘What a happy ending,’ Selby thought. ‘I do like happy endings.’
PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME GO TO SCHOOL
by Selby Trifle
I’m sorry, but I won’t go out.
Don’t make me, cuz I’ll scream and shout.
Today I’m going to be a slob
and watch TV or just plain blob.
I’ll lie here like a lump of clay
— with any luck, I’ll sleep all day.
Oh, being me is just sooooooo kewl
Cuz dogs don’t have to go to school.
‘Goodness me, Ella,’ Mrs Trifle exclaimed. ‘You’ve grown up.’
‘Well, I hope so,’ the young woman said with a blush, ‘you haven’t seen me
since I was in primary school. That was years ago.’
‘It seems like yesterday. And now you’re a big-time news reporter for a television network.’
‘It’s only my first job. They’re still trying me out. They want to see if I can come up with some interesting news stories. If I can get a news story that no one else knows about — a scoop — then they might let me keep my job.’
‘An interesting news story?’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘A scoop? You should know by now that nothing ever happens here.’
‘That’s for sure,’ Selby thought, as the young woman patted him. ‘That’s why we like it.’
‘I actually came back to see Mum. Did you know she’s going to have a baby?’
‘No, I didn’t! That’s wonderful!’
‘I can’t imagine having a baby sister or brother at my age,’ the woman said. ‘It’s very exciting. And I think there’s a good story in it for TV.’
‘But women have babies all the time.’
‘Yes, but did you realise that right now there are over a hundred pregnant women in Bogusville?’
‘That’s incredible in such a small town.’
‘Well, Mum says it’s true.’
‘Gosh, I had no idea. Maybe it’s something in the water,’ Mrs Trifle said with a laugh.
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s just something people say when there are a lot of pregnancies. It’s a joke, like there’s something in the water that’s making them pregnant,’ Mrs Trifle explained. ‘Speaking of water, would you like to try the new Yodelling Spring Swiss Mineral Water?’ Mrs Trifle asked. ‘Everyone’s drinking it, so I bought a bottle just to see what it’s like. Frankly, I think I prefer tap water.’ She poured some into a glass for Ella.
‘I think I agree,’ the young woman said, sipping the water. ‘I wonder what’s in it.’
‘Water, I guess. But they say it’s got lots of minerals that are good for you.’
‘I can see them,’ Ella said, watching little red particles sink to the bottom of the bottle. She looked at the label on the bottle. ‘Hmm, it says that the water is “the purest of the pure from the crystal waters of the Swiss Alps”. It looks a bit cloudy to me. And I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bottle of mineral water that says “shake well before drinking”.’