by Dianne Bates
Dianne (Di) Bates grew up on a goat farm and goats are her favourite animal, though sadly she doesn’t have any in her life now. Di has worked as a newspaper and magazine editor and manuscript assessor. She has published over 130 books for children. In 2008 Di was awarded The Lady Cutler Award for distinguished services to children’s literature.
Bill Condon has written numerous stories, poems and plays for children, and four of his novels have been shortlisted for the Children’s Book Council of Australia Book of the Year Award. He has also won the Prime Minister’s Literary Award. Although Bill’s been kidding around for much of his life, this is his first book about a goat.
To Rory and Stephanie Potter
Oaarrghhh …
The fig tree moaned in the wind like a cranky old giant with a sore back.
‘It sounds like it’s alive.’ Rory Hunter and his best friend, Trang Nguyen, were perched on a branch about halfway up.
‘That’s because it is alive, Roar. It’s talking to us.’
‘What’s it saying?’
‘Get off me, you kids. You’re too heavy!’
Rory glanced sideways at Trang and grinned. They were both eight, sat next to each other at school, and were neighbours, with only the fig tree and the small nature reserve it stood on separating their homes. Their street was dotted with houses just like theirs, but on the hillsides all around them were scattered farmyards.
When the days were hotter, there was no way they would have gone anywhere near the tree. Back then it was home to a zillion creepy, squealing bats. They didn’t just look creepy. They had a secret weapon. Bat poo pies! More than once they had lobbed them on Rory and Trang as they sat under the tree. Gross!
But now it was the last week of winter and the bats had flown away long ago to somewhere warmer. The tree was theirs – for now.
‘Hey, Mum! Dad!’ Trang waved at them down in their backyard, hanging out the washing.
‘Be careful up there,’ called out Mrs Nguyen as she pegged a sheet onto the line.
Rory’s backyard was empty, except for his dog, which was tossing its head about as it attacked the monster bone in its mouth. Bitsa was black and white, and he loved cuddles and chasing balls. He could also head-butt them back like an ace soccer player. But no one was quite sure what breed he was. He was just bits of this and bits of that.
In front of them Rory and Trang could see from one end of Emily Street to the other. It was Saturday morning. A few houses down Mr Garcia was digging into a pile of soil on his front lawn and dumping it into a wheelbarrow. In the next house, Mrs Herman unpacked groceries from the boot of her car. She had grey plastic bags in each hand when one of the bags split open. Oranges rolled down the driveway. Mrs Herman chased after them, yelling. It wasn’t clear what she was saying, but it sounded something like, ‘Come back!’
When Rory and Trang looked behind them they saw a hillside, bright green after a week of rain, and dotted with grazing cows. Above them, of course, was the blue sky, perfectly clear except for just one bird.
‘When I grow up I’m going to fly.’ Rory shaded his eyes.
‘In a plane?’
‘Nah. Spaceship. I’m going to be an astronaut.’
This was news to Trang. Most days he couldn’t even talk Rory into climbing up to the next branch.
‘But aren’t you scared of heights?’
‘What’s there to be scared of?’
‘Falling.’
‘Yeah, that’s not good.’
‘Admit it, Roar. You are scared.’
‘No I’m not. Anyway, being up high isn’t too bad if you don’t look down.’
‘Do you know how high astronauts have to go?’
‘A fair way.’
‘A long way. And they have to look down so they can take photos.’
‘Why do they have to take photos?’
‘I’m not sure. Probably to prove they were in space.’
‘Oh.’ Rory shrugged. ‘Maybe I’ll just be one of those astronauts who stay on the ground.’
‘That might be better.’
‘So what are you going to be, T?’
‘A wrestler or an inventor. I haven’t decided yet.’
‘A wrestler? Hmm, I didn’t think of that. I’d like to be a wrestler, too. I saw this dude put a guy into a sleeper hold once. Legend! If I was a wrestler I’d do the sleeper hold all the time.’
‘But a second ago you wanted to be an astronaut.’
‘Still do. I could do that during the daytime and wrestle at nights, for pocket money. What do you think?’
‘I’ve already got your wrestling name for you.’
‘What is it?’
‘Snory Rory.’
‘Huh?’
‘You’d be putting guys into the sleeper hold – get it – Snory Rory!’
‘Yeah, yeah, very funny. Not. I know – how about Gory Rory?’
‘That’s not bad.’
‘It’s better than not bad. It’s the best!’
‘Hey, maybe we could be a tag team. Gory Rory and … ah …’
‘I know! I know! You can be Trang the Strangulator!’
‘Cool!’
Trang put both hands around Rory’s neck and pretended to choke him. Rory made loud gurgling noises.
‘Hoi!’ Rory’s dad looked over the fence. ‘You’re not fighting, are you?’
Rory and Trang had known each other for five years and they hadn’t fought even once.
‘No, Dad, we were just playing.’ Rory grabbed Trang’s hand and squeezed his fingers together until Trang pulled a face and cried, ‘Owww.’
Baring his teeth, Trang squeezed back, even harder. ‘We’re practising our wrestling moves.’
‘That’s okay then.’ Dad held up a length of timber. ‘I need one of you to hold this while I cut it. How about a volunteer?’
Their hands shot up. They weren’t always so eager to help, but they liked mucking around with timber and tools. And hanging out with Dad was fun.
‘Me! I want to do it.’
‘Me too!’
‘Let’s see.’ Dad pointed to Trang. ‘I think I’ll take you.’
Rory’s shoulders slumped.
‘Oh, all right. You too.’
‘Yes!’ whooped Rory.
Together they climbed down from the tree and ran across to the gate in the fence that led to the Hunters’ front lawn.
The boys followed Dad into the garage. There wasn’t any room for a car. It was a wild clutter of mowers and gardening tools. There were also things that had been put away to use ‘one day’ – a rocking chair, pieces of a bike, a treadmill, fishing rods, a computer and printer, and about a hundred years’ supply of toilet paper that Mum had bought when it was on special. And, right at the back of the shed, was a cleared space that had been set up as a workshop. During the week Dad built houses for other people. Most weekends he liked to take a rest from building, unless it was a special job, as this was.
Both boys held a piece of timber steady while Dad sawed through it.
Rory often wondered if he’d look the same as his dad when he grew up. He wouldn’t mind being tall and a bit skinny, but not too much. ‘Rangy’ was the word Mum used to describe him. When Dad bent down to pick up a ruler, the boys saw a bald patch on the top of his head. Trang smirked. Rory ran a hand through his own hair. No bald patches. And he smirked, too.
‘What are you making, Mr H?’
‘A bookcase.’ Dad pushed hard and sliced through the timber. ‘For Luna.’
Th
at was Rory’s sister.
‘Is she old enough to read?’ asked Trang.
‘Not quite, but she loves to have stories read to her and she has quite a few books. It won’t be long before she’s reading as well as Rory.’
‘Can Rory read?’ Trang laughed. Rory stepped on his foot.
‘No, Daddy!’
They looked up and saw Luna standing at the shed door. ‘I can read good now!’
Luna ran to her father, stumbled a bit, picked herself up and hurried on as if nothing had happened.
He took her hands and swung her around in a gentle circle. ‘Where would you like to fly to today, Wonder Woman?’
‘Mars!’
‘Mars it is.’
Faster and faster.
‘Wheeee!’
‘And now back to earth.’
‘Ta, Daddy.’
‘My pleasure.’
‘But I am a good reader, aren’t I?’
‘You sure are.’
‘She’s getting better every day, too.’ Mum dodged around the old bike parts as she walked into the shed. She and Luna both had curly black hair. Luna’s was still wet after her shower.
‘Look, Mummy, Daddy’s making me a big box to put my books in.’
‘I know, sweetie. But will that be big enough to fit in all of your books?’
Luna put a hand to her lips. ‘Hmm … maybe you should build me a second storey, Daddy. Or, if you did three or four storeys, I could fit my toys in, too!’
‘But if I did that I’d be working on it till Christmas. You wouldn’t want that, would you?’
‘Christmas!’ Luna’s eyes gleamed. ‘I could have a special storey just for my presents!’
‘What about a bookshelf that could fly?’ Mum poked Dad lightly in the ribs. ‘You could make that, couldn’t you, honey?’
‘Let me just finish this first.’
Luna stepped closer to check out the box. She was curious about everything. ‘What colour?’
‘I hadn’t thought about that.’ Dad crouched beside her. ‘What colour would you like it to be? Black and blue like a zebra?’
‘Zebras aren’t black and blue.’
‘They are if they’ve been in a fight.’
‘You’re silly.’
Mum nodded. ‘Very silly.’
‘I want it to be red!’
‘Not pink?’ Dad asked.
‘Noooo. Red. Like a fire engine.’
If Luna had her way, everything in the world would be red.
‘Done. Would you like some stars on it, too? Silver ones?’
Luna held up four fingers.
‘Ah. Four stars for a big girl who’s four.’
‘No.’ She folded her arms. ‘I’m nearly four and a half.’
‘Already?’
‘You know I am, Daddy.’
‘Todd.’ Mum stood at the window looking out at the yard. ‘If you get a chance I’d love you to mow the lawn this morning.’
‘Will do.’
‘You’ve said that before.’
Pop and Nan were coming over for a barbecue. Auntie Michelle and Uncle David were expected, too, as well as Rory’s cousins, Jack and Pippa. They took turns visiting each other’s homes for lunch. It was usually a Sunday visit, but this time they had brought it forward a day because Saturday was Pop’s birthday.
‘Okay, Steph.’ Dad put an arm around her waist. ‘If you really think it needs it.’
He wasn’t looking forward to cutting the grass. It had shot up after all the recent rain. Now it was turning into a jungle.
‘If you don’t do it soon people won’t be able to find our house.’
Luna tugged at his sleeve. ‘I can mow.’
‘I know you can. But not this time – maybe someone else will help.’ He looked at Rory and Trang. ‘Any chance?’
‘I’m in,’ said Trang.
But Rory hesitated. He was sure there had to be better things to do than working in the garden.
‘Come on, Roar. It’ll be fun.’
‘No it won’t.’
‘Aw, come onnn …’
‘Okay.’ Rory shrugged. ‘Might as well.’
Dad’s mower roared along the yard. Bitsa kept pace beside it, dashed in front, then stalked it from behind, yapping the whole time. The boys raked the grass clippings into heaps, just as Dad had told them to do. But they soon got bored with that.
Rory had an idea. ‘Let’s see who can make the biggest pile.’
‘Done.’ Trang raked as hard as he could.
‘Cut faster, Dad! I need more grass so I can beat Trang.’
‘Don’t give it to him. Give it to me!’
The moment Dad turned off the mower Bitsa sprang onto the grass stacks and rolled around in them. In no time at all both stacks were scattered all over the lawn.
‘You crazy dog!’ Rory threw down his rake. ‘I had the biggest pile, and you wrecked it.’
Bitsa looked up, his nose covered with grass.
‘You’re just lucky that Bitsa came to the rescue.’
‘What?’
‘I had the biggest pile, not you.’
‘He didn’t rescue me.’ Rory glared. ‘He rescued you.’
‘Ha! My heap was like as tall as me and yours was so small I could hardly see it!’
‘Bull!’
‘Who’s thirsty?’
The argument was instantly forgotten.
Dad was holding a jug of water and three tall glasses. ‘Better be quick or I’ll drink it all myself.’
Dad and Rory sat with Trang under a tree. On the back verandah Bitsa lapped from his water bowl. Rory drew a smiley face with his finger on the frosty glass. And Dad burped, but didn’t bother about excusing himself.
‘You know what I think?’ Trang pressed a piece of ice against his forehead. ‘People shouldn’t have to cut grass.’
Rory put a cube of ice in his mouth. ‘Then how would it get cut?’ And crunched into it.
‘Goats. They love grass. Eat it all day if you let them. My uncle’s got one. Sometimes I milk it.’
Dad wiped away a trickle of sweat. ‘That’s an interesting thought. You don’t have to put petrol in goats.’
‘And I could milk it, too.’
‘But you don’t know anything about goats, Rory.’
‘I’ll teach him, Mr H.’
‘We could make goat milkshakes and cheese and everything. Just think, Dad, you’d never have to mow the lawn again.’
‘It’s sounding better and better.’
‘So when are we getting one?’
‘Whoa! Slow down, fella. I didn’t say we were getting a goat.’
‘But you’re going to think about it – aren’t you?’
‘Well, I’ll talk to Mum about it.’
When they’d finished helping Dad, they went inside. Mum was working in the kitchen.
‘Want to help me make lunch?’
There were some jobs Rory and Trang weren’t so mad about, like cleaning their rooms or washing cars. But working side-by-side in the kitchen was always fun, especially if they got to eat cakes straight out of the oven or scoff the leftover chocolate icing. Before they could start, though, Trang’s phone rang. It was his dad, Vinh.
‘Looks like I have to go home. It’s lunchtime at our house, too.’
‘Thanks for your help.’ Dad slapped Trang’s shoulder as he ambled past. ‘You did a great job.’
Rory gave his friend a high-five. ‘See ya.’
Luna sat at the kitchen table colouring in the picture she’d drawn of their house. Of course, it was red. And Mum chopped lettuce for a salad, while Rory sliced cucumbers.
‘Guess what, Mum?’
‘What?’
‘Dad’s thinking
about buying a goat.’
‘Really?’ Mum raised her eyebrows. ‘First I’ve heard of it.’
Dad strolled past. ‘Heard of what?’
‘The new job you’ve put your hand up for.’
‘The what?’
‘Rory just told me. How come you didn’t talk to me about buying a goat?’
‘Hang on. I only said I’d think about it. That’s all I said. You can’t rush into something like this.’
‘You know, Todd, it’s not such a terrible idea.’ Mum stirred mayonnaise into the salad. ‘My gran had a goat. I used to play with it when I was little. They’re beautiful animals.’
Luna looked up from her drawing. ‘I want a goat.’ She held her hands wide apart. ‘This much.’
‘That’s nothing.’ Rory held his hands even wider apart. ‘I want a goat this much.’
‘Settle down. Your father is right. We need to think this over. Carefully.’
This wasn’t good news for Rory. Usually Mum and Dad took ages to think something over. Sometimes they even forgot about it completely.
But maybe they’d remember this time.
Bitsa started barking. His hearing was so good he could hear a mouse scratching in the ceiling. When he barked and charged at the front door, as he did now, it always meant that someone was walking up the driveway. It was twelve o’clock, exactly the time they expected their guests to arrive for lunch.
Ding-dong.
‘They’re here!’
Rory barrelled to the front door, with Bitsa right on his heels.
Outside stood Pop and Nan. Pop’s hair was white and Nan’s was blonde. Well, today it was blonde. Sometimes it was bright red. Nan thought it was boring to be the same colour all the time, and she was never boring.
One by one, Pop wrapped Mum and Dad and Rory in a huge hug. Everything about Pop was big, from his giant laugh to his sumo wrestler belly. Nan had a much softer hug – it was like she was worried she might break someone’s rib if she hugged them too hard. But it was still good. In fact, Rory thought Nan’s hugs were the second-best in the world. After Mum’s.
Nan lifted up Luna and gave her a mushy snog on the cheek. Pop kissed her, too. Luna put a hand up to wipe her face.
‘It wasn’t that awful, was it?’