Pyro Watson and the Hidden Treasure

by Nette Hilton

  Pyro’s hand seemed as if it was clamped to his side.

  ‘Here.’ Auntie Mor took it. ‘It’s all right, I promise. I’ll tell your mum that you didn’t ask for it, or even hint for it.’

  Pyro grinned. She was neat, his mind-reading auntie. ‘Fantastic,’ he said. ‘Hot!’

  ‘Wow!’ Min was so impressed his voice was just a whisper. Becks’ voice wasn’t. She barked her head off.

  ‘Shut it, Becks!’ Everyone roared at once.

  ‘Lordy, that dog’s noisy!’ Auntie Mor threw a stick and Becks charged after it. ‘Home by five, okay?’

  The boys took off. A whole day.

  First, they decided, they were going to walk across the bridge and Min could show Pyro where he went fishing. And then they were going to walk down the other side of the bridge to where the big leftover pipes from the road building were stored. The bottom ones were all muddy and mostly underwater from the tide and the fisheries said they were going to make great fish nurseries, but the top ones were great for climbing. And further around was the old co-op where the boats used to come in with their loads of fish. They didn’t anymore, but the wharf out the front was still there and it was magic.

  ‘We have to go and tell Gran first,’ Min was saying as they swerved through the gate and out onto the road that led to the bridge.

  ‘Did she really invite me?’ Pyro said.

  ‘She sure did. She’s a real stickybeak, my gran. See …’ He was pointing to the map on the signpost outside the caravan park. ‘That’s my street right there. My house is number six and it sits right up close to the bush at the end of town.’

  Pyro looked.

  ‘And there’s the main street where we’re going to buy our swords.’ He slashed at the air and made sword swishing noises. Pyro slashed back.

  And then stopped.

  There was a car turning off the bridge and onto the dusty road that led to the caravan park. It was a car he recognised.

  He recognised the driver, too.

  And now, because the driver of that car always drove a bit faster than was good for it, he could see there was another person in there. A back seat passenger whose head just peeped over the level of the front seat.

  Dad.

  And Geezer.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘It’s my dad,’ Pyro said. He didn’t mention Geezer. He wasn’t sure why.

  ‘I thought you were staying till next week.’

  ‘I am.’ But he’d sent those letters and now his dad had probably come to get him and take him home. Or back to spend next week with Boa for company.

  Yuk.

  ‘Listen …’ He had to think fast. It’d be different with Geezer here. Maybe Geez wouldn’t like Becks or Min and that’d make the whole day stiff and awkward and sitting around with all of them twitchy and uncomfortable. And they didn’t have enough money for three swords. And how can you sword fight with three swords? ‘Do you think …’

  The car was getting closer and Pyro could see that Geezer had spotted him. He was waving from the back seat. Pyro pretended he didn’t notice and turned the other way.

  ‘… Do you reckon we could buy our swords tomorrow? Will the shop be open?’

  ‘Yeah, it’ll be open.’ Min wasn’t really buying it. Pyro could see he was thinking there was something up. Which was crazy because Pyro didn’t know what was up. ‘So how come we can’t do it today?’

  ‘It’s my dad,’ Pyro said. ‘He’s come down to see that I’m okay and he’ll want me to stay here with him.’

  Min looked like he thought Pyro had gone a little bit nuts. ‘What? Your dad’ll want you here all day? With him?’

  ‘I reckon. He’s like that, my dad. And if I go off he’ll be worried and then he gets cross with everyone.’

  It was a fib. Mostly Pyro’s dad liked it best when Pyro went off and did things that didn’t involve his dad at all. It was pretty easy really. Pyro’s dad didn’t much like the things Pyro liked.

  But Min was nodding now. He seemed to understand. ‘My dad goes off, too,’ he said.

  ‘I thought you lived with your gran.’

  The car was slowing for the last little hump.

  ‘I do. That’s why.’

  ‘Because your dad goes off?’

  Min was already hiking off across the grass. He was bent over because his hand was looped in Becks’ collar to stop her galloping off to greet the new car. ‘I’ll get going,’ he said. ‘Catch you later.’

  Pyro had his hand lifted to stop him and say ‘hang on, I’ve made a mistake,’ but it was too late. The car blocked his view, his dad was saying loud hellos and look who I’ve brought for a surprise and where the heck is Auntie Maureen’s van and don’t tell me that’s it with the purple front on it and get out and stretch your legs, Graham, while I find a parking spot.

  Pyro would have waved. Called. Begged.

  But the way was full of Geezer looking so happy to see him that he said nothing at all.

  Min had gone, anyway, disappeared over the hill without even looking back.

  ‘Look what the wind blew in.’ It was what Auntie Mor always said when Pyro’s dad appeared. He had a strange effect on her and she seemed to stand a little straighter whenever he was around. She fussed a lot too, like Pyro did whenever Mzzz Cllump stood too close and watched the work he was supposed to be doing. ‘Gosh, we weren’t expecting to see you until next week. Everything all right?’

  Everything was all right and Nan was okay and Pyro’s mum would be home next week but she seemed concerned that Pyro wasn’t sounding too happy so he’d come to say g’day.

  ‘She sent you to check up on us, didn’t she?’ Auntie Mor said.

  Pyro could have told his father that it would do no good to deny it. Auntie Mor was a regular mind-reader but, from the look on his father’s face, his dad had already worked it out. Instead, Pyro went on standing at the edge of the annex trying to catch up with the way his day had headed off in this new direction.

  ‘Who was that?’ Geezer hissed and pointed back to the gate.

  ‘Just a kid,’ Pyro said.

  He felt a little bit cross with Geezer for being here, which was deadset stupid. Geezer was his best mate. They were always doing stuff together at school and never let anyone else get in the way. ‘He comes over in the afternoon.’

  ‘Was that his dog?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Geezer looked out towards the ocean. ‘I don’t much like dogs,’ he said.

  It made Pyro feel a bit better. Somewhere deep inside him he thought he must have been right to have sent Min home. The way it was, the way it would have turned out anyway, was that Geezer would have hated Becks and that would have made Min unhappy and he’d probably get a bit cross then and they’d finish up fighting. Best, Pyro decided, the way it was with Min at his house until tomorrow.

  At least, he hoped it’d be right tomorrow. What if Min decided he didn’t want to bother with Pyro anymore? And he might, mightn’t he? Pyro had just sent him packing. Just like that.

  ‘I brought something for you,’ Geezer said quietly as he opened the satchel that hung at his side. It was the project. ‘Ms Cllump said we could work on it this weekend so it will be ready in time for the display.’

  Geezer hadn’t let Jenna do the crow’s nest. He could see that. He could see Jenna’s neat writing and the border that she’d chosen to do. Well, she’d chosen it after they got her started.

  Geezer had brought it all the way down here with him. He’d sat in the back seat and he got a bit carsick so he wouldn’t have liked that too much. It made Pyro feel like a big, fat dopey dodo because he’d just been standing there doing nothing at all. Not even saying a proper hello.

  ‘Mzzzzzz Cllump?’ Pyro said. It was what they always did back at school. ‘MZZZZZZ Cllump.’ Geezer giggled. He stood back the way Ms Cllump stood with her hand on her hip. ‘Not Mrs, you silly boy. Say MZZZZZ.’

  Now they were both giggling.

  ‘Come a
nd see the rock pool,’ Pyro said. ‘We can do the crow’s nest later. There’s sand down there too, and we can build a fortress with a moat.’

  Geezer dug into the bottom of his satchel. ‘Tra-da!’ He held up a tiny, perfect pirate ship. And then he dug around and produced a couple of packets of pirate people. ‘We can build a proper pirate hide-out,’ he said.

  ‘And make a treasure map.’ Pyro remembered the one that he’d started. ‘Mr Stig showed me how to do mountains.’

  There were so many things to do and it was going to be a great day and Pyro, as he sailed off down the hill path to the rock pools at the bottom, was looking forward to it. It was perfect except perhaps for the tiny little niggly feeling that had Min’s name attached to it.

  It was very easy to imagine how it would feel if he were the one sitting at home with nothing much to do. Especially when there had been so many things ready and waiting.

  They’d wandered a long way. It was easy to do when there were bits of shells to collect and pieces of wood and stones to throw and trees to climb over and around and rocks to clamber across and then back again to see if it could be done faster. The rock pool was left far behind as they drifted along looking for a nice quiet place to set up their pirates and pirate ship. It needed sand and water that lapped gently so it would fill the oceany-bay thing that they had planned.

  They’d wandered almost all the way around to the bridge. The dinghy was here that they were allowed to use if they checked first with the park manager. The reeds were here that stretched back up to the rock face that formed the road and a car park. And the sand here was yellow and firm and exactly right for modelling. They’d climbed out on an overhanging tree trunk that let them swing around above the water and voila! There it was, the perfect place. Just suddenly there, right in front of them.

  It was so perfect and so quiet they landed, floomp, flat-footed from their tree trunk and simply gazed at it.

  ‘This is great,’ Geezer whispered. Then giggled.

  Pyro was tempted to make a sudden big yelp noise, just to disturb the silence, but thought better of it when he smelt something that said they were not alone.

  ‘Sssh,’ he said instead. But he saw by the way Geezer was sniffing at the air like an old beagle that he, too, realised they were not alone.

  They backed up a bit and stood in the shadows of the yukka trees that lined the shore.

  At first there was nothing to see. Just the dinghy standing on its side, supported by a couple of planks of wood. It was providing a bit of shade for whoever was sheltering there out of the midday sun. Smoke drifted skyward, grey and heavy on the hot air. Someone had cigarettes.

  Geezer fanned the air in front of him. He had asthma and it always got going if there was smoke around.

  Pyro hoped, really hoped, that it didn’t get going now. He didn’t want Geezer to wheeze and cough anyway but he especially didn’t want him to do it before they got safely around the bend in the inlet, safely away onto the other side of those old leany-out yukkas and she-oaks.

  It was really important to get away because Pyro had just recognised one of the feet that stuck out from under the dinghy. He recognised an arm that was flung out as well. And he didn’t have to think too hard to wonder who would be dumb enough to hide under a dinghy to smoke a cigarette.

  The Worries. Sausage Lips and Plonker.

  ‘Run!’ he hissed at Geezer.

  Geezer looked a little surprised. He’d just put down the bucket and spade that Mr Stig had produced from under the bed in the camper, and was hauling his puffer from his pocket.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Go!’

  ‘What? Now?’

  Pyro was pushing him. He stumbled and before he knew it was scrambling around falling over the bucket and finishing up in a tangle on the ground.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Geezer was picking up the pirates that had spilled from the bucket along with the juices and the Little Ted biscuits that Auntie Mor had packed.

  ‘Them!’

  Too late. He’d been spotted by Sausage Lips who’d upperiscoped and was peering over the side of the dinghy.

  ‘Well, looky, looky, looky. It’s the little sissy boy with his little sissy mate!’

  Plonker peered around the side of the dinghy. He was having a coughing fit and couldn’t quite get any words out but his finger jabbing at the air was saying a lot.

  ‘Whatcha got in the bucket, sissy boys?’ Sausage Lips was sneering. ‘Look at that. They got some wittle dollies.’

  Pyro was backing up slowly. He was trying to get Geezer’s attention to get him to move as well but Geezer was doing his Geezer thing and just going slowly and ignoring him.

  This, as Pyro would have loved to explain, was going to be a mistake.

  Here, on this beach, there was only the two of them. And the Worries, even though they were only a little bit older, were a whole lot heavier than they were.

  ‘Psssst!’ Geezer sounded like a punctured tyre.

  Pyro dragged his eyes away from the two heads that were jeering and jabbing fists and fingers their way. ‘What?’ he hissed to Geezer.

  Geezer simply nodded in the direction of the dinghy.

  Pyro saw it then. He saw the whole plan that had snapped into Geezer’s brain just as soon as the Worries had started up. There were two thick planks supporting the dinghy. They were balanced there. All that was needed was one quick, sudden spurt of speed and they’d collapse. And the Worries would be trapped.

  ‘Do it!’ hissed Pyro.

  ‘On three.’

  Gently Pyro placed the bucket, handle ready, on the sand. They could grab it as they raced back. Ahead of them the coughing was subsiding and the jeering was getting louder. Lots of ‘just wait’ll we get outta here’ and ‘little sissy boys’ and ‘wittle toysy-woysies’ were drifting back across the sand as the Worries struggled to get up.

  ‘One … two … three!’

  They were gone. Sprinting, racing, heads back and almost, yes, almost laughing. Pyro could feel the excitement and danger mingling in his throat so his heart was beating hard and fast and almost leaping out of his chest. His breath surged in, making his footsteps firm and strong and sound. As one they reached the dinghy, Pyro right and Geezer left, and, without pause, the supporting planks were knocked aside and the dinghy collapsed on their howls of rage and sticking-out feet and hands and squashed cigarette packet.

  ‘Run!’ Pyro howled. ‘Don’t stop!’

  ‘No way!’

  They were roaring. Their voices bounced across the water and their laughing reached the tops of the trees. Birds set up a sudden squawking in alarm and a distant dog barked out his own warning.

  ‘Keep going!’

  They raced around the foreshore and across the boggy marsh. Their sandals filled with mud and it caked up their legs but it didn’t even slow them. Before they knew it they were up the stairs and onto the little road that led around the caravan park.

  ‘We can slow down now,’ Pyro said, glancing behind him.

  ‘Are they coming?’

  ‘No chance.’

  They slowed to a walk and then became aware of their muddy legs and feet. ‘Oh, yuk!’

  ‘Ew! Look at my shoes.’

  ‘Look at my knees!’

  The mud was drying and setting into big flat brown cakes that stiffened their skin. Pyro set off slowly, keeping his knees apart so the mud wouldn’t scratch him. ‘Eewwww!’

  Geezer was cracking up behind him. ‘You look like you’ve wet your knickers!’

  Pyro turned back to see Geezer walking much the same as he was. ‘So do you! Only worse!’ he added and then, mud scrapes or not, he took off, up over the top of the park and down, down, down the path that led to the rock pool at the bottom.

  Geezer chased him, bucket slapping along in his hand.

  The sand, they decided when they had washed the mud from their legs and knees and feet, was just right for a pirate game.

  Or at least it would have
been, except Dad turned up and said building sandcastles was a bit girly for him and Mr Stig. Mr Stig said he didn’t mind and he’d actually won a sand-modelling competition once but Pyro’s dad had already produced a cricket bat and ball.

  ‘We’ve got time for a quick game,’ he said, ‘before we have to set off. How about it?’

  ‘I’m not that good at catching,’ Mr Stig said.

  Pyro was very pleased. He couldn’t catch either.

  ‘But I can kick!’

  Now it was Mr Stig’s turn. He dropped the ball onto the sand and kicked it along like a soccer ball. Before they knew it they were all trying as hard as they could to score with a teensy-tiny tennis ball.

  ‘Be better with a soccer ball,’ Dad said.

  But Stig had swooped and the tennis ball was soaring off again. This time Dad was on it and he speared it across to Pyro who managed to kick it perfectly into the goal, which was the centre of the rock pool. Pyro hoped the octopus didn’t mind.

  Dad high-fived him and Geezer and Mr Stig looked very determined to equal the score.

  It was a perfect end to a perfect day.

  Almost.

  Just as Pyro and Geezer and Stig and Dad were heading up the path to buy fish and chips for dinner, Pyro noticed a movement in the bushes further along the beach.

  The Worries were back.

  He moved a little closer to his dad and tried to nudge Geezer to let him know they were being watched.

  But Geezer was too busy showing the pirates to Mr Stig.

  It wouldn’t have helped for long anyway. In a little while Geezer would be on his way back home to Mzzz Cllump, and Dad’d be on his way back to his city job and Mr Stig’d be busy being Stig and not quite right for helping with a couple of bullies.

  That left Auntie Mor and she was pretty caught up painting birds that still looked like they had beaky problems. Their legs were a bit of a worry as well and the birds always looked like they’d fall flat on their faces if they hurried. Which probably explained the beaky problem.