Puppy Pie

by Sam Jasper

  ‘How old are you, dear?’ Flora, wearing a gaudy floral dress, asks.

  ‘Seven,’ Shirley answers smoothly as Gull begins to say ‘nine’.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ another younger woman, Mary, nods, ‘that is a bit young. Well, come and get a cup of tea first, Gull. Or would you rather have a glass of milk?’

  ‘Tea thanks,’ Gull replies. As if I’m too young to drink tea, she thinks to herself mentally rolling her eyes at the woman.

  ‘What will you do here all day?’ Betty, another of the women asks.

  Oh, just snoop and spy on the greedy Bank until I work out why it’s stealing the farms from under our very noses, Gull thinks as she smiles sweetly.

  ‘I thought I’d park her at the spare computer down the back,’ Shirley says quickly as she spots Gull’s sweet smile. ‘It’s got computer games and the Internet: maybe she could look up some topics for her next school semester.’

  Gull starts to unpack her backpack. ‘Ah, I see you’ve brought some games of your own. Well, that is handy,’ Betty says bustling about.

  ‘Just so long as you don’t start stealing money from people’s accounts,’ Flora in the gaudy dress says.

  Gull frowns. I’m not the one who’s stealing, she thinks.

  ‘Oh, no, of course not,’ Shirley says speaking for Gull again, anxious that she doesn’t give the game away. ‘I’ll just show her the Internet and where the games are. Come on, Gull, over here.’ Shirley guides her charge over to a desk and sits her down. Signing in, Shirley points to various files and leaves Gull to it. After looking at what’s available, Gull clicks on the file of games. She opens it and selects “Patience”: almost immediately, the screen is filled with playing cards. Deftly, she opens another file marked “e-mails”. With the first name of the employee as the login and the Bank’s street number as the password for each, Gull begins. Starting with Shirley’s, she quickly opens the e-mails. Better check to see if anyone in the Bank is trying to steal the Folly.

  ‘What have you got there?’ Appearing soundlessly behind Gull, Flora appears.

  Quickly, Gull hits the “Patience” file and playing cards fly onto the screen.

  ‘Just Patience,’ Gull answers innocently. The woman walks around Gull and stares at the screen mesmerised as Gull clicks on one card after the other. ‘I like this game,’ she says innocently.

  ‘I think it’s boring,’ Flora says. ‘Isn’t there anything more exciting?’ she says as she reaches out to touch the mouse.

  ‘Oh, no,’ Gull answers quickly moving it. ‘I’m the Patience champion at school. I try to beat my own record every time.’

  ‘Well, rather you than me,’ Flora sighs. ‘Now, I brought your cup of tea and a biscuit. And here’s some sugar,’ she says putting down the cup on a side table. ‘Don’t spill it on the keyboard, will you?’

  Gull groans inwardly. As if, she thinks to herself. She looks up at the woman and smiles sweetly. ‘Thanks for the tea,’ she says and looks back at the cards. Flora smiles and nods and walks away.

  ‘Quiet little thing,’ Flora says to Shirley.

  ‘Shy,’ Shirley nods hoping Flora saw nothing out of the ordinary.

  Gull sees twenty e-mail boxes, including part- and full-time staff and the tellers at the front. Methodically, she goes through each of them in turn. Boring, she thinks. If I have to read about another birth, engagement or marriage, I’ll go mad. Aren’t there any emails about work? Oh, here we are. Nope: just stuff about the group winning $20 with a lottery ticket.

  ‘Going to lunch,’ Flora says some time later. ‘Be up on the roof.’

  Gull looks at her watch. Well, that’s the morning gone. She gets up and wanders over to where Shirley is standing doing the filing. Gull looks around the large room properly: she notices the small, old-fashioned windows near the ceiling. A cord runs down the side of each and is wound around a two pronged metal plate to hold it in place: they’re all open to catch the occasional breeze. There’s no air-conditioning.

  ‘I might have some lunch too. Jake packed me some yummy things: a tomato and basil quiche,’ she says to Shirley. ‘And I’ve got an apple, and a chocolate and raisin muffin for after. I’m really glad he likes cooking.’ Shirley smiles. ‘What was that about being on the roof?’

  ‘The roof is flat on top,’ Shirley explains as she takes out a file and puts some correspondence in it. ‘There’s an undercover part at the far end with chairs and a table. You’ve got a good view of the main street and, if you’re lucky, a cool breeze blows through in the afternoon. You can use the internal stairs,’ she says pointing to the back of the office. ‘There are fire stairs at the back of the building but no one uses those: they’re old and creaky but the firemen say they’re safe enough.’

  ‘Right,’ she says, as she grabs her lunchbox. As Gull trots up the stairs with her lunch, she notices one door along to the left. Must be the manager’s office, she thinks. So, I might use these stairs to go up and the fire stairs to go down. That’s about as much fun as this Bank seems to offer, she thinks ruefully.

  Reaching the top, Gull opens the door to the roof. ‘Ooh!’ she says unhappily. Hot, and buzzing with big flies. Hope Shirley’s right about that cool breeze.

  Sauntering across the flat, concrete roof, Gull takes in the surrounding view. A concrete wall as high as Gull’s shoulders runs around the top of the building. As she strolls across the roof, Gull notices where the fire stairs start. She stops to look down. She shivers involuntarily. I didn’t think it would be so high, she thinks to herself. She looks over the edge again. Oh, of course, it’s higher here than at the front: the vault takes up the basement. And they’ve got the same cute windows along the back wall. Mmm, she thinks, so that must be the back of the manager’s office. And he’s got his windows open to catch the breeze too. Gull looks across to where table and chairs are at the other end under a canvas sunshade. Flora is sitting there reading a magazine with her back to Gull. Well, that’s pretty good security: even though those windows are open, nobody would be standing here having their lunch, Gull thinks. And listening at the windows. Unless your name happens to be “Gull”, she thinks and smiles. Any sane person would be sitting comfortably out of the sun at the other end, just like Flora is. So, anything the bank manager says to anybody, will go straight up and not be heard.

  Gull looks back at where she came in. She continues her internal monologue: And the door to the roof is in the middle, away from the windows as well. So, you would have to walk over to the fire stairs before you could hear anything. In fact, she thinks, you would have to be on the fire stairs to hear what’s being said. Gull shivers again. If only I was better at heights. She shakes her head and, clutching her lunch, heads towards the table at the far end. Well, I know he’s not at the Bank now so I’ll just have to keep an ear out later on. But I’ll need an excuse to come back up here, just in case. Her stomach grumbles. Yes, yes, she says to herself impatiently, I know it’s lunchtime.

  When all that’s left is the muffin, Gull closes her lunchbox and puts it carefully on the seat beside her. Casually, she strolls over to the side of the Bank where the fire stairs are. Taking a deep breath, she steps onto the platform of the old fire stairs. ‘Ugh!’ she cries out as the platform rocks under her.

  Chapter 11

  Reaching forward to grab the rusty looking rails on either side of her, Gull takes a deep breath. ‘Just ten stairs,’ she mumbles to herself, ‘and I’ll be half-way there.’

  Her mouth dry, heart pounding, Gull tries running down the stairs but steps from one to the other more slowly until she picks up speed. Now running down the last few, her heart still pounding, the stairs creaking, Gull finally hits the ground. ‘Phew,’ she says to herself as she looks back up at the fire stairs that are gently rocking to and fro. They might be safe, she thinks as she rubs the rust off her hands but they don’t feel safe. She looks around the alley she’s in. Dead end. Well, it’s too hot to stay out here for long. Think I’ll just wander back inside whe
re it’s a bit cooler. She turns the corner and enters through the front door.

  On the way in, she notices all the tellers are busy and there’s a queue. It is lunchtime after all, she thinks as she walks back to the office and plonks herself down at “her” desk. Idly, she begins to move the mouse. Now, I’ve checked all the e-mails but there’s nothing there. And I can’t help Shirley with the filing because she says she’ll never find anything again if I do. So, I wonder what’s next?

  Gull gets up and wanders around the office. Through a one-way mirror in the office at the back of the counter, she can see who is in the Bank without being seen. Gull looks out and sees the bank manager walking in.

  ‘What’s up?’ Shirley asks joining her.

  ‘Just watching the bank manager,’ she whispers. Shirley nods slightly and turns back to her computer.

  Gull wanders around the Bank aimlessly taking in the high, quaint windows; the old style, timber desks with drawers down one side and hidden extensions under the top of the desk that can be pulled out to write on when the desk is too cluttered.

  Passing the huge noticeboard on one of the internal walls, Gull starts reading the notices. Halfway through, she flips over a notice and finds another layer of notices underneath. Sandwiched in between these, and almost completely hidden, is a postcard.

  ‘They still there?’ Flora asks as she peers over Gull’s shoulder.

  ‘They?’ Gull repeats.

  Flora shakes her head and sneers. ‘Show-off,’ she says as she unpins the postcard and hands it to Gull. ‘They’re from Norah, the bank manager’s wife. Couldn’t resist rubbing it in that she was having a wonderful time,’ she says sorting through the noticeboard and unpinning a dozen more postcards, ‘while we’re stuck in here all day. Here you are, luv,’ she says handing all the postcards to Gull. ‘Either toss them in the bin or take them home and put them in your scrapbook. You might like to keep them: the pictures are very pretty. That Norah,’ she huffs as she begins to sort through the notices on the board. ‘She likes to rub it in that she married our boss. It wasn’t long ago she was working here herself.’

  ‘Is that how they met?’ Gull asks curious.

  ‘It’s a small town,’ Flora says. ‘A new man is always noticed, even bland ones. At least, one person noticed him: Norah. And, as you can see, he’s the only man in the Bank. I would have thought he’d go for someone closer to his own age. But Norah can be very pushy. And, between you and me, he’s a pretty inoffensive sort of bloke. Probably had no chance of escaping,’ she laughs as she sticks a thumbtack into a notice about overdrafts. Gull looks at the notice and shivers.

  ‘Er, thanks,’ Gull smiles. ‘I’ll sit down and look at the pictures.’

  ‘Good girl,’ Flora says walking off briskly.

  Back at her desk, Gull starts sorting through the twenty postcards. She puts the ones of Europe to one side. ‘South America,’ she breathes as she turns the others over. Mmm, nice collection, she thinks as she quickly reads the back. Nothing there, she thinks. Three pictures catch her eye: Peru, Brazil. And Argentina. She smiles to herself. Ah ha! Two from Argentina: one from the Pampas and one from the capital. They’re a long way apart. Hmmm! And that’s a long way to travel. Gull flips through the other cards. That’s interesting: all the other postcards are from capital cities. I think this may be important.

  Gull looks over at Shirley who is busy on her calculator. Can’t interrupt her now, she thinks. It’ll have to wait. She looks up at the clock on the wall. Not even two. Well, I’d better start hunting for files on Harry, Ted and Jimmy. Think I’ll try some keywords: surname, farm names and see what comes up. Pity the manager’s back.

  Finding a rubber band in one of the desk’s drawers, Gull binds the postcards together and shoves them into the bottom of her backpack and then ambles over to Shirley. Just as Gull opens her mouth to speak, she sees a tall man with a shock of white hair walk through the Bank and up the stairs to the manager’s office. A few seconds later, she hears the door above open and close.

  ‘Yes, Gull?’ Shirley asks as she notices her watching the white-haired man.

  ‘Who’s that?’ she asks curiously, the postcards forgotten.

  ‘I think he works at the Council,’ Shirley shrugs. ‘He’s often over here these days although I don’t know why.’

  Gull frowns. My stomach feels as if it’s fallen into my sneakers.

  Shirley glances back at the list of figures she’s compiling. ‘Anything else?’ she asks casually.

  Distracted by the thought of the tall man, Gull says, ‘Uh, must have left my lunchbox on the roof.’ Without another word, she turns on her heel and walks quickly out the front door of the Bank.

  Shirley frowns. Must have left her sense of direction up there as well, she thinks to herself. The stairs to the roof are inside. Shaking her head, Shirley turns back to the figures in front of her.

  Quickly, Gull turns right and into the alleyway running towards the back of the Bank. She looks up at the bank manager’s windows.

  They’re open. Good, she thinks. Now what’s the best way to eavesdrop? ‘Only one way,’ she gulps: ‘the fire stairs.’ Without giving herself time to think any more about it, Gull runs lightly up the rickety old fire stairs at the back of the building. As she nears the top, Gull slows right down and, gripping both handrails, tiptoes about three-quarters of the way up. To get as close to the top windows as possible, Gull leans forward. The fire stairs creak ominously, and sway. Gull stops breathing. She hears two voices inside the bank manager’s office: they keep talking. Gull can only catch a few words. She recognises the bank manager’s voice. ‘… three farms … enough.’

  ‘… beginning …’ the other man says and then both men laugh.

  The bank manager’s laugh turns into a high giggle. Gulls strains to hear but only a few words float her way: ‘… drafts … houses … estate.’

  Gull stretches over further. The fire stairs wobble perilously. She almost loses her balance. She shrieks.

  Suddenly, the bank manager is standing beside his window and looking out. Gull flattens herself against the wall and tries to imagine herself smaller than she is.

  ‘Thought I heard something.’

  ‘… in the street,’ the other man says as he joins the bank manager at the window. ‘Your nerves are playing up, Sprogg. Get a grip, as they say. This’ll be as easy as taking a dummy from a baby. Or should I say three babies? Honestly, Sprogg, if you’re that worried, close the window.’

  The bank manager slams the window shut forcefully. With her heart thumping fit to burst, Gull climbs back onto the flat roof and leans against the wall.

  ‘Where did you spring from?’

  Gull jumps and spins around. It’s young Mary.

  ‘I was looking down at my watch and then, you’re next to me.’

  ‘Oh,’ Gull says trying madly to think what to say. She doesn’t want to draw attention to the fire stairs. ‘People are always telling me I’m so pale they never see me,’ she giggles nervously.

  ‘I suppose so,’ Mary shrugs. ‘Anyway, can’t stop to chat. I’ve only got half an hour for lunch. That’s why I was looking at my watch. Actually, it was your shadow I saw: it fell across my watch.’

  Together, they walk towards the table. ‘Ah! You must have been here all the time,’ Mary says. ‘Here’s your lunchbox.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Gull says relieved, her heart still thumping. Sitting down opposite young Mary, she opens her almost empty lunchbox and pretends to rummage around inside. As the woman begins to eat hastily, Gull pulls out the paper serviette Jake had put in her lunchbox. Taking a pen from her pocket, she quickly scribbles down the words she overheard the men saying. Then she sticks the pen back in the lunchbox, the serviette in the side pocket of her skirt and, breathing raggedly, takes out the muffin. Must remember to tell Shirley about my eavesdropping, she thinks as she licks the crumbs off her fingers. Those words could be important. The next minute, she’s forgotten all about t
he serviette as she races back downstairs with her lunchbox.

  * * *

  ‘It’s all very well for Dad to sleep during the day,’ Lucy says irritably to the twins as she sets the table for dinner that evening. ‘But we need Dad to save the farm. There’s some conspiracy going on and we need help.’

  Just then, Gull walks through the kitchen door.

  ‘So what happened today?’ Tom asks eagerly.

  ‘Well,’ Gull says as she helps herself to a banana from the fruit bowl on the table, ‘I’ve found out everybody at the Bank sends really boring e-mails to each other. Why they don’t just get up and talk to each other, I’ll never know. It’s not like it’s a huge office. Just twenty people, and most of the e-mails are social.’

  ‘Yes, very interesting, I’m sure. But have you saved the farm yet?’ Tom asks impatiently.

  ‘No,’ Gull says quietly, her head hanging down.

  Tom and Jake groan in unison.

  She raises her head and looks at her cousins with a forced smile. ‘Anyway, I’m going in again tomorrow and the day after and the day after that and …’

  ‘Well,’ Jake breaks in gloomily, ‘you’ve already had one day in there. And there are only four more working days before the auction.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Tom chimes in. ‘After all, it’s your job to save the Folly: family legend says a “Gull” always saves the day.’

  ‘Not that we’re putting any pressure on you,’ Lucy says, digging both her brothers in the ribs. ‘I’m sure she’s doing everything she can. Right, Gull?’

  ‘Er, right,’ Gull says as she looks around at the tense faces of her cousins. As if a giant blacksmith had dropped his anvil on her shoulders, Gull suddenly sits down at the kitchen table, the banana lying heavily in her stomach. I’m only nine, she thinks to herself. And I’ve got to save a farm. Singlehandedly at that.

  Lucy watches as Gull turns pale, the worried frown on her face deepening.