by Sam Jasper
‘You don’t think he’s holding out on us, do you?’ Jake asks, rolling a cherry tomato along the table.
‘Maybe he doesn’t trust us not to blab,’ Gull says, raising her eyebrows.
‘Or maybe he’s gone fishing again. Hope so, anyway,’ Tom says as he tilts his chair backwards and forwards. ‘If only we had that … ’
‘Don’t say it,’ Gull interrupts heatedly. Everybody stops moving.
Gull lets out an exasperated sigh. ‘Sorry,’ she says quickly, looking down at her plate. ‘But I just don’t want to hear the word “file” one more time. And yes, I know tomorrow is Friday, the last day and our last chance. But I can’t do anything.’
Around the table, the gang falls silent. Vivid pictures of packing up, removalist vans and driving away from the Folly seem to fill the void.
‘Think I’ll go to bed early,’ Gull says looking up at the clock, which shows eight-thirty. She yawns expansively.
‘That’s a good idea,’ Lucy says quickly. ‘You’ve got a big day tomorrow, er … ’ Her words hang in the air. ‘We’ll clean up. It won’t take long. You can have first shower. We’ll be up soon.’
Slowly, Gull climbs the stairs. I’ve failed, she thinks as she treads on each stair. I should have had that file open by now. It’s probably too late to do anything now even if I could open it. And what if it’s the wrong file after all? Dragging herself into the bathroom, she turns on the shower. Ten minutes later, she’s ready for bed. Just as she’s about to climb in, she stops. Instead, she climbs up to the Folly and kneels down by the windowsill. A few minutes later, Useless pads up the stairs and sits down on his haunches beside her. Gull automatically reaches out to scratch Useless’ ears.
Watching the sun on the horizon further out west, Gull stares out onto the farm, her arms resting against the windowpane. The farm stretches out before her. ‘I can see why you come up here, Useless,’ she says quietly. ‘It’s so peaceful and you can see all the comings and goings, and the sun setting way past the hemp. I reckon the gang’ll finish the rest tomorrow. Just in time too before … ’ Even with Useless, she can’t bear to finish the sentence. Instead she sighs deeply. ‘Guess I’d better go to bed before the others come up. Don’t really feel like talking to them at the moment: I just feel I’ve let everybody down, whatever they say to me.’ Gull stands up and stretches. Useless yawns. ‘Know how you feel,’ she says as she pats him.
On his own, Useless slumps down contentedly under the windowsill as the mites jump onto it.
Ma is ominously silent. The other mites lay low, waiting for Ma to prod them into action: they wait until they know what sort of mood she’s in.
Finally, she begins to speak in a laboured undertone. ‘We’ve discovered the curse in the crop.’ She stops for a moment. Then she continues, ‘And we’ve shown the family where it came from.’ She pauses. ‘We’ve done as much as we can do. Unfortunately, we have to rely on the family to take the last step. It’s a pity we have to rely on them. They’re undisciplined, erratic and unpredictable just like all humans.’ Again she pauses. ‘However, my purpose is to keep the Folly safe, and that’s just what I’m going to do. This room,’ she senses, ‘this Folly was built by Frederick Hepplewhite for me, and my descendants. I swear I’ll keep it safe.’ For a few moments, there’s silence while the mites try to work out whether Ma’s finished speaking or not. ‘And on Saturday,’ she says finally, ‘we’ll have front row seats courtesy of Useless,’ she adds. ‘We’ll hear the good, or bad, news firsthand. Then we’ll know whether we can still call the Folly home.’ With her final words, Ma sighs and expertly propels herself back onto Useless.
* * *
‘Useless! Stop it! Leave me alone,’ Gull groans rolling over early the next morning. Insistently, Useless paws at Gull’s bed. She opens one wary eye and glances at the clock. ‘Seven thirty already? No!’ She buries her head under the pillow. Useless starts licking the arm that’s hanging over the bed. Then another groan escapes her. ‘Oh, no, Useless, it’s Friday. And my last day at the Bank.’ Gull groans again. Suddenly, Useless barks once. ‘Alright, alright,’ she snaps irritably. Gull looks over at Lucy’s empty bed. ‘Guess Lucy left me to sleep in. She may as well seeing I’m being so useless. Oops!’ She laughs. ‘Sorry Useless. Don’t take it personally.’
Finally, Gull climbs out of bed, stretches and saunters up to the Folly. In the distance, she can see Harry’s fire engine red Harvester toiling up and down, backwards and forwards. ‘They’re already working,’ she tells Useless who’s followed her. ‘I’d better get going then. They probably don’t want to face me this morning, seeing it’s such a win or lose kind of a day. Don’t blame them,’ she says downcast.
Going into the bathroom, Gull washes and dresses for her last day at the Bank. The skirt looks clean and pressed. She takes it off the hanger in the bathroom, grabs a green t-shirt, and runs down the stairs.
On the table by Gull’s plate are three little plastic pink pigs. On her plate beside the eggcup is a bulky envelope. She opens it. Inside, Gull finds another little pink pig. She reads the note in Lucy’s handwriting. ‘We would like to invite the fourth sleepy, little pig to join us on the Harvester. You can join our sty any time.’
Underneath, Tom’s scrawled, ‘Whether you bring home the bacon or not!!!’
And the three of them have signed it, ‘Your ever grateful cousins.’
Gull sits there smiling broadly. Forgetting about her egg and grabbing two pieces of toast, she gathers up the four little pigs and runs out of the kitchen, towards the Harvester, that is now heading towards the Folly. Tom and Lucy slide down from the Harvester as it pulls up with Jake at the wheel.
‘We didn’t want to miss saying goodbye,’ Tom says.
‘And good luck,’ Jake calls out as he switches off the engine.
‘And don’t forget to take the fourth little pig for extra good luck today,’ Lucy says giving Gull a big hug. ‘After all, it is the Chinese Year of the Pig.’
‘And that’s supposed to be all about prosperity,’ Jake adds.
‘We looked it up,’ Tom says. ‘We reckon you’ll need something extra today.’
Gull blinks back grateful tears.
‘Look, we’re going to carry our pigs around all day too. Just so you know we’re thinking of you,’ Lucy adds.
Gull swallows hard. ‘That’s so nice,’ she says as she hands a little pink pig to each of her cousins. In the distance, they see Shirley’s car heading for the Folly. ‘Hop on, Gull, and I’ll drive you back.’ Needing no further encouragement, Gull climbs on to stand beside Jake as he guides the Harvester towards the end of the row nearest the Folly.
‘Well that’s service for you,’ Shirley laughs as she leans across the passenger seat and opens the car door for Gull. Gull scrambles in and spends the journey to town explaining about the four little pigs.
As they pull up outside the Bank, Gull turns pale. Shirley looks over at her and pinches her wan cheek. ‘Got my fingers and toes crossed for you,’ she murmurs as they climb out of the car. And I’m crossing my eyes too, just in case.’ Gull smiles. Walking into the Bank, Gull and Shirley sit down at their desks without saying another word.
‘It’s your last day, isn’t it Gull?’ Gull can hardly raise a smile for Flora in her dress covered in purple irises she’s so anxious. ‘Now, I brought you a cup of tea and a bickie, just what we all need first thing in the morning. Guess you’ll be wanting to take up a career in banking after your stint here.’ Gull looks at her shocked. ‘Only joking, Gull,’ Flora says as she sets down the cup of tea on the desk. ‘Of course, you could always be a bank manager. Although I think that’d be just as boring,’ she says as she walks back towards the teacups. Gull takes a sip of tea as she clicks on the “Flying Pigs”, trying to beat her time from the day before.
‘When will he leave? When will he leave?’ Gull mumbles under her breath as she hits Level 4 thirty seconds faster than the day before. Half an hour later, Gull gets up from h
er desk and takes her teacup back to the sink and looks around.
‘What are you after, Gull?’ Mary asks.
‘Oh, I was just wondering where all the printers are.’
Mary laughs. ‘There’s just the one, Gull, for everyone. See? Around the corner from the urn.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ she says and walks over to Shirley’s desk. ‘Psst.’
Shirley looks up.
‘There’s only one printer,’ Gull whispers.
‘I know,’ Shirley whispers back. ‘Why? What’s wrong?’
‘That file,’ Gull whispers. ‘I think it’s going to be big. What if it’s a really big file and it takes forever to print? I can’t tie up the one and only printer, can I?’
‘Didn’t think of that,’ Shirley frowns. ‘Leave it with me. You just keep playing with the “Flying Pigs” and I’ll work something out.’ Gull walks back to her desk despondently. It’s like being in gaol, she thinks to herself. Bars on the windows, tellers behind bars. Yep, definitely gaol. Gull puts her arms on the desk and rests her head on them.
‘Guess what?’ Shirley smiles as she stops at Gull’s desk.
Gull looks up bleakly. ‘What?’ she asks now entirely bored.
‘Mary has just announced she’s pregnant.’
‘That’s nice,’ Gull says listlessly.
‘And so,’ Shirley says brightly, ‘we’ll be having a special afternoon tea for her. Which means,’ Shirley continues quietly, ‘I’ll open the file from my computer and print it out while we have afternoon tea. And while you have cake and tea, you can stand by the printer and put everything in this folder for me, can’t you?’ she adds handing an empty folder to Gull. ‘And then you can put it in your backpack.’
Gull looks up at Shirley and then beams. ‘I’m so happy for Mary.’
‘Knew you would be,’ she grins. ‘It couldn’t have happened at a better time.’ She glances down at her watch, noticing it’s two o’clock. ‘I’ll just nip out and get a cake. And I’ll tell Mr Sprogg about Mary on the way.’ Hurrying back to her desk, Shirley picks up her purse and turns to walk towards the front door.
Just then, Mr Sprogg emerges from his office. He and Shirley almost collide. He has his jacket on and is carrying his briefcase. Gull watches the two of them talking. Mr Sprogg looks surprised and smiles a tight little smile. Quickly, he walks over to Mary, shakes her hand clumsily, waves and then turns away to walk towards the front door. Instead of following him, Shirley returns to her desk and beckons Gull over to her.
‘Mr Sprogg has left for the day,’ she says brightly. ‘I’ll just start printing out this, er, information for him for Monday morning.’ Whispering, she says, ‘Just write down the password for me, Gull, and I’ll start.’ Quickly, Gull grabs a pencil and scribbles ‘beware’ on a notepad. Shirley sits down at her computer and starts to type the word. Both hold their breath as she presses ‘Enter’ and the screen goes blank for an instant.
‘Oh good,’ Shirley sighs with relief as the file opens. Gull leans heavily against the desk behind Shirley.
‘Make us both a cuppa, Gull,’ Shirley says happily. ‘I’ll be a while.’
As Gull walks slowly on wobbly legs over to the urn, she hears Shirley call out, ‘Ah, does anyone want the printer for the next hour? I thought I’d use it while we have afternoon tea?’ The others shake their heads. ‘And Gull, when you’ve made the tea, could you put all the information in these folders?’ she calls out so everybody can hear her. Gull nods her head.
‘And don’t let us catch you reading it either,’ Flora laughs. ‘After all, it’s Bank business. Remember, we’ll be keeping an eye on you.’
Gull smiles back tightly thinking, I really want to know what’s in that file. If I didn’t have to stand at the printer, I could go back to my desk and open it up. But now, it looks as if I’m under surveillance from the friendly ladies at the Bank.
‘Don’t worry about getting the cake,’ Flora says to Shirley. ‘I’ll just slip out myself. You look busy there,’ she says as she takes the petty cash purse and trots out the front of the Bank and into the street.
‘And I’ve already got the kettle on, so it won’t be long now,’ Betty adds.
Quickly, Gull goes over and stands by the printer as Shirley hits the ‘print’ icon. Gull stands transfixed as page after page rolls out. ‘Here’s a cuppa and a piece of cake, Gull,’ Mary says.
‘Thanks,’ she says. ‘Oh, and congratulations,’ she adds hurriedly.
‘This’ll be my first,’ Mary says smiling shyly. ‘So we’ll see how this one turns out before we think of any more.’
Gull nods as Mary moves away and hands Shirley a piece of cake.
While Gull stands guard at the printer, Shirley bustles around making sure everybody has enough tea and cake. Occasionally, she goes to stand near Gull with another slice of cake and quietly reads some of the pages from the file.
‘Well if I ever wanted my blood pressure to rise, this would be the way to do it,’ she says tapping the folder lightly.
Gull says, ‘Harry is so lucky to have you and Ted as friends. And here you are feeling so outraged for him.’
Shaking her head, Shirley glances over at her. ‘I hate to disappoint you Gull, but this particular file is not about Harry and the Folly.’
Chapter 14
Gull gasps. Oh no! Don’t tell me it’s the wrong file after all. Before Gull can grab Shirley to explain, Mary appears to fill up their teacups.
‘Tell you later,’ Shirley whispers as she wanders away.
Twenty more minutes to go, Gull groans as she looks at the clock above the Bank door. At least the printing has finished at last. What a huge file, she thinks as she tries to stuff it all into the one folder. ‘Shirley, have you got any more folders?’
Shirley is running around gathering mugs and plates and giving them to Flora and the other women to wash up in the small sink at the other end of the room.
‘Oh, my,’ she says looking at the large amount of paper now on her desk. ‘Just run into the stationery cupboard and bring out that box of empty manila folders, would you, Gull? I’ll take all this over to the big table and sort it into the relevant piles for Mr Sprogg for Monday,’ she says, again loudly enough so that the other women hear her.
As Gull dashes into the stationery cupboard, Shirley picks up the large pile of papers and takes it down to the empty sorting table at the same end of the room. Gull brings the box of files over to the table. Expertly, Shirley divides the papers into categories and quickly scribbles an initial in pencil on each of the folders, with several headings underneath. Gull glances over at her backpack and then back at Shirley. They’re not going to fit, she thinks to herself. Shirley follows the direction of her glance. As if reading her mind, she says, ‘Don’t worry, Gull. We’ll get to the shops before we go home. I’ve brought some bags from home. They’re in my handbag: I know how much you hate using those plastic bags,’ she adds giving Gull a wink.
‘Being environmentally friendly, are you dear?’ Flora says. Gull smiles at her, relieved that Shirley had the foresight to bring extra bags.
‘Would you mind locking up?’ Mary asks coming over to the table where Shirley is skillfully sorting the files.
‘Not at all,’ Shirley replies. ‘I can’t leave until I’ve finished these for Mr Sprogg anyway.’
‘Oh good,’ she says relieved. ‘As you close the door, just push the keys through the letterbox on the door. As he’s always first here, Mr Sprogg collects them from the carpet on Monday morning.’
Before she can stop herself, Gull says, ‘That doesn’t sound very secure to me. I mean,’ she says flustered, ‘couldn’t someone just get a hook and pull them back out? Or something?’ she adds lamely.
‘Why, you’re a burglar in the making,’ Flora says joining them. ‘Anyway, no one’s ever robbed this Bank. We all know each other too well in this district. And besides, everyone’s money is tied up in this Bank so you’d only be robbing yourself.’
/> Gull manages to bite her tongue before she can say, ‘But what if it’s not an inside job? What if it’s someone from out of town?’ Then it hits her: she’s surrounded by trusting people. They can’t imagine anyone trying to rob them or worse still, commit some sort of big crime. Such as, Gull thinks to herself, their trusted bank manager seems to be about to commit. With maybe a little help from one of the other trusted people in their community. After all, who do people trust? Family and friends. And the local bank manager!
‘Come back, Gull,’ Shirley says gently as the other women begin to pack up and pick up their bags.
‘Oh, sorry,’ she says. ‘I was far away.’ At the front door, she hears the others calling out their goodbyes as they walk briskly out.
‘Time for us to go too,’ Shirley calls back as she locks the front door after the others. ‘Now,’ she says, racing back to the long table where the folders are neatly stacked. ‘Get your backpack Gull, and we’ll put your folders in there. And just grab a few of those bags out of my handbag.’ Rummaging around, Gull finds several bags and gives them to Shirley.
‘Made out of good, old parachute material,’ she says as she hands a bush green one to Gull. ‘Now these files are about the Folly, the biggest lot. And these,’ she says handing more folders to Gull to put in the bags, ‘are about Jimmy’s place.’
Gull gasps.
‘And these,’ Shirley says sternly, shoving more folders hard into a pale beige bag, ‘are all about our place.’
‘You’re joking,’ Gull says wide-eyed.
‘Told you my blood pressure had risen. And this is why. I haven’t had time to read it all but just enough to know that it’s definitely not the Bank’s business. If I ever had any qualms about taking files from the Bank, I don’t have anymore. Because they’re not the Bank’s files at all.’
‘What? But how come?’ Gull asks.
‘I’ll tell you how come, Gull,’ Shirley says now well and truly fired up. ‘Because when this information was obtained, Cyril Sprogg hadn’t started working for this Bank. It looks like he brought the information with him. Now, let’s get all this stuff back to Harry’s before I blow a fuse, I’m that mad.’