Dad himself doesn’t remember what happened, but the doctors say that is normal and that he’ll be all right after a day or two. I know that because Mr Bellini said it to me when Mr Walters handed me the phone. ‘Do not fret, my little dove,’ he said shakily. ‘Your papa, he is fine, he is strong man, he will be on his legs again soon. We will take care of him, never you mind.’
I wanted to say, ‘Please tell him to come home, please tell him he must not stay there, it is not safe,’ but the words would not come out properly.
But Mr Bellini understood. ‘He must go back as soon as possible. Mrs Bellini and I will come with him on train this time, we will not take his no for answer, believe me!’
‘Thank you, Mr Bellini, oh, thank you,’ I said.
‘It is not so much me you must thank, but Billy,’ he said, ‘and I am giving him the phone now.’
Billy came on the line and, though I could not see him, I could imagine him going bright red as I gabbled, ‘Thanks, thanks so much for finding my dad.’
Then he said shyly, ‘It was nothing, I just happened to look in that ward, really. It’s nothing.’
But it’s not nothing, it’s everything, and I am so, so grateful to him. I will definitely send him a postcard as soon as I can. It’s the least I can do. The very least.
‘He is a good boy,’ said Mr Bellini when he came back on the line. ‘A bright and useful sort of boy, and has really come into his own.’ And I said yes and thought about how I had got Billy so completely wrong before.
Anyway, Mr Bellini said a few more things, then he asked me to give the phone back to Mr Walters, who chatted to him a bit longer about arrangements. Mrs Walters threw her arms around me and Lizzie hung on to my hand and Tilly hugged my legs and even Joe and Jim gave me a pat on the arm, and I felt better—so why did I burst into tears right then and not before when I’d first heard Dad was missing? Mrs Walters says it is relief and that it is normal to be like that, because I’ve had a big shock and that is how it takes people. She was a nurse before she got married and she knows these things. She told me too that it was possible Dad might not remember things for a while, even things he’d been doing before and that I mustn’t be scared of that, it took people time to recover from blows to the head. ‘Your dad’s got a hard head, Sal,’ she said comfortingly, ‘I expect he’ll be right as rain soon, but you’ve got to give him time.’
I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep properly tonight though, or the night after that, or till Dad’s back here safe and sound.
June 7
Dad’s coming home tomorrow, and true to their word Mr and Mrs Bellini are coming with him. They are catching the day train and will be here late in the evening. Yesterday Miss O’Brien found out what had happened (Mrs Walters told her). She was really upset and wanted to help, so Mr Walters is going to drive her car and meet Dad and the Bellinis at Central Station. I wanted to go too, but Mr Walters says it will be better if I wait here, there won’t be enough room in the car and Dad should be comfortable. I can’t wait to see him.
This morning I sent that postcard off to Billy. I had wanted to send him a horsey one with a picture of the Randwick or Rosehill racecourses, because I thought he’d like that, but I couldn’t find one, so instead I sent him what Mrs Walters said was the next best thing. It’s a postcard which shows the construction work on the Harbour Bridge (which is meant to be opening next year). I chose it because I thought a boy might be interested in that, but also because it’s a view you can see from one of Miss O’Brien’s upstairs windows, and that gave me a way to start. This is what I wrote:
Dear Billy, I hope you like this card, I can see this view every day from where we live. I want to thank you for everything you did in finding my dad, I will never forget it.
Your friend, Sally Fielding.
June 8
It is very late and I should be asleep, but I can’t sleep till I’ve written this. Dad and the Bellinis arrived an hour ago. Dad looks a bit pale and a bit shaky, but otherwise he seems quite normal, and his eyes are bright. I was waiting at the door when I heard the car pull up, and I was first out. I ran down the path and hurled myself into Dad’s arms. He gave me a hug and said, ‘And how’s my big grown-up Sal? I’ll swear you’ve shot up in just the time I was away!’
‘No Dad, don’t be silly, I haven’t, I haven’t,’ I said, and I did not know whether I was laughing or crying. ‘Dad I’m so glad you’re home.’
‘Me too,’ said Dad. ‘Melbourne’s all very well, but give me Sydney any day, eh?’ He gave a mischievous look at the Bellinis who were standing there looking at us with big wobbly smiles on their faces.
After that I said good evening to Mr and Mrs Bellini and got a kiss on both cheeks from each of them, and an extra hug from Mrs Bellini. Then introductions were made to Mrs Walters and Lizzie and the littlies, and Mr Walters said, ‘I hope you and Sal might stay overnight with us, Charlie, but Lily O’Brien has offered to put up Mr and Mrs Bellini tonight so I can drive them there. Tomorrow if you like we can drive you and Sal back to your own place. Miss O’Brien has kindly offered to let us have the car till then.’
‘That is very kind of her,’ said Dad. ‘Oh dear, I am afraid I have put a lot of people out …’
‘Now, then, mate, none of that,’ said Mr Walters heartily.
Mrs Bellini said, ‘What are friends for?’ and everyone agreed, and we all went in and had a cup of tea. Or at least the adults did, us kids got told to go to bed. I protested I shouldn’t have to because I didn’t even have to go to school tomorrow and besides I wasn’t tired, not at all.
‘But I’m tired, sweetie,’ said Dad. ‘I need to go to bed soon, and how can I sleep with all you kids rampaging around? Go to bed, Sal, there’s a good girl, I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m told you have the day off school in my honour, so we’ll be able to talk then, right?’
Well I suppose that’s all right.
June 9
We haven’t gone home to Miss O’Brien’s yet. We’re still at the Walters’ because something happened today which makes it a bit awkward to go back to our garden flat.
It happened like this. I slept in this morning, and when I got up it was nearly ten o’clock. As I hurried along to the kitchen I could hear Dad’s voice saying, ‘It’s all gone.’ When I came in he broke off what he was saying and gave me a big smile. ‘Good morning, sleepyhead!’
I gave him a hug. ‘Good morning, Dad, are you all right?’
‘Not exactly, but right where it matters, lovey. Now how about you? Slept well?’
‘Yes.’ I looked at Mrs Walters.
‘Lizzie’s gone to school,’ said Mrs Walters, understanding my look.
Dad smiled at me. ‘Margie here tells me you’ve been quite the hero lately at school.’
‘Yes, but only because of Phar Lap,’ I said. ‘Everyone just wants to know me because of that.’
I hesitated. I wanted badly to ask if he’d found out who had been behind the attempts on Phar Lap, but I wasn’t sure if he’d tell me. But he must have understood anyway because he said, quietly, ‘I’m afraid I’m back to square one, lovey. It’s what I was saying to Margie and Dave. Those robbers took everything I had except the clothes on my back. Luckily I wasn’t carrying much cash, and my watch as you know is old and battered. But my notebooks were in my suitcase and they’re gone too. It’s all gone.’
‘Oh no!’ I knew what that meant for Dad. All his work on the Phar Lap mystery had gone, except for the bit right at the beginning which he’d already sent to Mr Kane. Dad always works from his notes. He doesn’t memorise very much, he relies on the evidence he’s gathered—he says it’s much more reliable than memory, which can play tricks on you. Especially now.
‘I’m going to have to reconstruct it all somehow,’ he said grimly. ‘Or I have to tell Mr Kane I’ve failed, and I’ll lose the fee.’
‘But Dad, can’t you remember anything?’
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘At least not right now. It’ll com
e back, I hope. But right now …’ He was going to say more, but at that moment the doorbell rang. Mrs Walters went to answer it and a moment later the Bellinis and Miss O’Brien came into the room. She had just helped them to find a hotel for the rest of their stay, and they were just coming round for a chat.
The Bellinis looked bright enough, but I thought Miss O’Brien looked almost as bad as Dad. In the midst of the friendly chatter about how people had slept and how people were feeling, she sat more or less silently, her attention apparently elsewhere. I wondered what the matter was. I knew she’d been upset by what had happened to Dad, but he was safe now, and would get better and better. There was something else worrying her, I thought. What, I had no idea.
But I didn’t think much about it, because the talk soon came round to what had happened. Mr Bellini said that the police thought Dad had probably been the victim of a gang of robbers who were known to operate in the area where he’d been found. They did not seem to think that the theft of the notebooks along with everything else was significant, and in fact gave it as their opinion that they’d soon turn up in a gutter or ditch somewhere. The gang certainly did exist, but it was ‘All very convenient,’ as Mrs Bellini said. ‘All too convenient, if you ask me.’
Dad sighed and said he didn’t know what to think any more, maybe it was a coincidence, pure awful bad luck. Mr Bellini said that in any case something had to be done, and he and Mrs Bellini were determined to help and not let all Dad’s work go to waste. Mr and Mrs Walters agreed, and said they’d help in every way they could.
Dad smiled and said, ‘Thank you, my friends. It’s at times like these that you know what the important things in life really are.’
And then Miss O’Brien suddenly came out of her foggy mood, rose to her feet and snapped, ‘For God’s sake, Charlie, forget it, it’s not worth it! Can’t you think of your child and your friends? Nothing happened to the bl—blessed horse or his strapper, it’s all over and done with, forget it!’
Everyone looked at her. She was very pale, with red spots in her cheeks. She said wildly, ‘It’s all gone far enough, time it stopped,’ and then she gave a little cry and rushed out of the room. Moments later we heard the front door slam and her car start up.
Mr Bellini had started to go after her, but Mrs Bellini made him sit down. No-one said anything for a little while. Then Mrs Bellini said gently, ‘Miss O’Brien thinks a good deal of you two, Charlie and Sal. She is concerned for your welfare.’
‘And she has worries of her own,’ said Mr Bellini. ‘Ethel overheard her speaking on the phone to her bank manager, didn’t you, Ethel?’
‘I didn’t mean to be nosy,’ said Mrs Bellini, ‘I just couldn’t help overhearing. I think she has big money troubles with her shop. She may have to let her staff go, and she feels very bad about it.’
‘Oh dear …’ said Dad distractedly. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ But he did not sound like that’s what he was really thinking about.
Mr and Mrs Walters didn’t say anything, but they looked at each other and then at me. I think they thought that Miss O’Brien had behaved very oddly indeed but it wasn’t their place to comment on it, and certainly not in front of me. I think they thought I’d heard far too much as it was. They must have done, because then Mrs Walters asked me to come shopping with her and leave the others to ‘boring grown-up business’, as she put it. I wanted to refuse—I wanted to know what was going on and what they were planning—but I knew I couldn’t, not when Dad nodded and said firmly he thought that was a good idea.
I tried to talk to Mrs Walters about it as we walked around the shops filling up her grocery basket, but she wouldn’t hear a word about it, except to say that in her opinion maybe Miss O’Brien had a point. When we came back Mr Walters was working, the Bellinis were gone—Mr Walters said they were having a bit of a look around Sydney—and Dad had gone back to bed. The Bellinis were away all the rest of the day, and neither Mr or Mrs Walters or Dad, when he woke up, wanted to talk about the strange behaviour of Miss O’Brien.
I’m very angry about Miss O’Brien sticking her nose where it isn’t wanted. Who asked her to care about how I feel? Yes, I’m upset by what had happened, but I don’t think Dad should give up. So what if everyone thinks the case is closed, and people want Dad to let the matter drop? Miss O’Brien is quite wrong. Yes, Phar Lap and Tommy Woodcock hadn’t been hurt, but you couldn’t just let those people get away with it. Lizzie completely agrees. You shouldn’t let bullies win, she says. Never!
But things are so hard now. The investigation has taken weeks. I remember looking at Dad’s notebook, before, when I was snooping. It had been quite full. How can—
What an idiot I’ve been! There IS something Dad can use! All is not lost! I can’t wait to get up tomorrow morning and tell him!
June 10
As soon as I got up this morning—rather earlier than yesterday—I rushed to tell Dad my idea. But he wasn’t up, and still wasn’t by the time Lizzie and I had to go to school (I wasn’t allowed to have another day off) so I told Lizzie instead. I was bursting to tell someone.
‘You know how Dad’s notebooks were stolen and he’s got to try and put all those things together again? Well I thought he could use my diary! What do you think?’
She stared. Then she gave me a friendly thump on the shoulder. ‘Sal, that’s a brilliant idea! You’ve written down so many things, so many clues! It’ll save him so much time!’
‘That’s what I thought,’ I gabbled. ‘I’ve got names and dates and details and the interview with Mr Woodcock and everything and—’
‘There’s just one problem,’ she said. ‘If you give him your diary then he’s going to read everything in it, even the private stuff. You know what parents are like.’
‘Yes. I thought of that. I thought I’d just copy down on some sheets of paper all the bits in the diary that are useful, and give him that. I brought the diary with me. I’m going to do it in the breaks.’
‘I’ll help you,’ she said at once. Lizzie’s such a good friend. She understands what you need right away.
So during the breaks at school we copied and copied, and because there were two of us doing it it took much less time, but still a fair while—it made me realise just how much I had written down about the case. We sat down to do it in a far corner of the playground where nobody much goes. Once during lunch Mrs Bennett came waddling over to us and asked me if I was all right—she had heard about Dad—and she looked curiously at what we were doing, but thank heavens she seemed to believe Lizzie when she said we were making notes for a composition we had to do. Funny that I really used to hate Mrs Bennett but now I don’t. I hardly have time to think about her. And she has been better towards me recently. Maybe I have been better towards her too though. I don’t know.
Anyway, we got back to Lizzie’s place and Dad was there, sitting having a cup of tea on his own in the kitchen while Mrs Walters and Mrs Bellini were in the back garden with the children and the men were out somewhere. Lizzie and I had decided it was better if I just handed Dad the sheets of paper without saying anything, not to try to explain first, not give him a chance to tell me to mind my own business. So that’s just what I did. I took the sheets out of my schoolbag and gave them to Dad. He smiled and said, ‘What’s this, Sal? Your composition?’ Then he read the first words we’d written—The Phar Lap Mystery, Clues Gathered—and said, ‘What the …’ Then he broke off and continued reading while Lizzie and I watched him anxiously.
After a moment he raised his head and said quietly, ‘Where did this come from, girls?’
I swallowed. ‘My—my diary,’ I said. ‘I’ve been—writing everything down. Everything that happened. And all the clues—at least everything I know about, and—’
‘Good heavens,’ he said, shaking his head and turning the paper over. ‘Good heavens.’
Lizzie and I looked at each other. I stammered, ‘Dad—it’s not that I’m a stickybeak, but—’
‘You ar
e the biggest stickybeak I know, Sal,’ he said. ‘The biggest ever. Good heavens. I can’t believe …’
‘I’m sorry if I’m a stickybeak. I was just interested,’ I said shakily. ‘Please don’t be cross. Please. I just thought—’
‘Oh, I’m not cross,’ he said, looking up at me with a big smile. ‘I’m just—well, speechless! Strewth, what a clever girl you are, Sal! What a very clever girl! Come here!’ He opened his arms and I went into them. He gave me a big hug, then let me go and said solemnly, ‘You’ve saved my bacon, Sal. You really have. And thank you for taking the trouble to copy it all out like this, it makes it so much easier.’
‘Lizzie helped me,’ I said.
‘Thank you too, Lizzie. Much appreciated.’
‘That’s all right, Mr Fielding, glad to help,’ said Lizzie happily.
‘You two would make great detectives,’ said Dad, warmly. ‘Amazing!’
‘It’s only Lizzie who wants to be a detective, I just want to write detective stories,’ I said.
Dad laughed. ‘I am sure you’ll be a great team. Jeez! I can hardly believe my luck.’
I felt funny inside, warm and happy but a bit teary too. ‘Oh Dad, will it really help you?’
‘Absolutely. Without this, I’d be up the creek without a paddle,’ he said. ‘With it, though, I can reconstruct my notes so much more easily. And it will jog my memory too. Names, connections. It’s brilliant.’
When Mrs Walters and Mrs Bellini came in from the garden they found Dad and Lizzie and I toasting each other with cold tea. When they found out what we were all looking so happy about, Mrs Walters looked like she was about to say something sharp, but a look at Dad’s expression stopped her, and instead she brought out some fruit cordial and seed cake to celebrate. (The twins and Tilly were delighted about that!) As to Mrs Bellini, she was happy straight away, she kept saying to Dad he must be very proud of me. It got rather embarrassing after a while! When Mr Walters and Mr Bellini got back they had to be told the story all over again. I never thought I’d get tired of having nice things said about me, but now I think you can have too much of a good thing!
The Phar Lap Mystery Page 6