‘Dad, it’s . . .’ started Janey.‘It’s me.’ She removed her SPIFFInG with a smile. ‘Janey.’ And with that, she threw herself at her father. ‘Thanks for getting me here.’
Abe grabbed Janey’s shoulders and looked at her, his brown eyes filling with confusion, then hope, then sudden joy. ‘Janey, you’re here! You made it! How did you . . . ? Oh . . . tell me later. You’re here, in one piece, and what a sight you are. Bert,’ said Janey’s father, turning her round to face the other man, ‘this is my other daughter. Chloe’s twin.’
Bert’s kind, leathery face crumpled with disbelief. ‘Strewth,’ he said. ‘You weren’t telling porkies then? Sorry, Janey. You and Chloe just look so alike!’
‘Identical twins.’ Abe put an arm around Janey’s shoulder and hugged him to her. ‘Peas in a pod. They were . . . well, it’s a long story. Some other time perhaps. Right now, we ought to reunite these sisters and prepare the place for Janey to stay – for a long time, I hope. Hungry, Janey? Let’s get you some breakfast.’
They walked around the veranda to the back of the house. The aroma of frying bacon licked the air. From within, Janey could hear fat spitting and pans being scraped. In a moment, Janey would see Chloe again. Chloe, with her father. Their father. Janey’s very own Abe. Suddenly she wished she could have him to herself for just a little while longer.
‘It’s great to see you, Dad,’ she said softly, putting her hand on his arm.
Abe patted it gently, turning to her with a smile and a small shake of the head as if in wonderment that he could have both of his daughters in the same place at the same time. ‘You too, Janey. Better than you could ever imagine.’
He dropped a kiss, clammy from the rapidly rising temperature, on to her forehead, and with her arm tucked inside the crook of his elbow, Janey walked into his home.
dubbo seven
‘Janey!’ Chloe waved a spatula at her from the vast country range. Huge heaps of bacon, tomatoes and mushrooms were already mounded up on four plates, and Chloe was just adding eggs to the ensemble. ‘Sorry, I hope you don’t mind . . . I heard your voice, so I got another plate out.’
‘You made all this yourself? It looks delicious!’ Janey was highly impressed – the most she could do herself was zip things through the microwave.
Bert helped himself to one of the plates and sat down at the scrubbed kitchen table. ‘Have to be able to cook on a farm, Janey. There aren’t too many shops or takeaways nearby, so you have to do things for yourself. This bacon was running round the field last week.’ He shovelled two rashers into his mouth and beamed cheerily. ‘Oink oink.’
Suddenly Janey wished they were just having toast. It must have shown on her face, as her father laughed loudly. ‘He’s teasing you, Janey. Grab a plate and eat up.’
Reluctantly Janey took her portion of food from Chloe. ‘The bacon’s not really bacon, it’s turkey strips,’ whispered her sister as she slid a fried egg on to Janey’s plate. ‘Don’t tell Bert I’m trying to cook more healthily! He loves his food.’
‘Like G-Mamma,’ said Janey. She smiled at Chloe, who was pink-cheeked and glowing from the heat of the stove – she certainly looked a great deal better than the pale, sweat-slicked person who had run off to be sick. ‘We were looking for you the other night.’
Chloe’s face fell. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. It was rude of me to just disappear like that, but I was . . . embarrassed at getting ill, and I didn’t really want anyone seeing me that way. I hope you understand?’
‘I do.’ Janey understood perfectly. She too used to spend a lot of time feeling humiliated. It seemed her sister had not progressed quite as far as she herself had done. Like Janey used to be, Chloe often seemed on the verge of tears, and she was nowhere near as sure of herself as Janey was since she had become Jane blonde. She looked at her father to find him staring from one to the other of them, eyes glittering with awe and a strange hint of . . . what was it? Janey couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
She sat down next to him. ‘Thanks for sending the stuff and the picture and everything. It made it so easy to get here and find you.’
At Janey’s words, the room grew very quiet. Abe gave a slight shake of his head, Chloe stared down at the table with her lower lip caught between her teeth, and even Bert stopped chewing for a moment. Gauging the mood in the room, Janey reached a quick understanding of the situation: Bert didn’t know about her father being a spy. He wasn’t another G-Mamma or a Halo. He was a sheep farmer, pure and simple.
Abe changed the subject quickly. ‘What would you like to see, Janey? More of the farm?’
‘I could show you my room!’ Chloe jumped up excitedly, looking at Abe for agreement.
‘Sounds great.’ Janey pulled at her SPIsuit self-consciously. ‘Although I’d like to get changed first. It’s a bit hot in this! Can I de-W . . . have a shower?’
Abe shook his head quickly. ‘Sorry, Janey, there’s a bit of a drought round here and we have to save as much water as we can for the sheep. Plus, it’s solar heated so it’s much better in the evening. Maybe later you can have your one shower for the day. But I’m sure Chloe could lend you some clothes. You take Janey now, Chloe, and I’ll meet you at the sheep pen in a few moments.’
Janey followed her sister, watching enviously as Bert and her father donned their leather hats and strode away. Now that she’d met up with him again, she was very reluctant to let Abe out of her sight for any longer than she had to. But as a consolation prize, she decided as she took in the polished wooden floor and the stamped tin ceiling painted a peaceful buttery yellow, having a new sister to get to know was pretty exciting.
Chloe threw open her door and ushered Janey into her room. It was many times the size of Janey’s bedroom but with slightly less furniture, so that the big wooden bed, the rich oaken chest of drawers and the enormous kidney-shaped dressing table sat on the polished floor like islets in a gleaming slick of chocolate. Through the window, the view was of sparsely grassed fields and the odd eucalyptus tree for as far as Janey could see.
‘Here you go – do you think these will fit?’ said Chloe, pulling clothes from the chest.
‘Well, I expect so, since we’re exactly the same size!’ said Janey with a grin.
‘Oh, of course. Sorry.’ Blushing, Chloe turned her back politely as Janey removed her SPIsuit and pulled on some jeans and a cotton shirt. This was a first – still Jane Blonde, but in ordinary clothes. Once Janey had shaken out her ponytail, the twins looked even more alike, with only the tinge of gold in Janey’s hair making it clear which of them was which. ‘You’ll need a hat,’ said Chloe, passing Janey a black baseball cap and putting on an identical one herself.
Janey laughed. ‘Poor Bert will never be able to tell us apart now! What’s this?’ She pointed to the emblem stitched in gold on to the cap – a large number seven with the word ‘Dubbo’ arched over the top like a crown.
‘Oh, sorry. I should have explained. It’s the logo Dad designed,’ said Chloe. ‘Dubbo Seven: Dubbo’s the nearest big place, and seven’s because we’ve got seven hundred acres. At least, that’s what Bert thinks – Dad made him change it to make it spy-like, although Bert hasn’t even got it!’
The lettering reminded her of something, but Janey couldn’t quite bring it to mind as she followed Chloe out through the big front door. Far in the distance she could see two small figures leaning on a fence. ‘Come on,’ said Chloe. ‘We’ll go on the four-by-four or it will take us forever.’
To Janey’s delight, they clambered atop a chunky four-wheeled motorcycle and whirred off across the paddocks. It reminded her a little of the go-kart Alfie had created from a suitcase when she’d first met her dad, and with a sudden pang she remembered how far she was from her friends and her home. Alfie would love it here, she thought. Her mum too, sitting at home longing for sunshine, would be overjoyed to be here surrounded by her family . . .
With a gentle skid, the quad-bike phuttered to a stop and Chloe and Janey wandered ove
r to their father and Bert. From their stiff bodies and flushed faces, Janey guessed they were having an argument.
‘They need the vet, mate! You can’t sell them with great bald patches on them,’ Bert said huffily. ‘My name would be ruined! And they’d just send them back anyway.’
Abe sighed. ‘All right. Just put these in the far paddock, and I’ll look into it. And don’t bother with the vet; try to remember you’re just the overseer around here now. I’m in control, so it’s my name we need to worry about.’
As Abe turned around he rolled his eyes at the girls. Bert stomped off moodily, slapping a few of the sheep on the rump to get them moving beyond the fence and into the next field. Where they had been standing, clumps of silky beige wool littered the ground, and Abe walked behind Bert, picking them up and shoving the wool into a large plastic bag.
‘Come on, girls, you can give me a hand,’ he said, passing each of them a bin bag.
Janey tried not to notice that he had handed a bag to Chloe first, and she scurried around the paddock, unlooping the fine wool from the fences. ‘So what’s wrong with the sheep?’ she asked.
‘Nothing!’ said Abe sharply. Janey looked up in surprise, but Abe was already looking apologetic and walking over to her. ‘They’re moulting for some reason, but it’s nothing that I can’t fix. It’s complicated, Janey. You read the newspaper article about how I’d done it – crossing a merino with . . .’
‘. . . an Andalucian mountain sheep,’ finished Janey. ‘Yes, it sounded very clever.’
Abe grinned. ‘It’s even more clever than that, actually. I haven’t crossed the merino with another sheep at all, but I can’t tell anyone that. You see, what I’ve actually created is a sheep – this prize-winning merino with fabulous form, sturdiness and wool production – merged with the creature from which we get angora. A rabbit.’
‘A rabbit?’ Janey stared at the prize-winning sheep, half-expecting it to start bouncing around the pen. It didn’t look as though it would win any prizes now. It had lost more wool than any of the others, all from its back, so that its coat started halfway down its sides and straggled to the floor around a great bald patch, like some kind of mad monk. The woolly creature regarded her balefully, a sad and longing look in its eyes, so that Janey had to resist the urge to run over and give it a hug. ‘It’s half sheep, half rabbit?’
Her father had previously turned frogs into mice, humans into ice sculptures, and people into other people, so this was definitely not beyond the realms of possibility. Abe shook his head, however. ‘No, I just spliced the angora hair gene together with the sheep breed. One of my more brilliant moves, I think! I’ve now got these award-winning sheep that are going to make me a fortune, and we can live off that. I’ll no longer need to be a spy.’
Ever since Chloe had mentioned that their dad was going to give up spying, Janey had been worrying. Being spies was in their make-up, in their genes, yet now, it seemed, all the spies she knew were no longer going to be able to fulfil their role in life. Because one thing was certain – if her father stopped being a spy, Solomon’s Polificational Investigations would lose its heart, its rhythm. SPI would never be the same again. She sighed. ‘Are you sure about that, Dad? Isn’t it what you’ve always loved doing?’
There was a sudden gleam in his eye, but it disappeared just as quickly. ‘I thought so, Janey. I’ve thought that for such a long time. But other things are more important. Family. Not getting killed. Having you and Chloe back together again, and being able to live with you like a normal father. That’s what matters to me now. This way, out here in Australia among the sheep, it’s all a possibility.’
Somehow, while Janey couldn’t argue with that, she still felt saddened – uncomfortable even – about the family giving up spying. She handed Abe her bag of wool and walked over to close the gate behind the mad-looking sheep. There was a strange but familiar odour in the air, and Janey looked down to find herself her foot hovering over a small patch of vomit. Chloe vomit. It was exactly the same as the sticky little pool Chloe had left on the spiral staircase. She looked at her sister anxiously.
‘Chloe, are you feeling OK?’
Chloe shoved a scrap of wool into her plastic bag. ‘I’m fine. Why?’
‘No reason,’ said Janey quickly. She didn’t want to point out a pool of sick to someone who didn’t want to admit it.
‘Oh that!’ said Abe, bounding over to Janey’s side. ‘Chloe, I think Janey was wondering if you’d been sick. Don’t worry, Janey; it’s just sheep food. It’s a special diet we have the sheep on to keep their genetic make-up stable. Out in this heat, it just melts.’
‘So why don’t you use some other food?’
‘I’m working on it,’ said Abe tersely. The heat was clearly getting to him as well as to the food.
‘Right,’ said Janey, taken aback. ‘I’m . . . I’m sorry, Chloe. There was some on the stairs, and I thought you’d . . . you know.’
‘I did feel ill, but I made it to the loo. Whatever you found must have been food on my shoes,’ said Chloe with a small smile. ‘It happens a lot. Sorry. I hope you weren’t too worried about me? I really shouldn’t have put you to all that trouble. I just needed to get home quickly – you know how it is – but it’s no excuse really . . . I shouldn’t have just disappeared. You and G-Mamma and lovely Trouble must have been really upset. I’m so sorry.’
She looked so abject that Janey couldn’t help herself – she ran over to Chloe and gave her a hug, and her sister, after stiffening slightly, smiled and squeezed Janey too. ‘It wasn’t any trouble.’ Janey meant it – it was no trouble at all, having family surrounding her.
The rest of the day passed quietly, with the relentless sunshine broken only by occasional stop-offs at the house to eat lunch and an afternoon tea of huge date scones made by Bert, piled with cream and jam. When they weren’t eating, Janey and Chloe followed Abe around the farm, checking fences, picking up stray wool and bouncing over furrows in the quad-bike. It was all very pleasant, although Chloe was quiet and didn’t really say much unless Janey asked her a question. Janey didn’t mind; she was happy to soak up the sunshine and the closeness of her dad and her new sister.
Only when the sun began to swoop low behind the eucalyptus trees did she think of the time. ‘Yikes, I’ve been here all day. What time is it at home?’
‘About 5.30 in the morning, Easter Sunday,’ said Abe, checking his watch.
Janey winced. ‘Oh no. Mum will be up any moment. I’d better go.’
At this Abe and Chloe exchanged glances, and suddenly Abe laughed. ‘Look at your sister’s face, Janey. She’s so disappointed! Look – stay. We can get a message home for you.’
Janey herself was reluctant to leave, but her mum had spent every Easter morning since Janey was big enough to crawl laying trails of Easter eggs around the house and garden. She’d be frantic if Janey wasn’t there to do her egg hunt. She shook her head. ‘No, I’d better go. But I’ll come back soon.’
Abe looked at her with his head on one side and then nodded. ‘Make sure you do. We’ll miss you. Now why don’t you go back with Chloe and put your SPIsuit on? I’ve got some things to do in the Spylab, but I’ll come and say goodbye when you’re ready to go.’
Janey and her twin quad-biked their way back to the house and made their way to Chloe’s room. As Janey got changed, Chloe sat down at the immense dressing table and started brushing her mousy hair.
‘You’re so lucky getting to be a Spylet, Janey,’ she said sadly. ‘I so want to be like you. Would you . . . Could I brush your hair for you before you go and I have to go to bed? I could put it back in your Jane Blonde ponytail for you . . . if you like.’
She said it in such a quiet, timid little voice that Janey’s heart went out to her. It was much earlier than Janey would have had to go to bed, and she wondered, just for a moment, whether Abe was a stricter parent than her mum. He was sometimes a bit short with Chloe, she’d noticed. ‘Sure,’ she said, handing Chloe th
e brush. ‘We’ll have to be quick though.’
Actually she found it quite relaxing, and so, clearly, did Chloe. Before too long her twin had closed her eyes and they both settled into the calming rhythm of the brush strokes. Janey’s eyes were nearly closing too, made heavy by the hot, still air, the constant buzzing of the flies at the window and the quiet shhoooosh . . . shhoooosh of the hairbrush . . .
Just as she was about to nod off, a fly buzzed in her ear and Janey snapped to attention. Chloe had stopped brushing and was dozing quietly, still just about upright, her lank hair sticking moistly to her scalp and a faint grey sheen tainting her skin.
‘Chloe!’ said Janey urgently, but her sister lolled back against the bed and gurgled softly in her sleep.
Janey put down the brush, which was suddenly slightly sticky and unpleasant to touch, then grabbed her SPIFFInG and scampered out of the house across to the Spylab. ‘Time at home!’ she yelled to her Ultra-gogs. 5.50 a.m. blinked across the lenses. She had no time to waste.
Abe was bending over the tonsured sheep that Janey had noticed before, but turned quickly when he heard her footfall. ‘Chlo– oh, Janey, it’s you!’
Janey ignored the sheep’s sorrowful eyes and pulled at her father’s arm. ‘I don’t think Chloe’s very well. You should go and see her. I’ve got to get home, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
‘No, Janey, stay. I—’
‘Mum will be expecting me any minute. Oh, thanks for my Easter egg. Bye, Maddy!’ That seemed an ideal name for the poor mad-monk sheep.
Janey threw her bemused father a kiss and sprinted off across the paddock. She cast occasional glances over her shoulder, and before too long she could see her dad carrying her sleeping sister over to the lab. He’d look after her there. Her Ultra-gogs gave her clear vision even in the fading light, and with her speed enhanced by her Fleet-feet she very soon found herself at the entrance to the tunnel through the Earth. Laying out the straps of her eSPIdrills, Janey made sure her SPIFFInG was on straight, pushed the small embroidered flower to ‘ON’ and began the crazy journey back through the very centre of the planet.
Jane Blonde: Twice the Spylet Page 5