Bill Rules (8 page)

For a whole three weeks, life went smoothly for Bill. His dad had to visit his parole officer once a week. Part of his parole conditions were that he make a serious effort to find work. He caught the train down to the suburbs twice a week to see if any job came up from Centrelink. He would sometimes wait at the school gates for school to end and he'd walk home with Bill and Mat.

Otherwise, Troy made himself useful. He did a lot of small jobs round the house like fixing leaking taps, re-gluing loose tiles in the kitchen, putting new curtain rods up in the main bedroom, mowing the lawn,
and cooking dinner for when Pam got home from work. A few times, he also drove Pam to work at the laundromat and picked her up at the end of her shift.

Bill was relieved that his dad seemed to stick close to home. He would go across to the Grubs' place a bit much – ‘for a bit of adult, male company' was the way he put it. He also had this way of being a bit over friendly with people. It was like he was trying to prove that he was a nice guy. But aside from that, Troy was being kind to Pam and he was always ready to kick a footy around with Bill.

By the fourth week, Troy wasn't quite so helpful. He was beginning to watch a bit too much day-time TV, and he'd leave dirty dishes and empty, scrunched-up beer cans where they were – on a table, chair, or the floor. Worst of all, late one night when he was in bed, Bill heard his mum and dad have a fight. Pam was pleading with Troy to keep his voice down.

‘I'm not shouting,' shouted Troy, ‘but if you keep on at me like that, I'll have no choice.'

Pam was still trying to keep her voice low, so Bill heard only fragments of what his mum said. ‘Need to get a job ... Can't be fussy.'

Then Troy responded, loudly and angrily. It had been so long since Bill had heard his father's excuses and half-truths, but as he listened, they sounded tiringly familiar. Troy was refusing to accept work that was ‘beneath him'. Bill knew his dad was referring to work that required long hours or that did not pay a lot. Of course, this meant that Troy was refusing to work, full stop. He would need training and education to have the sorts of jobs he wanted. Bill heard him telling Pam that he had begun a computer course in jail, but he hadn't finished it because ‘the teacher was an incompetent fool. I knew more than he did.'

Pam said something else and Bill heard Troy say, ‘Well, couldn't I be a house-husband? Like you be the career woman and I look after the home?'

This time, Bill did hear Pam's answer – ‘Sweating away in a laundromat is not a career.'

‘It'll turn out, sweetheart. Just don't nag me,' replied Troy. ‘I really need a break after everything I've been through.'

Bill heard Pam start to weep.

‘Please don't start that again,' said Troy.

Bill couldn't hear his mum's reply, but he certainly
heard Troy's. ‘Give me a chance, Pam. I know I've messed up, but when all my troubles started I was just a kid, for heaven's sake. A kid whose dad abandoned him when he needed him most.'

‘Well haven't you done the same to Bill, just in a different way?' Pam replied. ‘He needs to see you succeed. He needs proof you have changed. He needs a role model.'

Lying there in the dark, Bill thought a big yes to everything his mum was saying. He held his breath. Would his dad accept without any excuses Pam's challenge about really changing?

‘It's the system, love. I linked up with the wrong types. But I
have
changed. I really have. You wait and see,' said Troy. ‘You and Bill are my world and I'm going to make you happy.'

Reading between the lines, Bill could hear his dad making the usual excuses and the easy promises. Troy could not admit he had done wrong. And at eleven and a bit years old, Bill knew that unless you faced up to your faults and mistakes you could never change. He understood that you should cop your punishments and not whinge. Bill had learnt this the year
before when he had betrayed Matty's secret. He still cringed inside when he thought of what he had done. But he had been really sorry and he'd tried to fix his mistake.

Bill could hear his mum still weeping. Something crashed in the kitchen, like a coffee mug being thumped on the table. Why couldn't his dad learn to take Pam's straight talk on the chin and then just get on with his life?

Bill slept in the morning after his parents' fight. It was a Saturday. On waking, Bill glanced at his bedside clock. It was 10am. The house was very quiet. Bill heard the Grubs' rooster crow. He stretched and yawned, then just lay there planning how he was going to use his precious weekend. Bill knew that his mum would be at the laundromat. He had no idea what his dad planned to do with his day. Then he heard his dad's voice coming from the garden.

‘Troy here ... Look, mate, I'm talking on the mobile, so I have to be quick ... fine, fine...'

Bill got out of bed and walked to the window where he stood just behind a curtain. He could see his dad squatting on his haunches in the shade and privacy
of a large bush. Troy was glancing about him as he talked, as if checking to see no one was near.

‘Just under a bit of pressure from the wife to do my bit ... no big stuff, just something along the receiving line would suit my present situation ... you know, low risk stuff ... great ... hear from you this evening then.'

Bill felt gutted...

‘We'll stop him,' said Mat.

‘How?' asked Bill.

‘With this sort of problem, you have to do a bit of spying. We figure out exactly who your dad is dealing with and what and when and so on, and then we move in and...,' Mat searched for the right word.

‘Sabotage it,' said Bill.

‘Spot on,' said Mat.

The two friends were sitting in the Think Tank on the very afternoon of Bill's overhearing his dad on the mobile. It had obviously been a call with one of his criminal connections. Even Bill could figure that out.
Although Troy was not going to actively get involved in any sort of theft, he was going to hide something for someone. When he told Mat, she had shaken her head in a worried way. ‘That's receiving stolen goods. Your dad is still on parole. If he gets caught, he's back in jail straight off.'

Matty was an expert on so many things. Bill trusted her on this matter as well. And anyway, he already had a strong hunch that his dad was heading in this direction. Consequently, Bill and Mat had decided that they would have to prevent the stolen goods ever having a chance to be delivered to the O'Connells' house.

‘So what now?' asked Bill.

‘Well, it's about lunchtime. Get back to your place. Find your dad. Make an extra nice lunch for him. Suggest a walk to the school to kick the footy on the oval. Before you go, get hold of his mobile and leave it in your kitchen,' Mat paused dramatically. ‘Make sure you call across the fence to me something like,
Mat, want to play footie?
And don't go 'til you hear me yell back,
No thanks, I'm doing some homework.
Then leave the rest to me.'

‘And when Dad and I get back?'

‘We'll have a meeting in the Think Tank.'

After lunch, when Bill and his dad were getting ready to walk to school, Bill asked his dad to ‘leave your mobile behind. Mum takes hers everywhere and it just interrupts things when you're having a good time.'

Troy hesitated. ‘I might be getting a phone call ... Work-related.'

Bill had to think fast. ‘They can leave a message, Dad,' said Bill. ‘I don't want to have to sit around listening to you gas on and on. Anyway, Donald next door reckons parents have lost the ability to pay complete attention to their kids.' Donald really had said something like that once.

Probably the mention of Donald as the caring parent and the ‘sit around listening' did the trick. Troy would not want Bill listening to a conversation about a crime plot. He left his mobile on the kitchen table. As Bill and Troy walked into the garden, Bill dashed across to the fence and yelled out his invitation to Mat. She answered immediately in the agreed code, her voice coming from up in the tree platform where she was holding a book in a very obvious way.

Bill's dad seemed eager to play ‘good dad'. On the walk to the school, he asked Bill to tell him about his week, his favourite subjects, and his teacher. He followed this with, ‘Mum and I had a big talk last night. You know, about work and all that.' Troy paused. He seemed to want to know how much Bill had heard in his fight with Pam the night before. Bill played dumb. ‘That's good. I like it when you and Mum talk,' he replied.

Troy went on and on about how hard it was to get a decent job, especially if people know you've ‘done time'. Bill suggested Troy might try a bit of casual work, just to bring in a bit extra. Troy said he was already thinking along those lines. He had a few contacts.

At the school, Bill kept his dad busy. He was determined to give Matty plenty of opportunity to get hold of Troy's mobile, do what she planned with it and return it to the kitchen bench. After about forty minutes of a sweaty kicking the footy round the oval, Troy said he was ‘done in.' Bill would not risk letting his dad go home just then.

‘Let me show you my classroom,' said Bill.

Peering through a classroom window, Bill pointed out interesting objects in the room.

‘That's my project on tsunamis over there. The top right. And along that other wall are our new computers...' Bill made the guided tour drag on as long as possible. By the time he started pointing out the teacher's desk and chair, Troy was beginning to get restless. Bill had to come up with another brainwave. ‘And you've got to see this!' he said with a burst of enthusiasm. Bill led Troy up a winding path to a flat area full of colourful play equipment. ‘All new,' he said proudly. ‘For the little kids.'

‘Nice,' said Troy looking exhausted. ‘Have to get home. Need a drink, mate.'

Bill made the walk home as drawn out as possible. He pointed out the dandelions and explained that Mat's nan used them to dye her wools. He stopped outside Mrs Flint's place and told Troy the story of the twenty-two-year-old stand-off between her and Mr Riley. Just as they reached home, Troy stopped and peered up into the sky where purple clouds were gathering in the west. ‘Storm on its way,' he said.
‘Thought it was unusually hot.' At that same moment, Bill caught sight of Mat scrambling through the loose fence palings from Bill's place to hers. Just as she disappeared behind some bushes, Troy looked back down and finished his tired walk to the front door.

‘Thanks, Dad! We've done everything I wanted to do,' said Bill genuinely cheerful.

‘Yeah, quality time,' said Troy tiredly.

‘And just in time,' said Bill smiling.

An hour later, Bill and Mat were having yet another soak in the Think Tank. Even before this old bath had been re-named, the children knew that a lot of good ideas came from sitting in water and either dreaming about nothing in particular or discussing serious business. Today's meeting had a very important purpose.

‘How come you left your return so late? Dad almost saw you getting through the fence!' said Bill.

‘The mission was tricky,' said Mat. ‘I'd just got hold of your dad's phone and opened up his contacts, when the battery went flat.'

‘Oh, you've got to be kidding,' said Bill. ‘So you didn't get any phone numbers?'

‘Hold on. I did get the numbers, but not 'til the last minute,' explained Mat. ‘I couldn't find your dad's charger anywhere. I can tell you, I really looked.'

‘So what did you do?'

‘Went home. Tried Dad's mobile charger. It didn't fit your dad's phone. Tried Mum's. Didn't work. You know, this story is sounding like Cinderella and all the girls trying on her glass slipper,' said Mat.

‘Forget Cinderella!' said Bill. ‘What next?'

‘Well, I tried Tom's and it worked. Got back onto the contacts list. Wrote them all down. Ran back and put the phone on your kitchen bench.'

Bill let out a huge, long breath. ‘Good on you, Mat.'

‘And I did more than that. I listened to your dad's voice mail.'

‘And?'

‘Just one message. Came in some time between you guys going for your walk and me getting across to your place when the coast was clear. I wrote it down.' Mat paused to splash her face, then leant over the side
of the Think Tank, dried her hands on a towel and picked up a notebook.
‘Maggot here, mate. Expectin' y' horse to come in tomorra arvo. Will drop off your winnings after.'
Mat closed the book, leant over the side of the Think Tank and replaced it on the grass.

‘Maggot!' said Bill. ‘What a name. Who the heck is he? And Dad doesn't bet on horses.'

‘It's simple,' said Mat holding up a finger. ‘One. The horse coming in means the crime. And dropping off winnings is your dad getting the stolen stuff to hide.' Mat held up a second finger, ‘Two. Maggot is someone called Garry. And I have his number.'

‘How'd you do that?'

‘The number on the voicemail matched someone called Garry on your dad's contact list.'

‘Brilliant,' said Bill. ‘So what next? Do we ring Maggot and get some inside info?'

‘We're kids, Bill,' said Mat. ‘Maggot would know it from our voices. We have to find out who he is and where he lives and then we will decide what to do.'

Bill looked defeated. ‘Well, if we can't ring him, that's it.'

‘No, it's not it,' said Mat triumphantly. ‘Big bro,
Tom, has a computer program where you type in a number and you get the address.'

‘Amazing,' said Bill.

‘Yes, it is,' said Mat.

‘I meant you,' said Bill. He raised his hand up and the two friends high-fived. ‘But we have to get a move on. We have less than twenty-four hours to prevent this crime and save Dad.'

Mat and Bill had an agonising few hours' wait for Tom to get home. He had gone out with friends after the craft market. When he walked in the door at six o'clock, he was nearly knocked over by Mat. She grabbed his arm and took him straight to his bedroom where the computer was. Luckily, Tom was starving hungry. He set up the address-finding program, no questions, and then escaped to the kitchen to make himself a snack.

In half an hour, Mat and Bill had an address: Garry Baker, 2/12 Hillcrest Ave, Pascoe Vale.

‘Pascoe Vale. That's way over the other side of the city,' said Bill feeling desperate.

Mat frowned with concentration. Bill knew better than to interrupt, but he just could not figure out
how two kids could win against real criminals. The best he could do was give Matty the space to think.

‘No worries. We won't be going to Pascoe Vale,' said Mat at last.

As Bill later told Matty, her plan was ‘elegant'. He had picked up that word from a TV spy show. ‘Elegant' to Bill meant clever, complicated and with stunning detail, all rolled into one. Part one of the plan was to compose an anonymous letter to the police to inform them of the imminent crime. Bill was worried the letter might give away where he lived with his dad, but Mat had thought through that. The letter was going to be made out of script chopped from a newspaper. ‘No handwriting for them to get their experts to analyse,' Mat explained.

‘Brilliant,' said Bill gazing at the letter. ‘But why are you saying “alas Maggot”?'

‘“Also known as Maggot”. It's detective talk.'

‘I think that should be
alias,
Matty,' Bill said as gently as he could. After all, it was Mat who had put so much effort into this impressive letter.

‘Believe me, Bill. It's alas.'

Bill shrugged. This spelling mistake was a minor flaw in a clever plan. Anyway, if justice were going to be done, Maggot would shortly be feeling very sorry for himself – so ‘alas' was quite correct.

‘Well how do we get this letter to the police?' asked Bill.

‘We con Tom into giving us a lift to the shops. The police station there is open all night,' said Mat.

‘How about we ask him to take us to the pizza shop? One of us does the ordering, the other ducks into the police?' suggested Bill.

‘Good. You deliver the letter. They know most of the locals, but they don't know you.'

Bill and Mat scraped together enough money for a pizza and lured Tom into giving them a lift to the pizza shop. They promised him a third share of their
Pizza Supreme. Luckily, Tom was still a bit ‘peckish' as he called it. He cheerfully drove them in the family combi to the shops. Mat and Tom sat in the pizza shop reading magazines while they waited for their order. It was easy for Bill to say he was taking a look around town.

When Bill walked into the police station, he realised that because he was just a boy, the police might think the letter was a prank. On the other hand, if he tried to explain that he was serious, the police might do what they called ‘detaining for questioning'. Just the name O'Connell would give away his dad, and that could not happen. He was trying to save his dad, not betray him.

Bill had no plan. But he didn't have the time to back out, either. There was chaos in the waiting room. A very drunk man was screaming and swearing. He was off his head, even trying to punch at people. Two police were trying to calm him down. A tired looking lady, maybe about fifty years old, was sitting quietly on a bench against the wall. She didn't seem to have
anything to do with the drunk man. She was grey-haired and neatly dressed, and she had a patient, kind look on her face. In seconds, Bill felt he could and would have to trust her.

Bill pulled the hood of his sweater over his head, walked up quickly to the lady, sat next to her and said quietly, ‘Lady, I have a big problem. I have to give this letter to the police, but they can't know who I am. Please, please give it to them for me.'

‘It's better you just face up to what you've done, son,' said the lady gently...

‘I promise you, I haven't done anything,' said Bill looking straight into the lady's eyes. ‘I'm giving a tip off. But someone else and I are in danger if...' tears rose in Bill's eyes.

The drunk man was now sitting on the floor refusing to stand. One of the police turned to the lady and Bill. ‘We'll be with you in a minute.'

‘I believe you,' said the lady to Bill. ‘I'll give them your letter. Good luck.'

Bill handed her the letter. ‘Thanks a million.'

‘Go on. Get out of here.'

Back at the Grubs' place and full of pizza, the two
friends felt victorious, but the feeling passed quickly. They knew there was still the matter of Troy. He had to be told what Bill and Mat had done. And more.

It just so happened that for this Saturday night, Donald and Tessa Grub had invited Bill's mum and dad to play cards. Troy had already refused the invitation. Bill suspected this was because he needed as much time as possible on his own to plot away with his so-called friends. From the way Pam was quieter than usual, Bill knew she was still feeling hurt from the fight she and Troy had had the night before. She accepted the Grubs' invitation. Bill wondered if his poor mum would be thinking Troy would not play cards because of the fight. She would be so much more frightened and let down if she knew what her husband was really up to.

By about half-past eight, the Grub household had settled down for the evening. Tom was out on the back verandah playing guitar with some friends who had dropped by. The Grub parents, Nan and Pam were seated around the card table in the little sitting room, absorbed in their game of cards. Bill and Mat announced they were going across to the O'Connell
place. The grown-ups, heads tilted down as they studied their cards, making little jokes to each other, did not question the children.