Matty and Bill for Keeps (3 page)

That Tuesday, Bill and Mat saw very little of Crispin de Floriette. In class, he worked away quietly next to Isabelle. Mrs Townsend was mainly teaching about early Australian explorers, something Crispin obviously knew little about. Bill thought it sensible of him to keep his head down and stay quiet.

At recess and lunch, Isabelle and some of the girls whisked Crispin away and out of sight. The boys were ignoring Crispin, which Bill had expected. They hadn't invited him to play tiggy or basketball or soccer or cricket. To them it was reasonably clear that this pale, weedy boy was not the sporty type. Bill and Mat agreed they'd done everything possible to help Crispin if he wanted help. As usual, Bill stuck with his mates – they decided to play soccer – and Matty went skink hunting in the school gardens with some of her Grade Five friends.

However, after school was, as usual, Mat and Bill's best time. This particular evening promised to be yet another of those marvellous drop-in sort of nights that the Grubs often had. About six o'clock, Bill and Pam brought across a large pot of rice and a salad to go with a spicy curry that Donald was cooking on the stove. By the time dinner was on the table, the pretty young Girl Guide leader, Marguerite Bell, had turned up (she was borrowing some music CDs from Tom) and Pip (Tessa and Donald's good friend) had brought over some empty jars for Tessa's famous strawberry jam.

Five Grubs (including Nan, but not counting Uncle Len who sat under the table waiting for scraps), two O'Connells and two drop-iners – so nine people! – sat chatting and eating round the table.

After dinner, Mat and Bill did the dishes. They took longer than necessary because they kept having tea-towel fights. By the time the dishes were done, everyone else had moved onto the verandah.

It was a gentle, starry night. Crickets and frogs made soft, jingling jazz music. Nan sat in a big old armchair crocheting squares for a rug. Tom was perched on the steps, strumming his guitar. Marguerite was sitting on a cushion close by Tom. Pip, Pam and Tessa were seated on cane chairs, chatting to Marguerite about a Girl Guides fundraising stall at the next craft market. Donald, perched on a low stool, was sanding down a garden seat he'd just finished making. Bill and Mat sat down on the two arms of Nan's chair. Leaning in towards her, Bill said, ‘How do you crochet like that?'

‘Easy. I'll show you.'

Next thing, Bill had the crochet hook in his hand and was following Nan's patient instructions – hooking the wool, pulling it through, looping it, and hooking the wool again.

‘You're doing it!' encouraged Mat.

Bill was getting the hang of it. He'd already made one small circle. Then Mat asked for a go and Nan guided her, too.

The three of them began to take the crocheting in turns, handing it on to the other as each completed a circuit. As they worked, Nan chatted to them.

‘So what's happening at school?'

‘There's a new kid from England,' said Mat.

‘What's he like?'

‘Different. Very,' said Bill.

‘Different's okay,' said Nan. ‘Just so long as it's not nasty mean different.'

‘He's not that,' said Mat.

‘Fine then,' said Nan, ‘so tell me about him.'

But Mat and Bill never got to tell Nan because Uncle Len suddenly leapt up from where he was lying near Nan's armchair and started barking. He raced into the family room and down the hall. Bill and Mat followed him to the front door and opened it. There, standing on the doorstep, was Crispin de Floriette.

‘I read your letter,' said a weary-looking Crispin, ‘and I do hope you don't mind, but I'd very much appreciate taking refuge here.'

‘No worries,' said Mat.

‘You've run away from Isabelle's?' asked Bill.

‘Yes,' said Crispin, looking awkward and embarrassed. ‘It's terribly rude of me, I know.'

‘But you just couldn't bear another moment of it,' said Bill helpfully.

‘You understand?' asked Crispin.

‘You have no idea how much I understand,' said Bill. ‘Come on in.'

Crispin kept speaking as he walked into the hallway. ‘I was hoping you wouldn't have written that letter unless you realised I was in for an ordeal.'

‘You must have been able to decode it or you wouldn't have known how to get here,' Bill said with surprise.

‘My older siblings speak Pig Latin in front of me when they share secrets, so naturally I learnt from an early age.'

‘I told you he would know,' said Mat.

‘How did you guess?' asked Crispin.

‘Call it a sixth sense,' said Mat vaguely. ‘I also happen to know you are a keen reader – you especially like to read JRR Tolkien's
The Hobbit
– you play a musical instrument of the wind variety; you're a dab hand with illusionist skills; you sing and possibly are into amateur dancing; and I suspect you play cricket very well.'

Crispin gasped, ‘This is most uncanny.'

‘Actually, more canny than you realise,' said Mat. ‘But it's inconsiderate of us to keep you standing here. You've been through a trauma and you need good company, a hearty feed, and you should probably ring your great-aunt and tell her you're here. Follow us.'

As Mat led the way, Bill had the enormous satisfaction of knowing that Matilda Grub had made exactly the same startling impression on Crispin de Floriette as she'd made on him the year before when he first met her.

Being the sensible person she always was, Mat first guided Crispin to the telephone, which was in the cosy sitting room. Mat and Bill left him to speak to his aunt privately. They stepped into the family room, but Crispin's clear English accent rang through the rooms.

‘Aunt Victoria, I'm at another school friend's house. Their name is Grub. It's the road on the left from school. There's a colourful combi van that's parked on the grass next to the road . . . Oh, you've seen it at the shops. Yes, it would be hard to miss . . . I tried to be polite, I truly did, but she made me play dress-ups. I had to wear . . . [these words were uttered in a low and trembling voice, so Mat and Bill didn't hear]. And then she ordered the housekeeper to curtsey to me . . . And the mother is simply awful . . . Yes, yes, I said “please” and “thank you” . . . And I've never met a twelve-year-old before who throws tantrums. She was rolling around on the ground and her face went all red . . . It was because I refused to . . . [the next words were also whispered]. The line has to be drawn somewhere, Aunt Victoria . . .

‘I know it's not the done thing . . . Well, the raw oysters were almost the last straw, Aunt. I simply can't bear them, but she seems to think that the nephew of an earl would eat them for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I nearly puked. And then Isabelle wanted me to do something I didn't and . . . I'm dreadfully sorry, Aunt Victoria. I didn't mean to interrupt your game of Scrabble . . . Yes, yes, I'm sure they won't mind if I wait here for a while. In fact, at school I was given something of a formal invitation to that effect . . . Very well then, Aunt. Yes, I always watch my Ps and Qs. Bye, bye.'

Crispin walked into the family room where Mat and Bill were waiting for him. He looked around with delight.

‘I love this place,' he said. ‘I love everything – the secret garden, that quaint sitting room, and this room here.' Crispin gestured around him to the evidence of the Grub family's creativity and love of life – paints, piles of books, paper, photos, assorted musical instruments (including Tom's didg), the colourful china plates on the kitchen walls, the rows of ruby-red and midnight-purple jams on shelves, and the gleaming copper pots hanging from hooks. ‘It's so fun. Who did the circus mural?'

‘Anyone who wanted to,' explained Mat.

‘Everyone in our two families,' added Bill. ‘You see, Mat and I are neighbours. Plus anyone who dropped in and wanted to pick up a brush. The Grubs are pretty special.'

‘I can see that,' said Crispin.

‘Come and meet everyone,' said Bill.

Out on the verandah, Bill watched the tension in Crispin's face disappear as he took in the relaxed gathering. Matty introduced Crispin to Nan first, ‘This is the boy we were just talking about, Nan. He's called Crispin.'

‘Ah ha,' smiled Nan, ‘I have a good feeling about you, boy. You're a long way from home, but you're also one of us. Welcome to my people's country.'

‘That's Nan's tribal land,' explained Mat.

‘Honoured, I'm sure,' said Crispin and bowed his head.

Nan nodded approvingly.

‘Hey Crispin, grab a pew,' laughed Tom, pointing to a spare chair.

As Crispin sat, Matty continued the introductions to Tessa, Pam, Marguerite, Pip, Tom and Donald.

‘Are you all related?' asked Crispin.

‘Anyone who comes into this home can be part of our family if that's what they want,' said Nan.

‘Pam is Bill's mum, and Marguerite and Pip are good friends of ours,' Donald explained. ‘And you're welcome here whenever you like, Crispin.'

‘And over at our place next door,' offered Pam.

‘So what brought you here tonight?' asked Tessa.

‘He was at Isabelle Farquay-Jones' place and was given a bit of a hard time,' explained Mat in order to save Crispin any embarrassment.

‘Say no more!' said Donald. ‘But your rescue calls for a bit of a celebration, I think. I'm going to break open my latest batch of ginger beer.'

‘And I'll bring out some of my choc-chip biccies,' said Tessa.

‘Give us a song, Tom!' called Nan.

Tom played ‘Bold Jack Donahue' for Nan. Tom was always playing it for Nan because it was one of her favourites.

Oh come now my hearties

We'll roam the mountains high

We'll gallop o'er the plains,

We'll scorn to live in slavery

Bound down with iron chains
.

The song must have meant something very special to Crispin de Floriette because he politely asked Tom if they could sing the song a second time. Bill knew better than anyone else that Crispin was rejoicing in his recent escape from the iron chains of Isabelle Farquay-Jones.

As usual, the Grubs' gift for celebrating life with good food and good cheer meant that Crispin was soon belting out songs, gulping down Donald's ginger beer, eating plenty of Tessa's biscuits and generally behaving as if he'd known everyone for years.

When Uncle Len galloped down the hall, howling and barking to announce Aunt Victoria's arrival at the front door, all three children raced to greet her. Donald walked down the hall calling out, ‘Come in, but mind the hound! I'm Donald. It's lovely to meet you.'

Crispin's aunt stepped inside and said, ‘Something about this place reminds me of my childhood.'

‘The chaos?' suggested Donald, giving her a hearty handshake.

‘Yes. Happy chaos,' said the aunt approvingly.

‘Come and meet everyone on the verandah, Aunt Victoria,' begged Crispin.

‘I really shouldn't impose,' she said brusquely. ‘And I still have my boots on. One of my sheep got through the fence and I took ages to catch him again. Then my Scrabble group arrived and I just forgot to change.'

‘Please join us for a while,' said Donald warmly. ‘Leave your boots on. I've just opened my latest batch of ginger beer to welcome your nephew. I'd appreciate your opinion on my brew.'

‘I do enjoy a bit of brewing, myself, actually,' said Aunt Victoria. ‘Are you partial to dandelion wine?'

‘Very,' said Donald. ‘I think we have a great deal to discuss. Come and join us.'

When Aunt Victoria stepped onto the verandah, Nan shouted, ‘You're the Corriedale sheep lady! I've always wanted to meet you.'

‘And you're the one who has the beautiful natural dyes. I've been wanting to pick your brains,' said Aunt Victoria.

And so continued a very happy night with more feasting, drinking of ginger beer, singing and telling of stories from Nan's Dreamtime to the misty isles of Aunt Victoria's birthplace.