Matty and Bill for Keeps (4 page)

At school the next day, Bill invited Crispin to join him on the oval for a lunchtime game of cricket. Sure enough, Matty's intuition had been right. Crispin might have been short, but he had very strong arms and he kept batting sixes. His sporting prowess won him immediate acceptance with Bill's mates.

Bill knew that Crispin needed the support of the Grade Six boys; it was important for his survival at Dewey Creek Primary. Isabelle Farquay-Jones was not at school that day. But when she returned, she'd be sure to make Crispin's life as miserable as possible. No one had ever walked out on a Farquay-Jones social engagement before.

‘How'd you get away from Isabelle's last night?' asked Bill as he and Crispin sauntered towards the bubblers after the cricket game was over. ‘I mean, you left earlier than you were supposed to, didn't you?'

‘I'm not proud of myself,' said Crispin. ‘In fact, I've never done anything like it in my life.'

‘How come?' asked Bill. ‘Tell me what happened.'

The two boys sat down on a grassy embankment overlooking the oval and Crispin began to explain.

‘You see, Isabelle, her parents and I were sitting at their dining table. It was very formal. Candles and so forth. That poor housekeeper was being treated like a servant, pouring our drinks and being ordered about. Mr and Mrs Farquay-Jones asked me a great many questions. I was coping quite well until the oysters were served. A big plate of them for each of us. I detest oysters. They taste like gristly, slippery tongues. I swallowed two, but I wanted to throw up. Then I started to pretend I was eating them. While I was miming, making my mouth look like I was munching, I was actually filling my pockets with as many oysters as I could fit. Sleight of hand, you see. Mat's right. I'm into magic tricks.'

‘Then?'

‘Then I told Mrs Farquay-Jones a terrible lie – that I very much appreciated her garden; that it reminded me of my uncle Lord Greenthorpe's garden, which had been designed by the famous eighteenth-century English garden designer, Capability Brown. And I asked if I could I see it by moonlight.'

‘Why did you say that?'

‘So I could escape outside and hurl those oysters away.'

‘Did you?'

‘Yes, I did. It was a challenge, of course, because I had Isabelle tagging along. But then things got far worse than pockets bulging with squelchy oysters.'

‘Yuk,' said Bill. ‘How could anything be worse than that?'

‘How about Isabelle Farquay-Jones wanting to kiss you in the moonlight?'

‘Crikey,' said Bill. ‘Did you let her?'

‘Of course not. I have my standards,' said Crispin. ‘But I had to do some quick thinking.'

‘So what did you come up with?' asked Bill.

‘This is what worries me. It might even be a bit illegal,' said Crispin. ‘Promise you won't tell?'

Now Bill knew about promises and how important it was to honour them. He'd once broken a promise he'd made to Matty and the consequences were terrible.

‘I must be straight with you,' said Bill. ‘I do know how to keep a promise, but I have no secrets with Matty. She's my best friend. If I can tell her, then your secret is safe with both of us.'

Crispin hesitated.

‘No pressure,' said Bill, holding his hands wide open. ‘Don't tell me if you're that worried.'

He started to get up from where he was sitting, but Crispin quickly said, ‘I think I need to get it off my chest, actually. And Matty is a kindred spirit.'

‘Shoot, then,' said Bill.

Crispin took a deep breath then began, ‘I told Isabelle that we should play Princess and Evil Knight – that if she let me blindfold her and tie her up to a tree I would kiss her. Isabelle seemed to like the idea. She ran and fetched a whole lot of rope and two of her mother's silk scarves. I used the scarves as the blindfold and to tie her wrists so it wouldn't hurt. Then I got the rope and wound it around and around her and the tree trunk. I tied it really tight with granny knots. She was standing there with her lips all pushed out like a trout's, ready for me to kiss her.' Crispin shuddered at the memory.

‘So what did you do?' asked Bill.

‘By a stroke of good fortune, I still had one oyster squashed into the very bottom of my right pocket. If you took the time to examine an oyster, you would notice that it has the shape, texture and colour of a dead man's lips. So I drew out this oyster and pressed it to Isabelle's lips.'

‘Very clever,' said Bill.

‘Sadly, not clever enough,' said Crispin.

‘Why not?'

‘Isabelle has an acute sense of smell. Her nose twitched and she must have realised she was being tricked. She opened her mouth and lunged at the oyster, almost taking my fingers with it. You see, Isabelle loves oysters. Her parents told me at dinner time that they started getting her used to exotic food as soon as she was on solids. At the age of six months she was eating caviar.'

‘What's that?'

‘Minute fish eggs that people eat on biscuits at cocktail parties.'

‘What's a cocktail party?'

‘Ghastly things.'

‘So your oyster trick failed. What then?' asked Bill.

‘This is the bit I'm ashamed of,' said Crispin, sadly shaking his head. ‘I ran to the house and told Mr and Mrs Farquay-Jones that Isabelle wanted them to meet her at the golden maple in precisely twenty minutes. I think they were having a bit of an argument, so they said they'd be out in about thirty minutes. I said, “Alright”, then I took off. I snuck out the front door, ran down their driveway and down the hill, and I didn't stop till I got to your road. Even then I slunk along the edge ready to dive for cover behind any trees or bushes.'

Bill's eyes were bulging. Never had he heard of a boy doing anything so dangerous. No one would have dreamt of treating Isabelle Farquay-Jones like that and think they could get away with it. He didn't want to frighten Crispin, but Bill knew Crispin was in terrible trouble.

‘I'm glad you told me that,' Bill said as casually as possible. ‘Just in case anything happens, you can depend on me and Mat to support you.'

‘Thanks ever so much,' said Crispin. ‘Truly – heartfelt thanks.'

‘No worries,' said Bill, knowing deep down that there were, in fact, bucketloads of worries.

Sure enough, that very afternoon, as all the kids poured out of their classrooms, a huge, expensive white car glided like a shark into the carpark. Bill instantly recognised the Farquay-Jones' vehicle. He also noticed that Isabelle was not in it – only her parents.

Crispin de Floriette had just walked up to Bill to say goodbye for the day. Bill grabbed Crispin and ducked down behind a large rubbish bin. ‘What's this about?' asked Crispin as he crouched next to Bill.

‘Over there,' said Bill, nodding his head towards the carpark, ‘are Mr and Mrs Farquay-Jones.' Bill carefully peered around the side of the bin. ‘They've got out of their car and are heading for the school office.'

‘What do you think they're going to do?' whispered Crispin, craning around the other side of the bin.

‘They're going to kick up a fuss about you,' said Bill. ‘They did the same about me a few weeks back.' What he didn't say was that if Isabelle's parents had got nasty and threatening about Bill and Matty's fundraising film night, what would they do about Crispin's treatment of Isabelle? Would they call it kidnap and torture?

‘What do you advise me to do?' asked Crispin.

‘Nothing for the moment,' said Bill. ‘Wait until I've spoken with Matty. She'll know how to handle this.'

Back at the Grubs' house after school, Bill told Matty about the grave danger that Crispin de Floriette was in.

‘We need to discuss this further in the Think Tank,' said Matty.

On their way outside, the two friends grabbed a drink and two freshly baked banana muffins. Munching and sipping, they walked down the back verandah stairs and stepped into the sun-warmed bath.

Mat and Bill now had a tin tray attached to the side of the bath for safely holding their snacks as well as a pen and a writing pad for getting ideas down. He and Matty, with help from Donald, had spent a couple of hours on a Saturday afternoon constructing it. The tray worked like one of those old-fashioned metal soap holders you hooked over the side of a bath. It was a bit wobbly, but it didn't fall off.

‘I suppose the worst that could happen would be for the Farquay-Joneses to take legal action,' said Matty, swallowing the last of her muffin.

‘Yes,' said Bill, and then he took a long drink of his fruit juice and placed the glass back onto the tray. ‘But I don't think they'd do anything that drastic. What worries me is that Isabelle will plan a really dreadful revenge.'

‘Crispin definitely needs protection,' said Mat.

‘I thought you'd say that,' said Bill. ‘What should we do?'

‘The first step would be for him to join our club.'

‘But Mat, the club's just for us!' said Bill. For the first time in their friendship, Bill felt a painful stab of jealousy. He even wondered if he should suggest they forget about rescuing Crispin – anything but lose the special bond he had with Matty, the dearest, most precious friend he'd ever had.

‘Bill, you'll always be my best friend,' said Matty, ‘but friendship needs space to grow, and it needs to be shared with others. Otherwise, it'll sort of grow stale. If you don't share what you have, it can die. Humans are made that way.'

‘I just don't know how a club of three would work, that's all,' said Bill, trying not to sound as sour as he felt. ‘I mean, how would we all fit into the Think Tank?'

‘That's a very good question,' said Mat, staring into the leafy water.

‘See, it won't work,' said Bill. ‘There's hardly space in here for the two of us.'

‘I believe I have a solution,' said Mat, suddenly looking up at Bill.

‘Well?' he said.

‘Here's how it will work. You and I are club Life Members. Because Crispin is only here for a few weeks, he'll be an Associate Member. Only Life Members are allowed to meet in the Think Tank. When Associate Members are present, we'll have meetings in other, secret locations.'

Bill felt a wave of relief pass over him. He and Mat were still going to be special. He could certainly allow Crispin to be an Associate Member.

‘So when do we let him know he can join?' asked Bill.

‘Hang on there. He can't join just like that,' said Mat, clicking her fingers.

‘He can't?'

‘Of course not,' said Mat. ‘He has to pass his tests of courage and endurance.'

‘But he needs our help now,' said Bill. ‘He doesn't have time. It took me ages to pass my tests.'

‘We could cut them down from four to three tests,' said Mat. ‘And keep them as simple as possible.'

‘That's a start,' said Bill.

‘Okay, then. Let's have suggestions,' said Mat.

‘Well, some sort of physical endurance test,' said Bill.

‘Got it!' said Mat. ‘A triathlon.'

‘Good one,' said Bill. ‘And follow that with eating something disgusting.'

‘He's just had to do that with oysters,' said Mat, ‘but maybe we could find something almost as bad.'

‘We need a third test,' said Bill.

‘Something that needs guts, like when you had to get past that bully, Freckles McCann, with the bag of lollies,' said Mat.

‘That guy and his gang still hang around the primary school, especially on weekends.'

‘Let's make use of him again, then,' said Mat. ‘How about Crispin has to do anything in his power to give Freckles a fright?'

‘Great!' said Bill.

‘And all of the tests have to be completed in the one day,' added Mat.

‘Even better,' said Bill.

At school the next day, Mat and Bill told Crispin that if he joined their club he would have their complete loyalty and ‘every assistance in the event of trying circumstances' as Mat put it. They all understood that the ‘trying circumstances' were about Isabelle Farquay-Jones.

Crispin said he was ‘honoured to be invited'. When Mat and Bill told him about the tests of courage and endurance, he looked quite excited. ‘That should be interesting,' he said. But the fun turned very serious when, at the end of the morning's lessons, Mrs Townsend asked Crispin to meet her in the Principal's office.

Bill watched Crispin bravely walk off, his back stiff and straight like a soldier, in the direction of the administration block. Then Bill raced off to find Mat. They spent recess hanging about the office door pretending to read a magazine together. Eventually, Crispin emerged looking very shaky.

‘What's going on?' asked Mat.

Crispin swallowed and took a deep breath. ‘Everything's about as bad as it could get.'

‘Isabelle's parents are giving you heaps,' said Bill.

‘Isabelle's parents have informed the police. They want to have a meeting on Monday in the Principal's office with me, Aunt Victoria, the local police officer and their family solicitor,' said Crispin in a small, quiet voice.

Mat and Bill were silent for a moment. Their worst fear was becoming a reality. The Farquay-Jones family had a lot of power. It would be almost impossible to get real justice for Crispin; Isabelle wouldn't have told the whole truth. But even if her parents knew she was fibbing, it wouldn't make a difference. If their daughter was upset, they were upset – no matter what the reason. On top of that, they were used to getting their own way; they would lie their way to victory and, if necessary, they would throw a big, ugly, grown-up-style tantrum to bring down everyone around them.

Mat looked at Crispin's terrified face. She had to think of something encouraging to say. Under these terrible circumstances, her own bank of wisdom was almost empty, but then she remembered something she'd read. She looked deep into Crispin's eyes. ‘Never, never, never, never give up,' she said in a low, slow, deep voice.

Crispin looked at Mat in surprise. ‘Winston Churchill!' he said.

‘Yes,' said Mat. ‘He saved your country in the Second World War by keeping everyone thinking positively.'

Crispin's eyes shone with hope. ‘Indeed!' he said. ‘It looked like poor old England was going to get bombed to smithereens and then taken over, but the English people just wouldn't give in.'

‘There's nothing to fear but fear itself,' added Mat.

‘Was that Churchill, too?' asked Crispin.

‘President Roosevelt,' said Mat. ‘One of the wisest American leaders ever to live.'

Crispin smiled. ‘Thanks, Mat. I'm most fortunate to have made two such friends as you and Bill.'

‘So we will meet at my place on Saturday for the tests?' asked Mat.

Crispin looked bewildered. ‘I still have to do the tests, even though everything's so urgent?'

Mat nodded. ‘It's like an Aboriginal initiation ceremony. It's both purifying and strengthening.'