Riddle Gully Runaway (14 page)

Mr Squeaky sprang forward. ‘I hear you young'uns are in urgent need of a set of rungs. People want a ladder, they straight off think fire truck, when they should be thinking Mr Squeaky!' He handed a business card to Pollo. ‘In case you want to write something in the newspaper,' he said with a wink. Pollo read the card —
Mr Squeaky's Window Washing. Squeaky Clean or Your Money Back. No Job Too Small or Too High
— and tucked it in her pocket. You never knew when a long ladder might come in handy.

Everyone except Wanda and Mayor Bullock helped unload Mr Squeaky's longest extendable ladder. Arms hooked over it, they marched like a giant centipede through the cemetery, Mayor Bullock trailing grudgingly behind. They passed Mrs Turner's grave and crossed the meadow to the forest near the head of the Diamond Jack hiking trail, where the giant red gum spread its knotty branches.

They could hear the ravens cawing as they approached.
Arp-arp-aaah!

The group leaned the ladder against the gnarly trunk and Mr Squeaky tested its hold. It locked firmly.

‘Up you go, Benson,' said Pollo.

Benson quietly shook his head. ‘But what if …' He looked from Pollo to Will. ‘One of you should go.'

From above, they heard the
whoosh-whoosh-whoosh
of wings as the ravens took to the sky.

‘Whoever goes, we'd better be quick,' said Will. ‘We don't want to disturb their nest any longer than we have to.'

‘Okay,' mumbled Benson. ‘I guess I'll go. Like you say, nothing to lose.'

He had just hoisted himself onto the first rung, when Pollo shouted to him. ‘Wait! We need evidence!' She grabbed the camera from Sherri and passed it up to Benson. ‘Good luck!' she whispered.

Nine heads craned as Benson climbed one rung at a time up the ladder. He pulled himself onto the branch and edged along it till he reached the untidy clump of woven sticks, bark, grasses and odds and ends that formed the ravens' nest. For a long time he sat there, quiet as a ghost, on the branch staring out across the cemetery, unable to look inside.

On the ground, Mayor Bullock shuffled impatiently. Everyone else watched Benson in the tree, so breathless and silent you could hear seeds splitting.

‘This is a lot of hoo-ha!' Mayor Bullock snorted. ‘A ruddy waste of —' But the chorus of
shshshsh
! was so fierce he shut his mouth.

Benson looked at the people below who had faith in him; at his gran waving her skinny arms, giving him a double thumbs up. He leaned sideways over the nest … and saw the soft plant and animal fluff, tufts of his uncle's toupée, an old cat collar and glints of the gold and silver jewellery amongst which three speckled ravens' eggs nestled. He smiled, feeling the return from a hiding place deep inside of a weary friend — his old self, the person he wanted to be, the person he knew he was.

In the silvery dusk, Shorn Connery and Ear grazed peacefully behind Mrs Turner's tombstone. Pollo sat on the granite base, half reading a book, half watching the bats from the forest flitting over the cemetery meadow and listening to the ravens bedding down for the night. Suddenly she heard thudding footsteps. She turned to see Will running toward her, waving his mobile.

‘Lucky we bought tickets!' he panted. ‘We just got a text from Benson!'

Pollo took the phone, her smile widening as she read:

Hey Fuzzball & Punk. Life is one scary rollercoaster. Tickets sold out with 3 days to go! Heap $$$ raised already. RAVENS ROCK!!! (and so do you.)

My thanks in the first instance go to Mitch Hart, Clinical Psychologist, for his generous advice on ‘acceptance and commitment therapy' (ACT), the precepts of which gave shape to the theme of the novel brewing in my mind. Thank you also to Professor Van Ikin for his invaluable feedback on the initial draft; and to Gail Spiers for her friendship and endless support which, once again, extended to sharing her deep expertise in creating inspiring curriculum-linked teaching notes. Thank you to the team that is Fremantle Press — in particular Children's Publisher Cate Sutherland, Clive Newman and Claire Miller – for their continued guidance, professional support and faith. Lastly I thank my lively, loving family, especially my mother Margaret Everingham, my helpful and most loyal fan, and husband Dennis, my best bud.

— JB

Jen Banyard is a Western Australian author.
Riddle Gully Runaway
is her third novel, following
Spider Lies
(2009) and
Mystery at Riddle Gully
(2012), both published by Fremantle Press. Jen attended Mount Pleasant Primary and Applecross High schools, and has a PhD in creative writing from the University of Western Australia. Fortunately she has never grown up.