Selby's Secret (8 page)

“Poor Mrs Trifle,” Selby thought as he lay alone in the house curled up in the bean bag watching
The Lucky Millions Quiz Quest.
“It really isn't fair. She works so hard. If only I could earn a lot of money and give it to her. Then she could have a proper holiday.”

No sooner were these words out of his mouth than Larry Limelight, the compere of
The Lucky Millions Quiz Quest
said something that made Selby leap to his feet: “And now,” Larry screamed, flashing a set of teeth that looked like the keys of a concert grand piano, “we have a super-duper special for all you folks at home. This new feature is called the Special
Viewers' Phone-in Holiday History Question. The first person to phone in the correct answer to this question will win a holiday for two on a yacht on the Barrier Reef. Listen carefully now,” Larry said, lowering his voice nearly to a whisper. “The question is: what country did Napoleon crown himself king of in 1804?”

“I know it! I know it!” Selby yelled as he ran to the phone and dialled
Lucky Millions,
thinking all the while about the TV program he had seen three weeks before called
Napoleon: the Long and the Short of Him.

Selby listened as the phone rang and he watched Larry Limelight on TV picking up the receiver.

“The answer,” Selby said coolly before Larry Limelight could open his mouth, “is … nothing.”

Selby watched the compere's smile fade.

“I'm terribly sorry,” the man said, “your answer is incorrect. But thank you for being a sport. We'd like to send you a special
Lucky Millions
T-shirt —”

“Hold your T-shirt, Larry,” Selby said. “Napoleon didn't become king of anything in
1804. He became
emperor
of France in 1804 and king of Italy in 1805.”

Larry Limelight read the card in his hand and flashed a blinding smile.

“Yes!” he screamed. “You've got it! You've just won a glorious trip for two to the fabulous Barrier Reef on the yacht of your dreams. Now could I please have your name?”

“Name (gulp) … ah, er … let's see now,” Selby said.

“We have to have your name to send you the tickets,” Larry Limelight said with a laugh.

“Well … of course,” Selby said. “This is Dr Trifle of number five Bunya-Bunya Crescent, Bogusville.”

“Way out there in Bogusville!” the compere said. “That's great!”

“Yes, and while you're about it, could you please include my dog on these tickets. Mrs Trifle and I never travel without our dog,” Selby said, adding, “he's a wonderful dog and we just wouldn't know what to do —”

“No worries,” Larry Limelight said, putting the phone down. “The man never travels without his dog. Isn't that great? Now let's get on with the show!”

“I did it!” Selby screamed as he danced around the room. “I blinkin' well did it!” and then he started singing the
Lucky Millions
theme song:

The next day Selby looked out the front window in time to see a man with the
Lucky
Millions
crest on his blazer tramp through a bed of petunias on the way to the house.

“Uh-oh, what's this?” Selby said, feeling lucky that Mrs Trifle was out at a council meeting and Dr Trifle was at the Bogusville Memorial Rose Garden working on the floral clock. “Why is he coming here? I thought they were going to
send
the tickets.”

“Dr Trifle!” the man called out, pounding his fist on the front door. “Open up! I have your holiday tickets.”

“Slide them under the door,” Selby called back.

“You can't have the tickets till you sign the form.”

“What form?” Selby asked. “Nobody said anything about a form.”

“It's the one that says that
Lucky Millions
isn't responsible if the yacht sinks and you drown. Just a formality, of course. Now open up please, I've got to get back to the city.”

“I can't open the door,” Selby said, searching the corners of his brain for reasons why he couldn't open the door.

“Why not?”

“The house is under quarantine,” Selby said, putting on a raspy voice. “I have (mumble mumble) fever and no one's allowed to come near me.”

“What kind of fever?” the man asked.

“I have,” Selby shouted and then he let his voice drop again and he put a paw over his mouth, “(mumble mumble) fever.”

“I still can't hear you. It sounds like
mumble mumble
fever.”

“It's doodlyboop fever,” Selby said, “and it's very catching.”

“I've never heard of doodlyboop fever.”

“Most people who hear of it are dead by dinnertime,” Selby said. “Just push the blinkin' paper under the door and I'll sign it.”

“I can't get it under,” the man said, crumpling the paper as he tried. “There's not enough room.”

“Okay. I'll open the door and go into my study. Just give the paper to my dog and he'll bring it to me,” Selby said. “But I warn you, don't set foot in the house if you know what's good for you.”

Selby unlocked the door and let the breeze blow it slowly open.

“Here you go, mutt,” the man said, thrusting the paper into Selby's mouth and giving him a good slap on the behind as he turned to go. “Get that stupid man to sign the thing. I've got to get cracking. It's a long way back to civilisation.”

Selby dashed into the darkened study, hopped on the chair and turned on the desk lamp to read the small print on the form.

“Mutt, schmutt,” Selby said, angry at the slap on the behind and at the man calling Dr Trifle stupid. “Well the form seems all right. I'll just sign it and get rid of him.”

Selby signed the paper using his best imitation of the doctor's handwriting. He had folded it and put it in his mouth when suddenly the shadow of the
Lucky Millions
man fell across the desk.

“Hey!” the man said. “What's going on here? Where's Dr Trifle?”

Selby turned his head slowly and looked at the man.

“In a second,” he thought, “he'll know that Dr Trifle isn't here. In another second he'll know the horrible truth: that I'm the only reading, writing and talking dog in all of Australia and — as far as I know — in the world. This could be my last second of freedom. I've got to act fast.”

The man snatched the paper from Selby's mouth just as Selby's paw hit the button on the desk lamp and cast the room into darkness. Before the man's eyes could adjust to the dark, Selby yelled, “Get out of here, you fool! Get out before my dog rips you to pieces!”

Selby growled and sank his teeth into the man's leg as he ran out of the study and straight out the front door and through the petunias.

“Help! Call off your dog!” the man cried as he leaped into his car, throwing the envelope with the tickets in it out the window as he sped away.

“Silly man,” Selby said, spitting out a piece of pants and picking up the envelope. “Why do people insist on making life so difficult?”

“This is all very odd,” Dr Trifle said to Mrs Trifle as they stood on the pier waiting for the yacht to come and take them out to the Barrier Reef. “I still don't see how we won these tickets.”

“I told you. It was just luck,” Mrs Trifle said, feeling a little tired after the long flight from Bogusville. “I found a note in the letterbox with the tickets telling us all about it. Apparently they picked our names out of a hat. The point is,” she said, patting the smiling Selby, “when you need things, somehow they happen. We both needed a holiday and here we are.”

“My heavens,” Dr Trifle said, watching as a beat-up boat pulled into the pier. “What a
funny-looking old thing that is. I wonder when our dream yacht will be along.”

“At your command,” the captain said, jumping ashore and saluting Mrs Trifle as she tried to shake his hand. “This is the
Golden Doldrum
and I'm your driver, Slick Slipway.”

“But … but … but,” said Dr Trifle, wondering why the deck was filled with rows of seats just like a city bus, “we're waiting for the yacht of our dreams. Surely this can't be it. This is rather more like a … er … nightmare, if you don't mind my saying so.”

“If you're the people who won
The Lucky Millions Quiz Quest
Magic Dream Cruise then I'm your man and this is your yacht,” Captain Slipway said, shaking the hand of Dr Trifle who, in his confusion, was trying to salute.

“But where are the other passengers?” Mrs Trifle asked. “And where's the crew?”

“There aren't any, and you're looking at him,” Captain Slipway said, answering both questions in one sentence and polishing the metal part on the front of his cap — which wasn't a captain's hat but the one he used to wear when he drove the 275 bus. “Now hop on
and move to the rear of the boat. Next stop Nothing Lagoon,” he added as Selby jumped aboard.

“All right,” Dr Trifle said. “You
are
going to take us to the Dolphin Research Station on Dolphin Island, I trust. My old friend Dr Septimus C. Squirt is expecting us.”

“All in good time,” said Slick. “My instructions are to take you to Nothing Lagoon first. That's the route and there'll be no arguments. Leave the brain work to me. Just sit back and have a rest.”

Nothing Lagoon was a pond in the middle of a tiny island shaped like a doughnut with a bite out of it. The island was called Nothing Atoll. Captain Slipway steered the
Golden Doldrum
into the middle of the lagoon and turned around and started out.

“Hold on, just a minute,” Mrs Trifle said. “Aren't we going to dock?”

“You mean stop?” Slick said, making no attempt to do so. “I'm sorry. You didn't pull the cord so we didn't stop. Those are the rules,” he said, pointing to a long list of rules that hung from the back of his driver's seat.

“You mean we're just going to sail in and sail out?” Dr Trifle asked.

“I'm just the driver. I don't make the rules,” said Slick. “Next stop Pipe Dream Island. Next stop, that is, if you remember to pull the cord.”

No sooner were they away from Nothing Atoll than the engine of the
Golden Doldrum
suddenly gave out and wouldn't start again.

“What do we do now?” asked Dr Trifle who was feeling slightly seasick as well as angry.

“We rig the sails,” said Slick.

“Who, exactly, is
we
?” asked Mrs Trifle.

“Well it's not me,” said the captain, trying once again to start the engine.

“Well it's not us either,” Dr Trifle said. “We're the passengers. We don't work.”

“I'm the driver. I don't work either,” Slick said, remembering how easy it used to be when the 275 bus broke down and he called the depot for another bus. “Now hop to it, we're falling behind schedule.”

For the next three hours Dr and Mrs Trifle dashed about hauling halyards and lacing lanyards while Captain Slipway called out orders and the
Golden Doldrum
sailed towards Pipe Dream Island.

“If that old sea-dog yells at me one more time,” Dr Trifle said to Mrs Trifle, wondering whether it had been good luck or bad luck to win the Magic Dream Cruise (and not knowing that it was neither), “we'll just have to tell him to turn around and take us back to port.”

“Sea-dog, schmee-dog,” muttered Selby as he crawled under a copy of the
Bogusville Banner
and secretly read the weather report. “Hmmmmmmmm. If this weather map means what I think it does we're in for a storm any minute now.”

“Pull that rope!” Slick yelled, having a very good time of it now. “Bring that wooden thing around to the other side and don't hang so far over the front!”

Just then the storm hit and Dr and Mrs Trifle — who were hanging over the bow — were knocked into the water at the same instant that Slick's glasses were knocked onto the deck.

“Stop! Help!” the Trifles yelled as the boat sailed past. “Throw us a line — I mean, a rope!”

“I'm sorry,” Captain Slipway called back, seeing four blurry people waving in the waves where there should have been only two, and not
recognising any of them. “The next bus will be along in a few minutes. We're full-up. Now where did those glasses go?” he added, feeling around on the deck.

Selby watched as the Trifles drifted into the distance, knowing that Slick wouldn't be able to sail the
Golden Doldrum
back to them all by himself even if he could find his glasses.

“This whole disaster is my fault,” he thought. “I never should have answered the Special
Viewers' Phone-in Holiday History Question. I only wanted to send these dear, sweet people on a holiday and now look what I've done. I've got to do something quick even if it means giving away my (gulp) secret”

Selby walked up to Slick and stood on his hind legs with his paws on his hips.

“All right, Slick,” he announced. “This is an emergency and I'm taking over. Your passengers have fallen overboard and you and I are going to sail back — I mean, drive back — and save them. You just hold tight to the steering wheel till we're ready to come about — I mean, turn around”

“Twin talking dogs,” Slick said, holding tight to the wheel. “They must be on the wrong bus”

Selby rushed around the deck pulling pulleys and shortening sheets.

“Hard to starboard! Ready to come about!” Selby yelled at the bewildered captain. “I mean, make a U-turn!”

Slick stuck out his arm and signalled a right turn and soon was sailing back towards the Trifles with Selby yelling, “A little to the right!” and “More to the left!”

In a few minutes, Dr and Mrs Trifle were climbing on board.

“Thank goodness you've saved us,” Mrs Trifle said, wiping her face with a towel. “I was afraid you were going to sail off without us.”

“Don't thank me,” Slick said. “Thank those two talking dogs over there.”

Dr Trifle looked around at Selby who was lying on the
Bogusville Banner
reading the latest episode of
Wonderful Wanda.

“Two talking dogs, was it?” Mrs Trifle said, picking up Slick Slipway's glasses and handing them to him. “Put these on and maybe you'll see them more clearly. Now let's get going. Dr Squirt is waiting for us.”

“Just as well they had an old sea-dog like me around,” Selby thought.