The Crunch Campaign (3 page)

Dear Ms Whiting,

My name is Katie Crisp. I run an advertising agency called Mosquito Advertising, based in Brisbane. We're a bit famous – not just because we're all 13 (except Lorraine, who turned 14 last week), but because we saved the Parfitt Family Soft Drink Company. Maybe you've heard of Parfitt's? But then maybe you haven't, because obviously you don't care much about them. Which is why I'm writing to you.

I think your decision to ban soft drink ads sucks. That's a horrible word and I don't use it often, but it sucks because it's not fair and it won't work. Kids like soft drinks and junk food for all sorts of reasons – not just because they see ads for them. I think if you're allowed to sell something you should be allowed to advertise it. People still smoke and there hasn't been any advertising of cigarettes for years. But that's not my point. Cigarettes kill you and Parfitt's soft drinks don't – unless you drink 20 litres a day and if you do that you've got a problem anyway.

But why is that the Parfitts' problem? They are good people trying to run a business and keep people (like my mother) employed.

Banning ads is unfair to little companies like Parfitt's. Big companies will find clever ways to get their drinks into the hands and down the throats of kids. They will sponsor Under 6 soccer teams and give free stuff to schools and kindies. They'll put their logos on school uniforms. They'll make their drinks cheaper than water, or even give them away free. Parfitt's can't afford to do that. And even if they could, they wouldn't because it's sneaky and they're not sneaky people. Ads are out there. You can choose to believe them or not.

Ms Whiting, it would be really great if I could meet with you. I don't mean to dump on your idea – because I'm sure a lot of work has gone into it – but I think I've got a better one that could help.

Yours sincerely,

Katie Crisp,

Mosquito Advertising

As Katie pressed SEND, she knew her last sentence was a lie, but there was no time to waste. It was unlikely that the prime minister would even see her email, but there was no harm in putting it out there. By the time they heard back,
if
they heard back, they would have come up with an idea.

At six, the car pulled up under the house, but it was a full ten minutes before she heard footsteps in the hall. That was weird – her mum normally came straight up. Katie assumed she was on the phone so she kept on cooking their dinner. She was making a curry out of the leftovers. When her mum finally appeared in the kitchen, her face was grey. Still, she forced a smile when she saw Katie.

‘Hello, love. Did you have a good day? Feel a bit more normal?'

‘Mum, what's up?' asked Katie, although she knew the answer. The ad ban.

Her mother slumped onto a kitchen chair and buried her face in her hands.

‘It's okay, Mum, we're onto it.' Katie wiped her hands on a tea towel and sat down. ‘The government can't do this. They just can't. It's – it's unconstitutional.'

‘I don't think the constitution says much about soft drink ads. And I think it's too late to change anything.'

‘When does the ban start?' Katie rubbed her eyes.

‘First of January.'

‘So we can still do the Christmas ad?'

‘I'm not sure there's much point in making an ad for just one year. We'd need to run it every Christmas for maybe five years to make it worthwhile.' Her mother smiled. ‘We were really looking forward to your ideas. Liam is so excited about the product: the formula's just about perfect. But it looks like that won't matter.'

‘Mum. Nothing's ever wasted. I think we should just keep going. When the drink's ready, we might as well try to sell it. It's only the first week of October, so we've got three months before this stupid ban comes into play. Anything can happen between now and then.' Katie sounded more optimistic than she felt, but her mum seemed to appreciate it.

‘What are you going to do?' her mother asked. ‘Call the prime minister?'

Katie served the curry. ‘Actually, I just emailed her.'

Her mum laughed.

CHAPTER THREE

The following day Katie had to go to school. There was no getting out of it. Her mum seemed to have recovered from her despondency of the night before. At six-thirty she pulled the blankets off Katie as if they were a giant bandaid.

‘Mum!' she shrieked. ‘My body clock's still way out. I was up at two and haven't been back to sleep.'

‘That's probably not true, but even if it is, I don't care. Nothing will get you back to normal like school will. Just the walk there will be good for you. Come on, up you get. I've even made your lunch.'

‘Gee, thanks.' Her mum's packed lunches were even worse than her dinners. She'd put slices of tomato directly onto the bread and turn a sandwich into sloppy pink sludge by first break.

‘I've got to go.' Her mum ruffled her hair. Katie looked at the clock beside her bed. There was still time to make a lunch that'd be edible.

Her mum turned to go, then stopped and came back to sit on her bed. ‘Ah, Katie, there's something I need to tell you.'

Nothing good ever came after those words. ‘Oh, not more bad news, Mum. I can't handle it. Neither can you.'

‘No, it's good news, I think.' Her mum fiddled with the corner of a sheet.

‘Well, tell me. I need to get to school, remember?'

‘Okay. Liam and I are kind of going out.'

Katie gasped. ‘
What?
'

‘We've been seeing each other outside work a bit. While you were away we had dinner and went to the movies a couple of times.'

Katie blinked hard. Liam Parfitt – nice, not bad looking and Lorraine had always thought he'd make a good boyfriend for her mum. ‘But –' She fished around for something to say. ‘Who looked after the kids while you were at the movies?'

‘We left them in the car, of course. Georgie's very grown-up for five.'

‘You what?
Mum!
'

‘I'm joking. Liam's mother looked after them, of course! Anyway, it's no big deal. It's just nice to have him – around. I've been worried about how to tell you, but I thought the best thing was to simply come out with it. Are you okay?'

‘Sure, fine, why wouldn't I be?' Katie spoke too quickly, but her mother didn't notice.

‘Great. Because Liam's bringing the kids over for dinner tonight. They'll be here about six but it won't be a late one, okay?'

‘Huh?'

‘You don't have to cook for everyone, though, so don't worry. Liam says the kids like simple food. I'm sure I can manage sausages and mashed potatoes.'

Katie felt a flicker of relief. With a bit of luck, a terrible meal would put him off.

She got to school just as the bell went. Mrs Sinnamon was waiting like a farmer, anxious to shut the gate after the last sheep. ‘Katie,' she purred. ‘Welcome back.'

‘Thanks.' Katie was out of breath.

‘Make sure you have a drink of water. It's so hot already.'

‘I will.'

‘Did you have a lovely time in New York?'

‘Great, thanks.'

‘Good. I'm glad you've had a chance to get all that creativity out of your system! Now run along. You've got a new home-room teacher to meet. The other girls got acquainted yesterday. But of course, you weren't here.'

‘No,' said Katie. ‘I'd better go.'

‘Have a wonderful day.'

Katie sped off – she'd forgotten that Mrs Devlin was leaving – she was okay, but a bit uptight about tidiness. Maybe the new teacher would be more relaxed.

‘Katie Crisp, lovely to meet you. I'm Ellen Whitby,' said the thin young woman at the front of the classroom, as Katie took her seat. The new teacher was twenty-three, maybe twenty-four, tall and thin with light brown hair pulled into a ponytail. She wore a dust-coloured hessian skirt and a loose cotton blouse. There were brown Crocs on her feet. Katie was wondering how she'd got through Mrs Sinnamon's interview process. The principal of Mary Magdalene wore suits and shoes that looked like they hurt and she expected all her staff to do the same. Ms Whitby must have dressed up for the interview then gone back to normal, Katie figured. Good on her. So she relaxed a bit. In her experience, young teachers wanted to be liked more than the older ones did.

‘I'm sorry I'm a bit late,' she said. ‘I was talking to Mrs Sinnamon.'

‘Well, I could hardly expect you to run away from
that
conversation, could I?'

The class giggled.

‘No,' said Katie. Maybe this term she might have an ally in the staff room. That would be handy.

Katie's strategy at school for the final term of year 9 was to fly under the radar. As long as she passed everything, she could conserve her time and energy for Mosquito Advertising. It was all about efficiency.

The day passed uneventfully, but she was as happy as ever when the bell rang.

‘Remember, girls,' Ms Whitby said over the chatter, ‘this is an important term and it could be a stressful one for some of you, so if you need to talk – about anything – please see me. I'm a good listener.'

Katie stuffed her books into her bag and shoved her way past the knots of girls who mooched their way to the bus stops and their parents' cars. She could never understand why they hung around school for more than a second longer than they had to.

She was fishing for her front door key when Clementine called her name from the front gate.

‘Hi,' she called back. ‘You poor thing, you've had
two
days at school – I can't believe your mum didn't give you some jetlag leave.'

Clementine followed her up the stairs. She came from a long line of school captains and academic geniuses, but had the soul of an artist. When she first moved into Dover Street, Katie found her calm unnerving, but now she relied on it.

‘Oh, I'm okay,' said Clementine as they walked into the house. ‘Two of my brothers were home yesterday. If I hadn't gone to school they would have hassled me about why I spent my spare time in New York cruising round the galleries rather than visiting the United Nations headquarters.'

‘Pity. We needed you yesterday.' Katie sat on her bed, untied her shoes and peeled off her socks. Nothing felt better than bare feet on cool floorboards.

‘I know. Joel told me all about it last night.'

Katie raised her eyebrows. She wondered, not for the first time, if there was anything going on between those two. Not that it bothered her, but it would upset Lorraine and that would be disruptive. ‘Mum's really upset about it. She and Liam Parfitt think this'll be the end of the company.'

‘And what do you think?' Clementine looked out the window as Katie pulled on her grandad's old army shorts.

‘I don't know what I think,' she said. ‘Except that the ban's stupid and we can't let it happen.'

‘Any ideas?'

‘Not yet. But give me a minute.' She grinned as she heard Lorraine arguing with Joel and Dominic out at the front gate. She charged back out to the veranda.

‘Hey!' she yelled. ‘Go down the side. We'll meet you out in the tree office. Clem's here, too.'

It felt good to have everyone back together again. New York seemed like years ago, rather than days. This was Brisbane, but it was real and, much as she'd loved the States, Katie knew that she had to file the experience away and get down to business. ‘Right,' she said, ‘we're all stressed about this ridiculous advertising ban, but we need to forget it for a bit.'

‘Forget about it?' Joel crammed a fistful of Barbecue Shapes into his mouth. ‘That's like telling a condemned man to forget about the firing squad. Get real, Kato.'

‘We've got until January 1 and Mum and Liam Parfitt are going to keep on keeping on –'

As Joel laughed, he sprayed the meeting with crumbs. ‘Yeah, I heard they were
on
. Mum told me. She says Liam was here all the time while we were away.'

‘Shut up, Joel. They work together, so why wouldn't he come over?' Katie ignored the smug grin on Lorraine's face. ‘Besides, Parfitt's isn't our only client. Barkers needs attention too. Lorraine, have you had a chance to talk to Andy?'

‘Sure have. I dropped in last night,' chirped Lorraine. ‘And he's as happy as a chihuahua in Chanel. Sales are up and he thinks he might have raised enough money to put our little ad on TV. It went great guns on the net.'

‘Cool.' Katie grinned. It was nice to have a happy client. ‘Do they need anything else?'

‘Andy thinks a radio campaign would be good. He wants to use the song from the ad.'

‘That shouldn't be a problem,' said Katie. ‘Can you ask Jasmine's brothers? They might want some pocket money.'

‘Yeah, right. They'll be down to their last million.' Their friend Jasmine's brothers were The Flying Foxes, one of Australia's most successful bands. Lorraine beamed – she loved celebrities. ‘Okey dokey. I'll email them now.'

‘The next thing we need to think of is a name and a slogan for this Christmas line.' Katie tapped her pen on the pad balanced on her knees.

‘How about “Parflop”?' suggested Joel. ‘The slogan can be
Ho Ho Hope we're still around next Christmas
.'

Katie ignored him. Joel had to get his attitude out of his system.

‘Can we taste it?' said Dominic. ‘That might get us thinking.'

‘Mum said she'd have samples soon. I think they're still tweaking the formula.'

‘They're going to ban it anyway, so they could put dishwashing liquid in it and it wouldn't matter.' Joel was flying. ‘New Parfitt's apple and detergent flavour.'

‘They're not banning the drink, just the ads, you turkey, and even that isn't final yet.' Katie could feel her irritation turning to anger.

‘Of course it's final,' he said. ‘The prime minister said it on national television. Do you think she's going to change her mind?'

Katie struggled for a response.

‘I
know
she might,' Lorraine shouted from the computer. ‘Check this out. There's an email from the prime minister!'

‘What?' Katie jumped to her feet.

‘Look.' Lorraine rolled her chair back so the others could see the screen.

Dear Katie,

Thanks for your email. As you say, tackling childhood obesity is a complicated challenge. I am always interested to hear about any new strategy – especially yours. I will be in Brisbane Wednesday next week. I wonder if you would be able to meet with me. After school would be best, wouldn't it? I will be at Government House for a dinner that evening. I could meet you just before – could you be there at 6pm? You bring the Parfizz and I'll make sure there are carrot sticks!

Yours truly,

The Honourable Clara Whiting

Prime Minister of Australia

‘That's got to be a joke,' said Joel.

‘Doesn't look like it.' Dominic turned to Katie. ‘When did you contact her?'

‘Last night,' she whispered. ‘I didn't know what I was doing. I was jetlagged!'

‘What's your idea, though?' Clementine tilted her head to one side. ‘How come you didn't tell us?' There was no accusation in her voice; she sounded impressed.

Katie backed away from the computer as if it was an unexploded bomb and stumbled onto a bean bag. ‘I don't have one. I literally have no idea.'

In her office at the Parfitt Family Soft Drink Company, Vanessa Crisp stared at the piles of papers on her desk and wondered why, with computers, there was still so much paper around. Weren't they meant to do away with paperwork? Parfitt's was still an old-fashioned company, though. More than sixty people worked for them, but there were only three computers in the place – hers, Liam Parfitt's and Marjorie's. She ran despatch.

It was harder to be the general manager of a small company than a big one, she thought. Not that she'd know – she'd never worked anywhere but Parfitt's. Lovely old Pat Parfitt had offered her a job when she'd dropped out of university after Katie was born. It wasn't really what she'd wanted to do, but she was happy to have a job in a place where the people were nice and didn't mind a baby in the corner. So she'd stayed and become part of the company, helping Pat Parfitt with everything from organising label printing to invoicing suppliers. Things changed when Parfizz started selling again. There was a pay rise and with Pat's son, Liam, they were turning the company around. Finally work had become more than just a job. But now this ad ban. From a government that claimed it supported small business. Vanessa put her head in her hands.

‘Hi.' Liam Parfitt was suddenly in the doorway, looking as if he'd been up all night.

‘You've got Weet-Bix on your shirt,' said Vanessa.

‘It was porridge this morning.' He grinned.

One of the things Vanessa liked most about Liam was that he always seemed to be in a good mood. Like his father Pat, he seemed to have missed out on the grumpy gene. ‘I'm amazed you can see me behind all this,' she said, waving a hand over the bulging in trays. ‘I thought computers were meant to put an end to this kind of mess.'

Liam shrugged. ‘I've bought you a present.'

‘A secretary?'

‘No. Something better.' From behind his back he produced a bottle containing a green and red swirly liquid. In his other hand he held two glasses with ice. Using his forearms, he cleared a space on the desk. He pulled a bottle opener from the back pocket of his jeans.

‘Merry Christmas,' he said.

‘Er – it's October,' said Vanessa. ‘And this could be the last drink Parfitt's ever produce. I don't know if I feel like celebrating.'

‘Well, if that happens, let's go out with a bang, not a whimper.' He poured and Vanessa watched, amazed as it fizzed and swirled then settled again into its green and red diagonal stripes.