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Authors: Kerrie O'Connor

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BOOK: Through the Tiger's Eye
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They didn’t stop until they were safe inside the tunnel. Rahel spoke breathlessly, too excited to wait until she had stopped panting.

‘She is very pleased with our idea. She says she will help. She will put the medicine in his food herself! She says the fish is the Commander’s favourite, but soon his fish soup will have extra seasoning!’

‘But we haven’t even got the drugs yet. Besides, can we trust her?’ worried Lucy. ‘Remember, she is working for the Bulls.’

‘The Tiger-cat thinks we can trust her,’ said Rahel calmly. ‘And she told me she has much anger towards the Bulls. They make her work for them. She says the Bulls have torn the heart out of the village. They have taken all the teenagers and the adults to another Bull camp. There are only small children and old people left. On their own, the old people must find food for all the children, and feed the Commander and the militia. Everyone is very scared of the Commander. They do not know what to do. They want their grandchildren to go to school again. She says the Commander closed down the school and put the teacher in jail.’

‘Drastic! What about you guys? Does Bucket Lady know your parents are rebels?’

‘Yes, the whole village knows. She said that some of them hate us too.’

‘Why! You haven’t done anything to them.’

‘Yes, but they blame the rebels for making the Bulls angry. They say if the rebels stopped fighting, the Bulls would stop making the children work.’

‘Is that true?’

‘I do not think so. They make much money out of us.’

‘But if your parents had not joined the rebels, you might still be at home.’

Lucy sensed Rahel’s anger, even before she had finished speaking.

‘My mama and papa joined the rebels after many innocent people were taken away. After Carlos’ mama and papa were killed, they knew things had gone too far. I am proud of them.’

‘Look, I didn’t mean it was your parents’ fault or anything . . . I just meant . . .’

‘Of course it was not their fault,’ Rahel said coldly.

Then they had reached the pit and there didn’t seem much point saying anything else.

‘Bye,’ said Lucy, but Rahel veered off towards the camp without replying. Then T-Tongue charged up the path, almost exploding with excitement to see Lucy. That was the best thing about T-Tongue: nothing she could ever say or do would ever offend him. Had she blown it for good with Rahel? It was bad enough having Carlos so touchy. But as she walked towards the glowing kitchen she could have sworn she heard a faint ‘beep beep’ waft on the warm evening air.

That night she was so tired she almost fell asleep in Grandma’s meatballs. The only reason she didn’t was that Grandma started going on about how she had seen something horrible on the news – something about the jails in the desert, where the boat people were kept. Lucy lifted her head. Something about people’s lips being sewn together.

‘Gross!’ said Ricardo. ‘How do they eat?’

Grandma said the boat people were doing it to themselves.

‘Why?’ Lucy was flabbergasted.

‘Well, I only heard what their lawyer had to say,’ Grandma answered. ‘He said they think no one listens to them, so they may as well sew up their lips. Some of them are only teenagers, not much older than yourself, Lucy.’

Lucy put down her knife and fork, met Ricardo’s eyes across the table, and felt her mind glow white-hot like a Christmas tree again. There was no way the kids from Telares were going to end up in one of those jails in the desert. Not after what they’d been through. Ricardo’s eyes grew big and there was no need for words. Slowly he nodded.

The Telarians must never be captured.

39
Rug Games

Lucy, sleeping in after the night’s adventure, was shocked awake by a screaming Ricardo.

‘It’s alive!’

He dived onto her bed.

‘The snake. It’s got skin!’ and scrambled under the blankets.

‘Sshh! Grandma will hear!’

‘She’s at the chooks. That thing’s got skin!’

‘Sure, and the tiger’s growing fur,’ replied Lucy, yawning. She swung out of bed, placing both feet on the tiger – and yelled as loudly as Ricardo. Her toes had sunk deliciously, deeply, into burnt-orange fur, punctuated in charcoal and white. Wonderingly, Lucy traced the outline of the tiger with her toe. Rich, soft fur was inviting her to curl up in a ball and dream tigerish dreams.

Lucy pushed a pile of clothes off the monkey. Its golden fur was much brighter and softer than before. She cleared more clothes and faced the python squarely. Its gold diamonds glowed and pulsed before her eyes if she stared at it for a long time, but when she blinked the effect was gone. From certain angles, if she turned to face it quickly enough, it even seemed to move. The scales looked smooth. She stretched out her toe and her skin met the cool discipline of snake skin. Gross!

Lucy jumped back and landed on the elephant’s jewelled trunk, leathery, rough and smooth. She ran the tip of her finger over the red jewel in the centre of its forehead. It was lustrous, and ungiving as glass.

What about the bat? Its wings looked like skeleton hands with leather stretched over them, but its back . . . Lucy touched fur, soft as the fox stole at the bottom of Grandma’s wardrobe.

The rug wasn’t just growing itself new again. It was growing itself
alive
.

Ricardo broke into her thoughts. ‘We’ve got to give the stuff to the old lady.’

Ten minutes later they were boarding the bus. As they climbed the stairs Grandma handed up sandwiches and reminded them to go to the library first because she needed a book. They sat up the back and Lucy filled in Ricardo about last night. He kept repeating her words.

‘Bucket Lady had a big fish?’

‘Yep.’

Then they were jumping off at the Little Flower Nursing Home. They ran as fast as they could, arriving out of breath at the great wooden doors and stone steps. No Blue Uniform. They looked at each other.

Just do it.
Silent personal jinx.

They walked quietly in and followed their noses around winding corridors to the old lady’s room, number 33. Right number, wrong room. The funny sling for her leg was gone and the sunlight melted on an empty, perfectly made bed. No jellybeans.

‘We’ll have to ask Blue Uniform.’

‘No way!’

‘We have to! C’mon! She’s still got your skateboard, remember. You left it in her safe.’

Ricardo went pale and started tiptoeing up the hall. Blue Uniform had that effect. They’d almost reached the corner leading to her office when Lucy heard a sound that sent her dodging for cover.

‘. . . aware it’s short notice but there was no other option, I’m afraid. It’s a rather delicate financial matter.’ Nigel Scar-Skull!

They heard Blue Uniform’s booming voice.

‘Regardless, I must express my absolute displeasure at how this business was conducted. Most irregular. Mrs Hawthorne was making sound progress here. With a bit of family support, she would have been ready to
go home
in a few weeks. If she really had to go elsewhere, surely it could have waited a few days. As a professional in this field for forty years, I feel obliged to warn you she simply may not receive the care she requires in that establishment. In all my days, I have never seen a transfer handled so abruptly, and I must say, I hope I never do again. Mrs Hawthorne was in no condition for the sort of stress she faced this morning. Most upset, she was, Mr Adams, and I hope you have learned something from the experience. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .’

Wow! Lucy felt the advance of heavy, angry strides and tried to sink into the wall of the corridor. Something jabbed her back. A door handle. She grabbed Ricardo’s hand and they slipped into a dark space, just as the footsteps rounded the corner. Lucy held the door open a crack and watched Nigel Scar-Skull retreat towards the front door. His entire skull and the back of his neck were as red as one of Grandma’s prize tomatoes.

‘I don’t think Nigel Scar-Skull likes Blue Uniform very much,’ whispered Ricardo.

‘I don’t think Blue Uniform likes Nigel Scar-Skull very much,’ whispered Lucy.

Then she felt something
she
didn’t like very much. More heavy footsteps. She shrank into the shadows. It didn’t help. The door was wrenched open, revealing an ample shape.

‘You will come to understand: there is nothing, repeat nothing, that takes place in this establishment, that escapes my attention, least of all the patter of little feet. I’ve had just about all I care to put up with this morning.’

A red-cardiganed forearm snapped on the light to reveal five brooms, four mops, three huge vacuum cleaners and two kids.

‘But I must say I am very glad to see you! Come this way, please.’

Lucy and Ricardo couldn’t quite believe that Blue Uniform was smiling at them. A minute later they were in her office, Ricardo was clutching his skateboard again and Lucy held an envelope bearing, in flowery script the words:

Ricardo and
Lucía
.

‘Mrs Hawthorne asked me to keep that letter safe and give it to you when you came,’ boomed Blue Uniform. ‘She did not have time to finish it, but she asked me to tell you to open the other things.’ Blue Uniform sniffed disapprovingly. ‘She did not explain
what other things
because she said you would understand. She said to look after Angel and the others. Do you know anyone called Angel?’

‘No.’

‘Yes.’

‘Maybe.’

As they followed the red rug outside, Lucy’s head was spinning. How long had the old lady known about Angel and the others? How did she know Lucy was short for
Lucía?
It sounded like Loo-see-a, that’s how they said it in Portugal, and it was her real name but only Dad called her that. And how did Blue Uniform hear their footsteps from so far away when they were tiptoeing on thick carpet?

Ricardo must have been thinking along similar lines.

‘I bet she doesn’t know U-furrier jumped in the old lady’s window,’ he said hopefully.

Loo-see-a wasn’t so sure.

40
The Pattern

Grandma was delighted when Lucy handed over the book she had got from the library:
So You Think You’re a TV Quiz Master? 1000 Brain Teasers for Fun and Profit
. She sent them off for the rest of the afternoon, telling them not to worry about cleaning up their room. She’d been going psycho about it until she saw the book.

Now Lucy and Ricardo sat with the other kids around the campfire, with the leather pouch and two envelopes propped up like forensic evidence on the flat kitchen rock.

‘Mrs Hawthorne knew my name was Lucía,’ said Lucy, ‘but only Dad calls me that, ever!’

‘The Tiger-cat,’ said Pablo simply.

‘The Tiger-cat’s never seen Dad!’

‘The Tiger-cat is playing games with your mind,’ said Carlos, sounding pleased.

‘It hunts your thoughts like mice,’ smiled Rahel. She seemed to have got over whatever had been bugging her last night.

At that moment, the striped thought-hunter strolled in, relaxed and confident. It jumped up on the kitchen rock, next to the exhibits and looked expectantly at the kids.

‘Open them!’

Lucy tore open the small envelope, took out a thin sheet covered in loopy handwriting, and read aloud:

My dear Ricardo and Lucía,
By the time you read this I will be a long way from Kurrawong. I was very much looking forward to our next discussion but circumstances outside my control have intervened. I have so much to tell you. I cannot risk this information falling into the wrong hands, so will not go into detail. Euphoria has kept me informed. You have been very brave and you must be even braver. Forever Telares! The contents of my pig may be of some use to you. Now you must open the chest and

The sentence was incomplete, as though Mrs Hawthorne had been interrupted. Lucy flipped the note over but found nothing but a blank page. They must open the chest and what? And what was that about a pig?

‘This old lady, she is one of us,’ announced Carlos triumphantly. ‘I told you we should get all these old ladies to help us.’

Everyone sat opened-mouthed at that.

‘You didn’t even want Bucket Lady to help until the Tiger-cat slapped you! You were discrurnimating against her,’ said Ricardo, ever the diplomat.

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