Puppy Pie (7 page)

Shoving the thermos at Harry, she says. ‘Come on, Harry. No lolling about. Ted's out there working. And you should be too.'

‘But it's not even eight o'clock yet, Shirley,' he says surprised at her brusque manner.

‘By the time you get yourself together, it'll be time for lunch,' she tells him slapping him on the back.

‘Yeah, she's right, Dad,' Lucy says rapidly. ‘Come on, I'll, er, carry your thermos. And your lunch,' she says grabbing both as she runs out the door. ‘Come on, Dad,' she calls back.

‘Women,' Harry mumbles. ‘I don't know. Well, better be off, I guess,' he shrugs as he bends down to kiss Helen on the top of her head. As he walks through the swinging screen door, that same head falls gently onto the kitchen table.

‘Phew!' exclaims Jake. ‘That was close.'

‘A bit too close if you ask me,' Tom remarks. ‘We can't have Dad worrying about Mum as well as everything else: he couldn't cope.'

Shirley nods vigorously. ‘My thoughts exactly, Tom.' As usual, Shirley gently shakes Helen awake, leads her into the main bedroom and covers her up with a light quilt.

‘At least there's nothing medically wrong with her. We whizzed into town to the doctor yesterday when she woke up. And he's given her a clean bill of health.'

‘How do you know?' Gull asks looking concerned.

‘He ran some tests through urgently and he sent Helen an SMS while you were all having breakfast.'

‘Well, that's good news,' Lucy says very relieved.

‘But what's wrong with her?' Tom asks as he sits down with a fresh pot of tea.

Shirley sighs. ‘Well, he says the symptoms are like some sort of sleeping sickness but milder. I told him she sleeps from eight in the morning until four p.m., and then she's as bright as a button until bedtime.'

About the same hours Harry spends harvesting
, Gull thinks.

‘The blood tests were clear,' Shirley says. ‘The doctor says Helen's in excellent health so we shouldn't be alarmed.'

‘Easy for him to say,' Lucy says as she fills her cup. ‘It's been a week now. And all Mum does, every day, is fall sleep. If it wasn't for you, Shirley …' Lucy can't finish the sentence. She takes a big gulp of tea.

Shirley gives her a hug. ‘I know it's difficult for you all. And strange! And a bit frightening,' she adds quietly.

‘It's almost as if someone is singing her to sleep,' Lucy says quietly. Nobody seems to hear her, except for Gull.

‘Now listen,' Shirley tells them, ‘we've got to have a plan. So far, we've been able to get Harry out of the house just before Helen falls asleep. But with Ted and Jimmy on other farms, he might start hanging around the kitchen longer.'

‘Mmm,' Tom says. ‘I think you're right. But what can we do, Shirley?' Four faces turn to her hopefully.

‘I don't know what to do,' she says shrugging her shoulders. ‘I just don't know.'

‘We'll have to come up with something, and before tomorrow morning too. Our luck's bound to give out eventually,' Jack says

‘There's a challenge,' Gull quips, trying to smile. ‘Ah, Tom, what was that you said about being bored?' The others turn and stare at him.

‘Oh, he's always bored,' Jake laughs.

‘Think I'd rather be bored,' Tom grumbles.

‘Well, you're about to be,' Shirley says.

‘What do you mean?' Tom asks suspiciously.

Shirley gives a half smile. ‘As you know, Helen's quite psychic. And I think she's picking up on something going on. But because she's falling asleep, which is most unusual for her, she can't give us any clues as to what's going on.'

‘Is that what she does? Gives us clues?' Gull asks intrigued.

‘Usually,' Shirley says. ‘She either gets the same words running around in her head. Or she gets a feeling. Or she has a dream. However, if she's asleep, she can't tell us what she thinks or feels. So,' she says slowly, ‘I think the best idea is to take turns keeping an eye on her.'

‘What? When she's sleeping? But she'll be, er, asleep,' Tom says confused. ‘What could be more boring than watching someone sleeping?' Everybody looks at Tom and then they burst out laughing.

‘What?' he asks.

‘You come out with the funniest things sometimes, little brother,' Lucy teases. ‘You can't bear to be bored. And now, you're going to be sharing in one of the most boring jobs on earth.'

Shirley waits for the laughter to die down. ‘The reason for this boring job,' she says, ‘is that Helen might say something in her sleep that will lead us to a solution. Or maybe she'll wake up and tell us one of her insightful dreams and solve the mystery of her sleeping herself.'

‘Are you serious?' Tom asks doubtfully.

‘Do you think it might help?' Jake adds.

‘We can only try,' Shirley says, and holds up her crossed fingers. ‘And so that Tom doesn't get too bored, why don't you work out a roster? That way, you'll only have a few hours at a time watching over Helen.'

‘Great idea,' Lucy says, running into the study, grabbing a large piece of her endless supply of butcher's paper and some pens. In no time, she's drawn up four columns with their names at the top: Lucy, Tom, Jake and Gull. ‘Now,' Lucy says, ‘Mum's sleeping for an extra eight hours a day. So, if we make it two hours each per day, that's not much. And as Shirley says, seeing Mum's psychic, she might say something that can help us find out why she keeps falling asleep.'

‘But what am I going to do for two hours?' Tom asks restlessly.

‘I don't know about you,' Lucy says, ‘but I'm going to draw.'

‘And I can write out some new recipes I've been thinking about,' Jake says.

‘And I can start designing Lucy's web page,' Gull adds.

‘But what can I do?' Tom repeats plaintively, ‘Besides being bored to tears?'

‘That's the trouble with you,' Lucy grins. ‘You don't have any hobbies or interests.'

‘I've got millions of interests,' Tom says indignantly. ‘It's just that, whatever they are, you have to keep moving to enjoy them.'

Shirley laughs and takes a sip of tea. ‘Sounds like your very own special challenge,' she says putting her mug down.

‘Thanks, Shirley,' Tom pouts as he looks at the roster. ‘Oh, I'm on first tomorrow morning. Well, that's good. At least my shift'll be over and done with.'

‘That's not why you're first little brother,' Lucy says.

‘Really? Why?'

‘This way, we make sure you don't escape,' Jake points out. ‘Or forget.'

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,' Tom sighs.

Shirley smiles and shakes her head. ‘Look, I've got a job in town coming up in a few weeks. However, in the meantime, I could pop over for breakfast each morning and stay around until lunchtime. That way, I might be able to help you when Helen falls asleep.'

‘Thanks Shirley,' the four say together.

‘And maybe I can find something Tom can do?'

‘Good luck,' Lucy grins.

‘I think we're all going to need some of that,' Shirley says.

* * *

For days, Ma scours the farm groping for the answer to the threat. She listens intently as Useless lopes along from one shed to another. Finally, with gentle bites in tender places, Ma and her mites manage to guide Useless back into the big shed where he leaps into the puppy pen.
It's got to be in here
, Ma thinks to herself. ‘Cha-Cha, try again,' Ma commands. ‘Find that, er, vibe.'

Useless lies down in the centre of his twenty-one offspring. Just then, the two puppies Gull and Tom had taken out into the hemp wander over and start crawling over their father. Ma is suddenly alert. She commands, ‘Now jump.'

Without hesitating, Cha-Cha jumps onto one of the two puppies. Crawling quickly over the small, fat puppy, she gathers the information and jumps back onto Useless, just before the puppy starts scratching.

‘Well?' Ma demands.

‘Whatever it is, was on that puppy too, Ma. They've left fresh tracks on him.'

‘Easier to see on puppies than on older dogs,' Ma says thoughtfully. ‘What about the vibe?'

‘It's a bit louder,' Cha-Cha replies. She starts dancing.

‘Stop that,' Ma says sharply. ‘It's irritating.'

‘It's just that,' Cha-Cha answers bravely, ‘whatever the sound is, it makes me want to dance.'

‘I thought we were talking about singing, not dancing.'

‘Oh, I don't know,' Cha-Cha replies deflated. ‘I just feel like dancing.'

Ma is silent. All the mites stop moving: they know she's thinking. And they don't want to draw attention to themselves. Eventually, she focuses on Cha-Cha again. ‘What sort of dancing do you feel like dancing?'

Is this a trick question
? Cha-Cha thinks to herself.

‘No, it's not,' Ma shouts. Cha-Cha jumps: she keeps forgetting Ma can read their thoughts. ‘Now, tell me, what do you want to dance?'

‘Er,' Cha-Cha says hurriedly. She feels rattled. She tries to remember the vibes on the puppy.
Humming,
she thinks.
Happy!
As she thinks, she turns this way and that, from side to side, moving her mental shoulders. One, two. One, two, she counts.

‘Well?' Ma demands loudly.

Cha-Cha jumps: she's still in the middle of swaying to the music. ‘A Rumba! Or a Tango: I think it's Latin.'

‘Good grief,' Ma shouts. Cha-Cha jumps higher. ‘Latin is a dead language. Everybody knows that. How can they be singing in Latin? You can't dance to Latin.' She throws her little legs in the air and somersaults, something she only does when she's very, very irritated. ‘Why did I ever listen to you?' she says sharply. ‘All you're ever interested in is dancing around the place and listening to some mindless beat. Get out of my sight.' With a hangdog expression on her young face, Cha-Cha jumps listlessly on to the end of Useless' tail and stays there, as far away from Ma as she can get.
Latin isn't dead
, she thinks very quietly to herself.
After all, there is such a thing as a Latin beat. So, there
!

* * *

For the next week, Shirley and the “gang”, as she calls them, are very busy. Rising early at five each morning, Gull and her cousins do as many chores as they can before breakfast: feed and water the horses; clean out the stables; put in fresh straw; feed Useless and Jam and the puppies; change the straw in the puppy pen; weed and water the vegie patch; pick the vegetables for the day and collect the eggs. By six, Jake is in the kitchen, cooking up a storm for breakfast.

‘I always feel I've done a full day's work even before breakfast,' Gull remarks to Helen as she plonks herself down exhausted and ready for breakfast. Already, Helen has the toast and tea on the table. Harry and the children quickly join her. Taking a grilled sausage, bacon, a poached egg and a cooked tomato each, the four children hoe into breakfast.

‘Another day, another dollar off the overdraft,' Harry says happily as he snags another sausage.

‘I don't eat nearly as much at home,' Gull confides as she grabs some toast.

‘I bet you don't work nearly as hard at home either,' Lucy says. ‘You won't put on any weight here,' she laughs.

Gull takes a look at her cousins: there's not an ounce of fat on any of them.
Not even on Jake,
Gull thinks.
And he spends half his time cooking and tasting.
As if reading her mind, Jake says, ‘It's all those chores, Gull: I don't have time to put on weight.' The others laugh, including Helen and Harry.

Surreptitiously, Lucy glances at the kitchen clock above the stove. Only twenty past seven. She breathes a sigh of relief.

‘Not another time watcher,' Harry says facetiously, catching her. ‘You'd think we were working in an office the way one of you is always looking at the clock.'

‘Lots to do Dad,' Lucy says breezily.

‘Yeah,' Tom agrees. ‘Got to make sure everything runs like um, clockwork.'

‘Oh, Tom,' Harry groans, ‘your jokes are getting to be nearly as bad as mine.'

‘You don't think I've caught your sense of humour?' Tom asks in mock alarm.

‘Could be genetic,' Jake nods sympathetically.

‘How come you didn't get it then, twinny?'

‘Just lucky, I guess.' The whole table laughs.

A lone sausage lies on the serving plate in front of the six people. Then a hand reaches down from above and grabs it.

‘Gotcha!' Shirley says as she pounces, the screen door belatedly swinging closed behind her and Useless.

‘Oh, I didn't even see you come in,' Helen gasps.

‘I know,' Shirley says grinning and holding up the captured sausage. ‘You don't have to be a mind reader to see you were all picturing that sausage on your own plates. Mmm, yum,' she says taking a bite.

Helen gets up and finds another mug and hands it to Shirley. ‘Thanks, Helen,' Shirley says glancing at the clock above the stove.

‘Not you too,' Harry says, staring at the clock. ‘It's only a quarter to eight. Do you all have a train to catch or something?'

Four pairs of eyes involuntarily turn towards Helen.
No
, Lucy thinks,
we just have to catch Mum before she falls asleep
.

‘Oh, Harry,' Shirley teases coming to their rescue as she sits down. ‘It's just that we all know how lazy you are. And if it weren't for the “gang” shoving you out the door with a good breakfast in your belly, the crop would never be finished. It's not going to harvest itself, you know,' she says wagging her finger at him like a strict schoolteacher.

He shakes his head. ‘Well, have I got enough time for another cuppa, Miss?'

Shirley glances openly at the clock: ten minutes to eight. ‘If you're quick,' she says grinning, her fingers crossed under the table.