The Amazing Spencer Gray (2 page)

Sitting at the edge of the oval at lunchtime, Spencer chewed his ham and cheese sandwich while Leon slapped his thigh in excitement.

‘Spence, you utter, utter_____' Leon shook his head, unable to finish.

‘I know,' Spencer nodded, head down, trying not to smile at them too gleefully. ‘Cool, hey.'

‘You've got the wickedest dad,' Charlie said.

‘Apart from the fact that he has to look at people's bums the rest of the time,' Leon said.

Spencer laughed, ‘Leon! He doesn't do that often. It's just one of the things doctors have to do. There's lots of other stuff. Like people with colds, kids with rashes. Allergic reactions. Broken bones.'

‘Yep. And looking at people's bums.'

‘Leon!' Spencer said, ‘You gotta cut back on the potty talk. He looks down people's throats, too, you know, and
in their ears. You don't have to focus on their...'

‘Nether regions?'
Charlie offered.

‘Exactly.'

Leon held up his hand. ‘Well thanks a million for the medical lecture, lads. So, Spence, when will you go out?'

‘Dunno exactly. Afternoon, I think. Depends when the winds are good, when the thermals are reliable, Dad says.'

‘Will you be up the front, in the main cockpit?'

Leon rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, what do
you
think, Charlie? That Spence'll be flying the thing while his dad sits back sipping pina coladas?'

‘Well,
I
dunno,
Leo,
I haven't been in a glider before, have I?'

‘Guys,
guys,'
Spencer interjected. ‘Settle! You haven't forgotten who found your library book already have you, Leon? You have to be really
nice
to us for the rest of the week, mate.'

‘Well ...
you
didn't actually find it, Spence.'

‘I know. But ... I was there.'

‘That's a very weak link, Spence.'

‘I know that too. Now shut up and I'll tell you about the gliding.' Spencer took his time finishing the last corner of his sandwich, putting a dry bit of crust back
in his lunch box and clicking it shut. ‘Dad'll be flying the glider—of
course.
It's a side-by-sider, so we'll both be in the front. Enjoying the view. It's just a joy ride.'

‘Awwwww,' groaned Leon, falling back on the grass. ‘I can't bear it, you total_____' He pushed his hands into his hair, unable to finish his insult.

Spencer was stoked, big-time, when his dad had come into his room the night before to talk to him about going out for a flight.

‘I think you're old enough,' he'd said. ‘And I've talked to Mum about it. She's on board with it—so to speak.'

Spencer's eyes were wide, and he felt his lungs fill with a physical pride. He'd been waiting for a gazillion years to fly with Dad.

He knew Leon and Charlie'd be envious. There was no point asking them to come to the airport for take-off; gliding, unlike skateboarding, just wasn't a precision sport. A change in the forecast could change the whole day's flight plan, even whether you flew at all.

The
Drifter
was a non-motorised fixed-wing glider. It was like a hang-glider but with a fuselage, Dad said.
Or, like a small plane with no engine. To get up in the
Drifter
they needed Dad's mate Reg or another pilot in a light aircraft to launch it, to get it going, to tow it on a steel cable up as high as the thermals and then he'd release it to the whorls of hot and cooling air.

The
Drifter
was Dad's pride and joy. Flying was, as Spencer's mum sometimes said, with a smile plastered slightly oddly on her face, Dad's Other Woman. Seven-year-old Pippa would look across at Dad when Mum said that, and wait for the inevitable retort. ‘Don't be ridiculous!' he'd say, stealing over to give Mum a squeeze. ‘There could never be anyone else, my darling,' he'd say in a theatrical voice. ‘Ever.'

‘Errr,
Dad,
pleeeeeease,' Pippa would say, covering her eyes. ‘Stop!'

Now, before bed, Spencer ate his way through a bowl of Weet-Bix and yoghurt. Somehow it was a lot yummier at night before bed than it was at breakfast time.

As he looked at Dad reading one of his medical journals on the couch, he wondered what
he
had been like at twelve. Had he eaten Weet-Bix before bed? Had he created his own Lego designs? Spencer realised, all of a sudden, that he had no idea what sort of a kid his dad had been. He hadn't even really thought about it
before. What he did know was this: Dad was the town doctor, Doctor Rory Gray. The rest of the time he was the glider pilot, and their dad. And, okay: sometimes bum-examiner.

Spencer took a long time to get to sleep that night. He imagined sitting in the
Drifter'
s cockpit, the paddocks green and yellow squares below them. He imagined flying over Great Southern Primary School—over his very classroom.

Dad called it ‘soaring', said that's what glider pilots called their special sort of flight. Dad was a life member of the Skippers Cove Soaring Society. Reg was the secretary.

Eventually, sleep crept over Spencer, as softly as the goosedown doona settled on his tired body. The doona had been a special present from Mum for his tenth birthday. But that night, Spencer's dreams were with his Dad, and they were from the views of birds.

Pippa stretched out on the couch in front of ABC3. ‘Kids' news!' she yelled in excitement.

Spencer rolled his eyes.

‘You are five years older than her, Spence,' said his mum.

‘I know.'

‘You loved those sorts of shows at the same age, you know.'

‘I
know,
Mum.'

Spencer watched as she moved around the kitchen, doing all the stuff she did in the mornings, all the jobs. ‘No lunch boxes today,' he said to her, smiling.

‘Hallelujah,' she said, spearing cutlery into the dishwasher basket like darts at a dartboard. ‘Did Dad talk to you about going up in the
Drifter?'

He nodded and locked eyes with her.

‘So you feel all right about that? Not worried, or anything?'

‘Nope.'

‘'Cos you know Dad wouldn't mind at all if you said you wanted to wait a bit longer.'

‘I don't want to wait even a
day
longer, Mum. I really want to go up.'

She dropped the brekkie bowls into the rack. ‘I thought you'd say as much,' she smiled, reaching over to touch his face. ‘He's really looking forward to taking you out with him, champ.'

Spencer could barely finish his toast for smiling.

‘Anyone coming into town with me this morning?' Dad called out.

‘Not me,' Pippa said, dragging her doona over to the couch. ‘I'm having a day at home.'

‘Sounds nice, Pips. Spence?'

‘Aah ... well, I promised I'd go round to Leon's this morning to help him start building the Falcon.'

Dad looked blank, so Spencer added, ‘The Millennium Falcon, from
Star Wars.
The Lego version, that is.'

‘Right, the Millennium Falcon ... okay.'

‘But maybe I could go to Leon's this arvo instead?'

‘Maybe you could, Spence! Why don't you_____'

‘_____give him a call? Just what I was thinking, Dad.
Are we telepathic or what?'

‘What,
I'd say, mate. I believe in science as a rule, as you know.'

‘Nah ... it's mys
ter
ious, Dad. It's paranormal!'

‘Rubbish.'

‘You are so easy to wind up, Dad.'

‘Just call Leon, will you?'

Leon had been given the Falcon kit for his birthday the week before by his uncle. It was the king of Lego kits. Twelve hundred pieces and six minifigures, including Han Solo and Luke Skywalker. They had stared at it together in joyful disbelief when Leon unwrapped it on his bed after school. It was probably one of the most collectible Lego
Star Wars
kits you could get, and had a price tag to match.

‘No probs, Spence, this arvo's fine.'

‘I should be home around one. Actually, I'll get Dad to drop me over on the way back from town, so it'll be a bit earlier than that.'

‘Cool.'

‘Don't do too much of it without me, Leon!'

‘Just remind yourself whose kit this is.'

‘Yeah, yeah, fair enough. Damn. See you later.'
‘What time will you two be back?' Mum asked.

‘It's just a morning surgery, so we should be home by half-twelve. I'll have to make some arrangements with Reg for tomorrow, but how about I take Pips down to the oval later for some soccer practice?'

Spencer's ears pricked up.
Tomorrow!

‘You're on!' said Pippa. ‘No fouls remember, Dad!'

‘Me?!! Fouls?'

Pippa's mouth fell open.
‘Yes
you! Yes you foul. And don't forget,' she said in a singsong voice, waggling her finger at him, ‘You foul, I get a penalty kick.'

Mum threw Dad the car keys. ‘On your way, Doctor Gray—we can't have your patients waiting. And besides, you're stirring up your daughter.'

‘Orright then. Better be off. You ready, Spence?'

‘Just grabbing my skateboard!' he called out. He was keen to get some practice in at the big skatepark on the other side of town, which had some beginner's slopes as well as the more hardcore steep sections that Leon loved.

Mum sat down at the table with the weekend papers. ‘Aaaaah, life's tough,' she said, leaning back in her chair ever so slowly and flashing Dad a grin as he gathered his things for work.

‘You are rotten, Suzie Gray, rotten to the core.' And,
as he and Spencer left, the Doc yelled out happily, ‘House of Slackers!'

Parking the car behind the surgery, next to the special waste bins, Spencer and Dad noted that the clinic doors were closed and the surgery was dark.

‘Sylvie's not here yet,' Dad said. ‘That's unlike her. Okay ... I guess it's up to me to open up this morning. Spence, reckon you could give me a hand?'

‘Sure. What do you have to do first?' he asked as they approached the reinforced glass doors.

‘Remembering the PIN for the alarm would normally be the first thing.'

‘Oh,' said Spencer, not looking at him.

Dad rummaged through his wallet. ‘I've got it written down here somewhere, in case of times like this.'

Spencer peered in through the glass. He saw the influenza posters on the walls, the brochures for parents—Dealing with Tantrums, Healthy Lunch Boxes, Coughs and Colds, Language Development. There
was a laminated sign next to the reception desk that said:
Our doctors aim to run on time. Please advise reception staff if you have been waiting for more than 20 minutes. Thank you. Skippers Cove Medical Clinic.

‘Six-four-seven-nine. See? Ready for all contingencies.'

‘Even if in a slightly ... disorganised ... way.'

‘Well, they could have chosen a better PIN. You couldn't have a number much harder to remember than that,' Dad grumbled, punching it into the keypad next to the doors.

‘It
is
meant to keep people out, Dad. I think it's called a
security
system?'

‘Yeah yeah yeah, Mr Sensible. I think they missed you in the Mr Men books, mate. What's happened to you kids these days? You're all too bloody sensible, that's what! You need to
embrace risk,'
he said. ‘I grew up in the sixties ... we knew about risk-taking back then, I can tell you.'

Spencer shook his head. You had to love how Dad could turn his own brain fade into a lecture about someone else's failings. No wonder he drove Mum mad. Incompetence in the Doc—if even acknowledged—was rare, and fleeting.

The Grays hadn't always lived in this town, where the sea curved around them expansively like one of Mum's hugs, the Southern Ocean fairly licking at their toes. They'd decided to move when Skippers Cove had begun straight-out begging for GPs. There was a huge shortage of doctors in rural areas, Dad had explained—it was a crisis, he'd said, and there was no one to look after the old people in these towns, or the young families just starting out there. Once he'd made up his mind, Dad couldn't understand why you
wouldn't
go. There was the coast, bushwalks, climbing. And the skies! He spent hours imagining the soaring possibilities—particularly those around the Stirling Ranges—before he turned his thoughts to properly investigating the position at Skippers Cove surgery.

They'd had a family meeting, the kind where the four of them sat awkwardly at the table waiting for someone
to pop whatever the news was, and Dad finally told them about the opportunity to move to Skippers Cove. He talked about the coast with pockets of untouched forest nestled behind it, and beyond that the sudden, undulating skyline of two sets of ranges. Spencer, Pippa and Mum nodded when he talked about being able to take the
Drifter
out more often; they expected that. But they weren't ready when he talked about how he felt about what he did every day; how his work as a doctor no longer made him happy.

‘Now, it's almost ... a production line,' he'd said, shaking his head. ‘Patient in. You have ten minutes to hear about a lifetime of complaints. You print out a script or two, knowing you haven't even scratched the surface, but it's all you can do in the_____' he nearly spat the words,
‘allotted
time. You can't do anything real in ten minutes. Superman can't do anything real in ten minutes. And the rest of the time it's coughs and colds, or addicts doctor-shopping.'

‘But Rory,' Mum had said gently, ‘How will things be different in this ... Skippers place?'

‘Skippers
Cove,'
Spencer helped.

‘Fewer people, Suze,' Dad said. ‘So you can spend more time with each of them, caring for the
whole
person in a meaningful way.' That's what he wanted,
he said. To be a doctor in a community.

Mum nodded, and kneaded her fingers.

After a long pause, Pippa said, ‘I'll go if you're going, Mummy.'

‘Oh, Pips.' Mum's eyes filled.

Dad brought over the laptop and showed them some photos of an old green and white weatherboard cottage with a big verandah going right around. Out the back, there was fluoro-green shag-pile lawn leading to smooth round rocks that went beyond the limits of the photo.

Pippa's eyes lit up. ‘Is that going to be our house?'

‘If we decide to move to Skippers Cove, yes, it would be,' said Dad.

Pippa had looked over at Spencer, as if she knew he had a question in him.

‘What school will—would—we go to?' he asked, keeping his eyes low.

‘There's a primary school quite close by,' Dad said. ‘I've spoken to the principal and she said they could fit you both in. It's small ... only a hundred and fifty kids enrolled.'

A hundred and fifty! That'd be a change, Spencer reckoned, from the feeding frenzy at Calandra Primary, with its six hundred and sixty-five kids.

‘Let's sleep on it,' Mum said. ‘See how we feel in the morning.'

In the morning, at breakfast, they looked at the photos again, and then went to the website of their new school to see what it looked like. About three months later, their bedrooms packed up in a truck, Spencer and Pippa craned out the car windows for views of Skippers Cove as the Gray family drove into town.