Bill Rules (10 page)

That school day preceding the evening of amazing entertainment felt very long for Mat and Bill. When the final bell rang, Bill excitedly ran out of his classroom into the corridor and almost collided with a man in an expensive looking suit and a tall blonde woman. Bill realised with a shock that they were Mr and Mrs Farquay-Jones, Isabelle's parents. He hadn't seen them since the night of their embarrassing dinner party, the year before.

‘Steady on there,' said Mr Farquay-Jones sternly as if Bill had purposely bumped into them.

‘Good timing,' said Mrs Farquay-Jones baring her
teeth in a threatening smile.

‘Sorry,' said Bill. He went to pass Isabelle's parents.

‘Not so fast, young man,' said Mr Farquay-Jones holding onto Bill's shoulder. ‘You're part of the reason we are here at the school today.'

‘Me?' asked Bill utterly confused.

At that moment, Mrs. Townsend stuck her head out of the Grade Six classroom door. She waved a bit of paper and called over the top of a cluster of children, including Isabelle Farquay-Jones, ‘Wait a minute will you, Bill? I need a word.'

Mat came running down the corridor towards Bill.

‘Come on Bill. We'll be late!' she called.

‘And I think I would be correct in saying here's the other part of the reason,' said Mrs Farquay-Jones with the creepy voice of a snake, if snakes could speak. By now Matty had reached Bill.

‘You would have to be Matilda Grub – yes?' asked Mrs Farquay-Jones.

Mat was so perplexed she couldn't find the voice to reply.

‘And as rude as one would expect,' said
Mrs Farquay-Jones. ‘You will just have to accept that you're going to be very late. We're onto you.'

‘What?' asked Matty.

‘I told you, darling,' said Mrs Farquay-Jones speaking to her husband over the heads of Bill and Mat. ‘Clueless and dishonest.' Then she looked down at Mat, ‘Hasn't anyone told you it's bad manners to say

what?'

Mat didn't have a chance to reply because Mrs Townsend (who was both Bill's teacher and the Principal) together with a smirking Isabelle had now made their way through the crowded corridor to join the group.

‘Good afternoon, Mr and Mrs Farquay-Jones,' said the Principal. ‘Isabelle has just given me your note about wanting a chat. Appointments are usually necessary, but I understand this is an urgent matter. If you and Isabelle follow me, we can go to my study.' She smiled at Bill and Matty, ‘Do you mind staying back a few minutes? I won't keep you long. I'll have to ring home and explain, but I'm just as unsure as you are about all this.'

As Bill and Mat followed the procession out of
the corridor, across a courtyard and into the main office building, their hearts were beating. What a scary feeling it was to feel guilty about something when you don't know what exactly you have done or said wrong.

Once inside Mrs Townsend's book-lined study, she offered seats for everyone and then sat behind her desk. Isabelle and her parents would not look at Mat and Bill. Elbows resting on her desk, Mrs Townsend leant her chin on her hands.

‘Excuse me, Miss,' said Mat. ‘I don't mean to be rude, but we have so much to do for tonight's show. We can't be here too long.'

You could tell Mrs Townsend was about to reply, but Mr Farquay-Jones began by saying to her, ‘This so-called “show” is very much part of the problem. We are here about embezzlement and bullying.'

‘Those are very serious accusations,' said Mrs Townsend.

‘With good reason,' said Mrs Farquay-Jones giving Bill and Mat a sour look.

Embezzlement.
Bill tried to think what it meant. What on earth might it mean to
bezzle?
And bullying?
Who had been bullied – other than poor old Mat?

‘Ever since Isabelle has attended this school we have been...' began Mr Farquay-Jones.

‘I'll do the explaining, dear,' interrupted Mrs Farquay-Jones. ‘You're away on business such a lot; I've been up to my ears in this wretched business.'

‘Wretched business?' asked Mrs Townsend.

‘I'll start with the bullying. Our Isabelle has been seriously bullied by these two children.'

‘Mat and Bill?' asked Mrs Townsend with surprise. ‘I'm Bill's teacher – and Isabelle's. I'm very aware of class dynamics. They have different friendship groups this year, but that is all. And Matty – well I've known her since she was six. What you see is what you get – a sunny-natured kid.'

‘Semi-rural communities can be quite closed, Mrs Townsend. Since we moved up here last year, Isabelle has been trying hard to fit into life in the Hills community. Being an only child, she can get lonely – and she's very sensitive. This year, she has especially loved her Girl Guides, haven't you dear?' said Mrs Farquay-Jones looking at her daughter.

‘It
was
the best thing in my life,' said Isabelle in a
tragic voice and sadly lowering her big blue eyes. ‘Not anymore, though.'

‘Sadly, no,' agreed her mother. ‘Not since these two caused an attention-seeking stir and tried to destroy Isabelle and the Girl Guides movement.'

‘I'm not the leader of Girl Guides, Mrs Farquay-Jones. I can only help you with school-related issues,' said Mrs Townsend.

‘But it
is
school related,' whined Isabelle.

‘I'll do the explaining, sweetheart. Mummy is a little more in control of her emotions at the moment,' said Mrs Farquay-Jones. ‘These two,' Mrs Farquay-Jones gestured towards Mat and Bill, ‘attended just two nights of Guides and caused our Isabelle to lose her chance of gaining her Citizenship badge. She was publicly humiliated and shamed. She now weeps before each night of Girl Guides because she's afraid of further humiliation. That same group of girls at Guides attend this school, naturally – and Isabelle says they've been really cruel. What was it that Rosemary Tyler girl said, dear?'

‘She said,
Get over it,'
said Isabelle.

‘Now I thought this school has an anti-bullying
policy, but I might just have to make enquiries with the Education Department about what happens when one's child is not being protected.'

‘There's a process, Mrs Farquay-Jones,' said Mrs Townsend with careful politeness. ‘This is the first I've heard of your concerns and–'

‘And not only am I concerned about the emotional bullying, there's also the matter of embezzlement,' interrupted Mrs Farquay-Jones. ‘Our daughter has to associate with the products of a lower socio-economic class than she has previously been accustomed to. To be perfectly frank, we have reason to believe this evening's advertised event at the Grub house is part of a fraudulent design by the O'Connells and Grubs to extract money from the community. We feel the event should be cancelled and all parents informed.'

Mrs Townsend looked flabbergasted. ‘I ... I ... don't know how to begin...'

‘You begin by co-operating and removing the criminal influence from this school and our daughter's life,' ordered Mrs Farquay-Jones.

‘Proceeds to a good cause,'
added Mr Farquay-Jones. ‘That's the wording on the flyer for tonight's event. I'm
an experienced businessman. I've encountered many a bogus charity. We all know that Mr O'Connell has a criminal history; I believe the whole thing is an illegal money-making scam cooked up between the two families.'

‘Criminal elements in your school, Mrs Townsend. That's our concern,' finished Mrs Farquay-Jones emphatically.

Isabelle sat between her parents looking jubilant. Her face glowed with pleasure.

By this time, Bill was shaking – not with fear, but rage. He had never felt anything like it. Somehow, the Farquay-Jones family had insulted him in every possible way. His dad, his mum, himself, Matty and her family – they were all criminals and bullies. The meanest, most conniving bully he had ever known – Isabelle – was claiming to be the innocent victim.

‘With the greatest respect,' said Mrs Townsend to Isabelle's parents, ‘everything in my professional training and in my instincts as a human being resists the suggestions you are making about Bill and Mat. I also have no right to interfere in a family's private activities but, in defence of the O'Connells and Grubs, I'll ask
Bill and Mat to explain to us all what the “good cause” is for which they are raising funds.'

Bill rose to his feet. ‘No,' he said, his voice trembling with fury.

Matty, too, rose to her feet. ‘No comment,' she said.

‘I know you're both understandably hurt by this meeting,' Mrs Townsend gently said to Bill and Mat, ‘but it would help if we could clear things up a little more.'

‘We can't,' said Mat. ‘It's a special secret.'

‘What did I tell you?' shrieked Mrs Farquay-Jones.

‘You have told me a great deal, Mrs Farquay-Jones,' said Mrs Townsend, ‘but none of it substantiated.'

Now Mr Farquay-Jones started jabbing his index finger in the direction of the Principal, ‘If you refuse to do anything about our grievances, we'll withdraw Isabelle from the school ... and that means you will not get a cent from us for the new library fund. You have no idea what sum of money you will be missing out on.'

‘The best I can say for now is this,' said Mrs Townsend with the icy dignity of a queen, ‘I had
intended, anyway, to attend Mat and Bill's community event tonight. I've always enjoyed their creativity and originality. All of us in the Hills highly value these young people. And their families have been strong supporters of this school – always helping out at working bees. I will see for myself what Bill and Matty's good cause is. If, as I suspect, their cause is, indeed, worthwhile and kind, then I can't do a great deal about your grievances. If you choose to leave the school, I would find that regrettable for Isabelle's sake.'

Mrs Townsend seemed to have finished. Mr Farquay-Jones was patting Isabelle on her golden head. Her mother was wriggling about on her seat as if some internal bomb were about to detonate. But then the Principal added, ‘And should you decide to leave Isabelle at Dewey Creek Primary then, as her class teacher, I need to say I have some concerns about her. She tends to “buy” her friends. You are very generous to her, but she can use her possessions to get attention. I had to confiscate her iPhone earlier this week as it was causing upsets at recess amongst the children who were being excluded from looking at it.'

‘How dare you!' screeched Mrs Farquay-Jones. ‘You have no right to meddle with other people's property. That phone is for our daughter's safety, security and ... and ... wellbeing!'

‘I am also concerned for Isabelle's wellbeing,' said Mrs Townsend calmly. ‘And, therefore, I would strongly recommend she has some psychological counselling and friendship-skills mentoring.'

With more ‘How dare yous' and ‘This is not the last you'll hear of this,' Mrs Farquay-Jones led the way in storming out. Mr Farquay-Jones followed with big, heavy footsteps. Isabelle had mastered the art of tossing her long golden hair and lifting up her nose. After they left the room, Mrs Townsend put her head in her hands for quite some moments.

‘You alright, Miss?' asked Bill, concerned.

Mrs Townsend lifted her head. ‘Nothing so wrong as a good night's entertainment won't fix,' she said wearily, and then she tried to smile.

‘You were brave, Mrs Townsend,' said Mat.

‘Brave?'

‘I reckon you were being bullied.'

‘Touche', laughed Mrs Townsend. ‘And you two
have endured a most unfair attack. You both showed admirable self control. Promise me one thing.'

‘What's that?' asked Bill.

‘Promise that you won't let such a disagreeable few minutes spoil what looks like being a memorable night.'

‘Promise,' said Bill.

‘It really is a good cause and no way is it going to get wrecked,' said Mat.

‘I can't wait to see what you have organised. Lots of children have been talking about it. Now get home as quickly as you can!' said Mrs Townsend.

‘Thanks a lot, Miss,' said Bill as he walked from the study.

‘See you tonight!' Mat called over her shoulder...

To make up for lost time, Bill and Mat had to run home almost the whole way. The run did them good. It worked off some of the anger and hurt, although Bill also had to pelt some tree trunks with stones, and Mat beheaded rows of dandelions with a stick. They were panting by the time they reached Mat's front gate.

‘You feel up to tonight after what happened this afternoon?' Bill asked Mat.

‘The show must go on!' replied Mat.

‘Bravo!' said Bill. He had learnt that word from the Grub family. They would call it out after Matty's
operas and ballets.

The two friends parted at this point. Bill needed to shower and get dressed for the big night. As he got to his gate, he saw another large envelope sticking halfway out of the letterbox. Instantly, Bill recognised the handwriting on the front; it was a second letter from his dad. Once inside his house, he rang his mum who was at work. ‘Please Mum, I can't wait to open it,' he explained.

‘Then read it out to me, love,' said Pam.

Bill tore the envelope open. Out fell a postcard, a postal order for seventy dollars, and another photocopied sheet. The postcard had a photo of a huge old stone building. On the back, it said, ‘St John's Monastery'. Troy had written:

That B+ was one of the best things that Bill had ever seen. It meant his father had committed to his course and faced a test. B+ was a fantastic result for someone who had had absolutely no education past Year Nine at school. He was also pleased about the monastery. He didn't know much about monasteries, except from what he'd seen in films, but Bill wondered if they might be like friendly prisons. You had to obey rules, listen to wise advice, pull your weight and do the right thing by each other. That would suit his dad who needed to have strict routines and positive role models.

At the time Bill had said bye to his mum and hung up the phone, he was still holding Troy's test result in his hand. All of a sudden, he realised that an injustice had been done to his dad. He needed to set the record straight. Clutching the bit of paper as well as
his school pencil case, Bill raced across to Mat's house. She was in the family room setting out chairs in rows.

‘Mat, stop a minute,' said Bill waving his bit of paper. ‘We've a job to do before the guests arrive.'

‘It would have to be mighty important,' said Mat sternly.

‘It is,' said Bill. ‘Come outside and bring a spade.'

Fifteen minutes later, Bill and Mat stood around a small hole in the garden. Mat was holding the time capsule they had buried so many weeks before. She brushed dirt from the lid, revealing once again the white sails of the Sydney Opera House set against a very blue sky. When the lid was off, Mat took out the document that contained family names, birthdates and occupations and handed it to Bill.

Bill opened the page, took a white-out pen from his pencil case and proceeded to carefully blot out the ‘unemployed' that had been written next to his father, Troy's name. When it was dry, Bill used a biro to neatly write, ‘Computer student'. Mat nodded approvingly. The lid was replaced. The time capsule (that had already been dug up to get at the chocolate) was re-buried for a third time. As Bill pointed out to
Mat, if someone discovered the time capsule in 2050, Troy O'Connell's reputation would be safe.

From 7pm that same Friday night, the guests started to arrive. Bill and Mat sat behind a card table outside the front door. They had a money tin, and there were real tickets that Mat had made on the computer. Soon the Grub family room had the biggest crowd of visitors ever known in that house. It was shoulder to shoulder.

Every chair in the Grub house (including camping stools), every chair from the O'Connells' (including some chairs from Mr Riley's and Mrs Flint's) was set out. Despite that, most of the younger people had to sit on the floor. By this time, the front door was shut, and Mat and Bill were free to mix with the visitors. Mat counted thirty-two people. Apart from the Grub family and Pam O'Connell, the audience included Mrs Flint, Mr Riley (who bent his rule about never going out at night), Mrs Townsend (as promised), Mrs Facey (Mat's teacher) and her husband, Emily Smith and Kate Artemis from Mat's grade, Bill's
school and cricket friends Shane Storey, Johnny Chan and Andrew Cann, the lovely Marguerite Bell (hottest Guide Mistress in the world), Rosemary Tyler and two other Girl Guides, a group of Tom's Art school friends, a number of Grub family friends including Pip who always lent her talents to any group painting project (she was with her husband and two grown-up daughters) and the one-armed man (whose name turned out to be Max) and his wife. Even the Grub family's dog, Uncle Len, plonked himself on the floor with the kids who were sitting there.

The folding doors that led from the family room onto the verandah were wide open so that the verandah became a stage area. The screen for the film hung from the outside beams of the verandah's sloping roof. The night had clouded over and a cool breeze wound its way into the room. Nan handed out crocheted rugs to any people who looked a bit cold. Then the show began.

Mat stood in front of the audience and thanked them for coming. She announced that before the screening of the film, Tom and some friends would provide live entertainment.

First off, there was a band playing its own compositions. Tom switched from playing his didg to the guitar throughout the pieces. There was a man playing fiddle, another man on guitar and a girl doing vocals. Everyone cheered and clapped. Then Nan called out asking for them to play some songs she knew. Tom knew one of her favourites was ‘Bold Jack Donahue'. The man on the fiddle picked up the tune quickly and Tom played on his guitar. When Nan started singing, Mr Riley and Mrs Flint joined in, and before long the whole room was lifting the ceiling with the chorus,

Oh come now my hearties

We'll roam the mountains high

We'll gallop oe'r the plains,

We'll scorn to live in slavery

Bound down with iron chains.

The band played all Nan's favourites and people kept singing along. This part of the evening was concluded with a fire-twirling performance by another mate of Tom's.

At this point, Matty stood in front of the audience and announced that before the film screening, there would be drinks, muffins, biscuits and popcorn for
sale over at the kitchen bench. Bill had always loved this bright and airy family room with its small kitchen at one end, its walls covered in colourful china plates and its gleaming copper pots hanging from hooks on an overhead beam. Popcorn exploded away inside two large lidded pots on the stove; Pam and Tessa stood behind the bench and sold food and drinks, just like in a real shop.

When the crowd was seated again, cradling their cardboard containers of popcorn, Matty stood to introduce the film. Bill was at her side and a little behind her.

‘A big thank you to everyone who has had a part in tonight's entertainment,' began Mat. ‘I know everyone is really excited about the film. But before we begin, we would like Mrs Pam O'Connell to step up here.'

With a bewildered look, Pam made her way to the front. Bill handed her a small carrybag that clinked and rustled.

‘Everyone here tonight knows that my dad has done time,' said Bill looking round the room. ‘It's no big family secret. He's now doing a computer course
up in Sydney. But what is a secret – because you never whinge, Mum – is that you have had it tough. So Mat and I (and everyone here, but some don't know it) are sending you to Sydney by plane for a second honeymoon with Dad.'

Pam looked in the bag and then put her hand over her mouth. With tears in her eyes, she hugged Bill. ‘I adore you, my Bill,' she said.

‘And I awindow you,' said Bill. (It was a special exchange he had had with his mum since he'd been, in Great Uncle George's words, a nipper.)

Pam hugged and kissed Mat. ‘You're the best thing ever in my Bill's life,' she said.

The room was alive with cheering. Nan, Tessa, Donald and Tom hugged Pam. There was a lot of hugging. Tom even took advantage of the celebration to give Marguerite Bell a hug.

Mr Riley told Pam, ‘When the kids confided in me that you, dear lady, were their good cause, I decided to break my usual stay-at-home routine and attend.' Pam gave Mr Riley a big kiss on the cheek. He looked very happy. Mrs Flint kissed Pam and said, ‘You make the most of it, love.'

Mrs Townsend lined up to congratulate and hug Bill and Mat, too. ‘You kids were right. You couldn't have had a better cause.'

By now, Mat and Bill decided there had been quite enough kissing and hugging. Mat pointed to the back of the room where Tom had returned to his stool behind a projector and cried out, ‘So let it roll!'

Once again, there was clapping and lots of whistling. Matty walked back to her seat. She was next to Bill and to one side of Tom. She draped one of Nan's cosy crocheted rugs over Bill and her knees. Bill felt contented. Here he was sitting next to his best ever friend, munching away on buttery, salty popcorn. Apart from his father (who was studying hard up in Sydney without Bill having to worry every minute about him), seated around Bill were all the important people of his life – Matty (of course), other friends, teachers, neighbours and his brave and beautiful mother who was soon to have her first ever plane flight for a reunion with her husband.

And up there on the screen was Juliet, dressed in a white, flowing nighty (one of Tessa's), gazing out into the night from the Grubs' verandah. Romeo was
standing in the garden next to the Think Tank, longingly looking up at Juliet. From the camera angle, you didn't notice Pam O'Connell's tights on Romeo so much. The long shirt pulled in by the leather belt looked quite manly.

Matty was almost word perfect:

‘Oh Romeo, Romeo.

Why are thou Romeo?...

There was so much greenery in the garden that Romeo's face was a bit difficult to see clearly. Bill was happy about that. But he said his lines clearly enough:

‘Should I hear more, or shall I speak at this?'

Then Juliet spoke again. She was saying all this lovey-dovey stuff about Romeo and she didn't know he was listening:

‘What's in a name? What we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet.'

The film then showed Matty suddenly re-appearing in a spangled top and tight leggings. She had a base-ball cap on her head turned sideways. Mat began a rap dance, with moon walking and even a back flip. It seemed as though she could move each part of her
body separately – hips, knees, elbows, shoulders, neck. At the same time, she began to chant,

‘What's in a name?

A grub by any other name

would be the same!

So insect, worm, beetle, grub,

No name deserves a nasty snub.

So, bro, what if my name ain't Montague?

I reckon I'm still as good as you!'

Mat finished this last line while she did the splits, her arms held high in the air in a V for victory. The audience went wild. The young kids and Tom's friends jumped up and started rapping and singing Mat's opening lines,

‘What's in a name?

A grub by any other name would be the same!'

Donald called out, ‘Encore! Encore!'

Uncle Len raised his hairy snout and started howling. Mr Herbert Riley slapped Nan and Mrs Mabel Flint on the back. Then everyone except Mat and Bill rose from their seats and turned towards the back of the room to give the two young friends a standing ovation.

Bill searched under the crocheted rug for Matty's firm little hand. When he found it, he held on tight. Mat didn't let go.