Charlotte and the Starlet (15 page)

On location in Hollywood, Bobby and Ralph were
dismantling the special shower that Tommy Tempest
had them set up for Leila. Ralph was really angry with
Bobby. Firstly, his stupid idea of putting Leila in a
paddock had cost him two million bucks. Now,
because Leila had disappeared, the studio didn't even
need to hire this shower from him. Ralph was broke
and it was all Bobby's fault. He deliberately turned so
the long steel pipe he was balancing on his shoulder
swung around and clunked Bobby in the head.

'Ouch, watch it!'

'Sorry,' said Ralph, who wasn't sorry at all.

From his perch inside the trailer, Feathers saw the
men dismantling the shower and couldn't believe his
eyes. One of them was the nag-napper! And the other
seedy guy was probably in on it too. But how could he
prove it? He needed to get his wings on something
incriminating, something he could get to Mr Gold.

That meant first he would have to get out of his
cage.

It was a very sad Joel Gold who stared at the birdcage
where Feathers lay flat on his back, legs in the air.
Feathers had been the best employee he had ever had.
Anything Mr Gold said, he said it right back, word for
word – no rewrites, no smart ideas of his own. And
now he was dead. Joel Gold opened the cage and
gently brought Feathers out. He was still warm. He
couldn't have been dead for very long.

'Guess I better find something to bury you in, old
pal,' he said, placing Feathers on a table. He didn't
notice Feathers' eyes flick open with concern at the
word 'bury'! As soon as Mr Gold disappeared into
another room, Feathers was up and out the window.

Mr Gold came back with an empty Moët
champagne box. 'Here you go, Feathers, only the
best –'

He stopped cold, flummoxed. Feathers was not
there. He looked on the floor in case he had rolled off
the table. Nope. It was the last straw. He was outraged.
First they steal Leila, now Feathers. And Feathers was
dead!!!

It was sick. Hollywood was turning into
Hollywood.

It had been many years since Feathers had been in
the open air. Actually he preferred air-conditioned
comfort to the smog, which could get so heavy it
weighed your wings down. It was easy to get
disoriented up there in the big blue of L.A. But all the
same, it was nice to stretch the old wings.

It took him only a couple of minutes to locate the
crims. They were loading pipes into the back of a
truck. Feathers began circling, hoping to hear
something incriminating, but they hardly spoke to
one another. After about fifteen minutes his wings
began to get very heavy. Just as he was thinking he
would have to rest up in a tree somewhere, the
suspects went to fetch more pipes.

Seizing the moment, Feathers flew into the back of
the open truck. He had no idea what he was looking
for. He just hoped there was something to link them
to Leila; ideally, a photograph of them all together.
The back of the truck was filled with pipes and didn't
seem to offer much hope, so he took a shot at the
cabin, an absolute pigsty of fast-food wrappers,
cookie boxes and empty soda cans. He tried the
dashboard and the floor. Nothing.

He was about to check the glove compartment
when he heard their voices getting closer. It was too
late to escape so he flattened himself against the back
of the seat. His plan was to take off when they went to
the back of the truck but his plan hit the rocks when
the fat one stayed by the cabin door while the other
one shut the back. Now Feathers was terrified. They
were getting ready to leave and he was trapped – redwinged,
so to speak! Feathers had visions of them
feeding him to some hungry Siamese. He couldn't
help it, a little bird poo escaped. Why oh why did he
have to be so stupid? What had Leila ever done for
him anyway?

The one at the back was coming to the cabin. The
driver's door handle started to turn. He was a goner!
He held his breath. The handle turned ...

... and stopped. Feathers continued to hold his
breath. He could feel himself turning purple. He heard
Ralph.

'You know, this is stupid. Instead of leaving now we
should go back to the lunch cart and load up.'

Bobby pointed out they were no longer on the film
payroll.

'The caterers don't know that.'

Bobby saw his point – free burgers and sodas, way
to go. The two of them headed off. Inside the cabin,
Feathers let out a loud sigh and gulped air. He had
been lucky. Time to scram. He was about to do just
that when he remembered he hadn't checked the
glove compartment. He pressed in with his beak and it
flipped open. A whole bunch of little papers flew out.
Feathers flicked through quickly. Petrol receipts,
betting tickets, but no photo.

Feathers was about to go but one of the receipts
stuck to his wing. He tried to pull it off with his beak.
Darn thing was all sticky. Candy and caramel. Finally
he managed to yank it off. Then it stuck to his beak.
He was trying to scrape it off his beak onto the wheel
when some big grubby handwriting on the back of the
docket caught his eye. He rolled his eyeballs around
for a better look. It was kind of hard to read when it
was right there on his beak, a little too close to focus.

And then he managed to read some of the poorly
spelled words and his heart almost burst with
happiness.

In the recliner in the trailer, Joel Gold was fast asleep,
dreaming of awards he'd received with Leila and
Sarah-Jane. The good old days. Then the dream
vanished. Something was tickling his nose. Darn!

His eyes flicked awake and he gradually recalled
that he had dropped off to sleep in the recliner. He
pulled the irritant off his face. A piece of paper. Some
inconsiderate flunky had left a memo on his moosh.
Whoever it was, they'd be fired!

Gold studied the memo, looking for a clue as to the
identity of the miscreant. He now saw it wasn't a
memo but an invoice from RALPHS REMOOVALS
AND PLUMMING. A blank invoice, not made out to
anyone. Was this some sick joke? He started to screw
it up.

Watching with horror from the cage, Feathers
knew he had to act.

'Other side!' he whispered.

Joel Gold stopped. Had somebody spoken? He
looked around him. No, the trailer was empty.

Just for the heck of it he turned over the invoice.
He couldn't believe his eyes. Badly spelled in an ugly,
dirty scrawl were the exact words the nag-nappers
had spoken over the phone: 'Leev the monee in
unmarked bills in the trash can by the Nantville exat
Interstate 106.'

Was it a new message? No, this was what the nagnappers
had said. They must have read it off this piece
of paper, which must have fortuitously blown in
through the open window. The nag-napper could be
this Ralph who couldn't spell removal or plumbing!

Joel Gold recalled the guy now. Yes, very shady,
always hanging around the set with crocodile eyes. He
jumped up, smiled at Feathers and ran towards the
door waving the docket triumphantly.

'We got him, Feathers! We've got the nag-napper.'

He charged outside, closing the door. Feathers was
elated. YES! His plan had worked. The door swung
open again and there was a confused Joel Gold.
'Feathers? You're not dead?'

Feathers did his best to remain po-faced. Joel Gold
slowly shook his head, muttered to himself and
retreated again from the trailer.

Leila's hoofs hadn't been this sore since Hilary Duff's
party when she and Paris had been literally dancing
on the ceiling. In looking for Charlie, she'd decided to
work out from the railway station a block at a time.
She'd already covered about eight blocks on each side.
This section of town was the pits. Greasy wrappers
and crushed cans littered every inch of square space,
provoking in Leila a strong recollection of being
backstage at a heavy-metal gig.

By now afternoon was well and truly over. Street
lights and neon signs were starting to poke out of the
gloom. Why had she been so selfish? All night she'd
been thinking of Charlie and the fun they'd had together
and how Charlie had been a real friend to her. Like
when Leila had messed up at the jump-off, Charlie's
concern had been that Leila was sick. Leila wished she
had come clean up front. Maybe Charlie had been the
only chance at a true pal Leila would ever get?

Leila was peering down an alley when she heard
something that scared her to the core – the sound of a
twelve-year-old boy.

'Dad, look!'

The boy and his father were both staring at her. The
father immediately began dialling his mobile phone.

'It's okay, Damian. I'll call the police.'

Leila had to act fast. She snapped at them.

'I'm not a horse, you idiot. We're actors dressed as a
horse. Now get out of the way, you're wrecking the
shot!'

Leila had noted many times that people had a much
greater respect for movie-makers than police, and it
was proved yet again. The father and son apologised
and moved off rapidly. That was a close call. She
trotted on. Charlotte had to be here somewhere.

The sun had gone down and it was getting cool. Dark
clouds loomed in the distance, pregnant with rain.
Charlotte picked her way through the park looking
for a place to sleep. The same park benches that had
been filled with office workers and children earlier in
the day were now taken over by people with missing
teeth and wearing dirty woollen beanies. Some had
covered themselves in old newspapers and hunched
beside old boxes packed in shopping trolleys.
Charlotte had assumed everybody in the city lived in a
house but it seemed that these people were settling in
for the night. Unfortunately, they didn't look very
happy about it.

For the first time she doubted sleeping under the
open skies in the city was going to be as much fun as it
was in the warm, dry outback where there were only
poisonous snakes to worry about. Charlotte decided
to head for the rotunda in the centre of the park. At
least there she would be covered if it rained. She was
just starting to walk up the steps when a man's voice
from somewhere in the dark called out.

'Where do you think you're going?'

She couldn't see anybody but she was ready to
run just in case. The voice had sounded harsh and
gravelly.

'Yes, you, girlie.'

Her eyes followed the sound. She caught her breath
and almost choked. The man speaking to her was
unshaven and dirty and lay on the rotunda roof.

'The rotunda is Mad Mike's spot, you'd best be
getting home before he comes back.'

And now that Charlotte looked closely she could
see that indeed there was a thin mattress and an
assortment of garbage bags laid out in the shadows of
the rotunda.

'Go on, girlie. Off you go.'

Charlotte didn't need any further encouragement.
She ran as fast as she could while carrying the saddle
over her shoulder. Whoever Mad Mike was she
figured it was best to stay out of his way. She didn't
slow down for at least ten minutes.

The new area she found herself in was deserted. It
looked like some sort of construction site with big
wire fences all around. Behind one of the fences was
an area where old furniture and rubbish had been
dumped. Charlotte could see an old sofa there. This
time she looked very carefully for a sign of anybody.
Nope, all clear. She heaved her saddle over the fence
and climbed after it. Scattered around were some
sheets of old tin that she could make into a shelter.
The sofa had lots of stuffing missing but even so, it
would be much more comfortable than a bench.
Charlotte spent a few moments rigging the tin sheets
into a lean-to and then climbed onto the sofa and lay
her head on her saddle. She was so tired her eyes shut
immediately.

She was drifting off to a deep sleep when the noise
woke her. It was a low, building growl. Charlotte let
one eye flick open. A huge dog stood a few metres
away, pawing the earth, drooling. Charlotte liked dogs
and most dogs liked her. Perhaps, despite his scary
looks, he was just scared himself? Charlotte put on
her best smile.

'Hello, fella. You're not worried about me, are you?'

The dog answered by baring its teeth. They
resembled a set of knives stuck in the gums by the
handle. This really wasn't going so well.

'Right, your spot. Okay, no worries, I'll leave it
to you.'

Everything she knew about dogs told her it was
getting ready to attack. Charlotte was trying ever so
slowly to edge away. Just as she got to the end of the
sofa, it charged.

She leapt for the fence. The dog shot up like a
missile, missed her backside by a millimetre and
snagged her plush toy horse in its vicious mouth. She
and the dog fought a tug of war. When the dog let go
for a split second to get a better grip, Charlotte took
her chance, heaved the saddle over the fence and then
scampered over herself. As soon as her feet hit dirt,
she grabbed the saddle and ran, failing to realise that
her special little horse had fallen off. All she could
think about was putting as much space as possible
between her and that vicious dog, which was still
trapped behind the fence, barking loudly.

The saddle was heavy on her shoulder as she ran
down a pitted bitumen road flanked by broken
buildings. Judging from the faded sign writing on
their brick walls, she guessed they must have been
factories. Apart from the barking of the dog,
thankfully growing more distant by the second, it was
very quiet here. Not even the sound of traffic from the
main road reached her. Then all of a sudden the sky lit
up and there was an enormous clap of thunder. Big
drops of rain began falling. She headed for the nearest
building, an old brick warehouse. Its front door was
padlocked. The rain was becoming heavier now. She
looked up and saw a window on the first floor. If she
could just make it up there ...

She reached up and grabbed a drainpipe above her
head. Would it hold her weight? There was no way
to be sure but with the saddle still slung over her
shoulder she grabbed the pipe with both hands and
hauled up with all her strength, wrapping her knees
around the pipe. Slowly she pulled herself higher.
Eventually she could see the window above her.

Please, be open! She was nearly there when the
pipe gave an ominous creak and began to pull away
from the wall. It was a long way down to the ground
below. Her hand shot out and reached the window sill.
The window was closed. The pipe felt rickety, as if it
could collapse any second. She got her fingers under
the sill and pushed up. To her immense relief the
window lifted. She heaved the saddle inside and rolled
in after it.

The place smelled bad. It was pitch dark once you
moved away from the window. Nervous, Charlotte
swallowed hard. Could she spend the next eight hours
here? Yes, she told herself, she could. Just then another
huge clap of thunder sounded and she nearly jumped
out of her skin. She quelled the urge to run. Where
could she go anyway? She wished she had a light. She
wished her father were there. But she didn't, and he
wasn't, and she had learned a long time ago that it was
no use trying to change what you couldn't. She'd just
have to make do. Outside she heard a whoosh of rain.
She was pleased she wasn't in the park.

Just as she was about to lie down she had the
feeling someone was watching her from the dark
interior of the bare room. Her skin crawled.

'Is anyone there?' she called out, trying to sound
brave. Nobody answered. She strained to hear anything,
remaining motionless for a long time. Not a
sound came to her except for the rain and the rumble
of thunder outside. Maybe she'd imagined it? Trying
to relax, she stretched out on the floor. As she turned
her head to the side she saw two little red dots in the
dark close to the floor, drawing closer. She gasped and
sat up. For a moment she was too scared to breathe.
Then the red dots zoomed towards her, revealing a fat
rat baring its sharp teeth. Charlotte relaxed and stifled
a yawn.

'I've been dealing with poisonous snakes since I
was five. You think I'm scared of a mouse? BOO!'

She moved her head suddenly at the rat, which
turned tail and ran. Now maybe she could get some
sleep! She lay on her back, closed her eyes and dozed.

Perhaps Charlotte would not have slept quite so
well if she had been able to see the sign that had fallen
off the building and landed in the dirt. It read,
DANGER, DEMOLITION SITE. DO NOT ENTER.

Leila did not like rain. She couldn't think of the last
time she'd got wet from anything other than a spa or
shower ... well, if you didn't count that pool party at
Britney's. But what choice did she have? She needed to
find Charlie. She'd lost track of how long she'd been
walking but she knew it was hours since the sun had
gone down. She was starting to wonder if this whole
expedition was a ridiculous waste of time when she
caught a break.

She was in a park with a lot of hobos scattered
about. Most were snoring their heads off but there was
one guy sitting up on top of a rotunda who seemed
promising. Leila figured if the guy was sitting up on
the roof of a rotunda in a storm, he wasn't going to be
fazed by a talking horse.

'Say, Mac. You see a girl about thirteen come
through here today carrying a saddle?'

The man nodded. 'Just before the storm. She went
that-a-way.' He pointed.

'Thanks and God bless,' said Leila, excited by the
information.

'Hey horse, can I ask you something?'

Leila stopped. One good turn deserved another.

'Are you really a talking horse or am I delirious?'

Leila lifted an eyebrow.

'If you were delirious, could you have imagined a
horse this good-looking?'

The homeless man shook his head.

'There's your answer.'

At Thornton Downs Miss Strudworth spent another
sleepless night. She was very distressed about the
possibility of Charlotte Richards being alone at night
in the city. Anything could happen to her. The police
hadn't found her yet but they knew she hadn't boarded
the train so she was there somewhere with the horse.
The fact that she must have hidden in the bush near
the stables and then come and taken the horse didn't
endear Richards to Strudworth but even so, she could
see the child must have been desperate. And now radio
reports were coming in of a large electrical storm in the
city. Miss Strudworth had tried to reach Charlotte's
father but was told he was already on his way down for
the trials. He was going to give Charlotte a surprise.
He'd be the one on the receiving end of the surprise
when Strudworth had to give him the horrible news
that his only child was missing.