Magenta McPhee (10 page)

‘None at all,' Holly stared past the light at Lady Burgundy. Now that her eyes were getting used to the light she could see the older woman quite well. Her sharp witch's eyes saw the grey beginning to show at the roots of the red hair. ‘She was thin, too,' she added for good measure, ‘and wearing a lot of jewellery.' She watched Lady Burgundy's eyes narrow. That will show her, Holly thought. That will teach her to lock up one of the Wood People.

Lady Burgundy stood there, holding her candle. A cold anger crossed her face like a storm across the sea.

‘I think you need to spend more time in your own company,' she said. ‘Think things over. I'll talk to you again when you've had a chance to gain some new insights.'

‘But you said...'

‘I said maybe. Remember that word? It usually means no. Or didn't your mother teach you anything?' With that Lady Burgundy whirled out of the dank cell, slamming the door behind her and leaving the place even darker than it had seemed before. The scuffling rats sounded closer and Holly bit back a sob. Why hadn't she told Lady Burgundy all she knew? Why?

I didn't know the answer myself but I figured it would come to me. I was beginning to like Holly more than I had expected. Did that kind of thing happen often to writers, I wondered? Both Holly and Lady Burgundy were a little more interesting than Lady Rosa, which
wasn't really fair as she was the one trying to be good. It was just that the whole kissing-parapet thing was going on for too long. It wasn't her fault, it was mine. I vowed to rescue her even if it meant she spurned Ricardo. It was weird that when I thought of her saying no to Ricardo it made her that little bit more intriguing. After all, what girl in her right mind would say no to Ricardo? He had everything, He was rich, good-looking, strong and brave and just flirty enough. Maybe she could see some kind of shadow no one else could. Or maybe she'd feel it when they kissed?

I thought I'd sleep on it. I didn't want to make any big mistakes. I didn't want to have to revise anything. Writing it down once was hard enough. It was sort of like marriage. I'd want to get that right the first time, too, if I could. Look what Mum was going through just trying to get a thin skirt. I knew she hadn't had to think of vertical stripes the first time. I'd seen the photos of her and Dad even though she'd hidden them in the store room. They'd been wedding-y with lots of lace and roses and not a stripe anywhere. She'd smiled nervously and beautifully and Dad had held her hand. They'd looked fresh and young until life had revised them. I was against revision. It hurt too much.

I expected Dad to be in a great mood when I went back to his place. With the camp coming up he had lots to do to keep his mind off any of his problems. Not to mention the fact that he and Spooky had been in almost daily communication about the camp – where to go, when to leave, what clothes to bring and so forth.

I heard this from Cal, who talked to me on MSN. He didn't talk every day like a boyfriend or anything. We just happened to be online at the same time on a couple of days. He told me that Spooky kicked him off the computer regularly so she could talk to Dad.

So it was a complete surprise when I got to Dad's place to discover him grumping around.

‘What
is
it?' I asked when the banging and swearing from the garage became too much to ignore.

‘This camp is getting out of hand.' Dad glared at me as though it was all my fault. ‘It's bad timing, too. In fact, the timing couldn't be worse.'

‘Why? We weren't doing anything. We never do anything.' I normally didn't like to rub it in, but when he pushed me to the edge like this I could play dirty.

‘Well, it just may be that some of us had plans for that weekend.'

‘You had plans? Then why did you make it that weekend? You set the date.'

He glared at me again. ‘The plans came up after the original plan.'

‘That doesn't make sense,' I pointed out. ‘You can't have plans come up after other plans. You could have, I don't know, ideas, maybe? Anyway, how is that my fault and what was the other idea?'

‘Nothing. Don't worry about it. It wouldn't have worked out anyway, probably.' Dad sounded a bit sheepish. ‘I suppose you're right, Magenta. It was my fault for agreeing to go in the first place.'

‘I don't get it.' I drew up a milk crate and sat down on it. ‘You were the one who suggested going. I thought I'd come home and you'd be cheerful and smiling and busy.'

‘I am busy.' Dad waved at the growing pile of equipment. ‘You've got to admit I'm busy.'

‘I wanted you to be cheerfully busy.' I felt my bottom lip wobble a bit and my chin crease.

‘Oh Mags,' Dad came over and put his hand on my shoulder, ‘I'm sorry. I am looking forward to camping. Truly. It's just that something came up and I'm a bit worried that I've given Lianna the wrong impression. It's a difficult situation.'

‘I don't understand what's difficult,' I said stubbornly. ‘It's just a friendly camping trip.'

‘I hope so,' Dad said, patting my shoulder. ‘I really hope so.'

I was looking forward to camping. By Wednesday I had packed practically everything I was taking. I'd recharged batteries for my torch, my camera and my mp3 player. I'd supervised Dad making toasted muesli, making sure he didn't add anything I detested like sunflower seeds or dried banana. I'd found my old slippers, which was quite a feat as I'd taken them off down the backyard behind the compost bin. I'd picked the slugs off them and dried them out in the laundry. I'd even found my best hat. I'd checked essentials like sunblock, insect repellent and lavender oil for if I did get bitten by anything itchy and also for making me smell okay, despite dodgy showers. I'd bought 24-hour strength deodorant. I was prepared.

It was weird not hearing from Cal for all that time. I kept expecting him to pop up on MSN, so I kept the computer on for longer than I normally would but no Cal, and no Lianna, either. That had Dad scratching his head.

‘Maybe we should ring?' I said.

‘I've only got a mobile number,' Dad said, ‘I've already tried it. Out of range or turned off.'

‘Maybe they've lost the charger?'

‘Maybe they've gone interstate.' Dad sounded gloomy ‘We've done all this for nothing.'

‘I wouldn't mind going camping with just us,' I told him even though my heart sank at the thought of Cal not seeing me in my new Felix pyjamas.

‘Why of course, I didn't mean that,' Dad said but he wasn't as convincing as he could have been.

‘I bet that's what's happened – they're so busy trying to pack everything that they're not getting on to the computer at all and they've lost the mobile phone charger,' I said heartily, but a bit of me could imagine Spooky packing up her small dilapidated car with all their belongings and fleeing interstate. Not from Dad, but from something else. A wicked landlord or a fight with the friend who ran the café.

On Thursday I got a text message on my mobile. It read:
All set 4 sat am do we bring anything?
I showed Dad the text. He dictated the reply to me:
We have everything under control equip-wise u handle food as agreed c u 8am.

‘Maybe she's been testing recipes? Maybe that's why we haven't heard anything until now?'

He shook his head. ‘It'll be something messier,' he said. ‘Lianna's one of those people, Magenta. Life's never straightforward.'

‘Cal's pretty down the line.'

‘One of them has to be,' Dad said gloomily.

‘She's a good cook, though,' I pointed out.

‘She's a good person,' Dad said, ‘but that doesn't mean that things aren't messy at her end. That probably wasn't even her mobile. It certainly wasn't the number she gave me.'

On Friday afternoon Dad and I packed the car. Dad was very particular about packing and knew just what went where to maximise space, keep the car balanced and minimise the risk of flying objects. When we were finished he rubbed his hands.

‘Ha!' he said. ‘Pretty good job, Magenta. There's still room for a couple of sleeping bags, packs and an esky. That'll be all they'll need and we've got leg-room, too. Let's order takeaway pizza, eh – last meal in civilisation.'

We ate in front of the television and watched one of those English shows where brutal murders are committed every week in a pretty little village. I went to bed early. I didn't want to have shadows under my eyes at the start of the camp.

Spooky and Cal arrived at a quarter to eight the next morning. Dad was still shaving but we'd had reheated pizza leftovers and Dad had already made a thermos of coffee.

‘You answer it!' he yelled when the doorbell sounded. ‘That'll be them.'

Spooky had bags under her eyes. She was already smiling when I opened the door but it was a thin smile that hovered nervously around her mouth.

‘Sorry,' she said even before she'd said hello. ‘Sorry, we're a bit early, I know.'

‘That's okay. Hi, Cal.'

Cal grunted and nodded at me. Not a morning person. Neither of them were, to judge from their appearances. His hair was wildly all over the place and he had his jumper on inside out. I wondered how, or if, I was going to tell him.

‘So glad you got the text message. Cal's was the only phone working. It's been quite a week, hasn't it, Cal? Still, we got here in the end and that's what's important, isn't it? Where shall I put these, Magenta?'

I looked down. Between them they had three long tote bags, four of those supermarket green bags overflowing with groceries, a pillow and the largest esky I had ever seen. It looked quite new.

‘Umm, better wait for Dad. He's the packing expert.' I wasn't sure where it was all going to go but I was pretty certain that Dad hadn't factored in four supermarket bags that looked as though they had to be kept upright.

Dad huffed and puffed when he saw it all, but as Spooky pointed out, we did have a big car.

‘Last vestige of a previous life,' Dad told her, rearranging things. ‘I only kept it for this kind of trip.' ‘It's fantastic,' Spooky said. ‘I bet it's got a CD player.'

‘Of course,' Dad shrugged, ‘but the main thing is the high suspension.'

‘High suspension?'

‘You can get this monster in where you wouldn't dare put another car that wasn't a four-wheel drive.'

‘It's not a four-wheel drive?'

‘God, no. I wouldn't have one of those things in the city. My ex wanted one but...'

‘Mum said why not go the whole hog,' I interrupted, ‘then we'd never get bogged again. We got bogged,' I told Spooky. ‘It took hours for anyone to come to dig us out. That's why Mum wanted a four-wheel drive.'

‘It's a great car,' Spooky said. ‘Heavens, I don't even have air conditioning.'

We all turned automatically to look at Spooky's car. It was old and someone had rammed the back of it. You didn't need to know anything about cars to realise that it wouldn't have a CD player in it.

‘So long as it goes,' Dad said heartily. ‘Shall we load in, folks?'

As soon as we piled in the back seat, Cal brought out an mp3 player and offered me one of his earphones.

‘Dad doesn't like me listening in the car,' I said.

‘He and Mum are getting to know each other,' Cal said, not even bothering to whisper. ‘It'll be fine. I've got some good music on this.'

Cal's version of what was good music seemed to be a bit hippy to me, but you could hear all the lyrics, which was unusual, and I liked that. I kept one ear on Dad
and Spooky's conversation for a while, but it was pretty boring. Dad talked about the traffic, the weather and environmental issues. Spooky talked about her work in the café and organic food. They didn't seem to be talking to each other, exactly. I figured they were happy so eventually I took out my book and read, which was what Cal was doing. I was pleased I'd put it in my daypack. Normally Dad won't allow reading in the car, either. I have to either talk to him or look at the scenery. They're the car trip rules. Dad wasn't paying any attention to the rules because he had Spooky to deal with. The label on her top was sticking out and I thought I should tuck it in for her, the way my mother would have. I didn't feel I knew her well enough to say ‘tag-dag' and maybe put my fingers on the powdery skin of her neck.

We only went as far as Wilson's Promontory – about a two-hour trip. Usually Dad and I go further. When he and Mum were still together they'd drive for hours. I'd be bundled into the car half asleep and by the time I woke up, we'd be somewhere completely strange and still driving. They'd swap, taking it in turns to drive. The one who wasn't driving got to choose the CDs. I liked it best when Dad drove because Mum would put music on we could both sing along to. I knew Dad thought Wilson's Prom was a safe camp, but I didn't say anything as Spooky got out and stretched her legs, declaring how beautiful it all was.

‘There are March flies,' I warned her. ‘They don't respect insect repellent.' I was already on the lookout. I hate March flies worst, sandflies second and mosquitoes third.

‘The whole experience,' Spooky said brightly. ‘Cal – we'll be experienced campers after this.'

‘Here you are, young man,' Dad threw Cal our hiking tent, ‘have a go putting that up. Just give us a hoy if you need a hand. Magenta, over here and help Lianna.'

I spent the next half an hour running between Dad, Lianna and Cal. Dad and I were the only ones who had a clue. Lianna put the wrong pole through the front loops and her tent went up lopsided, which she didn't even seem to notice until Dad pointed it out.

‘Wrong pole,' he said. ‘This'd just go over in a storm.' He poked the tent and it lurched to one side.

‘Goodness,' Spooky said, ‘I thought I'd followed the instructions.' I was going to laugh, but when I looked at her, her chin seemed to be wobbling almost as badly as the tent.

‘Everyone makes mistakes the first time,' I said. ‘I should have picked that up. After all, I was helping.'

‘Okay, girls,' Dad said. ‘Magenta, that's the longest pole and it goes straight through the middle. You can work it out? I'll set up the stove and make us all a cuppa.'

When we were finished we had a decent campsite. Dad and I had the biggest tent, of course, because we
were sharing. I didn't mind sharing with Dad. I slept in the space that would normally have stored the luggage but was quite big enough for one person. It was cosy. I'd already spread out my sleeping bag and put my torch and book in the special net pocket so I'd have no trouble finding them in the dark. My pack was neatly at the bottom of the sleeping bag and my PJs were on top.

The others were drinking tea and discussing what they wanted to do. Or rather, Dad and Cal were. Spooky was just nodding and smiling while she looked around nervously.

‘My sleeping bag's already out,' I said, taking a cup of tea from Dad and putting in a bit too much sugar, which was allowed when you were camping.

‘Good on you,' Dad said.

‘Oh, that's what we'll have to get from you, Max, sleeping bags.'

‘Sleeping bags?' Dad echoed.

Spooky nodded. She was sitting on the edge of her camp chair as though she was scared it would break if she leant back. She looked so uncomfortable it made me feel fidgety.

‘You didn't bring any?' Dad asked.

‘You said you'd bring all the equipment,' Spooky said. ‘I brought food in an esky. That was the arrangement. Wasn't it?'

‘Sleeping bags aren't really equipment,' Dad said. ‘They're kind of essential. I assumed you'd bring sleeping bags, just like you brought a pillow.'

‘I thought they were equipment,' Spooky said. ‘Anyway we couldn't have brought them because we don't have any.'

‘They'd have to count as equipment,' Cal said, watching his mother. ‘They're not standard. They're camping gear and that equals equipment. At home we sleep on mattresses, between sheets and under blankets.'

‘Okay,' Dad said, ‘okay. So we're down two sleeping bags. That's a problem.'

‘Is there a camping store anywhere?' I asked.

‘That's your mother's kind of solution,' Dad said. ‘I don't think Lianna can afford to suddenly shell out for two sleeping bags and I know I can't.'