The Crunch Campaign (10 page)

‘Who found her?'

‘The son of a strawberry grower,' said Liam. ‘I'll have to find him and say thanks.'

Lorraine beamed.

‘Katie,' said Liam, ‘Georgie has something for you.'

‘What's that?' Katie felt the blood returning to her hands and feet.

‘I found this for you.' Georgie held out a cumquat.

CHAPTER NINE

There wasn't room in Liam's car for everyone, so Vanessa waited to take Katie and her friends home in a maxi-taxi. The police were surprisingly okay about having been called out on a Sunday night to look for a little girl on the hunt for cumquats. Liam and Vanessa thanked them over and over again and offered to pay for any expenses.

‘No, that's what we're here for.' Detective Sergeant Lloyd smiled. ‘We're happy when there's a happy ending. It doesn't happen every time, you know.' She looked at Katie. ‘You were very lucky tonight that this little one showed up safe and sound.'

Katie nodded. The relief she'd felt seconds earlier was evaporating and being replaced with irritation. It wasn't her fault that Georgie had got lost – she wasn't even meant to be with them. ‘I know. It won't happen again.'

‘How old are you kids? Twelve? Thirteen?'

‘I'll be fourteen in two weeks,' said Katie. Her mum looked up as if she'd forgotten.

‘Yes, well, you're children too, really, and like Georgie you shouldn't be out at night without adult supervision.' That stung, and Katie fumed.

‘I know,' said her mother. ‘I'll talk to the other parents.'

‘They seem like good kids,' said the officer, ‘but there are odd people around these days.'

The maxi-taxi pulled up and they all climbed in.

‘So, what were you doing at the markets?' Katie's mother clipped her seat belt and looked over her shoulder. ‘I know it had something to do with the ad ban, but I'm not sure I've been given the full story.'

Katie started to confuse things as she always did when she was tired and upset. ‘We need to make some ads about fruit and vegetables to show the prime minister so she stops the ban, which is stupid anyway, and we needed to find a strawberry grower, so Lorraine asked about cumquats, but he was really horrible and then his son Zach said he'd help –'

‘And he was gorgeous.' Lorraine cut in. ‘Let's not forget that.'

They all laughed and Katie was grateful to her for breaking the tension.

‘The thing is, Vanessa,' said Dominic, sensing her anxiety, ‘Katie hasn't told you, but she's meeting the prime minister on Wednesday to present an idea that might stop the soft drink ad ban. All we want to do is save Parfitt's.'

‘Again,' said Joel wearily. ‘All we ever seem to do is save Parfitt's.

‘Well,' said Clementine, ‘it's worth saving, remember.'

‘So, Mum,' Katie went on, ‘I reckon if healthy food had ads as good as the junk food ads, there wouldn't be any need for an ad ban.'

‘But who would pay?' Her mum wasn't quite following.

‘That's the genius bit.' Dominic sat forward. Katie glowed with pleasure at his compliment, glad that it was dark so no one would see. ‘Katie thought that the junk food people should contribute. We're calling it the Lettuce Levy.'

They turned into Dover Street.

‘Well, it's a clever idea, but really, this ad ban isn't your problem. Mosquito Advertising does the ads for Parfitt's and that's great, but this ban isn't for you to worry about. I don't want to hear any more about it.'

‘But, Mum! It's a good idea – the
prime minister
wants to hear about it. Did you miss that minor detail?'

‘Yes, well, that won't be happening.' Her mother turned to the driver. ‘Just here, thanks.' He stopped between Katie's house and Lorraine's.

‘What do you want me to do, Mum?' Katie wasn't about to let the discussion end like that. Do I just ring the prime minister and say, oh my mother says I'm not allowed to meet you. Like I'm a naughty five-year-old?' She thought about mentioning that a naughty five-year-old had caused all this trouble in the first place.

‘That's exactly what you should say,' her mother said, with her hand on the cab door. ‘But I'm happy to send her a note if you like.'

‘Mum! We're talking about the leader of our country! Not Mrs Sinnamon.'

‘I don't care if we're talking about the Queen of England. You're my daughter and tonight you almost lost the daughter of the man I'm going to marry!'

‘I knew it!' whispered Lorraine. Katie elbowed her and blinked hard to stop the tears. Clearly Georgie was more important than she was.

‘This plan of yours ends here, all right?'

Katie knew that was it. Her mother didn't put her foot down often, but when she did, that was it. No correspondence would be entered into.

Joel slid the door open.

‘Hey,' said Vanessa, ‘I'm not going to tell your parents about tonight. As far as I'm concerned, this is the end of it. There won't be any more night-time excursions for Katie – that includes visits to the prime minister.'

Without saying goodbye, Katie ran up the front steps while her mother paid the driver. ‘None of this would have happened if you hadn't expected me to be an unpaid babysitter to that brat!' she shouted, when she was sure the others had gone. ‘You're all I-won't-do-anything-you're-not-happy-with-love, but you've decided to marry Liam and what I think doesn't matter and never did! I can't believe you just announced it in front of everyone like that. You don't care about me or what I think at all.'

Then she pushed open the lattice, stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door. She sat on her bed, threw her sandshoes at the wall and waited, expecting her mother to come and talk to her. But she didn't. Katie was left alone. Part of her was happy about that, but the other part wanted to keep fighting. She heard the shower running and knew her mother wouldn't be talking to her any more that night.

Katie lay on her bed, with her arms and legs rigid. A pair of mosquitoes bounced off the ceiling. They seemed to be deciding which one would attack her first. Finally one started its descent. It took its time, but Katie's eyes were fixed on it. Down, down it came, before settling on her bare ankle. She watched as the mosquito pierced her skin and its black body became a bubble. She lifted her hand slowly and with a flat palm, slapped hard, leaving a spatter of blood on her hand and her ankle. It felt quite satisfying.

Thump thump
. Someone was hammering on her door with a fist. That'd be Nancy.

‘Go away,' said Katie, wiping her hand on her shorts.

Nancy pushed the door open. She was wearing a nightie with a kitten on it and the words ‘I'm A Cutie'. Katie wondered if Amos Gumm had given it to her and the thought made her queasy. ‘I said, go away. Nancy. I don't want to talk to you right now. I'm tired.'

‘I'm not surprised.'

‘Has Mum blabbed to you already?'

‘She told me what went on tonight. What were you thinking, to leave the kid with me and say nothing? Stupid thing to do. But not as stupid as your mother's plan to marry Liam Parfitt. I had no idea that was going on. I'm furious she didn't tell me.'

‘Of course she didn't tell you. You've just broken up with Amos. You're a mess.'

‘Sure I am, but what's your excuse?' As Nancy sat on the end of the bed, her weight made Katie bounce.

‘I'm fine. Everything was going great, until Georgie decided to tag along with us because she's so scared of you.'

‘Stop blaming everyone else for your stuff-ups. Your mother told me about your plan to save Parfitt's with some fruit ads.'

‘It's not that simple.'

Nancy scratched a scaly patch of skin on her knee.

‘Could you do that somewhere else, please?' Katie winced. ‘It's really gross.'

‘No grosser than that.' Nancy pointed to the blood smeared on Katie's ankle.

‘Look, I know you're going to say that my idea is ridiculous and what did I think I'd achieve by seeing the prime minister – other than proving to her what a prawn-head I am.'

Nancy pressed her fingertips together and lifted them to her face. She looked at her nicotine-stained nails and said, ‘Katie, do you think I'm mad?'

This was a dangerous question. The truth would result in trouble, a lie wouldn't be believed.

‘A bit,' she said softly.

‘Well, then, you should know that, as a madwoman, I'm unpredictable. Never, ever, presume you know what I'm going to say or do.'

Another mosquito was on its way down from the ceiling. This one was heading for Nancy's freckled arm.

‘As it happens, I think your idea – if your mother explained it to me properly – is a pretty good one. And I hate to say it, but I'm impressed that you got yourself a meeting with the prime minister. That takes guts.'

Katie shrugged. ‘Well, fat lot of good it's done us. I won't be seeing the prime minister, and because Georgie Parfitt decided to tag along tonight, I wouldn't have any ads to show even if I
could
go to the meeting. I'm going to forget about it. Thanks, Nancy, but it's too late and I need some sleep.'

‘Now listen to me.' Nancy took a deep breath. ‘I didn't come in here to cheer you up. You know me better than that. I have a proposition for you.'

Katie groaned.

‘I want to come and work for you.' Nancy sat up straight, but turned her head to look at Katie. She smiled in a hopeful, shy way that Katie had never seen before.

‘What?'

‘I need a job, and I'd like to work for Mosquito Advertising.'

Katie scratched her head with both hands. It was too much. She wanted the night to be over. ‘Ah, Nancy, I don't think so. Thanks, but it's not like there's that much to do anyway. Not now that Mum's put a stop to my plans. She seems resigned to this ad ban. So does Liam. And if they don't care, why should I?'

‘Katie, it's pathetic, but they're in love and they've lost sight of what matters. Parfitt's has been around for a lot longer than their romance and it'll be around when it fizzles out. You and I owe it to them, and to Pat Parfitt, to protect that company. I think your idea to make junk food companies pay for healthy food ads is pretty clever. And if your mother is too lovesick to see it, I'm not. I'm the opposite. I'm smart and I'm angry and I need something to do. So come on, give your old auntie a job. It won't be fun, but great things might happen.'

This was the most bizarre situation Katie could imagine. Her night had gone from bad to worse, but she was exhausted and wanted the conversation to finish. ‘You don't want to be paid, do you?'

‘Only if the rest of you are.'

Katie couldn't see that happening. ‘All right. You're hired.'

‘Great. Will you be meeting in the tree office tomorrow?'

She nodded dumbly and watched the mosquito gorging itself on Nancy's arm.

Nancy slapped it. ‘Feels good when you get one, doesn't it?'

CHAPTER TEN

Katie heard the rumble of the Porsche when her alarm went off at seven. She was a bit upset that her mother hadn't even said goodbye.

There was a note on the kitchen table.

Let's not argue any more.

I'm sorry I lost my temper.

Can you cook me something

nice tonight?

Love Mum x

p.s. What do you want for your birthday?

That made Katie smile – she didn't want to fight any more, either. Fighting never achieved anything. Besides, she needed to get through a day at school and a Mosquito Advertising meeting with their newest staff member, Nancy. The idea made her collapse into a chair. She knew she should eat some breakfast, but her stomach was churning. There was a banana in the bowl so she took that to eat on the way to school.

The fact that her birthday was coming up didn't interest her at all. There was nothing she really wanted – except to kill off the ad ban so Parfitt's and Mosquito Advertising could keep going.

She hitched her backpack higher on her shoulder and looked at the bright blue sky. In another month it would turn a steamy white and her energy would dive as the humidity rose. There wasn't a lot of time. Her main job was to save Parfitt's and maybe having Nancy on board could help. She hated to think what the others would say, but what choice did she have? There was no point in stressing about her mum's marriage to Liam Parfitt – it was going to happen anyway. But Nancy was right: businesses lasted longer than relationships.

The bell was going as she walked through the front gates of the school. She broke into a jog and made it to her home-room just as Ms Whitby was calling the roll.

‘Katie, I'm so happy to see you.' Her teacher smiled. Smiling teachers were always a bit suss. ‘I've got a surprise visitor coming today. The whole school will enjoy her talk, but I had you in mind when I asked her to come.'

‘Who is it?'

‘Tania Mentelle. I went to uni with her – she was guest speaker at a dinner I went to on Saturday night and what she had to say was fascinating! I asked her to come along today and I could hardly believe it when she said yes.'

‘Ah, when's she speaking?' Katie hoped it wasn't an after-school thing.

‘At lunchtime on the lawn.'

Good. She wasn't especially interested in what Tania Mentelle had to say, but Ms Whitby had gone to some trouble and she didn't want to be rude. It was nice, too, having a teacher take an interest in her. And lunchtime had an end. If it had been after school, it could have gone on and on.

At midday, girls gathered on the circular lawn in the centre of the school grounds. Normally they weren't allowed to sit on the grass. There had always been a rumour that some nuns had been buried there, but on special occasions, Mrs Sinnamon let them sit in the sunshine to listen to music or guest speakers, so the dead nuns thing couldn't be true. Katie had brought her blazer along, so she used it as a rug. Dead nuns or not, there were bull ants in the grass, everyone knew that.

She peeled the banana she'd brought that morning and ate it, even though there were a few translucent brown bits.

Ms Whitby introduced her guest. ‘One of the advertising world's leading lights and a role model for young women everywhere – Tania Mentelle.'

‘Good name,' Katie whispered to the girl next to her. ‘She looks a bit psycho.' The white streak in Tania Mentelle's hair made her look like a younger version of Cruella from
101 Dalmatians
. Katie rested her weight on her hands behind her. The sun felt lovely and hearing someone talk about advertising would be a nice change. Most visiting speakers banged on about internet danger or the evils of drugs – neither of which interested her.

‘Hello,' said Tania Mentelle. Her voice was deep for a small woman. ‘I won't talk for long with this appalling heat. You Brisbane girls will look like crones by the time you're my age.'

Ms Whitby looked as uncomfortable as Tania Mentelle. That was a bit rude. Katie didn't think it was that hot.

‘But despite my discomfort, I'm happy Ms Whitby asked me to come to talk to you today. You might know my work in advertising –'

Tania Mentelle, Tania Mentelle. Katie ran the name through her mind, it sounded familiar.

‘Despite my achievements in that industry, it's not advertising that I want to speak about today, but freedom! Freedom of choice! Freedom of thought!'

Katie looked around. Dozens of girls who had been looking interested started to squirm, and not because of the bull ants. This talk wasn't going to be about advertising at all.

‘You have no doubt read in the papers that our fool of a prime minister is proposing to ban the advertising of certain foods and drinks on television.' Tania Mentelle's hands were clenched like grenades. ‘Well, I am here to tell you that you are smarter than that! You young women know that selling a product is about basic human rights! If my client MyFries wants to sell chips, he has every right to do so. They're not poisonous. They're not evil. To restrict his advertising should be illegal. At the very least it's un-Australian.'

Katie sat up. The pieces were coming together for her. Tania Mentelle was the one asking for money from Parfitt's to slam the government's anti-advertising policy. Nervously, she raised her hand.

‘But don't you think something needs to be done about childhood obesity?' continued Katie.

‘Probably, but that's not my client's fault, is it? His chips are perfectly legal. He should be allowed to advertise them.'

‘Sure, but maybe there's a way to . . . get kids to eat more healthy food.'

Despite the warm sun, Katie felt cold as Tania Mentelle's eyes drilled into her.

‘There is a way, and that is for children and their parents to take some responsibility for what they consume. Any other questions?' She looked across the sea of girls' heads. No one put their hand up. She smiled. ‘What I would like you to do is to talk to your parents about how they intend to vote in the next election. They are intelligent people and will know a threat to their civil rights when they see one.'

Katie put her hand up again. She liked an argument and disliked Tania Mentelle.

‘Yes?'

Katie saw Ms Whitby shaking her head.

‘Nothing,' said Katie. ‘I don't want to say anything.'

Tania Mentelle talked for a few more minutes about how a healthy advertising industry was an indicator of a flourishing democracy.

What a load of rubbish. Ads helped to sell stuff, and they could be entertaining. Katie couldn't understand why they had to be taken so seriously. It wasn't as if MyFries and Parfizz, for that matter, were important. If they disappeared, nothing much would change – in fact, things could improve.

The problem was one of balance. The more Katie thought of it, the more her Lettuce Levy seemed to make sense. She was almost looking forward to seeing Nancy that afternoon and hearing what she had to say. Tania Mentelle was getting close to finishing her talk. Her voice was getting higher, like a netball umpire's whistle.

‘Soon, you will see a television ad I am making on behalf of MyFries and other companies threatened by the prime minister. Some of those companies are based right here in Brisbane. I believe the Parfitt Family Soft Drink Company is one, so I expect your support.'

Katie felt heads turning in her direction. She raised her hand.

‘Yes?' Tania Mentelle put her hand over her eyes, like the brim of a cap.

‘Are you sure that's the best way to handle it? Slamming the government?' said Katie, her voice shaking a little.

‘Have you got a better suggestion you'd like to share?'

‘Maybe,' Katie glared at her.

‘Well then, that'll be an interesting little project for you, won't it?'

Katie sat down. It was clear Tania Mentelle thought she was nothing but a stirrer.

Ms Whitby smiled awkwardly – she didn't like conflict. ‘Well, then, thank you, Ms Mentelle. Thank you for coming to talk to us today. It was most . . . enlightening.'

There was a smattering of applause as the girls got up. No one was smiling. The bell was ringing and instead of an interesting talk, they'd endured a political speech. It was a lunchtime wasted.

‘Who was that girl questioning me so rudely?' asked Tania Mentelle, checking her phone for messages.

‘Oh, that was our Katie Crisp. I should have introduced you! She runs an advertising agency and she's not even fourteen.'

‘Really?'

‘Yes, it's called Mosquito Advertising,' said Ms Whitby. ‘In fact, I believe they do some work for Parfitts. Her family has close connections.'

‘Do they really?' Tania smiled. ‘How interesting.'