The Crunch Campaign (12 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

With her mum's sort-of approval, Katie ran out to the tree office. The light was soft and the air was warm. She felt energised and positive, but anxious too. Her heart was pumping hard – she knew that tonight they needed to come up with a winning campaign for strawberries – one that would convince a prime minister to do something revolutionary. It had to be about more than strawberries, really. It had to show that ads for healthy food could be as powerful and convincing as ads for chips and burgers. It was a big job, and there wasn't much time.

Katie was disappointed to find only Nancy there – she had been hoping Dominic would be waiting for her, but at least Nancy was helping to clean up. ‘I think that shouldn't be too hard to fix,' she said, pointing to the splintery gash in the wall.'

‘You really lost it, didn't you?' Katie started to pick up papers.

‘I did, a bit.'

‘Joel deserves it sometimes, but he's smart and we need him.'

Nancy said nothing, just straightened the chairs around the table.

‘What do you want out of this?' Katie asked her. ‘Why are you helping?'

‘I don't know. I suppose mainly because I don't know what to do with myself if I'm not writing ads. It's all I've ever really done. The ad ban makes me mad. I don't want Parfitt's to close. And –' Nancy's voice faded to a whisper. ‘I want Amos to notice me again.'

‘But, Nancy, he must have liked you for something more than your witty headlines,' said Katie, although she couldn't think what that might be. It couldn't be looks or personality.

Nancy must have been thinking along the same lines, because she held her palms up in a hopeless gesture. ‘I'm not like your mum. I'm not pretty, or caring. Not many people like me – I know that and mostly I'm okay with it – but it was nice having Amos around.'

‘Did he ever say why he liked you?'

‘No.' Nancy shook her head. ‘And I never asked.'

‘Why did you like him?'

‘He was calm. I liked that. There hasn't been much calm in my life.'

That made sense to Katie – it was the same reason she liked Dominic.

‘Hey! I'm here!' Joel was at the bottom of the stairs.

‘That's the end of our calm.' Katie grinned. Nancy pushed up the sleeves of her dress.

By eight, everyone was in the tree office. They must have picked up on Katie's tension, because there was no laughing and hardly any fighting. She had decided that every hour, on the hour, they would look at each other's ideas and short list the best. They needed to decide on concepts by midnight to give Joel a chance to put together an ad on the computer and for Clementine to draw up posters. Lorraine was keen to think of promotions and competitions – possibly combining fruit and LorRAINWEAR.

Dominic had written a brief.

‘Let me see it,' said Nancy.

He handed over the neatly typed sheet of paper.

‘Pretty good,' she said, with a hint of surprise in her voice.

‘That means brilliant,' said Katie. ‘Everyone, take a look.'

Client
: Fruit and Vegetable Marketing Board.

Product
: Strawberries.

Medium
: TV, online, posters, promotional.

Who are we talking to
: Kids aged 3–18.

What they think now
: Strawberries are nice, but not really a treat. They are something my mum gives me to eat when she doesn't want me to eat burgers and chips.

What we want them to think
: Strawberries are fantastic and I would choose them before anything else.

Sneaky insight
: Parents feel good about giving kids strawberries. This makes kids suspicious.

Budget
: Creativity over cash!

‘I dunno,' said Joel, ‘Kids three to eighteen? That seems a bit broad. I can't see an eighteen-year-old liking the same ad as someone who's three.'

‘Yeah.' Dominic nodded. ‘I thought about that, but you look at MyFries. They aim their ads at everyone.'

‘I think that's right,' said Lorraine. ‘The Stinky Twins eat MyFries. Their mum Liz doesn't like buying them, but they see the ads and go psycho for them when they're at a shopping centre. MyFries gives her twenty minutes of quiet.'

‘Even my big brothers eat MyFries,' added Clementine, ‘and they're older than we are. They're unhealthy, but they're fast and my brothers are busy.'

‘There you go,' Katie said to Joel. ‘I reckon Dom's brief is bang on.'

‘And you know what?' Nancy had been standing in a corner, listening. ‘What you kids have just said is the secret. Mr MyFries and all their junk food mates aren't selling the food. Why would they? People aren't buying chips – they're buying a bit of peace, or something to put in their guts that doesn't take half an hour to prepare. It's not a logical decision to buy MyFries and Caesar Maxwell and Tania Mentelle know that.'

‘So we do the same with strawberries?' Katie's mind was whirring.

‘Yes. Whatever you do, don't ramble on about how healthy they are. That's been the biggest mistake of healthy food advertising.'

Clementine scratched her head. ‘But it'll be hard not to, won't it? That's why people buy them. I don't want to tell lies.'

‘We don't have to.' Katie could see Nancy's point. ‘We approach it like we did with Parfizz. It's about entertainment.'

‘Right.' Nancy put her hands on her hips. ‘You can't save souls in an empty church. Health is hard work. No one wants to do that.'

‘So we need to make strawberries entertaining?' Joel wasn't convinced. ‘They taste all right. But they're not cool or funny.'

‘Depends on what you do with them,' said Lorraine, brightly. ‘If I shoved a couple in the toes of your sneakers, that'd be pretty funny.'

‘No, it wouldn't!' Joel snarled.

‘Yes, it would!' Katie hooted. ‘Write that one down.'

To keep track of their progress, she made notes at their hourly meetings.

10 pm Everyone's a bit snarky, so arranged snacks and drinks. Joel and Lorraine appear to be not talking – the result of Joel saying Lorraine's idea of a hundred toddlers dressed as strawberries singing,
‘
I want to be loved by you,' was crap. Clementine and Nancy had nothing. Dominic and me choosing typefaces for PowerPoint presentation to PM. We are calling it the
‘
PMPP'.

11 pm Joel presents idea involving a crack squad of BMX riders being shot at by terrorists firing strawberries from machine guns. Lorraine asks if terrorists can be dressed in LorRAINWEAR. Joel storms out. Clementine and Nancy present an ad that features a family who eat nothing but strawberries. Nothing goes wrong in their lives. They are rich and beautiful. Nancy explains the inference is that the strawberries are responsible – although it's not made explicit. I'm not sure about it, but say it's great because I'm scared Nancy will leave, too. Dominic and I show some excellent photos of strawberries we found online. These will illustrate our thinking and our rationale. Of course, we still don't have an idea.

12 am Joel returns. Says he can't sleep. Describes an idea involving a Martian who lives on a planet made of strawberries. Lorraine points out Martians live on Mars, which is made of rock. Joel replies that Martians don't exist anyway, so who cares what the planet is made of? Nancy says it can be an alien, not a Martian, so could they please just stop arguing about it?

1 am More snacks. Hot Milo and strawberries for inspiration.

2 am Strawberries ineffective. No ideas. Joel asleep and farting on a bean bag. Clementine doodling strawberries as raindrops. Lorraine looking like she's been hypnotised. Nancy walking in small circles with her hands behind her back. Tree office more like a home for crazy people than an advertising agency. Dominic googling agricultural sites. Feeling a bit panicky.

3 am Feeling full-blown panic attack approaching. Eyes hurting.

4 am Everyone asleep. Wondering if prime minister will give us an extension?

In Brisbane in October, the sun doesn't come up until six, but there's a grey light from about five. Katie had left everyone fast asleep in the tree office – she felt trapped. The grass was cold and wet under her bare feet. She was glad she was wearing her grandad's old cricket jumper, because the air was cool, and she could feel the goosebumps on her legs. A scrub turkey was scratching at a pile of leaves under the sausage tree. It stopped and looked at her as she passed it. ‘What's your problem?' she asked. The bird looked at her with beady red-rimmed eyes. It had no problems – not one. In her next life, Katie wanted to come back as a turkey.

She put her hands on the back fence and peered over it. The top rail was level with her shoulders and she remembered when she could barely reach it, even when standing on tiptoe. The creek was almost dry, like her imagination. It was hard to picture it in flood, with all that water roaring towards the river. Now it was a stony chain of stagnant puddles choked with weeds and sticks. It depressed her to look at it, so she turned back towards the house and felt a rush of love.

After Katie's work had saved Parfitt's nearly a year ago, her mum had the house painted a fresh white and the walls shone in the pre-dawn light. It had been the only home she'd ever known and it was impossible to picture herself living anywhere else. It was almost as hard to picture four other kids living here, but squeezing her eyes tight, she could just manage it. It was a big house and the yard was huge. Katie didn't play in it as much as she once had, and it was the kind of yard that needed to be played in. As long as the kids kept out of the tree office and her room, she could just possibly be okay with having the Parfitt kids move in. The alternative was unthinkable.

A pair of kookaburras started to laugh. Katie looked to see them shoulder to shoulder on a branch of the sausage tree. That was odd – kookas didn't normally laugh in the mornings around her place. They saved it for steamy afternoons – their maniacal song was a sure sign there was rain on the way. The air was hard and the sky was a clear, perfect blue. The idiot birds, like everyone else in Katie's life, had lost the plot: there was no sign of rain.

‘Wake up, wake up!' she said, walking around the tree office and shaking each of her friends gently by the shoulder. ‘You need to go home.'

She left Nancy snoring where she was.

‘Have you cracked an idea?' said Dominic, rubbing his eyes.

‘I wish.' Katie shook her head. ‘I'll email Clara Whiting and ask for an extension.' Her words sounded pathetic.

‘Just bail out, Kato,' said Joel. ‘This isn't a geography assignment. The prime minister isn't going to give you an extension.'

‘Do you think any of the ideas we've come up with are any good?' asked Clementine. ‘The BMX one's all right.'

‘All right isn't good enough. This ad has to be about more than strawberries,' said Katie. ‘It has to be amazing and we haven't reached amazing. Joel's right. Maybe we should cancel the meeting altogether. We've got nothing.'

All the energy had been sucked out of the tree office. There was nothing left. Like they were moving underwater, they sloped off and Katie wondered if that had been the last meeting of Mosquito Advertising.

Her mum was in the kitchen, making bacon and eggs. This was unusual and unwelcome. Katie's stomach felt watery as she prodded at the things on her plate. How could anyone fry an egg so badly the yolk was like a flat rock but the white still viscous and clear?

‘So how did you go, love? Are strawberries the newest marketing success story?'

‘No,' said Katie. ‘We'll have to cancel the meeting with the PM. Last night was a waste of time.'

‘Oh no. I'm sorry.'

Katie looked at her mum suspiciously, but she could tell that she meant it. Suddenly she felt like either crying or throwing up.

‘Hello-o? Vanessa?' It was Liam. He came into the kitchen carrying Georgie. Oh great. That was all Katie needed.

‘Hi, Georgie,' her mother said brightly. ‘Don't mind Katie. She was up working late last night, so she's a bit tired.'

Katie kept staring at her plate.

‘So I'll take you to kindy today.' Her mother crouched down to Georgie's level.

Katie couldn't believe it. It was starting already – her family was being expected to run around after Liam's kids.

‘Thanks for doing this,' he said. ‘The boys are all in the car; I'd better go. The doctor won't keep us too long. It's only Sam who needs a jab. I'll drop them at day care and be at the office as soon as possible. What time's the call with Carole?'

‘Ten.'

‘What are you talking to Carole Beauchamp about?' Katie asked sharply.

‘About GBI buying the rest of Parfitt's,' said her mother. ‘We thought we might as well start the conversation.'

‘So you never thought I'd be able to stop the ban, did you? You were just humouring me, letting me work all night. You knew all along it was a waste of time – you can't wait to sell this house, ditch the company and move into the Parfitts' house.'

‘Katie, that's not true –'

‘Of course it's true and it makes me sick, just like these disgusting eggs. I've got to go to school.' She pushed her chair back and ran to her room.

She had hoped a long shower would calm her down, but it didn't. All she wanted to do was get out of the house and away from her mother. She wrapped a towel around herself and bolted back to the bedroom –
anyone
could be lurking around the house these days. No doubt horrible real estate agents would soon be sniffing out a bargain, wanting to stick ‘For Sale' signs in their front yard.