The Crunch Campaign (13 page)

She was tying her shoes when there was a tap on her door. ‘Go away!' The tarnished brass knob twisted a little. Then nothing. ‘If you're going to come in, Mum, come in, you've just barged ahead with everything else.'

‘It's not Vanessa, it's me,' said a small voice. Georgie.

Katie opened the door and looked down, ready to tear strips off the kid. But she was holding a plate of Vegemite toast. ‘I thought you might be hungry so I brought you my toast. I don't like eggs. They're icky. Like the stuff in your ears.'

‘Eeew, that's foul,' Katie said, thinking it was true.

‘Do you want it?' Georgie came into the room and looked for a place to put the plate down. The bed was covered in clothes and the desk was a mountain of books and papers. The only spare spot was a corner of the floorboards, so she put it down there, like a dish of food for a cat.

‘I don't want to live at Granny's,' she said.

‘Oh?' said Katie. ‘Well, neither do I, but that's life. I have to go to school.'

‘Me too. Vanessa's talking to Dad. That could take forever.'

Katie went back to tying her shoelaces.

‘I'm sorry I got lost at the markets.' Georgie edged a bit closer. ‘Did you get into big trouble?'

‘Yes,' Katie looked at her, and it all came out, even though she knew Georgie couldn't understand. ‘But I'm in bigger trouble now. Because I promised the prime minister I'd show her an idea and I haven't got one. That means the factory your grandad built will close. This house will be sold and I'll be living in an old lady's house with three baby brothers.'

‘And me,' said Georgie.

‘And you.' Katie's voice softened a bit. ‘All because I couldn't think of an ad for strawberries.'

‘I like strawberries,' said Georgie. ‘When they don't make me itch.'

‘Everyone does,' said Katie. Then she realised that was the problem – and the solution. She hugged Georgie, grabbed her school bag and ran to school. There was no time to waste.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Katie thought about skipping school, but it was too risky. It was a day six on the timetable and that meant double maths. If she wasn't there, Dr Pang would alert Mrs Sinnamon for sure. He had it in for her. A better plan was to go and say she felt sick – which was half true. Ms Whitby would take pity on her and send her to the sick bay. That would give her a few hours to come up with an idea.

‘Katie?' It was her mother at the door. ‘I have to take Georgie to kindy now. Then I've got to get to work. I'll see you this afternoon, all right?'

Katie opened the door – she could tell that her mum had been crying – she was wearing her sunglasses inside. ‘I'm okay. Sorry I lost it.'

‘That's all right. There's a lot going on. But, believe me, you'll soon see there's more to life than Parfitt's and this house. And it's not up to you to sort things out, Katie. You need to leave things to me for a bit. Life will be easier for you – you're only thirteen, love. Sometimes you forget that.'

Not thirteen for long, thought Katie. But there were more important things to think about. She couldn't have cared less about her birthday.

Before she left the house, she called Lorraine, Clementine and the boys and told them to meet her in the tree office at half past three. They would have an hour to try to come up with an ad in the sick bay. Not a lot – probably not enough – but better than nothing.

There was no sign of Nancy, so she scribbled a note to say she wasn't giving up, that she would fake being sick at school and try to come up with something. She left the note on the kitchen table and looked at the clock on the wall: fifteen minutes until the school bell rang. She'd have to run. It was going to be that kind of day.

Getting into sick bay had always been easy. Katie had done it once or twice a term. It was peaceful in there and Mrs Reuben, the school secretary, was so terrified of catching whatever disease you had, she rarely checked on you. It was a good place to catch up on homework and have a snooze. Today, though, Katie had work to do, so she was disappointed that Mrs Reuben was away.

‘What's
wrong
with you?' Mrs Sinnamon eyed her suspiciously. ‘You look fine to me.'

‘Where's Mrs Reuben? Is she sick?' asked Katie.

‘One of her cats died.'

‘Oh.' She was disappointed – not because of the cat. If Mrs Reuben had been sick, she could have copied her symptoms.

‘She should be back tomorrow. Kind of you to be so concerned, especially when you're not well yourself. What are your symptoms?'

Katie hadn't prepared for this. Mrs Reuben never questioned anyone, but she needed to be in sick bay, so she had to lay it on thick. She swallowed every bit of saliva in her mouth to make sure her tongue was dry and her voice would sound hoarse. ‘I have a terrible headache, right at the base of my skull, like someone's drilling there. And my eyes hurt when I look at the light. And my fingers won't straighten.' She held up a hand, her fingers bent into a claw. It was always effective to throw in a really bizarre symptom.

‘Vomiting? Diarrhoea?'

Who did Mrs Sinnamon think she was? A doctor?

‘No – not yet, but you never know with these things.' Katie swayed a little on her feet. ‘Mrs Sinnamon, I really need to lie down.'

‘Rash?'

Katie had thought of drawing a few purple dots on her legs, but was glad she didn't. Mrs Reuben might have fallen for it, but not Mrs Sinnamon. ‘No, no rash, but my legs feel very weak.'

‘All right, go and lie down,' sighed Mrs Sinnamon. ‘I'll call your mother. Where is she today?'

‘Working from home,' said Katie. ‘Call her there.' It was a lie, but it would buy her the time she needed. Nancy was home, but she was pretty sure she wouldn't answer the phone. And if she did, she wouldn't care if Katie was dying.

Lying on the narrow bed in the sick bay, Katie stared at the ceiling, unsure when it would be safe to take a pad out of her bag and start scribbling her script for the strawberry ad. If Mrs Sinnamon came in to check on her, she would surely look at what she was doing, and she'd never believe it was homework. Maybe coming to sick bay wasn't such a good idea after all.

Mrs Sinnamon's head appeared at the door. ‘I spoke to your Auntie Nancy.' Katie sat up, worried that she had told Mrs Sinnamon her mum wasn't at home, but could be reached at Parfitt's. ‘Apparently your mother's mobile is off – she's gone to a meeting in Caloundra.'

‘Oh.' Katie knew that wasn't true.

Mrs Sinnamon's eyes were full of concern. ‘She says you weren't at all well last night – she was very worried about you.'

‘Really?'

‘Yes. Katie, why didn't you tell me about the bat bite? You could be terribly sick! Nancy says I am to put you in a taxi and send you to the hospital straightaway.'

Bat bite? Hospital? What was going on? Then Katie got it – Nancy was helping her escape. ‘Yes, it was very painful, but I didn't want to make a fuss,' she croaked.

‘Where did it bite you?' Katie's mind raced – what if Mrs Sinnamon wanted to see the bite? ‘On my bu–, on my buttocks,' she said quietly, hoping that would be the end of it.

‘Yes.' Mrs Sinnamon bent down to put an arm around Katie's shoulders. ‘That happened to me once, on a camping trip with my daughters to the Atherton tableland.'

Katie was astounded, and desperate to know just how a bat had bitten her school principal on the bum. What had she been doing? It was a ridiculous, impossible thing to happen. But of course, she couldn't say that – because it had happened to her too.

‘So
so
painful, and such an infection risk.' Mrs Sinnamon seemed lost in the traumatic memory.

‘Ah – Mrs Sinnamon, maybe, you could call me a taxi?'

‘Of course, of course. We must get you to the hospital as quickly as possible.' She looked at Katie closely. ‘I should probably drive you there myself.'

Katie almost shouted, but stopped herself in time. ‘No, you don't need to do that. Nancy will meet me at the hospital, won't she?'

‘Yes, she said she was already on her way. And I am terribly busy preparing for the Future Leaders Festival.'

‘Mrs Sinnamon,' said Katie, ‘I would hate to be responsible for the festival falling behind.' As she spoke, she wondered what if she actually had been dying? What sort of principal put an inter-school public speaking competition before the needs of a student with a potentially fatal bat bite on the backside?

Mrs Sinnamon was hit by a sudden flash of guilt. ‘Are you sure you don't need an ambulance?'

‘No, no, I don't feel that bad,' said Katie bravely, but not too bravely. ‘I should go, though.'

Ten minutes later, Katie was sliding across the back seat of a yellow cab. Mrs Sinnamon leant through the driver's window. ‘Take her straight to the children's hospital. Her aunt, Miss Nancy Crisp, will be waiting. She will pay you. Go straight there.'

That seemed a bit over the top to Katie. Did Mrs Sinnamon think the driver was going to do a bit of shopping? Swing past MyFries drive-through?

As the taxi pulled away, she started to giggle. She couldn't wait to tell the others about the bat bite on Mrs Sinnamon's bum.

Nancy was waiting by the front doors of the Royal Children's Hospital. Before the taxi pulled up, she raced over, opened the door and jumped in beside Katie. ‘Kiddie Koala Kindergarten, please, driver. On Annie Street at Milton,' she barked. ‘And fast!'

‘What?' said Katie. ‘Why are we going there?'

‘To get Georgie, of course,' said Nancy. ‘We need her.'

‘What for? And I don't think you can just grab a kid from kindy like that. There are forms and things.'

‘Katie, can you just trust me for once? Kids are handy to have in ads. Especially fruit ads. Better to have her and not need her than need her and not have her. Believe me, I wouldn't be bringing a kid into this if I didn't think it was an important resource.'

‘I don't want her around either, but she's not an “it”, and we can't go in and
abduct
her from kindy.'

‘Excuse me, driver, why aren't you driving?' Nancy poked the driver on the shoulder. The taxi was still in the hospital drop-off zone.

The driver looked at them in his rear-view mirror. The word ‘abduct' had troubled him. ‘The lady at the school told me to bring this girl to the hospital. She's sick.'

Nancy sighed. ‘No, she's not sick. That was a big lie. I'm her auntie, however, and she's perfectly safe, but we need to get to that kindergarten, pick up a child and get home so we can make some ads to show the prime minister so she can stop kids getting fat and ending up with diabetes and heart disease in a place like
this
!' She pointed at the hospital. ‘So if you wouldn't mind, please
GET GOING
.'

Katie giggled as the driver pulled away. Nancy knew how to make the truth work as well as a lie.

‘Georgie,' said the kindy teacher. ‘You have some visitors.'

There she was, alone at a table, drawing with fat crayons. The other children were playing outside.

‘She's quite the artist,' said the teacher warmly.

‘No, I'm not,' said Georgie. ‘I just like it in here, because it's quiet. I like quiet.'

‘Hi Georgie,' said Katie.

‘Hi. Have you come to pick me up?' She smiled at Katie, but looked nervously at Nancy.

‘Yes, is that okay?'

Georgie hesitated.

‘Your grandma called and said your daddy's fiancée would be coming to pick you up!' The teacher winked at Nancy. ‘I'm so happy for you. Liam's gorgeous.'

Nancy's glare killed Katie's giggle. Georgie hurried to fetch her bag.

As Katie put a seatbelt around Georgie, she turned to Nancy. ‘Did you call and say you were Moira Parfitt? That's pretty bad.'

‘What do you think I am?' Nancy looked insulted. ‘I'm happy to spin a few stories to a high school principal, but I wouldn't take a little kid without permission. I called Moira and told her we needed Georgie's help to save Parfitt's. She wasn't going to say no, was she?'

‘I guess not,' said Katie. But she wondered what else Nancy had been up to.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Lorraine, Clementine, Joel and Dominic were in the tree office, waiting for them.

‘Ha! How come you're all here? How did you get out of school?'

‘Last minute dentist's appointment,' said Lorraine.

‘I had to attend an award ceremony for my brother.' Clementine grinned.

‘We've got head lice,' said Joel and Dominic together.

They all looked gratefully at Nancy.

‘Head lice!' Katie laughed. ‘How did you manage that one? Did you plant a few of Abbott's fleas on their heads last night, Nancy, and hope a teacher would spot them?'

‘Give her some credit,' said Lorraine. ‘Nancy got me here first and made me impersonate Joel's mum.' She held an imaginary phone to her ear and spoke in an airy, singsong voice. ‘Oh hello, Mr Ahmed. Terribly embarrassing, but I've just heard that the young girl who lives across the street from us has a head simply teeming with lice! Dreadful. And I'd be devastated if your entire school population became infested. I couldn't live with myself. Yes, yes, if only most parents were as responsible. Thank you. Please, if you wouldn't mind sending Joel and Dominic home, so I can apply the appropriate treatments. Thank you. Yes, tell them to catch the first available bus.'

‘Thanks, Lorraine,' said Katie. ‘Now everyone at Brisbane City College thinks I have head lice.'

‘They've thought that for a long time,' said Joel. ‘Don't worry about it.'

Everyone laughed and Katie laughed along with them. ‘It's ten past eleven,' she said, suddenly businesslike. ‘That gives us five and a bit hours until I need to leave for Government House if I'm going to get there by six. That's not a lot of time.'

‘It's a lot more than you would have had if you'd stuck to your original plan of meeting after school,' Nancy huffed. ‘How about a thank-you?'

‘Thanks, Nancy,' said Katie. ‘I mean it. Thanks for getting us all here. I really appreciate it.'

‘All right, don't go over the top and hug me or anything.'

‘No chance of that. I'm grateful – not disturbed. Now, this is what I'm thinking.' She spent the next half an hour telling them about her ‘Strawberry Ban'.

‘It has a double effect,' she said. ‘It uses reverse psychology to get people to really want to eat fruit and at the same time points out the lunacy of a ban on anything. Bans don't work.'

‘Good call, Kato.' Dominic was thinking hard. ‘So we need an ad – '

‘Yes, but that's the least of it. We need to be smart – all over the internet, in shopping centres, schools, everywhere. If we can get people believing that something they love – strawberries – is going to be taken away, I reckon they'll go mad for them.'

‘Got any ideas for a slogan?' asked Joel. He wasn't quite with them, but almost.

‘I'm thinking something like, “Beware the Strawberry”,' said Katie.

No one spoke.

‘It's not brilliant,' said Nancy.

‘And it's not that believable,' said Clementine.

‘And you'd need to back it up with something,' added Lorraine. ‘Why would anyone need to beware of strawberries?'

Katie's idea suddenly seemed fragile, weak.

‘Strawberries aren't allowed at my kindy,' said a small voice. ‘Because of allergicness.'

‘That mainly happens with babies.' Lorraine took any opportunity to show off her babysitting knowledge. ‘It's rarely serious.'

‘Also, I slipped on one,' said Georgie.

‘Were you hurt?' Nancy crossed the room and crouched down so her eyes were level with Georgie's. It was a tricky manoeuvre, because Nancy looked like she might roll over.

‘My knee was sore, they put ice on it and they called Dad. And then no more strawberries.' Georgie lifted her palms up as if to say she didn't understand.

‘That's ridiculous,' Lorraine said. ‘Think about it. Poor Zach and his dad and all the other growers. All those families not packing strawberries in lunch boxes, because one kid slipped and she wasn't even hurt.'

‘Fantastic!' Katie thumped the table with her fist. ‘This is the best thing I've ever heard!'

‘What?' Lorraine was confused. ‘It's terrible.'

‘It's perfect! Lorraine, have you got Rejani Reed's phone number?'

‘Of course. I have it on speed dial.'

‘Why?' Joel scoffed. ‘How often do you call her?'

‘I like to be ready.'

Katie needed to nip this Joel versus Lorraine thing in the bud. This wasn't the time for it.

‘Call her and tell her that there's a big story going. People are calling for an Australia-wide strawberry ban because of the risk of slipping. She can interview Georgie.'

‘She won't interview her without an outraged parent,' said Lorraine.

Hmmm. Katie tapped the table. That was true.

‘I'll do it,' said Nancy. ‘
Parent or carer
, that's what they always say. And I'm caring for Georgie today. I have her grandmother's permission.'

Lorraine looked dubious.

‘What's the matter?' Nancy bristled. ‘Don't you think I make a convincing carer? I can be very caring.'

Dominic got up from the bean bag he'd been sitting on. ‘It's tough, because we want people to be outraged at what you're saying, but at the same time, Nancy, we need you to be – ah – credible.'

‘I know!' Lorraine leapt up before Nancy had a chance to be outraged. ‘A makeover!' She grabbed handfuls of Nancy's long wiry hair and twisted them into a knot on the back of her head. The effect was amazing. She looked calmer and younger. For the first time Katie saw a resemblance between her auntie and her mum. ‘Hair up, a bit of lippy, some LorRAINWEAR and you'll look fabulous.'

‘But it's not raining,' said Joel.

‘Who cares?' Lorraine shrugged. ‘I'm off to call Rejani.' She fished her phone out of her bag and took it down into the yard for some quiet.

‘Clementine,' said Katie, ‘can you design a logo for an organisation called CCASS: Carers Concerned About Strawberry Slips? Joel, we need a Facebook page and a heap of friends. Lorraine's mum can help us with that – she loves a cause. Then, Dom, can you draft emails to all the radio talk shows? We need to have the whole of Australia talking about this bogus fruit ban.'

‘But, Katie,' he said, ‘this isn't exactly an advertising campaign, is it? What are you going to show the prime minister? Even if Rejani Reed does the story with Georgie, it won't be on TV until “First Thing” is on – tomorrow morning at the earliest.'

‘Dominic,' said Nancy, ‘Katie's onto something here. There's more to advertising than ads. All she needs to do is talk the PM through the idea. Odds are she won't go for anything we do, but this way, she won't have a choice. I always think it's better to ask forgiveness than permission. Worst case is she rethinks the advertising ban affecting Parfitt's – because Katie lets her know a ban isn't the government's only option. Then Katie takes her through the Lettuce Levy idea.' Nancy's usually harsh voice was becoming smoother. She looked at Katie. ‘I think that levy is the smartest idea I've ever heard. It's not an ad, but it could launch hundreds of great, important ads. It deserves a shot. Let's look at this strawberry ban as the rocket we need to launch the mission.'

Lorraine burst into the tree office. ‘Good news! Rejani loves the story. She's based in Sydney, but she's happy to do the interview from there – and a camera crew will be here in an hour.'

‘That's great,' said Katie, ‘I can tell Clara Whiting about the Lettuce Levy and say it'll be all over TV tomorrow morning. She won't have a choice. She'll have to at least acknowledge it.'

‘I'm going to be on TV?' squeaked Georgie.

‘Yes,' said Lorraine, ‘with your auntie Nancy. Don't be scared – you just need to look very serious when the TV lady asks you questions – can you do that?'

‘Like this?' Georgie dropped her eyebrows and pursed her lips.

‘Perfect. Come on, let's go to my place and I'll get you both looking fantastic.'

Just for a moment, Katie thought Nancy panicked.