The Crunch Campaign (15 page)

Finally Katie spoke again. ‘That's that, then. I don't suppose anyone thought to leave me a potato scallop? I'm starving.'

Dominic stood up. ‘I ordered you one, and a hamburger. I'll see if they're ready.'

It was late when they got back to Dover Street. Katie dragged herself up the stairs and into the lounge room where her mum and Nancy were watching the end of the news. She flopped onto the sofa and leant on her mum's shoulder. She had never felt so tired.

‘So you didn't get to see the prime minister after all,' said Nancy. ‘What a waste of time.'

Katie sat up. ‘How do you know I didn't see her?'

‘It was on the news a minute ago. She's only just arrived in Brisbane. Apparently there was some strike at Canberra airport and her plane couldn't take off. She said she was one of many Australians inconvenienced by the strike.'

That snake. Tony Cutler had lied to her, telling her the prime minister was upstairs on the phone. Did he think she was an idiot? Did he seriously imagine thirteen-year-olds don't watch the news?

‘I saw Tony Cutler, the health minister,' she said. ‘He was rude, but even worse, he wasn't interested. It's over. The ad ban is going to happen. There's no way they'll drop it.'

‘Don't give up yet,' said Nancy. ‘There's always tomorrow.'

‘No, Nancy, it's over. The interview won't run. Tony Cutler won't let anything get in the way of his ad ban.'

‘What interview?' asked her mother.

‘It's all too complicated and it doesn't matter anymore.'

Her mum wrapped an arm around her. ‘You know I'm proud of you for trying, don't you?'

‘Yeah, I know.' Katie just wanted to sleep, so she could stop worrying. Finally she understood why her mother was happy to wind up Parfitt's. It would be a relief just to let things happen, leave the decisions to someone else for a change. The idea of going back to the boring but predictable cycle of school and hanging with Lorraine was appealing. That could happen without this house, without Parfitt's and without Mosquito Advertising. Like her mum, she wanted a simple life again.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Katie was amazed that she didn't feel anything when the real estate agent arrived the following night to discuss the sale of the house. She was becoming immune to change and what would have devastated her a year ago simply didn't hurt anymore. It was like the scar on her left knee – where she'd fallen off her bike when she was eight. When she pinched it, the bumpy flesh was numb. She sat in the lounge room, watching TV and flipping through
Delicious
magazine. Without the pressure of Mosquito Advertising, there would be more time for cooking, and her mum and Liam had plans to remodel the kitchen at Moira Parfitt's house. She wondered what sort of stove they would get. Possibly one with six burners and a teppanyaki plate. That might be fun. Even the thought of the Parfitt kids didn't bother her. She would just ignore them.

‘What are you doing?' said Nancy, sticking her head in the doorway.

‘Nothing.'

‘I can see that. But why?'

‘Because it's easy. And it's not like there's much else to do.'

‘What do you mean? Parfitt's is going to be shut down, your mother is in the kitchen talking about what pictures of this house to put on realestate.com.au'

‘I hope she puts a great one of the backyard as the main picture. That's the best part of this house.'

Nancy stared at her. ‘What's wrong with you? Are you sick? Have you seriously been bitten on the bum by a bat?'

‘No, I've just given up, and it feels okay. I haven't felt this relaxed in a year. You should try it.'

‘What do you mean you've given up? You'd barely started.'

‘I don't want to talk about it. It's over.'

‘The problem is, you never made an ad. If you'd gone in with something more than words, things might have been different. No wonder that minister didn't listen to you. Ideas don't mean anything unless there are images. You needed to
show
, but instead you
told
. You made the mistake of going into a client presentation saying, “We've got a top idea and if you let us, we'll make the ads.” That never works.'

‘Hey!' Katie snapped. ‘You weren't the one who was humiliated by a federal minister, were you? I did everything I could, but either our idea was a bad one or he didn't want to hear it. Either way, the result is the same and I have officially retired.'

‘Well, I haven't,' said Nancy. ‘I'll never give up. Or give in.'

‘You've never had the option of retiring.' Katie turned the page of her magazine. ‘You usually get fired, don't you?'

The following days passed calmly and Katie relaxed into the boredom. She went to school, did her homework and let the talk of weddings and house inspections swirl around her.

Oddly, though, Lorraine was busy. Whenever Katie called or dropped over, she was out. Her mum wasn't sure where she was, but assumed at school, in the library.

‘I think she has exams soon,' she said.

We all have exams, Katie thought, but it was weird that Lorraine was never home after school. The same for Joel, Dominic and Clementine. They were never around and she missed them. She grew tired of her own company and wondered if she had annoyed them off by shutting down Mosquito Advertising. That was hard to imagine. It hadn't been a heap of fun since they got back from the States and none of them had ever been as into it as she had.

Katie's fourteenth birthday fell on a Friday. She had told her mum she didn't want a party, mainly because she felt no one would be that keen on coming. Also, fourteen was too old for parties. Still, she felt a bit empty as she lay under her sheet, listening to the cicadas. Summer was in full swing more than a month early.

Normally on her birthday, her mum woke her up with a cup of tea and her present. It was a little tradition they'd had in their family of two, so she waited, knowing that this was probably the last year it would happen. Next year there might be four kids jumping on her bed and a stepfather hovering in the doorway. She closed her eyes and tried not to think about that.

‘Katie! Katie! Come quickly!' Her mum's voice was a high-pitched mix of shock and excitement. ‘Nancy's on TV! And Georgie!'

‘What?' Katie kicked off her sheets and jumped out of bed in one motion.

‘They're on “First Thing”, being interviewed by Rejani Reed.' Her mother was breathless in the hallway.

Together they sat on the sofa.

‘Is that Nancy?' Her mum blinked hard. ‘What's this about?'

‘Shhhhh. Just listen.'

Her mum cranked up the volume.

‘This is a story no parent can afford to miss. Last week, five-year-old Brisbane girl, Georgie, had finished her play lunch at kindergarten. She stood up to take her lunch box back to her bag and slipped on a strawberry. It had been dropped by another child, but not promptly picked up by a staff member. Georgie suffered a bruised knee, but her aunt and carer, Nancy, fears that it could have been much worse. I'm talking to them now. Nancy, how is Georgie?'

Nancy's back straightened. She kept her head perfectly still, as though her neat hair was a hat that might fall off. ‘Well, Rejani, we had the doctor look at Georgie's knee, and there was indeed bruising and some swelling. She was lucky, it could just as easily have been a spinal injury. It makes me sick to think about it.'

‘Georgie?' Rejani adopted that sugary voice people sometimes used with the very young and the very old.

‘Were you upset? Slipping on that strawberry must have given you a fright!'

‘Well, my knee hurt a bit, but –'

Nancy cut her off. ‘What I am calling for is a nationwide strawberry ban in all places where there may be vulnerable people. Schools, hospitals, shopping centres – anywhere with a shiny floor.'

‘So are you suggesting that strawberries only be consumed on carpeted surfaces?' asked Rejani, clearly sensing she was onto a story that could go viral.

‘Or sand, grass or soil,' said Nancy firmly. ‘I am serious about this potentially deadly problem threatening our children. Georgie here suffered an injury, but I am determined that others will not have to endure the same kind of pain. I have started a group called CCASS – Carers Concerned About Strawberry Slips. There is a Facebook page and an online petition. I am hoping that everyone with a conscience will share it.'

‘Are you concerned about risks from other fruit?' Rejani probed. ‘Grapes, for example, will be in season soon. My mother once slipped on a grape and badly twisted her ankle.'

‘Yes, I realise grapes are a challenge. We'll look at the entire issue on a fruit-by-fruit basis,' said Nancy. Katie wondered how she kept a straight face.

‘You don't think education could be a better option than a ban?' said Rejani. ‘Asking people to dispose of uneaten fruits thoughtfully?'

‘That would be nice, in an ideal world. But you know as well as I do that people are inherently lazy and thoughtless. A ban is what will work. Anything less is asking for tragedy.'

‘Georgie, Nancy, thank you. You can visit the CCASS Facebook page and give your support to this battle against strawberries. An unlikely danger, but a danger nonetheless.'

Katie and her mum stared at each other.

‘What was that all about?' said Katie in a hushed voice.

‘I think that was your auntie's way of telling the prime minister that bans don't work.'

‘She's not subtle, is she?'

‘Never has been.' Her mum kissed her on the cheek. ‘Happy birthday, love.'

‘Thanks, Mum.'

‘Your present is a bit boring this year.' She got up, went to the hall table and brought back a package wrapped in red paper.

‘It's great,' Katie said as she unwrapped the digital camera she'd hoped for, long ago.

‘If there's something else you'd rather have, let me know. It's hard to think what to get you these days.'

‘You know what I'd really like, Mum? More than anything?'

Her mother looked worried.

‘It's okay, I'm not going to ask you to keep the house.'

‘Really?'

‘No, not really, but I'll get used to it. What I'd like is the day off school. Mostly we're revising stuff and today's double PE. Please?'

‘All right. I imagine you've got lots to do. But make sure you're ready at six.'

‘Why? Is there a surprise party?'

‘Well, not anymore,' said her mum. ‘Just be ready to go out.'

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Katie pulled on her grandad's old army shorts and a t-shirt. She gobbled some Vegemite toast and drank a glass of orange juice before running across the grass and climbing up to the tree office. It had been shut since their all-nighter and it smelt so stuffy. Katie pushed open the windows and the soft summer air wafted in.

She switched on a Mac and quickly found the CCASS Facebook page. It was hilarious – there were already more than a hundred comments saying how ridiculous the ban was. Nancy was so clever. There was no better way to demonstrate how silly a ban was than to slap one on something people loved. The conversation had started. Now all she had to do was create the ad that would be the last word. Nancy was right. Ideas and concepts were just air. She needed an ad and she needed to get it in front of the prime minister. Fast.

She took a pad and a marker and started to write. Line after line after line. She taped the pages on the walls until there wasn't a square centimetre of wall-space uncovered.

At eleven, she checked the lines and took thirteen of them down. More thinking, more writing. More lines up, more lines down. At two she ran into the house, made a tuna sandwich and grabbed an apple. Eating with her left hand, she scribbled out more lines. At three, she stood in the middle of the tree office with her hands on her hips and looked at the lines on the walls. Only one deserved to stay – and it was the first one she'd written. Nancy said that often happened.

Just after five, Katie was done. Her brain hurt but there was an ad and it was made. Somehow, she would get it in front of the prime minister and maybe there was still a chance it might make a difference. She checked the Facebook page. People were outraged about the strawberry ban. That was pretty funny, but Nancy was right. It didn't mean much without an ad. Tomorrow she would show the one she'd made to the others, and if they liked it, they could make a last ditch attempt to see the prime minister.

She changed into a pair of jeans, unprepared for feeling excited at the thought of a surprise party, even though it wasn't a surprise. She guessed her mum would take her to her favourite Thai restaurant, where her friends would be waiting.

Thai-Me-Down was ten minutes away, and Katie told her mum about the day as they drove there.

‘I did an ad for fresh food growers. I don't know if it's any good, but it's something. And after Nancy and Georgie's interview this morning, maybe the prime minister might take a look and change her mind. You never know, do you?'

‘No, love, you don't,' said her mum, reversing into a space right outside the restaurant. ‘Now remember, this dinner is meant to be a surprise.'

‘Got it.' Katie strode up to the door and pushed it open.

‘Surprise!' came a chorus of voices. At the table were Liam Parfitt, Georgie and three wriggling little boys.

Katie didn't even try to hide her disappointment as they drove home. She stared out the open window and the warm wind dried her tears before they fell. It wasn't just the dinner that had upset her – none of her friends had even called to wish her a happy birthday. Not even Lorraine.

When they got home, Katie went straight to her room. Her mum followed her.

‘I'm sorry, I guess that wasn't the birthday you wanted, was it? But you said you didn't want a party and I thought a family dinner would be nice.'

‘It's okay,' Katie sniffed, ‘I just want to go to bed.' It was only half past seven. Meals with kids ended quickly, and that was the only good thing about them.

‘All right, but if you change your mind, come and watch some telly with me.'

Katie was about to put her pajamas on when her mum called, ‘Katie?'

‘Yes.'

‘There's a light on in the tree office, can you go out and turn it off?'

Katie stomped down the hallway. Would it have killed her mother to turn the light off? She got to the back deck and stared out into the darkness, ‘Mum? What are you talking about? There's no light on!'

‘There is now!' Lorraine's voice piped up from the tree office. ‘Ta-DAHHHH!'

The yard was suddenly filled with light and people and music.

‘You're kidding!' Katie looked at her mum. ‘You planned this?'

‘No, I was just an accomplice.'

Katie hurried down. Everyone was there: Dominic, Joel, Joel's parents, Lorraine's parents and Clementine. Zach was there, too and Lorraine edged her way over next to him.

‘Hey, Katie!' Jasmine Jolley suddenly stepped out from the shadow of the sausage tree. ‘This'd be a lame party without music, and my brothers were just mooching around at home.' Another floodlight came on and there were the Flying Foxes.

Katie felt happy tears in her eyes.

‘Come on, get your act together,' Nancy said behind her. ‘You've got a special guest. She didn't come to see you blubbering.'

Katie swung around to see the prime minister, Clara Whiting, standing next to Nancy. The Flying Foxes stopped playing.

‘Happy birthday, Katie.' She held out her hand.

Dumbly, Katie shook it.

‘I'm sorry to crash your party, but I wanted to say I'm sorry I didn't see you the other day. I had told Tony Cutler to ask you to wait, but he said you didn't show up.'

‘Then how do you know I was there?'

‘The Product Xmas you left on the table.' I saw it and drank it. I'd had a terrible week and it tasted like holidays.

Katie grinned. ‘That's a great slogan. If we were allowed to make ads we could use it.'

‘Yes, well. The minister has a problem with that.'

‘Do you?'

‘No, I have a problem with bans. I agree with you. I think people are smarter than we give them credit for. Bans treat people as though they are stupid, and they're not.'

‘So you like the idea of taking money from the junk food companies and giving it to the fresh food growers?'

‘Yes. I think Caesar Maxwell can afford to spend a little less. Between you and me, I think the MyFries ads are awful.'

Katie giggled. She couldn't believe this was happening.

‘But I need to know that great ads for fresh, healthy food are possible. I've never seen them done.'

‘Katie has something she can show you,' said Nancy.

‘Ah – no I don't. Not yet.'

‘Of course you do.' Nancy's voice was stern. ‘Weren't you working on an ad all day?'

‘How do you know? Were you spying on me?'

‘No, I just know that's what you were doing, because that's what I would have done.'

Katie shook her head. ‘Well, it's not ready.'

‘Of course it's ready. You're just worried that it's not good enough,' said Joel. ‘What did you think of that interview on “First Thing” this morning?'

‘That was kind of our birthday present to you,' said Clementine.

‘I got you a LorRAINWEAR coat as well.' Lorraine handed Katie a package wrapped in silver paper and decorated with flowers. ‘But we thought the interview would make you happy. It worked –' She nodded at Clara Whiting. ‘She's here.'

‘Come on, Katie,' said Dominic. ‘We knew you'd be working on an ad. We counted on it. Please show it.'

Katie looked around at all the people who loved her. They had faith in her – the least she could do was share it.

‘Ms Whiting,' she said, ‘could you just wait here for a second?'

In a daze, she climbed up to the tree office. The party was directly below her, but it felt a long way away. Her pad was still on her desk and she stared at her handwriting.

‘Katie?' It was Dominic. ‘Are you coming down? Everyone's waiting.'

‘Dom, it's so silly, this idea. And all I've got is words on a page. No pictures, no music.'

‘That won't matter. There are pictures and music everywhere, but not a lot of ideas.'

‘But what if she doesn't like them?'

‘You can't
make
them like it. But everyone likes
you
. That's why they're here – they want to hear what you have to say, especially me.'

He grinned and it was contagious. Katie picked up her notes and followed him down the ladder.

The Flying Foxes stopped playing.

She breathed deeply and suddenly the whole thing struck her as totally incredible. A year ago she had lolled on the grass with nothing to do but count the flowers on the sausage tree. Yet here she was, in the very same spot, about to present to the prime minister an ad that could change the way Australian kids ate. Even if nothing came of this concept, she knew that she had changed. Anything was possible.

Katie cleared her throat and told herself to speak slowly and calmly. ‘I need you to picture a little girl. Actually –' She stopped and indicated Georgie, who was leaning against her dad's legs. ‘Can you come here and help me?'

‘Sure,' said Georgie, ‘if you help me with the words, I can read them with you.'

Katie raised her eyebrows. Was there nothing this kid couldn't do?

‘Off we go then.'

Georgie stood as straight as she could. Katie put a hand on her shoulder to stop her trembling. The ad included two limericks, and together they recited them perfectly.

There was a young girl from Toowong,

Who never did anything wrong,

Her mum said, ‘Surprise,

I'll give you some fries,'

When it was strawberries she craved all along.

This girl, her dad was a fool,

Not aware that strawberries rule,

He said, ‘Here's some lollies,'

She said, ‘They're for wallies,

'Cos strawberry eaters are cool'

The yard rang with laughter and applause. When it died down, Katie said, ‘I was thinking the strawberry ad could kick off an ongoing campaign. Different limericks for different fruit and all kinds of vegetables. Meat and milk, too.'

‘Would it always be kids?' the prime minister asked.

‘No,' said Katie. ‘That'd get boring. And – well, some people don't like kids, but everyone loves a limerick.'

‘You know what we could do?' Joel stepped into the spotlight. ‘We could make this go viral on social media – get people to post videos of themselves reciting healthy food limericks. It would go off!'

‘I love it,' said Zach. ‘And I know my dad and the other growers will, too.'

‘Thanks, Zach,' said Katie. ‘Ms Whiting, this is – our client, Zach. His dad is a strawberry grower.'

‘Nice to meet you, Zach, and I agree,' said the prime minister, ‘this idea is great. It's simple and funny. I like it a lot. I think everyone will.'

But Zach wasn't listening. His eyes scanned the yard – as soon as he saw Lorraine by the sausage tree he said, ‘Ah, sorry, but there's someone I need to talk to.'

‘Of course,' said the prime minister. ‘It's a party, after all.'

‘Caesar Maxwell won't be happy,' Katie continued. ‘He won't like paying for an ad that says strawberries are nicer than his chips.'

‘Yes, well, Caesar Maxwell will just have to grow up. He needs to stop making ads that put people down and work on selling a better product. It's preferable to having his ads banned – you've saved him from that. He should be very, very grateful to you. I am.'

‘Really?'

‘Yes. I'm tired of negativity. You've come up with a solution – something positive and fun. It won't fix everything, but it's a start.'

‘What about Mr Cutler?'

‘If I win the next election, you can expect some changes.'

‘And if you lose?'

‘Then it won't be my problem. But while I'm in power I'll do my best to see that your Lettuce Levy becomes law.'

The Flying Foxes started to play again and waiters emerged from the house carrying trays of satay sticks and spring rolls.

‘Yum,' said Katie. ‘Is this from Thai-Me-Down?'

‘Yes.' Her mother nodded. ‘I had guessed you wouldn't eat much at dinner.'

‘Look Mum!' Katie almost choked on a spring roll. ‘Guess who's here.'

Amos Gumm strolled up the path that ran beside the house, looking like a recently arrived alien in his almost-black suit. He scanned the party until he spied Nancy. For a moment he looked as though he didn't recognise her – the hair, the jeans. But once he was certain, he walked over and tapped her on the shoulder. Nancy turned and her face lit up in a way Katie had never seen.

Soon everyone was dancing, even the prime minister. It was hilarious – Katie had never had such a great birthday.

As the music played and midnight passed, warm, heavy raindrops began to fall. So what they said was true after all. Dry spells didn't last forever.