Dear Mum, Dad picked me and Digby up from school this afternoon. We weren’t expecting him, so I knew straight away that something was wrong. We put our bikes in the boot of the car and scrambled aboard, and all the time my heart was going thumpety thumpety thump, too hard and fast.
Dad still hadn’t said much, but his face was grim, and as soon as we were away from the school, he stopped the car.
‘Something’s happened,’ he said, looking straight ahead. ‘Something serious. And I need an honest answer from both of you.’ Digby and I glanced at each other. ‘Okay,’ we said.
‘Did either of you tell anyone about the other night?’ said Dad. ‘About Digby’s sheep going missing? About the tyre tracks and the description?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘You told us not to.’
‘How about you, Digby?’
‘Me neither,’ said Digby. ‘Olive and I talked about it at recess, but we made sure no one could hear us.’
‘What about your mum? Do you think she might’ve said anything?’
‘She told Dad about it when he phoned last night. But then she said he mustn’t tell anyone, so I don’t reckon she has. Why?’
Dad leaned forward and rested his forehead on the steering wheel. ‘I had a phone call this afternoon from my boss in the city. Says he’s had a few reports about my health, and he’s worried about me. Says I have to take compassionate leave. A month, starting Saturday morning. He’s replacing me with some young bloke who’s never even lived in a country town.’
As he talked, I could feel my eyes getting wider and wider. ‘Your boss can’t do that!’
‘He can,’ said Dad.
‘But you’ve got a description of the truck at last. And the tyre tracks.’
‘That’s what I told him. But he wouldn’t budge. Says I have to go to the coast for a proper break, and take you with me.’ He raised his head. ‘And that’s why I’m asking you both one more time: did you tell anyone? I need to know, even if it was an accident. Even if you just hinted at something. Because it looks to me as if someone’s pulling strings. Someone who knows that I’m getting close and is trying to get me out of the way.’
We both swore that we hadn’t said anything, and Dad believed us. He started the car again and drove us home without another word.
I don’t want Dad to go on compassionate leave, Mum. He’s just starting to come right again, and so am I. So as we went down the main street of Little Dismal, I stared out the window at everyone we passed. Wondering who was pulling strings, and how we could find out before Saturday.
Clara was having a dust bath when we got home, so Digby and I sat on the back step in the shade, trying to work out what we could do to help Dad. Except we couldn’t think of anything, so after a while we fell silent.
I didn’t know if we should tell Clara about the compassionate leave or not. I was pretty sure Dad wouldn’t let her come with us, which meant she’d have to go back to Auntie Gina’s.
Would the other chooks be nicer to her now? Or would they bully her?
We were still sitting there when she scrambled out of the little hollow she’d made, shook the dust from her wings and came trotting across to say hello.
Only it turned out that ‘hello’ wasn’t what she wanted to say.
‘Hi, Clara,’ said Digby.
She ignored him, and started searching my pockets for my phone, so I put it down in front of her. She bent her head and started tapping away at the keyboard.
‘HAS MASTER CRIMINAL JUBILEE CRYSTAL SIMPSON MADE THE MISTAKE THAT WILL BRING HER DOWN AT LAST?’
Digby snorted. ‘Jubilee’s a master criminal? I wish.’
‘Shut up, Digby,’ I said. ‘Clara, what are you talking about? Why would Jubilee make a mistake?’
‘BECAUSE I SENT HER A MESSAGE.’
‘When?’ I squeaked.
‘LAST NIGHT.’
All I could think of was Dad’s grim face when he picked us up from school. ‘What was the message?’
‘I KNOW ABOUT THE SHEEP.’
I groaned. ‘But Clara, Dad told us not to say anything. To anyone!’
‘I WAS SETTING THE CAT AMONG THE CHOOKS.’
‘What?’ said Digby.
‘AMELIA X YESTERDAY’S EPISODE.’
Digby stared at Clara. ‘You mean the anonymous letter to Colonel Brawn?’
Clara’s little head bobbed up and down. ‘YES AND THEN HE MADE THE MISTAKE THAT WOULD BRING HIM DOWN AT LAST.’
I could hardly speak. ‘You – you did it because of Amelia X?’
‘AND BECAUSE CONSTABLE DAD WAS TAKING TOO LONG TO SOLVE THE CRIME. AMELIA X NEVER TAKES LONGER THAN ONE HOUR.’
Digby and I looked at each other. ‘Clara—’ I began. Then I stopped. And started again. ‘Clara, you do know that—’
I stopped again.
‘You have to tell her,’ said Digby.
‘I know.’
Clara peered up at us, bright-eyed and keen. ‘TELL ME WHAT?’
I picked her up and sat her on my lap, with the phone beside her. ‘You’re a very clever chook,’ I said. ‘Much cleverer than a lot of humans. But—’
She wriggled. ‘BUT WHAT?’
‘But you do know that Amelia X isn’t real. Don’t you?’
‘OF COURSE SHE IS REAL. I WATCH HER ONCE A WEEK.’
‘It’s just a TV show,’ I said.
‘A story,’ said Digby.
‘A made-up story,’ I added. ‘With actors. There’s no such person as Amelia X. That’s why she never takes longer than an hour to solve her crimes. Because that’s how long the TV episode is.’
‘I’m sorry, Clara, I thought you knew.’
Two years ago, one of the school chooks got a bad case of the staggers. For a whole day she couldn’t walk straight, but bumbled in circles, bumping into the other chooks with her beak agape.
That’s what Clara looked like.
She wobbled off my lap onto the step, and then onto the ground. ‘Clara, wait,’ I said. But it was clear that she didn’t want to talk. She stumbled around the corner of the house and out of sight. And all Digby and I could do was sit there and watch her go.
Love, Olive