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PIERRE DROVE OFF INTO the deepening night. The boys tore open their envelopes and counted their money. $1255, each! Randy held his tightly to his chest and felt dizzy and breathless. Piho fanned his out and gazed at it quietly, sighing once or twice. There wasn’t much to say. Carefully they put it in their pockets and went home.
They didn’t feel the cold any more – life was simply too good for that.
#
HE WAS LATE AGAIN. His dinner was cold and his parents were mad. “What’s going on?” they demanded to know.
“Working,” he answered around his food, “need a faster bike – saving up ...”
Beau sat quietly at the other side of the table, finishing her pudding. Randy glanced up and caught her eye. To his great relief she remained silent.
After dinner they did the dishes together.
“Tammy called,” Beau told him as soon as their parents had disappeared, “about another meeting. There’s been a new development.”
“Uh huh?” he answered, although his heart had raced at the mention of Tammy.
“We’re going to visit the pig farm on Wednesday. Official visit by ARF.”
“Wednesday?” repeated Randy, worried.
“Yeah, four p.m. We're meeting tomorrow night at Ponga’s. Strategy planning.”
“Strategy?”
Beau lowered her voice excitedly, “Infiltration; secret camera; damning evidence.”
“Ah. Well, that sound’s great, but ... I won’t be there.”
“Why not?” asked Beau suspiciously, “I thought you really cared about those poor little piggy-wiggies?”
“Oh, yeah, sure I do! But ah... commitments y’know. Other... commitments.”
“You and Piho busy making money for yourselves?” she guessed cunningly.
Randy nearly jumped out of his skin. What did she know? No. No way. How could she ever find out about the truffle business? No; she just believed the official lie: Randy the well-paid Pooper Scooper. Even so, He suddenly felt nervous.
“Uh, yeah, no, not that,” he answered, “I’ll... ah... yeah, I’ll call her back. Yeah; I think maybe I can make it on Wednesday after all.”
Ugh; it meant another encounter with that swine Boyd, but he had to do it for Tammy. Had to, or he was doomed.
#
AYE-YI-YI! THIS WAS beginning to feel horribly familiar. His fibs would be found out and he’d be deep do-do with his parents again. Or even worse: the secret of the truffles would be found out and he’d have to give all the money back. Or even worse again: some rich swine would buy the reserve and fence it off and make a huge profit while Kainui went broke.
Or even worse than that: those guys who followed Pierre would turn out to be French secret agents who were planning to poison the whole reserve to prevent New Zealand competing in the world truffle market.
Or worst of all: Tammy would never speak to him again. Aye-yi-yi!
#
TAMMY ANSWERED THE phone after two rings, “Hello, Tammy Turinger speaking.”
“Gaah, geer, gah ... Hi! It’s me, Randy.”
“Hi! Did you get the message?”
“Sure. Yeah; I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it for a million bucks.”
“Great! Listen, Beau needs help with the secret camera. We’ve got to get a few extra things for it tomorrow, some black gauze and an external microphone. You’ve always been so generous before. Can you help, like, with a bit of money?”
Randy barely hesitated. “Sure.”
“Great. I’ll need to collect it from you at school tomorrow. Will that be too soon?”
“No. Ah... I’ll talk to Beau about what she needs.” Silence. Was this the end of the call? Randy quickly tried to think of something more to say. “Um, y’know, wouldn’t it be great if the council bought the pig farm and just closed it down? Like someone suggested at that meeting?”
She laughed, “That was you, silly! And yes, that would be great.” Then she sighed sadly and added, “And pigs might fly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Randy,” she said with tired patience, “it takes money, and the whole district is suffering from the downturn. It happens to rural areas - banks close - businesses fail - people leave. Even my Dad’s job isn’t certain any more...”
“What!” squawked Randy in panic. Tammy’s father was the chief engineer at the milk treatment plant. If he left, Tammy would go too!
“But, but, surely something can be done!”
“Dear Randy, you are such a dreamer. I guess that’s why I like you. But the reality is we’ll just have to fight this ourselves. Now, if Barry Boyd were an honest person like you, we could just go talk to him.”
“Hah!” said Randy to that.
“Yeah.” She sighed, then he heard her resolve harden again, “But we’ll get the evidence! Once people see the misery of those pigs the outcry will be so great he’ll have to close it down!”
“Yeah!” agreed Randy, fiercely, “And... and... and that’s why I like you – ‘cos you really care about stuff!” It was a bold thing to say, but it was time he got honest with her.
Well, a little bit honest.
“Thank you Randy,” she answered sweetly, “Thank you.”
Silence again. That was probably enough of the sharing/caring stuff for now, he thought. “Well, um, guess I’ll see you at school tomorrow?”
“Yes. Look forward to it. Thanks for calling.”
“Okay. See ya.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.” He put down the phone. “YEEEEEEE!”
#
BEAU WAS IN HER ROOM, reviewing one of her earlier documentary tapes on the family's old TV set. (How come she got it?) Randy knocked and went in.
“Tammy says you need some stuff.”
“Yeah, I tried the camera in a bag but the sound quality was awful.”
“Right, needs an external microphone. We’ll get it first thing tomorrow.” It was how his father would talk; confident bloke-y stuff. Money was doing strange things to him!
Beau brightened up. “Alright!”
“Well, ah, I gotta go. Homework to do.”
“Okay. Ah, Randy...”
He paused halfway out her door, “Yuh?”
“I don’t know what’s come over you,” she said, puzzled, “but I like it.”
“Errr-ahhh...” he shrugged, embarrassed, “...thanks.”