Eduardo, Mr Landon-Bond’s friend, has offered his private jet to fly us home to Australia from London. I am not, of course, used to anything like this; at our house, my dad’s friend, Lambert, might lend us a power drill, if my dad knew how to use one, but not a Lear jet. No point complaining, though. We simply waltz through British customs, me carrying Amy, and get on board. And in seven minutes, we are out of English airspace, hitting a thousand kilometres an hour.
‘Here we go, George.’ Chase looks out his window as we burst through clouds and into bright sunlight. ‘Back to the really real world. I’m looking forward to it. It’ll be a challenge. Rich kid no more.’
‘It won’t be a challenge for you, Chase,’ I suggest. ‘You can do anything. You’re smart, funny, and great at sport. You’ll always do well and have fun.’
Chase pats Amy. ‘We’ll see. But I’m pretty sure that no miracles, financial or educational, will be happening any time soon. From here on in, the Landon-Bonds are on their own.’
Isobel leans forward. ‘Have you heard any more news on your Super Algae, George?’
Funnily enough, I have. In an Australian paper the onboard jet butler provided, there is an article about an outbreak of algae flowing out of a very familiar-looking inner-Melbourne backyard. Evidently two fire engines got bogged in it, and a team of scientists have been called in to see exactly what sort of algae it might be.
‘It seems to be going quite well,’ I say. ‘As far as exceeding its growth targets go.’
‘You might save the world, George.’ Isobel rubs Amy’s small black ears. ‘Like you saved Amy. And me.’
‘And me, at times,’ adds Chase.
‘We all saved each other,’ I say emphatically. ‘With the help of many other great people. And that’s the truth.’ I glance towards the rear of the plane where the kitchen is. ‘Do you think they have coffee? Because when I get home, it’ll be all half-strength decaffeinated soy lattes stirred with bamboo slivers and served in cold cups once a week. And Barista George cannot go there.’
‘Of course they have coffee.’ Chase snaps his fingers. ‘Eduardo’s Brazilian, Georgie-boy. He owns the biggest coffee plantation in the world.’
Oh, that’s handy!