Devils in Danger, page 7
I crept along the verandah, pleased that the sound of Dad’s engine might disguise my footsteps, and had just reached the end when the creature turned to face me. Its black, shiny eyes were reflected in Dad’s light, and I watched, spellbound, as its wet nose lifted, just enough to reveal a white collar, ending in a small white pendant of fur under its throat.
It was Fern.
I hardly breathed as I watched our precious devil sniff the air, her whiskers twitching as she touched her nose to the ground and then raised it back into the air, smelling nervously for danger.
‘It’s only me,’ I whispered. ‘I won’t hurt you, I promise.’
I didn’t know if it was the cold or the magic of seeing Fern, but my skin tingled and my head spun. I’d never seen anything more special: a wild Tasmanian devil, right here in our garden! Maybe Fern felt something too because she suddenly stopped her anxious sniffing and sat back to scratch her ear. Then she shook herself like a wet dog before settling on her haunches to lick delicately at her front paw.
‘Killarney, what are you doing? It’s freezing out here!’
Fern’s head shot up at the sound of Mum’s voice.
‘Shhh,’ I whispered, quickly pointing out Fern’s black shape, hoping Mum hadn’t broken the spell.
But it was too late. Mum’s gaze followed mine just in time to see our little devil lope off and dive under our back fence, disappearing so silently it was hard to imagine she’d been there at all.
I arrived early at school the following morning, determined to find a way to help people accept Fern and her babies. Dad had had some urgent quotes to finish the previous evening, so I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him, and I’d already scoured the internet, so I thought I’d check our school library for information instead. Noah was right. Posters were pretty old-fashioned. I hoped a library visit might give me some fresh ideas.
I managed to find several good books and was about to borrow them out when Miss Bredlow strode through the door. ‘Goodness! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in the library in your free time before.’ She frowned. ‘Have you and your friends had a spat?’
I shook my head and tried to explain, but only managed an unconvincing simper. Not that Miss Bredlow noticed. She was too busy eyeballing the books tucked under my arm.
‘Saving the Tasmanian Devil, The A to Z of Australian Animals and Dangerous not Deadly, Everything You Need to Know? Someone’s been busy!’ she declared. ‘What’s this all about?’
I stared at my shoes. Miss Bredlow was new to Tasmania and might not understand. What if she was like Missy and the others?
‘Come, come, I asked you a question. It’s polite to give me an answer.’
I paused, checking to see if anyone else could hear. But Miss Bredlow and I were the only ones in the library, so I quickly explained about the Tasmanian devil.
Miss Bredlow’s hands flew straight to her neck. ‘Oh dear. Was it …’ She took a breath then lowered her voice. ‘Dead?’
‘Nope. It’s a healthy female. And she’s got babies!’
‘I beg your pardon?’ scoffed Miss Bredlow, her eyebrows shooting towards her hairline. ‘A breeding devil in a suburban yard? Never!’
I wished I could disappear.
‘Killarney?’
I could hardly look at Miss Bredlow, but I had to do this, for Fern. I took a shaky breath. ‘It was a devil,’ I told her. ‘I found this stuff under our house, then met this lady, and she said—’
Mrs Bredlow held up a hand. ‘Stop, stop, stop!’ she insisted. ‘Can you be more precise, please, Killarney? This stuff, this lady? What have we been saying about using our language features this term?’
‘April is a professor from the university. She came and set a trap, and now …’
Miss Bredlow’s shoulders relaxed. ‘Oh, thank goodness. An expert came and took the critter away?’
I frowned, but didn’t get to explain because the morning bell rang and a class began jostling outside the door, waiting for their library session.
I sighed. Who knew one small marsupial could cause so much trouble?
‘Killarney?’ Mum asked a few nights later. ‘Did you say anything to Mr Snibbler?’ Her eyes looked tired and her face was drawn.
I shook my head. I’d been avoiding Mr Snibbler ever since I’d found the notes. As if three notes weren’t bad enough, more and more had been arriving. All in the same angry handwriting. All viciously against Tassie devils. I’d managed to intercept every one so far, since they didn’t come in the regular post, but I still avoided talking to most of the neighbours, until I found a way to stand up for Fern and her babies. ‘Why?’ I asked.
Mum shrugged. ‘He just rang and cancelled all his appointments.’
I looked up with a start. Mr Snibbler had been coming to Mum’s salon since before I was born. ‘What?’
Mum chewed her lip. ‘I know. And he didn’t say why. Just said he wanted to cancel.’
My heart sank. So, it was Mr Snibbler who’d written those notes? He’d heard about the devil from someone and now he wanted Fern gone.
As if on cue, a loud screech filled the air. I dived to the floorboards and peered through the gap. It was too dark to see anything, but something was definitely moving down there. I lay super still, my ear to the floor. There were some soft grunting noises, like piglets on a farm, then a growl and a hiss. Fern must have been scratching around, getting ready to move in. April had said denning would start about now. I listened a little longer, then looked up at Mum and grinned. ‘Come on,’ I whispered, ‘come lie here with me.’
Mum hesitated at first, but then, just as she took a step towards me, another loud squeal rang out. Mum shook her head in dismay. ‘Goodness, Killarney. Fern’s terribly loud. I’m not sure we’re doing the right thing, letting her den under there. Don’t you think we should—’
‘No, Mum, no. She’ll settle down, you’ll see.’
But I was wrong. Fern didn’t settle. She just grew louder and louder.
A few mornings later, Dad sat in the kitchen, sliding his coffee cup left then right between his hands as he talked quietly to Mum.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked. Dad was never late for work.
Dad glanced at Mum, before nodding towards an envelope pegged under the magnetic clip on the fridge. My pulse quickened. I thought I’d done such a good job of hiding the notes. Had I missed one? I quickly snatched the envelope and pulled out a crisp page folded into three. This one wasn’t like the other notes. This one was typed, with a letterhead that said, Sorrell Council, Lead with Strength. It was from our local council.
Dear Sir and Madam, the letter began. It is council policy to check all complaints made to our department, hoping for reasonable explanations. We are greatly concerned to learn of several incidences of screams, howls, barking and growling coming from your residence, most particularly occurring …
I glanced up at Dad. ‘At all hours of the night.’
‘Your dad and I have been sleeping with ear plugs,’ Mum conceded.
The letter continued by saying that action would be taken if adequate steps weren’t made to reduce the noise.
An angry hot flush crept up my neck. ‘That’s not fair! It’s not like we can force Fern to be quiet.’ I was silent for a moment before adding, ‘Was it Mr Snibbler, do you think? Complaining to the council?’
‘Oh, chicken. It doesn’t matter who it was,’ said Dad. ‘Your poor mum’s had even more cancellations overnight.’
Mum nodded. ‘Dad and I wondered whether we shouldn’t give April a call? Ask her to take Fern away?’
I swallowed hard. We’d been reported to the council, Mum’s clients were cancelling, Missy was hardly talking to me. Plus, the nasty notes were piling up by the day. If I’d been educating people about devils properly, none of this would be happening.
Now Mum and Dad wanted to get rid of Fern.
I could hardly breathe. We couldn’t send Fern away. She’d chosen us to protect her. She loved being under our house. ‘Can I have another chance?’ I pleaded. ‘To make people understand?’
Mum and Dad exchanged doubtful glances.
‘Please? I’ll find a way to win everyone over, I promise.’
Mum and Dad were silent for a minute before Dad suggested we call April anyway, to let her know what had happened. As I predicted, when we did call, April said there was not much we could do about the noise. Fern had been raised in captivity. She obviously felt safe living near humans, even if the humans didn’t feel safe with her.
‘In fact, as I mentioned, it will probably get worse once the imps emerge from her pouch,’ she warned. ‘You really need to get your neighbours onside, Killarney. For Fern’s sake. And for yours.’ She offered to speak to the council and let them know we were doing our best, which made me more determined than ever. Our best? Surely my best was better than this?
Before bed that evening, I took down Shelley, my plush green turtle, from the toy shelf. ‘I’ve got one last chance to help keep Fern in Dodges,’ I told her. ‘But what am I going to do?’
I stroked the turtle’s shell, remembering how excited I was to receive the parcel from Nanna. Come visit the turtles soon, Nanna had written in the card. It’s only when you see these beautiful creatures that you’ll really understand.
Facts and figures for a poster were one thing, but Nanna had given me Shelley to make me feel. How could I do that for Fern? Make people feel something for our beautiful Tasmanian devil?
‘You right there, poss?’ Dad asked, finding me after his footy training. ‘Why the miserable face?’
I tried to stop my bottom lip wobbling, but I couldn’t. Two hot tears soon spilled down my cheeks. If I were braver, I’d call a town meeting and demand everyone respect Tasmanian devils. If I were smarter, I’d write a fascinating article for the Sorrell Times, convincing people to do the right thing.
But I wasn’t brave. And I wasn’t smart. I wasn’t good enough to help poor Fern.
I held Shelley tight as I choked down a sob. Maybe Mum was right. Maybe April should move Fern away.
‘Hey, no tears,’ soothed Dad, perching beside me on the bed and wrapping an arm around my shoulder. He smelt of sweat and mud and grass, but mostly of Dad, and his warm cuddle was like a calming blanket. ‘Why don’t you tell your old dad all about it?’
And so, just like that, I poured out all my frustrations, spilling them like polystyrene beads bursting from a ripped beanbag.
Dad listened quietly, then patted a gentle hand on my arm. ‘You didn’t think this would be easy, did you, poss? Championing an animal with such a bad reputation?’
I thought of our little devil, her fur shining and whiskers twitching as she pottered around our backyard. She didn’t deserve all the rumours. The angry notes. The nastiness.
I just wished I knew how to help.
Dad offered me his hanky. ‘Don’t suppose you want some advice?’
I wiped my eyes and nodded.
‘There’s a truckload of causes out there: rallies for climate change, fundraisers for sick kids, donations for rural firefighters. It’s six of one, half-a-dozen of the other. With so many people asking for things, it’s easy to get overwhelmed. A lot of folk, most people in fact, probably end up doing nothing because they just don’t know where to start.’
I’d been tracing the outlines of Shelley’s shell, but now I looked up into Dad’s kind green eyes. ‘But this isn’t just any cause,’ I said. ‘This is Fern. A beautiful Tasmanian devil.’
Dad smiled. ‘You and I understand that, but what about everyone else? You know something? If you can find a way to reconnect the locals with your little devil, make them notice wildlife like her again, maybe they will listen and give her a fair go. When people care about something, really care, then they’re much more likely to help.’
I cast a glance around my room. ‘But how? I’m not smart enough to think of anything.’
Dad laughed. ‘You’re such a dag, poss,’ he said, tousling my hair. ‘It’s not about being smart. It’s about being clever. If people could just see Fern, see how sweet she is, then instead of thinking all devils do is screech and howl and scream, they’d see what a ripper it is to have one in our town.’
I pictured Fern the night I’d seen her in Dad’s headlights. The way she’d sniffed the air and then the ground. How trusting she’d looked when she realised I meant her no harm and how cute it was when she’d sat back on her haunches to scratch her ears.
Dad was right. If only people could see all that, they’d definitely connect with Fern.
But how?
Chapter 15
‘I’m looking for a unique tourism campaign,’ Miss Bredlow instructed at school the following day, ‘delivered as a blog, a poster, a brochure, whatever you think will best convince people to choose a destination for their next holiday. All the information is there on the sheet, including the due date and how much the assessment is worth.’
I groaned. I was too busy trying to help Fern to worry about assessments.
‘We’ll be working on this properly after the holidays, of course,’ continued Miss Bredlow, ‘but for now, everyone sort into pairs … Not right now, Seb, when I finish talking. Choose a partner, so you can start planning the destination for your campaign.’
I glanced over to Missy. We always worked together.
But Missy was looking at Alise.
What?
I shot a look to my right. Katie and Urasha had already moved their chairs together. So, who was I going to work with?
‘Make sure you choose well – your project will be on display! We’ll be holding a mini expo with the Grade Sixes next term,’ Miss Bredlow explained, ‘with all your parents invited. Right, into pairs, off you go. Quietly!’
I sat for a moment, unsure of what to do. Missy always came up with our ideas and knew exactly how things should be done. Not because I couldn’t. But because she liked to do it just so. What would I do without her?
I was still staring at the assessment sheet, my stomach swirling, when a shadow fell over my desk. ‘Killarney?’ said Miss Bredlow, making the excited chatter around the classroom stop. ‘Everyone else is in pairs. Do you want to join a two to make it three or are you going to attempt the project on your own? Entirely up to you.’
My eyes stung. Why would Miss Bredlow say ‘attempt’ like that? As if I couldn’t do the project.
I swallowed hard, keeping my eyes on my desk. ‘I’ll work on my own, thanks,’ I murmured, grateful for the return of the classroom noise.
I stewed on the tourism project all the way home. I had no idea what holiday destination I should choose. We’d never made it up to see Nanna in North Queensland. It would have been the perfect destination for my project. The only place we’d ever been to on holiday was Launceston, where my favourite thing was the live platypus exhibit at Tasmania Zoo.
I smiled as I thought of that exhibit. We could see in, but the platypus couldn’t see us, meaning it swam happily around its tank, completely unaware we were there. Dad had explained that the enclosure was made from glass with a dark tint, like the glass on car windows, which was why the platypus couldn’t see through.
I stopped walking as an idea sparked in my head. Tinted one-way glass?
‘That’s it!’ My mind practically burst with excitement as I took off again. I sprinted the entire rest of the way home, not stopping once, not even when my drink bottle began swinging from my bag and whacking painfully against my side.
I’d finally found a way to help Fern.
Dad hardly had time to set down his keys after work that night before I was dragging him over to the broken floorboards.
‘I know, I know,’ he protested. ‘I haven’t forgotten. I will fix them. Give a bloke a break.’
‘We need that special glass,’ I told him. ‘Like we saw in Launceston.’
Dad stared at the boards. ‘What special glass?’
‘You know, at the platypus exhibit. I’m thinking, if you replace the broken floorboards with tinted glass, Fern won’t be able to see us, but we could see her. That way, people can find out for themselves how sweet a devil can be.’
Dad’s eyes crinkled. ‘Uh huh! But what about Mum’s clients? Won’t they get even more freaked out – seeing a devil up close?’
‘Not when they see how cute Fern is. They’ll fall in love without even knowing.’
‘Got ya. Clever thinking, young lady!’ Dad held out his fist for a bump, grinning as we both opened our palms wide and spread our fingers like an explosion. ‘Kaboom!’ he said. ‘Sounds like we’re in for a trip to the hardware store.’
It didn’t take long for Dad and me to buy what we needed to fix the floorboards. As well as a pane of special tinted glass about the size of a school desktop, we bought screws and some wooden battens to hold the glass in place. Plus, after I reminded him, we bought enough timber to fix the fence palings between our house and Noah’s.
Everything worked perfectly. Once we’d removed the rotten wooden floorboards in the kitchen and replaced them with the heavily tinted glass, we could see Fern, but Fern couldn’t see us. Mum made a fuss at first, saying we’d scare off her last remaining clients, but I begged her to give it a chance.
‘Please,’ I said. ‘We’ll cover it up with a rug if we need to.’ Fern was spending most days sleeping in the den now, so there was no chance people wouldn’t see her.
Mum sighed. ‘I’ve got Mrs Dwyer coming in tomorrow. I’m not sure …’
‘Mrs Dwyer? Great! She’ll be the first to test our special glass.’ I glanced down at the panel. It had to work. It just had to.
