Smuggling

by Edel Wignel

"Here we are!" said Dad.

"Shady Trees Caravan Park," said Con, reading the name.

"At last!" said Mum.

Con's little sister, Soula, woke up.

The long drive through the country was over. Dad turned the car from the road toward the gate.

Con read a large sign, "NO PETS." He made a face. "They're mean. I'd love to bring Ginger."

"Don't be silly, Constantine," said Dad. "Cats don't like the beach."

While they were putting up the tent, a car pulling a caravan arrived. Con saw a girl jump down and run toward the toilet block.

"Quick, Kylie," shouted her mother. "I want you to mind Dale."

"I'll blow up the air beds," said Con.

Standing on one foot, he pumped with the other. He liked pumping, for he could watch what was happening nearby.

On her way back, the girl said, "Hi! I'm Kylie." She had a toothy smile and brown hair in a pony-tail.

"Hi!" said Con. "I'm Con. Do you want a turn?"

"Okay."

"It's easy," said Con. "Stand on one foot and push with the other."

Kylie started, and said, "Are you going for a swim before tea?"

Before Con had time to reply, he heard a shout from Kylies mother, who was standing at the caravan door.

"Kylie!" Her voice was loud and angry. "Kylie!"

Kylie stopped, and gulped. Con heard her mutter, "Mum's found..." as she ran off.

The voice came again, "Why did you...?"

The caravan door slammed, and Con didn't hear any more. Kylie began to wail.

A man's voice started, "They'll throw us out! We'll have to go home!"

Con felt sick and his heart beat hard - just as it did when he was in trouble.

Poor Kylie, he thought. She won't be allowed to go for a swim. I wonder what she did.

Con watched, but he didn't see Kylie again. Her father went in and out several times, grim-faced. He walked across to the telephone box, looking tired and worried and old.

He's nearly as old as my grandpa, Con thought.

Kylie's mother's voice came again sharply. "You know your father has been sick. The doctor said it is important for him to rest. You should think."

Soon all the jobs were done.

"Time for a swim," said Dad.

They changed into their swim suits, and ran down to the sand.

"Last one in is a rotten egg!" Con shouted, racing Soula.

The cold water took Con's breath away, and he gulped. A wave swelled. Con threw himself forward, fingers pointing. The wave lifted him and dumped him on the sand. He stood up, laughing and catching his breath.

"Great wave, Dad!"

Dad ran into the water. Con duck-dived and grabbed his foot, tipping him over. Dad wallowed like a hippopotamus, and roared.

Mum swung Soula around, then piggy-backed her into the water.

"Let's have a splash fight," said Con. "Mum and me against Dad and Soula."

Playing with the family, Con forgot Kylie until he returned to the tent. The caravan door opened, and she stepped down, carrying a red canvas shopping bag.

Her mother stood at the door. "Don't talk to anyone!" she said.

Kylie walked toward the shop. Con ran after her, and caught up. She stopped, and Con saw her red face and swollen eyes.

She looked right and left, afraid. "I - I - I was just..."

"I'll come with you," said Con.

"No, I'm not going to the shop." Kylie pointed to the bag. "I-I-I..."

Con looked, and saw a towel. "The laundry's back that way," he said, pointing. "Next to the showers."

The towel moved, and Con stared at it.

"Con!" called Dad as he opened the car door. "Tea time!"

"We're going for fish and chips," said Con. "See you tomorrow." He ran and jumped into the car.

As they drove out the gate, he saw Kylie slipping through the wires of the fence into the forest next to the caravan park.

Where's she going? he thought. Why is she scared? I saw the towel move. I'm sure that wasn't washing!

After breakfast next day, Con and Soula ran down to the beach. On the sand were hundreds of blue jelly blobs. They looked like finger-paint before it is spread.

"Don't touch," said Dad. "They're poisonous."

"What are they?" Con asked.

"They're jelly-fish - called Portuguese Man o' War."

"They came up with the tide last night," said Mum. "They'll soon be dead."

"I'll get Kylie," said Con, and dashed off.

"Kylie!" he shouted. He knocked on the caravan door. "Quick! Come down to the beach!"

The door opened a little, and Kylie's scared eyes peeped out.

"There are blue jelly-fish on the sand," said Con. "Quick! Come and look!"

Kylie's mother opened the door wider. She didn't look stern and angry - just tired and sad. "Are you Con?"

"Yes."

"Kylie's been naughty, and she's not allowed to play."

Kylie took a raspy breath and slipped back inside. Con heard her sobbing.

Con was numb for a moment. What had Kylie done? If he - Con - did something wrong, Mum and Dad punished him, then forgot about it.

He heard Kylie's mother again. "Stop crying, Kylie. If I let you go with Con, you'll tell him, and he'll tell his parents. Soon everyone will know, and the manager will tell us to go. If Dad can find another place, we'll leave tomorrow."

If Kylie told me, I wouldn't tell anyone, thought Con. He turned and ran back to the beach.

Two stray dogs bounded up. One sniffed around the rubbish bins and the other squatted in the sand. Two more came, and started a fight.

Mr Jenkins, the manager, arrived. "Get out of it!" he shouted, and chased the dogs away. "Go home!"

"Now you see why Mr Jenkins says 'No pets'," said Dad. "Those dogs would soon go up into the tents."

Con kept thinking about Kylie. Soon he had an idea.

I'll watch and see if she goes out with that red bag again, he thought.

But Con wasn't able to watch for Kylie because he and his family set off for a drive, and stayed out all day.

"Let's have a barbecue," said Mum, when they came back.

"My turn to cook," said Con, grabbing the tongs.

Dad lit one of the barbecues, and laid sausages on the hot-plate. Con waited a few minutes, then turned them.

When he looked up, Kylie was at the fence, carrying the red bag. She slipped through into the forest, and disappeared. Con thrust the tongs into Soula's hand, and ran.

"Back in a minute!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Look after the sausages!"

He dashed over to the fence, slipped between the wires and hurried along the track. Soon he saw Kylie, just ahead, crouching and clapping her hands

"Come on, Pierre!" Kylie's voice was light and happy. "Good boy!"

A little poodle scampered to her. Kylie lifted him up and swung round. "Pierre, Pierre!" she sang.

Con stopped and watched while she threw a stick. Pierre dashed off and skidded to a stop. He grabbed the stick and trotted back.

"Hi!" said Con, moving forward.

Kylie grabbed Pierre, and backed away.

"Go away!" she said. "Mum and Dad'll kill me if I talk to you."

"Is this your dog?" Con asked. "I'll help you look after him."

"He belongs..." Kylie thought hard, making up a story. "I'm walking him for... um..."

Con patted Pierre's head. "He's nice."

Pierre squirmed and wriggled, trying to get down.

Kylie looked more worried. "Please go away. Mum might see you."

Suddenly Con understood. No pets! It was a very strict rule. A family had been turned out of the caravan park last year for hiding a dog in their caravan.

"Sorry, Kylie!" Con turned and ran back to the barbecue. He took a slice of bread and a sausage.

He ate quietly, thinking, How can I help?

Next morning, Con ran down with Soula, and stopped at the waters edge. He took a deep breath of salty air. The sun glinted on a thousand wavelets, and a wave crashed in, frothing. It tickled his feet as the bubbles burst.

Con ran into the shallows. Then he and Dad swam out and caught a wave. It carried them on to the sand.

A little later, Con saw Kylie arriving with her father. As Kylie ran down - full speed - to the water, her father unfolded his chair and sat in the sun.

"Hi, Kylie," said Con.

"Hi, Con," said Kylie.

They played for a few minutes, helping Soula to catch waves.

Then Con said, "Last year, I tried to bring Ginger - my cat. I smuggled her into the back seat with me."

Kylie's eyes lit up. "What happened?"

"I hid her in my bag, but she meowed, and Soula heard her and told Mum and Dad. Then she wriggled out and jumped into the back with the luggage. We had to turn round and take her home."

"Were you in big trouble?" Kylie asked.

Con nodded. "We hadn't gone far, so we didn't waste too much time."

They laughed.

"Who's looking after her now?" said Kylie.

"Mrs Marolis, our next-door neighbour. Ginger's all right - cats are pretty independent. But you couldn't leave Pierre."

Kylie glanced up. "Dad's looking for me. I'd better go."

She dashed up to her father.

"Dad," said Con, a little later. "Please ask Kylie's father to let her come golf-putting with us after lunch."

So Dad did.

"Thank you," said Kylie's father. "Kylie will be minding the baby while we pack up. We're leaving tomorrow morning."

Kylie looked sad.

"Just a short holiday," said Dad.

"Yes," said Kylie's father. "Thank you very much for inviting her."

After golf-putting, Mum said, "I'm going to the laundry. Will you go to the shop, please Con? I want four slices of ham and four oranges."

"Okay."

Con grabbed the basket and set off. Just as he arrived at the shop, he saw Kylie slipping through the fence. She pulled the bag after her.

Standing in the queue, Con jigged from foot to foot, wanting to follow. At last it was his turn, and he was served. He ran and left his basket by the fence, slipped through and hurried along the track after Kylie.

Soon he caught up. Kylie stood alone, sobbing and rubbing her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Con asked.

"Pierre's lost," she wailed. "He played for a minute. Then he ran away. I've called and called, but he won't come."

"We'll find her," said Con. "Perhaps she went along the other track. Come on!"

He and Kylie ran back to a fork in the track.

"This way," said Con. "He hasn't gone far."

As they ran, they called, "Pierre!", and listened, but they didn't hear a sound. Slowly they returned and picked up the red bag.

"I won't tell anyone you brought your dog," said Con. "I'm good at keeping secrets."

Then Kylie's story came out in a rush. "I had to leave Pierre with the man-next-door, but I hid him in the caravan instead. I've messed up our holiday. Someone has to stay with him so he doesn't bark and wake Dale. And Dad's trying to find a caravan park that lets you bring pets..."

Con guessed. "He found one."

Kylie wailed harder. "Yes, but now Pierre's lost. We can't go without him."

"I know," said Con. "Pierre went back to the caravan. He knows his way now."

They hurried back - through the fence and across to Kylie's caravan.

"I'll be in worse trouble," said Kylie. She bounded up the steps and opened the door.

Con waited and listened.

"Is Pierre back?" said Kylie.

"Pierre?" said her mother. "He's with you, isn't he?"

The door closed, and Con heard Kylie explaining. He walked back to the tent, dragging his feet. Poor Kylie!

The tent glowed, welcoming.

"Here you are, at last!" said Mum. "Tea's ready. Put the ham on the plates, and call Dad and Soula."

Con opened the car fridge.

Ham, he thought. Where's the ham?

Suddenly he remembered, and dashed off. The basket was by the fence where he had left it.

"Yap!" came a squeaky bark, and a warm, wet tongue licked his hand. "Yap, yap!"

Con nearly dropped the basket. He patted Pierre's head.

"Silly dog!" he said. "You were supposed to be in the red bag - not in my basket."

He hurried to the caravan.

"Kylie!" he shouted, and knocked. The door opened, and Con lifted Pierre out of the basket.

"Pierre!" Kylie swept the dog up in her arms.

"Come in, Con," said Kylie's mother. "Why did Pierre get in your basket?"

Suddenly Con knew. "He could smell the ham I bought for tea."

He lifted the tattered wrapper paper, and Con and Kylie laughed as Pierre raised his lips and licked his teeth.

"Oh, you funny dog!"

Then Con remembered. "Mum's waiting for me to put the ham on the plates."

"Would you like corned beef?" Kylie's mother asked.

"Yes, please."

She took four slices from the refrigerator and wrapped them. "Is that enough?"

"Yes, thank you," said Con.

Pierre sniffed at the parcel.

"Naughty dog!" said Kylie's mother. "Hold him tightly."

They laughed again.

"I wish you weren't leaving tomorrow," said Con, his smile vanishing.

"We're not," said Kylie.

Kylie's father explained. "Several minutes ago, I was talking on the phone to Margaret, Kylie's oldest sister - our grown-up daughter. She's coming by car early tomorrow to take Pierre home, so we'll stay."

"Great!" said Con. "Come for a swim in the morning, Kylie?"

"Sure!" said Kylie.

"See ya," said Con, jumping from the caravan to the ground.

What a story he had to tell Mum and Dad and Soula while they ate their tea!

"Yap, yap," barked Pierre.

The End

Edel Wignell is an Australian freelance writer, compiler and journalist. She has been writing full time since 1979 for both adults and children. Released in 2003 was The Long, Sticky Walk, an historical novel for children 7-9 years (University of Western Australia Press) - CBC Notable Book, 2004. In 2004 Edel began a monthly column, 'Edel Tells Tales', in Bonzer! e-journal <www.bonzer.org.au>.

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