Pip and Houdini Read online

  It looked as every beach should, dotted with umbrellas and sprawled bodies. She saw the boys from the bus stop jostling each other as they jogged across the sand.

  Recognising them, Houdini barked, and before Pip could stop him, he trotted towards them, squeezing between Rabbit and one of his mates. Startled, the boy stumbled into one of the others, the impact knocking them both over. His board flew out of his hands and gave Rabbit a sharp clip on the chin, before it dropped to the ground right on the toes of the fourth boy.

  ‘Ow!’ Rabbit yelled, putting a hand to the spot on his chin where the board had smacked him.

  ‘That hurt!’ moaned the boy with the bruised toes, hopping about on one foot.

  Completely unnoticed by the boys, who were busy blaming, pushing and shoving each other, Houdini sauntered nonchalantly back across the sand to Pip as the sunbathers nearby sniggered at the spectacle.

  Grinning, Pip gave Houdini a hearty pat, and was about to step onto the sand when a voice behind her spoke.

  ‘Nice work, dog.’

  Houdini and Pip looked around to see a girl of about eighteen with long dark hair and a big hairy coat sitting on the ground with her back against the wall of a boat shed. She had a guitar in her lap.

  ‘Thanks,’ Pip replied on Houdini’s behalf, adding, ‘He didn’t mean it.’ At least, she didn’t think it had been intentional.

  ‘Gotta dollar?’ The girl put her hand out.

  Pip was about to say that she needed every dollar she had, but when she peered more closely at the girl, she wasn’t so sure. Her clothes were torn and ragged, but more than that, she had a look of hopelessness about the eyes.

  Hoping she wouldn’t regret it later, she held out five dollars. ‘You can get a sandwich if you’re hungry.’

  Pip’s stomach chose that moment to rumble, reminding her that she and Houdini hadn’t had anything to eat since yesterday and they could have done with a sandwich themselves. But she couldn’t withdraw the offer now.

  The girl didn’t take the money at once. In fact, her pale face looked surprised, as though she had expected Pip to say no. Then she drew back her hand. ‘Nah, it’s okay. You keep it.’

  Relieved, Pip put the money back in her pocket. ‘Are you a musician?’

  The girl looked at her guitar almost as though she’d forgotten she was holding it. ‘I was. Not anymore.’

  Pip was intrigued. ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ The girl shook her head. It was clear she didn’t want to speak about it, but Pip wondered why she still had a guitar if she wasn’t a musician anymore.

  Perhaps it was for the same reason Pip carried around a photo of her mother even though she didn’t have her anymore – as a symbol of hope.

  ‘I’m Frankie, by the way,’ the girl said suddenly, standing up.

  ‘We’re Pip and Houdini,’ Pip replied and then could have kicked herself. The quieter she kept about her identity the better.

  ‘Think I’ll get something from the café. I reckon I can get us a feed for free. You want to come?’

  ‘No, I’m okay.’ Apart from being short of money, Pip didn’t want anyone else getting too good a look at her. And she needed to get moving – right after she’d dipped her toes in the water. She couldn’t come to the beach and not set foot on it. ‘I have to go soon.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Byron—’ It slipped out before she could stop it.

  ‘Byron Bay? Well, good luck.’ Frankie drew her coat about her and walked off towards the café.

  Ignoring her empty stomach, Pip turned her attention back to the beach. She needed to find a good spot not too close to other people. At all costs, she had to avoid attention. On a warm, sunny day that wasn’t easy. The beach was busy and more people were still arriving.

  On scanning the beach, the spot near the rocks seemed to be less popular, though, and Pip had just decided to head for it when a shout from the café had heads turning.

  Pip saw Frankie rush out, guitar in one hand and takeaway bag in another, chased by a tall, thin man in a white jacket shaking a fist. ‘You come back here, you little cheat!’

  Sprinting over, Pip and Houdini reached the café, panting. Frankie was a way up the street, almost out of sight.

  ‘What happened?’ Pip asked.

  ‘Someone should call the cops,’ said the man from the café. ‘That girl, she promised to wash the dishes if I gave her a burger and a drink. Then she takes them and shoots through!’

  ‘I think she was really hungry.’

  ‘That’s not my problem.’ The café owner scowled. ‘She’s not getting away with cheating me out of a deluxe beach burger with the lot – including beetroot! I’m calling the police.’

  ‘Wait! I’ll do the dishes!’ Pip blurted. Poor Frankie didn’t look like she could handle more trouble than she already had. ‘Don’t call the cops!’

  The café owner didn’t look convinced. ‘A skinny thing like you? I don’t think so.’

  ‘I’m strong!’ Pip made a bicep. ‘Anyway, calling the cops won’t get your dishes washed.’

  ‘That’s true. My kitchen-hand is sick today.’ He scrutinised her for a moment. ‘Well, all right. But don’t make a mess, mind. And that dog stays out here.’

  Pip tied Houdini to the rail and followed the man inside to a tiny, cluttered kitchen where a sink was piled high with dirty dishes. No wonder Frankie had scarpered.

  Pip had to stand on a stool to reach the sink, but she soon had it filled with hot water and detergent, and in ten minutes she had made a good dent in the pile. Then the man brought in another tray full. Pip’s heart sank. Perhaps she should have asked how many dishes she was expected to wash.

  She began to clear leftovers from a plate when she came across half a ham sandwich that hadn’t been touched. Glancing around to ensure she wasn’t being watched, Pip took a big bite, put the rest in her pocket for Houdini and continued washing until there wasn’t a dirty plate in sight. Then she dried everything and put it all away.

  ‘I’m impressed,’ the café owner said when she walked out of the kitchen. ‘You want a holiday job, you come in and see me.’ He put a meat pie in a bag, wrapped a cookie in a serviette and handed them to Pip. ‘Here you go, love. Now you tell that friend of yours she could learn a lesson in hard work from you.’

  Pip’s eyes gleamed at the thought of the pie to eat later. She nodded. ‘Thank you. Um, where’s the nearest station?’

  After he gave her directions, Pip collected Houdini and gave him the leftover sandwich and some water as she watched the ocean. The boys were skylarking in the surf now and she was disappointed that she’d made it all the way to the beach without at least paddling in the shallows, but the day was slipping away and she needed to move on.

  Under a hot afternoon sun, they set off for the train station, where Pip hoped she could catch a train that would take her to Byron Bay. It seemed to take forever as they kept stopping for water and a rest, and when they finally found the station, Pip was sweaty and exhausted, and Houdini wasn’t at all happy with her.

  As they shared a drink from the bottle she’d managed to fill from a water bubbler, Pip was looking around for a map of the train route, wondering how far her remaining money might take her, when a hand slapped down hard on her shoulder. A voice in her ear said, ‘Gotcha!’

  GIRL WITH A GUITAR

  In a panic, Pip spun around and looked up to see a pale, narrow face, lots of dark hair and a heavy, hairy coat. It was the girl with the guitar, Frankie, and she didn’t look any happier with Pip than Houdini did.

  ‘What are you doing here? Did you follow me?’ she hissed.

  Pip shook her head. ‘No, I’m catching a train.’

  Frankie’s scowl lifted a little. ‘That’s right. Byron, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Ssshhh!’ Warily, Pip glanced around but no one paid them any attention. She got to her feet, brushing herself down. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Frankie
shrugged. ‘Trying to make some cash, but nothing doing.’

  ‘How?’ Pip hoped Frankie wasn’t a pickpocket like her racetrack friend, Ginger, although he’d promised he’d given up his old ways now that Mr Blair had helped him find work as an apprentice.

  Frankie held up a rough sign that said HUNGRY – PLEASE GIVE GENROUSLY. Pip wondered if she could really be that hungry after a burger with the lot.

  But she didn’t say that. Instead, she just pointed out the spelling mistake. ‘There’s a missing E.’

  Frankie shrugged. ‘I don’t think that made any difference. You’d think people would be more generous with Christmas just around the corner.’

  ‘Did you play your guitar for them?’ Pip had seen a few people singing and playing music outside the shops in Spring Hill now that it was getting close to Christmas. They usually had a box or a cap that people would drop coins into if they liked the songs.

  ‘I told you, I don’t do that anymore!’ Frankie snapped. She seemed very angry about something.

  ‘Why did you run off with the deluxe beach burger?’ Pip asked, thinking she should change the subject.

  ‘You would have too if you’d seen how much work I was expected to do to pay for it.’

  ‘It wasn’t so bad once you got into it,’ Pip said. ‘And he gave me food afterwards, even though he didn’t have to.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ The scowl was back. ‘You didn’t…’

  ‘He was going to call the cops on you.’

  ‘No way! Not over a stupid burger,’ Frankie scoffed, but she did look the tiniest bit ashamed.

  ‘He said it was a deluxe burger with the lot, including beetroot. Anyway, it’s not nice being arrested.’

  ‘Oh yeah, and how would you know?’

  Pip really didn’t want to say too much. It had been a humiliating episode involving Ginger, the races and a dropped wallet. ‘It was a misunderstanding.’

  ‘You’re not old enough to be arrested.’

  ‘I had to go to the police station in a cop car.’ In other circumstances it would have been a highlight of Pip’s life, but under suspicion for stealing and knowing she would likely be sent into foster care, it had turned out to be one of the scariest moments instead.

  ‘I’m too smart to get caught,’ Frankie boasted.

  Pip reckoned it was smarter not to do it in the first place, but she knew Frankie wouldn’t welcome the advice. In that instant, she wondered if this was how her mother had been: rebellious and convinced she knew best.

  ‘How old are you, Frankie?’

  ‘Nineteen.’

  Cass might have been about the same age when Pip was born, maybe younger. If she had been, Pip could understand why Cass had felt Pip might be better off with Sully and his Em.

  ‘How old are you?’ Frankie asked.

  ‘Ten.’

  Just then, the TV news rolled onto the screen above the ticket counter. As she glanced at it, Frankie let out a gasp.

  ‘That’s you!’ she exclaimed, turning to Pip.

  Although the TV was fortunately on silent, the old fuzzy photo of Pip was unmistakeable.

  RUNAWAY PIP VANISHES AGAIN said the caption.

  ‘Ssshhh!’ Pip whispered to Frankie.

  For the first time, Frankie seemed the slightest bit impressed as she looked Pip up and down, although when she opened her mouth, she was her usual sardonic self. ‘You know you’ll be picked up before you get anywhere close to Byron, a kid on your own.’ She nodded towards the ceiling.

  Pip stared into the dark round eye of a camera fixed there. Across the other side of the ticket office was its twin.

  ‘I’ve got an idea, though,’ Frankie was saying.

  ‘What?’ Pip was trying to surreptitiously move out of the camera’s line of sight. Glad she’d packed her cap, she slapped it on her head, hoping it would make her less recognisable.

  ‘Everyone’ll be looking for a kid with a dog. On your own, you’ll ring alarm bells right away, you know, but not if you’re with an adult.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Me.’ Frankie gave a triumphant grin. It was the first time Pip had seen her smile. ‘If you’re not what people are looking for, their eyes just slide right past you. It worked for me. If I’d had short blonde hair and sparkly earrings, I’d have been sprung like that.’ She clicked her fingers. ‘Everyone knows what Frankie J. looks like. But no one gives a girl in an ugly coat with long dark hair a second look.’

  Pip had about a million questions for Frankie, but just then a sharp whistle sounded from the platform.

  Frankie grabbed Pip’s arm. ‘It’s heading your way. Let’s go!’

  ‘But I don’t have a ticket yet!’

  ‘No time. We’ll think of something.’ Frankie charged ahead, dragging Pip and Houdini along with her through the surging crowd.

  And before Pip knew it, Frankie had tucked Houdini inside her coat and they were cramming onto the train, along with what seemed like half the population of Australia. The train tooted, the guard yelled something Pip couldn’t make out, and the train slowly rattled out of the station.

  ‘The train doesn’t go all the way to Byron Bay, you know,’ Frankie said once they’d found a quiet corner near a window where she could put Houdini down and they could look out at the scenery rushing past.

  Pip stared at her in alarm. ‘What do you mean?’ Frankie pointed to a route map on the wall, and Pip’s heart plummeted like a stone. It was true. There was Byron Bay right on the coast, just before New South Wales became Queensland. The last station was some distance from Byron. But it was closer than she was now, much closer.

  Putting a brave face on it, she said, ‘That’s where I’m going, then. I’ll work out how to get the last bit of the way once I get there.’

  ‘Why do you want to go to Byron Bay?’ Frankie asked.

  ‘My mother might be there.’

  Frankie snorted. ‘Don’t you know?’

  ‘I know she was there.’ Pip fished the crumpled postcard from her pack and showed it to Frankie.

  ‘Look at the date! She sent this nine years ago. She could be anywhere by now.’

  ‘I know that!’ Did Frankie think she was an idiot?

  ‘You’re crazy, you know,’ Frankie said, confirming that she did. ‘Anyway, if I were you, I wouldn’t bother. Parents just get on your case.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Pip asked.

  ‘Oh, you know.’ Frankie rolled her eyes as if that explained it all. ‘They want to know about everything you do, who your friends are, where you’re going. And when you tell them, it’s like “Frankie, be sensible. Frankie, you need to grow up. Frankie, those people are a bad influence. Frankie, why don’t you stay at home tonight?”’

  None of that sounded unreasonable to Pip, who could imagine the Brownings saying much the same kind of things to Matilda in a few years’ time if she ever turned wild, not that that was likely.

  ‘Isn’t it their job to say sensible stuff?’ she pointed out. ‘That’s why they’re the grown-ups.’

  ‘Oh yeah? And you always do what grown-ups tell you? No, I didn’t think so, or you wouldn’t be here, right?’

  Pip didn’t know what to say to that. She looked out the window as the train flew through suburbs and small stations, occasionally checking the route map to work out where they were. When the train stopped at a bigger station, plenty of people got off and only a few got on. She and Frankie snagged a corner booth, where Pip tucked Houdini safely out of sight under the seat in case dogs weren’t allowed, and Frankie stowed her guitar on the luggage rack above.

  ‘Shame we haven’t got anything to eat,’ she said. ‘That burger was a long time ago.’

  Pip remembered the pie. She gave Frankie half, and split the remainder for herself and Houdini.

  ‘Frankie,’ Pip whispered, no longer able to hold back on the questions that had bubbled away since they’d climbed aboard the train. ‘Why did you used to be blonde?’

  ‘Because…someone sa
id I’d have a better chance of winning if I was blonde. So I wore a wig.’ She smiled, but as though at a bitter memory rather than a sweet one.

  Pip stared at her. ‘Winning what?’

  Frankie uttered a snort of laughter. ‘You obviously don’t watch Star Seeker.’

  Pip’s eyes widened and she sat up straight in her seat. ‘My friend Matilda talks about it all the time. It’s like a contest on TV to find the best singer.’ When Frankie said nothing, she added, ‘Were you on that show?’

  Pip had met all kinds of people since she’d first gone on the run after Sully’s stroke, but she’d never met anyone famous before. Looking at the shaggy (and rather smelly) coat, the defiant brown eyes and long, uncombed hair, it was hard to imagine Frankie on a glamorous television show.

  After a moment or two, Frankie nodded. ‘Just over a year ago. And it was mine to win. I had the best voice, the best song, the best everything. But you know what happened?’

  Mesmerised, desperate to hear the rest, Pip shook her head.

  ‘You know the Star trophy they give to the winner of the final round?’

  ‘I think so. It’s like a ginormous gold star on a stand.’ Matilda sometimes pretended to be awarded the Star and make the winning speech.

  ‘That’s it. Well, a few days before the final round, the TV people pretty much told me I was the winner. They said the judges thought I was the most talented singer they’d seen in, like, forever. When I won, I’d get to record my best song in a proper studio, and people would be able to buy my records. And best of all, I’d have the Star trophy and my name – Frankie J. – would be engraved on it. One of the judges wanted me to sing at one of her concerts. I’d get an agent to help me with my career.’

  Pip could only imagine it. ‘That must have been very exciting.’

  ‘Oh, it was. I was beyond excited, and when I sang in the final, it was my best performance ever.’ With her eyes closed, it was as though Frankie was back there, savouring her moment of glory. ‘Waiting backstage for the winner to be announced was the longest moment of my life, and when the announcement came…’