Pip and Houdini Read online

  Pip should be at her desk in Mr Blair’s class right at this moment, next to Matilda, in front of Brittani Burt and across the room from Spiro. They had already decorated the classroom for Christmas, and everyone would be bragging about what they were doing and where they were going for the holidays.

  All her life, Pip had had nothing much to say on the matter. For her and Sully, Christmas had been much like any day, although they sometimes got takeaway for lunch if they had enough money and could find somewhere that was open. A few times when she was younger there had been a small present.

  This year, she’d thought it would be different. Mr and Mrs Browning had booked a beach house south of Sydney where they would stay with Matilda’s aunt, uncle and cousins from Canberra. She’d hoped to go for a swim – something she hadn’t done since school swimming lessons three years ago – and to sit down to Christmas dinner at a table instead of in front of the TV, and pull her first Christmas cracker. Matilda had assured her that there would be presents.

  That wouldn’t happen now. But at Byron Bay, she would at last do more than just see the sand and the ocean. She would swim and get sand all over her. At least it would be something to remember if she gave herself up to the authorities.

  A couple of times, far in the distance, she thought she glimpsed the ocean, blue and hazy, and it was enough to keep them going. But as the day became hotter, their steps slowed to a crawl.

  Outside one house a small, rusty bicycle with a basket over the front wheel was propped up. A FREE sign was tied around the seat. A scratched bike helmet was looped over the handlebars.

  The bicycle was smaller than Matilda’s, which Pip had ridden, wobblingly, a couple of times, but rather worse for wear, with a noticeable dent and a couple of deep scratches. To Pip, it was as though the best Christmas present of all had just dropped in her lap.

  Holding her breath, Pip put on the helmet. It fit perfectly. Houdini wasn’t happy about sharing the basket with Pip’s backpack, but after a few grumbles, he settled, and Pip set off. She nearly capsized them more than once, but before long, she found her rhythm.

  She cycled mostly on the footpaths, but occasionally she was forced out onto the road, which was scary when big cars and trucks passed by. But they made good progress, and Pip’s spirits – so low just hours before – began to soar. Glimpses of the ocean became more frequent, and she could smell the salt on the breeze and hear the cry of seagulls.

  An hour and a half later, her luck finally came to an end when the bicycle’s back tyre went flat. There was nothing Pip could do but wheel it to edge of the footpath and prop it against a wall. She took off her helmet and hooked it over the handlebars. Houdini shook himself indignantly when she lifted him to the ground. Pip shouldered her backpack and off they set off again on foot.

  Fortunately, a Byron Bay bus appeared half an hour later, and that was when Pip discovered that it was, in fact, seventy-six kilometres to Byron Bay, not six at all. Either she hadn’t seen the seven, or it had dropped off the signpost. But she had enough money for a ticket, and the driver took pity on Pip and Houdini when he saw how tired they were, saying dogs were welcome as long as they behaved.

  Two hours later, they stood in the middle of Byron Bay. Pip blinked at the number of people wandering down the street with sand in their hair and tans on their faces. They all looked as if they didn’t have a care in the world. It felt as if she was on a different planet. Five teenagers walked past, two girls and three boys, carrying surfboards and drinking brightly coloured bottled drinks – the sort that Mrs Browning didn’t allow in the house because she said they made your teeth rot and fall out.

  She found a quiet café with a water bowl for dogs. While Houdini drank, she bought a small bottle of water with the last of her cash. The man at the counter didn’t give her a second glance, even though she knew she must look like a sorry sight after four days in the same clothes.

  On an empty bench overlooking the beach, she sat down to rest, while Houdini kept a wary eye on other dogs nearby. Pip picked up a discarded copy of yesterday’s Sydney newspaper, and the headline on page six jumped out at her.

  RUNAWAY ELUDES POLICE, WELFARE Ten-year-old runaway Pip Sullivan is still on the loose, after leaving her foster family’s home in Sydney three days ago.

  This is the second time the girl has caught authorities flat-footed. Police and social workers were left red-faced just weeks ago when the illness of a family member prompted her first disappearing act.

  Foster carer Michael Browning had no comment for reporters when asked for his reaction outside the family home in Spring Hill. His wife, Lindsay Browning, appeared very distressed when asked how she was coping

  While there have been no confirmed sightings of the runaway since she disappeared from her foster home, a girl matching Pip Sullivan’s description was seen at the site of a motorway accident last Tuesday. According to witnesses, she helped to free the drunk driver from his burning car after he collided with another vehicle.

  Pip didn’t know what to think. She hated the thought of Mrs Browning being upset, and wondered if perhaps the newspaper wasn’t exaggerating. Tomorrow, she would phone again and hopefully be able to reassure them that she truly was fine.

  Right now, the sun was shining, the ocean glinted temptingly and at last she had an opportunity to dip her toes in, and maybe even the rest of her.

  This time there was nothing to stop her…except a sign that said in large letters:

  NO DOGS ON BEACH

  Rats! She could leave Houdini up by the picnic area, but what if he was abducted again by well-meaning rangers? There seemed to be quite a few of them patrolling the busy beach. No, it was better to keep him in her sight.

  She asked one of the teenagers if there were other beaches where dogs were welcome, and the boy told her to head for a quiet surfing beach past the lighthouse where no one would care if an alien landed, let alone a smallish dog.

  Pip and Houdini followed the boy’s directions up the hill. The beach with its rollicking waves and racing surf was on the left, the street with its busy cafés and shops on the right. As they left the centre of town, she caught glimpses of small timber cottages, some painted in bright colours of orange, yellow and blue – as well as big modern houses with wide balconies and their own swimming pools.

  They were just a couple of blocks from the lighthouse when her eyes fell on a street name at the corner: Brilliant Street. It was the street from the address Cassandra had written on the postcard to Sully, after she’d come looking for baby Pip and Sully had told Cass that he’d given Pip up.

  Although she knew the police had already checked for Cass at the Brilliant Street house, Pip found it impossible to pass by without seeing the place her mother had lived back then. In Brilliant Street, the houses weren’t quite as bright and shiny as some others she’d passed, and the front yards featured old cars, some with the bonnets up, and broken toys and garden furniture. Right at the end of the street was the worst house, and somehow she knew it was where Cass had once lived. It was the kind of house that had been a specialty of Greene Lane where she’d lived with Sully in Spring Hill before he’d died.

  Made of old dark brick, it sprawled long and low as if trying to sink into the ground in shame. A sheet made a makeshift blind at the front window, and on the shady porch, an old pot plant had shrivelled long ago to a brown stalk and crispy leaves.

  There was no number on the door, but the neighbouring house was Number 43 so this had to be Number 45.

  Even knowing police had already confirmed Cass wasn’t here, Pip was about to knock on the door and ask, when Houdini suddenly got up from where he’d been sitting and trotted into the front yard of Number 43.

  ‘Houdini,’ Pip hissed. ‘Come away.’ But he ignored her, happily lifting his leg to gift the parched plants some liquid.

  Pip marched around to Number 43, which was comfortably shabby rather than dilapidated, with a picket fence and a wooden bird-feeder hanging from a tree. Ho
ping no one would spot her, Pip trotted over to Houdini and snatched up his lead. ‘Let’s go before anyone sees us,’ she muttered.

  They were almost off the lawn when a plump-cheeked old lady with flyaway white hair came around the side of the house with a basket full of flowers. Music came from a small radio looped over her wrist.

  ‘Oh!’ She stopped stock still and stared at Pip.

  ‘Sorry…um, my dog…um, excuse me.’ Pip hurried Houdini towards the street.

  ‘That’s all right,’ the woman called after her. ‘I was just surprised to see you there. For a moment, I thought…well, I almost thought you were someone else.’

  TERROR HAS BIG TEETH

  Pip just wanted to get away but the lady was still talking.

  ‘I’m probably just a silly old woman but, just for a moment, you reminded me of someone I haven’t seen in a long time, a girl who used to live next door years ago,’ the old lady continued. ‘It’s been empty for a while now but when I saw you there I thought…well, anyway, now I can see it’s just the eyes that are similar.’

  ‘Cassandra. She was my mother.’

  ‘Oh, my dear.’ The woman’s eyes were sympathetic. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Confused, Pip blinked. ‘What for?’

  ‘Well, that she died.’

  ‘Oh, she didn’t die,’ Pip explained. ‘I don’t think so, anyway. I just meant…I’ve never seen her. Not since I was born, anyway.’

  ‘Oh, well, I see.’ The old lady looked confused. ‘I must admit I don’t understand modern families, so complicated. But I’m glad she’s not…you know.’ She reached over to pat Pip’s hand just as the four o’clock news began on the radio.

  Reports are emerging that wild child Frankie J., a former Star Seeker finalist, has reunited with her family. This comes just days after locals spotted her performing in the market square with a young girl, who some are saying is missing ten-year-old Pip Sullivan, and her dog. What an uplifting story as Christmas approaches…

  Pip’s despair at not finding Cass turned slowly to delight for Frankie. At least someone had found their way home, even if it wasn’t Pip.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ the woman asked, turning off the radio.

  Pip managed a smile. ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘When I see her friend around, I often wonder what happened to Cassandra. She was a lovely girl but she’d a difficult start in life, I think.’

  Pip’s interest was tweaked. ‘Her friend?’

  ‘I see him in town occasionally heading down to the surf. Those surfers mostly look the same to me. Hair that looks like it’s never seen a brush, wetsuit and big tanned feet. But I always know which one Cassandra’s friend is because of that tattoo he has on his neck. I mean, an octopus with a top hat! Ridiculous!’ She clucked in disapproval. ‘Although I think he’s also a volunteer surf lifesaver, so I have to give him points for that.’

  Pip nodded, wondering if Cass’s surfer friend might know where she was.

  ‘Do you know his name or where I can find him? The surfer?’

  The woman’s face fell. ‘I’m sorry. Byron is getting so busy these days; it’s hard to know everyone personally. But I’m pretty sure he’s local.’

  They exchanged goodbyes, and Pip and Houdini began the walk back down the street towards the surfing beach.

  As she passed by the lighthouse, a brisk late afternoon wind whipped the waves into frothy sea horses charging towards shore. A long way from shore, a line of surfers sat astride their boards. Then, as one, they sprang up and surged into shore. Only three made it all the way without falling off, and only one of the three looked completely confident. As if it was the most natural thing in the world. Pip wanted to clap. She wanted to feel what it was like to ride the waves.

  Close to, the lighthouse was even taller than she’d thought, with views up and down the coast. Next to the surfing beach was a much smaller bay where the water surged more wildly, first this way and then that.

  They’d walked on a short way when Houdini gave a sharp woof, and then a long whine. It was hardly surprising. He had to be hungry.

  ‘Come on, then. Let’s go to the beach, Houdini, and then I’ll work out what to do next.’

  Houdini whined again and pulled at his lead, his eyes fixed on the surfers down on the main bay. Pip followed his gaze but couldn’t see anything unusual. The line-up of surfers was sitting, paddling. She figured they were waiting for a worthwhile wave.

  Where was the man who’d glided into shore so smoothly a few minutes before? Scanning the water, she couldn’t see him anywhere. Then, there he was! He was paddling around to the smaller bay with the bigger waves. Pip watched, fascinated, at how much distance he covered with minimal effort.

  He was right around the headland now and into the narrow bay. With a look behind him, he leapt up onto his board, caught the wave and raced in towards shore.

  Pip cheered and Houdini leapt forward, barking loudly.

  ‘Cool!’ Pip said. But then the man lost his balance and pitched into the ocean, reappearing a second later, sleek as a seal.

  Houdini growled, and it was then that Pip saw what her dog had. Not far behind the man and closing in fast was the distinctive triangle fin of the ocean’s greatest predator.

  For a moment, Pip’s brain froze – along with all her limbs. Then, just as suddenly, she sprang to life, racing to the edge of the cliff with hands in the air, waving frantically to get the man’s attention.

  She screamed at him. ‘Shark! Shark! Behind you! Hurry!’ But he was oblivious to her. The towering cliffs that made this a prime spot for a lighthouse also made it impossible for her voice to carry all the way down to the bay below.

  Houdini joined the effort, too, prancing up and down next to Pip, barking as his own life depended on it, when in fact it was a stranger’s survival.

  But still the surfer casually clung to his board, gradually making his way back to the shore as if he had all the time in the world and Jaws wasn’t about to shred him with a thousand pointy teeth. Once the image was in her mind, Pip couldn’t banish it. If the shark got hold of him, it would be all over red rover. At the very least, he would lose an arm or a leg.

  The fin disappeared – and not knowing where the shark had gone was ten times worse. Pip redoubled her efforts, expecting at any moment to see the waters erupt and the shark make its deadly move.

  ‘Mister! Mister!’ she screamed, waving frantically. ‘Shark! Danger! Get out!’

  Still he was oblivious. She had to get his attention another way!

  Looking around, she saw some large pebbles. She seized one the size of her hand, stood back, ran and hurled it in the direction of the bay. But her weedy little arm didn’t have the strength, and the stone thudded onto the rocks below, not even reaching the water.

  A branch! He might see a branch waving better than he’d see her arms. There was a short stubby tree nearby with bright red flowers. Using all her might, she ripped off a limb and ran back to the shore, waving it madly. But the surfer was looking towards the beach, not up on the cliff.

  The fin emerged from the dark water, closer now, cutting from side to side as it hunted its prey. From Pip’s position, the shark was almost on top of the man, but moving with such smooth menace, it seemed to cause almost no disturbance in the water. Either that, or the man was so deep in his thoughts that he had blocked everything out.

  Just then, the late afternoon sun peeked out from behind a cloud, casting its rays across the small beach and narrow bay, catching an empty glass bottle someone had tossed in the grass. It made Pip think of how a lighthouse warned of danger. Picking up the bottle, she twisted it until it caught the sun’s rays. Light danced around it, painted in a thousand brilliant colours. She held it out and twirled it again.

  Finally, the surfer was looking her way, as the shark moved in…

  Pip dropped the bottle, cupped her hands and yelled at the top of her voice. ‘Shark! Get out, now!’

  The man cupped his
ear as though he couldn’t quite make out what she was saying.

  Pip yelled harder. ‘Shark!’ She made a triangle shape with her hands. He went very still as he finally got the message, and then swung around.

  She saw the water thrash alongside him, saw his mouth open to yell out in fear although the sound of his cry was carried away on the wind. As the water churned wildly, Pip and Houdini hared down the path towards the beach. She kept losing sight of the surfer as she descended into the trees.

  It seemed to take forever, although it was probably only a few minutes before she reached the beach and saw the surfer swimming madly for the beach in a confusing spray of white surf, his surfboard bobbing up and down behind him. Was the shark following him? She couldn’t tell from ground level.

  Hurdling a low fence, Houdini flew onto the beach, Pip at his heels. Just at that moment, a large breaker gathered, the surfer looked over his shoulder, tugged his board alongside and jumped on to it, cruising into the beach in style.

  Pip splashed into the shallow surf, not even thinking of her wet sneakers. Houdini was more wary of the lapping waves, approaching and dancing away at the last minute, even though he had no sneakers to get wet. Panting hard, Pip stopped, hands on her knees and stared up at the surfer as he jumped off his board and trotted through the shallows, grinning as though he was having the time of his life.

  Pip looked him up and down, expecting to see an arm hanging by a thread or a missing ear at the very least, but there was no blood, no missing body parts. He looked perfectly whole and normal, apart from being almost as skinny as Pip, but a whole lot taller and with much broader shoulders.

  His grin widened, light brown eyes glinting with laughter. ‘Woohoo, that was close!’

  Pip couldn’t help but grin back. ‘I thought he’d get you.’

  ‘Old Toothless? He’s been trying for years but he hasn’t got me yet!’