NO BRIDGE, NO WAY!. Jan Murray
to love it!’ She jumped up, excited, knocking her water all over Harry Potter and sending her chair flying backwards.
‘And to hell with saving our geckoes,’ Zoran chipped in––sarcasm on a grand scale from behind a manga comic, which Xanthe did not appreciate.
She walked across to the window, leaving them to deal with her wild blast as they went on arguing about ghosts, witches and worthy geckos.
‘It’s all there. I can just see it in my head––the opening scene,’ said Angel, getting to her feet. ‘We have this long-distance view of Gertie’s house, right?’
She looked around at her audience.
Summers needs an audience like trees need sunshine, thought Xanthe.
‘The narrator ... that’s me––'
‘Oh, yeah?’ Xanthe said, not bothering to look around.
...starts telling a creepy story ... and ... and we’re zooming in on the front door as the camera comes closer and closer and suddenly––’
‘A witch runs out and grabs you!’ laughed Zoran, grabbing Angel by her shoulders.
But, of course, Angel was too professional to squeal. ‘We’ll need to get inside the house, though,’ she continued, ignoring Zoran’s lame attitude. ‘Like, we’ll have to go around there and do a reckie.’
‘She means a reconnoiter,’ said Honey.
‘Thanks for that!’ said Xanthe, turning to face the Identicals. ‘As if I didn’t know!’
‘Whatever,’ shrugged Angel.
‘Oh my god! It’s going to be so freaky.’ It was Honey, again.
Xanthe let them rave on while she staid by the window looking out at Salvation Bay – at the sailing boats coming into view. It was a mid-week twilight race, a handicap event. The timber boats – all shapes, sizes and ancient histories – were out in front, catching the first winds as they tacked to starboard and port, making their way down towards the island.
The competition was in the rear. These were the big Sydney-to-Hobart style racing yachts that had waited for the second starting gun to go off. Now it was all frantic shouting and yanking and pulling ropes and leaning off the sides. Once they caught a good wind the fancy yachts would blitz the smaller craft. You could hear the savage flapping noises of their huge sails as they flew past. Xanthe breathed onto the salty glass and wiped it for a clearer view then, after some serious thinking, she turned and walked over to the noisy table.
‘Quiet!’ she yelled over the salad of voices. ‘Listen up! Unless we get going – and I mean, like right now– then the mainland’s going to beat us to it. Think about our competition, you guys! All those older kids over there ... on the mainland ... doing film as an elective. If FIFU’s going to get something on ABC Kids, then we better get going. Like, I mean today!’
‘Here, here!’ the Identicals yelled out.
‘Our introductory video’s in the can,’ said Xanthe. She slammed the flat of her hand down hard on the table. As Jo had done. ‘Now let’s make the movie, guys!’
‘Here, here!’ Twin time again.
No wonder I like them, Xanthe reasoned, always happy to have people agree with her bright ideas. ‘The ABC can only air so many kids shows. Right?’ She glanced out at the race. ‘And it better be us that’s out there in front!’ Applause all round. Even a nod from the Radz. She went on, looking across at Jo Purdy now. ‘And the way I see it, everyone, a movie with a good story in it is going to make a bigger impression on kids than just one more tired old doco about endangered species and all that.’
‘No way!’ said Zoran. ‘No ghosts. No stupid haunted houses!’ He scrunched up his comic, threw it down on the table and stood up. ‘Let’s get one thing straight, you, dorks. There’re are no such things as ghosts and you aren’t gonna catch Zoran Milos Radlic putting his good name to anything that pretends there is, okay? Okay?’
‘I’m with you, bro,’ echoed Jack. At thirteen, you would.
Xanthe looked at the Identicals. They were looking across at their aunty but giving nothing away. Entertainment or an environmental message? It seemed FIFU had hit a dead end.
‘Who’s for a swim?’ yelled Zoran. It was always like that. When they couldn’t agree on something, they went swimming.
'No one’s going anywhere,' said Xanthe. 'Not till we’ve got a story outline. So, make up your minds!’
‘At least we’ve got the sets for a haunted house movie,’ said Honey, rising from the table. ‘We won’t have to make props.’
‘Maybe. Maybe we won’t,’ said Angel. ‘Not if the wreckers knock the old house down before we get a chance to make the film!’
‘I say, forget it. Let’s organize a public meeting, instead,’ Jacko said.
‘Here’s something to kick you off.’ Jo Purdy held up her sheet of paper.
FADE IN
JETTY - FERRY APPROACHES - DAY
NARRATOR
By Friday morning it was no longer just a rumour. The Island was buzzing with the news and a bunch of kids on Glencairn was ready for the fight.
'I love it!' said Xanthe. 'It’s a great start. And start we must, guys!'
‘Zanth’s right, I guess’ said Zoran, making like it was time he took control. ‘It’s gotta happen quick. So, what’s it to be? Dorky or dorkier? Come on.’
No answer. It looked like they were about to drop it for now and really go swimming.
‘Decide: Fact or Fiction?’ said Xanthe, leaving them to make up their minds while she went across to the window and tried to concentrate, ignoring the jabbering behind her. Is there a witch on Glencairn? Are there such things as ghosts? Would we look stupid if we made a movie about ghosts? Is the house really haunted? Who’s seen the ghost? On and on until, suddenly she had it! She turned and ran at the feuding Fabs, bustling them up out of their seats, one by one, and pushing them towards the door. ‘I’ve got the answer, you idiots!’
‘To what?’ said Honey, who could sometimes be so vague it hurt.
‘To whether or not there actuallyisan Island Gertie ghost! Or a Gertie witch.’
‘And there’s only one way to settle this thing, isn’t there, Zanth,’ Angel piped up. ‘Come on! I’m game!’
‘Yeah, like I believe in ghosts? Not!’ said Jack. ‘There’s no such thing.’
‘But are you game enough to try and prove that, Jacko?’ said Xanthe. ‘Are you game enough to come with me and see for yourselves if there’s anything creepy going on up there?’ She had dived into the locker and grabbed an armful of cricket bats and balls. ‘We go around there and flush her out. It’s simple. We settle it once and for all. If there’s no actual ghost ... or witch ... then we don’t write a freaky film. If there is ...’ She let her words trail.
‘We go around there and flush her out!’ said Honey.
‘What is she? A dammed wombat?’ said Zoran who might be allowed to swear at home but wasn’t supposed to swear around the clubhouse. ‘And what’s with the cricket stuff?’
‘What do you reckon, Zoran?’ said Xanthe. 'Huh? We run around and make lots of noise, right? We annoy her and make her come after us, of course!’
She tossed a cricket ball at the bag and landed it square in the pocket. ‘C’mon, guys. This is it!’ Xanthe called back to them as she ran out the door and headed up the steep steps through the lantana, towards the cliffs that ended on the dark side. She believed she might have just called their bluff.
There was