Valoura Karuna and the Cake Stall Kerfuffle

  For one thing she has a mean nature. My mum would hate me saying this as she thinks everyone is good deep down inside, but I think some people are just bad people. She is a bully, I heard that she pushed this little kid called Jamille off the suspension bridge and into the river just because he wouldn’t give her his MP3 player!

  Nah, there has to be a tactic I can use to get more hard proof, I’m going to need real proof that Emmerllee did take the cake stall funds since the whole Tremlow debacle.

  Uh oh, Stacey is coming through the foyer and into the lounge room and she’s looking like she is about to serve me one big lecture. Sigh.

  ‘Valoura, I am going to work, please be nice to your mother, she has had a lot to put up with this week, don’t you think?’

  ‘Yep’, I answer confidently. I feel it’s best to be confident and straight down the line with Aunt Bossy.

  ‘Will you please hang out the washing and water the garden.’ It was not a request, but an order.

  ‘Yes m’am!’ I shout and salute her like my Grandpa Harvey taught me.

  ‘You are so over the top Valoura, a simple yes would have sufficed. I don’t know how you are going to take instructions from a boss when you get older…that’s if you ever even get a job.’ Aunt Cranky Pants is getting real snarky now, and the best thing to do would be to say ‘got it’ and walk away. But for some reason I can’t ever let Aunt Stacey win. It’s like it’s in my blood and bones to fight her bossiness.

  ‘What if I don’t want to work for a boss, maybe I’ll work for myself, like mum’.

  ‘Perhaps you might want to learn some basic skills then, like mathematics?’ She is getting smirky and smarmy and this is usually the part of our arguments when I want to tip vases, glasses of juice, basically anything liquid on her head.

  I can’t help it, it just comes out. ‘Yeah, well miss I think know everything even though I know nothing and can’t help but boss everyone around all the time even though everyone hates me. I DO know how to do maths and stuff and you are just a massive COW, so get OUT OF MY FACE!’

  Oops.

  ‘VALOURA KARUNA YOU GET OUT HERE NOW!’ Mum yells though the window, indicating that I should come outside now with her pointy finger.

  ‘Heh heh, you are too easy Valoura.’ Stacey grins triumphantly, grabs her briefcase and heads to the garage.

  Outside my mum has her stern face on. She has a few faces; stern, wrathful, kind, sad, silly. Her stern face is supposed to be serious but it makes me laugh instead. I am that way with most people, when they are being so serious I can’t help but find it hilarious. It means I often find myself in hot water.

  ‘How did you grow up with her? She’s a nightmare! Give me Bas and Cee Cee any day over that loony!’ I get this in quickly because this is going to be a very one sided conversation. However mum stifles a laugh with her pale hand and pulls me in for a cuddle.

  ‘Yes, she was a nightmare and I still can’t get rid of her!’

  This was not what I expected but hey! I’m not going to push it. Mum points me in the direction of the laundry and I get the message that I hang out the washing or else.

  After my slave labour I go to get a drink – I am feeling in a pineapple-y mood. Celia is in the pantry rooting about, chucking bags of sugar, almonds, cacao etc. onto the kitchen floor. She hits me with a big bag of bakers flour.

  ‘Ow! Woman, watch it!’

  Her befuddled head pokes out from the bottom shelf. ‘Huh’, she says, a million miles away.

  ‘You hit me with the flour, what are you doing anyway?’

  ‘I am looking for lemons. For an experiment I’m doing’.

  ‘What experiment?’

  ‘I am testing the bracelet Carter gave me to see if it’s real silver’. She pokes her head back into the cupboard and starts on the pasta shelf.

  ‘Oh, why?’

  ‘I don’t know’, comes the muffled reply, ‘I feel like I’ve just got to do something.’

  I have a brainwave, ‘ummm, is it because you want to test his looooove for you?’ I lean against the sink and wait for her answer, she has paused her rummaging and is thinking.

  ‘Possibly.’

  I realise that’s all I’m going to get out of her so I leave her to it. Moving on to the patio with my pineapple and coconut juice, I take a deep breath. I am just going to relax and watch the clouds I think, it has been a hectic week. Wait a minute! I jump up and run back into the kitchen.

  ‘Celia?’

  ‘Hmmm?’

  ‘Stop what you are doing’, I am jumping up and down with excitement at my stupendous idea.

  ‘What Loo, can’t you see I’m busy’, Celia looks at me a bit bemused which is understandable as I am practically exploding on the spot.

  ‘Emmerllee!’

  ‘Humph, what about her?

  ‘You could tail her, get some dirt on her! Now I know it wasn’t Tremlow what stole the money, it HAS to be Emmerllee!’

  Cee Cee’s face is contorting with about a hundred different emotions at once. I bet she’s thinking I’m mad, and how much she’d love to nail that bully at the same time.

  ‘I don’t know Loo, don’t you think you have done enough damage with your private eye stuff?’ She goes to turn back to the pantry but I squat in front of her and grab her by the shoulders.

  ‘If you prove it was her, then that means Carter didn’t do it and you guys can go back to being all lovey dovey again!’ I scan her face and see that she is still in a muddle.

  ‘Yeah, but what if she didn’t do it Loo, what if it was him?’ Her eyes start to moisten and I am scared she is going to start blubbing so I let her go and fall back on my bum.

  ‘Aww don’t cry Cee Cee, please. I am 99.215 percent sure that it was her. She has motive, means and opportunity, its textbook.’ Celia seems to rally at that thought, sniffs and smiles a watery smile.

  ‘Ok Loo, I’ll do it.’

  ‘Yesss!’

  ‘On one condition’.

  ‘Anything’.

  ‘If Carter was the thief, you don’t tell mum’.

  ‘What?’ I look at her like she’s a Vorlon warrior from the planet Muskrat. ‘You know I can’t do that Celia, it’s against the detectives’ code of conduct.’ I look very serious because I take the code of conduct very seriously.

  ‘Code schmode’, Celia retorts, ‘if you don’t tell, I promise that I will get the money back’. Celia stares into the distance looking scheme-y.

  ‘I don’t know.’ I have to think about this, on the one hand I feel loyalty to my sister; I mean, it’s not her fault she was stupid enough to fall for an idiot fish killer. But then, on the other hand, what if she can’t get the money back, what if Carter just tells her to shove off. I mean, I’m not one hundred percent sure he really likes Celia anyway. But then, it may not be him at all. Ahh!

  ‘OK’, slips slowly from the corner of my mouth, and I already regret saying it.

  ‘Really? Ace Valoura, thank you!’

  ‘Ergh, whatever. Now, the plan!’

  Celia and I hatch a cunning scheme. She will get herself invited to Biffo Polson’s party on Friday night, Emmerllee will be sure to be there. Then she will get a feel of Emmerllee, not literally! But suss out her vibe and see if Celia can get her alone. Then she will pounce! Celia will separate Emmerllee from the herd, I mean party, and grill her like a grilled sundried tomato and avocado sandwich.

  I am buoyed by our plot and I am feeling really good. And you know that’s when something is bound to go wrong.

  Chapter 11

  Mum takes us into town to get some shopping. She likes the co-op there and volunteers there sometimes. A co-op is kind of like a shop where everyone brings stuff from home like fruit or vegies they have grown or cheese they have made or other stuff and they all sell it to each other.

  Mum is not entirely thrilled when Celia asks to go to Biffo’s party. I can tell that she is torn between wanting to protect her k
ids and also trusting us and letting us be free to live our lives. She says yes but I can tell she’s worried.

  Celia takes off to Carters’ house, well, mum thinks she’s going to her friend Ambers’ house, but I know what she’s up to. It’s all part of our conspiracy. I decide that I would like to visit Mrs Vanmanthy because I haven’t talked to her for a while and she is always up for a chat. I tell mum where I am going and she fumbles out a demand to be home for dinner. Yep, she’s worried.

  When I turn into Mrs V’s street I can actually see her up ahead, she is outside her house putting her bin out because the rubbish is collected on Friday mornings. She sees me and gives me a huge wave. I break into a trot and when I get to her she gives me a huge hug and a grin. However it can’t cover a sadness reflected in her deep brown liquid eyes. My heart kind of hurts and I am wondering why Mrs Vanmanthy is so upset.

  ‘Hi Mrs V, how’s it going?’

  ‘It is going not well my little pumpkin’, she gives me a wan smile and wraps me a gentle hug. I pull back and study her face. I realise that she doesn’t have as many wrinkles as my nanna even though they must be similar ages.

  ‘Why so down Mrs V?’

  ‘Ahhh Valoura, I feel a terrible guilt’.

  My friend pulls away from me and walks into her small cottage. I follow her, even though I am not too sure this is the right thing to be doing. She makes no protest though so we walk down the narrow hallway and into the lemon coloured kitchen at the back of the house.

  Mrs V sets herself to putting the kettle on and putting Chai tea into a tea pot. The smell of cinnamon in the tea wafts into my nostrils and makes me think of sticky buns and knitted jumpers for some reason. As I come out of my reverie I see that Mrs V is sat at her little kitchen table with her head in her hands. Her shoulders are shaking.

  ‘Mrs Vanmanthy, why are you crying?’ I ask this in a small voice because I don’t want to add to her melancholy.

  ‘Ohhh my little pumpkin, if only I could tell you, but I feel it is a burden too great for your tiny shoulders’. Then she sniffs a really big sniff, but I can see a bit of snot has escaped anyway and splashes on the table. I grab at a tissue poking out of a lavender coloured crocheted tissue box and hand it to Mrs V. She smiles a watery smile and takes the tissue gratefully as the tears (and snot) seem to not want to stop flowing.

  ‘Is there something my mum can do?’ I say this because I know that my mum would do anything to help Mrs V.

  ‘No dear, this is even too much for your mum to fix’.

  ‘Oh’.

  I am feeling at a bit of a loss for words, which is rare for me, I know. So I feebly pat the leaking lady and slide over to the counter to pour the tea. When I hand Mrs V. a cup she sniffs again and grabs my hand. She is looking into my eyes with a heavy, serious stare – I am a little taken aback by her expressive gesture.

  ‘Can I tell you a secret Valoura?’

  ‘Of course Mrs V.’.

  ‘Promise you will not tell anyone, not even your mother?’

  ‘Sure’, I say this slowly because I am a little unsure I can keep this promise. Mrs Vanmanthy doesn’t seem to notice.

  ‘I know who stole the money from the cake stall’.

  ‘Oh’.

  ‘But I can’t turn them in because I think they will be in such serious trouble they may be sent far far away.’

  ‘Oh’. I don’t know what to say. Mrs V buries her head in her hands again as I am wondering if the government would deport someone back to India for stealing two hundred dollars.

  ‘Mrs V., did you steal the money?’ Then I add very quickly, ‘because I am sure you would have a good reason and my mum would understand.’

  Mrs V. then does something I don’t expect. She jumps up and launches herself at the draw most people would keep their cutlery in. She pulls out an envelope stuffed with money and presses it into my hands. I notice that her hands are shaking.

  ‘Take this to your mother please pumpkin, tell her that you found it in your letter box. Please don’t tell her you received it from me, I couldn’t bear the look on her face’. The old woman seems older somehow as she turns away, walks into her bathroom and closes the door.

  I stand in the kitchen for a little while before I realise Mrs V. won’t be coming back so I stagger down the hallway in a daze. I am shaking a little because I have never seen Mrs V. like this, and I am so shocked about her admission to being our thief.

  Outside I jump when I hear my name being called.

  ‘Valoura!’

  I turn to see my brother the bug and his beetle friend Billy come scooting towards me.

  ‘How do you like my new scooter Valoura?’

  I see that Billy has a green and gold scooter under his feet. I think it is the RobotikZ brand. That is a very cool brand that all the nerds from year three want.

  ‘Nice, did you convince your parents it was a sound financial investment?’

  ‘Nah, I just told them that if they didn’t get me one I would flush my sisters new sapphire bracelet down the toilet, and then I would tip motor oil in the pool. They went straight to the sports store and picked up the best brand.’ Billy has a smug look on his face, it wasn’t pretty.

  ‘Cool’ I say in a distracted way, that’s when Bastian sees the envelope in my hand.

  ‘Where’d you get that?’ He points with an incredulous look on his face, ‘is that it?’

  ‘Is that what’ and I hurriedly shove the package into my pocket.

  ‘The cake stall money, it that it?’ and he grabs at my hand trying to pull it out.

  ‘Maybe, where’s mum?’

  Dunno, is she not with Mrs V?’

  ‘Nah’, I start to walk back home. The two scooter nerds follow me which is annoying but also what I want because I want to get them away from Mrs V’s house. She is looking very suspicious right now.

  Chapter 12

  Mum is back home when Billy, Bas and me come up the driveway, she is watering the Grevillia at our front door with grey water. Grey water is water previously used for something else like washing up or something but is good to put on the garden. She gives us a big smile, nothing keeps my mum sulking for long.

  ‘Hey funky monkey’s, what’s the news on the street?’ Mum grabs Bas and squeezes him tight to her hip. Bas looks thoroughly embarrassed.

  ‘Mum, you are so lame!’ he hisses as he squirms from her grasp. ‘Valoura, tell mum about the money!’

  I was dreading this because a) I either have to tell mum where the money came from and put Mrs V. in it or b) I have to lie to mum which is something none of us ever do, even Bastian.

  ‘Ummm’, I am stalling for time. Mum gives me a searching look, not because she suspects me of foul play, but I think because she is worried about me.

  ‘Money sweetie, the cake stall money?’ I look into my mother’s molasses coloured eyes and get stuck there with my heart in my throat. I have to tell her the truth.

  ‘Someone gave me this money’, I pull it from my pocket and hand it to mum as Bas and Billy look at each other because they know I’m not telling the whole truth. I quickly add, ‘but please don’t ask me where I got it from, let’s just say that it is the end of this whole debacle and move on…ok?’ I look at my mother who is quite expressionless.

  She is turning the envelope over and over in her hands. I am holding my breath tight in my belly, not daring to exhale. Mum looks at me strangely. It seems to be a mixture of questioning worry and brave quiet.

  ‘Ok Valoura, if you want it that way that’s fine.’ She doesn’t say it in an angry way. I think she really trusts me. This would be so cool, if I wasn’t so gloomy about the whole thing.

  Mum goes inside to ring the Hoof and Paws founder Keith Plaentree to let him know the good news. I am trying to look cool on the outside but inside I am a mess of scrambled thoughts and squabbling idea’s. Bastian is looking at me and I think he is noticing what I am going through. Billy is dragging his feet through the gravel on the path, ma
king swirly patterns and staring at them so intently he could possibly melt into the ground.

  I look at my brother and try to think of what to say, but he beats me to it.

  ‘Was it Mrs Vanmanthy, Valoura? Did she really take the money, because I just don’t believe it, she is so nice and always helps us and even though she is old she cracks really funny jokes.’ He sighs heavily. ‘I don’t want it to be her’.

  I don’t want to look at him because I feel that if I do he will know what I think and then we will both have to accept it.

  ‘My mother always said she was a very good housekeeper. Mother trusted Mrs Vanmanthy with all the housekeeping money and nothing ever went missing.’ Billy was still sweeping pebbles into little mounds with his foot.

  ‘What?’ I am totally surprised by this information. ‘Mrs V. was your housekeeper?’

  ‘Yeah’, replies Billy like as if to say ‘duh, didn’t you know’. Then he says ‘duh, didn’t you know?’

  ‘No.’ I never thought about what Mrs V. did for a job. We have only known her really well for about three years or so. She and mum are in the same lawn bowls league, but I am not even sure how we met her.

  ‘For how long?’ Bas asks

  ‘Forever, like from when I was a baby until I was six or seven’. I roll my eyes, Billy is only eight.

  ‘Wow. So are your family friendly with Mrs V.?’ I am trying to get some background info now because I am wanting to store as much gossip in my brain as I can for future use.

  ‘Yep, sometimes she babysits my sister. And me too.’ Billy adds the last bit quietly. Like I don’t already know he is a baby and needs to be sat on.

  ‘And you say your parents like her and trust her and you don’t think she would steal this money?’

  ‘No’. Billy has dug himself a bit of a hole now.

  My mind is whirring now at a billion billion kilometres a second. I leave Billy and Bas in front of the house and run down to the creek. I need some space. I need some air. I need my brain to slow down and stop slamming into the insides of my head.

  Harbury creek winds along our property and is rarely empty. The water is actually quite clean and clear and there are mini waterfalls here and there. Growing beside it are weeping willows what were planted by settlers from England who were missing home. These are tiny midget trees compared with the colossal river gums that tower over them. There is a swing that someone draped over our favourite gum a long time ago and I plonk my bum on it and swing side to side and around in circles, mirroring the state of my mind.