It wasn’t fair.
Rindi’s whole life, taken away.
Sure, I’ve got problems too, thought Angus, staring out the window. Mum’ll probably find more blokes. She’ll probably have more babies for me to look after. But compared to Rindi, I’m lucky.
Angus sighed. He didn’t feel very lucky.
The door bell rang.
If that’s Dad, thought Angus wearily, wanting more Pirate Jim story ideas, I’ll tell him I’ve got the flu.
It was the postman.
‘Parcel for Angus Solomon,’ he said cheerily. He looked at Angus’s face. ‘Has someone died?’
Angus shook his head. ‘Kidnapped,’ he said.
The parcel was from India.
Angus could hardly breathe as he tore at the paper. He tried to think of good things it might be, but he could only think of bad things.
A piece of wedding cake.
A book about youth crime from Patel.
His Bumface jacket, returned by someone who’d found it in a rubbish bin at Calcutta airport.
He got the paper off.
It was a video cassette.
Angus’s hands were shaking so much he could hardly get it into the video player. He stared at the TV screen. Fuzzy, wobbly pictures. He couldn’t make out what it was at first. It looked like a home video shot by someone with worse camera skills than Leo.
Then, with a gasp, he realised.
It was Rindi’s wedding video.
There she was, wearing a floaty, flowing robe that was very different from her real wedding dress. And a kind of shawl over her head and gold chains across her forehead and it even looked like she had a nose ring.
Angus squinted to see the details in the blurred images.
She seemed to be sitting on a sort of throne in a big tent. Angus caught glimpses of her parents and lots of other wedding guests. Then someone sat down on another throne next to her.
It was Patel.
Angus hit the pause button and looked away. Suddenly he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see any more.
I must, he thought, I owe it to Rindi. She’s suffered this, the least I can do is watch.
With a dull, sick feeling, Angus took the video off pause.
On the ground in front of Rindi and Patel, a small bonfire seemed to be burning. Probably Rindi’s books and favourite things, thought Angus angrily.
A voice started chanting in another language. It went on for a long time. Angus went over to the screen so he could have a closer look at the expression on Rindi’s face.
It was very sad.
Angus reached for the remote. I’ll watch the rest tomorrow, he thought. Or next month.
Then Rindi stood up. There was something about the startled look Patel gave her that kept Angus watching.
Rindi pulled her robe off.
Angus stared. Underneath she was wearing the Bumface jacket.
She started running. Whoever was holding the camera was thrown into a panic, and for a while all Angus could see was the roof of the tent. Then Rindi was in shot again, snatching stuff off what looked like a long food table.
People were grabbing at her, but she wriggled away from them.
‘Go,’ someone was screaming. ‘Go.’
Angus realised it was him.
On the screen, Rindi was climbing up a tentpole. She grabbed a rope and swung high over the shouting, arm-waving guests, pelting them with food. Patel, screaming at her in a rage, got a faceful of something gooey.
The tape ended.
Angus stared at the blank screen in delirious, joyful shock. Then he watched the tape again. And again. And again.
Each time, as he laughed and danced around and yelled encouragement to Rindi, a tiny nagging thought got slowly bigger.
What had happened next?
Had Rindi been dragged back to the throne and married with ropes round her?
Angus sat down, not feeling like dancing any more. Then he saw there was a note tucked in the video box.
‘Dear Angus,’ it said. ‘They had me examined by a psychiatrist. He told them I’m not mental, just a naughty girl. Now everyone’s beginning to think the wedding wasn’t such a good idea, including my parents and the caterers. Everyone’s saying I’m too Australian to be an Indian wife. See you soon, love Mrs Bumface.’
Angus put the tape back on and was still watching it and grinning when Dad walked in.
‘Dad,’ he said, startled. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you were busy writing your book.’
Dad sat next to Angus on the settee.
‘Turn the TV off,’ he said, ‘I’ve got something important I want to say to you.’
Angus turned the TV off. He looked at Dad warily. Usually when Dad had something important to say it involved borrowing money from Mum.
‘I’ve been thinking since the school play,’ said Dad quietly. ‘I’ve been thinking how I haven’t been a very good father to you.’
He put his arms round Angus and hugged him.
Angus hugged him back, tingling with pleasure and surprise.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ continued Dad, ‘about what you said at the school play, and I can see now that me and Mum haven’t been fair to you. The way we’ve expected you to be a grown-up all the time, that hasn’t been fair to you at all. So I’ve decided that things are going to change.’
Angus’s head was spinning. It was what he’d always dreamed of but had never dared actually hope for.
Dad was going to start being a dad.
Angus had wonderful visions of Dad taking him to the zoo. Dad doing a commercial with him. Dad playing pirates with him.
Then he realised that Dad was holding money out to him.
‘A grown-up deserves grown-up pay, even if he is only little,’ said Dad. ‘I’ve decided that as you do almost all the work looking after Leo and Imogen, you should have most of the money Mum pays me to look after them. And as you’ve got quite a few more years of child-minding ahead of you, there’ll be lots more where this came from.’
He pushed the notes into Angus’s hand.
Angus stared at them, speechless with disappointment.
‘It’s OK,’ said Dad. ‘You don’t have to say anything. I know this is probably a bit overwhelming.’
Angus struggled to speak.
What could he say that he hadn’t already said at the school play?
‘There is just one other thing,’ said Dad. ‘I’m really short of cash at the moment, so I was wondering if I could borrow this first lot back, just for a bit.’
He slid the notes out of Angus’s hand.
Angus didn’t stop him.
He couldn’t, he was too weak with despair.
‘Good on you,’ said Dad, gripping Angus by the shoulders. ‘My Mr Reliable.’
Angus was still watching Rindi’s tape, deep in thought, when Mum walked in.
‘Mum,’ he said, startled. ‘It’s only two o’clock. What are you doing home?’
She sat next to him on the settee.
‘Turn the TV off,’ she said, ‘I’ve got some big news.’
Angus turned the TV off. He looked at Mum anxiously. The last time she’d said that, it was to tell him Dad was leaving.
Angus prepared himself for the worst.
‘I’m out of the series,’ said Mum.
Angus stared, panic rising. This was the worst.
‘Today?’ he stammered. ‘Just like that? For good?’
Mum nodded.
Angus felt sick with shock.
Then he had a thought that made him feel even sicker.
There must have been a journalist at the school play. A magazine must have done a story about what happened. ‘ “I’m Just a Kid” Sobs Star’s Neglected Son.’
It must be his fault.
Angus prayed it wasn’t.
‘Why?’ he croaked. ‘Why are you leaving the series?’
Mum frowned. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said.
Angus felt the last drops of jo
y trickle out of his life.
If only she could have waited just a few months. A few weeks. So he could have had just a bit of carefree time after Rindi got back.
‘Apparently,’ said Mum, ‘I’ve been pregnant for three months without knowing it.’
Angus stared at her. Why? Why did he have to get the most stupid, incompetent, hopeless mother on the whole planet?
‘How?’ he yelled. ‘How can you be pregnant for three months without knowing it?’
‘Because,’ she said, ‘the writers didn’t tell me.’
Angus felt his mouth drop open.
‘They only thought of the idea last week,’ said Mum. ‘A baby to boost the November ratings. I’d warned them I wasn’t going to have any more kids on that show, but as usual they didn’t listen. So I’m out of there. I’ll have to do a few more weeks taping so they can write me out, then I’m gone.’
Angus gasped for breath. His head hurt. He looked around miserably at the furniture they’d soon have to sell, at the house they’d soon be thrown out of.
He imagined breaking the news to poor Leo and Imogen.
‘Mum,’ he begged. ‘Don’t do it. Don’t leave. We need the money.’
Mum looked at him. Then she smiled. ‘No we don’t, silly,’ she said. ‘I’ve saved up heaps. We’ll never be short of money.’
Angus stared at her, head spinning.
Saved up heaps?
Never be short of money?
Angus struggled to take it all in.
Mum’s brow crinkled with concern. ‘Look at you,’ she said. ‘So stressed.’ She gave Angus a hug. Angus felt relief flooding through him.
It was all going to be OK.
Now she’d saved up lots of money, Mum could afford to start being a mum.
‘I’ve been thinking since the school play,’ said Mum quietly. ‘I’ve been thinking that me and Dad have never really appreciated exactly what and who you are. I’ve decided to do something about that.’
Angus felt like he was going to faint with happiness.
He didn’t care.
Mum seemed to be doing a pretty good job of holding him.
‘It’s your birthday next week,’ said Mum. ‘I’m going to have a birthday dinner for you. I’m going to invite your dad and Leo’s dad and Imogen’s dad so we can all thank you for being the most grown-up, responsible, dependable twelve-year-old in Australia.’
Angus sat up and stared at her.
His insides started to sink.
‘I’ll be depending on you even more from now on,’ said Mum, ‘because the network has given me a new series. It’s a sit-com about a woman who desperately wants kids but can’t get pregnant. Isn’t it exciting? I’ve always wanted to do a sit-com. I’ve always wanted to bring laughter and happiness to people.’
Angus tried to speak but he couldn’t.
He was dumb with disappointment.
‘I know,’ said Mum. ‘I was speechless too when they told me. It’ll mean me working slightly longer hours, but I know I can rely on you, my Mr Dependable.’
She hugged him again.
Angus didn’t stop her. He was too weak with despair.
And too busy thinking hard.
‘Now,’ said Mum, rubbing her hands, ‘here’s the exciting part. The network wants a photo shoot of me and my family. You know, to publicise me leaving the old series and starting the new one. So we’re going to have your birthday dinner in the studio and have all the photographers there. You don’t have to be nervous because I’ll tell you what to do on the night.’
Angus felt his insides start to lurch and shudder like a submarine struggling to the surface.
Suddenly he knew what had to be done.
But was he brave enough?
He waited for his heart to stop racing.
Then he looked directly at Mum.
‘Don’t worry, Mum,’ he said. ‘I know exactly what to do.’
23
Angus stood on the lighting walkway and watched all the activity on the studio floor below.
People were scurrying around Mum’s spotless TV dining room putting the finishing touches to the dining table. Photographers were testing their flashes. Journalists were interviewing Mum.
Dad, Number Two and Number Three were already seated at the table, hungrily eyeing the oysters and sushi.
Angus felt Leo shiver next to him.
‘Do you like raw fish?’ asked Leo, peering down.
‘No,’ said Angus, ‘I don’t.’
‘Yukky,’ murmured Imogen.
Angus saw that down below they were almost ready to start. ‘Where’s Angus?’ he heard Mum say.
Suddenly his new suit felt tight and uncomfortable. He took the jacket off and wished he could take the trousers off too, but of course he couldn’t.
He needed what was in the pockets.
‘We like mashed potato and pumpkin best, don’t we?’ said Leo.
‘Yes,’ said Angus, ‘we do.’
‘Yummy,’ gurgled Imogen.
Angus heard something. He looked along the walkway and saw a figure coming towards them. For a panicked second he thought it was a security guard.
It wasn’t. It was Rindi.
Angus glowed with pleasure.
‘Welcome back,’ he said.
‘G’day,’ she grinned. ‘Glad I got here in time.’
They smiled at each other for a long moment, then she handed him the Bumface jacket.
‘Thanks,’ he said.
He put it on.
‘Suits you,’ smiled Rindi and gave his arm a squeeze.
Angus saw that her eyes were shining, and he knew it wasn’t just her excitement at what he was about to do.
He took a deep breath. Then he gripped the rope he’d tied to the lighting gantry above the centre of the studio, climbed up onto the handrail, and jumped.
As he swung high over his birthday dinner, he gave a loud pirate yell and his insides tingled with the joy of it.
‘Bumface,’ he heard Rindi and Leo and Imogen yelling delightedly.
Down below, every face looked up, every mouth open.
Mum and Dad weren’t watery and indistinct this time. Angus could see every detail of their stunned, shocked, concerned faces.
‘Angus,’ screamed Mum. ‘Be careful.’
‘Don’t let go,’ shouted Dad. ‘I’ll climb up and get you.’
‘The kid’s mad,’ said Number Three.
‘Jeez, Angus,’ shouted Number Two, scowling. ‘Grow up.’
‘No,’ yelled Angus.
Not yet, he thought, reaching into his pocket for a handful of mashed potato and pumpkin.
He flung it at them joyfully.
Not yet.
Puffin Books
Published by the Penguin Group
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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London, WC2R 0RL, England
First published by Penguin Books Australia Ltd, 1998
T
his revised edition published by Penguin Group (Australia), 2009
Text copyright © Creative Input, 1998
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
puffin.com.au
ISBN: 978-1-74-228545-0
Morris Gleitzman, Bumface
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