Then Oliver followed Nancy out of the house.
‘That miserable cow,’ said Nancy once they were outside. ‘I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.’
Oliver didn’t reply.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Barclay, still in that room with those guns and those smokers.
Oliver and Nancy got into the ute.
Nancy sat staring at the steering wheel.
‘What a mess,’ she said. ‘I’ve got fifteen of Tim’s camels a thousand k’s from here, and if they don’t get a drink this week, they’re history. So at least now you can see why I’ve been behaving like a desperate mongrel.’
Oliver nodded.
He knew how she felt.
12
As the ute rumbled into the city, Oliver tried to stay calm. He went through the plan in his head.
Dad always said the best plans were simple and straightforward, and this was a beautifully simple nine-part plan.
(1) Tell Mum and Dad about Barclay being in big danger.
(2) Get Nancy to back it up with details.
(3) Introduce Moo to Mum and Dad.
(4) Tell them about the other camels.
(5) And Rose’s father.
(6) Wait for them to be sympathetic.
(7) Ask them for money.
(8) Explain about it being an investment in the camel farm and not a refund.
(9) Use five hundred dollars of the investment to rescue Barclay, and the rest to save the camels.
Simple.
OK, ten parts, because first they had to take Moo to the bank, which they were doing now.
Oliver was squeezed in the front of the ute next to Rose. Every time Nancy took a corner, they were pressed together and Rose squirmed like she was being tortured by flesh-eating slime.
‘Sorry,’ murmured Oliver.
‘Pig,’ muttered Rose.
Oliver tried to be understanding. Rose didn’t go to a normal school, she went to school on the internet, so she wasn’t used to being near kids.
In the side mirror Oliver could see the reflection of Moo’s float behind them. He almost wished he was back there with Moo.
Before they went round the next corner, Oliver tried to lighten the mood and take his mind off Barclay.
‘Those camel biscuits,’ he said to Nancy. ‘What’s in them?’
For a few moments it didn’t look like Nancy was going to answer. Oliver could see she was still doubtful about the whole idea of taking Moo to the bank.
‘We make them ourselves,’ she said after a while. ‘From leaves and twigs, ones that camels like, squashed together.’
Oliver knew how the leaves and twigs felt.
The ute went round another corner.
‘Sorry,’ said Oliver, pulling himself away from Rose.
‘Don’t speak to me,’ Rose hissed.
She kicked Oliver. He gasped. Her boot was really hard.
‘Rose,’ said Nancy wearily.
Oliver rubbed his leg and tried to take his mind off the pain by thinking about what would happen when they got to the bank.
He was hoping Mum and Dad would come down to the foyer. Otherwise Moo would have to go up in the lift and Oliver was fairly sure that was illegal. Rose going up would be even worse. She’d probably set off the sprinklers or something.
‘That one there,’ said Oliver, pointing to the bank building.
Nancy parked outside and Oliver hurried into the foyer. While he waited for somebody to come down, he hoped Nancy wouldn’t change her mind and drive off. Even as she was parking she’d still looked doubtful about the whole idea.
The lift doors opened, and Oliver started to have doubts himself.
It wasn’t Mum or Dad in the lift, it was Hayden.
Hayden looked pale, like he was in shock.
For a second Oliver thought Nancy must have brought Moo into the foyer behind him, but before he could turn round to check, Hayden spoke.
‘Your mum and dad have gone home,’ he said.
Oliver stared at him. It was only four o’clock. Mum and Dad never went home at four o’clock in the afternoon.
‘What’s happened?’ said Oliver.
Hayden looked like he didn’t want to say. The lift doors started to close. Oliver had never seen Hayden like this. Scared and sort of helpless.
‘Your parents’ll tell you,’ said Hayden, just before he disappeared behind the lift doors.
The closer they got to the apartment, the more anxious Oliver felt.
He knew now what must have happened.
He’d completely forgotten about Vickey picking him up from school. She must have called Mum and Dad when she found he wasn’t there. Which was why they’d gone home earlier than they ever had in their lives.
His phone was probably full of angry messages from them.
Oliver couldn’t check because his phone was in his school bag on the floor and he was still jammed in next to Rose.
They went round another corner. Oliver clung onto the door handle and tried not to touch Rose too much. But it was hopeless. Rose was like a hate magnet.
‘I think I’m gunna throw up,’ she muttered. ‘Let’s ditch this worm and go. This whole thing’s a waste of time. Those murderers won’t help us.’
Nancy didn’t say anything.
Oliver felt even more stressed.
If Mum and Dad were angry with him, they probably wouldn’t want to help. And even if they weren’t angry now, they would be after Rose had finished with them.
Oliver tried not to think about Rose getting her own back by scratching things in the apartment. Or letting Moo eat the giant bonsai trees in the foyer.
He had to risk it, for Barclay’s sake.
‘It’s this block of apartments,’ said Oliver, pointing.
‘I know,’ said Nancy. ‘Remember?’
‘Sorry,’ said Oliver.
‘You should be sorry, dung beetle,’ said Rose. ‘You couldn’t afford to live in a flash block of flats like this if your parents weren’t crooks.’
Oliver started to explain the difference between being a crook and having investment problems, using his own playground experience as an example.
Before he got very far, he saw something on the car-park ramp that made the words dry up in his mouth.
Vickey.
She was helping a taxi driver lift two big suitcases into the boot of a taxi.
Her suitcases.
Oliver scrambled out of the ute and ran over to her.
‘Vickey,’ he said. ‘Where are you going?’
Even before she replied, he knew the answer from the look on her face.
‘You could have texted me, Oliver,’ she said. ‘You could have let me know where you were. So I didn’t look like a complete dodo.’
Oliver tried to drag her suitcases out of the taxi.
‘I’ll explain to Mum,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell her it was my fault. I’ll explain you didn’t know where I was.’
‘Won’t do any good,’ said Vickey. ‘Your mum’s in a state. So’s your dad. They were both home half an hour ago, furious you weren’t here.’
‘I’ll explain to them,’ said Oliver helplessly.
Vickey shook her head and gently took his hands off the suitcases.
Oliver knew she was right. It was hopeless. When Mum fired a housekeeper, she never changed her mind.
For a desperate moment Oliver wondered if a camel would change it.
No.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said miserably to Vickey.
‘We both knew this would happen sooner or later,’ said Vickey. ‘I’ll miss you.’
‘I’ll miss you too,’ said Oliver.
Vickey opened the taxi door.
‘It’s not your fault,’ she said. ‘Your mum only fires us because she’s jealous of us. Give me a call. Let me know what the next one’s like.’
Oliver waved till Vickey’s taxi turned a corner. He felt very sad, but at the same time his mind was racing.
&
nbsp; What was going on with Mum and Dad? Why had they wanted him to be at home?
It must be something serious.
‘She doesn’t change, your mother, does she?’ said Nancy.
Oliver turned.
Nancy and Rose were standing beside the ute.
Oliver took a deep breath.
‘I’m really sorry,’ he said. ‘I think there’s a problem. I think today’s not a good day for Moo to meet Mum and Dad. Tomorrow would probably be better. Definitely better.’
‘Garbage,’ said Rose. ‘You’re a lying toad.’
‘I promise,’ said Oliver. ‘Tomorrow will be much better.’
‘Here’s what you can do with your promise,’ said Rose. ‘Put it back up your bum where it belongs.’ She turned to Nancy. ‘We’re not gunna get any help from this worm. Let me bash him with the jack handle, then we’ll think of another way of getting our money.’
‘Rose,’ said Nancy wearily. ‘In the ute, please.’
Instead, Rose came and stood very close to Oliver.
‘When you’re in bed tonight,’ she said to him, ‘and your servants are drying your toothbrush and bringing you a glass of water, have a little think about what’s gunna happen to our camels in a few days.’
‘Rose,’ said Nancy. ‘Get in.’
Rose scowled at Oliver and got into the ute.
Oliver looked at Nancy. He wished he could say something to make her feel better. But until he found out what was happening with Mum and Dad, Rose was probably right, promises were risky.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘Don’t be,’ said Nancy. ‘You’re a kid. I don’t know what I was thinking.’
She reached into the ute and handed Oliver his school bag.
‘I know you’re fretting about the dog,’ she said. ‘But I’ve got sixteen camels to worry about.’
‘I’ll text you about tomorrow,’ said Oliver.
‘There may not be time,’ said Nancy. ‘Gail’s chucking us out tomorrow afternoon and I have to get back to the farm.’
Nancy got into the ute, glanced up at Mum and Dad’s apartment at the top of the building, and looked at Oliver through the open ute window.
‘Looks like we’re both in the poo,’ she said grimly.
She drove off.
Oliver watched the ute go, but in his imagination all he could see was Barclay, trembling on Erik’s lap, eyes pleading.
Oliver pulled himself together. There was still time to save Barclay and the camels. Tomorrow afternoon was twenty-four hours away.
Possibly more.
He hurried to the lift, and up to Mum and Dad.
13
‘Where have you been?’ said Dad, his voice loud with stress, as Oliver stepped out of the lift into the living room.
Oliver was expecting this.
For Mum and Dad to be home this early, they must have discovered how many school rules he’d broken.
(1) Leaving the school premises without a note.
(2) Catching a taxi without permission.
(3) Selling shares in the playground.
(4),(5),(6) Other rules, probably, that he’d forgotten.
Oliver decided not to make excuses or tell lies. A dog and sixteen camels were depending on him, so he had to tell the truth.
Which was what he tried to do.
‘No, mate,’ said Dad before Oliver had even got started. ‘Haven’t got time for this now. We’ve got to get back to the bank. All of us.’
Before Oliver could ask why, Mum hurried in to the living room.
‘Where have you been?’ she said, ‘We’ve been out of our minds with worry.’
Oliver was expecting this too. He started to apologise and explain, then stopped.
He looked at Mum, puzzled. She was wearing her faded business jacket that the dry cleaner ruined after Mum spilt champagne on it. And Dad was wearing a suit that looked about three years old. Usually he gave his suits to charity after twelve months. Six if they were silk and the elbows went baggy.
Oliver didn’t get it.
What was going on?
He could see from Mum and Dad’s faces it was something very serious. Even more serious than their son being a multiple school-rule breaker and a failed investment banker.
‘What’s going on?’ said Oliver.
Mum and Dad looked at each other.
‘I’ll tell him,’ said Dad.
Oliver had a horrible thought. Had Nancy and Rose gone to the bank and done something illegal with a jack handle? Were Mum and Dad wearing old clothes to clean up the mess?
‘Walk and talk,’ said Dad.
They all got into the lift.
‘Here’s what’s happened, Oliver,’ said Dad. ‘A bank in America has just gone broke. All over the world, people are worried that other banks will go broke too. We don’t want our investors to worry. We want to let them know that our bank is fine and their money is safe.’
‘Because,’ said Mum, ‘if they think it isn’t, they’ll all ask for their investments back.’
‘Today,’ said Dad.
‘And our share price will plummet,’ said Mum.
‘And we’ll be in the poo,’ said Dad.
Oliver thought about this as the three of them got into the car.
He imagined hundreds of angry investors, all with jack handles. He shuddered. He could see Ron the driver was looking nervous too.
‘So,’ said Dad as the car started moving. ‘In thirty minutes we’re holding a media conference.’
Oliver wasn’t sure what that was.
‘TV and radio and newspaper reporters are coming,’ said Mum. ‘We’re going to explain to them that our bank is safe and sound.’
Oliver understood. It felt like a good idea. And once everybody had calmed down, then he could arrange for Nancy to tell Mum and Dad about Barclay and the camels and Rose’s father.
There was one more thing about a media conference Oliver didn’t understand.
‘Why are you wearing old clothes?’ he said to Mum and Dad.
They glanced at each other again.
‘We want to show people we’re just a normal family,’ said Dad. ‘Working hard to look after everybody’s investments.’
Oliver nodded.
Of course.
When people were feeling worried about losing their life savings, Mum and Dad didn’t want to look too rich.
Oliver had never been to a media conference.
He didn’t like it very much.
It was very hot, for a start. The boardroom was full of cameras and lights. Reporters were crowding and jostling.
Oliver sat between Mum and Dad at a table covered in microphones. He squinted into the lights. Sweat dribbled down his back.
‘Can I take my blazer off?’ he whispered.
‘No,’ said Mum.
‘Yes,’ said Dad. He leaned over and whispered to Mum. ‘We don’t want people to see he goes to a fat-cat school.’
Mum sighed.
The media conference began.
Oliver was shocked. The reporters were really rude. Instead of letting Mum and Dad explain how the bank was safe and sound, they kept yelling questions. Rude ones about whether Mum and Dad had been careful enough with people’s money, and whether they’d told people the truth, and how much money they’d paid to themselves.
Poor Mum and Dad, thought Oliver.
Plus, the more the reporters were unkind, the more it made Oliver worry about whether Erik and his mates were being unkind to Barclay.
‘Mr and Mrs Newton,’ said a reporter, who looked to Oliver like a relative of the pet-shop manager because she had the same poodle hair. ‘You say you didn’t know you were putting your clients’ money into investments that were time bombs waiting to explode in their faces. Did you ever actually explain to your clients the extent to which they were exposed to US subprime mortgage-backed derivatives?’
Oliver didn’t have a clue what that question meant, but he could see that Dad wished the
reporter hadn’t asked it.
‘I’m glad you asked that question,’ said Dad, ‘because it gives me the chance to remind everybody that this is an Australian bank, and we’re doing just fine.’
Good one, Dad, thought Oliver.
Except Dad didn’t look like he was doing just fine.
His knees were jiggling. Dad only jiggled his knees when he was very stressed. And Mum didn’t look like she was doing fine either. Oliver could see her hands clenched tight under the table. Plus she was very pale, though that might just have been the dry-cleaning fumes from her jacket.
Oliver wished he could do something to help.
Mum and Dad must be wishing that too, he thought, or why had they been so anxious for him to be at the media conference with them?
Oliver put up his hand.
‘Can I say something, please?’ he said to the reporters.
The room went silent. Everybody was looking at him. He stood up.
‘Oliver,’ whispered Mum urgently. She added something else he missed, but she was probably just wishing him luck.
Oliver’s heart was going so fast he had a quick vision of it breaking and bits flying off, but he carried on.
‘I just want to say,’ he said to the reporters, ‘that investment banking isn’t easy. And anybody who thinks it is should give it a go, because then you’ll see it isn’t. Because nobody can be right all the time, not even people who are really good at maths. And when a bank like this one loses people’s money, they don’t mean to. That’s all. Thank you for listening.’
Oliver sat down.
He was glad he’d taken his blazer off, because his school shirt was drenched with sweat.
Everybody was still staring at him.
He glanced at Mum and Dad. They were staring at him too. They didn’t look like they were feeling much better than before, but he hoped they were on the inside.
Suddenly Oliver remembered something he’d forgotten to say. He’d completely forgotten to remind everybody that the gone-bung American bank was probably very small and that Mum and Dad were too big too fail.
Before Oliver had a chance to stand up again and mention that, all the reporters started yelling questions. For a horrible few moments Oliver thought he’d have to answer them. But the bank public relations lady stepped forward and said in a loud voice, ‘Thank you, thank you, no more questions, thank you.’