The Sugarcane Kids and the Red-bottomed Boat by Charlie Archbold

Author:Charlie Archbold
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Text Publishing Company
Published: 2022-04-21T00:00:00+00:00

11

Stake-out

Bernie, Eli and I are sitting crouched behind bins and crates on the wharf. Fletch is beside us, lying flat on his stomach with a pair of binoculars pointed at the Lancelot. It was actually a lot more complicated to organise a stake-out than you’d think because parents and Turtle are sharp as snake fangs.

‘Are you sure you’re having tea with Bernice and Fletcher, Andy?’

‘Yes, Mum.’

‘Eli, is Julie happy you’re going to their house to hang out with Andy?’

‘Yes, Turtle.’

‘Turtle has a lot on, Bernice and Fletcher, don’t go making more work for her this evening. Are you sure she wants you both over for supper?’

‘Totally.’

It was hard work, but somehow we managed to swing it and we’ve all got until ten to be outside each other’s houses ready to be picked up. We’ve pulled the wheelie bins around us in a cage. I brought the binoculars that were a present from Dad. Bernie has a notebook and pen—she’s the best writer and speller. Eli has a mega torch. We’ve been here since six and I’m starving. Fletch had snacks, but ate them all, and Bernie has given us each a new copy of the mangrove map.

The wharf was busy between five and seven. All the tourists want to do is get back to their posh hotels for tea. No one noticed four kids mucking around on bikes. And no one cared that four kids were moving the bins to set up our camp.

The Lancelot has been quiet since we began the stake-out. It’s odd, though, because all the other boats are being hosed down by their crews. There are lights on inside the Lancelot, but not a soul on deck.

The yacht club is closing for the evening. There’s just the faraway clatter of tidying up ready for it all to begin tomorrow. The last of the tourists and workers are wandering to their cars.

We wait.

It’s heaps uncomfortable.

Time ticks.

Then, hooray, the door of the Lancelot top deck opens. Light floods out, and a figure emerges.

‘No way,’ hisses Fletch. ‘That’s Mash!’ Mash is short and built like an Olympic wrestler.

Then another person comes on deck. We all nudge each other. It’s Jacinta Pines.

Jacinta crosses the gangplank with a pile of flattened boxes. Fletch practically inhales the remains of a corn chip stuck in his teeth. She’s heading straight for us. Then she changes direction and moves away from our bins, which aren’t the recycle ones. To be honest we should have gone for the recycle bins, as it is smelly here. It’s always hot and real rubbish loves to sweat.

Eli leans forward. ‘Jacinta,’ he loud whispers. ‘We need to talk to you.’

It’s hard because in the dark I can’t tell if she heard him. She doesn’t respond, just walks back to the Lancelot. She says something to Mash and goes inside.

‘Now what?’ moans Fletch.

‘We wait,’ says Bernie. ‘She might come out again.’

‘What if she heard you, Eli, and told Mash and he comes over?’ worries Fletch.

‘Then we’ll know for sure she’s up to something and we can go to the police.

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