Maybe by Morris Gleitzman

Author:Morris Gleitzman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Penguin Random House Australia

That was the most delicious pot of tea and pile of toasted cheese sandwiches I’ve ever had.

‘Good?’ said Jack as we ate. I nodded gratefully.

‘If I do say so myself,’ said Jack, ‘I make a tiptop toasted sanger.’

I’m learning quite a lot of Australian now.

Being allowed to wash our hands and faces in Jack’s kitchen was pretty tiptop too. But the best thing is that Jack is so friendly.

‘I reckon,’ says Jack, as we bump along in his truck, the three of us squeezed in the front, ‘that what you both need are some new clothes. Which is why I’m taking you to Mrs Tingwell’s shop.’

I glance at Anya.

She’s a bit concerned by this, just like I am.

‘That’s very kind, Jack,’ she says, ‘but we don’t have any money.’

‘No problem,’ says Jack. ‘This is drought country. Nobody’s got any money. Mrs T does credit.’

I’m not sure exactly what that means, but when Jack says no problem he sounds like he means it.

While we were having tea, Jack asked me and Anya about our life stories. We didn’t tell him much, because it’s rude to only talk about yourself when you visit someone. But we told him a bit.

Jack’s a person who chuckles quite a lot, but a couple of times while I was telling him about what happened to Mum and Dad and Zelda and Genia, he wiped away tears.

And when Anya mentioned the Russian soldier who made her pregnant, Jack got angry, but in a way that showed he didn’t blame her at all.

Which I thought was very kind.

‘Nearly there,’ says Jack as we bump along the dirt road. ‘Only a couple of hours to go.’

I’m peering at the horizon, wondering where Simmo and Rusty and the others have ended up.

Jack sees me squinting into the distance.

‘Felix,’ he says. ‘Fraid it’s not looking good for your mates. I reckon that plane went down in the high country. Very remote, lot of sheer rock, no way an ambulance could even get up there. Anyone on board when that plane ploughed the paddock would have had Buckley’s.’

I don’t understand every word of this, but I get the gist from the sad look on Jack’s face and the way he gives my shoulder a sympathetic squeeze.

‘Maybe they all jumped,’ I say. ‘They all had their parachutes. They were all experts.’

‘Felix,’ says Anya softly. ‘The plane was in a death dive. I don’t think counting to ten and not holding hands would have been enough.’

I don’t say anything.

She’s probably right.

But everyone has to accept things in their own time, that’s what Mother Minka taught me in the orphanage.

Jack is giving me a look.

‘Everything you’ve copped in your life,’ he says, ‘and you’re still up for giving hope a go. I reckon there’s a few mongrels in these parts could learn from that. Good on you, young fella.’

‘Thank you,’ I say.

‘Anyhow,’ says Jack, ‘most of all, I’m glad the three of you made it.’

Anya gives Jack one of her grateful looks, and his steering goes wobbly for a moment.

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