Tricks Troubles Triumphs

By Anne McDonell

Good mates, Flip, Jack and Ant, find that thinking up and actioning amazing tricks isn't easy. However the challenges prove worthwhile when they manage to bring trouble makers - school mates, neighbours, even a con man - down to size. A good laugh is a bonus.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anne McDonell
• Release date: Jun 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393935612

Book preview

Chapter 1

FIRST VISIT

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Which door, front or back?  I looked for a sign but couldn’t find one. Does it matter? I stared at the polished door with its coloured glass pane. Ours is old wood with peeling paint. Not pretty! There’s a bell. Should I press it, or knock? I pressed the button, heard the chime echo through distant rooms, heavy footsteps approach... The door opened, Mr. Smythe filled the space and bent over till his fat face was close to mine. ‘Oh! It’s you Philip. You’ll find Jackson on the back patio,’ he said, and shut the door.

Last night Jack had invited me to his place for lunch, as he’d promised he would before Christmas. I’d never set foot in his house. This visit was no big deal; well, it shouldn’t have been but... you see, Jack’s place and his family are a lot different to mine. Dad has just started a landscaping business – he was redundant for a while. Jack’s parents are business people and travel all around the world. They spent Christmas at a hotel in Surfers Paradise while we had our usual family Christmas in a remote Department of Conservation camp. My only company was my sister Skye and four of our girl cousins. It was no wonder I’d looked forward to this visit – Jack and I had had heaps of adventures when we shared my bedroom last term. It wasn’t all fun - far from it, but we’re mates now, so why did I want to run home? It was crazy.

These thoughts flooded my mind as I followed a path lined with flowers to the rear of the house. I turned the corner and there was Jack standing beside a fancy fountain.

‘Flip, you’ve taken your time! You’re 15 minutes late.’ He checked his mobile to make sure. ‘What held you up?’

I couldn’t tell him it was fear. I left home with time to spare but my legs wouldn’t walk as fast as usual and my hands shook when I saw the gate. It’s almost as tall as me and has this fancy catch that took me five minutes to open. When I’d closed it, I stared through two rows of tall trees to the stone house. It has three storeys an attic and large garden ornaments. The driveway looked half a kilometre long and I felt like a lost toddler as I made my way to the door. Stupid, I know, but I couldn’t help it.

Jack was waiting for an answer. ‘D-d-dad had a job for me, said it was urgent,’ I stuttered.

‘What job?’

My mind spun as I searched for an excuse. ‘Lifting this machine into the Ute. It’s heavy as.’ Before he could ask, ‘What machine?’ I asked what he’d been doing.

‘Making excuses for you,’ he said. ‘Mum’s cooked a roast and is worried that it’s drying up.’

‘Sorry,’ I said, and I was very sorry. It wasn’t a great start to my first visit, especially a visit I’d looked forward to for weeks.

Jack’s mother saw me through the window, walked to the door to greet me. ‘Good, you’re here at last, Philip. Wash your hands in the powder room then we’ll sit at the table.’ The door’s on the right.’ She pointed down a long passage.

I quickly discovered that their powder room is what my family calls a bathroom but much grander. The bath and basin shone, the taps and tiles gleamed. I took a deep breath before returning to the kitchen.

‘The others are waiting in the dining room,’ Mrs. Whyte told me and pointed the way. She picked up a large dish of roast vegetables and followed me, mumbling, ‘I hope these aren’t too dry.’ Petal, Jack’s younger sister, followed us carrying a tray laden with gravy, sauces and pickles and placed them in the centre of the table. Mrs. Whyte returned to the kitchen, came back carrying a large plate containing a roast as big as the ones we have at Christmas. She placed it in front of Mr. Whyte then gave him a large carving knife and fork. While he carved, everyone waited in silence. My teeth wanted to chatter but I managed to control them.

Mrs. Whyte piled slices of roast onto a plate and passed it to me. I looked at her, I looked at Jack, was looking at my plate when Mr. Whyte said, ‘Don’t let it get cold, lad. Take what you want and pass it on.’ I blushed, speared a slice with my fork, lifted it, felt it wobble, then watched it fall; mostly onto my plate thank goodness. The vegetables were next to come my way, then garlic bread... I took very little of everything for good manners and safety reasons. Mum would be proud of me, I thought. When food stopped coming, I looked up saw that all eyes were on my plate. Why? Then I noted that their plates were overflowing and mine contained one thin slice of meat, half a potato, a quarter of a piece of pumpkin, a scattering of peas and a small slice of garlic bread. Mrs. Whyte looked puzzled or offended. I couldn’t tell which.

We started eating. All went well till Mr. Whyte called my name from the far end of the table. ‘The condiments please, Philip.’ While he waited, I searched around me for something I’d never heard of. It felt ages before Jack came to my aid and passed this fancy contraption containing salt, pepper, mustard, sauce and stuff to his dad.

I was about to eat the last scraps on my plate when I saw this fancy cloth serviette on the table – we use paper towels. Pop once joked that we could try toilet paper – it’s cheaper! I sneaked a peep at other place settings and noted that no one else still had a serviette in front of them. What was Jack thinking? I wondered. What were his parents thinking? Would I ever be invited back again? I wanted to sink to the bottom of the deepest ocean on earth.

While Mrs. Whyte and Petal cleared the dishes, I grabbed my serviette and shoved it on my knee. Jack ignored me, grinned and said I was in for a treat because his mother had made a special dessert. I was hopeful and hungry at the same time especially when they returned with a tray of sparkling glass dishes. Surely they contained some amazing creation; cheesecake or maybe chocolate éclairs... Mmm. 

‘Look, everyone!’ Petal pointed to the desserts. ‘Yum! We’ve got coffee and coconut custard with tropical pineapple and banana fruit salad.’

‘Awesome,’ Jack enthused.

Ugh! My hopes were dashed. I wanted to puke. I hate coffee flavouring, and bananas don’t agree with me. Mum gave up trying to make me eat them when I was five years old. What now? Mrs. Whyte placed a dish in front of each of us. Banana and coffee smell awful at any time but mixed together and placed not far from my nose, they’re especially bad. I froze.

Mr. Whyte handed a dish laden with whipped cream to Petal. She helped herself and passed it to Jack. He took his helping and handed it on to me. I love whipped cream, but would it drown the coffee, coconut and banana flavours? I doubted it, so I reluctantly handed it on to Mrs. Whyte.

She looked at me carefully. ‘Is something wrong, Philip?’ she said. ‘You don’t look at all well.’

‘He must be ill,’ Jack was concerned. ‘He usually loves all food, especially whipped cream. I’ve watched him heap it over his Mum’s delicious pancakes and scones.’

Petal looked up from her plate and stared in disbelief, as if to say, ‘This food is fit for a princess. You can’t possibly leave it on your plate!’

‘You must be feeling sick.’ Jack was sympathetic, raving on about my enormous appetite yet again. I didn’t dare open my mouth to answer; the consequences might have been disastrous. Of course, I’d recover as soon as the desserts disappeared.

‘You’re very pale and you certainly didn’t eat very much!’ Mrs. Whyte felt my forehead and shook her head. ‘Your temperature seems alright so perhaps something else is wrong.’ I wished everyone would stop fussing.

Wait! I thought. Jack’s and his mother’s concern had given me an amazing idea. I wiped my brow and looked as unwell as I could. ‘I-I’ve got a bad headache and m-my stomach hurts. Fresh air usually helps. I’m sorry but I need to go outside.’

Mrs. Whyte offered to drive me home but I insisted that it had happened before and a walk in the fresh air was the best medicine. More than coffee and bananas, I thought.

I tried to thank Mrs. Whyte for her delicious meal, but my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Only a few garbled words came out. Then Jack walked to the gate with me. I could tell he was disappointed the meal wasn’t a success, so I apologised to him too and told him I was feeling a lot better already. 

‘It’s not your fault,’ he called. ‘Better luck next time.’ He shut the gate, yelled ‘Goodbye’ and I headed for home. If he’d been any closer, he’d have heard a relieved sigh and seen a grin spread across my face. Of course, I was disappointed, after all I’d looked forward to the visit for six weeks and Jack’s mother was unlikely to invite me again soon.

Chapter 2

HIGHS AND LOWS

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After the disaster I walked home slowly, stopping at the park to fill in time and gather my thoughts. It wasn’t Jack’s or his family’s fault that I’d felt so nervous. Anyone else would have loved every minute of that lunch... that is, if they liked coffee and bananas! Why am I different? I wondered. Why does my sister feel at home at the Whyte’s place and I don’t? It’s not fair! After hanging out for over an hour I’d had enough and plucked up the courage needed to head home and face the inevitable questions.

‘How did it go?’ Mum asked as soon as I stepped inside. ‘The Whytes know how to entertain guests, so I’m sure you must’ve enjoyed every minute. No doubt it was a very different meal to the ones I prepare.’

I was reluctant to tell my family what happened at Jack’s place; they’d think I was chicken.

‘It will have done you good to experience some top-class manners. Bet you were out of your depth; I would’ve been at your age.’ Dad grinned and waited for my reply.

‘Perhaps nowadays, too,’ Mum teased. I didn’t give them the satisfaction of an answer.

‘That’s stupid!’ Skye was annoyed. My sister and Jack’s are best mates, so she was a frequent visitor to their home ‘They have flasher plates, dishes and cutlery than us and they eat in their dining room, passing things to each other all the time because their table is enormous. It’s polished like a mirror, so we have to be careful and not spill stuff on it. I bet Flip had an awesome time. I always do. Their place is beautiful, and Petal’s got these amazing toys, games... We always play ball with their dog Ringo.’

I took no notice but wondered why she could cope, and I couldn’t. I waited for her to carry on so I wouldn’t have to contribute but Mum interrupted.

‘What did you eat for lunch, Flip? It might give me an idea for tomorrow when Pop visits. He’d like something different.’

‘A ginormous roast,’ I told her; ‘with peas, potatoes, pumpkin; normal things that we have on special occasions.’

‘See, it wasn’t different to your meals Mum,’ Skye said jubilantly. ‘I told you so.’

‘At least it wasn’t liver or snails... Posh restaurants specialise in those but you wouldn’t have coped.’ Dad grinned. Years ago, he’d made Skye and I taste liver in case we liked it. It was gross. At least we haven’t had to eat it ever again even though liver with bacon is one of Mum and Dad’s favourite treats!  Of course, I didn’t let on that I couldn’t cope with Mrs. Whyte’s pudding... but of course Skye had to open her big mouth! Damnation!

‘The Whytes always have flash desserts,’ she announced. ‘What masterpiece did Mrs. Whyte serve today, Flip? Whatever it was, I’m sure it tasted wonderful. All her treats are served with layers of custard and cream.’

‘You mean pudding, don’t you?’ Dad grinned. Skye’s vocabulary had changed since she and Petal became friends. She ignored him and waited for my reply.

I just couldn’t bear to describe my behaviour and the Whytes’ concern so I pretended it all went smoothly and I’d enjoyed every minute of the meal. Before I could think logically, I’d opened my mouth. ‘We had this custard and tropical fruit salad; something like that. Everyone thought it was delicious!’ Except me! I muttered under my breath. I had to change the topic before Skye asked more questions.

‘Yum! Next time I go there I’ll tell Mrs. Whyte that you thought it was delicious then she might make it for me. I’ll ask her for the recipe.’ Geez, Skye can be so obnoxious!

‘No need!’ I muttered. I suppose she thought she was doing us all a good turn. I hoped she’d forget but knew that was unlikely as Petal was sure to ask if I’ve recovered from my mystery illness. Damn and blast! Why didn’t I tell the truth in the first place? Surely it was no big deal; is now though.

‘A roast is too expensive,’ Mum said thinking of a lunch Pop would enjoy. ‘What about I make sausage rolls? He likes those.’

‘So do I.’  We spoke in unison and