Authors: Scot Gardner

One Dead Seagull (37 page)

BOOK: One Dead Seagull

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Mum
had
just
dished
up
tea
when
I
got
home.
I
came
into the
kitchen
and
poked
my
belly
at
he
r
.
The
pup
hadn
’
t
moved
since
I
put
it
there
and
the
bulge
in
my
T
-shirt made
me
look
pregnant.

‘Mum
.
I’v
e
go
t
somethin
g
t
o
tel
l
you.’

Sh
e
looke
d
a
t
m
e
an
d
smiled
.
‘
Y
ou’r
e
not?’
Th
e
pu
p
licke
d
me
.
I
t
tickle
d
an
d
I
laughed.
Mu
m
too
k
a
ste
p
back
.
‘Wha
t
i
s
it?’

I
untucked
my
T
-shirt
and
held
the little
dog
out
to
he
r
.
She
rolled
her
eyes
and
groaned.
‘Where
did
you
get
that?’

‘One
of
my
mates
gave
it
to
me.
It
was
a
present.’

I
thought
about
telling
her
the
sto
r
y of
Griz
but
changed
my
mind. What
would that
gain?
It was an accident.
Can
’
t
change
the
past.
I
was
all
right
with
that.

She
stepped
close
and
looked
in the pup
’
s eyes.
It licked
at
her
face
and
she
chuckled.
She
put
her
hands
on her
hips
and
sighed.
‘Where
are
you
going
to
keep
it? They
get
bigge
r
,
you
kno
w
.’

‘
Y
eah,
I
kno
w
.
I’m
going
to
fence
in
the
backyard
and that.’

She
smiled
and
patted
the
back
of
its
head
with
her finge
r
.
‘Has
it
got
a
name?’

‘
Y
eah,’
I
said.
‘Its
name
is
.
.
.’

I
looked
at
the
pup
’
s
face
and
then
at
its
bell
y
.
It
was
a bo
y
.

‘Um
.
.
.
Ernie.’

Mum
snorted.
‘Why
Ernie?’
I
shrugged.
‘I
dunno.’

She
shrugged
back.
‘I
dunno,’
she
teased.

Afte
r
tea
,
I
wen
t
ou
t
th
e
fron
t
an
d
playe
d
wit
h
Erni
e
on th
e
footpath
.
I
f
I
staye
d
clos
e
t
o
hi
m
an
d
kep
t
callin
g
his name
,
h
e
followed
.
It’
d
tak
e
m
e
thre
e
month
s
t
o
walk hi
m
aroun
d
th
e
bloc
k
a
t
tha
t
rate
.
I
walke
d
hi
m
pas
t
T
ed an
d
Ivy
’
s
fla
t
an
d
looke
d
a
t
thei
r
fron
t
windo
w
.
I
t
started
t
o
rain
.
T
e
d
appeare
d
i
n
th
e
doo
r
wa
y
.

‘Wha
t
hav
e
yo
u
go
t
there?
’
h
e
aske
d
an
d
chuckled.

‘It
’
s
a
pupp
y
,
’
I
sai
d
an
d
though
t
tha
t
I
probably sounde
d
lik
e
a
three-yea
r
-old.

T
ed
just
laughed. ‘Bit
of
a
cutie,’
he
said, turned
inside and
closed
the
doo
r
.

I
picked
up
my
dog
and
looked
across
my
street
and into
the
sk
y
.
The
rain
prickled
nicely
on
my
face.
It
was getting
heav
y
.
T
ed
was
right.
I
decided
to
cut
a
lap
of
the
block,
get
soaked,
then
go
home.

acknowledgements

The
following
people
made
this
book
possible
through their sweat, their stories
and
their big hearts:
David Alldridge,
Liam, Shaun,
Jim,
Joan,
Belle,
Jennie
and
B
r
yce
Gardne
r
,
Darre
n
Pilche
r
,
Jaso
n
an
d
Andre
w
Cur
r
y
,
Pauleigh
Gardine
r
,
John
Marsden,
Ron
and
V
onnie
Ipsen, Dr
Darra
Murph
y
,
Richard
Gubbins,
Geoff
Block,
June Reviére,
Stuart
T
ripp, Darren Smith, Peter
Little, the Gippsland
Men,
Shane
Hen
r
y
and
all
the
young
fellas.
Y
ou’re
all
legends.

WHITE
UTE
DREAMING
B
Y
SCOT
GARDNER

Dear
W
a
yn
e
,

Through
the
jungle
I
w
ould
slash, with
m
y
s
w
ord
I
’
d
c
r
ash
and
bash. All
the
demons
I
could
smash

J
ust
f
or
one
good
body
pash. Anon

When
hot
notes
start
arriving
in
W
ayne
’
s
locke
r
,
and his
girlfriend
didn’t
write
them,
he
doesn’t
have
to
be a
genius
to
work
out
that
his
life
is
about
to
get
complicated. And
then
W
ayne
’
s
girlfriend
moves
house, leaving
W
ayne
alone
with
the
anonymous
note-writer
and a
mad-arsed,
yellow
dog …