Gift of the Gab Read Online Free PDF Page B

me.
    We’re driving there now in the TV van.
    I’m not worried, but.
    It’ll be as ridiculous as all the other stuff.
    But it’s important I see it. It’s important I see exactly what vicious hurtful lies Mrs Figgis and Paige Parker have cooked up between them so I can get Paige Parker sacked from her job and Mrs Figgis run out of town.

I don’t want to think.
    I don’t want to remember what I’ve just seen.
    I just want to lie here under this tree and look up at the leaves. If I keep staring at the leaves, I won’t have to remember.
    It’s no good.
    I can’t get the pictures out of my mind.
    I’ve seen some pretty bad paddock damage in my time. From drought. And bushfire. And truck mud-racing. Once at school I saw a photo of what a war can do to an orchard. But I’ve never seen anything like what Paige Parker showed me today.
    When we got out of the TV van I just stared.
    It was a big paddock and once it would have had fruit trees.
    Now it’s just got rows of withered tree skeletons standing in a wasteland of dead grass.
    Not burnt.
    Not drought-affected.
    Not bombed.
    Just dead.
    â€˜A few weeks ago,’ said Paige Parker, suddenly using her TV voice, ‘this was a normal healthy orchard. Then we had it sprayed.’
    â€˜What with?’ I whispered.
    My hand-movements were so small she couldn’t have understood even if she’d known sign, but she must have seen in my face what I was asking.
    â€˜We used a lot of different sprays,’ she said. ‘Including, for purposes of scientific research, sprays now on the danger list. Sprays that farmers were still using in this district up until about ten years ago.’
    I realised Paige Parker had paused, and was staring at me intently.
    â€˜Farmers,’ she said, ‘including your father.’
    When I heard this, the tree skeletons started to wobble in front of my eyes and not just because I was standing in the sun.
    Then I had a thought.
    â€˜How come,’ I wrote shakily on my notepad, ‘our orchard doesn’t look like this?’
    I held the notepad up so Paige Parker could read it.
    â€˜Because,’ she said, ‘we used more chemicals than even the most enthusiastic farmer would use. We wanted to show viewers just what this stuff can do. So they can make up their own minds. About whether these chemical cocktails have the power to tragically ruin the lives of young Australians like you, Rowena.’
    I stared at the paddock. No fruit. No leaves. No birds. Not even any insects.
    I’ve seen Paige Parker do heaps of segments on TV.
    Her facts have always seemed pretty good to me. They’ve never looked to me like she’s cooked them up with a revenge-crazed motel proprietor.
    What if she hasn’t now?
    What if these ones are true?
    Suddenly I felt weak and had to hold on to the fence.
    Then I snatched my hands away in case they’d sprayed that too.
    Paige Parker put her hand on my shoulder.
    â€˜I’m sorry we had to show you this, Rowena,’ she said, not softly but loud as if she was speaking to several million people. ‘We felt you deserved to know the truth.’
    Even though my eyes were full of tears, I noticed the cameraman was filming me.
    If I could, I would have screamed ‘STOP!’ But I couldn’t, so I ran.
    I dashed across the road and jumped into a gully and sprinted along a dry creek bed so they couldn’t follow me in the van.
    I heard them running after me for a bit. Then the cameraman tripped over something, went sprawling and swore.
    â€˜It’s OK, Mike,’ I heard Paige Parker say, ‘we’ve got enough.’
    I kept running for ages until I came to this tree.
    It’s a huge tree and it’s very green, but even several million leaves aren’t enough to distract me.
    My chest’s hurting.
    It’s hurting partly from the run and partly from the awful thought I’m having.
    The