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nothing spooky –’
    BANG!
    The sound reverberated around the empty drive-in. The three kids froze.
    â€˜Gunshot?’ suggested Pete.
    â€˜More like a slamming door,’ said Sally, trying hard to sound casual. ‘Come on.’ She continued walking.
    â€˜That was a really loud door,’ said Josh, smiling nervously.
    â€˜I once saw this film about a haunted drive-in,’ began Pete.
    â€˜Stop it!’ blurted out Sally as they reached the building. ‘Hello,’ she called out. ‘Anyone around?’
    She was answered by a screeching metallic sound that grated across their eardrums.
    They froze again. Pete whimpered.
    â€˜Sounded like something being scraped across something,’ said Josh, his voice shaky.
    â€˜There was this film,’ whispered Pete, ‘about a dead guy with metal claws who hacked people up. He’d scrape his clawsacross walls and pipes and things. And it’d make a noise kinda like that.’
    â€˜You’re not helping,’ hissed Josh, his eyes wide and his hands sweating again.
    BANG!
    The door in front of them burst open.
    The two boys screamed and grabbed onto Sally.
    â€˜Whaddaya want?’
    The owner of the gravelly voice stood in the doorway. She was enormous. Tall and broad and muscled. Tree-trunk legs extended from khaki shorts and ended in huge battered boots. Stomping boots , thought Josh. Biceps bulged from a matching khaki singlet. A belt, which was slung over one shoulder and crossed her chest like a bandoleer, was loaded with tools hanging from loops and clips.
    The figure lifted an arm clutching a large, rusty ratchet. She scraped it down along the brickwork by the door. The sound made Josh’s teeth ache.
    â€˜I said, whaddaya want?’
    No prizes for guessing who this is , thought Josh.
    Pete took a step back. Even Sally looked worried.
    Josh cleared his throat.
    â€˜S-S-Sorry to bother you, Ms Ratchet,’ stuttered Josh. ‘W-We just wanted to talk to you.’
    Ratchet snorted. Josh thought it made her seem a bit like a bull.
    â€˜So talk!’
    â€˜W-W-Well, Ms Ratch –’
    â€˜It’s just Ratchet,’ she cried, eyes wideand wild like some ravenous animal ready to pounce. ‘No Ms. No Miss. No Mrs. No Madame. No Mademoiselle. No nuthin’ like that. It’s just plain Ratchet. Got that?’
    Josh nodded. His mouth was as dry as when he’d read out his essay in class. He could feel the sweat gathering on his brow and under his arms. He wanted to run away.
    But he took a deep breath, tried to calm his furiously beating heart, and blurted out an explanation.
    â€˜We’re really sorry to bother you. And we’re sorry that we came through the locked gate. And I’m really sorry I called you Ms. And I promise never to call you Rachel. But we’re here for a really good reason. We need your help to do some fundraising for the RFDS. The RFDS are really important and theysaved my mum and my new brother, and our school is trying to raise money and we were hoping you’d let us use your drive-in, and … and … and that’s it, I guess.’
    They all stood in silence for a few moments as Ratchet continued to glare at them.
    â€˜R. F. D. S.’ She barked out each letter, pausing in between. ‘Why din’t ya say so? Them aerial medicos saved me once too.’ She scowled at the kids and the edges of her mouth twitched.
    Is she trying to smile? wondered Josh. If she is, she’s not very good at it.
    â€˜We can have a chat in the bio box.’ She turned around and stomped into the building. When she realised they weren’t following her, she looked back over her shoulder. ‘Allons-y!’
    The three kids stared blankly at her.
    â€˜Allons-y,’ she repeated with greater force. ‘Don’t ya kids study French in school no more?’
    Josh, Pete and Sally shook their heads in unison.
    â€˜Well, you should.