Mister Cassowary Read Online Free PDF Page A

wrecked.’
    â€˜Because of the flooding,’ added Walter.
    â€˜Yes. Because of the flooding. Anyway, every single croc escaped. There were crocs everywhere!’
    â€˜So, of course they put out a call for help,’ said Walter.
    â€˜And 156 crocodiles were returned.’ Abby laughed and Walter slapped his hand against his thigh.
    â€˜They only had 70 of the blighters in the first place,’ he said, as if that explained everything.
    â€˜One hundred and fifty-six?’ I squeaked. It didn’t seem very funny. My skin crawled. No wonder Dad said it was dangerous around here.
    Abby pouted. ‘You don’t get it, do you? One hundred and fifty-six crocodiles? More than double the number they had to start with?’
    I shrugged and folded my arms across my chest. My plan wasn’t going very well. Everything seemed a mystery around here. No one wanted to tell me anything.
    Walter pulled his LandCruiser to a spluttery halt outside Grandad Barney’s.
    â€˜Thanks for the lift,’ said Dad, opening his door. ‘We owe you one.’
    â€˜And I know exactly how you can repay me,’ said Walter.
    â€˜How’s that?
    â€˜We’re running a working bee on Sunday, at the rehab centre. We’re—’
    â€˜The rehab centre?’ I asked, resting my hand on the door handle. Perfect. I could definitely do some snooping to find out more about Grandad if we went there. ‘Can we go, Dad?’
    â€˜We’re a bit late this year,’ continued Walter, ‘but it’s our annual clean-up before the cyclone season. They’re predicting the first cyclone as early as next week, so we’re keen to get it sorted. Why don’t you bring Flynn along? We could do with a couple of extra hands.’
    â€˜Dad! We could go, couldn’t we? We’ll have heaps of the farm fixed up by Sunday.’
    But Dad didn’t say anything.
    I turned to Walter. ‘Will we be allowed to see the cassowaries?’
    Dad shook his head. ‘No way, Flynn.’
    Abby pulled a face. ‘Couldn’t Flynn just come?’ she asked. ‘We could pick him up, couldn’t we, Pop?’
    â€˜Yeah, Dad,’ I said. ‘Couldn’t I just go for a little while?’
    â€˜No, I don’t think so,’ Dad said. ‘Reckon we’ve got our hands full here. Especially if there’s a cyclone coming. Thanks for the invite anyway.’

After Walter and Abby left, Dad and I put away the groceries, and I helped him make ham-and-cheese sandwiches for lunch. When we’d finished, Dad said it was time to start cleaning up the farm. ‘I’ll tackle the shed first, I think,’ he said. ‘You can bring your books if you like.’
    â€˜Why can’t I help?’ I said. ‘I help Mum all the time when you’re away. I could clean up inside.’
    I didn’t want to go to the shed. I wanted to find out more about Grandad Barney. I was certain something in the house would tell me what had happened. What about that diary Dad had been so quick to hide?
    Dad was pulling on his boots at the back door when he stopped, stooped over, one boot on, one boot off.
    â€˜Or I could, you know, sweep the verandas?’ I said. ‘They’re pretty dirty.’
    Dad straightened, boot in hand. ‘Sweep?’
    â€˜Yeah. Like at home?’
    â€˜You sweep?’
    I nodded. It wasn’t exactly hard. ‘Yeah, and other stuff. For my allowance.’
    Dad raised his eyebrows. ‘Okay, you can sweep. There should be a broom here somewhere. But listen, don’t venture off, okay? I’m in the shed if you need me, and I’ll organise dinner when I get back.’
    Once Dad had gone, I found a broom in the hallway cupboard. I’d just sweep for a few minutes, then I’d go back inside and find the diary. Either that, or snoop around in Grandad Barney’s room. Surely something would give me a hint?
    I started by