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  About the Book

  The annual geography excursion was supposed to be educational, but with The Peski Kids on board it soon turns into chaos. April tries to smash her way out of a moving bus, Fin gets his head bitten by a dinosaur, Joe finds himself carrying around a beautiful girl with two fake sprained ankles and Loretta gets over enthusiastic with a butane torch. That’s all before the criminals turn up and hijack the school bus.

  The Peski Kids are going to be in so much trouble . . . if they make it back to Currawong alive.

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: IT’S OFF

  Chapter 2: AT SCHOOL

  Chapter 3: INSIDE KNOWLEDGE

  Chapter 4: INTERCEPTION

  Chapter 5: ONE OF THE FAMILY

  Chapter 6: BABYSITTING

  Chapter 7: FIRST DAY

  Chapter 8: TROUBLE WITH A CAPITAL ‘T’

  Chapter 9: RUGBY

  Chapter 10: WE’RE GOING ON A DINOSAUR HUNT

  Chapter 11: THE RIDE

  Chapter 12: SOMEWHERE IN EASTERN EUROPE

  Chapter 13: EDUCATIONAL

  Chapter 14: IT’S BETTER TO BE SAFE, THAN TO BE RIGHT

  Chapter 15: EXIT THIS WAY

  Chapter 16: WHAT NOW?

  Chapter 17: MEANWHILE SOMEWHERE IN EASTERN EUROPE

  Chapter 18: JURASSIC CARPARK

  Chapter 19: ON THE INSIDE

  Chapter 20: THE DESERT AT NIGHT

  Chapter 21: EXIT STRATEGY

  Chapter 22: LEAVE IT TO THE EXPERTS

  Chapter 23: REUNITED

  Chapter 24: SLOW SPEED

  Chapter 25: NAP TIME

  Chapter 26: THE CAVALRY

  Chapter 27: AWKWARD

  Chapter 28: SELF RESCUE

  Chapter 29: HOME IS WHERE THE AWKWARDNESS IS

  Extract from The Peski Kids: The Mystery of the Squashed Cockroach

  About the Author

  Books by R. A. Spratt

  Friday Barnes

  Nanny Piggins

  Imprint

  Read more at Penguin Books Australia

  To

  Lindy Michaels, the great indefatigable children’s lit pusher of LA. Thank you for pushing my books. But more importantly, thank you for spending decades pairing individual children with the perfect books just for them. As with all great booksellers, your legacy is beyond measure.

  ‘Okay,’ said the Cat Lady, flipping the book shut and chanting something that she had clearly said many times in a singsong voice. ‘Do you, Harold Octavius Peski, take Ingrid Sara Bjorg to be your lawful wedded wife, to love and honour her from this day forth and for as long as you both shall live?’

  There was silence except for the scurrying of cockroaches in the dark corners of the room and the wind creaking the rusty iron roof. Everyone stared at Dad, waiting for him to speak.

  ‘Um . . .’ said Dad nervously.

  Everyone leaned in a slight bit closer to hear what he would say next.

  Dad turned to Ingrid, looking into her startling blue eyes. They looked like alpine lake water. Blue and pure. You could almost drown in them. Dad almost wished he could drown in them to avoid this excruciating moment of decision. But he had to say something. Dad drew a deep breath and said, ‘I . . .’

  Suddenly the door burst open and a bedraggled, rake-thin woman staggered into the room.

  ‘Stop!’ cried the woman. She lurched towards them. She looked exhausted.

  ‘Who are you?’ demanded Ms Klaus. She had been expecting some sort of legal intervention, but usually legal intervention came from someone better dressed.

  ‘I am Svetlana Berovski,’ said the woman between panting breaths. ‘I am here to stop this wedding. I have been sent by . . .’ She struggled for breath.

  The suspense was agonising. Everyone was desperate to know.

  ‘Who sent you?’ asked Loretta.

  ‘Professor Maynard?’ asked Fin.

  ‘The Department of Immigration?’ asked Ms Klaus.

  ‘No,’ rasped the thin woman. She lurched forward again and clutched hold of Dad’s forearm for support. ‘I have been sent to stop this wedding by . . . Dr Eleanor Banfield, your wife.’

  Dad yelped with fear.

  The woman collapsed with exhaustion.

  April grinned triumphantly. ‘I knew Mum wouldn’t let us down.’

  ‘Right that’s it, the wedding is off!’ announced Dad.

  ‘No!’ said Ms Klaus, ‘All the more reason to push on. We need to stabilise Ms Borg’s citizenship status.’

  ‘Nej,’ said Ingrid, reverting to Swedish. ‘We must stop.’

  ‘But why?’ pleaded Loretta. ‘You can always divorce him later. We’d all love to see a nice wedding. It’s so romantic.’

  ‘We’re in a rodent-infested, spider-ridden, derelict one room court house,’ said April. ‘How is that romantic?’

  Pumpkin barked excitedly. He had just cornered one of the rats behind the old witness box.

  ‘It’s certainly memorable,’ said Loretta.

  ‘Hey,’ said Fin, eyeing Loretta with suspicion. ‘Did you pay this woman to turn up and stop the wedding just to make it memorable?’

  ‘No,’ chuckled Loretta. ‘Although that is a good idea. I’m surprised more people don’t do it. Especially brides with cold feet. It would be a great way to call off a wedding without the recriminations being aimed at you.’

  ‘I think we should c-c-c-all an amb-bulance,’ stammered Joe. He had helped Svetlana over to a seat and was fanning her with one of Ms Klaus’ legal pads. ‘This l-lady does not look well.’

  ‘She’s fine,’ said April. ‘She just needs a decent meal. We should take her over to the Good Times Cafe for a milkshake and an egg and bacon roll.’

  ‘I like this idea,’ said Ingrid.

  ‘Why don’t we just finish the wedding off first?’ said Loretta. ‘Then the egg and bacon rolls can be the reception.’

  ‘Surely the wedding can wait half an hour while we hear what this woman has to say,’ said Fin.

  Ms Klaus looked at her watch. ‘Fine, but it’s all going on your bill and I charge $800 an hour.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Loretta. ‘The egg and bacon rolls only cost $5 so we’ll be saving money there.’

  ‘Water, I just need water,’ gasped Svetlana.

  ‘Nah, you really don’t,’ said April. ‘There’s something weird in the water here, turns everyone into morons. You’re better off sticking with the strawberry milkshakes.’

  Ten minutes later they were all crowded into a booth at the Good Times Cafe, eating egg and bacon rolls. Most of them had completed the mud run just the previous day, so everyone, even those who weren’t literally starving, were starving. There wasn’t any conversation for a while, just the sound of them scoffing food. Even Pumpkin was silent as he sat on April’s lap. The rat he had eaten earlier was delicious.

  The only one not focused on food was Henrietta Klaus. The Good Times Cafe did not have any low-fat low-carb paleo options on their menu, so she checked the messages on her phone instead. Even that she would have preferred to do outside. Henrietta didn’t like the thought of the fumes from the deep fat fryer getting into the fabric of her $3000 Italian suit. She even refused to drink the Good Times Cafe’s coffee. They made their coffee with a drip filter and Ms Klaus had not drunk filter coffee since she was eight years old. But she never travelled anywhere without her travel espresso machine and Joy, the perpetually sullen waitress, agreed to let her use it in the cafe in exchange for a $50 tip.

  Joy almost smiled when Ms Klaus handed over the bank note. She had never been given a tip before. She briefly considered if there wa
s some way she could make this happen again, but then she realised that would involve her being nice to customers and Joy was not prepared to do that. So she continued about her job as sullenly as ever.

  Eventually after eating three quarters of an egg and bacon roll and drinking half a milkshake, some colour was starting to return to Svetlana’s face. She would have drunk more, except the Good Times Cafe milkshakes were so thick you needed considerable core strength just to suck them up the straw. And she would have eaten more, except Joe had seen she was struggling and being a considerate boy with a never-ending appetite he had helpfully finished her roll for her.

  ‘So tell us all about it,’ urged Loretta. ‘Have you really seen their mum?’

  ‘Ja,’ said Svetlana. ‘This is true. I see her. I live with her.’

  ‘Really?’ said Loretta, arching her eyebrows.

  ‘We both were prisoners in the same block,’ said Svetlana.

  ‘Your mother is in prison?!’ exclaimed Loretta. ‘Why is this the first I’m hearing about this?’

  ‘Shush up, we can fill you in later,’ said April. ‘We need to hear what she’s got to say.’

  ‘I was in the cell next to your mother,’ continued Svetlana. ‘They put me there because I no speak English. They no want anyone to talk to her. She most dangerous prisoner.’

  ‘But you can speak English,’ said Fin. ‘Your syntax is dreadful and your vocabulary limited, but your English is better than half the people here in Currawong.’

  ‘I speak the English because your mother she teach me,’ said Svetlana. ‘She in special cell. No can escape. She teach me the English. Then teach me how to escape, so I get message to man.’

  ‘What man?’ asked Loretta.

  ‘Her man,’ said Svetlana. ‘Harold Peski.’

  ‘Oh sorry,’ said Loretta. ‘I don’t think of Mr Peski as a man. But now you explain it, I guess that does make sense.’

  ‘Is Mum all right?’ asked April.

  ‘She is strong woman,’ said Svetlana.

  ‘Really?’ said Fin. ‘Joe always used to have to open jam jars for her.’

  ‘She is strong in the mind,’ said Svetlana.

  ‘Hah!’ scoffed April. ‘Her mind might be strong when it comes to remembering the names of dinosaur bones, but she could never remember the day of the week.’

  Svetlana shook her head. ‘No, your mother, she has great power.’

  ‘Are you sure we’re talking about the same person?’ asked Fin. ‘Short lady, a little overweight, frizzy hair, glasses bent from where she keeps walking into things.’

  ‘I never see her,’ said Svetlana. ‘She whisper to me through pipes that run between our rooms.’

  ‘Puh-lease,’ said April. ‘Maybe there was no one in the cell next to yours and the “voices in the pipes” have been telling you all these things.’

  ‘I know what she tell me!’ said Svetlana, getting agitated. ‘She say, “Go to husband. Tell husband no marry.” She strong woman. I do what she say.’

  ‘Yes, very good,’ said Dad kindly. ‘You’ve certainly done that. Well done.’

  ‘You just like Svetlana because she got you out of having to marry Ingrid,’ accused April.

  Ingrid flushed. Ingrid did not usually display any visible sign of emotion. But when you are a tall, blonde, gorgeous Nordic goddess, it does somewhat dent the pride to have a bumbling, overweight, middle-aged man desperate to avoid marrying you.

  Dad looked sheepish. ‘I would be very proud to marry Ingrid,’ he said. ‘But perhaps not today.’

  ‘But why does Mum want Dad back?’ asked Fin. ‘No offence, Dad, but she hasn’t shown any interest in seeing you for the last eleven years.’

  ‘No offence taken,’ said Dad. ‘. . . I don’t think.’

  ‘Dr Banfield no say she want her man back,’ said Svetlana. ‘She just say stop wedding.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Dad.

  ‘She probably just hates Ingrid,’ said April.

  ‘Perhaps she’s Swedeaphobic,’ said Loretta.

  ‘Huh?’ asked Joe.

  ‘She could have an irrational fear of Swedish people,’ said Loretta.

  They all looked at Ingrid. It would actually be quite rational to have a fear of her.

  ‘I can’t hold off the immigration department forever,’ said Ms Klaus. ‘If you don’t marry, they’ll come back and with more cars and more warrants and there won’t be anything I can do.’

  ‘I have an idea,’ said Ingrid. Ingrid did not often say much. She had spent over two years pretending she couldn’t speak English. So when she did speak, everyone fell silent and listened. ‘Before Mr Peski and I marry, we should get to know each other better.’

  ‘Now hold on,’ said Dad. ‘Let’s not get carried away. We don’t want to rush things.’

  ‘We should go on a holiday together,’ continued Ingrid.

  ‘I love it!’ declared Loretta. ‘So romantic.’

  ‘But I don’t . . . ow!’ cried Dad.

  Ingrid had kicked him hard under the table.

  ‘But I don’t want to . . . ow!’ cried Dad again. ‘Do you realise you just kicked me twice?’

  Ingrid kicked him a third time.

  ‘Ow,’ said Dad.

  ‘I’d t-t-take that as a “yes” if I were you Dad,’ said Joe.

  ‘We go on holiday,’ said Ingrid.

  ‘But . . .’ began Dad.

  Ingrid glared at Dad. ‘My foot is getting tired. Please don’t make me kick you again.’

  ‘All right,’ whimpered Dad.

  ‘Wh-what are we going to d-d-do with Svetlana?’ asked Joe. ‘She’s not very well.’

  ‘I’m sure she’ll be taken care of by Professor Maynard,’ said Dad.

  ‘Nooo!’ yelled Svetlana. ‘Not the Maynard.’ She leapt to her feet and stumbled away from the booth.

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Joe.

  ‘No no no,’ protested Svetlana, ‘I will not be taken care of.’

  ‘Good one, Dad,’ said April. ‘She thinks you’re going to get Professor Maynard to knock her off.’

  ‘Oh, goodness no!’ gushed Dad rushing to reassure Svetlana. ‘By “taken care of” I only mean taken care of, not the inverted commas type of taken care of.’

  Svetlana turned on her heel and ran.

  ‘I don’t think Svetlana’s command of English was great enough to follow the nuance of your semiotic explanation,’ said Fin.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Dad.

  ‘I will find her,’ said Ingrid, getting to her feet and brushing past Joy the sullen waitress on her way out.

  ‘The kids are going to have a field day with this at school,’ said April, as she sucked loudly on her thickshake.

  April was entirely wrong. Children, by their nature, are narcissistic beasts. The other students at Currawong High were still caught up in the excitement of the mud run (for more information see The Peski Kids 3: Stuck in the Mud). After all, it’s not every day that an Olympic athlete robs the bank and is hauled off to prison. So no one had noticed the thin European woman running about town or the fact that Dad had been moments away from getting married.

  Joe was more popular and admired than ever because he had won the mud run – cementing his reputation as being strong, silent and athletic. This was much to Joe’s chagrin. Now even more girls had a crush on him.

  Up until this point, the fact that Daisy Oddinsdottir, a stunningly beautiful and athletic girl had marked him out as her territory had protected Joe from all the other girls setting their caps at him. But now that Joe was Currawong High’s lawn bowls champion and mud run winner he was too alluring. Girls were prepared to take on Daisy to try and win him over.

  As a result, Joe spent all of recess and lunch every day running from one hiding spot to the next as he struggled to avoid his onslaught of admirers.

  On the Thursday after the mud run however, Joe had a brief reprieve. He didn’t have to go out into the playground at recess. There had been an announcement over the P
A system that all the geography students had to report to the geography classroom. When he arrived there were already forty or so students waiting there. The first person he spotted was Daisy. She narrowed her eyes when she saw him, like a lioness sizing up a lame antelope waiting for her moment to pounce. Joe broke out in a cold sweat. He took a step back but was shoved hard from behind.

  ‘Out of the way lard butt.’ It was April. Joe was so relieved to see her and Fin. They both studied geography as well. Daisy wouldn’t try anything with April there. April would never help him. But if a fight broke out she would get involved. Everyone knew it. And no one wanted that to happen. She fought with the inner rage of a volcano.

  ‘Why has someone gathered all the geography students in one room?’ asked April.

  ‘Perhaps they’re planning to kill us,’ said Fin.

  Everyone turned to look at Fin. It was such an odd thing to say.

  Fin realised he had said something inappropriate so he tried to fix it by adding, ‘. . . Which would never happen. Better to kill the drama students. They’d be a softer target.’

  ‘It’ll just be about the annual geography excursion,’ said Kieran. He was a know-it-all who never missed an opportunity to remind everyone of his encyclopaedic knowledge of Currawong customs.

  ‘Urgh,’ said April. ‘I knew we shouldn’t have picked geography as an elective.’

  ‘You didn’t have to,’ said Fin. He really liked geography. It was one of his favourite subjects. He would have loved it if his sister had gone off and studied something else instead, perhaps needlework or deep breathing, something that would calm her down.