Sheep on the Fourth Floor Page 4

  ‘It will come as no surprise that I’ve had to draw straws for Ishikawa’s House of Chocolate,’ Mr Fox had said. ‘Honestly, do people ever grow out of their obsession with lollies and sweets?’ He tutted and shook his head. ‘The big surprise is that I’ve also had to ballot the funeral parlour. Seems you lot have a gruesome curiosity about what goes on in the building behind those tidy rose gardens.’

  Anna waited confidently for Mr Fox to say that the lab had had to be balloted as well.

  ‘I’ll send this list around soon, so you can see exactly where you’re going,’ said Mr Fox, waving a piece of paper. ‘There were only four who chose the council waste-treatment plant, so if you chose that then you’re in. Same with the horse stud.’ Mr Fox paused and looked at the class. ‘Now, is there really nobody, apart from Anna, who wants to go to the lab?’

  Anna’s mouth had dropped open. What was wrong with everyone? Were they all so childish that they could still be lured by chocolate? How could they fail to see the future career opportunities that were offered by a real hospital research laboratory?

  In the end, Otis Howe and Kurt Osmond had been the only two names left without a placement, so Mr Fox assigned them to the lab by default. Neither of them looked thrilled with the prospect.

  ‘Man, I wanted to see dead people, not a load of dumb test tubes and weirdos in white coats,’ Kurt muttered.

  ‘It’s not dumb test tubes and weirdos,’ Anna snapped.

  ‘Well, what’s there then?’ Kurt wanted to know. ‘What’s so good about it?’

  Anna hesitated. ‘It’s proper scientific research. I’m not sure exactly what, but they do lots of good stuff there; help people who are sick and search for new ways to cure them,’ she explained.

  Kurt didn’t look convinced.

  ‘I still wish I had that magic genie,’ was all Otis had to say.

  ‘Well, a chocolate shop is pretty tough competition,’ said Peter, patting gooey lumps of hamburger meat between his hands. ‘I’ve got to admit that even I might have been tempted to choose that one.’

  ‘Yeah, but what about the sewage works or the funeral home? Charlotte only chose that because she likes Travis and that’s where he’s going.’ She shook her head in exasperation. ‘Anyway, I’m going to make sure that the presentation we do for our visit will be the best in the class,’ said Anna in a determined voice. ‘I bet when the others see what an awesome time we had, they’ll wish they had been there too.’

  ‘Good for you,’ said Peter, reaching for the electric frypan. ‘You’re showing true Pascoe fighting spirit there. Don’t let others spoil your fun, that’s what I say. Now, don’t let me forget to burn some incense after we’ve tidied up, to cover our cooking smells. Perhaps you can set a reminder on that fancy new watch of yours?’

  ‘Er…’ Anna looked at the ground. ‘I could but it’s in my bedroom. Just use the timer on the microwave.’

  She had last seen her watch a couple of days ago at school, but now she couldn’t find it anywhere. She was praying it would show up soon, before she had to confess to her mother that she’d lost it.

  ‘The smell of incense in the lounge makes me think only one thing,’ said Penelope. She peeled back the blankets and eased herself into bed beside her husband. ‘You’ve been cooking meat.’

  ‘Ah, really?’ Peter cleared his throat and continued to stare at the medical journal on his knee.

  Penelope leaned over and glanced at his open page.

  ‘Traveller’s diarrhoea, a fifty-year perspective,’ she read out loud. ‘I guess that would put most people to sleep in seconds.’ She frowned at Peter. ‘So tell me, Doctor Pascoe, what did you cook for tea tonight? Did it involve the dead carcass of a recently slaughtered animal? I hope you scrubbed the wooden chopping board properly if you’ve been cutting flesh on it.’

  ‘Anna seems to be looking forward to visiting the lab,’ said Peter, quickly changing the subject. ‘It was all she could talk about tonight. It should be a great trip.’

  ‘Yes, Jeff is looking forward to it too,’ said Penelope, flopping back on the pillow and letting out a sigh. ‘He’s a very strange young man, Jeff. Extremely intelligent of course, but I sometimes wonder about his background. I mean, what type of parent brings their offspring up to wear unironed shirts? And cheap unironed shirts too. He probably got them from a church op-shop or some nasty menswear chain.’ Penelope shuddered. ‘He wore it mis-buttoned today. I pointed it out to him on several occasions but all he did was smile.’ She reached over the edge of the bed and picked up a recent copy of Science Today. ‘It will be interesting to see how he handles the kids,’ Penelope mused. ‘He’s planning on inspiring them so significantly that they’ll all want to be scientists.’

  Peter let out a small bark of laughter. ‘Ah well, I suppose the science industry needs people as smart as Anna.’

  Penelope flipped half-heartedly through the pages of her magazine. ‘Oh look, here’s an article proving that children inherit the intelligence of their mothers.’

  Peter frowned but didn’t reply.

  ‘I do wish she’d find some sort of outside interest though,’ said Penelope, a few minutes later. ‘Even if it isn’t horse riding. She just doesn’t show much…passion.’

  ‘Maybe it’s because she’s so level-headed,’ Peter replied. ‘And you can’t really complain. She’s helpful and polite and she’s got good common sense.’ He put his journal on the bedside table and took off his glasses. ‘I hear stories from the clinic all the time about children who turn into ghastly Beelzebubs when they hit their teenage years. They cause their parents no end of misery. I don’t think we’re going to have to worry about that.’

  ‘True, there’s not a speck of rebellion in the girl at all,’ Penelope admitted.

  ‘She must have inherited that from me,’ remarked Peter with a smirk.

  ‘Well, I suppose we should be thankful to have such a responsible daughter.’ Penelope put her magazine away and pulled the sheets up to her shoulders.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll find something that excites her interest,’ said Peter. He leaned over and turned off the bedside light. ‘Just you wait and see.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Rom shook his head. A fuzziness lingered in his brain that he couldn’t get rid of. Lately the white coats had been jabbing him with needles. There was always a sharp sting, his eyelids would become heavy, and then he would go to sleep for a while. His final thoughts before he drifted off were always filled with hope. Perhaps this time when he woke up, the nightmare would be over and he would be back in his grassy paddock with the flock. How long had it been since he’d seen the outside? He had lost all sense of time. There was no indication of days passing: no rising or setting sun, no twilight, no noon brilliance and no midnight blackness. There were no frosts or snow to indicate the cold season; no daisies, bees or butterflies to herald the hot season. And where had the moon gone?

  The people in white coats didn’t always jab him. Often they just stood and looked at him, or they would lean over and pat his head, talking softly to him. When he had first arrived he would bleat desperately at them ‘Let me out, let me out!’, but even his bleating sounded fuzzy now and it took too much energy. Sometimes when he woke up from the needles, he’d have different tubes sticking out of his stomach, or a funny taste in his mouth. The tubes often felt uncomfortable or painful but Rom bore the pain in silence. He knew that if an animal cried out when it was injured or giving birth or under some other stress, it would attract the attention of any wandering predators, and that would put the safety of the whole flock at risk.

  Despite the cloud of his confused mind, Rom sometimes dreamed of blue sky, dewy mornings and an unending paddock of green. Old memories came to him in periodic bursts. He remembered frisking around with his twin brother, their tails scribbling in delight as they drank warm milk from their mother’s belly. He recalled lying on dusty earth during the summer, and sheltering under pine trees during rainy winte
r squalls. He relived the bird sounds—magpies, bellbirds, starlings and hawks, blackbirds, song thrushes and finches. He thought about the smells in his paddock. Every single thing had a different scent—the sweet grass, prickly thistles and spicy gorse; the damp earth, crumbly rocks and rotting tree trunks; the salty old farmer, his musty horses and the pungent dogs—but they had all disappeared with the arrival of the man and the dirty white ute.

  As he stood unsteadily in his metal cage, his thoughts heavy with memories, Rom heard something familiar. It was the unmistakable melody of bellbirds, and the screeching of overhead sea gulls. His heart leapt and he was filled with sudden energy and joy. Then the melody transformed into whistling white coats and the screeching turned into the bored cry of rats from nearby cages. Rom stood in his cage with his head hung down and tried to remember what grass tasted like.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘Wow, what a cool car!’ Otis exclaimed, touching the cold, smooth bonnet of Penelope’s red Mercedes.

  ‘No, no, no!’ With her perfectly manicured hand, Penelope swatted Otis away. ‘It’s just been waxed and polished, for goodness’ sake. We can’t have your dirty fingerprints spoiling the finish.’ She carefully inspected the area that Otis had touched and then turned to address both Otis and Kurt.

  ‘Check the bottoms of your shoes before you get in the back. If they’re dirty, take them off. And please don’t put your backpacks on the seats.’

  Otis and Kurt exchanged astonished looks, while Anna, who was standing with them, cringed with embarrassment.

  ‘Mum!’ she hissed.

  ‘Well, anyone can see that it’s a very expensive car,’ said Penelope, getting into the driver’s seat. ‘It’s not just some ordinary Japanese import. Leather upholstery needs to be looked after. It’s just good common sense.’

  Anna sighed and climbed into the front passenger’s seat, while Kurt and Otis, after checking their shoes with wry amusement, cautiously sat themselves in the back.

  ‘Buckle up,’ said Penelope as she eased the car onto the city motorway. ‘And no loud noises or silliness from you two in the back. I’ve got a big day at work and I don’t want to arrive all hypertensive.’

  ‘Mum!’ Anna hissed again. She wondered how long it had been since her mother had been around teenage boys. Probably not since she was a teenager herself. But even then, Anna considered, Penelope had gone to an ‘all girls’ high school. Perhaps she had never socialized with teenage boys. For whatever reason, she seemed to assume they were all loudmouthed delinquents.

  Penelope reached over and turned on the CD player. An upbeat concerto with no apparent beginning or end ushered them through the thick traffic.

  While Otis and Kurt whispered to each other in the back, Anna rechecked her bag to make sure she had remembered the spare battery for the digital camera. It would be annoying to get halfway through the lab visit and have it go flat on them. She knew a top presentation required lots of well-composed, informative photos to accompany it.

  ‘Uh, excuse me, Mrs Pascoe?’ said Otis. ‘What music is that?’

  ‘It’s Doctor Pascoe, Otis,’ said Anna quickly, knowing her mother disliked being referred to as merely Mrs.

  ‘It’s all right, dear,’ said Penelope. ‘In answer to your question, Otis, this is Rachmaninov’s Concerto in G minor performed in 1972 by the New York Symphony Orchestra.’

  ‘Oh.’ Otis shrugged, ‘It reminds me of when they put you on hold on the phone.’

  ‘Or when you’re stuck in the dentist’s waiting room,’ said Kurt, grimacing at the thought.

  ‘It’s very soothing for your soul,’ Anna explained, as her mother had often explained to her. ‘And it is educational and historical as well. It was written over two hundred years ago, wasn’t it, Mum?’

  ‘That’s right, darling,’ said Penelope. ‘Don’t you like it, Kurt?’

  Kurt paused. ‘Have you got anything with, like, singing in it?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, I suppose I could change it if you wish,’ said Penelope. ‘I have a whole selection of CDs in the glove box. Do you have a preference for your operas in Italian or German? Perhaps something French?’

  Kurt shuddered and exchanged a nervous glance with Otis before he replied. ‘Well…we were wondering if you could just put the radio on. Channel eighty-nine is very good.’

  Anna expected her mother to say no, but she must have been feeling adventurous.

  ‘The radio?’ Penelope repeated. ‘Channel eighty-nine?’ She arched her eyebrow. ‘Well, I don’t see why not. Anna, see if you can tune it to channel eighty-nine for Kurt.’

  Anna leaned forwards and pushed the buttons on the car stereo, watching as the digital numbers flicked their way upwards. When it hit eighty-nine a thundering drum and crashing guitar howled through the car speakers.

  ‘…ch-ch-ch-change is round the bend, it’s gonna meddle with your head, you’re gonna wish you had a compass and a worthy fearless friend…’ A deep and passionate male voice bawled along with it.

  ‘Goodness me, that’s absolutely dreadful,’ said Penelope. She stabbed repeatedly at the stereo with her finger until it fell silent.

  ‘Musically, it’s quite aggressive,’ Anna agreed.

  ‘No, no, no!’ Otis cried. ‘That was a good song. That was “Resolution” by The Lonely Bones.’

  ‘Yeah, they’re awesome,’ Kurt added. ‘They won in five categories at the British Music Awards earlier this year.’

  ‘Absolute drivel,’ Penelope declared. ‘Too harsh on the ears by far. I should end up at work in a terrible state of mind if I kept that going. Put Rachmaninov back on, will you, Anna?’

  The rest of the journey was quiet. Kurt and Otis peered out of the window at the cars, buses and bikes ferrying people to work. Anna, too, couldn’t help staring at all the faces passing by. Most of them were expressionless, like computer-generated characters. She tried to guess what their lives were like. Perhaps it was that bald man’s first day at a new job? Maybe this woman with bright pink lips was looking forward to an overseas holiday soon? Anna sighed. Why did nobody look like they were enjoying themselves? The procession of sad people going to their jobs seemed unending. Anna resolved to choose a job that she would be happy to go to. It would have to be something worthwhile and rewarding. Perhaps a doctor like her dad, or maybe even a scientist like her mother.

  ‘Is the traffic always like this?’ Anna asked, when the Mercedes took five minutes to get through just one set of lights near the hospital.

  ‘No, not at all,’ said Penelope. ‘Sometimes there’s roadworks, an accident or bad weather. Then, it’s much worse.’

  Anna watched as Penelope swiped her security card over the card reader at the hospital gate. Beeeee-uurrp! sang the machine, and the gate slid back with a metallic clank. That was kind of cool, thought Anna. She glanced back to see if Otis and Kurt had been impressed with the high-tech security, but they weren’t even watching. Penelope drove through the gates and down a ramp into an underground car park.

  ‘Hey look, you’ve got your own personally labelled parking space,’ said Anna loudly, hoping to wake up Otis and Kurt. ‘“Doctor Penelope Pascoe”,’ she read out. Otis and Kurt didn’t respond.

  ‘Careful of the doors on the concrete columns,’ Penelope warned as she ushered them out of the car.

  It was chilly in the basement and Anna thought it had the faint smell of wet gravel. Her mother led them to the far end of the car park, where there was a lift and a doorway to the stairwell.

  Inside the lift, Anna watched as Penelope swiped her card over the security panel. This time, Penelope had to enter a code onto a keypad as well. Her fingertips pressed a pattern like a criss-cross, Anna observed. Top left, bottom right, top right, bottom left. Beeee-uuurrrrp!

  ‘Fascinating security system,’ said Anna, half to Penelope and half to Otis and Kurt. ‘I suppose it’s to make sure only very important people can get in.’ Because it was her mother’s workplace, Anna felt personally responsibl
e for Otis and Kurt’s enjoyment of the visit.

  ‘You have to swipe your security card to get to anywhere in the building from the basement,’ said Penelope. ‘The science lab where I’m taking you is on the fourth floor.’

  The lift jolted and then started moving up.

  Otis and Kurt still hadn’t said much, but at least they were starting to look around a bit more. Anna wondered if they both needed a task to keep them alert. She reached into her bag.

  ‘Here, you can be in charge of photography, Kurt,’ said Anna, passing him the camera. ‘Take lots of shots and try to be creative. I’ve got the extra battery if you need it.’

  ‘Uh huh.’ Kurt took the camera bag and slung it carelessly over his shoulder.

  Anna turned to Otis. ‘And you can take notes. You’ve got a pen and notebook, haven’t you?’

  Otis nodded half-heartedly.

  ‘Okay, and I’ll be in charge of asking the questions and things,’ said Anna. She wished Otis and Kurt would look a bit more enthusiastic.

  DING!

  As the lift arrived at the fourth floor, Penelope gave out some last instructions.

  ‘Now mind your behaviour. You are very privileged to get the opportunity to see around such a highly restricted area. Don’t touch anything or get in anyone’s way. Some parts of the department contain dangerous chemicals and microbes, or highly confidential information.’ She gazed sternly at the small group. ‘I’m trusting you all to be sensible.’

  As they stepped out of the lift into the small lobby, Anna’s gaze was immediately drawn to a large, laminated poster on the wall. There was a lot of written information as well as colourful pictures of what seemed to be different types of red blood cells. Looking closer she saw that it was a summary of an experiment which had recently been carried out at St Sebastian’s Hospital. Her eye quickly scanned the short list of contributors: Doctor Sasha Vandenberg, Professor Walter Ashcroft, Doctor Julian Wells. And there, right near the end: Doctor Penelope Pascoe. Anna’s heart leapt and she couldn’t suppress a huge grin of pride. Kurt should definitely get a photo of it for the class presentation. She turned to alert him but he was already following Penelope down the corridor.