Jack and Poppy came into the kitchen slowly. They put down their school bags as if they were full of eggs. Very carefully. Mum turned around with a little puzzled smile. She said, “Did your teachers give you a lesson today about not-throwing-bags-on-the-floor?” And she chuckled.
Jack didn’t. He looked down at the floor and said, “It’s our two cousins.” Mum wanted to know ‘what about them’. Poppy said the cousins were at the gate, waiting on the footpath, and everyone wanted to go up the hill, but … “But their neighbour’s here too,” she said. “The fat boy.” Jack looked up and said, “Yes. The fat boy who always knows everything. Not!”
Mum went to the door and sure enough the cousins were there by the gate. So was a boy; the cousins’ neighbour. And he was a bit chubby. Like he ate ice cream. Too much ice cream. Every Friday.
Mum waved at them and the cousins called out, “Hello Aunty! OK if we all go up?” Mum said ‘sure’ and ‘what were they going to do up there?’ The cousins said, “Whatever, Aunty.” Jack said, “Build something.”
Mum looked at him and Poppy, then she said. “The neighbour’s boy will be be alright. You’ll figure out how to play nicely with him. Off you go.” Jack and Poppy gave her quick thank-you hugs and headed to the garden gate. They set off and soon everyone was whooping along the footpath, onto the hill and up and up.
They hadn’t gone very far when the fat boy started panting. He rubbed his handkerchief across his brow and said, “Stop. Wait a minute.” They stopped. He stuffed the handkerchief into his pocked and looked around and said, “This is the wrong way.”
Well, the cousins didn’t come up the hill very often so they didn’t know. But Jack and Poppy did. “No,” they said, both at the same time, trying to be patient. “This is the right way. Come on.” Jack added, “We’ll soon be there.” He started climbing up again and the fat boy sighed and heaved himself forward to catch up.
Up they climbed. Through the long scratchy grass, past bushy shrubs, underneath big trees with long branches spread out like umbrellas. Sometimes the ground was covered with carpets of brown and yellow leaves. Their feet made swishing noises through them. In other places there were long, dry, thin branches lying everywhere. They’d dropped from the trees and when the kids walked on them they snapped and crumpled and scrunched.
The fat boy said the hill wasn’t very good. “It hasn’t got any flowers,” he said. Jack said this wasn’t a garden, it was a hill. A big, wild, rough and tumble hill. With trees and bushes and things that scratched your legs. And lots of hidden places. “Places with secrets,” Poppy said. “And other places with views,” Jack added, “Up here you can see for miles!” Poppy waved her arm around, “There’s little streams and birds and chirping insects and no pollution.” Jack said, “Environmentally friendly.”
But the fat boy said the best hills had shops on them and he wouldn’t mind an ice cream or something right now. “Because climbing up here makes you hungry,” he explained.
Jack said they’d soon be there. And couple of minutes later, they were! They’d come to a wide, open area of grass. On one side there were tall trees and in front was one of the views Jack had mentioned earlier. An especially magnificent view.
Everyone plonked down and took in that view. Up above them thin clumpy clouds drifted in a blue sky. Down below the town was spread out like a map. Somewhere a long way away some birds were singing to each other. A cool breeze made the kids feel fresh.
Then Poppy said it was time to start. And this was a perfect place for them to build. The fat boy said it was too small. But by the time he had explained why it was too small no-one was listening. The four cousins were up and laughing and dashing around hunting for fallen branches. So the fat boy struggled to his feet and went hunting for some branches himself.
Soon everyone had armfuls of them. The four cousins thought they’d build together because then they’d have lots of ideas and suggestions.
The fat boy said he knew how to build and anyway, if he built on his own it would be faster. Also he wouldn’t have to waste his breath discussing anything with anyone.
Soon everyone was busy building. It was lots of fun. They poked heavy branches into the ground (which Jack said was called ‘laying the foundations’) and twisted bendy ones around them. Long thin ones were good for going up high. Ones with hook shapes on one end were good to hold things together, so that nothing fell.
They were all getting hot by now, so when the breeze began to get a bit stronger no-one worried. Jack’s cousin said it was like natural air-conditioning.
Because the four cousins were working together they finished their building first. They turned to look at the fat neighbour’s. It was crooked. It was leaning. Maybe leaning too much.
Poppy said, “Oh, dear. Do you want a hand to make it straight?” The fat boy still had a few branches to put on, but he stood back and looked. He shook his head and said ‘no’. It was straight enough. Just fine. Only needed a bit more work. And with a final flurry of pushing and lifting and poking and shaking and sweating and huffing and puffing and holding his cap on because the wind was starting to blow harder … he was finished. “There!” He stepped back and said. “It’s looking really good.”
But it wasn’t. Another gust of wind swirled and pushed up the hill. This one was bigger and stronger than the others. It threw dry leaves into the air. Poppy grabbed her floppy hat. Jack squinted his eyes shut. The fat boy’s cap almost blew off. The two cousins turned their backs to the wind. Another gust came. This time even stronger. It pulled at everyone’s clothes and pressed the long grass flat and thrashed the bushes so the branches whipped and slashed like mad things.
Somewhere a branch cracked. Really loud. Everyone swung around. It was the fat boy’s building! The wind was tugging it and wrestling.The whole contraption swayed and flapped. Just then a big side branch got whipped off. And another. The whole thing was coming apart before their very eyes!
Jack yelled, “Grab it!” But too late. It leaned and strained and fell over. Crash!
The fat boy stood with his mouth wide open. The cousins held their hands on their heads and stared at the wreck. Jack was gaping but no words could come out. Poppy clasped her hands together like a statue and couldn’t believe her eyes. The whole thing was lying on its side in a tangle.
No-one knew what to say. Then Poppy said, “Come on. Let’s lift it!”
Everyone jumped and grabbed the building. Jack said, “It’s heavy!” The fat boy was sobbing. He said, “I knew this would happen. The wind up here’s too strong.” The cousins bent over and lifted as hard as they could. Poppy yelled, “I don’t know if we can do this!”
They all made one last effort. They heaved and pushed. And slowly the branches and sticks rose into the air. Jack said, ‘like a whale rising out of the sea’. It teetered and wobbled. But then one side slipped and started to sink down again. Quick as he could, the fat boy grabbed a stick. “It needs this,” he called. Heaving himself up as high as he could he hooked the stick at the top. It worked! The whole contraption steadied and stood up straight.
Jack and Poppy and their cousins and the fat boy let out a big sigh. Phew! Then one of them laughed. And soon they were all laughing and yelling and jumping around like clowns in a circus. The fat boy called out, “Blow, wind blow! You’ll never push it over now!” And everyone did a little we-did-it dance.
Then it was time to go. Poppy led the way through the bush and down the grassy slope. They began to run. Quicker and quicker. Down and down. Puffing and swooping like mad people jumping, with the wind roaring in their hair.
The fat boy said, ‘I know’ and he pulled his cap down tight, threw himself forward in a big ball and began to roll. Like a huge round muffin. He went bounding and bumping and rolling down, down through the scratchy grass. Arms poking out. Legs flailing. Bounce. Bounce. Faster and faster. Down he went!
The four cousins were shouting and shrieking and laughing and trying to keep up. Jack pushed his cap back tighter on his head and began to gather himself into a ball too. But Poppy looked at him with big horrified eyes. “No, Jack!” she called. So Jack decided to just keep running.
Down and down they ran. Onto the footpath and through the gate into the garden and came to a sliding halt. Because mum and dad were there! Sitting on the outside bench. Holding cups of coffee and wondering how a herd of elephants had managed to come stampeding into their quiet garden.
Dad said, “Well, look who’s here!” and gulped some coffee. Mum put down her cup and tried to think of something to say. The four cousins and the fat neighbour panted and blew and dusted all the grass and stuff off themselves and laughed and explained what they’d built. And dad said that reminded him of the story Jesus told about two men building houses. Jack nodded. “One of them built on sand. I remember that story.” And told his cousins they’d been reading that at bedtime the other day. And by then mum had found five more muffins and was putting them on a plate. She held them out to the builders and said, “Like some?”