Riddle Gully Runaway by Jen Banyard Page B

abattoir.’
    â€˜What? Now? Like, right this minute?’
    â€˜Benson will be short of money, so chances are he took a job there. The abattoir operates on Saturdays, according to the job ad, so we might be able to catch him at work if we hurry. It’s only thirty or so kilometres up the coast. We can catch the bus.’ Pollo jumped to her feet.
    Will stayed sitting on the bench, Ebony’s words pulsing in his head.
It’s not a nice place to work.
‘What about Shorn Connery?’ he said, trying to buy some time.
    â€˜He’ll have to come too. The bus will be nearly empty at this time of day. The driver won’t mind. Probably.’
    â€˜But maybe we could just come back tomorrow with HB and Angela.’
    Pollo looked at her friend wearily. ‘You know what adults are like, Will. Benson’s not doing anything illegal, remember — not yet anyway. And if you started talking to them about old selves and new selves they’d pat you on the head and tell you to get an early night. Then you’dbe stuck in Riddle Gully for the rest of the weekend.’ Pollo began pacing up and down. ‘We can’t risk it, Will. Not with Benson at the abattoir. We need to go now — as a team.’
    â€˜A team that includes a sheep,’ said Will sulkily.
    â€˜Shorn Connery contributes in strange and mysterious ways, Will,’ said Pollo brightly. ‘Without him falling in love with Ear at Two Wells, we wouldn’t be here right now. Think of that.’
    Will did … and found his mind drifting to the Chinese takeaway they often had at home on Saturday nights.
    â€˜Shouldn’t we, you know, get provisions or something?’ He was scraping for excuses now. He wasn’t even sure what provisions were exactly.
    â€˜If Benson’s at the abattoir and we find him soon enough, everything will be simple. We’ll be home in time for tea. Come on, let’s go get Shorn Connery! Stop talking and start walking!’
    Will sighed, heaved himself to his feet and swung his backpack onto his shoulders.
    *
    They were still two hundred metres from Mr Mallard’s house when the bleating of Shorn Connery carried to them on the wind.
    â€˜Crikey!’ said Will. ‘He’s mad about something! I hope the neighbours haven’t complained already.’
    They hurried up the street and knocked on Mr Mallard’s door. From the backyard, Shorn Connery bellowed more loudly than ever. ‘He’s not home,’ said Pollo. ‘Let’s go around the side.’
    As they rounded the side of the house, they saw a salt-white sheep in the farthest corner of the yard, backed up against the timber fence. It was closely shorn, as naked as a sheep could get. Pollo gasped.
    â€˜That’s not … is it?’ said Will.
    Baa-aa-aah!
The animal suddenly galloped across the lawn at them. It took Pollo out at the knees and stood over her, thrusting its snout at her face and neck, as she lay spreadeagled on the ground. Will began to giggle uncontrollably.
    â€˜He’s sheared Shorn Connery!’ laughed Will. ‘Mr Mallard’s sheared him! He’s only half the size!’
    Baa-aa-aaa-aaah!
    â€˜Get out of it, old buddy!’ cried Pollo, ducking her head side-to-side.
    Baa-aa-aaa-aaah!
    Pollo rolled on the ground, cackling, trying to dodge her faithful assistant as he nibbled her nose and jabbedhis fuzzy snout in her ears. Eventually — with no help at all from Will — she was able to get to her feet and put her arms around Shorn Connery’s skinny neck. Shorn Connery huffed short, indignant puffs of air through his nostrils.
    â€˜Poor Shorn Connery,’ said Pollo. ‘He’s never been shorn by a stranger before. Mr Mallard’s done a good job though. Thorough. I wonder what he did with the wool.’
    â€˜There’s something over there next to Shorn Connery’s lead,’ said Will, pointing to the back step of