Smooch & Rose by Samantha Wheeler Page A

Mr Young, councillors, ladies and gentlemen, and distinguished guests. Thank you for having me here this morning.’
    It came out exactly like I’d practised. No squeaks, no mistakes. I was doing it! I was speaking in public. I clicked on the first slide. It was a photograph of Smooch and I explained how we’d rescued him. My stomach stopped churning and I clicked on the next slide. It showed a picture of a cleared block of land – not a tree in sight. No-one laughed. No-one told me to stop. Mayor Bantex and Mr Young and every councillor sat glued to my PowerPoint presentation.
    At the end, they all clapped. Even Mayor Bantex! Especially Mayor Bantex. Then they asked me lots of questions and when I’d finished answering those, everyone went out onto the verandah for cake, lemonade and cups of tea. I couldn’t stop smiling.
    When it was time to leave, Mayor Bantex’s assistant escorted us outside and the crowd around the entrance cheered. Mrs Glover stepped forward as I passed the No Tree, No Me banner. ‘Congratu­lations, Rose,’ she said before pausing and tapping a finger thoughtfully to her chin. ‘I think you’ve well and truly earned yourself an ‘A’, don’t you? Well done, young lady!’
    â€˜What now?’ said Gran, when we were back home and sitting around the kitchen table.
    â€˜Now we have to wait,’ I explained. ‘The councillors and developers have to discuss my ideas and see what they can do. Mayor Bantex said there is no guarantee anything will change.’
    â€˜I’m so proud of you, Rosie,’ said Gran. ‘You’re a chip off the old block. Your dad would have been proud of you too.’
    â€˜Yes, he would’ve been thrilled to see you fighting for his beloved creek,’ said Uncle Malcolm. ‘Quite the animal-lover your dad. Looks like you’ve got the animal gene too.’

14. Change

    Waiting to hear back about the development took forever. I practically wore out the path to our letter­box I checked it that much. Gran said a watched mailbox was like a watched kettle. She gave me extra chores to keep me away from it, but that didn’t really help.
    Finally, the letter we’d been waiting for arrived. Gran called Uncle Malcolm and he came over as soon as he could. Gran bustled around making tea while I offered Uncle Malcolm some scones.
    Then Gran gave the big white envelope to me. I ripped it open and peered nervously inside.
    â€˜Come on, Rosie. What does it say?’
    With shaking hands, I pulled out a crisp A4 letter and a booklet titled, Proposed Changes to the Development of Lot 3425, Wellington Point .
    I read the letter out loud.
    Dear Rose,
    Thank you so much for showing us that koalas are not the only ones who love beautiful trees. Here at Hall and Young Development, we can all remember climbing a few in our day. You have reminded us how precious places like Wellington Point are and have shown us that we need to protect the things we love.
    We hope you will approve of the proposals outlined in the enclosed document, and if you have any questions or suggestions, please feel free to call me anytime on my direct line.
    Yours sincerely,
    Mr William Young
    I frowned. ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’
    â€˜Yes,’ laughed Uncle Malcolm. ‘It’s great.’ He picked up the booklet and flicked it open. ‘See. Here are all the things they’re suggesting. Just like you asked.’ He pointed to the long list of dot points as Gran and I huddled excitedly around him.
    â€˜Fewer houses. Wide gaps left for koala trees. Koala-friendly fences with poles to help koalas and other wildlife get around. Look, there’s even a clause that says hollow logs must be left in place for creatures to hide in. This is perfect, Rose, exactly what you wanted!’
    The proposals also said that koalas at risk were not to be relocated, but were to be encouraged to stay by