Free Fire Fire by Eva Sallis Page B

apple season. He went for a walk with the excited kids scampering at his heels. He leapt nimbly into Mr Vatzek’s, stole three apples from the well-tended orchard and then leapt back over the barbed wire, swing! Just like that.
    â€˜Stolen fruit tastes sweeter,’ he said, biting into a codlin larva.
    Stolen fruit tastes sweeter, they whispered to each other at any moment that called for bravery or laughter. Stolen fruit tastes sweeter.
    Uncle Lochie was engraved on their hearts in the space of six syllables.
    A few years later a letter came from Uncle Lochie saying he would arrive on the first of April. Just like him. He was such a wag. Everyone was shot through with excitement. They woke up in the morning excited and went to bed exhausted from it and dreamed of Uncle Lochie. They raced around with fervour cleaning up the house. Leave it Leave it , the house sighed, he can’t possibly care and besides he won’t really come , but they ignored it and brushed its unruly hair. The great day came. They had all read the letter, they had all read the flight confirmation. Hugging the day to their leaping chests they piled into the car, no delays, quicksticks, and headed into Toggenberg town to the airport.
    â€˜Yip Yip Yip. Hey Hey Hey,’ their hearts sang.
    They waited in the arrivals hall, sitting perfectly still on the blue plastic seats. Uncle Lochie’s plane landed and Beate started to laugh. She laughed so much she got embarrassed and started to cry.
    She cried so much she had to go to the toilet.
    Uncle Lochie was not on it. Many people who were not Uncle Lochie came off, parted around them, and evaporated. They waited.
    â€˜Maybe he played a trick on us,’ Gotthilf said hesitantly.
    They started to laugh, a little wanly. It was very, very clever, you had to give him that. He really got them a good one.
    â€˜Would the Houdini family come to the Ansett information counter please. Would the Houdini family come to the information counter please.’
    They looked at each other in wonder. Acantia and Pa led the way.
    There on the information counter was a huge box and a letter.
    Uncle Lochie had been called to fix a burst oil platform in Kuwait and apologised for being unable to come in person. He wished them a happy Easter. His handwriting was a lot like Acantia’s because they had been to the same school.
    Inside the box was a dragon’s treasure of Easter eggs, Easter rabbits, chocolates and glittering trains with Easter egg carriages. Wealth beyond compare. They were beside themselves. It was such an up and down trick, a disappointing, delicious trick.
    A little note on top of the treasure said, Stolen fruit .
    They went home laughing and shouting, expectant, sad and happy. At home they invited Easter in early and sat down to sort through a whole table load of riches.
    Among the Easter eggs Gotthilf found a Toggenberg Centre Supermarket docket. Their eyes popped out of their heads as the truth slowly sank in. They pored over the letters, shrieking with laughter. They wondered over the secretive smile of the Ansett lady, the furtive smiles the other staff had given them. They laughed at the energy with which they had cleaned the house.
    â€˜April FOOOOOOOLS!’ Acantia said, dancing, her face lovely with bright, overflowing laughter.
    Pa did a little skip in the middle of the floor and they all sat around stuffing themselves with chocolate.
    Goats eat whatever they like whether it’s good for them or not , Ziggy wrote in his goat diary when Pieta ate the Easter egg wrappers.

    When Acantia and Pa went on holiday to New Zealand, Ursula stayed to mind the place. They had a Saanen goat, called Teresa, with an odd chronic illness. Ursula watched her hobble with finicky steps past the window and acted without thought. She called the vet.
    The vet explained the incurable disease, the suffering the goat had been in for the last six months and how long it would take her to die if