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herself bravely. She was too far from home to do anything
about it. Besides, she couldn t throw a tantrum in front of
Jack and Sandy.
Look at the posters, Cassie! said Wilf.
Glossy posters of brilliant-coloured hot-air balloons
hung around the walls. Wilf pointed out that almost every
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object in the room had a balloon motif the place-mats,
plates, a clock, the rug on the floor. And there was a shelf
crammed with children s books all with hot-air balloon
themes.
I reckon we must be in the wrong place. We brought
Miss McAllister here for a balloon ride, joked Mick.
This is just to remind you that you ve reached your
destination, said Jack.
Can t get these to rise properly, said Sandy carrying
a tray of hot muffins to the table. I ve tried every brand of
flour. Anyone could tell she was talking for the sake of it,
trying not to stare at Miss McAllister.
Bicarbonate of soda, said Miss McAllister.
Bicarb?
Just a teaspoon. Works wonders.
Sandy sat at the table with her eyes fixed on Miss
McAllister s face. I knew she was trying not to look at the
beard. And I knew from experience that the more you tried
not to, the more you had to look.
Works wonders?
Yes. And do you sift your flour three times?
I ve never sifted flour.
While us kids performed a magical disappearing trick
with the muffins, a friendship began. Ninety-eight years
of knowing how to do things properly bridged the gap.
Sandy and Miss McAllister were still discussing cooking
secrets when some minutes later Jack stood up and said,
252 MISS McALLISTER S GHOST
Well, we ll have to start setting up. The others said they d
be here by now.
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In the lead-coloured dawn, we helped with frozen
fingers to unfold the balloon and lay it out all twenty metres
of it across the ground. Jack told us that when inflated it
would be the height of three houses. Overhead, the stars had
faded. A needle of sunlight pierced and coloured what we
could now see was a wide valley ringed by hills.
Got a bit lost? You ll be here in ten minutes? That s
fine. Sandy put away her mobile.
We ll start inflating, said Jack.
The balloon was flat on the ground with the strings
attached to a basket lying on its side. Sandy held the bottom
end of the balloon open. Jack turned on a large fan which
was powered by a petrol motor. The rest of us watched the
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254 MISS McALLISTER S GHOST
resuscitation of this giant piece of fabric.
I thought you had to have hot air? shouted Mick to
Jack over the chugs and whirrs of motor and fan.
We have to fill the balloon with air before we can heat
it.
What do you heat it with? asked Wilf.
The gas tanks above the gondola. Jack pointed to gas
cylinders that hung from a metal bracket above the basket.
Gondola, said Miss McAllister to herself. What a
poetic name for a basket.
The nylon fabric began to come alive. It flapped and
plopped and finally filled out, a billowing sail of rainbow-
coloured bands.
Now the envelope is full, we turn on the jet, explained
Jack. Stand back, everyone.
Flames shot out of the cylinders and after a few
minutes the balloon began to lift a little from its horizontal
position.
Sandy glanced at her wristwatch. The others are
cutting it fine.
Ten minutes later, like the resurrection of a mammoth,
the balloon had lifted itself to its vertical position. The only
thing keeping it anchored to earth were the ropes extending
from the gondola to the bullbar of the four-wheel drive.
Jack was already in the pilot s section of the gondola
when Mick, Wilf and I helped lift Miss McAllister into
the larger passenger part. Underneath the black, crackling
CHAPTER 36 255
material of her dress and its stiff petticoat I could feel Miss
McAllister s bones. It was like lifting a bird. I was afraid we
might hurt her. I think we did, because she winced and said,
Steady now.
Say cheese! called Sandy as she held up a camera to
photograph Miss McAllister.
Clutching the side of the gondola with white knuckles,
Miss McAllister refused to say Cheese .
If these are my last moments on earth, I m certainly
not willing to be remembered for saying such a ridiculous
word.
So Sandy took a photo of Miss McAllister with her
hat pulled obstinately low over her head, looking as cheery
as Napoleon. Sandy s mobile rang again and she answered
it. She called to Jack, It s the men from Maddison and
Maddison. They ve got a flat tyre, would you believe it!
We can t wait, Jack shouted back and then he called
to me, Come on. You and your brothers will have to come.
Sandy! You ll have to be ground crew.
I found the foothold in the gondola and was up, over
and in before Jack could change his mind. Mick landed in
the basket at the same time and we both leaned over to haul
Wilf in, who wailed, I m too young to die!
He s just joking. I smiled at Jack.
Shut up, you little turd, muttered Mick.
Okay, let her go! Jack yelled. Sandy let loose the ropes
and Jack pulled them aboard.
256 MISS McALLISTER S GHOST
Balloon aloft! called Sandy in a triumphant way.
We rose gently, but the ascent was faster than I realised.
One moment you could call out to Sandy, who was still
clicking away with her camera, and the next moment she
was a red dot down on the ground.
It surprised me how noisy it was. The roar of the gas
flames meant we had to talk loudly to be heard.
How high are we? I called to Jack.
Five hundred feet up.
How come you talk in feet?
Aviation measurement never changed.
How high could we go?
As high as the stratosphere.
Shit! said Mick.
Miss McAllister had stopped gripping the side of the
gondola so hard. She looked like she was having some sort
of spiritual experience. We left her to it gazing and gazing
as if forcing herself to remember everything. From time to
time she coughed. Wilf spent the first five minutes of the
flight crouched on the gondola s floor. I nudged him with
my foot.
You re an embarrassment. Get up, will you?
Let the gutless wonder stay there, said Mick.
Miss McAllister became aware of Wilf, and she leant
down and took his hand.
Come, child, you re safe with me. Wilf clung to her
hand with both of his and gingerly he stood up.
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I m scared it ll pop or blow up or crash or something.
Well, if that is going to happen, I ll jump out and you
can ride on my back. These long skirts of mine will catch
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