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machine leapt forward—followed by a mighty crash from behind me. I slammed my feet down on the clutch and brake, and the tractor stopped amidst a cloud of dust.
    ‘Hell,’ said Dad. ‘What was that?’
    I turned and looked over the back. ‘It’s chained to the centre support of the shed.’
    Dad thought for a while. ‘Yeah, I remember doing that. But it was a few years back when tractors were being stolen all over the peninsula. I thought I’d stop them.’ He smiled broadly. ‘Hey, wouldn’t they have got a fright if they’d tried.’
    ‘Instead, I got the fright,’ I said.
    I got off and we inspected the damage. The main support tothe shed had been pulled off the foundation and now sat at a strange angle in the dirt. Also the roof had partially collapsed. It could have been a lot worse if I hadn’t stopped so quickly.
    We unhooked the chain and got on with the lesson. Dad said we should do something useful as that was the best way to learn. I suggested shifting the dog cage as it was getting very mucky where it was. So, that’s what we did. By the end I was an expert tractor driver. But the best thing was that Dad and I were doing things together. This was not Bacteria Dad, this was Real Dad—the one I love so much.
    It was three days before the mealworms arrived, and by then I was almost a nervous wreck. Dad normally collected the mail—it was about the only time he left the house. Each day, before lunch, he would make his slow trip to the gate and back. Of course, I couldn’t let him find the parcel of mealworms, or there were sure to be questions asked that I didn’t want to answer.
    So, each day Peg and I sneaked through the scrub to the gate. There we would wait until the mail lady came. The first morning she said, ‘Hi, Ben. You waiting for this?’ and handed over a bundle of assignments. ‘You like doing schoolwork, do you?’
    I nodded my head, taking the mail and the newspaper. As soon as she was out of sight, I put them in the box and turned to leave. That’s when I saw Dad coming down the track. Luckily his head was down and I don’t think he saw me. I ducked and ran for the shelter of the scrub, whispering for Peg to come. Unfortunately, she thought it was a game and gave a couple of barks of enjoyment. Dad must have heard them, but I didn’t hang around to find out.
    The second day, there was a ute parked at the gate with two men putting up a sign:
Wiltshire Property Development Co
proudly presents
    Pacific Keys
    —sea fronts and waterways.
    Exclusive options now available
    WPDC—changing New Zealand naturally
    So Mansfield Bay was to become Pacific Keys. It didn’t say whether the keys were the sort that unlock things or like the Florida Keys, which are low-lying banks of sand. Maybe you were meant to take it any way you liked. What annoyed me about it was the way Wiltshire was assuming Dad would say yes. As far as I knew, we still had a year to make up our minds.
    That day I pretended I was helping the workmen and I let the mail lady put the stuff in the box. There weren’t any mealworms.
    The third day, they were there: a large parcel with lots of special symbols saying how it should be handled. The mail lady smiled as she handed it to me. ‘Is this what you want kept secret from your dad?’ I gave a stupid grin. I hadn’t thought I’d been so obvious. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, putting a finger to her lips. ‘I know when to keep quiet.’ Then she chuckled and drove off.
    Back in my room, I opened the box carefully. There were two packs of five litres with a thousand mealworms in each. I opened one container to find it full of bran, and crawling with grubs of different sizes.
    Bigmouth was starting to grow feathers. She was at that ugly stage where the feathers look like black-headed pimples. While she would never win a beautiful baby show, I thought she was great. She was noisy, demanding, and still very much alive.
    I used tweezers to pick up one of the biggest worms