‘Yep. Once I get the concept right, I’ll call in proper engineers and such. Just wanted to know what you thought.’
‘Er, I’d need to know the detail. It’s . . . still a concept, you 137 say?’
Sandy finally took the hint. ‘Sorry, mate. I’m getting ahead of myself. You know the Big Banana, the Big Pineapple, the Big Merino and so on? Well, this is the Great Galah. It’ll be the making of the town. Tourists love that kind of stuff.’
Finn looked more closely at the sketches. Yes, there was no mistaking; it was a large, unwieldy-looking bird, its giant wings outspread. He struggled for a response. ‘Any reason for a galah? Aren’t they seen as a bit of a pest?’
‘That’s the beauty of it. This area is full of galahs. They drive the farmers crazy. What I’m doing is turning a negative into a positive.’ He beamed. ‘In the future, we’re talking theme park. Big money. Serious money.’
Could Sandy be for real? Finn listened for irony and heard only enthusiasm. He needed to find a respectful but discouraging response. ‘The town could certainly do with some help. But is this the way to go? The Big Banana and Pineapple are up north, with beaches and that sort of thing.’ He brightened as a foolproof objection presented itself. ‘I doubt that we’d get funding in a place like this.’
‘Not a problem. It would be my gift to the town. A memorial to my father, Major Sandilands, DSO and Bar.’ It was a cool day, but he mopped his forehead with a large handkerchief and went on: ‘My family were pioneers of this district, you know. Been here since the gold rush. But now all the young people are leaving. We don’t have many families left in town, and some of the farmers are close to broke.’ He looked soberly at his friend. ‘I don’t want the town to die, Finn. It’s my home.’
Moved in spite of himself, and racking his brains for something to say, Finn looked back at the sketch for inspiration. Steps led up into the belly region, where a door was labelled SOUVENIR SHOP. There was what appeared to be a corkscrew slide from head to tail, terminating in a swimming pool. Tables and umbrellas sprouted under one wing and there seemed to be a kind of lookout in the beak. The space under the second wing bore a question mark.
‘Nothing under the second wing, then?’ Finn was relieved to find something to say.
‘Not yet. Maybe we could run a competition. You know, so locals can have some input.’
Finn imagined the kind of input locals would offer. He weighed his words carefully. ‘A very interesting idea, Sandy. Challenging. Maybe a bit, you know, innovative for Opportunity? You might need to bide your time. Take things slowly.’
Since then Sandy had visited Finn several times to discuss revisions to his sketches. Finn knew he had to tell Sandy just how ridiculous his plan really was. Next time, he’d say to himself. Next time I’ll tell him straight. And next time he’d look into Sandy’s naively hopeful eyes and his courage would fail him. ‘I just couldn’t bring myself to crush the man’s dream,’ Finn explained to Moss as they returned from the pub with Mrs Pargetter. ‘I suggested he keep it under wraps and we’d talk about it until the idea is fully fleshed out. I should’ve stopped things right there, that first day, but to be honest, I’m too much of a coward.’
‘That boy has always been a bit soft in the head, if you ask me,’ sniffed Mrs Pargetter. ‘His father was right: he is a great galah.’
‘He has his good points.’ Finn thought of the dogs, the knitting wool that appeared regularly in Mrs Pargetter’s letterbox, and the money left under the teapot after her nephew’s visits. But he didn’t say anything about those things. Not even to Moss.
The next day, Sandy spread his plans out once more on Finn’s table. The frayed edges betrayed the many other unfoldings these plans had endured in the loneliness of Sandy’s sprawling farmhouse.
‘Can’t you see, Finn? Tourism is the only way to save a town like ours. The Balfours are leaving next week. We’re bleeding people, mate.’
Finn sighed. ‘I like the quiet. That’s why I came here. I’m sorry, but I just can’t see tourist buses lined up in the footy ground car park.’ He tried a comradely grin.