Chapter 3

      The Lizard Lady

      Amy hurried into the women’s toilets. She liked all the coin machines with little packages of toothpaste, perfume and combs. You could have a shower, too.

      Ahead of her was a wheelchair. Just the back of a woman’s shoulders and head were showing. The dark hair was cut short. Like a ruff, a neck brace circled her neck. Then Amy noticed the stickers. She always noticed other people’s stickers. Mum and Dad collected stickers for her from all over the world. Most were ‘greenie’ Save The Planet stickers,but she had a few surfie ones like Hot Tuna and Billabong, too.

      Amy looked closer. There was a bright yellow sticker she hadn’t seen before. Like a frill-necked lizard. Let Our Lizards Be Frilled, Not Grilled, said the sticker. What did that mean?

      Just then, a hand pressed the control on the arm of the chair. On that hand was coiled a big lizard ring. The frills were made from opal. The chair wobbled and the bag on the handles slipped. The zip was half open. What looked like an airport security jacket was stuffed in the bag.

      Crack!

      A tawny yellow walking- stick fell on the floor. It had a lizard carving on the handle. Amy stared. There was something strange about that frilled lizard head. It matched the ring which the woman was wearing. Near the wheels there was a squeak. Did they need oiling? Or was it something else?

      Just as Amy bent forward to pick up the stick, with a quick movement ,the woman swung the chair around further. In her lap she had a mobile phone and a briefcase.

      Amy watched as the woman put down the aerial on the mobile phone.

      She’s wired for sound. I thought witches had broomsticks, not neck-ruffs, lizard jewellery and mobile phones, she thought.

      ‘Thanks, dear.’ The woman took the stick from Amy and rolled away. Amy stared after her. The voice had been an after-crying weepy sort of voice.

      When Amy came out to wash her hands, the wheelchair woman was still there, putting on pink lipstick. Her bird ear rings dangled. She was sniffing sadly. Her tissue looked stringy damp. She peered into the mirror and rubbed at the runny black mascara marks.

      ‘Did you say goodbye to someone?’ asked Amy kindly as she washed her hands. An airport was a hullo and goodbye sort of place.

      ‘Yes, my son. He’s always travelling. Chasing things. I don’t know when he’ll be back. He’s got a dangerous and difficult job. Especially this time.’

      Amy fished in her pocket for a clean hanky. Aunty Viv always gave them black hankies before they left . It was in case they caught a cold from the water when they crashed in the ocean. Aunty Viv bought hankies in bulk.

      ‘Have this.’

      ‘Thanks, dear,’ said the woman patting her eyes. The black mascara vanished onto the black hanky.

      A thin-faced woman with dark glasses, and wearing a big floppy hat walked past .She seemed to be watching them in the mirror. Although her face and neck were thin, she was round elsewhere. Her jacket had lots of outside pockets, a bit like Dad’s photo jacket where he kept his extra film and spare lens. For once, Amy didn’t pay enough attention. Later, she wished she’d looked more closely.

      As the hand- dryer whirred in the corner, Amy turned around.

      ‘They need a drying machine here for tears,’ she suggested. Christopher could easily design one. ‘Or for spraying smiles.’

      Once Christopher had designed windscreen wipers for their glasses. They fell off!

      Looking at her backpack tag, the old woman smiled. ‘Are you leaving soon for Singapore ,dear?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘First time?’

      ‘No. We’re meeting Mum and Dad. They shoot birds and animals.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘With their cameras. They’re photographers. They work all over the place.’

      Amy had used that ‘shooting parents’ description before. Everybody paid attention to that!

      ‘Really?’ The old woman looked very interested. But perhaps she was interested in photographs? ‘Thanks for the hanky. Sorry it’s so wet. Let me wash it and post it back to you. What’s your address in Singapore?’

      ‘Don’t bother,’ said Amy politely.

      ‘I’d like to return a favour. It’s always helpful to know people in places where my son might visit. Is that your address on your backpack tag? ‘

      ‘Yes, and our Sydney one too.’

      Reaching into her big bag slung from the handles of the wheelchair, the old woman found a pen and copied both addresses.

      At the time, Amy did wonder why she wanted both. But then she moved on to thinking about why the plane might be late.

      ‘Bye. Thanks. Here’s my son’s business card. I can be contacted at that address too.’

      Amy looked at the engraved card. She preferred to collect surf stickers or telephone cards. The curly writing on the card was hard to read.

      JON SMART

      SPARE PARTS MANAGER

      EXPORT/IMPORT

      Why would that be a dangerous job? What sort of spare parts did he manage? She knew that ‘import’ meant things coming into the country. And ‘export’ meant things going out of the country.

      ‘What does he export?’ Amy asked.

      Mrs Smart didn’t seem to want to answer that. ‘Things. I’m not sure, this time.’

      ‘Do you like lizards?’ Amy stared at her jewellery.

      ‘Why? Oh, my opal. Yes, of course. My son gave it to me. A good luck present for our new business venture.’

      The thin woman with glasses walked out, tugging at her floppy hat.

      It was so big ,that it almost covered her face.

      At the mirror, a girl was putting a rainbow wig over her mousey, brown hair. She also put safety pin ear rings into her ears. Fascinated, Amy watched. Rainbow Wig’s bag had a Singapore travel tag, too. Later, it was quite useful to know that Rainbow Wig’s hair was mousey brown underneath.