Charlie sat up suddenly.  It was morning.  There was no-one else in his room.  Confused, he slipped out of bed and groaned as his body protested.  His legs were stiff and he had bruises in really inconvenient places.  As he sat there he vowed that he would only play games with balls that were spherical in future.

The phone rang in the next room.  He could hear the muffled voice of his father answering it.  With his usual curiosity, he got up form the bed and shuffled out to the living room.

“I’m sorry Victor, I know you think I can’t afford to turn down work but I have my son with me for his summer vacation.”  His father was stood by the open window of the living room, sitting precariously on one of his book towers, with an antique Bakelite telephone pressed to his ear.  He raised a hand in greeting to Charlie.  “I’m not about to interrupt…” 

Charlie gestured to him wildly, shaking his head and mouthing “No!”

Rick raised an eyebrow and shrugged.  “Sorry Victor, just hang on a minute!”  He covered the mouthpiece with his hand.  “What is it Charlie? I’m on the phone to my booking agent.”

“Can you afford to turn down work?”  Charlie asked.

“Well that’s straight to the point!  It’s kind of personal too, Charlie.”  Rick admonished kindly,

“Sorry, but Mum and I always talk about money matters.  She thinks it’ll help me be more responsible when I’m older.”

“Certainly should do.  You can give me a few tips,” Rick said.

“Well, could you do with the work?”  Charlie insisted.

“Sure, I can always do with the work.  The Cat’s a pretty expensive proposition to leave standing idle and George has a pretty big family to feed,” Rick explained.  “But you did not come all this way for me to go to work on your second full day here.  Your mom would kill me!”

“I know but you don’t have to go to work and leave me behind.  I could see what you do, see the Cat and still spend time with you.  I’d get to see a lot more of Tonga too.”  Charlie persuaded. 

“But you haven’t even been to see the whales yet!  This job’s going to take at least six days to complete.  I couldn’t do it for the money Victor’s offering.” 

“I don’t mind, it’d be cool.  I’d get to fly with my dad.  Not many kids I know could say that.”  Charlie smiled.  “By the way, you’re not covering the mouthpiece up properly.”

Rick winked at him, “I know.”  He turned his attention back to the phone, “Sorry, Victor, I’m not sure I can do this.” Charlie could hear a frantic voice gabble from the earpiece to which his father replied, “For ten percent more?  Well, if you put it like that then we’ll see you at the Cat.”  His father put the phone down on its cradle.

“How would you like to make a bit of vacation spending money?”

About an hour later, after a quick shower and a rushed breakfast of coffee and rolls that they picked up at a local bakery, Rick and Charlie had met up with George back at the airport by the Catalina.  The day was hot and sultry making Charlie’s tee-shirt stick to him uncomfortably.  He sipped his latte and listened to his father as they waited in the shade beneath one of the Catalina’s wings.

“I should have explained last night, Charlie, but George is my business partner and co-pilot.  We’ve known each other for years, way before I ever came out here to Tonga,”  Rick said. “Our booking agent should be here any minute.” 

They didn’t have to wait long.  George was telling Charlie some of the history of flying boats in the Pacific when their appointment arrived.

“Rick! George!  Rick and George’s little friend!”  A high pitched sing-song voice interrupted.  The small group faced the new arrivals.  Walking towards them in the bright morning sun-shine, shadows stark against the tarmac of the parking area, were a diminutive Asian man in shirt-sleeves and another, rather taller, more elegant European, wearing a light linen suit, open necked blue shirt and fashionable dark glasses.  “Rick!” the Chinese man waved happily.

“Hi, Victor!”  Rick and George said walking over to meet the pair.  Charlie trailed along in their wake, uncertain of what else to do. 

“Rick, I’d like you to meet Mr Winthrop-Smythe of Worldwide Wildlife Programming,” Victor beamed, ushering the elegant man forward. “He makes TV shows, you know,” he added helpfully.

“Please to meet you, Mr Bravo,” the man called Winthrop-Smythe said in a pleasant, English public-school accent.  He held out his hand to Rick who took it.  “Mr Hong tells me you have a plane that may meet the needs of my crew.”

“Well, I have a plane!  Whether it meets the needs of your crew remains to be seen.  First let me introduce my partner, George Hala,and my son, Charlie,”  Rick offered.

The group all shook hands.  George was surprisingly mute, muttering only a quiet hello and seemed rather shy, which Charlie found a little odd.  Winthrop-Smythe didn’t seem perturbed by the big islander’s reticence and concentrated on Rick instead. 

Introductions made, Winthrop-Smythe outlined his plans to Rick, George, Victor and Charlie, “We’re making a new show about the natural history of the Pacific.  Animals, plants, that sort of thing.”   Rick nodded and raised a quizzical eyebrow at George.  He did know what natural history meant!  Winthrop-Smythe continued, “We want to travel to an island that’s rather off the beaten track.  It’s uninhabited, no tourists or locals to get in the way and complicate matters.”  He paused momentarily, but it seemed as if he addressed this last comment to George.

“I don’t know,” Rick interrupted.  “Local people can be real useful.  I’ve worked with TV people before and they’ve always found that someone with a bit of local knowledge is a vital part of the team.”

“Yes, well, that’s why I’ve already found my own fixer.  We expect this show to be a pretty big deal and we really want to keep things under wraps.  In fact I need to know how discrete you can be – it would be a condition of the arrangements that a certain level of secrecy be kept.”  At this point Winthrop-Smythe paused and looked significantly at Charlie.  “I really would appreciate it if we could discuss this somewhere more private.”

“You know, you can say anything you like to these people because I can vouch for them but I can understand your concerns,”  Rick said, then added as something of an afterthought, “It must be a pretty big deal for a natural history show to want this kind of discretion; normally you guys are only too keen on publicity.  What have you found that you’re trying to keep for the big finale?  A dinosaur?  King-Kong?”  Rick said.

“Hm, yes.  That would be saying wouldn’t it?  And I can’t do that until we have a deal.”  Winthrop-Smythe drawled, removing his glasses and looking at Rick with a pair of the palest, grey eyes that Charlie had ever seen.  They were almost like steel balls, rather than eyes.  “Do you have an office we could go to?”

“Sure.  My apologies Mr Winthrop-Smythe, I think I’ve been on Tonga too long.  Not everyone wants their business broadcast to one and all.  Come with me and we’ll go to the hanger.  I keep an office there,” Rick said.  He faced Charlie, “if you don’t mind,Charlie, I need to have this meeting with Mr Winthrop-Smythe and George without you.  Climb up into the Cat, George has opened her up.  Why not explore her a bit, get to know the old bird.  Just don’t touch any of the flight controls.”

Charlie nodded agreement, after all, his father had warned him in the pickup that the client was a little stuffy and that he may have to disappear whilst the deal was hammered out. He didn’t mind.  After all, his dad had already been given a certain amount of information on the needs of the TV crew by his agent, Victor Hong, who knew just about everything about everyone staying on Vava’u.  Rick had shared this with Charlie now he was temporarily employed by Bravo Islands Air Taxi as a gopher.  Not a ground dwelling rodent from North America, but a ‘go for’ as in ‘go for anything’ - a dogsbody, a fetcher and carrier.   Some lovely green dollars would be coming his way as he worked for his father, travelling to a deserted tropical island paradise.  It sounded awful.

He climbed up into the Catalina via the same door that he had left it by when he arrived two days ago. He took a long look at the interior of the plane, which was getting unpleasantly warm and sticky.  Exploring further, he wandered into the rear of the aircraft, which he hadn’t really seen on his first flight.  The deck was largely clear of clutter, there were a few folding seats set along the cabin walls, which were stored in upright positions.  This gave the interior a pleasantly open quality.  It was almost like a room in a house rather than an old warplane but the great treasure of the aircraft was yet to come.  Halfway between the tail and the wings were the observation blisters - great bubbles of Plexiglas that projected out from the side of the fuselage - which would afford passengers an unbelievable view when the aircraft was in flight.  They also helped flood the interior with light, which was where he found Carmen, who was sitting on a seat beneath one of the blisters.

“Oh!”  he could not stop himself from saying in surprise.

“Hi, Er…Charlie!”  Carmen said cheerfully.  “How are you today?  Crispy says ‘hi’ too!”

“Crispy?  The pig?” he asked. 

“Crispy Piggelicious.  That’s his name!” Carmen giggled.

“Crispy Piggelicious!  That’s stupid!”  Charlie retorted, “You can’t call a pig, Crispy Piggelicious!  It’s cruel!”

“It isn’t!  How can it be?  It’s not as if he understands is it?” 

“Maybe not, but it’s still a silly name!  Are you going to eat him?”

“Crispy!  No!  Well, probably not!  There’s not enough on him to eat – he’s a runt, you see,” Carmen explained.

“A runt?”

“His mom abandoned him.  He was kind of skinny and little so Dad rescued him and gave him to me as a pet.  Mind you he’s always threatening to cook Crispy in the ‘uma when I’ve been bad.  He did that this morning,” Carmen added.

Interested despite his misgivings about having anything further to do with Carmen, Charlie asked, “Oh, and why was that?”

Carmen looked embarrassed for a moment then mumbled, “He said because of the way I treated you last night.”

“Really, and did the game with ‘Ofa have anything to do with you?”  Charlie pressed.

She brightened up at this point, “Oh yes!  ‘Ofa’s always looking for an excuse to play rugby and you seemed too polite to say no.  It was really cool watching you all play.  You’re not a bad player, you know.”

Charlie shook his head ruefully, “Yeah, well, I’ve had a bit of experience dodging people much bigger than me.  It wasn’t fair though.  I’ve got some massive bruises this morning.  Some of those tackles really hurt.”

“’Ofa would never have hurt you – he’s too good a player.  He held back a lot,”  Carmen said unsympathetically.

The conversation petered out in the baking heat under the Plexiglas.  Finding it too hot, Charlie wandered back to the door and sat on the edge, resting his feet on the steps below.  What was wrong with the girl?  Not a sign of an apology!  She even seemed to enjoy telling him about how she had managed his evening!  Whilst he sat there, wondering how long he would have to put up with Carmen, who gave every impression of remaining in the Catalina after plugging in some ear-bud headphones to listen to something on her cell phone, he began to think more seriously about Trev’s appearance.

He could not deny that it unsettled him but at the same time he also felt comforted to know his friend was still there in some shape or form.  Charlie was no fool.  Seeing ghosts or seeing visions were not normal and that was the principal cause of his worry, not whether it was a supernatural experience.  Was he going nuts or not?  He did not want to start talking about this to anyone until he had made more sense of it himself.  If he did, the one person he would possibly mention it to was the very person who he was seeing in these strange events.  At least he did not feel threatened by them.  Although Trev looked pretty awful, he was still Trev, not some monster that had come to eat Charlie’s brains.  For the time being that was the best that he could come up with until such time as Trev returned again. 

Charlie looked out across the airport.  It really was tiny compared to LAX or Heathrow.  One runway and a structure barely more than a shack for an airport building, made up all that there was of Lupepau’u International.  Not a single plane had landed in the half hour he had been there.  All was still.  Not even a breeze stirred the palms that lined the airport perimeter.  The sun beat down upon the tarmac causing mirages to shimmer in the heat haze that warped his view of the runway.  His attention wandered back to the ramshackle hanger where the men had gone and was almost surprised to see them step out of the building.  The party shook hands and split up, Victor Hong walking away towards a silver four-by- four with the Englishman, Winthrop-whatever-his-name-was.  His father and Big George headed back to the Catalina.

“Well that’s taken care of.  We’ve got some work to do,” his dad grinned.  “We’ll be flying tomorrow morning, first thing.  It’s time to start earning that vacation money I promised!”

Eager to help, Charlie clambered down the ladder.

“You too girl!”  George called up into the aircraft through the door.  “It’s time to start earning that apology!”  Smiling, George faced Charlie, “Carmen’s really sorry for her little joke last night, Charlie.  I’m glad she’s straightened everything out with you now.”

Before he could say anything in response, George had already turned on his heel and was striding back to the hanger.  “Come with me, you two!”  he called over his shoulder, his tone indicating that any delay was not an option.  “There’s no better way of getting to know someone than by working your fingers to the bone!”

Several hours later, with several pairs of skinned knuckles acquired in the process of unpacking several rows of military issue canvas folding seats, which were carried from the hanger, manhandled up into the Catalina, wrestled into place then bolted down, the children and their fathers rested gratefully in the shade beneath the plane, drinking from cold bottles of Coke, obtained from a cooler under the eaves of  the airport’s main building, an object that was rarely working but on this one day of the year was happily chuntering away to itself by the door.  Just as George promised, Carmen and Charlie had got to know each other quite well whilst working their fingers to the bone.  They glared at each other across the tops of their bottles.

“Thanks for that, guys,” said Rick.  “We’ve got some gear to take off the plane, and some more to stow on board.  Charlie, Carmen, I want you to test the rubber boat, make sure it’s OK, make sure the outboard starts up, that sort of thing.  Carmen, you know where the air compressor is onboard?  Show Charlie what to do since you’ve done this before.” 

She nodded mutely and stared at Charlie, who could swear that she was trying to psyche him out.  We’ll see about that, he thought, if this is some kind of challenge she’s making, I’m not going to be the one to lose, not like last night.

With a promise of food at the end of their tasks, the children, Rick and George set to work.  Delving deep in the dirtier areas of the hanger, amongst some pretty frightful webs, Carmen and Charlie found the green canvas bag that contained the rubber boat.  With much grumbling they manhandled it out into the sun, dragging it from its resting place amongst the detritus of dry leaves and insect remains.  An hour later, they had inflated it using an air line from the Catalina and mounted the outboard, after fuelling it and checking the oil.  Charlie stood back with his hands on his hips, sweaty, dirty and not a little annoyed by his continued proximity to Carmen.

She stepped into the boat and tilted the motor so that the propeller was clear of the tarmac.  Setting one hand on the engine casing and one on the starter cord, she pulled firmly on the line, unreeling it quickly from its spindle but not setting the engine going.  Muttering to herself, she rewound the line and tried again.  It failed to start.  She repeated the procedure but the motor refused to do more than cough once.   Unwilling to give up in front of Charlie, she kept on trying until she was forced to stop, panting and sweaty, arms sore from the effort. 

Unable to help himself, Charlie sniggered.  Wonder Girl was defeated.  Carmen looked up and snapped, “Well you have a go then if you think you’re so brilliant!” She got out of the boat and sat on the hot paving.

“I never said that!” Charlie protested weakly but he stepped into the boat all the same. “Do I just pull this?”  he asked, gesturing at the cord.

She nodded angrily and pointed out that he’d better keep the prop clear or he’d be eating plastic blades.

Nervously, he wrapped his fingers around the black plastic toggle at the end of the cord and braced himself against the motor.

“Hey, Charlie!  I’ll give you a hand, just don’t say anything!”  Trev materialised next to him.  Charlie started, pulling the cord reflexively in shock.  The motor barely turned over.

“You’ll have to do better than that, Charlie Buttons!”  Carmen taunted from her place on the tarmac.

 “She really is very annoying isn’t she?  I guess I owe you one for that horrible surprise on the plane,” Trev continued.

More in shock than he realised at the time, Charlie simply nodded.  Trev was here!  Somehow it seemed the most natural thing in the world to be standing under the blazing sun of a South Pacific sky with someone who had been dead for months.  He could live with that if he could show Carmen Hala up.

With one corporeal and one spectral hand on the cord the boys got ready. “On the count of three, then,” Charlie said.  “One, two, three…” 

“Ooh listen, Charlie can count,” Carmen teased.

They pulled the starter cord.  Charlie felt as if there was no resistance in the line at all as he pulled it easily and smoothly to him.  The motor barked once, twice then shuddered into life, the prop revolving at a blinding speed.

Carmen sat there with her mouth hanging open.  “How…” She began to say but then thought better of it.  She jumped up, climbed into the boat and pushed Charlie out of the way so that she could cut the motor, “Still need me to save you from burning out the motor!”

Trev looked at Charlie then looked at Carmen.  “Some people!” he shrugged.  “I’m not going to hang around here with that ungrateful hag!  Catch you later, Charlemundo!”  With that he simply faded away in the bright sunlight.

“Later, dude!”  Charlie said weakly.  Could it be that a ghost just helped him get one up on someone?  Didn’t the dead have more important things to do rather than just hang about?

“Later, who?”  Carmen asked quizzically. “Who are you talking to?  Hey are you all right?  I think you’d better sit down, Charlie!  You look awful!”

He did feel dizzy.  In fact he felt like throwing up, which he then did noisily in the bottom of the boat.

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