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  Lucy The Lie Detector

  ePub ISBN 9781742740126

  Kindle ISBN 9781742740133

  A Random House book

  Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd

  Level 3, 100 Pacific Highway, North Sydney NSW 2060

  www.randomhouse.com.au

  First published by Random House Australia in 2010

  Text copyright © Marianne Musgrove 2010

  Illustrations copyright © Cheryl Orsini 2010

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia.

  Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at

  www.randomhouse.com.au/offices

  National Library of Australia

  Cataloguing-in-Publication Entry

  Author: Musgrove, Marianne.

  Title: Lucy the lie detector/Marianne Musgrove; illustrator, Cheryl Orsini.

  ISBN: 978 1 74166 455 3 (pbk.) For preschool age.

  Target Audience: For preschool age.

  Subjects:

  Truthfulness and falsehood – Juvenile fiction.

  Deception – Juvenile fiction.

  Honesty – Juvenile fiction.

  Other Authors/Contributors:

  Orsini, Cheryl.

  Dewey Number: A823.4

  Cover illustration and design by Cheryl Orsini

  Internal design and typesetting by Anna Warren, Warren Ventures Pty Ltd

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Pronunciation Guide (in accordance with the author’s attempt at a Dutch accent)

  All about guinea pigs

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Lucy The Good

  The Worry Tree

  Dedicated to the original Miss P.

  Chapter Two

  ‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ said Harriet. She put her plait in her mouth and sucked on it nervously.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ said Lucy, setting out some tubes of paint on the gravel beside the car. ‘Once I’m finished, Mum and Dad will never know I scratched it.’

  ‘Hm,’ said Harriet uncertainly. ‘What about your brother? Will he mind that you borrowed his paint without asking?’

  ‘Not a problem,’ said Lucy, waving her hand vaguely.

  She wondered why Harriet was always worrying about unimportant details like asking permission. And anyway, Calvin wouldn’t mind. He’d do anything for Lucy. If she was upset, he’d always bring her something to amuse her: his toy binoculars, his Lego helicopter, his homemade sword. If she was hungry, he’d happily give her the last piece of Edam cheese.

  Lucy held up a tube of green paint. ‘Do you think this colour is the same as the car?’ Harriet looked at the tube then back at the car door. ‘When I’ve done something wrong, I tell Mum straight away. Get the punishment over and done with. Lying just makes things worse.’

  Lucy paused for a moment. Was she telling a lie by covering up the scratch? She hadn’t thought of it that way. ‘I don’t think this counts as a lie,’ she said. ‘I’m making it like it never happened and if it never happened, what’s there to lie about? Nothing!’ She squeezed some paint onto an ice-cream container lid. ‘And anyway, if I tell, I might not get to go to the beach with you tomorrow.’

  Harriet gasped. ‘You’d miss out on the camel ride!’

  ‘I know,’ said Lucy.

  Camels were Lucy’s favourite animal. Not only could they survive for days without water, they had slurpy tongues and could spit a full twenty metres. Lucy had planned on introducing her toy camel, Nathan, to the real camels. He would be so disappointed if he couldn’t go.

  Lucy glanced over at the front door to make sure Dad wasn’t coming then dabbed the brush into the paint. ‘Better hurry.’

  A few minutes later, Lucy stood back to consider her handiwork.

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked, frowning slightly. ‘Somehow, I thought it would look better.’

  The paint wasn’t quite the same green as the car. And no matter how hard she’d tried, she hadn’t been able to make the edges neat. She glanced nervously at Harriet, who had gone from sucking her plait to actually chewing it.

  ‘Oh, Lucy, it’s no good. What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m sure I can fix it!’ declared Lucy bravely.

  She got out a tissue and rubbed at the paint, but instead of coming off, it spread. Lucy felt funny in her tummy, as if she’d eaten one too many oliebollen, the Dutch treat Dad made every New Year’s Eve. Only she hadn’t eaten too many oliebollen, she’d done something much worse.

  ‘Maybe I could come and live with you for a while?’ Lucy said. ‘I could do jobs around the house and sleep on your beanbag at night.’

  ‘I don’t think Mum would agree,’ said Harriet.

  ‘Is that because I used her face cream to make my own liquid paper? I didn’t know that jar cost $100.’

  Harriet shrugged. ‘Sorry. Look, don’t worry. Your dad’s nice. He won’t be that mad, will he?’

  ‘I don’t know. He and Mum bought this car specially for their twelve-and-a-half-year wedding anniversary.’

  ‘Twelve-and-a-half?’

  ‘It’s a Dutch thing,’ replied Lucy. ‘Anyway, I heard him call the car “my darling” this morning. I think that means I’m in trouble.’

  Chapter Three

  Dad was in the backyard, hanging out the washing. As he pegged a T-shirt on the line, Lucy slipped quietly onto the verandah and waited in the shade.

  Calvin, dressed in a wolf costume, tore around the yard chasing Apricot
and Abigail, the chooks. He was obviously playing Wild Things, a game he and Lucy had made up after they read Maurice Sendak’s book, Where The Wild Things Are. Their game involved marching around the chook shed, stamping and shouting and tearing out handfuls of grass, which they flung in the air. It was great fun, even if the chooks didn’t think so.

  ‘Zoontje,’ called Dad, diving into the washing basket. (‘Zoontje’ was the Dutch word for ‘little son’. Mr and Mrs van Loon had migrated to Australia from Holland before Lucy and Calvin were born.) ‘How about you change out of that costume so I can give it a wash?’

  ‘What for?’ asked Calvin, stomping past with his legs wide apart.

  ‘Because you’ve been in it for four days and you’re starting to pong.’

  ‘Wild Things don’t wash!’ cried Calvin, and he howled like a wolf.

  Dad sighed, bent down and picked out a pair of underwear from the washing basket. His bald spot shone in the sun. ‘Cal, there don’t seem to be that many of your undies here. Are you putting on a clean pair every day like I asked?’

  ‘Yeeeees,’ replied Calvin, dodging in and out of the wet sheets that hung on the line.

  Lucy stepped out onto the dry lawn. ‘Dad,’ she said softly.

  But Dad was rummaging in the washing basket and he didn’t hear her.

  ‘Dad,’ she repeated, a little more loudly.

  ‘Oh, hello, love. What’s up?’

  Lucy willed herself to breathe. It felt as if a bag of bowling balls was resting on her chest. ‘It’s just that –’

  There was a flash of brown fur as Calvin burst from behind a wet sheet. He grabbed hold of her hand. ‘Come and play Wild Things!’ he begged.

  ‘Just a sec, Cal,’ said Dad. ‘Your sister wants to tell me something.’

  As he smiled kindly at her, a sick feeling stirred in Lucy’s tummy. Dad really loved that car. ‘I, um, I, oh, nothing.’

  She’d tell him a bit later. Another hour wouldn’t matter, would it?

  Chapter Four

  Lucy meant to tell Dad about the scratch, but whenever she tried to, the words never quite made it out. She could always wait till Mum got home and tell her instead, but then she’d have to look at Mum’s disappointed face. And Mum’s disappointed face was even worse than Dad’s disappointed face. Besides, Mum had to work extra shifts at the moment and wouldn’t be home until late.

  I’ll explain tomorrow, thought Lucy as Dad tucked her into bed that night.

  Over breakfast.

  Or maybe after breakfast. The next day, Lucy woke to the sound of jingling coins. Dad and Calvin were just outside her door.

  ‘I’ll give you one dollar, no, wait –’ There was more jingling. ‘I’ll give you eighty cents if you take off your costume right now so I can wash it.’

  ‘But I’m Max!’ cried Calvin. ‘I’m a Wild Thing!’

  In her mind’s eye, Lucy could see Dad rubbing his bald patch. Calvin’s paw would be raised in the air as he stamped his feet.

  ‘All right,’ said Dad wearily, ‘you can leave it on, as long as you keep your word about putting on clean undies every day.’

  Calvin giggled.

  ‘Zoontje?’

  ‘I have put on clean undies,’ said Calvin. ‘Every day.’ He giggled some more. ‘I have to go now.’

  Lucy got up and poked her head around the door. Calvin was walking stiffly towards the kitchen, his legs far apart.

  Dad frowned, suddenly suspicious. ‘Calvin, come here a second, mate.’

  Calvin moved a little faster.

  ‘Zoontje.’

  Dad caught up to him before he could escape and began unzipping the back of his costume. ‘Cal!’ he cried. ‘Why are you wearing five pairs of underwear?’

  Calvin grinned mischievously. ‘You said, “Put on new undies every day.” That’s what I did!’

  ‘You cheeky monkey!’ said Dad. He tried to look stern, but failed. Calvin wriggled out of his grasp and ran off, shrieking with laughter. Dad chased after him.

  Lucy returned to her bedroom, smiling to herself. Then, as if a water balloon had dropped unexpectedly on her head, she remembered the scratch.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she said to Nathan, who was sitting in his shoebox bed, facing her. ‘I’ll tell Dad as soon as I get back from the beach.’ She got out her bag and started packing it with sunscreen and other beachy items.

  Since Nathan was still looking at her ‘like that’, Lucy turned him around to face the wall.

  The front door banged.

  ‘Goedemorgen, my beauty! Good morning!’ boomed Dad heartily. ‘And how are you this fine day?’

  Though she couldn’t see him, Lucy knew her dad was talking to the Toyota. Dread swelled in her tummy like a life jacket after the cord’s been pulled. She raced into the hallway and peered out the window. Dad was stroking the duco, patting the bonnet, giving the tyre rims a polish with his hanky. When he moved around to the opposite side of the car, Lucy closed her eyes.

  There was a strange cry followed by, ‘Noooooo!’ and then, ‘Lucy!’

  Hide! thought Lucy. She ran back into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. But where could she go? Under the bed? Out the window and into the chook shed? Or what about her neighbour’s tree house? Paolo and his family were in Italy for the summer so they wouldn’t mind.

  Bang! Clatter! The front screen door opened then shut. Clomp, clomp, clomp. Dad came down the hallway. Clomp, clomp, clomp. Lucy dashed frantically around her room. Her wardrobe was full. The toy box was too small. Knock, knock, knock. Lucy got down on her tummy and began wriggling under her bed.

  ‘Lucy? Can I come in?’

  She wriggled still further. The door squeaked open. Lucy froze, her legs poking out from underneath the bed.

  ‘There you are! Can I speak to you?’

  Sprung! Lucy slowly worked her way backwards and stood up.

  ‘What were you doing down there?’

  ‘Just looking for my ... thing,’ she replied.

  ‘Hm,’ said Dad, pacing the floor. It was as if he hadn’t heard her. ‘Look, love, do you know anything about the damage to the car?’

  Lucy dropped her eyes. Here it was, the moment she’d been dreading: she would confess her crime, Dad would put on his disappointed face, shortly followed by his angry face. Then there would be punishment. Lots of punishment.

  ‘I ...’ began Lucy. ‘I ...’ As she searched for the right words, she realised she’d never get to go on the camel ride now.

  ‘Yes?’ said Dad. His cheeks were flushed red as if he’d eaten too much chilli.

  ‘It’s ... I ... it’s ... Calvin did it!’ she blurted out.

  ‘Calvin?’ said Dad, staring in disbelief. ‘Are you sure? I thought it was one of the Purling boys. I’m sure it was them that graffitied the stop sign in Bottle Lane.’

  Lucy stared, shocked at what she’d done.

  ‘What on earth would possess your brother to do such a thing?’ Dad started pacing again.

  Lucy shrugged weakly. She hadn’t meant to lie, but now that she had, what could she do? ‘He ... he was riding his bike yesterday,’ she said, her mouth dry, ‘and ... it was an accident. He didn’t mean it.’

  Dad’s eyes got bigger and bigger.

  ‘Don’t be mad,’ she whispered.

  Dad gripped the bed post. ‘I’m not mad,’ he said in a strained voice.

  ‘Will Calvin get into trouble?’

  ‘The car door is going to cost a fortune to fix so yes, Lucy, I’m afraid he will. Now, where is that five-year-old terror?’

  Lucy reluctantly pointed in the direction of the backyard where an unsuspecting boy roared around the chook shed, filled with monster joy.

  Chapter Five

  Lucy didn’t want to hear what Dad had to say to Calvin, or for that matt
er, what Calvin had to say to Dad. She went into the lounge room instead and tried to squash down the horrible guilt that made her insides churn. What was the point of having all these feelings anyway? she wondered. She wished there was some kind of machine that would suck them all out. It could have a big tube attached and all you had to do was press a button. Then the feelings would whoosh out of you and into a big bag.

  Lucy noticed the vacuum cleaner lying on the floor where Dad had left it. Hm, she thought. A few moments later, Dad came into the lounge room.

  ‘Lucy!’ he cried. ‘What in heaven’s name are you doing?’

  Lucy quickly pulled the vacuum cleaner hose away from her tummy and switched off the machine. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Extraordinary,’ said Dad, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Your brother keeps insisting he’s innocent even though I found his paintbrush in its box, still covered in green paint.’

  Lucy hung her head. ‘What’s going to happen to him?’

  ‘For starters, he’s not going to the amusement park with Herc tomorrow.’

  Lucy gasped. Herc was Calvin’s best friend. They’d been planning to go to the amusement park for weeks. Her tummy felt tight, as if she were wearing too-tight jeans with a too-tight belt and several pairs of tights. The horrible truth was before her: her lie had landed Calvin in big trouble. If she told Dad what really happened, Calvin would be off the hook but she wouldn’t be allowed to go to the beach. If she kept quiet, she’d get to go to the beach but Calvin would be punished. Why couldn’t there be a third option?

  And then she thought of one: she’d keep quiet for now, then, when she got back from the beach, she’d tell the truth. That way, she could see the camels today and Calvin could go to the amusement park tomorrow. It was perfect! Well, almost perfect. A small doubt niggled away at her. She chose to ignore it.