1 - Write-a-Book-In-A-Day

THE ROYAL TAXI
Written by the Kariong ‘Special Ones for the children at Westmead’s Hospital
- Emily Cody
- Kallen Farley
- Katrina Hadley
- Ciara Hamilton
- Charlotte Harradine
- Isabella Lazzaroni
- Amelia Shearer
-
With special mention to Ebony Crowley and Meckela Scott, who are so very much of the team
but could not make it on the day
1
To the children at the Kids’ Cancer Project at Westmead’s Hospital,
Hope is a beautiful thing. Like Ted in our story, sometimes the world around you can get you
down, until all of a sudden it picks you right up again. Our hope for you is that your ‘pick me up
day’ comes very soon to you.
We hope you enjoy your book and all the very best,
The Kariong Special Ones
The Story Parameters
Primary Character 1: A Trapeze Artist
Primary Character 2: A Taxi Driver
Non-Human Character: Teddy Bear
Setting: Royal Show
Issue: You’re not going out dressed like that
Words which must appear at least once: hectic, fascinating, cantankerous, furry, curious
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any
means, without the prior permission of the publisher or the co-ordinator of the Katharine Susannah Prichard
Foundation, nor be otherwise circulated in any form or binding or cover other than in which it is published.
First published in Kariong, Australia in 2014 by the ‘Kariong Special Ones’ Creative Writing Group
© Kariong Mountains High School and the Katharine Susannah Prichard Foundation Inc.
Kariong Mountains High School, Festival Drive, Mt Penang Parklands, Kariong NSW, AUSTRALIA 2251
Katharine Susannah Prichard Foundation Inc., 11 Old York Road, Greenmount, WESTERN AUSTRALIA 6065
2
Sponsors of this book:
- Linda Cody
- Darryn Tagg
- Mia Young
- Emma Zouroudis
- Jacqui Mathews
- James Treece
- Melissa Wonson
- Chris Mortell
- Kallen Farley
- Imogen Farley
- Lisa Farley
- Glenn Farley
- Brayden Gibson
- Luke Sissons
- Maureen Bertram
- Amelia Harradine
- Alex Harradine
- Charlotte Harradine
- Lisa Bertram
- Margaret Henderson
- Jai Lester
- Anne Vine
- Elizabeth Lazzaroni
3
Chapter 1
Driving to the show always seemed exciting.
The bright colours of the tent and the pretty coloured lights reach out to me on the dashboard. I
only ever see the scene through the back window as we drive away. Always away.
We were never going for ourselves - me and the taxi driver. And for the past week we’ve heard
the stories, always the stories, of people that have real lives, of real people, going to shows and
having fun.
But I like listening. I like the stories.
***
It got dark early tonight, as it does in winter.
And the fog comes around the same time. Not as thick as the previous night, but there. A
collection of water particles gathering on the left hand window. I cannot see the front, my back
shielding the view. But I see everyone that gets in the taxi. I’m not lonely. The taxi driver talks.
He talks to me when we are alone. He doesn’t pick me up though. Well not as much as he used
to.
“Ted, we have to drive to the show again tonight. I promise we will go one day, in the future. We
can see the pretty colours and lights up close.”
I am glad to hear this news and although I can’t nod, I have the intention.
We pull into a driveway where a middle aged woman perfect in complexion and attire with a
small girl, maybe her daughter, get into the taxi. The woman complaining and the girl silent in
fright. I can hear the girls heartbeat throbbing at an epicentre. A pause.
“To the Royal Show please.” The woman says with a huff, her attitude cantankerous.
We pull out and head towards the bright colours and pretty lights. Once again. The woman
complains about how the child just doesn’t
look good enough. She’s not perfect and
does not look owned…in the mothers
perspective.
The taxi driver’s curiosity peers through
the rear view mirror to see what the child
looks like. He makes a small huffing noise
only comprehendible to myself.
She looks fine, her hair neat and tied back
in a bow. Her dress obviously ironed, the
child no older than ten.
“You can not go out dressed like that.”
4
“But mum, I look fine!” The daughter pleads, but her mother continues to wipe the so called
‘grime’ from her face.
I wish I could offer my opinion. But the restriction upon my furry state prevents me from talking.
We drive towards the bright colours and pretty lights, and by the time we get there the child has
a full face of make-up and her hair re-done. They pay and leave the taxi, the child finally with a
smile on her face and laughing at the novelty of the circus.
We pull away from the bright colours and pretty lights, certain that we would come back. Once
again I see the view through the back window and it disappears through the concrete jungle of
the city, the lights fading amongst tall buildings and industrial warehouses.
“Let’s go Ted.”
5
Chapter 2
“The mother was quite a fanatic, wasn’t she?” The taxi driver asks me. “I mean her kids are
going to run around stupid after the show.”
Humans make me curious. They are fascinating creatures, strange and odd, but beautiful and
fantastic.
The taxi driver looks tired. He squints and rubs the creases between his eyes.
“Just get through the night.” He says sounding exasperated.
But the sound of the show, echoing in the night, keeps his heartbeat steady and his soul strong.
***
We pull into a curve at the end of the road, a woman, her eyes luminescent and her face pale
with makeup, placing her hand into the air. She seems distraught, body wild and shaking in the
wind.
She taps on the side of the taxi frame, opening the door, and jumping in with a sudden thud. A
flash of powder explodes from the surface of her face.
“I look ugly.” Her first words for the night.
Pathetic.
“Pardon dear,” the taxi driver replies, his face creased with age. “I didn’t quite catch that.”
“Oh never mind, just a wardrobe malfunction is all.”
“Ah,” he states. “I see. Seems to be the recurring theme tonight. The youth of today and their
appearances. Why back when I was a…” His voice stops. “Sorry, I trailed there. Where do you
wish to go?”
“Ah, I need to get to the Royal Show. You know the one with the flashing lights. Say could you
adjust the mirror for a second?”
“Ah sure.”
If I could sigh, this would be the moment I would. The taxi driver remains puzzled as he adjusts
the placid length of the mirror to allow the woman to see her reflection, his joints creaking as he
reaches upwards.
The woman, who suddenly seems more frantic, brushes her face with her palm, fingertips
covered in pastel coloured powder. She pulls a number of lipstick canisters and blusher
containers from her purse, which is burgundy like her dress and gold like her eyes.
I imagine that she must act like a schnitzel, lying in egg and then coating herself in flour each
morning until her skin is the perfect, unnatural shade of white.
6
I do not understand why people fuss on their looks – everybody has a certain amount of beauty
in their own right. Neither I, nor the taxi driver, worry about our appearances. Beauty is defined
by a person’s actions, not by the colour of their shirt and the style of their hair.
The car thunders with the engine
turning, the swerve of the movements
jostling beneath my feet. The woman,
her eyes strained, continues applying
layers and layers of makeup to her
already thickly covered face.
“So who are you meeting?” the taxi
driver asks. “A handsome prince, he
must be?”
She laughs. “Just a friend from
university. We decided it would fun to
hang out at this Royal Show. You
know?”
“Friends, eh?” He chuckles. “That’s an awful lot of makeup for just a simple friend. I assume you
wish for more than that, my dear. Don’t you mock us old taxi drivers – we know everything when
it comes to love and romance and magic.”
She giggles. “I’m sure you’ve seen everything.”
He nods. “Except the show.”
“You’ve never been to the show?”
He shakes his head, and we share a solemn gaze. “No, neither Ted nor I have ever been. Every
year we ship the people here yet we haven’t even been past the gates. All we see is the
coloured ribbons and flashing lights.”
From my position in the front, I watch a number of crowds dart along the streets, heading
towards the show.
“You should come,” the lady says, her lipstick canister slipping from her palm.
We pull into the curve.
“My wife is going. She’s wearing a floral dress and a small coat. Say hi to her for me?”
She nods. “Gladly.”
There is an exchange of cash in hand, and then she leaves the taxi door, entering the darkness
of the night.
Before she leaves, her head enters the car again. “Do I look okay?”
The taxi driver nods, smiling. “My dear, you are radiant.”
An appreciated grin covers her face before she becomes one with the shadows.
7
Chapter 3
Driving away seeing the lights through the back window, I feel a tad of sadness - it’s there yet
so far away. I wish the taxi driver would take me in his hands more – so I could see the world,
away from the stagnant air of the yellow taxi we drive.
“You know Ted, one of these days we will go, not today or tomorrow and probably not next year,
but one of these days.”
A flood of warmth fills my body.
“Who do we have to pick up next?” The taxi driver asks. He checks the schedule, a slip paper of
containing all the names and addresses of people we have to collect. No one remains on the
list.
He sighs. “Time to go home then, see the family.”
He is about to turn off the road when there is a sudden ringing, the sound of his phone
resonating throughout the metal form of the car. He pulls over, flipping the phone and speaking
into the microphone.
“Hello, you’ve reached Melbourne Taxi services, you’ve reached Car 159. How may I help you?”
The phone vibrates against his ear. He cringes at the high-pitched humming.
“Erm... hello. I need immediate transport from East Street to the Royal show. Do you reckon you
can take me?”
The taxi driver nods to himself even though the caller can not see him. “Yeah sure.”
“Thank you very much!”
He hangs up and puts the phone back into his pocket.
“To East Street.”
***
East Street is the darkest street in the city, the high skyscrapers and old terraces forcing dark
shadows across the road. At first I am somewhat scared. The darkness frightens me.
Thankfully, as if he understands, the taxi driver strokes my neck.
I feel a sense of freedom, tingling down the vertebrae.
Then we see him, hands wrapped in bright colours, shirt torn, a brief case by his side. He looks
like a performer – although, his costume looks incredibly broken.
8
The taxi driver pulls over near him.
“Are you the one that needed a lift to
the Royal Show?” He checks his
watch. “You better get there quickly.”
The man grunts. “Yeah. I’m late. And
my costume is broken too. Oh I can’t
be seen performing, dressed like this!”
He hops inside the taxi and slams the
door shut.
From inside I can get a better view. He
is a performer, his bright orange latex
costume torn and splintered. He looks
absolutely exhausted and obviously he
has tried to fix it.
“Wait,” the taxi driver says. “Aren’t you the star trapeze artist, at the Royal Show – Gabriel?”
He nods in agreement. “I guess I’m in a bit of a predicament.”
“You sure are. Just get changed when you get there.” The taxi driver suggests.
“But I can’t – this is the only one I’ve got. Besides, the other clothes I’ve got with me are too
average. Not the clothes of a performer?”
“How did you even tear it?” The driver questions Gabriel.
“I tore it on a branch.”
A silence.
The engine starts and we pull out of the street, the moon hovering above the fog. The car
stutters and we fumble along the empty roads. I contemplate humanity and their strange ways
of living. Only the taxi driver, I truly understand.
Sometimes, when I think of my past with the taxi driver, I reminiscence how he found me. Dirty
and scrambled in the mud. Tossed out by a family which did not love me. I had no clothes. No
covering. I was empty and bare and disgusting. I felt so awful.
But then slowly, with help, the taxi driver taught me that appearance does not define you. It is
your actions. We became best friends – partners. Taxi driver, codename Car 159, and the teddy
bear. I don’t have another name. Just teddy bear. Ted.
“How did you get into performing?” The taxi driver asked Gabriel.
The trapeze artist gazes out the window. “When I was younger, I used to live near a circus
base, out in the country. They used to perform and train, and friends and I used to sneak in and
watch. One day, after doing some cart wheels with some friends, a man approached me.” He
9
pauses. “His name was Luxley, famous trapeze artist. He was impressed with my ability and
taught me every night and day how to trapeze.”
“He sounds brilliant,” the taxi driver says, eyes focused on the road.
Gabriel nods. “He was. Unfortunately he passed away a few years back – this Royal show is
actually dedicated to him. That’s why I want to do my best and look my best. For him – the most
wonderful man I met.”
I imagine Luxley – performing amazing tricks in my mind.
The performer shifts in his seat. “What should I do about my wardrobe malfunction?”
The taxi driver shrugs. “I don’t really think it matters. You know, I met a few other people tonight
with similar issues. The first, a mother and daughter – the mother said the daughter looked
awful. Though what I never understood was – why did it matter? The daughter looked perfect
and was going to get dirty anyway, once she starts playing games and running around after the
show.” He pauses. “And then this second woman turned up, ready for a date, looking perfect,
but stating she was ugly. If her date really loved her, he would not care for her appearance. He
would love her for her personality and actions.”
“What are you saying?” The trapeze artist asks.
“I’m saying – don’t think people will hate you because you’re not wearing correct costume. Don’t
think Luxley will be disappointed. They are here to see you perform. Not to see your fancy
orange sunset suit.” He grins. “It is about you.”
He contemplates this, pulling the clothes from his brief case. In the distance the Royal Show
comes into view – flashing lights and coloured ribbons.
“Thank you,” Gabriel says.
The taxi driver smiles and I catch his toothy grin. “You’re welcome.”
“Say, have you been to the Royal Show? It’s quite spectacular.”
The driver shakes his head and I want to rest my head on his shoulder. “No, neither Ted nor I
have been to the show. One day. One day we will go.”
“How come you never go?”
A pause.
“We haven’t had the money in a while. My wife is going – we could afford that. Some friends
invited her – so we managed to get the cash for her to go. She felt so bad. But I was glad she
could go even though Ted and I couldn’t.”
Gabriel shakes his head. “Here.” He hands the taxi driver a lavender ticket. “Both you and Ted
should come along and see the show. I’d appreciate it if you could. You’ve helped me – now I
will help you. Have fun with your wife.”
The taxi driver’s eyes are filled with tears. I can feel his pulse extending – his smile growing
wider and wider until his entire mouth radiates happiness.
10
“Guess what Ted,” he shouts excitedly. “We are going to the show! The show! The show!”
We pull up to the side and the trapeze artist gets out, his legs jiggling with excitement.
“We’ll see you in there. And good luck with the show.”
The Trapeze artist shuts the door with a laugh and the taxi driver parks the car. Our shift is
done.
11
Chapter 4
With the ticket in his frail old hand he removes me from the dashboard at the front of the car. My
legs fall, pulled by the gravity, my hips still stiff from a forever sitting. I feel free – away from the
stale air of the car, into the beauty of realism.
I love humanity. I really do. Despite their stupidity.
“Ted, isn’t it beautiful!”
The children used to play with me during their journey, but even I am old now and with the
threat of losing a stitch or the fluffy stuffing on my inside. I remain with my back to the
windscreen forever watching, waiting, for the day where the bright colours and pretty lights
surround me at last.
And today is the day. One week a year, I visit the circus but always in the taxi. And after an
eternity amongst the people in the taxi, the royal circus stands before us in a tent of stars and
dreams.
We get out of the car, and are hit with a blast of crisp air.
I sit peculiarly within the fold of his tight skinned elbow. My legs thrown over his forearm as we
walk towards the light and amongst people of all types. In the distance, random performers in
costumes that sparkle like the night sky in the country and coloured with pallets drawn from a
double rainbow.
The chatter and laughter of the large crowds drawing through the tent door, a large curtain
drawn on either side attended by circus folk in suits made of gold moving gracefully like a
hovering hummingbirds and petals falling from trees.
People take photos of themselves, with the tent towering behind them, with mobile phones to
send to friends.
The taxi driver smiles in a way that I have never seen.
A flashback to a childhood feeling of joy and happiness in comparison of driving people around
the streets of Melbourne.
Popcorn and fairy-floss sticks litter the grass. And we approach a young man with a top hat that
yearns to reach the roof, who stamps our ticket. Around him, children run with their parents –
hair wild and free. I catch the girl and mother from before, the mother more relaxed now, letting
her daughter behave true. I see her laugh and it brings a smile to both my, and the taxi drivers
place.
Approaching curtains and entrance to the circus my hand is shaken by the golden
hummingbirds, contorting their bodies in contemporary dance. But it’s time for the show, as
announced on the small p.a. system. The hum in the air awakens me.
The chit-chatter of people resonates, and it’s beautiful.
“Ted, I refuse to leave you stuck in that car, from here on now, we travel everywhere together.”
He says.
12
I wish to smile.
From here on now, we pace forward – embracing the atmosphere, searching for the taxi drivers
wife.
We step into the tent and the hectic atmosphere instantly floods our senses. The tent is so high,
the trapeze artists don’t even worry about hitting the top. Music plays out among the people
smiling and laughing and sharing popcorn, fairy floss, corn dogs and drinks.
Children can be spotted strewn throughout the grand stand seats that are curved around the
outside of the ring, from the sparkly bobble headbands, glow stick glasses, blow up hammers
and the flashing light swords. From in the taxi drivers’ arms I can see the ring.
Men in black clothing are setting up cage walls around the ring for some sort of protection. The
smell of warm candy floss, horses and dirt is sweet rather than repelling and I can feel the taxi
drivers’ arms tense around me as the excitement floods him too. The lights dim as a man in
flamboyant coloured latex and makeup walks up to us.
“Sir, the shows about to start, would you like me to show you to your seat?” He says with a
warm smile and kindness that you can feel in the bottom of your heart.
The taxi driver doesn’t say anything but he must have smiled and nodded as we start to move
through the scaffolded seats of the tent. A man, marvellously dressed, enters the ring
dramatically as we take our seat.
His hat is shiny, jet black. His suit the same, rimmed with red glitter. He carries a baton, Shiny,
glittery and golden in the dim, big top lights. The music that was playing dies down and the
crowd becomes silent as the ring leader stands still, dramatically in the centre of the ring. He
looks up slightly, the lights illuminating his face enough to make out features.
He is not old, but well worn, his spectacle held between is brow and check bone is scratched
and worn like the surface of his skin.
A look of determination topped with a smirk swept across his face and he raised his baton into
the air. You could feel the anticipation sink into the crowd.
“Are you alive?!” He yelled into the air.
The crowd went wild and the ring master lifted his hand to his ear, as if he couldn’t hear them.
“I said, are you alive?!!” He yelled again, the crowd roaring even louder than before.
The man in the ring smiled and nodded, now revealing the tan coloured microphone that hung
from his cheek.
“How does it feel to be alive?!” The crowd laughed and squealed in joy.
I felt one of the taxi drivers arms release me and wave to someone down the front of the seats,
closer to the ring.
13
A woman, in a floral dress and small cardigan, began to walk up towards us and she took a seat
next to the driver. I felt his chest move as he laughs and leans over to kiss the woman. It is his
wife.
He holds her hand in one of his wrinkly palms, and me in the other. I am placed down to sit on
his lap. I can hardly see the ring over the head of the large, dark-skinned man.
I see the woman and the girl, from the taxi earlier on. They are smiling and holding each other in
embrace, despite the ruffled hair and creased clothes.
The make-up on the girl has been wiped off, a more appropriate look. But you can tell that the
woman really does love her daughter, and they both look beautiful together. They are having so
much more fun than they were when they were stressing out about their looks in the taxi. Turns
out there was no need for all the drama.
They looked so happy.
I also see the woman, her faced still caked in the pale foundation and black eyeliner, layer upon
layer of her face. But she is laughing and has forgotten about how she looked. She is with that
man, her friend from the university, and they are laughing together at what seems to be her
amazing sense of humour, and they both seem to be ignorant of their appearances. You can
see their chemistry simply radiating from them.
The dimmed lights cast vast shadows and the flamboyant ring master is still introducing the
performance. He is ecstatic and his emotion is shared by the crowd, an atmosphere of
excitement exploding through the air.
Inside the tent the air is stuffy and thick, despite the chill of the winter air outside.
People are screaming and cheering, very loudly. And various acts are aesthetically pleasing
even for the ears of an old bear. Not once, has the taxi driver lost his smile.
High above the ground the trapeze artist, Gabriel, and his beautiful, female partner dance above
the ground on a platform in the sky.
His clothes, changed and looking rather normal. Nothing different from the average and casual
clothes of the audience.
He seems so happy. And performs amazingly despite the missing uniform that he had been
stressing whilst inside the taxi. He looked as beautiful as a flying crane amongst the clouds of
the top of the tent, swinging from bar to bar. The contrast of his darker coloured clothes against
her brighter, tighter clothes created a dramatic effect.
The crowd do not care for Gabriel’s clothing – the only care for his ability, just as the taxi driver,
and myself knew.
The taxi driver takes his wife’s hand, and grins slowly.
Together, the three of us, and the remaining crowd, bathe in the radiance of Gabriel and his coperformers.
It is serene.
14
The Royal Show does not cease to amaze, the brilliant performer, Gabriel, strung by his
relationship with famous performer Luxley, blends in with the crowd – wearing simple but
powerful clothing.
The audience is captured, like a mirage, an elderly taxi driver clutching the hand of his wife, and
the hand of a small soft toy bear.
A woman and her partner, share a heavenly first kiss under the shimmering, light. And finally, a
mother and daughter, their hair wild and free, watch in wonder.
The night is absolutely marvellous. The aura radiating from the crowd extending joy and bliss
into every heart and soul. I feel sorry for the rest of Melbourne, those who have yet to see the
fascinating performance.
Gabriel announces that they will return next year, but this time, it will be cheaper, to allow those
of low socio economic status the opportunity to watch.
He dedicates his performance to Luxley, but also to the old taxi driver and his teddy bear – who
taught him that an item of clothing does not define you.
Another successful year.
-
Melbourne Daily Newspaper
15