Chapter Two The peals of laughter could be heard in Mrs Wu’s sitting room. ‘It’s so nice to hear those boys enjoying themselves so much,’ she said to her husband. ‘Ben has such lovely friends.’ Meanwhile, back at the tent … ‘You’re sick,’ said Macca, finishing off his second slice. ‘At this rate you’ll all end up losing the lot. And wouldn’t that be a waste. Of course,’ he said reaching for his third slice, ‘nothing could make me chunder.’ He patted his stomach. ‘Old iron guts. That’s what Dad calls me.’ ‘Betcha we could,’ said Sam, suddenly serious. ‘Get you to throw up, that is.’ Macca looked from the remaining slices of pizza to Sam then back again. ‘Uh uh,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘A MacTavish never throws up.’ He smiled at Sam. ‘Not even my little sister Annie when she mistook that cockroach for a chocolate.’ ‘Reckon we could,’ persisted Sam, ‘and you wouldn’t even have to eat much.’ ‘Could not,’ snapped Macca, whose reputation was on the line.
