Chapter 68

The following Tuesday, Sarah came to see me in the afternoon.

"Two courses," she said, "reading from the blurbs:

The Certificate II in Animal Studies is the introductory level course for those who are interested in the animal care industry and/or pursuing a career as a keeper.

Students will develop the knowledge and skills to enable them to perform the essential duties of a keeper in the animal care industry, through a combination of weekly theory lessons and hands-on experience through practical experience both within the zoo and at an approved external animal care facility.

and

The Certificate III in Captive Animals is the pathway to zoo keeping. Students will further develop their knowledge in animal husbandry through a combination of regular theory lessons and practical experience at either Taronga Zoo or Western Plains Zoo.

"And... ?"

"Certificate III takes two years. Certificate II also requires certification in first aid. I think I'd like to apply to enroll in III next year and spend this year acquiring the paperwork in first aid, which would be useful, anyway." Sarah took a deep breath.

"Go on."

"I came across something else. But I'd need to act immediately. NMIT [Northern Melbourne Institute of Technology] has a Diploma of Animal Technology. But it starts now."

"Could you get in?"

"I don't know."

"Have they space?"

"I don't know."

"OK. Get on the hooter. Find out if there is space; if there is, find out what paperwork you'd need if you appear tomorrow. Ask how big a cheque to bring. I'll I'll look on the Web, too. Once we've got some answers, we'll talk some more."

"Can I use your phone?"

"Of course, do it in the bedroom."

I got myself some coffee and searched for the diploma, discovering it was offered at WSI [Western Sydney Institute] in Richmond. That was interesting. Richmond was about 60 kilometres northwest. And only about 40 from Pennant Hills. And the WSI was next door to the University of Western Sydney.

Sarah emerged looking unhappy. "No go. They're full and they've a waiting list."

"Hmm. Did you know the diploma's offered at WSI? If we leave here now we could be there by 16:00. You could actually talk to someone."

"Really?"

"Would I lie to my favourite sister? Do you have any papers with you?"

"Not everything. But enough. Let me wash my face."

Soon we were off to the corner of Blacktown Road and Campus Drive and from there we found administrative offices. I sent Sarah in and went to find a legal parking spot.

When I got inside, I was at a loss, so I began reading the notices tacked and taped around the entryway. Pizza discount coupons. Chinese restaurant menus. "Ride needed to Forbes." "Room available, Female only." "2004 RangeRover, 120K, best offer over $5K." All the genres I'd expect were represented. I was scanning the "wanteds": opera tickets, football tickets, computers, room-mates (at least five proclivities), etc. Just like a real university.

My phone rang. It was Sarah. "Where are you?"

"In the lobby. I didn't know where you'd gone."

"Oh. I'm in ... No! I'll be there in a minute."

She was.

"Do you have a cheque book?"

"Of course."

"There are two vacancies in Animal Technology. I can register now and finish the paperwork next week. The course begins on Monday!" She was breathless.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes. Yes!"

"You know you've other considerations."

"Like what?"

"Where are you going to live? Are you going to commute from Pennant Hills? If you are, you'll need to get a vehicle. Otherwise, you need a place to stay ... and you'll need a vehicle anyway. And I'm sure you'll need books, too."

"Oh, God! Let's get me registered and then you can drive me home. Maybe we can have a famous family conference."

I smiled at the image of what might occur. "Very well. It's only money."

We went into "Registration" and I said, "What's the damage?" and "To WSI?" I wrote out the cheque, making sure to note that it was for "Sarah Hollister."

"Get a receipt," I told Sarah. "And make sure you have the location and time of Monday's class." She just looked at me. "This isn't a game; this is a business proposition. And I've now invested about twelve thousand dollars."

The young woman at the wicket snorted.

"Not funny; it's real dosh, not Monopoly money."

We went a door or so down to the "Housing" office where Sarah picked up a sheaf of cards and papers. While she was doing that I called Rachel, who was back home, having executed her paperwork at the Art Gallery and then delivered it to the university.