by Scot Gardner
The crowd started clapping, so I clapped too. Snake Man had his hat off and was walking slowly around the edge of his enclosure collecting donations.
‘This show is only possible through your generosity and I thank you for your contribution of a gold coin if you enjoyed what you saw. You can also buy one of our emergency snakebite first-aid kits for ten dollars. All money raised goes back into the education of people about native animals and looking after the reptiles you’ve met here today. Thank you. Thanks. Thank you very much.’
Nathaniel was pressing his way to the edge of the enclosure with his hand in his pocket. I thought about running away, I honestly did. I thought I’d just turn and vanish into the crowd, but Hoppy and Katie were there inside my head. I could see that this was as good a place as any to pretend I was confident. Pretend he was family. Act as though I wasn’t coming apart at a cellular level. I slipped through the crowd and took some coins from my pocket. Nathaniel was right against the railing waiting for Snake Man and his jingling hat to get to him. A space opened beside Nathaniel. I collided with a tattooed bloke in a blue singlet as I dived for it.
‘Sorry, love,’ he said.
I squeaked sorry and adjusted my hat.
I started rehearsing the casual comment I’d make when Nathaniel finally noticed I was there beside him. Hey I liked the show, didn’t you? The snake man was excellent, snakes still scare the hell out of me even though I’ve seen hundreds in my time, that sort of thing. Probably not the right time to mention that I’d cut the head off one in the shed. Maybe it would be more courageous to make a comment about him. Like your hat. God, your arms are brown. Can I touch your hair? Or should I keep it safe and simple. How’s the weather, hey? Did you see the alpacas? And how big was that draught horse’s . . .
Nathaniel dropped his coins in the hat, turned and looked right at me. I dropped my coins but they rolled off the brim of the hat and my mouth hung open for a full second before my brain engaged.
‘Good,’ I stammered.
‘Pardon?’ Nathaniel said.
I had to look away. I had to unplug before those eyes looked right inside me and found the truth bubbling around in there.
I apologised quietly to Snake Man for dropping his money and he was gracious into his microphone.
‘That’s okay,’ he said. ‘I like it when people throw money. Thanks for your donation.’
‘Nate!’ someone called, and Nathaniel looked across the crowd.
‘Yep!’ he yelled back, and looked at me again. ‘You . . . staying around . . . later?’
‘I – I . . .’ I said, gave up trying to speak and nodded unashamedly.
‘Might catch up with you then. Gotta go. Good to see you, Avril.’
‘Yeah, good to see you, too, Nathaniel,’ I said to the back of his head. ‘See you later.’
Suddenly, I had to sit down. Sit down before I fell.
CHAPTER 08
How pathetic was that? Getting weak at the knees as though my neighbour was some sort of country music star. I decided I’d head to the car for a bit of time out to get my head around what had just happened.
I’d seen Nathaniel three times in the last five years. It was pure coincidence that those three times were in the same week.
Nan was at the car. She was sitting on a camping chair under a big beach umbrella. Next to her was another old lady in a camp chair.
‘Hi Nan,’ I sang. There was a little bit too much springtime in my voice but I couldn’t control it.
Then I realised she and the other lady were holding hands – until Nan snatched her hand back and sat on it. The other lady waved.
‘Hello, Av. Did you bring us a cup of tea?’ said Nan quickly.
‘Sorry,’ I chuckled. ‘They’d run out.’
‘Hogs wallop,’ she grumbled.
The ladies exchanged a glance. Nan took a breath. The other lady nodded.
‘Where are my manners?’ Nan said. ‘Avril, this is my old friend Marilyn. Marilyn, my granddaughter, Avril Louise Stanton.’
We shook hands. Marilyn wasn’t as old-ladyish as she looked. She had a grip like a fencing contractor’s.
‘You look like your father when he was a boy,’ she said. Her voice was croaky and deep. ‘Not exactly like your father. Like your father if he’d been born a girl, if you know what I mean.’
I laughed. ‘I think I know what you mean. People tell me that all the time.’
‘Count your blessings, Avril,’ Marilyn said, and coughed. ‘There are uglier mugs in your family tree.’
Nan slapped her wrist, but she had a smile on her face.
‘How did you know Dad?’
‘Oh, your grandmother and I have been friends for years. I was there when your father was born.’
‘Really?’
How come, in my sixteen years on the planet, living in the same house, I’d never met such a significant person in my grandmother’s life? How come I’d never even heard a story about Marilyn? Had she shifted from the area? As I was puzzling all this, I was inadvertently searching Marilyn’s face for a clue. There was a familiarity about her cheekbones, the line of her nose. Her eyes!
I swear it was a reflex, but I gasped and went to cover my mouth when I realised where I’d seen those eyes before. I had another paradigm shift. She had Nathaniel’s eyes. Or Nathaniel had her eyes. Whatever. Marilyn was a Carrington.
They saw my hand. They heard me gasp. They chuckled.
‘Yes, darling,’ Marilyn cawed. ‘I’m one of them.’
‘Oh hush, Marilyn,’ Nan said.
‘Let me ask you this, Avril: do I look like the devil?’
I shook my head.
‘No,’ Nan said. ‘You look like a wrinkly old prune ready for the grave.’
‘Cheeky sod,’ Marilyn grumbled. She pinched Nan’s arm.
Then they were giggling like a pair of schoolgirls and slapping at each other.
I sat cross-legged on the grass in front of them, my head still wobbly from changing gear so fast. Marilyn wasn’t the devil, in fact she reminded me of Nan – a little bit cheeky, a little bit nutty and a whole lot feral.
‘How come you two don’t hate each other?’ The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
‘Oh, but we do!’ Nan said. ‘I hate you, Marilyn Carrington!’
‘Shut up, you spent penny!’
Nan mopped at tears. Tears brought on by laughter. She took Marilyn’s hand and kissed it.
Marilyn dragged Nan over and kissed her cheek.
‘Oh no,’ I cried in mock horror. ‘Nan is in league with the devil. Wait till I tell Hoppy!’
‘No!’ they screamed together.
Marilyn had her hand up in a stop sign. ‘This is our little secret. You can’t tell the blokes.’
‘Serious, Av,’ Nan said. ‘Promise me you won’t tell Hoppy.’
‘Okay, okay. I promise. But only if you tell me why.’
Marilyn waved dismissively. ‘You know what they’re like.’
‘Yeah, but why? Why are they like that? What started it all?’
Nan sighed.
‘It’s a very long, boring, complicated and painful story,’ Marilyn said. She leaned forward in her chair. ‘You’ll have to get your nanna drunk,’ she whispered. She rocked herself out of her chair and onto her feet, creaking and groaning. She collected a walking stick and her joints popped like the shed roof in the sun. ‘I’d best be off.’
Nan frowned and reached for Marilyn’s fingers. ‘No, don’t go. Not yet. Please.’
‘Get a hold of yourself, you old sook. Bleating like you’ve lost a lamb.’
Nan got to her feet shakily and they hugged. It was a long and tight hug that looked strange on Nan. I mean Nan’s always up for a hug, but this one went on for ever. They kissed each other’s cheeks and Marilyn turned and reached for my hand. ‘Lovely to meet you, Avril.’
I stood and hugged the devil, only she didn’t feel scaly at all: she was warm and her skin was loose on her bones and she smel
led like home. She laughed and hugged me back, then left, waving.
I wanted to say something to Nan. I wanted to tell her that I didn’t understand why it had to be the way it was but I was okay with it. She smiled and flopped back into her camping chair. I sat in the one Marilyn had vacated.
‘Even your mother doesn’t know,’ she whispered.
‘Really?’
She patted her hair and changed the subject with a clunk. ‘So, having fun?’
‘Yes, sure. It’s a blast, as usual.’ I said that, but my stomach felt as though I’d drunk too much dam water: all sloshy and yuck. The grandmothers might be secret friends but that didn’t mean the rest of the families were any less fierce with each other. Having a relationship with a guy was complicated enough, let alone factoring in bad blood between our fathers and our father’s fathers. Relationship? Who was I kidding? ‘Might catch up with you then,’ Nathaniel had said. Might. I didn’t need to hear wedding bells in my head because a boy said he might catch up.
I couldn’t help myself.
CHAPTER 09
Dad remembered to bring Nan a cup of tea. ‘Where’s your cousin?’ he asked me.
‘I . . . we got separated,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure where she went.’
Dad raised his eyebrows. ‘You’d better go and have a look for her.’
‘Me? I have looked for her. She’s . . .’
‘Av, please,’ Mum interrupted. ‘Somebody has to keep an eye on her.’
‘She’s a big girl,’ I protested.
Dad sighed. ‘That’s the problem. She’s not as big as she thinks she is.’
Then Aunty Jacq arrived. No more words were spoken but Dad caught my eye, gave me a look forged in iron. He tipped his hat towards the showgrounds. I reluctantly left my seat in the shade.
I was supposed to be looking for my wayward cousin but I found myself looking for that trucker’s cap. I didn’t even know what I’d do if I saw him – probably just roll onto my back like Champ and wag my tail submissively in the dust. When he was little, Champ used to pee all over himself with excitement if he hadn’t seen you for a while. I made sure my bladder was empty, just in case.
The shadows grew longer. The band – Billy Cane and the Long Road, who’d come down from Sydney – were setting up on the pantechnicon at one end of the great arena. I found Naomi and Chooka blowing the last of their cash on the shooting gallery, trying to win a soft toy.
‘What’s the matter?’ Chooka asked.
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘Have you seen Katie?’
He frowned in concentration then shook his head. ‘Did you see Katie, Nam?’
‘No,’ Naomi said, and took aim.
‘If you do, can you tell her to meet me at the cars?’
‘Okay.’
I walked ten paces and I heard her laugh. I was positive it was her. I realised it had come from the only place I hadn’t thought to look – the most logical place to go hunting for a feral sixteen-year-old looking for action: the beer tent. She was slumped in a white chair with a half-empty plastic beer cup on the table in front of her. There were four guys and two other girls crowded around the table and they looked as though they were set for the night.
‘Avvie!’ she shrieked, and all eyes turned to me.
My body reacted the way it always does when attention is drawn my way – as if my thermostat has broken and the emergency light in my face has come on. I kept walking until I was beside her chair, then crouched and whispered in her ear. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘What . . . the hell . . . does it look like I’m doing, Mum?’
‘They’re looking for you.’
‘You found me. Now what are you going to do? Do you want a beer? Todd, can you get my cousin a beer?’
‘I don’t want a beer.’
‘Oh come on, Avvie, loosen up!’
‘I’m as loose as I want to be. Come on, let’s go.’
‘Loose? That’s loose, is it? Ha!’
You can drag a sheep through the paddock, I thought, but you’re much better off getting in behind it and giving it some incentive to move.
‘I need your help,’ I lied. ‘It’s getting dark. I want to get changed. Could you do my make-up for me, please?’
She turned to look at my face. Her head moved; her eyes were a full second behind the action, and bloodshot. She looked sunburned. ‘Sure, Cuz. Just give me a minute and I’ll be right with you.’
‘I’ll wait outside,’ I said.
She nodded and grabbed the cup in front of her.
The chip van opposite the beer tent stocked a selection of mints and I bought a pack of the biggest and strongest-looking ones in the hope that they might mask Katie’s breath. Dad didn’t really drink much at home – mostly with the shearers after a long, sweaty day of shed work – and I’d never seen Mum drink. The smell was repulsive and as alien as an extra nose on my cousin. I stood outside the tent and felt like a total square. Add beer to the list of things that Katie knows about that I don’t. Maybe she was right? Maybe I was hung-up about having a good time. Maybe I was just too naïve to see the fun in it. Too much of a little kid.
She took ages. I was ready to go back inside when she staggered out into the orange light of day’s end in Forsyth. She staggered for six steps, and then she took a breath and straightened. ‘Sorry, Avvie.’
‘Here,’ I said, and handed her the mints.
‘You’re a lifesaver,’ she said. ‘Hang on, no you’re not.’ She read the label on the pack in her hand. ‘You’re a four-x super-strong mint.’
When she walked again, I was expecting to have to help her but she was fine – completely fine, as if she hadn’t had a single drink, and I wondered which was the act. Was she acting sober now or had she been acting drunk with her new friends? And then I felt mean. If I had a heap of friends who were drinkers, I’d probably look at it differently. The main thing was, with the mint in her mouth and the darkness coming on, she wasn’t going to arouse the attention of her mum or my folks. We got back to the carpark and she was just normal old Katie, helping me fix my hair, making sure no one was watching when I got changed at the back of her mum’s Honda, and painting my face. At close range, her breath was mint beer. Glad I wasn’t kissing that!
‘I think you’re done, Princess,’ she said. ‘You look edible. Now it’s my turn.’
It seemed to get dark all of a sudden and I realised heavy stormclouds had masked the last of the sun. They billowed black into the western sky and the distant horizon flashed with lightning. The action was way off and not threatening at all but the extra darkness meant I was the only one who saw Katie’s bottom in a g-string as she struggled with her party dress. I got more embarrassed than she did, as usual. It’s that self-confidence thing again. Katie could wear that sort of stuff and just not care. I’d feel weird owning underwear like that, let alone wearing it. I couldn’t imagine them being comfortable. Constant wedgie.
The others arrived back at the cars just as Katie was curling mascara into her eyelashes using the rear-vision mirror of the Honda.
‘Here they are!’ Mum sang. ‘We’ve been looking for you everywhere.’
‘We’ve been here for ages,’ Katie said.
‘Oooh, don’t you two look nice,’ Aunty Jacq said.
‘You nearly done?’ Mum said. ‘We’re heading home.’
‘What?’ Katie shrieked. ‘It’s hardly even dark!’
‘No, no, no,’ Mum said. ‘We’re heading home. Naomi’s feeling a bit sick and we’ve had enough. Lance is going to collect you girls at the time we agreed and chauffeur you home in the Rangey.’
‘Where is Dad?’ I asked.
‘He got roped into doing a shift in the pancake tent.’
‘Serious?’
‘Yes, I’ll pay you if you get a photograph of your father in an apron and hairnet.’
‘My phone!’ Katie said.
‘Right,’ Aunty Jacq said. ‘Give us a kiss and we’ll be on our way.’
> ‘Just a minute,’ Katie said, reaching into her bag of tricks and spraying herself with ten seconds worth of cheap perfume. We were all coughing and fanning our faces by the end of it. There was no way Aunty Jacq was going to smell anything other than the perfume for the next five hours. She held her nose and pecked Katie’s cheek. ‘You two look after each other, please.’
‘We will,’ Katie said.
Mum kissed my cheek. ‘Stay together,’ she whispered.
‘I’ll try,’ I whispered back.
They were testing the microphones on stage and I suddenly needed to pee. Katie hooked her arm through mine. We watched our mums pack and wave as they drove out. As soon as they were out of sight, Katie yanked free and was running to the showgrounds, shouting to me over her shoulder. ‘Come on!’
I jogged to catch up. ‘Where are we going?’
‘To the pancake tent. I want a photo of your dad in drag.’
‘Drag?’
‘Have to admit, it’ll be the closest Uncle Lance is likely to get to wearing women’s clothing.’
I laughed then. I was laughing mostly at the thought of my dad in a hairnet but I realised it had been a very long time since I’d felt the warm night air on my thighs. I was kind of in drag, too, and right then I did feel like a princess.
CHAPTER 10
Dad looked kind of cute. We waited in line for fifteen minutes so he’d serve us. Katie made him pose with the eggflip while she took a photo with her phone.
‘This will be worth millions on the Internet,’ she said.
We got a pancake with lemon and sugar each and scoffed them while we watched the band tuning up. I watched the band; Katie watched the crowd. We put our rubbish on top of an overflowing bin. In the shadows beyond I saw a familiar head wearing a familiar trucker’s cap. Katie grabbed my hand and dragged me towards the beer tent.
‘No!’ I said, and yanked free.
‘What?’
‘I don’t want to go in there.’
‘Fine,’ she said, and walked off.
‘Katie!’
‘What?’
‘Please don’t.’
‘Don’t what?’
I don’t know, I thought. Please don’t do the stuff you do at home. Please don’t go making stories to tell.
