Love and Muddy Puddles

by Cecily Anne Paterson

  Chapter 10

   

   

  Samantha and I waited a few more days before I spilled the beans.

  First we needed to do our research. I couldn’t just invent an equestrian boarding school in another state one morning and expect everyone to believe me. I could be found out in a second if someone Googled it on their phone under their desks in history.

  We couldn’t believe it when we discovered Lamerton Grammar for Girls. Not only was it interstate, horse crazy and a boarding school, it also had a rural (read: in the middle of nowhere) campus where, according to the website, Year Eight girls went to grow their own food, live without technology, learn to run a farm and excel at horsemanship. Apparently all of this was so that they would ‘build character’.

  It sounded completely revolting.

  “Honestly, like, who needs character?” said Sam. She grimaced and then checked the mirror. “I really shouldn’t do that. It’s going to make lines on my face,” she said, smoothing out her cheek. “Look, can you see a wrinkle starting? Seriously though. Give a girl a manicure, a good haircut and some bronzer and she’s good to go. No character required.”

  “I know, right? In real life—you know, out in the real world—it’s probably more useful to have a good wardrobe than to have character,” I said. “So glad I’m not going to that school. Maybe there actually is something worse than going to live on a pig farm with my family.”

  I laughed, but Sam didn’t get the joke. She raised her eyebrows. “No. There’s not. And let me tell you, unless you can convince Tiger Lily that you’re telling the truth about this Lamerton Grammar thing, you are going to be dropped into a big pile of pig poo. There won’t be any ‘character’ that will be able to rescue you. You’d better make this thing stick.”

  “I wish there was a character who was going to rescue me,” I said, groaning. “Do you realise that we’re probably going to be gone before I even get to meet Darcy?”

  “That’s such bad timing,” said Sam. “Why did he have to go skiing for so long? Now you’ll have to wait a whole year.”

  “Which is like, forever, when you think you’ve found the boy of your dreams,” I said sadly. “Seriously, he is gorgeous. You have no idea.”

  “There probably won’t be any decent boys near you at all,” said Sam. “And even if there are you won’t get to meet any if you’re stuck on the farm all day.”

  “I know, right?” I agreed. “And anyway—farm boys? Eew.”

  “Look, if by some miraculous chance I ever get to meet Darcy, I promise I’ll tell him about you and what he’s missing,” said Sam. “You never know. Maybe you two are just meant to be.”

  “You’re such a great friend,” I said. “You look out for me! Are you going to be ok when I’m gone? I’m worried you’ll be left alone with no friends.”

  She gave me a joking, sceptical look. “Are you serious? Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself. You’ve got to nail this story. Both of our futures depend on it.”

  So I learned to lie. I practiced in front of the mirror a few times to build my confidence and then fielded mock questions helpfully prepared by Samantha.

  “Why can’t you just do horse riding here like everyone else?” she demanded to know, pretending to be Tiger Lily and adding an eye roll for dramatic flair.

  “Well, my parents really like the idea of us doing something away from home,” I said glibly. “They’re all into ‘building character’ and anyway, my mum went there for a while when she was young, so it’s kind of like home away from home.”

  And so my story began.

  I told the girls at lunch on Friday and spent a nervous weekend waiting for a message on my phone that said, “You’re lying, you loser, we know everything and you’re dropped!” but it never came. On Monday when the topic came up again, it seemed like I was safe. No one suspected a thing and I wanted to keep it that way.

  At home, it seemed like Dad was on some kind of super-speed drug because everything was happening uber-fast.

  “I’ve got it set for us to move on to the farm first week of the holidays,” he told us at dinner. “So you can say all your goodbyes to friends in the next three weeks.”

  “Oh wow, that’s so soon,” said Charlie, enthusiastic. “I can’t wait.”

  I sniffed haughtily and looked away.

  I had been true to my promise and had managed not to talk directly to Dad for at least a fortnight. A couple of times in the first few days I nearly forgot and asked him to pass the salt at dinner but at the last second I managed to make it seem like I was actually talking to Josh.

  Once he started giving us instructions about packing though, I nearly lost the plot. I had to literally bite my lips so that I didn’t let out any words.

  “So, you guys can take a suitcase each,” he said. “Pack everything else into boxes so we can put it all into storage until the house is built.”

  I had to wait till I was in Charlie’s room before I could start yelling about it.

  “One suitcase? Is that all? Does he expect me to live with only one suitcase worth of clothes?” I said. “What about all my other stuff? I’m not going to cope without my make up and shoes and pillows and all the rest of it for a whole year.”

  “He did say one suitcase each,” Charlie said. “You make it sound like we all have to put our stuff in the same suitcase altogether. Seriously. Get the big suitcase. You’ll be fine.”

  I did. I got the biggest suitcase I could find. It was the one Mum bought the year that we all went to the Gold Coast and she said she was sick of handling a million different little pieces of hand luggage on the plane, but even then I couldn’t make it all fit in. And I was studiously ignoring Dad’s instructions to leave behind my good clothes.

  “Two pairs of jeans, a pair of joggers, a couple of old T-shirts and a jacket or two,” he kept saying over and over to anyone who would listen. “That’s all you’re going to need. And we’ll buy gumboots for everyone before we go. We’ll need them for the mud.”

  Mum was on the bandwagon as well. “Honestly girls, don’t pack your nice clothes. I’m serious. Maybe just one top or something, but you won’t get a chance to wear them and they’ll probably just get ruined until we’ve got the house up.”

  I don’t care, I thought to myself. I’m not going to look like a complete dag for 12 whole months. I’ll take my blue satin covered flats if I want to. And my white lacy shirt and my best leggings and my silver sandals and my vintage clutch and my…

  When Charlie saw my suitcase she laughed.

  “Coco, you’re crazy,” she said. “I’ve got three pairs of jeans, jodhpurs, riding boots and my five worst T-shirts. Mum is going to freak when she sees all of yours.”

  But Mum was keeping her cool. It was a tense stand-off between her and me to see who would crack first. Every time I deliberately ignored Dad or spoke to someone else when I could have spoken to him I saw her face get tight. I could see she wanted to yell at me but she and Dad obviously had some kind of pact going on—a kind of ‘lets see how long she can go on with this for’ agreement.

  When she came into my room and saw my suitcase bulging at the sides she said nothing except, “there won’t be any electricity for your hair dryer, honey,” and then walked away.

  The hairdryer stayed in the suitcase. And I added in my straightening iron for good measure. I needed to stay angry. It was either that or burst out crying. When Mum started pulling all the pictures off the walls and packing them away in brown paper I had to go for a walk and blink back my tears. When the removalists came to take away the furniture I had to run upstairs to hide the large gulpy sobs I could feel coming up from my stomach. My life was getting dismantled in a crazy tornado of activity and no one cared that I was sad.

  I’ll be back in a year, I’ll be back in a year. I kept the thought running grimly through my head as we packed and prepared and as Dad ran around with a grin that got bigger and bigger all over his face. I’ll be b
ack in a year, I thought. I’ve just got to make sure no one finds out where I’ve gone.

  On the last day of term, the girls took me out after school for a final farewell drink.

  “Honestly,” said Tiger Lily. “Parents. Why do they have to do these stupid things?” She sipped her drink (diet, of course) and rolled her eyes.

  Lise opened hers wide with awe and wonder. “Horses!”

  Isabella started a story about how a girl who she knew who went to one of these kinds of schools, you know, with a campus in the middle of the bush, and she was really, really good at riding and just was amazing with horses and everything, well, she loved it, just loved it, but she lived just like a nun—didn’t see a boy for a whole year, can you imagine?

  When she’d finally finished, Saffron just smiled and me and said, “It’s a shame. We’ve got quite used to you, Coco.”

  My stomach got nervous. That didn’t sound good. Was this it? Were they going to dump me anyway? I tried to keep a neutral expression on my face but worry was escaping from the corners of my eyebrows.

  “We’ve decided we’ll ask someone else to be our number five while you’re away,” she said. “But it’ll only be temporary. Once your year is up, we want you back here with us.”

  My eyebrows relaxed and I let out a quiet breath, trying not to look too relieved.

  “Oh, of course, I mean, I’d expected you’d find someone else...” I said, trying not to sound like a puppy licking its mother’s face. I was aiming to be casual. “So, um, do you know who . .?”

  “You’ll probably be happy,” said Saffron. She smoothed down her hair and adjusted her skirt. “We’re asking your friend Samantha. She was second on our list anyway. We only didn’t pick her because we thought she was a little bit too pushy, but we’ll let her know it’s just for the year and then you’ll be back in the group instead.”

  My face broke out into a smile that I just couldn’t hold back. Finally, in what had been the worst month of my life ever, something good was happening. This was going to kill two birds with one stone. Samantha wouldn’t end up lonely and miserable because I had gone, and she could keep things good for me in the group so that I could come back with no issues. Even better, she’d meet Darcy! She could talk to him about me, I thought. Keep him interested...

  Isabella leaned over the table towards me. “So, are you like serious about the no internet or phone thing? Not even email? No iPods, nothing?” she said. “Couldn’t you just sneak something in?”

  I shook my head dramatically. “No. It’s super-strict. They really make a big thing about it. They have random room searches and if you’re caught with one they send you to solitary for a week.”

  “Seriously?” said Tiger Lily. “Solitary? In this day and age?” She looked cynical. “It’s against your rights.”

  “I know. But that’s what it is apparently. It’s all based on some kind of ancient philosophy that ‘builds character’.” I made quote marks with my fingers and a silly face and the girls laughed.

  “And I bet all the teachers are ugly too,” said Tiger Lily.

  “Holidays?” asked Lise, turning her puppy dog eyes on me. “Home?”

  “Maybe I’ll be able to get back,” I said. “But not much. It’s going to be weird. I don’t really know. I’ll have to see how it goes. But it’s only for a year and then I’ll be back, like normal.”

  “So, here’s to a crazy year!” said Saffron, holding up her glass. Everyone clinked and sipped and smiled.

  “Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I’ll be back before you know it. And mega-full of ‘character’.”