‘She’s a good cook, though,’ I pointed out.
‘She’s a good person,’ Dad said, ‘but that doesn’t mean that things aren’t messy at her end. That probably wasn’t even her mobile. It certainly wasn’t the number she gave me.’
On Friday afternoon Dad and I packed the car. Dad was very particular about packing and knew just what went where to maximise space, keep the car balanced and minimise the risk of flying objects. When we were finished he rubbed his hands.
‘Ha!’ he said. ‘Pretty good job, Magenta. There’s still room for a couple of sleeping bags, packs and an esky. That’ll be all they’ll need and we’ve got leg-room, too. Let’s order takeaway pizza, eh – last meal in civilisation.’
We ate in front of the television and watched one of those English shows where brutal murders are committed every week in a pretty little village. I went to bed early. I didn’t want to have shadows under my eyes at the start of the camp.
Spooky and Cal arrived at a quarter to eight the next morning. Dad was still shaving but we’d had reheated pizza leftovers and Dad had already made a thermos of coffee.
‘You answer it!’ he yelled when the doorbell sounded. ‘That’ll be them.’
Spooky had bags under her eyes. She was already smiling when I opened the door but it was a thin smile that hovered nervously around her mouth.
‘Sorry,’ she said even before she’d said hello. ‘Sorry, we’re a bit early, I know.’
‘That’s okay. Hi, Cal.’
Cal grunted and nodded at me. Not a morning person. Neither of them were, to judge from their appearances. His hair was wildly all over the place and he had his jumper on inside out. I wondered how, or if, I was going to tell him.
‘So glad you got the text message. Cal’s was the only phone working. It’s been quite a week, hasn’t it, Cal? Still, we got here in the end and that’s what’s important, isn’t it? Where shall I put these, Magenta?’
I looked down. Between them they had three long tote bags, four of those supermarket green bags overflowing with groceries, a pillow and the largest esky I had ever seen. It looked quite new.
‘Umm, better wait for Dad. He’s the packing expert.’ I wasn’t sure where it was all going to go but I was pretty certain that Dad hadn’t factored in four supermarket bags that looked as though they had to be kept upright.
Dad huffed and puffed when he saw it all, but as Spooky pointed out, we did have a big car.
‘Last vestige of a previous life,’ Dad told her, rearranging things. ‘I only kept it for this kind of trip.’ ‘It’s fantastic,’ Spooky said. ‘I bet it’s got a CD player.’
‘Of course,’ Dad shrugged, ‘but the main thing is the high suspension.’
‘High suspension?’
‘You can get this monster in where you wouldn’t dare put another car that wasn’t a four-wheel drive.’
‘It’s not a four-wheel drive?’
‘God, no. I wouldn’t have one of those things in the city. My ex wanted one but...’
‘Mum said why not go the whole hog,’ I interrupted, ‘then we’d never get bogged again. We got bogged,’ I told Spooky. ‘It took hours for anyone to come to dig us out. That’s why Mum wanted a four-wheel drive.’
‘It’s a great car,’ Spooky said. ‘Heavens, I don’t even have air conditioning.’
We all turned automatically to look at Spooky’s car. It was old and someone had rammed the back of it. You didn’t need to know anything about cars to realise that it wouldn’t have a CD player in it.
‘So long as it goes,’ Dad said heartily. ‘Shall we load in, folks?’
As soon as we piled in the back seat, Cal brought out an mp3 player and offered me one of his earphones.
‘Dad doesn’t like me listening in the car,’ I said.
‘He and Mum are getting to know each other,’ Cal said, not even bothering to whisper. ‘It’ll be fine. I’ve got some good music on this.’
Cal’s version of what was good music seemed to be a bit hippy to me, but you could hear all the lyrics, which was unusual, and I liked that. I kept one ear on Dad and Spooky’s conversation for a while, but it was pretty boring. Dad talked about the traffic, the weather and environmental issues. Spooky talked about her work in the café and organic food. They didn’t seem to be talking to each other, exactly. I figured they were happy so eventually I took out my book and read, which was what Cal was doing. I was pleased I’d put it in my daypack. Normally Dad won’t allow reading in the car, either. I have to either talk to him or look at the scenery. They’re the car trip rules. Dad wasn’t paying any attention to the rules because he had Spooky to deal with. The label on her top was sticking out and I thought I should tuck it in for her, the way my mother would have. I didn’t feel I knew her well enough to say ‘tag-dag’ and maybe put my fingers on the powdery skin of her neck.
We only went as far as Wilson’s Promontory – about a two-hour trip. Usually Dad and I go further. When he and Mum were still together they’d drive for hours. I’d be bundled into the car half asleep and by the time I woke up, we’d be somewhere completely strange and still driving. They’d swap, taking it in turns to drive. The one who wasn’t driving got to choose the CDs. I liked it best when Dad drove because Mum would put music on we could both sing along to. I knew Dad thought Wilson’s Prom was a safe camp, but I didn’t say anything as Spooky got out and stretched her legs, declaring how beautiful it all was.
‘There are March flies,’ I warned her. ‘They don’t respect insect repellent.’ I was already on the lookout. I hate March flies worst, sandflies second and mosquitoes third.
‘The whole experience,’ Spooky said brightly. ‘Cal – we’ll be experienced campers after this.’
‘Here you are, young man,’ Dad threw Cal our hiking tent, ‘have a go putting that up. Just give us a hoy if you need a hand. Magenta, over here and help Lianna.’
I spent the next half an hour running between Dad, Lianna and Cal. Dad and I were the only ones who had a clue. Lianna put the wrong pole through the front loops and her tent went up lopsided, which she didn’t even seem to notice until Dad pointed it out.
‘Wrong pole,’ he said. ‘This’d just go over in a storm.’ He poked the tent and it lurched to one side.
‘Goodness,’ Spooky said, ‘I thought I’d followed the instructions.’ I was going to laugh, but when I looked at her, her chin seemed to be wobbling almost as badly as the tent.
‘Everyone makes mistakes the first time,’ I said. ‘I should have picked that up. After all, I was helping.’
‘Okay, girls,’ Dad said. ‘Magenta, that’s the longest pole and it goes straight through the middle. You can work it out? I’ll set up the stove and make us all a cuppa.’
When we were finished we had a decent campsite. Dad and I had the biggest tent, of course, because we were sharing. I didn’t mind sharing with Dad. I slept in the space that would normally have stored the luggage but was quite big enough for one person. It was cosy. I’d already spread out my sleeping bag and put my torch and book in the special net pocket so I’d have no trouble finding them in the dark. My pack was neatly at the bottom of the sleeping bag and my PJs were on top.
The others were drinking tea and discussing what they wanted to do. Or rather, Dad and Cal were. Spooky was just nodding and smiling while she looked around nervously.
‘My sleeping bag’s already out,’ I said, taking a cup of tea from Dad and putting in a bit too much sugar, which was allowed when you were camping.
‘Good on you,’ Dad said.
‘Oh, that’s what we’ll have to get from you, Max, sleeping bags.’
‘Sleeping bags?’ Dad echoed.
Spooky nodded. She was sitting on the edge of her camp chair as though she was scared it would break if she leant back. She looked so uncomfortable it made me feel fidgety.
; ‘You didn’t bring any?’ Dad asked.
‘You said you’d bring all the equipment,’ Spooky said. ‘I brought food in an esky. That was the arrangement. Wasn’t it?’
‘Sleeping bags aren’t really equipment,’ Dad said. ‘They’re kind of essential. I assumed you’d bring sleeping bags, just like you brought a pillow.’
‘I thought they were equipment,’ Spooky said. ‘Anyway we couldn’t have brought them because we don’t have any.’
‘They’d have to count as equipment,’ Cal said, watching his mother. ‘They’re not standard. They’re camping gear and that equals equipment. At home we sleep on mattresses, between sheets and under blankets.’
‘Okay,’ Dad said, ‘okay. So we’re down two sleeping bags. That’s a problem.’
‘Is there a camping store anywhere?’ I asked.
‘That’s your mother’s kind of solution,’ Dad said. ‘I don’t think Lianna can afford to suddenly shell out for two sleeping bags and I know I can’t.’
‘It was just an idea, that’s all,’I said, stung.
‘Well, not a very practical one. Did anyone bring a blanket?’
‘I did, sort of,’ Spooky said. ‘It’s not very big and I only brought it because, well I don’t really know why but I put it in at the last minute. I had this feeling. You know, how you suddenly get feelings.’
‘So we’ve got two sleeping bags and one blanket,’ Dad said. ‘Okay. I can sleep in my clothes. Lianna, you can have my sleeping bag, Magenta keeps hers and Cal has the blanket.’
‘Oh no,’ Spooky said, ‘I’ll take the blanket. Cal can have the sleeping bag.’
‘Don’t be stupid, Mum,’ Cal said. ‘You’re taking the sleeping bag. Don’t argue about it.’
I looked at Cal with new respect. I would have accepted the sleeping bag in a heartbeat.
‘It’s all right,’ Dad said too heartily. ‘We’ve all got ground sheets, it’s summer and this is luxury compared to...’ he stopped, obviously thinking.
‘Africa,’ I said. It’s always Africa. ‘You know, Dad, there might be a mat or something in the bottom of the boot, too. Remember? From that meditation class you did?’
There was a small argument about who took the mat. Cal wanted Dad to take it and Dad wanted Cal to take it. I nearly offered to have it and save them the debate. I knew from experience that I’d wake up and have some big stone lodged under my back.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Spooky kept saying, ‘I just really didn’t think that sleeping bags weren’t part of camping equipment. I mean, what else would you want them for?’
Eventually Cal gave her a look and said, ‘Shut up, Mum,’ but in quite a nice voice. She shut her mouth quickly as though swallowing an unpleasant pill.
Then we all went to the surf beach. We had just enough time for a surf before lunch, Dad said, even though my stomach was rumbling.
At first it was really awkward. I mean, you don’t really want to see anyone you know while you’re wearing a wetsuit, do you? They’re so ... industrial. I didn’t want to wear one, but Dad insisted, even when I pointed out that Cal didn’t have one. He was in boardies and a rash shirt that was wearing thin.
‘That’s their business,’ he hissed. ‘I can’t help their equipment beyond what I’ve already done. You are wearing your wetsuit, Magenta, and that’s that.’
‘C’mon then, last one in’s a rotten egg,’ Dad called. He was wearing a wetsuit and his old man’s stomach poked out like a little pouch. His shoulders were still a little broader than Cal’s, though. ‘Lianna, you’re coming in, aren’t you?’
Spooky had taken her skirt off. Her legs were vanilla-ice-cream white. She’d put on a huge straw hat and underneath that her long-sleeved black t-shirt made her look like a strange bi-coloured spider.
‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘I need some time.’
Dad shrugged but I was intrigued. What did she need time for? The water wasn’t going to get warmer or calmer. This was it.
‘Just to ... you know ... do it,’ she said apologetically. ‘I wasn’t a sporty kind of kid.’
‘That’s okay, Mum,’ Cal said. ‘You can stay out here and sunbake if you want.’
‘Oh no, I don’t want to do that,’ Spooky said. ‘Skin cancer, Cal. Why do you think you smear so much expensive sunblock over yourself?’
‘Sorry, Mum, I was just trying...’
‘You all go in. I’m fine. I love sitting on the beach watching. This little sun tent is a really good thing, Max. It’s wonderful how prepared you are.’
The water was freezing. I was glad to be wearing my wetsuit. I got a couple of good waves with my board and Cal turned out to be a pretty good bodysurfer.
‘This is great, isn’t it?’ Dad said, coming up behind us on his board. ‘Isn’t this great, kids? Why won’t your mum come in, Cal? She doesn’t know what she’s missing.’
Cal shrugged. ‘I don’t think she gets the whole swimming thing. She’ll be okay on the beach. She’ll probably go for a walk or something.’
Sure enough, when we finally got out Spooky was sitting in the beach tent beside a huge pile of little shells. She looked happier.
‘I’m going to take these home,’ she said, scooping the shells up into her hat.
‘What are you going to do with them?’ I asked. I had a jar of shells from my last camping trip but I’d never worked out what to do with them.
‘I’m not sure, maybe decorate a picture frame? I know it sounds a bit kitsch, but kitsch is in at the moment, isn’t it? I was thinking of making some of those softies, you know. I might use some of the shells for eyes?’
‘Softies?’
‘Those little soft toys the kids are mad about these days. They’re kind of cute. I was thinking of trying to make some and sell them. Just for some pocket money.’
‘That’s a great idea,’ I said. I’d just worked out what she was talking about. ‘You can make really evil ones, too, you know. A girl at my school is collecting them.’
‘I’m not sure that I want to make evil ones,’ Spooky said. ‘There’s already so much bad in the world. Soft toys should be sweet, I think, not evil.’
‘Evil ones might sell better.’ Cal had folded the tent up all by himself, without being asked. I could tell Dad was impressed.
‘Do you think so?’
‘Yes,’ Cal said firmly, ‘I do. They’re more novel than the sweet ones. I tell you what, Mum, why don’t you do evil ones but dress them really sweetly?’
‘Cool.’ I could see them in my mind. They’d have little stitched scars and screaming mouths but they’d be wearing pale pink skirts with rosebuds and ruffles.
‘I’ll have to see,’ Spooky said. ‘It was just a little idea I had, Cal. If you know so much about these, maybe you should make them.’
‘I can’t sew,’ Cal said, ‘you know that. I could design them, though. You could make them up from my designs. After all, I know more about the teen market than you do.’
‘A mother-and-son enterprise,’ Dad said. ‘I like it. It’s a good hook, too.’
Spooky looked flustered. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘But Cal, you have to study. You can’t spend your spare time designing softies.’
‘How much time can it take?’ Cal asked. ‘Let’s do a couple, Mum? See what happens. It doesn’t have to be a big thing.’
‘Can we eat?’ I was starving.
‘Of course, darling,’ Spooky said. ‘We’ll go back to the camp and have a delicious lunch. Let’s talk about business another time.’
I was a bit doubtful about Spooky’s definition of delicious when it turned out we were going to have salad sandwiches. One of the rules of camping was that you didn’t have to have healthy meals. No one had told Spooky, obviously. However, the sandwiches were scrumptious.
‘These are excellent,’ Dad said examining his sa
ndwich. ‘I’ve got to hand it to you, Lianna. This is the best camp lunch I’ve ever had!’
‘Why, thanks, Max. The trick is the pesto, of course. Gives it that oomph.’
Jane, Polly’s mum, would like Spooky. They’d be able to talk food together. I’d have to see how I could get them together. Maybe I could just outright ask Jane to invite Spooky and my dad over to dinner. That way Polly could cast one of her love spells then and there. It wasn’t a bad idea. I was beginning to like Spooky. Although I was also beginning to really like Cal. That kind of complicated things.
‘Magenta and I’ll clear up,’ Cal offered. ‘Why don’t you two go for a walk or something?’
‘You sure?’ Spooky said. ‘I don’t mind, honestly.’
‘No, go on. You prepared the sandwiches. Why don’t you both go and have a coffee or something. There’s a shop.’
I stared at Cal. What was he after – Best Camper Award?
‘Shall we, Max?’
‘Good idea,’ Dad said heartily. ‘These kids can earn their keep.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘What about you earning yours? You didn’t prepare sandwiches.’
‘Don’t be cheeky, Magenta. Anyway, I’m buying the coffee. Come along, Lianna.’
‘Your dad’s a nice guy,’ Cal said, piling our plates into the washing-up bowl. ‘It was really good of him to lend me his board like that. Well, it was really good of him to bring us here and organise this. Mum can’t do this kind of thing.’
I shrugged. ‘Dad and I go camping quite a bit. It’s not really a lot of trouble.’
‘Still,’ Cal said, ‘he hardly knows us. I mean, I thought he’d had all these email conversations with Mum, but it turned out that was with you, so he really does hardly know us. Do you think he likes Mum?’
The question caught me off guard. ‘Do you mean like, or like like?’ I asked.
‘You know what I mean. Is he interested in her?’
‘I honestly don’t know. I haven’t seen them holding hands or anything.’
‘I’d just like to get her settled,’ Cal said, handing me a wet plate. ‘Then I could focus a bit on my own stuff.’
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