by Nova Weetman
‘Is it a real pool? Not a toddler pool?’ Frankie wants to pick an argument because she’s so hot and Joely’s arm is pressing against hers.
Joely shoots her a look. ‘It’s an old pool with really blue concrete. It’s super deep and small, too. It’s not like our pools in the city. The fence is pretty easy to climb so Mack used to sneak in when it was hot at night. ’Til he got caught and my uncle Ged went off his head. He made Mack do community service.’
Frankie smiles at the thought. She likes boys who break rules.
‘There’s a dam, too,’ says Joely.
‘Yuck. I like being able to see the bottom,’ says Frankie, imagining her toes squishing mud.
‘It might be gone anyway. Looks like the drought has swallowed everything up,’ says Joely.
‘What about New Year’s?’ Frankie imagines sitting around with Joely’s aunt and uncle, counting cows.
‘There’s probably a party. Sometimes in the old hall there’s a movie.’
‘A party sounds good!’
Behind them a kid starts screaming. Frankie hears the mum try to calm him. But it makes him scream louder. All this heat. She wishes she could scream like that, too.
‘What’s your uncle’s name again?’ says Frankie.
‘Ged. And Jill,’ says Joely, irritated that she’s repeated this information about twenty times.
‘Hope Ged and Jill have good air-conditioning.’
‘No, just a couple of old fans.’ Joely remembers last summer when she lay in bed for a whole day not moving, watching the fan blades turn.
‘Great,’ Frankie groans and leans back against the plastic seat, closing her eyes.
Joely knows they have to get off in a minute. In the time it takes them to walk the rest of the way to the farm, her skin will be burnt, fried, crispy. So she opens the front of her bag and pulls out the extra-large tube of sunscreen her mum bought. Squeezing the tube, a huge lump of white cream oozes out. She tries to close the lid quickly, but it’s too late. She has enough cream on her hand for the whole bus.
‘Want some?’ she says to Frankie, forcing her to open one eye.
‘Ergh. No. Thought you were offering me food.’
‘It’s sunscreen. It’s sunny outside,’ says Joely, trying to rub the cream in at the same time.
‘I’m fine,’ says Frankie, turning away.
‘It’s hotter than it is in Melbourne,’ says Joely, hating that she sounds like her mum.
‘Whatever.’
Dripping with sunscreen, Joely still can’t get rid of it all. She has a hand full even after applying it over and over again on her arms, neck and face. She’s so preoccupied by it, she almost forgets to look out the window for the gum tree that marks their stop. She sees it just in time and jumps up. ‘Next stop,’ Joely calls to the driver. Frankie hasn’t even moved.
‘Don’t get too comfortable. We’re getting off here,’ says Joely nudging her.
‘Comfortable. As if.’
They hop off the bottom step onto the ground. The air outside is the same temperature as in the bus. It drives off, churning up the dust and Frankie spins around trying to hide her face. When she looks up, Joely is standing off to the side of the road, shaking her hand in the air.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Trying to get rid of the sunscreen,’ Joely says. Splatters of white mark the dusty ground. Finally Joely leans down and wipes her hand on the dry grass. As she stands up, Frankie notices the cream hasn’t been rubbed in enough across her nose. She debates telling her, but decides to leave it. It’s kind of cute and there’s nobody around but cows anyway.
‘Come on. It’s about a ten-minute walk,’ says Joely.
‘Awesome,’ says Frankie, sounding as sarcastic as she can, but Joely doesn’t respond.
Mack and Thommo are waiting on the back step when Frankie and Joely make it to the farm. It’s obviously much faster riding across paddocks on motorbikes than it is waiting for the meandering old bus. Now they’ve arrived, Joely doesn’t care that she’s dripping wet with summer heat. She’s just happy to be back. And now she has her best friend with her as a witness to this place; as long as Frankie stops complaining.
‘Where’s Jill?’ says Joely.
‘Inside. Peeling potatoes,’ laughs Mack.
‘Oh no, I forgot.’
Mack smirks at Frankie as he explains, ‘Mum cooks potatoes every day.’
‘Oh, right.’ Frankie doesn’t understand why potatoes are funny, but she appreciates being included in the moment. Just as Frankie is thinking of something to ask about the farm, the back door bangs open. A short, wiry woman squeals, skips down the steps and wraps her arms around Joely.
‘You’re almost a lady,’ the woman exclaims.
‘So are you,’ jokes Joely.
The woman laughs and kisses Joely’s cheek. Then she turns to Frankie and kisses her too.
‘Nice to meet you, Frankie. I’m Jill.’
Frankie nods, feeling the touch of the kiss.
‘Come on inside. It’s no cooler, but at least you can sit down.’
Frankie follows her friend and Jill up the stairs into the old weatherboard house, with its worn floorboards, whirring fans and sparkly Christmas decorations. A cat sneaks past, rubbing itself along her ankles.
‘That’s Jasper,’ says Joely.
‘Hello Jasper,’ Frankie says as she bends down and slides her hand along the cat’s back. ‘Is it a he?’ Frankie looks up and realises her friend has already gone further into the house without her. She hurries after Joely and the cat slinks off.
Stepping inside the kitchen, Frankie feels immediately jealous of Joely’s cousins. They probably have no idea how calm it is, or how unusual to have a mother that even boils potatoes. Frankie can’t remember the last time her mum cooked anything.
‘The farm’s a bit dryer than when you were last here,’ says Jill.
‘Has it been really bad?’ asks Joely.
‘Didn’t your mum say?’
Joely shakes her head. ‘Say what?’
‘Oh, it’s been dreadful, Joely. We’ve lost lots of cattle,’ says Jill quietly.
Frankie watches Joely take in the information. She hears her friend whisper, ‘Not Bluey?’
‘Yeah, love. I’m sorry. I rang your mum—’
‘He’s dead?’
Jill nods. ‘At the end of last summer, Ged found him in the paddock.’
Frankie’s worried Joely might cry, but Jill bustles her to the table before she gets a chance. She manoeuvres Joely into a chair, hands her a glass and pours her a drink with lots of ice from a large jug.
Frankie feels like she’s spying, loitering on the threshold.
‘He went fast. No suffering,’ says Jill kindly. Joely nods.
Frankie wonders who Bluey was and why he meant so much to Joely. And she wonders why Joely’s mum didn’t tell her.
Jill smiles at Joely and reaches over to rub the sunscreen into her nose. Joely glances over at Frankie, and Frankie knows her friend is wondering why she didn’t do it. She turns away to look at the kitchen, feeling exposed.
It’s like a kitchen from a book, square and functional with cupboards and benches and pots bubbling away on the stove. Jill jumps up to offer a plate of biscuits to Joely. Frankie bets they’re homemade, not cheap packet ones that her mum buys, discounted even further because they’ve been dropped so many times.
Jill suddenly looks over at Frankie and smiles warmly. ‘Frankie, sorry, we’ve been ignoring you.’
‘What?’ she snaps, sounding like her mum when she’s looking for an escape.
‘You going to sit?’ says Jill with a half-smile. ‘I made lemonade. If you don’t get a glass, Joely’ll drink it all.’
Joely tries to smile but still seems distracted by Bluey.
&nb
sp; Frankie isn’t ready to sit. Afraid of the sting in her eyes, she lingers in the doorway, ready for a fast escape. She’s not sure about this place or about Jill. She’s not ready for someone who makes their own lemonade and hugs without judgement.
Frankie pulls her bag onto her shoulder thinking she might go outside for a bit. But then Jill’s hands are on her shoulders, steering her to the big old wooden table with its marks and stains and worn grooves. Suddenly, she’s in a chair, and told to eat a biscuit. She does because it might steady her legs and stop the stinging sensation in her eyes from getting worse. The biscuits are so good, she takes another one.
‘Lemonade, Frankie?’ says Jill.
Frankie nods, not trusting herself to speak. She picks up the glass causing the ice to clink as it bumps together. Frankie swirls it around before taking a sip. A sweet, lemony taste fizzes in her mouth. She thinks about her mum, wondering if she’s lying on the couch with Tom or Jeff or whatever his name is, and if she’s remembered that it’s bin day.
Chapter 6
Their room is tiny. A single bed is wedged into each corner and there’s hardly any room to get up without crashing into the other bed. They each have two drawers in the old wooden cupboard behind the door. Frankie takes the bottom two, sliding all her clothes in without bothering to fold them. She’s still thinking about Jill apologising when she showed Frankie the room. It means Joely hasn’t told Jill anything about where Frankie lives. Otherwise Jill would know this room was definitely a step up. She hopes it’s not shame that keeps Joely from saying anything.
Bouncing on the beds, Frankie wonders if Joely cares which one she takes. The bedspreads both smell like apples. Frankie chooses the bed under the window with the green patterned spread. Lying down she’s surprised at how comfortable it is. The sun streams in and she closes her eyes. She can hear Mack and Thommo talking outside. They sound like they’re arguing about something. It’s strange being here as a guest ... an interloper. It’s how she feels at home: always on the fringes, like she’s just passing through, but never belonging.
‘Frank, you in here?’ says Joely, smashing through the door. ‘Ow! Shit!’ she yells, hopping about.
Frankie sits up just as Joely falls on the edge of the bed, clutching her foot dramatically.
‘You okay?’
Joely nods, biting her lip. ‘Stubbed my toe.’
Frankie tries to hide her smile. It’s just like Joely to hurt herself. They probably wouldn’t be friends if Joely didn’t injure herself so often. That’s how they got talking at school. Joely was sitting out from PE because she’d sprained something. Frankie had just started at the school and she couldn’t find her class, so she’d stopped to ask Joely for directions. They’d ended up talking the whole period and Frankie didn’t make it to class until after lunch.
‘Left you the top drawers,’ says Frankie, changing the subject to take Joely’s mind off her sore toe.
‘Sorry the room’s so small,’ says Joely, looking around.
‘I like it,’ says Frankie, swinging her legs down and squeezing past Joely. ‘I love this house. In fact, I want to explore. Coming?’ Frankie hopes the answer is no so she can have a bit of time to herself. She needs to ring her mum and doesn’t want Joely listening in.
‘No, I’ll unpack,’ says Joely. ‘Don’t be too long. I told Jill we’d help her with dinner.’
Frankie’s phone only has one bar left. She worries it won’t work out here. But it starts ringing straightaway. She made her mum promise she’d answer, but she was lying on top of that guy, so Frankie’s sure she didn’t actually mean it. It rings and rings and then clicks to voicemail. There’s no point leaving a message. Her mum doesn’t even know how to listen to them. But she can’t just hang up. There needs to be a record that she tried.
‘Hey Mum. It’s Frank. Don’t forget it’s bin night. And there’s some canned soup in the cupboard. I—’ The beep sounds before she can say ‘I love you’.
She slips her phone into her pocket as Mack walks towards her. He seems even taller now than he did at the station.
‘You calling someone?’ he says in that deep voice. Frankie wonders if he thinks she’s calling her boyfriend.
‘Nah. Just checking the temperature,’ she lies.
‘I can tell you that. Hotter than yesterday but probably not as hot as tomorrow.’ Mack cracks up.
‘Great. Thanks,’ says Frankie, wishing she could get away. Mack edges even closer and Frankie can smell BO.
‘So what do you think about our little farm?’
Frankie looks past him at the endless fields. ‘It’s lovely. Not really little though.’
He notices where she’s looking. ‘That’s not ours. It was, but we sold it off six months ago.’
‘Oh,’ says Frankie, not knowing whether she should feel sorry for them. Did it mean they were struggling if they were selling off their land?
‘It’s just what happens in the country. You probably have some nice big house so you don’t get how it is out here. You have a good year, then a bad year,’ says Mack, sounding like he’s in charge. ‘Or a whole string of bad years.’
Frankie’s tempted to tell him how it really is for her, but she can’t be bothered. He’s not worth it. Besides, she likes him thinking she’s from money. It makes a nice change.
‘Can I walk around the farm?’ she says, edging away.
‘Yeah. Want me to show you?’
‘Nah, it’s okay. I’ll have a quick look and then go help your mum with dinner. Are you peeling potatoes, too?’
Mack gives her a look. Frankie bites her tongue, amused that she’s helping his mum when he clearly isn’t. Maybe that’s how things are done in the country.
‘You heard about the New Year’s Eve party?’ says Mack before she can get away.
‘Sort of.’
‘It’s gonna be in a field near the dam not far from here. Should be huge.’ He kicks at the ground with his work boots avoiding her eyes.
‘Right,’ says Frankie, wondering just how cocky he really is.
He adds, ‘You should come.’
‘I’ll ask Joely,’ says Frankie, hoping he’s including his cousin in the invitation. She can just imagine how badly it would go down with Joely if she went without her.
He nods. ‘Yeah, course.’
‘I’m going to look around now.’ Frankie wishes her phone would ring so she had an excuse to edge away from him without having to do it so overtly. She’s pretty sure he’s watching as she walks away. Normally she doesn’t mind boys watching her, but Mack makes her feel small.
Frankie heads around the side of the house so Mack can’t see her. Even in the middle of a drought when the grass is at best, patchy, Frankie can’t believe the view. There are paddocks that stretch forever, with fences criss-crossing, and little gatherings of cows huddled together under the gum trees. A couple of cows moo loudly and Frankie wonders if they’re complaining about the heat. In the closest paddock she can see rows of something growing. Perhaps they’re potatoes?
She passes a plot of herbs and flowers that are wilting under the sun but somehow still managing to shine green. She bends down to sniff a flower and likes its sweet, strong scent. It reminds her of the perfume her mum wears when she first starts going out with someone. Frankie feels so far away from her normal life now. Half a day ago she was trying to sneak past her mum, as the boyfriend grinned creepily at her. Now she is as free as a cow standing in a field.
She checks her phone, but there’s nothing. Nobody ever rings. Except for Joely and Jack from down the street, nobody ever texts either. Her mum texted once to say she was in hospital. She didn’t say which hospital or why. Frankie just had to wait until her mum came home three days later with stitches on her cheekbone, a broken wrist and a story about some guy. Frankie saved that text so it would always be there as a reminder she really had a mum
.
She slips off her thongs and walks barefoot on the dying grass in the direction of a shed. She walks in, her eyes blinking to adjust to the dim light and she sees a whole world of broken things. There’s a couple of tractors, motorbike skeletons, an old car on blocks, wheels, chains and so much metal. Things that need attention to get them working again. She likes that someone has kept this stuff, even though it doesn’t work.
Frankie heads straight for the old car, running her hand down the rusted side and, just as she’s about to try to open the door, there’s a noise behind her, and a flash of bright light.
‘Um, do you, um, want a drink?’ says a voice.
Frankie spins around. She looks over to the light and realises it’s the glow inside an old fridge.
‘Sure,’ she says. ‘If it’s cold.’
The fridge door shuts and the light goes out. Frankie blinks, then sees Thommo holding out two cans of Home Brand soft drink.
‘Um, orange or lemon?’
‘Orange,’ says Frankie, happy they’re the cheap ones from the supermarket, the type she’s used to. Not looking at her, Thommo steps forward and holds out the can. As soon as she takes it, he moves back into the shadows. Frankie’s pleased that the can’s freezing against her skin.
‘What are you doing?’ says Frankie.
‘Oh, just trying to get this old car running. Not that you’d know.’ He kicks the wheel and laughs nervously.
‘Want some help?’ says Frankie.
‘Nah. It’s okay.’
Frankie snaps. ‘Cos I’m a girl?’
Thommo looks up quickly and then down again like he has no idea what she’s talking about. ‘Nah. I just like doing it on my own.’
Frankie feels silly. She’s gone for a fight with someone who doesn’t even understand what she’s saying. ‘Sorry,’ she says. She opens her drink and it fizzes down her hand, onto the concrete floor. She drinks some. It’s cold and sickly sweet.
Thommo’s so caught up watching Frankie he hasn’t even opened his can. He can’t move closer because, back here, she won’t know he’s bright red. He thinks back to the last day of school when Maggie kissed him. He’d gone bright red then, too. All his mates had cheered and yelled and it had just made it worse. It was crap because he didn’t even want Maggie to kiss him. He’d known her forever, since kinder when she used to cry each time her mum dropped her off and then cry even harder when she came to pick her up. She’s too much like this town for him. He doesn’t want Maggie or any of the girls he’s known all his life. He wants something new. Something like Frankie. It’s not just that she’s beautiful; it’s that he doesn’t even know her surname.
