I went to my room and got dressed. Then I made the bed. Cal must have gone outside. He was a funny kid, he hadn’t minded playing the running game with me, but now that Caroline joined in (after looking into our room and surprising us on her first morning) he seemed to think it was a rude game and I wouldn’t be astounded if he said tomorrow that he would rather not play. This was all right with me, except that he might tell Dad, and I was certain Dad would not like us seeing so much of Caroline’s body. I would warn Cal, I would tell him I would think up a revenge if he spoiled our fun.
I looked into Caroline’s room on my way to the kitchen. She was still asleep.
Out in the kitchen, I stacked the breakfast dishes and ran the water into the sink. Here I am again on my own, I thought; no help from Caroline. Not, of course, that I expected her to do the dishes; it was just that, before she arrived, I’d figured I would have a rest from doing the dishes. I did not mind doing them, I would not complain about doing them. If she did offer to do them, or to sweep up or anything like that, I would refuse to let her, I would tell her she was on holiday and we wanted her to enjoy herself, we did not expect her to do any damned housekeeping. If she insisted, it would probably be polite to let her do something. So far she hadn’t insisted.
No, I didn’t mind Caroline not helping. But this didn’t mean Cal could stop wiping up.
I went to the back porch to yell to him. I could not see him. The one I did see was Susan Prosser. She was looking over the fence. I waited, expecting her to bob down out of sight. But she kept looking.
‘Have you seen my brother?’ I said, walking across to her.
‘He went down the back,’ she said, pointing, sounding friendly.
‘When was that?’ I asked, surprised by her attitude. She usually acted as though I gave her the pip.
‘About ten minutes ago,’ she said. ‘He was intending to pick some passion-fruit, he said. But he didn’t stay long at the vine. He must have changed his mind.’
‘Must have,’ I said, wondering why she was so friendly. ‘Probably after frogs. He puffs them up through straws, then pops them—’ She was pulling a face. ‘Suppose he’ll be back soon,’ I said. ‘I only want him to help with the dishes.’
Now she looked surprised. ‘Oh, do you do the dishes?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Dad goes to work too early to do them.’
‘I mean, you still do them?’ she asked.
‘I always do them,’ I said, puzzled by her smile. There had been nothing to smile about.
‘You must like doing the dishes,’ she said.
‘I don’t mind,’ I said. I watched her a moment, thinking what a plain face she had. Then I asked: ‘How is your mother’s budgie? Has he said anything interesting lately?’
‘Not particularly,’ she said.
I had the feeling there was something on her mind. She was pretending to be friendly because she was curious about something. Well, so did I have something on my mind—about her. About her and Mr Wiggins. I would not mention it now, though. Like her, I would pretend to be friendly.
‘So Joey’s said nothing interesting, eh?’ I asked, making my eyes twinkle so that she would not guess I was suspicious. ‘Does he still say “Jesus is a naughty boy"?’
‘Sometimes,’ she said.
‘Anything else?’ I asked.
‘Oh, he says “Guess what?” rather often,’ she said.
‘I wonder why?’ I said. I didn’t, I was only being friendly.
Susan Prosser shrugged. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’ she said. ‘By the way, what was that noise in your place?’
‘Noise? What sort of noise?’
‘Like people running around.’
‘That’s odd,’ I said. My insides seemed to flutter, I was sure my face had turned red.
‘Were you all running around?’ she asked.
I got over my fright, or whatever it was. ‘Oh, you must mean when I was chasing Cal,’ I said. ‘I always chase him in the mornings. He chases me too. It’s our morning exercise.’
‘Sounded rather louder than your usual noise,’ she said. ‘Sounded more like three people.’
‘No, just us,’ I said offhandedly. I looked towards the swamp. ‘I wonder if Cal went with Dibs. Did you notice if Dibs was with him?’
‘He was on his own,’ she said. She frowned, apparently not sure whether to stay friendly. ‘Why doesn’t your cousin do the dishes?’
‘Caroline?’ I said. ‘Caroline’s on holiday.’
‘I shouldn’t think helping with the dishes would spoil her holiday,’ Susan Prosser said. She smiled quickly, apparently deciding to go on seeming friendly. ‘What does she do while you’re washing up?’
Now she was getting too nosy, I might not stay friendly. ‘Tidies up her room,’ I said. ‘Writes in her diary. She has things to do.’
Susan Prosser looked astonished. ‘Does your cousin keep a diary?’
‘Sure,’ I said. Actually, what Caroline was writing, she said, was her autobiography; but this was none of Susan Prosser’s business.
‘Is she enjoying her holiday?’ asked Susan Prosser.
‘Why don’t you ask her?’ I said, suddenly realising that I no longer cared what Susan Prosser was like beneath her dress; I knew her body wasn’t as great as Caroline’s, and for the first time in years I did not want to look at it, she could keep her skinny body covered up for ever, see if I cared. Now I was sorry for her. I told her: ‘Caroline wouldn’t mind meeting you. We haven’t noticed you about lately. Have you been hiding?’
‘I’ve been too busy to meet anybody,’ she said.
‘Busy doing what?’
‘Studying.’
‘In the holidays?’
‘People don’t stop studying merely because of the holidays. Some people.’
‘Why? What’s wrong with leaving it till school starts again?’
She moved back from the fence. ‘I don’t believe you’d understand. You’re not studious.’
‘I do all right at school,’ I said. ‘Even if I’m not one of Mr Dalloway’s pets.’
‘I don’t study because of Mr Dalloway,’ she said. ‘I study for my own sake. Some day I’ll leave Calliope Bay. I want to know how to do something when I get somewhere else. I won’t know unless I’m properly educated. Do you understand?’
‘Sure I do,’ I said. Best to stay friendly. ‘I didn’t mean you were one of Mr Dalloway’s pets.’
‘It wouldn’t matter to me if you did,’ she said. ‘Not that it would help me to be one of his pets.’
‘I think he likes you, Susan,’ I said.
‘That scarcely matters now, does it?’ she said. When she saw that I didn’t understand, she added: ‘You do know he won’t be coming back next term?’
‘Gosh!’ I said. ‘I never heard that!’
‘It’s true,’ she said.
‘How do you know?’ I said, not believing her.
‘I merely happen to know,’ she said with a look that was obviously meant to show how sorry she felt for a kid who could not believe his teacher had left for ever.
‘Who told you?’ I asked.
‘You don’t have to believe me,’ she said. ‘Oh, I can’t stay here chatting. I have some studying to do.’
I watched her go inside. I don’t like her now, I thought. Why is she so nosy? Why does she make up fibs about Mr Dalloway? Who cares if she studies during the holidays? Who cares about her stupid budgie, anyway?
I went to the end of the yard and looked for Cal. I couldn’t see him. That was another bop I owed him. I went back to the kitchen.
The water in the sink had cooled. I didn’t care. I sloshed the dishes quickly, then dried them, using the tea-towel to get rid of the parts still greasy.
I had wondered if Caroline would hear the rattle of the dishes and come out and insist on helping. Evidently she hadn’t. Better get on with the sweeping. I would do the kitchen first, then the passage, then our room, then maybe I would go into Caroline
’s room—
Should I go to her room first? After looking so long at Susan Prosser, I wouldn’t mind looking at Caroline. It would be a nice change.
I forced myself to keep to the first plan. I swept the kitchen quickly, then began on the passage.
‘Harry!’ called Caroline.
I dropped the broom and sped up the passage. I stopped in her doorway.
She was sitting up in bed. The sheet had slipped. After a moment or so I noticed that she looked more beautiful than ever.
‘I’ve been dreaming, Harry,’ she said. ‘How long have I been asleep?’
‘Only an hour,’ I said. ‘It’s all right. There’s no housework to do. We don’t want you doing housework while you’re on holiday.’
She yawned and stretched her arms above her head. Then she said: ‘Pull up the blind, Harry dear. Seems it’s another sunny day.’
‘Yes, it is,’ I said. I kept my back to her while I was at the window. The road was clear, it usually was. I heard her bed creaking, but I made myself look at the road.
‘Think I’ll wear this today,’ she said. ‘Do you like this dress, Harry?’
So of course I had to turn round. She was by the corner wardrobe, holding up a flowery orange-and-green dress.
‘It looks good,’ I said.
‘I’ll wear this one today,’ she said.
She put on the dress. It was all she did put on, though I figured she would probably put on other clothes when I wasn’t there.
‘Cal’s gone to the swamp,’ I said. ‘Shall we go and see if he’s caught any frogs?’
‘All right,’ she said. ‘A quick wash, then I’ll put on some lipstick. In case we meet anybody.’ She smiled at me. ‘Do you prefer girls to wear lipstick, Harry?’
She moved towards me and I had a good idea what she would do. ‘I like lipstick,’ I got in before she kissed me. It was a small kiss.
‘There,’ she said after it. ‘Good morning again, Harry.’
She ran to the bathroom while I was taking a deep breath. I went to the kitchen and checked that there were still ten bottles of ginger beer in the sink cupboard. Should I offer her one? Or should I wait till we got back from the walk?
Dibs Kelly turned up just then, so that settled it. I would not mention the ginger beer.
I had not seen Dibs since I’d chased him by the railway line yesterday, but he didn’t look as if he remembered how angry I had been, he looked friendly, ready for fun. He was grinning.
‘I got something for the cave,’ he said. He brought a square biscuit tin from behind his back. ‘How about this?’
‘What do we want a tin for?’ I asked.
‘Not only a tin,’ he said. He took off the lid, showed me what was inside—a small paraffin lamp, glass funnel and all.
‘Hey, that’s good,’ I said. ‘Where did you get that? Did you pinch it?’
‘Dad gave it to me,’ Dibs said. ‘Too small for him, he reckons. So we can use it to light the back of the cave, eh?’
‘Be all right for night-time,’ I said. ‘We can use the cave at night.’ I thought about it. ‘If I can dodge Dad,’ I said. ‘Or if he’s away some night and there’s only Cal and me at home.’ I recalled there were nights, once every month or so, when Dad and Mr Kelly drove in the Reo to Bonnie Brae, to smoke concerts or something. We could go to the cave on one of those nights. Good old Dibs!
‘Coming up then?’ he asked. ‘I don’t want to leave this at our house. One of the kids will find it and bust it.’
‘We’ll go up there this morning,’ I said. ‘I’ll see if Caroline wants to come.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Dibs said. He ran his tongue over his lips, but I ignored that.
I had heard Caroline going from the bathroom to her room and I guessed she would have had time to put on the lipstick and anything else she wanted to put on. Sure enough, when I reached her room she was just turning from the dressing-table mirror. She had lipstick on. She was also wearing a pair of brown flat-heeled shoes.
‘What say we leave the swamp till another time?’ I said. ‘Would you like to see a cave today?’
‘Is it far, Harry?’ asked Caroline.
‘Not far,’ I said. ‘No further than the wharf, going round the back way. It’s not a very steep track. It won’t make you tired, Caroline. And you can see the wharf and the bay from up there.’
‘That sounds nice,’ she said. ‘We might even have time to call on Mr Phelps, do you think?’
‘Well, he’s usually busy about now,’ I said. ‘He stores things in the woolshed for farmers. They have different days for collecting stuff. He keeps things there for the store too—’
‘Anyway, we’ll have a nice walk,’ Caroline said.
Dibs was waiting for us in the kitchen. If he expected Caroline to kiss him, he fell in; all she did was give him a smile. She didn’t care who she smiled at.
I looked down the yard as we left in case Cal was there; he wasn’t. Served him right that he was missing this fun, he shouldn’t have dodged wiping the breakfast dishes.
I saw Susan Prosser on her front veranda when we were up on the road, but pretended I hadn’t seen her. She couldn’t be studying very hard. Unless the book in her hand was a textbook.
‘You know what Susan Prosser reckons?’ I said to Dibs when we were down the road a bit. ‘She reckons Mr Dalloway won’t be here next term.’
Caroline, who was walking between us, gave me a look when I said Mr Dalloway’s name, but she did not speak.
Sydney Bridge Upside Down Page 6
