Famous (41 page)

‘Yes.’

A long pause while they both finished laughing. And then started again.

‘Hells bells!’ exclaimed Lizzie. ‘What in God’s name is happening to you?’

‘That’s it!’ laughed Mands. ‘We’re going to have to evacuate you soon, before you turn into some sort of lemon-faced washerwoman.

‘If you drop it, I’ll kill you,’ I replied, which shut her up.

The fair was being held on the school football field. I had never seen so many people gather in this town at once, not even at the market. Where on earth had they all been hiding? I wondered.

Firstly we made our way to the cake stall, where I delivered and registered my cake, while Mands and Lizzie stood beside me, giggling hysterically.

I arrived, cake in hand, to find Elsie chatting to a tall girl with long blonde hair, who looked only a few years younger than me.

‘This is Josie,’ said Elsie, introducing us.

‘Hi,’ she replied, blatantly giving me the once-over. I was no stranger to the once-over, being that I frequently give it myself.

Josie promptly said her goodbyes, telling us she was off to meet Ethan. I guessed she must be a friend of his.

‘She’s trouble, that one,’ whispered Elsie, once she had gone. ‘Back in town again. Poor Ethan.’

‘Are they an item?’ I asked, curious.

‘Used to be,’ replied Elsie, shaking her head. ‘Her parents own the farm next to his. Broke his heart three years ago, poor ducky, and then she went to live in Sydney. A wild goose never laid a tame egg I say.’

We put our cakes down on the judging table. The judging panel was convening at two o’clock sharp to taste and rate the cakes. There was quite a pile sitting on the table already, on a large lace tablecloth.

Please don’t let there be another orange and cream cheese one, I prayed.

It was a gorgeous day and we spent the first part of the morning wandering around the various food and craft stalls, meeting up with my parents, Bob, Ethan, Mack, Abbie and Josie.

‘Who’s the snooty cow?’ asked Mands. I gathered she was referring to Josie.

‘Ethan’s ex,’ I replied.

‘Really?’ said Mands, raising her eyebrows. ‘I smell a competition.’

I had no idea what she was talking about.

We sat down for an early picnic lunch on the grass, Mands and Lizzie having headed back to the cabin to rescue several bottles of cold champers.

‘What’s a picnic without bubbles?’ said Mands, as the three of us, and Abbie, proceeded to get stuck in.

After lunch we decided to partake in a few of the activities on offer. The first one we came across was a mechanical bull whose sole purpose was, it appeared, to have you innocently sit on it and then hurl you about at high speed like a sack of potatoes. Before catapulting you onto the ground, in a pile of disgrace.

‘Fantastic!’ cried Josie, excitedly. ‘Haven’t seen one of these for years. ‘C’mon Ethie,’ she said, grabbing Ethan by the hand.

‘Not this time,’ he replied, holding up his hands.

‘Oh,’ she said, pouting at him and smiling cutely. ‘You’re no fun.’ He didn’t smile back.

‘What about you, Sam?’ he asked, turning to me.

‘Oh…um…’

‘Yes Sam,’ said Josie, smiling at me sweetly, as she joined the line. ‘Why don’t you give it a go? It’s fun.’

‘Go on Sam,’ urged Abbie.

‘You can’t let that horsey woman beat you,’ hissed Mands in my ear, giving me a little push. ‘Get up there, for godsake!’

‘Why?’ I hissed back.

‘Because she’s making you look bad.’

‘Whaddayamean?’

‘I mean she’s clearly challenging you to a competition and you’ve got to kick her arse.’

‘Why? What for?’

‘Because, it’s a chick-off, that’s why. Town versus Country.’

A what-off? I had no desire to compete with Josie, especially as I wasn’t sure what exactly we were competing for, but (due to the effects of the bubbles) I decided to give it a go and stood in the line behind her. Josie was up first and she hopped onto the bull like a natural. ‘I told you she was a horsey person,’ whispered Mands.

‘All lanky and freckly. They all look the same.’

She rode the bull like there was no tomorrow, getting bucked left, right and centre, as the speed increased, but clinging on like a pro. It looked as though she was going to ride it off into the sunset. After five minutes of violent and furious bucking she was finally thrown off, landing perfectly on her feet on the rubber mat.

Bloody hell, I despaired, knowing there was no way in the world I would be staying on the thing for that long.

‘I think we have a new female record!’ announced the man with the microphone.

Josie walked off the mat towards Ethan, smiling proudly.

I promptly tried to sneak my way out of the line.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ said Mands and Lizzie, who were blocking my way.

I had no choice but to walk up to the bull and climb on. There was nothing graceful about my mount, as I finally managed to get one leg over. A mere thirty seconds later, as the bull picked up its bucking pace, I suddenly found myself airborne, flying face first towards the blue rubber mat.

‘Crikey,’ said Dad, as he came to help me up. ‘That was quite a fall love.’

‘Looks like we might need to organise you some riding lessons,’ said Ethan, also helping me to stand.

I was too winded to say anything, having had every last breath of air knocked from my body.

‘Bloody great effort!’ said Mands, as I bade her an evil look. I would like to have seen her ride that thing.

‘Guess they don’t have bulls in the city?’ said Josie.

‘Stupid cow!’ hissed Lizzie. ‘I think you should challenge her to a cork-popping competition. Then we’ll see who the winner is.’

I was still too winded to talk.

The next activity we came to was the Gumboot Throw. I couldn’t remember ever having worn a gumboot before, let alone having thrown one. The boys all had a go first, with Mack throwing the winning boot. And naturally Josie was the first to enter the female competition.

‘Don’t just stand there,’ whispered Mands and Lizzie.

‘Grab your boot.’

‘Oh for God’s sake,’ I sighed. I was still in rather substantial pain.

There were five females in line to throw, including Josie and my mother. Josie was third to throw, immediately taking the lead.

‘Bloody hell!’ I hissed to Mands and Lizzie. ‘She’s some sort of rural Xena.’

‘Just throw it,’ they urged. ‘You can do it!’

I stepped forward and hurled the gumboot, watching as it sailed a good two metres beyond Josie’s one.

‘Yee-haa!’ cried Mands, Lizzie and Abbie.

‘Good on ya, luvie,’ joined in Elsie.

‘That’s one for Town,’ added Mands.

But my lead was shortlived as my mother stepped up to the line and hurled her boot another two metres past mine, winning the female gumboot throw hands down. She was rather chuffed with her prize, which was a T-shirt with the slogan
If You Can’t Wear ’Em, Throw ’Em
and the outline of a pair of gumboots. Toothless Cass was among the spectators and soon persuaded Mands to be her partner in the sheep-herding competition, which was a sight to behold. And it was a relief to sit my battered body on the bench for a while.

Next up, and the final activity for the day, was wood chopping, which was run by Bruce from the hardware-slash-pharmacy store. Ethan, Mack and Dad all lined up for the men’s competition, with Ethan cleaning up by a long shot. He made it look so easy.

‘Well done,’ I congratulated him.

‘Way thaaank yew Saamanther,’ he drawled. I had to laugh.

‘You’ll be having a go then, won’t you?’ he asked, as the beginning of the female competition was announced by Bruce. ‘Oh no, I don’t think so,’ I replied.

‘C’mon Samantha,’ urged Josie. ‘Don’t they have axes in the city?’

She really was proving to be a large pain in the arse, I thought to myself. Her city comments were beginning to wind me up, especially considering she’d been living in a much larger city herself for the past three years.

‘Course we do,’ said Lizzie, giving me a little shove forward.

‘Thatta girl!’ encouraged Mands.

It appeared I had no choice. Thankfully my mother had decided to sit this one out.

Dear God, I thought, as I picked up the heavy axe, a completely foreign object in my hands. I am going to chop off my own bloody leg.

I put my left foot onto the log in front of me, as everyone else appeared to be doing.

‘Three, two, one, chop!’ called out Bruce, as I took my first swing at the log.

And what a swing it was. So powerful that it took me completely by surprise. So powerful that the weight of the axe flipped me head first over the log and onto the grass beyond, where I lay sprawled, narrowly missing landing on the axe, which incidentally, had not made contact with the log. My body throbbed, having sustained its second high impact collision in the space of two hours.

‘Upsy-daisy!’ called out my mother. ‘Thatta girl!’

I hoisted myself up from the grass, quickly realising that (as embarrassed as I was) I really did have to start chopping. I put my foot back on the log and, with arms steady and controlled, managed to make some small dents in the medium-sized log. And I was nearly a good quarter of the way through it when Josie threw her axe down and her hands up, her log neatly dissected.

Bitch! I thought to myself, at the same time feeling overwhelmingly grateful it was over. Why on earth would anyone want to chop wood? Especially when you could buy it already chopped? I looked down at my left palm, which was sporting the beginnings of a red blister.

Thankfully the grueling physical activities were finally over and it was time to head to the cake stall for the announcement of the results. The announcer, and also one of the judges, was ample Della, from the grocery-slash-dry-cleaning-slash-liquor store. She stood outside the stall, where a small crowd had gathered, with a microphone in hand. After a little speech about how this year had been the toughest competition yet, and with the most entries, she announced the winners.

‘Third prize goes to…Deidre Watkins!’ cried Della.

Yay! I thought to myself. That meant Elsie simply had to be first or second place.

Deidre Watkins looked less than impressed as she walked up to collect her bronze medallion and non-stick muffin tray.

‘And,’ boomed Della, ‘second prize goes to…Jane S!’

That wasn’t Elsie. I looked around for Jane S, whoever she was.

‘That’s you love!’ cried Elsie, grabbing me by the arm. ‘Well done!’

Ohmygod! It was too! I was Jane S. And I had won second prize. Second prize! Unbelievable!

I walked up to receive my prize from Della, amid much loud whooping from Mands, Lizzie, Elsie and Abbie. It was a silver medallion in the shape of a layered cake, which Della placed around my neck, and a copy of the latest Jamie Oliver cookbook.

I was warmly congratulated by my friends and family, even my non-baking mother and Mands - who said as she was giving me a hug – ‘Just promise you won’t make a habit out of it, dolls.’

‘And…’ hollered Della. ‘The first prize goes to…Elsie Thompson!’

‘Congratulations!’ I cried, giving Elsie a hug, as she beamed back and went to collect her apron, olive oil and cookbook.

She’d done it! And together we’d cleaned up the competition and left narky old Deidre Watkins for toast. I promptly cut the remainder of my cake and gave everyone a slice, even Josie.

‘Delicious,’ they praised. ‘Best cake ever.’

Dad was over the moon for me. I think he was a bit miffed at not being able to enter the competition himself though as it was only open to locals.

‘A woman of many hidden talents,’ smiled Ethan, giving me a congratulatory kiss on the cheek.

‘Definitely one for town,’ whispered Lizzie in my ear.

That evening we all descended on Mack and Abbie’s farmhouse for a barbeque. Ethan’s friends Jamie and Ellen, whom I had met for the first time that day, and Josie, came too.

‘Sam,’ whispered Abbie, as the two of us stood in her kitchen whipping up some salads. ‘I’m sorry she’s here tonight.’

I gathered she meant Josie.

‘She sort of invited herself along and I couldn’t really say no.’

‘It’s okay,’ I replied. ‘She seems nice.’ Which was clearly a lie.

‘Oh she can be nice all right,’ whispered Abbie. ‘But only when she wants to be.’

‘So why did Ethan go out with her?’ I asked.

‘Who knows? Mack and I certainly never figured it out. All I know is that he deserves better than her. Much better.’

‘Do you think she’s back to stay?’ I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

‘I really hope not,’ replied Abbie. ‘But she seems to be on some sort of mission. I just hope Ethan smells the smoke before he sees it.’

‘So do I,’ I replied. He was a good friend after all and I didn’t want him to wind up with someone who wasn’t going to treat him as well as he deserved.

We all sat down to a delicious spread at the table on the deck outside. Josie wasn’t forthcoming with polite conversation, so I thought I’d make the first move.

‘Where were you living in Sydney?’ I asked.

‘Paddington,’ she replied.

‘And have you come back to stay?’ I ventured.