Goodwood (27 page)

Cows bellowed in the faraway paddock—their moos arrived with the breeze—and Ethan turned his head to look at them. They were tiny in the distance, like the little plastic ones from the toyshop in the Clarke Plaza.

Before long Ethan was right up next to me, with his feet touching mine. He was laughing along and pretending not to be there, much like Lucas's hand was pretending not to be moving further and further up George's thigh, and George was pretending not to notice. The four of us sat like that for a long time, radiating with the alcohol and pretending, as the afternoon light cast long tree-shadows on the oval. I didn't mind either way—Ethan being close or not. His skin was warm and his game of footsies was pleasant. I remember feeling not much of anything about the afternoon.

‘It's almost four,' said George. She staggered slightly as she got up. Walking back across the oval, Lucas dared an arm over George's shoulder. Ethan left his hands in his pockets but he walked so close that he bumped into me every so often as we came upon the town.

When we got to the main road, the parade was just starting, and already it was clear that Bart McDonald got his wish, albeit posthumously. It
was
even better than last year. The Goodwood Primary P&C had festooned the awnings of Cedar Street with blue and brown streamers and balloons, which flapped lazily in the light wind. Participating shopkeepers, which was everyone apart from Mountain Real Estate (‘Spoilsports', said Nan) hung coloured cardboard fish in their windows and Val Sparks had made aquarium-themed bunting for her display at Vinnies. In the shining spring afternoon the cartoon colours were dazzling under an unclouded sky.

George's parents hooted for Lego Pat, who'd made a trout of many coloured blocks, which looked much more like a plane. He held it proudly above his head as he marched. Little Petey West walked barefoot with a bamboo rod and a paper rainbow fish dangling on the end. In his other arm he swung a yellow bucket. There were twenty-three children in the parade in total—Coral counted them—and they all wore either blue or brown, to symbolise the ocean or the river.

Smithy and Nance and Val Sparks stood together, cheering and clapping. Nance's great-niece held a crêpe-paper whale
clasped in both hands; and three girls from Year Four, dressed in aqua blue dresses, ran along with green streamers that had shells stuck on them and fluttered along behind them like eels.

‘Seaweed,' said George, with a knowing smile.

‘Seaweed,' I said back, and we were merry and slightly drunk.

Paulie Roberts attended with his family. He looked noticeably troubled by the seaweed streamers. Later, he covered his eyes when Faye Haynes's grandson, Dan, went by, draped in paper lakeweed like a marsh. Paulie's wife, June, held him around the shoulders and Paulie grimaced.

Mack and Tracy's son, Jasper, was the youngest participant. He was only two and Mack held his hand at the back and he walked on his squat little legs, dressed in browns for the river and dragging a soft toy platypus on a string along the road, like he was walking a little dog.

The sight of that caused the biggest
Aaawwww
from the crowd, which was the biggest crowd I'd seen for the parade, ever. Everyone lining the pavement clapped and whooped. Outside Bookworm, Emily Ross led a woodwind quartet, asthmatically, and they performed a medley of water-themed numbers, including ‘Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay' and ‘Take Me To the River'. Fisherdads and fishermums waved and crouched with their cameras, aimed at their adorable children, who were gently corralled by the teachers of Goodwood Primary. Mum, Nan and Pop, Coral, Big Jim and Fitzy were
there, and the locals from the Wicko, and even old limping Mal West, who eyed me and Ethan standing together and acted like he didn't know his own son. Mrs Gwen Hughes, resplendent in a blue mirrored shawl, wore extra stones—two topaz bracelets, a shimmering sapphire necklace and huge lapis earrings—to celebrate the oceanic theme.

Everyone was there.

Everyone except Judy and Carl White, any member of the Carlstrom family, and Mrs Bart and Pearl.

Everyone except Rosie White and Bart McDonald.

‘They're having a whale of a time,' said Smithy, who was properly smiling for the first time since winter. ‘Look at them, happy out, leaping about the place.' His whole face lit up like a lantern.

The people of Goodwood were, for the first time in a long while, happy.

Afterwards, at the Bowlo, Carmel Carmichael had organised three big barbeques in a row along the wall opposite the green. The smell of fish was smoky and everywhere. It was to be fried and served with white bread rolls, tartare sauce and an iceberg lettuce salad.

The turnout for the Fish Fry was, as happened every year, even bigger than the turnout for the parade. The Bowlo never saw a day like it, and all the face-painted kids ran around together on the green while balloons gathered in corners and under the white plastic tables.

George and Lucas and Ethan and I sat in the fading sun near the fence, so no one could smell us drinking. We didn't have much left to drink, but we kept a steady pace and remained warm and, in George's case, slightly slurry. The line at the bar was long all evening. Never had so many kegs been required. I saw Mack and Tracy dancing under coloured lights. Mum and Nan were in a deep literary discussion with Arden Cleary, who wore a checked tweed jacket despite it being spring. Big Jim was belly-laughing with Irene Oakman, both in their best King Gees. The whole thing was triumphant and festive. It was like Goodwood had been granted a reprieve. The whole town was drinking and eating and enjoying the music.

Then the multitude of coloured hanging streamers in the doorway parted to reveal Evie, who was standing there with no expression next to her parents.

My heart wheeled to a stop.

Evie.

I hadn't even considered that I might see her there, but as soon as I did I thought,
of course
. Her parents were new in town. It was a great chance to meet people.

I watched her—Evie—as her parents were introduced to people and her dad shook lots of other men's hands and her mum clinked other ladies' wineglasses with her own.

Evie looked as if she wasn't really there. She was floating like a streamer, hovering in the doorway, looking around for no one, in her faraway world. Then she saw me across
the green and she held my gaze for a long moment before turning away.

I felt the electrics in every bulb and cord and socket in the Bowlo rush through me.

The food was served. Smithy and Merv were the main men at the barbeque and the charred white fish, flaked and broken, sat steaming on huge plastic platters, surrounded by wedges of lemon.

It was twilight when the paper plates were set aside, full of scrunched napkins and tiny bones, and more people started dancing.

Evie had been with her parents the whole time, not really eating, not joining in the conversation. I was flushed in my face from the whisky and Lucas started pashing George in front of us, so Ethan lay back on the concrete and closed his eyes and I excused myself to go to the bathroom.

I caught Evie just as she was leaving.

‘Are you leaving?' I asked. I could not hide my disappointment.

‘Yeah. I'm going home,' she said, looking me right in the eyes.

I had nothing at all to say, so I just looked back until it became uncomfortable, and then I looked at the carpet instead.

‘You should come over if you want,' she said.

My face felt hot. I looked back at her blankly.

‘You know where my house is,' she said. ‘When you're done here, you should come over.'

And just like that she turned and left, and I was standing on the carpet, a little giddy, and Nan and Pop were dancing—him in his good yellow shirt, her in her peach dress. Pop was leading. Nan smiled completely. She gripped his shoulders and closed her eyes. Pop swayed and tilted. He moved his feet back and forward, and back and forward, as they made a slow and gentle circle that went around and around on the floor.

•

I walked towards Evie's house with a flock of birds in my chest. I went along the dark road much faster than usual. I tripped up a gutter and almost fell over. I was full of whisky and everything in the dark world was whirling.

I hadn't said goodbye to George or Ethan. George was pashing Lucas in the shadows, and Ethan had gone off somewhere when I got back to our spot near the fence. George didn't see me, and I turned around and went back across the fairy-lit green.

I told Mum I'd see her at home and she waved, full of wine, and said, ‘Jeannie,
honey
. Feed Backflip! I'm gonna have a dance.'

She hardly blinked.

‘Celia!' said a woman from the CWA, before they fell into a deep and immediate discussion. Mum didn't seem to have a
burning heart that night. The mirror ball spun diamonds of light around the room, and my Nan and Pop swept across the foreground—gliding—and soon I was walking very quickly towards town under a blanket of country stars. I felt like yelling and running. I wanted to be new and different. I was a sparkling fish in a bucket, flipping and beating around on its side.

Evie.

I turned the corner onto the laneway that cuts through to the car park behind Woody's, and down towards Sooning Street. Derek Murray was sitting on the edge of the metal fence, near his filthy Kingswood, smoking a cigarette. He was all by himself. The light bulb shone stark on the wall near the dumpster bins. Derek Murray's face was empty. He blew a line of smoke out and stared. There were two black holes where his eyes should be. He heard me coming and looked over sharply and more smoke came out of his nose, giving him the appearance of a dark dragon. I was startled. I had never seen him look quite so unpleasant. His mouth made a repellent smile and I thought of Lafe and his leering. I walked faster. The laneway felt so narrow and I wanted to be at the end of it. I could feel Derek Murray's eyes on me.

‘Nice night for it,' he said, and I skipped into a run and ran the rest of the way to Evie's house.

There it stood: her strange-looking house, red and green. I hovered in front of the gate and tried to collect myself.

The front door was closed. I walked up the steps and stood on the landing. My chest was bursting. I considered turning around again. I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself. And just as I raised my hand up to knock on the door, it came open and, as I breathed all my air out, there was Evie. She had changed out of her jeans. She wore tights and an old green T-shirt with a Dalmatian on it. The cartoon dog, covered in spots, stared out under big white writing that said
Dalmatians Are Spot On!

‘I didn't know if you'd come,' she said.

She looked down shyly, and I did the same. Then she opened the door wider to let me in. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?' she asked.

I was drunk. I knew that Evie wasn't. I told her that I would love a cup of tea, even though I didn't, and I soon found myself standing in the kitchen, while Evie put the gas on under the kettle and fetched two teacups from the cupboard.

The kitchen was modest. I imagined old Grace and Teddy would've resided there happily. Teddy, the eccentric, had done a little painting in the interior too. The door of an unknown room along the hall was purple, but the skirting was an unrelated blue. There was a confusing mixture of browns and oranges on various shelves in the pantry. I leaned against the bench as Evie spooned leaves into an old pink teapot.

She asked me if I wanted milk and I said I didn't. She seemed to be smiling, but she was yet to look me properly
in the eyes. Some of her braveness was gone, and there were constellations of beauty spots on the skin of her long arms. The cartoon Dalmatian stared out from her shirt, full of innocent joy. Leaning against the bench, I had no idea what to do with my hands, so I folded my arms and looked at the floor mostly, and sometimes up at Evie.

She was so beautiful in her home clothes. She was what Nan would call ‘lovely'. The sweet darkness went forever through the gap in her teeth. She took a deep breath, pouring the boiled water into the pot, and finally she fixed her eyes on me and I fell all the way off the deep green mountain. I stood there—stuck in the feeling of falling and not having yet hit the ground.

Then Evie went to get something from the drawer, right next to where I was standing. She fumbled around for the tea strainer with one hand. She was there so suddenly, so close, to one side of me, facing the bench, rummaging around in the utensils.

I wanted to fill the silence. My mind raced around for some piece of conversation. My face felt hot and I was about to speak when Evie turned her head up from the drawer and looked at me, holding the tea strainer. And then she was turning with her whole body, quickly, and then she was kissing me. I turned into her, kissing her, without thinking. I put my hands up to her face, on both sides. I heard the
metal strainer fall to the floor as she moved in front of me and pushed me with all her body against the bench.

I felt like a flower, pressed in a book. Her arms, her legs, all parts of her were against me. She moved and moved there, slowly. And in just a small moment I felt her hand go up under my dress, searching, and just like that she found me. It made me breathe in so sharply. She kept her mouth on mine all the while, swallowing my breaths. And soon we tumbled from the kitchen into the hallway, onto the carpeted step, and the birdsong in my chest turned to a heavy fluttering of wings in her fingers, until the walls of the hallway, breathing quickly, brilliantly flickered with lamp and moon and stars, seemed like they went all the way to the sky.

35

The next morning was Sunday and Mack was enjoying a cup of Nescafé when Judy White called the station and asked if he would please withdraw the Apprehended Violence Order he was lodging against Carl—as soon as possible—and that she'd like to drop the assault charges, also.

Mack held the receiver in his hand and wanted to punch a hole in his stupid pinewood desk, but instead he took a pencil in his hand and broke it in two. The lead poked out of one end like a bone, and for a small moment he felt quite good.