‘You couldn’t have picked a better time, Miss Selby,’ said Mr Wiggins. ‘Don’t let tonight’s downpour mislead you. We’re in for plenty more sunny weather this summer.’
‘So I was telling her, Chick,’ said Dad. ‘Storms are rare this time of the year. Don’t expect we’ll—’
‘If there’s any particular place you want to see, I’d be glad to give you a lift,’ Mr Wiggins told Caroline. ‘I’m the only taxi in these parts.’ He laughed.
‘You can leave it to the boys to show Caroline the beauty spots, Chick,’ said Dad.
‘We’re going to the waterfall,’ Cal said.
‘Places further afield, I mean, Miss Selby,’ said Mr Wiggins, not looking at Dad or Cal. ‘Be glad to give you a lift to the store, for instance.’
Dad laughed. ‘Doubt if Caroline will find the store exciting, Chick.’
‘Well, it’s where the nearest telephone is,’ Mr Wiggins said. ‘Suppose Miss Selby wants to put in a call to her people in the city? She’d have to ring from the store. Be glad to take her there.’
‘That’s very very kind of you, Mr Wiggins,’ said Caroline. ‘But I don’t think I’ll need to ring home. They know where I am. They won’t expect a call.’
‘Be glad to give you a lift,’ he told her. ‘Say you want to go shopping at Bonnie Brae. Have they told you about Bonnie Brae?’
‘Not yet,’ said Caroline, smiling at Dad.
‘Give us a chance,’ Dad told Mr Wiggins. ‘Caroline only got here this afternoon.’
‘Bonnie Brae’s where I operate from, Miss Selby,’ said Mr Wiggins. ‘Nearest thing to a town in this part of the country. What about the carnival? There’s the anniversary carnival soon. You might appreciate a lift to the carnival.’
‘Sandy Kelly usually takes us in the Reo,’ Dad said. ‘There’ll be room for Caroline.’
‘Bumpy ride in the Reo, Miss Selby,’ said Mr Wiggins. ‘Road’s rough, some risky bends, long drop to the sea if a driver doesn’t watch out. We’ve lost a few drivers off that road.’
‘Sandy’s done the run for years,’ Dad said. ‘He hasn’t struck trouble yet. I think we can risk him again. But thanks for the offer, Chick. Very generous of you.’
‘Any time,’ Mr Wiggins said. ‘What about the races, Miss Selby? You interested in racing? Meeting at Bonnie Brae on
Saturday week. You might appreciate a lift to the races.’
‘I’m not fond of racing,’ Caroline said. ‘I went once. I’ve never been again.’
Mr Wiggins, looking enormously interested, leaned over the table. ‘Is that a fact? What didn’t you like about the races, Miss Selby?’
‘I can’t remember,’ she said. ‘I do remember that I didn’t enjoy being there.’
‘Is that a fact?’ said Mr Wiggins. ‘Is that a fact?’
‘Drop dead,’ said Caroline.
At least, that was what I imagined she said when I saw her mouth open twice while Mr Wiggins gazed at her. She did not speak, she just shaped the words. I must have been mistaken about the words she chose, of course. Because she was smiling and still looking nice. I wouldn’t have blamed her for being angry because I thought Mr Wiggins was damned cheeky with his talk of taking her places, and I could see Dad was annoyed at him too, anybody would think Caroline didn’t have relations eager to show her around, anybody would think we needed Mr Wiggins and his rattly van.
Dad asked: ‘Who told you Caroline was here, Chick?’
Mr Wiggins said: ‘You can’t keep a pretty girl to yourself, Frank. Word soon gets around. No secrets in Calliope Bay, eh?’
‘I wonder,’ Dad said. ‘Take Dalloway the teacher. Lot we don’t know about that fellow. Manages to keep things to himself.’
‘What do you want to know about him?’ Mr Wiggins asked. He grinned. ‘Reckon I know what makes him tick.’
‘Dare say,’ Dad said. ‘You get to hear more gossip than I do.’
‘Which of his secrets would you like to hear about?’ asked Mr Wiggins, winking at Caroline.
‘Don’t get the idea I care what he’s been, what he does,’ Dad said. ‘I was only using him as an illustration of people keeping things to themselves. It’s not that I
care
where he goes for his holidays.’
‘Well, that’s no secret,’ said Mr Wiggins. ‘He always heads for the city. Everybody knows that.’
‘Of course we do,’ Dad said. ‘That’s not what I meant. But never mind. Care for another cup, Chick?’
‘No, that should do,’ Mr Wiggins said. ‘I’ve got a long drive home. River might be bad too.’ He stared at Caroline.
‘Give us a shout if you get stuck,’ Dad said. ‘We’ll see what we can do.’
‘I’ll make it,’ Mr Wiggins said, keeping his gaze on Caroline.
‘See you again then,’ Dad said. ‘What were you saying about my order?’
‘Your order?’ asked Mr Wiggins, turning from Caroline, frowning at Dad.
‘Thought you wanted to know if I was going to up it this week,’ Dad said.
‘That’s right,’ Mr Wiggins said, not seeming to care. ‘What about some steak? Something tender for Miss Selby, eh? I’ll add a couple of pounds of steak. All right, Frank?’
‘That should do,’ Dad said. He hopped to the door to
hand Mr Wiggins his sou’wester and oilskin. ‘Glad you looked in, Chick. I might have forgotten about the order.’
‘Any time,’ Mr Wiggins said. He glanced at Cal and me, looked longer at Caroline. ‘Don’t forget the carnival. Don’t forget what I said, Miss Selby.’
‘Thank you, Mr Wiggins,’ Caroline said.
She spoke nicely and maybe I was only imagining that her eyes showed she didn’t really think much of his offer, maybe I was only imagining that the look she gave me meant she agreed about Mr Wiggins being damned cheeky. Anyway, she had not kissed him; this must be a good sign.
‘He doesn’t often show up so late,’ Dad said when Mr Wiggins had gone off into the storm.
‘Catch me going to the carnival in his old van!’ Cal said. ‘It breaks down. We saw it in the river—’ I was glaring at him, he stopped.
‘Mr Kelly will take us,’ Dad said. ‘We can trust the Reo.’
‘Would you like some toast?’ I asked Caroline. She was looking at me, and I said it for the sake of something to say.
‘It’s not my hungry look, Harry,’ she said. ‘It’s my wondering look. I was wondering about the name Dalloway.’ She smiled at me, then at Dad. ‘I heard you mention a Mr Dalloway, Uncle Frank, and I wondered when I’d heard that name before.’ She looked at me. ‘Perhaps you mentioned it, Harry?’
‘Sure I did,’ I said. ‘On the way from the wharf. I told you how he reckons we live on the edge of the world.’
‘That must be it!’ she said. ‘I knew I’d heard it before. I couldn’t remember.’
Dad was serious. ‘But you might have heard it before today? Is that what you mean, Caroline?’
She considered. ‘Perhaps I do, Uncle Frank.’
‘How do you mean?’ asked Dad. ‘Can’t you remember?’
‘It does seem longer ago than this afternoon,’ she said. She was silent for a moment or so, then she said: ‘It’s been such a long day.’
‘Yes, you’ll want a good sleep tonight,’ Dad said. ‘Not often we’re up this late. All our talking!’
His
talking, he meant. He had not given Cal and me much chance before Mr Wiggins arrived, and Mr Wiggins had been as bad, you would think Caroline was meant for him to talk to and make silly suggestions to. I’d catch up tomorrow, it would be my turn then to talk to Caroline.
‘I’ll pull down your blind,’ I told her. ‘In case the lightning scares you.’ I sped to her room at the front of the house before Dad could say he would do it.
Cal followed me along the passage. He didn’t like to miss anything, that kid.
‘She’s better than Susan Prosser, eh?’ he said when we were in the bedroom where our parents usually slept (now Dad would have the smaller spare room next to the kitchen).
‘Bit soon to tell, boy,’ I said, knowing very well he was right.
Outside it was still raining; it was black too. I pulled down the blind.
‘Thank you very very much, Harry,’ Caroline said from the doorway.
‘If you want to use the dunny, you can have first go,’ Cal told her. ‘I showed you where it is, eh?’
‘Yes, and thank you very very much too, Cal,’ she said.
Dad had come hopping up the passage. He told Cal: ‘Now Caroline is here, you’d better start calling it the lav.’
Caroline didn’t seem to mind. She said she would go out to it right away.
While she was gone, Dad said: ‘You fellows must watch your language now there’s a young lady in the house. Not so many
damneds
from you, Harry. And don’t say
dunny
, Cal. Try to be polite. We mustn’t give your cousin a wrong impression. She’s a nice girl.’
We promised to watch our language.
‘See you do,’ he said. ‘Now off to bed!’
‘I want to go out there after her,’ Cal said. ‘I always go to the dunny before I put on my pyjamas.’
‘I’ll go after him,’ I said.
‘Just wait for Caroline,’ Dad said.
When she got back, her yellow dress was splashed with rain, she was brushing her hair with her fingers.
‘Sorry, Caroline,’ Dad said. ‘I should have given you the oilskin.’
‘Don’t worry, Uncle Frank,’ she said. ‘Not many drops hit me.’ She smiled at us. ‘Good night, everybody. Thank you for the marvellous welcome.’
Then she did what I had been hoping she would do. She kissed us. She kissed Cal first, then me, then Dad. My turn seemed to last longer than Cal’s, but I didn’t get a chance
to look through her eyes—because she shut them. When she got to Dad, his crutch slipped and he had to hold her tightly to keep his balance. It was unusual for Dad’s crutch to slip.
Cal and I raced to the kitchen. I let Cal go outside first.
Later, when Cal and I were in our pyjamas and bouncing on the bed, I remembered that Dad had looked dreamy as he crossed the kitchen to the spare room, he hadn’t noticed me watching.
T
HE FUNNY
thing is I forgot what Caroline said about Sam Phelps. I mean, I forgot for more than two days. Then I remembered on her third morning with us. It was just after we had been running around with nothing on that I remembered. We had been running from her room to our room and back again, up and down the passage, in and out of the kitchen, and we were getting puffed, I was not surprised when Caroline dived on to her bed, pulled a sheet over herself and said from the pillow that she’d had enough. Cal and I didn’t mind stopping; we’d had our share of smacks.
Cal, who was still shy about Caroline seeing him wearing nothing, went off to get dressed. I sat on Caroline’s bed, near the end.
‘I’ve remembered something,’ I said, looking straight ahead in case she sat up and let the sheet slip and thought I was staring. ‘Remember what you said about Sam Phelps the other night? About him being handsome.’
‘I remember,’ Caroline said, keeping her head on the pillow. ‘Why, Harry?’
‘Do you still think he’s handsome?’ I asked. ‘Now you’ve seen him again.’
‘Don’t you think so, Harry?’ Her head stayed on the pillow, she spoke sleepily.
‘What about his scar?’ I asked.
‘Doesn’t matter,’ she said.
‘What about him being grubby?’ I asked.
‘Being what?’ she said softly.
‘Grubby,’ I said.
‘What?’ she said, very softly.
I could tell she was nearly asleep, so I said no more. I guessed I should go and put my clothes on, but I didn’t want to leave her, I wanted to be near her a while longer. I told myself she might suddenly sit up and tell me why she thought Sam Phelps was handsome. I knew she wouldn’t, but it seemed a good excuse for staying there.
Now she was asleep.
She likes being in bed, I thought. I remembered how she had said the afternoon after her arrival that she was going into the bedroom to change her dress, and how when I looked in there half an hour later she was asleep on the bed, still wearing the dress she had worn for our climb up the small hill across the road from our house. She had gone to bed pretty early the past two nights too, even though Dad wanted to keep telling her about his city experiences (he kept describing buildings and streets he thought she knew, but she didn’t know many of them, maybe because Dad was talking of how the city was a long time before). I also
remembered that she had not wanted to climb the stairs at the works yesterday because she said she was feeling rather tired, she would prefer to climb them another day, quite early if we didn’t mind. I had thought for a moment she might be scared of those ruins and was recalling what Dad had told her about the accidents that had happened there and how dangerous it was (with a warning look at us). Then I decided she was not scared, it was just that she was a city girl and not yet used to running and climbing the way we were. And I told her to sit down while I chased Dibs Kelly up the works stairs, I said I would wave to her from the top floor. She said she would keep looking and would wave back when she saw us. Well, I beat Dibs to the top, but when I looked down I couldn’t see Caroline or Cal. That damned Cal must have taken her inside the old killing-room, I thought; he was probably showing her where we had found the pistol, not caring about it being secret. But he had not taken her there, after all. Because then I noticed that they were with Sam Phelps and Sydney Bridge Upside Down. They must have gone to the railway line quickly because it certainly hadn’t taken Dibs and me long to get to the top of the works. ‘What do you know?’ I said to Dibs. I was so annoyed about what had happened I felt like giving Dibs a good push, they would come running back to the works if I did that, if I shouted to them as I did it. I didn’t push Dibs, though; it wasn’t his fault. I didn’t chase across to them, either; if Caroline preferred talking to Sam Phelps, that was her business, she would soon get tired of Sam Phelps and his old horse. ‘Going down?’ asked Dibs. ‘Think I’ll look at the scenery a while,’
I said. ‘I’m going down,’ he said. ‘See you,’ I said. I knew the scenery too well to look at it long. Instead, I looked at the group by the railway line, and now at Dibs (I should have pushed him!) cutting across to be near her, near
my
cousin. And now at Dibs speeding up because Caroline and Cal had climbed into the freight wagon and Sydney Bridge Upside Down was moving. Sam Phelps was in his seat at the front of the wagon, holding the reins loosely, heading for the wharf with Caroline and Cal. What a dirty trick! Cal could have called me,
he
knew I’d like a ride. Caroline might think I didn’t care, but Cal knew better, he could easily have yelled to me. That kid played some dirty tricks, I thought. And what right had Dibs, jumping now into the wagon, to be travelling with my cousin? When I remembered how often I had tried to get a ride on his big brother’s Indian and how often I had been turned down, I reckoned it was damned cheeky of Dibs to help himself to a ride with my cousin. I got sulky, up there at the top of the works, while Sydney Bridge Upside Down plodded on. I stayed there. Eventually they rounded the bend, the cliff would hide them till they were nearer the wharf. At least, I took it for granted it would hide them that long. But they stayed hidden for longer than they should have, and at first I thought Sydney Bridge Upside Down must have stopped for a rest, being so bony and old, then I wondered, when they still didn’t appear near the wharf, if they’d been derailed, maybe Caroline had been tipped out. She might need help, I thought. I moved a few steps towards the stairwell before I reminded myself that no wagon could be derailed at the speed Sydney Bridge Upside Down went.
So what were they doing? Where were they? I waited and watched. Nothing. It was no use, I would have to go down. I went down slowly, kicking the footholds to make them more dangerous. Serve her right if I crash, I thought. Poor Harry, she would think when they found my body. And all she could do then would be to give me a last kiss. Cal and Dibs would not be sad for long. Trust them to go on having fun, they would think themselves lucky to have got rid of me, they wouldn’t care if I fell. And of course I didn’t fall, I didn’t miss a foothold, not one. In the works yard I thought of heading for home, of leaving the others to whatever fun they had found. I would just walk to the line and look along it—but not walk along it, I certainly wouldn’t follow them, if they’d wanted me around they would have yelled to me. So I did that. And I had not been standing long near the line when I saw Dibs and Cal. They were on the line, walking towards me. I didn’t move. It seemed a good while before they reached me. ‘Where’s Caroline?’ I asked when they were still a few yards from me. ‘Looking at his house,’ Cal said, sounding annoyed. ‘What house?’ I asked, knowing that Sam Phelps lived in a shack in a clearing not far from the wharf woolshed, and nobody could call it a house. ‘Looking at his shack,’ said Dibs. ‘He’s got nothing to show her, that shack’s not worth looking at,’ I said. ‘That’s what we thought,’ Dibs said. And they told me how Caroline had suggested that they come back to play with me because she wanted to accept Sam Phelps’ invitation and she said she knew they would rather play than look at a house. ‘She’d have let
me
go with her, it was Dibs being there that made it no good,’ Cal said.
‘Yes, boy,’ I told Dibs, ‘you’ve got a cheek chasing her. She’s
our
cousin.’ ‘I wasn’t chasing her, I only went for the ride,’ Dibs said. ‘Get your own cousin,’ I told him, and I aimed a punch, but he dodged and ran off and I couldn’t be bothered following him. Cal said: ‘Mr Phelps said he’d make her a cup of tea. That’s why she went with him. How about we go to the works, Harry?’ I said: ‘You didn’t care about the works a while ago, not when you went off with her like you did.’ And I wouldn’t play with him, he had lost his chance. I waited for Caroline. I had to wait an hour. She came back in the freight wagon, and she waved to me from the seat beside Sam Phelps as soon as she saw me. She would have seen me sooner if she hadn’t been listening to what Sam Phelps was saying, and it was strange to see Sam Phelps talking like that. When the wagon stopped I kept a fair way off, and I didn’t speak to Caroline until she quit listening to Sam Phelps. ‘What a skinny horse, eh?’ I said, watching Sydney Bridge Upside Down move off. ‘He’s a dear,’ Caroline said, and I couldn’t be sure whether she meant Sam Phelps or his horse, I had a feeling she hadn’t heard what I said. That was when I could have asked her what she meant by saying Sam Phelps was handsome, but I clean forgot she’d said it, and I didn’t remember till this morning. And now that I had asked her, I was no better off. I would not ask her again, I thought, looking at her, listening to her breathing. I would not bother her, I would let her sleep.
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.