Summer

by Michelle Zoetemeyer

  Tom came around the corner and snuck up behind me. “Boo!”

  I swiped him across the head for making me jump. “What do you want to do first? Go to Shortie’s or go tadpoling?”

  “Go tadpoling.”

  We walked down the street and past my place. We climbed through the barbed wire fence and followed the path to the left of us. The path led up behind the houses in our block and into a big open paddock. The path to the right of us led around to the bush between our place and the school. We’re not supposed to cut through the bush to get to school, but we always do. It’s much shorter than going all the way around the block, but some of the land belongs to the Desreaux’s and they complain to the school if we cut through it. The school then makes us use the road again, but after a while they get slack and stop checking, so we cut through the bush again until the next complaint is made.

  At least we could play in the paddock as often as we liked because nobody owned the land there. The grass had even grown back from last year’s fire. At the moment, it was waist high and full of little seeds. If you walked through it with wet feet, the seeds stuck to you and you had to wait for them to dry before they’d brush off.

  Looking at the place now, there’s no way I could tell there’d been a fire. The grass looked just like it did before we set it alight. The fire is a secret that only Tom, Shortie and I know about. Well, everyone knows about the fire, but they don’t know that we started it. Anyway, it was an accident. We didn’t mean to set fire to anything. Shortie found a lighter in the gutter and Tom used it to melt a plastic dog’s bowl that we nicked from under someone’s back fence. Tom got me to hold the bowl steady while he held the lighter under it, but it got too hot and I dropped it. As soon as it hit the ground, the grass went up in flames. We tried to stamp it out, but it took off and we panicked. We ran as fast as we could through the bush and over towards the back of our school, which is in the opposite direction from where we’d been.

  At first we didn’t think about where we were going, we just bolted so we wouldn’t get caught. But then we realised that if we came back through the gap in my fence, no one would know that we’d been anywhere near the fire. They’d just think we were playing in the bush behind my house. Luckily we hadn’t told anyone where we were going.

  By the time we got as far as the Desreaux’s place, we could already smell the fire. It’s one of my favourite smells. Probably because it reminds me of summer and I love summer time. Don’t get me wrong, I felt bad for starting the fire, I just thought it smelt nice, that’s all.

  We heard the fire engines arrive and decided to stay in hiding a bit longer before heading home. While we waited, we played hide and seek in the cornfield behind Desreaux’s. We’re not supposed to play in the corn, but it’s too much fun not to. It’s taller than we are and we can hide in it forever without getting caught.

  By the time we got back, the fire was almost out. We stood around with the crowd of people that had gathered, watching the fire trucks. No one suspected that we started it, so we never got caught. Bush fires happen all the time in summer, so everyone just put it down to the heat and the dead grass. We’ve never shared our secret with a living soul, but sometimes we talk about it when no one’s around.

  Tom looked across and gave me a smile. He didn’t say anything, but I knew he was thinking about the fire too. It’s kind of strange really. Sometimes all he has to do is look a certain way and I know exactly what he’s thinking. “Got a light?” he asked.

  I smiled back. I knew he wasn’t expecting an answer. It was just his way of letting me know what was on his mind.

  We cut through the long grass and out the other side, leaving a trail wide enough to impress Hansel and Gretel. Tom picked one of the Wet-the-bed flowers that grew amongst the long grass and held it under my chin. The yellow flower reflected on my fair skin, unreliably confirming that I’m a bed wetter.

  “Jenny wets the bed, Jenny wets the bed,” he teased.

  I knew he was only kidding so I didn’t bother responding to his taunts. Instead, I snatched the flower from his hand and tucked it behind my ear.

  As the bush thinned out a little, big clusters of rocks started to appear. The caves were a bit further up and the closer to the ridge we got, the rockier it became. We weren’t going that far today though. We were only going as far as the creek. It’s the same creek that goes all the way past the back of the school and eventually comes out into the storm water drain. Not many people play this far up, so the place is usually deserted. I couldn’t understand why though, it was one of our favourite spots. The creek ran through a deep gully, which couldn’t be seen until you got right up close. That meant we could play there all day without anyone finding us. Unless they walked right up to the edge, that is.

  There was a small waterfall further up, with a pool at its base. That’s where we were going. It’s always shady and cool there, no matter how hot it is. The waterfall is surrounded by masses of tangled vines, which grow thick and spongy over the edges and down the sides, making it a perfect place for jumping into. Sometimes we just lie on the leafy mattress looking up at the sky, making pictures from the clouds. It’s so soft and comfortable, we’re happy to lie there all day.

  We climbed down the side of the waterfall and squatted on the edge of the creek, looking in. I could see the tadpoles wriggling through the clear water. They ranged in size from huge to tiny. We usually got the big ones because they were likely to turn into frogs quicker. I filled the container with water and Tom skimmed the net through the creek. We’ve tried catching them without a net, but it takes too long. The net came out of the water with at least eight tadpoles on it.

  “Good catch,” I told him. Tom scooped the biggest two into the container and dunked the net back in. “There,” I pointed, “that one has legs, get it.” Tom reached across and scooped where I showed him. He caught a net full of mud and weed, but no tadpoles. He also disturbed the bottom and made the water cloudy, now we couldn’t see the tadpoles anymore.

  We climbed to the top of the ditch, jumped across the trickle of water at the top of the waterfall, and climbed back down the other side. An amount of water remained clear along the edge of the creek and the tadpoles that hadn’t escaped to the safety of the muddy water wiggled their tails happily. I scooped the net, making sure I didn’t touch the bottom. When I lifted it out of the water, there were three tadpoles in it, but they were too small, so we put them back.

  We eventually caught ten tadpoles, six of which had legs. We divided them equally into two containers so we each had three tadpoles with legs and two without. We decided to keep a set at each of our places and see which ones turned into frogs first. Tom handed me a container with some creek water in it and my share of the tadpoles. I carefully decorated the bottom with rocks and sand from the creek, making sure I didn’t squash any tadpoles along the way. We didn’t know for sure what they ate, but we assumed they liked weed from the creek, so I put some of that in too. Then, just to be sure, I gave them extra.

  I wanted them to grow big and fat, not starve.

  We agreed that we needed to come every week and get some new water because we’re pretty sure they don’t like tap water. They always die when we put it in their containers. Last time I used nothing but creek water and none of them died. Well, that’s not strictly true. They all died in the end, but that was because I forgot about them and the water dried up completely. The tadpoles went all crunchy and stuck to the bottom and I had to throw the whole container away. What I meant to say is that when I remembered to put creek water in their container, they didn’t die. One of the tadpoles even grew legs. I assumed it turned into a frog and jumped away because one morning it was gone. Either that or next door’s cat ate it.

  ***

  We left our tadpoles in the shade and played around in the vines for a while. Tom stood at the top of the waterfall and jumped. He landed next to where I was laying. We weren’t even sure what was under us. The leaves
were too thick to see through and when we put our hands under them, all we got was more leaves.

  We lay in the green bed, stretched out our legs, and studied our muddy feet. “What are you getting for your birthday?” I wiggled my toes to see if the mud would crack, but it was still too wet.

  “Dunno, I think Mum’s getting it today while she’s Christmas shopping. I asked for an Atari, but I’m not sure if I’ll get it.”

  Tom’s parents are on a pension, so they don’t have much money.

  “What about you? What are you getting?”

  I told him again how much I hoped I was getting a bike.

  “Maybe I should’ve asked for a new bike for Christmas. That way, you could have my old one,” he suggested.

  “Nuh, it’s too late now anyway, your mum’s shopping today.”

  “Well, if you don’t get one this year, I’ll definitely ask for a new one next year and you can have it then.”

  Is it any wonder I’m going to marry Tom? He’s always so considerate.

  There’s only two days to go until our birthday. I can’t wait. I so hope I get a new bike. If I don’t get one this year, I might have to let on that I don’t believe in Santa and suggest I get one for my birthday and Christmas combined. Surely that’s got to improve my chances.

  I was starting to get very excited about my party. Jeanette’s mum rang last night to say she would love to come, so now the only person I hadn’t heard from was Michael Simpson. I don’t really mind if he doesn’t come, I only asked him so he wouldn’t feel left out. I still can’t believe Mum’s letting me have a party. Kate and Tracy had one this year also, but that was because they turned sixteen and Dad said that turning sixteen was special. Turning eleven wasn’t, so I’m so glad Dad talked Mum into it for me.

  It was getting close to lunchtime, so we decided to head back home. We walked all the way back, being extra careful not to spill the tadpoles. They’re really hard to find in the grass. I should know; many tadpoles have never made it to froghood because of my clumsiness.

  ***

  Mum stood in the kitchen stirring a large pot of soup. No doubt Grandma had managed to offload her washing up again. “Would you kids like some soup for lunch?”

  I hate soup, so I said no. I don’t even know why she asked me, she already knows that. Tom accepted, so I made myself a devon and tomato sauce sandwich while Mum served the soup. She turned the stove off and carefully carried Tom’s bowl into the dining area, putting it on the table in front of him. “Michael’s mum called,” she informed us, “he’s going to stay with his Grandparents for Christmas so he won’t be coming to your party. She said to wish you both a happy birthday.”

  “No worries, I still have eighteen kids coming all up,” I informed her. Even though I was sharing the party with Tom, none of his relatives were coming. Most of them were grown up anyway, so it’s not like they’d want to come. Besides, the only reason the other grownups are coming is because of their kids. Except Clare that is, she doesn’t have any kids.

  “Have you thought about what games you want to play yet?” Mum asked.

  Musical chairs or statues were the best I could come up with on short notice. “I know,” said Tom, “what about pin the tail on the donkey?”

  We’d been to stacks of parties where they played that and everyone always had lots of fun. The party is starting at one o’clock and going until four, so we had plenty of time to play all of them if we wanted.

  Mum suggested Tom and I draw a donkey on butcher’s paper and cut up some cardboard for the tails. Mum had a scarf we could use as a blindfold and some drawing pins to put through the tails. We agreed to make the donkey before the party on Saturday, and since it was only Thursday, we had plenty of time. Besides, we didn’t have any butcher’s paper yet. Mum said she’d get some next time she went down the street.

  We finished lunch and took Tom’s tadpoles home. I’d already put mine on the shelf in the laundry so they wouldn’t fry in the sun. No doubt, if Mum found them, she would make me find somewhere else to put them, but at least they were safe for now.

  Oh no, I just remembered what happened last time I left something on the shelf in the laundry. Only the last time it was a mouse. Ed’s mouse had babies and he gave me one, except Mum said I couldn’t have it, so I hid it on the shelf in the laundry, like I’d just done with the tadpoles. Brian must have seen me sneak in there though, because when I went back in later the box was lying on the floor empty. The stupid idiot probably never even found out what was in the box; mice can run really fast. That afternoon, Mum made me hang the washing on the line. When I got to the bottom of the washing machine, I found a dead, washed, little mouse with no fur left on it. Boy, did Brian cop it for that, and I didn’t even tell him why.

  Tom put his tadpoles on the workbench in the shed. Their shed was as tidy as their house and didn’t look like it got used much, so we figured they were unlikely to be in anyone’s way there. Not like our shed, it’s full of stuff. Dad’s always working on something. Sometimes, I spend hours with him in his shed just talking and watching him work. He likes to fix up old things. Once he found an old record player at the dump and bought it home and made it work. It’s the one that he’s always playing his Blondie and Linda Ronstadt records on. It’s got a radio on it and everything. In the summer he puts the cricket on the radio and listens to it while he works. I hate cricket, it’s so boring.

  Tom needed to go to the toilet so we closed the shed and went inside. The Undertaker was back in his usual spot in the corner with his can of KB. Mrs Simmons and Jim still weren’t home, so I preferred to wait in the dining room for Tom. When he came out, we left via the back door so we didn’t disturb the Undertaker.

  Shortie lives up the hill from Tom’s place. It’s really steep and never fails to puff us out by the time we reach the top. Today was no exception. It’s an excellent hill for roller-skating down though. I got roller skates for Christmas last year and have ridden down it stacks of times. Once, I fell off and scraped my shoulder and knees. I even got gravel under my skin and everything. The scars are still there, but they’re fading. Mum said they’ll eventually disappear, but they haven’t yet.

  Shortie’s place is on a dead end street. His street joins the one that goes all the way around the block and comes out in front of my place. There are only four houses on each side of his street. There’s lots of bush behind the houses, which you can cut through to get to the next block. That must’ve been where they found Shortie after the Dumbrells bashed him up. Dad said he didn’t know how the kittens were killed, just that they were. I don’t think he’s telling the truth, but I haven’t bothered to ask. It’s probably best I don’t know.

  I wondered if the Dumbrells had finished moving out yet and hoped that Duncan and Dean were in the boys’ home already. Tom suggested we check it out on the way back. The Dumbrells lived down the hill on the other side of the block from Shortie’s so we could go the long way home and have a look.

  Shortie’s dad’s car was in the driveway, which meant they were probably home. We crossed their front yard and knocked on the door. Heaps of ferns and plants with coloured flowers hung in baskets from their front veranda. I wondered how they didn’t hit their heads on them, but then I remembered the entire family was short. One of Shortie’s brothers answered the door. I wasn’t sure which one. All I know is Shortie’s the youngest, so he must’ve been an older one.

  “Hi,” said Tom, “we just came to see what time visiting hours are so we can visit Shortie.”

  “Jim’s going to take us tomorrow,” I added, “unless he’s going to be home before then, that is.”

  Shortie’s brother stood there staring at me as though I were Mork from Ork. I felt like saying na-nu, na-nu, but of course I didn’t. After what felt like ages, he looked from me to Tom and finally recognised us. He told us to wait there and turned around and walked off, closing the door in our faces. I looked at Tom as if to say, what was all that about? Tom was just
about to say something when Shortie’s dad came to the door. At least he seemed to know who we were. “Oh Jenny and Tom, it’s you,” he said.

  Things went downhill from there. He just stood there looking at us, making me extremely uncomfortable. I looked at Tom who didn’t seem to know what to say so I told Mr O’Connor that we wanted to find out what room Shortie was in and when we could visit him. He didn’t appear to hear what we said. He just stood there looking at us like his son had done earlier. It was weird. I didn’t remember Shortie’s family being so odd.

  “Who is it?” Shortie’s mum called from inside. She walked up and stuck her head around the door to see who was there. She looked terrible. Her face was all red and her eyes were puffy. She looked like she’d been crying for a week straight. Shortie’s dad walked off absentmindedly, leaving Mrs O’Connor staring at us through the screen door.

  Chapter 27

  Sunday, 1 December 1968

  Peter slept soundly beside Maggie. Careful not to disturb him, she snuck out of bed quietly. She didn’t bother to get dressed. There was no need. Stephen had stayed overnight at the Warner’s place, so they had the house to themselves. She tiptoed into the bathroom and sat on the toilet with a sigh of relief. She inspected the toilet paper before dropping it in the bowl with a silent thank you. Her period had still not arrived. She knew it was still too early to get her hopes up, but she allowed herself the small indulgence of thinking about what it might be like to have Peter's baby.

  The phone rang, causing Maggie to reluctantly abandon her daydream. She didn’t want the phone interrupting Peter's first shot in ages at sleeping in, so she quickly raced through the house to answer it.