Untidy Towns

by Kate O'Donnell

  A few people called out hello, and we joined the group easily. No one except me seemed surprised or shocked that Adelaide Longley had turned up with Jarrod ‘Foreskin’ Foreman. I still felt like a square peg, but no one really paid much attention to us at all. Maybe they couldn’t see my squareness.

  Emma slid across the concrete step and let me squeeze in.

  ‘Is Jen here?’ I asked.

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Should I message her?’

  ‘Nah, I did before. She doesn’t really come out much.’

  ‘She’s super serious about study, huh?’

  ‘She’ll top the year for sure. My mum’s always pissy that she doesn’t rub off on the rest of us dummies.’ Emma gestured quickly from her to me and back.

  I tried to not be offended.

  Someone had brought speakers and music played low. Grass, weeds and thistles had grown through the artificial lawn of the green and I pulled up some that were poking through the concrete near my feet. As I threw them into the darkness, I accidentally made eye contact with a guy in green shoes. I was pretty sure his name was Aaron and when we were at primary school he’d had a big thing for insects. Now he had two fingers tucked into the waistband of a pretty girl (who was talking to her friends as though there weren’t two fingers tucked pretty far down her jeans. I admired her level of coolness – she didn’t even seem to react). He was also wearing sunglasses even though it was night. My body’s reaction was to tense up, but then he smiled at me and gave a not-totally-threatening ‘hey there’ finger pistol. I figured it was a welcoming gesture so I smiled.

  In fact, I kept smiling as I looked around at all the people and no one gave me the evil eye or told me to go back to my posh city school.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jarrod leaning against the concrete wall of the clubhouse. I made sure it looked like I didn’t know he was watching me.

  The music played louder. Emma and I shimmied our coats off and danced wildly to Kanye. The more I saw of Emyvale, the more Emyvale was okay.

  Later, when people started to disperse and after Mum had texted see you soon?!?!?, Jarrod and I stood awkwardly holding our bikes.

  ‘So. Bye.’

  ‘See ya, Addie.’

  When he’d ridden off home, my imagination-brain went into overdrive. I couldn’t help it. I started thinking about Jarrod and building a character around him, pretending that I really knew him. A rugged country lad. A bad boy with a heart of gold. And although some rational part of me knew these made-up Jarrods weren’t real, at least not completely, they still made me like him more. I felt weirdly squirmy and excited.

  But I always, always did this.

  I constructed situations, too, and in my mind they were perfect. Passionate kisses on lookouts with city views. Cinematic expeditions to remote places. Or, now, cruising through the eerily silent streets of Emyvale, with skies of infinite stars. Sometimes I imagined the poetically imperfect: unplanned pregnancies and traumatic breakups that would render me unable to function properly for weeks and months. I imagined long distance relationships, untimely but poetically satisfying deaths.

  I imagined what it would be like to be in love.

  In July, Mia invited herself for a visit. It was sorted before I knew what was happening. We were on the phone and she was raving about this and that and whatever and I was listening, I was, but I was also lying on the couch looking out the window. And I was lying on the couch upside down looking out the window and at the curious trees – well, they looked curious from upside down anyway – as I listened to her rant about ‘SACs, Mr Ellis, parties … and I just hadn’t topped up my Myki. Where do they expect us to top it up, jeez?’

  I laughed. Typical Mia. I’d already forgotten about bitching about Myki and I swung my feet up onto the back of the couch and I wondered if my travel card was still in my purse or what.

  Mia was still talking. I was still half-listening. It had to be in my purse or handbag or something, I supposed; where else would it have gone?

  ‘How is it down with the cows?’ she asked suddenly. Everything is sudden when Mia’s involved. ‘Do they keep you company? Do they keep you warm at night?’ She was putting on her awfully 1920s dramatic radio voice that always made us laugh.

  ‘They’re very considerate bedfellows,’ I said, laughing. ‘It’s good here, I like it. I built a website for the historical society.’

  ‘That’s kind of cool.’

  ‘I just used a template,’ I said. ‘Nothing fancy. I’ll send you the link.’

  ‘I was thinking …’

  ‘Did it hurt?’

  She ignored me and my hilarity. ‘I’m going to come down in the holidays.’

  ‘Come here?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘To see you, beetle brain. I miss you.’

  I was in awe of her easy declarations of emotion. I tried to emulate her, though it mostly felt forced and I wondered if that came across when I did it. ‘Ich liebe dich, too.’ We also liked to speak in German to one another sometimes.

  ‘Fabulous! I’ll come down on the train.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said s.l.o.w.l.y. I was hesitant to commit.

  ‘Okay darlink, call you soon.’ She mwahed elaborate kisses down the phone.

  I hung up, her voice still echoing as I tapped ‘end call’ with a fluttery thumb. Oh, cripes. I couldn’t quite imagine Mia in Emyvale. Was I finding it just a little hard to breathe? Worlds colliding. Here we go, I guess.

  She came on the train and I went to the station to collect her. It was halfway through the morning and yet there was still a misty fog loitering. Our train station was bluestone, and probably a hundred years old. I felt so countrified and ye olde as I sat upon a wooden bench on the platform and rubbed my gloved hands together. The V/Line clattered in, as prosaic and hideous as ever, and she stepped down from the carriage, carrying a duffle bag, and wearing her dark and oversized sunglasses.

  Mia was so cool. So cool I could hardly believe it and I kind of wanted to scoff at her.

  She dumped her bag and screamed, ‘Addie!’ She threw her arms around me and squeezed hard. For a moment I was still and awkward, but then I moved my hands around her and let Mia dance me into a jumpy circle of hugging and laughing and making a spectacle.

  ‘Mia Darling!’ I exclaimed. It was both a term of endearment and her actual last name.

  I hauled her duffle onto my back and we ambled from the station to the main street of Emyvale. If there had been significant sights to point out I would have. I knew it was boring, but I showed her the shops, the school, the police station. ‘And they’ve barricaded the old bowling green,’ I said. ‘We had this party there one night. Mia, you would have loved it.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve never invited me here before.’ She winked. ‘What a bitch.’

  ‘Well, you’re here now. Look out, Emyvale!’ I was actually secretly dying a bit with worry about how this was all going to go.

  We stopped to buy snot blocks from the bakery. ‘It’s the best vanilla slice you’ll ever taste,’ I assured her.

  ‘Little bit scungy in there, wasn’t it?’ she whispered as the hanging plastic strips slapped together behind us. ‘Don’t get me wrong, everyone seemed really nice, but can’t they keep it a bit cleaner? I mean, it must turn people off buying things there.’

  There was no time to think about this, or respond, before she continued, pointing a finger to a signpost on our left. ‘Oh! Congratulations! Someone had better alert the bakery.’

  I hadn’t even noticed the sign before: Emyvale: a 1996 Tidy Town.

  ‘Mum, this is Mia. Mia, my mum, Libby.’

  ‘Thank you for having me,’ Mia said. Always so well trained.

  ‘Great to have you here.’

  ‘I was saying how pi— I mean miffed, I
am that Adelaide’s never invited me before.’

  Mum looked at me a little strangely. ‘Well, you’re welcome anytime,’ she said diplomatically.

  ‘I have so invited you before.’ I knew I sounded petulant.

  ‘Hello hello hello hello hello!’ Clover had obviously decided to be her most charming. This was why she was my favourite person in the world.

  ‘Hi!’ said Mia. She turned to me. ‘Oh my god, she’s even cuter in person. What a poppet!’

  ‘Come on, I’ll show you around,’ I said.

  Clover decided to continue to be a little charmer and slipped her paw into Mia’s hand. Mia’s face flashed, delighted. I rolled my eyes, though smilingly.

  We went out the back. Outstretching an arm, I waved in the direction down yonder, beyond our backyard. ‘There’s a whole apple orchard next door, a proper one.’

  ‘So rustic!’

  ‘And this is Tim.’

  ‘He my pony,’ said Clover, clambering under the bottom fence wire.

  ‘Should she be under there?’ Mia asked casually.

  I shrugged. Clover grabbed onto Tim’s rug and swung a bit beneath him. Tim just stood there, blinking his beautiful eyes and looking at us as if to say, ‘What can you do?’

  Then it started raining and it didn’t stop, so we huddled in the house, trying to entertain ourselves. We lay on my bed with music playing. At first it was difficult, but Mia was filled with stories about the girls, the teachers, the man from the café, the woman with the eagle eye from this cheap clothes shop that we went to all the time and that they all challenged each other to shoplift from. Even though they wore brand-name clothes, the girls loved a bargain and a shoplifted dress was the best bargain of all. I had done it once, just once, and I swore to myself as I pegged it (as casually as I could) down High Street that that was it. I ticked off shoplifting as one thing done that never had to be done again and shoved the dress down the back of the cupboard.

  ‘How are the wild plans for the future going?’ I asked. ‘Let me live vicariously through yours because mine are in limbo, or stasis, or whatever.’

  ‘Ugh.’ She threw herself back onto the pillows. ‘I mean, they said I can do an official gap year, teaching or assisting or whatever, but that if I just wanted to travel – you know, to see interesting places and meet all kinds of fascinating people – that they wouldn’t help me to do that. Mum said it wasn’t serious enough, not a proper investment. Can you believe it?’

  ‘Sucks!’

  ‘I’ve decided I may as well go straight to uni.’

  ‘Really?’

  She avoided looking me right in the eye. ‘Yep. It might be good.’

  I felt intensely disappointed. Mia was always the one who bucked the trend, snuck out of school, dreamed big dreams. I felt ill-equipped to forge a path alone.

  Another downer was that I still had to do my historical society shifts. ‘No rest for the wicked,’ Gran had said.

  I threw the Mitfords Mia’s way and though she didn’t seem super keen, she accepted the books and the promise of tea and toast from Mum. I had to cycle off to push the feather duster across the 1922 Tennis Championship display for the twenty-eleventh time.

  ‘I’ll be back at five!’ I called.

  Mia waved lazily at me over the back of the couch, her nose already buried in the pages. ‘Have fun at work, dear.’

  ‘I hear you have a visitor from the big smoke,’ wheezed Bill, who stood at the scanner idly feeding documents through.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said.

  ‘That’s nice, isn’t it, love?’ Today’s outfit was one of Bill’s best. He had tucked a rugby jumper (a new jumper!) into his high-waisted pants and strapped a big belt around his middle. ‘Yeah, good to have friends come down. We think it’s not far, as you know, but my colleagues and friends were good to remind me that it’s not a small trip. No, you can’t just head down on a whim.’ He shook his head very seriously.

  ‘Do you have friends in Melbourne?’ Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised he had friends.

  ‘Oh, yes, all my colleagues from the Vic Roads days. And friends, other friends.’

  ‘You lived up there?’

  ‘For a couple of years. Just until Dad had his stroke, you know.’

  I didn’t know. I swept the duster along the skirting boards, having discovered new places dust could accumulate.

  ‘Don’t see the city folk as much as I’d like. Perhaps I’ll try to make a trip up there soon. But it’s a good feeling, helping Dad out here.’

  Back at home I tried to tell Mia about it. ‘Bill actually talked to me today. I mean, he told me things about himself instead of banging on about ridiculous processes he wants to implement, or about the benefits of buying meat straight from the farmer and mincing it yourself.’ I shuddered thinking about the three times I’d sat through that conversation.

  Mia slowly raised her head, dragging her eyes from the page at the last possible moment. It was like she was trying to break a magnetic connection. ‘Oh, cool,’ she said. Ever so absent-mindedly! ‘Linda’s gone to France!’ she added, then turned right back to the book.

  I couldn’t snap her out of it. She didn’t want to go for a walk. She didn’t want to watch anything. I’d try to have a conversation, but in no time at all she would be deep within the story again.

  Mum thought this was hilarious. ‘Here’s a taste of your own medicine, Addiekins!’

  The following day I dropped by the chemist on my way home and collected Jenny, who I’d invited for the afternoon. I held an umbrella over our heads as we hurried back to the house. She seemed reluctant, or at least at her most shy, so I just chattered and blathered at her the whole walk home. If she was going to be awkward I could meet her halfway at least.

  ‘I can’t believe you guys haven’t met yet. You’re both so great.’

  ‘Mmm hmm.’

  Mia put the book down long enough to meet us at the door.

  ‘Jenny Dear, this is Mia Darling.’ Saying their names together really gave me quite a dorky thrill. Surely it was a sign that we would be able to make it work, all be friends.

  It ended up fine. More than fine. They hit it off straight away. I’d forgotten how good Mia was at talking. She could talk to anyone. She kind of made you feel you were the most interesting person around and you ended up craving her attention. People were always falling in love with her.

  Mum helped me carry a plate of cheesy, toasted English muffins and big mugs of peppermint tea into the lounge room and then she kept Clover away while me and the girls curled up on the couches. Well, Mia sprawled on the floor.

  ‘Where in Melbourne do you live?’ asked Jen.

  Mia shook her head, licking cheese grease off her fingers. ‘I’m a boarder too. Well, like Addie was. I’m at the boarding house.’

  ‘Her parents live overseas.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, at the moment they’re posted in Copenhagen.’

  ‘Amazing!’ Jen seemed impressed.

  ‘Ehh. It’s pretty boring actually. But what are your plans next year?’ Mia asked.

  Jenny smiled a nervous, but determined smile. ‘I’m hoping to get into science at Melbourne. Maybe medicine as an end goal, but we’ll see.’

  ‘Fab. I’m most likely going there too. Not that I know what I want to do, of course.’

  And they were off. Subjects, SACs, university preferences, teachers …

  I got in a comment or two about not wanting that, wanting something else, like experiencing the real world. But I couldn’t divert the conversation, apparently.

  Mia said she wanted to have no responsibility and to have lots of fun.

  Jen declared she wanted to go somewhere new and to be among people who were clever ‘… and also to have some fun’. And then she was saying, ‘You guys are coming to Sam’s on
the weekend, right?’

  ‘That’s the party you were talking about, Addie?’

  ‘Yarp.’ I was feeling snarky from being left out. They didn’t notice. Maybe I was always this grumpy.

  ‘Tell me straight. Is it going to be like a B&S?’

  ‘Like a B&S ball? What do you know about B&Ss? I don’t even know what they are,’ I said.

  Mia was going through all the clothes – the ones from her bag, the ones from my cupboard, even the dubious, potentially whiffy ones from the floor. ‘But he lives on a farm?’

  I shook out a pair of jeans. ‘Yep.’

  ‘So it’ll be like Glastonbury, maybe? Like Golden Plains?’

  ‘Did you end up going to that?’

  ‘It was awesome. My sister shared around a whole bunch of magic mushrooms. I mean, I missed seeing Gavin and the Grains, but never mind.’

  ‘Really?’ I was super jealous of her experience and scared by it all at once. Some of the St Thomas’s girls had older siblings who had older habits and wild, wilful lives. It would be lying to say I wasn’t one hundred per cent fascinated. I was in love with them and their stories. And a little intimidated. Their sisters had interesting haircuts and stories about backpacking. They moved through trends in fashion and music without even thinking about it.

  Mia pulled a pair of shorts over her tights. ‘Will we take a tent?’

  ‘It’s not going to be like a festival. It’s just a party. We’ll just crash on the floor somewhere, that’s what Sam said. You can borrow Mum’s sleeping bag.’

  She wiggled her bum, dancing across the room. ‘Think I’ll find someone to share it with me?’

  I nodded. ‘Probably.’

  And we laughed. I figured my friends would probably think Mia was completely OTT – and they would be right – and they would absolutely love her.

  Mum pulled up the car at the end of the long driveway. There were strings of lanterns leading the way to the house. ‘Behave yourselves.’

  ‘Yes, Mum.’

  ‘If you want to come home tonight, just call.’

  ‘We’re going to stay over.’ I shook my sleeping bag in her general direction.