Jen appeared next to me. ‘Mia gets in at two. Come to the train station with me?’
‘You don’t want to go just by yourself?’
She lowered her voice. ‘Nah. I’m freaking out a bit about seeing her again, to be honest.’
‘Sure, I’ll come. But it’ll be fine,’ I said, swiping a mini quiche from a plate and hoping I was right.
‘This is a feast!’ cried Clover in her most queenly voice, standing on her tippy toes and peering across the tabletops. Where had she even learned that word?
The afternoon train clanked in and deposited Mia, fresh from the city and freshly nose-pierced. ‘We’re freeeeeeee!’ she shouted, running across the platform. ‘Come at me, real world!’ She hugged first me, and then Jenny.
Mia was so enviously easy breezy.
‘I can’t believe you gave up New Year’s in the city for this place,’ I blurted out. I was still flabbergasted, and perhaps a little offended that maybe, just maybe, the reason wasn’t my excellent company.
‘Nothing interesting happening up there.’ Mia re-arranged her backpack and started walking confidently in the direction of town. ‘Hello, old friend,’ she said as she patted the bluestone wall of the train station. She turned to look at me. ‘So, are you okay with the whole results thing?’
‘Yeah. Yeah, I am. Everything’s going to be great. I’m really excited to … I dunno …’ I waved my arms about.
‘Spread your wings?’
‘Yes. But less cheesy.’
‘And you and J-Rad?’
‘Better.’ There was that uncontrollable smile again. ‘Really great.’
I kind of wished Jen wasn’t there so I could ask Mia what she thought was going on. I really hoped there’d be no heartbreak today. She wouldn’t come all this way to break a heart, would she?
But they were off talking away – ‘Killed me with that exam question’, ‘The new flat is so close to uni’, ‘I finally listened to that podcast!’ – and I just walked alongside, happy to be a third wheel. Then I spotted, out of the corner of my peripheral vision, Mia curl her little finger around Jenny’s … just for a moment. No, I didn’t have something in my eye.
We ambled down towards the historical society, and as we approached I saw there was a table out the front and some people standing behind it: Grandad, Gran and Mrs Dobbs. I rushed over. There was a sign (printed out in Comic Sans – urk) ‘A History of Emyvale’, and a big board with photos pinned neatly to it. A few chairs were scattered around, and an urn and mugs for tea. Clover sat on the ground, pretending to have a tea party. She stirred and stirred invisible tea with a rusty nail.
‘Some of us oldies haven’t seen your website, Addie,’ explained Mrs Dobbs. ‘We’re not very good at googling, as you know.’
Grandad put his arm around me. ‘So Bill and I organised to make it real-world too. That way the whole town can have a squiz.’
‘Who’s this babe?’ asked Mia (embarrassingly loudly), pointing to a photo. ‘Oh, there’s a caption. Helen Paterson.’
Mr Cairn came towards us, leaning a little on a wooden cane. He stopped next to Mia. ‘Darling Nell,’ he said.
‘Miss Nell?’ I was surprised. ‘I always thought Nell was her last name.’
‘She was a real firecracker,’ said Mr Cairn. ‘I admit I had a bit of a thing for her, back in the day.’
‘She went off the moment she could, worked in all kinds of places over the world. Did you know she was the assistant to the Australian ambassador in Argentina?’ There was wonder in Mrs Dobbs’s voice.
‘I remember hearing about her when I was growing up. I was always a little envious,’ said Gran. I watched Grandad wink at her, and smile.
Mr Cairn eased himself into a chair. ‘I’ve been meaning to tell you, Adelaide. Did you hear that the new owners finally got the go-ahead to renovate?’
I had no idea what he was talking about.
‘Nell’s house,’ he said. ‘The new owners have been waiting months for the heritage listing and approval to come through so they can begin restoring the place.’
I couldn’t say anything because my heart was busy bursting. My eyes were leaking. ‘That is just the most wonderful news!’
‘This whole thing is fantastic,’ said Mia, waving her hands around to encompass the festivities. ‘And I think it’s really cool what you’ve been doing with the historical society. You could definitely get work in a museum or something.’
‘I know, maybe I will. Turns out I kind of like it!’ I wiped away a sneaky tear and laughed. ‘Want to go find the others?’
Gran hauled Clover onto her hip. ‘We’ll take this wee terror home for the night.’
‘You’ll miss the party!’ I said.
‘I think we’ll live,’ she replied, smiling. ‘Have a fun night, girls.’
‘I’m a terror!’ said Clover.
‘You are my favourite person in the world,’ I said, giving her a big kiss.
‘We’re going to go down the river for a bit. All right?’
Mum kissed me, threw her arm around my shoulder and drew me close. ‘Aren’t our kids spectacular?’ she said (loudly) to Sam’s mum, Laureen.
Sam grabbed Jen around the waist but she slipped from his grasp and darted, all her netball skills in evidence, away through the crowd.
‘Oh, they’re all right,’ Laureen replied. Then, nodding towards Sam and Jen, ‘That’s fate working, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ Mrs Dear said, in a low voice. I was surprised.
Mum had gotten all philosophical. ‘They’re headstrong, independent young women. I don’t think fate or – you know, us – can control them.’
‘Mum?’ I asked again.
‘Huh? Didn’t you hear me, Addiekins? Yes, you are as free as the proverbial bird. Go, go!’
We went down the river: me, Jarrod, Dan, Em, Sam, Jen and Mia. I wished we had a dog to round out our gang – like a nice shaggy English sheepdog. I tried to entice Bucket, Sam’s kelpie, to join us but he was too busy hanging around the barbecues, waiting for an opportunity.
‘Does your mum know something?’ I asked Jen quietly, as we trooped down the path.
‘Oh!’ She slipped but didn’t fall. I grabbed for her arm. ‘Yes. I told them. I told them I’m moving to Melbourne, and I told them about liking girls. It really didn’t go too badly. I can’t believe it.’ Her smile filled with relief and happiness.
In the shade of some stately river gums we kicked off our shoes and lounged about. Conversation didn’t flow, but it tripped along pleasantly. The clearing was encircled by the beautiful gums, their smooth trunks branching out as strong arms curving around and fringed with blue-green leaves. From a distance the leaves shimmered in the sky and created a mystical eucalyptus haze.
I watched Jen and Mia out of the corner of my eye and their nervous, slow way with each other made my heart sing. How people changing in just the smallest measure could turn out to be a lot over time. I was looking forward to seeing who I’d be.
I remembered parties and summer days when we were kids. We’d get covered in dirt and mud and we never even cared. We would swim for hours. Our parents would remind us every single time to check for snags, tell us once again that the river changes every year, warn us, ‘Don’t just jump in’ and ‘Definitely don’t dive in – you will definitely die.’ My bathers were always threadbare and saggy around the bum, but it was the same for us all.
This sudden sense of nostalgia made my insides ache. The years were getting away from me, and I was only seventeen. I felt ancient and squanderous of my time. Perhaps if I let my body sink into the earth I would become the ground and that ground would become me and I would never grow old. I tried to slow my breathing, feel sinking kind of feelings. If I’d had to move I don’t think I could’ve. I wanted to make this spot, at this exact time, my pe
rmanent home.
Even with my eyes closed I could see shadows and patterns, all hazy and orangey-pink. Who said I had to do something with my life? What’s that old river doing with its life, hey? I blinked, let my eyes get used to the late-afternoon light. The sky was wispy, like someone’d stirred white paint through the blue. I wanted to do nothing, and I wanted to do everything. It was a frustrating combination of wants. I could hear birds and breeze and the occasional branch crashing to the scrub below. I could hear the water. It all smelled amazing: raw and in my face.
The sounds from town had trickled away to a fairy tinkle of the occasional shouts and laughter; it was as though we’d traversed to another world. The grass was green here, thanks to the river, which at least at this point of its course was still flowing, though there was a slice of the bank, a ten-centimetre strip of stained-dark earth on either side of the water like the river was wearing eyeliner.
Sam got up, looking fit to burst, and spilled the beans that he had finally looked up his score. And it was spectacular. Good enough for the science course at Melbourne Uni, easily.
‘Did you even apply?’ we asked. He just hadn’t mentioned anything at the time. Not that I was taking any notice of other people then, not in terms of university preferences. All the good that did for me.
‘Yep.’ He nodded, his lips pressed tight against one another. And no, he hadn’t told his parents yet, about any of it. ‘They keep talking about how next year I can work on the farm and Dad’ll incorporate me into the business. That if I want I can move into the other house, to have some privacy.’ He kicked his heel into the dirt. ‘And I do want to take over the farm eventually, for sure. But they want me to do Ag Science part-time at Warrnambool, or a business course. And I just don’t know how to tell them I won’t be here.’
‘You really won’t?’ asked Daniel. ‘You’re definitely going?’
‘To Melbourne?’ asked Emma, her voice rising, demanding confirmation.
He nodded. He looked up and around at the rest of us. He started to smile, in an awkward way. I could see his excitement bubbling up, and that he didn’t want to let it show. Suddenly, Jen threw herself at him and laughed and hugged him, saying, ‘Congratulations, this is amazing’ over and over again.
We all started echoing our pleasure, getting to our feet to hug him or shake his hand or just express ourselves better. What a strange new changing world we were awkwardly falling into. I squeezed Sam’s shoulder and he winked at me, then I took a few quick steps backwards, just to get my distance from it.
Jarrod pulled the end of my ponytail with a tweak and, when I turned, gave me a look. A look that was understanding and knowing without being patronising or too sorry for me, or sympathetic. I gave him my best smile. Because, as everyone had been trying to tell me (and they were right), it really wasn’t all that bad. I still had time.
Suddenly I wanted to do something. I was busting with want. The water was gleaming with late-afternoon sun.
‘Who’s for a swim?’ I shouted. And I pulled my dress over my head, unclipped my bra, slid my undies off. Part of me wanted to run around naked and shout and dance. Part of me wanted to put my clothes back on. The heart of me was thumping so much.
Before I could change my mind, I waded quickly down into the river. Someone on the bank let out a ‘Woo hoo!’ and I felt the warm surface water give way to the cool murky underneath. When I was out deep enough, I sank myself under the water until I touched the muddy bottom.
When I surfaced again, Mia was already completely starkers and running full-pelt into the water.
‘Don’t dive!’ we all shouted.
Jarrod jumped up. He took off his t-shirt and swung it around his head, trying to look sexy. When he threw his shirt it caught on a branch and hung there, a Kmart-issue flag. God, he was awesome. Always his own man. He reached a hand out to Jen.
‘No way,’ she said, laughing.
All the boys were undressing, flinging their garments hither and thither, but hesitating at their jocks. Emma hopped, pushing her shorts down along her legs with her feet and trying to take off her top at the same time, and she laughed and laughed. Jen stood at the water’s edge in her knickers and t-shirt, biting her fingernails and staring at the ripples. Then she grinned, suddenly, and pulled up her top.
It was only a moment or two before six more slippery naked beings splashed and cavorted with abandon.
Back up on the street there were sausages in bread for everyone and the tomato sauce flowed all night. There was a dance floor that looked like it was made from nailed-together bits of old wooden crates – and a terrible cover band played, illuminated by strings of fairy lights. The oldies dominated the space, while the schoolkids skulked in the shadows and us in-betweeners moved between the two.
‘You know we nailed together bits of potato crates to make that dance floor,’ Jarrod said.
People were so happy and chatty. ‘Happy New Year, Adelaide Longley!’ they said. ‘You’ve always been a clever one’ and ‘Can’t wait to see what you do next!’
‘I’m looking forward to finding that out, too,’ I said. ‘Not in any rush, though!’
I watched Mia dance on the fringes of the crowd. Sam swung her around and she was laughing and laughing. I watched her reach out to Jen and when Jen wouldn’t join in, Mia danced a circle around her. Jen spun on the spot to watch her go by. Both their faces were aglow in the light of the band, the moon, each other.
At midnight our families crowded around us. Jarrod’s parents hadn’t come, but Mum pulled him into a hug during ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and Jen’s mum made him dance with her while Jen cringed, though she was laughing too.
We danced and we rang in the new year like it was the start of our new lives.
Because, in a way, it was.
‘Okay, you drive from here, Addie.’
No bunny hops this time. I take my foot off the clutch and we accelerate smoothly.
Out at Sam’s place the paddocks are crispy dry like sandpaper. Cows hover in the trees’ shade, looking pathetic. Sam is throwing hay off the back of the ute with the enthusiasm of a future university student. With scores like these, who needs second-round offers? His dad drives with one arm out the window. Here’s a man coming around to the idea of his son leaving home for a few years, so long as he comes back with a degree.
‘Don’t forget to check your mirrors from time to time,’ Grandad cautions.
‘There’s no one else on the road!’
‘Better to be safe than sorry,’ he says calmly. ‘And anyway, the driving instructor will be checking things like that off in your test.’
‘I guess I’d better play the game then,’ I say, winking a pantomime wink.
Grandad’s hand moves to touch the steering wheel. ‘Just keep your eyes on the road.’
We drive over the unsealed roads and past telephone poles with flowers at their bases, a white cross, strings of taut fences, more of those doleful bovines, past the pony club and into town.
‘Now, remember the speed limit’s fifty!’ Grandad and I say in unison. He chuckles.
Down the road some more there’s the doctor’s office, where Emma will be checking in soon to start her reception job. There’s the historical society, but it’s closed right now.
The pub, the bakery, the pharmacy (where Jen has worked her last day and I’m picking up her shifts) and the spot they’re putting in traffic lights. Our first! Next door to the primary school, Miss Nell’s house has a new floor over its still-solid foundations and you can see my handiwork on the freshly sanded and painted window frames. The house has come alive once more and I couldn’t be happier.
Jen’s organised a room in a share house and a job in the city, and was gone the first week in January. I rue the day I introduced her to Mia – the pair of them are as thick as thieves. Jen’s just taking each day as it comes, because she knows there
might be heartbreak ahead, when Mia becomes enamoured with someone else. On the other hand, if I’m peering into the future, they might be the one pair out of all of us who go the distance. There’s an insane amount of determination between the two of them.
We pull up outside the house and I turn the car off.
Grandad nods. ‘You’ll be fine. Let me know when you want to book the test and I’ll take you down. Now, here are some books from your grandmother. She also asks can you please start bringing some back.’
Home’s still a magnet, drawing me in. There’s that cool patch in the shadowy nook behind the couch in the lounge room and a book awaiting me there, two Granny Smith apples and some almonds (because once I read that they went well together). The book’s probably splayed and askew, dog-eared and dusty. Something like my hopes and dreams. Just kidding! I’ve got those dreams and projections right back on track.
Clover is splashing about in her paddling pool. Tim’s hooked his head over the fence and is alternately nibbling on the begonias and huffling and whinnying for attention, or maybe a carrot, or maybe to come inside.
Mum tips a bucket of water she saved from last night’s bath onto the garden. When they get back from America, she wants to put in a proper grey-water system.
Clover exclaims in delight, tipping a bucketful of dirt into the pool.
‘Oh yuck, bubba,’ Mum says, from somewhere under her wide-brimmed hat.
‘Funny,’ affirms Clover.
But the train station will be closing soon. The windows and doors will be boarded up and the plants allowed to creep over the building. Moss will grow over the platform and, for a while, youths will come and spray paint and smash what they can – I like to think that this is their way of mourning its loss.
I’m still so unsure about fate and free will. I don’t believe that Jarrod and I will be together forever, but even just thinking that makes me so sad; I guess we’ll just stay together until it has to change. The unknown is pretty effing scary.
Untidy Towns Page 19