by Tim Winton
‘Don’t stare at me.’
‘Sorry. I was just thinking. About last year.’
‘Listen, Lockie, let’s just leave it be, okay?’
‘I was just trying to get it straight in my mind,’ he murmured. ‘You went so wild and angry and strange. Self-destructo.’
‘Well. Maybe Monster and me have a few things in common.’
‘I didn’t mean that.’
‘With parents like mine you find yourself doing stupid things just to get up them, even stuff you know is totally thick. Like kicking in your own sandcastle just to crap someone else off. Like you can’t help yourself. I dunno.’
Lockie shook his head in amazement. ‘You always seemed kind of confident to me. Like you were older. You know, how they say girls mature faster than boys.’
Vicki shrugged. ‘I was crying myself to sleep. Five days a week I hate myself. All the confidence is a front, Lockie. I’m a mess.’
‘Wow.’ Lockie felt a nibble on his line. He tried to ignore it. ‘Last year—’
‘Lockie, don’t muck up the day talking about all that.’
‘I’ m just confused. With you coming round again.’
‘Really, Lockie, I don’t wanna talk about last year. I just need a simple nice day.’
‘Maybe some other time?’
‘See how it goes.’
‘When I saw you that day in the shop—’
‘Standing in a mountain of tampons—Oh, God!’
‘Life is always so embarrassing. Every little thing has to be excruciating. Remember that day the Sarge took me to the beach in me own bed?’
She laughed and the sun flashed in her braces. Suddenly, Lockie had a fish on and he had his hands full. The fish swerved and dived and carried on until he got the better of it and hoisted it up onto the rock beside them.
‘Now take the hook out.’
‘Urk.’
‘Don’t be a sook.’
Lockie fiddled about until he had the hook free and then he held the fish up proudly. ‘Hey, I could get into this!’
‘Umm, you better watch out.’
‘What?’
Before Vicki could answer, the fish had its final revenge. The green streak of poop squirted down Lockie’s arm and spattered his chin. It stank like nothing on earth could. You could taste it in the air.
‘Okay,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve changed me mind.’
As they walked back around the rocks with their bag of fish in the afternoon, Lockie saw a dolphin leap from the water and hang in the air with the light on its back. It seemed to hang in the air forever. And when it finally hit the water again it hardly made a splash. That was the kind of thing he wished his mum could see. Those kinds of things stirred your soul and gave your heart a boot. One day, he thought. One day.
hen they got back to the swamp palace the place was deserted. Vicki showed Lockie the rather lovely business of scaling and gutting fish. He nearly threw up his toenails but he saw the job through.
Vicki was supervising the fish-frying when the phone rang.
Lockie passed the spatula to Vicki and grabbed the phone. ‘Lo?’
‘Lockie? It’s Egg.’
‘Egg. Mate! How the hell are ya?’
‘I’m nervous, what d’you think.’
Lockie wiped his battered, floury fingers on his Billabong shirt. Damn, it’d need a good soak now. Warm water wash, gentle spin. ‘I’m not up with you, Egg. What’s on?’
‘Dot Cookson, barf-brain.’
‘Oh. Aw, yeah. I forgot to write back.’
‘Forgo? Mate, I’ve been sweatin’ testosterone for weeks waitin’ for an answer, and you forgot? Lockie, I’m in love up to me follicles and I have to have an answer.’
‘Oh, geez, Egg. I’m so sorry, mate.’
There was a squirmy pause.
‘Is that a no, then?’
‘Egg, I gotta tell you something.’
‘Hell, I’d appreciate it if you did.’
Lockie looked over to where Vicki was turning fillets in the pan. She blew a bit of hair from her face and he suddenly realised that he was happy, happier than he had any right to be.
‘Oh, man, say somethin’, willya? The suspense is killin’ me. Gimme the bad news. Just put me outta my misery. You hate me, right? I’m in love with Dot Cookson and you wanna roast my lungs with a hairdryer.’
Lockie laughed. ‘Actually, you won’t believe this.’
‘No, I suppose not,’ said Egg with a hopeless resignation.
‘Vicki Streeton’s here.’
Egg squawked with laughter. ‘Least you haven’t lost your sense of humour.’
‘I’m serious.’
‘Get away.’
‘You wanna say hello?’
‘Man, I’ve got enough trouble. She’s in your house? What the hell’s happening down there?’
‘My mum’s in hospital, Egg. She’s had . . . she’s had a kind of breakdown.’
‘Man. Oh, mate. She’s so up. So together, I can’t believe it. Why didn’t you call me? You shoulda told me. Everyone loves your mum.’
‘I guess I froze up,’ said Lockie. ‘Scared to talk about it, maybe. And then I had all this work to do. Mate, I’ve been workin’ like you wouldn’t believe. You have to be from Krypton to do what my mum does in a day.’
Egg sighed, thinking about it all. ‘So what’s with you and Vicki? Are you two back on?’
Lockie looked at Vicki again. ‘I dunno, mate. Actually, right now I don’t even care. Weird, eh.’
‘Sounds like you got bigger things to think about.’
‘Egg?’
‘Yep?’
‘Just go for it with Dot, okay? And say hello to her for me.’
‘Hallelujah!’ screamed Egg. ‘Praise the Lord and pass the peanuts. I hear the angels singing! I gotta go. Write me a letter, you slob.’
Lockie hung up.
‘So how’s Egg?’
‘He’s in orbit as we speak.’
‘Lucky him.’
Lockie grinned madly.
‘And lucky you,’ said Vicki. ‘It’s good to have a friend, a real mate. You know, to talk to, share stuff with.’
There was a strange sound in her voice. It burned Lockie just to hear it.
‘Vick?’
‘You just haven’t got a clue how lucky you are. I know you said you don’t feel real lucky just now, but honestly, Lockie, you haven’t the faintest idea.’
She turned the gas off and slid the pan back from the heat. Her hands shook a little and a shock went up Lockie’s spine. Man, she was bristling with hurt and he desperately wanted to say something to help her. He hesitated, feeling so dumb and clumsy, frightened to blow it and make things worse for her.
Just then the old Falcon eased up the drive and Lockie heard singing. Doors slammed. He looked at Vicki and chewed his lip. Phillip came storming in with a grin like a piano accordion and then the Sarge followed him in with Blob chirping on his hip.
‘Mamma!’
‘Guess where we went?’ said Phillip.
‘Give in,’ said Lockie.
‘The hospital! We saw Mum. We all walked in the garden and sniffed flowers and cracked bum jokes and hung out on the grass. You know, with the sun shining and birds singing. It was unreal.’
The Sarge laughed and tossed his keys down on the counter. He looked pretty springy; he looked like his weird old self. ‘Unreal, yes. Unreal, with a twist of lemon.’
‘Man, the sun comes out in this town and things really go off,’ said Lockie, breaking into a bewildered smile.
Blob blew everyone a kiss.
‘Someone’s learnt a new trick,’ said Phillip.
‘Someone’s mum taught her,’ said the Sarge.
‘Mmmwah!’ kissed Blob.
‘Great day,’ said Phillip. ‘It was like. . . like before. Our old life.’
‘Fantastic’
‘I think we’ve turned the corner,’ said the Sarge. ‘They’ve reduced the medication again
. She’s a lot stronger. She really looks good.’
‘Like a movie star,’ said Phillip. ‘Hmm, fish. Whacko!’
‘Vicki,’ said the Sarge, ‘you’re a genius.’
Vicki shook her head. She pulled her apron off fiercely as tears came down her face. ‘I . . . I have to go.’
‘Is everything alright?’ said the Sarge.
But Vicki left without answering. The front door slapped shut and the Leonards stood there like furniture.
‘Don’t just stand there growing moss, Lockie,’ said the Sarge.
‘Huh?’
‘Get going. After her.’
‘Ah. Yeah. Absolutely.’
‘Whew,’ said Phillip, tasting a bit of fish. ‘Life’s a bumpy ride, that’s all I can say.’
hen Lockie caught up with Vicki, she was on her hands and knees in the driveway with the fishing rods in a spastic tangle and her tackle box spilled open across the dirt and she was sobbing.
‘Vicki, what’s wrong?’
He tried to pick up sinkers and lures for her but ended up with hooks in his fingertips. She shoved him away.
‘Go back inside, Lockie.’
‘I don’t get it.’
‘Go back to the house.’
‘No.’
The sun was going down now. It streaked her tears pink. It killed him to see her like this. She sat back and cried like an abandoned kid, like she was five years old.
‘I really want to understand,’ he murmured.
‘Go in and celebrate with your family. I’m so embarrassed, spoiling things for you like this.’
‘You haven’t. It’s cool, Vick.’
‘I mean, I’m happy for you, you know. All of you. But . . . but I hate you too, you know.’
‘Us?’
‘Because your mother’ll get better and my brother’s gonna be a loony the rest of his life. And my family will stay the way it is, cold and horrible.’
Lockie watched her fight for breath and then surrender to another bout of sobbing. She smelled of fish and flour and soap. He saw the last light in the golden hairs of her arm. He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Vicki put her head on his chest and cried. He held her and felt her hair brush across his lips. Man, how much sadness could there be in the world?
‘This is so stupid,’ she cried. ‘I’m such a stupid cow.’
‘Don’t be daft.’
‘I am.’
‘That’s crap.’
‘Face it, Lockie. I’m just jealous.’
‘Well, you were right, though. I don’t know how lucky I am. And I don’t blame you for feeling the way you do.’
‘Lockie, I’m a mess. I’m so lonely. I’m alone. Don’t you get it? I feel like I’m dying from the inside.’
Lockie hugged her to him and felt his eyes burning and his throat go raw. ‘Come back inside with me, okay? We’ll have dinner and the Sarge’ll drive you home. Hell, you can stay with us if you feel like it.’
‘Oh, I wish I was a boy.’
Lockie sighed. ‘Geez, Vick. It’s not that great. I guess you get to pee standing up. But why be a boy?’
Vicki wiped her eyes on her sleeve. ‘Then we could be friends. You know, mates.’
Lockie laughed into her hair. ‘Save yourself the sex change, girl. We are mates.’
‘Well, blokes say anything to stop a girl from crying. Talk about wimps—you lot can’t hack a bit of bawling,’ she sniffed. ‘I take it all back. Who wants to be a bloke?’
‘Well, like I said, you do get to pee standing up. Anyway, I meant what I said. About being friends.’
‘Well, it was nice of you to say it.’
‘I wasn’t saying it to be nice. I really mean it.’
‘Oh, gawd, don’t you start blubbing.’
A low flying cloud swooped down the drive in the sunset. It thundered and shook and rattled and then stopped dead, right above them. It was Cyril. He tilted his horny head to check them out. Fishing gear all over the joint. Arms and legs sprawled across the drive. Tears, tissues, the lot. Cyril stood stock still racking his tiny brain for an explanation for such strange behaviour.
he first day of school was the usual diabolical pandemonium. Lockie was late because Blob had chewed the handles off his schoolbag and he had to make some out of ocky straps. Cyril, who had decided that Phillip was his long lost twin brother, followed him to the primary school and caused an under-age riot. Everywhere that Phillip went the ram was sure to go. At the high school there was the standard friendly welcome for First Years. Lockie trudged through the war zone of kids getting their heads flushed and their tricky bits painted and their lunches set on fire. He overheard the goss on which teachers got divorced over the holidays, who had transferred, who’d moved in with whom. Angelus was a small town and a secret had a short life here.
Kids clustered in little platoons. They bounced basketballs, compared suntans and clothes and haircuts, swapped magazines and gave back the borrowed tapes they’d accidentally taped over and told horror stories about Christmas and New Year. Some kid got a rope and swung like Tarzan from the balcony and got sent to the Principal and the hospital two and a half minutes into the school year. Boys checked each other for emerging whiskers; girls searched for breasts. Someone let off a rotten egg bomb during Assembly and the hall had to be evacuated. You know, the normal first day of school.
Lockie’s second year of high school began with him overhearing two girls talking in the library.
‘Vicki and Lockie are back on.’
‘I can’t believe her. What a moll.’
‘Gets him back round her little finger.’
‘His mum chucked a mental, you know. Went straight to the Loony Bin. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.’
‘Lockie’s turning into a bit of a loser.’
‘Cute, but yeah, he’s way losing it.’
Lockie stuck his head around the bookshelf. ‘Thanks for the reference, girls.’
One of them was so surprised she inhaled her bubble gum. That produced a bit of drama in the non-fiction section.
Lockie just let the day pass over him like a big dirty wave. The word was out. His mum was an axe-murdering loony. His dad was a sheep rustler. Vicki Streeton had needed about fifty-seven abortions and Lockie had paid for only seven of them. After the past few weeks he felt that nothing at school could really touch him. It all felt so teeny.
At lunchtime he found Vicki alone by the Science Block.
‘Looks like it’s us against the world.’
She looked up from her John Marsden book. ‘Ah, they don’t stand a chance, then, do they. Hardly seems fair.’
‘You okay?’
Vicki nodded.
Lockie sat beside her with his back to the cool wall. ‘School again, eh.’ From here you could smell the gas from the bunsen burners. It reminded him of the kitchen at home, scene of many horrible experiments lately. Still, he now knew about bleach and fabric softener. He understood the complex organisation of scheduling. He knew how many hours’ sleep he needed to avoid being a zombie. He knew the price of groceries and how to fold a fitted sheet. Yikes, he’d learnt so much over the holidays that he figured
school might be relaxing. ‘You feel older, Vick?’ ‘Yep.’
‘And wiser? I gotta tell you, I feel wiser.’
‘Well, that’s not much of a stretch. Zero to one in six weeks.’
‘Aw, nasty.’
‘You still can’t iron a shirt, Mr Older and Wiser.’
He laughed. ‘I’ll get the hang of it. Have faith, Streeton. Think of the future.’
‘This is the future.’
‘No, this is lunchbreak.’
A few whispering girls shuffled by. You didn’t need a bionic ear and a Rhodes Scholarship to guess what they were gossing about.
‘Apparently, word has it—’
‘I know, we’re on again,’ Vicki sighed. ‘What is this, ‘Melrose Place’?’
Lockie felt his knee knock against hers. ‘Well, are we?�
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Vicki shrugged. ‘I dunno, really. You losing any sleep over it?’
‘Geez, Vick, I’m too tired for that. I’m nearly fourteen and I’ve got dishwater hands. I’m past romance.’
‘Yeah. You’re cute, Leonard. But I like a man who can iron his own shirt.’
She leant in and kissed him on the ear. His hair stood on end and a ripple of agitation went through the quadrangle.
‘Ssso, where does that leave us?’ Lockie breathed.
‘At lunchbreak, where else.’
he school year was slow out of the blocks but it got rolling eventually. The Sarge worked afternoon shift so he could be home for Blob and hand over to Lockie at four with the dinner cooked and the house all tidy. For a good long stretch the sun stayed out and dried up some of the boglands of the Leonard estate so Cyril could graze peaceably without taking swimming lessons.
Mrs Leonard saw her family every day and watched the bit of the ocean she saw from her window as if it was a chink of light in the darkness. Her good days got better and there were more of them. Her smile came back for longer periods and the spark returned to her eyes. It wasn’t all laughs, but the good days crept up on the rotten ones until it was at least an even fight.
Lockie rode down there some days and they walked in the hospital gardens and talked. He felt like they were getting to know each other all over again. He remembered why she was so special and what it was about her that Vicki envied so much. His mum had been there for him every step of the way, even when he wished she wasn’t. She took the world seriously; she loved life and drew people to her. Even if she hadn’t been his mother she would have been the kind of person Lockie would look up to.
Blob got more teeth and had a few stabs at walking. She pulled herself around the room, hanging onto chairs, curtains, and the odd leg hair, but she seemed to prefer life on all fours for the moment.
Phillip wet the bed twice a week. There was the occasional explosion in the shed. And a note home from the teacher saying that he was obsessed with sex. Business as usual for Phillip.
Lockie and Vicki hung out together and ignored the gossip. They really didn’t know what to make of each other, these days, but they had a few laughs. See what happens, thought Lockie.