by Janene Wood
Heather's body was recovered a few hours later by a hastily organised search party. For weeks afterward, there were questions and accusations, even the threat of prosecution by the police, but in the end, even the police acknowledged that what happened was an accident. A terrible, tragic accident.
They were only kids, and kids do stupid things. It was a fact of life.
Kate wiped her tears and took another sip from her flask.
Drunk and Disorderly
March 1969
“Thanks, Bulldog,” said Kate, accepting the brown paper bag he held out to her and clutching it possessively to her chest. In return, she handed him three dollars; two for the vodka plus one dollar “delivery” charge. Exorbitant, but it was a seller's market. And worth every cent.
“You want more, just tell 'Rissa.” Bulldog's tone was surly, but Kate took no offense; it was just his way.
“Sure. See ya.” Kate wrapped the bottle carefully in her sweaty PE shirt and stowed it out of sight in the bottom of her school bag. Business complete, Bulldog sauntered back inside the public bar of the Cutter’s Arms, where his mates could be heard laughing and exchanging insults in the background.
“Hurry up, McDermott!” called Larissa impatiently from across the street, her own purchase already concluded.
“Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on,” she called back, hefting her bag over her shoulder and stepping over the kerb. The additional weight was a welcome encumbrance, giving her a warm feeling inside when she contemplated the oblivion waiting for her at the bottom of the bottle.
The service station was just ahead but she kept her gaze fixed firmly on Larissa, determinedly ignoring the memories the building conjured up, which threatened to spoil her buzz. Memories of Sam and Frank and happier times. Frank sold the business soon after the accident, knowing he could never hope to run it on his own, not without Sam's help. A stranger owned it now but everyone in town still referred to it as Frank's garage. Everyone but her.
Kate had successfully avoided Frank since the day of the funeral, knowing that, despite his apparent sanctioning of her drinking that first time, he wouldn't approve of her doing it on a regular basis. Frank was much too observant for her liking and would know within minutes of talking to her that something was different. He wouldn't rest until he discovered what it was, and finding out, try to fix it. Unlike Simon, who was either too overwhelmed or too oblivious to see what was going on under his very nose.
It wasn't that she didn't want to live a normal, sober life, she just didn't believe it was possible, not without becoming so eaten up by all her corrosive, self-destructive emotions that she was unable to function in any meaningful way. She remembered those first nightmarish days, lying in her room, curled in a tiny ball, wishing with every fibre of her being that she'd had the foresight to follow Sam into the creek. Back then, when she was sober, her heart had been so full of despair and longing that she truly believed she might die of it. She had no desire to feel that way ever again and would do anything to avoid it. The prospect of existing indefinitely in a haze of semi-drunkenness was far preferable to wishing she was dead every minute of the day.
Pushing such melancholy thoughts out of her mind, Kate ran the last few yards to catch up to Larissa. “So what do you want to do tonight?” she asked in an overly-bright voice.
Larissa snorted, evidently amused by the question. “Well, darling,” she replied, affecting a snooty, upper-class accent, “What do you say to an evening at the opera? I've arranged for the limo to pick us up at seven. It's black tie, of course, so don't forget your tiara.”
“Ha, ha, very funny,” said Kate sarcastically, although a smile of amusement played along the edges of her mouth. 'Rissa could be quite funny at times, when she had a drink or two in her, like she did now.
They had spent the last couple of hours at the park, gossiping, laughing and getting pleasantly mellow. In fact, Larissa's whole personality changed when she was under the influence, becoming the exact opposite of her normal crabby self. She became playful, funny, sympathetic…even somewhat affectionate. All in all, it was a startling metamorphosis. It made her wonder if drunk Larissa was in fact the real 'Rissa, the 'Rissa she would have been if she hadn't been tainted by violence and neglect. If she’d been shown a little affection in her formative years and if her father didn't treat her mother as his own personal punching bag. She couldn't help wondering, if Larissa's mother didn't rant and yell all the time, taking her frustrations out on her children, would they be less angry and spiteful? More open to overtures of friendship and less likely to take every little thing so personally?
It made Kate wonder at the changes in her own personality when she drank. All she knew for sure was that the booze dulled the constant ache in her chest and blurred the harrowing memories of that awful night. Otherwise, they played over and over in her head, like a nonstop movie marathon, slowly sending her insane.
“Well, it was a stupid question, wasn't it, darling?” said Larissa snidely. “What else is there to do in this hick town except hang out at the clubhouse and drink ourselves stupid?”
Kate shrugged. She was quite happy hanging out at the clubhouse and drinking herself stupid. Just so long as it didn't get back to Simon. She could do without the aggravation.
They continued down Creek Road toward the beach, meeting up with Fiona and Linda along the way and arriving at the oval a few minutes later. There were already half a dozen kids their age congregating outside the building, many of them with bottles of beer, or telltale brown paper bags clutched in their hands.
Kate responded easily to their calls of welcome, waving and smiling at them as if they had all been friends forever, instead of only a few brief months. It had come as a complete surprise to discover that the local kids weren't, by default, vicious, spiteful monsters, who delighted in making up stories and mouthing off about her. In fact they were generally pleasant and friendly most of the time. In most respects, they weren't that different to her. Yet, amazingly, this year was the first time she had ever spoken to many of them. That was her fault for the most part, she had come to realise. If she had been less standoffish and more prepared to meet them halfway – less afraid of rejection – they could have been friends long ago. It took Larissa's influence – assisted helpfully by the disinhibiting powers of alcohol – to break down the walls of fear and intolerance she had built up around herself, walls she hadn't even realised existed.
Of course, there were exceptions, like Clare O'Malley, who was a first class bitch and always would be. But the O'Malleys kept to themselves and wouldn't be caught dead hanging out with the local “yobbos”.
A few older boys were kicking a ball around on the football field, and she flushed when she recognised Roger Bartlett amongst them. Last Saturday, after an evening of drinking and flirting and lingering eye contact, Roger had offered to drive her home. They had driven the two miles to her house in breathless anticipation and stopped at the bottom of her drive, whereupon Roger had switched the engine off and smiled coyly. Without saying a word, the two of them had lunged at each other like rutting beasts, their lips bruising, their hands exploring, their libidos racing. Kate's reaction amazed her; she had never felt anything like it before. She had thought she was no longer capable of such strong... anything. Evidently, her brain had no idea her heart was slowly bleeding to death and continued secreting hormones like she was any other teenager.
Things were steamy for a while after that, but a few minutes later, he drove her the rest of the way and walked her to the front door like a perfect gentleman.
It wasn't their first such encounter. In fact, it was becoming a habit, one that Kate wasn't sure was good for her, but one she enjoyed too much to break. Seeing her now, Roger waved and called her name. He said something to his mates, who sniggered and slapped him on the back. Grinning, he jogged toward her.
“Looks like lover-boy's got you in his sights, Kate,” muttered Larissa. “You want me to get rid of him? I can make him disapp
ear,” she offered, a conspiratorial grin splitting her face. “Just say the word.”
Kate smiled at Larissa's over-protectiveness. It had taken a bit of getting used to, but Larissa had turned out to be the world's most loyal friend. An implacable enemy, if you got on the wrong side of her, as Kate knew very well, but once she made up her mind to be your ally, you couldn't ask for a more devoted one.
“That's okay,” said Kate, giving her an appreciative smile, “I think I can manage.”
Larissa looked doubtful but didn't comment. “I'll be around if you need me.” Immediately commandeering Fiona's attention, she sauntered away to join the other girls.
Kate smiled at the youth jogging toward her. Roger was a fine looking boy, she thought dispassionately, with his clear, hazel eyes, smoothly contoured face and sexy smile. Sweet, too. Considerate, not pushy or grabby like the other boys – although she had reason to wish he was a little less... respectful. A good kisser, with a lean, muscular body, he never urged her to venture beyond her own moral boundaries – or what he assumed were her moral boundaries.
Not that he was prudish. His eager hands loved to roam her body, and she was familiar with the hard, undeniable proof of his attraction, but whenever they approached the point of no return, he always backed off, apologising breathlessly for getting carried away. It was a good thing, she supposed, because when the drink was on her, she lost sight of her boundaries, if they even existed. In her haze of alcohol-fueled desire she would have been happy to go wherever he led.
Just her luck, to have hooked up with the most virtuous, frustratingly self-controlled boy in Fiddlers Creek!
Roger pulled her close and kissed her proprietorially. The touch of his hands on her shoulders turned her insides to liquid and she melted against him, savouring the salt on his lips and inhaling the musky sweat of his body.
“I've missed you, Kate,” he murmured, nuzzling her freshly-washed hair and breathing deeply, as if trying to capture the very essence of her.
Kate smiled her most enticing smile. “Mmm, me too,” she murmured, wondering if maybe tonight they would finally go all the way.
Raising his head to gaze into her eyes, he said, “I wish we could see each other more often. Maybe you could come over for dinner one night next week.” Seeing the shock on her face, he rushed to reassure her, “If you're worried about meeting my parents, don’t be. They're cool; they'll love you as much as I do.”
Holy crap! Did he just say he loved her? What the hell was he thinking, flinging such an explosive word around! They barely knew each other! If he believed this thing between them was anything but lust, pure and simple, he was deluding himself. It was just a bit of fun! A balm for her starving soul, which was desperate for physical contact of any kind, the more intimate the better. But not at the price he was asking. She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the clamour of alarm bells clanging furiously in her head.
When she opened them again, there was a look of determination on her face.
“That's so sweet, Roger,” she told him, smiling artificially. Could he see the panic in her eyes? “I really wish I could, but my brother doesn't let me go out on school nights. And I have so much homework this year, you wouldn't believe it! It's all I can do to keep up.”
Kate paused for breath, but only briefly; she needed to close this down before she lost her nerve. She’d never done this before – crushing another person's spirit – but it was much easier than she expected. She fervently hoped she would never have to do it again, ever.
“As a matter of fact,” she continued relentlessly, “Simon would have a cow if he knew I was even seeing you. He thinks I'm way too young to get involved with anyone, and if he finds out...well, I'll be grounded for life. I'm really sorry, Roger, but I can’t take that chance.”
“But...”
“It's been fun, though. Really. I'll see you around.” Kate kissed him chastely on the cheek and turned away, ignoring his stunned expression. She walked toward the clubhouse at a deliberate, leisurely pace. Having observed their interaction, Larissa and a few of the girls now wore expressions varying from horror to delight to grim satisfaction.
“Oh, my God! Did you just give Roger Bartlett the brush off?” squealed Fiona. Her eyes were wide, her mouth gaping in disbelief. “He's, like, the hottest boy in town, and you just dumped him like a sack of spuds!”
“Have you lost your mind, Kate?” said Linda, incredulous. “Any fool can see he's nuts about you!”
“He can put his shoes under my bed, any time,” quipped Marjie, who had never made any secret of her admiration for Kate's erstwhile paramour.
“Oh, God, I need a drink,” moaned Kate.
“Come with me,” said Larissa, taking charge and hooking her arm through Kate's. “I've got just the thing.”
Larissa led the way into the cool interior of the clubhouse. It was basically just one large room, divided into smaller spaces by the strategic grouping of furniture, including a table-tennis table, a snooker table and a table soccer game, all of it well used and well worn. At the very back was a small kitchenette, flanked by two ancient refrigerators, used by members to store food and drink. The drinking of alcohol by minors was officially prohibited, but the rules were seldom enforced. The kids all looked out for each other and stayed out of trouble. There was the odd stoush when one of the boys got too far ahead of himself, but generally, everyone behaved more or less responsibly.
Larissa opened the smaller of the fridges and removed a large Coca Cola bottle, filled with black liquid – though if Kate knew Larissa, it was likely not Coca Cola. Written in thick black letters on the label was the admonition: Hands off, unless you want to lose them! She presented it as reverently to Kate as if it was first prize in the Melbourne Cup. “I've been saving this for just such an emergency.”
Kate accepted the offering with a grateful smile. “Can we go somewhere quiet, just us girls?”
Larissa gave her a sly smile. “I know just the place.” Taking Kate's arm once more, she retrieved a key from one of the kitchen drawers, then led her to a small alcove. With due ceremony, she unlocked a wooden door and led the way up a narrow staircase, pausing again at the top to unhook the hatch providing access to the roof.
“Wow. I've never been up here before,” said Kate admiringly, turning a slow circle in the centre of the flat roof and taking in the view from all four sides. In one direction, you could see quite clearly the gentle wavelets breaking on the beach, while opposite, the entire town was laid out like an intricately embroidered tapestry. To the north was farmland – banana and cane plantations for the most part – bisected by the mangrove-lined creek for which the town was named. To the south was thick green bushland, as far as the eye could see.
The other three girls were similarly impressed. “I didn't even know there was a way up here,” said Fiona.
“No one comes up here much anymore,” Larissa informed them. “Not since my idiot brother hung Donnie Cameron over the side by his ankles and threatened to drop him on his head if he didn't own up to stealing the club president’s car and leaving it in a ditch by the side of the road.”
“I remember that,” laughed Kate. “It was the year Simon went to Brisbane. Everyone knew Bulldog did it, but Bulldog insisted it was Donnie. They've always hated each other. Of course, Donnie wouldn't own up, so Bulldog took matters into his own hands.”
Larissa nodded in confirmation. “To give Donnie credit, he hung out for a good long while, but eventually he cracked and confessed.”
“Who could blame him?” exclaimed Linda, horrified by Bulldog's behaviour. “He probably thought he was going to die! What happened? Did the cops arrest him?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” 'Rissa assured her. “It was obvious he had nothing to do with it. Apart from not being that stupid, he was home that night with the flu.”
“What happened to Bulldog?” asked Marjie curiously.
Larissa snorted and exchanged an amused look with Kate. “They mad
e him captain of first-grade that season.”
The girls settled themselves comfortably in a corner of the sun-warmed roof. Leaning back against the low brick rampart encircling the roof, they watched the slow-setting sun make its final descent toward the western horizon. It was the end of summer and going on seven o'clock, so what little daylight remained was muted and fading. It was hot and humid still, but a cool ocean breeze tickled the tiny hairs on the back of Kate's neck and made her shiver involuntarily. She had changed out of her uniform into shorts and a halter-neck top, but her long, blonde hair was still tied back in its neat schoolgirl ponytail. Taking a swig of 'Rissa's potent cocktail, she sent the bottle around the circle again.
“What's in that, 'Rissa?” asked Kate, licking her lips, “it's really good.”
“Sorry, I'm sworn to secrecy,” she said with a smug smile. “It's an old family recipe.”
“That's so like you 'Rissa, holding things back from your friends,” said Marjie tartly. “Anyone would think you didn't trust us.”
“It's not you I don't trust, Marjie,” replied Larissa, looking the other girl in the eye, “it's your big, fat mouth that doesn't know how to keep a secret that's the problem.”
Everyone knew Marjie was a blabbermouth, so she had no legitimate comeback. She pouted for a while but her heart wasn't in it and she soon rejoined the conversation.
The alcohol flowed like warm honey through Kate's bloodstream and she began to relax. Her qualms at dumping Roger so cruelly – and publicly – were beginning to fade, but she knew the guilt was still lurking, waiting for the morning when she would be sober again.
“Well, um, three, I suppose,” said Fiona, in response to a question that had been directed at her. Kate hadn't been paying attention, but suspected the subject under discussion was boys. As usual.