Surf Sisters

by Laurine Croasdale

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I haven’t told a soul yet, and you can’t either, but I’ve been thinking about starting up my own surf brand with a streetwear range. I want to call it Surf Sisters and your drawings would be perfect.’

  Fran clapped her hands like a little kid, jumping up and down with excitement. ‘That’s amazing, Pink. But how will you make that happen?’

  Pink smiled and lifted her hands. ‘That’s the part I haven’t worked out yet, but I’ll find a way. Anyway, how hard can it be? I’ve been watching my parents do it all my life.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  Balancing a hot bowl of spaghetti on a tea towel, Tilly wandered into the lounge. The sideboard was empty. Again. This time she found the photos quickly, in their seemingly new location on the corner table neatly arranged by size. Tilly dumped her bowl on the dining table and collected the photos. ‘She’s moved them again,’ Tilly said crossly to Sam. ‘I can’t believe she’d do that. Especially after I apologised. I’ve even been really nice to her and she still does this kind of stuff.’

  ‘What stuff? Who?’

  ‘Barb,’ she sneered. ‘Who else?’ Tilly put the photos on the sideboard, opening the stands to prop them up.

  ‘She didn’t move them,’ Sam said. ‘I did.’

  ‘You?’ Tilly spun towards him, confused. ‘Why?’

  ‘Well I thought it might be a bit uncomfortable for Barb, you know, seeing photos of us how we used to be.’

  ‘So what! What about Mum? How do you think she’d feel?’ Tilly reached for a cushion and flung it at Sam.

  He caught it then said practically, ‘Tilly, Mum’s gone. I don’t love her any less because her photos are on the corner table instead of the sideboard.’ He put the cushion back on the chair. ‘It’s time you started thinking about Dad. He’s got to move on and maybe Barb’s the one to help him do that. He can’t just hang around looking after us forever.’

  ‘Since when did you become so sensitive? Anyway, aren’t we important?’

  ‘I didn’t say that, but haven’t you noticed how happy he is?’ Sam scooped up the bowl and twirled the fork in Tilly’s spaghetti, shoving it in his mouth and sucking up the long strands dangling down his chin. ‘What have you got against Barb, anyway? You liked her when you first met her.’

  ‘Yeah but that was different.’

  ‘How? How was it different? Has she grown horns or something?’

  Tilly gripped the bowl, pulling it out of Sam’s grasp. ‘It was better just the three of us. I was used to that.’

  ‘No you weren’t. You whinged about cleaning up, you whinged when the place was dirty or if I had friends here and they made too much noise. The only thing you liked doing was the cooking – and only after Jamie started helping you.’

  ‘And that’s another thing,’ Tilly fired back. ‘The cooking. The cooking is my thing and she’s taken over. I plan to cook something and when I get home she’s making something different altogether. With my ingredients!’

  Sam raised his hands, perplexed. ‘Most people LOVE coming home to a cooked dinner. I do. If you’re not happy, talk to her about it – she’s not a monster.’

  ‘Whose side are you on anyway? You’re my brother.’

  ‘Yeah, duh,’ said Sam. He wandered into the kitchen and spooned some spaghetti into his own bowl, talking loudly. ‘I know you don’t like change, Tilly, but it happens whether you want it to or not. Who knows? It might even make you happy.’

  Tilly left Sam in the kitchen and slid under the trampoline, her hidey spot from childhood. She picked at her pasta, thinking about what Sam had said. It had been better this last month since Barb had talked to her on the veranda. Both losing their mothers had forged a connection, a point at which they both could understand each other and from there Tilly had begun to notice the good things about having Barb around; clean clothes were a bonus and she’d never realised that Barb liked the same old black and white movies she watched on cable. Her dad was happy too, there was no denying that. But Tilly wondered how her mother would feel about them leaving her behind.

  The bus ground down its gears to turn the corner. Tilly swung against Pink with the rhythm, then reached across her and shut the window. ‘Phew, the city stinks, doesn’t it?’

  Pink watched the people rushing along the pavement, smiling. ‘It does but it’s always so alive. I come into town whenever I get the chance.’

  ‘I avoid it at all costs,’ Tilly said. ‘Unless we’re going to the warehouse.’ Tilly loved the Island Breeze warehouse, and even though she was allowed seasonal visits under her sponsorship agreement she was pleased when Pink called to invite her along for an extra visit.

  ‘Thanks for the bracelet.’ Pink pulled the wide pink rubber band so the word Friends faced outwards. She touched the word and smiled at Tilly.

  ‘You’re welcome. I found it when I was cleaning out my room last week and remembered how much you liked it.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s cool.’

  ‘Hey, Pink, I’m sorry I was mean the other day. It’s just that Marlee doesn’t have the money for Shipwreck. She’s trying to pretend like everything’s fine but I know it isn’t. I’d hate it if she missed the contest.’

  Pink pressed the bell for their stop. ‘Me too, but I have an idea. C’mon, let’s shop. I’ll tell you about it later.’

  A soft fabric smell wafted over them as they entered the warehouse. The new summer clothes with their bright patterns and zing of beach weather just around the corner enveloped Tilly, and she collected her trolley, her eyes darting over the new stock. Pink pointed to the far aisle and they pushed their trolleys towards it for a systematic row by row approach.

  ‘Do you remember that game show on telly?’ said Tilly, steering her trolley alongside Pink. ‘Whatever you could fit into the trolley in three minutes you could take home. It feels a bit like that here. There’s all the beautiful new summer stuff and we can take what we want.’

  Pink held a pair of baby’s swimmers against her body. ‘What do you think?’ she asked, laughing. She ran her fingers over the neatly stacked rows of clothes. ‘This summer range is one of the best so far. Mum’s been bringing these fabrics and sketches home since last year.’ She held a cotton top against her chest, adding, ‘Sometimes I help her with the designs.’

  ‘Oh, be serious,’ Tilly said, throwing a couple of flowery Island Breeze towels into her trolley. ‘Christie wouldn’t let you design clothes yet, would she?’

  ‘Yeah, she does,’ Pink said a little defensively. ‘I don’t do the actual design but Mum’s been teaching me about putting images, colours and fabrics together for years. Take a look at this.’ She held a dress up for Tilly to see. ‘I chose this graphic and suggested the colours.’ She folded the dress carefully and laid it back on the shelf. ‘I had a look at Fran’s drawings the other day. She’s got some fantastic stuff and it’d easily suit this range. Did you see those footprint sketches she did? They were amazing.’

  ‘Why don’t you put something together with Fran then?’

  Pink smiled but before she could answer, Tilly held up a big fluffy hoodie in the brightest blue, rubbing it against her cheek. ‘Wow, this is so soft. Marlee’d love this. It’s her favourite colour.’

  ‘Well take it then.’

  ‘Really?’ Tilly hesitated. ‘I know people take stuff for their friends but I’ve never felt comfortable doing that.’

  ‘Sure. Why not?’

  ‘What about Christie? I don’t think she’d be happy about it.’

  Pink laughed. ‘She won’t care. Marlee’ll probably take the labels off anyway. Here.’ She tossed in some long pants, sweatshirts and a multicoloured scarf. ‘Have these too.’

  Tilly hesitated. ‘She probably won’t accept them.’

  ‘Well she won’t take them from me, that’s for sure, but you can come up with some excuse. Say they were being thrown out or you picked up the wrong size by mistake – she doesn’t have to know.’

  ‘Ok
ay, I will. Thanks, Pink. You know what? You’re the most generous person I know.’

  Embarrassed, Pink walked further up the aisle, trying on a grey cloth trilby. ‘I like doing it. It makes me happy. Hey, I was thinking of having some kind of benefit for Marlee. I don’t want to upset her though. Would you help?’

  ‘Sure,’ Tilly said.

  ‘How do you think she’d react?’ Pink looked at Tilly anxiously.

  Tilly shrugged. ‘Hard to say. She’s too proud for her own good sometimes but I know she’d give everything to be at that contest so she’d probably be thrilled.’

  Pink smiled, relieved. ‘Good. Let’s do it then.’

  ‘What can I do?’

  ‘Well, I’m thinking of some kind of dance party at the beginning of September. I know it’s only just over a month away but there should be enough time. Fran’s offered to do a flyer. Fizz is going to DJ and Jamie’s organising food. Maybe you could help him?’ Tilly chewed her nail, pretending to think it over. Pink went on, ‘He’s always telling me what a great cook you are.’

  ‘Is he?’ Tilly folded the clothes in her trolley, not looking at Pink.

  ‘Yup. All the time. So can you talk to him about it?’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Tilly, trying to think of a way to get out of it but failing. She pushed her trolley into the next aisle, hoping to end the conversation.

  Puzzled, Pink followed. ‘You won’t tell Marlee, will you? It’s supposed to be a surprise.’

  ‘No, course not,’ Tilly laughed, thankful they’d stopped talking about Jamie. ‘But everyone knows everyone’s business around the beach. She could easily find out.’

  ‘True, but if we give the surf shops flyers to hand out and I call and text people – Dad’s got a list of all the club members – we should be able to get the word out there.’

  ‘You sound like you’ve put a lot of thought into it already.’

  Pink smiled. ‘I’ve thought of nothing else. It’s going to be massive.’ She pulled Tilly’s arm, holding her back. ‘You sure Marlee will be okay with it?’

  Tilly could see Marlee sticking her tongue out and taking off in the opposite direction. She hated being the centre of attention. But seeing the anxiety on Pink’s face, she smiled to reassure her. ‘I’m sure she will. But like you say, let’s not tell her beforehand.’

  Pink hooked her arm through Tilly’s. ‘Okay. So any ideas about the food? Jamie says you’re the ideas person.’

  Tilly’s head spun with possibilities. ‘Well we did a noodle dish for Jamie’s mum’s birthday in February. We used little boxes with chopsticks. Everyone loved it. Or we could hire a portable pizza oven, they have one at the markets.’ Tilly paused, looking doubtfully at Pink. ‘Too fancy, too hard, right?’ Pink nodded and Tilly walked on, thinking. ‘What about just plain old sausages but we make some chilli jam?’

  ‘Whatever you decide.’ Pink smiled. ‘It’ll be perfect, I know that. So will you talk it over with Jamie?’

  Not wanting to let Pink down, Tilly agreed, but inside she felt a little sick. She needed to find another way to help Pink that would get her out of doing the food and being anywhere near Jamie. The more she saw him, especially with Pink, the less she wanted him in her life. And it was only a matter of time before she told him so.

  CHAPTER TEN

  It was mid-afternoon and Pink sat in the staff room of the hardware store, finishing the paperwork Rod had given her. Tony marched past and filled his water bottle at the sink. Pink coughed and pointed to his dirty work boots, raising her eyebrows.

  Tony lifted the soles up for inspection, then rolled his eyes. ‘What? Am I s’posed to wear slippers inside now?’ He leaned back against the sink and guzzled the water. It ran down his chin and streaked his sweaty singlet.

  ‘Don’t all piccolo players wear slippers?’ Pink teased, having spent an hour on the computer looking up every instrument that might be played in an orchestra.

  Tony snorted, water spurting out of his mouth and back into the bottle.

  ‘Euw, no back-washing please,’ said Pink, shuffling the papers into order. ‘We follow safe work practices here.’

  Tony wiped his mouth along his arm. ‘Pink, what makes you think I play the piccolo?’

  ‘Hmm, physique, capacity for blowing hot air. You wouldn’t need too many skills to play those skinny little flutes, would you?’

  Tony laughed, shook his head. ‘No, Pink, I don’t play the piccolo.’

  ‘So, what’s happening with those?’ She pointed at his boots. ‘They’re filthy.’

  ‘Well, I’m not taking them off. Who knows what I’d find them nailed to. You’re really taking the hammer practice to heart, aren’t you? Want to learn something else?’

  ‘Is it exciting?’

  ‘Yep. You’re going to love it.’ Pink followed him outside to the truck parked at the entrance to the garden centre. ‘You can help me unload these bags of dynamic lifter.’

  Pink backed away in disgust. ‘No way, they stink!’

  ‘Yeah,’ Tony grinned. ‘Better get some gloves on in case you break a nail.’

  Pink, hands on hips, assessed Tony. ‘Okay. Game on! Bet I can move as many as you.’

  It was hot, sweaty work but Pink enjoyed it, wheeling the barrow wildly between rows of plants until they’d stacked all the bags against the wall. After they’d finished she rearranged the gnomes around the garden section while Tony parked the truck.

  He came back with cool drinks and handed one to Pink. ‘Here, you’ve earned this. Thanks for your help. Want a ride home?’

  ‘Sure.’ Pink beamed.

  The minute she got home Pink stripped off her uniform and showered to wash away the smell of fertiliser. Then, weary, she settled onto the couch with her drawing book, idly sketching some ideas she’d had during the day.

  ‘What are you up to? Can I see?’ Christie walked barefoot across the thick, plush carpet to the sofa and peered at Pink’s sketchbook. ‘These aren’t bad, Jasmine. I like the dresses.’ She turned a page, chuckled. ‘The T-shirt slogans are fun too. You seem to have a knack for knowing what’s coming up.’

  Pink brightened. ‘So, anything you want to use next year?’

  Christie laughed. ‘You don’t give in when you want something, do you? Get through your exams first – but I’d love you to come and work with us soon.’ She put her arm around Pink. It sat awkwardly on her shoulders. ‘You’ve really matured this year. Your tutor’s impressed with your improvement all round and you’ve stuck at that grotty job. I’m proud of you, darling, well done.’

  Pink kept waiting for the ‘but’ but nothing came. She threw her arms around her mother, hugging her so tightly Christie lost her balance and fell backwards on the couch. She laughed, gently pushed Pink away, and tugged her blouse into place. ‘Calm down, you mad thing.’ She pushed the strands of hair off her daughter’s forehead. ‘I envy your passion, Jas. It’s such a wonderful quality. Don’t ever lose that, will you?’

  Christie knelt on the floor and began rearranging the yellow roses on the coffee table, picking up a few stray petals. Pink slipped alongside her. ‘Ah, what a day,’ said Christie. ‘First the fabric got held up at the docks, then the designer wanted to make last-minute changes to a pattern and ...’ She rolled her head towards Pink. ‘You sure you want to get into this industry?’

  ‘Totally.’

  Christie sat back against the couch, eyes closed. ‘We’re booking flights to Shipwreck tomorrow. Have you done the list of things I gave you?’

  ‘Yep. My school work’s up to date. There are no assignments during the holidays and Rod’s given me time off. When’s Dad going?’

  Christie eased her shoes off and wriggled her feet. ‘He’s coming once all the negotiations with the film company are in place but we won’t wait for him. I’ll go before the holidays to get set up and you can come across with all the girls.’

  ‘Can Marlee stay at the house with us?’

  ‘Well I’ve only invited the gir
ls on the team – the other surfers are organising holiday rentals. I suppose Marlee can stay …’ She hesitated and Pink knew there really was a ‘but’ coming this time. ‘But how’s it going to work when we do our team stuff? It might be a little awkward.’

  ‘Marlee won’t care,’ said Pink. ‘She’ll be in the water most of the time anyway.’

  Jamie stopped at the veranda where Tilly was curled up reading a novel. He rested his leg against the bottom rail, peering down at her in the chair. ‘Finally! I don’t know how many times I’ve been round and you’re never here or you’re just leaving to go somewhere else.’ He pulled off Tilly’s fluffy slipper sticking through the railing and flicked it as though he was going to throw it to Marnie to fetch. ‘You don’t look like you’re going anywhere today.’

  Even though Tilly felt pleased to see Jamie, a formality had grown between them like an invisible barrier and she was at a loss as to how to break it. Her smile felt thin and forced as she held out her hand for the slipper. ‘I’ll be here forever I think. I was s’posed to have read this stupid book for school a month ago.’

  Jamie gently put the slipper back on her foot. ‘Lucky I’m not sensitive or I’d think you were avoiding me.’ He laughed but his eyes sought hers to see if there was a glimmer of truth to his thoughts.

  Should she talk to him, like Marlee said? Tilly raised her eyebrows, trying to cover her discomfort, looking past him to the beach. Was there any point? If he and Pink liked each other, there was no way she’d interfere, so there really wasn’t anything to discuss. ‘Avoiding you?’ Tilly pretended to be puzzled. ‘Don’t be silly. We’re friends.’

  ‘Cool.’ He straightened his shoulders, as though any misunderstanding had been clarified. ‘So read your book later. Let’s go do friend stuff.’ He pushed away from the railing, looking at her expectantly. ‘Why don’t we go buy some food to cook – or how about we go fishing? We haven’t done that in ages.’

  ‘We’re not that good at fishing the way I remember it!’ Tilly thought about the last time they’d been fishing. ‘We spent the whole afternoon on the river bank, eating and talking, and then bought fish at your dad’s shop on the way home.’ Tilly laughed and so did Jamie.