Girl in Between

by Anna Daniels

  I smile and, feeling enormously empowered by this seventy-one-year-old feline demi-god, take a deep breath and say, ‘Mum and Rosie and all my self-help books told me that no-one was just going to turn up on my doorstep—but you did, Oscar. And I fell in love with you as soon as I saw you.’

  The crowd now tear the house down with riotous cheering, and as I raise my voice to speak over them, and see Oscar’s face smiling down at me from the huge screen, it feels strangely like I’m talking just to him.

  ‘I am by no means perfect either, and if you can bear my complete lack of direction, and the fact that sometimes my head is so far up in the clouds that I may as well be hanging out with the Care Bears, and that our children will go for Queensland in the State of Origin, then I’d love to marry you, Oscar! Of course! Yes!’

  On my twenty-first birthday, Dad presented me with a novelty-sized syringe, telling me to get a big dose of reality. Twelve years later, as we sit around the kitchen table and I blow out the candles on a strawberry jam and cream sponge, he bestows on me another gift.

  ‘Luce, this is very special,’ he says gruffly, placing a thin rectangular box in my hands. ‘Treasure it, please.’

  I look across at Oscar and catch his grin, before opening the box to reveal a beautifully handcrafted timber pen.

  ‘That won first prize in the Men’s Shed woodturning comp, you know! It’s all Burdekin plum, from the farm,’ he says proudly as I hold up the pen. ‘Got old Gordon down in the mall to engrave it for me.’ He takes the pen from me and inspects it closely. ‘He did a good job too,’ he remarks.

  ‘Give it back to her, Brian!’ exclaims Mum. ‘She hasn’t read it yet!’

  ‘Oh, shit—here you go,’ says Dad, returning the pen.

  ‘Read it out, Luce,’ says Oscar.

  ‘Lucy Crighton—Author.’

  ‘That’s for autographing copies of Devils on Horseback, love,’ says Dad.

  ‘No, Brian—it’s Sapphires in the Sky!’ cries Mum.

  ‘You’re both wrong—it’s Diamonds in the Dust!’ says Oscar, and I grin at him fondly, touched that he always remembers the things that are important to me.

  ‘Oh, I’ve got something for you two, actually,’ I say, hopping up. ‘I’ll be back in a sec.’

  I stride into the hallway but then stop abruptly, realising it was about twelve months ago that I was last lingering by these walls, listening to Mum and Rosie exchange whispers of worry.

  Now, I’m delighted to observe that I’ve completely vanished from the agenda, and that the topic of my welfare has been replaced by an animated discussion about the best time of year to go whale watching.

  Unlike the Lucy who was skulking around this doorway a year ago, I’m no longer feeling sorry for myself and, best of all, I have renewed confidence in my ability to love again. And now that I am in love, the questions in my mind have also become Oscar’s questions, and the anxieties I entertain can be shut down with his decisive words and pragmatic acts of kindness.

  ‘Here you go!’ I return from my bedroom with a large rectangular gift and place it in front of Mum on the kitchen table. She tears off the wrapping to reveal a wooden plaque engraved with the words: Where there’s tea, there’s hope.

  ‘Oh, Lucy,’ she says, standing up to hug me. ‘Isn’t that gorgeous. I love it! Where will it go?’ Her eyes flit around the room before settling on mine, and in her meaningful look, I know the answer.

  Oscar and Dad and I trail behind Mum into the lounge room, and stop in front of the framed photo of Cher.

  ‘Are you sure about this, Denise?’ asks Dad gravely as we look up at the picture.

  ‘Yes,’ she says firmly. ‘She got Lucy and Oscar together and that’s all I’d asked for. It’s time.’

  ‘What will you do with her?’ asks Oscar quietly, putting his arm around me.

  ‘Well, it’s a limited edition print—from her first concert back in ’84. It would be worth quite a lot, I suspect.’ She turns to face Dad. ‘Brian, you can have her for the Black Dog Ball you’ve got coming up. Auction her off and raise some money for the Men’s Shed.’ She turns back to address the poster. ‘Thank you, Cher—you’ve been good to me.’

  As Mum speaks, I watch Dad’s expression soften.

  ‘That’s a lovely gesture, Denise,’ he says, his voice distinctly unsteady. ‘Very thoughtful of you.’

  I look from him to Mum and decide I’d better break this show up.

  ‘Come on, Dad,’ I say, and pull across a chair from the dining room table. ‘Let’s get it up there.’

  With great care, he passes Cher down into Mum’s outstretched arms and replaces her with my plaque. We then all step back and silently admire it.

  ‘Should we send out a twitter about this? Or we could all update our status!’ says Dad excitedly the next morning, clearly trying out the new terminology he’s learnt from his computer course on Oscar, me and Mum as we walk with Glenda beside the Fitzroy. He’s become so proud of himself, the Rocky chapter of the Men’s Shed have appointed him their social media person.

  ‘You don’t really tweet about moving from one town to another, Dad,’ I reply.

  ‘Yes you do!’ cries Oscar. ‘I tweeted this morning about you moving to Sydney!’

  ‘Oh,’ I say and grin at him. ‘Okay then.’

  When I look back at the path, I see Ruth charging towards us, her headphones in and her eyes down, not noticing that Mum and Dad have stopped in their tracks. Oscar takes my hand as we step aside and watch the three of them now staring at each other, facing off like cowboys in some spaghetti western.

  ‘Ruth,’ says Mum eventually.

  ‘Denise,’ she replies.

  ‘Ruth,’ says Dad politely.

  ‘Brian.’

  ‘Look, Ruth, I know you and I haven’t seen eye to eye for the past forty-two years …’ says Mum. She swallows hard. ‘But I do appreciate you dropping off that chicken casserole a few weeks ago. It was delicious.’

  Oscar and I swivel to look at Ruth as she sucks in air through her teeth.

  ‘Denise, first of all, let’s get one thing clear: I’m not in love with Brian. To be honest, I never was, and the day you took him off my hands was actually one of the best days of my life.’

  ‘Steady on, Ruth,’ says Dad.

  ‘But you seemed hell-bent on making me your nemesis, Denise, and I kind of enjoy playing that role, so I went with it. But the fact is your cancer scare gave me a real shake-up, and that’s why I’ve bought these bloody sandshoes and am pounding the pavement. I saw how you bounced back and, to be frank, you’re an inspiration to me and Colleen.’ She scuffs at the gravel with her shiny white sneaker. ‘I’m willing to call a truce, Denise. However, if you’d like to continue being my arch rival, I’d be happy with that too.’ She nods at Mum and Dad, then replaces her headphones and turns on her heel.

  ‘Ruth!’ yells Mum. She starts to jog after her. ‘Wait!’

  Ruth turns around and she and Mum hug to our awkward applause—and I find myself supremely relieved that, unlike the time I broke down in the lounge room eight months ago, we are not clapping me.

  ‘Hey, before we start packing the car, do you mind if I go for a drive?’ I say to Oscar. ‘There’s a few people I want to say goodbye to.’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ he says. ‘I’ll be at Mum’s. I promised her I’d fix the clothesline—it’s still giving her trouble.’

  We grin, remembering that first night we got to know each other in Helen’s backyard.

  ‘See you soon, Luce,’ he says.

  Glenda jumps in the passenger seat and we reverse out of Mum and Dad’s oh-so-familiar driveway. I turn left out of their street and head up the range, the blue silhouette of the Berserkers dwarfing the north-side of town below.

  Now that I’m leaving, Rocky suddenly seem delightful. The towering gums and mango trees that line the road, standing so starkly against the blue sky that they could be cut-outs, now strike me as old friends. I see everything with an open
heart—the wide streets; the screeching parrots and cockatoos wheeling across the sky; the butterflies flitting past; the beautiful timber Queenslanders; and the roundabouts dotted with statues of bulls. Rockhampton will always be home—but it’s time for me to move on and make a new start with Oscar.

  And so I wind down my window as I drive down the range, yelling out, ‘Goodbye, Bernie’s pie van! Goodbye, my old school friends pushing your little babes in prams! Goodbye, bull statues, and utes with dogs in the back, and trains that appear out of nowhere! Goodbye, Colleen at Bits ’n’ Pizzas and Video Ezy and Romancing the Rock and the Bottle O! Goodbye, Ruth and your one-woman carwash on the corner of Fitzroy and Albert!’

  I look wistfully at the cattle trucks on Gladstone Road; at the drivers who beep and wave to me at the traffic lights; at the splashes of bougainvillea that colour the streets. I say goodbye to life in the country, and as I drive around and sing out my farewells, I recognise a shift in my perspective. All of these sights don’t suffocate me anymore. They just are what they are—signs of life in the small, sunny town where I grew up.

  I save my final farewell for Rosie’s place. Pulling up opposite her unit, I find it strange to see her bike missing from the balcony, and a For Sale sign in the yard.

  ‘Goodbye, my mate,’ I say with a shaky smile. ‘See you sometime in Darwin.’ My eyes cloud with tears as I look at her railing and grin, remembering my crazy best friend and me in Rocky, and the courage she gave me to commit. ‘Goodbye!’

  Glenda nestles her head in my lap and sighs before closing her eyes. I smile and pat the damp fur between her ears, then reach behind me for the sunscreen and dab some on the pink patch of skin at the tip of her snout. She’s so tired from bounding up and down in the waves, chasing after the jumping baitfish, that she doesn’t flinch for a second as I rub in the cream.

  ‘Hello little Rhonda,’ I say, as our staffie, who Oscar adopted from a shelter in Sydney, runs over and licks my feet with a sandy tongue. ‘Are you back from your trip with the boys? What did you think of Dad’s new fence?’

  I turn around to see Dad, Oscar and Ben walk through the gate that leads onto the beach, and then glance across at Rosie, sunbaking on a towel beside me, the latest HomeHints catalogue shading her face.

  ‘You’ve got some devoted girls there, don’t you?’ says Mum as she walks up the beach towards us, wringing wet and wearing the same faded coral seahorse swimmers she’d loaned Rosie the last time we were all together at Dad’s farm, about twelve months ago.

  ‘Ma, I’m seriously shouting you some new togs when my book comes out,’ I say.

  ‘It is all actually happening, Luce, isn’t it?’ asks Dad, bending down to rummage around in his picnic basket.

  ‘Yes, Dad, I can assure you one hundred percent it’s happening. I just spoke with Alice yesterday and we’re on track for a June launch.’

  ‘So, about six months,’ says Mum, then pulls at the elastic straps on her shoulders. ‘I could probably get another six months out of these.’

  ‘How’s the new fence looking, Dad?’ I ask.

  ‘Bloody beautiful,’ he says, pouring water from his thermos into enamel mugs. ‘The boys thought it was just marvellous.’

  I smile at Oscar when Rhonda jumps up and claws at his board shorts and he takes hold of her paws and pretends to dance.

  ‘Aren’t you tired after your big adventure?’ he says, lowering his face to hers. She barks at him excitedly before sprinting down to the water’s edge, where Helen is standing, calling her name.

  Oscar squints into the distance as she streaks across the sand, then shakes his head at me. ‘I think I rescued Australia’s most energetic staffie.’

  ‘Help me, Rhonda!’ I grin.

  ‘Right, enough of that,’ says Rosie, flinging the catalogue from her face and sitting up straight. ‘I’m gonna be red as a lobster if I keep lying there.’

  ‘You’re already a bit sun-kissed,’ says Ben, leaning down and kissing her.

  ‘Why don’t you ever kiss me like that, Brian?’ asks Mum.

  ‘What’s that, you want a fishing line?’ replies Dad, jiggling teabags across several cups.

  Rosie and I look at each other and laugh and Mum shakes her head in dismay. ‘He’s becoming deaf as a post, that man.’

  ‘Well, who wants a tea?’ says Dad.

  ‘I will, Dad,’ I call out.

  ‘Sounds good,’ says Oscar, and he walks over to retrieve two cups for us.

  ‘Tea!’ exclaims Rosie. ‘Only if it’s a Long Island iced tea! Ben, can you crack open those Peronis while you’re up?’

  ‘Watch out, Glenda,’ I say as Oscar hands a tea down to me and I spot Rhonda racing towards us, with Helen trailing behind. ‘Think I’ll just get up.’ I take hold of Oscar’s outstretched arm and shake the sand from my dress.

  ‘Here you go, Luce,’ says Ben, offering me a beer.

  ‘Nah—I’m right, thanks, Ben.’

  ‘Phew!’ says Helen, wiping her brow as she nears us. ‘A cold drink would be lovely, thank you, Ben.’ She takes the beer from his hand.

  ‘Doesn’t anyone want a bloody tea?’ says Dad. ‘I’ve made eight cups here!’

  ‘There’s not even eight of us in total, Brian,’ says Mum, walking over to him. ‘But I’ll have a tea. Thank you, darling!’

  ‘So, what did you settle on for the book title in the end, Luce?’ asks Dad shooing Glenda and Rhonda off the picnic blanket and sitting down.

  ‘I haven’t settled on anything, but I need to come up with something by the end of the week or I’m in big strife!’

  ‘Why didn’t Alice like your original bloody title? What was it—Heroine of the Highlands?

  ‘Diamonds in the Dust was already taken, Dad, so we need another title.’

  ‘Alright, well, let’s see … It’s about horses, isn’t it?’

  ‘No, it’s got nothing to do with horses!’ I laugh as Rosie giggles too.

  ‘It’s a sweeping multi-generational family saga set on the gemfields,’ Oscar inserts helpfully.

  ‘Alright, well, how about Strike It Rich! or Find A Fortune!’ says Dad.

  ‘They sound like game shows hosted by Warren Buffett,’ I reply.

  ‘I’d watch it too if he did a gameshow,’ says Dad. ‘Well, what have you buggers come up with?’

  ‘I thought of How it All Pans Out—you know, like panning for gold? Or, for a bit of humour, The Family Jewels!’ Helen chortles.

  ‘Mmm,’ says Oscar doubtfully.

  ‘I quite like Fields of Gold,’ says Mum.

  ‘But Sting’s all over that,’ Ben points out.

  ‘I can’t seem to get past Kanye with “Gold Digger”,’ Oscar says, chuckling. Then, as I glare at him, he adds quickly, ‘But I’m always thinking about it.’

  ‘Well, maybe something will come when we’re not thinking about it,’ says Rosie, draining the last of her beer and standing. ‘Let’s play touch. And sorry, Luce, but there’s no question you two are New South Wales. You can’t move to Sydney and expect there to be no consequences.’

  ‘Oh, I might sit it out, Rosie,’ I say, glancing across at Oscar and knowing I’m about to smile. ‘I’m feeling a bit tired.’

  ‘Hang on,’ she says, narrowing her eyes at me. ‘Lucy Crighton never turns down a game of touch footy—or a beer, for that matter …’

  As the others turn to look at me I grin. ‘Yep, she’s on to us—I’m pregnant!’

  ‘Oh, Lucy!’ says Mum, running over to give me a hug. ‘Congratulations, darling! That’s wonderful news.’

  ‘Yes, congratulations, Luce,’ says Dad, kissing me as Helen hugs Oscar. ‘We’ll have to buy some mini enamel teacups, hey?’

  ‘Well done, big fella,’ says Ben, slapping Oscar’s back.

  Helen and I embrace, then I step into Rosie’s hug, my eyes filling with tears as we silently hold on to each other.

  ‘When are you due?’ asks Ben.

  ‘Twelfth of June,’ replies Oscar.
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br />   ‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘would you believe the due date is a couple of days before my book’s launched? They’re both coming out in the same week!’

  ‘Is that right?’ says Mum. ‘Brian, as soon as we get home, let’s look at flights.’ Mum’s eyes are flashing with purpose. ‘You’ll need to call Lenny and Max, Luce. They’ll be thrilled.’

  ‘I know.’ I smile. ‘I’ll ring them tonight.’

  ‘So now we’ve got to think of a name for the book and the baby!’ says Oscar with a grin.

  ‘Just call them both Rosie,’ says Rosie, flipping open the esky lid and passing me a soda water, then handing stubbies to everyone else.

  ‘Here’s cheers to Lucy and Oscar, soon to be a mum and dad!’ she says, and we all clink our bottles together, sending Rhonda into a renewed state of excited barking.

  ‘Where’d you get those cool sunnies?’ I ask Rosie after lunch as we bob about in the ocean.

  ‘Online—UNIQLO. That’s the only thing about Darwin,’ she adds. ‘Costs a fair bit to get stuff posted there.’

  ‘But otherwise you’re loving it, hey?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s bloody awesome! It’s just like no other place in Australia. A totally different feel up there.’

  ‘How much longer has Ben got to go?’

  ‘About eighteen months. He loves the course. And Fannie Bay Dental’s good. No formal fucking feedback procedure, which is a relief.’

  I laugh and say, ‘Ah, London.’

  As we float on our backs and watch the seagulls swoop and dive for the occasional jumping fish, I ask Rosie, ‘Do you and Ben ever hear from Joe?’

  ‘No, not really. Sometimes he likes Ben’s posts on Facebook. I did see a picture of him with Sally the other day,’ she says, looking across at me. ‘Think they’ve hooked up.’

  ‘That’s good,’ I say. ‘That’s great! They’re both lovely.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘Hey, in your book, there’s two daughters in the family on the gemfields, isn’t there? And one of them’s a bit wild?’