The Story of Danny Dunn

by Bryce Courtenay

  Sam looked at him, unable to believe her ears. ‘Mr Talbot, please, I have to race. I qualified – you can’t pull me!’ she cried.

  ‘Sam, I’m responsible for your wellbeing. If I report this to Mr Patching, he’ll accept the doctor’s advice.’

  ‘Please, please, Mr Talbot! I missed the Commonwealth Games. This may be the only chance I have to swim for Australia. You can’t, please, you can’t pull me!’

  ‘Sam, you’re entered in the 200-metres and the women’s 4 × 100 medley; they’re two days and a week away. You may recover by then.’

  ‘And if I haven’t? Please, sir . . . Mr Talbot, I’ve qualified for the final. Just let me swim; let me swim for my country!’ Sam begged.

  ‘I’ll have another chat to the doctor, Sam. But understand, I’m your coach and your health comes first. I can’t make any promises.’

  Sam nodded, barely managing to hold back her tears. ‘Thank you,’ she said and waited until he’d left the room before she began to cry.

  Don Talbot returned an hour later. ‘Subject to the doctor’s examination an hour before the race, so that the next fastest qualifier can be notified, you have my permission to compete.’ He looked at her sternly. ‘Sam, the doctor has the final word, okay?’

  Sam nodded. ‘Yes, thank you, sir.’

  Dr Conning, the team doctor, was a nice enough bloke, who had been a competitor in the long jump at the Berlin Games. He examined her, questioning her closely. ‘Samantha, you may get through the race, but you’ve got some sort of bug and I can’t treat you or give you anything until afterwards. The only reason I’m going to allow you to swim is that the drugs you need to get rid of this bug will automatically disqualify you from the 200-metres freestyle and the medley. You’re strong and you’re fit and you may well recover on your own, so that you can swim in one or both of those races. Here are your options. You might as well understand that if you swim in an hour’s time, you’re unlikely to be in contention

  for a medal – you’ve lost too much fluid. If the race were any more than 100 metres, I wouldn’t think of letting you compete. So, there you have it. Hope you recover without drugs and live to compete and win a possible medal another day, or be an also-ran in today’s event – you decide.’

  Sam was frightened and weak and wanted both her father and her twin to be with her. She felt sure that Danny would give her the strength she needed to compete, or to decide what she should do. But she was forbidden to call him. ‘Now? I have to make up my mind now, doctor?’ she asked almost in a whisper.

  ‘Yes, you do, Samantha,’ the doctor said gently. ‘Tough decision.’

  Sam tried to think what Danny would say, but all she could hear in her head was static. Then suddenly, quite clearly, she heard Katerina’s voice: Okay, but we take no shit from nobody, right? That’s the rule! ‘I want to swim the 100-metres,’ Sam said, looking the doctor straight in the eye.

  Danny and Gabby sat in the stands waiting for the finals of the 100-metres women’s freestyle. They were clutching Australian flags and wearing bright-yellow T-shirts with the words ‘Go Sam!’ on the front in dark-green lettering, compliments of Pineapple Joe.

  The swimmers came out of the dressing-rooms and stood beside their respective blocks, waiting for the starter to ask them to mount. Danny was aware of Gabby trembling beside him and he put his arm around her to comfort her, but she suddenly burst into tears. ‘There’s something terribly wrong with Sam, Dad. I’ve been feeling it for days,’ she sobbed.

  ‘You’re just nervous, sweetheart. It’ll soon be over, darling.’

  ‘No, it won’t! She’s ill – very, very ill. I know it!’ Gabby gasped.

  ‘Pull yourself together, Gabby. They’re mounting the blocks,’ Danny said, his own heart starting to pound. All those years, all those early mornings, all the lost tempers, all the tears, all the injuries, all for this one moment. There was a lump in his throat and he only just managed to say, ‘Now, Gabby, watch.’

  The starter’s gun went off and the eight swimmers were away, Sam with a good start in the far lane. She touched in fifth place at the 50-metre mark, a good half metre behind the fourth swimmer. Danny wasn’t aware that he was screaming as they raced towards the finish line. He knew Sam couldn’t possibly win but she was overhauling the swimmer in fourth place, passed her with ten metres to go and then came up level with the American lying third. In a tremendous finish they touched at exactly the same time, seemingly a dead heat for bronze. Gabby was bawling her eyes out and Danny reached for his handkerchief, his eyes brimming.

  This was the first time the Olympic Games used electronic as well as hand timing, announcing both results after every event. The microphone crackled and the chief swimming judge announced that the American swimmers had taken first and second places, and that the four judges using hand timing indicated Australia and America had finished in a dead heat for third. The crowd waited. ‘The electronic timer gives it to America by one two-hundredth of a second. America takes the third placing,’ the chief judge announced.

  Danny suddenly realised that Gabby was screaming, ‘Help her! Help her! Please, help Sam!’ With the announcement over, all the other swimmers had started to leave the pool, but Sam lacked the strength. It was clear she could no longer even hold onto the edge of the pool or the lane rope, and she faltered and began to sink. The swimmer beside her, halfway out, turned and grabbed Sam’s arm, supporting her while two officials ran over and pulled the unconscious girl from the water.

  ‘That’s my girl!’ Danny sobbed.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  AN UNCONSCIOUS SAM WAS placed on a gurney at the poolside and taken into the dressing-room, where she was given an intravenous electrolyte drip to rehydrate her exhausted body. Dr Conning, the team doctor, then accompanied her in the ambulance to the Olympic Village. She had regained consciousness and was fully aware of her surroundings by the time they approached the village. ‘What happened?’ she asked

  Dr Conning, who was seated beside her in the back.

  ‘Well, my girl, what happened was possibly the most courageous 100-metre swim I’ve ever witnessed. You didn’t get a medal, missed by two-hundredths of a second, but by God you deserved one!’

  ‘No I didn’t,’ Sam answered flatly. ‘I didn’t win.’

  The doctor shook his head. ‘Sam, you couldn’t win – nobody in your state of health could have. That you came so close to getting a place was a truly remarkable performance. I expected you to finish because I know how determined you are, but in last place and well behind. More importantly, I don’t think you’ve done yourself any permanent damage. Luckily, the swimmer in the next lane got to you before you inhaled any water.’

  ‘Will I be able to swim in the 200-metres freestyle heats tomorrow morning?’ Sam asked.

  ‘After seeing your performance this afternoon, nothing would surprise me. But in my opinion the answer is no, my dear; your Olympics is over. Until next time that is.’

  ‘There won’t be a next time,’ Sam said softly. ‘Please, Dr Conning, let me swim in tomorrow’s heats. Please?’ she begged.

  ‘Now, Samantha, it’s Don Talbot’s decision, not mine, but he’ll ask me what I think and I have to be truthful. I will be against it. It’s not that we can’t fix you – it’s a simple enough matter of hydration and stopping your diarrhoea, and giving you a dextrose drip – it’s just that we can’t do it in time for tomorrow’s heats. The 200-metres is in the morning and the women’s 4 × 100-metres medley is in the afternoon. Despite your considerable courage, there’s not a snowball’s hope in hell of getting you going in time, my girl. You’ll be right as rain in two or three days, but what you did today is going to take its toll, believe you me. You’re going to be pretty whacked for the next twenty-four hours. By gosh, you were splendid, though,’ he added admiringly.

  They’d passed through the gates of the village and reached the Medical Ce
ntre, and soon Sam was sitting up comfortably in bed with a drip in her arm. ‘I’m going to give you something to allow you to sleep for at least twelve hours,’ Dr Conning said.

  ‘But can I call my dad and my twin sister first, Dr Conning? They’ll want to know what happened to me.’

  ‘Yes, of course. In an hour you’ll be strong enough to walk to the phone. I’ll give you a sedative after that.’

  Sam looked the doctor straight in the eyes, appealing to him one last time. ‘Doctor, please don’t say no to Don Talbot,’ she pleaded. ‘Just the 200-metres heats, that’s all. I beg you! The medley, yes, I agree, I’d spoil the team’s chances of getting into the finals.’

  ‘Okay, Sam,’ he sighed. ‘I’ll leave it until tomorrow. Your diarrhoea hasn’t recurred since this morning, and that’s a good sign, but I don’t honestly hold out much hope that you’ll be in good enough shape to swim.’

  ‘Thank you, doctor,’ Sam said, relieved, suddenly too tired to think.

  But just then an orderly appeared and waited until Dr Conning noticed him.

  ‘Perdóneme, doctor, los padres de la chica estan esperando a la seguridad en la entrada del hospital,’ he announced in rapid Mexican Spanish.

  ‘No hablo Spanish,’ the doctor replied [I don’t speak Spanish]. It was one of the more essential phrases the members of the Australian team had learned.

  The orderly hesitated a moment, then, smiling, replied, ‘Senor Doctore . . . excuse me. The papa and the senorita,’ he pointed at Sam, ‘of ze senorita is waiting at zi guardian telephono control entrada. Por favor, pleaze, zey can see ze senorita? Is okay, por favor?’ He paused, then asked again, ‘Is okay?’

  ‘Speak of the devil,’ Dr Conning laughed. ‘They may spend an hour with you, Samantha, then you’re going to have to sleep.’ He nodded at the orderly. ‘Is okay.’ He turned again to Sam. ‘You understand I will have to talk to your father.’

  Sam nodded.

  When Danny talked to her he was adamant. Sam was not going to take any further part in the Games. ‘You’ve swum your race, sweetheart, and we’re going home as soon as you’re out of here. Gabby knew there was something very wrong with you and, of course, she was right.’

  ‘But, Dad,’ Sam cried, ‘the doctor says we can wait until the morning to decide if I can swim!’ She burst into fresh tears, completely overwrought. ‘I’ve let you down, it’s all been for nothing!’ she wailed.

  Gabby had flung herself at her sister, sobbing, and buried her face in Sam’s lap. Now she shook her head as Danny said, ‘Nothing is for nothing, darling, and you’ve never let me down – not for one moment. We are terribly, terribly proud of you, Sam!’ Danny felt the tears coursing down his own cheeks.

  In the taxi speeding to the village after the race, holding a distraught and sobbing Gabby in his arms, Danny had undergone an epiphany. His life suddenly seemed to be little more than a series of pathetic obsessions – Glossy’s boots, Riley, Sammy Laidlaw, the medal for Spike Jones, retribution on Colonel Mori’s deathbed, O’Hearn and the polluted Balmain harbour-front; even his pro bono cases, though he’d helped numerous women and children, were all part of his anger at the world. It was, all of it, personal: his overreaction to and rejection of authority, his overweening sense of fair play – all seemed suddenly, pathetically, self-indulgent. Worst of all, he saw for an instant that he had been guilty at times of outright psychological bullying, and especially of his beloved and precious daughter Sam. Moreover, by differentiating between the twins, he’d done the same to Gabby. He also saw for the first time that an event that could be decided by two-hundredths of a second in a swimming lane, and yet potentially have consequences for the remainder of his daughter’s existence, had no place in her life. It was all a terrible indictment of him. For a brief moment he saw that his inner demons and obsessions bordered on insanity. On that seemingly endless journey, he wondered how he was going to live with this awful realisation.

  All Danny could think to do was to get Sam away from Mexico and try to make some restitution. He decided that when they got back to Sydney he’d call Craig Woon, now an eminent psychiatrist, and ask his advice. For the first time, Danny realised he needed more help than his beloved Helen could provide. He now understood why she had refused to come to Mexico, pleading pressure of work. It was so he could bask in the glory of what he’d achieved with his daughter, his twin, alone. Gabby had only been allowed to go because her presence was essential to Sam’s wellbeing. Danny loathed himself for having thought this was apposite, for putting up only token resistance to his wife’s decision. Her words came back to him clearly: ‘Among several other urgent matters, there’s a court appearance – quite annoying, really – the Builders Labourers Union. I’m a reluctant, but it seems essential, witness.’ He was a lawyer. He knew how to get around that kind of situation! But he hadn’t. Danny cringed inwardly. What a pathetic fuckwit you are, Danny Dunn, he silently acknowledged.

  After Danny and Gabby departed, Sam slept for a good twelve hours, and when they returned the following morning at around 10 a.m., she’d been awake for ages and claimed she felt absolutely recovered, kissing them both happily. ‘They took my drip out at six o’clock this morning,’ Sam explained. ‘I feel perfectly fine, t’riffic! I even went for a wee on my own.’

  ‘Has the doctor seen you?’ Danny asked, doubtful.

  Sam’s bottom lip dropped. ‘Yes, he came with Don Talbot at seven o’clock.’

  ‘Oh, Sam!’ Gabby exclaimed, grabbing Sam’s hand and holding it to her cheek.

  ‘They made me walk down the corridor, so I ran instead.’

  ‘And then?’ Danny asked.

  ‘They made me – I mean, Mr Talbot – made me do push-ups.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Fifty.’

  ‘Pfft!’ Danny flicked his hand dismissively. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘I collapsed on forty-two,’ Sam admitted. ‘Then Mr Talbot said, “C’mon, Sam, normally you’d be able to do two hundred on your ear, wouldn’t you? The 200-metres freestyle heats are later today. Sorry, kid, no way.”’ Sam looked at her father, dry-eyed. ‘Dad, it’s all over.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess it is,’ he said with a rueful shrug. ‘Glad to see you’re taking it so well, darling.’ To his surprise, Gabby was grinning. ‘What’s the grin for, Gabs?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Gabby said quickly.

  ‘I’ll see if you’re well enough to leave and we’ll go home, eh? Skip New Orleans . . .’ Danny said.

  ‘Dad, I’d like to stay for the closing ceremony,’ Sam said firmly. ‘I won’t have another Olympics.’

  Gabby turned her head away so her father couldn’t see her expression.

  Danny, lacking Gabby’s instinctive understanding, was oblivious to Sam’s reason for wanting to stay for the closing ceremony. He heard only one thing – that Sam had decided this would be her last Olympics. He could feel his anger rising suddenly – she was giving up! She would only be twenty-one next Olympics. It could all still happen – this wasn’t the end. Take it easy, mate, a voice within him urged. He gulped, recovering. ‘Yeah, fine. Want to say goodbye to all your mates, eh? Good idea.’

  ‘I’d like to go to New Orleans after that, though,’ Sam added, smiling.

  Danny, now calm again, could hardly believe that his daughter, so totally mortified on the previous day, could be so calm today, apparently already reconciled to what must surely be the biggest disappointment of her young life, even bigger than missing out on Jamaica. He felt deeply gratified that she was demonstrating such maturity and sterling character traits. He allowed that she might be in shock and had perhaps slipped into a state of denial, and that it would all come out later. Still, he was grateful, for she seemed bright enough and even cheerful. ‘When will they let you out of here?’ he asked.

  ‘Tomorrow, then I have to stay in the village all day. After that I can watch the rest of the swimm
ing finals with you.’

  In the cab going back to the hotel, Danny turned to Gabby. ‘Back at the hospital, what were you grinning about? I even saw you turning away, trying to hide your amusement. What was all that about?’

  ‘Dad, Sam’s in love!’ Gabby laughed, clapping her hands.

  ‘What? How? What are you talking about, Gabby? She didn’t say anything about —’

  ‘Well she is!’ Gabby said, her voice quite definite.

  ‘In love?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘With whom, may I ask?’

  Gabby shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘C’mon, Gabby, has she told you? I was there all the time . . . Sam said nothing to either of us.’

  ‘She didn’t have to, Dad. I’m her twin,’ Gabby said, turning to look out of the taxi window so Danny wouldn’t see her wide grin. She did wonder, though . . . the medical orderly was young and quite good-looking, but his hair was a bit greasy. Her instinct told her he wasn’t the one. She knew Sam was on the pill. She’d been taking it to manage the timing of her periods.

  The possibility of love at first sight may perhaps be genetically encoded into certain female brains, along with the belief that it is a euphoric condition that transports the newly smitten into a state of bliss transcending all else. Everything that happened before cupid’s arrow struck, fixing its point in the centre of the heart, seems suddenly lacking in significance. Disappointment is a comparatively mild emotion when compared with the all-embracing feeling of new and true first love.

  Although Sam had imagined countless trysts each night before going to sleep, and discovered new lovers within every book she read, her actual sexual experience amounted only to the odd grope and kiss at a barbecue or party after a swimming carnival. The few parties she’d attended were mostly with Gabby’s Conservatorium High School friends. They were simple, alcohol-free affairs, organised along traditional Australian lines – the boys, mostly young musicians or brothers of the girls, separating themselves from the opposite sex and returning only to dance.