Frankie and Joely

by Nova Weetman

  Joely’s never gone walking at night in the city. It’s always scared her. She doesn’t even like taking out the bins. She’s always envied girls who venture out bravely after daylight, like vampires moving through the dark without fear. She thinks Frankie might be one of them.

  But this road, this place, is different. It doesn’t scare her.

  Maybe Joely could stay here on the farm. Jill could teach her things, real things. She wouldn’t mind peeling potatoes every night, and making breakfast every day. Her skin might even grow used to the weather and start to love the sun.

  She wouldn’t miss much about home: not her mum or her old friends. Not even her stuff. Just Frankie. Joely didn’t mean to upset Frankie. She wonders if Frankie tried on the blue dress she gave her first or if she picked it out especially. Joely hates having these awful thoughts about her best friend, particularly when Frankie is being so kind to her. Before they came on this holiday, Joely never really had bad thoughts about her. So from now on, it will be them against the world. She’ll do everything Frankie wants to do, even if it means lying on the grass at the pool and frying every freckle on her skin. Again. And again. And again.

  Thinking about Frankie makes her wonder what time it is. It feels like it’s after midnight. She’s waited ages and she can’t wait any longer. What if Frankie wakes up and notices she’s gone?

  She only came here hoping to see Rory. She was sure he’d appear, cigarette in hand, and kiss her, like before. But there’s only the heat to keep her company and the rotting kangaroo.

  Maybe he’s already been. That must be it. She must have missed him because she had to wait ages for Frankie to fall asleep before she could sneak out. It’s just like Frankie to make it impossible for her to see the boy she’s waited all day to see.

  Now she has to go home to her bed to dream about meeting Rory here tomorrow night when they celebrate New Year’s Eve, together. And the kiss that will secure how they feel.

  Chapter 31

  ‘Happy New Year’s Eve,’ whispers a voice in Joely’s ear.

  She can’t open her eyes. The skin around them hurts and she knows the popped blisters will be a total mess this morning and that it will look gross.

  ‘Joel. Wake up! It’s nearly lunchtime.’

  She slowly rolls over and sees Frankie grinning at her.

  ‘What?’ she growls.

  ‘It’s the last day of the year!’

  Frankie must have forgiven her for yesterday. That’s something at least. Her friend leans close and her glowing skin makes Joely close her eyes again.

  ‘Thought we could do manicures. And facials, or not … because that might hurt. But pedicures wouldn’t!’

  Joely keeps her eyes closed, hoping that Frankie will be gone by the time she opens them and replaced by Rory, handsome and attentive.

  ‘I’ll be in the kitchen, Joel.’

  The kitchen table is covered in jars of polish, two towels are stretched out on two chairs and bowls filled with milky liquid sit waiting. Frankie’s finished her own fingernails and toenails, but she’s disappointed at the lack of ceremony. She had a whole afternoon planned in her head, but now Joely won’t get up, and she’s waiting for Jill to come into the kitchen and boot her out.

  ‘Oh …’ Thommo starts to back out when he sees it’s her.

  They haven’t talked much since Thommo cracked it after the movie, but Frankie’s hoping he’s forgiven her because she really wants some company. She smiles. ‘Sit down. I’ll give you a manicure.’

  The look on his face makes her laugh. ‘Please … I’ll take it off again if you hate it.’

  ‘Um, I’ve got to move the cows into the other paddock,’ he says.

  ‘It’s New Year’s Eve, Thommo. Usually I’m at home with my mum watching her drink herself to sleep so I’m pretty excited to be here. If you let me do a manicure then I’ll help you move the cows.’

  He shrugs, like he’s trying out her way of answering the world. ‘Okay.’

  She watches as he walks slowly into the kitchen and sits down on one of the chairs.

  ‘Um, what do I do?’

  ‘Put your left hand in the bowl and let it soak for a minute.’

  His hand is so big that only his fingertips fit.

  ‘What colour do you want?’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Just pretend.’

  ‘Okay. Black.’

  Frankie smiles at him, knowing he’d say that. It’s the only ‘not-real’ colour among them all. ‘Thought you’d choose pink.’

  ‘Only on Saturdays.’

  ‘Black’s a good choice for a party.’ She reaches over and takes his hand, drying his fingers on the towel. She knows he’s blushing, so she doesn’t look at him, just focuses on his nails. She pushes his cuticles down, one after the other, tidying up all the rough bits.

  ‘So is tonight a big deal?’ She starts painting his nails, hiding the dirt and making them smooth and black.

  ‘Yeah, I guess. Everyone comes, if that’s what you mean,’ he says.

  ‘So what’s with you and Maggie?’

  He tries to pull his hand away, but she holds on tight.

  ‘Nothing.’

  She nods. ‘I didn’t think so. She’s not really your type, is she?’ She looks up at him and is surprised that he’s looking straight back at her, with no sign of red on his cheeks. ‘No, she’s not.’

  She waits for him to say more, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes his other hand out of the bowl and dries it on the towel. Then he stretches his fingers out for her to paint. The wire door bangs shut and Frankie tenses, hoping it’s not Mack.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Jill bustles into the room with her shopping.

  ‘I’m doing manicures. You’re up next,’ says Frankie like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

  Jill picks up Thommo’s hand. ‘Hope it comes off before your brother sees it.’

  Thommo pulls his hand free and blows on his nails. ‘I like it.’ He stands up and smiles at his mum before looking shyly at Frankie. ‘I’ll be back soon for the cows.’

  ‘Okay,’ says Frankie as Thommo walks away.

  Jill shoots her a look. ‘Cows?’

  ‘Yeah. I promised,’ says Frankie.

  Jill slams the kettle onto the stove.

  ‘I’ll make the tea,’ says Frankie. ‘You sit down. I’ll do your nails too.’

  ‘Not now. I don’t have time,’ says Jill, fussing over the teapot.

  ‘Please,’ says Frankie.

  Jill sighs and looks at her. ‘Have you got red?’

  Frankie smiles. ‘Three shades.’

  Jill slides into the chair and puts her hands in the bowl. She looks at Frankie as if she’s trying to work something out. ‘Do you like it here?’

  ‘Yeah. I do.’ Frankie takes Jill’s hand and dries it gently. She rubs the emery board over the nails that are barely there. Obviously Jill doesn’t have much time for things like this.

  ‘Are you homesick?’

  Frankie laughs. ‘You need a home for that.’

  Jill passes her a bottle of red polish.

  ‘This one’s nicer,’ says Frankie reaching for the darker shade. ‘And it looks great on toes.’

  ‘Toes too?’

  Frankie looks up, noticing how sparkly Jill’s eyes are and how much they remind her of Thommo’s. ‘Yeah. Course. I’m pampering you!’

  Jill shrugs like she doesn’t care which colour Frankie uses. But she will, thinks Frankie, when she sees how great it is.

  Joely walks slowly into the kitchen. Her skin hurts, her head hurts and she needs a drink. ‘Have you seen Frankie?’

  Jill answers by holding out her hands and dancing on the spot. Joely spots the bright red on her fingers and toes, and thinks how strange it is to see something so out of pla
ce on her aunt.

  ‘What do you think?’

  Jill looks so proud that Joely wants to crush it. It’s not up to Frankie to make Jill feel like that. ‘Great. Bit bright,’ says Joely regretting it as soon as she sees the doubt flooding Jill’s face. She tries to backtrack. ‘No, it’s good. Honest, Jill. It’ll look nice with your red dress.’

  But Jill has stopped dancing and gone back to the potato salad. Joely knows she’s poisoned the moment.

  ‘Frankie’s helping Thommo move the cows.’

  ‘I thought she was doing my face for tonight and helping me hide the blisters,’ says Joely.

  ‘Guess she didn’t want to sit around all day waiting for you to get up, love,’ says Jill.

  ‘Whatever. I’ll do it myself.’

  Stomping out of the kitchen, Joely can’t quite work out why she’s so angry. It’s just that wherever Frankie goes she seems to make people love her. There’s no room for an encore, for her.

  Back in her room, Joely grabs her phone. Her mum has rung. And that’s it. She rings Frankie’s number and hears the phone ringing somewhere in the room. She throws her phone on the bed.

  If Frankie really cared she wouldn’t have gone off moving cows. If she were really her friend then she’d be here, in this room and fighting over the fan with her.

  The book Frankie’s brought with her is sitting on the bedside table. Finally she can see what Frankie’s been reading all this time. Joely reaches for it and reads the title: Picnic at Hanging Rock. A bunch of girls in long white dresses dance on the cover. She flicks through it, seeing all the marked corners where Frankie has stopped. She finds the most current corner and reads:

  A picnic was no fun without Miranda … Always Miranda, coming and going in the dazzling light. Like a rainbow … Oh, Miranda, Marion, where have you gone …? The shadow of the Rock has grown darker and longer. They sit rooted to the ground and cannot move. The dreadful shape is a living monster lumbering towards them across the plain, scattering rocks and boulders. So near now, they can see the cracks and hollows where the lost girls lie rotting in a filthy cave.

  Joely stops, surprised by the language, surprised because she’s always considered herself smarter. Frankie’s the pretty one and Joely’s the smart one. It just works that way. But this book is more complex than Joely imagined. Joely doubts her friend has even read this many pages and, if she has, then she isn’t really taking them in. Frankie obviously just wants people to ask what it is she’s reading.

  Joely straightens the corner, using her nail to erase the indent of the bent page. She flicks forward ten pages or so and bends that corner instead, then puts the book back on the table.

  Lying on her bed, she keeps looking over at the book. She feels guilty now and wonders why she did it. If Frankie were here, instead of somewhere with Thommo, then she wouldn’t have. And if Frankie were really reading the book then she would know that someone swapped the bent page. She reaches for the book again, ready to fix her meddling, but then realises she can’t remember where the real page was. Now she’s embarrassed at herself for being so foolish and even angrier at Frankie for making her do something she would never normally do.

  She hears the wire door open and Frankie’s voice. She ducks under the sheet, wondering if she can pretend she’s asleep and be left alone for a bit longer. But then Frankie might grab the book and go outside to read in the sun and realise that someone has been fiddling with it. Joely isn’t ready for that conversation so she sits up in bed and waits for her friend.

  Frankie comes in holding two icy poles. ‘Jill wasn’t around so I raided the freezer. Red or green?’

  ‘Red. No, green.’

  Frankie tears open the packet and hands her the green one.

  ‘I’ve been moving the cows with Thommo. They’re so skinny, Joel. It’s awful.’

  Joely can’t look at her. She feels sick about the book, and even sicker that she doubted her friend was reading it. She struggles to remember feeling hurt about Frankie deserting her, just so she has something to hold onto.

  ‘Do you feel okay?’

  ‘Not really,’ sniffs Joely.

  Frankie reaches forward and rubs Joely’s forehead. Tears run down Joely’s face.

  ‘Don’t cry,’ says Frankie softly.

  ‘I’m not really.’ She snorts back the snot in her nose, making both of them laugh. The icy pole drips down her hand, splashing green bombs across the white sheet. Joely licks around the stick, tasting the fake lime flavour, wishing she’d taken the red one instead.

  ‘Manicure first? Or pedicure? Or face?’ says Frankie grinning.

  Joely desperately wants to tell Frankie she doesn’t need her, but she does. She can’t make herself look okay without her help.

  ‘Manicure.’

  Frankie beams, like Joely’s just given her the meaning of the world. ‘I’ve even got the perfect colour to match your new dress!’ Frankie says.

  ‘Were you helping Thommo?’

  Frankie nods. ‘Yeah. He’s sweet, isn’t he?’ She licks the red icy pole and smiles.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. He didn’t laugh at me when I wouldn’t touch the skinny cow.’

  ‘He likes you,’ says Joely distractedly.

  ‘It’s not about that.’

  ‘He does though.’

  ‘Don’t say that. Don’t ruin it.’

  Frankie stands up, moving away from her. ‘He’s nice to me. Don’t make it about something else. Can’t he just be nice to me?’

  ‘What’s wrong with him liking you?’ says Joely, having no idea why the conversation has gone so wrong.

  ‘It’s not always about that.’

  Joely doesn’t understand anyone anymore. She thought they’d share a laugh about Thommo’s little crush. She didn’t think Frankie would get upset.

  ‘I’m sorry, Frankie, I didn’t—’

  ‘Whatever,’ answers Frankie, cutting any further conversation. ‘Come on. Let’s do your nails.’ Frankie walks out of the room.

  Joely wishes the day would just end.

  Chapter 32

  The kitchen table has been moved outside under the trees; it’s so hot that everyone voted to eat outside. Jill’s gone overboard. She cooked all afternoon and the kitchen is so humid that each time Frankie grabs something else to bring outside, she has to drink a glass of water.

  ‘It’s just that one left, Frankie,’ says Jill, manoeuvring her to the huge bowl of potato salad.

  ‘Wow! How many people are coming?’

  ‘It’s just us for a special New Year’s Eve dinner.’ Jill smiles. ‘I like your dress, by the way.’

  Frankie looks down. She’s wearing a fifties ball gown that she found in an op shop. It’s black and strapless and short because she cut the bottom off.

  ‘Thanks. It was five bucks,’ says Frankie, smoothing down the skirt.

  ‘Well, it looks more than that on you,’ says Jill.

  Frankie laughs and reaches for the potato salad, but before she can pick it up, Jill stops her. ‘Just go easy on Thommo,’ says Jill quietly. ‘He’s got a sweet heart.’ She moves away so Frankie can take the bowl.

  Frankie doesn’t know what to say. She feels torn. She understands Jill worries about her son, but he’s fourteen, and Frankie’s done nothing other than be nice to him. She decides not to say anything and carries the bowl outside where it’s dark and the stars are out.

  Thommo rushes over and tries to help her. She imagines Jill inside watching, so she smiles as broadly as she can.

  ‘Can you make some space? Your mum’s gone crazy!’

  Thommo starts moving things so Frankie can put the bowl down. As she does, her bare arm brushes his. She takes in his ironed shirt and wonders how red he’d blush if she reached up and undid the top two buttons. She’s almost tempted, but then Jill comes
out with Ged and the others, and the moment is broken.

  ‘Can I sit here?’ says Frankie, pointing to a seat next to where Thommo’s standing.

  ‘Um … yeah, sure,’ he says.

  Frankie sits down and Thommo hurries to sit next to her. His knee bumps against hers under the table. She leaves hers there, liking the feeling.

  ‘You look gorgeous, Joely,’ says Jill as Joely sits down opposite Frankie.

  ‘If you don’t look too closely,’ says Joely.

  ‘In this light it looks like a suntan,’ says Ged with a smile.

  Frankie is still angry with Joely, but it’s New Year’s Eve and she wants everything to be right. She catches her friend’s eye and smiles. ‘I think you look beautiful too. That dress is perfect.’

  Joely smiles back. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Potato salad?’ Jill spoons three huge mounds onto Frankie’s plate before she can say no.

  ‘Sure,’ says Frankie, dreading the idea of actually having to eat it all.

  ‘So where’s this party then?’ says Ged, helping himself to a pile of barbecued meat.

  ‘At the dam,’ says Mack.

  Ged frowns. ‘There’s not going to be a bonfire is there? I don’t want a call out at three in the morning because some stupid kid has lit a fire.’ Ged looks at Mack.

  ‘Nah. There’s no fire. It’s just a party. Everyone’s coming.’ Mack stares at Frankie across the table and she wants to flick potato salad right into his face. He’s punishing her by making little comments.

  ‘So how are you all getting there?’ says Jill. ‘Sorry we can’t drive you. Ged and I are having our own little party,’ she smiles at her husband, ‘and buses won’t be running. Not tonight.’

  Frankie can’t help herself. She laughs at the idea that buses aren’t running because it’s New Year’s Eve.

  ‘What?’ says Mack.

  ‘Nothing. Sorry. It’s just that in the city, trams run all night.’ Frankie wishes she hadn’t laughed.

  ‘Yeah, well this isn’t the city,’ says Mack.