‘Wonder where Dibs got to,’ Cal said. He was looking the other way, out across the paddocks and dunes and beach to the wharf and the sea.
‘Mr Wiggins needs help,’ I said. ‘He can’t move the van on his own. Let’s go down and help him.’
‘I can see Mr Phelps and his horse,’ Cal said. ‘I can see them near the woolshed. I bet Sydney Bridge Upside Down could tow Mr Wiggins out.’
‘Sam Phelps wouldn’t let his horse do that,’ I said.
‘I’m going down,’ Cal said.
‘I’ll go first and catch you if you fall,’ I said.
I went quickly. I knew the footholds so well I just skimmed down the wall to the next floor. The only time this trip was risky was when there was a high wind; the wall wobbled a bit then and I understood what my father meant when he said a good gale would flatten the ruins one of these days.
‘Get going!’ I called to Cal.
He came down very shakily for a kid who was like a squirrel when using the chute. Of course he was short, it was harder for him to find the footholds. I always held up my arms, ready to catch him. I blinked as cement chips fell.
He made it, and we ran down the stairs.
‘What about the bricks?’ asked Cal when we were in the yard. ‘We going to stack them?’
‘They’ll be safe,’ I said. ‘We’re in a hurry. Mr Wiggins needs our help.’
When we reached the road, he said, ‘Dibs might sneak our bricks.’
‘He’d better not,’ I said.
‘It’s funny Dibs isn’t here,’ he said.
‘Must be playing somewhere,’ I said, running faster.
‘Wait for me!’ Cal called.
I stopped. ‘Don’t you care about Mr Wiggins? How would you like to be stuck in the river?’
‘I don’t care,’ he said. ‘I’m going to find Dibs.’ He turned and ran towards the railway line.
‘Cal!’ I called. ‘I’ll fix you, boy! Come here!’
But he kept running, that mad kid, so I went on alone. I didn’t go very fast because I really wasn’t so eager to help Mr Wiggins. Also, I was busy thinking how I would pay Cal back. I got damned angry about him, turning traitor after all the fun I found for him.
He didn’t miss anything at the river. Mr Wiggins’ van had gone. So had Mr Wiggins and Mrs Kelly. It was as if I had only imagined seeing them.
2
THERE WAS a bit of a mystery about old Sam Phelps, and I don’t mean because of how he stuck to Sydney Bridge Upside Down instead of buying a younger and quicker horse to haul the freight wagon along the railway line from the wharf to just outside the works. That was mysterious enough, though not so hard to understand when you remembered how few ships called at Calliope Bay nowadays, how few trips Sam Phelps had to make along the line. No, what I mean about a bit of a mystery was how people said he had once lived in a good house with his pretty daughter. The pretty daughter, they said, had run away, then Sam Phelps had moved from the good house, then the house had been pulled down. After that, they said, he had gone to the pack. Nobody seemed to know where his daughter had gone to, and if he knew, they said, he certainly wasn’t telling. Actually, as I said to Dibs Kelly in the cave one afternoon during those summer holidays, you would have a tough job getting Sam Phelps to tell you anything. It would be useless asking him when exactly the Emma Cranwell was due to berth. Like as not he would turn from you without speaking and begin stroking Sydney Bridge Upside Down’s hollow, maybe hoping in this way to fill it in, though I reckoned it was more likely he was helping to make it deeper.
‘So you can drop that idea, boy,’ I told Dibs, taking another of his cigarettes. ‘We’ll wait here for Cal. He’ll tell us when the ship’s in sight.’
‘Hope he hurries,’ Dibs said. ‘It’s getting a heck of a smoky in here.’
‘Are you dizzy yet?’ I asked.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I’ve only had two.’
‘This is my third,’ I said, waving the cigarette. ‘Better than my mother’s cigarettes, but not as strong as your last lot. You using the same leaves?’
‘They’re off the same bush,’ he said. ‘The others might have dried out better. These are strong enough for me. I’ll be dizzy if I have another one.’
‘Have another one then,’ I said. ‘You need to be dizzy to see fantastic things.’
‘I’ve been dizzy before, but I’ve never seen anything fantastic,’ Dibs said. ‘I get dizzy, then I feel sick.’
‘Hey!’ I shouted. ‘Just then you seemed to have a big moustache and a helmet. It’s beginning!’
‘Now what do you see?’ he asked.
I coughed. I began to choke.
‘What do you see?’ asked Dibs. ‘What do you see?’
I got my breath back, staggered across the cave and bopped him. ‘Couldn’t you see I was choking? You’re dippy sometimes, boy. Now I’ve changed my mind about letting you use the pistol.’
He wriggled past me to the cave mouth. ‘I’ll tell Buster you’ve got it,’ he said, ready to run.
I didn’t move. ‘So what?’ I said. ‘It was in the killingroom and I found it, so it’s mine. What’s it got to do with Buster?’
‘Kids aren’t supposed to have pistols,’ he said. ‘You ask Buster.’
I didn’t mind his threats, I was a bop up on him. ‘I’ll tell him myself if he gives me a ride on the Indian,’ I said. ‘I’ll let him use the pistol. Maybe he can get some ammo.’
‘A good idea,’ he said. ‘We could shoot pigs, eh?’
‘Yes, and sizzle them in here,’ I said. ‘Buster might have some ammo hidden in his room. You have a look tonight, Dibs. We can have fun with that pistol.’
‘It’s an old-fashioned pistol,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what ammo would fit that sort of pistol.’
Cal showed up behind Dibs and asked: ‘Why can’t I have a smoke?’
‘Because you’d tell Dad,’ I said. ‘What about the ship? Have you seen her yet?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you or Dibs have a turn? Why do I have to keep looking?’
‘Because that’s your job today,’ I said. ‘We got other jobs. What about Sam Phelps? Is he on the wharf?’
‘Yes,’ said Cal.
‘And the horse and wagon?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘See!’ I said. ‘He knows the ship won’t be long.’
‘Takes an hour for her to get in after she’s passed the heads,’ Cal said. ‘I’d have plenty of time for a smoke. Be a sport, Harry. I won’t tell Dad.’
‘It’s not only the ship,’ I said. ‘You’re supposed to watch out for the Kelly kids.’ (Dibs had two younger brothers and two younger sisters, but I won’t mention them often, you can take it for granted they were always around. I ignored them mostly then and that’s what I’ll do now.)
‘I haven’t seen them,’ Cal said. He looked at the butt I had dropped when I was choking. ‘What say I do tell Dad you were smoking? He’ll chase you, I bet.’
‘Another blackmailer!’ I cried. ‘All right, you can have a fag. I’ll keep look-out.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Dibs said.
‘No, you stay here with this kid,’ I said.
So I left them there and climbed to the cliff-top and looked across the bay. There was no sign of the Emma Cranwell. I didn’t mind. Actually, the ship was not why I’d left the cave, it would have taken more than a couple of blackmailers to make me go on look-out if I hadn’t wanted to. What I had remembered, back in the cave, was that Susan Prosser liked being at the wharf to see the Emma Cranwell berth. If Susan turned up early today, I thought, I would go down to the wharf and talk to her about her mother’s crazy budgie. Even though Mrs Prosser lived right next door, the only time we saw her was when she peeped through her bathroom window; this was not often, but it was more often than we saw her budgie. I only knew about the budgie because of what Susan told me. She told me if you said ‘Joey is a naughty boy’ to this budgie, it would sometimes reply
‘Jesus is a naughty boy’; other times it brooded and said nothing. I had not seen Susan for a week or so, she seemed to have picked up her mother’s habit of keeping out of sight. I was hoping she would think the Emma Cranwell was a good reason to leave the house. Going by what I could see from the cliff-top, she had not done so yet. Sam Phelps and Sydney Bridge Upside Down were the only ones on the wharf.
I decided I would keep looking for about twenty minutes. This would give Cal plenty of time to have a cigarette and get sick.
Whoops whoosh groan groan, I thought, remembering what Dad had said at breakfast about the time I got sick while aboard the Emma Cranwell with him. We were on our way back from a holiday (my mother, who liked the city better than Dad did, was following later with little Cal), and Dad must have thought it would be fun to go the last part of the trip in the Emma Cranwell instead of in a bus. As he said at breakfast, he hadn’t allowed for rough seas. ‘My word, Harry, we struck it rough as soon as we left Wakefield,’ he said. ‘I thought the tub was going to turn turtle, she was tossing and turning so much. I wasn’t surprised when you threw up, I remember thinking it was as well you had the bottom bunk. And you had to stay in it because there was little I could do for you, not me with my one leg and that ship trying to turn turtle, it was all I could do to stay in my own bunk. The seas didn’t calm till well after midnight, then I was able to inspect the damage. I mean the damage where you were, my boy. What a mess! “It’s you for the deck,” I said, and up we went. Not a soul in sight when we got there. Only the night, black as pitch, and the sea, just as black. “Take off that jacket,” I said. Then the other smell hit me and I knew what had happened. You had pooped yourself! There was still a wind, and it was blowing the smell straight at me. I turned my head, it did no good. Anyway, I couldn’t leave you in those pyjamas. “Take them off,” I said. And of course you know what happened after that—’ I knew, sure enough; I had heard all this before, I was used to the shame of it. In fact, I no longer felt any shame; it was something horrible that had happened to some other kid, one black night on the high seas in years gone by. ‘You threw them away,’ I said. ‘I threw them as far away as I could, out into the ocean,’ my father said, ‘and left you standing there without a stitch on.’ ‘I remember,’ I said. ‘It was the only thing to do at the time,’ my father said, ‘but you wouldn’t have thought so when your mother heard about it. Those new city pyjamas, where were they? Thrown away! Oh, I heard all about that night’s mistake, your mother didn’t see the funny side of it. Nor you either, I dare say.’ ‘Yes, I did,’ I told him. ‘It was pretty funny,’ I said, ‘how you held your nose when you threw them away.’ ‘You remember that?’ he asked. ‘Yes,’ I said, aware of Cal watching me, knowing he wished he had that sort of memory to share with Dad. ‘More likely you think you remember because I’ve told you about it so often,’ Dad said. ‘I only mention it now,’ he said, ‘because I hope your cousin doesn’t have the same sort of voyage, it was thinking of her in the Emma Cranwell that reminded me of our own adventure. Well, I rely on you boys to make her welcome, let her see that country people know how to treat visitors. Meet her at the wharf, bring her home, tell her I’m looking forward to seeing her when I get in from work. You can leave the dinner to me. But it would help if you peeled some spuds.’ ‘Yes, Dad,’ I said. ‘Yes, Dad,’ Cal said.
When the twenty minutes were up I gave myself ten more because I was certain I would see Susan Prosser walking along the track beside the railway line at any second. If I headed back to the cave she was bound to appear, I had often just missed her and I would make sure I didn’t this time. What I mean by just missing her is this: I would be waiting for her, sitting by the road or leaning against a tree or lying in the shade of a hedge, and as long as I kept watching she would not appear; but if I got busy with something, like trapping an insect, sure enough she would be past me and too far down the road towards home for me to pretend, once I caught up, that I hadn’t been waiting for her. It was mad of me to bother, of course. I mean, Susan Prosser did not like me, not nowadays. She used to like me, in the days when she seemed to enjoy telling me about the budgie, but ever since I accidentally killed our wonderful Muscovy drake she had changed towards me, as if, unlike everybody else, she did not believe I hadn’t really meant to kill Kingsley. Couldn’t she realise, I asked her plenty of times, that I had been as fond of Kingsley as anybody else in Calliope Bay? Was it my fault I landed on him after jumping from the shed roof? But it was no use, Susan Prosser did not like me any more; no matter how often I tried to be friendly, she sniffed and turned away.
Heck, I thought, I’m not chasing her just because I don’t want her to go on thinking I’m a fibber. What do I care?
So I turned, meaning to go back to the cave. I had a last look over my shoulder, and that was when I saw the Emma Cranwell. She was coming round the heads, dipping and rolling.
Soon I would meet my cousin for the first time in years. I could not remember her from when we had met long ago in the city, I had been too young to take much notice. According to Dad, who went by what my mother said in her letters, this Caroline was a shy girl who sat in corners and seldom spoke. Her mother, my mother’s sister, reckoned it would do Caroline good to be away from the city for a while, the country air would work wonders. Not that we should take her to be a wet blanket, warned my mother. Once Caroline got to know people she apparently had rather interesting things to say; being a city girl, her interests were different from those of country girls, but what she said should entertain us, since we met so few city girls. Anyway, said my mother, make her feel welcome. ‘So I rely on you boys to do that,’ Dad said. ‘Show Caroline that country people know how to treat visitors.’ ‘Yes, Dad,’ I said, ‘I heard you before.’ ‘Well, don’t forget,’ he said. ‘I won’t forget,’ I said.
But I knew there was no sense in being at the wharf an hour before the Emma Cranwell berthed, so I headed for the cave.
When I got to the cave mouth and looked in I saw that Dibs had tied up Cal and was pointing a lighted cigarette at him. When Cal saw me he yelled. He must have yelled a good bit while I was on look-out, I knew he wouldn’t let himself be tied up like that without making a fuss. It was a wonder I hadn’t heard him yelling, I thought.
‘Don’t make so much noise,’ I told him. ‘I want to ask Dibs something. Hey, Dibs, remember when Mr Dalloway asked us about the holidays and said for all the kids who were going away to stick up their hands? Were you there that day?’
‘I stuck up my hand,’ Dibs said. ‘I thought Buster would give me a ride out to where he’s working. That would count as going away, I reckoned.’
‘Did you notice if Susan Prosser stuck up her hand?’
He closed one eye and twisted his face, trying to remember. He put the cigarette in his mouth and sucked it, but he was too late, it was out.
‘She must have gone away,’ I said. ‘I haven’t seen her for a few days.’
‘I haven’t seen her,’ Dibs said.
‘I saw her,’ Cal said.
‘When?’ I asked.
‘Yesterday,’ he said.
‘Untie my brother,’ I told Dibs. I looked down at Cal. ‘Where did you see her yesterday?’
Cal was rubbing his wrists, where the rope had been. ‘Not out the front,’ he said, frowning at Dibs. ‘It wasn’t out the front of her place behind that bush.’
‘He’s always hoping he’ll see her there,’ Dibs said.
‘I’m not!’ Cal shouted. ‘I don’t care!’
‘Never mind that,’ I said. I knew Cal did hope to see what Dad said he had once seen—Susan Prosser piddling behind that bush—but I wasn’t going to blame him for it now, I’d rather know if Susan was still around. ‘If you didn’t see her there,’ I said, ‘where did you see her?’
‘In Mr Wiggins’ van,’ Cal said.
I was surprised.
So was Dibs. He said: ‘I bet you didn’t, boy!’
‘I did!’ Cal shouted.
‘Doing what?’ I asked, feeling strange.
‘She was just sitting in the van,’ Cal said.
‘Waiting for Mr Wiggins?’ I asked.
‘He was driving,’ Cal said. ‘The van was moving. Going towards the river.’
‘What do you know?’ I asked Dibs.
‘What do you know?’ he asked back.
We sure were surprised.
‘Dibs is not allowed to tie me up,’ Cal said, moving to the cave mouth. ‘I didn’t do anything to him. This is not his cave, anyway.’
‘When he brings cigarettes it makes him a special guest,’ I told Cal. ‘You had one of his cigarettes. You shouldn’t complain, boy. And don’t tell Dad, either. We don’t like tell-tales.’
‘Tell-tales are creepy,’ Dibs said.
‘You’re not perfect,’ I told him. ‘Who was going to tell Buster about the pistol? And next time I catch you roping up this kid I’ll bop you.’
‘You should have bopped him already,’ Cal said.
‘I didn’t bop him because you’re always wanting to play with him, you got to look after yourself if you chase him like you do,’ I said. ‘Anyhow, I haven’t got time to bop him. We’re going down to the wharf. The ship’s on her way in.’
‘Boy!’ said Cal, trying to get past me.
I held him. ‘Follow me,’ I said. ‘You’ll only get into trouble, like you did with Dibs. We don’t want any trouble with Sam Phelps. Not today. We have to be very careful.’
I led them down the hill track to the clearing beside the railway line, not far from the wharf. This clearing was a good place for picnics if you wanted a change from the beach. Near the cliffside it had trees for shade; across the line was an easy way to the beach in one direction and an easy way to the rocks and the wharf in another direction. We had a lot of picnics there when we were small.
‘Mr Wiggins certainly must have something,’ I told Dibs while we waited in the clearing for the Emma Cranwell to get nearer. ‘I didn’t think Susan Prosser would go driving with him. What do you know, eh?’
Sydney Bridge Upside Down Page 3