Bookmark Days (4 page)

‘I’m sorry, Avvie,’ she panted when we finally came back to earth. ‘I know I go on about it. It’s my life. What am I supposed to do, pretend it doesn’t exist? Pretend I can’t pick up because it’d make you feel better?’

‘No, that’s not it. I’m happy for you,’ I said. ‘It’s just that I get smothered by your stories. You never stop to breathe.’

‘Okay, okay, okay, you’re right. It’s your turn now, I promise.’

‘That’s not it, either. I don’t have any stories you’d want to hear. You’d smile and yawn and then you’d get sick of
my
stories the way I’m sick of
yours
.’

‘Sorrrreeee. What do you want then?’

‘Silence.’

She didn’t know how to handle that. For a moment she
was
silent.

‘Okay,’ she whispered. ‘Goodnight.’

I woke to the gentle sounds of Hoppy making himself a cup of tea in the kitchen. It was just after five and Katie was dead to the world. I collected my clothes, dressed as quietly as I could – letting the sleeping cousin lie – poured myself a cup of tea and sat at the table with Hoppy and the calmness of morning.

‘What are you up to today?’ I asked.

My grandad shrugged. ‘Just the usual. Bit of this, bit of that. Have a go at fixing the pump out at the big dam.’

‘Mind if I come with you?’

He raised his grey caterpillar eyebrows. ‘Sure. What about your cousins?’

‘I’ll catch up with them later.’

We didn’t exchange another word after that until we were in the ute and rumbling across the paddock towards the big dam. Champ was in the back, barking his lungs out at a mob of red kangaroos we’d disturbed. One by one they sprang over the fence into the bush paddock. I slowed the ute and let them take their time.

‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’ Hoppy mumbled.

I nodded. It seemed strange that my grandad could see the beauty in a mob of roos who were in direct competition with the sheep for feed. Just goes to prove he’s not made entirely of grumpiness.

The big dam was like a sheet of glass resting in the red soil and we unloaded tools quietly, as if any noise would ruin the serenity.

‘Had enough of your cousins already?’ Hoppy asked.

‘Sort of. I don’t know. Katie never shuts up.’

Hoppy chuckled. ‘I had noticed.’

‘I think the amount of talking she’s done in the last couple of days is normally shared between six friends. It’s all a bit much for me sometimes.’

I said that, and then I felt guilty. ‘I wish I had half her confidence. A quarter. I don’t think she has a shy bone in her body.’

‘That’s just a matter of practice.’

‘I don’t think so. You’ve either got it or you haven’t.’

Hoppy took the cover off the pump. He was shaking his head. ‘Katie spends her life surrounded by people. Living out here has lots of advantages but they come at a price. You don’t get much of a chance to hang around with kids your own age.’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘Yes. You’re probably like your father in that way and quite happy with your own company most of the time. But you have to broaden out a bit, see the world and you don’t want that silly habit of shyness getting in the way. Know what I mean?’

‘Yeah,’ I said.

‘You’re not shy with me,’ he said.

‘Well, no. You’re family. That’s different.’

‘Is it? Maybe that’s all you need to do. Maybe you just have to pretend everyone you meet is part of your family. Just keep pretending until that becomes a habit.’

It made sense in a Hoppy sort of way. I didn’t want to be Katie, though. If I had the power of self-confidence I’d use it to spread a bit of happiness, not . . . well, not the way Katie does. ‘You’re full of wisdom today.’

He shrugged and knelt so his eyes were level with the pump’s carburettor. ‘Not really. I’ve had to work a few things out for myself, that’s all. Like the new lambs, you know. They’re shaky on their feet to begin with but they eventually work it out.’

‘Baaa,’ I said.

He chuckled then swung around. ‘Crikey! Sheep are loose! Where’s that damned dog gone?’

We headed back to the house for lunch. Katie greeted me with a big hug.

‘Sorry,’ she whispered into my ear.

‘What for?’

‘The usual,’ she said.

‘Don’t be silly.’

‘Can I make you a pancake?’

I couldn’t stop my eyes from boggling. ‘Yes please.’

The pan was hot and the jug containing the mix was still half full. She looked awkward with a spatula in her hand. She poured four pikelet-sized cakes into the frypan. I sniffed them and she patted me away.

‘This is the hard bit,’ she said as she prepared to flip one. ‘Lucky I’m an expert.’

The words had just passed her lips when she flipped the soggy-topped pancake at my head. It slapped into my hair just above my ear and stayed there.

She swore.

‘Language, Katie Ann,’ Aunty Jacq scolded.

‘You right?’ Mum said.

By this time Katie was doubled up laughing. Naomi and Chooka came running from the lounge to see what all the fuss was about.

‘Get my phone, Nam, quick,’ Katie called. ‘I’ll take a photo.’

After she’d finished, Mum looked at the side of my head. ‘Better get that out of your hair before it sets like glue.’

Katie offered to wash my hair. Nobody except me had washed my hair since I was about five, but I let her do it. She used some of her special shampoo and conditioner and turned it into a scalp massage that nearly put me to sleep. It was beautiful. She towel-dried my hair then used her blow-dryer to finish it off. I was getting a full beauty treatment whether I wanted one or not. She turned her music on, dug out her make-up and painted my face. She did a professional job, better than the clown face I would have done. Manicure. Pedicure. She painted my nails. She made me wear my ‘new’ dress and shoes and paraded me in front of the mirror.

‘God, you’re hot. Totally gorgeous.’

I put my hands on my hips and kissed at the mirror.

‘Yeah!’ she growled. ‘Work it! Work it!’

I spun so the dress billowed out. I pouted and Katie stood beside me and danced. I mimicked her and felt about as girly as I’d ever felt. After ten minutes though, I’d had enough. I mean, I like the mirror, I use it every day, but I’m no budgerigar. And besides, everything Katie did that looked cool looked stupid when I did it.

I took the dress off and bounced on the bed. ‘I’m going outside,’ I said. I needed air and dust and sunlight. Katie huffed, but stomped into her runners and followed me out.

Naomi and Chooka were on the quad. Well, Naomi was on the bike, Chooka was sitting on an old car bonnet on a rope behind and being towed around the paddock. As we watched, Naomi sped up and sent the bonnet over a lump of soil. Chooka was briefly airborne, and then hit the deck with a spine-jarring thump. His mouth made an O shape. He rolled off the bonnet and through the grass.

We ran to his side. He was smiling.

‘Can I have a go?’ Katie asked.

‘My turn to drive,’ Chooka said.

And drive he did. He tried to roll Katie off by dragging her through ever-tighter corners. He sent her flying over the lump of soil but she hung on. She rode the car bonnet better than she rode Charlie!

We took it in turns pulling and being pulled. Katie was hopeless on the motorbike. Chooka got so frustrated he started shouting playful abuse. At least, it sounded playful. I jumped up behind her and coached her through the gears and how to operate the throttle smoothly.

I realised what Hoppy had said was true – there were things Katie was good at that I knew nothing about and there were things that living on this sheep planet had taught me that would floor my city cousin. She’d never kill a chicken, but she’d eat them for every meal if they came in a little red-and-white bucket. Driving a car is second nature for me but she’d clunk, grind and feel awkward behind the wheel. I know horses and bikes and sheep. She knows boys. And sex. And mobile phones. And makeup. And shoes. And boys . . . did I mention that already?

CHAPTER 07

That night, Katie and I had an actual
conversation
, where she talked and then
I
talked.

‘Are you nervous?’ she asked.

‘Me? What about?’

‘Tomorrow. The Show.’

‘I can make myself sick just by thinking about it.’

‘You’ll be fine. I can hold your hand.’

‘Gee, thanks. Then they’ll totally ignore me.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that,’ Katie scoffed. ‘Guys like a bit of girl-on-girl.’

‘Oh, that’s just . . . gross.’

‘Have you ever kissed a girl?’

‘What? Yes, my nan. My mum.’

‘No, seriously pashed another girl who wasn’t part of your family.’

‘Katie, this is
me
you’re talking to. Don’t . . . I can’t believe you’d even ask.’

‘Hey, don’t knock what you haven’t tried.’

‘Have you?’

‘I might have.’

‘You’re sick.’

It was dark in the room and I could hear her moving in her bed. For a horrible moment I thought she was moving closer.

‘Kaaaatie?’

‘What?’

It sounded as if she was still on the other side of the room. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘Oh my god, did you think I was . . . Now who’s the sick one? You’re my cousin!’

‘Yeah, you’re my cousin, but I don’t know where you draw the line. I can guarantee your line is about twenty Ks down the road from mine.’

‘Twenty Ks?’

‘Thirty.’

She scoffed. ‘I’m not that bad.’

I scoffed back. ‘Like . . . whatever!’ I sang. She spluttered a laugh.

The laughter faded and she let out a long, musical and very contented sigh. ‘I love you, Avvie.’

‘Kaaaatie?’

‘Not like that, you idiot. Get your mind out of the gutter.’

‘I love you too, but I’d like to point out that I also love my horse, my dog and quite a few sheep. And one chicken. There’s a thought . . . you know when you asked if I’d kissed a girl, did she have to be human?’

‘Ohhhh! You’ve always got to take it one step too far, don’t you.’

‘I do my best.’

We tried to leave early the next morning – in two cars – but Katie took ages in the shower, doing her hair and make-up. She did look beautiful. I wore my town jeans and my cleanest flannelette shirt, dragged my hair into a ponytail and tugged my Akubra on top of that. I knew who looked like a local and who looked like the imported stock. My tummy was tingling as we left the farm. I knew it was going to be more fun than Christmas. Maybe not a day worthy of a bookmark, but certainly worth dog-earing the page. We were going to be with my crowd, people who dressed like me, talked like me, listened to my sort of music. So many of them had grown up on farms, were grubby more than they were clean. They looked out at you with big smiling faces from underneath the brims of weathered hats. Hats with more personality than game-show hosts. I’d still be shy and awkward, but I’d be shy and awkward among people who I know were also occasionally shy and awkward! For a sophisticated city chick like Katie, there’d be lots of things to poke fun at. Hick families with ten kids and neatly parted hair. People wearing overalls with patches in the knees. Big bellies with beers perched on top. Bad teeth and body odour. You know what? I love them all. Every single one of them. I guess you do have to take into consideration the fact that I have kissed a chicken out of love. More than once.

It’s about an hours drive from our place to the showgrounds at Forsyth. The town has one pub, one general store and a small licensed supermarket where we shop for food about once a month. That’s it, except for the showgrounds, which are kept in pristine condition by the same people who organise the agricultural show and ute muster. God knows how many hours they spend getting everything ready, but it’s always a fantastic event. Has been since I can remember. Eleven thousand people came through the gates last year – not bad for a town where the sign out the front claims the population is ninety-seven. Visitors throw gumboots and cow poo for prizes, guess the weight of the sheep and cow, eat locally made pies and drink imported beer. All the utes on show park in Darryl Cox’s paddock next door.

At night, it’s all country. They get some big names (the Kernaghans, Adam Brand, Troy Cassar-Daley came four years ago – he signed my CD!) and there are boot-scooting demos and seas of big hats, and a massive fireworks display at midnight.

The hour drive was spent finalising the itinerary for the day – mostly for Katie’s and my benefit. Well, mostly for Katie’s benefit. Aunty Jacq wanted us back at the car by eleven o’clock, which Katie at first agreed to. She later haggled with her mum and stretched it out to eleven-fifty – ten minutes before the fireworks. She explained her reasoning when we were in the chaff-smelling cattle pavilion.

‘You let the grown-ups feel they’ve made a reasonable call on the time. Whatever they say. Eleven o’clock? Okay. Then they have a sense of victory, as if they have the power. Mind you, you have to be convincing. Act as if it doesn’t really matter. Then half an hour later, you turn on the charm and suggest when you’d
rather
be back. Works every time with Mum.’

It made sense, in a manipulative sort of way, but I wondered why you’d bother. Did she always try to manipulate her mum like that?

We went on every ride in the first hour we were there, then I looked at all the animals and Katie looked at all the guys. Oh, she did notice the draught horse. Well, to be more specific, she did notice the draught horse’s
penis
and I admit it was difficult
not
to notice and just a little bit funny.

In the afternoon, when the sun got far too friendly, I found a shady spot near a portable enclosure where a guy with a beaten hat and clip-on microphone was giving a demonstration about reptiles.

‘I’m going to the toilet,’ Katie said, bored.

‘No worries,’ I said. ‘I’ll wait here.’

She huffed as she left – I think she wanted me to go with her – but something about the guy holding the snake sucked me in. I thought I recognised the snake – a brown snake like the ones we get at home from time to time. Something about the way the creature poured through his hand like liquid mesmerised me.