Bookmark Days (5 page)
‘Now, while she’s called a brown snake you can see that she’s almost orange. They range in colour from pure black through slaty silver to bright yellow. You know what to do if you find one of these in your toilet?’
I hung there, waiting like the rest of the crowd for his words of wisdom.
‘If you find one of these in your toilet, you wait till she’s finished.’
The crowd groaned and rippled with laughter. The person standing next to me bumped me and apologised. I apologised back and glanced across.
I nearly swallowed my tongue.
It was Nathaniel. He did a double take too and grabbed the peak of his trucker’s cap. His face went the colour of the show’s grand champion rose (somewhere between burgundy and flame red) and he bumped me again by way of a greeting and smiled.
I tried to bump him back but only succeeded in brushing my bare arm against his and getting all goosebumpy. He was staring at the snake man again and I did the same but the air between us was as crisp as a competition pavlova. I couldn’t tell you a single thing the snake man said in the twenty minutes that followed.
Oh my god
, I thought, over and over again.
Oh my god, it’s
Nathaniel. Nathaniel! Nathaniel Carrington is standing right beside
me. I can’t believe we just touched arms. He probably thinks I’m an
idiot. I didn’t mean to brush his arm, I was just going to nudge him
casually. I can still feel the goosebumps on my neck. Oh my god,
he’ll see the goosebumps for sure. He’ll see my skin going crazy and
he’ll know that I . . .
The crowd started clapping, so I clapped too. Snake Man had his hat off and was walking slowly around the edge of his enclosure collecting donations.
‘This show is only possible through your generosity and I thank you for your contribution of a gold coin if you enjoyed what you saw. You can also buy one of our emergency snakebite first-aid kits for ten dollars. All money raised goes back into the education of people about native animals and looking after the reptiles you’ve met here today. Thank you. Thanks. Thank you very much.’
Nathaniel was pressing his way to the edge of the enclosure with his hand in his pocket. I thought about running away, I honestly did. I thought I’d just turn and vanish into the crowd, but Hoppy and Katie were there inside my head. I could see that this was as good a place as any to pretend I was confident. Pretend he was family. Act as though I wasn’t coming apart at a cellular level. I slipped through the crowd and took some coins from my pocket. Nathaniel was right against the railing waiting for Snake Man and his jingling hat to get to him. A space opened beside Nathaniel. I collided with a tattooed bloke in a blue singlet as I dived for it.
‘Sorry, love,’ he said.
I squeaked sorry and adjusted my hat.
I started rehearsing the casual comment I’d make when Nathaniel finally noticed I was there beside him.
Hey I liked the
show, didn’t you? The snake man was excellent, snakes still scare the
hell out of me even though I’ve seen hundreds in my time,
that sort of thing
.
Probably not the right time to mention that I’d cut the head off one in the shed. Maybe it would be more courageous to make a comment about
him
.
Like your hat. God, your arms are
brown. Can I touch your hair?
Or should I keep it safe and simple
. How’s the weather, hey? Did you see the alpacas? And how big was
that draught horse’s . . .
Nathaniel dropped his coins in the hat, turned and looked right at me. I dropped my coins but they rolled off the brim of the hat and my mouth hung open for a full second before my brain engaged.
‘Good,’ I stammered.
‘Pardon?’ Nathaniel said.
I had to look away. I had to unplug before those eyes looked right inside me and found the truth bubbling around in there.
I apologised quietly to Snake Man for dropping his money and he was gracious into his microphone.
‘That’s okay,’ he said. ‘I like it when people throw money. Thanks for your donation.’
‘Nate!’ someone called, and Nathaniel looked across the crowd.
‘Yep!’ he yelled back, and looked at me again. ‘You . . . staying around . . . later?’
‘I – I
. . .
’ I said, gave up trying to speak and nodded unashamedly.
‘Might catch up with you then. Gotta go. Good to see you, Avril.’
‘Yeah, good to see you, too, Nathaniel,’ I said to the back of his head. ‘See you later.’
Suddenly, I had to sit down. Sit down before I fell.
How pathetic was that? Getting weak at the knees as though my neighbour was some sort of country music star. I decided I’d head to the car for a bit of time out to get my head around what had just happened.
I’d seen Nathaniel three times in the last five years. It was pure coincidence that those three times were in the same week.
Nan was at the car. She was sitting on a camping chair under a big beach umbrella. Next to her was another old lady in a camp chair.
‘Hi Nan,’ I sang. There was a little bit too much springtime in my voice but I couldn’t control it.
Then I realised she and the other lady were holding hands – until Nan snatched her hand back and sat on it. The other lady waved.
‘Hello, Av. Did you bring us a cup of tea?’ said Nan quickly.
‘Sorry,’ I chuckled. ‘They’d run out.’
‘Hogs wallop,’ she grumbled.
The ladies exchanged a glance. Nan took a breath. The other lady nodded.
‘Where are my manners?’ Nan said. ‘Avril, this is my old friend Marilyn. Marilyn, my granddaughter, Avril Louise Stanton.’
We shook hands. Marilyn wasn’t as old-ladyish as she looked. She had a grip like a fencing contractor’s.
‘You look like your father when he was a boy,’ she said. Her voice was croaky and deep. ‘Not exactly like your father. Like your father if he’d been born a girl, if you know what I mean.’
I laughed. ‘I think I know what you mean. People tell me that all the time.’
‘Count your blessings, Avril,’ Marilyn said, and coughed. ‘There are uglier mugs in your family tree.’
Nan slapped her wrist, but she had a smile on her face.
‘How did you know Dad?’
‘Oh, your grandmother and I have been friends for years. I was there when your father was born.’
‘Really?’
How come, in my sixteen years on the planet, living in the same house, I’d never met such a significant person in my grandmother’s life? How come I’d never even heard a story about Marilyn? Had she shifted from the area? As I was puzzling all this, I was inadvertently searching Marilyn’s face for a clue. There was a familiarity about her cheekbones, the line of her nose. Her eyes!
I swear it was a reflex, but I gasped and went to cover my mouth when I realised where I’d seen those eyes before. I had another paradigm shift. She had Nathaniel’s eyes. Or Nathaniel had her eyes. Whatever. Marilyn was a Carrington.
They saw my hand. They heard me gasp. They chuckled.
‘Yes, darling,’ Marilyn cawed. ‘I’m one of
them.
’
‘Oh hush, Marilyn,’ Nan said.
‘Let me ask you this, Avril: do I look like the devil?’
I shook my head.
‘No,’ Nan said. ‘You look like a wrinkly old prune ready for the grave.’
‘Cheeky sod,’ Marilyn grumbled. She pinched Nan’s arm.
Then they were giggling like a pair of schoolgirls and slapping at each other.
I sat cross-legged on the grass in front of them, my head still wobbly from changing gear so fast. Marilyn wasn’t the devil, in fact she reminded me of Nan – a little bit cheeky, a little bit nutty and a whole lot feral.
‘How come you two don’t hate each other?’ The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
‘Oh, but we do!’ Nan said. ‘I hate you, Marilyn Carrington!’
‘Shut up, you spent penny!’
Nan mopped at tears. Tears brought on by laughter. She took Marilyn’s hand and kissed it.
Marilyn dragged Nan over and kissed her cheek.
‘Oh no,’ I cried in mock horror. ‘Nan is in league with the devil. Wait till I tell Hoppy!’
‘No!’ they screamed together.
Marilyn had her hand up in a stop sign. ‘This is our little secret. You can’t tell the blokes.’
‘Serious, Av,’ Nan said. ‘Promise me you won’t tell Hoppy.’
‘Okay, okay. I promise. But only if you tell me why.’
Marilyn waved dismissively. ‘You know what they’re like.’
‘Yeah, but why? Why are they like that? What started it all?’
Nan sighed.
‘It’s a very long, boring, complicated and painful story,’ Marilyn said. She leaned forward in her chair. ‘You’ll have to get your nanna drunk,’ she whispered. She rocked herself out of her chair and onto her feet, creaking and groaning. She collected a walking stick and her joints popped like the shed roof in the sun. ‘I’d best be off.’
Nan frowned and reached for Marilyn’s fingers. ‘No, don’t go. Not yet. Please.’
‘Get a hold of yourself, you old sook. Bleating like you’ve lost a lamb.’
Nan got to her feet shakily and they hugged. It was a long and tight hug that looked strange on Nan. I mean Nan’s always up for a hug, but this one went on for ever. They kissed each other’s cheeks and Marilyn turned and reached for my hand. ‘Lovely to meet you, Avril.’
I stood and hugged the devil, only she didn’t feel scaly at all: she was warm and her skin was loose on her bones and she smelled like home. She laughed and hugged me back, then left, waving.
I wanted to say something to Nan. I wanted to tell her that I didn’t understand why it had to be the way it was but I was okay with it. She smiled and flopped back into her camping chair. I sat in the one Marilyn had vacated.
‘Even your mother doesn’t know,’ she whispered.
‘Really?’
She patted her hair and changed the subject with a clunk. ‘So, having fun?’
‘Yes, sure. It’s a blast, as usual.’ I said that, but my stomach felt as though I’d drunk too much dam water: all sloshy and yuck. The grandmothers might be secret friends but that didn’t mean the rest of the families were any less fierce with each other. Having a relationship with a guy was complicated enough, let alone factoring in bad blood between our fathers and our father’s fathers.
Relationship?
Who was I kidding? ‘Might catch up with you then,’ Nathaniel had said.
Might
. I didn’t need to hear wedding bells in my head because a boy said he
might
catch up.
I couldn’t help myself.
Dad remembered to bring Nan a cup of tea. ‘Where’s your cousin?’ he asked me.
‘I . . . we got separated,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure where she went.’
Dad raised his eyebrows. ‘You’d better go and have a look for her.’
‘Me? I
have
looked for her. She’s . . .’
‘Av, please,’ Mum interrupted. ‘Somebody has to keep an eye on her.’
‘She’s a big girl,’ I protested.
Dad sighed. ‘That’s the problem. She’s not as big as she thinks she is.’
Then Aunty Jacq arrived. No more words were spoken but Dad caught my eye, gave me a look forged in iron. He tipped his hat towards the showgrounds. I reluctantly left my seat in the shade.
I was supposed to be looking for my wayward cousin but I found myself looking for that trucker’s cap. I didn’t even know what I’d do if I saw him – probably just roll onto my back like Champ and wag my tail submissively in the dust. When he was little, Champ used to pee all over himself with excitement if he hadn’t seen you for a while. I made sure my bladder was empty, just in case.
The shadows grew longer. The band – Billy Cane and the Long Road, who’d come down from Sydney – were setting up on the pantechnicon at one end of the great arena. I found Naomi and Chooka blowing the last of their cash on the shooting gallery, trying to win a soft toy.
‘What’s the matter?’ Chooka asked.
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘Have you seen Katie?’
He frowned in concentration then shook his head. ‘Did you see Katie, Nam?’
‘No,’ Naomi said, and took aim.
‘If you do, can you tell her to meet me at the cars?’
‘Okay.’
I walked ten paces and I heard her laugh. I was positive it was her. I realised it had come from the only place I hadn’t thought to look – the most logical place to go hunting for a feral sixteen-year-old looking for action: the beer tent. She was slumped in a white chair with a half-empty plastic beer cup on the table in front of her. There were four guys and two other girls crowded around the table and they looked as though they were set for the night.
‘Avvie!’ she shrieked, and all eyes turned to me.
My body reacted the way it always does when attention is drawn my way – as if my thermostat has broken and the emergency light in my face has come on. I kept walking until I was beside her chair, then crouched and whispered in her ear. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘What . . . the hell . . . does it look like I’m doing, Mum?’
‘They’re looking for you.’
‘You found me. Now what are you going to do? Do you want a beer? Todd, can you get my cousin a beer?’
‘I don’t want a beer.’
‘Oh come on, Avvie, loosen up!’
‘I’m as loose as I want to be. Come on, let’s go.’
‘Loose? That’s loose, is it? Ha!’
You can drag a sheep through the paddock, I thought, but you’re much better off getting in behind it and giving it some incentive to move.
‘I need your help,’ I lied. ‘It’s getting dark. I want to get changed. Could you do my make-up for me, please?’
She turned to look at my face. Her head moved; her eyes were a full second behind the action, and bloodshot. She looked sunburned. ‘Sure, Cuz. Just give me a minute and I’ll be right with you.’
‘I’ll wait outside,’ I said.
She nodded and grabbed the cup in front of her.
The chip van opposite the beer tent stocked a selection of mints and I bought a pack of the biggest and strongest-looking ones in the hope that they might mask Katie’s breath. Dad didn’t really drink much at home – mostly with the shearers after a long, sweaty day of shed work – and I’d never seen Mum drink. The smell was repulsive and as alien as an extra nose on my cousin. I stood outside the tent and felt like a total square. Add beer to the list of things that Katie knows about that I don’t. Maybe she was right? Maybe I was hung-up about having a good time. Maybe I was just too naïve to see the fun in it. Too much of a little kid.