I have no idea what to do with Grandma’s money. Elliot reckons I should just keep it though I call her the day after she leaves, insisting that I can’t.
‘Nonsense,’ she says. ‘You made life much easier for me while I was dealing with your grandfather’s passing. You deserve to treat yourself.’
I can’t help but smile a little. ‘I’m glad I helped, but still …’
‘No,’ she says, cutting me off. ‘No “but still”. This is not up for debate, young lady.’
‘But –’
‘No “buts”. I’m not going to say it again.’
I guess I know where Mum gets her stubbornness from. I thank Grandma four or five times and hang up the phone before going straight to the bank. I don’t trust myself to keep a cheque safe.
‘Our little secret.’ I guess that means nobody else got a cheque and that announcing my gift would indict her in the un-grandmotherly crime of favouritism.
Until the weekend I read, I work and I think about the extra five thousand dollars in my bank account. On at least three separate days I consider spending the whole lot at once on a personal air conditioner for my bedroom. We have cooling downstairs but halfway up the stairs the heat collapses in on you and you feel like the gates to hell have opened up and are dragging you in. It makes sleeping a nightmare but I put up with it. Buying an air conditioner could hardly be considered ‘going crazy’ – and that’s what Grandma has demanded I do.
It’s supposed to be thirty-eight degrees on Saturday, making it the coolest day of the week, so Elliot and I go to Teddy’s place on account of him having a swimming pool.
‘I was wondering when you two would show up,’ Teddy says.
Elliot is wearing a T-shirt and boardies, with a beach towel draped over his shoulder. I’m a little less obvious about why we’re here, with my towel hidden in my bag and my swimwear hidden by my dress.
Teddy reckons his dad’s house is embarrassing. Without cause, I might add – he just feels as though Elliot and I might judge him or something because our houses are bigger than his. It is quite small – two bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom and a living room – but I don’t really see why that’s a problem. Teddy lives here full-time and only sees his mum on alternate weekends or when he needs her house for a party.
‘We just missed our number-one pal,’ says Elliot.
‘Yeah, right,’ says Teddy. ‘Nothing to do with the pool outside, is it?’
‘I mean, it helps,’ I say.
Teddy flips me off. ‘You guys want a drink?’
‘If you’re offering,’ Elliot says.
‘They’re in the garage – I’ll go grab them.’ He pauses. ‘Go on, then. The pool’s waiting.’
Elliot and I head out through the sliding door and I’m slightly surprised to see Christina on the deck that surrounds the pool. Teddy’s relationships rarely last longer than the first hour. Things must be going well between them.
Christina looks up from her phone and waves at us. ‘Hey!’
‘Hey. It’s Christina, right?’ I say. ‘I’m Jen.’ I’ve only met her once before, on New Year’s Eve, and if she was drunk enough to hook up with Theodore, she probably doesn’t remember Elliot or me.
‘Yeah, of course,’ she says, standing up. Her blonde hair swings in a tight ponytail as she steps forward to hug us both. ‘I love your necklace,’ she says to me.
My hand instinctively grasps the crucifix around my neck. ‘Thanks.’
Sixteen seconds later, Elliot pulls his top off and launches himself into the pool, emptying half of it onto the deck. My dress follows suit and I leap in after him. Christina shows us both up with an elegant dive that hardly creates a splash.
‘Show-off,’ Elliot mumbles while she’s underwater.
The sliding door opens and Teddy steps out with three apple ciders and a bottle of Mountain Dew. We hoist ourselves up onto the edge of the pool and Teddy hands out the bottles.
‘Christina doesn’t drink,’ he explains, giving Christina the Mountain Dew and sitting himself between Elliot and her.
‘Then how exactly do you survive the pretentious Theodore C. Block?’ Elliot asks.
Christina laughs and Teddy shoves Elliot back into the pool.
Teddy and Christina finish their drinks first. They slip back into the water and swim towards the opposite end. When I finish mine, I dip myself in and push off the wall, covering the entire length of the pool in one breath. I come up for air and find the lovebirds wrapped around each other, connected by their mouths, sitting on the built-in seat. Not wanting to disturb their love fest, I return to Elliot’s end.
‘Disgusting, aren’t they?’ I say.
‘Pathetic.’
For the next few hours, we swim, splash and wreak all sorts of havoc in the water. Elliot tries to see how fast he can run through the water with me on his back (not very fast, it turns out) and we try ballroom dancing underwater, which ends disastrously.
And the whole time Teddy does not leave Christina’s side. They’re perpetually connected by their hands, legs or lips. Or a combination of the three.
I dry myself off, reapply sunscreen and lay my towel on the deck. I lie on my back, shielding my eyes with my arm, and soak up the sun. Elliot joins me, not wanting to be the third wheel in the pool.
‘When does Nessie return from her homeland?’ I ask, turning my head to look at him.
‘Not for another week and a bit,’ he says. ‘It’s killing me.’
I mime vomiting. ‘You’re as lovesick as those two,’ I say, gesturing at Teddy and Christina, who are still all over each other in the pool. Then I have an idea of sheer brilliance. I sit up. ‘Oh my God.’
‘What?’ Elliot says.
‘Why don’t we go to Scotland?’
He sits up, too, and looks at me. ‘Yeah, right, let’s just fly to the other end of the country.’
‘We could drive. It’d be fun. And you can surprise her by showing up with a whole bunch of flowers and she’ll swoon and you’ll get married and have lots of babies and live happily ever after.’
‘You don’t think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself?’
‘Maybe,’ I say, ‘but why not? Do you reckon Theodore would come? Sophie, too!’
‘I don’t know about Teddy, but Sophie has Luke. And how are we going to pay for hotels and petrol and everything else?’
‘I’ll use Grandma’s cheque. She told me to do something crazy with it. What’s crazier than a spontaneous road trip?’ Excitement is really building in me now. I haven’t been on a holiday for ages and I’ve never been on one without my family. On top of that, Mum still doesn’t know about my new uni preferences and I can’t shake the feeling she’s going to find out soon. It might be a tad easier to deal with from the other end of the country.
‘You know, you make some compelling arguments,’ says Elliot. ‘I’ll have to check with Mum and Dad, but if you’re being serious …’
Of course I’m being serious. I could easily get some time off work – we have so many new staff members left over from Christmas and I haven’t asked for time off in ages. Even during exams, I kept my regular work schedule. And uni offers aren’t even out yet, so it’s not like classes are going to start any time soon.
‘You reckon Vincent is up to it?’ I ask. Vincent is Elliot’s car. He isn’t the most luxurious car in the world but that’s half the fun.
‘If he isn’t, then we’ll deal with it,’ says Elliot. ‘When should we go?’
I think for a bit. ‘Tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow?’ says Elliot. ‘That’s so soon.’
‘Yeah, but the whole point of this is to see Nessie because you miss her. I don’t have anything else I’ll be doing … Do you?’
He runs it through in his mind. ‘Yeah, fair enough. Let’s do it.’
‘Theodore, get your arse over here,’ I call.
He detaches himself from Christina and we fill him in on the plan.
‘Yeah, I’m in,’ says Teddy. ‘No more than a week, though, right? Christina’s working every day until next Saturday, so it’s all good, but I want to hang out with her after that.’
‘A week should be long enough,’ Elliot says.
‘Sweet. Let’s do it.’ Teddy looks over his shoulder towards the pool. Christina blows him a kiss. ‘Where are we going to stay?’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ I say, pulling my dress back over my head. ‘We’ll figure it out on the way.’
‘Are you going somewhere?’ Elliot says.
I pick up my towel. ‘I’m going to Sophie’s. I want to see her face when I ask her.’
‘Shouldn’t we plan –’
‘Later, guys!’ I wave and practically run to Sophie’s house.
When I get there, Luke is asleep in his cot and Mrs Anderson is busy mowing the lawn out the back. Apparently she works better in the heat.
Sophie leads me to the kitchen and starts to prepare iced coffee. We stand on opposite sides of the bench.
‘So,’ I say, ‘how much do you reckon you need a holiday?’
‘Oh God, escape would be amazing. You know how we used to make fun of all those mothers who always said they needed a break? I totally feel them right now.’
I laugh. ‘But Luke’s adorable.’
‘I know he is. But it’s not super-adorable at dinnertime when he decides to throw a tantrum.’
‘You want to come to Queensland for a week?’
She looks up from the tub of ice-cream. ‘A week in Queensland? That would be awesome.’
‘We’re leaving tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ She stops mid-scoop. ‘That’s so soon. I mean, it’s such a good idea but I wish we’d planned it ages ago so I could’ve saved up. There’s no way I can afford that now.’
‘But that’s the best part,’ I say. ‘You wouldn’t have to pay a cent.’
She gives me an odd look. ‘Why, did you win the lotto or something?’
‘Not quite.’ I tell her about the money Grandma gave me. The blender drowns the sound out, so we pause our conversation for a minute. ‘She told me to do something crazy with it, so I figured you, me, Elliot and Teddy could drive up in Vincent.’
‘Are you serious?’ says Sophie. ‘I couldn’t let you pay for a holiday …’
‘Don’t think of it like that,’ I say dismissively.
She hands me my drink. ‘How should I think of it?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘It’s not like it’s money I worked for and saved up. It’s basically a free trip.’
Sophie sips her drink. I watch her mind tick over. ‘I’d love to come, I really would. But I can’t just let you pay for everything. It doesn’t seem right.’
I open my mouth to argue but she keeps talking.
‘Besides, who’s going to look after Luke?’
‘Bring him along,’ I say immediately. ‘I’m not kidding,’ I add after her laughter.
‘Seriously? You don’t think a screaming toddler would kill the atmosphere?’
‘It’s possible,’ I say, ‘but he’s cute. It would totally be worth it.’
‘He’s adorable. Confession time: I was just watching him nap before you got here.’
‘I’d probably have done the same, I’m not going to lie.’
‘He had this little drool train …’ she gestures down her chin to indicate the drool’s path. ‘Anyway, we’re getting off topic. I guess I could ask Mum to look after him.’
‘What about your dad? Could he help, too?’
‘He’s in Singapore.’ Sophie’s dad is always travelling all over the world. I’m not really sure what he does but he’s some important person in some important business. He spends more time out of the country than he does in it.
We figure we should wait for Mrs Anderson to finish her gardening before we ask her. It’d feel less like we were putting her on the spot.
‘Do you want to clean my room with me?’ asks Sophie while we wait. ‘I should be doing it now but I can’t be bothered.’
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Well, you can tidy up and I’ll sort out your DVDs.’
‘Oh my God.’ Sophie rests her elbows on the bench and her chin on her hands. ‘You’re so OCD about that!’
Putting things in order is the best. I can’t stand it when people have collections that don’t follow a system. Sophie’s DVD collection is the worst offender.
‘I am not,’ I say indignantly. ‘I just like things in alphabetical order. You know, the way they should be. And you took one psych class in year ten. I don’t think you’re exactly qualified to start diagnosing me with anything.’ I don’t point out that you can’t be ‘so OCD’ any more than you can be ‘so diabetes’. Wanting to correct things like that is a habit I picked up from Mother Dearest, so I try to suppress the urge.
Sophie laughs and shakes her head. ‘Okay, you can order them if you want. Then at least I’ll have someone to talk to while I tidy.’
Her room is ridiculous. The door doesn’t open completely as the build-up of clothes has created an extended doorstop. Only a small section of floor remains bare.
‘Sophie! How long has it been since you cleaned up in here?’
‘I don’t know. A month? Maybe two?’
Paper, receipts, clothes, bags, pencils, a sketchpad – there’s more stuff on her floor than I’ve owned in my entire life.
‘Why do you have a receipt for petrol from August?’ I ask, holding it up. ‘What possible need could you have for that?’
‘August? Seriously?’ says Sophie, snatching it out of my hands to read it. ‘Oh this is from when I filled up Mum’s car. I needed to keep it because … actually, I forget why.’
‘So naturally you keep the receipt for five months when you don’t even remember why you needed it in the first place. There is so much crap in here.’
Sophie goes to collect two large garbage bags and begins shoving all the stuff she no longer needs into them. I clear a section of floor for myself by tossing things across the room towards her.
‘I thought you were helping me!’ she says as a dress hits her in the shoulder.
‘I am. I’m moving things closer so you don’t have to move as far. Besides, I need somewhere to sit so I can organise your stuff.’
To alphabetise the DVDs, I go through and pluck out all the titles beginning with ‘A’, put them in order, then shove them at the start of the shelf. Then I move on to the ‘B’s and so on. It’s easier than doing each movie one at a time.
‘What’s this?’ I ask halfway through the ‘S’s. A disk has been shoved in between two covers. It looks as though it’s a burnt copy of a film but nobody has bothered to write on it what it is.
Sophie glances up from trying to squeeze as much stuff as possible into the already overflowing first garbage bag. ‘No idea. Put it on and see?’
‘Where’s your laptop?’
‘Under my bed.’
The laptop is underneath a pair of tracksuit pants under Sophie’s bed. I fish it out and slide the disk into the drive. Muffled sounds and a shaky camera immediately tell me it’s a home movie. The screen is blurry and it’s difficult to make out what’s happening.
‘Oh God, I just figured out what it is,’ says Sophie.
‘What?’
‘You’ll see.’ Her non-answer annoys me – I’m really struggling to figure it out.
The camera settles down after about thirty seconds and I realise somebody is singing. Five girls and four boys are on a stage – one singer and eight dancers. I feel a wave of anxiety as I recognise the stage. It’s the one in our high-school hall. And two of the girls are Sophie and me.
‘Is this our year nine variety night?’ I ask.
Sophie nods.
Variety nights were these concert things our high school held every year. Kids from all year levels were invited to go and show off whatever talents they may have in a performance. Quite often, the talent isn’t actually apparent. There were a lot of singers and musicians, a few dancers, sometimes stand-up comics, a few actors …
In year nine, our music teacher was desperate to put on a preview of a musical theatre performance. She wanted to convince the principal to allocate funding to school productions. She recruited a bunch of her students from all different year levels, and our performance of ‘Anything Goes’ was supposed to showcase the school’s talent. At the time I thought we’d done brilliantly, but watching the video (courtesy of Mrs Anderson) I realise just how terrible we were.
We girls are all dressed like guests on a cruise ship and the guys are dressed as sailors. While one of the girls – I think her name might have been Erica? – sings, we do some basic tap dancing in the background.
My feet tap a little on Sophie’s floor as the choreography comes flooding back to me. I barely have to think about it.
The video reaches the dance break and the tap routine gets a little more complicated. The singer taps her way towards the back of the stage and the rest of us move forward. Individually our dancing is passable, but we aren’t in time with each other and that makes the performance look really awkward.
‘How did they let us do this?’ asks Sophie. ‘And why did Mum film it?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say, ‘but let’s just put this away and pretend it didn’t happen.’
‘We all thought we were so good …’
It’s such an embarrassing video. I like to think my dancing has improved heaps since then, but at the same time, I still remember the rush of performing on that stage. It was the first time I had ever performed at school and the excitement and anticipation building up to it were amazing. The hours we spent in rehearsals were some of my favourite hours of year nine. So yeah. We sucked and the video is painful to watch, but I’m glad I did it.
We hear Mrs Anderson come back inside and we head back into the kitchen.
‘Hey Mum,’ says Sophie. ‘How’d you go?’
Mrs Anderson takes a long drink from a glass of iced water. ‘All good.’
‘How have you not melted?’ I ask. My entire back is coated in a thin layer of sweat and I feel gross.
‘A bit of heat won’t kill you,’ says Mrs Anderson with a wink. She takes a seat at the kitchen table.
‘Can I run something by you?’ Sophie says.
‘Sure.’
‘Jen, Elliot and Teddy are driving up to Queensland. How would you feel if I went with them?’
‘Queensland? That’s a fair hike.’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Elliot’s girlfriend is up there, so we want to go and surprise her.’
A smile creeps across Mrs Anderson’s lips. ‘That’s cute. How long would you be gone for?’
Sophie shrugs and looks at me. ‘A week?’
‘Something like that.’
We both look back at Mrs Anderson.
‘I guess that’d be okay,’ she says.
My stomach does a few backflips. I honestly wasn’t sure that she’d say yes.
Sophie’s face lights up. ‘Really? You don’t mind looking after Luke?’
‘Of course not. A week alone with the cherub? Sounds like a dream to me.’
She beams. Sophie races forward and kisses her mum on the cheek. ‘Thank you.’
‘When will you be leaving?’
‘Tomorrow,’ Sophie says.
‘Then you’d best go and pack!’ says Mrs Anderson. ‘In the meantime, I should have a shower.’ She drains the rest of her water and disappears.
‘I’m so excited,’ says Sophie. ‘Help me pack?’
I laugh. ‘I should go and pack my own stuff.’
‘Maybe don’t pack your entire bookshelf, though.’
I scowl at her. ‘I’ll text you and let you know what time we’ll be here tomorrow morning.’
I hug her goodbye and head home, mentally forming a checklist as I walk. I race upstairs and pack a couple of books (perhaps slightly insulting to the others, but whatever); bathers; a towel; enough clothes, allowing myself costume choices; and toiletries. I spot my unopened GPS sitting on my desk. I tear the plastic off the box and skim through the instructions. It all seems pretty self-explanatory. I double-check that it has a charger and slip it into my bag. Nice one, Katie.
But I run into a hurdle I had not considered and really should have seen coming: Mother Dearest.
After dinner she asks me what I’m wearing to church tomorrow.
‘Oh uh … I’m not sure I’ll be able to go.’ I bite the inside of my cheek.
Dad lowers the file he’s reading.
‘Is that so?’ Mum says. ‘What plans do you have?’
I’m not sure if I should just say it bluntly or try to soften it into a question. What happens if she says no? ‘I was hoping I could go away for a week with some friends.’
‘And how long have you been planning this for?’
‘We just decided today,’ I say. Hopefully it being spur-of-the-moment will ease her temper; I don’t want her thinking I kept this hidden.
‘Which friends?’
‘Elliot, Teddy and Sophie. We’re all going up to Queensland to surprise Nessie.’
‘Sophie? That … girl … is a terrible influence.’
‘You know you have no idea what you’re talking about, right?’
I’ll put up with her badmouthing me but I can’t listen to her badmouth Sophie anymore. Mum doesn’t know her at all and I’m sick of her throwing about her opinions, which are based entirely on hearsay. The worst part is that Sophie can’t even defend herself. I’m sick of it.
I’m not sure if Mum has answered my question or not because I’m already halfway through my next sentence. ‘Sophie thought she was in a steady and committed relationship and got pregnant. Yeah, she messed up, but after it happened all she tried to do was the right thing. Then, when the shitbag ran off because he didn’t want any responsibility, he told everyone she’d cheated on him. And now, because she feels stupid about how Luke’s dad treated her and doesn’t stick up for herself, people like you assume that she’s the one in the wrong. She’s a fantastic mother and doesn’t need people like you judging her. She’s been through enough.’
All traces of smiles are gone by this point. Dad’s eyes are incredibly wide and Mum has shrunk by at least fifteen per cent. I expect a hiding for swearing but it never comes.
‘I heard the boyfriend wasn’t the father.’
‘I know.’ I keep my eyes locked firmly on Mum’s. ‘That’s what lots of people think because Sophie never said anything.’
‘He left her when she fell pregnant?’
I nod. I feel a horrible rush of guilt for betraying Sophie’s confidence. She specifically told me never to correct anybody. But how can I just let her get destroyed like this?
‘I didn’t know that,’ Mum says.
‘Of course you didn’t know. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? You never bother finding these things out. Sure, they weren’t married, which is somehow relevant to you, but they were together for a long time. You make your assumptions and then treat them as fact. The same thing happened with Dylan. He convinced you he was a super-good Christian – all three words are incorrect, for the record – and so he was the most amazing guy in the world. You couldn’t see that he might not be.’
Mum looks slightly taken aback. She hates being told she’s wrong.
‘So,’ I say, ‘my friends are going away tomorrow and I’d really like to go with them. Is that okay?’ My fingers tingle and my entire body is tight with tension. Shallow and uneven breaths fall out of my lungs.
Mum doesn’t say anything for a while. Then, ‘I’ll discuss it with your father.’
‘Thank you,’ I say. My heartbeat rings in my ears as I head up the stairs. I can’t really believe I did that. It feels weird. I’m honestly not sure if I got through to her at all or if she’s furious at me. I expected a lot more yelling from her but maybe I just took her off guard.
While I wait for Mum and Dad to have their discussion, I check that I’ve got everything packed. I don’t want to think about how it’ll feel to unpack if they say I can’t go.
Eventually there’s a knock at my door. I take a few deep breaths. ‘Come in.’
Dad opens my door, Mum standing just behind him. ‘So we had a chat about all of this …’ He looks back at Mum. ‘… And we decided …’
‘We decided,’ says Mum, ‘that you can go.’
It’s all I can do not to holler and whoop and jump around on my bed. I can’t keep the grin off my face. I fly towards them and embrace them both. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you …’
‘But,’ Mum says, ‘I’m not happy with the way you spoke to me before.’
I pull back from the hug and breathe. ‘I know. I was out of line. Sorry.’
‘Just make sure you don’t do anything stupid,’ says Dad. ‘No drinks from strangers, no flirting with cute boys …’
I roll my eyes. ‘Dad, please.’
Mum tightens her lips. ‘Just make sure you stay safe.’