Gibber’s Creek Gazette, 1 October 1974
Banks Collapse?
The collapse of the Cambridge Credit Corporation has panicked the public into withdrawing their money from finance companies and bank and finance shares, fearing a temporary bank closure as happened in the 1930s Depression. The company’s directors stated that the credit squeeze and difficulty selling land at a time of such high inflation, as well as unemployment at nearly 6%, had badly affected the company’s income . . .
JED
Spring, light glinting through Dribble’s spiderwebs as the birds gathered them to cement their nests, lambs bouncing fat and white in the paddocks while bored ewes chomped grass. The rufous fantails would return to the Dribble garden soon. But Sam hadn’t, though the postcards continued.
The budget was passed. It seemed the ‘high spending’ contingent had won. But budgets were big and vague. This one hardly seemed to touch the daily life of Gibber’s Creek, although Jed knew it must.
The days ate themselves, the sun falling behind the ridges, rising above the river the next morning as days merged into months, helping at River View, helping to move the ewes, helping to sell raffle tickets for the bushfire brigade, helping with Halfway to Eternity’s asparagus harvest, or the hours spent with Matilda, helping the old woman relive her life. Jed wondered if her own role in life would forever simply be ‘helper’, but nothing else seemed to fit.
‘Can I help?’ she asked Scarlett one Saturday, watching her bent over her books at the table.
Scarlett glanced up. ‘Not unless you’ve managed to do HSC maths in the last few years. Why didn’t you take maths anyway? You can’t do ANYTHING interesting without maths.’
‘Because Mrs Morrison, our maths teacher, kept giving me nought out of ten when I’d got the correct answer. She’d say, “But you didn’t use the right method,” and I’d say, “But you didn’t say what method you wanted! You should be glad I’ve found a new way to do it!”’
‘You could study maths now.’
Jed shrugged. ‘I still don’t want to do any of the things that need maths. Do you want a lift into town this afternoon, or is Mark picking you up?’
Scarlett bent back to her books. ‘I need to work this weekend.’ She hesitated, then added, ‘Mark wanted to kiss me last Saturday. I mean properly.’
It was the first time she had volunteered information about Mark since their quarrel. Jed chose her words carefully. ‘You didn’t want him to?’
‘We’re not friends like that. He’d like to be,’ Scarlett added frankly. ‘That’s why I think I maybe shouldn’t see him as often.’
It was a question disguised as a statement, giving Jed the chance to agree, or offer another point of view. ‘Sounds a good idea. You don’t like being kissed?’ Whatever unknown syndrome had crippled Scarlett’s body might have had a hormonal impact too.
‘Of course I do. But it’s not fair on Mark. He’s older than me and beginning to think “forever” stuff. I’ve never thought of him like that.’ She hesitated again, then added, ‘There’s a new bloke who started at school earlier this year who I thought I DID like that way.’
Jed fought back the words, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ ‘What happened?’ she asked instead.
‘Nothing. I don’t think he’s even noticed me. Just the wheelchair.’
‘I’m sorry —’ began Jed.
To her relief Scarlett grinned. ‘Don’t be. I heard him talking to his mates. He’s got a brain the size of a walnut. There’ll be smart boys at uni.’
Jed had a sudden image of Sam holding the bucket of dung beetles. Longing swept through her, like debris in a flood, too complex to make out the component parts. Christmas, she thought. She forced herself to focus on the girl next to her.
‘Trust me,’ Jed said. ‘People like us have to either hide our intelligence by learning small talk, or find people who also like to let their minds dart and gather.’
‘I like that. Darting and gathering.’ Scarlett’s smile was a true one now. ‘Like I’m a kangaroo, despite being stuck in a chair.’
‘I wouldn’t call a kangaroo one of nature’s great thinkers,’ said Jed dryly.
‘Who knows what deep thoughts a kangaroo thinks? It’s fish pie for lunch,’ she added.
‘You cooked?’
‘I helped mash the potatoes,’ said Scarlett with dignity. ‘Leafsong came by to do some cooking for us before you were up.’
Jed grinned. How could a kid who thought she’d flunked when she only got ninety-eight per cent for chemistry mess up a recipe? ‘It’s a long way to cycle before a day’s work.’
‘Leafsong and Carol have a new car! Well, a third-hand one, a green beetle. And Leafsong got her driver’s licence.’
‘Mmm,’ said Jed. Dear old Sergeant Kilroy’s method of examining driving licence applicants was to make sure they knew the road rules — she supposed Leafsong had written hers out to answer the questions — then say, ‘Well, you won’t learn till you get more experience. Just stay out of traffic for a couple of months.’ She herself had been a serious danger to the Canberra public for the first six months she had Boadicea. She made a mental note to be wary of all green ‘vee-dubs’ for the next twelve months. ‘Carol must be doing okay then.’
‘And Leafsong,’ added Scarlett loyally. ‘She made one hundred and ten dollars last week.’
‘Ah.’ Jed tried to find a way to explain the difference between the money the café took and any actual profit — gross takings minus costs — when Scarlett added, ‘That’s profit by the way. INCLUDING depreciation.’
‘Depreciation too? I’m impressed,’ said Jed lightly, trying not to let the fizz of elation show too clearly. Shove that in your balance sheets, Jim Thompson, she thought. My first investment is going to be a success. Not only was the rent more than the bank interest on the money she’d paid for the building, but a successful café would increase the value of the property if she sold. Not that she would sell unless, she realised, Leafsong and Carol asked to buy the building.
Meanwhile, fish pie. And a Scarlett who was slowly discarding Mark, whether she realised it or not, and her last link to the Chosen of the Universe. ‘Lunch,’ she said. ‘You turn on the oven, and I’ll lay the table.’