In Which Pennies Go Down the Drain

When Yared’s nanna sat beside him on the bed the next night and handed him the penny, he took it without paying much attention. He stared down at it and ran his fingers around its bumpy face but he wasn’t thinking of the coin; he was thinking of his parents’ call that morning.

‘Nanna…’ he said.

‘Yes, Yared?’

‘If Mum and Dad stopped being married…’

‘Yes?’

‘Would I live with Mum?’

His nanna sighed. ‘Probably, yes.’

Yared bit his lip. ‘Would I still see Dad and Max and Tamieka and you ever?’

‘Yes Yared, you definitely would.’

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Good.’

There was silence for a while and Yared lay listening to the cicadas in the tree outside his window. He heard a possum hiss and a few cars drive past, then he felt his nanna’s hand on his shoulder.

‘There’s always hope, you know,’ she said. ‘There’s always hope.’

He looked up. ‘Why?’

‘Well… because your parents are still trying.’

‘Hard?’

His nanna squeezed his shoulder. ‘I think so, Yared. But that’s something you should ask them.’

‘They’re not here.’

‘When you see them again.’

‘Mmm.’

There was silence again until his nanna said, ‘Well now, would you still like a story tonight?’

Yared looked up, surprised. ‘Yeah.’ Of course he would!

‘Well then: this story takes place in 1966. It’s about a girl called Robyn.’

Robyn lifted a blue floral sofa cushion and peered into the dusty space beneath it, while Linda wriggled under a line of chairs nearby.

‘What are you doing?’ Linda’s brother Greg asked from the middle of the room, where he was reading a Phantom comic on the floor.

‘Hunting for old coins,’ said Robyn.

‘Like the Famous Five,’ said Linda. ‘It was Robyn’s idea but you can help if you’d like.’

‘Nah,’ Greg said. ‘Not worth it. You don’t even know if you’ll find anything.’

Linda shrugged, crawled out from under the chairs and began searching behind the record player. Robyn just lifted the next cushion. She didn’t care if they only found a few coins; anything was more fun than spending the day at home packing, where all she could think about was moving. And she knew that whatever they did find they’d be able to trade in at the corner store for new decimal money. She even knew how much each coin would be worth: a sixpence was five cents and a shilling was ten. They’d learnt about it at school so they’d all be ready when decimal currency arrived.

As she lifted the last sofa cushion from its place she spotted a silver threepence half-hidden down a crack. She levered it out and slipped it into the pocket of her dress to go with the dusty sixpence she’d found mixed up with the toys on her bottom shelf that morning.

She and Linda continued working their way around the room, and as they searched under tables, through stacks of records and in forgotten corners, Greg dropped his comic book and began to watch.

‘Oh look, there’s one near your foot, Linda,’ he said as she peered down behind a bookshelf. ‘Wait, it’s only a dead cockroach.’

‘Go away, Greg,’ Linda said.

‘And one’s going to fall on you from the ceiling.’

‘Leave us alone,’ said Robyn.

‘Yeah, leave us alone.’

‘Fine, fine,’ Greg said, stretching out on his stomach. ‘But tell me when you get rich – then you can buy me a remote control car.’

The girls moved into the kitchen and began rifling through drawers and cupboards, and before long Greg trailed after them and leant against the doorframe.

‘So aren’t you moving soon?’ he asked Robyn. ‘When are you going, anyway?’

Robyn frowned at the stacks of jam jars and soup tins in front of her. ‘Next week,’ she said. ‘After school starts again.’

She didn’t want to think about leaving behind her house and her friends and everything she knew. It wasn’t fair that just because her parents were moving she had to go too. All she knew about Goldsworthy was that it was far away, that it had only been built the year before because someone had found iron in the ground nearby, and that she didn’t want to live there. She was sure it would be horrible.

‘I wish your family could move to Goldsworthy too,’ she said to Linda.

‘Maybe we could,’ said Linda. ‘Oh, except my father’s not a miner, so he might not want to.’ She bit her lip. ‘Maybe you could live with us instead.’

‘Yay,’ Greg said. ‘Two silly little girls in the house instead of one.’

Robyn wrinkled her nose at Greg. ‘Well I wouldn’t want you for a brother either. I’ve already got one and that’s enough. And you’re probably worse than Philip anyway, because he’s not very old yet.’

When they finished combing the house they set off to walk the few blocks to their friend Christine’s house to search for more coins. At the last minute Greg decided to come too – the Ashwells had a television set and he wanted to see what shows were on today. Linda slid down the railing of the front steps as they left the Mitchells’ house, then they crossed the yard and turned out through the white picket fence to the flat, tree-lined street beyond.

If they finished their coin hunt quickly, Robyn thought, she and Linda might have time to watch television as well. Her favourites were shows like Mr Squiggle and The Magic Boomerang, but sometimes news stories about spy planes and missiles came on, or photos of the war in Vietnam, and made her scared that Russia and the other communist countries would try to take over the world. Lately her father became angry whenever he heard anything about Vietnam; he said it was wrong that the government could send men to fight overseas when they didn’t want to go.

‘Hey, why don’t you try digging for coins too?’ Greg said as they dawdled through the crackly yellow-green grass towards Christine’s house. ‘Someone might have buried them under the footpath. There could be millions hidden there.’

‘Ha ha,’ said Linda. ‘Very funny.’

They passed the weatherboard houses with their iron roofs, and at the end of the block left the road and cut across a broad, open park dotted with gums. The coins in Robyn’s pocket jangled against each other and she slipped her hand in to stop them. The new coins, with their pictures of Australian animals, were prettier than pennies, shilling and pounds, Robyn thought. They were much easier to add up too – not that she’d minded the old system, as she liked solving sums and problems. She knew that lots of grown-ups hadn’t been happy about having to change though. She could remember Linda’s grandmother complaining that the new money was too confusing and that the name “dollar” was too American; though when the Prime Minister had suggested calling the new form of money a “royal”, no-one had wanted that either.

Robyn and Linda had nearly reached the middle of the park when Greg, who’d run ahead, turned and called, ‘Hey, there’s a coin down there.’

He was pointing to a drain in the ground near his feet but the girls paid no attention.

‘No really,’ he said, crouching in the yellowy grass, ‘there’s a coin in the drain. It looks like a penny.’

When Robyn and Linda reached him they peered through the metal grate and saw that he was telling the truth: a copper penny was balanced on the narrow ledge running around the drain about halfway down. Robyn watched Greg lie on the grass and stretch an arm through the rungs, but the coin was well out of his reach.

‘I need something longer to get it with,’ he said. ‘Maybe a stick would reach.’

They scavenged under nearby gumtrees for a few long sticks, then Greg stretched out on the grass again. With a stick in each hand he reached down through the grate and tried to lift the penny out.

Robyn sat on the grass and watched him work, while Linda turned cartwheels beside her. ‘You need the sticks to be sticky,’ she said, leaning her chin on her fist. ‘If they had glue on them it might work.’

Greg tried once more to grab the coin with the two sticks, but as he brought the ends together around the penny and began to lift, the coin slipped off the narrow ledge and down to the concrete floor of the pit.

‘Oh great,’ he said with a scowl. He threw the sticks into the drain after the coin then grabbed the metal grate and shook it. To Robyn’s surprise, as Greg rattled the grate one of its corners shifted in the ground.

‘Hey, it’s loose,’ Greg said. ‘If you girls lift this corner while I try the other one, maybe the grate will come up.’

Robyn and Linda moved over, grasped the bars near the loose corner and pulled, while Greg heaved on the other side. Greg’s end was overgrown with grass but the earth was dry and crumbly, and after only two attempts he managed to wrench his corner up and they lifted the rusty grate back on its hinges a few feet.

‘Now you take my end Linda, while I get the coin,’ said Greg.

Robyn’s muscles strained as Greg let go of the grating and Linda shuffled along to take the other corner. Greg sat on the ground, wriggled to the edge of the drain then jumped down into the pit. Robyn watched as he landed in a crouch then picked the penny up off the concrete.

‘Hey wow, it’s a really old one,’ he called. ‘From 1911.’ He rose to his feet, slipped the coin into his pocket and turned to climb out of the drain. ‘Umm…’ he said.

The pit was concrete, with a thigh-high pipe leading out from one side at the bottom. With his arms out Greg could touch each side of the drain, but stretching upwards he could only just reach ground level. Robyn watched as he grabbed the lip of the drain and scrabbled at the wall with his feet. But the concrete was too smooth for him to grip and after several tries he had to give up.

‘Are you sure you can’t get out?’ Linda said.

‘What about the ledge halfway up? Can you stand on that?’ Robyn asked.

‘It’s too high,’ Greg said. ‘And anyway, my foot won’t fit.’

‘Then what are you going to do?’ Linda asked.

Greg scuffed his sandal along the concrete. ‘I don’t know.’

Robyn frowned and tried to think. Perhaps if she lay on the grass and reached down into the drain she could help pull him out. But no, that wouldn’t work, she realised; the metal grate was too heavy for one person to hold.

‘We’ll have to get help,’ she said.

‘No! Don’t tell anyone. Dad’ll thrash me if he finds out I’ve been climbing in drains.’

‘But Greg…’

‘I’ll find a way out, don’t worry.’

He began trying again to haul himself out. Sweat trickled down Robyn’s back as she held her end of the grate and her arms started to ache. Greg was making no progress and soon she had to say, ‘I need to put this down.’

She and Linda lowered the grate back into place and Robyn stretched her sore muscles.

‘Hey,’ Greg said, reaching up and putting his hands around the metal rungs, ‘what am I supposed to do now?’

‘I don’t know,’ Robyn said, ‘but we can’t hold it any longer. Are you sure we can’t go for help?’

‘Of course I’m sure,’ Greg said. His fists clenched around the bars. ‘If Dad finds out, I’m dead.’

Robyn sighed. It would be so much easier to go for help; she knew her mother was home right now, packing and tidying the house. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of how much work she’d have tomorrow to finish all her own packing. She’d only started that morning, unlike her mum and Philip who’d been busily at it for days. But then Philip didn’t care, Robyn thought. He wanted to move to Goldsworthy. Just because it was near the coast and he thought he could learn to surf there. As if he’d ever be able to surf!

She shook her head and made herself concentrate on the problem of how to free Greg. But if it took two people to lift the grate, what help could she and Linda be? Unless they dropped something down for Greg to stand on, and then lifted the grate while he climbed out. But that was no good either, Robyn thought. They’d need to drop something very big, and something big wouldn’t fit through the rungs.

‘Um…’ said Linda, ‘I think someone’s coming this way.’

Robyn looked up and saw a thin, angular woman in a closely-fitting dress walking across the park in their direction.

‘Who is it?’ Greg asked. ‘I don’t want anyone to see me.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Robyn, ‘but she’s coming towards us.’

‘What are you girls doing near that drain?’ the lady called as she came nearer.

Robyn glanced down into the drain again. ‘Can you fit in the pipe?’ she asked Greg. ‘Hurry!’

Greg began scrambling into the concrete pipe leading out from the side of the drain. Robyn watched his legs and sandals disappear then looked up to find the thin woman almost upon them.

‘Well?’ the woman said. ‘What are you doing? I hope it’s nothing dangerous – you know you shouldn’t play near drains.’

‘We’re not playing,’ said Linda.

‘No,’ said Robyn, ‘we’re… we were looking at something down there. Well, we thought there was something but we can’t see it anymore.’

The lady frowned, peered at the two girls and then into the drain. Robyn held her breath in case Greg moved or made a sound.

‘Well,’ said the lady, ‘there’s nothing down there now. And even if there were, you shouldn’t be playing here. Two girls as old as you should know better.’

The woman reminded Robyn of cranky old Miss Strachan, her teacher, and she was glad she was wearing a dress today, instead of shorts like Linda. At least when she moved to Goldsworthy she’d never have to see Miss Strachan again, she thought. The thin lady was still frowning down at them and Robyn knew she wouldn’t go away until they’d left the drain. She began to tug Linda’s hand.

‘Come on, let’s play somewhere else,’ she said and pulled Linda across the park towards an old gumtree. The branches were too high to climb, so when they reached the tree Robyn pretended to be interested in the leaves and bark on the ground. She glanced over at the woman, who was still standing looking after them, then picked up a fallen branch and began to sweep the ground.

‘What are you doing?’ Linda asked.

‘Nothing. Just pretending.’ When she looked up again the thin lady was walking away, and a few minutes later she’d reached the street and disappeared.

‘Alright,’ Linda said. ‘Can we go back now?’

‘Wait a minute,’ Robyn said slowly, staring at the branch she still held in her hand. ‘Do you think this is as wide as the drain?’

‘Probably,’ said Linda. ‘Why?’

‘Come on. I have an idea.’

They hurried back to the drain and called down to Greg, who scrambled out of the pipe.

‘Listen,’ said Robyn. ‘Take this branch – pull it down through the rungs – then Linda and I will lift the grate. Come on, Linda.’

The two girls heaved the grate as far open as they could.

‘Now,’ Robyn panted, ‘try to jam the branch under that side of the grate.’

Greg lifted the branch and wedged it horizontally into the space where the hinged side of the grate met the ground.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Now let go.’

Robyn and Linda took their hands off the grate; it lurched against the branch, shifted a fraction then held firm.

‘That’s clever,’ Linda said, wiping her hands on her shorts.

‘But I still can’t get out,’ said Greg.

Robyn lay on her front and reached into the drain.

‘Grab my arms and I’ll pull,’ she said.

But when Greg gripped her arms and began scrabbling with his feet, Robyn tugged with all her might and nothing happened. Even Robyn and Linda together couldn’t lift Greg from the drain. Eventually he slumped in one corner of the pit and Robyn and Linda lay looking down at him, exhausted.

‘All for one stupid penny,’ Greg said. ‘Dad is going to kill me.’

Robyn propped her chin on her fist and tried to make herself think. If she and Linda weren’t strong enough to pull Greg up they’d have to help him climb out himself somehow. Now that the grate was propped open they could lower something for him to stand on – but they didn’t want anyone to know what had happened, and they could hardly take a chair or stepladder from home and bring it all the way to the park without anyone noticing. Besides, how would they get it out of the drain afterwards?

Robyn sighed. It was no use, she decided. There was nothing they could do. Anything big would raise suspicion but anything small would be too short. Anything big would be too heavy to pull out of the drain afterwards, and anything small they wouldn’t be able to reach. Unless they used a rope, she thought. And then her eyes widened. Unless they used a rope! She could easily carry a rope without anyone noticing and if they tied knots along it Greg could use it as a ladder.

‘I’m going home for some rope,’ Robyn said, scrambling to her feet. ‘You stay here Linda, but not near the drain in case someone comes. Greg, you’d better hide in the pipe again – wait, before I go we should let the grate down so no-one notices anything strange.’

She helped Linda lower the grating then hurried across the park and up the street, walking fast but trying not to look suspicious. When she reached her house she slipped along the side path so she wouldn’t disturb Philip and her mother. She thought of them inside, busy packing up the house ready for her dad to come back next week and help them move. It would be nice to see Dad again, she thought. At least in Goldsworthy they’d all be living together once more.

Robyn crept in the laundry door and stumbled through the darkened room to the workbench in the far corner. She felt among the battered tins and tools for rope, her eyes still adjusting to the light. Ah, there was the rope bag. She pulled out a good, thick length of rope and tucked it down the front of her dress, then at the last minute grabbed a large tent peg as well, to give them something to attach the rope to.

She hurried back into the daylight and down the path towards the front gate.

‘What are you doing, Robyn?’

Her heart gave a jump. ‘Philip!’ she said as she turned to the nearby window. ‘You scared me.’

‘Did I?’ said Philip. ‘I thought you were at Linda’s.’

‘I was,’ Robyn said, her heart still beating fast, ‘but I came back for some rope.’

‘Oh,’ Philip said. He frowned down at the metal bolts and wheels in his hands. ‘I need more meccano. I can’t make anything good with mine.’

That was only because he was too young to do it properly, thought Robyn. ‘Tell Mum,’ she said and hurried on down the path and out the gate.

She arrived back at the park hot and breathless, and dropped her loot beside the drain. Linda jogged over from under a tree and while Robyn tied knots along the length of rope she knocked the peg into the ground with a rock. They attached one end of the rope firmly to the peg and then, once they’d checked the park was empty, propped the grating up again.

‘Here,’ Robyn said and dropped the rope into the pit.

‘Hang on,’ said Greg, ‘I’ll have to take my shoes off so I can grip.’

He passed his sandals up to the girls then grabbed the rope with both hands and began to climb, hooking his toes around each knot for footholds. When his head and shoulders appeared over the top of the drain the girls helped haul him onto the grass.

‘Phew,’ he said, clambering to his feet. ‘That’s the last time I’m playing in a drain.’

Together they dragged the rope from the drain and lowered the metal grating into place. Greg stretched, stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out the copper penny.

‘Here, you can have it, Robyn,’ he said. ‘You know, you’re not that stupid really.’ He grinned. ‘For a girl, I mean.’

‘Thanks,’ Robyn said. She took the old coin in her hand and looked down at it. Perhaps she’d put it in her coin album; after all, this penny was historical now they were using decimal money.

She remembered again the people who’d said the new money would be terrible, and how she’d thought they were silly to make such a fuss before they’d even tried it. And then she thought of her mother busy packing and cleaning, and of moving to Goldsworthy next week. Robyn took a deep breath; she knew that when it came, decimal money hadn’t been as bad as people had expected. Perhaps Goldsworthy wouldn’t be as bad as she expected either – there might be one or two things about it that weren’t terrible. She closed her fist tightly around the penny. Yes, maybe one or two.

After his nanna left that night Yared lay curled up thinking of Robyn, and the way she’d been looking forward to seeing her dad again, just like he was waiting to see his parents. He wondered if things really did work out better than she’d expected after they’d moved to Goldsworthy. It made him feel happier to think that they might have.