across the river. Disappointment dragged on me when Barry announced it was time we gave it away. I wanted to stay right there with the two of them, talking and laughing and just being together, wrapped up in the warm and easy afternoon. The silences between us weren’t sharp and pointed and the laughter was real. I felt included.
We packed up and walked back to the caravan park with two yellowbellies in the bait bucket. One was mine, the other Micky caught not long after.
On the way back, we stopped at Gert’s caravan. Micky knocked, but when she didn’t answer, he left his fish on the chair outside her annexe.
“You’ll have to take that home for dinner,” said Barry, nodding at my fish still lying across the worm bucket.
I shook my head. “Nan hates fish.”
“Can I have it?” asked Barry.
“Sure.”
I figured Mrs Gregory would cook it tonight, or maybe for lunch on New Year’s Day. But that wasn’t what Barry had in mind. When we neared the old couple, the Bakers, still sitting outside their annexe, but now drinking beer rather than tea, Barry handed me his rod and net then passed Mickey the tackle basket. He took the fish from the worm bucket. “Won’t be a minute.”
“You two eat fish, don’t you?” he asked, approaching the old couple.
“We do,” replied the man.
“Good. Here’s a yellowbelly Micky speared for you.” Barry held it towards the man who, with wide eyes, took the fish.
The woman’s mouth opened and closed like the fish on the riverbank.
“Have a good night,” said Barry.
“Enjoy the fish,” said Micky, waving as we walked away.
CHAPTER 25
Nan and the girls were having dinner at Bat Face Fielding’s to celebrate New Year’s Eve and Dad took off to the RSL, even though it was Thursday, not Friday, which left me to see in the new year with the television, Bluey and Biggles.
Last year I’d been with Keith and Billy at Keith’s house. Sergeant Axford, who was on duty, had driven me home straight after twelve, as directed by Nan. This year Keith hadn’t asked me over.
After I’d eaten the Vegemite and lettuce sandwich Nan had left on the bench under a tea towel, I sprawled across the sofa, feet on the armrest. The phone rang. I glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. Ten to eight. If Nan had been home, she’d have ranted about the rudeness of calling this late, before stalking to the hall to answer the phone. But Nan wasn’t here, so there was no complaining and just me to take the call.
“Robbie?”
“Keith?” I whispered, even though I was alone.
“Who’d you expect? Genghis Khan?”
I smiled. “Now you mention it, he did say he’d call sometime this evening to discuss his world domination plan.”
Keith chuckled. Beneath the chuckle I could hear the rumble of conversation spiked with laughter. He was at a New Year’s Eve celebration.
“So, anyway,” he said, “wanted to see if you could come to the pool tomorrow. If you’re not working.”
Barry had given me the day off. But did I want to go to the pool with Keith?
“I figure you’ll have your Saturday jobs, so Billy and I could swing by after eleven. That’ll give you enough time to do everything, won’t it?”
I remembered Billy, Keith and I playing cricket and swimming at the pool during the day last New Year’s Eve and having a barbecue with the Axfords’ friends that night. It’d be good to be the three of us again.
“Eleven would be good,” I said.
“Goodo. See you tomorrow, Bower.”
“Sure. Thanks for calling,” I said, but Keith had already hung up.
“Be back later, Nan.”
She kneeled in front of the empty linen press, bucket of hot, soapy water beside her and scrubbing brush in her hand. The towels, face washers, pillowslips and sheets were stacked along the hallway.
She dipped the brush in the water. “Where are you going?”
“Pool with Keith and Billy. I’ve finished my jobs.”
She stayed silent for a few seconds.
“Mind you behave
We packed up and walked back to the caravan park with two yellowbellies in the bait bucket. One was mine, the other Micky caught not long after.
On the way back, we stopped at Gert’s caravan. Micky knocked, but when she didn’t answer, he left his fish on the chair outside her annexe.
“You’ll have to take that home for dinner,” said Barry, nodding at my fish still lying across the worm bucket.
I shook my head. “Nan hates fish.”
“Can I have it?” asked Barry.
“Sure.”
I figured Mrs Gregory would cook it tonight, or maybe for lunch on New Year’s Day. But that wasn’t what Barry had in mind. When we neared the old couple, the Bakers, still sitting outside their annexe, but now drinking beer rather than tea, Barry handed me his rod and net then passed Mickey the tackle basket. He took the fish from the worm bucket. “Won’t be a minute.”
“You two eat fish, don’t you?” he asked, approaching the old couple.
“We do,” replied the man.
“Good. Here’s a yellowbelly Micky speared for you.” Barry held it towards the man who, with wide eyes, took the fish.
The woman’s mouth opened and closed like the fish on the riverbank.
“Have a good night,” said Barry.
“Enjoy the fish,” said Micky, waving as we walked away.
CHAPTER 25
Nan and the girls were having dinner at Bat Face Fielding’s to celebrate New Year’s Eve and Dad took off to the RSL, even though it was Thursday, not Friday, which left me to see in the new year with the television, Bluey and Biggles.
Last year I’d been with Keith and Billy at Keith’s house. Sergeant Axford, who was on duty, had driven me home straight after twelve, as directed by Nan. This year Keith hadn’t asked me over.
After I’d eaten the Vegemite and lettuce sandwich Nan had left on the bench under a tea towel, I sprawled across the sofa, feet on the armrest. The phone rang. I glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. Ten to eight. If Nan had been home, she’d have ranted about the rudeness of calling this late, before stalking to the hall to answer the phone. But Nan wasn’t here, so there was no complaining and just me to take the call.
“Robbie?”
“Keith?” I whispered, even though I was alone.
“Who’d you expect? Genghis Khan?”
I smiled. “Now you mention it, he did say he’d call sometime this evening to discuss his world domination plan.”
Keith chuckled. Beneath the chuckle I could hear the rumble of conversation spiked with laughter. He was at a New Year’s Eve celebration.
“So, anyway,” he said, “wanted to see if you could come to the pool tomorrow. If you’re not working.”
Barry had given me the day off. But did I want to go to the pool with Keith?
“I figure you’ll have your Saturday jobs, so Billy and I could swing by after eleven. That’ll give you enough time to do everything, won’t it?”
I remembered Billy, Keith and I playing cricket and swimming at the pool during the day last New Year’s Eve and having a barbecue with the Axfords’ friends that night. It’d be good to be the three of us again.
“Eleven would be good,” I said.
“Goodo. See you tomorrow, Bower.”
“Sure. Thanks for calling,” I said, but Keith had already hung up.
“Be back later, Nan.”
She kneeled in front of the empty linen press, bucket of hot, soapy water beside her and scrubbing brush in her hand. The towels, face washers, pillowslips and sheets were stacked along the hallway.
She dipped the brush in the water. “Where are you going?”
“Pool with Keith and Billy. I’ve finished my jobs.”
She stayed silent for a few seconds.
“Mind you behave
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