yourself.”
“Yes, Nan.”
A knock on the door carried on the warm air. Excitement bubbled from my stomach to my fingertips. Just me, Keith and Billy, the way it used to be.
“That’ll be them.” I grabbed a towel from the pile outside my bedroom door. “See you this afternoon.”
As usual, Keith and Billy waited on their bikes by the front gate. Keith would have held Billy’s bike while Billy ran down the side path, knocked on the door and bolted back. Billy kept as far away from Nan as he could. Not that he’d ever met her. He’d only heard Keith and me talk about her.
As I wheeled my bike to the front yard, he yelled, “Happy New Year, Bower.”
“Thanks. Same to you both.”
“Yeah, here’s to 1965,” said Keith. “Last year of school for me.”
“Really?” I said, shutting the gate. “Since when?”
“Since now. One more year of school and then me and Wright are going to work at the hardware shop.”
“Sounds great,” I said. But it sounded anything but great. No way was I staying in Walgaree when I finished school.
Keith pushed off from the verge. “Let’s go.”
We pedalled, three abreast, to the pool. Keith and Billy banged on about
Bandstand
, which was “Banned-Stand” in our house. I rode on the gravel, determined not to think about Keith working with Wright at Mathes’ Hardware.
Outside Walgaree Public Swimming Pool, we pushed our bikes into the racks and made our way to the entrance.
Mrs Sneddon sat behind the glass in a terry-towelling dress. She grunted when we placed our entrance fee on the counter and slid the turnstile tokens to us.
We bypassed the dressing rooms and showers, despite the signs demanding everyone shower before swimming. Like everyone else in Walgaree, we figured the signs were meant for dirty people, not us.
We stepped from the dank gloom of the entrance area into the bright sunshine. Keith stopped by the baby pool, shielded his eyes, and scanned the green slopes either side of the big pool.
“What are you looking–” My excitement at being with Billy and Keith seeped from the souls of my feet to the concrete. Near the ten-foot end of the pool, Wright whipped his towel from where it was slung around his neck and flicked it at Rhook’s bare thigh. The crack echoed across the water. Rhook shouted and clutched his leg. Wright and Edwards hooted with delight.
Mothers bundled their children closer and swimmers moved to the shallow end.
“I thought it was just the three of us,” I said, my voice shaky.
Keith ignored me and jogged towards Wright.
“No running,” bellowed the tinny voice from the speakers above us.
Keith slowed to a trot. “Nice shot, Wrighty,” he yelled.
“Come on,” said Billy.
I followed, wishing Nan had left me a thousand more jobs to do.
When I reached them, all four were clustered around Wright, who leaned against the cyclone wire fence that hemmed the pool complex.
“Reckon I’ll do a backflip,” said Wright, nodding at the high board on the other side of the pool. “What about you, Bower?”
I shrugged. “Backflip on the high board? ‘Course.”
Wright pushed off the fence. “Really?”
“Absolutely.” Swimming pools and diving boards were different to the rope swing at the river. I could see the bottom of the pool for starters, and there wasn’t a strong current that could sweep me downriver. I’d backflipped off the small board tons of times. I could do it from the high board. Easy.
“After that messed-up somersault at the river, I reckon you’ll break your bloody neck on the high board.”
Rhook sniggered, shoulders shuddering. I thought of hyenas.
Wright’s curled lip spread to a leer. “So, Bower, how’s your workmate?”
I frowned. “Who, Barry?”
“Nah, the boong.”
“Fine, I guess. How would I know?”
Edwards tucked his fingers into the waistband of his swimmers. “Turns out that Abo isn’t as tough as he reckons.”
Wright and Rhook sniggered.
I shifted my weight from
“Yes, Nan.”
A knock on the door carried on the warm air. Excitement bubbled from my stomach to my fingertips. Just me, Keith and Billy, the way it used to be.
“That’ll be them.” I grabbed a towel from the pile outside my bedroom door. “See you this afternoon.”
As usual, Keith and Billy waited on their bikes by the front gate. Keith would have held Billy’s bike while Billy ran down the side path, knocked on the door and bolted back. Billy kept as far away from Nan as he could. Not that he’d ever met her. He’d only heard Keith and me talk about her.
As I wheeled my bike to the front yard, he yelled, “Happy New Year, Bower.”
“Thanks. Same to you both.”
“Yeah, here’s to 1965,” said Keith. “Last year of school for me.”
“Really?” I said, shutting the gate. “Since when?”
“Since now. One more year of school and then me and Wright are going to work at the hardware shop.”
“Sounds great,” I said. But it sounded anything but great. No way was I staying in Walgaree when I finished school.
Keith pushed off from the verge. “Let’s go.”
We pedalled, three abreast, to the pool. Keith and Billy banged on about
Bandstand
, which was “Banned-Stand” in our house. I rode on the gravel, determined not to think about Keith working with Wright at Mathes’ Hardware.
Outside Walgaree Public Swimming Pool, we pushed our bikes into the racks and made our way to the entrance.
Mrs Sneddon sat behind the glass in a terry-towelling dress. She grunted when we placed our entrance fee on the counter and slid the turnstile tokens to us.
We bypassed the dressing rooms and showers, despite the signs demanding everyone shower before swimming. Like everyone else in Walgaree, we figured the signs were meant for dirty people, not us.
We stepped from the dank gloom of the entrance area into the bright sunshine. Keith stopped by the baby pool, shielded his eyes, and scanned the green slopes either side of the big pool.
“What are you looking–” My excitement at being with Billy and Keith seeped from the souls of my feet to the concrete. Near the ten-foot end of the pool, Wright whipped his towel from where it was slung around his neck and flicked it at Rhook’s bare thigh. The crack echoed across the water. Rhook shouted and clutched his leg. Wright and Edwards hooted with delight.
Mothers bundled their children closer and swimmers moved to the shallow end.
“I thought it was just the three of us,” I said, my voice shaky.
Keith ignored me and jogged towards Wright.
“No running,” bellowed the tinny voice from the speakers above us.
Keith slowed to a trot. “Nice shot, Wrighty,” he yelled.
“Come on,” said Billy.
I followed, wishing Nan had left me a thousand more jobs to do.
When I reached them, all four were clustered around Wright, who leaned against the cyclone wire fence that hemmed the pool complex.
“Reckon I’ll do a backflip,” said Wright, nodding at the high board on the other side of the pool. “What about you, Bower?”
I shrugged. “Backflip on the high board? ‘Course.”
Wright pushed off the fence. “Really?”
“Absolutely.” Swimming pools and diving boards were different to the rope swing at the river. I could see the bottom of the pool for starters, and there wasn’t a strong current that could sweep me downriver. I’d backflipped off the small board tons of times. I could do it from the high board. Easy.
“After that messed-up somersault at the river, I reckon you’ll break your bloody neck on the high board.”
Rhook sniggered, shoulders shuddering. I thought of hyenas.
Wright’s curled lip spread to a leer. “So, Bower, how’s your workmate?”
I frowned. “Who, Barry?”
“Nah, the boong.”
“Fine, I guess. How would I know?”
Edwards tucked his fingers into the waistband of his swimmers. “Turns out that Abo isn’t as tough as he reckons.”
Wright and Rhook sniggered.
I shifted my weight from
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