shoulder, and made out he was asking Dingan questions and everything. It was embarrassing. When the newspaper came out there was a picture of Kellyanne wearing a little silver crown over her long blond hair, and underneath there was this sentence saying:
Two Opal
Princesses—Kellyanne Williamson (aged eight) and her
invisible friend Dingan, who won third prize in this year’s
Opal Princess competition.
Plus, every time we went to Khan’s, Mrs. Schwartz would hand my sister three lollies and say, “There you go, Kellyanne. One for you, one for Pobby and one for Dingan. They look like they’re both doing good.” Everybody knew everybody in Lightning Ridge. And some people even knew nobody as well, it seemed. Pobby and Dingan fit into that little town just fine.
“Find anything today?” Mum asked one night when she’d got back from her job on the checkout at Khan’s and me and Dad were relaxing after a hard afternoon’s work out at the claim.
“Potch. Nothing special.”
“Nothing?”
I could see Kellyanne through the window over Dad’s shoulder. She was sitting out back on a pile of stones talking to Pobby and Dingan, her mouth moving up and down, her hands waving around like she was explaining something to them. But all she was really talking to was the night and a few gallahs. And if she was honest she would have admitted it there and then. But not Kellyanne.
“Where’s my little girl?” Dad asked.
“Outside playing with some friends,” said my mum, fixing my dad a look straight between the eyes.
“Pobby and Dingan?”
“Yup.”
My dad sighed. “Jesus! That girl’s round the twist,” he said.
“No she isn’t,” said my mum, “she’s just different.”
“She’s a fruit loop,” I said.
“I kind of wish they were real friends, Mum,” Dad said. “She don’t seem to get on with the other kids around here too much.”
“What d’you expect?” said my mum, raising her voice and putting her hands on her hips. “What d’you bloody expect when you drag your family to a place like Lightning Ridge? What d’you bloody expect to happen when you bring up an intelligent girl like Kellyanne in a place full of holes and criminals and freaks?”
“I still say Kellyanne could do with some real-live mates,” went on my dad, as if he was talking to someone inside his beer.
Mum had stomped off into the kitchen. “Maybe they
are
real!” she shouted back at him after rattling a few plates together. “Ever thought about that, ye of little bloody imagination?”
My dad pulled a face. “Who? Pobby and Dingan? Ha!” He drained his beer can, positioned it standing up on the floor and stamped on it until it was a disc of metal. Then he threw me a wink as if to say: “Here comes the next wave of the attack, Ashmol!” And it came.
“Damn, Rex! You make me so bloody angry. Honestly! You haven’t found any opal in two years. Not a glimpse of it. And opal’s real enough for
you.
You don’t stop dreaming about it and talking in your sleep to it like a lover! Well, as far as I’m concerned your bloody opal doesn’t exist either!”
But that was a stupid thing for Mum to say, because the shops were full of opal and there were pictures of it everywhere and everybody was talking about it and the Japanese buyers forked out a whole heap of dollars for it. That’s a fact. I saw them doing it with my own eyes out at Hawk’s Nest.
Well, after my mum said this stuff about opal and after she’d done her usual piece about there being no money left in the tin under the bed, Dad sulked around a bit and kicked a few rocks around out in the yard. But then suddenly the door swung open and he came in full of energy like a new man and with a strange smile on his face. And what did he do? He started asking Kellyanne about Pobby and Dingan and how their days had been and what they were doing tomorrow. And he had never done that before in his life, ever. But he did it in a voice so you weren’t too sure if
Two Opal
Princesses—Kellyanne Williamson (aged eight) and her
invisible friend Dingan, who won third prize in this year’s
Opal Princess competition.
Plus, every time we went to Khan’s, Mrs. Schwartz would hand my sister three lollies and say, “There you go, Kellyanne. One for you, one for Pobby and one for Dingan. They look like they’re both doing good.” Everybody knew everybody in Lightning Ridge. And some people even knew nobody as well, it seemed. Pobby and Dingan fit into that little town just fine.
“Find anything today?” Mum asked one night when she’d got back from her job on the checkout at Khan’s and me and Dad were relaxing after a hard afternoon’s work out at the claim.
“Potch. Nothing special.”
“Nothing?”
I could see Kellyanne through the window over Dad’s shoulder. She was sitting out back on a pile of stones talking to Pobby and Dingan, her mouth moving up and down, her hands waving around like she was explaining something to them. But all she was really talking to was the night and a few gallahs. And if she was honest she would have admitted it there and then. But not Kellyanne.
“Where’s my little girl?” Dad asked.
“Outside playing with some friends,” said my mum, fixing my dad a look straight between the eyes.
“Pobby and Dingan?”
“Yup.”
My dad sighed. “Jesus! That girl’s round the twist,” he said.
“No she isn’t,” said my mum, “she’s just different.”
“She’s a fruit loop,” I said.
“I kind of wish they were real friends, Mum,” Dad said. “She don’t seem to get on with the other kids around here too much.”
“What d’you expect?” said my mum, raising her voice and putting her hands on her hips. “What d’you bloody expect when you drag your family to a place like Lightning Ridge? What d’you bloody expect to happen when you bring up an intelligent girl like Kellyanne in a place full of holes and criminals and freaks?”
“I still say Kellyanne could do with some real-live mates,” went on my dad, as if he was talking to someone inside his beer.
Mum had stomped off into the kitchen. “Maybe they
are
real!” she shouted back at him after rattling a few plates together. “Ever thought about that, ye of little bloody imagination?”
My dad pulled a face. “Who? Pobby and Dingan? Ha!” He drained his beer can, positioned it standing up on the floor and stamped on it until it was a disc of metal. Then he threw me a wink as if to say: “Here comes the next wave of the attack, Ashmol!” And it came.
“Damn, Rex! You make me so bloody angry. Honestly! You haven’t found any opal in two years. Not a glimpse of it. And opal’s real enough for
you.
You don’t stop dreaming about it and talking in your sleep to it like a lover! Well, as far as I’m concerned your bloody opal doesn’t exist either!”
But that was a stupid thing for Mum to say, because the shops were full of opal and there were pictures of it everywhere and everybody was talking about it and the Japanese buyers forked out a whole heap of dollars for it. That’s a fact. I saw them doing it with my own eyes out at Hawk’s Nest.
Well, after my mum said this stuff about opal and after she’d done her usual piece about there being no money left in the tin under the bed, Dad sulked around a bit and kicked a few rocks around out in the yard. But then suddenly the door swung open and he came in full of energy like a new man and with a strange smile on his face. And what did he do? He started asking Kellyanne about Pobby and Dingan and how their days had been and what they were doing tomorrow. And he had never done that before in his life, ever. But he did it in a voice so you weren’t too sure if
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