Pool by Justin D'Ath Page B

‘Wolfgang,’ Audrey said softly, ‘do you believe we have other lives?’
    ‘Reincarnation, you mean?’
    He heard her sigh. ‘I don’t really know what I mean. See you tonight, okay?’
    ‘Okay.’
    ‘You will come, won’t you?’ she added quickly. ‘You don’t think I’m too crazy or anything?’
    ‘I don’t think you’re crazy, Audrey.’
    It was only after he had put the phone down that Wolfgang remembered he had told her parents he was going to Melbourne that day. Well, he had changed his plans. Perhaps he could say that the early morning trip to the cemetery had resulted in him missing his ride to Melbourne. No. He had told enough lies already. If they asked – and he didn’t think they would – Wolfgang would simply say that Audrey had invited him to her party and he hadn’t been able to refuse. And this time he wouldn’t be telling them a lie.

34
    It wasn’t really a party, it was more a family gathering. Audrey’s nan and pa were there, as were an aunt and uncle from Ballarat with their two adolescent daughters, an elderly second cousin who turned out to be a nun, and Martine’s fiancé, Dan, who had driven up that afternoon from his parents’ dairy farm near Colac. Much as he had at the cemetery that morning, Wolfgang felt like an interloper. But everyone was friendly and welcoming. Obviously they had been told about him before he arrived.
    Martine took charge, leading him round the Babacans’ crowded family room and introducing him to everyone.
    ‘So this is the famous Wolfgang,’ said Keith’s brother Frank, squeezing Wolfgang’s knuckles as they shook hands. ‘Hackett has reason to be worried, I hear.’
    ‘Hackett?’
    ‘Grant Hackett – the swimmer.’
    ‘Why should he be worried?’ Wolfgang asked.
    Frank gave him the now-familiar Babacan wink. ‘Modesty. I like that in a man.’
    Frank’s wife, Tracey, kissed Wolfgang on the cheek. ‘Lovely to meet you,’ she said, lightly touching the back of his hand with her fingertips. ‘We’re all a bit potty, but you’ll get used to us.’
    It was going to be a challenge, Wolfgang thought.
    ‘These are my grandparents,’ Martine said, steering him over to the couch. She raised her voice. ‘Nan and Pa, this is Wolfgang, Audrey’s friend from the pool.’
    The old man leaned forward and offered Wolfgang a misshapen, arthritic hand. ‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, Wolfgang. I used to be quite a swimmer myself, if you can believe that.’
    ‘I’m sure you were, Mr Babacan.’
    ‘It’s Fitzgerald – I’m Bernadette’s father. But you might as well call me Pa, everyone else round here does.’
    The old woman smiled. ‘We think it’s wonderful what you’re doing, Wolfgang.’
    ‘I’m not exactly thure ...’ he stammered.
    Martine said loudly, ‘Nan and Pa are really pleased you’re teaching Audrey to swim.’
    ‘Oh ... that,’ he said, processing this information in light of this conversation and Frank’s comments earlier. ‘Yes. She’s, um, coming along very well.’
    ‘We’ve all been very worried about her,’ Nan went on. ‘When she ran away from that blind school, I said to Pa –’
    ‘Wolfgang has to meet the others now,’ Martine interrupted, placing a firm hand around his elbow and drawing him away. ‘Would you like a drink?’
    ‘I didn’t know Audrey ran away from school.’
    ‘I expect there are a lot of things you don’t know about my sister.’
    ‘Like, for example, I’m her swimming instructor,’ Wolfgang said dryly.
    ‘That’s what Audrey wanted everyone to think.’ Martine fixed him with her penetrating green eyes. ‘I’d hate to see her get hurt, Wolfgang.’
    He felt a deep blush rising to his face. ‘So would I.’
    ‘Good. Because it would be very easy for someone to take advantage of her. How old are you?’
    ‘Twenty.’
    She studied him. ‘You seem younger.’
    ‘A lot of people say that. How old are you?’
    ‘Twenty-two.’
    You seem older, he might have