are arranged has all the signs of Mum’s flair, and I feel encouraged. I hope the Mitchells aren’t into health foods though. A whiff of the sugary contents would be enough to snap a diabetic out of a coma.
Just as I go to step outside, I am stopped by the sound of Mum yelling at the top of her voice. “What do you mean, you’re not going? Of course you’re going. Now get out of those daggy clothes and hurry yourself up, young lady.”
Gran and I exchange troubled glances.
“Sounds like World War Three has erupted,” says Gran. “Wait here, Bails. I’ll go up and see if the combatants are open to peace talks.”
Amelia’s voice rockets down the stairwell. “I’m eighteen in a couple of months and you can’t make me go.”
Seth appears in the doorway next to me, pulling on his ears. I set the basket on the verandah boards and sit down on the steps.
“Yes, I can,” says Mum. “And I will.”
“Yeah, you and whose army?”
“Wow, that’s original, Amelia. Where did you learn that one? Your underage drinking mates at The Pint?”
“I don’t give a rat’s and I don’t give a rat’s about you or anyone else in this stinking hellhole. You might be able to drag me here, Mum, but you can’t make me like it. So shut up!”
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that; you have no right.”
“Don’t you go flapping on about rights. What gave you the right to wreck my life?”
“You were doing a pretty good job of wrecking it by yourself, madam!”
“What would you know? You haven’t even been on the same planet, let alone the same town, Mum. You’ve been absent in the extreme.”
Ouch. That would have hurt.
There’s a pause, and I wonder if I should go upstairs and check everything is okay. Then Amelia’s yelling tumbles down the stairwell again.
“Look – I don’t care what you think or what you say; I have no intention –
repeat, no intention
– of spending Saturday night meeting some dumb country bogans. So get off my case!”
Amelia’s door slams and a thick silence fills the house as if Amelia’s anger has sucked out all the air, leaving the rest of the household holding their breath in the vacuum.
“What’s a bogan?” Seth whispers into the void. He pulls his cape closed around his legs and rests his chin against his knees.
I stifle a laugh. “Nothing,” I answer lamely, worrying what is going to happen next.
“Why is Amelia angry all the time?” he asks.
“That’s a good question, mate. Maybe you should ask her. Not now though,” I add.
“I don’t like it when she yells.”
“Neither do I. But we’ve always got each other, right?”
“Are we still going to Oliver’s?”
I open my mouth to reply as Mum and Gran come traipsing down the stairs. Mum’s face is flushed and her eyes are red.
“Come on, you two,” says Gran. “In the car. We don’t want to be late.”
“Is Amelia coming?” Seth asks.
“No. She’s too much of a cranky-puss tonight, don’t you think?” Gran takes Seth’s hand.
Mum picks up the basket and closes the door behind her. She is totally strung-out and I wonder if I am ever going to be able to forgive my sister for what she is putting our mother through.
eighteen
It’s quite a hike to get around to Lakeside. It requires driving all the way out to the main highway, then about another ten kilometres along it, before turning off and driving in towards the lake.
I am surprised by the drive back in. From my glimpses across the lake to the imposing trees and orderly paddocks of Oliver’s property, I had been expecting rolling hills of grazing sheep and patchwork paddocks of grain or lucerne. Instead, the terrain is rugged, the road cutting through steep gullies thick with bush.
Despite this, I am enjoying the drive. A stiff southerly has swatted away the miserable weather of the morning, leaving behind another breathtaking afternoon; everything is brighter, greener, crisper, as if scrubbed clean. Seth is engrossed in his
Just as I go to step outside, I am stopped by the sound of Mum yelling at the top of her voice. “What do you mean, you’re not going? Of course you’re going. Now get out of those daggy clothes and hurry yourself up, young lady.”
Gran and I exchange troubled glances.
“Sounds like World War Three has erupted,” says Gran. “Wait here, Bails. I’ll go up and see if the combatants are open to peace talks.”
Amelia’s voice rockets down the stairwell. “I’m eighteen in a couple of months and you can’t make me go.”
Seth appears in the doorway next to me, pulling on his ears. I set the basket on the verandah boards and sit down on the steps.
“Yes, I can,” says Mum. “And I will.”
“Yeah, you and whose army?”
“Wow, that’s original, Amelia. Where did you learn that one? Your underage drinking mates at The Pint?”
“I don’t give a rat’s and I don’t give a rat’s about you or anyone else in this stinking hellhole. You might be able to drag me here, Mum, but you can’t make me like it. So shut up!”
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that; you have no right.”
“Don’t you go flapping on about rights. What gave you the right to wreck my life?”
“You were doing a pretty good job of wrecking it by yourself, madam!”
“What would you know? You haven’t even been on the same planet, let alone the same town, Mum. You’ve been absent in the extreme.”
Ouch. That would have hurt.
There’s a pause, and I wonder if I should go upstairs and check everything is okay. Then Amelia’s yelling tumbles down the stairwell again.
“Look – I don’t care what you think or what you say; I have no intention –
repeat, no intention
– of spending Saturday night meeting some dumb country bogans. So get off my case!”
Amelia’s door slams and a thick silence fills the house as if Amelia’s anger has sucked out all the air, leaving the rest of the household holding their breath in the vacuum.
“What’s a bogan?” Seth whispers into the void. He pulls his cape closed around his legs and rests his chin against his knees.
I stifle a laugh. “Nothing,” I answer lamely, worrying what is going to happen next.
“Why is Amelia angry all the time?” he asks.
“That’s a good question, mate. Maybe you should ask her. Not now though,” I add.
“I don’t like it when she yells.”
“Neither do I. But we’ve always got each other, right?”
“Are we still going to Oliver’s?”
I open my mouth to reply as Mum and Gran come traipsing down the stairs. Mum’s face is flushed and her eyes are red.
“Come on, you two,” says Gran. “In the car. We don’t want to be late.”
“Is Amelia coming?” Seth asks.
“No. She’s too much of a cranky-puss tonight, don’t you think?” Gran takes Seth’s hand.
Mum picks up the basket and closes the door behind her. She is totally strung-out and I wonder if I am ever going to be able to forgive my sister for what she is putting our mother through.
eighteen
It’s quite a hike to get around to Lakeside. It requires driving all the way out to the main highway, then about another ten kilometres along it, before turning off and driving in towards the lake.
I am surprised by the drive back in. From my glimpses across the lake to the imposing trees and orderly paddocks of Oliver’s property, I had been expecting rolling hills of grazing sheep and patchwork paddocks of grain or lucerne. Instead, the terrain is rugged, the road cutting through steep gullies thick with bush.
Despite this, I am enjoying the drive. A stiff southerly has swatted away the miserable weather of the morning, leaving behind another breathtaking afternoon; everything is brighter, greener, crisper, as if scrubbed clean. Seth is engrossed in his
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