Pool (6 page)

16

As soon as they were inside the gates, Audrey knelt and released Campbell from his harness.

‘You probably think I’m wacky,’ she said.

Wolfgang watched the pale outline of the labrador go gliding off into a dark thicket of headstones. ‘It isn’t exactly where I would have thought to go to see in the New Year.’

‘You said you didn’t like parties.’

‘That’s true,’ he admitted. ‘But when you said we’d go somewhere to watch the fireworks, I didn’t expect it to be the cemetery.’

‘We can go someplace else, if you like.’

‘No, no. This is fine. It’s just a little weird, that’s all.’

Audrey was strapping Campbell’s harness to the outside of her backpack. ‘Besides,’ she said, ‘there’s a very good view from here.’

How did she know?

‘That settles it then,’ said Wolfgang. He reached for the backpack, which was a lot heavier than he had expected. ‘Here, let me carry this for a bit.’

Audrey had her cane. She led the way down one of the shadowy paths, tap-tapping the gravel ahead of her in a jerky, sweeping motion. Wolfgang walked at her elbow and half a pace behind. He was surprised at the speed she was making, at her assurance. Unlike their day at the zoo, when she had relied on him to guide her, tonight in the darkness of the unlit cemetery Wolfgang was the blind one, Audrey the guide. She seemed to know exactly where she was going. When they met another path running at right angles to the one they were following, Audrey began veering left even before her cane met the low concrete edging that signalled the turn. Every so often Campbell would materialise out of the night as if to check on their progress, then go loping off in another direction to be lost once more in the darkness. It seemed inappropriate, Wolfgang thought, to exercise a dog in the cemetery, yet it was good to see Campbell enjoying a bit of freedom after his boring days at the pool.

They were climbing. Ahead Wolfgang could see a horizon toothed with headstones. There was a pale glow in the belly of the overcast sky. When they reached the crest of the hill, the lights of the town rose and spread before them, ruining what little vision Wolfgang had of their immediate, unlit surroundings. He stumbled and fell behind.

‘What’s the matter?’ Audrey asked, turning back.

‘It’s the lights from town. I can’t see where I’m going.’

‘Here, take hold of my arm. I know the way.’

She led him, shuffling his feet, between the last of the headstones and down a wide dark slope directly towards the lights. They were in the lawn cemetery, where the graves were marked by plaques set flush in the ground. Every few metres his runners would scrape over something solid.

‘Where are we going?’ Wolfgang asked.

‘Down here a bit,’ Audrey said. ‘Not much further.’

They had come here to watch the fireworks – so
he
could watch the fireworks – but the further down the slope they went, the less likely it seemed that he would be able to see them. Already a bank of trees was rising up between them and the town.

Audrey led him almost all the way to the trees.

‘This’ll do,’ she said finally. ‘You’ll get a good view from here, Wolfgang. Give me the backpack.’

She pulled out a blanket and spread it on the grass between two plaques. Now that the trees blocked most of the lights, Wolfgang found his eyes adjusting to their darkened surroundings. They were in the newest part of the cemetery; he could see pale bouquets of flowers on several of the nearby graves.

‘Aren’t you going to sit?’ Audrey asked.

He sat down and she pressed a cold can into his hand. It was too dark to see what it was. ‘Happy New Year,’ she said.

‘Happy New Year.’

They clinked cans. Wolfgang could hear a party somewhere on the other side of the trees – loud music, voices, the occasional trill of female laughter. He opened his drink and took a cautious sip, expecting beer, but this was sweeter – cola with a burn of spirits. Bourbon? Whatever it was, he liked it better than beer. He had another swallow.

‘What time is it?’ Audrey asked.

He tried to angle his watch to capture what little light filtered through the barrier of trees. ‘Eleven fifty-six.’

‘Phew! I didn’t mean to cut it so fine.’

‘My fault,’ said Wolfgang. ‘I’m a little slow in the dark.’

‘Lucky you were with an expert,’ Audrey said.

Campbell arrived in a cyclone of huffing breath and wet tongue. Wolfgang pushed him away, spilling drink on his shorts and across his thigh. Beside him, Audrey captured the dog in a one-armed hug.

‘We missed you too, you big sook!’ she said in a playful voice.

Then Campbell was gone again and it was just the two of them. Wolfgang wiped his thigh with a corner of the blanket. He was shivering. It wasn’t cold. New Year’s Eve and he was alone with a girl on a blanket. In the dark. Drinking alcohol. Anything could happen.

She
wants
it to happen, he thought.

Should he kiss her? No, it would be better to wait a while, not to seem too eager. He was supposed to be a university student. Nineteen or twenty. Mature. Experienced. They should talk first.

‘Do you have any New Year’th retholutionth, Audrey?’

‘Hey, what’s with the lisp?’ she asked.

‘Thorry.’ He took a long, slow drink from his can. Relax, he told himself. You’ll wreck everything if you don’t act cool about this. Take a deep breath. Talk slowly. ‘It’s not ... something ... I can control.’

There was a long silence. They sipped their drinks.

‘I’m learning to swim,’ Audrey said.

Wolfgang remembered her on the wheelchair ramp, how she’d plunged her head beneath the pool’s blue surface. ‘Are you taking ... lessons?’

‘No. But I’m going to. That’s my New Year’s resolution. What’s yours?’

‘Mine?’ he said, feeling foolish. He had only been trying to make conversation. ‘I’m going to ... discover a new kind of butterfly.’

‘That’s not a resolution,’ Audrey said. ‘It has to be something about yourself that you’re going to change.’

‘Okay. I’m going to change from being someone who hasn’t discovered a new butterfly, to someone who has.’

She laughed. ‘You nong! Is there anything in your life that
isn’t
about butterflies?’

‘There’s you,’ he said recklessly.

On the other side of the trees, the party goers had begun a countdown. Five, four, three, two, one! There was cheering, a horn blared, distant voices began singing
Auld Lang Syne.

‘Happy New Year, Wolfgang,’ Audrey said, her face looming pale against the surrounding darkness.

They bumped noses. He returned her kiss, a clumsy peck on the corner of her mouth.

‘Sorry,’ he said, pulling away.

‘What on earth are you sorry for?’

‘I’m not a very good kisser.’

Why did he say that? Just go with it, you idiot! Wolfgang told himself. She wants it. She wants
you!

But he couldn’t. It was wrong. She thought he was older than he was. She thought he was here because of her, not because her father was paying him. Because it was his
job.

‘Wow!’ he said. ‘Look at the fireworks!’

Through a gap in the trees, a giant silver and blue chrysanthemum had blossomed across the night sky. The muffled
boom
followed two seconds later.

‘Are they pretty?’ asked Audrey.

‘Yeah, they’re not bad.’

Her hand found his on the blanket and grasped it. ‘Tell me what they look like.’

Wolfgang couldn’t see most of them – they were hidden by the trees – so he had to work from his memory of other fireworks displays. It felt like lying – it
was
lying – but he was doing it to protect her feelings. He hadn’t asked her to bring him to this spot that offered no view of the fireworks. He hadn’t asked her to kiss him, nor to hold his hand. Hang out with her, was the job description.

‘I guess we’d better get going soon,’ Wolfgang said as soon as the fireworks had ended.

‘Get
going?
’ Audrey withdrew her hand. ‘Wolfgang, we’ve only just got here.’

‘Yeah, well, the fireworks are over and it’s kind of late.’

‘It’s New Year!’

He slapped at a mosquito that had come whining around his ear. ‘I’m pretty tired, actually.’

Audrey sighed and sat forward and began rummaging through her backpack. ‘I brought all this booze,’ she said, sounding grumpy.

‘I’m thorry.’

‘Do you have time, at least, for a cigarette?’

He thought of making a joke of it – New Year’s resolution number two: giving up smoking – but Audrey’s tone suggested she was in no mood for jokes. ‘Thanks,’ he said, reluctantly accepting a cigarette.

‘I don’t get it,’ she said. ‘We come all the way here and then you want to go straight back home. Is it because I’m blind?’

If she
wasn’t
blind, Wolfgang thought, she’d be the one wanting to get away. No sighted girl would ever go out with him. At school they called him Hulk, and not just because of his size. ‘I told you – I’m pooped. I didn’t get much sleep last night, if you want to know the truth.’

‘Too much partying?’ she suggested.

‘No, just the old man.’ Wolfgang blew on the tip of his cigarette, making it glow bright red. ‘He came into my room at about one-thirty in the morning and started going through all my drawers.’

‘That’s bizarre. What was he looking for?’

‘He didn’t say. And then he accused me of stealing part of his butterfly collection.’

‘Did you?’ Audrey asked.

‘Of course not. He gave it to me two years ago.’

Audrey blew an invisible spume of smoke towards the trees. ‘It’s probably rude of me to ask this, Wolfgang, but is there something wrong with your father?’

‘Like, is he losing his marbles? I don’t know. It’s probably just old age.’

‘Old age?’

‘He’s seventy-four.’

‘You’re kidding!’

‘I’m not. Dad’s seventy-four.’

‘But that’s ... My
grandparents
are younger than that!’ Audrey found his free hand and lightly squeezed it. ‘Are you adopted or something?’

‘Sometimes I wish I was,’ Wolfgang said. He flicked his cigarette into the darkness. ‘My father was married before. He got divorced, then met Mum when he was in his fifties.’

‘Is your mother old too?’

‘She just turned sixty. A regular spring chicken compared to Dad.’

‘That’s amazing,’ Audrey said. ‘Your mother must have been, like, in her forties when she had you.’

‘Forty-four,’ Wolfgang told her, then realised what he’d said. All Audrey had to do was a simple subtraction and she’d realise she was holding hands with a sixteen-year-old.

‘I haven’t seen Campbell for a while,’ he said, to change the subject.

‘Oh my God!’ Audrey struggled to her feet. ‘He’s scared of fireworks. I should have thought.
Campbell
!’ she yelled.

They spent the next few minutes searching for him, walking back and forth along the edge of the trees calling his name. Soon the people at the party took up the cry, too.

‘Campbell!’

‘Campbell!’

‘Happy New Year, Campbell!’

‘Who the hell’s Campbell?’ someone yelled.

Audrey cupped her hands around her mouth. ‘He’s a dog. A golden labrador. The fireworks scared him off.’

The whole party broke into a frenzy of baying and howling and whistling.

‘They’re drunk,’ Wolfgang said quietly. ‘Of course they’re drunk!’ Audrey snapped at him. ‘It’s New Year.’

As if, Wolfgang thought later, being sober at New Year was some kind of aberration.