Sydney Bridge Upside Down (10 page)

called about something else, probably about Cal being such a dud at sums. Anyway, dear Caroline, if what Susan Prosser says is true I won’t have to worry about this year’s paper chase, because Mr Dalloway won’t be here next term, he’s left the bay for good. I don’t care, I’m glad he’s gone, I’m glad I won’t see him again, I’m glad he’s escaped) if I get up this lot of stairs and up the next and scramble up the footholds to the top I’ll escape I’ll be safe. The sound of the hooves is in the works now thundering like I’d imagined they would the echoes shaking the walls and spilling cement dust on me as I scratch my way up the stairs nearly to the next floor nearly there. I look down and I see a rider somebody is in that mad horse’s hollow somebody is forcing Sydney Bridge Upside Down to chase me (Why sit like that, dear Caroline? Why not come to the edge and look across the bay? Don’t you care about the scenery? What are you looking at? What do you want me to do? Do you want to grab my hand and do what you did when we were running the other morning? You know, when you held it down there between your legs and wouldn’t let me take it away. I can’t, dear Caroline, I can’t, I can’t) I can’t get there I can go no higher no matter how loud the hooves are thundering up the stairs now thunder all around me and I can only wait for the horse to reach me to crash upon me and I watch. I watch Sydney Bridge Upside Down leap flying hooves and foam from the stairs and land on the floor below me. I watch Mr Wiggins jump clear. I watch Mr Wiggins run with a knife to Sydney Bridge Upside Down and stab and slash until blood spouts everywhere.
Caroline!

T
HERE WAS
a skinny, snoopy girl who lived on the edge of the world, and her name was Susan Prosser and she died during the summer holidays I’m telling you about. It was Sam Phelps who found her body. Sam Phelps lifted her body on to Sydney Bridge Upside Down and brought it to Mrs Prosser. This was on a Monday afternoon.

I start with Sam Phelps and Sydney Bridge Upside Down and the body of Susan Prosser, but now I go to our wash-house on the morning of that day. I was there with Caroline.

‘Cal should be helping, eh?’ I said, giving the wringer handle an extra push so that a lumpy sheet would go through.

‘He’s only a little fellow,’ said Caroline, guiding the sheet from the rollers to the laundry basket.

‘All he did was fetch some driftwood,’ I said. ‘Now he’s off. I bet he’s playing with Dibs Kelly. But I don’t care.’

I did not want to complain too much in case Caroline
thought I was getting at her. I wouldn’t get at her. I didn’t mind lighting the copper and boiling up the clothes and putting them through the tubs and wringing them and pegging them out. Better for me to do all that than Caroline. I certainly didn’t want her to do any more than she was already doing, which was mostly watching me and catching the clothes when they came through the wringer and pegging out socks and hankies and other small things. That was enough for Caroline to be doing. Especially since she had said she was a bit off-colour today.

‘I know why you’re grumpy, Harry,’ she said, patting the sheet into place in the basket. ‘Because we didn’t play our game this morning.’

‘I’m not grumpy,’ I said. ‘I don’t care if that kid doesn’t help.’

‘You didn’t look happy when you came to breakfast,’ she said. ‘You must have had a restless night, I thought. Then you scowled, you did scowl, when I told you I couldn’t run.’

‘I didn’t scowl,’ I said. Actually, I hadn’t felt much like running up and down after breakfast; the way I pretended to be disappointed, so she wouldn’t think I was relieved, had apparently fooled her.

‘It’s not for ever,’ Caroline said, leaning towards me, smiling into my face. ‘I’ll be all right in a few days.’

I wondered momentarily how she knew she would be all right in a few days, then I told myself a rest from running around wouldn’t be so bad, I did not enjoy the game as much these days as I had at the beginning. I would enjoy it more if Cal played too. But Cal did not even watch
now. He got dressed straight after breakfast and went off on his own. You would have thought Caroline wasn’t worth looking at! Myself, I reckoned she was worth looking at all the time, naked or not. Today, for instance, she wore black slacks and a black sweater, and she looked as beautiful in these as she did when she wore a frock and not much else, if anything. I guessed Cal was simply too young to appreciate having a girl like Caroline around the house; when he was older and remembered these days he would be annoyed at himself for missing the fun.

So why, at this moment, didn’t I care that I had missed the usual fun? I knew. I frowned.

‘Harry,
did
you have a restless night?’ asked Caroline, her face so close to mine I could see into and through her eyes. ‘You’re pale. You need cheering up.’

‘It’s this washing,’ I said, stuffing a towel between the rollers and pulling away my fingers just in time. ‘Too much washing. Like Dad said, it mounted up too much.’

‘Let me wring, Harry,’ she said, grabbing my hand from the wringer handle.

‘No!’ I said, pulling away my hand before she could do anything with it. ‘No, it’s all right, Caroline. I’ll soon be finished.’

She looked unhappy. I must have offended her.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. I held out my hand. ‘Here.’

She did not take it. She turned from me and walked to the wash-house doorway, stood there with her back to me. ‘Think I’ll go for a walk this afternoon,’ she said. ‘I might walk to the store.’

‘Don’t go there,’ I said. I was certain Mr Wiggins would
be near the store some time this afternoon. ‘How about going to the cave instead. Or we could go to the wharf—’

‘Not today,’ she said, still with her back to me. ‘I feel like going somewhere different today.’

‘What about the waterfall?’ I said, figuring if we left early enough we could be across the river and on our way up the waterfall track before Mr Wiggins arrived.

‘No, I think I’ll go to the store,’ she said.

‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Why go there?’

‘Might make a phone call,’ she said. ‘Somebody said I’d have to go there to ring up.’

‘Mr Wiggins!’ I said, shocked into saying his name. I was shocked because I thought the phone call could only mean that she wanted to leave Calliope Bay.

‘Mr Wiggins?’ She turned to look at me, and my face must have seemed strange because her expression changed. She was smiling when she turned; she stopped smiling when she looked at me. ‘Harry?’

‘It was Mr Wiggins who said about the phone,’ I said quickly as she walked towards me. ‘That night when he was talking about the carnival. Are you going to the carnival with him, Caroline?’

‘You mustn’t worry about Mr Wiggins,’ she said, taking my hand. ‘I won’t go with him.’

‘We don’t mind if you want to,’ I said, going warm as she kissed my hand. ‘Dad says it’s for you to decide. He says you must please yourself whether you go with Mr Wiggins or in Mr Kelly’s Reo—’

‘Your hand’s so cold, Harry,’ she said. ‘You can’t be well. You should lie down for a while. I know,
I’ll make you a hot lemon drink.’

‘It’s because I’ve had my hand in the water,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me. Soon as I’ve finished the washing I’ll feel better. Honest I will.’

‘We’ll hang out these, then go inside for a while,’ she said. ‘A lemon drink and a rest are what you need, Harry.’

This was all right, I thought. I felt better already, it was good to have Caroline holding my hand and worrying about my health. Not since my mother left had anybody cared how I felt, and my mother’s way of caring had been sort of crabby; she thought it was a pest when kids were sick but had to pretend she cared, being a mother.

We put out the rest of the clothes and went into the house. I sat at the kitchen table while Caroline made the lemon drink. I was being looked after, and I liked it.

‘Won’t be any good when you go,’ I said sadly. ‘I wish the holidays would last for ever and school would never start again.’

‘So that’s why you’ve been grumpy!’ said Caroline. ‘You’ve been thinking about school.’

‘Not much,’ I said. ‘Not as much as thinking what it will be like when you go. Are you really going soon? Is that why you want to ring up?’

‘Poor Harry,’ she said, putting the lemon drink in front of me. She kissed me. ‘No, that wasn’t why I wanted to ring up. It wasn’t because I was thinking of going. But I suppose I should be thinking of it. I can’t stay here for ever, can I?’

‘You can if you like,’ I said. ‘We don’t mind. You ask Dad. He doesn’t mind.’

‘Aunt Janet might,’ she said. ‘But we’ll see. I won’t go to the store, after all. I can ring up another day.’

‘This lemon drink is pretty good,’ I said. I usually turned down offers of lemon drink, I preferred ginger beer any time.

‘I was very fond of lemon drink when I was a little girl,’ Caroline said. ‘Especially when Uncle Pember made it for me.’

‘Who is Uncle Pember?’ I asked.

‘Uncle Pember was a nice old man,’ she said. ‘He had a big black beard and a black cloak, and he wore dark glasses. He took me for walks when I was a little girl. Would you like me to read you something about Uncle Pember? I mention him in my autobiography.’

‘Gee!’ I said. She had never shown me her autobiography, not even after I had shown her my cigarette cards, and I had figured it would be rude to ask her for a look since it was probably so private.

‘We’ll go into the bedroom,’ she said, taking my hand and leading me up the passage. Caroline’s hand was very warm; all of her was warm, I could feel her warmth whenever I was near her.

She led me to her bed and I sat there and waited while she got an exercise book from a suitcase, and the unhappiness I had felt in the wash-house had vanished and I told myself I was lucky to have Caroline for a cousin, she was the best person in the world.

‘Sit here beside me, Harry,’ she said, her back to the pillows. ‘We’ll be cosy. Now what part shall I read you?’ She turned a few pages. ‘What about when Uncle Pember
took me to a parade? Like to hear about that?’

I said I would. I could see the writing in the exercise book, but made myself look straight ahead. The window was up, but no noises came from outside. The sun shone on the wall I gazed at, but I did not care about the sunshine. All I cared about was my warm cousin beside me.

Caroline read: ‘I’ll mumble mumble you to the big parade, declared Uncle Pember. Mumble mumble, he added. I was very little and did not always hear what he said. Mumble mumble is what I often thought he said. Ponk ponk, I would say back to make him chortle. Would there be toffee-apples at the big parade, I inquired. Uncle Pember said there would be no toffee-apples because toffee-apples were only for the summer show. Besides, he said, pretty little girls in nice frocks should not eat toffeeapples. Why not, Uncle Pember? Because their frocks got sticky, he said. Mumble, he declared, mumble mumble. Oh, ponk ponk, Uncle Pember, I said. I knew a number. The number was seven. Look at the seven, I kept saying to Uncle Pember when we walked to the parade. There were sevens on front gates and motor-cars. Look at all the sevens, I said. At last he said: Child, no more sevens, please. I see a five, I said. Mumble, he said. The parade was for Christmas. Uncle Pember said it was a month early because mumble mumble. All the people watching the parade were huge. I could not see. Uncle Pember held me up. I saw an elephant. A brown man with long thin arms and a lovely hat threw little things from on top of the elephant. Children ran to catch the little things. Uncle Pember said the little things were lollies. I did not get any lollies because
the elephant would have stamped on me. Uncle Pember let me sit on his shoulders. His beard tickled my legs. I saw a band playing loud music. The music made me pull Uncle Pember’s beard. Mumble mumble, he said. The band went by. I saw a seven. It was on a palace of flowers. I told Uncle Pember I could see a seven. He inquired: Is that all you can see up there, child? I yelled: No no no! I saw a monster. The face was squashy. It was red and yellow and green and black. It was staring at me. It frightened me and I weeweed on Uncle Pember. He cried: Mumble mumble mumble! I was too frightened to say ponk ponk—’

She had reminded me, and her warmth was no longer all I cared about. I turned from her, but I had not been able to stop the choking sound, I could not stop the tears.

‘Oh, Harry, I didn’t mean to make you sad,’ Caroline said. She shut the exercise book and put her arm round me. ‘You mustn’t feel sad, you mustn’t cry.’

‘I’m not crying!’ I told her, the damned tears rolling. ‘I’m not crying!’

I go now to the morning of the day before. This, of course, was when Susan Prosser was still alive, still snooping.

Since it was a Sunday and Dad was home, I didn’t know what Susan Prosser expected to see by looking over our fence. That was what she was doing when I went out into the yard, and she did not bob down when she saw me, it was as if she had been waiting for me to go out.

‘Good morning, Susan,’ I said. ‘What’s new in your place? How’s your budgie? Has he said anything clever lately?’

‘You wouldn’t like what he says,’ she said. She seemed friendly, but I knew better than to trust her. ‘I don’t think I should repeat what he says. You might be distressed.’

‘I’m tough,’ I said, gulpy. ‘Tell me what Joey says.’

‘If you insist,’ she said. ‘He says: ‘Write a letter write a letter write a letter.’ That’s all he says
.
’

I knew I had gone pale. But I said calmly: ‘That’s a clever thing for a budgie to say.’ I was sure my voice was very friendly.

‘I warned you,’ she said. ‘I said you might be distressed.’

‘I’m not distressed,’ I said. ‘What do you mean, Susan?’

‘Ha ha,’ she said.

‘Honestly, I’m not distressed, Susan,’ I said. It was hard forcing myself to stay friendly when I felt like reaching over the fence and bopping her.

‘Why pretend?’ she said. She had such a mean look I wouldn’t have been surprised if icicles had shot from her eyes. ‘You know you’re distressed. You know you’re wondering if I took the budgie’s advice. Own up, nasty Harry.’

‘Why do you call me nasty?’ I asked. ‘What have I done to you? I don’t call you nasty, do I?’

‘That’s scarcely the point,’ she said, rolling her eyes as though I had said the sort of stupid thing she had expected me to say.

‘Have I ever called you skinny and snoopy?’ I asked. ‘Other kids have, but I haven’t. I stick up for you.’

‘Don’t bother,’ she said. ‘I mean, don’t bother to say such things. I know you wouldn’t stick up for me. Not that I believe other children do call me skinny and snoopy.’

She did not sound too sure. ‘Ask Dibs Kelly then,’ I said.

‘That dirty boy!’ she said. ‘Ask
him
?’

I pretended to be puzzled. ‘I don’t understand why you think you’re better than kids like Dibs and me,’ I said. ‘So you’re clever. So you do a lot of homework. So you don’t like fun. So why should that make you better than us? That’s what I can’t understand.’

‘I know you’re only saying that,’ she said. ‘You’re only pretending you don’t know what I mean.’

‘I was trying to be friendly,’ I said, hating her.

‘Sometimes I wonder what a boy of your type will be like when he’s older,’ she said. ‘What sort of grown-up will you be? I imagine a large, coarse person who thinks only of his own pleasures. Not caring about other people’s feelings, not being generous unless he thinks he’ll get something in return. Spiteful as well.’

‘And Dibs too?’ I asked, making myself grin.

‘He won’t be as bad as you,’ she said. ‘Because he’s not as cunning as you. Cunning people are the worst. They don’t care who they hurt.’

‘I haven’t hurt you,’ I said. I was beginning to feel I didn’t care what she did about writing to my mother or what else she did to make me feel bad; I would rather not go on listening.