Three's a Crowd (8 page)

I thought about Jeebie and his patched jeans and his lack of inhibitions and decency. What did his parents think of having a son like that? What was creditable about having a son who howled like a wolf and trotted like a dog?

“Yeah,” I said again.

It was one of those situations where least said soonest mended, as the olds say. I finished setting the table and went into the lounge room to remind Brat about his bath.

“Can I come to the pool with you tomorrow?” he pestered.

“No.”

“I'll pay my own way in.”

I remembered the balloons and the bag of sweets. They would have added up to a good two dollars' worth. An unreal suspicion grew in the back of my mind. I tried to keep my voice just casually interested. “Where did the extra money come from to pay your way into the pool?”

“Jeebie paid me another dollar to show you everything I bought with my two dollars,” Brat explained. “He reckoned Drew would like to see the colour of every single balloon and know how much I paid for each sweet.”

I tried to practise controlled breathing. I was not going to lose my temper. That insufferable creep Jeebie had paid Brat to hang around. He had ruined my afternoon. He was a sleaze and a slime bag. By comparison, Murray the Murk was an innocent choir boy. Then and there I made a sacred vow to myself. I was going to get back at that guy if it was the last thing I ever did.

“Why are you looking so funny?” Brat demanded. “It's all right to come to the pool with you tomorrow if I pay for myself, isn't it?

 

 

The pool was almost deserted because it was past the early morning training time and too early for the dabblers, despite the promise of the hot clear morning. I dropped my towel on the bench and checked the place out. Only three girls were using the pool, Wendy, Helen and Allie. I waved a greeting. Helen hung around with Sandy, and Wendy and Allie were into snorkelling with the guys.

One of the swimmers was Geordie; I recognized his powerful strokes as he churned up and down between the guide ropes. Murray the Murk was in the next lane, flashing along with his effortless, splashless crawl. I glimpsed Sandy chugging along and Paul's bright orange bathing cap half hidden by the water thrown up by his backstroke. There was no sign of Drew

“Hi Jeebie,” Brat yelled in my ear. He nudged me. “He's a pretty good swimmer, isn't he?”

“Big deal,” I snarled. Mum had backed Brat up that he could come to the pool with me this morning. “Why don't you get lost?”

The thought of Jeebie actually having the incredible nerve to use our pool was the last straw. Brat had made a mistake this time though – there was no sign of my tormentor anywhere around the pool. I tossed my plait back and sat on the bench. Where was Drew? Had I missed him? Had he come and gone with the early morning training squad?

Brat grinned, adjusted his goggles and dove in, arms and legs flailing. I watched him bob across the pool with his tadpole breaststroke until he reached the last lane. Despite my annoyance, I admired my little brother's swimming style. He was so gutsy and determined about his swimming. He trod water and waited for Paul's orange-covered head, moving in a whirl of churned up water, to reach him.

The orange covered head and flailing arms backed into him. Brat vanished. I couldn't see whether he had been rammed or had had the sense to dive. He bobbed up again, the orange cap turned and I recognized Jeebie's distinctive profile. He said something to Brat. Brat pointed.

Jeebie grinned and waved to me. I looked across the pool and pretended not to see him. For a few rash seconds I was almost tempted to swim over and hold him under until he went blue, but Jeebie was likely to take that as encouragement. Brat's loud squeal of delight echoed around the pool as Jeebie flipped him bodily out of the swimming lane and across to the general swimming area. Jeebie soon followed him and started showing him the overarm stroke.

I put on my goggles and dove into a vacant lane. I certainly wasn't going to sit on the bench alone and look as if I was waiting around for Drew, wherever he might be. I had done about five laps when I swam straight into Jeebie. I had my head down and hadn't seen him bob through into my lane. For a few seconds we were tangled together and I struggled furiously. He definitely was a lot lower than Murray the Murk and he didn't even have the excuse of a skinful of drink.

I felt his whole body shake with amusement. I managed to get the heel of my foot against his chest and shoved him away, hard. He back-flipped and turned to come back, submerged up to his narrowed brown eyes which gleamed with amusement. Under the ridiculous orange cap his ears flared out like paddles and his nose seemed even beakier. I just couldn't believe that I had attracted such a dork.

“Lovely morning, golliwog.”

“You're in my way,” I snapped and kept on swimming until I reached the edge of the pool.

I climbed out and didn't look back until I had picked up my towel. I walked across to join Allie, Wendy, and Murray the Murk. Helen and Sandy were still in the pool, and Jeebie had returned to his backstroking up and down his lane with Brat in dogged pursuit after him.

“Hope he's interested in the swimming sports,” Wendy remarked as she watched him. “We haven't got a decent backstroker in the team.”

“Pity young Brat isn't older,” Murray said. “He's going to make a good butterfly stroker one day.”

Everyone looked across at Brat. For a skinny little kid he wasn't bad. He followed Jeebie, bobbing up out of the water like a porpoise at each stroke.

“Suppose Drew Jamison will be all right for the butterfly if he trains hard enough,” Wendy mused.

“If,” Murray said with a snigger. “I reckon he plays too hard to do any training.”

“And what's that supposed to mean?” I kept my voice casual. “Every time I see him he's training.”

“For the lovelorn Olympics.” Murray whooped. He nudged at Wendy. “He looked as if he was into real heavy training last night.”

“We saw him at Tootles with Louise,” Wendy added.

I kept looking at Brat and Jeebie thrashing up and down the pool as if my life depended on it. I didn't want anyone to see the expression on my face when I heard that titbit. If it hadn‘t been for my obnoxious little brother it would have been me with Drew at the disco last night. Louise had managed to get that invitation by default. It just wasn't fair.

Jeebie, followed by Brat, swam to the side of the pool and climbed out with Helen and Sandy behind them. Geordie came out too, but he didn't matter. He flung us a brief salute and vanished into the changing room. The others headed for our group.

Suddenly, the area around the pool was no longer deserted. The pleasant early morning peace was gone. Family groups and crowds of kids swarmed in, and the attendants removed the lane ropes. In a few seconds the pool looked churned up and uninviting as everyone jumped, dived, and splashed in.

At that exact moment, Drew Jamison and Louise arrived. They were holding hands. They saw us and sauntered over at the same time as Jeebie, Helen, Sandy, and Brat arrived. This morning Louise wore her brief white bikini and a very smug expression. Drew smiled at us, but I had the feeling that he was avoiding my eyes.

“Glad you‘re all here,” Louise exclaimed. “I've talked Mum into letting us have a party tonight. Spread the word.”

“In aid of what?” someone asked.

“A welcome to the district bash for Drew. All welcome.”

Louise dimpled up at Drew. She was still holding his hand and she looked pretty pleased with herself. Drew smiled back at her. He looked pretty pleased with himself, too.

“Love to come,” Helen promised. She nudged Sandy. “Right?”

“Right,” Sandy agreed.

“Formal,” Allie suggested, her eyes dancing.

“Naturally,” Louise replied.

There was a thoughtful silence while we all thought about what to wear. The parties at Louise's were a good excuse to wear something dashing. Brat, who was listening intently, suddenly spoke.

“You and Jeebie will be able to go together,” he suggested.

Everyone looked at me and then at Jeebie. There was the same question on all of their faces as they waited for me to answer. I glared at my little brother. Trust him to embarrass me in front of my friends.

“Be very convenient, golliwog,” Jeebie suggested. “After all, we live right next door.”

“No.”

“No,” Jeebie repeated, the broad grin still on his face. “Can I walk home with you then? I'm scared of the dark.”

There was a suppressed murmur of amusement and I felt my face redden. Everyone thought Jeebie and his stupid way of acting was hilariously funny. It was the school joke of the week. I glared around at the amused faces and inspiration hit.

“I can't go with you,” I apologized sweetly. “Murray is taking me.”

“Yeah,” Murray agreed happily. “See you at eight tonight.”

Of course I immediately regretted that offer. Murray was all right, but not as a partner for the evening. Still, I had managed to discourage Jeebie and wipe that amused questioning look off all the faces. What made it infuriating was that Jeebie didn't look at all dejected by my refusal. His grin was still as broad as ever as he left with Brat skipping beside him.

I went off with the other girls to get dressed, ignoring the chatter about clothes and what everyone was wearing. Louise might have a tactical advantage because Drew was her guest of honour, but I intended to grab every opportunity at the party to consolidate my friendship with Drew.

Of course the random factor in this plan was Murray the Murk. I decided again that it had been stupid and impulsive of me to encourage him. I might find it difficult to continue the togetherness thing with Drew Jamison while Murray hung around all night. Louise I could cope with, but I didn't know about Murray the Murk.

One way or another, I guessed I was in for an interesting evening.

 

 

I was on the phone to Julie when Mum came in. I could tell immediately that she was in one of her niggly moods. She dumped the shopping on the table and launched into attack mode.

“Is there some reason why you haven't done the breakfast dishes or bothered to clean up a bit?”

“I'll see you this afternoon,” I promised Julie as I hung up.

Mum slammed out the door and came back with more shopping which she dumped on the table with such force that the crockery rattled. I remembered that she had worked in the sun room until well after I went to bed. Despite that, I felt my resentment rise and prickle. I didn't see why she spent so much time trying to make me feel guilty. I hadn't done anything. She always took out her bad moods on me. Who would she pick on if I wasn't here?

“Have you changed the sheets on the beds?” she demanded. “Where's Brett?'

Where was Brat? We had come home from the pool together, and I had reminded him to hang his wet towel and togs on the line before he drifted off somewhere. Then I had settled on my phone to discuss the events of the morning with Julie. Brat wasn't around making a pest of himself and I had been enjoying having the house to myself.

“He's ten years old, Mum,” I pointed out. “Isn't he getting a bit old to keep underfoot?”

Mum didn't bother to answer that. She slammed another bag of shopping on the table and started stacking things away. I got the message and did the breakfast dishes and wiped down the benches. It was less than a five minute job, and I honestly don't know why Mum made such a big deal of it being done. Mum paid me ten dollars a week to help her on Saturday mornings and keep an eye on Brat. I reckon I earned it. It wasn't the housework that was the hassle; it was putting up with Mum nagging about it. Anyone would think that she was paying me a full week's wage for nothing the way she carried on.

It only took a little more time to change our beds, then another ten minutes to hang out the washing in the machine and throw in another load. Then I zipped through the house with the vacuum cleaner. By the time I had finished the shopping had been put away and the aroma of coffee brewing was spreading through the house. Mum looked more relaxed. There were fresh apple cakes on a plate and my coffee was poured out and waiting. I decided to risk communicating with her.

“Louise Lessing's throwing a welcome to the district bash for Drew Jamison tonight. We're all going, formal. Can I borrow your black velvet skirt?”

“Certainly not.”

“What about your green lace off the shoulder blouse?”

“To wear with what?”

My mother had this thing that she had better taste than me. We had a few bad scenes over clothes for a while and now we had a sort of truce going. I wouldn't go for the sophisticated look if she didn't push me into kiddy stuff.

“What about my full skirt?” I had worn it to school on Monday, but dressed up with the evening blouse and Mum's high-heeled shoes it would look completely different.

Mum looked thoughtful and nodded agreement. “It should match very well and you can have a loan of my jade pendant to go with it.”

“And your earrings?”

“No,” Mum said with a shudder.

We had had a few fights about the earrings that matched the pendant. They were very ‘wow' and dangled almost to the shoulders. Mum never wore then so I couldn't understand why she was so lousy about letting me have them full-time. However, she seemed in an agreeable mood so I didn't carry on. I pushed the crumbs of the apple cake around my plate.

“Murray and Wendy saw Drew and Louise at Tootles last night.”

“I'm surprised that the Lessings let Louise go there,” Mum said. “It has a dreadful reputation.”

The fact that she made no comment about Murray or Wendy being at the disco reminded me that her opinion of Murray the Murk was rock bottom. I collected the cups to rinse in the sink, and threw the information back over my shoulder. “Murray Morris is taking me tonight.”