Red Dirt Diary 2 (7 page)

Everyone from Hardbake Plains cheered, but the Sydney friends and family looked stunned, disappointed, or both. Mrs WP and James looked like they had just sucked on some extra-sour lemons.

An awkward hush fell over the party.

Dad started to look embarrassed. It was obvious that Hillrose Poo wasn't good enough.

But Miss McKenzie, with her sparkly eyes and heart of gold, stepped forward to save the day. She threw her arms around Dad, gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek and cried, ‘Och! That would be just grand, Robert!'

She gave James one of her dazzling, freckly smiles where her whole face shines, so of course he agreed.

A wedding at Hillrose Poo!

I suppose this means she really is going to marry this bloke.

Thursday, 28 December —
Hathaway Homestead … Still!

Mum is a traitor!

And on Sophie's birthday too!

Petal and I woke Sophie this morning with a mug of tea and fifteen chocolate frogs — one for each year. I gave her a novel called
Love on the Seas
, which, from the cover, looks like a story about a lovesick pirate and a lady who wears far too much lipstick. It nearly killed me to buy it, but I knew Sophie would think it was drop-dead romantic, and it only cost three dollars. Petal gave Sophie a duckling kiss and pooped on her pillow.

Mum and Dad gave Sophie clothes and jewellery, Peter gave her a CD by a band called Festering Punks, and Wes and Fez gave her a huge, brown, spotty slug they'd found outside their bedroom window last night. Things were going just fine.

Until Mum announced that Mat, Lynette, Sophie and I are all staying here with Miss McKenzie, James and Mrs WP for a week (HELP!!!), while
they
get to go home to Hillrose Poo.

Mrs WP wants to make sure we get our bridesmaids dresses sorted out while we're here.

I
thought
my suitcase looked too big for just three days away.

Mum didn't tell me earlier because she knew I'd kick up a fuss.

Worse still, Mum took Petal with her. Petal looked devastated as they drove off. I hope she doesn't pine away and die while we're apart.

Wes and Fez went home as happy as two kookaburras at a worm farm because James gave them the spitting alpaca. Dad and Peter took it on the ute. James said he wanted to get rid of it because it kept spitting on visitors. Wes and Fez said they'd
love
it because it would spit on visitors. Mum said no, but Dad pointed out that alpacas are good for keeping wild dogs away from your sheep.
I'm
hoping it'll be good for keeping wild brothers away from the house.

Anyway, it was kind of James to give the spitting beast to Wes and Fez. Maybe he's not so bad after all.

Lynette, Mat and Sophie are getting on like a house on fire with Mrs WP. They are acting like princesses, fluttering their eyelashes and air kissing. They hold their little fingers out to the side when they drink cups of tea and eat microscopic slices of Sophie's tasteless, white
birthday cake. Mat is starting to talk with a plum in her mouth.

I'm pretending to have a tummy ache so I can hide out at the cottage for the rest of the day. I seem to have more in common with Sophie's birthday slug than with anyone else around here.

I miss Petal.

Friday, 29 December

Sophie showed Miss McKenzie and Mrs WP her bridesmaid dress design this morning and they both thought it was beautiful. Sophie was so proud.

We spent the day in Bowral at Mrs WP's dressmaker and must have tried on at least twenty different dresses. Every time Mat, Sophie or Lynette came out of the dressing room, Mrs WP would smile and say they looked just gorgeous. But every time I came out of the dressing room she frowned. She would straighten seams and hemlines, and sigh like she was truly suffering.

Once, when she looked particularly depressed at my appearance and started to massage her throbbing temples, I offered to give up my role as bridesmaid. Honestly, it was the first time Mrs WP seemed pleased with me. She beamed, and called me darling.

But Miss McKenzie stepped in and said, ‘Och no! What are you saying, Blue? You will be the most beautiful bridesmaid ever, with your red hair and sweet freckles. I'll be devastated if you aren't one of my special girls.'

So there you go. I was bound to disappoint one of them. Mrs WP would be devastated if I
was
a bridesmaid. Miss McKenzie would be devastated if I
wasn't
. I think that's what you call a lose-lose situation.

Of course, my loyalties lie with Miss McKenzie, so I'm still going to wear a pink dress and limp up the aisle like I've got a chunk of shrapnel in my leg, with Mrs WP frowning and sighing at me all the way.

Saturday, 30 December

All day at the dressmaker's again.

BORING.

Mat, Sophie and Lynette don't seem to mind. Maybe it's because they're not as intelligent as me. Simple-minded folk are easily amused. Just look at Wes and Fez.

Used the wrong fork for dessert tonight. You'd think I'd stolen the last scrap of bread from a starving orphan by the way Mrs WP glared at me.

Miss McKenzie had gone out for dinner with James, so I didn't even have her to smile encouragingly at me.

Went back to the cottage early with a
real
tummy ache.

Sunday, 31 December

This has been the most boring New Year's Eve ever.

Miss McKenzie and James have gone up to Sydney for a party so we've been stuck here with Mrs WP and six of her friends, learning to play mah jong. I reckon mah jong could be really cool, but not when you have to sit in your best dress (the grass stains came out nicely, so I don't know what all the fuss was about), eating prawns on miniature pieces of toast and drinking weak tea with no milk or sugar, while your little finger sticks out at an awkward angle.

Thank goodness Mrs Parnell brought along her miniature sausage dog, Strudel, otherwise the whole evening would have been a complete waste of time. After I'd spilt my second cup of tea, I hid under the table with Strudel and taught him how to beg using little bits of raw steak I found in the fridge. He was doing really well, until I accidentally tossed one of the pieces of
meat into Mrs Falkner-Smythe's handbag. Strudel went berserk trying to find it. He ended up mauling her lace hanky, her purse, a photo of her grandchildren and the arm of her sunglasses before he found the steak. Then he chewed the bow off Mrs WP's cream patent leather shoes!

I pretended to have another stomach ache and went back to the cottage before anyone discovered the damage. Sophie came over soon after and is sitting with me now. She's bored too, despite all the fabric and air kissing. I told her about Strudel and she laughed until she cried.

If we were home, we'd be running around playing spotlight while Dad and Bert Hartley dislocated each other's shoulders in arm wrestles. Mum would serve up mountains of cakes and sausage rolls and jugs of fizzy drink, and Mr Sweeney would play his banjo. Nobody would get into trouble for using the wrong spoon for their custard or getting grass stains on their clothes.

I'm homesick.

Monday, 1 January —
New Year's Day

Happy New Year!

Miss McKenzie and James took us bushwalking down in Morton National Park today. It's beautiful — damp and green with giant tree ferns. We saw a real waterfall that flows all year round. Imagine having so much water. Petal would have loved it.

We hired three tandem bikes in Bundanoon. It was heaps of fun. Mat and I were totally out of control. Mat just doesn't get that you can't steer from the back seat. We ran into Miss McKenzie and James and knocked them into a blackberry bush. Miss McKenzie ripped the back of her shorts so you could see that she was wearing pink and orange striped knickers. It was hilarious. She couldn't stand up straight for ten minutes, she laughed so much.

James, however, didn't think it was very funny at all. He blushed like a tomato and made her
wrap his jumper around her waist. We had to go straight back to Hathaway Homestead, even though we'd been planning to buy ice creams from the café.

Mrs WP was horrified when we told her at dinner time what had happened. She acted all sympathetic towards Miss McKenzie and said, ‘You poor dear.' But Miss McKenzie got helpless with laughter all over again and snorted chocolate mousse out her nose.

Wasn't Mrs WP upset at that!

James didn't look too pleased either.

I don't get what the problem was. It really was funny. Even Mat couldn't help laughing.

If looks could kill, we'd all be dead now from Mrs WP's glare.

Tuesday, 2 January

All day at the dressmaker's again.

I think even Mat is getting fed up with it all.

She must have been so bored, because she forgot herself and burped out loud.

I think Mrs WP will be glad to have Hathaway Homestead to herself again.

One more day to go!

Wednesday, 3 January

Miss McKenzie brought her bagpipes down to the cottage today so we could practise the bridal waltz. Nobody told me we had to dance at this wedding!

I think my shrapnel wound flares up even more for waltzing than it does for the bridesmaid's walk. It didn't bother Miss McKenzie, though. She laughed until she got the hiccups, and made me promise to dance exactly the same way at her wedding.

That's what's so great about Miss McKenzie. She likes people just as they are.

We were having a lovely time. Sophie and Lynette were dancing together, Mat was dancing with a cushion, pretending it was Gavin O'Donnell, and I was limping around like an uncoordinated
camel, when Mrs WP came down to the cottage looking very concerned.

I thought, here we go again. It's time to be disappointed in Blue.

But it wasn't
me
she was disappointed with. It was Miss McKenzie!

Apparently, the bagpipes are not really the RIGHT KIND of instrument to play in Welsh-Pearson circles. Mrs WP talked about her friend Dorothea Armstrong-Brett, whose daughter-in-law plays the flute in the Sydney Symphony Orchestra … and Julia Cameron, a friend of a friend, who plays Baroque music on the crumhorn, and how simply enchanting it all was.

What does
a friend of a friend
mean?

And what on earth is a
crumhorn
??? Sounds seriously painful — like something Mr Sweeney's bull might get if it ran full-speed into a red gum gate post.

When Mrs WP left, I noticed James standing behind the hedge. I think Miss McKenzie did too because she looked very sad all of a sudden.

I'm glad we're going home tomorrow. I just wish Miss McKenzie was coming with us.

Thursday, 4 January —
Hillrose Poo, at last!

Bliss!

I'm home, sitting on the veranda, eating lamingtons. Petal is in my lap. Fluffles is rubbing against my leg. Gertrude is drooling at my feet. The hot, dry wind is blowing in my face.

Bliss!

Miss McKenzie drove us home to Hillrose Poo, even though she was only meant to take us to Bathurst, where Mrs Sweeney was going to meet us and take us the rest of the way.

Miss McKenzie told James and Mrs WP that she had
changed her mind
about staying at Hathaway Homestead for the holidays, and that she wanted to drive us
all the way home
. She also seemed to think it was very important that they noticed her putting her
bagpipes
in the boot of the car, and that they realised that she
liked to play the bagpipes every single day of her life
.

When we said goodbye, Miss McKenzie gave James an AIR KISS.

Miss McKenzie is
not
an air kisser!

Wes and Fez must have missed us. They met us at the front gate to Hillrose Poo and insisted on driving Sophie and me home in the pig chariots.
Wes and Sophie crashed, and Sophie grazed half the skin off her nose.

Gunther greeted me by getting his ducklings to attack the minute I stepped out of Fez's pig chariot. Petal greeted me by collapsing on my feet and sighing with joy. She hasn't left my side since.

Miss McKenzie is staying the night in the sleep-out. She lives in town with Mrs Whittington at Magpie's Rest, but Mrs Whittington is away, visiting her niece in Dubbo. Miss McKenzie couldn't bear the thought of being on her own tonight. Besides, Hillrose Poo is such a great place to stay.

There's no place like home!

Friday, 5 January

Wes and Fez spent half the morning teasing Macka the alpaca, trying to make him spit. Sophie, Peter and I sat on the back veranda eating watermelon, laughing ourselves stupid.

‘Buck-toothed barnacle!' cried Wes.

‘Knock-kneed numbskull!' yelled Fez.

‘Pea-brained puffball!' snarled Wes.

‘Leech-livered lily-pants!' hissed Fez.

Macka just stood there, blinking.

‘If brains were dynamite you wouldn't have enough to blow your nose.'

‘You're so dumb, when you got locked in the supermarket you nearly starved to death!'

‘You're so boring, I've had better conversations with a teapot.'

‘You're as ugly as a bucket full of pig snouts.'

Fez ran around and around, leaping up and down. Wes stuck his bottom out and made a rude noise.

Macka just stared out across the paddocks. He refused to spit.

Wes and Fez were disgusted. They stormed off to race their pig chariots.

After they left, Peter spat a watermelon seed on the grass. Macka walked over to Peter and spat in his face.

Miss McKenzie is staying again tonight. She spent most of the day drinking cups of tea and eating lamingtons with Mum.

Hope she leaves some for Sophie and me.

Saturday, 6 January

Miss McKenzie cried and ate chocolate biscuits all day. She didn't even share any with Gertrude. Gerty really loves chocolate biscuits, and Miss McKenzie usually loves Gerty.

I tried to cheer her up by pointing out that the scab on Sophie's nose looks like New Zealand. There's even a North Island and South Island. She didn't crack a smile.

Wes and Fez rode past in their pig chariots, wearing tea cosies on their heads, juggling apples and bananas. That
did
bring a smile to her face for a while. Especially when Doris galloped under the clothesline and Wes got tangled up in the sheets. But then she went back to sniffling and weeping.

By the time she left we'd run out of tissues.

I just don't know what we can do. Miss McKenzie doesn't normally let anything get her down. It's awful to see.

I asked Mum what I could do to help. She said Miss McKenzie just needs some space.

‘Time heals all, Blue,' Mum said.

I pointed out that it hadn't healed Wes and Fez of their stupidity, but she didn't think that was the same thing.

Sophie said that love isn't always as easy as people hope, and started talking about
Love on the Seas
, the book I gave her for her birthday.

Good grief!

What is it with everyone and love these days? All I need now is for Matilda Jane the Mature to visit and tell me all about her plans to marry Gavin O'Donnell and spend her evenings going to the opera and balls …

Sunday, 7 January

Sophie and I were feeding the chooks this morning when Macka appeared from nowhere and spat at Sophie through the wire. Sophie screamed. Macka threw his head back and gurgled with joy.

Wes and Fez were devastated when we told them.

‘Why won't Macka spit at me?' said Fez, and burst out crying.

Mat rang tonight to tell me that she is getting a horse. Her dad is bringing
it home tomorrow and she wants Sophie and me to come over and see it. I can't wait. I love horses.

Monday, 8 January

Sheba is beautiful. She is enormous and white and the gentlest horse you could ever find. We spent the morning climbing all over her, brushing her tail and mane. Mat even let me, Lynette and Sophie ride her around the stockyard.

Mr Sweeney got Sheba for free. Her owners were going to put her down. Why would they want to destroy such a beautiful creature?

Mat is so lucky.

When we got home, Wes and Fez were heading out the back to
bribe
Macka into spitting.

‘My pocket's full of choc bits,' said Wes.

‘We'll give one to Macka every time he spits,' said Fez.

It might have worked, except Doris and Mildred's bionic hearing alerted them to the sound of choc bits rattling together. They bolted around the corner of the house and knocked Wes to the ground just as he stepped off the veranda. They snuffled at his pocket until his shorts were torn and all the choc bits were vacuumed into their enormous piggy stomachs.

Macka the alpaca appeared from nowhere and ran around Wes, gurgling in delight.

Tuesday, 9 January

Macka spat at Mum through the kitchen window while she was washing the breakfast dishes this morning. Wes and Fez bolted outside and ran around Macka, jumping and shouting.

They didn't seem to bother Macka one bit, but they annoyed the guts out of Gunther. He squealed, leapt off the veranda, knocked Fez over and pinned him to the ground. His ducklings charged and pecked at Fez's nose and ears. Fez shook his head from side to side, yelling in agony.

Macka lay down in the shade and gurgled happily.

Wednesday, 10 January

Miss McKenzie is a basket case and, I have to say, it's not very attractive. I thought being in love was meant to make people happy and beautiful.

She spent all evening at the Sweeneys' barbecue with Mum, Mrs Sweeney and Mrs O'Donnell, crying and snotting in a most unladylike fashion — which just proves that she and James are not suited to each other.

Mrs WP would be
mortified
if she could hear the way Miss McKenzie blew her nose like a trumpet. She'd probably talk about Serena Squid-Harpoon, a friend of a friend, who sounded like a piccolo flute when she blew her nose, or Babette Intestinal-Abscess, her dearest niece, who didn't even produce snot, but just gave ladylike dabs at the corner of her nostrils with her handkerchief when she was emotional.