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Authors: David Ballantyne

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BOOK: Sydney Bridge Upside Down
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‘Just up the hill,’ I said, moving towards the door, my right leg straight and stiff. ‘Cal’s coming with me. We’ll be back for lunch.’

‘A great lad for his fun,’ I heard Dad telling Caroline as I went out.

My hands were very sweaty. I wiped them on my pants.

I go now to the time the night before when Cal was in bed and I was alone in the kitchen. Dad and Caroline had been away for more than an hour.

I was not sorry Cal had gone to bed. It gave me a chance to read Caroline’s autobiography.

As soon as Cal shut our bedroom door, I sneaked into Caroline’s room and grabbed two of the exercise books from her suitcase. I had been thinking of doing this for a week or so, but I’d never had the opportunity before. I had been hoping, of course, that Caroline would read me more of the autobiography, but she hadn’t—and she had been so
dreamy lately that I hadn’t liked to ask her for more. She probably wouldn’t mind if I had a peep. Anyway, it was her own fault for making me so curious about Uncle Pember.

One of the books was only a quarter full. This must be the latest. I put it aside and looked into the other book. This was filled right up, it was most likely where I would find Uncle Pember mentioned.

I turned a few pages, looking for his name. I couldn’t see it. I read some lines: ‘Ian, who at this stage hoped to become the credit manager, called to me from behind a grand piano one afternoon. I confess I giggled. Incidentally, he had a nickname for me, this was Blondie-baby. Blondie-baby, he said on the afternoon I refer to, would you trot out with me this evening? Not unless you dress yourself properly, I said teasingly. How do you mean, Blondie-baby, he said, then looked where I was looking. Yes, I said with a giggle, your fly is undone, Ian. At this point, I can mention that it was diverting for me, when I was going about my business in the city, to fix my gaze on men’s flies as I approached them. They were usually disconcerted. I may say that I never did this in the belief that I would one day spy a penis—’

I quickly turned the pages. Still no mention of Uncle Pember. I risked reading a few lines: ‘On shimmering summer nights, when the scarlet birds flew away from the black serpents and white swans glided under dark bridges etc., I wished Geoff had not been so stuffy. That is to say, I was lonely on such nights. The humidity, I may add, was very high. Sticky weather, people kept saying. As usual, I slept bare. This led to an experience (note from my wobbly
writing in this passage how the memory still affects me) to an experience of some interest. First, let me say that another of the salesmen, a gentleman who often appalled Geoff with his coarseness, was reputed to be a lecher. This reputation, as my experience of him illustrated, was indeed well-founded—’

I turned some more pages. I reached the end of the book without seeing Uncle Pember’s name. I turned back two pages, read: ‘Although I was but seventeen, I was well aware of the pitfalls, having become familiar with them at a much earlier age, indeed as early as fourteen. Nevertheless, I was confident that a giant such as Robert, contrary to general belief, would be extremely gentle. I am not sure what grounds I had for being so confident. Whatever they were, they proved to be mistaken. No, wait a while. I may come back and change this. Robert could be tall, but not precisely a giant. Have to think about him, so often in the basement with the filing-cabinets. Did I ever speak to him? Who am I thinking of? Ronald, was it? Enough for today—’

I closed that book and took up the other one. Only three pages from the start was my own name! It was so clear it seemed to glow. I looked away from the page, telling myself I shouldn’t read what Caroline had written about me, it would be better if I didn’t.

After some seconds, I read: ‘I dare say his attempted attentions were flattering, or would have been were he not such a loathsomely hairy little man. Small wonder that sweet young Harry did his best to protect me. I feared at times that Harry’s freckles would pop, so great was the
indignation he felt towards this person Wiggins. I recall a day when there was a carnival in a nearby town, and Harry took it upon himself to protect me. There were moments during the day, I confess, when I wished he were not so protective, yet I had to forgive him on reflection. I was sure that if my principal memory of the day turned on a pyramid of absolutely splendid cowboys, all of them deeply tanned and in tight-fitting trousers that threatened to burst open at any moment—if this was my principal memory, I am sure Harry’s was of his duty as my protector—’

There was a knock on the back door.

I raced up the passage and put the exercise books in the suitcase. Then I tip-toed along the passage to the kitchen. I waited for another knock before I went to the door. The second knock was louder than the first.

I opened the door.

‘Hello, young fellow,’ said Mr Wiggins, stepping into the kitchen. ‘Anybody home?’

‘Only Cal and me,’ I said. ‘Cal’s gone to bed.’

Mr Wiggins was looking round the kitchen as though he didn’t believe I was the only one there, as though he might see somebody behind the sofa or under the table if he looked hard enough. He wore a navy suit and a white shirt and tie, and the suit-coat bulged with all the toughness it was covering.

‘Dad at the smoke concert, is he?’ said Mr Wiggins, walking slowly towards the passage.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Only Cal and me at home.’

‘So you were saying,’ he said. He looked back from the passage. ‘Only you and Cal?’

‘Yes, Mr Wiggins,’ I said.

‘Then you won’t mind if I have a look, will you?’ he said, moving slowly along the passage.

I did not speak. And I paused before I followed him. I was thinking hard. Although I had known I would have to be strong to tackle Mr Wiggins, I had not been able to work out
how
I would tackle him. Some day, I’d thought, I would have my chance. I had no idea, of course, when that day would come. It might have taken months to come, even years. Yet I had been certain it would come, sooner or later, and I would be ready for it when it did come. Had it come already? Could tonight possibly be the time? Was I strong enough yet? How could I do it?

I was shaking when I went along the passage. I had thought of the beginning of a way.

Mr Wiggins opened our bedroom door. He felt for the light-switch. I was behind him when the light went on. Cal blinked at us from the bed.

Mr Wiggins looked behind the door, then switched off the light. ‘Good night, son,’ he said to Cal as he closed the door.

He crossed the passage to Caroline’s room and switched on the light there. He went to the wardrobe and looked in. He looked under the bed.

I saw him frown in the moment before he switched off the light. I followed him back to the kitchen.

I stayed in the kitchen while he checked that there was nobody in Dad’s room. I was pretty sure now that I had a way. And I kept reminding myself how strong I was.

‘Where is your cousin?’ asked Mr Wiggins.

‘Out,’ I said.

‘So I gather,’ he said. ‘Where?’

I looked at him. I felt calm.

‘Out with young Kelly, is she?’ he asked.

‘No,’ I said.

‘Who then?’

‘Nobody.’

‘Well, where is she then?’

‘I don’t think she’d want me to tell you,’ I said.

‘Nonsense,’ he said. He put on a sort of smile. ‘I have a present for her, son. It’s out in the van. Caroline will love to get it. She loves presents.’

‘Well…’ I said.

‘She won’t mind if you tell me,’ he said.

‘I don’t know about that,’ I said.

‘Come on, Harry,’ he said. ‘You know she loves presents.’

‘Well, she’s gone for a walk,’ I said. I pretended to think. ‘I know,’ I said. ‘Say you take me in the van? I’ll show you where she is.’

‘Just tell me,’ he said.

‘Best if I go too,’ I said. ‘To show you.’

‘All right,’ he said. ‘Come on.’

We went out to the van. The moon was shining on it. It looked ghostly.

I got in beside Mr Wiggins. There was a parcel on the seat. I touched it.

‘Is this the present?’ I asked.

‘That’s right, son,’ he said. ‘Well, where do we go?’

‘Only to the works,’ I said.

‘We could walk there,’ he said.

‘Best not to,’ I said. ‘There’s a secret place.’

He glanced at me, but said nothing. He started the van and we went slowly along the road to the works, Mr Wiggins looking out carefully in case Caroline went by.

When we got to the works I told him to drive round the other side. This, I knew, would put the van out of sight.

He grumbled something about the bumps, but drove the van behind the works.

‘This will do,’ I said. I got out quickly.

Mr Wiggins got out with the present. ‘I don’t see her,’ he said. ‘Where would she be walking?’

‘Actually, she’s inside,’ I said. ‘We’ve got a secret place in the works.’

‘In there at this hour of the night?’ he said. He sounded suspicious.

‘There’s a paraffin lamp,’ I said. ‘Dibs Kelly’s father gave it to him, so we put it in this secret place, and Caroline’s allowed to go in there whenever—’

‘At this hour of the night?’ He was still suspicious.

‘You can find her if you like,’ I said. ‘I’m going home. My little brother will wonder where I am.’

‘Stay here,’ he said. ‘Show me where she is. So you have a secret place in the old works, do you, Harry? That sounds exciting.’ He was being very friendly.

I went ahead of him to the works entrance. ‘I’ll show you,’ I said as I crossed the patch of moonlight near the entrance.

I hesitated in the doorway, long enough to make sure he was behind me. When he stepped into the patch of
moonlight I went fast up the stairs to the first floor.

‘Follow me, Mr Wiggins,’ I called, not loudly enough to cause an echo.

‘Where are you?’ he called, and there was a small echo.

‘Just up the stairs,’ I said. ‘We have to go to the second floor. That’s where Caroline is, Mr Wiggins.’

I went on up to the second floor and waited for him.

Now I go to our cave the next afternoon. I was there with Cal and Dibs and Bruce Norman. We were smoking cigarettes.

Although I had told Dibs I’d hurt my leg during my usual early-morning run, he kept looking at the bandage as though something about it puzzled him. I wished the damned leg wasn’t bandaged; the cut and the bruise wouldn’t be as noticeable as the bandage was. At any rate, I was glad I’d got up early, before Cal was awake, and had the usual run; it might have seemed odd, later if not now, if I hadn’t.

‘Are you feeling dizzy, Bruce?’ I asked. He had not taken a puff for some minutes.

‘Not at all,’ he said.

‘Usually need three to make you dizzy,’ I said. ‘Depends on the leaves.’ I squinted through the murkiness, trying to see Cal. ‘Cal once got dizzy on one of them. Didn’t you, Cal?’

‘I’m going outside,’ Cal said, crawling from the darkness at the back of the cave. ‘Too choky in here.’

I jerked my injured leg out of the way to let him pass.

‘It
is
rather suffocating,’ Bruce said. ‘I’m not really fond
of smoking. Half a cigarette seems to satisfy me.’ He, too, crawled from the cave.

‘All the more for us to smoke, eh?’ I said to Dibs. I was not enjoying the cigarette, but I didn’t want to leave the cave, it seemed a safe place.

‘Think I’ll only have one today,’ Dibs said.

‘Don’t you want to be dizzy?’ I asked.

‘Not today,’ he said. There he was, looking at my bandage again.

‘What’s the matter?’ I said.

‘Eh?’ he said.

‘Why do you keep looking at my leg?’

‘Nothing, Harry. Nothing.’

‘I told you how it happened, boy. I fell over. But it’s not serious. It was Dad’s mad idea to put this bandage on. I’ll take it off tonight, you bet.’

‘Good idea, Harry.’

I’d better get him thinking about something else. ‘This is our chance,’ I said. ‘Now those kids are out of the way we can have a look at the pistol.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘Think I’ll get some fresh air, Harry. See you outside.’

I put up my hand to stop him, but the stiff leg slowed me, and he crawled from the cave. He seemed in a hurry, I thought. Now why should he be in such a hurry?

I crawled to the end of the cave and took the rocks from the hollow where the pistol had been hidden. There was no pistol under the rocks.

Well, I’m not surprised, I thought. I wasn’t even angry. I should be angry and puzzled. I should rush out and force
those kids to tell me what they had done with the pistol.

But I couldn’t be bothered. I did not want to leave the cave.

I lit another cigarette and thought about the pistol. Why had Dibs and Cal taken it? Did it mean they had got some ammo and were planning to fire the pistol without letting me know? Maybe they had already got some ammo, maybe they had already fired the pistol—

No, I still did not care. They could keep it. Let them shoot off their toes. It would serve them right.

I wondered what would happen if I stayed in the cave all day. What say I refused to leave the cave when they came to get me? I could block the entrance with bricks from the fireplace. Nobody could get through. They would have to let me stay in here until I was ready to leave. I might never be ready to leave. I might stay in here until I suffocated, until I died. They would be sorry then. They would be sad. Caroline would be the saddest of all because nobody else in the world liked me as much as she did, nobody else anywhere thought I was sweet, which was another way of thinking I was all right. Maybe it wouldn’t be fair to make Caroline so sad, especially when I had done so much to make her happy. Maybe it would be better if I put off staying in the cave. I could save it up for another time.

I finished the cigarette. That was the third. But I still did not feel dizzy.

‘Harry?’

The stiffness spread from my leg to the rest of my body when I heard the voice. Then I saw that it was Dibs looking into the cave.

‘Are you all right, Harry?’ he asked.

‘Sure,’ I said, crawling towards him. ‘I just had another cigarette. Thought I’d see if I could get dizzy. It didn’t work, though. Those fags aren’t as good as the last lot you made, boy.’

BOOK: Sydney Bridge Upside Down
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