Stillwater Creek (18 page)

Standing on the grass in front of the Cadwalladers' boathouse, Zidra waited for Lorna's response. ‘We shouldn't take it, Dizzy,' Lorna said, although her glowing eyes sent a different message.

‘Are you going to come wiz me or simply stand there grumbling and drawing attention to yourself?' That's what Mama had said to Zidra in the shop yesterday when she'd wanted to buy some licorice sticks. Hands on hips and eyes narrowed, Zidra found it satisfying to pass on those words to Lorna in Mama's accent. Taking out the boat would be a way of paying her back for her stinginess, and it would spice up the afternoon too. Lorna gave a gratifying giggle.

Zidra and Lorna often sat on top of the boat, beached upside down in the old boathouse, and imagined themselves into adventures. Marauding pirates on the high seas, or shipwrecked sailors hitching a ride home on the back of a migrating whale. Sometimes the girls crawled underneath the boat and pretended they were inside a hut, hiding from enemies, or surrounded by bandits carrying sharp knives, who were waiting to disembowel them, or worse. Zidra wasn't so keen on that game. Being under the boat made her feel shut in and the salty
stink of damp wood made her feel sick, but today they'd have a proper adventure, a real one rather than make-believe. They'd take the boat out onto the lagoon and row away from the town so no one would see them. Only for half an hour or so because she didn't want to be home really late; she didn't want to be home so late that Mama noticed. You could get your own back on someone without them needing to know. That way everyone felt good.

It was hard work overturning the boat but eventually they succeeded, and with only a few scratches. The boat itself was almost beyond damage, a bleached carcass that might once have been painted grey. Zidra took off her shoes and put them on the bench seat in the bow of the dinghy, next to Lorna's scruffy sandshoes. Picking up a rusty old can that was lying on the sand, Lorna threw it into the bottom of the dinghy. ‘The boat leaks,' she said. ‘I've seen Mr Cadwallader out in it. At night. He has to stop rowing and bail it out.'

‘What are you doing roaming about at night?' But Zidra didn't wait for an answer because something more urgent had just occurred to her. ‘You can be in charge of bailing,' she said. The alternative was rowing and, though that might be hard work, it was her adventure today and she wanted to be in charge.

‘Bet you've never rowed.'

‘Have so. Often, but I'll only row to begin with. We can take it in turns after a bit.'

‘When did you last row?'

‘Sydney.' In fact, that was the first and the last time, with Mama and Papa on the Parramatta River, and then only for a few minutes before her father had seized the oars and said they'd end up being washed out to sea. But now she was so much bigger and stronger, she felt sure it would be easier. ‘Have you?'

‘Lots of times.' Lorna looked shifty-eyed though, as if she might be lying.

Together they pushed the boat further into the shallow water. Zidra climbed into the dinghy and put the oars into the rusty rowlocks. Lorna pushed the boat further out. ‘Get in!' Zidra shouted, anxious that Lorna might be left behind. The boat was floating towards the deeper channel only a few yards away. Here the water swirled around the bend in the river and once in that, she would have to pull hard against the current to move upriver and away from the town. Laughing, Lorna clambered on board, and sat in the stern with the bailing can clenched between her knees. Zidra pulled hard at both oars. One skimmed the water while the other dug in too deep and the dinghy started to change direction.

‘Pull equally,' shouted Lorna.

Zidra heaved again at the oars, this time symmetrically. Now they were into the channel and the rapid flow of water pushed the boat around so they were facing downstream instead of upstream.

‘The left oar, Dizzy! You gotter right the boat!'

Zidra dragged hard several times with her left oar and the dinghy changed direction again.

‘Now both oars. Harder, Dizzy!'

Zidra would have liked to tell her to shut up but had no spare breath. She pulled with both oars and the boat moved slowly forward. Again and again she heaved, and at last they started to move upstream against the current. It was harder work than she'd imagined. She might have asked Lorna to take over if they'd had the time to change position.

‘We've gotter get across a bit, away from the main channel,' Lorna said, bossy as usual. ‘Head her across so we can row up through the shallows. It'll be easier going there.'

Zidra tried to do this but again dug too deeply with the right oar while the left skimmed the surface. This threw her off balance and the left oar slipped out of the loose rowlock. Lorna lunged forward to catch the oar before it dropped into the water but Zidra was still tenaciously clutching its end. Over-balancing, Lorna fell into the bottom of the boat, which was by now several inches deep in water; her shorts became saturated. Although still clutching both oars, Zidra had stopped rowing. Lorna, now kneeling on the seat next to Zidra, struggled to fit the oar back into the rowlock. With both hands Zidra began to pull the other oar. The boat spun around to face downstream again. Taken by surprise, Lorna and the oar toppled over the edge of the dinghy. While the oar floated for a moment across the current, she vanished under the surface.

Zidra scanned the water for Lorna. No sign of her. Now the paddle end of the oar was slowly pushed around by the flow of the river but, just as the oar started to move downstream, a black hand emerged from the water and grasped the shaft. Next, Lorna's head bobbed up. With both elbows hooked over the oar, she shook the water out of her eyes. Zidra's panic subsided slightly. Although controlling the boat with just one oar was beyond her, she was at least in the boat rather than the water, and she knew Lorna could swim.

‘Head her to shore!' Lorna bellowed.

The bow of the dinghy was now pointing downstream. Zidra could see Lorna bobbing about in the water while clutching the oar, which she seemed to be trying to head towards the beach side of the lagoon. Further and further she receded as the current swept the dinghy forward. The shore seemed to be flashing by and soon Zidra would end up at the bridge. She pulled at the remaining oar with both hands, struggling hard against the pressure of the water. At last the boat started to
swing around and after several seconds shuddered to a stop. Leaning over the gunwale, she discovered the dinghy was beached in a few inches of water.

And this was the wrong side of the river. Behind was the dense bush forming a barrier between the town and the lagoon. She glanced upriver. The boathouse was several hundred yards away but there was no sign of Lorna. With only one oar she'd never be able to get the dinghy across the channel again.

Carefully she took the oar out of the rowlock and shipped it. After clambering into the water, she tried to push the dinghy further in but it was far too heavy and would not budge. If only they'd thought to bring the rope that was lying coiled up in a corner of the boathouse, she could have tied the rope to the metal loop in the bow and then perhaps pulled the boat back while walking over the pedestrian bridge. Although that would have been in full view of the town, it would be better to be seen than to lose the boat altogether. Harder and harder she pushed but still the boat wouldn't move. She looked upriver again. Still no sign of Lorna. Despite being a strong swimmer, she could have become caught up in the weeds and sucked under, even drowned. Maybe her body would come floating by soon. Zidra would have lost her best friend and she'd have to explain it was all her fault. Tears started to pour down her face.

‘Looks like you're in a spot of bother.'

Zidra jumped. Looming above her on the sandy bank was Mr Bates. Now she'd really be in trouble unless she could persuade Mr Bates to help her and to keep quiet about it.

‘I've lost Lorna,' she said.

‘Lost an oar too by the look of things. If Lorna's the black girl you hang around with, you don't need to worry about her. She swims like a fish.'

‘But she fell into the water with the other oar.'

‘So I saw, but right now she's standing on the other side of the river waving to you.' He pointed to a spot several hundred yards upriver on the other side. Sure enough, there was Lorna, waving and apparently shouting, although the words couldn't be heard over the distant thudding of the surf. Zidra wiped away her tears with her hands, which were starting to feel blistered.

Mr Bates extended towards her a freckled hand generously sprinkled with ginger hairs. Surely he didn't expect her to climb up onto the bank with him and risk losing the boat once more. Anyway the offer could be ignored now she knew Lorna had survived, though Mr Bates would come in handy for the return of the boat. Somehow it had to be got across to the other side of the lagoon, and returned to the boathouse.

Looking up at Mr Bates, she managed to produce a few more tears. ‘I've got to get the boat back to the boathouse. It's Mr Cadwallader's. We shouldn't have taken it but we did. I don't know how we're going to get it back. Mum'll kill me if she finds out.' Mr Bates' figure was blurred by tears; genuine tears now for she was imagining Mama at her most terrifying. But at the same time she knew she looked appealing with head cocked to one side and eyes brimming. She'd admired this effect in the brown-spotted bathroom mirror and been moved by her reflection. Mama was impervious though; she knew Zidra's little tricks.

‘That's easily fixed,' said Mr Bates, exactly as she'd hoped. ‘We'll row it across. Or rather I'll row it across. I don't think you're much of an oarsman.' Zidra found his laughter quite rude, but was prepared to forgive anything as long as her mother didn't find out.

‘I can row across with one oar,' Mr Bates continued. ‘We'll go up the shallow bit on this side of the river and cross over at
the bend and then make our way back to the boathouse through the shallows on the other side. Then no one'll ever need to know what you've been up to. Especially not your mother.' He winked at her. Mr Bates was being nicer than Papa would have been.

‘How kind of you,' she said in her best adult tone. Mr Bates laughed again, as if she'd said something witty.

Now seated in the stern of the dinghy, she watched him roll up his trousers before pushing the boat out of the shallows and scrambling in. It rocked so much that she feared they'd both end up in the water. Mr Bates manoeuvred the dinghy into the fast-flowing river, while she began to bail out the oily-looking water in the bottom. Then he pulled with the oar, first on one side and then on the other. Sprinkling her with water, he pivoted the oar neatly from side to side and now, at last, they were back on the other side of the river. Looking apprehensive, Lorna stood waiting for them. After climbing out of the dinghy, Mr Bates again offered Zidra a gingery paw and this time she took it. It felt hard and calloused. With his other hand, he steadied her as she jumped over the edge into the shallow water. The great splash as she landed darkened his trousers.

While Mr Bates fiddled with the dinghy, Zidra mouthed at Lorna: ‘It's all right. He's not going to tell.'

Lorna smiled and splashed across to the boat, and they all dragged it back into the boathouse.

‘A good job well done,' said Mr Bates, panting slightly after his exertions. ‘But don't do it again, young ladies, or you could get yourselves into even worse trouble.'

Zidra watched him dig into his pockets and pull out four aniseed balls; that meant two each. They were covered with bits of lint but she didn't mind. Perched on a log lying across the edge of the clearing, she and Lorna sucked at their sweets.
Mr Bates stared across the lagoon and panted like a dog struggling to regain its breath.

After a few seconds he turned towards them and smiled. ‘You girls are lucky I rescued you.'

‘You didn't rescue me. It was just Zidra.' Lorna's cockiness had returned. Zidra could hear her crunching up the last of her aniseed ball.

‘And the boat. You could have got into terrible trouble for taking that. It's stealing, you know.'

‘No it isn't,' Lorna said. ‘We only borrowed it.'

‘Try telling that to the police. Especially if you're Aboriginal.'

A sudden churning in Zidra's stomach made her feel quite sick and she heard Lorna's sharp intake of breath. Mr Bates was still smiling so he couldn't have meant his words to be nasty. Quickly Zidra said, ‘We did just borrow it. We didn't steal it.'

Mr Bates continued smiling. ‘I know that, and you know that, but the police don't know that. If you'd got caught you'd have been in terrible trouble. You might even have gone to jail if Mr Cadwallader pushed charges.'

Zidra began to tremble at this possibility. Being in jail and away from her mother would be terrible, and away from Lorna too. The whole thing had been Zidra's idea, so Lorna wouldn't be in trouble. Unless they thought being Aboriginal made you guilty even when you weren't, but anyway they wouldn't get locked up together. They'd be separated, maybe in solitary confinement. Zidra couldn't bear the thought of that.

‘I won't tell anyone about it though,' Mr Bates said. ‘You can count on me. It's just our little secret. Mind you keep on being good little girls, but. You especially, Zidra, 'cause I know you can be a bit naughty sometimes. You'd better be a good girl otherwise the truth might get out.' He laughed then, a loud ho-ho-ho like that Santa Claus that Zidra had seen last Christmas
at the department store in Sydney. There wasn't any good humour in this laugh though.

‘I'm always good,' she said, staring at the sandy ground beneath her feet. Some tiny black ants were dragging the carcass of an insect towards the mound of gravel nearby that was their nest.

‘I'm sure you are. Except for today, but.' He laughed again. ‘No need to look so sad, Zidra. No one need know except for us. It's our secret.'