Stillwater Creek (19 page)

‘It's our secret,' Zidra repeated quickly. ‘It's just between the three of us, isn't it?'

She glanced at Lorna, who produced a half-hearted grin. ‘Just between the three of us,' she echoed.

‘Heads you're the policeman and tails I am,' Jim said to Andy, and tossed the penny high into the air. He watched it spin and glint before landing on the path, Queen-side up. This meant he'd be in the role of black tracker and Andy would be Constable Davies. That was good; he'd be in front of Andy for the rest of the afternoon. Barry and Tom, the escaped murderers, were still visible some fifty paces ahead but they'd be scheming to get back to the footbridge without being caught and any second now they'd be out of sight. Then they'd be impossible to find. They could step off the main path and cut through the scrub leading to Dad's boathouse or just hide behind tree trunks and wait till their stalkers had passed by. Assuming his role, Jim began to search the path for clues, for a fallen stick or displaced leaf that might indicate that the quarry had left the path.

‘Hurry up,' Andy said. ‘You can see they're just ahead but they won't be for much longer if you don't get a move on.'

‘It's only a game and you're supposed to be stupid, remember? Mr Davies wouldn't have the wit to say that.'

Andy looked pleased at this. ‘I'm in charge so get on with it.' A kookaburra started to laugh. Constable Davies imitated
it. Jim had to silence him and how else but with a quick tackle. Rolling on the ground, Andy developed a fit of giggles and, by the time Jim remembered the seriousness of their game, Barry and Tom were out of sight.

Resuming their roles, Jim in front and Andy behind, they followed the path winding towards the sandy strip of shoreline next to their father's boathouse. Halting, Jim held up one hand to warn Andy to proceed quietly. Ahead of them, standing not far from the boathouse, was an intruder who didn't know the rules of the game. Perhaps he'd be able to give some information about the escaped murderers, but they'd have to proceed carefully as he could be an accomplice. Hidden behind a dense clump of bushes, Jim peered at the interloper – a large man wearing a battered canvas hat, navy shirt and cream trousers – who stood with his back to them, staring over the water. Sheltered from sight, Jim slithered along the path with his head well below the top of the dense undergrowth. After twenty yards he stopped. No sign of Barry and Tom anywhere. He crept forward a few more paces. Behind him, Andy crunched some dried bark underfoot and Jim turned, a finger raised to his lips. Andy grinned; he could get the giggles at the most dangerous part of any mission but a stern scowl had the desired effect. Onward they scrambled until they were just a few yards away. Standing, Jim tiptoed across the path bordering the clearing, to the shelter of the bushes on the far side.

Then the man turned. It was Mr Bates. He should have been in the hotel, not standing around the lagoon on a weekday afternoon. Well hidden, Jim stayed absolutely still until Mr Bates turned to look over the water again.

‘What do you reckon he's up to?' Andy whispered, creeping up behind Jim and making him start.

‘Fishing, I expect.'

‘He hasn't got a rod.'

‘Probably hidden somewhere.'

‘Look, there're those two girls coming around the side of the boathouse.'

‘Zidra and Lorna.'

‘Your girlfriend.'

‘She's not my girlfriend, you twerp.'

‘What are they doing in there? That's Dad's.'

Just then Mr Bates called out, ‘I'll check the doors. Got to make sure they're secure.'

He vanished around the far side of the boathouse. Looking upset, Zidra and Lorna sat down on a log. Zidra's shorts were wet and Lorna's clothes looked saturated, as if she'd been swimming in them.

Jim started to feel uneasy. There was something not quite right here. Barry and Tom would have to wait. He'd need to check that Dad's boat was safe once the others had moved on and they'd better hurry: the sky was already blazing golden to the west.

Mr Bates now reappeared from the far side of the boathouse. ‘All shipshape and Bristol fashion.'

‘What does that mean?' Zidra asked.

‘Everything's in order. Everything's in its proper place.'

‘Your mum'd like that expression,' said Lorna.

‘But we're not telling her anything about this,' said Zidra.

‘If you want to go boating, you could come out with me one Sunday,' Mr Bates said. ‘I sometimes rent a boat and take it out on the river for a spot of fishing.'

‘Thank you, Mr Bates,' said Zidra, ‘but I'll have to ask Mum first.' She sounded so formal sometimes. That came from being foreign.

‘Of course. That's what mums are for.'

‘Promise you won't tell anyone what's happened though.'

‘Cross my heart and hope to die,' said Mr Bates. Jim wasn't sure if that was a wink Mr Bates gave her or if he was just blinking. Jim couldn't abide people who winked. Grown-ups did it all the time to kids, as if it made them more human somehow. As noisily as possible, he stomped down the path. Mr Bates and the girls started when they saw him. They looked guilty, almost as if he'd caught them doing something wrong.

Zidra was the first to smile. ‘Mr Bates's just asked Lorna and me to go fishing with him,' she said.

She was trying to deflect attention from something. Jim stared at her while she inspected her soaking-wet sandshoes. Andy started chattering to Mr Bates about flathead; the boy was obsessed by fish. A fit of giggles overtook Lorna and made Jim feel uncomfortable, as if she was laughing at him. Not that he was going to show it. After strolling across the clearing he peered through the boathouse window. Although his father's dinghy seemed to be lying in its usual spot, he felt sure they'd been messing about in the boathouse. Mr Bates was now relating some complicated fishing tale and Andy was gazing up at him in admiration, as if he was God or something. While Batesy talked, he was gawping; but it wasn't at Andy, it was at Zidra and Lorna, sitting side-by-side on the log.

‘Can I come fishing too?' Jim said.

Mr Bates glanced at him in surprise and so did Andy. Maybe it wasn't surprise in Mr Bates' case but annoyance.

‘You don't like fishing,' Andy said.

‘Yes I do.' Jim glowered at Andy.

‘Can we both come?' Andy said eagerly. ‘I love fishing.'

‘Well, that's pushing it a bit. Not sure I can rent a boat that big. I can take four at a pinch including me but no more than
that. I'd need to hire a cruiser if there are too many of you. Jeez, I'm starting to feel like the Pied Piper of Hamelin.'

‘I won't be able to go,' said Lorna.

‘Why not?' Zidra looked quite put out.

‘Family stuff.'

‘So Jim and I can come then,' Andy said. In the way that grown-ups seemed to find irresistible, he smiled up at Mr Bates.

‘You needn't look so pleased,' said Zidra. ‘Lorna was invited and you two just invited yourselves.'

‘No bickering,' said Mr Bates.

‘It's the truth,' said Lorna. She ran a hand through her cropped hair.

‘Better get home now,' said Zidra.

‘Remember Mum's the word,' said Mr Bates.

‘What does that mean?'

‘No telling, drongo,' Andy said.

‘Don't you call her drongo, pongo,' said Lorna.

‘No telling what?' said Jim.

‘Not telling,' said Zidra. She began to chase Andy, who ran off down the track towards the bridge, with Lorna following close behind.

Jim stayed with Mr Bates, who showed no inclination to move. You'd think he might show a bit of embarrassment at being caught skulking around Dad's boathouse but there was no sign of it. After nodding at him, Jim walked around the boathouse to the lagoon side. The doors were firmly latched. Perhaps he could worm out of Zidra what they'd been up to this afternoon, though he'd have to work on it a bit. Bribery might help. Maybe the promise of a billycart ride.

When he'd finished inspecting the boathouse, Mr Bates had gone. No word of farewell. The hostility he felt towards old Batesy was probably mutual and at least they didn't have to
walk back to Jingera together. Maybe he'd dashed on ahead to pull a few beers. Mr Bates left too much of the work to Mrs Bates, his father reckoned, but his mother said that was nonsense. Mrs Bates just liked flirting with the customers too much to want to spend time away from the hotel.

Just before the bridge, Jim was ambushed by the two escaped murderers, who leapt out of some bushes waving sticks at him. ‘They're guns,' Tom explained. ‘We're going to string you up and then hide in the mountains.' Jim's police constable brother was nowhere to be seen. Jim was frogmarched over the bridge where the game officially ended, and all three of them ran home to their tea.

It wasn't until the next day that Jim remembered the scholarship. After school, he popped into Cadwallader's Quality Meats, thinking he might mention the boathouse first and the scholarship next. There were three or four customers waiting to be served. His father was wrapping some sausages but when he saw Jim he called The Boy in from the back of the shop. Wiping his rather bloody-looking hands on his apron, he beamed at Jim.

‘Got to talk to my son for a minute,' he said to the world-at-large. ‘The Boy'll look after you.' Putting one hand on Jim's shoulder, he steered him out the back of the shop, past the carcasses hanging from hooks suspended from rails, and piles of other things that Jim didn't care to look at too closely, and into the fresh air of the yard.

‘Well, well, you have done well,' his father said before Jim had time to open his mouth. To Jim's embarrassment there were tears in his father's eyes, which he wiped away on his sleeve. ‘Had a letter from Stambroke College this morning, and
Miss Neville telephoned today too. We're so proud of you, son.' He gave Jim a great hug, squashing him against the stained apron. From a back pocket he pulled out his wallet and removed a five-pound note. ‘Don't tell your mother about the money,' he said. ‘You'd better go home now so she can congratulate you. You know she doesn't like to feel left out of things.'

Jim went straight to the garage and put the five-pound note into the old cigar box in which his treasures were concealed. It joined his father's military badge from the war with the rising sun above the imperial crown; a couple of fossils he'd found under the headland; the half-sovereign his great-aunt had given him; a newspaper report about the new radio telescope at Parkes and an even older cutting from the ancient newspaper lining his mother's bureau, about the US navy ship sunk by the Japanese off the south coast. The box was kept behind the half-used tins of paint. No one would ever think of looking there, not even Andy.

Then he went into the kitchen. His mother was doing something complicated with the roasting pan and didn't look up immediately but when she did, her habitual frown had gone and she was smiling.

‘Well done!' She gave him a quick kiss on his forehead. Her face smelled of Pond's cream and onions. ‘Miss Neville will be skiting about you to everyone she meets. Anyone would think it was her child who'd got the scholarship and not mine. Your father said she went on and on when she telephoned the shop this morning!' Before continuing, she pushed some potatoes around. ‘You've shown you've got it in you to do well wherever you are. I told your father that.'

Jim waited for a moment for her to add a comment about the extra costs this achievement would entail but she didn't say any more. After putting the roasting pan back in the oven, she
suggested he help himself to some milk and a few biscuits before going out again.

Andy was in the backyard, kicking a ball around in a half-hearted manner. When he saw Jim he stopped. ‘You'll be going away.' There was accusation in his voice.

‘Not for ages yet. Three whole months. We've got all summer. Anyway, she mightn't let me go.'

‘Yes, she will, and what am I going to do? There'll be no one to play with.'

‘Yes there will be. You've got lots of friends.'

‘But no one at home.'

‘I'll be home for the holidays. It's only in term time that I'll be away.'

‘Nothing'll be the same again.'

Andy was right. Nothing would be the same again. Jim looked at Andy's freckled face and was touched by his anxious expression. ‘You can play with my Meccano set while I'm away,' he said. ‘Whenever you want.'

Andy cheered up at this. ‘What about your train engine?'

‘Sure, as long as you're careful with it.'

Andy looked so pleased that Jim wondered for an instant if he'd been over-generous, but better that than the alternative, he decided; and it wasn't as if the toys were going out of the house.

After this, Jim put the scholarship out of his mind. There was the rest of the summer to get through yet before fretting about the future.

In the meantime he wanted to find out what the girls and old Batesy had been up to in the boathouse. That was bothering him still. It wasn't just the boat; it was something to do with Mr Bates' expression and he just couldn't figure out quite what it was.