Sydney Bridge Upside Down by David Ballantyne Page B

sitting in the clearing, the Kelly family and us, when Sam Phelps and Sydney Bridge Upside Down appeared, and Mrs Kelly called to Sam Phelps that he was welcome to a drink, and Sam Phelps came across from the line and had the drink, and he drank from a cup that had been lying on the picnic rug, and it turned out this was one of my mother’s cups because as soon as Sam Phelps went on down the line my mother threw the cup into the bushes and blackberry andsaid, ‘We can’t let anybody else use it now. Not after that dirty old man’s been drinking from it.’ This had surprised me. Mrs Kelly had seemed surprised too; she had looked towards the spot where the cup had landed, then at my mother, but she had not spoken. Now, at this picnic years later, she did nothing special with the cup Sam Phelps had drunk from; she put it in the basket with the other cups. Mrs Kelly, of course, was different from my mother. I did not think, for instance, that my mother would have held a picnic in Caroline’s honour. And I bet Caroline wouldn’t have much fun at all on her holiday if my mother was around, my mother had a way of frowning that could spoil everything. It’s a good job she’s missing this picnic, I thought.
    We had been at the clearing since mid-morning, Mrs Kelly saying a picnic was best if you made a proper day of it. Since it was a Saturday, Mr Kelly was home with his Reo, and he drove us all down as far as the beach just across the line from the clearing. He and Dad stayed with us for an hour, then they discovered they were short of beer; they drove off in the Reo and said they would be back later. I didn’t mind how long they took, they had spent most of the time talking about ancient visits to the city, glancing at Caroline to make sure she was listening. It was odd how even Mr Kelly tried to impress Caroline; you’d think he would realise she was too young to care what happened when he was last in the city. He was probably fooled by her smile; she should frown, I thought, when old fellows like Dad and Mr Kelly tried to impress her.
    I had been afraid the small Kelly kids would spoil thepicnic with their shouting and fighting. But they were all right. Mostly they played in the bush, or over on the rocks and the beach. I did not have to take any more notice of them than I usually did.
    ‘Why don’t you boys run off and play?’ Mrs Kelly asked after we had finished the meat pies, sandwiches and fruitcake. She was looking at me as if she thought I was stopping Dibs and Cal from playing.
    ‘I’m having a swim as soon as my food goes down,’ I told her. ‘It’s dangerous to swim after a big meal.’
    ‘You’ll come to no harm after a meal that size,’ Mrs Kelly said. She was trying to get rid of me, sure enough.
    ‘Best not to take risks,’ I said. I knew that sooner or later Caroline would be going for a swim. She had her swimming costume on under her dress; I knew this because I had seen her putting it on.
    ‘Off you go, Dibs,’ said Mrs Kelly, probably thinking I would follow Dibs. ‘It’s not like you to linger after a meal.’
    ‘What an old bitch!’ Dibs whispered to me.
    ‘Dibs!’ shouted Mrs Kelly, very purple.
    ‘Come on, boy,’ I said to Dibs. ‘We don’t want to spoil the picnic.’ I looked at Caroline. ‘Coming with us?’
    ‘Never mind her,’ said Mrs Kelly. ‘Caroline and I are going to have a chat. You boys run off and play.’
    I couldn’t be sure if Caroline’s smile was for Mrs Kelly or for me. Anyway, I thought, she’ll soon get sick of Mrs Kelly, she’ll soon want to swim.
    ‘I’ll come back for my togs,’ I told Mrs Kelly.
    She shook her head at me. I guessed she was rathercrabby with all the work she had done for the picnic; my mother, at any rate, got crabby if she had been doing much work, like making a big supply of ginger beer, not that her last lot had been big enough to keep us going all through the holidays, we were now down to five bottles.
    ‘Let’s look