The Midnight Dress by Karen Foxlee Page B

her father.
    ‘What school are you enrolled in?’ asked Marlene.
    ‘The high school in Leonora.’
    ‘Not there today?’
    ‘Obviously not,’ said Rose.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘I have a headache.’
    ‘Which school were you at before here?’
    ‘Um . . . Theodore State High.’
    ‘Before that?’
    ‘I went to Mullumbimby State High but only for about a month.’
    The woman studied her closely and then looked back at her father.
    ‘They need banana pickers and packers,’ she said.
    Rose doesn’t say anything about the bananas. At least they’ll have a little money for a while. It won’t be for long. It’s all downhill from the first day of work. She knows exactly how it will pass. He’ll get dressed and drive away in the car, he’ll come home. He’ll say, You know, it wasn’t too bad, or It was shithouse but the men were good, or I met this great guy called Reg, top bloke, salt of the earth.
    Reg or Colin or Keith or Tom. Archie, Frank, Larry, Karl, Tony, Barry, Morrie. I met this great bloke called Snow, he’s got a tinnie and he said he’d take us out on the open water. I met this great bloke called Harry and we got to talking and you wouldn’t believe it but he’s been to Africa and got chased by a lion. I met this bloke called Frank, he has six girls, I’m not kidding, and he reckons he might have some clothes you could have a look at. A man called Blue with ginger hair, a tall man called Lofty, a small man called Shorty, a fat man called Tiny. Reg-oh, Dame-oh, John-oh.
    In the beginning her father will present the easygoing version of himself. The happy, just-blew-into-town him, the travelling him with the quiet laugh, the looking-for-work him, the down-on-his-luck him, the father-with-a-daughter him, the she’s-a-good-kid him, the we’re-doing-our-best him.
    Then he’ll come home on the fifth or sixth day and say, I’m just going out for a while. I won’t be long.
    He’ll go down the road, the lane, the track, the highway to the pub and come back later, merry and full of praise. But sometime later, sometimes in days, other times weeks, he’ll change. He’ll grow louder, be full of bluster, his stories will grow more hilarious. He’ll drink until he’s staggering. He’ll let down his disguise, he’ll blow up in their faces like a storm. He’ll argue with their words and ideas, pick apart their stories, he’ll say, What would you know, Harry, lions and Africa aside – have you ever actually fucking really ever been anywhere?
    Rose knows it and her father knows she knows it and it makes him nervous.
    ‘It’ll be different this time,’ he says, after a long while in the car, cane field after cane field after cane field. ‘If it’s bananas then it has to be bananas. It’ll all be good.’
    ‘I know,’ says Rose.
    They buy groceries, a veritable feast, ice cream and soft white bread and a cooked chook. He shouts Rose two new packets of bobby pins. By the time they’ve driven down Main Street and turned across the train tracks he’s singing.
    ‘Jesus,’ says Rose, when they pull into the caravan park.
    ‘Who’s that?’ says Patrick Lovell.
    Because Pearl Kelly is waiting on their doorstep.
    The problem with Pearl Kelly, thinks Rose, is that she never thinks things through. Not really. She can never tell when people don’t want her around because she goes through life believing everyone in the whole goddamn world loves her.
    ‘I walked,’ Pearl says, jumping up as they get out of the car. ‘Then I started freaking because you weren’t here but this lady from the shop said you’d be back soon.’
    ‘Dad, this is Pearl,’ says Rose.
    ‘Pearl,’ says Patrick. ‘I haven’t heard that name for years.’
    ‘It’s terrible, isn’t it? I wish I was something else.’
    ‘What could you be?’ says Patrick.
    ‘Something much more romantic,’ says Pearl. ‘Persephone.’
    She looks at Mr Lovell and smiles. It’s exactly the same sweet sly smile she uses on Paul