Three Summers by Judith Clarke Page A

hate him, I hate him, I hate him !’ Meg Harrison had bawled in the washroom at Barinjii High after Tam Finn had dumped her. ‘I hate him more than anyone in the whole world! He’s got no heart ! I hope he goes to Hell!’
    â€˜Oh, he’ll do just fine in Hell,’ Helen Hogan had said. ‘He’ll get on really well with the devil. They’re two of a kind, maybe.’
    There was something a bit scary about Tam Finn – the way he’d talked about the snake ring and how he was swallowing himself had frightened her. And those strange rain-coloured eyes: they gave you this feeling there was another person hidden in there down beneath the rain. But that person wasn’t the devil, he was more like a shabby importunate stranger waiting outside a door. She thought of his long fingers twisting the ring, his thinness, when the blue shirt had blown back against his chest—
    They shouldn’t all hate him. She swallowed, picturing the hatred of Barinjii like a great black wave sweeping after him over the paddocks, engulfing him. Someone should love him. Someone should. Not Helen Hogan, but—
    A sudden noisy racket filled the quiet street and she looked up and saw Mattie’s old Holden lurching down the road. It shuddered to a stop outside the front gate, engine still revving, because if you turned it off it wouldn’t start again. The passenger door flew open and Fee burst out onto the footpath. ‘No, no, no, don’t stop! You’ve got to pick your dad up, remember? Go! Go! Go!’ The car roared off again and Fee stood waving and blowing kisses till it disappeared around the corner, trailing clouds of gritty smoke. Then she came racing up the path, yellow hair flying, arms stretched out towards her friend. ‘Oh, Ruth! Ruthie! I’m so sorry! We had a flat just outside Dubbo, could you believe?’
    â€˜I believe.’
    â€˜And then Mattie couldn’t get it to start again, not for ages. And the spare’s nearly had it, and that wheel’s got a bit of a wobble anyway, so we had to drive slowly—’ She broke off and peered into her friend’s face. ‘Are you all right?’
    â€˜I’m all right,’ said Ruth. ‘I haven’t been to Dubbo in an old, old Holden.’ She got up from the verandah and pushed her hair back, smiling – simply to look at Fee, to see her happiness like sunshine, made her feel better. ‘Why did you think I wasn’t? All right, I mean.’
    â€˜I don’t know. For a moment, when I was coming in the gate, I thought you looked sort of—’ Fee stepped back for a moment and surveyed her friend again, ‘different, like something had happened.’
    â€˜Nothing’s happened. I went for a walk and got a bit hot, that’s all.’
    â€˜You’re crazy, going walking in this heat.’ Fee swung the door open on a long cool hall. ‘Let’s get inside; you lie down on the sofa like a princess and I’ll get you a cold drink.’
    â€˜I’m all right, honest,’ said Ruth, but already Fee was gone, and from the kitchen came the sounds of the fridge opening and closing, the clink of china against glass; and then a brief silence broken by a small, soft scream. ‘Aaah!’
    â€˜Fee?’ Ruth ran into the kitchen, where Fee was standing in the middle of the floor, a scrap of paper in her hand. Her face was white and the band of gold freckles across the bridge of her nose had gone dark. ‘Mum’s left me a message,’ she said in a low, shaky voice, holding the paper out to Ruth, her eyes wide and round. ‘She says – she says they’ve come ! Look! They’re there!’ She pointed to a long white envelope lying on the table.
    â€˜The results,’ said Ruth. ‘Yes, I know.’
    â€˜You know ? Why didn’t you tell me?’
    â€˜I forgot.’ It was true. Tam Finn had driven all of that from