it’s not. I’ve seen it done.’
Grace watched as Darcy climbed the tree and then wriggled forward along the overhanging limb, her muddy legs hanging down on either side.
‘Be careful!’ Grace called. ‘Maybe the water isn’t deep enough!’
‘Bulldust!’
Darcy manoeuvred herself around the branch and lowered herself down. She swung for a moment or two by her arms and then let go. Grace put her hand over her mouth and held her breath as Darcy’s body seemed to just hang in the air for a moment before scything down into the water and making a great splash, the wave from it nearly swamping Grace where she knelt in the shallows.
‘See?’ spluttered Darcy, when her head broke the surface.
‘You can be a real dill sometimes, Darcy Steele,’ said Grace, shaking her head.
Darcy pulled herself up out onto the bank and sat and shook the water from her hair. Grace followed and sat down beside her.
‘Want a smoke?’ said Darcy, after a while.
Before Grace could answer she went over to her clothes and rummaged through them, returning with a crumpled pair of cigarettes and a box of matches. She put one in her mouth and lit it, handed it to Grace, then lit the other. Grace put the cigarette to her lips and breathed in while Darcy watched, her face wreathed in smoke.
‘Good! You’re a natural!’
They sat and smoked until Grace began to feel a little sick. Darcy didn’t say anything for a long time. Grace was about to ask her what was wrong when they both heard a sound away through the trees.
‘What was that?’ whispered Grace. The cigarette fell from her fingers onto the ground, forgotten. Darcy stood and peered across the water at the bushes on the bank. Grace crossed her arms over her chest and began to slide over to where her dress lay. She heard the sound again but this time it was much clearer. There was a strangled laugh, and then a fierce admonition.
‘It’s my brother,’ Darcy whispered. ‘It’s Sonny.’
She bent and scooped up a handful of mud from the bank and then stepped down into the water and flung it towards the far bank. She threw more, her cigarette poised in the fingers of her left hand, until there was a squeal from the bushes. Sonny and Leonard broke from their cover and crashed through the undergrowth like pademelons. Grace saw Leonard gawping at Darcy’s bare breasts and at the dark triangle under her belly.
‘I’m telling!’ Sonny squawked.
‘Haven’t done nothin’!’ Darcy shouted back. ‘I’ll tell on you!’
She bent and dug in the bank for more ammunition then glanced over at Grace.
‘Come on! Aren’t you going to help?’
‘I can’t!’
Darcy shrugged and kept flinging mud, even after Sonny and Leonard were well out of range. After a few final sallies she came and stood near Grace and picked up her dress and pulled it over her head.
‘They’re always doing things like that,’ she said, pulling on her underpants. Grace felt even sicker.
‘Why didn’t you cover yourself up?’
Darcy looked surprised by the question. She seemed to think about it for a moment and then gave a little shrug.
‘I don’t care,’ she said.
She walked down into the water and washed the worst of the mud from her arms and legs and it dawned on Grace then that she really didn’t – didn’t care that Sonny had seen, didn’t care that Leonard had. She came back up the bank and sat down, pulling her legs up to her chin. Neither said anything for a minute or so, as if the clothes had somehow changed them.
‘I should go,’ Grace said, eventually. ‘My mum’ll have lunch ready. You can come if you want.’
‘No. I’ll stay here.’
‘I’ll come back later then.’
Darcy nodded.
‘Remember you have to come and try on your dress,’ said Grace, as she stood.
‘Yeah. I remember.’
Grace waited. She felt awkward and didn’t know quite why. Darcy was staring at the water and throwing twigs into it.
‘I’ll see you then,’ said Grace.
‘Yeah. See ya,’ Darcy whispered.
A shadow fell across her friend’s face then and her head lowered and she began to cry. Grace went to her and put an arm round her, then held her head as Darcy set it against her shoulder. She cried for ten minutes or more, and when she was nearly through and just sobbing Grace tried to find out what the problem was. Darcy would only shake her head. Grace stroked her hair and then pulled her close and hugged her.
‘What is it?’ she asked again, but Darcy wouldn’t, or couldn’t, answer her. Grace looked at her red eyes and her cheeks wet with tears. She lifted a strand of her damp hair and put it behind her ear. Darcy looked up at her with her sad, blue eyes then lifted her hands and put them on either side of Grace’s face. And then Grace felt her hot, wet mouth as she pressed her lips hard against her cheek. She pulled away and as she did she saw an odd look cross Darcy’s face, and she knew without a doubt that it was a reflection of her own dismay. She stood abruptly.
‘Gra—’
‘I have to go now. If you won’t tell me what’s wrong …’
Darcy bit her lip and said nothing. Finally, Grace had to turn and walk away, her head all confusion, her feelings in a spin. When she glanced over her shoulder her friend was sitting very still, watching her depart. Her face looked very pale in the dappled sunlight. Darcy gave a weak, hopeful smile and then waved, as if hoping with all her heart that she wouldn’t be the only one to do so. Grace hesitated, her brow furrowing, but then she lifted her hand and waved it feebly once or twice before turning for home.
Tom wiped his hands on his trousers and then jumped up and caught the hook swinging down from the truck’s jib hoist. Using his weight, he pulled the hook and the steel cable attached to it down and around the log while Henry watched from the truck’s cab and barked orders. He ducked down and jammed the hook under the log where there was a small gap between it and the ground and then he scrambled over the log and burrowed through the earth and leaves with his hand until he felt the hook and could pull it through. If the log was too heavy he’d grab the log-hook and hang off it and roll the log over the cable until the hook appeared. Sometimes Henry had to come and do it. When the cable was looped round the log Henry jabbed at the winch controls and the steel noose slithered and tightened round the log and lifted it off the ground. Tom thought that Henry was nearly always too quick with the winch and didn’t give him enough time to get clear. Sometimes he found himself on his backside in the dirt, having dodged the log, holding his hand where the rope had grazed it, or splinters
