An Endless Summer(70)

There was something adamantly clear in my mind, though, now more so than ever: I really didn’t want to have to owe him anything. I thought back to last night and what could have happened, or what Sean had been about to say before we were interrupted. Guess I would never really know. It’s not as if having Sean in my bedroom would have a repeat performance.

After overhearing Chris’s earlier phone call about the shed, it triggered a memory.

Soon forgetting my soiled, damp clothes, I walked back inside with a new mission. “Hey, Chris, is Dad’s Jeep still in the shed?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Do you know where the keys are? I need to go into town.”

“Gee, I don’t know. Sleeping in, forgoing hard work – I don’t know if I support these lifestyle changes, Amy.”

“I’ll get Adam to run me through some boot camp drills later,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Do you know where the keys are?”

Without a word, Chris backtracked to a hook over the register that housed a series of keys. He picked out a key chain with a little figurine of Bart Simpson and threw it over the bar to me. I caught the jingling mass with a huge smile.

“Thanks.”

“You never got them from me, and you keep it fuelled up.”

I was stunned that Chris was even agreeing to let me take the Jeep – I guess it prevented me from borrowing his ute or, heaven forbid, catching a ride with a six-foot-three Onslow Boy. Ha! Fat chance of that.

“All right, I won’t be long. Do we need anything?”

“No, I’m right. For Christ’s sake, just drive careful.”



***



Like a kid on Christmas day, I skipped all the way towards Dad’s Brunswick green boat shed that sat about a hundred metres beyond the back of the hotel. Pulling the heavy double doors open to an expansive array of tools, mower, fishing gear, boat, and ta da! Dad’s soft-top, army-green Jeep Cherokee.

Running my hand along the bonnet and skimming my way in between the boat and the driver’s side door, I unlocked the beast and slid behind the wheel. Nostalgia filled me as I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel with glee.

Dad had taught me to drive in this Jeep, I got my Ls in this car, and I had always had dreams of grandeur of being the first to get my P plates because I was the eldest in my year.

My friend, Tammy, and I had had it all planned: I would get my licence then cruise around town, pick her up and head to the Point with all the cool kids. Of course, my little banishment to the city soon dented that plan quick smart.

The car was stuffy; dust particles danced in the sunlight that filtered through the windscreen. I tipped the visor up and down, familiarising myself with my surroundings. I shuffled through the junk in the console, popped open and rustled through the glove box.

“No way!”

I pulled out a cassette tape and held it up to the light. I squealed in recognition of the familiar cover. I snapped it open and there it was in my sixteen-year-old handwriting: Roxette.

I fired up the beast and popped in the tape, turning up the volume as ‘Joyride’ blared from the speakers.

“Ooooh, yeah!” I put the car into gear and slowly edged my way out of the shed, accelerating around to the front of the hotel. I tooted the horn at the boys and waved like a mad thing.

I turned right on the bitumen road, opting for the long, scenic way into town, past Stan’s parents’ caravan park and sweeping towards Horseshoe Bend down a leaf-lined trail with beautiful lake views. I cruised along, singing at the top of my lungs, the wind flapping my hair all around the cabin. ‘Fading Like A Flower’ came on and I thought I would die of happiness. Not wanting my journey to end, at the crossroads I opted to turn onto MacLean’s Bridge, the impressive, sweeping bridge that crossed Lake Onslow. I felt exhilarated that I still knew all the words as I sang like a Eurovision contestant, putting so much passion into my performance that I nearly sideswiped the side of the bridge.

Shit! Okay, Amy, settle down.

I placed both hands back on the wheel in a sobering moment, before grinning to myself and chucking a U-turn on the Perry side of the bridge. I sailed back over towards town, directly at the very reason I had decided to go to town in the first place. I had to complete my cunning plan. It was so clever, it bordered on pure genius.

“I’ll show you and your Portland Stone paint fell off the back of a truck, Sean Murphy.”

I almost felt like chucking my head back and cackling, but that sounded a bit scary even to me so I opted for singing to Roxette’s ‘Dangerous’ instead.



***



The bell above the door let out a magical ding, alerting Jan and Roy to my entrance as I walked into their store. They offered up immediate warm smiles.