Flotsam and Jetsam

As Amy put on her very best clothes and set off for the train with her mum, it seemed like they were going on an exciting adventure. But the day didn’t turn out how either of them expected…

We would have had Weet-Bix with canned peaches for breakfast, because that’s what we always had. Mum would have leaned over the table and kissed Dad before he left for work, because that’s what she always did. And he would have grinned and said, “Have a good day, girls,” before waving goodbye.

Usually Mum read the paper as she finished her cup of tea. But that day, as soon as the sound of Dad’s Datsun faded around the corner, she got up and poured her Earl Grey down the sink. “Guess what, poppet?” she said. “You don’t have to go to school today.”

“I don’t?”

“No – we’re going to catch a train.”

“So I don’t have to get dressed in my uniform?”

“You can get dressed in whatever you want.”

I thought about the apricotcoloured dress with puffed sleeves hanging in my wardrobe. I hadn’t had a chance to wear it since its debut at Aunt Karen’s wedding earlier that summer.

“Can I wear my flower girl dress?”

Mum smiled. “I think that would be perfect.”

I sprang down the hall to get changed, leaping from bloom to bloom on the floral carpet until I reached my bedroom. I put on the dress, accessorised it with lace-topped socks and white patent-leather shoes, and very carefully brushed my hair into a ponytail. Mum’s voice rang up the hall.

“Amy – are you ready?” I walked down the hallway as though balancing a book on my head, hoping Mum would notice my poise. But she was facing away from me, looking out the kitchen window. She was wearing a white suit I had never

seen before. The jacket fitted her waist and flared in a peplum over her hips. The skirt finished under her knees. With her wavy blonde hair, she looked just like Princess Diana.

“Mum – you look beautiful!” She turned to me, her face lit up as though it was her birthday.

“Well, so do you,” she said. “Aren’t we a pair.” “Where are we going?” “We’re going to Blenheim, where it’s always sunny. Won’t that make a nice change from Christchurch? And on the way we’ll stop at Kaikoura to see the whales.” A horn honked outside. “That’s our taxi. Off we go.”

When the taxi driver saw Mum he leapt out to help with our suitcases. He looked at her in the rear-view mirror all the way to the station, and when we arrived he opened her door with a flourish. We stepped out and looked up at the grand brick building. A clock tower loomed above our heads as we walked up the steps. I grabbed Mum’s hand and held on tight until we were on the train and in our seats.

The whistle blew, the doors closed, and then we were away. We slid out of the city, past the secret sides of buildings that are usually hidden from view, past all the drying washing and the overgrown gardens. And then we were in the country, gliding through fields of turnips and sunflowers. Mum sat in front of it all, the sun turning her hair into a halo around her face. The conductor blushed when he clipped her ticket, and even I felt as shy as a fawn talking to her. “Mum, what’s Blenheim like?”

“The hills are as blue as the sea, and it never rains. We’re going to stay on a farm with a pony for you to ride on. A man’s going to pick us up from the station and take us there.” “Who’s the man?”

Mum looked down at her hands, clasped neatly together in her lap. “He’s a friend I met at Karen’s hens’ night. And he’s been my penpal since then.” She gazed out at the hydrangea-blue sky. “He’s going to pick us up in a red Ford Capri.”

I contemplated the tips of my patent-leather shoes.

“Does he have a wife and a little girl like me?”

“He’s a divorcee.” She made the term sound sophisticated and mysterious, like ‘de facto’ or ‘shrimp cocktail’.

The whistle sounded and we stopped at Kaikoura Station. We disembarked and headed to the tearooms for lunch. The other patrons stared at Mum as we walked in. They had probably never seen such a pretty suit jacket before, with silk-covered buttons that dove a line from the dip in her throat to the nip of her waist. Mum said I could choose whatever I wanted from the cabinet, so I had a cheese toastie and a Belgium biscuit. Mum got a sandwich, but she didn’t finish it.

“Shall we go and see the whales?” she asked.

We walked outside and leaned up against the rails that separated us from the glittering sea. Almost as though it had been waiting for us, a whale rose from under the surface. It squirted a jet of water like a salute, and then dove back down; showing off its big, jaunty tail.

As the ripples cleared a dolphin flipped into the air, and then another. Mum looked at me and we laughed in surprise as they somersaulted together like synchronised swimmers. We watched them until the train whistle blew, and then we raced back to our seats.

The train glided past lines of purple lupines, until at last we saw the sign that said ‘Blenheim’. The train stopped and I jogged to keep up with Mum as she jumped off the carriage and went to the luggage car. She took our suitcases and turned to me with a smile.

“Look for the tall man with blonde hair,” she said. “Look for the man who looks like David Bowie.”

The train tooted and continued on its way, leaving us standing there in the swirl of passengers greeting their friends and loved ones. And then we were alone.

“Hmm,” said Mum. “It might be easier if we wait on the roadside.”

We walked around the little station and the gift shop and stood by the road. Mum straightened her skirt. She fluffed her hair. She reapplied her lipstick. I sat on my suitcase. “Where is he?” I asked. “He’ll be here soon.”

She stood with one arm casually on her hip, and then with one leg nonchalantly in front of the other. She eased her feet in and out of her white pumps. After a while she sat down on her suitcase too. And a moment later she sprang up. “That’s him!”

I followed her gaze to the streak of red flying down the road. As it came closer the car slowed down. The glare from its windscreen made me squint. The car crawled towards us and slowed almost to a stop. Mum picked up her suitcase. She was almost close enough to open the door, but as she stepped forward the car hurtled away with a

“We’re going to stay on a farm… A man’s going to pick us up and take us there.”

metallic scream. Mum stumbled back. Her eyes followed the car until we couldn’t see it anymore.

“Was that him, Mum? Was that a Ford Capri?”

She put down her suitcase. “I’m not actually quite sure what a Ford Capri looks like,” she said. She pressed her lips together as though she was about to kiss someone she didn’t like. “But was it him?”

“I guess not.” Mum pulled her glasses from her handbag and put them on. “Let’s just wait a bit longer.”

We sat back down on our suitcases in our fancy clothes. I watched the hands of my watch go around and around. Every time I looked up at Mum she had a funny smile on her face, as though she wasn’t actually happy at all. Eventually a lady came out of the gift shop and walked up to us.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asked Mum. “There are plenty of motels around if you and your sister need somewhere to stay.”

That’s how we ended up at Palm Court, in a dim little unit with a musty smell. Mum put the suitcases in the bedroom and lay down because she had a headache. When I got hungry she took me out for fish and chips. And then we returned to the motel, where Mum took off her jacket and kicked the white pumps off her feet.

“Well,” she said, “I might have a bath. Will you be okay out here for a bit?”

I nodded and sat down at a glass-topped table that had brochures and a phone on it. The bathroom door closed and I heard water running. I looked at a pamphlet about horseriding and gave all the people in the photos moustaches with my pen. I was halfway through drawing horns on a riding helmet when I heard a wail from the bathroom. The wail crawled up from under the door and down my spine. I put my hand on the phone in case I had to call emergency services.

“Mum?” There was no response from the bathroom. I picked up the receiver. “Mum?”

A long moment later I heard her clear her throat.

“Don’t worry!” she called. “I’ll be out soon.”

I replaced the receiver but kept my hand on the phone. Finally I heard the choke of the drain and a click as the bathroom door opened. I turned to see Mum standing in the doorframe. She’d changed into a silky robe that was different from her normal bobbly one. “I’d better call your father,” she said. She sat next to me and dialled slowly.

“Hello darling!” Her voice sounded chirpy – even though she was holding her head in her hand. “You’ll never guess what happened to us today!”

She turned to me and said, “Why don’t you run and get changed for bed? You can turn on the TV if you like.”

We went to bed early. She said she was too tired to read me a story, but I could tell she didn’t go to sleep straight away – even though she pretended she did.

The next day Mum wore her boring navy-blue dress. I had put on a T-shirt and shorts in case we had time to go horseriding, but Mum wanted to go straight to the station. She didn’t say much until we got to Kaikoura, and when we went to the tearooms she made me have an egg sandwich. I finished it as quickly as I could.

“Let’s go and see the whales!” I said. Mum followed me outside and we looked at the sea, but it stayed flat like concrete.

“Hasn’t this been a fun trip?” Mum asked. “It’s been a secret girls’ adventure. That means we can’t tell Dad anything about it.”

It was a grey kind of day, and it felt cold even though it wasn’t. Mum extended a hand for me to shake. “Deal?”

“Deal,” I said, admiring her glossy pink fingernails.

Once we were back on board the train, Mum put on her cardigan and closed her eyes behind her glasses. Endless dull skies whipped past behind her. Eventually I saw rusted-out cars out the window, and then sheds, houses, industrial buildings, high-rises, and the train station’s clock tower.

As we stepped off the train and into the cool shadow, I heard a voice say, “Becky! Amy!”

Dad rushed towards us, picked me up and twirled me around in the sky. He put me down and walked up to Mum. They stood facing one another for a moment, and then he wrapped her up in a hug. The hug pushed Mum’s glasses halfway up her forehead, and I could see that she was crying.

“Hasn’t this been a fun trip? It’s been a secret girls’ adventure … we can’t tell Dad.”