Surf Sisters Read online

  The combined smell of paint, dust and things that rust whizzed Pink back to her childhood, to the lollipop she got whenever she and her father visited the hardware shop and how it ended up stuck in the hairs of her dad’s leg as she leaned against him while he browsed. She breathed in the familiar smell, smiled and sneezed.

  Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. Low counters ran along three sides of the shop. A row of display doors blocked out much of the light and Pink skirted the paint tins stacked against them. She turned, nearly knocking over a stand of door knobs and locks, and wondered what a feng shui expert would make of this place.

  Behind each counter a man in a lemon shirt and grey apron counted change into a till. Pink looked around hopefully for someone her age but there was no-one. Toilets sprouted like shiny white mushrooms in one corner of the shop and as she looked over, Rod waved. ‘Hello, Jasmine. Come in.’

  Rod was a perfect department store Santa, with wavy silver hair and kind eyes. His dry, papery hands were the size of Christmas hams but his handshake was gentle. ‘Welcome to the team,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’ll show you around.’ He passed counters pointing to various people and things. ‘That’s Wayne, he’s toilets. Fred’s anything to do with screws, bolts, nails, hammers, saws, that kind of thing. And Jim handles paint.’ Pink nodded, staying close to Rod. He pointed at a door. ‘Toilets are out there, and there’s a locker for you to put your things.’

  As she passed, Pink glanced into the bathroom. Dust and grime caked the sink and the dripping tap echoed through the cold, dark room. The toilet seat was up revealing deep brown stains around the rim. Pink didn’t go any closer. If she needed to go to the toilet she’d be going home. No way was she going in there.

  She tied on the grey apron Rod had given her as he tipped an enormous bag of nails onto the table. ‘Sorry, pet, it’s a boring old job but we need it done straightaway. Can you count off batches of five hundred and pack them into these.’ He handed her a pile of small bags and gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. ‘Call me if you’ve got any questions.’

  Pink started counting. Her hands turned grey with dust and her fingernails, each one painted a different sparkly colour, slowly silted up with dirt but she kept going. She’d counted off a thousand before she decided to measure the nails in a mug she found on the sink. Two hundred and fifty nails almost reached the top. She marked it with a pen then scooped more into the cup. Two cups per bag. The bags filled quickly now. But as she scooped them into the cup her green sparkly fingernail ripped across the top and in the dim light of the staff room she sniffed back a tear of self-pity. Had she escaped boarding school for this?

  She was wiping down the table just as the men wandered in. ‘Finished already?’ Rod sounded surprised. ‘Excellent.’ He filled the kettle, adding, ‘We have our weekly meeting now so could you keep an eye on things in the shop? It’s normally pretty quiet near lunch but if anyone comes in just call out.’

  Pink forced herself into the bathroom, hurriedly washed her hands then wandered behind the counters, switching the radio channel and cranking up the volume. She squinted at three young apprentices entering, relieved she didn’t recognise any of them. The youngest boy approached her. ‘Hi. I’ve just started work as a chippie.’ When Pink didn’t respond, he added, ‘A carpenter.’ He grinned like she’d find this interesting so she smiled politely. ‘The boss sent me to get a hammer.’

  ‘Hmm, hammers are down there,’ said Pink, pointing to the spot Rod had shown her.

  The other two boys sniggered and Pink flushed. The boy scrutinised the hammers, then checked the note scrunched up in his hand. He came back to Pink. ‘I need a left-handed hammer. The guys said you specialise in them.’

  ‘That’s correct. We do.’ Pink glared at the other boys, determined not to let them get the better of her. She wondered if they knew it was her first day. Pink glanced towards the staff room but the men around the table were engrossed in discussion. I can handle this, she thought. She walked confidently to Fred’s section and assessed the hammers hanging from hooks on the wall. None was labelled. She tutted to herself, making a mental note to fix that, and tried a couple out. They all fitted her right hand. Pink felt a flush of panic, especially when she looked at the boy’s expectant face, money curled in his hand with the note.

  After she’d tried a few more, she looked regretfully at the boy. ‘The left-handed ones have sold out, I’m afraid. We’ve had a big run of left-handed people this week.’ She found a pen. ‘I can order one for you if you like.’ She made a note on the pad in front of her.

  ‘Okay,’ said the boy, relieved. ‘I’ll come back.’

  And that’s when the laughter started. First one boy and then the other until they were both doubled over, while she and the young apprentice looked on blankly.

  ‘Everything all right, Jasmine?’ Rod called out.

  ‘This boy wants a left-handed hammer but we’re out of stock,’ said Pink, bewildered. ‘I told him we’d order one in. That’s okay, isn’t it?’

  Rod flashed out of the staff room waving his hand impatiently at the boys. ‘Go on. You’ve had your fun. Now clear off.’ The two older boys grabbed the younger one and left, still laughing.

  Pink pushed back tears. ‘What did I do wrong?’

  ‘Nothing, Jasmine. Are you right-handed?’ She nodded. ‘Here, hold this hammer. What’s it feel like?’ Pink struggled to come up with a description. Rod helped her. ‘It feels normal, right? Like it should be there.’ She nodded again. ‘Okay, now put it in your left hand. How’s that feel?’ Pink said nothing. ‘The same?’ Pink felt foolish and waited for the scathing remark her mother normally made when she screwed up. ‘There aren’t any left-handed hammers, love,’ Rod said gently. ‘It’s a joke they play on all the new apprentices. You just happened to get caught up in it too.’

  Rod returned to his meeting and moments later a roar of laughter came from the staff room. Humiliation and anger surged through Pink. She bit her lip, untied her apron and flung it on the desk, then snatched up her bag and walked out.

  Pink got as far as the crossing when her mobile rang. She took a couple of deep breaths, then answered in her brightest voice. ‘Hi, Dad. Job’s going great.’

  ‘That’s my girl. I knew you’d settle in quickly. Hang on, your mother’s here too – she wants to say hi.’

  ‘Well done, darling! I’m amazed you even lasted an hour.’ Christie’s tone was joking, voice light, but Pink could sense the sharp edge and her mother’s inkling that she was going to be proved right. The words sank into her flesh like bruises as she struggled to overcome the feelings of failure her mother managed to trigger in her. ‘I can’t wait to hear all about it. If it’s as tacky as that awful uniform, I’m sure it will be hilarious.’

  The lights changed to green. People walked across. They started flashing orange before Pink spoke again. ‘You know what, Mum? I love this job. And they already love me. They think I’m smart and clever and funny and I’m going to stay here until I turn a hundred and know the name of every toilet, every lock, every hammer and every paint colour in the shop. So there.’ And she hung up.

  Pink stormed down the shopping mall with a head full of steam, a list forming in her mind as she thought things through. An hour later the men glanced up curiously as Pink marched past them holding up a shopping bag and said loudly to no-one in particular, ‘If I’m going to work here, that toilet has got to be clean.’ She paused at the staff room door, shaking new fluffy towels at them. ‘I’ll clean it today and then I’m setting up a roster so everyone has a turn.’ Rod smiled and winked at her, and she carried on out to the back.

  Sitting at the staff room table was a hottie of immaculate hottie proportions: tanned, with dark curly hair and the kind of long thick eyelashes Pink had only ever seen in plastic cases. He sat with his feet up against the table, swinging on his chair and chomping on a sandwich. He was engrossed in the sports page of the newspaper spread across his legs. Pink coughed and he
looked up, a slow smile spreading over his face. Pink watched without amusement. He swallowed his mouthful of food. ‘You must be the new person, right?’

  Normally Pink would have been struck dumb by anyone so good-looking, but not today. She pushed his feet off the table and his chair snapped back to the floor. Pink stepped over the newspaper, now strewn everywhere. ‘Bad for the posture, sitting like that. Unhygenic too,’ said Pink, pulling on pink rubber gloves. ‘Yes. I’m new. Anyone under a hundred here is new, right?’

  ‘I’m not.’ He screwed up his sandwich wrapper, lobbed it at the bin and missed. He watched Pink to see what she’d do. She stared at him icily, not speaking, until he picked it up and dropped it in. ‘None of them thought you’d come back. In fact they were all laying bets that you wouldn’t last a day.’

  ‘Well that’ll teach them to underestimate me then, won’t it?’ Pink said, going into the bathroom and spraying cleaner across the sink.

  He laughed. ‘It sure will! But I cleaned up, so I guess I owe you one.’

  Pink stopped scouring the black ring around the drain, stuck her head out of the door. ‘You bet on me?’ she asked, flattered and appalled.

  ‘Yep.’ he grinned. Pink approved of his white, perfect teeth. ‘I always like a long shot.’

  Pink stood tall, pointing at him with the spray bottle. ‘And you are?’

  He smiled mischievously. ‘Tony. I’m Rod’s grandson. I’d have been here earlier but I had a few deliveries to make.’ He swung back on his chair again, arms behind his head, and his shirt fell open to reveal a firm brown stomach. ‘Sounds like I missed all the fun.’

  Pink turned away to hide her smile. Things were looking up. ‘Watch this space, Tony,’ she said loudly from the bathroom. ‘I haven’t even begun to sort this place out.’

  Pink didn’t see the broad grin on Tony’s face. ‘No I bet you haven’t. This place could do with a good shake-up.’

  Marlee lifted and pushed the old timber garage door into the bedroom that she and Tilly had painted and furnished a year or so ago. It opened reluctantly, scraping over the worn carpet. She flicked on the light, the glow immediately casting out the bleak afternoon, and threw her school bag on the ground. Then she kicked back on the bed, grinning at the huge plastic cheque perched on top of her Wall of Fame. Her first significant contest win with money attached was a feeling she’d never get sick of, and more than made up for the long night of school work ahead. No need to give her mother any more excuses to stop her from travelling to contests. As soon as she caught up, she promised herself, she’d cash that cheque and upgrade her iPod.

  But before anything, her grumbling, complaining stomach forced her inside the house to cruise the fridge. Propped on the kitchen table between the plastic salt and pepper shakers was a haul of letters. She fanned them tantalisingly in front of her face, deliberating which one to read first. Her fingers flicked the crisp white corners, then she hurriedly spooned Milo into a glass, piled a bowl high with Weetbix and poured milk over everything. As she chomped through the cereal she put Kyle’s card in front of her, reading and rereading his neat writing.

  Aloha! I’m practically a local after being here so long, speaking the lingo and everything. Hawaii is the most beautiful place on earth, Marls, and I wish you were here to see it. The mountains soar out of nowhere and every day we drive around the island looking for the best surf. The local people are laidback and cruisy so long as you respect their place and behave in the water. No dropping in here or I’d get my head beat in! Besides, I don’t do that stuff anymore. Home soon. Check ya, Kyle x

  Marlee flicked the postcard over to stare at the picture on the front. It had the biggest wave she’d ever seen, easily eighty feet, and at the bottom Kyle had drawn a stick figure with a K pointing to it.

  She paused at the second letter with its scrawled writing and Queensland postmark, turning it downwards on the table, ignoring her father’s name on the back.

  The last letter had an Island Breeze logo on the corner and Marlee smiled, wondering how Tilly could possibly have got a letter to her so fast when they’d only dropped her off at camp the day before. She tore down the side of the envelope, pulling out the typed letter inside.

  The colourful Island Breeze logo fanned across the top, and underneath was a big heading …

  ISLAND BREEZE FREEZE-OUT $150,000 PRIZE PURSE

  Over 30 of the planet’s most revered female surfers, along with the incoming tide of new talent, will zone in on Shipwreck, the legendary break in Western Australia, for the inaugural Island Breeze Freeze-Out in October. Boasting massive prize money, the international surf retail giant will hold the annual contest at a different location each year.

  Island Breeze CEO Mitch Fuller says, ‘We wanted to provide a platform for emerging talent to mix it with the world’s best. It’s Island Breeze’s way of giving back to the surfing community for supporting us. We’re hoping for some spectacular surfing, a few upsets and a chance to put the women in this sport on the world stage. The contest will be streamed worldwide on the net and be part of our first surf feature film, Shipwreck, which will be released next summer.’

  Underneath was a handwritten note:

  Hi Marlee, love to have you compete in the contest. I have a wildcard here with your name on it. Let me know if you can make it … Mitch

  Marlee read the note and press release again and again, smoothing out the paper with her fingertips until the folds had almost disappeared. October. That was seven whole months away. How would she ever be able to wait it out? Her heart thumped fast. Her mind raced faster. Shipwreck. She’d heard that the waves were AMAZING. Every hot surfer in the world would be there. And she’d be one of them!

  She screamed and ran into the lounge room where her sisters were watching TV. ‘Guess what?’ she yelled, leaping over the couch and waving the flyer. ‘I’m going in a HUGE surfing contest. As a wildcard! They actually invited me!’ She stood in front of the TV. ‘Do you have any idea what that means?’ Her sisters slid to the left and right, trying not to lose their direct line with the screen, glancing at her curiously.

  ‘No,’ said Carly, amused to see her sister so out of control. ‘But it made you jump high.’ Marlee hugged her then raced back to her room, lifting her teddy aloft. ‘I am the champion and it is so good to be here at long last!’ A little humility is good, said Tilly’s voice inside her head, so Marlee added, more humbly, hugging her teddy, ‘I feel honoured to be here among my heroes.’ She examined all her photos of Steph, Sofia, Georgie, Fizz and Sally. They were all there. She grinned and pointed at them. ‘But I still want to take you all down. So look out!’

  She jogged on the spot at warp speed, pumping her elbows up and down to take the edge off her energy, then raced out the door to see if she could find Pink and Fran.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The autumn currents had brought an ocean of the deepest mint blue-green, a colour so intense that Fran had spent endless hours trying to copy it and incorporate it into her painting. She watched it, fascinated by the pattern of ripples crossing the sandbank, the darker shadows creating another pattern below. A triangle of blue glass, worn smooth and frosted by the sand, rolled to a stop near Fran’s foot. She turned it over in her fingers, feeling its soft surface, wondering where it had come from, how old it might be.

  ‘Nice rock.’

  Fran glanced up, startled, pleased to see Marlee. ‘Hey! When’d you get back?’

  ‘Last Sunday night after we dropped Tilly at camp. Where’ve you been? I’ve dropped by your place heaps but you’re never home. I couldn’t catch Pink either and Kyle was s’posed to be back but he delayed his flight again. It was like Diamond Beach had closed down!’

  ‘Now you know what it was like for me when Pink was at school and you and Til were off at contests!’ Fran smiled, nudging Marlee. ‘What have I been doing? School, markets, work. I helped Dad clean out the fridges in the restaurant this morning and then I needed to get outside for a while. I found this
– look.’ The blue glass flashed in the sun and Fran held it against her rich brown skin. ‘This’ll make a cool necklace. Hey, want to go over to the rocks? I saw three whales from there last weekend.’ They wandered to the southern end of the beach where the clifftops flowed together like soft-top ice-creams against a vast blue sky. ‘So how’d the contest go?’

  Marlee smiled, pleased. ‘You’re looking at the Mid North Coast Junior Champ! Even made money.’

  ‘Fantastic! Congratulations. Why didn’t you text me?’

  Marlee shrugged. ‘I wanted to tell you in person but I didn’t think it’d take so long! Tilly got highest wave score. A 9.5!’

  ‘Wow, a double whammy. That’s great. Tilly’s cleaning up this season.’

  ‘Yeah, she surfed great. When she caught that wave the whole beach went ballistic. She just keeps her cool no matter what. I don’t know how she does it.’

  ‘Keep going, Marlee – it’s starting to happen for you too.’ Fran leapt nimbly onto a boulder the size of a car.

  ‘But that’s not the best news …’ The news inside her was about to explode. ‘Island Breeze has given me a wildcard to a contest they’re running.’ The wildcard did a little quick beat in Marlee’s heart and she grinned, recognising the now familiar flutter.

  Fran threw her arms up and cheered. ‘That is so amazing! Well done! When?’

  ‘October school holidays.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Shipwreck.’

  ‘Oh.’ Fran’s face dropped slightly. ‘That can be a mean wave. Mum’s told me about that place.’ And then another more practical thought surfaced. ‘So how’re you going to get there? It’s the other side of the country.’