* * *
When we got home Dad switched on the cricket but it was all over, England had won the Ashes again. I didn’t want to watch any replay so he deleted it.
We ate our dinner in silence because Australia had been trounced. Afterwards, I added to my journal then went to bed to read. One more day of freedom then back to school.
14 First Tennis Lesson.
On Wednesday of the second week of the new term, Dad was waiting outside school to drive me to the BRAC tennis courts for my first lesson. I was a little nervous as I didn’t want to make a fool of myself.
“Did you have a good day?” asked Dad.
“Yes. We were told what we were doing for the term. English included an assignment on my family.”
“You’ll be able to use some episodes from your journal, about how our family got together after six months apart.”
“I guess I could. Thanks Dad. How many kids do you reckon will turn up today?”
“Well, the president said there were about 100 students so that works out to 10 in each class.”
“I hope I find a racquet that suits me,” I said.
“By the sounds of it, they have plenty for you to choose from,” said Dad.
Before I knew it we were there, as well as 19 other students. We were divided up into the very beginners through to those who’d had a few lessons. They found a racquet for me which was comfortable.
“One of our rules,” said one of our coaches, “concerns your sun protection. Always bring along sunscreen and a hat, preferably one that covers your ears. Another rule is making space around you before you hit a ball. Another is to listen to your coach at all times.
“Now, Paul. You’re our newest member having just arrived in Broome. Because you have never played before, you will have to be patient while we bring you up to speed. I now want everyone to show me the forehand grip. Here Paul, like this.”
So the lesson went on, with the others showing what they had been taught and me learning it for the first time. At long last I got to hit the ball and it went sailing over to the next court.
“One of the tricks,” said the coach, “is learning how hard or soft to hit the ball. The professionals whack it as hard as possible .You’ve probably heard commentators talk about slicing the ball. It’s a certain way of hitting the ball and it curves over the net and through to the opponent or away from him or her so they can’t return it.
“Now, we’ve only taught you the forehand grip, Paul. Next week, it will be the backhand grip. The reason the receiving person holds their racquet in both hands is so they can change the grip if they are going to return the ball on the forehand or with the backhand.”
I went and found Dad who was busy collecting our balls. I told him about sun protection and he agreed, pointing to his wide-brimmed hat.
Dad decided to introduce himself again to my coach.
“Hi, there, I’m Harry, Paul’s Dad. How did he go with his first lesson?”
“He went quite well. It’s early days. Maybe at the end of term you might want to purchase a racquet like the one he used today. It suited his hands and his height and I don’t think it was too heavy.”
“Not like in my day when the grip and weight was standard,” Dad said. “Mine was a wooden racquet and came with a steel press so it didn’t warp. I didn’t have many lessons but I learnt about the two grips.
“I never learnt how to slice in all the times I played socially.”
“Maybe you’d like a lesson, Harry?” she said.
“Maybe. Well, we’ll be off. See you next Wednesday.”
As we drove away, I reminded him to pick up Mum from work. She asked all the questions about my lesson.
Lassie was excited to see us and thankfully the chain was holding the gate. She wasn’t a burrower so she wouldn’t get out under the fence and escape. That’s what I hoped. I’ll always remember the dog which once broke through a paling as we walked past. I don’t know why it didn’t go for Lassie but it ran back inside by the front. The owner has since put up a barrier and now the fence is mended. But I avoid going down that street.
The fences are different in Broome as they don’t overlap. There are gaps and you can see into people’s yards, and the dogs can see out and bark at you.
We did a circuit of the park which Lassie loves and then to our postal box as Dad had forgotten to check it after school when he picked me up for tennis. Nothing there for me but a check for Dad, so he was happy.
When we got home, Mum checked out Dad’s spaghetti bolognaise which he had cooked earlier and placed in the microwave. I fed Lassie and fifteen minutes later the spaghetti was ready and we were soon tucking into my favourite meal.
“What’s on television tonight, boys?” asked Mum.
“Nothing much,” said Dad. “How about you do your homework, Paul, have half an hour of cartoons, and then off to bed.”
“And can I read my Kindle? I’ve found a story about an adopted girl my age who finds out her mother is the rich actress she likes. They’re about to meet face-to-face.”
“Sounds interesting,” said Mum. “Harry and I will do the dishes tonight so you can get started.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
I made a list of everything we learnt about belonging to the tennis club and the fees. I used Excel to work out how much it would cost til the end of the year, adding in $33 for membership and $8 per lesson by 16 weeks. It came to a grand total of $161.
“Hey, Mum and Dad, did you work out how much my tennis lessons were going to cost?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell us,” said Dad.
“$161, is that okay?” I asked.
“It will be alright, Paul. It’s good you’re wanting to learn something at your new home,” said Mum.
“Good night then. I’m too tired to look at my journal anymore. See you in the morning.”
Bed looked good and, after cleaning my teeth and saying good night to Lassie, I crawled under my sheet to read for a while.
The girl in my story is curious about the woman next door. She’s a famous actress who finds time for this orphan. Little by little I learn about how their paths cross as well as their growing to like each other.
Will they remain friends after the girl goes to the grandmother’s house? Will the actress try and find her?
I fell asleep with all this swirling in my head and woke up cold like the snow in the story as the temperature had dropped.
15 Scouts and Reading.
School in Broome was just like school in Melbourne. I hung out with Marcus and his friends and we played football in the park after I collected the mail, except on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. I hadn’t forgotten my mate Johnny and I emailed him once a week on Dad’s laptop.
Marcus was the only boy at school I knew who belonged to the Scouts. We’d arranged to meet the Scout Master and his troop next Tuesday so we talked about that a lot and the other boys got interested as well. There were so many activities that we could do in the Scouts and Marcus and I shared our ideas.
“We could go swimming at BRAC and be in a race,” said Marcus.
“I don’t really like swimming as you can’t wear a singlet in the water,” I said.
“Why do you want to wear a singlet,” he asked.
“Because I’m chubby and I don’t like people seeing how fat I am.”
“Don’t worry, there are some enormous kids in our troop, even with man boobs,” said Marcus.
“Oh…okay, maybe I’m not so big.”
“Have you ever been in a billy cart race?” asked Marcus.
“I’ve made a billy cart so does that count?”
“Even better. Last year we had to make one and then race it. We went to Cable Beach and had a great time. My team didn’t win but we got to keep the billy cart. It’s my turn this month to look after it so let’s have a go when either your parents or mine can take us there.”
“Cool, Marcus. Now tell me what happens on a weekend away.”
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“We have lots to do besides setting up camp and cooking our meals. Sometimes we make a tepee instead of a tent. This is cooler as a tent is too hot to sleep under, even with the netting on the walls. Once, we went orienteering before lunch and I got lost. Our Scout Master found me on the way to town. Very embarrassing. My partner had moved away from the track and I couldn’t find him, even with cooeeing. He had the compass so I only had the sun to guide me. You’ll learn all about that.
“Then at night, we sit around a campfire that has been scrupulously cleared so we don’t start a bushfire and sing songs like ‘Ging gang gooley’.”
Dad sometimes joined us in the footy and we played DONKEY, sharing turns to kick the ball across the road. Then Dad and I would go and pick up Mum from work if he had the car. I would always go with him because sometimes we took Lassie to the beach where she could run to her heart’s content, being off the lead. I would take my skim board so I could play in the shallows. I was improving but fell off it a lot. Getting the water right proved tricky, plus Lassie would chase me and try to jump on it, too. Other times we would go shopping if Dad had forgotten something.
The weather was milder now and I wasn’t hot and sweaty all the time. I was happy to have a shower every morning to wash away the stickiness. I had a fresh uniform every day. Oftentimes I would be bare chested once I got home and it was great feeling cooler. I was a bit self-conscious of my flabby chest and stomach but I didn’t mind around the house.
Mum and Dad had bought their bed and set themselves up in the bedroom next to the ensuite. I had the double bed which is better than the foam one. They have a walk-in robe, too, so they can spread out. I have a built-in wardrobe in my bedroom.
None of us had a bedside table so we each used a dining chair. The third bedroom was for visitors and Dad’s office, though Mum had a lot of paperwork spread out on the floor and all our suitcases were in the cupboard. There were two more cupboards with shelving in the hallways and Dad had managed to spread his papers and wrapping paper and spare books in both of them.
Dad has just given me a book called Don’t Look Now Book 1. He reviews books for Allen & Unwin then, after I’ve read the ones for my age group, he donates them to my school library. Sometimes he drops them off and other times I hand them in.
Book 1 is the first of a four-book series about taking risks and flying high. It’s written by Paul Jennings and illustrated by Andrew Weldon. This is what Allen &Unwin says about the book.
The other kids don’t see things the same way as me. I spend a lot of time imagining things. I just don’t get it. Inside my head I am not the same as other kids.
Ricky is an ordinary boy, who dreams of being famous. And he has a secret that might just help him realise his dream. Because Ricky can fly. Truly. He can really fly. But there’s a hitch. He can only fly when absolutely no one is looking. If a person, an animal or a bird sees him while he’s flying, he will fall out of the sky and almost certainly die. But Ricky is desperate. Will he risk flying in public, just for a shot at fame?
I finished Don’t Look Now in two sessions and can’t wait for Dad to review Book 2. I was really transported away. Where would I like to fly? Would I be like Superman who didn’t want people to know how he changed from Clark Kent? What if I wanted to do someone a good turn but couldn’t because they would see me? I don’t know if I have ever done someone a good turn without letting them know. I know Johnny has done me a good turn by playing DONKEY with me when he had a new computer game to play. Did I ever do him a good turn? I don’t remember and that’s really sad.
“Dad, have you ever done someone a good turn?” I asked.
“A few times. Though what is your definition of a good turn? Is it when no one knows you’ve done it?” he said.
“I guess. I was trying to think of when I helped someone out or did something when I wanted to do something else.”
“You’re right. Sometimes the person doesn’t know you’ve done them a good turn and they don’t thank you. A thank you is appreciated when you’ve done something big. I’m sure you’ll think of something, like letting someone into a room first,” he said.
“Yes, I’ve done that. Thanks Dad.”
Of course, that night I dreamed of skimming along the roads to school, then into town. I travelled along the footpaths and when a car came along, I landed easily and walked until the Old Broome Road was deserted.
Even though it was the middle of the night, there were lots of people around and it was quite bright. I zoomed up to the shores of Roebuck Bay where there were no lights. But now I needed to go higher to avoid the trees and the mangroves.
I went beyond the shore but high enough so that a crocodile couldn’t grab me. And that’s when I nearly came unstuck. A plane was heading towards me and I needed to be lower as the people on the plane would see me and I would fall.
I woke up as I fell into the mangroves because I had frightened a bird.
16 A Tennis Lesson and a Trip.
My tennis lesson this week was very hard. I learnt how to grip the racquet for a backhand stroke. We practiced changing from forehand to backhand, and then we had to hit the ball both ways, five times each. My coach told us to leave plenty of space between ourselves so we didn’t hit each other.
But someone hit me with a ball. It bounced off my head and I fell down. I was alright but it scared my coach.
I was okay with the forehand but not the backhand. My coach came over as she could see I was having trouble.
“Your wrist hasn’t developed enough yet to have sufficient strength, so don’t worry. Just do the best you can. Do you have one of those stress balls at home? If not, get one and work on it every moment you can. Your wrist will slowly build in strength and later you can use your left hand to help, like the professionals do when they use a double-handed backhand. “
All too soon the lesson was over. My coach suggested to Dad that I use a wall or a tennis ball on a string. Of course, I needed a racquet.
“His right wrist is rather weak and he needs to strengthen it to enjoy playing tennis. I suggested a stress ball as well,” said my coach.
“We can go to the Red Dot shop on the way home,” Dad said.
“Maybe they’ll have a tennis ball on a string and a cheap racquet?” I suggested.
“Let’s see, shall we,” said Dad.
We didn’t find a practice tennis ball so Dad tried the Sportspower shop the next day. He found exactly what he was looking for by Slazenger with extra balls also on sale. I was set and we could practice together.