Swimming on Dry Land Read Online Free Page A

Eddie said to Dad, nearly jumping out of his chair with excitement. ‘You can check out the national papers, show them your articles, boost yourself up a bit.’ Uncle Eddie reminded me of next-door’s dog, the one that always tried to sniff your knickers.
    â€˜Leave it, Eddie,’ Dad said, putting on a weak smile. ‘We don’t all want what you have.’
    Mum said something underneath her breath and then gulped down the rest of her drink. She had a lipstick smudge on her front tooth but I didn’t bother telling her.
    â€˜Course not. I’d just love you to see it. Think about it. That’s all I’m asking. How’s Terry doing? Must call in while I’m here.’
    Terry was our next-door neighbour who owned the knicker-sniffing dog. He was pretty old and smelly, but he always gave us Fry’s chocolate mint bars, and there was a giant snow globe on his windowsill that he’d let you shake if you agreed to comb his hair. Georgie liked the globe. She never combed Terry’s hair though; it was always me who had to do that.
    â€˜Is it like Disneyland?’ Georgie asked. We were all amazed because Georgie didn’t speak normally, not in public. She’d talk to me if we were on our own, or to Mum and Dad, if she wanted something, but I’d never heard her say anything when we were out. Most people thought she was deaf and dumb. Uncle Eddie didn’t even blink.
    â€˜Akarula? You could say that.’ And then he went on about the town and the people and what they did and how many houses he had and how much we’d like the weather. He made everything sound so important. I imagined Australia to be black and white, like a newspaper: not many pictures, and that small neat print. Dad’s stories were always interesting.
    Georgie stopped listening to Uncle Eddie. Because she was twisting the buttons on her cardigan, Mum got cross and slapped her hand away; then she gave Georgie her gold wedding ring to play with so that Georgie wouldn’t cry.
    I asked Uncle Eddie what kinds of animals there were in Akarula. He gave me a whole list. Dad knew even more. I’d heard of kangaroos and wallabies. In my notebook I did a few sketches and wrote down most of the names while I was waiting for my main course.
    The food was served on plates the size of car wheels, and there wasn’t much of it. Georgie finished hers, which was the first time she’d ever finished a plate of food. She was in a great mood. We played ‘I Spy’ at the table; I won and she didn’t even try to win back. Only at the end, when the rest of us were eating our chocolate mousse, she slid off her chair and started doing her floor dance, rubbing her legs against the carpet, getting fluff all over her velvet skirt. That’s when Mum stood up and said it was time to go home. I had to look after Georgie until the waiter brought the bill. It came on a saucer with some chocolates, which Mum stuffed in her handbag. Dad took the bill and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket.
    Uncle Eddie said, ‘This is my shout, Mike,’ but Dad insisted. He said, ‘You don’t have to pay for everything.’
    Mum got all cockadoodled. ‘You can’t afford this,’ she said to Dad. ‘That’s more than a week’s wages.’ The waiter took Dad’s card and brought it back on the same saucer, only there were no chocolates this time. Uncle Eddie left a £10 note under the sugar bowl. He tried to slip Dad some money on the way out, but Dad got cross, so Uncle Eddie held the door open for him instead.
    Georgie let Uncle Eddie squeeze her hand on the way home while we were stopped at the traffic lights. He called her his Strawberry Girl, probably because her favourite fruit is strawberries, or at least one of her favourite fruits; she likes peaches too, but only if the skins are peeled off.
    â€˜You’re privileged,’ Mum said.
    â€˜She’s right