The Midnight Pianist. Julia Osborne

leaves.

      The camaraderie of those old, easy-going days was slipping away. Often Sandra was lost in thought, yet she missed the times when it had been a simple thing to jump on your bicycle, feel the pedal going down beneath your foot as you gathered speed, tyres whispering against tar.

      She pushed open the heavy wooden gate, soft-shoed down the path to the back door.

      ‘Where’ve you been?’ her mother asked.

      ‘Around.’

      ‘We’ve been waiting for you to come home. The Bank’s already closed. We’re going out this afternoon to the polocrosse at Denalbo.’

      ‘How come?’

      ‘Please don’t say “how come”, it’s common.’

      ‘Why, then? We’ve never bothered before.’

      ‘The girls at golf told me there’s a carnival this weekend. We thought it sounded a nice idea.’

      ‘Is Prue going?’

      ‘We’ll all go. Wouldn’t you like that?’

      ‘I s’pose so. I’ll miss Bandstand.’

      ‘I thought you’d be pleased as you like horses so much, but you don’t sound very interested. You’re always at a loose end on Saturdays.’

      ‘I know. But I won’t know anyone and ... Oh, forget it.’

      ‘Don’t be sharp with me, Sandy. Go and get ready.’

      Sandra climbed the stairs to her room. It was true. She was always at a loose end on Saturdays, no need to rub it in. It was just that the whole week went by with school, homework and piano and by the time the weekend arrived there ought to be something exciting to do. Maybe the polocrosse will be okay; there’ll be nice horses. Oh, why do I get so grumpy lately, Sandra cursed. I feel good one minute and the next I’m being awful. And then I feel mean and miserable. Why does Prue have everything so easy? Nothing worries her. If Sandra mentioned her frustrations to her mother, Angela could only offer dusty words to console her.

      – When you grow up. When you’re older.

      That was the answer to everything that wasn’t right. Why did parents throw that at you? Old enough ... I’m fourteen!

      She should have been happy about the polocrosse but instead she sat on the edge of her bed wondering how Nick would spend the afternoon. Her reflection caught her eye. How dejected she looked, slumped there all down in the mouth. Drawing back her shoulders she pasted on a smile and her reflection immediately looked more cheerful. Better leave it pasted there, or Mum’ll be after me to tell her what’s wrong. She’ll think it’s about my exam and the concert. That’s all she ever thinks about where I’m concerned.

      They packed the car with the afternoon tea basket, rugs, cushions and coats.

      ‘It could be cold,’ Angela said, ‘and if we stay for the dance—’

      ‘What dance, Mum?’ Sandra interrupted.

      ‘You didn’t give me a chance to finish telling you, there’s a bush dance in the hall after the game.’

      ‘Day-dreamer,’ Prue whispered.

      ‘A barbecue first, then the dance,’ her mother explained. ‘We know some people out that way and today’s so nice and sunny—’

      ‘And we’re staying for the dance?’

      ‘We thought that’d be good fun, and we don’t need to dress up, we can wear our woollies.’

      Maybe it wouldn’t be such a boring Saturday, after all!