Ten Pound Pom by Niall Griffiths Read Free Book Online Page B

July 20th 2007. The Saints were a furious punk band who made a big impact in the late 70s with their singles ‘I’m Stranded’ and ‘This Perfect Day’. 

BETWEEN
THEN
    The boy’s father is making alterations to the family car, a big, spacious, white Holden station wagon. The boy watches. His dad drills holes in the car’s superstructure, just above the windows, and threads curtain-runners through them then clambers into the car and attaches curtains to the runners. He carefully cuts a large foam mattress to shape, lowers the back seats down, and slides the mattress in. Straps cases to the roof, full of clothes and utensils and personal effects. Stores food and medicines in the car. The effective space-management makes an impression on the boy.
    –Is it a long way, Dad?
    –A very long way. Miles and miles and miles. Across mountains and a great big desert.
    –How long will it take us?
    –About ten years.
    –Honest?
    –I’m messing. About ten days.
    The car has become a little house that can move. The tailgate is up and the boy can see inside and it looks cosy and secretive and snug with the mattress and the blankets and the toys. He’s excited, the boy, excited about the adventure ahead and the fact that he’s leaving Brisbane. He’s grown to dislike Brisbane. Wants to leave it behind. Maybe Perth will be better. And maybe on the journey between the two cities there’ll be kangaroos and koalas and fun and excitement.
    –Can we go to Currumbin before we go, Dad?
    –Haven’t got time, son. We’re leaving tomorrow.
    –Can we go on the way?
    –We’ll see.
    –I like Currumbin.
    –I know you do. We’ll see.
    It’s still dark when the family get up in the bare house. The car, the travelling home, waits outside. It’s very early morning, May 1st, 1976, although by the time the final preparations have been made it’s fifteen minutes past midday when they leave Brisbane. The boy’s in the back with his two siblings although there’s another one on the way, in their mum’s belly, new human growing, unknown at that point to everyone.
NOW
    It’s a Britz van, distinguishable by the company logo of the colourful lizard stencilled on the side door. And the big ‘BRITZ’ above the side window. We pick it up at the depot outside thecity, by the airport, on 11th June 2007. It’s got a fridge and a stove and a microwave and a sink and a table and two beds and some overhead storage which can be turned into another sleeping space for a child or a very small adult. It’s a bank holiday in Oz, not that that makes any difference to anything, except the machine in the office spits out my credit card.
    –Aw Jeez, why? There’s loads of money on that.
    –You’ll have to ring their central office.
    –Now? Will they be open? It’s a bank holiday.
    The guy leads me into an office and shows me the phone. I call the number on the card and press for several options several times and I’m just about to boil over when a human voice asks me if they can help. I explain the problem. Seems the card was refused because it’s a large amount of money to put on it in one go but they’ll clear it and in about ten minutes I can go ahead and make the transaction. I go back to the reception area, explain the situation.
    –Righto. We’ll give it another go in a few minutes. In the meantime, what type of insurance are you needing?
    –What types are there?
    And he lists many. I switch off. I’m bored to tears and restless because I want to be off, on the journey, away from bloody Brisbane. Want the Gold Coast – that Southend in the sun – to be miles behind me. The trip ahead is huge and I want to get it under way but the guy’s going on about various types of cover and telling us that we need bedding and a whole load of other things and I’m feeling slightly sick at the thought of what this is going to cost. Like buying a house, this; all these hidden extras. You need this and this and this and everything costs.