Ben Rice - Pobby and Dingan

I said: “Dad, what the hell are you doing? You know all that Pobby and Dingan stuff’s just horseshit! She’ll never grow out of it if you talk like that!”

And Dad answered, looking at his feet: “No, Ashmol. I think I’ve been unfair on Pobby and Dingan. I think that they do exist after all! I just haven’t, like, recognized it until now.” He grinned and rubbed his hands together and disappeared into the bathroom to run the taps while Kellyanne stood there glowing with pride and flashing me a smile from the doorway which made me feel sick. I looked at Mum, but she had a contented look on her face and started setting about making tea and cookies. I sat at the table feeling like someone had marooned me on a desert island.

Well, I don’t like thinking about it, but from that moment on my dad became a total dag. Now when he got up in the morning and woke up Kellyanne for school he would wake up Pobby and Dingan too. Yes, he would. He started talking to them like they was real people. And he wasted all kinds of money on buying them birthday presents too — good money that could have gone into a better generator if you ask me. Oh, yes, Dad had himself some fun by going along with the Pobby and Dingan thing. One time he even took Kellyanne, Pobby and Dingan out to the Bore Baths in the ute. When I ran out to join them with my towel around my shoulders, my dad shouted: “Sorry, son. Can’t take you today, Ashmol. Not enough room with Pobby and Dingan in here.” He waved out of the window with a big smile on his face and drove off thinking he was a funny kind of bloke. Sometimes Mum would ask him to come and help with the washing up. But no! Dad was helping Pobby and Dingan get dressed or helping them with their homework. Kellyanne loved it. But Mum went a bit strange. I don’t think she could decide if she was angry or pleased that Dad had become mates with Pobby and Dingan. And I think even Kellyanne began to realize pretty soon that Dad was only doing it to get back at Mum for having a go at him or something. He wasn’t a very subtle sort of bloke, my dad, when it came down to it. He drank too much for a start and spent too much time underground in the dark.

When Dad left for the claim one morning he volunteered to take Pobby and Dingan with him to get some exercise while Kellyanne was at school. He was trying to separate her from them, I suppose, now I think about it. Kellyanne’s teachers, you see, had complained that she wasn’t concentrating in class and was always talking to herself and hugging the air. Well, I got to admit it was a funny sight seeing my dad heading out holding hands with two invisible people. Kellyanne watched him, making sure he helped them up into the cabin of the ute, and then Dad started the car up and waved out of the window and made out he was fastening Pobby and Dingan’s seat belts.

“Don’t worry, princess!” he shouted. “I’ll look after them while you’re at school and make sure they don’t get up to no mischief. Won’t I, Pobby? Won’t I, Dingan?”

I was getting a bit worried. My dad was turning into a poof. And the neighbours were talking about him walking alone and talking to himself and things like that. They said he was even drunker than normal.

That same night Mum still wasn’t back from work and Dad had swallowed a few beers too many, shall we say. He was singing “Heartbreak Hotel,” and doing a sort of Elvis dance. I knew he had forgotten to bring back Pobby and Dingan from the claim, but I didn’t say a word. I wanted to see what Kellyanne would have to say about it, so I just sat there playing on my Super Mario with its flat batteries, hoping Kellyanne would come in from the kitchen and get all ratty. Dad sat down and started talking about how he had been up at the puddling dam doing a bit of agitating. He told me that today Old Sid the Grouch had found traces of colour within twenty metres of his claim. I said: “Do your Elvis dance again, Dad, it’s really cool.” Of course it wasn’t cool at all, but I wanted to keep him from thinking about his day. He might have remembered about Pobby and Dingan in the nick of time. Luckily he didn’t and Kellyanne came rushing in from the kitchen, where she was having a go at cooking yellowbelly from Mum’s instructions.

“Dad. Where’s Pobby and Dingan? Where are they?” she cried, all anxious.

“Now you’re in for it, Dad,” I said. “Better make something up quick.”

Dad’s face suddenly flushed all kinds of colours. He swivelled around and spilt some beer on the floor. “Hi, princess! Relax now, darl. Pobby and Dingan’s right here sittin’ on the couch next to Ashmol.”

Kellyanne looked over at the couch. “No they’re not, Dad,” she said. “They hate Ashmol. Where are they really?”

“Oh no, that’s it,” said my dad, “I completely forgot. They’re out in the back yard watering the plants.”

Kellyanne ran outside. She came back looking pale. “Dad, you forgot all about Pobby and Dingan, didn’t you? You’ve lost them, haven’t you?”

“No, princess,” said my dad. “Calm down, sweetheart. They were in the ute with me when I came back.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Kellyanne, tears growing out of her eyes. “I want you to take me out to the claim to look for them right now.” That was my sister! She was mad as a cut snake.

“Christ, Kellyanne!” I said. “Grow up, girl!”

Dad looked a bit desperate. “Aw, princess, come on, now. I’m busy having a brew and a chat with Ashmol. Are you sure your little friends aren’t here?”

“Positive,” said Kellyanne, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

And so Dad couldn’t do nothing except take Kellyanne out to the claim called Wyoming, where he had his drives.

“You come too, Ashmol,” Dad said.

“No thanks,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. “Count me out. No bloody way is Ashmol Williamson going looking for two non-existent things.”

But in the end I went along all the same, making sure I did lots of tutting and shaking my head.

When we arrived at the claim the two of them walked around calling out: “Pobby! Dingan! P-P-P-Pobbbbby! Where are you?” I sat firm on a mullock heap and opened up a can of Mello Yello. I knew what my dad was thinking. He was thinking that any minute now Kellyanne was going to suddenly imagine she had found her imaginary friends and start beaming all over her face. But she didn’t. She kept calling out and looking real worried. She ran around the four corners of the claim looking from side to side. Pobby and Dingan were nowhere to be seen, she said. And who was going to argue with her? Dad wasn’t. And I was having shit-all to do with it.

They looked behind the mullock heaps and they looked in the old Millard caravan, where we used to live when we first came out to the Ridge, and they looked behind the mining machinery and behind a clump of leopard gums. And I’ll bet all the time my dad was thinking: “I must be going hokey cokey. If the other miners could see me now!” Dad knew pretty darn well, you see, that only Kellyanne was going to find Pobby and Dingan. He would just have to wait until she did. Or maybe he was secretly hoping that this was Kellyanne’s little way of putting her imaginary friends behind her for good. Anyway, he kept throwing desperate glances my way and shouting over: “Come on, Ashmol, lend a frigging hand, will you?” But I wasn’t budging, and so eventually Dad sat down exhausted by the hoist where the huge blower was curled up like a snake and just called out, “Pobby! Dingan! Listen! You two! I’m sorry I didn’t look after you proper! I’m sorry I left you out here! I’ve got some lollies in my pocket if you want some!” That was a fat lie. He never had any lollies.