Camel Bay Inc

• Kate Mani, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2011

It was one of those bright blue Tuesday mornings. Not a breath of wind dared to crease the glassy pool of water. Verity arrived first, hurriedly planting her easel in the middle of the grass before the sand and therefore securing the best spot on the Camel Bay foreshore. It wasn’t long before the rest of the Inc pushed their way in and wasted no time with greetings. Today was no day for socialising, today was a race to see who could capture this perfect moment first. Their brushes danced feverishly across their blank canvases in silence. A fear of moving suddenly and shattering the perfect oasis laced their every breath.

Outside the Inc you’d be forgiven for believing this sociable group of ladies were friends. They were the type who made chicken noodle soup if someone was unwell, and threw goodbye parties if someone was going away. That changed when they reached the beach every Tuesday at 7:45 am. The competitive edge that spurs on grand slam tennis players and professional basket-ballers is nothing compared to the blood thirsty determination that each Inc member had as they battled it out for best painter.

About ten minutes of serious stroking had passed when they heard it. It started off as a low grumbling sound coming towards them. It gradually became louder, like a pesky mosquito buzzing annoyingly close to one's ear. The ladies resisted the urge to investigate the source of the sound, like one struggling to not scratch their itchy nose. Eventually the curiosity got too much for Linda, who sneaked a glance over her shoulder...and screamed! Hurtling towards the grass was an ocean blue automobile, a shrieking young woman inside trying desperately to stop the out of control car! The Inc women were forced to turn around and took a moment to register the bizarre scene. Then, releasing they were at risk, they scrambled out of the car’s way. Just as the car was about to collide with Joan’s easel, it jerked to a halt with such force that the driver was sent straight into the dashboard and her white hat flew straight into the water. It was at that moment the wind suddenly picked up and the hat was sent dancing along the water.

“Oh bouncing buttercups!” the driver yelled. She sprinted out of the car to the water’s edge, a brand new easel and paints falling carelessly out of her arms. She ran straight into the water, pouncing on the hat and splashing spectacularly!

She immerged, dripping, minutes later. Her blond hair which had been styled in a complicated up-do hung limply at her shoulders. By the time she reached the Inc, they wore raised eyebrows and open mouths.

“Well Good Morning! My name is Blanche Halliday, I’m new to Camel Bay. I heard about this painting group and thought it’d be a nice way to get to know the community!” She spoke in a thick, southern American drawl.

“And who did you hear that from?” Verity’s tone reeked of venom.

Normally, fierce competition separated Inc members from even looking at each other at 7:45 on a Tuesday, but on this occasion they all united in agreement. This newcomer, disturber of the peace, was not welcome!