Jim stood in front of Miss Neville. After school was over she’d called him into the office and now she was staring at him intently. This made him nervous; not that he’d done anything amiss, or at least not that she could know about. Unless she’d heard about that incident with the billycart and old Mrs Beattie.

‘I suppose you’re wondering why you’re here.’

Nodding, he looked down at his shoes. In spite of the polishing he’d given them that morning – a polishing forced upon him by his mother – they were scuffed. They felt tight too; he’d need new shoes before the year was out.

‘I received an interesting letter today.’

Jim glanced quickly at her. Just then the telephone rang. While she dealt with it – something dull about the new curriculum – he returned to contemplating his shoes.

After some time she put down the phone. ‘Sit down.’ She gestured towards the chair next to her desk.

Taking a deep breath, he sat. His bare knees bumped against the desk and he edged the chair back a few inches. The chair legs scraped across the floor but she didn’t seem to mind.

‘The letter had some wonderful news.’ Miss Neville’s tone was nicer than he’d ever heard before. ‘I’m so very proud of you. You’ve got in. You’ve got the scholarship.’

How could this be? There must be some mistake. He’d already decided he wasn’t going to get in.

‘Are you sure?’

She laughed. ‘Yes, absolutely.’

So it was true and, for an instant, he wanted to jump for joy. He’d beaten those other boys; hundreds of other boys. Boys from the Stambroke Preparatory School, boys from all over the state who’d sat the exam. He must be brighter than he’d thought and he glowed with satisfaction, but this lasted only for a moment, and then doubts began to nibble around the edges of his elation.

Maybe all those other boys were just not as bright as he’d thought they were, and the fact that he’d beaten them therefore meant very little. He wasn’t really all that clever anyway, there were lots of things he couldn’t understand and he began to feel quite daunted by the path lying ahead. He’d have so much to live up to and that would mean he’d have to work harder than he did now. In fact, he barely worked at all. The schoolwork had all been far too easy, but things would be different at Stambroke, there’d be much more competition. What if this exam success was just because he’d had one lucky day? When you tossed a dice sometimes it fell the way you wanted it to and sometimes it didn’t. If the only reason he’d got in was good luck, he’d have to allow for bad luck in the future. It was all so risky and he’d have to prove himself by continuing to do well. The thought of failure made his knees weaken. Not only was there that fear, but he’d have to leave Jingera and his family too. That would be hard; he loved it here, at least for most of the time. Sometimes, though, Jingera seemed so awfully small. Increasingly, ever since his trip to Sydney, he’d felt that. It had made him unsettled, although only for some of the time. Most of the time he avoided thinking about it.

He would have to say something to Miss Neville; she was staring at him with a big grin on her face. ‘G-g-good,’ he stammered at last.

Now a cold feeling began to creep up his bare legs and spread through his whole body, so that he shivered slightly in spite of the warmth of the afternoon.

‘Aren’t you pleased? Perhaps it’s just too big a shock for you. It’ll take time to absorb. It’s a tremendous achievement, you know. This is the first time ever that a child from this area has won such a distinction.’

‘Very pleased,’ he muttered, reminding himself again of Miss Neville’s kindness in organising the entire thing, even though she’d got it wrong in referring to him as a child. He was a boy, and one who would soon be in secondary school. A tremendous achievement, she’d said, when all he’d done was something he happened to be good at, or that the others were bad at. ‘Dad will be pleased as well.’ That was an understatement. His father would be overjoyed. At that prospect his glow of pleasure returned.

‘And your mother too.’

This was unlikely. He couldn’t bear the thought of the rows that would follow once she heard the news. It would mean extra expense, she’d said so often enough. She’d begin snarling at Dad again, and Dad would be patient back, and she hated that.

Maybe he’d wait until teatime before breaking the news. His father would persuade his mother it was a good thing and then he’d go off to Sydney next February, to become a different person. One with a straw boater and a smart blazer, like those boarders he’d seen strolling about the perfect lawns on the day of the scholarship exam.

It didn’t bear thinking about any more. Later he’d return to it.

Afterwards, strolling down the hill below the school, he began to feel jubilation at his success and found himself skipping. Remembering that he was too old for this, he stopped and quickly glanced about. There was no one to see. Looking back, he caught sight of Miss Neville standing at the gate watching. Ten minutes ago, being seen skipping by her might have been embarrassing, but now it didn’t matter. She smiled and waved, and he waved back. Then he continued down the hill to meet Andy and some of the other boys at the lagoon. They were there already; he could see them clowning on the bridge while they waited.

A light wind was blowing in from the south and a few seagulls wheeled along the river, taking advantage of the direction of the breeze to speed their flight. Just before the bridge they turned north and their cries became barely audible above the thudding of the breakers. That would be him next February, heading north to Sydney and a brand new life. He didn’t want to think about this yet. Later, when he was in bed, he would think about it and get used to the idea.