She retrieved her key and entered Kurt’s room. The cabinet stood beside his desk in the corner. She slid the key into the lock but, as she’d expected, it wouldn’t turn. She pulled it out then tried again, jiggling it carefully in case the teeth hadn’t engaged.
With a soft click, the lock released.
Her chest tightened. Why hadn’t she tried this before?
The cabinet rattled as she drew out the top drawer. It was a mess—Kurt clearly wasn’t organised. Papers had been shoved, overflowing, into torn manila folders. When she eased one out, a shower of scrunched receipts spilled to the floor like autumn leaves. Aghast, she dropped onto hands and knees, gathering them up. Surely there’d been no order to the way they’d been crammed in—hopefully Kurt wouldn’t notice.
At his desk, she shuffled through the receipts. They were ordinary purchases he had made for the shop, all essential for tax. She replaced the file and pulled out another. This one contained a ledger with records of income. The figures weren’t great, but they were similar to her regular mental calculations, and they showed what she already knew: that Saturdays and Sundays were by far their best days, thanks to the tourists and Mum’s Night Off. They weren’t getting rich; it wasn’t easy to make a fortune out of fish and chips and hamburgers.
She slipped the file back in the drawer and wondered if she should stop her search. It was wrong to go through Kurt’s papers without his permission. But shouldn’t she have the right now she was eighteen? Feeling justified again, she drew out the next file, which contained the monthly rental payments. She scanned the numbers, and her stomach clenched in surprise. Their income covered the rent, but the profits were slim. How had they managed to keep afloat? And how had Kurt bought the ute and the boat, which he had ordered last week?
Beneath the shop rental documents, she found another rental agreement for an address in Hobart, and sweat pricked her armpits. Kurt must have access to another property he’d kept secret from her. Was that where he stayed when he went to the city? He’d always said he rented a room in a cheap hotel. She thought of Wendy’s comments, months ago, about Kurt keeping everything for himself. All these documents were in his name, Kurt Muller—no mention of his sister Mikaela.
She returned the file to the drawer and removed another folder that contained printed banking statements. She could see the monthly rent going out to both properties, and also regular payments to their suppliers, like Coca-Cola and the supermarket in Hobart where Kurt made purchases for the shop. She could see his weekly cash deposits from the till, and the cash card and EFTPOS income. But there was also a significant monthly deposit coming in from another bank: two thousand dollars a month. Miki was perplexed. After the fire, when Kurt had taken out the lease on this shop, he’d said there was nothing left over. So where was this extra money coming from? It must be tied up with his business interests in Hobart—and perhaps this second rental property was part of that too. Miki felt a twinge of annoyance. Wasn’t it time Kurt started sharing information about these things with her? Wasn’t she entitled to know?
Agitated and uneasy, she flicked through the rest of the cabinet, but there was nothing of interest. More receipts for items purchased. Warranties and instruction manuals for appliances.
Then she searched each drawer for her books—but they weren’t there. Neither was Father’s black leather folder.
Carefully, Miki replaced everything and locked the cabinet. She needed time to think and work out what to do. She needed to get outside in the air.
In the kitchen, she tugged the nail from the sill and opened the window, then lowered the milk crate and leaped out into the lane where the spring wind whipped her ponytail and the air smelled of cut grass.
Wound tight, she tramped the side streets, stewing over Kurt’s files. He’d always said he had her best interests at heart, but the evidence indicated she didn’t figure in his intentions at all. She should have seen it before. The new ute and boat were recent examples of his self-indulgence, while he’d never bought anything for her. And the farm she’d dreamed of—the replacement for their loss—was never going to happen. She was an irrelevant bystander. An unpaid worker in his shop, with no rights. She was powerless.
Misery spilled over her. She couldn’t live in Kurt’s cave anymore. Couldn’t live with being excluded from everything. But what could she do? She ought to confront him about those files, but she couldn’t—he would shout her down—which meant she had no recourse other than to leave. But he would never let her go. And where would she flee, even if she could? She had nothing.
On autopilot, she walked into the visitor centre where Geraldine smiled in welcome from behind the information desk. ‘Hello, stranger. Where have you been?’
Now was the moment Miki should share everything with this kind, friendly woman, but the habit of keeping it all locked inside was too strong. She tied down her shutters and returned the smile. ‘It’s been hectic at the shop. Kurt keeps me busy.’
‘Lucky the locals are hungry,’ Geraldine jested. ‘Soon you’ll be rich.’
Miki smiled as if sharing the joke, but the irony of Geraldine’s comment was a knife in her chest.
‘How did you go with The Old Man and the Sea?’ Geraldine asked. ‘It feels like I gave it to you ages ago—shows how long it is since I’ve seen you.’
‘I loved it. But I’ve forgotten to bring it today. I’ll give it back next time I see you.’ Miki was relieved Geraldine’s book was safely hidden under the jumpers in her wardrobe. Pity she hadn’t hidden her other books too, but Kurt would have noticed.
‘Hemingway’s a great writer, isn’t he?’ Geraldine was saying. ‘One of the best. His work is deceptively simple, but everything is there. That book won him the Nobel Prize for Literature, you know. Only one hundred pages but it’s magnificent. I’ll bet it didn’t take you long to get through it.’
‘Not long. And I read it more than once.’
‘Fabulous!’ Geraldine’s eyes were squirrel-bright. ‘Tell me how it made you feel.’ She looked hopeful, as if expecting the book to chisel open some secret passage in Miki from which everything would gush out.
And it almost happened. Miki was hovering on the brink of confiding in Geraldine. She felt as if an ocean was trapped in her chest, surging to escape, but she couldn’t let go. ‘It’s about freedom,’ she managed.
Geraldine nodded encouragingly. ‘The fish is fighting for freedom, and the old man is fighting for his reputation as a fisherman—which is a kind of freedom too, isn’t it? Freedom is worth fighting for. It’s being able to choose what you think. Not being told there’s only one way.’
Miki knew Geraldine was referring to Kurt. But Geraldine didn’t know the barriers Miki faced. She couldn’t know how completely Kurt controlled everything.
‘The book is about power too,’ Geraldine went on. ‘The power shifts between the fish and the old man and back again. Does anyone win?’
‘The old man beats the fish in the end,’ Miki said, gaining momentum now she was on safer ground.
‘But is he proud of that?’
‘He is, until the sharks ruin it.’
‘And how does the old man feel about the fish?’
‘He loves and respects it. And he admires the fish’s will to fight and live. He loves its strength and beauty.’
Geraldine sat back in her chair, the corners of her eyes creasing into half-moons. ‘So perhaps Hemingway is saying that you can love something, and respect it, but still wish to be free. Maybe he’s saying you can love someone, and not agree with them. That it’s okay to be yourself.’
Miki’s breath locked in her throat.
‘Kurt keeps you under a tight rein, doesn’t he?’ Geraldine said. ‘I know he cares about you because you’re his sister. But you need more freedom.’
Miki felt she might break. Geraldine wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know. She began to retreat, stepping towards the door.
Geraldine reached under the counter and
called after her. ‘I have another book for you.’
But Miki felt the walls collapsing around her. She had to get out. She couldn’t breathe. ‘Thank you, but I can’t take it today.’
As she fled through the door, the last thing she saw was Geraldine’s soft face, wrought with sympathy.
38
When Max came home, everyone in the street was asking about his three days in hospital. ‘How was it?’ ‘Were the nurses nice to you?’ ‘Did you eat lots of ice-cream?’
He’d had a pretty good time and would have stayed longer if he could. The food was the best! Three courses for every meal in so many little containers. Rice Bubbles in a box for breakfast. Meat and mashed potatoes for lunch. Ice-cream and jelly. He’d been too sick to enjoy it at first. He’d had a drip in his arm, an oxygen monitor on his finger, and a nurse to help him go to the loo. But once he began to feel better, he ate everything and watched TV all the time and nobody stopped him. It was better than home. The nurses were kind, and they gave him snacks and unlimited milk.
Back at home everyone was acting strange. Suzie and Rosie were the only normal ones. Max had expected Mum and Dad to be furious about all the stealing, but Dad hadn’t said anything, and Mum was being too friendly. ‘Are you all right, Max?’ she kept saying. ‘Do you need anything?’ ‘Are you hungry?’ ‘It’s so good to have you back.’ She was always giving him chocolate and hugs. He wished she would either leave him alone or tell him everything was okay.
He was terrified about going back to school, but it worked out all right. The teachers made a fuss of him, saying it was a miracle he was alive.
Jaden and Max had to go see the principal, Mr Merrick, in his office. Max sat in the corner looking at the floor while the principal made Jaden say sorry. It sounded fake. But when Mr Merrick told Max to look up, he saw Jaden was scared. Then Mr Merrick told Jaden to get out—just like that. When Jaden was gone, Mr Merrick said, ‘Jaden’s not allowed anywhere near you, Max, do you understand? And he’s not to speak to you. Not any time. You’re safe now, son.’
Max nodded. He wanted to tell the principal he wasn’t his son, but decided not to. Mr Merrick must be confused.
At recess Max hung out on his own. He sat on a bench and ate the chocolate Mum had put in his lunchbox. Jaden and Callum kept away, but they weren’t the only ones. Everyone kept away. Did that mean Max didn’t have friends? Jaden stared at him from across the playground, and Max’s heart started thumping. Then Jaden looked away. He didn’t smirk or poke out his tongue. He didn’t do anything.
Lily Moon came over with her halo of blonde hair. She sat down beside Max, and he didn’t know what to say so he gave her a piece of chocolate. ‘Can I see your bruises?’ Lily asked. ‘Mum said Jaden was kicking you.’
Max pulled up his trousers and showed her. The bruises were fading.
‘Jaden’s a fuckwit,’ Lily said. ‘Mum says he made you steal stuff and smoke cigarettes. Is it true?’
Max nodded.
‘If he comes after you again, let me know and I’ll punch him.’
Max was impressed. He’d never talked much to Lily before, but now she might be his friend.
‘I heard a dog saved you,’ she said.
Max shook his head. ‘We saved each other. We kept each other warm.’
‘Mum said you hid at the tip. Were you going to live there?’
‘No, I was going up to the mountains.’
‘Will you run away again? If you do, I’ll come with you.’
‘Not for a while.’ He was pleased she had offered. ‘But when I do, you can come.’
The school bell rang; it was time to go in. Max picked up his lunchbox and started back alone to his classroom. But Lily Moon grabbed his hand and walked with him.
Just outside the classroom, she said, ‘Are you going to the rally on Sunday?’
‘I suppose so.’ He’d forgotten about that.
‘Good.’ She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
Mum had given Max some money to spend at the takeaway on the way home, but he was anxious about going because he hadn’t seen Miki since everything had come out in the open. Mum said Miki had been really nice, and he should be grateful she was such a kind person. All the same, when Max entered the shop, he stood back from the counter, feeling awkward, and let the other kids crowd forward first to buy lollies.
Miki was serving alone, and when she saw him, she smiled. ‘Hey, Max. Are you okay? I was worried about you.’
Max dropped his head, glad the shop was empty now. ‘I’m really sorry for nicking stuff.’
Miki nodded. ‘I know Jaden put you up to it. And I know you’re not a thief, so I’m sure you won’t do it again. Kurt might find out next time … and we don’t want that.’
No, Max didn’t want that at all. Kurt was as scary as jail.
But the apology was over with, and he was ready to move on. ‘Can I have a Mars bar?’ he asked, grabbing one. Then he thought twice about it and placed the chocolate back on the shelf. He opened his palm and left Mum’s scrunched five-dollar note on the counter. ‘Actually, I don’t need anything. But you can keep this. I’m going to pay for all the things I’ve stolen.’
Miki smiled. ‘How’s Bonnie going?’ she asked. ‘All recovered from her adventure?’
39
A week later, on a sunny spring Tuesday, Miki tidied herself in front of the mirror and pulled her hair back in a ponytail. She needed to compose herself because today Leon was taking her to see her devils at the sanctuary, and she was almost erupting with enthusiasm. Three hours in a car! The furthest she had ever been. Three hours of talking to Leon. She studied herself in the mirror, rearranging her features until she looked normal. Calming herself wasn’t easy. It required capping internal wells and damming psychological rivers, but she knew she had the strength to do it. Wasn’t this something she did every day?
She left through the back window then strode down the lane. Moving fast gave her confidence. It was time to embrace the day. Kurt wasn’t the only one who had secrets—this was an adventure beyond his control.
She met Leon in the car park behind the visitor centre, and they took off towards Hobart in the big white Toyota.
‘How are you?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows.
‘I’m good. How’s Max?’
‘I think things are better now they’ve sorted out Jaden.’
‘Max still looks pale. It was lucky you found him.’
‘Bonnie’s the real hero,’ Leon said. ‘Who’d have thought my pup could be so useful!’
Miki hadn’t visited the city since Father lost his fingers. Back then, Hobart had been exhausting and frightening, but this time she was alight with excitement. Eleven years had passed, and so much had changed. She had changed too.
She had forgotten how the mountain frowned over the town, the way tall buildings lined the streets. Home was so quiet in comparison, so small. Maybe one day, she would visit here by herself and walk all these streets. Maybe she could go up on the mountain, and see the city spread out in front of her. She tried to take everything in as Leon navigated the busy streets: a church, a stone-walled park, old buildings, rows of shops, occasional glimpses of the sea.
Soon they were out of the city and heading north. Leon drove fast, sometimes breaking speed limits. Miki knew he was worried about getting her home before Kurt, but for once she didn’t care—she was doing this for herself.
When they pulled up at the sanctuary car park beneath towering trees, Miki slid out into cool air that was tangy with the aroma of eucalyptus. In the shop, her eyes grasped everything, forcing it into her memory. People trying on T-shirts. Children nagging parents to buy things, just like in the takeaway.
Leon told the receptionist they’d come to see Dale, and she smiled and made a phone call. Dale soon appeared, striding into the office and reaching to shake Miki’s hand. ‘Hey, Miki. I’m so glad you’ve come.’ His smile widened as she accepted his hand. Then the two men greeted each other, rel
axed and familiar. Miki could see they were friends, and she was pleased for Leon.
Dale led them through the sanctuary to the breeding pens, which had waist-high corrugated-iron fences and had been erected beneath gum trees to make the most of the shade. They stopped at a pen and looked in. It was large and grassy with strategically placed logs and ferns for shelter. A scrappy-looking devil was loping along a worn track around the boundary. He did one circuit without stopping, then another, round and round, eyes empty and fixed straight ahead. His behaviour made Miki uneasy, reminding her of how she felt staring out of the shop: the same blankness. He must be miserable, and this made her fearful. What if her devils were unhappy here?
She glanced at Dale and caught a flash of empathy in his eyes. ‘This is unusual,’ he said. ‘Most devils don’t do this kind of stereotypic behaviour. We try to make the enclosures safe and interesting, but he isn’t suited to captivity. We’re going to release him soon. Probably onto Maria Island. But he’s important genetic stock, so we need to breed him first. Maybe we’ll match him with your female.’
Miki watched the devil doing laps. Did he ever stop for a break? Maybe the laps eased the pain of boredom. How long had he been here? Did he remember how it felt to be free?
Another devil appeared from beneath the pile of logs, and the first devil stopped and hissed. The two faced each other, hunching and snarling. Now that the second devil had arrived, the first devil’s behaviour was more normal. Miki was relieved. Creatures weren’t meant to be isolated. These devils didn’t have a choice about being held captive, so she wanted them to be comfortable and contented, at least. It would be wonderful if they could be returned to the wild, but the disease was so prevalent that perhaps they could never be completely free. And maybe complete freedom wasn’t possible! She thought of her eagles, riding the updrafts above the forest. They were the freest creatures she knew, and yet in some ways they were captive too—tied to their nest tree and their young. People considered themselves free but they were also restricted by rules and commitments, the shackles of ambition. Maybe that was okay so long as you could exercise your free will. The devils couldn’t do this, but they were unable to fix their problems without the assistance of humans, so captivity seemed like the only solution. She smiled at the irony of humans trying to save devils, when the humans were the cause of their decline.
The Orchardist's Daughter Page 29
