Nine Letters Long

by J. C. Burke

  ‘He is,’ Evie says. ‘Although it took me a thousand years to realise.’

  ‘Sometimes the things right under your nose are the things you miss.’ Petrina takes her hands. ‘Come and have a look around. I’ve got some gorgeous new things.’

  ‘Look at these shoes!’ Evie picks up a pair of pointy-toed ballet shoes. ‘Wow.’

  ‘Original eighties,’ Petrina tells her. ‘I still can’t believe the eighties is classified as vintage. It makes me feel too old.’

  ‘They’re classic.’ Evie looks at the back of them. ‘Oh my god. They’re a 39. My size. I better try them on.’

  They sit on some stools while Evie unlaces her sneakers and slips the shoes on. Over at the mirror, she checks them out.

  ‘Do they fit?’ Petrina calls.

  ‘Perfectly.’

  ‘They’re very cute.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘You can have them for thirty. I know they’ll be going to a good home.’

  ‘Deal.’

  Petrina takes the slippers from Evie, wrapping them in her famous pink tissue paper.

  ‘Is it quiet or is it just me?’ Evie asks. ‘I’m not sure of anything today.’

  ‘It’s almost the end of the day.’

  ‘Is it?’ Evie realises she hasn’t even looked at her watch. Now she does and it says 3.45. ‘God! No wonder I’m hungry.’

  ‘Have you eaten?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’ve probably got low blood sugar. Try the new Turkish pizza van,’ Petrina points. ‘They are awesome. Go the spinach and cheese. They wouldn’t have packed up yet.’

  Petrina hands her the pink parcel containing her shoes. ‘Here we are.’

  ‘Thanks. I love them.’

  ‘Now, I hope it’s not that long till I see you again. I’ve thought a lot about you, you know.’

  Evie smiles. ‘I’ll be back soon. I might even bring someone for you to meet.’

  ‘Ooh, is it serious?’

  ‘I wish.’

  Petrina starts searching for something under the tissue paper. ‘Hang on, Evie. You can’t leave without taking one of my cards. I’ve just had them printed.’ She hands Evie a small square of pink cardboard.

  ‘At last, Petrina.’

  ‘It’s about time, I know. I couldn’t decide between the pink … Evie?’

  Evie sees it too – her fist wrapped around Petrina’s business card, screwing the pink cardboard into a tiny ball.

  ‘Evie? What are you –’

  ‘Business … card. I, I have …’ Evie drops the card and starts to run as Petrina’s voice rings in the distance. ‘Evie? Evie!’

  Around the stalls, past the Turkish pizza van, past the clowns on stilts, out the gates and down the road she flies. Up ahead she can see the bus to Randwick slowing down at the lights.

  Faster and faster her feet pick up their pace, pummelling the pavement with each stride. She throws herself through the closing door of the bus, just as it’s pulling away from the bus stop. The jerk of the acceleration suddenly throws her down the aisle.

  Evie grabs on to a pole and steadies herself. She looks around. It’s noisy and crowded. She tries to find composure but she can’t. Her senses are on high alert. There’s no switching them off. Every mouth on every face seems to snigger and whisper, ‘Nine letters long. His identity, his identity. Nine letters long.’

  Evie leans her forehead against the pole and tries to block out the noise. Instead, she listens to her breath while watching its vapour fog the metal pole. In, out, in, out. She counts each of them to herself. One, two, three, four.

  She needs to hang on. Hang on till she gets to Victoria’s.

  The door is barely open before Evie is saying, ‘What’s that man’s name? That man that came here with Nora. Inny or –’

  ‘Ingy?’ Victoria replies. Evie follows her to the kitchen.

  ‘Yeah, but what’s his real name? His business card. He gave me his …’

  Victoria hands her a glass of water. ‘Sit down, Evie. Take a few deep breaths and start again.’

  ‘His business card. Do you have his business card? I remember now I left it here that day. That day he was here.’

  ‘Yes, I remember too. I put it somewhere.’ Victoria goes to a drawer in the kitchen. ‘Go and wash your face, Evie. You’re redder than a beetroot. Settle down a bit. You’re talking ten to the dozen.’

  In the bathroom, Evie takes off her hat and splashes her face and hair with cool water. It drips and slides down the back of her neck, down the front of her chest. She leans towards the mirror, pushing the hair off her face. Her eyes are wide, her pupils as big as saucers.

  ‘I’ve found him,’ she says to the mirror. ‘His identity. I’ve got it, Caz.’

  Victoria is stuffing things back in the drawer.

  ‘Did you find it?’ Evie stands behind her. She can feel her heart thumping in her chest. ‘Have you?’

  ‘Yes, yes. Ioan P. Stanciu is his full name.’ She holds the business card out to Evie. ‘What is this all about, anyway?’

  ‘Hang on,’ Evie whispers. Out loud, she counts as her finger points to each letter in his name. ‘One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine,’ she pauses. ‘Twelve? No!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘No! No! There are only meant to be nine letters in his name.’

  ‘Who? Whose name?’

  ‘Ingy, that man!’ Evie paces around the table. ‘He picked Paris up this morning. I saw him. I heard his voice. It was the same voice. I know it was. It was the voice from my dream. He can’t have twelve letters in his name. He just can’t!’

  ‘Evie, you’re making me nervous,’ Victoria says. ‘I think I know what you’re talking about now.’

  Evie crumples into the chair and buries her head in her arms. ‘I thought … I thought I was right. I listened so hard to myself. I’ve tried so hard, so hard but … I’m wrong and now we’re back to where we started. No. No!’ Evie hears her feet thump the floor. ‘No!’ She sits upright. ‘No! There’s got to be something I’m missing. Something I haven’t thought of. I know what I sensed out there at the Penis Abuser when, when I saw Dana. I know what I felt. I’m not going to just stop –’

  ‘Evie! Slow down. They’re people’s lives, you know. You must be careful. You can’t just –’

  Evie stands up. ‘I’m going.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Victoria.’ She pulls the cap back over her head. ‘I’ve missed something. I thought I’d find it here. But I –’

  ‘Evie!’

  ‘I have to … It’s Paris … something terrible … yes, I have to –’

  ‘Evie, listen. Stop …’

  But Evie is backing away towards the door.

  ‘Look, take this.’ Victoria hands over a piece of paper. Evie stuffs it into the back pocket of her jeans. ‘That was from last time, with Nora. Evie, listen. If you’re doing what I think you’re doing, you must promise me to –’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’ But Evie isn’t listening. She’s opening the door. Stepping out onto the landing. ‘I’m sorry, Victoria. I just have to … you know …’

  ‘You must promise to be sensible,’ Victoria calls after her. ‘Evie!’

  Even yesterday, Evie would’ve deliberated over a phone call to Seb. Racked her brain on how to start the conversation, how to sound, what to talk about. Evie has never rung Seb before. It’s just something she wouldn’t normally do. But today isn’t normal. Today’s very different.

  Evie almost jogs down the road, pressing the numbers of directory assistance.

  ‘What name, please?’ the operator says.

  ‘Granger. Sebastian Granger.’ Evie knows Seb’s called after his father. ‘Annandale Heights.’

  ‘Would you like me to text the number through?’

  ‘No. No. Just connect, please.’

  ‘Connecting you now.’

  The phone rings. Evie kicks at the leg of the bus seat, waiting for someone to pick
up. ‘Come on, come on.’

  ‘Hello?’ She recognises Seb’s voice.

  ‘Seb, it’s me. Evie.’

  ‘Evie? You okay? You sound kind of –’

  ‘Look, can you meet me at my place?’

  ‘Yeah. When?’

  ‘I’m in Randwick now, so say –’

  ‘Randwick? Did you see her though?’

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, I have.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when I see you.’ Evie spots her bus down the end of the road. ‘I’ve got to go. My bus is coming.’

  ‘So will I …?’

  ‘Just come to my place.’

  ‘Okay, okay. I’ll see you soon.’

  Evie sits at the very back of the bus, staring at the name on the business card.

  ‘Ioan P. Stanciu.’ Again she counts the letters. And again they equal twelve.

  She dials home.

  ‘Evie!’ It’s her father. ‘We’ve been expecting you to ring. Where are you?’

  ‘I’m on my way back from Victoria’s.’

  ‘I said I’d pick you up there! What are you –’

  ‘Dad, chill.’

  ‘Don’t tell me to chill!’ Evie hears her mother in the background. ‘Hang on.’ He speaks to her. ‘She’s on her way home now.’

  ‘Dad, um –’

  ‘So you’re on the bus?’

  ‘Yes.’ Where else do they think I am, Evie wonders?

  ‘Which number. Is it the –’

  ‘Dad, I’ve asked Seb over for dinner.’

  Silence. She knew that’d stop his ranting. ‘You’ve asked … Seb, for dinner? Seb Granger?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Now Evie can’t believe what she’s just said.

  ‘Evie’s asked Seb Granger for dinner,’ Nick calls to his wife. She says something back. ‘Your mother wants to know what time he’s coming.’

  ‘Now.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Yeah, well he might be there before, before I get back.’ Evie bites her bottom lip. She can only imagine what her parents’ faces look like at this moment. ‘Um, so is that –’

  ‘You should’ve told us earlier.’ It’s her mother on the phone. ‘Evie?’

  ‘Well, I only just asked him, Mum.’

  ‘Oh? Does he eat chicken?’

  ‘What? Yeah, I’m sure he does.’

  ‘He’s not a vegetarian?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Look, your father –’ Robin mutters something to him. ‘Hang on, I’m putting your father back on.’

  ‘Evie?’

  ‘Yes, Dad?’ Evie has her eyes squeezed shut. She knows what’s coming next.

  ‘Is Seb involved in this … in this Cuza business?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Evie! Evie, who else is involved?’

  ‘Just Seb and Poppy.’

  ‘Alex?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘This is a big call asking your friends to be involved. Did you think about that?’

  ‘Dad,’ she lowers her voice. ‘I’m on the bloody bus. Can we talk about this at home?’

  ‘Seb will be here then.’

  ‘Well, after he leaves,’ she replies. ‘Anyway, it was Victoria’s idea.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Getting my friends to help me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look, Seb’s just helping me with a word puzzle.’ It’s stretching the truth, Evie knows, but she has to placate her father in some way. ‘We’ll just be up in my room looking at –’

  ‘You’re not taking him up to your room!’

  ‘Dad! Dad, I’m hanging up. Take a chill pill.’

  Evie sits back in the seat and contemplates staying on the bus all night. She could just miss her stop and go the full journey and back. Randwick to Ashfield, Ashfield to Randwick. Over and over, she could enjoy the trip and avoid facing the circus at home. But she knows she couldn’t do that to Seb. She wants to see him. Any hassle is worth it.

  Seb’s voice is coming from the kitchen. Evie’s heart starts pumping again. She catches her reflection in the mirror by the front door. She’s still wearing the hat. ‘My hair,’ Evie gasps. ‘I’m going to have hat hair.’ She tiptoes towards the bathroom, hoping there’s time to remedy the situation but her father is walking out of the kitchen.

  ‘Evie?’ he hisses. ‘Seb’s here.’ He gestures to the kitchen. ‘Come on.’

  She pulls the cap back over her head.

  ‘Evie?’

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘I want to have a –’ But Evie walks past him. She’ll settle for hat hair over a lecture and the last thing she needs is for Seb to be stuck in the kitchen with her mother.

  ‘Hi, Seb.’

  ‘Hey.’ He nods to Evie, his hands stuffed in his front pockets.

  ‘Hi, Mum.’ She pecks her on the cheek before she’s even aware of what she’s doing.

  Robin’s caught off guard too. ‘Oh? Evie, hi. I was just asking Seb if he eats chicken.’

  ‘Love chicken,’ he answers.

  ‘And rice? You eat rice?’

  ‘Mum, everyone eats rice!’

  ‘I love rice … too.’

  ‘It feeds the world, doesn’t it?’ Robin adds.

  Evie wishes the floor would cave in and swallow her mother in one gulp. Nick comes back into the kitchen.

  ‘Come on, Seb,’ Evie says.

  ‘Dinner’ll be ready in an hour.’

  ‘Evie?’ her dad calls. But they’re already running up the stairs.

  ‘Hey,’ Seb whispers, ‘I didn’t know I was invited for dinner.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘No, it’s good,’ he says. ‘I’m glad. I just wouldn’t have looked like such a slob. I pretty much ran all the way here after you rang.’

  ‘Sorry.’ This time Evie giggles. ‘You look fine.’

  ‘Now you’re lying.’

  Suddenly Evie feels self-conscious with Seb standing in her room. Her magazines, her drawings, her dirty washing, her photos – all on show.

  ‘Cool.’ Seb points to one of her charcoal drawings. ‘Is that you?’

  ‘Yeah. Self-portrait.’

  ‘The mouth is wrong.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Your bottom lip’s fuller than that.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Evie’s fingers brush across her mouth as a warmth floods her belly.

  Evie hasn’t really kissed a boy before, or rather, nothing that meant anything. She kissed Alex’s cousin a few times in games of Spin the Bottle and last New Year’s Eve some guy grabbed her at midnight and stuck his tongue down her tonsils, but, as far as Evie’s concerned, that didn’t count.

  ‘So what happened? You saw her and what’d she say?’

  ‘Huh?’ Evie’s still pondering Seb’s observation of her lips. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I saw Paris but she didn’t speak to me.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  Evie passes Seb the business card. He looks at it. ‘Ioan P. Stanciu?’

  ‘He’s the man we’re looking for. The identity.’

  ‘Shit!’ Like Evie did, he starts to count the letters.

  ‘There’s twelve, not nine,’ she tells him. ‘That’s the problem.’

  ‘So what makes you think it’s him?’

  ‘I just know it is.’

  ‘But the letters, the whole anagram thing, doesn’t make sense if it’s him.’ Seb opens Evie’s book of messages, placing the business card next to them. ‘Look. There’s no “O” or “U” in what Caz gave us. And this bloke’s name has two “I”s. The “H” is wrong, too. We have an “H” and this name doesn’t.’

  ‘So, we’re missing something.’

  ‘Like what, Evie?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Evie shrugs. ‘I hoped you’d know.’

  Seb flicks through the pages, carefully studying each anagram. With every one, he shakes his head.

  ‘Hey,’ he turns to a page with a drawing. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘That’s the sketch I was telling you and Poppy abou
t. Not the real one. I just made a copy from memory.’ The black lines made by Evie’s hand show cube upon cube slashed with darker vertical lines. At the front of the first cube is a little circle. Evie’s finger traces around its circumference. ‘Except I don’t remember drawing this circle in the original. But I just knew it was meant to be there.’

  She catches Seb looking at her. ‘I just knew,’ she whispers.

  He lies down on the floor, leaning on one elbow. ‘What do you think it’s meant to be?’

  ‘The cubes or boxes or whatever they are still remind me of cages.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I don’t know what the circle’s meant to be, though.’

  Evie reclines on the floor too. Their heads are almost touching as they lie in silence, staring at the sketch spread out before them. Their hands are so close. If Evie stretched her middle finger as far as it could go, the tip would just reach the curve between Seb’s thumb and index finger.

  Evie stares at her finger, willing it to move. When she looks over at Seb, he’s watching her. ‘Are you going to take your hat off?’ he grins.

  Evie rolls onto her back and starts giggling. ‘Aw shit, Seb, what are we going to do about this?’

  ‘About this or about … us?’ Seb answers. His eyes haven’t left hers.

  The blood seeps into Evie’s face. Her cheeks burn hot. ‘Um?’ She rolls back onto her stomach. ‘Um?’

  A sharp knock on the door interrupts the moment. ‘Evie?’ The tone in her mother’s voice is different. Quickly, Seb sits up while Evie opens the door.

  ‘Evie, I need to speak to you. Now,’ she says. ‘Seb, I’m sorry, just excuse us for a moment.’

  Evie pulls the door closed behind her. ‘What?’ she snaps.

  ‘Victoria’s just rung. Nora Cuza has called her,’ Robin speaks in a loud whisper. ‘She’s furious.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘About you visiting Paris today.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I mean, you did see her, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Her father appears at the top of the stairs. ‘Victoria’s going to ring her. Then call back,’ he tells them. ‘Hopefully that’ll sort it out.’

  ‘I don’t get it,’ Evie starts. ‘What … what did Victoria say?’

  ‘Is Seb in there?’ her father asks, pointing to the bedroom.

  Evie nods. He shakes his head and opens her bedroom door. ‘I think we all need to have a talk,’ he says, walking in.