I can’t talk to May Miller and hope to get anything useful, but I can read up about what happened. The Eidsvold Historical Society has a huge range of stuff. They might have old newspapers and things I could hunt through. Part of me wants to squirm – it isn’t the kind of place our mob go because it isn’t exactly our history. Besides, they’re only open from 10am to 3pm, so I’ll have to cut school to do it. Mum will destroy me if I do that. But she really can only blame herself for shutting me out in the first place. Decision made, I feel a bit better. Maybe if I can find out what happened to May, I can figure out where Laney is. It’s worth a try.
‘Anyone home?’ The sing-song call from the front is a relief.
‘Out the back.’
Rhi comes around the corner of the house, takes one look at me and sighs.
‘No one else back yet?’
‘Nuh.’ I can’t look at her. Partly because I don’t want to talk about it, partly because I know she’ll push it anyway. ‘Where’s Aunty Mel?’
‘Gone to get the kids settled. I’m crashing here with you.’
I finally look at her and smile. I could use the distraction and on a good day Rhi registers in the cyclone category. She drops down into one of the mismatched chairs and kicks off her shoes.
‘Didn’t see much out there. Uncle Joe’s been talking to a lot of the cow-cockies he’s worked for before, seein if we can head onto their properties tomorrow for a look. Should be good, ay. Although if that dickhead Troy keeps up his stories, I’m gonna take a detour past is place first.’
‘Stories?’ I ask casually.
‘You memba Clarrie’s sister Debbie? The one you met that other Christmas when we was all hangin out?’
I hate these ‘you memba’ games. For a small town there is way too many people and connections to keep straight. ‘Oh my God, no I don’t memba, get to the point!’
‘Fine then. Friggin ell!’ I’d interrupted her story so she has to go back. ‘Clarrie’s sister Debbie reckons she heard Edna tellin Mary from the butcher’s that Laney took off on Troy with some whitefulla from that property they snuck onto. Reckoned she used Troy so she could meet up with that other man and shoot through without anyone figurin it out.’
Watching the glass bottle shatter against the weatherboard, spraying all of its contents about, is my first hint that I’ve thrown it. It shocks us both so much no one moves. Usually it is Laney who throws things, who loses control and goes ape-shit. Laney has Mum’s temper. Not me. Never me.
From some weird detached place I watch all those emotions I’ve been bottling up swirl in my chest like a tornado forming. It was so slow at first, almost lazy, but it picks up speed fast and the feeling fascinates me. I’m not even sure I want to stop it.
Rhiannon’s hand on my shoulder pulls me out of it.
‘Cuz, I … I’m sorry. I didn’t mean …’
As much trouble as she can be, Rhi never means to hurt anyone. She isn’t a cruel person, just oblivious, and there isn’t a mean bone in her body. It makes it hard to stay mad at her. I watch the guilt on her face and feel the swirling stop.
I choke it all down and find my voice, even if I can’t look at her. ‘You’re right. Help me get this clean?’
‘Sure thing!’ Rhi’s glad to have something to do. She sprints inside for the dustpan and I start picking up the glass shards. The water has almost evaporated, at least the heat is good for something. We collect the glass in silence for a bit, but Rhi isn’t one for quiet.
‘So … are you okay, cuz?’
God, I’m already sick of her asking me that.
‘Don’t tell Mum what you heard, okay?’
Rhi likes being first in with news, but me throwing the bottle, or maybe just seeing me lose it, scares her.
‘No worries. But I think it’s goin round so you might not ave much time.’
I give her a smile.
‘Thanks, cuzzie, you the best.’
‘Sides,’ she continues, ‘Tyrone and Clinton are out of lock-up, they’ll tell the truth.’
I snort. ‘You reckon? If they’re not in Troy’s pocket, they’re stuck right up his—’
‘True, but that was before he dumped em out at the Potters’, now they lookin to corner im as much as our mob are.’
I finally stop looking for small slivers of glass and check my hands to see if I’ve caught any. If the little cousins step on glass Mum will kill me, but I’ve done the best I can.
Turning to Rhi I put my hands on my hips, considering. ‘You reckon they’d talk to us?’
‘Course, cuzzie. Me and Tyrone go waaay back. You memba that time I was itchy—’
‘God no!’ I yelp, bolting up the stairs to get my shoes. The sound of Rhi’s laughter follows me.
I know it’s wrong. I know Mum will kill me, but I keep telling myself this is what she has driven me to. I’ll leave her a note, but that won’t save me. The only door I bother to close is the front one. No one worries about locking up around here; anyway, it would mean coming home to an oven that has been roasting all day. Rhi meets me at the front, ready to continue one of her long, gross sex stories. She’ll happily shame me out the whole way down to the truck park if I let her so I go on the offensive.
‘So whaddya get up to in Cracow?’
That keeps her busy on the walk. We round the corner past the Elders building and cross the road to the little stop with the round cement table and seats. Everyone calls it the truck park because trucks stop there; yep, we’re original when we name things in this town. Usually they stop just to run across the road to the only pub in town for a meal and a few beers, but sometimes they stay for a sleep. The local pub does a good counter meal and not much else. They rob people blind with the cost of alcohol and we all know it.
It’s a weeknight so the pub will be shutting soon and the truck park is where some hardcores will end up to keep partying. Straight out of lock-up it’s a safe bet that the boys will be thirsty. This early, we can sit and watch for them. It never crosses our minds that they’ll already be there with a few of their mob around. I wince when I see everyone and look to Rhi for reassurance.
‘Isn’t Clinton related to the Millers?’
‘Yeah, but Tyrone isn’t, and he’ll talk to me.’ She sees my worry and wraps an arm around my shoulders. ‘Don’t worry, cuz, there ain’t no Millers there.’
‘Yeah, right now,’ I mutter, but allow her to drag me towards them.
‘Well if it isn’t Run-around Rhi and Stuck-up Stacey,’ sneers a voice.
‘Shut up, Clinton, don’t be bitter cos no one wants your ugly arse.’ Rhi cuts him off at the knees and I snort. She stops to pat his arm comfortingly. ‘Aww, don’t worry. If you grow a nicer personality I’m sure one woman might … umm, you know.’
She waves a hand vaguely around his face, which is sporting an impressive black eye that he still manages to glare with. Clinton slaps her hand away while the people around the table laugh. It’s a mix of men and women, most of them related to the boys. A few send me glares and others nod. I never can remember who I am or am not supposed to talk to in any given week, the arguments and make ups move so damn fast. Instead I just wait and see how people treat me and then go with it. Unless they’re a Miller; that is the only relationship set in stone as far as the Thomsons are concerned. So I nod to the right ones and ignore the others. Any adult that’ll glare at a sixteen-year-old registers as too pathetic for my contempt.
‘Fuck you!’ Clinton comes back.
Rhi looks at me and we roll our eyes.
‘Ty!’ Rhi squeals, diving into the only empty seat at the table while I stand back with my hands in my pockets. She wraps him in a big hug and he flinches. Rhi pulls back and makes tutting noises over his busted lip and bruises. ‘Ya poor thing! When didja get out?’
‘This arvie, cops finally got us all charged and whateve
r.’
‘How come yous are drinkin in the park? Is the publican in a mood again?’
‘Clinton’s barred until next month so Eddie got us the grog.’ Tyrone nods to one of the men.
‘That sucks. I heard Troy dumped you out at the Potters’ and he’s the reason you got caught.’
Subtle, thy name is not Rhi.
‘Him and that slut you call a cousin,’ Clinton snarls, still trying to make up for his earlier humiliation.
‘The fuck you say?’ Rhi shoots to her feet, but Tyrone grabs her arm and pulls her back down, holding his hand out to stop me before I move another step.
‘That’s bullshit, Clinton, and you fuckin know it. He probably dumped her out there just like he did us.’ Tyrone turns to me. ‘Sorry about your sister.’
I nod, clenching my jaw to fight back tears. ‘Thanks.’
Patting Tyrone’s hand, Rhi asks, ‘When did you last see Laney?’
‘After we raided the main house we had to split up because somebody knocked over the fuckin woodpile on the way out.’ He throws a glare at Clinton, who squirms, dropping his vicious stare at Rhi. ‘The whole house came awake and it was on. The last I saw Laney, she was runnin like the rest of us.’
‘Troy’s sayin she met up with some whitefulla out there and took off,’ Rhi says with disgust.
‘No way. She was busted just like us. If he’s sayin that then he musta left her.’ Tyrone sees the look on my face and tries to be nice about it. ‘She was faster than all of us. I’m sure those fat bastards couldn’t ave caught er. We parked a fair way away too, so they’da had ta keep up all that time, no way they did that.’
I nod again in thanks but can’t quite swallow down the waterworks. I might be all ready to go out and get my sister, but I can’t even speak. If I could work out a way to slap some sense into myself I would have there and then.
‘Where’d yas park then?’ Rhi asks.
Tyrone and Clinton share a look. Clinton shakes his head and Tyrone hesitates.
‘Come on Ty, we need to know.’
Clinton shakes his head harder, but the guilt on Tyrone’s face is clear.
‘It could help us find Laney,’ Rhi wheedles.
Tyrone caves.
‘Out near that mountain,’ he mutters.
Everyone in earshot gasps. We all know that place. It’s taboo, the elders don’t mess around about that one.
‘You did what?’ Eddie hisses at them. He’s the boys’ uncle, and his face says they’re in deep shit.
‘It’s a easy road, far enough they won’t see or hear the car, and no one goes out there at night.’
‘Cos we all got more sense!’ Eddie starts swearing a blue streak as Clinton glares at me like Tyrone’s big mouth is my fault.
‘We didn’t go on the mountain! We were just close to it.’
‘That’s bad enough!’
‘Why did yas go out to Potters’ anyway?’ Rhi butts in. I could kiss that woman, she’s so much more than a pretty face, if you pay attention.
‘We got some good stuff last week.’ He shrugs, making it clear they’ve been doing this a lot. I want to smack Laney. ‘We don’t normally go back so soon, but Troy said they had loads of cash ready for the big cattle sales. Can’t believe we fell for that bullshit. Wasn’t nuthin there but a buncha old shit.’ Tyrone rubs his chin, probably trying to show off his tiny stubble to Rhi. ‘Ya know, I swear he was lookin for somethin though. Kept mutterin stuff and goin through papers.’
‘Yeah, what’d we want with all those old papers?’ Clinton’s donkey laugh crunches through the space.
‘Especially when you can’t read, ay, Clinton?’ Rhi says in a kind voice that has him hopping up.
‘Sit. Down.’ Tyrone growls, waiting till Clinton has done as he’s told before turning to look at Rhi. ‘He was up to somethin and we all got sucked into it. I don’t know what it was, and I don’t know where Laney is. I swear.’ His eyes swing back to me. ‘I’m sorry Tace, we shoulda taken better care of er.’
In the face of his sincerity, I find my voice.
‘Thanks Ty, but Laney woulda never let you keep an eye on her.’ I smile. It’s wonky, but I appreciate his honesty.
I always thought he was just Troy’s stooge, but maybe I’m wrong. His dark brown eyes are steady and I know truth when it is offered. And honour when it sits in front of me too.
‘I promise ya one thing though. If me and Clint catch im e’ll be sorry. And we’ll get out of im what e did with Laney.’
‘I just might hold ya to that.’
‘Yeah thanks, Ty. We gotta cruise. Catch ya later.’ Rhi drops a kiss on his cheek, gives him a cheeky wink and grabs my hand to pull me away.
We walk in silence, Rhi watching me closely.
‘Well, it’s somethin I guess,’ she tries.
‘No it’s good, cuz, I’m just tryin to figure out how we tell the mob this without anyone knowin what we did.’
‘That’s easy,’ Rhi declares. ‘I’ll tell Mum I bailed up Ty. She don’t need to know you were there too.’
‘And if rumours get around we were down at the truck park?’
‘Screw em, no one would believe you’d go against your mum, you’re the goody-two-shoes in the set.’
I punch her on the arm. ‘Gee thanks.’
Rhi laughs and wraps her arm around me. ‘It’s all good, cuzzie. You gotta love who you are, cos I do.’
I slip my arm over her shoulders and squeeze. ‘I love you too.’
Day 2, Night
Working together we get the veggies on the stove and start the oven up again. Thank God the sun has gone down and a little bit of breeze is finally leaking through. I get Rhi to burn my note in the fire pit. Mum is so suspicious right now, I wouldn’t put it past her to go digging through the rubbish. The whole thing takes maybe thirty minutes. Not long after, the cars start rolling up outside.
Part of me wants to sprint for the front window, but a more sensible part knows the mob wouldn’t be this quiet if they’d found her. Still I look up with hope as the adults come in. Mum’s tense face and Uncle’s cap, pulled down so low I can’t see his eyes, tell me everything. Taking deep breaths to push back sobs while I clear up the table, I focus on stacking the rows of patty cakes ready for icing.
‘Dinner’ll be ready soon,’ I say.
There’s a pause and a shuffle as Uncle’s boots go for the back door, before thin, warm arms envelope me from behind. A brief kiss to the head and she’s gone.
‘Thanks, daught. You been cookin up a storm, ay?’ Her back is to me as she checks the veggies but she’s going for normal.
‘Figured we’d have a mob to feed.’
‘Good thinkin. Should this pumpkin be on?’
‘Yeah, if the oven’s ready. The cream needs thickenin for the patty cakes too.’
Mum gets the pumpkin sorted then throws herself into the cream like she’s possessed. Whipping it by hand is something she did because no one else is womba enough to want to do it without an electric hand mixer. Of course, you have to own one to use one.
Rhi sits, watching us with concern. We ignore her.
It’s so painful in here it’s like the air holds daggers that prick and stab depending on how fast you move. Thank God the cousins come pouring in.
‘Yum, cuz, did ya do those chocolate ones again?’
Craig grabs for a patty cake and I smack his fingers with the spoon I’m using to mix the icing. ‘Oi! Wait for the cream and icing.’
He gives me his best hurt puppy eyes while licking icing off of his hand and I relent. ‘Uncle’s out the back, you want a cuppa with it?’
That broad grin splits his dark face. ‘Yeah, white with three sugars, cuz, you the best.’
He’s gone before the others start shouting out their tea orders. The men all head to the ba
ck while the women stay in the kitchen. Aunties pull out teacups and all the necessaries, cousins grab plates and cutlery and cart them to the old chipboard table Mum has set up out the back. Cream whipped, cakes covered and placed on plates with biscuits from the cupboard. There’s a procession downstairs. I grab a drink and a patty cake and find my usual spot on the stairs, a bit closer to the bottom this time so I can talk to people. Everyone is spread out yarning, but it’s quieter than it would normally be with the mob around.
The chairs circle Mum’s empty fire pit, women take turns bringing more cups of tea and boiling more water. It’s still too hot for a fire, but we all need the tea. I sit on my step and take it all in. Trying not to see Laney sitting beside me, making cheeky comments about that uncle or who this cousin was seeing on the sly.
At some point the oven bell goes off and I’m up and checking the veggies. Mum shouts at Uncle Billy to go pick up Pop so he can come have a feed before she follows me in to help. As we’re setting up the food on the table, Danny and Fred come walking around the house with a carton. Everyone looks at Mum for her reaction. She frowns, but doesn’t say anything so we take it as permission.
Pop rolls up with Uncle Billy, and Aunty Fern gets him settled into a chair with a full plate and his old tin mug filled to the brim with tea. Some of the cousins go to get their kids. I’m glad for them biscuits and cakes then. We can stretch food like nobody’s business. Jesus has nothing on my mob.
We settle into old rhythms. Fall into them. The same thing we’ve done hundreds, maybe thousands of times before at each other’s houses. Only it isn’t quite right. No games are played, and the kids aren’t pestering the older cousins to play with them. Uncle Billy doesn’t get his guitar that he always carries in his Ford. Annie doesn’t start cracking her dry jokes, and no one puts on the stereo, which means there isn’t a war over the volume or the music. Pop would normally finish his meal, sit for a bit and then head home. He’s getting tired quick now. But he doesn’t go home for a long, long time, and Mum doesn’t suggest it.
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