Millie and the Night Heron

by Catherine Bateson

  He must have been a regular at the noodle eatery because they didn’t even ask him what he wanted. Just smiled at me and asked me what I’d have.

  ‘This is your girlfriend’s daughter?’ the woman asked.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘This is Millie. Millie, this is Ying.’

  ‘Hello,’ we both said at once.

  ‘Take a packet of prawn crackers,’ Ying said when she handed Tom our order. You only got prawn crackers if you spent over $25 and we’d only spent $17.60. I knew because I added it up.

  ‘Gee, thanks Ying. We’ll enjoy those, won’t we, Millie?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  We ate in front of the television, straight from the noodle boxes, to save on the washing up. We both used forks, though, not the little chopsticks that came with the noodles. For dessert, Tom brought out a family-size block of chocolate, the kind that has lots of fillings, not just the one flavour.

  ‘I like a bit of chocolate,’ he said apologetically.

  ‘I shouldn’t eat it,’ I said. ‘I’ve got this pimple on my chin. And I have to watch Rowan play basketball tomorrow. Mum did tell you, didn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, she mentioned that. I have to take you there, right? I can’t really see much of a pimple, Millie. I think it would be safe to have a bit.’

  We ate the whole block between us and neither of us felt even a little bit sick. I didn’t bother telling Mum about either the noodles or the chocolate when she rang and I noticed Tom didn’t either.

  The basketball game started at ten o’clock, so naturally I was out of bed, showered and ready by quarter to nine. I decided, after much soul-searching, to wear jeans with a pale blue hippy kind of top. I put lip gloss on, and then I wiped it off again. I didn’t want to look as though I was trying too hard.

  Tom still hadn’t emerged by eight-fifty, so I made coffee. I hoped the smell of it would coax him out. I made it in Mum’s expresso machine and I made it extra strong so the smell wafted down the hallway. It worked. He came out of Mum’s bedroom at eight-fifty-eight.

  ‘Smells fantastic,’ he said, sniffing the air the way Pavlov does when there’s something dead nearby.

  ‘Coffee,’ I said unnecessarily, and added, ‘Basketball’s on at ten.’

  ‘Ah, yes.’ Tom ran his fingers through his hair. ‘How’s the pimple?’

  ‘Gone! Must have been the chocolate.’

  ‘Well, then, let’s have breakfast and be off.’

  We were just about to leave, after crumpets and honey, when the phone rang.

  ‘Just leave it,’ I said desperately. ‘The machine will pick it up.’

  ‘It might be important.’ Tom hovered over the phone.

  ‘Nuh, it won’t be. Come on, I’ll be late.’

  ‘I have to answer it, Millie. It might be your mum. Hello? Oh, Kate. Hi.’

  ‘Tom!’

  ‘Can I ring you back, Kate? It’s just that Millie’s got this ... Oh, okay. Sure. Fire away.’

  He turned his back to me. I stayed in the room, though, tapping my foot. Not that he could hear that, because the carpet muffled the sound. I watched the digital clock on the mantle click the numbers up, closer and closer to ten o’clock. Rowan would think I wasn’t coming. Rowan would think I was unreliable and unpunctual. Rowan would know I wasn’t coming and would probably put his basketball bag next to someone else, a girl, a girl whose brother was playing for the other team.

  She’d have long curly hair and her skin would be as clear as the morning. She’d like him straightaway. Well, who wouldn’t? Rowan had the best smile in the world. It made you feel everything was going to be okay, despite people starving in many countries. It was the kind of smile that made you skip, without even knowing that was what you were doing.

  When Tom finally got off the phone I glared at him.

  ‘We may as well not go now,’ I said, in my most sarcastic voice, ‘the first half will be over.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Millie, but your mother had something rather important to discuss.’

  Tom’s voice sounded odd.

  ‘So are we going now?’ I asked, as he seemed to be just standing in the hallway, as though he meant to stand there forever.

  ‘I thought you didn’t want to go now.’

  ‘I was being sarcastic.’ Where were The Boyfriend’s brains?

  ‘Oh, sorry.’

  We drove to the basketball courts in silence.

  ‘So can you come and get me at midday?’ I asked him when I got out. I was scanning the onlookers, but I couldn’t see Rowan anywhere. My heart was thumping and my stomach had butterflies whirling around in it.

  ‘I’ll just wait here, I think,’ Tom said. ‘I’ve bought my camera. I might try to get some shots.’

  I didn’t think that was too cool, but when I looked, there were parents sitting around everywhere.

  I slowly walked over to the seats. I’d seen Rowan. He was shooting. I didn’t want to wave or distract him from that, so I just sat down.

  ‘Well, hello,’ a voice behind trilled. ‘Fancy you being here, Millie Dillie.’

  It was Tayla. I knew even before I turned around.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Watching the game, of course. I got here on time.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Rowan’s done really well. They’re winning.’

  The whistle sounded for half-time. I didn’t know whether to go down and see Rowan or not. He looked up and half-waved, but before I could do anything Tayla was running down to him. I stayed where I was. I felt sick. She stayed down with the players even while the coach talked to them. I hated her.

  Then the whistle sounded and they were back on.

  At the end of the game, Rowan came up to where I was sitting.

  ‘You were late,’ he said.

  ‘I couldn’t help it,’ I told him. ‘Mum rang The Boyfriend just as we were about to leave and they talked on the phone for hours. You’re playing really well, Rowan.’

  ‘You’re fantastic,’ Tayla gushed from behind. ‘You should go for the state team.’

  Rowan shrugged but he smiled at Tayla, too. Couldn’t he hear how false she was?

  ‘Dad said I could invite you guys back to our house after the game,’ Tayla continued. ‘Want to come? We’ve got a brand new pool table in the games room and we’re allowed to play whenever we want.’

  ‘Sure,’ Rowan said, ‘I’ll be in it. What about you, Millie?’

  The whole afternoon at Tayla’s? I didn’t think so. On the other hand, if I didn’t go, Tayla and Rowan might end up going out together. What was worse? Tayla for a whole afternoon or Rowan for never?

  ‘I’ll have to ask The Boyfriend,’ I said.

  ‘Go and ask now,’ Tayla said, ‘because I have to tell Dad whether you’re coming or not so he can organise lunch.’ She held up a mobile phone. It was pearly pink and matched her tracksuit.

  ‘Gee, is that yours?’ Rowan said. ‘Lucky you.’

  ‘Well, of course it’s mine. It’s cool, isn’t it?’

  ‘Girlie colour.’

  ‘That’s because I’m a girl, dipstick.’ Tayla’s laugh was high-pitched and evil, although I think she thought it was flirty and cute. I hated Tayla more than I hated boiled parsnip.

  ‘I’ll go and ask now,’ I said. ‘Coming, Rowan?’

  ‘It’s got games on it,’ Tayla said. ‘Want to try one?’

  ‘Sure.’ He took the phone from Tayla.

  I’d lost him to a mobile phone game.

  I walked over to the car. Tom was reading.

  ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘What are you up to?’

  ‘I’m supposed to be asking you if I can go to Tayla’s house this afternoon.’ I looked over to where Tayla and Rowan were standing. She had h
er hand on his shoulder.

  ‘I thought you had a project to do?’

  ‘Yeah, I forgot that. Good. I couldn’t decide if it was going to be worse than being in a pit of stinging scorpions anyway.’

  ‘Is this a friend of yours?’

  ‘No, I hate her.’

  ‘Of course, I should have known.’ Tom smiled at me but his eyes looked sad.

  ‘Hey,’ I said, ‘I’m sorry about this morning.’

  ‘That’s okay, Millie. I’m sorry the call took so long. Your Mum...’ He trailed off, looking past me.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Oh, just that your mum wants to stay an extra couple of days in Sydney. She said Patrick had managed to get two evenings off from conference stuff. Apparently he knows someone there who owns a gallery and he’s arranged a dinner for them both. She said that she wouldn’t do it if it was going to be inconvenient but it did sound like a wonderful opportunity.’

  ‘Then why do you sound so miserable?’ I hadn’t meant to say that. It just came out because he did look so gloomy.

  ‘I’m not,’ Tom said firmly, ‘not at all. It’s a terrific chance for her to catch up with your dad and meet people who might help her in her career. I don’t think there’s anything more to it than that.’

  ‘Tayla’s after Rowan,’ I said, ‘and she’s going to get him because she’s got a new pool table and a pink mobile phone with games on it.’

  Tom looked at me and blinked. I could feel my chin wobble.

  ‘I don’t think I even want to see the end of the game,’ I said. ‘I think we could just go home now.’

  Tom took me to a café for lunch. He bought me a lime spider and a toasted chicken foccacia. He passed me paper napkins when I cried and he listened to the whole story.

  ‘And I’ve got this stupid project to do and I don’t know anything about this place, nothing at all. We haven’t even lived here long enough. How am I supposed to know about it? So when is Mum coming home?’

  ‘Thursday, she said.’ Tom sounded gloomy again.

  ‘That’s a whole extra four days!’

  ‘Three days, really.’

  We went home but we couldn’t settle down to anything. I kept thinking about Rowan reaching out for Tayla’s mobile phone. They’d be playing pool together. She’d be giggling and telling Rowan how wonderful he was. It was sick-making. Tom seemed to mope around, too, picking up his book, reading a page, staring out into space, re-reading the page and sighing.

  I was trying to brainstorm ideas for my project. Brainstorming is where you write everything down, even the most stupid ideas. I had only stupid ideas.

  My Environment – What I Love, What I Hate

  I love the TAFE restaurant, not that I’ve been more than once, and the wood-fired pizza place. I hate days when the smell of the paper mill drifts into town and it rains. I hate the kids hanging around the mall. I love the mountains and the clouds. I hate Tayla. I really really hate Tayla. And Rowan for liking her. I hate Rowan almost as much as I hate Tayla. But not quite as much, because he’s still got that smile. I hate the fact that I didn’t go back to Tayla’s, but it would have been worse, going back. Decisions like that suck. I hate broken hearts. My heart is broken.

  ‘I think I’ll take Pavlov for a walk. Want to come?’

  ‘Sure, I’d love that,’ Tom said. ‘It would be good to get out, away from the demons in my head.’

  ‘You have demons in your head?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘So do I. What are yours saying?’

  ‘Just stupid stuff,’ Tom said, ‘nothing important. And yours?’

  ‘Mine are telling me that Tayla is leaning over Rowan right at this moment and giggling at him, and he’s smiling at her the way he does that makes his whole face glow at you and he’s smiling like that for her, not for me. I should have gone back with them, but if I had it would have been awful. It would have been awful going back and it’s awful imagining what’s going on, too. Do you know what I mean?’

  ‘Yes,’ Tom said. ‘Yes, I know absolutely what you mean.’

  ‘Have you had a broken heart?’

  ‘Oh, once or twice.’

  ‘How long did it take you to get over it?’

  ‘It seemed to take forever but gradually I felt better. The second time was worse.’

  ‘This is my first ever. How long did it take you the first time?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Tom said, ‘but do you want to know what really helped?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Pizza and videos. What do you reckon?’

  ‘What about Mum’s frozen dinners?’

  ‘We’ve got three extra days to eat them now.’ Tom didn’t sound thrilled at the idea.

  ‘Mum’s a good cook,’ I told him. ‘They’ll be yummy.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ Tom said, ‘and it isn’t you, either, Millie. I’m enjoying your company, broken-hearted and all. Where are we going?’

  ‘Up to the reserve,’ I told him. ‘There’s a little lake and birds and we can let Pavlov off, even though the sign says you can’t. He never chases the birds.’

  ‘This is pretty,’ Tom commented, when we got there. ‘It’s been ages since I’ve been here.’

  ‘I like it,’ I said, ‘because of the birds. I like the moor hens.’

  ‘Yes, the purple ones are spectacular, aren’t they? Wish I’d brought my camera.’

  ‘If you could be any kind of bird at all, what sort would you be?’ I asked Tom, as we walked Pavlov around the lake.

  ‘Oh, I think I’d be an owl,’ he said. ‘Yes, definitely an owl. What about you?’

  I was wishing I’d thought of an owl. That was a good answer. Owls are powerful and wise, good hunters, and I love their round, surprised faces.

  ‘I’ll have to think about it.’

  ‘Or a phoenix. Now that would be the bird to be, rising again and again out of the flames.’

  ‘You can’t be something mythic,’ I said rather snappily. ‘You have to be a real bird.’

  When we got home from the walk I looked kookaburras up on the Internet. I wanted to get the facts right.

  ‘I’m a kookaburra,’ I told Tom that evening when we went out for pizza. ‘They are quite long-lived for birds, you know, and they mate for life. They laugh to mark their boundaries and their young don’t move totally away from home but help to raise the next brood.’

  ‘They’re great birds,’ Tom said, ‘but I still want to be an owl.’

  ‘I want to be something that mates for life. It just sounds so much simpler. Do owls mate for life?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but you’re right, it would be much simpler if we could all do that. Except then I wouldn’t have met your mum, would I?’

  ‘But you wouldn’t have had your heart broken, either. Think of that.’

  ‘It didn’t do me any harm, really. Probably helped grow me up a bit. There’s a persuasive theory, Millie, that men don’t really grow up until they’re in their thirties.’

  ‘Looks like I’ll have to settle for a boy, then,’ I said. It was only just possible to imagine being twenty. Anything older was out of my imagination’s range.

  Tom laughed and patted my head.

  ‘You’ll grow him up, Millie. You’ll be all right.’

  I wrote that down in my journal later, exactly what Tom had said. It was the best thing anyone had said to me all week.

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  I woke up with the nagging kind of feeling that something was wrong. I checked everything I could think of. Aliens hadn’t abducted me (a scientist’s daughter shouldn’t believe in aliens, but I still do). Pavlov lay on the end of my bed, so it wasn’t Pavlov. I lifted the edge of the blind and looked out. The little yellow-winged honey eater flew off. All was well with the world – the
new ice age hadn’t come.

  Then I remembered The Project. Today was D-Day. Desperation Day. It was due in tomorrow and all I had was a crummy bit of stupid brainstorming which was more about Rowan than the project topic.

  ‘I’ve got to do my project,’ I yelled through Tom’s closed door. ‘Tom, I’ve got to do my project.’

  ‘Hang on, Millie, it’s only 7.30. It’s Sunday, for heaven’s sake. Haven’t you heard of the day of rest?’

  ‘This is a crisis, Tom.’

  ‘Millie, it’s too early for a crisis.’

  ‘I’ll make coffee,’ I offered.

  ‘I suppose I won’t get back to sleep. All right, make coffee.’

  I did extra special coffee, heating the milk and sprinkling chocolate over the top, just like they do in a café.

  ‘Brilliant,’ Tom said, taking a sip. ‘Where did you learn this, Millie?’

  ‘The project,’ I said, sitting down opposite him. ‘Tom, it’s the last day. It’s due tomorrow. I’ll fail.’

  ‘Why have you left it up until now? Couldn’t you have sorted this out with your mother? I don’t know anything about school projects.’

  ‘I didn’t mention it to Mum. I was trying to avoid it.’

  ‘But why, Millie? Why leave it to the last minute?’

  ‘You mean, why leave it until you’re here.’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose I do mean that. School projects are way out of my field of experience. You should have brought this up with Kate.’

  ‘I know. I’m really sorry, Tom. This is way outside a boyfriend’s responsibility.’

  Tom sighed. ‘You’d better tell me anyway.’

  I told him everything. I even showed him my brainstorming, although normally I wouldn’t have done that because it was so pathetic, but I needed Tom to see how dire the situation was.

  ‘Yes,’ he said after I explained. ‘Yes, I can see it isn’t good.’

  We sat for a while in silence. Finally he said, ‘You know that little park you took me to yesterday?’