Millie and the Night Heron

by Catherine Bateson

  ‘Well, you can tell her your mum’s mobile battery is dead and you know her situation better than I do.’

  ‘She hasn’t got a situation,’ I told him. ‘She’s just got a son called Mitchell and an ex-husband and she’s living with this school counsellor called Brendan, who isn’t particularly nice even though she loves him more than anything.’

  ‘Sounds like a situation to me.’

  ‘It’s just Sheri,’ I said. I was tired and wanted to go to bed and dream about being a world famous photographer. ‘I’ll ring, but you stand there, in case it’s something you should talk to her about, okay?’

  ‘It’s a deal.’ Tom actually moved one step forward and half a step towards me. ‘How is that?’

  ‘Perfect. It’s ringing. It’s still ringing. She’s gone out, maybe ... oh, no, oh, hold on. Shh. Hi, Sheri.’

  Sheri sounded nearly hysterical.

  ‘Kate,’ she sobbed. ‘Oh, Kate, thank heavens you rang. I’ve been ringing and ringing your number but it was always your blasted machine.’

  ‘Sheri, it’s Millie here, not Kate. Mum’s in Sydney.’

  ‘Millie, you sound just like your mother. Oh Millie, I tried her mobile even – and he hates me making mobile calls. It’s just that little message, the person you are trying to contact, etc. I don’t know who else to talk to. Have you got another number for her?’

  ‘She’s out,’ I said. ‘ We can’t talk to her. She’s out at an artists’ dinner. Sheri, what’s wrong? I can tell her when she rings next, if you like.’

  ‘He was leading this double life, Millie. Brendan was. You know at Christmas when he took the presents to give to another family? A family in need, he said? They really were another family. His other family. Millie, I don’t want to be telling you this. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘She’s sorry,’ I mouthed at Tom.

  ‘Who are you talking to?’

  ‘Tom,’ I said. ‘You know, The Boyfriend. Sheri, do you want to talk to him? He’s good with situations. He’s very user-friendly.’

  ‘There’s nothing to do. Mitchell and I have to move out. I can’t stand living here. I can’t stand knowing he’s seeing someone else, that he was always seeing someone else. It’s just so...’

  ‘Crappy,’ I supplied for her. She seemed at a loss for words.

  ‘Crappy.’ Sheri laughed but it wasn’t a good laugh, not a gee, the world’s a funny place laugh. It was a laugh of doom. ‘He used to get angry with me. Something Mitchell or I had done or hadn’t done. Stupid things. Mitchell was always doing something wrong, according to Brendan. Leaving a tap dripping – he couldn’t turn the taps hard enough. It was Brendan’s fault, not changing the tap washers. But he’d get angry with Mitchell. He’d say, “How do you think we can save the world if kids like you don’t become more responsible.” I said to him, “You’re a counsellor, Brendan. Do you think that’s appropriate stuff to say to a seven-year-old?” “Well, Sheri,” he’d say, “if you’re not going to be responsible for the welfare of your child, someone has to be, I suppose.” He’d say, “You don’t make me feel very healthy, Sheri. I think I need to go somewhere else for a while”, and then he’d get in his car and drive off. I’d sit there and cry, Millie. Brendan was feeling healthy somewhere else, yeah. He was feeling healthy with another woman.’ There was a fresh wail of sobs.

  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘I think you had better talk to Tom. He really helped with Rowan, you know.’

  ‘Who is Rowan?’

  ‘This boy I had a crush on. He went home to play snooker with Tayla who is the most horrible girl in the world.’

  ‘What was Tom’s advice?’

  ‘Take-away pizza and videos,’ I said promptly. ‘Shall I put him on?’

  ‘Oh, I may as well say hello,’ Sheri said. ‘Just hold on, I have to blow my nose.’

  There was the squelchy hoot of a nose being blown and then Sheri came back on the phone.

  ‘Thanks, Millie,’ she said. ‘You’re a wonderful girl.’

  I held out the phone receiver to Tom mutely. He looked at me with a pleading look but took it gingerly.

  ‘Hello, Tom here ... Yes, yes, that’s right ... Good, yes, very good. Actually she’s seeing Patrick ... No, I’m not worried ... Well, okay, I was a little ... at first ... That’s right, as you are with old ... but I’m not now ... That’s terrible, Sheri ... What a lying ... Well, yes, I did say that ... I was pretty young when take-away pizza worked, I must admit ... Work, too, of course ... No, I don’t have any kids ... I’m enjoying ... Yes, she is ... Yes, very ... Oh, I think we’re happy ... very happy ... I haven’t met anyone quite ... No ... Well, no, you couldn’t stay ... Come here? ... Well, I don’t like...’

  Sheri and Mitchell couldn’t come here. I shook my head wildly at Tom. Not here, not with Mum away. I couldn’t cope with them and neither could he. We weren’t geared up for a heartbroken Sheri.

  ‘There’s not really any room,’ Tom said firmly. ‘And Kate isn’t here. There must be somewhere else you can go, just for a couple of days? ... Yes, I think that would be best ... Please, don’t think I’m ... No ... Well, that’s right ... I don’t think we would ... Good, I think that is a good idea ... Back to Millie? Of course ... And look, I think you’re well out of it if he’s seeing this other ... All the time? Well, that is shocking ... and with a child involved ... just reprehensible ... Maybe you should notify the school ... Oh, I don’t know ... If you were calm ... Well, it has to effect his professional ... Sure, I understand that, but ... Well, yes, he’s in a position of telling others ... It does sound as though he’s abusing his ... Perhaps it would be best to wait ... Yes, Millie’s here ... Good talking to you, too, and I am so sorry, Sheri. It’s a terrible thing he’s done. He does sound like a complete ... And from everything Kate and Millie have told me you’re a wonderful ... Oh, yes, here she is then. Bye.’

  He held out the phone to me with a look of relief.

  ‘Sheri? See I told you he was okay ... Yes, she does seem very happy ... I’m fine. We’ve been all afternoon in the darkroom, developing photographs ... Give her a call tomorrow morning. I’ll get you the number.’ I read Mum’s hotel number to Sheri. ‘Okay. Yeah, Sheri, I love you too, lots and lots. Big hugs and to Mitchell, too ... I think that’s a good idea, Sheri. Your mum’ll look after you for a couple of days and Mitchell loves her, too. Then Mum will be home. She’ll know what to do ... Oh Sheri, of course I’d phone you ... Thank you. You take care, too. Let his stupid tyres down for me. Bye.’

  ‘She’s pretty upset,’ Tom said, looking worried. ‘You don’t think she should have come here?’

  ‘No.’ I shook my head. Sheri upset was like a force of nature. You never knew what she’d do. ‘She’s going to her mother’s place. Aunty Rox will look after her. She could even go to Mitchell’s dad’s place. He’d be happy to put them up, but she won’t do that, of course. It could give him false hope.’

  ‘Of course,’ Tom said.

  ‘You see what I mean about birds that mate for life,’ I told him, yawning. ‘It’s a lot easier.’

  Tom laughed. His laugh was a good laugh. It was that glad sound that tells the world you’re happy with it.

  ‘I think she’s better out of it. What a ... well, what a dreadful man he must be.’

  ‘Pig’s Trotters, that’s what I call him. His name is Trotter. Mum didn’t like him from the start. She said he was controlling and ... a world beginning with g. Glib. She said he was glib. What does glib mean?’

  ‘Someone who says a lot of stuff, you know, talks the talk but it’s all bull ... oops, sorry Millie. He sounds worse than that, though.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure Mum will find a few new things to say about him now. Sheri will be okay, though. She’s pretty cool and tough in her own way.’

  ‘You know, Millie, not all men are like that. I wouldn’t ever...’

  �
��You’re cool, too.’ I punched him lightly on his shoulder. ‘I don’t think you need to worry.’

  ‘Thanks, Millie. Bed now, okay? I’ll set the alarm for a bit early tomorrow morning and we can do the photographs then. You won’t be able to see straight if you stay up any longer.’

  I yawned a yawn wide enough to swallow a cat. ‘Nup, you’re right. Okay. See you in the morning.’

  Before I went to sleep though I made a curse against Brendan Trotter. It’s not that I believe in them, necessarily, but it felt good to do it for Sheri. I put it in my journal. I didn’t call on the Spirit of everything Fair and Just this time, just whatever spirits were out there listening. Here’s what I wrote:

  The Curses on Pig’s Trotters

  aka Brendan J. Trotter

  Make Brendan Trotter miss Sheri every miserable moment of his days and his other woman leave him, too, in disgust at the feeble, shallow person he is. Make his clients give him a book titled ‘Twelve Steps to Being a Successful Human’ because he so clearly isn’t. Make his toilet plumbing go wrong. Make his stupid counselling books go mouldy and his car rust. Give him tyre punctures, flat batteries and nothing but static on his radio. Make him ring Sheri up begging for forgiveness and have her hang up in his ear. Make his own mother tell him he’s a disappointment to the human race. Let him know every day how horribly and disgustingly he’s behaved and let him regret it every single day he wakes up.

  And then, just to even things up, I put in a good wish for Sheri, because either one could work, then.

  Wish for Sheri

  aka Kate Childes’ best friend in the world and Millie Childes honorary other-mother

  I wish that Sheri would find a proper Boyfriend who knows and obeys the Boyfriend rules of good behaviour and who is so delighted to have someone as talented and funny as Sheri in his life that he never fights with her but just loves her, in a strong and real way the way everyone deserves.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTEEN

  Ms O’Grady was in a fluster the next day at school.

  ‘Projects,’ she said, ‘projects everyone. Come on, we’ve got very important visitors today. I want all the projects displayed. It’s politician time.’

  She cracked the whip all first period. We begged more map pins and display boards from other classrooms, we laid unmountable projects on desks and begged a laptop from the computer lab so Erin’s power point could be displayed to full effect.

  The politician came through at the end of second period. We had to chorus out ‘Good morning, Ms Connors’, and listen while she gave a short talk about why she became a politician and what she cared about. Then we had to go and stand next to our projects while she walked around the room with the principal and asked us questions about them.

  ‘This is excellent work,’ she said peering at mine. ‘Did you really take the photographs?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘and I developed them myself with my mother’s boyfriend. He’s a photographer, you see.’

  ‘Fantastic, and such a good message too. Well done ... Millie, is it?’

  Then she passed on, leaving a sniff of lovely perfume behind her. I was pleased she’d picked me out. She didn’t stop at everyone’s projects. I suppose she didn’t have time to do that.

  ‘Well done, everyone,’ Ms O’Grady said, after the principal and the politician had left. ‘You were terrific. Ms Connors was impressed. In fact she was so impressed with the projects that she’s donated a couple of prizes for the best students. Ms Farn will present them tomorrow at assembly, but I’m going to tell you now who got the prizes so you can make sure you’re wearing assembly-appropriate uniforms and so you can invite your parents, if they’re free. Millie Childes, Sarah Reed and Nate Redfern, congratulations!’

  Sarah squealed and hugged me, as though we’d just won an Olympic medal or something.

  ‘What do we get Ms?’ Nate asked, when the class had stopped clapping. ‘What’s the prize?’

  ‘I don’t know. Probably a book or something like that,’ Ms O’Grady said. ‘But Nate, it’s the honour, not the prize.’

  After that we all toured around the room looking at each other’s projects. I paid attention to Rowan’s sport and the environment project. It was sloppy. His smile didn’t seem to make my knees tremble any more, and he kept combing his gelled hair with his fingers as though the little spiked bits would flop over if he didn’t check them all the time. His skin wasn’t too hot, either. I know I shouldn’t talk (Miss Pimple Queen of the Universe), but I didn’t have them clustered on my forehead in little crusty clumps.

  I was over Rowan. He wasn’t my type.

  Funny how you can decide that kind of thing and the other person just have no idea.

  Helen-Sarah-Rachel-and-I were sitting around at lunchtime when Rowan came up.

  ‘Hey, Millie,’ he said, ‘those photographs were awesome. What happened to you at basketball? I looked everywhere but you’d just disappeared. Would you like to come again on Saturday? And bring your camera? It’d be great to get some shots of the game.’

  I could hear Helen-Sarah-and-Rachel hold their breaths. I looked at Rowan and smiled.

  ‘How was Tayla’s new pool table?’ I asked him sweetly.

  ‘Pretty good. Her dad bought us Maccas for lunch. It was cool. But Millie, I could take you to Maccas next Saturday. I’ve got some pocket money.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Rowan, I’m just not into action photography. I prefer landscape and portrait shots. They’ve got more depth, you know. They’re more of a challenge, really. Action shots are kind of point and hope. So thanks but no thanks, if you know what I mean.’

  His face was interesting. First he looked confused, then he looked stunned and finally he looked sulky.

  ‘Tayla’s right,’ he said. ‘You are stuck up.’ And he walked away.

  ‘You dumped him,’ Rachel said. ‘I don’t believe it, Millie Childes. You dumped Rowan!’

  ‘I didn’t dump him exactly.’ My stomach was all weird but at the same time I felt I could breathe more easily. I sat up straighter. ‘I just don’t want to waste my Saturdays photographing some dumb basketball game. Anyway, I don’t really have a camera. I used one of Tom’s.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ Helen said. ‘You really did dump him. That was the coolest thing I’ve heard.’

  It was all round the school by the end of the day.

  Tom was at home when I got home and I told him the whole story, starting with the politician and ending with the accidental dumping.

  ‘So you’ll have to come to assembly tomorrow morning. Can you, Tom? Because Mum won’t be there and Nate said his mum will definitely go and both Sarah’s parents are probably going to be there because they’re on late shifts this week. Could you come, please?’

  ‘Well, well,’ Tom said, ‘this is unexpected. Yes, I suppose I could. I don’t teach until tomorrow afternoon. I could be there. You don’t think the school will think it a bit ... you know ... unusual?’

  ‘Of course not. This is the twenty-first century, Tom, not the Dark Ages.’

  ‘Right. It’s a date, Millie. Here, I got something for you, too – my part of our deal.’ He handed me a largish square box and then stepped back to watch me unwrap it.

  Inside was a camera case and inside the camera case was a 35mm camera. The same one I had already used.

  ‘It’s really a spare,’ Tom said quickly. ‘It isn’t new or anything. I hope you don’t mind, but it is a good one and you can get extra lenses for it. There’s a zoom lens in the case for you already, but you might eventually like to get a wide-angle or a portrait lens, depending on how interested you become. I thought about a digital camera but I think that could wait. They’re obviously the way of the future and there are some fine photographers having lots of fun with them and producing some wonderful stuff, but really with me with a darkroo
m and, you did seem to enjoy the enlarging process ... This way, I thought, you could find out about it all the old way, which does give you the best grounding ... and, Millie, I hope you like it. Is it okay?’

  ‘Oh Tom,’ I said, ‘it’s just the best present ever. Thank you so much, thank you.’ I wanted to hug him but it wasn’t Christmas so I didn’t feel I could. ‘Honestly, it’s just ... magic.’ And I hoped he knew that I would have given him a hug if it had been Christmas or even my birthday.

  Tom made that little chuckly sound. ‘Well, well,’ he said, ‘it will be good, eh? There’s a local camera club you might like to join too. Of course, most of the members would be a bit older than you, but I know a couple of kids who are keen, too. They turn up with their parents and do their own thing.’

  That night Mum rang and I was able to tell her everything, from Sheri to the project. Then I gave Tom the phone and I went into my bedroom to look at my camera again and to give him some privacy. He was on the phone for ages, but it must have been okay, because he was all smiley and happy when he came out.

  ‘I told your mum I’d pick her up at the airport,’ he said. ‘She gets in on Thursday at about three o’clock. She said you’d be fine on your own after school.’

  ‘Can’t I come?’ I asked. ‘I love airports.’

  ‘You’ll be at school.’

  ‘I could miss it for a day,’ I said. ‘I’m doing okay and Thursday we have sport anyway, practically all day.’

  ‘I don’t know, Millie, missing school is missing school. I’ll have to ask your mother.’

  ‘If you didn’t ask her, it would be a surprise. That would be pretty good, don’t you think?’

  ‘I’ll have to think about this, Millie.’

  The assembly was nerve-wracking. I didn’t expect to be nervous. At my old school we had to go up all the time in assembly and get awards – student of the week, best help with the preppies, neatest work for the week – but there weren’t as many people watching you and there wasn’t a stage either.