by John Marsden
‘No-one. But you gave me that article to read . . .’
‘I just thought you might be interested.’
‘Well, I am.’
‘Well, good.’
‘So you’re not connected with them?’
‘I’ve heard a few things,’ he said cautiously.
‘Homer! This is me you’re talking to, remember?’
‘Oh yeah! Isn’t that funny? I could have sworn it was Kevin.’
‘Thanks very much. So, what have you heard?’
‘Ellie, don’t you think you might have enough on your plate already? Sometimes it’s a case of what you don’t know can’t hurt you.’
Ouch! Right on my sore spot. And I fired up. ‘So you’re going to decide what I should and shouldn’t know? Anything else you want to decide while you’re at it? You want to go through my wardrobe, or check what shampoo I’m using?’
‘Yeah, thought I’d come over at the weekend. Whatever you shampooed with today smells a bit minty for my taste. Hey, that looks like Mrs Slatter. I think we’re late. Ouch!’
If he’d ouched me I’d ouched him, with a good punch to the upper arm. I hoped he would feel it all the way through Maths and Chem. But I still didn’t know any more about Liberation.
The next day there was a hearing about my guardianship. I had to go to the Courthouse. ‘Be there at 10 am’ the notice said. ‘Be punctual. If you are running late you must ring the Clerk of the Court.’
It turned out everyone had been told the same thing, so there were like forty cases all scheduled for the same time. It didn’t take a genius to work out that they weren’t going to hear forty cases simultaneously. I settled in for a long wait but then Fi’s mum came out of a side door to tell me she’d fixed for me to go on early.
They only did it because Fi’s mum had come from the city and they didn’t want to keep her hanging around Wirrawee all day. Nothing like having powerful friends.
It was great to see her, just great. These days I was willing to take a bit of mothering wherever I could find it. A bit here, a bit there. Even if I’d blown her house to smithereens, even if she’d chopped our farm into five and given four of the parts away, I loved and admired her. She was one of the really important people of my childhood.
She went back in to get ready. I waited outside for Mr and Mrs Yannos, who were sure to be running late, no matter what the notice said. I got pretty anxious because I didn’t think they’d impress the court if they weren’t there when the hearing was called. As I waited it did strike me that the whole situation was kind of funny, in that whereas I had to go through all this legal stuff, no-one was a bit concerned about Gavin, who was much younger than me. Even his school was just taking it for granted that I was his ‘parent’. They sent me notes and I signed his homework diary and consent forms and it didn’t seem to bother anyone. I suppose that legally Gavin hardly existed: he was just part of the flotsam and jetsam of the war, a little boy with no connections, no records, no official identity.
I was a bit startled in the middle of all these thoughts to see Mr Sayle walking up the steps. He detoured around the smokers and came straight for me. He was very businesslike, giving me a pile of papers and explaining them so fast that I only understood about one word in every four.
At the end of that he looked around and said, ‘Where are these people, the . . . ah, the ones you want as guardians?’
‘They’ll be here in a minute,’ I said.
‘They’re not here yet?’ He looked around as though they were probably standing near us and I just hadn’t noticed them. Then he said, ‘Look, Ellie, I have to say I don’t think you’re getting very good advice in all of this. What I want to suggest is that I take on the role of guardian to you. It makes perfect sense, when you think about it. If I’m the guardian as well as executor of the estate, it’d be easier to coordinate everything and to make sure the decisions are in accordance with your best interests.’
He had me in a corner and was talking to the bottom of my throat. I felt very uncomfortable.
‘Uh, well, thanks a lot, Mr Sayle,’ I mumbled. ‘But I really don’t think . . .’
‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’ve got an application to the magistrate, in case you change your mind. All you have to do is sign it, and then when you get into court, explain that you’d prefer to have me do it. It’s very simple, and the court will be happy either way. After all, at your age you don’t need a guardian for emotional reasons. It’s more for the business and financial matters.’
Showed how much he knew. Somehow I pirouetted out from under him and got into fresh air. He turned to face me and I said, a little desperately, ‘No really, Mr Sayle, I’m happy to go with Mr and Mrs Yannos.’
‘Ellie,’ I heard from behind me. ‘Sorry we’re late.’
Mr and Mrs Yannos had arrived like the cavalry and saved me in the nick of time.
In the courtroom I sat next to Fi’s mum, at the desk for the lawyers. They were just finishing a .05 case. The guy lost his licence for six months and copped a five hundred buck fine. The magistrate was surprisingly young, a woman who didn’t look any more than thirty. I’d thought that all judges and magistrates were male, white, seventy years old, and talked like people out of the eighteenth century.
She looked at me over the top of her glasses. Again she surprised me, this time by talking about the death of my parents, as though she really cared. She was businesslike but she seemed nice.
‘Ellie Linton,’ she said. ‘I’ve read the papers in this application. I am so sorry about the events that have led to your being here today. Your parents sound like fine and decent people. These murders were an affront to our society, and in particular a terrible affront to you. Now, I understand that you have asked for your neighbours, Mr and Mrs Nicholas Yannos, to become your guardians. Wouldn’t you prefer to have one of your relatives take on this important job?’
Fi’s mum nudged me to stand up. ‘Go on, you can talk for yourself,’ she whispered.
I faced the magistrate. ‘I don’t really have any close relatives,’ I said. ‘I mean, I’ve got aunts and uncles, but they live a long way off, and we’ve never had that much contact with them.’
‘I see. And are Mr and Mrs Yannos here?’
They stood up too. She asked them, ‘Are you willing to become legal guardians to Ellie?’
They nodded. They seemed a bit overwhelmed by the whole thing.
‘You understand the ramifications of doing this? The officers of the court have explained them to you?’
They nodded again.
‘Well, it seems like a very good solution. The references you have supplied are most impressive. Unless anyone else has an objection I propose to make the order.’
She looked around the courtroom for a moment. And blow me dead if Mr Sayle didn’t stand up and clear his throat.
‘Ah, Your Worship, if I may?’
‘Mr Sayle?’
‘Your Worship, I am the executor of the Linton estate and was a good friend to the deceased persons.’
Good friend! Not that I ever noticed. Anyway, good friends don’t talk about ‘the deceased persons’. That didn’t sound too friendly.
‘Yes, Mr Sayle?’
‘In my opinion, given the complexities of the Lintons’ farming operations, and the difficulties of having too many people involved in these matters, I want to ask the court to appoint me as guardian to Ellie. This would have the advantage of combining the financial decisions on running the property with the financial decisions on running the estate. It would mean that things can be managed with greater efficiency. The advantages of this may not be immediately obvious to Ellie, but the Lintons’ business is a large one and is in critical state financially. If there are different forces all, how can I put it, pulling in different directions, then that can hardly be in Ellie’s best interests.’
The magistrate looked back at me. ‘Ellie?’
‘I hardly even know Mr Sayle,’ I said. I was feeling majorly
pissed off. ‘I know Mr and Mrs Yannos really well. They’ve been my neighbours all my life. They’ve been so good to me, not just since my parents were killed, but for as long as I can remember. I trust them totally. I just think they’ll be able to help me in a heap of different ways.’
Mr Sayle wasn’t flustered. He turned back to the magistrate and launched into another of his long speeches. ‘The fact is that Mr and Mrs Yannos are Ellie’s neighbours, whether they are officially appointed her guardians or not.’ He gave them a warm smile. ‘I’m sure we can assume they’ll continue to be her friends as well, and that they’ll support her in many different ways. But at Ellie’s age what she needs is not so much a guardian who will provide emotional support as a guardian who will take care of her legal and financial requirements.’
I started sweating, thinking about the bank loan Mr Yannos had guaranteed, because the bank had assumed he was my guardian. They’d never bothered to check. I’d thought at the time that it was a bit slack.
Fi’s mum stood, in her usual graceful way. She reminded me of a swan slowly unfolding its wings. ‘I suppose, Your Worship, we could say with equal confidence that Mr Sayle will continue to be executor of the estate, whether he is Ellie’s guardian or not. Surely it is in Ellie’s best interests to have as many people as possible on her side, rather than having everything rest on one person. And despite what Mr Sayle says, Ellie still needs someone in her life to give her support in all kinds of abstract ways, including emotional. For Mr and Mrs Yannos to take on this role in an official capacity helps to stabilise the whole situation.’
The magistrate looked down and made a few notes. Then she said, ‘With someone of Ellie’s age it’s important that we take her wishes into account. On the other hand there are obvious advantages in having the executor take on the role of guardian. I can see the force of Mr Sayle’s argument that Ellie’s friends, like Mr and Mrs Yannos, will always be there for her. And really, we’re only talking about a relatively short period of time, before she comes of age, in the legal sense.’ She paused. I was doing some serious sweating now. I felt sorry for the next person who sat in this chair. She was going to get a wet bum.
‘Excuse me?’ I said.
‘Yes, Ellie?’
‘I had to get a loan from the bank to keep the farm going, and Mr Yannos personally guaranteed the loan. Will Mr Sayle be able to take over that guarantee and guarantee any future loans the property needs?’
‘Well that’s just it,’ Mr Sayle said, standing up again. ‘That’s exactly the kind of problem I’m having. That loan was particularly ill-advised and in my view was not in the best interests of the estate. Ellie and Mr Yannos charged off to the bank and arranged it without reference to me. If I were Ellie’s guardian this kind of thing simply wouldn’t be allowed to happen.’
The magistrate glanced at her watch. ‘Ellie, unless you have some very strong objection to Mr Sayle taking on this role in your life I propose to make an order appointing him as your guardian.’
‘Oh I do,’ I said. Tears started stinging my eyes. ‘I don’t mean this the wrong way but I really don’t want him to do it.’
Fi’s mother stood up again, quickly. ‘This application by Mr Sayle has been totally unexpected, Your Worship. Perhaps Ellie could have some more time to consider her position.’
The magistrate made another note while I waited. I hated the idea that a stranger could make a decision like this in ten minutes, and change my life.
She closed the folder and pushed it away.
‘This is obviously more complicated than I first realised. I propose to adjourn the matter for two weeks and have another hearing on Thursday the third. I appreciate the need to have things clarified, but it’s also important that we arrive at the best possible outcome. That is all. Clerk, call the next case, please.’
CHAPTER 10
‘LEE!’ GAVIN YELLED. He was off his stool and across the kitchen and into Lee’s arms before I had time to put down the spatula and turn around from the stir-fry. Gavin always seemed to beat me to the hugs these days.
‘Good timing,’ I said. ‘I’m doing Thai.’
‘Yeah I know. I smelt it from the city.’
I met him halfway across the kitchen and we had our hug. He’d put on another inch or two, and he’d been tall before that. I felt off-balance. His intensity filled the room already. When I thought of Lee it was always images of the brilliant piano player, and the effective killer of enemy soldiers that came to mind. The pianist and the killer existed in him side by side.
I had no memory of his being at the funeral so as far as I was concerned I hadn’t seen him for ages. Except in my dreams. And I wasn’t sure if that counted.
‘Better get back to the stir-fry,’ I said. I needed an excuse and that lame effort was the best I could do. ‘Have you eaten?’
‘Only if you count a ham and tomato sandwich on the bus. Cost me seven bucks and tasted like a Chux. A very old Chux. The stir-fry is looking pretty good right now.’
I think he was nervous too.
‘I’ll do more noodles.’
I put some of the stir-fry aside for Gavin then chucked about a kilo of chillies in what was left. I knew how Lee liked his food, and I don’t mind the odd sinus clean-out myself.
‘So, where are your brothers and sisters?’ I asked. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve brought them with you?’
‘No, called in a few favours. A lot of favours actually. They’re all at sleepovers for the weekend. Sorry I didn’t ring but I couldn’t confirm it till this morning, and then when I did ring I didn’t get an answer. Guess you were at school.’ He slumped down on a chair. Not the broken one.
‘You guessed right.’
‘Geez, Ellie, how are you doing all this? Running the farm, looking after Gavin, going to school? I know you’re Superwoman but even she got knocked out by kryptonite. Or did she? Come to think of it I don’t know much about Superwoman.’
‘Neither do I,’ I said, serving up the stir-fry. ‘Gavin get over here and stuff this down your gob.’
‘How’s he been?’ Lee said as Gavin slid into the seat beside him.
‘Well, obviously better for you being here. Normally I have to tell him six times to come to the table.’
‘Are you having fun with him?’
‘Fun?’ I looked at him in shock, the spatula in mid-air. ‘What’s fun?’
He laughed. ‘Yeah, took me a while to figure that out too. But I finally got it with my brothers and sisters. I woke up one morning and thought “I’m not their father and I’m not their mother. I’m their brother and what’s more, I’m a teenager. Why am I trying to be a parent?” ’ He grinned at me. ‘I mean, of course we are like their parents. But we’re kids ourselves. We’ve got to do both, be their parents for some stuff but at the same time, muck around with them. It makes it harder in some ways, but it’s the way to go.’
I was eating slowly, listening to this. I realised almost at once how right he was. It had been the same in the later stages of the war. I’d lost my sense of humour, become tough and intolerant. I remember Fi telling me exactly that, one day up near Tailor’s Stitch. Now here was another friend, pointing me in the same direction. I could see how I owed it to Gavin to fill about fifty different roles in his life. And those roles included being a teenage big sister who had fun with him once in a while.
Lee was gasping for breath. ‘Wow, this is some stir-fry. Have you just brought in the chilli harvest? Look, I know this isn’t a very good time to be talking about fun, with your parents being killed and all, but in the long run . . .’
Yes, he was right. But at the same time I started to feel incredibly depressed. I pushed the rest of my meal away.
He watched for a minute before saying anything. Gavin kept eating but he was watching me too, between mouthfuls. I put my hand over my face, with my elbow on the table.
‘What’s wrong?’ Lee asked after a while. ‘Too much chilli?’
‘Nothing much. Just missin
g Mum and Dad. Oh, and wanting to be perfect. I think that’s all.’
‘Oh, that’s all? I don’t see the problem then.’
‘Very funny.’
‘You know the way life works?’ he said. ‘You’re on this moving footway. It starts with everyone telling you that you’ve got to get to the end. There’s a big pot of gold waiting, but if you don’t get there you’re a failure. So you try and try but you don’t make it. So you feel bad. So you try even harder. You still don’t make it. You feel worse. Some people try even harder after that. Some people give up and let themselves slide back to the start. So it goes on. That’s it. That’s life.
‘Oh, and by the way, you’re one of the ones who keeps trying harder.’
He leaned back. ‘And you know the big joke?’ He fixed his dark eyes on me. ‘There’s no pot of gold. Never was, never will be. It’s just an illusion. They show you photos of film stars going to the Oscars and billionaires on their yachts to make you think that they’ve found the pot of gold, but if you talked to them they might tell you the truth. Or they might still be running along the moving footway themselves.’
‘And then there’s death.’
‘Yes, sorry, left that bit out. You’re right, that’s the end of the walkway.’
I got up and filled a jug with water. I brought it back to the table and poured glasses for the three of us. He drank most of a glass without stopping. ‘I’d forgotten how good rainwater tastes,’ he said. ‘The city stuff is terrible. It’s got so much chlorine. Smells like a swimming pool.’
‘Yeah, well this has got wrigglers. Always has.’
‘Wrigglers I can live with.’
‘I guess I worry that if I let myself off the hook, if I don’t keep trying to be perfect, I’ll get too slack,’ I said. ‘I use that to motivate me.’
‘Ellie, trust me, you’re never going to get slack. Anyway, you can aim high and get a glimpse of the end of the footway once in a while and be satisfied with that. Instead of trying to be perfect.’
I didn’t say anything. I looked at the plates on the table and wondered if I had the energy to load the dishwasher. Then Lee got up and started clearing away. I’ve got to admit, that made me feel good. Gavin wasn’t too strong on household chores.
