After a few months at the Venice Bronte banished Peri from the trailer to a canvas lean-to she’d pegged out from the side of the caravan. Most nights Bronte had one man or another in the caravan with her so in a way Peri was relieved to be away from them. But the canvas was flimsy and, with the year turning to winter, the lean-to was hot during the day, cold at night. Peri stayed at Mama’lena’s as late as she dared on the nights when Mama’lena was not busy with Neveah.
‘Your mama’s no good,’ Mama’lena would say.
‘She’s not my mother,’ Peri spat.
‘Then who is?’ asked Mama’lena with a hint of malice.
Peri had no answer.
Peri pushed her empty mug away from her. She put Hugo down on the floor and stretched her arms and shoulders, shivering her chestnut wings which gleamed in the afternoon sun lowering through the kitchen window. Hugo goggled at the aquamarine flashing along their undersides. Did her wings awe him too? Did he wonder where his own wings were? All the people he’d known had wings. Was he starting to see he was different? Her wings were magnificent; she was magnificent. She’d become a different creature, like no-one in Pandanus. Would anyone in Pandanus envy her though? Peri thought of her time in Peter’s house, with its new marvels at every turn, things that no- one in Pandanus had even heard of, and knew they’d envy her that, at least. Already she’d seen more, done more, than anyone there ever had.
Imagine showing these wings off at the school though, like I used to daydream constantly. Ridiculous. And dangerous. Only Mama’lena would be impressed and I can’t visit Mama’lena. I don’t even know where she is. Wonder if she has any new girls, any more she’s preparing to fly the coop?
Hugo crawled towards Janeane. Janeane stared at the baby as if he might bite her.
‘So what gave you the idea?’ Janeane said, nodding at Peri’s wings. ‘Not too many people here would think of that. Still, you’ve never really belonged here.’
‘Look, Hugo,’ said Peri, peering under the table. She handed him a biscuit. Hugo sat up and started gumming it.
Peri straightened. ‘It was that TV show. Flights of Fancy. Moneybags—is he still around?—he gave Ryan’s uncle a television. Not just any television but the best, a VaporView, with mist for a screen.’
Peri wondered if Janeane knew Moneybags. If she did, she gave nothing away. Moneybags hadn’t lived in the Venice but he often came there to do business. What business it was Ryan did not know. Everybody knew Moneybags and his big green tank that rolled right over the rubbish in its path, flattening bushes, banana trees, even the odd shack. Everybody had stories to tell about Moneybags, of transgressions punished, usually by sudden disappearance, and of services rewarded. To Peri he was a lot like Mama’lena’s God—he knew everything that went on in the Venice and delivered justice as he saw fit.
It was for favours unknown that Ryan’s uncle scored a television from Moneybags, and on the second viewing night at Ryan’s uncle’s, among the few assigned space on the shack’s rotting porch, from where she could peer through the open window, past the crowd in front of the television, Peri saw the program that changed her life.
Flights of Fancy.
Peri remembered the exact moment she saw fliers, real living breathing people with wings, for the first time. It was in the opening moments of the show when, to dramatic music, the winged hosts of Flights of Fancy, Marlon McGuire and Cushla Brandt, landed at that week’s location.
Peri stared, hardly daring to breathe. Don’t move. She’d heard of fliers, but never seen one, never truly imagined a person with wings. Here was Cushla Brandt, on top of a skyscraper, wind streaming her hair, towers rising up all around her with their grids of light, neon signs winking cold blue, hot pink. I know this. This is something to do with me. Peri was trying to remember but it was hard to concentrate when here were Cushla Brandt and Marlon McGuire, flying wherever they wanted, you don’t have to wait, you won’t fall, human beings with the power and glory of Mama’lena’s angels but better. They were real.
Peri tried to concentrate on what Cushla Brandt was saying. At the end of the series one ordinary person would be raised up to be like them. First you had to prove your worth through challenge after challenge: abseiling, free climbing, ultramarathon, hang-gliding, cross country without map or compass.
Peri felt her way off the porch, her head spinning. Her world had been turned upside down. She was so dizzy with hope she might burst. She should sing and dance her way down the muddy path towards Mama’lena’s. Well, why not? She skipped, singing, I once was lost but now am found, Was blind but now I see. Now she knew the grace, the exaltation Mama’lena said she felt. Peri had never known true happiness until that moment.
She knew what she had to do. She had been blind and now she could see, like the person in the song Mama’lena had taught her. She’d been stuck in the dark well of the Venice. Now she’d been shown she was up high under a sky blazing with stars, a sky that would belong to her. She understood something else: her nightmare, the nightmare that had followed her to the Venice, was telling her something. She’d come from the City; that was obvious from what she’d seen of it in Flights of Fancy. She was from the City. Of course. She was not like the people in the Venice. She was not even like the people in Pandanus. I don’t belong here. I’ve never belonged. Peri thought of the long journey to the Owls. They must have driven all the way from the City. The City, her birthright; the sooner she got back there, the sooner she could get her wings—maybe she could even find her parents. There wasn’t much chance of finding them, though, was there? They must have been killed in a crash or drowned or suffered some other tragic, blameless death. They wouldn’t have let her grow up this way if they were alive. Don’t move. Wait. You’ll fall. But I will move. I won’t wait. Now I know what to do. You can’t fall when you have wings.
Mama’lena said God would give her life freedom and meaning. Peri knew Mama’lena was wrong. Wings would give her freedom. You can’t fall when you have wings. Peri had a guide for her every waking moment. All her thoughts and actions were now directed towards her transformation. Best of all, Mama’lena approved of Peri’s desire. I will help you. I knew from the first time I met you that you were one of the special ones. You need to know about my church. They all have wings. They have found their way. The way. The new way.
Why don’t you have wings, Mama’lena?
Here? I don’t need them here, child. They’ll be on the other side, waiting for me, my reward.
‘So,’ Peri said to Janeane, ‘I saw what was possible, that real people, even ordinary people if they were really lucky and worked really hard, could get wings.’ She laughed. ‘You know, the next few years I spent all my time trying to get myself ready for Flight. Running, jumping, diving into the water. I was the fastest girl in my year at school, I was in all the track and field teams, all the team sports. I trained so hard, I used to tear muscles, even a hamstring once. Cracked a rib. The more sport I did, the less time I spent in the Venice. I even took up archery for a term when it was offered by one of our endless stream of temporary teachers. Honing my reflexes, you see.’
Janeane put her hands behind her neck, stretching it. ‘Didn’t realise television could be so life-changing.’
‘Heh.’ Peri realised she was enjoying talking to Janeane. Who else could she talk with about her past? To everyone in the City, except Luisa, she had no past, had been born the day she’d first set foot in the City.
‘To get your wings, you will have to get out of this here situation,’ Mama’lena told Peri often, and Peri would nod. ‘But how will you get there?’ Mama’lena continued. ‘That is the question. You will need a plan. Not just anyone can go to the City. I have a plan. I can help you.’
Janeane stood. She turned, ducked her head to peer out the window at the sun sinking behind the hill.
‘Tomorrow,’ said Janeane, ‘we’ll ma
ke plans. Tonight I’ll pull together some things you’ll need.’
In darkness, Peri awoke, listening. For a moment she had no idea where she was. She strained her eyes into the dark, her ears. A voice. Thin, dry, low. Peri sat up, slowly, trying not to let her feathers rustle. She felt along her side. Hugo slept tucked under a sheet, between her and the wall, his arms flung above his head in the baby posture of utter surrender and peace.
Stealthily Peri stood, folding her wings close to her body, the feathers warm against her skin, their alien softness still shocking. Even now she had to keep reminding herself they were part of her.
Peri tiptoed to the curtain. The smell of their dinner earlier that evening still lingered in the kitchen. Janeane was sitting at the kitchen table, speaking low. No-one was in the room with her. Something rustled as she spread it out on the table before her, consulting it as she talked to someone, could be anyone—a next-door neighbour, a client a thousand klicks away. The police. No, not police. Who, then?
‘No,’ Janeane said. ‘I don’t think so. It’s not like that. No, no, give me some time, for Chrissake. I’ll try but I don’t think you understand the situation—’ She broke off, looking directly at the alcove. ‘Wait a minute,’ Janeane said as she stood up, scraping her chair back. Peri held her breath. Janeane folded up whatever was on the table and went outside, closing the screen door quietly behind her. Peri heard her start speaking again as she walked away from the house.
Peri lay down on the narrow bed again. No way of knowing who Janeane was talking to or what she was talking about but she hadn’t wanted Peri to hear. Was she going to betray her? Peri lay awake, trying to plan her next moves. She still needed Janeane’s help.
Vegetable light, thick and green, fell from the narrow window, dyeing the white candlewick bedcover. Hugo was snuffling and snorting awake. Lying on her side, Peri fed him. The house felt empty. From further up the hill came the dry snapping and crashing of branches. Janeane must be hacking into something up there. Peri should not have slept so late.
‘Alright,’ said Janeane a couple of hours later, fixing her gaze on Peri. They’d eaten lunch and Peri had washed up. Hugo was on a blanket spread on the floor, playing with a collection of twigs, stones and other things Peri had found for him. Janeane’s pup lay on the verandah just outside the screen door, panting in the afternoon heat, his heaving rump rattling the screen. ‘Let’s talk. I’ve got most of the information you need. I’ve even called a few clients and contacts to let them know to look out for you. So they won’t shoot at you.’ She glanced down at Hugo, who was shaking a dried pod, rattling the seeds inside. They sounded like a little rain shower on the tin roof.
Janeane rubbed at her cheek. ‘I don’t think you should do this.’
‘I know. But I don’t have any choice.’
‘Hard cases make bad law,’ said Janeane. ‘Hard choices make bad decisions.’
Peri shrugged. ‘There aren’t good decisions for me to make, Aunty Jan. Just not-as-bad ones. You have to help me.’
‘I’m trying,’ said Janeane, blowing out her breath in frustration. ‘Don’t you see that? I’m trying to help you. And the little fella. What you want to do is not sensible, not safe. Poor little thing almost got shot yesterday and I’m your friend, for fuck’s sake! I don’t even know exactly how many thousand kilometres of baked earth lie between here and where you say you want to go but—how the hell did you even remember about Ash, anyway?’
Peri snorted. ‘Why wouldn’t I remember Ash? He was only one of your most important clients, and you always used to talk about how exotic he was, how he lived so far away it might as well be a different country, they didn’t even have any bananas there, too dry.’
‘Huh,’ Janeane grunted, leaning forward and putting her elbows on the table. Peri recognised this gesture. Janeane had decided something and would not back down. ‘You still haven’t told me how Mama’lena helped you get to the City. Or why.’
Peri looked steadily at Janeane. Janeane wasn’t going to go any further with this unless Peri talked. Well, it didn’t matter now. Why not tell her?
‘Mama’lena always had a big thing about how I mustn’t be spoiled if I was going to escape the Venice, get to the City. She cut my hair short and gave me a knife and showed me how to use it. She said, You stab here and pull up, like this, see? We don’t want anyone looking at you the wrong way. Ryan and his uncle been told to keep an eye on you but you got to look after yourself too. Can’t go to the City if you spoiled. You no use if you got a baby like these other young girls. You can’t even get a tattoo, understand? You pretty. You worth something. Don’t be spoiling yourself. My girls have a good reputation.’
‘Her girls?’ exclaimed Janeane. ‘Just what exactly was she selling?’
‘No,’ said Peri. ‘It wasn’t like that. This is Mama’lena we’re talking about. She lives for her church. She has contacts in it. They’re all fliers, so they have money. They’re powerful, they can get work permits for the City, stuff like that. And she found girls for them, to work for them. They wouldn’t want anyone who looked rough, certainly no-one who was tattooed, pregnant, sick, anything like that.’
Janeane glanced at Hugo, a slightly softer expression on her face.
Oh, Peri realised, she thinks I’ve been sacked for having a baby. Probably to someone I shouldn’t have. Good. She’s sure to help me now.
Peri paused. What sort of work was she going to tell Janeane she’d been doing? Couldn’t risk telling her she was a nanny; Janeane might guess Hugo wasn’t hers.
‘They can’t get good help, you know, it’s the old story. Fliers all too rich and spoiled to do anything for each other. The church people knew anyone Mama’lena passed along would be good, you know? Careful. Clean-living.’ Peri wondered as she said this how true it was. She only really knew about herself. Neveah certainly hadn’t struck her as a good person. ‘And,’ she added, ‘so damn grateful to be allowed into the City, not like some of the trash already scraping by there, that they’d be cheap, hard-working and stick around as long as their temporary permits kept on being renewed.’
Janeane inclined her head slightly. ‘Wait here.’
Peri waited, watching Hugo mouth the seed pod. He tossed it away, then looked at her hopefully.
‘Not now, Hugo.’
His lower lip wobbled.
‘Oh, come on.’ Peri hauled herself up, retrieved the seed pod and gave it to Hugo, who promptly tossed it away again.
Peri looked around for a distraction. She opened a cupboard. Cups, glasses, plates. She squatted down, opened a lower cabinet and pulled out a small pot. She found a wooden spoon. What was Janeane doing? Impossible to tell what she was thinking. She said she would help Peri but what if helping her meant turning her in? She might think that was the best way of keeping her and Hugo safe or saving her own skin. If that was the case, she should let Janeane think she was staying a little longer then slip away early, get a head start.
Janeane came back, pulled up a chair next to Peri. She flinched as Hugo started gleefully banging the spoon on the pot.
‘Bah!’ said Hugo. ‘Bah-bah-bah!’
‘Now,’ said Janeane, raising her voice, ‘most of what you need I’ve loaded onto this.’ She tapped the screen of the slick in her palm, paging through maps, lists, numbers.
‘I can’t take that,’ exclaimed Peri. ‘It can be used to track me.’
Janeane raised her eyebrows. ‘You don’t think I’ve got a few of these that are off the grid? In my business? Don’t be silly.’
I’m sure you do. But how do I know if this particular one is safe? No way to know.
‘Aunty Jan,’ Peri said, ‘what I really need is to rest a little more. Would it be okay if I stayed a couple more days? Till the day after tomorrow, say—Wednesday?’
Janeane looked as if she was thinking about this but she n
odded a little too quickly. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘I need to lock down a few more things anyway. Some people I haven’t been able to get onto yet. Should have it all in place by then.’
That night Peri stayed awake after Janeane had gone to bed. She sat up on her bed, copying information from the slick onto pieces of paper and stuffing them into her waistband. She drew the maps but found to her surprise she was memorising them automatically, just by looking at them, in precise detail. She stared at the numbers and addresses too but memorising them was no easier than usual. So. New spatial abilities were still developing. Would more gifts surface when least expected?
Peri put the slick and her waistband down on the floor and settled on her side. The little room was still hot from the day. The golden length of evening had been so warm that she’d taken Hugo to the creek for a splash after dinner.
Peri closed her eyes, drifting down, warm, seeing the glinting gold-brown creek where she’d floated Hugo through the water. Janeane had sat on the sand, saying nothing, looking up at the brilliant blue of the evening sky, now darkening to azure. A white shape rolled in the water. Luisa. No. Not this pool. Except it wasn’t the creek anymore but the Venice’s filthy lagoon. You don’t belong there either, Luisa. The very last time Peri had gone anywhere near that lagoon was one afternoon when she was fourteen.
One aimless Saturday morning she’d wandered down to the end of the beach, clambered over the tumble of black rocks on the point, skirted rusting bedframes and burnt-out cars on the lagoon’s edge.
There was something odd out in the middle of the brown lagoon. Peri stood up on tiptoe to get a better look. Something bright red and green moved sluggishly in the filthy water.
When We Have Wings Page 11
