Too Many Secrets

by Adele Broadbent

  ‘Not enough room in my place. You’ve seen it. You know how small it is.’

  ‘He can’t keep sleeping in sheds, Oscar. Surely you can see that?’ said Mark.

  Go, Mark! I thought.

  ‘Ask the boy. He was perfectly happy before. Isaiah!’

  ‘Quick, Isaiah,’ I said, pushing him towards the door. I followed him outside to see Oscar leaning on a crutch. He had a scowl deeper than the long drop.

  ‘Hello, Oscar,’ said Isaiah.

  ‘Look at you,’ said the old man. ‘Cleaned you up, have they? Right Samaritans.’

  ‘They have been very kind.’

  ‘Ambulance service, taxi service, clean and clothing service,’ scoffed Oscar, adjusting his weight on his crutch. ‘Just what we need around here.’

  What? The ungrateful old git! Just as I was about to tell him, I caught Mum’s look. It said ‘shut up’ with capital letters. I nearly bit my tongue off.

  ‘Are you coming or staying, Isaiah?’ grumbled Oscar.

  Chapter 64—Becs

  Oscar wasn’t impressed when Isaiah told him he was staying. ‘I will come and do my chores later, Oscar. But first I need to repay their kindness.’

  Mum and Mark insisted he didn’t have to repay anything but I was glad he chose to stay a bit longer.

  ‘Isaiah sure knows how to work,’ said Mark, sliding in at the kitchen table at lunchtime. ‘With two of us, we’re making some headway.’ He saw our joint girl glare and backtracked. ‘Not that you guys aren’t good too. You are. It’s just that…oh, I give up.’ Mum and I cracked up laughing.

  ‘Where is he?’ asked Nick, hanging out the back door. ‘I thought he was following us.’

  ‘He’s gone to Oscar’s,’ said Mark tucking into his lunch. ‘Said he had chores to do.’

  Isaiah turned up at the end of the day. ‘Hi, Isaiah,’ said Nick, bouncing out to see him.

  ‘Hello.’ He smiled when I rolled my eyes behind Nick’s back. But she did us a favour, bouncing back inside to announce Isaiah was back for the night.

  ‘Your bed is there if you want it, Isaiah,’ said Mum. ‘Would you like something to eat?’ And suddenly he was like part of the family.

  I reckon Mark enjoyed some male company because he talked non-stop all night. Poor Isaiah was someone new to rave on to about his plans for Herrick House. And the fact that Isaiah was a Herrick made Mark even worse.

  ‘Isaiah,’ said Nick in the middle of Mark’s raving, ‘why don’t you live in Herrick House if it’s your house?’

  Isaiah squirmed under everyone’s gaze. ‘My papa forbade us to go there. He told us it was a bad place.’ My family just stared, so I went to Isaiah’s rescue. ‘His father said the house did bad things to people who lived there because his grandfather was an alcoholic and a gambler.’

  ‘Becs!’ said Mum. She reached out to touch Isaiah’s arm. ‘I’m sorry, Isaiah.’

  He just nodded. ‘It is true. Papa said he was keeping people away from it for their own good but then he ended up leaving it too.’ He shrugged. ‘I am glad he sold it to you,’ he said to Mark.

  ‘Where’s Isaiah?’ was the first thing Nick said in the morning. I couldn’t miss my opportunity. ‘Nicola’s got a crush on Isaiah,’ I sang.

  ‘I have not!’ cried Nick, blushing to prove she did. ‘Take it back!’

  I smiled at Mum, who sneaked me a wink. ‘Whatever,’ I said, suddenly wondering about Isaiah myself.

  ‘He’s gone to Oscar’s,’ said Mark. ‘He’ll meet us at the house later. I’m sure he’s busting to get a look inside after all these years. What do you make of his father, Becs? Seems a bit far out, don’t you think?’

  You don’t know the half of it, I thought, remembering some of what Isaiah had told me about his papa. ‘His whole life has been a bit far out,’ I said. ‘I believe everything he says about his father. Oscar said it too,’ I reminded them. ‘Isaiah’s father banned them from the house, not letting anyone near it, then without a blink, they packed up and took off. Couple of sandwiches short of a picnic, if you ask me.’

  Chapter 65—Isaiah

  We stood ten paces from the front steps of the big house. I tried to block out a lifetime of Papa’s warnings. ‘I am not sure, Becs. Maybe I should just stay outside and help Mark?’

  ‘Aw come on, Isaiah,’ pleaded Nick. ‘I want to show you my new room.’ She tugged on my hand. The more I got to know Nick, the more she reminded me of my own little sisters. They wore their hair in braids and Nick wore hers short, but underneath they were the same. I smiled and let her lead me closer.

  ‘Honestly, you’ll love it,’ said Becs. ‘Aren’t you just the teeniest bit interested? I don’t know anyone else with a place like this in their family history.’ Her face lit up. ‘That’s it! You have to see the pictures I found at least. Come on, Isaiah.’ She pulled on my other hand. ‘It’s your grandfather as a boy and your great-grandparents too. Your great-grandmother was gorgeous.’ Her enthusiasm was catching—just like when Mr Burgess spoke of this house. No matter what Becs had told me about her stepfather, they were more alike than she thought.

  A tiny nod was all she needed. ‘Yes!’ They tugged me up the steps to the front door. When I hesitated, Nick whispered, ‘Take a deep breath. That’s what I do when I’m scared.’

  I held my breath and stepped inside. It was as if Papa had gone the moment I stepped through the door. His words faded as I gazed upwards to the high ornate ceilings.

  ‘Cool, eh?’ said Nick.

  ‘Over here,’ called Becs. I turned to see four large oval portraits on the wall. ‘Look, Isaiah,’ said Nick pointing to the picture of a man. ‘His eyes are just like yours.’ She was right. This must be him, I thought. Joshua Herrick. My great-grandfather. He sat up straight with a sparkle in his eye. The family portrait showed him standing with a smile behind his family.

  ‘Doesn’t he look happy and proud?’ whispered Becs. ‘I wonder why she left?’ She turned to look at the photo of a woman. My great-grandmother.

  ‘I’d just die for that necklace,’ said Becs. ‘I bet it was worth a bomb.’ When I frowned she explained, ‘Worth a lot of money.’

  I stared at the boys. One of them had dark eyes like his father and the other blue eyes like his mother. One of them was Papa’s father, but I knew nothing about him either.

  ‘Come on,’ called Nick from the top of the stairs. ‘Our rooms are up here.’

  They were right. Herrick House was grand. It still needed a lot of work but I could tell Mr Burgess meant what he said about restoring it to its former glory. Becs and Nick had rooms looking out over the bush. I could have sat there and watched the birds all day.

  Becs’ mother was working hard in the kitchen. Not like my mother, baking and cooking all day. Becs’ mum was repairing the doors on a wide pantry. She smiled as we walked through. ‘Hi, Isaiah. What do you think of Herrick House?’

  It sounded odd to hear my name attached to the grand house. I could only smile back, strange feelings swirling through me.

  ‘Come on, Isaiah,’ said Nick, grabbing my hand. ‘I’ll show you where Dad’s working.’ She tugged me along the hallways, but I wanted to see everything. The high ceilings along the halls, the little alcoves hiding throughout the house, the huge rooms along the way.

  ‘Hello, there,’ said Mr Burgess when we entered another enormous room. The centre of the floor was surrounded by a fence of yellow warning tape. ‘Be careful, guys,’ said Mr Burgess. ‘The floor isn’t safe. I’m just working out how much we’ll need to replace. This is going to be the main bedroom.’

  I could see why. A stained-glass window filled half of one wall. Shapes of birds and trees seemed to move as the sun twinkled through them.

  ‘Amazing, isn’t it?’ Mr Burgess beamed. ‘There was nothing on the plans about it. No photos, either. Just another bonus I’ve found as we work through this place. Becs, do me a favour. I need my small red toolbox. I left it on the front veranda.’

  ‘I’l
l get it,’ cried Nick, running back through the house.

  I felt Becs’ tug on my arm. ‘Quick!’

  Chapter 66—Becs

  I grabbed the chance to get away from Nick for a bit and led Isaiah through the back of the house and outside. When I reached the back porch I turned to grin at Isaiah. ‘Peace at—’ Isaiah was as pale as the plaster ceilings. ‘Are

  you all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ he muttered through gritted teeth.

  ‘Here.’ I pushed open the porch door. ‘Come outside and get some fresh air. You look weird all of a sudden.’ We sat on a concrete bench still wrapped in vines. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘I am angry,’ he said, glaring at the ground in front of him. ‘That is how my family could have lived. With lots of space for the little ones to play and lots of room for Mother’s work in the kitchen with my older sisters.’ He clenched his fists. ‘But Papa had us all living in that small house like rabbits in a burrow.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘Herrick House is enormous. I have to admit, though, at first I thought Mark was absolutely bonkers—crazy, I mean, for moving us out here to do it up.’

  Isaiah looked up at me. ‘I’m glad Mark is bonkers. Herrick House is part of my history. Part of my family. I want to help you fix it.’

  I laughed. I’d have to tell Mark that one. It was great Isaiah had lost his fear of the house, but I wasn’t looking forward to him finding out Mark was restoring it to sell again.

  Chapter 67—Becs

  Mark was stoked Isaiah wanted to help, especially after he’d worked so hard the day before. Actually, I thought us girls had been doing a good job, but was pleased that Isaiah had a reason to stick around a bit more. Things still felt up in the air, though. Mark and Mum hadn’t mentioned his family again but I’d heard them talking about it at night when I went out to the loo. They shut up real quick when I mumbled my way past them in the kitchen.

  Isaiah helped Oscar in the mornings with stuff, and hung out with us the rest of the time. We hadn’t seen Oscar since his visit, but Isaiah said he was OK.

  One afternoon after Isaiah had left to help Mark, Mum handed me a blackberry pie she’d made. (She was getting really good at using the old stove.) ‘Here, Becs. Take this to Oscar from us. I feel sorry for him being alone all the time.’

  ‘Aw, Mum. Do I have to? He’s fine. He likes being by himself. And he sees Isaiah every day.’

  ‘Thank you, Becs,’ she said. ‘It’s so nice you are being so thoughtful and unselfish now.’ I rolled my eyes and took the pie.

  I knew she was referring to Mark saving my butt. I’d been so surprised that he’d stuck up for me about Isaiah, I hadn’t even thanked him for it. And then he was cool about Isaiah staying. Who would’ve thought it? I smiled to myself. I hadn’t fought with Nick for ages and Mark and I were actually on the same side for a change. Mum’s devious ‘being a family’ plan was working.

  I reached Oscar’s and found him leaning on a crutch feeding his chickens. Well, not really feeding them, more like hurling the pellets at them. He looked up and saw me, the usual scowl on his face. ‘What do you want?’ he said.

  ‘Mum baked this pie for you,’ I said. ‘Where shall I put it?’

  ‘Don’t want it,’ he said. ‘Bloody do-gooder townies, stirring everything up.’ He went back to feeding the chickens.

  ‘Well, you’re having it,’ I spat back. ‘Mum made it for you specially. The least you can do is be grateful.’

  He tipped the rest of the feed on the ground and wobbled over to his house. Just when I thought he was going to disappear inside, he turned back. ‘Well?’ He waited near his porch. I slid the pie plate onto the top step and turned to go.

  ‘This is all your damn fault,’ he muttered. ‘If you’d kept your nose out of things, it wouldn’t have happened.’

  ‘Get real,’ I shot back. ‘If I hadn’t found you, you might be—’ I didn’t want to say it, even if he was being an ungrateful old git.

  ‘Isaiah was perfectly happy before you came along.’

  ‘He was not,’ I said. ‘His father beat him and lied to him. He thought Herrick House was evil and he misses his mum like crazy.’

  ‘Well, I hope you’re happy now,’ he yelled back. ‘At least he was living in the bush where he belongs.’

  My stomach sank. ‘What do you mean was?’

  ‘I’m glad Isaiah wasn’t here when they came,’ he shouted. ‘Bloody townies with their forms and papers.’

  ‘Someone came for Isaiah?’ I said.

  ‘Isn’t that what I just said, you stupid girl? They were headed for your place next.’ Oscar wobbled on his crutch and clutched at the veranda rail.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’ I turned and ran. I had to get there before they did.

  Chapter 68—Becs

  I staggered into the shack’s clearing, a stitch stabbing in my side and my lungs on fire. There was no sign of anyone. Was I too late?

  ‘Hi, Becs!’ Isaiah appeared from behind the silverbeet in the vege garden. ‘Mr Burgess has gone to town to pick up an order, so I thought I would—’

  ‘Isaiah. You’re…still…here,’ I puffed.

  The sound of crunching gravel made us both turn to the driveway. Mark pulled up in the ute. A police car drove in behind him.

  They hadn’t seen us and I got to Isaiah before he bolted. I grabbed his hand and held on tight. I didn’t like them turning up either, but I knew it would be much, much worse if he took off. I pulled him out of view. ‘It’s OK, Isaiah. It’s probably nothing to do with you.’ I was so wrong.

  We peered through one of the lean-tos. Mum came out of the shack to stand next to Mark.

  The cop climbed out of his car. ‘Good afternoon. I’m Constable Tom Ritchie. I’m the local police officer. I’m sorry I haven’t been out sooner to meet you folks.’

  ‘Hello, constable,’ said Mark. ‘What can we help you with?’

  ‘Well, it’s a tricky one.’ He rubbed his round chin. ‘Mr Ford here can fill you in.’

  Mr Ford was the policeman’s opposite. Tall and gangly and serious. He checked out the shack and our clearing in seconds, then scribbled something down on a clipboard. He meant business.

  ‘Afternoon. I’m Michael Ford. I’m a care and protection social worker from Child, Youth and Family. We’ve been advised a minor is living in the bush in this area. Do you know anything of a thirteen-year-old boy named Isaiah Herrick?’

  ‘Yes, we do,’ said Mum. ‘And he’s not living in the bush. He’s been staying with us.’ She glanced over at Mark. ‘We were going to contact you.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Mr Ford. ‘We’ve been to see Mr…’ He looked at his clipboard. ‘Mr…Oscar this morning. He couldn’t give us his whereabouts. Do you know where Isaiah is? I’d like to speak to him.’

  Mr Oscar? Isaiah’s grip tightened around my hand. He suddenly let go and leapt for the door.

  ‘No, Isaiah,’ I hissed, grabbing at his shirt. ‘It’ll make things worse if you run away. I’ll stay right beside you, OK?’ I looked into his pale face. ‘You have to talk to them.’ We slowly edged out of the lean-to, Isaiah still coiled to run.

  ‘Here he is,’ said Mum cheerfully. I could tell she was trying to relieve the tension. Nick’s face was crumpling into tears and Mark looked like he’d been caught with a truckload of stolen goods or something. I glanced at Isaiah and was instantly grateful that at least he was clean and tidy now (even with Mark’s baggy clothes). If these guys had seen Isaiah before, they would’ve really freaked.

  ‘Isaiah,’ said Mum, ‘Mr Ford is here to see you.’

  The social worker didn’t turn out so bad. He probably had to be official to start with until he checked us all out. Over a cuppa, Constable Ritchie had a chat to us all while Mr Ford talked to Isaiah outside. (It took some convincing but, wary as a pheasant, Isaiah finally talked to him alone.)

  Constable Ritchie talked for ages, with Mum and Mark nodding in silence. There was a whole lot of mumbo jumb
o, but what I could figure was that because Isaiah was under eighteen, he was to become a ‘ward of the state’ until they could find his parents, check out any other family he might have and stuff like that.

  When Isaiah had finished with Mr Ford, they finally came back inside. Isaiah still looked uncomfortable—but not half as scared. Was he going to leave?

  Chapter 69—Becs

  Mr Ford went over all the mumbo jumbo again and then told us Isaiah wanted to stay with us. ‘I’m satisfied that he is in good care.’

  Nick burst out crying and ran to our room. Everyone looked startled. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I think that means she’s happy.’ Mark nodded and even Isaiah gave a crooked smile.

  ‘If you are happy for Isaiah to stay with you?’ said Mr Ford. Mum, Mark and I nodded together. He nodded and started again. ‘In order for Isaiah to stay with you, you will have to apply to be “Approved Interim Caregivers”. This will involve more police checks and referees.’

  More police checks, I thought to myself. So they’ve checked us out already.

  Mr Ford continued. ‘Isaiah will have to have a hospital check and be enrolled in school. Or correspondence schooling might apply in this case.’

  Mark and Mum looked so serious as he stressed how important it was to have Isaiah in our care. Blah, blah, blah—I was just relieved he could stay.

  They finally left.

  Nick emerged again, red faced and eyes swollen. She sat in Mark’s lap. ‘Who told on Isaiah?’

  Mark frowned and looked down at Nick. ‘It was probably the doctor at the hospital. Isaiah certainly made an entrance that day, and the doctor would’ve put two and two together. He was just doing his job, I suppose. We could ask when we take Isaiah in for his check-up.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter now,’ said Mum. ‘I’m glad things are sorted. Are you happy with the arrangements, Isaiah?’