by John Marsden
Henry, the cop who’d been in charge, had visited a couple of times. He didn’t say much, but he always made me nervous when he appeared. He looked at me with his eyebrows lowered, like he knew everything, and I had the feeling that he did know an awful lot, and what he didn’t know he probably guessed. Heaps of people had told me about the two men killed by Col McCann’s bull, but no-one had any suspicions, and no sympathy for them either. Henry talked about them but I couldn’t tell what he thought.
During the last interview he did say to me, ‘People who treat us as fools usually regret it sooner or later.’ I went bright red but said nothing. What could I say? I knew we weren’t being fair to him or the police, but I couldn’t admit to being involved in private wars on both sides of the border. At least I didn’t have any injuries visible to him.
Now I wondered if he’d dobbed us in to the Department. It’d be a pretty fair bet.
I don’t think Ms Randall suspected for a moment that only a few weeks earlier I’d been dragging myself out from under a dead body on a staircase while I tried to rescue Gavin, but she knew of course that he’d been abducted. There wasn’t much I could say to that either. It was true he’d been the victim of a major crime. She was using it to say that he wasn’t safe living with me, that he wasn’t being properly looked after. I suppose it did sound pretty bad. She seemed to think I’d been negligent because I hadn’t arranged counselling and stuff like that for him, but Gavin would never have talked to a counsellor, and to be honest, after all we’d been through, all he’d been through, he didn’t seem like he needed counselling. I was the same. We’d found our own ways to deal with stuff, and we just got on with it, like people have done for thousands of years I suppose. Well, except for the ones who fall to pieces. I’ve got heaps of sympathy for them. It so happened that things didn’t affect Gavin and me that way. Gavin just seemed happy to be back. He did stick even closer to me than normal, especially at night, but he was in good shape.
I don’t think anyone but us and our closest friends could understand how our relationship worked, and how right we were for each other. He needed me and I needed him and we got on in a funny way that we’d sorted out between us and which worked even though I’m sure it broke all the rules. I was certain there was nothing in the handbook of the Department of Social Responsibility which fitted our case. I had to hope they’d make up a new chapter.
‘It’s a completely unsafe environment for him,’ she said, ‘living in a place where your parents were killed and he was kidnapped.’
‘I know that,’ I said. I took a deep breath and told her what I’d decided back there on the staircase in Havelock. She was the first to know. But if I was in for a fight to keep Gavin then this would be the first shot. ‘I’ve decided to sell this place. Then I’ll use the money to buy us a home in town, where he’ll be safe.’
CHAPTER 21
MADELEINE RANDALL WOULD never understand what it cost me to say that to her. How could she? After we got back from Havelock, that day I’d walked all around the property, walking the boundaries, the day I’d stood there looking at the wisteria and the roses, the lagoon and the tip, and the swallows, the day I’d remembered the brown snake and the dog getting bitten and the poddy lambs and mustering Coopers, well, I’d put myself through those memories for a reason. I wanted to stuff my head full of memories so that I could keep them forever. I don’t think it really works that way, at least that’s what the logical part of my brain told me, any more than it would make sense to eat three kilos of sausages because you know you’re going to be starving in a week’s time. My memories were either there already or they weren’t, and overdosing now wasn’t going to make much of a difference.
But it wasn’t just about memories. It was also about getting permission from my parents and grandparents and great-grandparents to sell the property. I needed some sort of peace of mind before I did this thing. It was my family who had created this place, and every fence post, every planted tree, every metre of guttering on every shed, was put there by a member of my family who had spent hours or days or weeks doing it. They’d thought about it, they’d left the house to do it, they’d worked in the hot sun or the cold wind, they’d come in for lunch and then gone out again to continue the job . . . They’d concentrated on it and given it energy and imagination and skill . . . and now I was going to throw it all away.
Your family are so much to you. Too much sometimes. They give you roots and they give you wings. Some families give you roots that are too shallow, and some clip your wings. My family had given me roots that went so deep I didn’t know if I could ever pull them out. I suppose in a way that meant they hadn’t given me wings. It was always kind of taken for granted that I’d own the farm one day. If my mum and dad had lived and I’d said at some point that I didn’t want to get into farming, they would have been totally cool about that – depending on what I wanted to do instead of course. Lying in a hammock in Fiji wouldn’t have impressed them much. But if I’d said I wanted to be a doctor or a carpenter or a computer programmer or to start my own business Mum in particular would have been fine about it. Dad would have too, except he would have done a bit of private grieving, shed a tear behind the cattle yards maybe. But he’d never have told me.
I wondered now what would have happened if they’d kept running the place and I’d bailed out when I got to twenty or twenty-five or whatever. It was one thing we never talked about, but I suppose they would have just stayed here until they were tottering around on walking frames and then they would have sold up and moved into Wirrawee. That’s the trouble with only having one kid. You’ve got too much invested in them, and if they don’t come through for you, then you’re stuffed.
So here I was, with dead people controlling my life. That’s putting it brutally, but I had to say stuff like that to myself, to convince myself that it was OK to do this. ‘Tradition is rule by the dead,’ Jeremy had said to me a few months back when we were talking about them bulldozing the gym and the library at Wirrawee High School. I don’t think it was his own original saying, but I remembered it.
At the same time as it didn’t make sense for dead people to control my life, I also wanted to honour and respect those people, the work they’d done, the energy they’d spent, the way they’d made it possible for me to live the life I led. Without them I could have been living in a little suburban house, seeing the neighbours’ wall on one side and the other neighbours’ wall on the other side. The view from my bedroom window could have been bricks and more bricks instead of a huge gum tree and a messy garden bed overflowing with daisies and roses and hollyhocks and evening primrose. I’m not disrespecting people who live in suburbs, because I was about to join them, but I was glad I’d had the chance to experience space and freedom and open fresh air for so many years, and that was only because some people I’d never met, and some people I knew very well indeed, had worked their butts off to make it possible.
One of the hardest things would be telling my friends and neighbours and having to put up with everyone’s comments and advice. But the hardest thing of all would be telling Gavin.
He came home with Homer at about four-thirty. I’d thought about whether I should say anything about Ms Madeleine Randall and had decided that I should. He was going to find out sooner or later anyway, and I’ve never been a big fan of secrets. Fair enough I’d had to keep a lot of secrets during the war and since then, but given a choice I’ll always vote for things to be out in the open. And when Gavin came into the kitchen, with Homer trailing not far behind, I thought it was a good chance to get Homer’s opinion on what we should do.
I started in on the story. When I got to the part about Marmie on the bed, Homer’s face went quite black. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry, and that’s saying a lot. Believe me, a very large lot. I was glad for everyone’s sake that Madeleine had left the building. Gavin on the other hand – well, Gavin surprised me. Not for the first time of course. But looking at them I honestly wonder
ed for a moment who was the older. Homer swept a row of stuff off the bench, including the telephone, stomped up and down the kitchen swearing that he’d drop a hand grenade on anyone who tried to take Gavin away. It was quite some tantrum. Finally, though, he threw himself into an old armchair that I’d dragged in for Marmie and said, ‘OK Ellie, come on, time for another brilliant idea.’
I just shrugged, and Homer then came up with his own brilliant idea. ‘Let’s go down into Hell again. We can hide out there for years, like the Hermit. They’ll never find us.’
I assumed this was a joke, although I must admit there were things about it that did appeal to me.
Through all this Gavin had stood there watching Homer and frowning and now he said, ‘That’s no good. We have to tell them Ellie’s good at looking after me. I’ll go and tell them she’s the best.’
Tears filled my eyes. Gavin so rarely said or did anything affectionate, and fought me over so many issues, and complained bitterly that I was unfair and horrible and cruel. Deep down I knew he loved me like I loved him, but it was nice to hear it from him occasionally.
‘Sounds like you better go back to the lawyers,’ Homer said, calming down a bit now he had Gavin as his role model for calmness under pressure.
‘I guess so. God, I had enough of lawyers last time.’
My own guardianship battle had been such an ugly experience. Like I said before, one of the local lawyers, Mr Sayle, had tried to get the right to handle my money, basically so he could steal as much of it as possible. I won that case, and in the end Homer’s parents agreed to be my legal guardians, but I couldn’t ask them to take on Gavin as well. To be honest they weren’t his biggest fans. They were very strict and old-fashioned, and they already had two wild boys. They put up with him for my sake, but every time he went over there they complained about him. The idea of Gavin moving in with them – not to mention me as well – wasn’t a good one.
I’d told them how Ms Randall said it was dangerous for Gavin and me to be living on the property. But I hadn’t told them my answer to that. Now Homer’s mind was ticking over, and he said to me, ‘How are you going to live here safely?’
The way he looked at me, I knew he’d been thinking about it for a while, and more specifically thinking about having this conversation with me. Like, wondering, ‘How can I tell Ellie this isn’t workable any more?’
So I let him off the hook, and took a deep breath, and said, ‘I’m selling up. I’d already decided before she came out here. I’ll use the money to buy a place in town where we can live.’
Homer stopped breathing and just stared at me. Gavin’s head dropped. I fought to stay in control of myself. I knew I was going to have to be pretty strong during the next couple of months. Finally Homer nodded and said, ‘The end of an era.’
Gavin didn’t say another word for the rest of the evening. His head didn’t lift either. Homer left after a quick dinner and Gavin and I both went to bed. Later, as I lay in my room, I heard him sobbing like his heart was broken. But I didn’t go to him. I couldn’t. My emotional bank had been empty for quite a while. I needed some deposits but I didn’t know where they’d be coming from, in the near or distant future.
CHAPTER 22
Department of Social Responsibility
L/21376 ALLEGED NEGLECT OF MINOR;
RECOMMENDATION FOR FOSTER CARE.
1. The subject is a Caucasian boy (personal details and medical report attached as Appendix 1) but in summary he has severe hearing loss and although currently in good health has a number of scars and marks suggesting both old and more recent injuries. Many of these are of unexplained origin.
2. Since the end of the war Gavin has been residing on a sheep and cattle property near Wirrawee. Initially he was under the care of a Mr and Mrs Linton, whose daughter Ellie Linton became acquainted with Gavin while they were both ‘living rough’ in the Stratton area during the war. After the war the Lintons apparently consented to become foster parents for the boy in a de facto arrangement which was not notified to this department.
3. A terrorist attack on the property subsequently resulted in the deaths of Mr and Mrs Linton, and although the perpetrators of this attack have never been identified (see Police report attached, Appendix 2), it is possible that the attack was a response to the wartime activities of Ellie Linton, as written about by her in several books, which were published and received some publicity.
4. After the deaths of Mr and Mrs Linton, and another adult who resided with them, the two children continued to live at the property on their own, although Ellie Linton eventually came under the jurisdiction of the Court of Protective Services, who assigned her to the guardianship of neighbours, Mr and Mrs Con Yannos (see Court order attached, Appendix 3). However, it seems more than probable that the conditions of the order have not been properly observed, and that the relationship is one of convenience only. My enquiries suggest that the two minors have effectively been living unsupervised, with minimal adult contact.
5. As far as can be ascertained Gavin has no traceable parents. It is believed that his father died in an industrial accident before the war, but it is also alleged that the child’s de facto stepfather murdered his mother in the early days of the war. No charges have been laid in relation to this incident, but the stepfather was convicted of a serious assault on the two minors, Ellie and Gavin, and is currently serving a prison term. He is due for parole in just over seven years (see Appendix 4).
6. As well as the attack by the stepfather, which resulted in knife injuries of some severity to both children, Gavin was recently the subject of an abduction, possibly by a terrorist organisation. He was missing for more than three weeks, during which strenuous efforts were made for his return, but he apparently made his own way back with the assistance of unknown persons. There are serious question marks over this whole matter, with some doubt as to the involvement of Ellie Linton in illegal paramilitary activity across the border (see memo by Inspector Henry Buckland, attached, Appendix 5). Whether this is the case or not, the kidnapping at the very least indicates that Gavin is in a dangerous environment where his safety cannot be guaranteed.
7. There are few details available about Gavin’s lifestyle during the war, but it appears that at no stage was he incarcerated. Instead he appears to have lived the life of a homeless child in the Stratton area, and it can be assumed that he was exposed to the most unfortunate influences, which may well have resulted in serious psychological damage. Post-traumatic-shock syndrome is one condition that should be further investigated and which is most likely to be present in a child such as this.
8. An inspection of Gavin’s present living conditions noted the following defects:
Dog faeces found in vicinity of house
Inappropriate proximity of dog to sleeping area Unmade beds and general unkempt conditions in bedrooms
Bathroom is shared by the two children. Lavatory appeared to be clean but bath and shower area has been neglected for some time. No soap was present in the soap receptacle in the shower
Kitchen floor is clean but rodent droppings were observed behind refrigerator
Microwave was dirty, and food items in the refrigerator were not properly stored. Uncooked meat products were placed above salad items
An inappropriate ratio of soft drink to milk was noted in the refrigerator
No fruit was observed, but some vegetables were in a tub in the pantry and in the refrigerator
A tin of Milo was open on the bench, with Milo crumbs and some spilt milk around it
A wet load of laundry was in the washing machine, and may have been there for some time
A DVD with a rating of M15+ was in Gavin’s bedroom.
A safety guard had been removed from one of the heaters and was placed on the carpet beside it, leading to a possibly unsafe situation should the radiator be switched on.
Outside:
Motor vehicles, both motorbikes and cars, were parked in the machinery shed and in the open, with
keys in the ignition
A jerry can of fuel was next to a motorbike, in violation of regulations as to the safe storage of chemicals
Veranda was unswept
A broken window in the dining room had been repaired with masking tape and was in an unsafe condition
Further evidence of rodent activity was noted in the ducted heating.
9. Ellie attends Wirrawee High School and Gavin Wirrawee Primary School. Photocopies of school attendance rolls for both children are attached, as well as statements by the principals and, in Gavin’s case, the classroom teacher, Mrs Eleanor Rosedale (Appendix 6). It will be seen that attendance of both children is irregular and unsatisfactory. Further, Gavin’s classroom behaviour is erratic and at times has resulted in disruption and consequences such as detention. His classroom teacher notes that his conduct, whilst appearing to be on the improve several months ago, has now deteriorated again, and that on occasions he has hit other children. He is impulsive and aggressive, with seemingly little ability to restrain himself. Although medication is indicated, there has been no attempt to have him assessed, and it is evident that Ellie Linton lacks the maturity to seek this kind of support.
10. Gavin has a tested IQ on the Stanford-Binet scale of 111, his reading age is only 9.2 on the Neale scale and he has difficulties in all areas of schoolwork except Art and PE. No help has been available for his hearing condition, although it is likely that he had an aide at the school he attended before the war. However, he has refused to divulge the name of this school, for reasons best known to himself, and there have not been the resources available to enable us to go through old records.
11. The children were interviewed separately and both were uncooperative. Ellie Linton has perhaps a greater sense of her own importance than might be expected in a girl of her age, and was quite rude and belligerent at times. She seems to feel she has to answer to no-one but herself, and gave answers that were evasive and misleading, for example in relation to school attendance. In respect of her attitude, it seems reasonable to suppose that she would not be a good role model for Gavin in this regard. Her attitude towards school seemed offhand (‘As far as I can see he learns more at home than he does at school.’) and could be considered detrimental to Gavin’s commitment to his own education. Gavin answered almost no questions. His constant refrain of ‘Can I go now?’ seemed calculated to give offence, and is consistent with his school reports. Both children were defensive to the point of paranoia to the idea that Gavin might be ‘taken away’.
