Phoenix

by Alison Ashley

  “Katie,” Dad said, closing the front door behind him. His face had regained some colour so it could have been that he just needed some fresh air or maybe the jet lag had just caught up with him too. “I’m really grateful for all your help,” he nodded at the attic. “But perhaps you should take it easy for a while. You know, get over your fever so the hallucinations go away.”

  “Hallucinations?” I frowned.

  “This imaginary cousin, Jack,” he said. “And whatever else you think you’re seeing…”

  My breath caught.

  “It’s not real,” he said, shuddering. “It’s because of your fever.” His voice was firmer now, convincing himself or me? He folded the ladder and closed the hatch. “I’ll do the rest of it next weekend.” He stared at the stuff in my hands. “Don’t know what I was thinking sending you up there. My fault,” he shook his head, “all my fault.”

  My heart felt heavy. “I’m fine, Dad, really,” I assured him. “Probably just my earache making me a bit nuts, you know?”

  He forced a smile and fingered the chipped teapot. “Found some hidden treasures?”

  I stiffened. Did he know about the jewels?

  “Not sure they’ll be worth much,” he said. “But you’re more than welcome to keep whatever you find up there.”

  There was no way I was doing that. First thing tomorrow, I would put the jewels back where they belonged. The sooner I undid the wrong the better.

  But if you do that, I shivered as a voice murmured inside me, your link to the past will be gone…

  “Katie?” Dad’s voice was virtually a whisper as he followed me to my room. “Promise me, no more of this nonsense?” His face was twisted with emotion and his eyes pleaded.

  “Promise,” I said.

  “I mean it.” His voice sounded choked.

  I crooked my little finger around his. “Pinky promise.”

  His shoulders visibly relaxed as he exhaled and I gazed at him sadly; not only must it be tough having such a closed mind to the paranormal but because his refusal to acknowledge even a little of the unexplained was rubbing off on Ally.

  I slept with the jewel beside me in the hope I would dream of the past and I could tell Freddie when I woke up exactly where Jack had gone. But my brain wouldn’t sleep and I finally gave up and sat up against my pillow. The clock still said X III. I switched on my laptop and shuddered. Freaky. According to the computer it was ten to three.

  “Must you turn that on now?”

  Ally’s sleep heavy voice startled me and I glanced sideways to see her with her arm extended, trying to block the light from my screen shining on her face.

  “Sorry,” I said. I half closed it then stopped. Whilst she was still sleepy she might be more cooperative.

  “Ally, I’ve kinda got a problem.”

  “What?” She yawned. “Zac wants to dump you?”

  “No!”

  “Hah!” she said, more awake now. “Knew you two were together.”

  “No, it’s not like that!” I said. “I’ve got a problem with Freddie and Jack, my – his cousin and the sapphires.”

  “Here we go again.” She glared at me and rolled onto her side so her back faced me.

  “Just listen, okay?” I said. “I’m not asking for you to come with me. I just need your opinion.”

  She flopped onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Eventually she looked at me.

  “I need to return the jewels to the statue so that people will stop being mean to Freddie. But…”

  “Yeah?”

  “If I do that my portal to the past will be gone.”

  Ally propped herself onto her elbows. “What, so you’ll be like, normal again?”

  I nodded.

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  “I still need to find where Jack went so I can tell Freddie.”

  “What’s this Jack and your freaky life gotta do with me?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “Thought you might have some ideas, that’s all.”

  We both flopped back on our pillows, Ally gazing at the ceiling, me at the computer screen.

  I jumped when the bedroom door opened.

  “Morning,” said Mum. Her hands were cupped around a mug of steaming tea and she hadn’t put her contact lens in yet. “How long have you two been awake?”

  I hadn’t even noticed it was light.

  “Hurry up and get dressed,” Mum continued. “Dad decided that because you’ve been so good about everything he’d like to take you to see Honey.”

  “Honey! Oh my god! We can pick her up?” I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, laptop discarded on the sleeping bag in my eagerness to see my adorable dog. Ally fled from the room, anxious to be the first to the bathroom and hog the limited hot water.

  Mum’s shaking head answered my question before she spoke. “Sorry, not today.”

  “Why not?” I snapped the laptop closed. “You said she didn’t need to be quarantined – she had her rabies shot and everything!”

  “True.” Mum sighed. “But unfortunately there are strict rules regarding pet ownership in these flats.”

  My shoulders felt heavy at the implication that we’d brought her all this way but weren’t allowed to keep her.

  “So what happens to her now?” I asked quietly.

  Mum sipped some of her tea and her tortoiseshellrimmed glasses fogged up. “For the time being Dad has transferred her to boarding kennels,” she said, smiling. “We’ll make a start on finding somewhere else to live – somewhere without stairs for Grandad’s sake too – as soon as the proceeds from our house are cleared and transferred over here.”

  I rubbed my feet back and forth over the rough carpet, staring at the floor. I wasn’t sure I could bear to see Honey if I couldn’t bring her home. Memories of saying goodbye the first time brought fresh tears to my eyes and I flopped back against the wall with my eyes closed.

  “Katie?” I heard the worry in Mum’s voice and felt my bed dip as she sat beside me. Her hand, hot from the mug, rested on my brow. “Are you okay? I can probably still get you an appointment…”

  My ear was muffled and sore, but not worth wasting time at a naturopath when I could be looking for Jack.

  “I’m fine, really,” I said, pushing her hand away. “And there are way more important things to do today than going to naturopaths or,” I swallowed the lump from my throat, “going to see Honey.”

  “Hmm,” Mum mused. “You don’t feel hot any more and you’re right about there being a lot on today. Perhaps we could postpone…”

  “What!” Ally gasped, coming back into the room, freshly showered and already dressed. “Why would you postpone seeing Honey?” She yanked the towel turban off her head and thrust the hairdryer and its English adapter into the wall socket. “That’s not fair, you promised, like, not even five minutes ago!”

  I stared at her bitter face, guilty. She was clearly desperate to see our dog. Mum glanced at me with her eyebrows raised.

  “Okay,” I sighed.

  Mum smiled and stood up. “Dad’s on his way to collect the car as it wasn’t ready yesterday, so what if we catch the bus to Englestone and meet him there…”

  My heart briefly accelerated and I wondered if Englestone was anything like the Englestone back home – open paddocks to the front, rolling hills smothered by state forest behind. Was that why Mum and Dad chose to build there? They’d met at Englestone Technology Solutions when Mum worked her way around Europe after uni, temping. Would I ever get to see my Englestone again…

  “You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said, have you, Katie?” Mum said, leaving the room.

  Within five minutes of arriving at the bus stop, a green double-decker lumbered towards us. It was going to Englestone.

  Mum stepped onto the platform. “I really can’t remember where Dad’s office is,” she mumbled.

  “I can tell you when to get off,” the driver offered. He peered behind at the lower deck. It was packed. The seats were fille
d with oldies in floral dresses and a woman that looked like she might give birth on the bus. The seats towards the back had mothers struggling to control littlies and a creepy old man with a bald patch and thick glasses who kept looking at me.

  “Ah, could be tricky,” the driver said. “I’ll just make sure I pull in at the stop you need. Where you going?”

  We left Mum to sort out fares and stuff. My scabbed knee cracked as Ally and I clambered up the steep stairs and I was thankful that, apart from a couple making out on the back seat, the upper deck was empty.

  Footsteps thumped on the stairs and the bus lurched forwards. I spun around to make sure Mum was okay getting up the stairs and shuddered at the sight of the balding guy grasping the metal handrail. I flicked my gaze to the front and pretended I hadn’t noticed him as he sat right behind us.

  More footsteps. I seized the opportunity to race back to help Mum up. “Here.” I held my hand out but Mum frowned at me. “Let’s sit here.” I dropped into the seats right beside the stairwell.

  “Actually, the front with Ally would be better,” she said. “I could use your keen eyes to help me spot the offices.”

  I gave Creepy a death-stare as I sat back beside Ally, but he just returned a sickening smile, his stare burning into me.

  Outside, the sun shimmered from the endless concrete and windscreens in a dirty haze as traffic crept in two endless lines on either side of the dual carriageway. Both sides were lined with factories and offices, countless buildings, some housing more than one business. In a way it was good we were going so slowly else I’d never have read all the names before we passed them!

  The intersection was so busy that not all the traffic waiting to turn could get through when the lights changed. The driver of a white panel van ignored that the light turned red again, drawing impatient toots from angry motorists. The van drove a short way into the intersecting dual carriageway then pulled into a forecourt in front of an office block.

  “Mum!” I jumped from my seat and pressed the bell on the pole.

  “Oh, we there?”

  I pointed through the side window at ETS, the place that had kept Dad from us for weeks at a time.

  “Well spotted!” she said.

  I glanced back at Creepy as I descended the steps and shuddered as he made eye contact. But at least he stayed seated.

  The bus crept forwards and pulled into the stop.

  “Thanks,” Mum called to the driver.

  He waved dismissively as we got off then pulled away, the bus farting foul black exhaust fumes over us.

  Mum started walking to the lights to cross but I held her back.

  “Wait ’til the bus has gone,” I said, shuddering. “Don’t want that creepy guy to know where we’re going.”

  “There was something unnerving about him, wasn’t there?” she said. “But it’s a good reminder that the two of you should never travel alone here, eh?”

  Ally and I rolled our eyes at each other but Mum caught our contempt.

  “I’m serious girls,” she warned. “This isn’t like back home, you know.”

  “No,” I agreed, watching the bus as it turned off at the next intersection. “We didn’t have buses there.”

  “Katie.” Her tone was sharp. “There’s no need for sarcasm.”

  “Well, if you got me a new phone like you promised, I could call if I was in trouble.”

  “Ah, yes,” she said, hurrying to catch the light so we could cross. “I’ll speak to Dad about that.”

  “That’s so not fair!” Ally grumbled. “Why can’t I get a new phone?”

  “We’re talking basic phones here, Ally,” Mum said. “Just to tide Katie over until our stuff gets here.”

  “Yeah, well, she should pay!”

  We just about made it onto the opposite pavement before the traffic surged again.

  “It wasn’t my fault it got packed!” I hissed. I stomped away from her and towards ETS. “How was I to know the imbecilic removalist would pack the chair with my hoodie still on the back?”

  “Stop it!” Mum snapped, scuttling behind me. “I don’t want to hear another word about phones, do you hear me?”

  “But she did it on purpose!” Ally said.

  “Did not!”

  “Did too!”

  “Enough!” Mum said.

  “Enough what?” Dad said, striding towards us.

  Mum sighed loudly and glanced over her shoulder at us. “What do you think?”

  Dad’s eyes seemed to bore into me and I could only guess what he was thinking.

  “You okay now, Dad?” I asked.

  “I am if you are,” he answered. His eyebrows were raised in question.

  “All normal,” I lied.

  “That’ll be the garlic,” Mum said, smugly.

  Dad and I both rolled our eyes, grinning.

  “So what were you two squabbling about?” he asked.

  “Her getting a new phone,” Ally said, crossing her arms.

  “Oh, is that all,” Dad said. “Remind me when we get back and I’ll sort it out. But guess what I got.” He held up his forefinger to show us the key ring looped over it. “This’ll solve a lot of hassles.”

  He led us around the side of the building and down an alley. The once white paintwork on one building was stained brown and the in/out arrows on the road were almost worn away. A speed hump with patchy yellow paint crossed the alley and the hump warning sign was perched precariously on a buckled pole.

  Beyond the two office blocks the alley widened into a large car park. One side was completely empty – the other half, marked ‘ETS Parking Only’, was half filled with white vehicles with the company logo painted on the sides. All but two: the white van that had jumped the red light earlier, and the smallest car. Dad’s.

  “It’s only temporary,” Dad assured us. “A new car is on order.”

  He slid the driver’s seat as far back as it could go but it might have been easier if he’d taken it out completely and sat in the back. My legs were so squashed that I had to sit sideways behind him. His head hit the ceiling when he drove over the speed hump and I swore the back axle was about to poke through my seat.

  There was barely a gap in the traffic and Dad forced the car onto the carriageway. The sun beat through the window, traffic fumes filtered through the vents, giant trucks towered beside, in front and behind us. I hoped they knew we were there. My head ached. I felt really yuck.

  “Can you turn the air-conditioning up?” I whined.

  I could probably have reached through the front seats and done it myself but Dad poked the knobs and buttons and blasted the interior with foreign news and warm air.

  “Ugh,” he said, snapping the radio off. “Doesn’t seem to have any. You’ll have to open your window.”

  I roughly wound the lever and slumped with my back towards it. The car lurched, stopped, crunched, the gears grinding as Dad fought with the manual lever and clutch. Then we stopped for an eternity. The traffic lights might have been green but there was a queue a mile long waiting to go through.

  I slid around on a pool of sweat on the vinyl seat, and my shorts had well and truly stuck to me by the time we finally reached the boarding kennels. I considered waiting in the car but thought I’d quite possibly melt, and despite not wanting to see Honey, my stomach was somersaulting with excitement and I realised I couldn’t not see her.

  Dogs howled as we passed their wire-enclosed cages in a fenced-off compound. Some had mud floors and long runs with sheltered sleeping areas at the rear. Honey’s, however, although as large as the others, was one of a half dozen that had a concrete floor. I assumed the kennel staff had already determined her digging obsession.

  And there she was, jumping up at the wire door, tail wagging, barking and running in circles. She seemed so much thinner as she bounded to the covered area at the back and wrestled a sheepskin blanket back with her, tripping as she kept treading on it and yanking it from her mouth. Her determination to bring us a presen
t made me smile, but as we were let inside she backed away from me, whimpering, the blanket discarded by the gate.

  “Honey?” My voice was choked.

  But she kept her distance and stared behind me. I turned, wondering if a staff member she didn’t like was behind me. But it was just the four of us, and I knew what she was seeing.

  “Mum, do you think she’s okay?” I said anyway.

  “She’s fine,” Mum said, giving her a pat. “And she could do with losing weight. She’s a walking garbage bin!”

  I crouched in front of her, patting my thigh, and she crept very slowly forwards, not once taking her focus away from my shoulder. I buried my face in her golden fur until I was sure I wouldn’t cry.

  Leaving her there was even worse than when she’d left home. Her smile vanished as the door resumed its barrier between her and the world, her tail hung straight between her legs and her chocolate eyes pleaded to come with us. And that tiny whimper. I swallowed the lump from my throat and resolved not to come and see her again until we could bring her home for good.

  Dad drove back towards Trentham Weald but didn’t take the turn-off.

  “Where we going?” I asked.