by Jill Harris
He stood up and moved to the door. ‘You’ve damaged my trust, too — I don’t know how reliable you are any more. That’s a pity, because trusting someone is about the most important thing there is.’
17
‘I have this terrible feeling that we’re on the edge of something awful’
The holidays were wrecked, and Simon didn’t know how to fix it. He was still included in whatever Barney and Jem were doing, but Jem didn’t say much to him and Barney was quiet and unsmiling. When Barney and Jem worked together on the Star Wars jigsaw puzzle, Simon read in the sun porch. When they rowed around the point looking for more cherries, he sat in the bow with his back to them. He helped put up the Christmas decorations, but there was no fun in it.
He skulked through a couple of days. He drove to the store with Barney and Jem because he didn’t want to be left in the house alone, but he wondered whether Barney had told anyone else about what he’d done. Would everyone be looking at him? However, nobody at the store treated him any differently from usual. Mrs Andrews smiled and asked how the fishing was going — ‘Glad your arm’s better’ — and Mr Mason clapped him on the back and thanked him for helping to tie the tomatoes. Just the same, Simon hung around the DVD stand away from the counter to avoid being seen while Barney and Jem did the shopping.
‘The other night there was a light in one of the houses.’ Simon turned sharply; Mrs Andrews was talking to Barney. ‘Just for a moment,’ she went on, ‘then it disappeared. We noticed when we were driving past. You can understand a light in the office — I believe Alice does the books at night — but why on earth would you want to be climbing into one of those houses in the dark, especially when there’s no electricity?’
The chat meandered on as a background to Simon’s black mood. Fishing, lake levels, petrol prices, who was down for the holidays — local stuff.
‘At least you don’t hear it now every time you turn on the radio,’ Bill was saying.
‘Poor things,’ said Mrs Andrews. ‘What they must be going through. Who’d be a celebrity? I mean, look what goes with the territory.’
Who? thought Simon. What’s happened? But the conversation had moved on.
Barney was taking his time over the shopping, so Simon went to wait outside. He wandered along the jetty, looking down at the various craft tied up — mostly the modest boats of the people who lived around the lake. The really fancy boats usually didn’t arrive until Christmas. They were launched at the big ramp further around, and roared and sped their way across the lake, often with water-skiers in tow. Bill wouldn’t listen to the grizzles of the locals: ‘Good for business,’ he’d say briskly. ‘Means I can stay open the rest of the year for you lot.’
Simon watched a small cloud of dust moving down the road. Closer to the store a car emerged out of the dust — the Lewises’ red station wagon! He squatted by a bollard hoping to be less conspicuous. It didn’t matter, though, because it was only Rosie, Tommy and Mrs Lewis. They went into the store. A minute later Rosie came out and walked purposefully along the jetty towards Simon.
‘Your grandfather said I’d find you here,’ she said. ‘I haven’t seen you around. Are you in trouble or something?’
‘Nope.’
Rosie took a deep breath. ‘Well, I am,’ she blurted out. ‘I don’t know what to do about it.’ Her lips trembled and she turned her back on Simon.
Simon stood there awkwardly. Finally, he said: ‘Shall we sit on the steps?’
It seemed friendlier to be sitting side by side in the sun.
‘Everything changed about ten days ago,’ Rosie began. ‘Mum said she’d have to spend more time at the yard sorting out the accounts because they’d got into a mess and they’d have a big tax bill if she didn’t. Since then she’s been at the yard every day and part of every night as well. Most days Tommy and I get dropped off at the Masons’, and we do things for them in exchange for lunch — Mrs Mason doesn’t seem to mind, and she takes us home after lunch.
‘Dad drops Mum home about four o’clock to cook dinner and do the washing and things, and once or twice, like now, we come to the store. She goes back after dinner when Dad comes home.’
Rosie sighed. ‘That’s the worst time of the day. Usually Mum makes sure we’re never left alone with Dad. He’s sort of … unpredictable. I try to make sure we’re both in bed as early as possible so he’ll just forget we’re there, but if he gets into the booze he always wants to pick a fight. That’s when it’s better if I get up and close the bedroom door behind me — so he’ll go for me and not Tommy.’
Simon felt horrible just imagining it. ‘Rose,’ he said hoarsely, ‘you could stay at our place. I know Barney would agree.’
‘My father never wants us to have anything to do with other people. That’s why I’m surprised he’s agreed to us going to the Masons’ so much. Why has he? Why must Mum do the accounts at night? Why is she spending so much time at it? I just don’t believe it takes that long to sort them out. There’s something else going on.’
Rosie gripped the edge of the step, then continued: ‘And she’s upset all the time. She’s tough, my mum — she takes a lot of punishment and keeps going. But she’s changed. The worst thing is she doesn’t talk to us any more — we always talk things through, but now she just acts scared all the time. What’s happened?’
Rosie’s voice wobbled. She put her hands over her face.
Should I fetch Barney? wondered Simon. No, Rosie needed help right now, even though he had no idea what to do or say.
So the two of them sat side by side in silence, and Simon hoped Rosie would know how bad he felt about what she was telling him.
‘I have this terrible feeling that we’re on the edge of something awful — that we’re walking step by step towards it, when actually someone should be yelling “STOP!” Should I be the one to yell “STOP”? But stop to what?’
Rosie started to sob. After a while she pulled out a tissue to wipe her eyes and blow her nose.
‘Look, Rose,’ he began, rather falteringly, ‘this is too big for us to handle. I think we should talk to Barney. I don’t think your father should call all the shots like this. I—’
‘NO! NO! NO!’ shouted Rosie. She stood up wildly. ‘You don’t understand anything! Adults are too slow. By the time they’ve “handled” the situation, my father’s already given us hidings and we’ve moved on to somewhere else where nobody knows us. But this time my mother won’t cope, I can tell. No, I’ve got to be the strong one now. But I have to know what’s going on! Oh, I shouldn’t have talked to you.’ She turned to climb the steps.
I should let her go, thought Simon. I know where this is heading. He grabbed her wrist.
‘Sit down!’
Rosie sat down.
‘You and I’ll have to do something,’ said Simon. ‘What?’
Barney, Simon and Jem set off for home, but Barney pulled the car over around the corner from the intersection with the main road.
‘Is this where you had the bother a couple of days ago?’ he asked.
Neither boy answered.
‘I heard about it in the store today — someone across the road saw it happening.’
Jem wriggled in his seat; Simon kept his eyes down.
‘Why didn’t you tell me about it?’ Barney turned off the motor.
The silence went on uncomfortably. Barney turned to Simon in the back seat.
‘Just show me how it happened,’ he said, and got out of the car.
Simon followed him reluctantly. He stood awkwardly, avoiding his grandfather’s gaze.
‘Go on,’ said Barney firmly.
As briefly as possible, Simon outlined the incident.
‘Did you recognize the driver?’
‘Squint Lewis,’ replied Simon, and even saying his name made him a little breathless.
‘What do you think would have happened if you hadn’t got into the ditch?’ asked Barney.
‘Not sure.’
‘Did you do
anything to provoke Squint?’ Barney wanted to know.
‘NO!’ Simon’s face went red.
Barney sighed. ‘I wish you would tell me what’s going on here. Squint’s a nasty piece of work, but he seems to be singling you out for his bullying. Are you sure you didn’t rile him — even accidentally?’
A lump formed in Simon’s throat. He turned his back on Barney and wrapped his arms around himself. Jem jumped out of the car and stood close to Simon.
‘Simon hasn’t done anything!’ he shouted at Barney. ‘That’s not fair!’
Barney looked very thoughtful. ‘OK. Into the car.’
Back home, Barney dragged the beanbags into the sun. They sat drinking ginger beer and eating chocolate biscuits.
‘You’re in my charge,’ Barney began. ‘It’s my job to return you to your mother in one piece. I’d also like to think you were having a good time.’ He paused. ‘That’s clearly not happening right now. I’d like to do something about that, but I don’t know all the facts.’ He paused again before continuing. ‘But it’s actually worse than that. On at least two occasions that I know about — maybe more — you’ve been in danger. I can’t let that go on.
‘I think you know why Squint’s targeting you, but you won’t — or can’t — tell me. So here’s the deal: until I do have enough information, you’ll have to stay close to home unless you’re with me. Do you want to say anything about that?’
‘Where can we go?’ asked Jem.
‘Here and the Masons’, close in to shore in the dinghy, on the point. And always leave me a note saying where you’ve gone.’
Simon felt a kind of relief. Jem wouldn’t disobey Barney after this. He nodded his assent.
‘Yup,’ agreed Jem.
‘Getting into the ditch was a smart move, Simon,’ Barney said. ‘That saved you from a lot more bother — or worse. You should know that the police are taking an interest in Squint Lewis. I’ll have to report the incident, and the police may want to ask you some questions about it.’
Simon felt a surge of alarm. What if Squint Lewis got wind of it? It felt like being caught up in a spider’s web — every move he made got him deeper into a sticky tangle.
He wandered down to the jetty and stretched out on the warm boards, his face buried in his arms. The gentle music of the lake surrounded him — the water beneath the jetty murmured and muttered, and busy ducks chattered and splashed above the percussive rattling of the reeds. His breathing slowed and deepened. He opened his eyes. On the edge of the jetty, within reach, perched a dragonfly, curving body and diaphanous wings a quiver of blue and green and violet. Simon closed his eyes again and breathed in the smell of the lake. Squint Lewis will go away, he thought, but the lake will always be here.
Simon knew what he had to do. He’d made a promise. Yes, he would disobey Barney and incur his anger, but Barney’s would be a fierce, clean anger, not the submerged, lurking menace of Squint Lewis’s threats. He lay in the sun a while longer, and it felt as though the churned-up sediment of his life was sinking to the bottom of a deep, clear pool.
Eventually he went back to the house and tidied up his room — as though preparing for a journey. Jem and Barney were playing Scrabble on the veranda. ‘Come and join us,’ called Barney, but Simon preferred to be alone.
18
He was almost certain there was nobody inside
Rose came over the next morning. Jem had already taken off for the point to get the last of the cherries.
Simon knew instantly what the quiet knock meant. Briefly his heart leapt into his throat, and he took a moment to open the door.
‘They’ve gone to town again,’ said Rose. ‘The coast’s clear.’
Simon wasn’t so sure, but he said nothing. No need for them both to feel afraid. Since talking to Rose the day before, he had decided there probably was something going on at the yard and it spelt trouble for Mrs Lewis, Rosie and Tommy.
He and Rose talked over what they had decided the day before. They both agreed that Simon getting home safely was the most important thing. He would have a thorough look around the yard, but only if he could do it without being discovered.
As soon as Rose had gone back to the Masons’, Simon got busy. He pulled on his hoodie and filled his pockets with liquorice all-sorts and chocolate. Then he wrote a note for Barney:
Dear Barney
I’ve gone to the house-yard. Rose thinks something’s wrong there and I promised I’d look around. Squint Lewis warned me off the yard and knocked me around at the beginning of the holidays. He said he’d hunt me down and hurt me if I told you about it. He said he’d set his dog on me, too. I know he will do what he says and I’ve been frightened ever since. But I’m sick of being frightened and I have to keep my promise to Rose. Jem and I made friends with the dog so I don’t think he’ll be a problem. I know you’ll be angry with me, and I’m sorry to break the deal but I have to do this.
Love from Simon.
He propped the note up by Barney’s bed.
It took him about forty-five minutes to reach the back fence. There was no sign of anyone, although again he could hear faint snatches of the radio. They must leave it on all the time, he thought. He moved the branch, scooped out the loose dirt and squeezed under the fence. It was a tight fit and his arm hurt. He put the branch back against the fence. How would he know where the hole was when he came back? He might be in a hurry. He pulled the branch out further than the branches on either side.
He would explore the yard in defiance of Squint Lewis. He would move from house to house until he reached the office. If there was anything going on, he would find out. If the dog came bounding towards him, he would stand still, avoid eye contact and offer him a liquorice all-sort.
After running his eye over the scene before him, he pushed swiftly through the long grass to the nearest house. It was jacked-up on a yellow trailer. Simon crouched down by the trailer, eyes and ears straining, but all he could hear were cicadas singing their rhythmic choruses, and all he could see, immediately in front of him, were seed heads quivering as insects alighted on them.
Cautiously he stood up and climbed onto the trailer. He moved around, looking in the windows, but all the rooms were empty. He edged his way around the corner of the trailer until he was close enough to cross to the next house. He watched where he stepped, not wanting to leave any evidence of his presence on the muddy patch or the crumbly, dry wheel imprint. The cladding from the nearest wall had been removed, revealing the skeletal structure underneath. The house rested on blocks and was low enough for Simon to step up through the doorway. Grass pushed up through gaps in the floorboards, and several window panes were missing from what had been a kitchen — a frying pan still stood on a shelf. Someone had been demolishing a wall, and chunks of Gib board and white plaster lay heaped on the floor. He couldn’t get past it without leaving footprints.
In the next house he peered out through a chink in the curtains, but the office was still out of sight. He retreated to the door, avoiding the dust in the middle of the room.
He worked his way carefully towards the road, but he was pretty sure he was the only person in the yard. The further he went, the louder the radio became. Wherever he could do so without leaving footprints, he climbed into houses, moving from room to room, opening cupboards and wardrobes. He and Rose had decided he would look in every house he could get into safely. What exactly he was looking for, he didn’t know. But he was pretty sure that the yard held a secret.
What fascinated him about the houses were the bits and pieces left inside when the houses were moved — a cake of soap in a bathroom, rubber gloves in a kitchen, last year’s calendar on the wall, empty jars, coat hangers, even a toothbrush-holder with a toothbrush still in it. Some of the houses still had their self-respect, Simon thought, but others, with dust, cobwebs, dead flies on windowsills, possum droppings, broken Venetian blinds and torn curtains, had given up. He couldn’t imagine anyone ever living in them again.
He came to the house he had seen the last time, the one with the green awning over the front door. The music was quite loud now, and he was surprised to find it was coming from this house, not the office. Was someone inside? It was hard to hear anything above the music.
The back steps had been moved to the front and the blinds were pulled down, he noticed as he crossed the alleyway and circled the house. He was almost certain there was nobody inside, but he still looked around the yard for the quickest way out. He could probably reach the back fence in a couple of minutes if he ran straight up the gravel road to the back gate. Or maybe he could hide in the cab of one of the trucks — if it wasn’t locked. He wished he’d checked them out. Should he do that now?
No, he decided; he would climb the steps under the awning and just go in.
The door was already ajar. He stepped in and closed it partly behind him. There seemed to be no dust on the grey lino floor, although the light was dim from the closed blinds. He stood absolutely still. The radio came from a room on his right, across the passage. The door was closed.
Heart thudding, Simon opened the door and looked in.
There was no-one there.
The cot stood in one corner. Opposite was a single bed. A cabinet stood against the wall between them, under the twin light fittings he’d seen last time. There was a big, folded towel on top. The radio was on a shelf above the bed. The wardrobe was still there, near the foot of the cot. Two chairs were tucked under a small, Formica-topped table and a hurricane lamp stood on the table next to an ash-tray. Simon could smell the kerosene.
