by Penni Russon
She was not walking towards home. On a whim she’d followed another trajectory, going left instead of straight ahead, and now she found herself standing underneath the swaying silver moon. She looked in through the window.
There he was, Phoenix, smiling about something, laughing now. He was eating a high, light cake by the forkful. He opened his mouth and showed the girl he was with what was inside, and she shrieked and laughed.
Undine stood and watched. She was compelled to, unable to take her eyes away. He seemed … happy. Joyful. This Jasper loved life. He was more like the soft, golden Jasper of the other world. He loved the magic too, Undine could see that. He enjoyed it, it was a gift, a game. Why couldn’t she feel like that? What had always been her burden, her curse, somehow he had made it … light, lighter than air. On the walls around him were Trout’s photos. She looked dully at them, at Phoenix, and felt … she felt lonely.
But she wasn’t alone. Suddenly, she knew she was being observed. She looked around. It was Grunt. She missed his dreadlocks, but she liked his hair cut short, his face exposed. It made him seem … more touchable. Though she didn’t. Touch. She twisted her fingers together behind her back.
‘You keep showing up,’ Undine said.
‘Hobart’s a small town,’ Grunt replied. ‘If you stand in one place long enough, you’re bound to see everyone you know.’
‘Or if you move around enough, you might see the same person lots of times.’
‘True.’ Grunt smiled. ‘You going in?’
Undine glanced in at Phoenix. ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I’m on my way home.’
‘Want some company?’
‘Yeah,’ Undine said gratefully. ‘I really would.’
They walked slowly. ‘Smell that?’ Grunt asked.
Undine noticed, for the first time, a charred, burnt toast smell to the air. The sky was a hazy whitish grey.
‘Apparently there was a fire this morning on Mount Wellington.’
‘Big or little?’ asked Undine. She’d been so wrapped up half of Hobart could have burnt to the ground without her noticing.
‘Only little. Last I heard it was contained.’
‘Did you know Fran is getting married?’ Undine asked.
‘Duncan told me. He’s pretty upset. It happened quite fast. Are you all right about it?’
‘Because of Dominic? I don’t care about that. We were never, you know, meant to be or anything.’ She sighed. ‘It’s just … I can’t imagine feeling that sure about something. I mean married.’
Grunt looked sideways at Undine. He opened his mouth as if about to speak but then he closed it again.
‘What?’ Undine asked.
‘Nothing.’
‘No, really. What were you going to say?’
‘I can’t imagine you being that sure about anything either.’
‘Are you saying I’m …?’
‘Flighty? Indecisive? Mercurial, whimsical, capricious?’
‘Um, okay,’ Undine said. ‘Those things.’
‘Skittish? Volatile?’
‘All right. I get it.’
‘Dicey, chancy, high-risk, perilous?’
‘Okay! Enough with the adjectives already.’
Grunt stopped. Undine stopped too. They turned to face each other.
‘A hundred and ninety-four,’ Grunt said.
‘What?’
‘There’s a hundred and ninety-four adjectives. Sixty-three nouns. And I forget how many verbs.’
‘What … what are they?’
Grunt moved closer and leaned in. In her ear, his low, gravelly voice reverberating, he said, ‘Reasons not to be in love with you.’
Undine’s breath caught in her throat. ‘You made a list?’ she asked.
‘I made a list.’
‘That’s a lot of reasons.’
Grunt stepped back. ‘Isn’t it though?’ He smiled sadly. ‘And it’s not even a complete list. I keep thinking of adjectives. Skittish. That was a new one.’
Undine looked away. She couldn’t bear to hold his gaze. ‘I didn’t ask you to be in love with me,’ she said.
‘No,’ said Grunt simply, and his voice was entirely without vitriole. ‘You didn’t.’ He stepped down, so one foot was in the gutter and one remained on the footpath. ‘And I’m not. Remember? I’ve got a list.’
‘Are you going?’ Undine asked.
‘Well …’ He hesitated. Then he said, ‘Yes, I’m going. ’cause I’ve got a list.’ He looked at Undine again. ‘I’m just not as strong as you.’
‘You think I’m strong?’ Undine said disbelievingly.
‘I know you are,’ said Grunt. He sounded so sure.
‘How do you know?’
Grunt turned to go. ‘Because,’ he said, glancing back, ‘I’ve got another list.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
At the top of the steps, Jasper turns left. He walks up the street. There are houses on the up side of the street, and scrabbly trees and bushes on the down, sloping side. He finds a stick, and drags it behind him as he walks. Further along the road a bit there are houses on the down side too. His friend Madeleine lives in one of them, and he always looks for her. Today she’s there. The sprinklers are on in her backyard and she’s wearing her bathers. Her older brother and sister are taking it in turns to cartwheel under the water. Madeleine is sitting on the side watching. She’s a watching kind of girl.
She sees Jasper. She walks over to the open wire fence.
‘I’m swimming,’ she says, curling her fingers through the diamond shaped holes. ‘Wanna swim with me?’
Jasper looks at the cool water, swishing around in circles, making a curtain of rain. Madeleine’s sister squeals as the water hits her. It’s inviting and Jasper almost says yes, because the sun is hot. But: ‘Not today,’ he says. ‘I’m making a nest.’
‘Oh.’
Madeleine looks down at an ant crawling across her foot.
‘Will you play with me later?’ she asked. But Jasper is already on his way. He waves. Madeleine doesn’t wave. Her face is serious as she watches Jasper go, then just before he’s out of sight she turns and runs back to her brother and sister.
It’s very hot and Jasper’s legs are tired, his bag is heavy and the straps dig in, dragging his shoulders down. The air smells sooty and dry. He thinks maybe he should have a rest. He even thinks about going home. But he’s almost there, where the tarmac road ends and becomes a gravelly trail through the shady bush, and under the tall gums it’s cooler. He walks a little way, and then off the path – he knows the way.
Someone has been here, in his cubby. Jasper doesn’t mind. It seems a friendly someone. They’ve tidied up.
There’s a rock for sitting on. Jasper takes off his bag and gets out his drink flask. He gulps down water. Some of it spills. That’s okay. In his lunchbox is fruit and salty biscuits. He’ll save those for later.
It’s time to make the nest. He needs to gather more sticks, leaves, soft things to make the nest soft, such as animal fur or hair. (Mama read it to him from a book. He knows all about nests. When Jasper grows up, he wants to be a bird.) He goes collecting. At first he stays close by, but there’s no animal fur, no long strands of hair, so he wanders further and further afield.
When he comes back, there’s another Jasper.
‘Hi,’ says Jasper, shyly.
‘Hi.’
With both of them collecting things, soon the pile is big enough to make the nest. They give up on animal hair. They agree, both of them, to bring scissors next time and use some of their own hair. Jasper imagines his curls sproinging to the ground. It’s a giggly idea. Mid-giggle, the other Jasper disappears. Jasper sighs. They never know how to stay.
He drinks the rest of his water, eats the fruit and biscuits.
And then he sets to work, building the nest.
As Trout passed the big sprawling share house on Napolean Street where Reina’s band practised, he slowed down. Sometimes she met him here afte
r work and they walked home together. He thought perhaps he’d missed her, but she leaned out of an upstairs window and called his name.
‘I’ll be right down!’ Moments later she appeared at the front door. She jumped from the veranda.
‘Can you believe how hot it is?’ Reina asked.
‘I know. Is it getting hotter?’
‘It’s so eerie. Where is everyone? The streets are, like, deserted,’ said Reina.
‘It’s been a strange day all round.’
‘Good strange or bad strange?’
‘Just kind of strange strange,’ said Trout as they crossed the road. ‘No. Maybe good strange.’
‘Yeah?’
‘You know those days where suddenly everything falls into place. Like you need to have a whole summer just to get to this one day? I went to see Undine last night and …’
‘Don’t,’ said Reina sharply.
‘What?’
‘You can’t talk to me about Undine.’ She was looking at the ground, not at Trout, but her voice was quietly firm.
‘Why not?’ Trout asked, genuinely taken aback.
‘Trout!’
‘What?’
Reina stared at him disbelievingly. ‘I asked you to go to Paris.’
Trout frowned. ‘What’s that got to do with Undine?’
‘Nothing. It’s nothing to do with Undine. That’s the point. Ugh!’ Reina threw her hands up in the air – a gesture of defeat. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘Why are you mad with me?’
Reina looked at Trout and shook her head. She quickened her pace. Trout grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop.
‘Why are you angry with me? Undine and I …’
She looked him in the eye and spoke slowly. ‘I asked you to go to Paris. With me.’
Trout blinked. ‘But I thought you were just—’
‘Trout, in the whole history of the universe, no one ever just asked someone to go to Paris. Unless they’re French. Or maybe from one of the little countries near France.’
‘Like Luxembourg?’
Reina rolled her eyes and started walking again. ‘Yeah. Like Luxembourg.’
‘So what are you saying? That you –?’ Trout was frozen to the spot. Reina was still walking, so Trout moved quickly to catch up to her.
‘It’s cool. You said no. Then Undine came back. I get it. But I can’t be your confidante. I can’t talk to you about her.’
‘So you …?’
‘Are you really that stupid?’
Trout stepped out in front of Reina. ‘Stop,’ he said. ‘Stop walking and ask me again.’
Reina looked Trout in the eye. ‘Are you really that stupid?’
Trout laughed. ‘Not that. The other thing. Ask me to go to Paris.’
‘Really?’
‘What I was going to say before,’ Trout said, ‘about Undine, not that we were ever together, but … well, we never will be. I told her. I said I didn’t want … that. Her. Not anymore.’
‘Because of me?’ Reina asked.
Trout frowned. ‘Well …’ he said reluctantly. ‘Actually, no. Because of me. Because my feelings have changed.’
‘Good.’ Reina nodded. ‘That’s good.’
‘So?’ Trout wrapped his hand around Reina’s and, in an oddly affectionate gesture, touched the toe of his boot to her slender bare toe. ‘Are you gonna ask me?’
Reina smiled. ‘Trout Montmorency, will you go to Paris with me?’
When Undine came home, Lou was in the shower. She heard her turn the water off. Undine fixed herself a cold drink. She wandered into the lounge room and looked at the bookshelf, finally winkling out her childhood copy of Anne of Green Gables, wedged tightly in among the other books. She took it outside onto the veranda to read it.
The air outside still smelt scorched, as if someone was having a barbecue. Undine didn’t mind the smell. It reminded her of camping.
She settled into her book. There was something immensely comforting about the characters doing exactly the same thing they always did, and she fell into the rhythm of it happily. It was like anaesthetic, numbing the pulsing, injured parts of her, blocking out pain. She was tired of thinking about her life. She thought she might stop thinking and read instead, read book after book, fill her waking hours with stories – other people’s stories – blotting out her own.
She’d lost track of time when Lou came out with two frosty glasses of lemonade.
‘Mim’s coming for dinner. She’ll be here soon. She’s looking forward to spending some time with you.’ Lou managed to make even Mim sound like a responsibility, though Undine was looking forward to seeing her too. Lou glanced around the garden then back to Undine. ‘Where’s Jasper?’
‘Inside with you. Isn’t he?’
‘No. He’s out here, with you.’ Lou stared at Undine with dawning horror.
Undine shook her head. ‘Not since I’ve been home. I assumed he was taking a shower with you.’
‘But that was ages ago!’
‘He must be in his room,’ Undine said
Lou checked all the rooms downstairs, looking anywhere a small boy might hide. Undine ran up to her own room. The door bounced off the bare white wall.
Undine stopped. She held her breath.
There was no Jasper, but the room wasn’t empty. Facing one wall, Undine saw herself, discrete and separate in the middle of the room. She was leaning forward and examining the wall as if she was looking at something and Undine remembered the mosaic mirror in the other world which had been right there, on that wall, a kaleidoscope of Undines. The other Undine turned towards her and they reflected each other’s shock. Then the other girl was simply gone. And still there was no Jasper.
Undine’s stomach somersaulted as she ran down the stairs again. She tried to push the image of the other girl out of her head. What was happening? It was as if that world – the other Undine’s world – was drifting into this one, colliding. Or was it Undine who was drifting, living between two worlds, not entirely committed? To this place or the other.
‘His school bag’s gone!’ said Lou. ‘His lunchbox and his drink bottle too.’
Undine forced herself to stay in the moment, focusing on Jasper. ‘Do you think he’s gone to school?’
Lou clasped her head. ‘Maybe. I … I don’t know. I came out of the bathroom and saw you on the veranda and assumed he was with you, on the lawn. He must have gone when I was in the shower. That was ages ago. He could be anywhere …’
There was a knock on the door. Lou flew to open it.
‘Oh, Mim!’ she cried. ‘Jasper’s gone.’
‘Not again!’ Mim said.
‘Again?’ Undine asked. ‘Where does he go?’
‘We don’t know,’ Lou said hopelessly. ‘Once we found him at Maddy’s up the street, but he’d been missing for over an hour and Maddy’s mum called as soon as he showed up. The other times he’s just … turned up. Made his own way home. We’ve found him at the top of the steps, or at the front door.’
‘He disappears?’ Undine asked. She couldn’t help but sound accusing. Jasper was not quite five yet.
‘I can’t watch him all the time!’ Lou said. ‘I just popped in to have a quick shower.’ She looked at Mim. ‘I usually latch the front door, but Undine … I didn’t know, I thought she might come home.’
‘Well, we need to find him,’ said Undine.
‘Yes,’ snapped Lou. ‘Of course we do.’
But Mim was worried about something else too. She glanced quickly at Undine and then said to Lou, ‘Have you been listening to the radio today?’
‘No.’ Lou looked at Mim anxiously.
‘There’s a fire.’
‘They had the bushfires under control this morning,’ Lou said.
Mim shook her head. ‘Not anymore.’
Undine felt the blood drain from her face. She could almost hear her pulse quicken. She’d smelt it. When she was outside, she’d thought it was pleasant, like a barbecue. Grunt
had said the fires were contained.
‘Where?’ asked Lou.
‘On the mountain. It’s coming down towards the suburbs. If it crosses the firebreak then they’re talking about evacuating houses at the top end of Camelot Drive.’
The mountain, thought Undine. She remembered last night’s storm, the dry forked lightning striking the mountain’s side. She covered her mouth. She stepped backwards and hit the back of the couch, letting it take her weight. Had she done this? With magic?
Lou’s eyes were wild. ‘But Jasper—!’
‘Lou, ring the police,’ said Mim. ‘And Maddy’s mum. I’ll go and doorknock, get the neighbours to help, and I’ll come straight back.’ As she opened the front door, she looked at Lou. ‘We’ll find him,’ she promised. Then Mim was gone, her feet clattering down the steps.
‘Lou,’ Undine said, ‘he was going to build a nest. Remember? What does that mean?’
‘I don’t know,’ Lou said. She looked at Undine, wide-eyed. ‘I don’t know. Birds. He likes … birds.’ Tears welled up. ‘I can’t lose him.’
‘You’re not going to,’ Undine said. She stood up. ‘I can find him.’
Lou grabbed her arm. ‘If you’re talking about using the magic … it’s not safe. You can’t control it. I know you think you can, but you can’t. You’ll put him in worse danger. He always comes home. Let’s …’
Undine shook her off. ‘I know my limitations, thank you. I know better than you ever will how dangerous the magic can be. But he’s my brother. And I will find him.’
Phoenix. Undine knew what that meant. He was a bird of fire. Out of the ashes, he was born.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Undine ran down Camelot Drive towards the city. Her breathing was harsh and ragged, her heart pumped, her legs were hot and sharp pains shot through her with every jolting step. The magic inside her jumped and sparked like a live electrical cable lying across a busy road, and she longed to use it, but she pushed it down. Lou was right. Undine couldn’t control it. After all, it was her magic that had started this, that had made this storm. Her failure to bring rain … the dry lightning was like setting a lit match to the parched, arid bush.
She didn’t know where to look for Jasper. Not Jasper who was almost five, about to start big school, with his soggy blond curls and his skeleton frame. But she did know where to find Phoenix, and surely he in turn would know where Jasper was. Of anyone. Of everyone in the whole world.
