by Lee Hayton
Susie burst into laughter at the lie and then sat down on the footpath to put her shoes back on.
‘Eww,’ Vila called in horror. ‘People walk on that Susie. It’s bad enough you’re a Ginga, don’t be disgusting with it.’
Susie shot her the finger and then stood with her ridiculous shoes once again lifting her a good three inches off the ground.
‘Let’s go in and make your mother happy, then.’
#
‘No more,’ I said as Vila tried to give me another sausage roll. ‘I couldn’t fit another thing in.’
‘No. You’re far too skinny, you lucky bitch.’
‘I don’t know if it’s my genes, or just that there’s never any food in the cupboard,’ I said. Since Susie had revealed what was going on in Vila’s life, I figured I may as well make it easy for her to make fun of me. I had nothing else to give her.
‘You’re about six feet tall, Daina. I don’t think it’s ’cause you’ve got nothing to eat.’
‘Is that why you’re wearing those shoes, Susie?’ Tracy said as she looked at them, her face lit up with admiration, ‘Trying to keep up.’
‘I’m only five ten. There’s not that much difference.’
‘That depends on which end of that difference you’re on.’
‘Right, well if we’re all finished then we should be going,’ Vila announced. She’d been hovering by the doorway fetching and carrying, an odd choice for her. Now she tapped her toe to an unheard beat. A rapid beat.
‘Ohhhh,’ Susie groaned. ‘How far away is it?’
‘Five minutes,’ Vila said, then checked Susie’s shoes again, ‘Ten minutes.’
‘I don’t think my socks are going to make it. Can’t we just stay here? Keep your mum happy.’
‘We’re not a hotel Susie, catering for your every bloody whim.’
Susie raised her eyebrows at the harsh response.
‘There’s someone in the park I want to see,’ Vila said and shrugged her shoulders. ‘Suit yourself, but I’m going.’
She headed downstairs, and we lifted Susie and gave her support on either side while she tried to only step one in three. I hoped she didn’t feel pressured by my height. It had never been mentioned before, and I’d only just started to feel relaxed about the situation myself as finally other girls had started to achieve the same height.
It was hard to know what was in someone else’s head, though. I couldn’t read Susie’s envy just like she couldn’t read my awkwardness. Until the age of ten I’d felt like I was made up mostly of elbows and knees.
‘Boy trouble, I bet,’ Susie said as we made it to the bottom of the staircase. She shook me and Melanie off and sat down to remove her shoes again. ‘My sock’s’ll be ruined, but I don’t think I’ll make it otherwise.’
‘I didn’t think Vila had a boyfriend,’ Melanie said.
‘She doesn’t,’ Tracy answered. ‘But I think I know who she’d like to have.’
‘Tell, tell, tell,’ I joined in the chant and we tugged at Tracy until Vila looked back over her shoulder to see what was happening. To avoid suspicion we all immediately fell silent.
‘Come on. Do I have to drag you there myself?’
‘Tell us later,’ Melanie whispered, and ran to join Vila at the door. ‘You couldn’t drag me if you tried, love. You may be Samoan, but you’re not a bloody rugby player.’
Vila swiped at the side of her head, but in play. She seemed to be relaxing now we were starting to move according to her timetable.
‘Thanks for the food,’ I called through to Vila’s mother. She was standing in the kitchen looking down at the kitchen counter. She started, and turned and gave me a vague wave then resumed.
I wondered how awful it’d been for Vila in this household for the past couple of weeks. And, good friend that I was, I’d known nothing about it. I really should pay more attention to other people.
I ran to join my friends at the door, and Susie rolled her eyes at me as Vila complained loudly once again about how slow we all were. I took her shoes out of her hands – they weighed a tonne – and rolled my eyes back at her as we set off, laughing.
#
There were some kids in the park already. There was one boy smoking near the poplar trees. He pinched the cigarette between two fingers, and his eye was in a long wink against the smoke. He inhaled, then exhaled with speed. He spat to one side and then repeated.
A small gaggle of girls were kneeling in rapt attention in front of him. No matter how many health campaigns were run, there was no changing the irrefutable fact that smoking was cool when you were a teenager. Not to mention the sign of someone who could lie successfully about their age, and had money to burn. Literally.
I saw Vila give a narrow look in their direction, and then she turned back to us and clapped her hands together. ‘Where do you want to sit?’
Her voice was brittle and loud, and I wasn’t surprised to see Tracy giving Melanie a subtle nod in the boy’s direction.
‘On the swingset,’ Susie announced, ‘I want to sit down.’
She picked her way through the loose bark and sat down with a sigh. Her shoes dropped to her side.
‘That’s better,’ she said and swung her feet up so they weren’t touching the ground.
I sat down on the short wooden wall that surrounded the playground area. It was too narrow and the rough wood started to insert its presence into the underside of my buttocks within a minute, but I stretched my legs to splay my weight a bit further and placed my hands on either side so I could lean on them and it felt a bit better.
The merry-go-round, with its flat disc surface and cold iron railings, was a popular spot, and as more kids drifted into the park, its space was quickly filled. More took my example and perched awkwardly on the fence; others stood and lurched above us like giants in comparison.
‘Well, here’s my contribution to the party,’ Melanie said and pulled out a hip-flask of clear liquid. Vila’s eyes lit up, and she pulled out one to match, pale golden in the twilight.
‘What’s in it?’ Susie asked. I thought for a moment she was incredibly naïve, but then Melanie listed the ingredients and I realised the need.
‘Vodka, gin, tequila. I tried to get the little worm, but it always floats to the side of the bottle.’
‘They’d notice that missing in any case,’ Vila stated with authority, and there were nods of agreement. ‘Mine’s vodka, brandy and whisky.’
My mouth filled with rancid spit at the thought. I’d long given up harvesting the dregs of the various glasses left strewn around after one of Mum’s parties. The taste still lingered on in my imagination, however, and my stomach lining.
The bottles were passed around in a tight circle. Tiny sips and attempts to hide grimaces of distaste behind forced smiles of enjoyment.
When it got to me, I handed it straight back to Vila.
‘Not fair, Harrow. We’re all meant to have a drink.’
‘Sounds lovely, Vila. But I’ll pass this time.’
She handed the bottle back to me with a frown creasing its way down her forehead.
‘No skipsies. Take a drink.’
I left her with her hand outstretched. ‘No. I don’t want one.’ I kept my voice quiet, but there were still a few looks from around the park. Sideways under lashes, then snapping back into previous positions to hide the gesture.
Vila stepped close into my space and leant down. She pressed the bottle into the middle of my chest, but I was having none of it. ‘Sod off, Vila. You’ve seen my mum; you know why I don’t want one.’
‘You’re hardly gonna turn into an alkie overnight, Daina. You’re spoiling the party.’
‘I’m not the one ruining everything lately, Vila,’ I said, my voice even lower. I tried not to notice the winces from the girls around me as the import of that one landed. ‘If you don’t want me to stay then you can ask me to leave, but I’m not having a drink just because you say I am.’
I wanted to jump to my
feet for this stand-off. I felt the disadvantage of height at the wrong end of the scale for the first time in a long time, but to stand now would be to give in, and I wasn’t about to go there either.
I’d had enough of bullies for the time being. I wasn’t going to have it from my supposed friend.
Vila’s teeth gritted together, the muscles at her jawline working, grinding. Then she stood back to her full height and shrugged her shoulders. ‘Whatever. More for the rest of us.’
She took another swig of her horrible liquid, a big one, and blinked to hide the tears forced to her eyes from the burn in her throat. She smiled widely and passed the bottle to her right, to Melanie, who took it from her and then awkwardly sipped at it, and then held it a moment longer. She still had her own bottle in her hand and looked like the world’s youngest tramp for a second in her torn jeans clutching handfuls of booze. Then she put her own down, working it into the bark so it wouldn’t tip, and handed Vila’s onto Susie.
‘We’ve got all night to go,’ she said as Susie stared uncertainly into the mixture. ‘Take it slow if you want.’
Vila sat down on a swing. Her hands formed tight fists around the chain links on each side.
I looked over at the boy who’d been smoking earlier and saw that he now had one of the girls from his fanbase up against the fence and was working his tongue hard inside her mouth. Revolting.
I stared at the bark in front of me, felt the imprint of the fence on my butt, started hoping that the evening would soon be over.
#
The tension started to leave our group as the alcohol took effect. It departed entirely when a group turned up with an old-style boom-box radio with gratuitously large speakers, and laid down a few beats.
Susie pulled me to my feet with the firm instruction ‘You’re the man,’ and then started gyrating around me. I fulfilled my role as the man by dancing with awkward abandon.
Even Vila let me give her a twirl before the batteries started to run down and the party moved down a notch again. But the ice was broken, people formed and re-formed into little groups of gossip. I moved from one group to another. For the first time not self-conscious that I barely knew anybody, because I knew some, and that was enough.
Being teenagers, there were a lot of groupings which reduced down to just two and sank into the deepening pockets of shadows around the park; getting down to the true purpose of their evening.
And then a hand grabbed me out of the twilight, and someone pulled back my arms.
For a moment I laughed. Someone was playing a game. And then I realised I couldn’t move. My arms were twisted up behind my back until my left shoulder started to scream. I tried to shake free. I tried to twist free. I tried to drop to my knees and out of the grip, but that caused more pain in my shoulder.
I lunged forward. Panic tapped a beat in my throat. Red bled into my vision. Pulsed in my eyeballs. Blue dripped through it like tears in blood. The ground swarmed into an army of green soldiers and marched away.
I screamed in fear, pain, panic. I could see the sound leaving my mouth, but it dropped flat on the ground in front of me. Dead and alone.
Michelle stood in front of me with a knife. The Cheshire cat grin was back. A metre wide. A mile wide.
I pushed back hard into my captor and then tried to lunge forward again. The arms continued to hold mine back. I couldn’t free myself.
Michelle leant in close to me, her breath stroked my cheek then darted needles into my flesh. Bright needles that imprinted on my eyeballs and turned into a dance of fire. They tasted like barbeque sauce and bitter almonds.
‘I think you need to learn a lesson about privacy,’ she whispered, and then grabbed my silk blouse, my mother’s silk blouse, into a bunch in front of me, and slit it through with the knife.
For a moment I thought she’d cut me. Every physical sensation in my torso changed at once. But it was the cool night air hitting my exposed body.
The knife again and my bra was hanging from my shoulders, cut through the front. I could feel where she’d poked too far forward and the knife had pierced my skin and drawn blood.
A thump shook my eardrums with furious memory. My whole body stiffened. My mind went blank with terror. Not that. No – not that again.
No one else reacted. My clothing continued to be cut from my body. I tried to twist. What I’d thought was panic before was now all-encompassing dread and fear. I screeched, a wordless morass of sounds that fled to all corners of the park and hid.
The forms around me twisted, turned, disembodied then embodied again. There was a flash of light, lightning, bolts of dazzling white that split my vision and rendered me blind.
And then I was pushed to the ground. The clothing that still fastened at wrist, at neck, at waist, was torn and cut away. I could feel something pulling me over. Flashes again.
I felt the thump this time. It ate into my body like cancer. My consciousness paled, and then disappeared altogether.
Chapter Six
Coroner’s Court 2014
The sad little progression of people from my past stopped today as the pathologist took the stand. She’s quite young. Compared to the many other adults in the courtroom she looks fresh. Still, she must be in her mid-thirties at least.
‘Mrs Harrow, as you’ve already received the information that this witness will present to the court, you may be excused if you want. I understand this could be painful for you to hear in detail.’
My mother furrows her brow and sets her lip. Her head is shaking even as she stands up in the courtroom.
The coroner must have expected that she was about to take his invitation and leave. Instead she announces, ‘I’ve never received any of this information.’
There’s a noticeable pause in the room, and then the coroner makes a swipe motion to a clerk at the back.
‘We’ll take a break here then, for a few minutes. We’ll reconvene at two-thirty.’
There is a hum of low whispers in the room, and the coroner makes his way round to where my mother still stands.
He talks to her in quiet tones, and then she follows him out of the room.
Somebody’s in trouble my mind sings, delighted. This is far more interesting than the entertainment on offer so far.
It is less than ten minutes and then everyone is back in the room. The coroner looks flustered. It’s weird, as he still remains completely calm and in control, but something has thrown him for a loop. There he’d been, all polite and stuff, and police incompetence now means he has a grieving mother in his courtroom hearing every detail of her daughter’s death for the first time.
Nice one, guys. A sterling job.
My mother is made of strong stuff but I doubt this is going to be easy. In the room, the coroner’d pulled her into he’d offered her the chance to go through the materials on her own. That way she could learn about them at the same time as the courtroom, but in a private setting where she could express her grief freely.
My mother declined.
I understand her decision. If someone’s going over the nitty-gritty of your daughter’s death, and there’s the chance to ask questions, you take that over a private room with some official documentation. To do anything else would be to do a poor job, and mother never was one for half-measures. If a question didn’t get asked here, it would stick in the back of her head for the rest of her life. Along with the knowledge that she could’ve asked it, if only she’d been brave.
The coroner opens proceedings again.
‘I was called to the scene by Detective Senior Sergeant Erik Smith of the Papanui Police Station. They had found the remains of a body at a building site in Redwood. I arrived at the scene just after ten o’clock.’
‘Could you explain what your role is?’
‘I’m a forensic pathologist. My role is to perform post-mortems on patients who have died unexpectedly, or in unknown circumstances. My findings can be used to determine whether a case is criminal in nature and if so provide evide
nce to the court.’
‘And what were your findings in this case?’
‘When I arrived on the scene, I recognised that the deceased had been in the position she was found for a long time. Her clothing had rotted from her body. The natural fibres were completely gone. Some remnants of man-made fabrics remained.
‘Most of the flesh had decomposed to an advanced state. Many of the bones of the deceased’s limbs were clearly visible. She was lying on a plastic binder full of files, and there was a phial inside the bones of her right hand.’
‘Inside?’
‘I think she had been holding it or had her hand placed on it when she died,’ she said, her hand curling around an invisible object. ‘There were no apparent signs of injury, but there was so little flesh left that it would’ve had to be an obvious trauma to show. I examined the area around her, and determined that she had died at the scene.’
‘What evidence led to that determination?’
‘There was evidence of bodily fluids in the wider area surrounding the body from samples taken from the scene. There was also physical evidence…’ She trails off and looks nervously at the coroner. He glances at my mother, who is staring at a fixed point in the middle of the room, her features still and set. He turns back to the witness and nods.
‘There were signs showing that she’d attempted to escape from the area under the house. There were scratches and dents which appear to have been made by the deceased prior to her death.’
‘And what was the cause of death?’
‘Judging from the evidence that the deceased was alive at the time she became trapped in the area underneath the house, and the lack of any other results from our toxicology and tissue samples, I determined that the most likely cause of death was by terminal hypohydration,’ she glanced sideways at the room, ‘Sorry, that’s dehydration. It would’ve led to organ failure and death.’
