Transformation of Minna Hargreaves, The

by Beale, Fleur

  I took myself off to her room to check. Nope. She wasn’t going to be chatting or cooking any time soon.

  ‘Mum, I’m hungry. I need real food. What can we have for dinner?’

  ‘Get something out of the freezer.’

  I checked the basin by her bed. She hadn’t been sick again. Did that mean she was getting better? Not if how she looked was anything to go by.

  But maybe she’d be able to tell me how to cook whatever chunk of raw flesh I hauled out of the freezer.

  I collected the camera, ran down the path — wind still roaring overhead — braved the chorus of chicken yells and opened the freezer doors. Well now, a chicken would seem appropriate. There was a shelf full of them. I took one and it was soft, soggy and unattractive.

  I may not know much about being a domestic goddess but I do know when a freezer isn’t working. This one wasn’t. It held our entire supply of meat for the year and the whole caboodle was slowly rotting.

  The chicken felt cold. It would be okay to eat. Probably.

  Mum turned faintly green when I asked her how to cook it, but she said, ‘Put it in the biggest pot. Cover it with water. Get it simmering and then throw in any vegetables you can find. Won’t be great but you’ll be able to eat it.’

  Dad came in when darkness fell. I’d say he’d been chopping and hacking things all day by the look of him. He sat down at the table, just waved a hand at me and didn’t say anything such as you brilliant kind and clever girl what would I do without you thank you thank you thank you.

  ‘Dad,’ I said, ‘just because we’re on an island doesn’t mean you can leave off the deodorant. And may I suggest you have a wash before dinner?’

  He grinned and ambled off to have a shower.

  I cheered up. Perhaps a day of hacking and chopping had got rid of some of the pissed-ness about Mum.

  Not so.

  ‘Mum’s a bit better,’ I said when he reappeared.

  ‘Min — what your mother does or feels is of no interest to me whatsoever.’

  All right, sunshine — try this one then. ‘The freezer isn’t working.’

  He shot out of the house. Came back half an hour later.

  ‘Fix it?’ I asked.

  He dipped a spoon into the concoction on the stove. ‘Needs salt. No. It’s unfixable. The solar panel is smashed — wind must’ve ripped it off the roof. So no freezer and no washing machine.’ He didn’t sound particularly worried. ‘Why didn’t you feed the chooks and where’s Noah?’

  I ignored that. ‘But Dad — all our meat! We won’t have any.’

  He swished a hand at me. ‘We’ll talk about that when Noah turns up.’ He looked around as if he expected Noah to appear from under the table. ‘The chooks, Min — why didn’t you feed them?’

  ‘What with? Why me? And how?’ I glared at him. ‘How come it’s my job all of a sudden to feed everything and everybody?’ I gave a brief thought to the cameras, but too bloody bad. I kept yelling. ‘Is there anything else on this crap island that you’ve forgotten to tell me to feed so you can yell at me when it squawks?’ I concentrated on making a whirlpool in the pot to keep the tears from getting out and down my face.

  I heard him take in a huge breath. ‘Sorry, Min. Sorry. Things are a bit — well, you know how they are.’ He drummed his fingers on the table. ‘Have you any idea where Noah might be?’

  I turned round to stare him in the eye. ‘He’ll be wherever it is that he’s hidden his dope. He’ll be smoking up a storm, which probably isn’t such a dumb thing to do right now.’

  Dad barked out a laugh. ‘Don’t be crass, Min.’

  I shrugged. ‘Go and look for him — and open your eyes, Dad! How come you and Mum … how come neither of you have even noticed he’s been a stoner for the last few months?’

  He gaped at me, then snapped his mouth shut. ‘Why didn’t you say something?’

  I was yelling again — he was copping all the misery of the day, but it served him right in my opinion. ‘Like when was I meant to say anything? Catch you when you breezed in yelling for food at nine o’clock at night? Why didn’t you notice? You’re the parent. Oh, that’s right — you’re never around to notice. I forgot. Silly me.’

  He came and put an arm around me, kissed my forehead. ‘I’m sorry, Min. I’m very sorry.’ He went to the door. ‘I’ll find him and deal with it. Don’t worry.’

  I ate a bowl of the chicken brew. The alarm went for the listening watch. This time I got another weather observation and a medical report from a boatie to pass on. ‘Minna on Motutoka Island to Ocean Fizzer. How did you get a fish hook in your butt? Never mind, Maritime Radio says there’s a paramedic on D’Urville for the next hour and can you go there? Over.’

  The watch finished, but Dad and Noah didn’t show. I ate another bowl of chicken brew. It wasn’t too bad. I took some of the liquid in to Mum on the theory that chicken soup was good for invalids. She managed about half a cup. ‘It’s good, Min. Thank you, darling.’ She took my hand. ‘What was all the shouting about?’

  So I told her — the freezer and the dope. She closed her eyes. ‘I asked him. I asked him several times. I thought … but he always said no and didn’t I trust him?’ Tears squeezed out. ‘Oh, Min — what a mess.’

  I wandered back to the kitchen, where it was warmer but not as warm as it should be. I fed more wood into the burner. I wanted to hang about until Dad got back with Noah. I fetched my guitar and the book which was going to teach me how to become an expert in ten easy lessons.

  It was late when they came in; Noah looked like a person who had just lost his entire supply of pot and probably the seeds he was intending to grow as well.

  Dad didn’t say anything. He dished up dinner for the pair of them. They didn’t talk so I continued with lesson one.

  When Dad got up to clear the table, I asked, ‘Dad — what are we going to do about the meat?’

  He put the dishes on the bench, turned and looked at me then at Noah. He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve been thinking … this whole situation has become untenable. We’re going home.’

  twelve

  ‘Home!’ I yelled to the chooks as I ran past them to the loo.

  ‘Home sweet home!’ I sang in the shower until I got a mouthful of bird shit and salt-flavoured water. I would not be sorry to leave that behind.

  ‘Yay! Home tomorrow.’ My koala got the hugest hug. Seb would be so surprised and somehow, somehow, I would find a way to be with him. The ring glistened on my finger. He must love me. He wouldn’t have given me a ring if he didn’t. I decided I’d see him first before I even told the girls I was home. I could do without Lizzie orchestrating my life for me — it made me so nervous when she did that.

  I did a video diary. ‘I will be home by this time tomorrow. Home and jumping into my very own bed in my very own room.’ I struck a hand against my head. ‘No, I forgot. Our house is rented out for the year.’ I grinned at the camera. ‘We’ll have to stay in a hotel. Bummer!’

  I jumped into bed, stifled any negative thoughts floating around, of which there were plenty, and concentrated instead on an image of me running up the steps to Seb’s house. He would answer the doorbell and there I would be. His parents would be out and we would go to his bedroom.

  I swear I woke up smiling but maybe that was because of the smell. That smell had nothing to do with the sea or the wind or bird shit— somebody, and it had to be Dad, was cooking bacon. Real food! I threw on a selection of highly unattractive but warm clothes and ran to the kitchen.

  Mum tottered in the door from the loo with the view, but she didn’t go back to bed. Instead, she eased herself down on to the sofa and lay there looking green. I took her a cup of silent, weak tea. Dad ignored her. I cut a piece of his toast into fingers and gave her a couple. He didn’t say anything but his jaw was mighty clenched. ‘Would you let her starve if I wasn’t here?’ I asked.

  He didn’t answer so I dropped that as a topic of conversation and held out a plate for some of
the bacon, eggs, a good helping of unburnt spuds and a couple of tomatoes. Bliss on a plate.

  ‘Get Noah up, will you, Min?’ Dad said.

  ‘Like he’ll take notice of me.’ I wasn’t going near Noah. He wasn’t stupid — he’d know it was me who dobbed him in.

  Dad gave me a considering look but didn’t say anything. He put down the frying pan and went on the Noah quest. They were back two minutes later and I was glad I hadn’t ventured into the N-Territory. He was not the happiest of campers.

  ‘Don’t want any breakfast,’ he said — except that there was some vocab in there that Cara would have to delete if she wanted to use it, which she would, it being good television and all. Dad calmly and patiently dished him up some anyway.

  Dad had a lot of calm and patient to spare right now, seeing as how he wasn’t using any on Mum.

  Nobody talked. I sopped up all the juices and bacon fat with a piece of bread and it was heaven.

  ‘All right, kids,’ said Dad. ‘Get packing. I’m going to call base as soon as I finish with the listening watch.’ He glanced over at Mum and his mouth turned down. ‘We should be out of here by tonight.’

  ‘Home again! I can’t wait.’ I threw a bit of toast in the air and caught it in my mouth. I hoped Cara would use that clip because it would drive Gran H spare.

  Then Mum lobbed in a grenade designed to blow the whole plan off the map. Her voice was still weak and wobbly but it was clear enough. ‘I’m not going.’

  Dad ignored her.

  Noah said nothing. He didn’t look as if he was bothered one way or the other, which had to mean he had a secret dope supply that Dad hadn’t found, but who cared about that right now?

  I went to her sofa, jammed my hands on my hips and glared at her, although it’s a waste of energy to glare at somebody who keeps their eyes shut. She couldn’t shut her ears though. ‘What d’you mean, you’re not going? It’s your fault … You shouldn’t have … You’re horrible and I hate you and when we get home I’m never going near you ever again.’ More tears for the camera. Then I sniffed and said to Dad, ‘I’m going to start packing.’

  I was right about not being able to shut ears. I heard very clearly what Mum said next in her wobbly, weak voice. ‘Can’t do another helicopter ride. Wasn’t too sick before that, but now …’ Her voice faded away.

  I swivelled around, turning my back on her. ‘Dad? What’ll we do? We can’t stay here.’ He didn’t want to stay, not now. We would go home, we would. I opened my mouth to plead some more but shut it again when he snatched up the fish slice and belted it hard against his leg, twice. The impact left two greasy patches on his overalls. I staggered backwards at the fury on his face, hit the edge of Mum’s couch and nearly fell on her. ‘Dad?’ I whispered.

  He didn’t answer, just chucked the fish slice into the sink so hard it bounced and then he was out the side door, crashing it shut behind him. I straightened up and just stood there, staring at the door still vibrating from the impact of the slam.

  ‘I hate you!’ I bellowed at my faithless mother. I ran from the room and left her alone with Noah. If I never saw her again it would be a bloody good thing. Let her get in the helicopter. Who cared if she died. Not me.

  I wanted to talk to Lizzie, Jax and Addy so much that I couldn’t think about it or I’d disintegrate into tiny fragments. Seb — I needed him.

  A fresh spurt of anger shook me — how could Mum have agreed to do this stupid TV thing? She knew the truth would come out. She knew the entire whole country would find out she was nothing but a whore. And who was the fucking father anyway? Oh God, that was a joke and not a funny one. I curled into a heap on my bed and bawled my eyes and heart out.

  But it was cold in my room, so in the end I got up and went back to the kitchen where Mum was shivering on the sofa because the fire had died right down. Dad hadn’t come back and, of course, Noah had vanished. We’d missed the start of the listening watch and the radio was nagging away. I grabbed the microphone. ‘Yes, here! Motutoka. Sorry we’re late. Come in please.’

  And then it was all on with the multitasking. I dealt to the radio, fed the fire with coal, filled a hottie for Mum and got her blankets and a cup of tea. She’d been crying too. Good. It served her right. She should cry. She deserved to cry. I didn’t talk to her.

  Because there was nothing else to do, I did the dishes. Picked up the camera. Fed the chooks, who, so Dad said, lived on a diet of wheat.

  I ran back into the house and spoke to the faithless one. ‘Mum, we have to go home!’ I couldn’t face it — living with furious father, sick mother and grumpy brother.

  ‘Can’t. Not yet.’

  I stared at her, my mother — the shell of my mother. There was nothing left of the mother I knew.

  What if she did die?

  Now I was scared. ‘Do you want anything to eat?’ I whispered.

  The corners of her mouth twitched. It could have been a smile. ‘Mashed potato. I’d kill for some mashed potato.’

  She whispered instructions and it looked good by the time I’d whisked it up with a fork. Mum ate three teaspoonfuls. She eased back down on the sofa. ‘Thank you, Min.’

  It was the way she said it that got to me — there was a whole trailer-load of sadness in it — and that’s when I started to realise we couldn’t go back, not to the life we’d had, not now and not ever.

  I wondered if this was how little kids felt when all their Christmas presents got stolen. You look forward to something so much it hurts, and then it doesn’t happen. What was left was a vacuum.

  ‘Why did you do it?’ I asked but she didn’t answer.

  I needed my friends. I needed somebody to talk to. I went back to the chooks. They liked being talked to. They came when I called. They scratched around in the dirt and listened when I told them how putrid the world was. Izzie came up and stuck her head through the wire and went derrrk when I stroked her feathers. ‘I could come to like chooks,’ I told the girls via the camera. Oh yes, I didn’t forget the camera. Old Cara might as well get her money’s worth, although she probably had enough drama already to make us into the world’s top, riveting reality show.

  Bizzie came up to investigate, but backed off when I pointed the camera at her. ‘What do you think, chooks?’ Dizzie bustled up so I asked her the question that scared me rigid. ‘Do you think Dad’ll stay here with Mum, or will he go and leave her behind?’

  Derrrrk, took took took.

  I sat and watched them for the longest time. Thoughts clacked around in my head and no matter which way I tried to line them up, they’d only go in one direction. I stretched out a hand to Fizzie and scritched her.

  Derrrk, took took.

  ‘Very wise, Fizzie, very wise. But what do you say about this? What if Dad does go home? What happens then? Somebody’s got to look after Mum and I don’t see Noah being a lot of use.’

  Fizzie lost interest and took herself off.

  I went to the fence around the garden and tugged on a large green weed then lugged it across to the chooks. They pounced on it like there was no tomorrow waiting to clamp down on them, but I guess if you’re a chook you don’t think about tomorrows.

  I climbed a fence post and sat on it — not a comfortable perch. I rubbed my hands over my face — I was starting to think like a damned chook. I needed something to do, but what? I didn’t want to go back inside the house where I’d have to look at Mum.

  Dad.

  What if he did go home? What if he just flew off with Cara the Cow and abandoned Mum? It’d bloody serve her right, actually.

  But what if she died, left alone here all by herself?

  ‘Oh, crap in a basket!’ I yelled. ‘I’ll have to stay with her.’

  The chooks ruffled their feathers and gave me ten beady-eyed glares. I took myself and the camera off but not into the house. Anywhere but there.

  The day was cloudy and windy, not hell windy, but enough to send the clouds scuttling across the sky. I opened the gate in the fenc
e surrounding the house, and set out to do a circuit.

  The house was tucked in a valley at what Dad had said, back when he was still talking, was the north end of the island. It was near enough to the sea to hear the waves, but I didn’t feel in the mood for the sea and waves today, not if I couldn’t get down to them. I followed the path that led out from the house on the south side. It took me round to the back and through a belt of trees with dark green leaves that looked polished. And behold, there in front of me were gardens — four of them and all with neat rows of plants. Vegetables probably. I recognised silver beet. Off to the side was another shed which was a kind of garden centre/greenhouse affair with trays of plants inside it. Gardens, I suspected, needed to have work done to them. I shrugged. Not one of my accomplishments. Dad could do it.

  If he stayed.

  thirteen

  I stayed outside till I got hungry. Mum opened her eyes when I came in, but didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything either but I made me a sandwich and gave her some dry toast, another spoonful of mashed potato and a cup of tea. I went to my room, crawled in under a mountain of blankets and listened to music. Noah didn’t show and neither did Dad until halfway through the afternoon. He walked into the house, yelled for both of us and when I came running from my room he was sitting at the kitchen table, his back to Mum and his face looking like one of her brass sculptures.

  He was going to leave, I was sure and certain. I wanted to ask him. I wanted him to put me out of my misery, to tell me and let me get used to the whole putrid scenario: Minna and her faithless mother alone on Isolation Island. But no way would he tell me if he had to repeat it for Noah. Where the hell was Noah? Nowhere he was needed; so what was new?

  It took him several minutes to make the epic journey from bedroom to kitchen. ‘What?’ he snarled.

  I tottered from the doorway to the table. I couldn’t bring myself to sit down, I just held on to the back of a chair and stared at Dad, trying to see into his head. What had he decided? Why couldn’t he just come out with it?