That afternoon, I arrived home to find Mum in a panic. Her eyes were wide and white with fear, her face eaten by worry as she juggled Rose around her huge belly and paced the lounge room floor.
‘What’s wrong?’ I held my hands out to Rose, who slid into my arms.
‘May’s missing.’
‘What? How?’
Mum spoke slowly, as if dredging the words from deep inside her. ‘Your father had to sell a few things.’
‘Again?’
Mum sighed. ‘Yes, again. He took some of your toys, some tools, a bit of furniture – ’
Some furniture? We hardly had any left after last time.
‘How could you let him?’
‘I didn’t have much choice. He owed some money and had to pawn our things. Either he pays his debts or we risk losing the car or the house. Look, don’t make a big deal of it. ’
‘That’s what you always say.’
‘Well, it’s not important now, is it? May got angry because he took some of her dolls. She yelled at him, he bellowed at her and she took off.’ She raked her hand through her fringe then let it flop into her eyes again. ‘I’ve searched everywhere, but I can’t find her.’
‘Did he ... ’
Mum shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’
I sighed with relief. ‘Did you check the cubby?’
‘Yes.’
‘What about under the house?’
I knew May liked hiding under the house sometimes when Dad was angry. She knew he wouldn’t go looking for her there.
‘She’s not anywhere. I’ve searched the house, the garage, the shed. She’s gone.’
I switched Rose to my other hip, sticking it out to give her a perch. ‘What about the creek?’
Mum’s face faded to the colour of dead wood. ‘Your father’s checking there now, but I think she’s run away. Like you said you would.’
I shot Mum a guilty look, wondering if she blamed me. ‘Right, well, I’ll go look for her.’ I let Rose down and turned towards the door.
‘Ebony, you have to find her first,’ Mum said. ‘If your father catches her, I don’t know what he’ll do. He’s wild with rage because she shouted at him.’
I had no idea where May might have gone, but I thought I’d search the shops and playground first. They were about a kilometre away so I hopped on my bike and headed straight there. Driscoll shops weren’t much. They basically consisted of a grocery store and a butcher. Nearby were tennis courts and a playground with swings and a seesaw.
I took the shortcut along the track connecting our property with Park Street, which then wound past a few houses before joining the main road at the shops. I sped over the rough ground, knowing the way well, having bumped over every groove and ditch a thousand times before. As I went, I called out to May and scanned the clumps of blady grass and bracken fern in case she was hiding.
Half-way along the track, something caught my eye. It was one of May’s shoes.
Jackpot! I knew I was on her tail, now all I had to do was find her.
I plonked the shoe in my basket and flew down into the gully then up again, coming out onto Park Street. Spotting another shoe, I put it in the basket too, then pedalled towards the shops, still calling May’s name. She wasn’t there, so I headed for the tennis courts. Still no sign. I rode towards the playground. An old woman was pushing a girl on a swing, but no May.
Where was she?
I caught a movement at the corner of the playground and rode closer. It was May, hunched over and digging her hands in the sand.
‘May!’ I dropped my bike and sprinted towards her. ‘What are you doing?’
Laughing, May jumped up and gave me a strangling hug. ‘Ebby. You found me.’
‘She obviously knows you,’ the woman said, wandering over.
‘I’m her sister.’
The woman nodded. ‘She’s been here a while, but she wouldn’t talk to me. She said I was a stranger. I didn’t want to frighten her, so I just kept an eye on her from a distance.’
‘Thanks. She doesn’t normally roam the streets,’ I said. ‘Mum’s at home having a heart attack.’
‘Daddy took my dolls,’ May said.
I flushed with embarrassment. ‘I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.’
May’s eyes went hard. She thrust her hands on her hips and pouted. ‘Daddy was mean to me. He said he’d use the peach stick.’
The woman’s face ignited with shock. ‘Oh, dear. I hope he wasn’t serious.’
‘He was serious,’ May said gruffly.
With a nervous laugh, I tried dragging May away.
She dug her heels in. ‘I told him I’d run away. Just like you, Ebby.’
Shame flared, hot and painful, in my chest. ‘Okay, that’s enough.’ I tugged May’s arm, not daring to look at the woman. ‘Let’s go home now.’
‘Not until Daddy promises to be nice,’ May said stubbornly.
I rolled my eyes. ‘She’s got a great imagination.’
‘Is everything all right?’ the woman asked kindly. ‘Do you need help?’
I cringed at the note of pity in her voice and still couldn’t bear to look at her. She might have seen the shame in my eyes if she did. ‘Everything is fine. Really,’ I said as I dragged May over to my bike and sat her on the back.
There was no way I could tell a complete stranger all about my business. I didn’t like talking to Teena about it and she was my best friend. I couldn’t just blurt that sort of thing out to someone I didn’t even know. What good would it do anyway?
‘I’m thirsty. Can I have a black water?’ May said.
By now, I felt like strangling my annoying little sister, but somehow I managed to stay calm. ‘What’s black water?’
‘You know, the black water at the shop. In the see-through fridge.’
‘You mean a Coke?’
‘Yeah, a Coke. Black water.’
Despite everything, I laughed. ‘I don’t have any money and you can’t have a black water. You can have a clear water when we get home.’
May pulled a face. ‘Oh, all right,’ she sighed.
We set off, May still grumbling about her dolls and black water. As we topped the last hill before home, Dad came striding towards us. I could see the anger in the tight set of his body, his deliberate steps, his radar gaze.
May’s chubby fingers dug into my waist. ‘Don’t let him hurt me, Ebby.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t,’ I said.
Before I knew it, the tiger loomed above us, bigger than a mountain. May and I shrank back like cornered mice, waiting for the tiger to pounce.
‘Where have you been?’ The tiger dragged May off my bike.
She squealed and writhed in his grip. ‘Let go! Let go!’
I faced the tiger. My bike dropped to the ground, forgotten.
‘Don’t,’ I begged him. ‘Please don’t hurt her.’
The tiger turned to me.
His attention momentarily diverted, May wrenched her arm free and dashed towards the safety of the house. I saw Mum hurry down from the front porch, her arms open wide to my sister. May was safe.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ The tiger’s stripes rippled.
‘You shouldn’t hit her.’ My voice quivered with fear. Tears welled behind my eyes.
Teena’s words flashed through my mind. ‘Hitting kids is wrong.’
With the strength of her anger in me, I dared to repeat her words. ‘Hitting kids is wrong. May’s only little.’
The tiger growled with rage. ‘You put the idea of running away into her head, didn’t you?’ His eyes bored into mine. Whenever he fixed me with that tiger gaze, my legs turned to stone. I couldn’t walk, let alone run. Even though I knew that’s what I should do. ‘You told her to do it.’
He was looking for someone to blame for May running away. Anyone other than himself.
Teena’s words, her strength, suddenly fled. ‘I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to.’
The tiger sn
arled. He grabbed my arm and lifted his hand, ready to strike.
‘Please let me go,’ I pleaded.
The tiger roared. The next moment I was on the ground, the earthy scent of dirt and dead grass filling my nostrils. The tiger turned and stalked off, leaving me sobbing.
My brave words about running away were useless, forgotten. We both knew I would never leave. Could never leave. He had all the power. All the strength. I had nothing.
I was his to do with what he wanted.
A sound in the middle of the night plucked me from my dreams. My eyes snapped open. I stared at the moon-streaked ceiling, listening. The sound came again. I heard footsteps. A chair creaking. Moaning.
Turning my head, I saw a wedge of corn-coloured light seeping into my room from under the door. I felt something hard and smooth in my hand. It was the dragon. I must have fallen asleep holding it. Gently, I slid the figurine under the mattress, instantly missing its familiar touch.
The baby was due soon, but I wondered if maybe it was coming early. Excited at the thought, I flung on my dressing gown and tiptoed down the hallway.
Stepping into the kitchen, I saw it was Dad making the noise, not Mum. He sat at the table, cradling his head in his hands and muttering to himself. I retreated into the shadows, tempted to slink back to bed. The sound of Dad’s sobbing stopped me. I’d never seen him cry before. Not once. Not ever.
Feeling the scars of the cold, battered lino beneath my feet, I padded closer to stand behind Dad. His meaty shoulders shuddered beneath his tattered robe while his legs poked out of his too-short pyjama pants like pale hairy grubs.
I reached out, wanting to hug him. How can I hate you and love you at the same time? Why do I have to? I wondered as I dropped my hand, unable to find the courage to touch him. Instead, I whispered, ‘Dad, are you okay?’
Dad spun around. His hair stood out in devil’s horns where he’d been clutching it. His face was a patchwork of black and grey stubble sweeping across his jaw like a miniature forest. Teardrops leaked from his bloodshot eyes. I smelt his scent, of cheap aftershave fused with stale alcohol and sweat. I tried not to wrinkle my nose up.
‘No.’ He cradled his head in his hands again and sobbed. ‘I’m not.’
Disgust battled with pity inside me. Even after everything he’d done, I still felt sorry for him. I still worried for him. I still loved him. I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t stamp those feelings out.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Aw, I can’t sleep, what do you reckon?’ He clawed at his scalp then hammered the table with his fist. ‘Even when I do, the nightmares come.’
Dad had nightmares? ‘What about?’
He sniffed loudly and swiped the back of his hand under his nose. ‘My old man. He died twenty years ago today.’ He shook his head and gave a hollow laugh. ‘And he still haunts me.’ He glared at a point where the wall joined the ceiling. ‘Isn’t that right, Dad? Still won’t let me be, will you?’
He gave a strangled sob, letting his shoulders slump so low his head almost touched the table. I scurried over to fetch some tissues and offered them to him. He snatched them from me and swiped at his eyes and nose then rolled the soggy tissues between his hands.
Dad looked at me for a moment, then shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t bother you with this. You wouldn’t understand.’
‘What?’
‘Never mind.’
‘It’s okay.’
Dad sighed. ‘Ah, I’m so tired, Eb. So, so tired. I can hardly think straight most days.’ He snorted. ‘All I do is work. And for what? I’ve got nothing to show for it.’
I so badly wanted to mention the money he wasted on gambling and drinking, but I knew it would only set him off. Instead, I said weakly, knowing it would never be enough, ‘You’ve got us.’
Dad looked at me, really looked at me for the first time in ages. ‘You know I’ve always wanted a boy. Your mum lost two after you. Two boys. It’s enough to break your heart.’
I tried not to let his words cut me. I knew only too well how much Dad wanted a son. I’d sure been told often enough.
‘Nothing I can do about it, though, is there?’ he continued. ‘Your mother and me will have to keep trying.’
‘Maybe this time.’
‘Maybe. Still, it won’t stop the nightmares.’
‘What about Dr Murdoch? Can he give you something to sleep?’
‘Pills are the last thing I need.’ Dad snorted. ‘No, doctors can’t help me.’
‘Maybe if you talked to someone?’
‘I’m not letting anyone inside my head.’
‘I didn’t – ’
‘Ah, forget it.’ He waved me away. ‘You mean well, but you’ve got no idea what it’s like in the grown up world. You’ve got a lot to learn, girl. No, only one thing helps me sleep, Eb.’ He nodded towards the pantry. ‘Be a good girl and fetch my sherry, would you?’
‘What about a hot milk instead? It always helps me sleep.’
Dad grunted. ‘See, that’s exactly what I mean. You’re a kid, Eb. You don’t understand adult problems. Now, get me the bottle and hurry up about it.’
I fetched the sherry then placed it and a glass on the table in front of him. I turned to leave when his words stopped me.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Bed.’
‘Give your old man a hug first. Come on, I won’t bite.’ I stepped into the circle of his arms and let him squeeze me. For the briefest of moments I felt, I dreamed, that he loved me. But it was over so soon. ‘All right. Off you go.’
‘Will you be okay?’
‘Of course. I’ve got old faithful here to keep me company.’ He patted his flagon.
‘Night, Dad.’ I crept up the hallway, hoping that if nothing else, Dad would find one night’s peace in his beloved bottle. For his sake and ours.
‘What’s this?’ I stared at the folded silver notepaper Teena handed me.
‘Open it and see.’
I sat on the bench beneath our fig tree and read the flowing handwriting.
You’re invited to
Teena’s 11 th Birthday Party
Where: 13 Chamber Lane, Driscoll
When: 1 pm, Saturday 13 August
RSVP: ASAP!
‘You didn’t tell me it was your birthday.’
‘I am now.’
‘But it’s this weekend. That’s not enough notice.’
‘What, you too busy to come?’
Frowning, I slipped the invitation into my pocket. ‘I need more time to sort things out with Dad.’
Teena refused to show any mercy. ‘Look, if your dad says you can’t come, I’ll personally go to your place and make him change his mind.’
‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘I would, too. So, quit complaining. You’re coming to my party or else. It won’t be the same without you.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ I said, feeling better at her words. ‘Who else is invited?’
‘Just our year. About ten kids in all. Dad’s a shocking cook so I had to keep numbers down. I’ll still get stacks of pressies, though.’
Teena’s enthusiasm was contagious and I laughed with her. I had to admit, I was excited about the party, but I refused to get my hopes up until I knew I could go.
That afternoon when I arrived home, I slapped a peanut butter sandwich together then went looking for Mum. She was in the fernhouse weeding orchids while May and Rose played nearby. When the girls saw me, they ran over and hugged my legs so tightly I thought I’d lose circulation.
‘Ebby’s home! Ebby’s home!’
‘How was school, love?’ Mum glanced up from her weeding.
I tickled May and Rose until they squealed. ‘Great. I got nineteen out of twenty in a spelling test.’
‘That’s good, love.’
‘Hey, I was wondering, um, can I go to Teena’s birthday party on Saturday?’
Mum stood up, arching her back and thrusting her belly forward. ‘Wher
e’s your father?’
‘In the shed, I think.’
She nodded. ‘He’s working on Saturday, so I don’t see why not. Just between you and me, of course.’ She eyed the girls meaningfully.
‘Sure. What about a present?’
There was this awesome dragon book I’d seen in Oxford at Murphy’s Bookstore and I hoped to buy it for Teena.
‘Eb, I’m sorry. You know Dad gets paid fortnightly. I won’t be going into Oxford until next week. Then there’s the small matter of the money he owes.’
Plan B then. ‘What about the shop?’
‘Driscoll corner store isn’t exactly a gift shop. Unless you’re thinking of getting Teena a newspaper for her birthday.’ Mum laughed. ‘Besides, with the baby coming and both your sisters needing new shoes, if there was any spare money ... I’m afraid you’ll have to make a present.’
‘Mum, I’m not five years old.’
Mum’s face hardened. ‘You’ll think of something. I’m letting you go without your father knowing, so don’t kick up a fuss.’
I shoved the sandwich in my mouth so I wouldn’t say something I’d regret. I knew Mum would give me the money if she had it. Still, it didn’t change the fact I’d be turning up to the party with a daggy homemade present.
Though I racked my brain for an idea, by Friday I still didn’t know what to give Teena. Time was running out. My concentration was so bad at training, Miranda didn’t have to try to make me look like a loser. I managed it all by myself.
‘Practice should make you better, not worse,’ she joked after beating me for the third time.
‘My mind’s not on the job, that’s all.’
Mr Gordon was standing nearby and heard me. ‘It should be, Ebony. Only two weeks until the carnival, you know. You’ve got to want this.’
I nodded. ‘I do want it.’
Mr Gordon glanced over his shoulder to where the twins stood nearby. He leaned down and whispered so they couldn’t hear, ‘Your times have improved, Ebony. You’ll give my girls a run for their money if they’re not careful.’ He gave me a secret grin. ‘Don’t tell them I said anything, though, my life wouldn’t be worth living!’
I smiled as I walked off, feeling better about myself, my running. Maybe I could do this.
Running from the Tiger Page 7
