I slipped into the back seat where my sisters smothered me with hugs and concern.
‘Ebby’s a bumblebucket,’ Rose said when she saw my bandages.
‘Want to hold Manket?’ May offered me her security blanket. ‘He’ll make you feel better.’
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry with all their eager jostling, so I groaned instead.
‘Hop off Ebony,’ Mum said. ‘She’s not well.’
‘We’re only trying to give her hugs,’ May wailed.
‘Off your sister. Now!’ Dad yelled.
The girls scampered into their seats. I clicked their seatbelts up and we set off.
‘What about my bike?’ I asked as we drove away from the school gate.
‘We’ll collect it later,’ Mum said. ‘You need to go home and rest.’
‘Sure is one way of getting out of school,’ Dad grumbled.
‘Doug, I hardly think Ebony did this on purpose.’
‘It’s the last thing we need right now, though, isn’t it? With you as big as an elephant and ready to pop any day. I’ve got enough to worry about.’
Mum turned to stare out the window, her chin trembling.
I wanted to tell Dad I didn’t mean to have an accident. I wanted to tell him I hurt all over. I wanted to tell him the sports carnival was in two days and I had no idea how I was going to get better before then.
I didn’t. Instead, I copied Mum and stared out the window, trying to block Dad out of my mind.
‘I suppose this means your bid for the Olympics are over.’ Dad’s laughter sliced through me. ‘It’s a bit hard competing when you’re a walking scab.’
The one sure thing about Dad was that he always made you feel better when you were down.
Not.
The rest of the day, I spent recovering and feeling sorry for myself. I also wallowed in guilt about not being able to help Mum, though she insisted I rest. Still clinging to the hope of making it to the carnival, I took Mum’s advice and stayed in bed. I’d never spent so much time on my back before, sleeping on and off and reading, all the while clutching the dragon.
Thankfully, Dad went to work, so I didn’t have him pressuring me to get up and help Mum with the housework. But later that night, after the girls went to bed Dad surprised me by coming into my room.
‘How’s the patient?’ he asked, dropping a tray of hot chocolate and Anzac biscuits on my sore knees. For once he didn’t smell like alcohol and his eyes were clear. He sat down on my bed, jolting me painfully.
I slid the dragon beneath the sheets so he wouldn’t see it and gingerly shifted the tray off my legs. ‘Not bad. Thanks for the snack.’ I sipped the hot chocolate, savouring its sweet warmth.
‘Your mother made it. I have to talk to you about something.’ Pausing mid-sip, I peered at him over the rim of my cup. ‘What is it?’
‘You’re not going to the carnival.’
‘What about all the training I’ve done?’
Dad frowned. ‘Look, I’ve let you carry on with this fantasy long enough.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know this can’t go anywhere. Even if you were well enough to run on Friday, which you’re not, that would be the end of it.’
I shook my head in confusion. ‘Why? If I win on Friday, I’ll be competing at the state championships in Rathbone. I really want to do this, Dad.’
Dad jumped up, raking his fingers through his hair and pacing the floor. ‘And how much is that going to cost?’ He flung his arm at me. ‘We can’t afford to be driving you all over the countryside. Plus, there’s the cost of shoes and sports gear. It’s too much.’
‘But – ’
‘Besides, your mother’s about to have another baby. You’re needed here.’
Suddenly, the hot chocolate tasted bitter in my mouth. I sat the cup on my bedside table, willing myself not to cry. ‘Can’t we work something out? The Gordon twins are sure to make it to the championships. If I make it too, they could – ’
‘No. I’ve told you how things are.’ He was pacing the floor again. ‘You’re to forget about running.’
‘But, it’s all I want to do. I’ve been training and everything.’
‘That’s just tough luck.’
‘Please, Dad.’
He held his hand up. ‘You have to quit this, this, idea of being a star athlete.’ He stabbed his finger at me. ‘You haven’t got it in you to reach state level, so you may as well face facts. You should be knuckling down and helping your mother. And that’s that.’
Frustration and disbelief held me tongue-tied. I wasn’t the one who drank and gambled our money away. I wasn’t the one who kept having babies when we couldn’t afford them. Yet I was the one who had to look after them. I was the one expected to pick up the pieces when my parents couldn’t cope. But as much as I loved my sisters, they weren’t my responsibility.
‘This is for the good of the family, Ebony,’ Dad said. ‘If you weren’t so selfish, you’d see that.’
I could hardly believe my ears. None of this made sense. It was just Dad’s way of making sure I didn’t get what I wanted. Again. It was like his sole purpose was to control me and stop me achieving anything. And he was so good at it.
There was a knock on the door and Mum waddled in. By the look she gave me, I could tell she knew what Dad and I were talking about. I should have known she wouldn’t stand up to him, couldn’t stand up to him. Though I was angry with her for being weak, I didn’t resent her. I’d realised a while ago that Dad controlled her as much as he controlled me.
‘The labour’s started,’ Mum said breathlessly, rubbing her belly.
‘Are you sure?’
Mum nodded. ‘I didn’t want to say anything while the girls were up. I’ve been having contractions for two hours. They’re getting stronger.’
‘When do you want to go?’
‘My bag’s packed and sitting by the door.’
‘Right.’ Dad turned to me. ‘You’re on duty now. Look after your sisters and I’ll see you in the morning.’ He strode out of the room.
Mum perched on my bed, holding my hand while she stroked my hair.
‘Will you be all right?’ I said. ‘Do you need a hand with anything?’
‘No. Stay here and rest. You’ll have the girls all day tomorrow.’
I nodded, gulping down tears and almost choking on them.
‘I’m sorry about the carnival. It looks like it wasn’t meant to be. Everything happening all at once.’ She rubbed her belly again.
‘There’s always next year,’ I said, my voice tight and husky. Mum tensed as her body was racked by a contraction. She squeezed my hand so hard I thought it would break. I grimaced, feeling her pain as she panted deeply, a sheen of sweat breaking out along the bridge of her nose. ‘Ooh, that’s better,’ she sighed after a while, her face relaxing. She leaned over to kiss me. ‘I’d better go.’
For some reason, I clung to her, not wanting her to leave. What if something went wrong? What if I never saw her again?
All the angry words I’d said lately, all the angry thoughts I’d had flooded into my mind. I looked at Mum with guilty eyes then sprang forward to hug her. ‘Everything’s going to be okay.’
I wanted to reassure myself as well as her. Even though I got angry at her, she was my mum. The only mum I had. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like without her. Didn’t want to imagine what it’d be like. The thought of losing her terrified me.
Mum sat back and looked down at me, smiling. ‘Don’t worry. I’m an old hand at this.’
I nodded. ‘Do you think Dad will take us to see you and the new baby tomorrow?’
‘I hope so.’
‘Will it be a boy?’
Mum patted my leg and smiled. ‘It sure would make your dad happy if it was and it would be nice to have a son. But, I love my girls. Don’t ever forget that, Ebony.’
I nodded again.
Mum kissed my cheek then pushed herself up off the be
d. I heard her and Dad slip out the back door, talking low as they walked past my window to the garage. The car engine revved and they drove away.
It was then I remembered Teena had promised to call. It was probably for the best she forgot. I’d have hated having to explain why I couldn’t go on Friday.
Thursday I spent limping around the house keeping one eye on my sisters and the other eye on the phone. We passed the day doing jigsaws, colouring in and reading. The entire time, my mind was on Mum.
By late afternoon, Dad still hadn’t called or come home. All sorts of wild ideas raced through my mind, though I never let on to my sisters how worried I was. I didn’t want to scare them.
In the evening, after bathing the girls, I sat them in front of TV and started dinner. I kept listening out for the whirr of a car engine and running to the window when I thought I heard something. It was dark before the familiar rumbling of our station-wagon echoed down the driveway for real and headlights swooped through the lounge room. The girls and I lined up at the door, eager to hear the news.
The moment Dad walked in I knew something was wrong. I’d tried to prepare myself for bad news, but I mustn’t have done a very good job. The look on Dad’s face made me feel like someone had drilled a hole in my stomach and was threading my insides out. It made me want to throw up.
Dad studied each of us in turn as he lurched through the door, the smell of alcohol swirling around him like fog. His face was a patchwork again from not having shaved, his eyes roadmaps from lack of sleep. I didn’t let his smell, or his appearance deter me, though. I was desperate for some news, any news.
‘How did it go?’
Dad burped. ‘Terrible.’
I pulled the girls close against me. Bracing them. Bracing me. ‘Why? What happened? Is Mum all right?’
Dad brushed past us to the kitchen. He plunged into the fridge and fished out a beer. He popped the can, took a long swig and gasped loudly. ‘Your mother had a hard time of it.’
My breath caught in my throat. I felt my face drain of colour. ‘Is she okay?’
Dad stared into the distance before taking another swig of beer.
‘Dad? Is Mum okay?’
He wiped his sleeve across his mouth then sat at the table, fidgeting with his beer can.
‘Dad?’
‘Yeah, she’ll pull through. Your mum’s a tough old bird.’
A semi-trailer of relief roared through me. I smiled and gave the girls a quick, reassuring hug. Something Dad should have done, perhaps, but wasn’t capable of.
‘But she won’t be having any more kids. The doctors saw to that.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Never mind. It just wasn’t good.’ The look of the tiger flashed across his face. ‘The doctor said this baby was too big for her and that she shouldn’t have any more. What would they know?’
‘And the baby? Is, is it all right?’
‘No. That’s more bad news for a man to have to deal with.’
My heart pounded in my chest. ‘No, it can’t be,’ I said, fearing the worst. ‘Not again.’
‘Yes. Another girl. Just my rotten luck.’ He tipped the can upside down, draining it. ‘Fetch us another one, would you?’
I ran to get Dad another beer, allowing his words to sink in. A girl. A sister. Alive. Thank you! Thank you!
‘What did you call her?’ I asked, running back into the room.
‘I didn’t call her anything. Your mother named her Louise. After her mother. Louise Ellen Jackson.’
I handed Dad his beer then turned to the girls, smiling. ‘We’ve got another sister. Her name’s Louise.’
The girls cheered and clapped their hands excitedly.
‘Yeah, great isn’t it?’ Dad spat the words out. ‘Four girls. And no hope of trying again. I should have quit while I was behind.’
‘Why didn’t you?’ I wanted to ask, but I didn’t dare.
‘Can we go see the baby?’ May asked.
‘No, you can’t. I’m working tomorrow. If you’re lucky, I’ll take you on Saturday. Your mother will be in hospital for a few days.’
May scowled and stomped her foot. I could see a rebellion brewing, so I changed the subject quickly. ‘Who’s hungry?’
‘I’m starving,’ Dad said.
‘What’s for dinner?’ asked Rose. You could always count on her to eat.
‘Lamb chops and vegies,’ I said.
May wasn’t easily distracted. ‘I want to see baby Louise right now,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to wait till Saturday.’
I steered May away from Dad so he wouldn’t hear her protests. ‘We’ll just have to wait. Dad will take us to see Mum and the baby as soon as he can.’
‘Why can’t he take us now?’ May asked.
‘Because he’s too tired. And the hospital is closed, anyway.’
‘Where’s that dinner you promised?’ Dad grumbled from his armchair.
‘Coming.’ I leaned down to look into May’s eyes, my hands on her shoulders. ‘We’ll go see baby Louise as soon as we can. For now, though, you have to be good. And please don’t upset Dad otherwise he might get angry. He’s had a long day. Right?’ I couldn’t believe how much I was sounding like Mum. Is this how she felt all the time, living on a knife edge trying to please Dad and us kids all at once?
May huffed for a moment, but in the end she relented and gave a brief nod. ‘All right, Ebby.’
‘Good. Now sit at the table and I’ll bring dinner over.’
The lamb chops were shrivelled and dry, the bones charred black where I’d left them under the grill too long. The vegetables were soggy and tasteless. I hadn’t done very well with the cooking. My mind hadn’t exactly been on the job.
While we ate, the girls fired questions at Dad about Mum and the baby. For a while, he answered them reluctantly between mouthfuls. Then he shoved his plate away and smacked his lips together noisily. ‘Well, if that’s dinner, I’ve had it.’ He scraped his chair back and stood up. ‘I’m going to have a shower.’
When Dad eventually emerged from the bathroom, he threw himself on the lounge and stared blankly at the TV while he guzzled another beer. I sent the girls to bed then locked myself in the bathroom. Carefully, I peeled the bandages off. My wounds were drying out into mulberry coloured scabs. Thankfully, the raw, burning feel of the grazes had finally eased.
Not wanting to let my sores get too soaked, I only had a quick shower. While I was drying myself, I heard the phone ring. I slipped my pyjamas on and trotted down the hall. As I walked into the kitchen, Dad hung up the phone.
‘Who was it?’ I asked.
‘Wrong number.’ He reached into the fridge and plucked out another beer.
Friday dawned sunny and clear. A perfect day for running. Pity I wouldn’t be doing any.
Dad left for work early, firing instructions as he went. ‘Milk the cow and feed the goats some hay. Keep the place clean and take some meat out of the freezer for dinner. Look after the girls and I’ll see you around four.’ He was out the door without looking back.
‘Can I have a plain sandwich for breakfast?’ May said.
May’s idea of a plain sandwich was two slices of bread with nothing in between. No butter. No Vegemite. No taste.
‘I can do better than that,’ I said.
As I made the girls and myself eggs and toast for breakfast, I tried not to look at the clock. Each time I did, it was inching closer to nine. Closer to when the carnival would start. Closer to when my first race would be run without me in it.
After breakfast, I milked Honey, fed the horses and collected the eggs. The girls were traipsing behind me as I pushed the wheelbarrow down to the woodpile when the rumbling of an approaching car made us stop and stare. We lived at the end of a long dirt road so few people ever drove up this way. If they did, they were either coming to visit us or had made a wrong turn. Usually, it was the latter. We didn’t get many visitors. Dad didn’t like them.
I didn’t recognise the
dusty blue sedan, but as it cruised to a stop alongside the wattle trees in the front yard, I recognised the passengers. Teena jumped out wearing her old yellow sports shirt and tracksuit pants, her honey-coloured hair tamed into neat pigtails.
I tugged my torn house cardigan down over my grubby jeans self-consciously. I felt filthy and completely ratty. Teena didn’t seem to notice. ‘Hi, girls. Hi, Ebony. Why aren’t you ready for the carnival?’
‘I’m not going.’
‘Why not?’
Nick stepped out of the car and leaned against the bonnet. ‘Hey, Ebbs.’
‘Hi.’ I turned back to Teena. ‘I, ah, don’t feel up to it.’
‘You look fine to me, hauling that wheelbarrow around like a do-it-yourself handyman. Did you get my messages?’
‘What messages?’
‘I called the last two nights to see how you were and offer you a lift to the carnival. Mr Gordon gave Dad the day off so he could watch me compete.’
‘I didn’t know you called.’
‘I spoke to your dad both times. He said he’d tell you.’
That figured. ‘Well, he never did.’
Teena frowned. ‘Oh well, it’s not too late to come now. Go grab your gear. Hurry up.’
A huge part of me wanted to go. Another part of me knew it was impossible. ‘I can’t. I’ve got to look after these two.’ I gripped the girls by the shoulders and pulled them against me, as if warding Teena off. There was no way I could go, so what was the use of even finding a way to make it happen?
‘Can’t your mum look after them?’ Teena asked.
‘She had the baby yesterday and is still in hospital. Dad’s at work.’
Teena smiled. ‘So, what did she have?’
‘A girl.’
‘Another girl. Wow.’
I laughed. ‘Yeah, that’s kind of what Dad said.’
‘Bring your sisters along,’ Nick said. ‘I’ll look after them. It’s no trouble.’
Helplessly, I looked from Teena to Nick and back again. They were making everything sound simple. I had to come clean. ‘Look, Dad said I can’t run anymore.’
‘How come?’
I counted the reasons off on my fingers. ‘He says I’m wasting my time. That I’m not good enough. That it costs too much money.’
Running from the Tiger Page 9
