Where the Fruit Falls

by Karen Wyld

  When the after-work exodus began to dwindle, just before night cloaked the streets, they’d seen a promising sign. Maggie had noticed the skinny tabby kitten first. That young street cat was just like the one she’d loved many years before. So they’d followed it. They’d raced along unknown streets, pushing against the flow of people, until they’d came to a darkened side street. The kitten had stopped at a small street-level window in what appeared to be an abandoned building. It briefly turned around, as if waiting for them to catch up, then it jumped in through the open window. Making sure no one had noticed them, Maggie and Tori climbed in after it. From her pocket, Tori had taken out a small torch that had once belonged to Gabriel. The kitten had led them to a basement. It wasn’t much, but through the weak glow of the torchlight, it had appeared dry. Past occupants had left behind an old iron bed with a ripped mattress, and an assortment of items strewn around the room. Tori had closed the window and checked that the door was locked. Allowing tiredness to overcome them, the girls had curled up together on the bed and drifted off to sleep. With a kitten resting at their feet.

  From that first night, it hadn’t taken much for them to settle in. After living most of their lives in open spaces, four walls and just one small window suited them. With no electricity, they would go to bed early every night. On the nights when sleep eluded them, they told each other stories to make the world a less frightening place. They would pretend that the shafts of light from the street lamps were moon rays. And they ignored the eerie shadows on the walls of the basement. Just as they ignored all the small unexplained noises in the night, which was most likely just the scratching of vermin and the creaking of the old building.

  A rustling sound caught Tori’s attention. She glanced towards the open window and saw a flurry of leaves flying past, caught up in a gust of wind that blew in, bringing Louis with it. His smile always seemed to arrive before he did.

  ‘Hey, sleepyheads, you’re missing a great day out here,’ Louis said.

  Tori sat up, slowly stretching her arms before swinging her legs out of bed. Carefully, trying not to disturb Maggie, she got up. She noticed Tabby Tomcat, now very much a full-grown male, curled up at her sister’s feet, as usual. Louis placed a battered canvas bag on a milk-crate table. He started pulling things out of his bag, and the rustling of paper woke Maggie. Sniffing the air expectantly, she pulled up a milk-crate chair, waiting to see what Louis had brought them this time.

  ‘I have sugar donuts or yeast buns with raisins. Which do you want?’ he asked.

  Maggie picked up an almost-stale donut, eyes lighting up in anticipation of the sugary sweetness. Tori selected a bun, experience having taught her that they were generally not as stale. Louis picked up a bun too.

  Louis often brought them the choicest bits of treats he could find, after lining up early at various charities and taking whatever leftovers were on offer. The twins had learnt a lot from Louis. He had shown them the best places to go for food, blankets and cast-off clothing. He showed them places and people to avoid, and how not to get caught by predators who roamed the city streets at night.

  Maggie looked anxiously up at the ceiling. Muffled sounds of movement indicated the people who squatted in the floors above them were beginning to stir. Only a few would be awake at this time of day; most of the occupants rarely stirred before nightfall. The upstairs people left Maggie and Tori to themselves but would smile if they recognised them out in the streets. It was hard to really know if these friendly strangers were still neighbours, as people never seemed to stay in the squat for long. And every few months, streams of blue uniforms would pour through the building, roughly evicting people. Luckily, the police never bothered to go into the locked basement.

  Swallowing the last of a second bun, Tori asked Louis, ‘Hear of any jobs this morning?’

  He shook his head. ‘I was going to take a walk today, look for signs in store windows and such. Want to join me?’

  ‘Sure. Just give me time to clean up a bit.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll wait for you in the park,’ he said, before climbing out the window.

  Tori rummaged through the bags of clothes near the bed, searching for something suitable for job hunting. There wasn’t much to choose from, even among the second-hand clothes they’d recently got from the church. She selected a pair of black tailored pants and put them on. They were clean, although a bit worn in some places. The eggshell-blue shirt she put on, which always appeared oversized on Maggie, hugged Tori’s body. She picked up a hairbrush and attempted to sort out the tangles in her unruly curly hair. Admitting defeat, she put the brush down and instead put her hair in a ponytail. She then searched for her shoes. When she found them under the bed, she realised they wouldn’t be suitable.

  ‘Can I borrow your sandals? Mine are too shabby-looking.’

  Maggie nodded. Tori buckled up the sandals and headed towards the window.

  ‘You’ll be back before dark, won’t you?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘Of course. Don’t worry,’ she replied, climbing out the window.

  Once outside, Tori stood a while, taking in the sounds of the city. Their building was on the edge of the city, where concrete melded with parklands. Tori thought of how her sister didn’t often go outside any more. On the rare times she did, she liked to stand on nearby parklands that were part of a wide green belt around the city. She’d enjoy the feel of sun on her face, while watching the tiny birds that flourished on the city fringe. Tori preferred to explore further afield, finding new sights in the heart of the city. And she liked discovering what was new on their block. Among the office blocks, new types of businesses were occupying the dilapidated buildings, breathing colour into the greyness. A bohemian flair was taking over this part of the city. Vegetarian cafés, tiny independent bookstores, second-hand clothes stores, basements full of records, and modern art galleries were sprouting up among offices. On weekends and most evenings, the nine-to-five crowd in hotels was replaced with an eclectically clad clientele seeking the next trend. Sounds of live music, guitar-dominated with an occasional sitar or bongo, would float out the doors of packed establishments and travel towards the twins’ basement. Tori would often sit by the window, waiting patiently for the music to arrive. Sitting in the shadows, so as not to be seen, she would catch glimpses of people walking towards the music, or meeting friends at cafés and late-night galleries. She knew she could never join them. Even if licensed venues would let Tori in, Maggie didn’t like to be left alone at night.

  Walking towards the park to meet up with Louis, Tori recalled the first time they’d met. She’d been looking for food. Louis and food had become a pattern in her life. And she’d be the first to admit that the quality of city food had improved after he appeared. Maggie and she had been in the city for about half a year, and been having difficulties finding food. Hunting was out of the question. Tori had stashed the rifle safely out of sight. Gathering wasn’t impossible, just not easy. There were no edible plants in the city, only water-hungry flowers and trees introduced from overseas. They’d finally discovered some fruit trees in the suburbs, on the other side of the parklands fringing the city precinct. It was bit of a long walk, so they made sure to collect as much as they could carry each time they ventured out there. There were plenty of trees with fruit draping over suburban fences, dropping produce onto sidewalks. If one didn’t mind the small bites insects and birds had made. When the trees had stopped fruiting, they had to find other sources of food. Dogs made it too difficult to jump fences and raid backyard gardens. So they looked closer to their basement home. They discovered that local restaurants and delicatessens discarded a lot of food that was still edible. Maggie and Tori soon learnt where the bins with the best food were, and what days of the week generally yielded better finds. In those earlier months, Maggie had helped gather food.

  The change in her sister had happened before she’d met Louis. They’d been a few blocks from their place, filling up a bag with discarded meals in the alley behi
nd a cluster of restaurants. Neither of them had seen him approach. They looked up when they heard a yell, and saw a white-aproned man with a thin moustache running towards them. Maggie was the first to see the carving knife in his hand. She froze. Tori grabbed her hand, and pulled her along the alley, away from the furious stranger. As they disappeared around a corner, they heard him shout a warning that he’d better not see them going through his bins again. Maggie kept the tears in until they were safely home. She didn’t stop sobbing all night. She stayed in the basement for weeks. And, even then, would only emerge after much coaxing and many promises from Tori. Louis was the only person, other than her sister, that Maggie would talk to.

  Tori smiled, thinking of that first encounter with Louis. She was half in a large bin. Rear end protruding, as she struggled to keep her feet on the ground and not fall in. She had her sight on some roast potatoes that looked fresh and in relatively good condition. As she reached out her arms, the bin wobbled, and fell over. Head still buried in the bin, she heard laughter. Emerging with spaghetti embedded in her hair and a cucumber slice on her forehead, she looked around. A young man, not much older than herself, was amusing himself with the sight of her. Arms on hips, legs slightly apart, he reminded Tori of a book cover she’d seen in a bookshop window. That boy was dressed in green, with a fairy on his shoulder. And the book boy, of course, was not a young Aboriginal man with hazel eyes. He walked over and offered his hand. Tori let him help her up, and then proceeded to remove pasta from her head. Despite her being at first reluctant to speak with him, Louis soon had her talking. He was likeable, and not at all judgemental. He never pried, or pushed her to talk if she wasn’t in the mood. Maggie instantly took to Louis when, a week later, Tori allowed him to see where they lived. Since then, he’d become their best and only friend in the city.

  Tori jumped slightly when someone touched her shoulder. Turning around, she was relieved to see Louis.

  ‘Quit the daydreaming. We need to find some work,’ he said with a grin.

  Tori smiled back at him. She couldn’t help it. He had that type of infectious smile that could win anyone over, which was why he was usually able to talk his way out of any situation. Like Tori, he wasn’t one for sharing stories of his past. She knew as little of him as he knew of her. If he’d been more open, he might have told Tori how he’d come to be in that southern city, far from home. And how much he missed his nan. Growing up, Louis had not seen much of his mother and father. They’d drifted from town to city to prison – and repeat. When Louis did see them, his mother usually had warm hugs for him. And his dad had words of advice. Words his father had never heeded himself.

  Louis had been raised by his father’s mother. She’d given him a good home life as a child, with homecooked meals, bedtime stories every night, help with homework, and visiting cousins to play with during the school holidays. And as those cousins grew, so did the territory they roamed. Louis, a natural-born leader, led his cousins into a series of adventures and harmless shenanigans. When Louis took up with some older boys, the cousins didn’t follow. These adolescents had nothing in common with Louis and his cousins. They went to the type of school where students wore expensive blazers and shiny shoes, and stood for the anthem and a prayer each morning. Bored with a life mapped out by their distracted parents, they’d lured Louis into hanging out with them, barely containing smirks at the thought of their parents’ faces if they saw their latest mascot. When away from the watchful eye of a stern but loving nan, there was more temptation for Louis and more risks taken. He never meant to cause any trouble; he never wanted to see that look of disappointment in his nan’s eyes ever again.

  Unlike his partners in mischief, who were represented by a team of Queen’s Counsels, thanks to their parents’ connections, Louis’s latest bad choice could have earnt him his first stint in juvenile detention. He was acutely aware of what harm the revolving-prison-door life had done to his parents, and did not want to follow in their footsteps. So he took off before the police cars arrived. After a few months of aimlessly wandering towns and busy cities in the east, occasionally bumping into a parent or two, Louis headed west. He didn’t make it far, instead stopping in a smaller, southern city by the sea. He’d been there a year before Tori and Maggie arrived. Since leaving home, he’d managed to steer clear of trouble; a caged life was not for him. Despite his determination, cold nights and hungry days sometimes made him itch to revive the bad habits he’d learnt from that gang of wealthy white boys. What stopped him was a strong drive to make something of his life.

  When he met Tori, Louis became more determined. He didn’t have a how, but he now had a who. Even before she’d removed the pasta from her hair, he’d fallen for her. A feeling of destiny had grown each day. Louis was soon imagining them living together in a rented flat. With Maggie, of course. And maybe a dog, if Maggie’s Tabby Tomcat would agree to sharing space. Louis hadn’t had a dog since he was a kid, when his dad, out on parole, gave him a chicken-chasing mutt that was more dingo than dog. Ten-year-old Louis had named that dingo/dog pup Dido. Louis wanted to get another dog, just like Dido.

  These plans of his would take money to achieve. And having money would take a job. Louis had been looking for a while, but no one seemed prepared to hire a young black man who’d not even finished Year 9. Still, he had a dream and he was not one to give up easily.

  With the sun’s warmth on his back, Louis was feeling optimistic.

  ‘Come on, Tori,’ he said. ‘Let’s go job hunting.’

  Tori, having no idea of her friend’s big plans for the future, followed him. They set off along city streets looking for work. A couple of hours later, Tori suggested they give up for the day.

  ‘What about that?’ asked Louis.

  Tori read the small sign in the window and shrugged. ‘Maybe I can give it a go.’

  ‘This might be your lucky break.’

  She looked closer at the store. ‘This place looks a bit posh.’

  ‘You’d look great in those clothes, Tori. All the customers will be wanting to look just like you. And you have such good taste. You’re sure to sell heaps.’

  She took a deep breath and pushed the door open. As soon as she entered, she felt curious eyes turn in her direction. She ignored the two sniggering teenage girls browsing racks of clothes, and walked towards the sales counter.

  Tori said to the woman behind the counter, ‘I’d like to enquire about the vacancy. I’m very interested in fashion.’

  The woman assessed her, slowly. Ignoring the girls’ laugher behind her, Tori straightened her shoulders.

  The woman raised an eyebrow. ‘We don’t employ your type.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know. Now get out of here or I’ll call the police.’

  As Tori walked past them, one of the girls muttered, ‘Yeah, go back to the bush where you belong, lazy boong.’

  The other girl laughed. Tori turned towards the other women in the store, gauging their reactions to that word that hung heavily in the air, hoping for a gesture of support. Instead, she saw them shift uncomfortably and look away. On one of the faces, she saw a look of disgust. Tori walked swiftly, head held high, out the door. Once outside, she let her shoulders droop. She saw Louis waiting a few doors down and walked towards him.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked, noticing the look on her face.

  ‘Who would want to work there, anyway. Full of snobs.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Tori tugged on the sleeve of her shirt, noticing the frayed cuffs.

  Louis said, ‘What did they say?’

  ‘I was told to get out. And some girls called me the b-word.’

  ‘I have a word or two for them!’ he stated, turning towards the clothes store.

  ‘No, Louis. They’re not worth the fuss. I’m okay, really.’

  He stopped. ‘I hate how they do that. They look at us as if we’re dirty, or something. Like they’re better than us. Well, they’re not, and I’m goin
g in there to tell them to quit being so rude.’

  Tori looked at Louis, trying to see her friend as strangers might, taking in his dark-brown hair with an unruly fringe that fell over his hazel eyes. Tori hated being the target of slurs and having people look down at her, but it bothered her more when she saw people being rude to her friend. In addition to slurs, she’d seen other men try to throw punches his way. Louis wasn’t scared to stand up for himself, or her. Unlike Tori, who preferred to avoid conflict. She had to stop her friend from going into that store, and letting them know what he thought. Neither of them could risk the police being called. She put a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. He looked at her, and settled down instantly.

  ‘I know they’re no better than us, Louis. I’m just not going to let them get to me.’

  ‘You’ll find something better than that stuck-up place.’

  They both started as the sound of laughter drifted down the street towards them. They saw a group of five walking in a cloud of noise and colour. Tori and Louis turned away, not wanting any further trouble that day. The people got closer, and Tori snuck a look. One woman was dressed in a close-fitting linen suit of a vibrant shade of tangerine. The other three women were wrapped in layers of velvet, cheesecloth and flower-patterned fabrics, topped off with wide-brimmed felt hats. Patchouli, sandalwood and rose attar floated on the air, and their bangle-laden wrists jingled as they walked. All four women huddled close to the man in the centre of the group. Seeing him look in her direction, Tori turned away. All sounds of their approach seemed to cease midair. Even the jangling jewellery was silenced. Tori’s heart raced as she waited for the expected slurs.

  ‘You there, turn around.’

  Against her better judgement, Tori turned and saw cold grey eyes appraising her. Feeling uncomfortable under the man’s gaze, she gathered up a false sense of bravado and looked him over. Although she was tall, he towered over her. He was dressed in a black suit, with a salmon-pink shirt and dark-green paisley waistcoat. A black velvet hat, so tall it was almost a top hat, and a silver-topped cane complemented his outfit.