His Other House

by Sarah Armstrong

  ‘Can Ned come to our house?’ asked Adie.

  ‘Sure.’ Marianna wasn’t even pretending to eat.

  ‘I reckon a flying fox would go well from the treehouse tree, Adie,’ Quinn said. ‘You’ll need some kind of support post near the back fence, though.’

  Marianna didn’t look at him. ‘Are you offering to build it?’

  ‘Yeah. I am.’

  Marianna drank some wine. ‘Oh well, I won’t call Whatshisname then.’

  ‘Are you going to eat some frittata, Adie?’ Quinn pointed at the potato and herb frittata sitting on her plate.

  She poked with her fork at the grey onion. ‘I don’t like it.’ She pressed her finger on a cherry tomato. It collapsed, squirting seeds onto the table.

  Marianna said, ‘You don’t have to eat it, darling.’

  Rachel said, ‘Would you like some yoghurt instead, Adie?’

  Adie gave a barely perceptible nod, her eyes on her plate.

  Quinn smiled at Rachel, who raised her eyebrows. Rachel said, ‘I have some frozen mulberries too, if you want. From our tree.’

  Adie nodded.

  Ned picked a piece of cucumber from the salad bowl. ‘I’ll have some yoghurt and berries too, Mum. Please.’

  Rachel stood up and her chair scraped on the floor. Quinn felt dizzy. He should stop drinking and eat something.

  ‘I realise now . . .’ Marianna looked straight at him, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘I really get it now, that you’ve been sitting here for years doing this. Having your dinner at this table . . . chatting away . . . living as a family while we were at our house . . . oblivious.’

  He managed to nod his head, frozen in his chair. She nodded back at him and tears spilled from her eyes.

  Adie put her hand on her mother’s wrist. ‘Mummy?’ Adie shuffled about on her chair until she was leaning up against her mother. Marianna smiled down at her. ‘Sweetie. I’m okay.’ But more tears ran down her cheeks and she took ragged breaths. Ned leaned forward and looked up at Marianna, wide-eyed.

  ‘It’s okay.’ Marianna wiped the tears from her cheeks and pushed her plate away. Rachel put a bowl of yoghurt and berries in front of Ned and Adie.

  ‘We made this yoghurt,’ Ned said loudly, looking at Marianna.

  She smiled down at him as he stirred the mulberries through the yoghurt with a teaspoon. ‘It looks good,’ she said sadly.

  Adie stuck her finger into the yoghurt and tasted it. ‘It’s quite sour,’ she said, pulling a face.

  ‘Add some honey if you like.’ Rachel put a big jar of dark honey on the table. ‘Just watch out for bits of wax.’ She sat back down and served herself more salad.

  Adie touched the honey jar and looked up at Quinn. He opened it for her and reached over to spoon honey into her bowl.

  Ned hopped off his chair, his yoghurt half eaten. ‘You want to see the terrarium I have ready for the baby skink?’

  Adie left her bowl at the table and trailed after Ned, her legs thin in Quinn’s boxer shorts. From Ned’s room came the sound of the lid of the terrarium clunking.

  Marianna covered her face with her hands. ‘We won’t be coming here again.’

  ‘But Adie can come on her own,’ said Quinn.

  ‘She’s only five.’ She sounded defeated.

  ‘I’m her father. I can take care of her, however old she is.’

  Her hands dropped. Her face was frozen. ‘You want everything, don’t you, Quinn? You want to take every single thing from me.’

  Chapter Forty-nine

  The house was too high off the ground for Marianna. She hated the idea of sleeping with all that emptiness underneath her. She pulled back the top sheet of the sofa bed and climbed in. In the corner of the sunroom, Adie was fiddling with the possum skull Ned had given her. Adie looked over her shoulder at her mother. ‘He said I can take it home.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’ Marianna didn’t want that hollow-eyed skull at home. She didn’t want any reminder of this place.

  ‘He said I can bring it back next time we come.’ She rubbed a finger over the possum’s bony forehead.

  Marianna and Quinn had made the bed together after dinner, with Adie and Ned standing in the doorway watching. Quinn had spread two towels under the sheet on Adie’s side of the bed.

  Marianna plumped the pillow under her head. She was afraid that when she closed her eyes she’d feel so dizzy that she’d vomit. Maybe she’d drunk too much wine.

  ‘Mummy?’ Adie laid the possum skull on the bookshelf and crossed the room, the boxer shorts slipping down around her hips.

  ‘Turn off the light and climb in, sweetie.’

  Marianna pulled Adie close and tried to anchor herself to her girl’s body. There was nothing more elemental than her own flesh and blood.

  Adie wriggled away and lay on her back. ‘So is Ned my brother?’

  ‘That’s right.’ How hard it was to fathom that Adie was connected, by blood, to someone Marianna didn’t know.

  ‘Where’s Daddy going to sleep?’

  She nearly said, I’m not sure, but she stroked Adie’s hair and said, ‘I think he’ll probably sleep in a bed with Rachel.’

  Adie was still. ‘Why does he want to live here, not with us anymore?’

  ‘Oh –’

  Adie interrupted Marianna as if she didn’t really want to hear the answer. ‘I want him to live at home with us.’

  ‘I know you do, sweetie.’

  In the light coming from the hallway, she watched Adie falling asleep and listened to Quinn and Rachel washing up. It was inevitable, she knew, that Adie would come to stay here without her. Marianna was well aware of how her life revolved around Adie. Even before she was pregnant, the idea of Adie filled her every moment. Perhaps it had suited her to have Quinn away some of the time because it cemented her position as the one closest to Adie.

  She imagined driving home with Adie in the morning, walking in that familiar front door, into their family home, and she knew she couldn’t live there anymore; she could hardly bear the thought of staying in Brisbane.

  Marianna rolled onto her back and listened to the soughing of the trees outside. Miles and miles of fucking forest around them. She hated it.

  She woke in the dark and Adie was gone. She swung out of bed and felt along the wall for the light switch but couldn’t find it. ‘Adie?’ Groping her way through the dark living room, she banged her shin against something. ‘Shit! Adie?’

  The door to Quinn and Rachel’s room was shut. Could Adie be in there curled up with Quinn? She turned on the kitchen light and on the table saw a shopping list in Quinn’s writing: cheese, peppercorns, cumin. She looked at the door to the verandah and her heart thumped. Could Adie have gone outside into that vast, dark bush?

  ‘Mum?’ Adie’s small voice came from behind her. The girl stood in the hallway, sleepy eyes squinting against the light, the possum skull tucked under her arm. ‘I got up to find the possum and fell asleep on the floor.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’ She kneeled in front of Adie. ‘Let’s go back to bed.’

  ‘I want to go home, Mummy.’ Her face crumpled and she hugged the skull to her chest.

  ‘Now?’

  Adie nodded.

  ‘Okay.’ Marianna felt relief like a gush of water. She led Adie back through the dark living room and collected her handbag and pulled up the sheets in an automatic gesture that she immediately wanted to undo. She put her hand on Adie’s back. ‘All right, sweetie. Let’s go. Where are your shoes? On the verandah?’

  Marianna thought about the dark walk down the driveway to the car. She’d take the big yellow torch she’d seen on the dresser.

  Adie adjusted her grip on the skull. ‘I need to say goodbye to Daddy.’

  Marianna couldn’t help groaning. ‘He’ll be asleep.’

  Adie’s voice was faint. ‘I need to say goodbye.’

  ‘Okay.’ It helped Marianna if she imagined she was in a dream. A crazy fucking dream. She lifted her hand and tapped on Quinn�
��s bedroom door.

  After a few moments the door opened and Quinn stood there, pulling up boxer shorts. He was covering his nakedness for her; what a thought. ‘Is something wrong?’ he whispered.

  ‘We’re going. Adie wants to go home.’

  He stepped into the hall and as he pulled the door shut, sheets rustled behind him. He squatted beside Adie and his knees cracked. His knees always cracked. ‘Are you okay, sweetie?’ He stroked her bare arms.

  Adie shook her head. She gave him the skull.

  ‘How about I hold you?’ Quinn put the skull down and sat on the floor. She climbed onto his lap and he stroked her hair, murmuring, ‘Hey, little one.’ Marianna sat beside them and leaned back against the wall, Quinn’s sleepy smell so familiar.

  After a few minutes, Adie fell asleep in her father’s arms, her head resting on his chest and her legs tucked up. Her breath was steady and loud in the narrow hallway.

  Marianna whispered, ‘I simply can’t be at home at the moment, Quinn. It’s too hard. It’s either go away for a while or sell the house. And I don’t have the energy to sell. So Adie and I are going away.’

  ‘Where?’ She heard the fear in his voice.

  ‘Melbourne. We’re going to go and stay with Shelly and the kids.’ The idea had just come to her; she hadn’t asked Shelly yet.

  ‘How long for?’

  ‘I don’t know. I just need to get away. Away from Brisbane, from you. Away from this.’ She reached and stroked Adie’s bare foot. ‘At least a couple of months.’

  ‘A couple of months is a long time for me and Adie to be apart.’ His voice was measured.

  ‘Well, fly down and you can see her.’

  ‘Please don’t go.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m sure Mum will look after Lucy. Unless you want to. And what I really need is for you to get your stuff out while we’re gone. Just clear everything out before we get back.’

  He bent to kiss Adie’s head and rested his face there.

  Chapter Fifty

  Quinn stood at the bench waiting for the kettle to boil, listening to Adie and Marianna in the bathroom and watching Ned spread honey on his toast.

  Adie appeared in the kitchen carrying the possum skull. Her hair was damp and stuck out at angles. ‘Hi, Ned.’

  Ned looked up at her, then back at his toast.

  Quinn stepped towards her. ‘Hello, sweetie.’

  Adie laid the skull carefully on the table. ‘Ned, how big was this possum? When it was alive?’

  Ned shrugged his shoulders. ‘Dunno.’ He didn’t look at her and took a bite of his toast.

  Quinn said, ‘It was an adult possum, I think. They’re about this big.’ He held his hands apart. ‘Do you want some toast?’

  Ned stood up and took his plate into his room and closed the door.

  Adie looked at his door. ‘What’s wrong with him?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ll go and talk to him in a moment. Do you want some toast before you go?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She sat in a chair, her mouth drooping.

  Quinn slid two pieces of bread into the toaster and walked up the hallway to Rachel’s room. She was pulling on a pair of shorts. ‘Do you mind checking on Ned?’ he said. ‘He’s in his room and he’s upset. I’m making some toast for Adie before they leave.’

  ‘I woke in the night and you weren’t here.’ She tied her hair up into a band.

  ‘Adie and Marianna were going to leave and they woke me to say goodbye. She’s taking her to Melbourne for a while.’

  ‘Oh.’ She closed her eyes for a moment. She looked exhausted. ‘I’m sorry about that. I’ll go to Ned.’

  When Quinn returned to the kitchen, Marianna was squatting by Adie’s chair, ‘. . . like you were yesterday, eh? We’re all upset, I think.’

  Quinn pulled the butter crock from the fridge as Rachel slipped into Ned’s room.

  Adie said, ‘I wonder if I am still allowed to take the skull?’

  Quinn sat at the table beside her. ‘If he’s upset, it’s nothing to do with you, darling. I think he’s upset with me.’

  ‘He doesn’t want to share you.’

  ‘Yes. You might be right.’

  Adie nodded and touched the skull. Quinn spread butter and honey on her toast.

  ‘Can you wrap them in greaseproof or something? I want to go.’ Marianna widened her eyes at him. He knew what she was saying: I need to get the fuck out of here. Right now.

  ‘I’ll walk you down.’ He wrapped Adie’s toast and handed it to Marianna. ‘Do you want some fruit or water?’

  Marianna didn’t respond as she walked out onto the verandah.

  Adie looked up at him. ‘Will you carry the skull for me? He did say I could take it.’

  ‘Yeah. I’ll carry it.’

  •

  Quinn watched Marianna reverse down onto the road and turn the car towards town. Adie waved out the back window and he stood there until he couldn’t hear the car anymore. Birds chirruped in the bushes behind him and morning sun filtered down through the trees, picking out the dust from the road. He normally found this scene peaceful but today it was oppressive – the looming trees, the dust, the relentless wall of sound from the cicadas. He imagined the car carrying his wife and daughter – his family – winding its way along the roads to town, every moment taking them further from him. He wondered when he would see his girl again.

  •

  Rachel sat at the top of the steps, tying the laces on her walking shoes, her black daypack already on her back. Ned stood on a step below her, still eating toast and avoiding his father’s eyes.

  Rachel smiled down at Quinn. ‘We’re going up to Mighty Rock. Want to come?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Ned threw his crust into the garden. ‘You let her take the skull. I heard you.’

  Quinn said, ‘I thought you were lending it to her. I heard you say so last night.’

  Ned spoke quietly. ‘I changed my mind.’

  Quinn reached his hand out to gently rub Ned’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you’d changed your mind.’

  ‘Well, I did. You should have asked.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Noodle.’

  Ned ducked out from under Quinn’s hand and ran down the steps. ‘Don’t call me Noodle.’

  Quinn looked at Rachel and she raised her eyebrows as if to say, What did you expect?

  •

  The three of them walked single file up the steep path. Ned led the way, barefoot, his new leather knife belt buckled around narrow hips. The forest was cool and damp and small birds flitted through the undergrowth.

  Quinn watched Ned skipping away, up the steps to Mighty Rock. Perhaps they needed to camp a night up there, just the two of them.

  Up the top, Ned crossed to the campfire site, where Quinn had told him about Adie and Marianna. The boy kicked at a lump of charcoal and looked down the valley towards the ocean glinting in the distance. ‘They’d be in town by now.’

  ‘Marianna and Adie?’ asked Quinn.

  Ned nodded. ‘Why didn’t you go home with her?’

  ‘My home is here now.’

  He turned and looked straight at his father. ‘This is me and Mummy’s place.’ His lips were a hard line.

  ‘Don’t you want me to live here anymore?’

  Ned shrugged, then said, ‘No.’

  ‘Oh, Ned.’ He wanted to touch his boy but held back. ‘I’d be really sad if I didn’t live here with you. We will always be a family, you, me and Mum.’

  Ned walked to the edge of the rock where it dropped vertically to the forest below. Rachel followed and crouched beside him and spoke quietly. Ned nodded and they turned and crossed the big rock and began gathering twigs and sticks.

  Quinn sat on a log by the campfire site and looked out over the bush. It was true, Rachel and Ned were at home here in a way that Quinn never had been.

  Ned laid a bundle of twigs on the rock next to Quinn, then built a tepee of kindling. He pulled waterproof mat
ches from the leather pouch on his belt and carefully lit a small bundle of dry grass that he tucked in under the kindling. Apparently Clarrie had taught Ned how to light a fire and how to make sure it was out before he walked away. Smoke drifted into Quinn’s face as Ned got on his hands and knees and blew on the flames. Quinn had to fight the urge to bundle his boy up and hold him like he’d done so many times here on Mighty Rock.

  Once the fire took hold, Ned laid a couple of small branches over the flames and stood up. ‘We need some more big pieces. Logs. I want to make a bonfire.’

  Quinn stood up. ‘I’ll help you.’

  ‘No, I’ll do it,’ said Ned and marched away.

  Sitting there beside the fire, watching the orange flames flicker, Quinn’s understanding of his own failure sliced into him. For years he had told himself that he was doing the best he could in a messy situation but he knew now – without doubt – that he’d fucked up, that he should have made different decisions.

  Rachel dropped some branches onto the rock. She sat on the log beside Quinn and reached for his hand and turned it face up like she was reading his fortune. She stroked her thumb over his palm. ‘Everyone’s struggling, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes.’ He watched Ned pulling at the branch of a fallen tree.

  She kept stroking his palm. ‘I’m really . . . I feel like I can’t find my way. Everything’s so . . .’ She took a breath. ‘I think we should have some time apart. To recalibrate.’

  Quinn’s gut plummeted.

  ‘Time to be ourselves, our solo selves . . .’ She squeezed his hand. ‘And then we might be able to come back afresh. You know what I mean?’

  ‘Not really. I don’t know if it works like that.’

  Ned dragged a big branch across the rock towards them.

  Rachel said, ‘I don’t think we’re going to last if we just carry on. We began on such shaky ground.’ She placed his hand back on his thigh. ‘It’s like we need to pull apart then come back together and create something new. I lost myself somewhere in there . . .’

  ‘But we have a child. We’ll never be like two single strangers coming together.’ Was she being naive or wise? He had no idea. All he knew was that he was losing everyone at once.