Taking Tom Murray Home

by Tim Slee

  The police have finally decided they aren’t getting coffee or ice cream this afternoon after all and run for their cars. One of them quickly pulls up alongside and an officer puts an arm out the window waving us down. ‘Pull that animal to the side of the road, driver!’ he yells on the police car’s loudspeaker. But he has to drop back as he runs out of lane because of approaching traffic. Mr Garrett taps his ears like he can’t hear, sets his jaw and gives the reins a shake. ‘Gee up, Danny!’ he yells and Danny Boy lifts himself into a trot. ‘Let’s give ’em a run for their money, boy!’ Right at the back, Ben and Deb are weaving left and right in their old ute so that the police cars in the back can’t overtake them.

  Now it’s getting crazy. It’s probably the world’s slowest police pursuit. There are twenty cars behind us on the two-lane road and the police car near us has its lights and siren on, and the police officer is trying to overtake but it isn’t safe because of the traffic coming against us so he has to stay behind and wait for a wider piece of road.

  ‘Looks like they’re serious, Dawn!’ Mr Garrett yells. He looks over his shoulder at Jenny and me, then Mum and Coach Don. ‘I don’t think we have an option here.’

  And right then the police car pulls out into the oncoming traffic and a car coming the other way has to slam on its brakes and it skids to a stop broadside across the road right in front of us and Danny Boy tries to go around it to the right but the police car is right next to him so he swerves left and the milk cart goes up on one wheel and before I know it I’m half flying, half jumping over the side, and Jenny lands right beside me and we both fall into a ditch. I mean, it sounds worse than it is, because after all Danny Boy is hardly a racehorse. The adults up front all have something to hang on to so they stay in their seats and the police in the patrol car pile out and run up the road waving their arms to stop anyone else driving into us.

  And Mum is jumping down from the cart and running towards us and I grab Jenny because the look on Mum’s face is scarier than when that car was coming straight at us.

  The police pull everyone in to the side of the road so that traffic can get past. No one hit anyone so there’s no accident to clear up. It’s still sunny but cool, so it isn’t too bad being stuck out here. I mean, I’m thirsty, but the sun isn’t too hot today.

  Mum gets totally paranoid after we jump off the cart, so she makes Jenny and me do a full body check of each other to make sure there are no cuts or scratches or anything broken and then she checks us both again herself just to be sure.

  As everything is getting organised, Geraldine comes roaring down the road in her little blue car and Alasdair jumps out and runs up the road in his suit with his tie flying behind him, while Geraldine fast-waddles along behind him. The grown-ups are up front arguing with the police and two TV vans with their cameramen and reporters. Me and Jenny listen for a while but it gets boring because Alasdair is using long words, and the police are using loud ones, and people keep telling us to get further up the footpath so the traffic can go past in the one lane that isn’t blocked but there’s nowhere to stand so we go and sit on the gutter in the shade of the milk cart.

  Darren comes up and sits beside us. ‘This sucks, eh?’ he says, throwing a stone.

  ‘Yeah, we got this far, why do they have to stop us now?’ Jenny asks. ‘It’s just stupid. I mean, it’s just a few more hours, and the memorial, then the funeral and it’s all finished.’

  ‘You don’t know?’ Darren asks, looking at Jenny and me like we’re space aliens just landed on earth.

  ‘No, what?’ I ask him.

  ‘The fires in Sydney?’

  ‘Yeah, we know about that,’ Jenny says. ‘The Centrelink? That’s like, so yesterday.’

  He leans his head back. ‘Wow, you don’t know.’ Now he leans forward, ‘Yesterday it was one fire in a Centrelink in Parramatta. Today there’s like ten, all over the country – some banks, government offices, two politician’s offices. There’s full-on rioting in Corio!’

  ‘Is that in Melbourne?’

  ‘I think so. There’s five more farmhouses around the country have been burned to the ground too, by people just torching them and walking off.’

  Suddenly the milk cart jerks forward and we have to scoot backwards on our bums so we don’t get rolled over by the back wheels. I jump up and there’s a policeman who has grabbed Danny Boy by the harness and is trying to pull him around, except Mr Garrett has put the brakes on. Danny Boy is tossing his head, not sure what’s going on.

  ‘Hey,’ Jenny yells. ‘Let go of him! You’re scaring him.’

  The cop looks at us, annoyed. ‘I know horses. Just tell me how I get the cart moving,’ he says. ‘This little sideshow is over. I have to walk him across the road to that beach carpark until we get a horsebox here to take him away.’ He walks down the side of Danny Boy, looking under the milk cart. ‘Must be a brake . . .’ he mutters to himself.

  ‘Don’t show him,’ Jenny whispers to me, like I would have. ‘Let him work it out.’

  But he finds it. Climbs quickly up into the driver’s seat and pushes down on the foot pedal Mr Garrett uses to set the brake, and then hops down with a big smile, and winks at Jenny, then takes Danny Boy by the bridle and gives him a hard tug so he’ll start moving. Danny Boy isn’t having it. He tosses his head, letting out a loud snort, and makes the policeman let go.

  ‘Hey!’ Mr Garrett shouts from up ahead where he’s been with all the other adults, arguing. He’s only just seen the policeman trying to move the milk cart and he comes running back toward us. ‘Stop that!’ He’s got his riding crop in his right hand still.

  The policeman sees him and puts a hand on his hip near his gun and his other hand up with his palm out. ‘Stop right there, sir!’ he yells at Mr Garrett and Mr Garrett slows down but he doesn’t stop. ‘I said STOP!’ the cop yells and he pulls his gun.

  Jenny grabs my arm, and Darren looks around like he’s looking for something he can hit the cop with. That’s what he says later anyway.

  Maybe it’s the near-death accident, or all the shouting, or standing in the sun too long, or maybe it’s the sudden galloping, but right about then is when a vein in Danny Boy’s head blows out.

  He’s all caught up in the harness but he drops to his knees on his front legs first, then gives a big heaving huff and falls over sideways.

  The snort heard round the world

  Danny Boy probably saved Mr Garrett from getting shot, but that’s not what people are worried about right now.

  Mr Garrett is cradling Danny Boy’s head in his lap, sitting on the road with dozens of people in a circle all around him. He’s crying, which is a good thing because he looks like if he was trying to hold it in, he’d probably pop a cog himself.

  Jenny goes over and stands beside him and I stand beside her and we’re looking down at Danny Boy. He was huffing a bit before but now he’s completely still and his eyes have this kind of bloodshot jelly look about them. I’m wondering, shouldn’t we close them, like they do to dead people in the movies?

  Jenny is standing with her knuckles in her mouth next to Mr Garrett, who is down on his knees and moaning kind of quiet, so only we can hear. I don’t know what to do, so I’m looking at Jenny and that’s when I see it.

  ‘Your face!’ I say to Jenny. No, it can’t be.

  She looks at me, sniffing. ‘What?’

  I reach out my hand and wipe her cheek. It comes back dry, but her eyes look wet. I want to show her, but it’s not like I can take a picture or anything, ‘You’re nearly crying!’

  She pushes my hand away. ‘Not funny.’

  ‘No, seriously!’

  She reaches up her hand to her face and rubs her eyes.

  ‘Whatever,’ she says, and puts a hand on Mr Garrett’s shoulder and they’re both there together and he puts his face in his hands and really lets go.

  I ball my fists up and walk away.

  I’ve got that feeling again, like someone is blowing up a balloon, inside my
chest. I just need to get away from it all, but there’s nowhere to run. It’s not fair! She didn’t love Danny more than me. And I looked after him nearly as much as her. People are going to be looking at us thinking she’s the only one who’s sad!

  There’s a house with a metal fence and a lady standing there with some water in a jug and some plastic cups, like she can’t decide whether to come out and help or stay inside and just watch the show, and she sees me and she holds out a cup. ‘Would you like some water, darlin’?’

  She sounds English. I look away at Jenny and Mr Garrett and the police everywhere and the farmers and TV crews and I look past her into her front yard and I turn to her, ‘Can I just sit down, on your grass?’

  ‘Yes, of course, luv,’ she says. She takes my elbow and I sit on the dry brown ground and I take the water from her but I don’t drink it, I’m so angry. I pound the ground with my fist and I pound it again and again until I can feel my arm shaking and she’s looking at me kind of scared and she squats down and she takes my arm and stops me pounding my fist and she says, ‘What is it, luv?’

  I bring my knees up and bury my face in them and she puts an arm around me. ‘Is it the horse? I saw him drop. It’s a terrible thing, you must be really upset.’

  I look up at her and give her a glare. ‘If I was upset, I’d be crying, wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Well . . .’

  ‘Well I’m not. Because someone has to hold it together, don’t they?’ I say to her.

  ‘I suppose . . .’

  ‘So that’s me,’ I tell her. ‘I’m that guy.’

  She’s looking around us now, like she is looking for help. ‘Now, see now. We all take these things differently . . .’

  I laugh. ‘Oh yeah, you could say that.’

  Then she looks relieved and I see it’s because Mum is coming in the gate. Mum stands looking down at me, looking at the lady. ‘What’s all this then?’

  ‘He’s a bit upset, the poor thing,’ the lady says. ‘Just wanted to sit down for a minute.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Mum tells her.

  ‘Would you like some cold water?’ the lady asks, holding out a cup.

  ‘That would be nice, thanks,’ Mum says, and takes a cup and sits down next to me. I don’t want to look at her, so I put my face in my knees again.

  She doesn’t say anything. It’s a thing she does, just waits you out. I know she won’t move until I say something.

  ‘It’s just not fair!’ I say into my knees.

  ‘It’s the horse,’ the lady says. ‘I think he’s upset about . . .’

  ‘It’s not the horse,’ Mum says to me softly. ‘Is it?’

  ‘She’s nearly crying!’ I tell her. ‘Jenny. That’s the second time!’

  ‘Ah,’ Mum says, looking out the gate at Mr Garrett helping Jenny up from the ground and looking around him like he’s wondering what to do now as some people walk towards them. ‘OK, right.’

  ‘I’m just as sad as her!’ I tell Mum. ‘It’s so unfair. What if she can cry one day and I never do?’

  Mum knows if she tries to hug me now I’ll just up and run, so lucky for her she doesn’t. She pulls up a piece of dry grass and crumbles it between her fingers. ‘You’re the same, but you’re different, you know that,’ Mum says. The lady with the water jug just stands there frowning, no clue what we’re talking about. Tough.

  ‘But it makes people think she cares more!’ I say. ‘And she doesn’t!’

  ‘I know, Jack,’ Mum says. ‘But it’s like –’

  ‘Don’t tell me it’s like her periods,’ I say to her, even angrier now.

  ‘Like that,’ she says. ‘You can’t feel your insides, like when you have an upset stomach, but she’s starting to feel hers. This is the same. You’ll catch up.’

  ‘But you don’t know!’ I yell at her. ‘I might never!’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ Mum says.

  ‘I read online, there’s types of analgesia where people can’t cry and they never do, ever, in their whole lives,’ I tell her.

  ‘And Dorotea’s is different,’ she says. ‘Some people get some feeling back as they grow up, some end up able to cry.’

  ‘Some! Not all!’ I yell. I stand up. I’ve heard it all before. I don’t want to hear it now. ‘How long are we going to be stuck on this stupid road?’ I see Jenny with the crowd of people. ‘Danny Boy is dead! Everyone is just standing around, no one is doing anything!’

  I leave Mum standing there with the lady with the water jug and I go to find Pop because I know he’ll be somewhere telling people what they should be doing.

  Coach Don is talking angrily with the cops, and one of them is trying to tell people to step away while Karsi is telling him to calm down, let things just cool down a bit.

  Alasdair is suddenly without anyone to talk to and he comes up and kneels down beside me. ‘You were near the horse, can you tell me what happened?’ He takes my arm. Puts a finger to his mouth, like I should talk quiet.

  I look at him. He’s on our side, right? I look for Mum, but she’s still in with that lady.

  ‘A policeman tried to move Danny Boy and Mr Garrett saw him and started running over, then Danny Boy collapsed,’ I tell him as Jenny joins us.

  ‘Did the policeman touch Danny Boy?’ Alasdair asks. ‘This is really important. Did the policeman make any sort of contact with Danny Boy?’

  ‘Contact?’

  ‘Did he touch him, grab him, try to move him physically?’

  I think back. ‘Yeah, he grabbed his harness first, pulled on that. Then he realised the brake was set, so he hopped on the milk cart and let off the brake. Then he grabbed the bridle and Danny Boy threw him off, and Mr Garrett saw that and that’s when –’

  ‘He hit Danny Boy with his club,’ Jenny says. She sounds angry.

  I look at her like she’s crazy.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Alasdair asks.

  ‘He couldn’t see everything,’ she says, nodding at me. ‘I saw it all. He let off the brake and he smacked Danny Boy with his club on his hindquarters to try to get him moving. He hit him hard.’

  I’m thinking back. Did he? I don’t think he did. Maybe I didn’t see?

  ‘Thanks,’ Alasdair says quickly, standing up. He looks around until he sees the Vic Police officer with the most stripes and he walks straight over to him and starts talking. We follow like a pair of ducklings.

  ‘Captain, I’m representing these people and you have a real situation here,’ Alasdair is saying to the cop. The guy is wiping his brow, hat in his hand. He’s got other cops trying to talk to him, and Coach Don is hovering too, looking dead set on having a go at him while Ben holds him back.

  ‘Oh, I do?’ the cop says, looking at Alasdair through narrow eyes. He takes a breath and looks around him. ‘Really? I just see a coffin I need to get carted off to Melbourne General Cemetery, one dead horse I need to clear off the road and a host of traffic violations. With respect, I don’t see any “situation”, sir.’

  Alasdair looks down at us and indicates with a wave of one hand, ‘These children just told me they saw your constable strike that horse before it fell dead.’

  ‘They what?’

  ‘They saw your constable strike that horse with his baton, and then it fell down dead,’ Alasdair told him. ‘I’m thinking unlawful killing of an animal. That sound like a “situation” to you now, officer?’

  ‘He didn’t,’ I whisper to Jenny. ‘Did he?’

  ‘Just because you didn’t see it,’ she hisses at me. ‘Shut up.’

  The police officer wipes his hand across his face, looks down at us, looks at Alasdair like he wishes him all kinds of hurt. Lots of people look at Alasdair like that but he doesn’t seem to care.

  Right then Mum comes up and stands between us with her arms around our shoulders. ‘What’s all this then?’ she asks.

  Jenny jumps in before I can say anything. ‘We saw a policeman hit Danny Boy and make him fall down, now Alasdair is telling it to the policeman he
re.’

  The officer hears her. Mum says nothing, just looks up at Alasdair and the policeman.

  ‘The word of two minors isn’t going to hold against one of my constables,’ the officer says.

  ‘More trouble than this is all worth though,’ Alasdair says and he looks over at the TV crews standing behind some yellow tape and filming everything in sight. ‘What say we stick to the plan I just agreed with the senior inspector and the mayor’s office, all right? The city works people are already preparing things downtown; make a call if you need to. We’re talking a quick memorial speech in Federation Square, then tomorrow we bury the poor man at Melbourne General and this is all over.’

  Two more TV crews pull up now and jump out, filming the growing crowd. Traffic is backing up again with only one lane open and some of the drivers start leaning on their horns. Then a photographer sees Mr Garrett standing with Danny Boy, and Karsi in his police uniform with his arm over Mr Garrett’s shoulders, and the photographer ducks under the police tape to get the shot, which means all the other reporters try to get past and the one policeman there can’t hold them back. A reporter jams a microphone in the policeman’s face. ‘Officer? Can you tell us what has happened here? We heard the horse has been shot?’

  ‘It has not,’ the captain growls at her, then he rounds on Alasdair, ‘I’m going to make that call.’

  While his constables herd the reporters back, the officer turns his back and talks quickly into his mobile phone. He has to yell a bit to make himself heard over the reporters shouting questions, but then he turns back to Alasdair.

  ‘All right. You will organise to get that dead animal moved. You will get that cart with that coffin lawfully hitched up to a motorised vehicle and you will tow it to Federation Square under escort. You have an hour to get there, get your memorial service underway, or I will start arresting people for unlawful assembly, public nuisance and about a dozen other things I can think of.’

  The tractor guy Trevor is the one with the right tow hitch to be able to connect up to Mr Garrett’s milk cart. The police block off the road so he can come around and hook up, and meantime Mum goes over and sits with Mr Garrett. She puts an arm around him and rocks him a bit, side to side.