by Scot Gardner
‘Bellan,’ Tina said, and pointed down the road. Somewhere in all the smoke was the turn-off.
‘Oh. Okay. Take it easy through the smoke,’ he said, and slapped the roof.
‘Everything under control?’ Tina asked.
‘Yeah. Will be shortly. The wind isn’t helping much.’
‘How did it start?’
‘Dunno,’ he said flatly. ‘Chief seems to think it was a bit suspect.’
Another car pulled up behind us.
‘Take it easy,’ the bloke said, and slapped the roof again.
Tina drove into the smoke and it filled the car in an instant with a sweet grass-fire smell. She wound her window up and I did mine. She drove slowly until we reached the dirt of the Bellan road, then gunned it. The smoke was high over that part of the road, staining the sunlight orange. My little car handled the corners like the wheels were magnets and the road was made of steel. I thought about taking it for a drive when I got home, just up and down our driveway. Dad wouldn’t be home until late. Mum wouldn’t mind. Maybe she’d let me take it on the road. Just the quiet Bellan road.
Tina was pushing my car through the s-bends just before Penny’s place when she sucked in a breath and swerved. Thump! Something went under the back wheel and my head hit the roof as the car bounced. She skidded to a stop.
‘Shit,’ she said.
‘What? What was that?’
‘A wallaby,’ she said, and leaned on the steering wheel. Her neck was red and the muscles in her jaw twitched. ‘Sorry, Dan.’
I jumped out of the car and saw the wallaby through whirling dust clouds. It was on the edge of the road. Its legs kicked at the blood-covered grass. Its head was the wrong shape. I realised as I got closer that the sandy lump on its flattened jaw was an eye. Must have run straight over its head. I stood there with my hands hanging by my sides and wanted to be sick. Wanted to throw up the horrible feeling that I was responsible for killing the wallaby. God, I hoped it died soon. Its side heaved and blood exploded from its smashed nostrils. I took a step back. Tina sat in the car with the engine idling, her head still resting on the steering wheel. The exhaust was hot and sharp in my nose. I may not have been driving but it was my car that had done the damage. The wallaby stopped kicking but its skin twitched and rippled. It was a boy. I could see his scrotum hanging against his leg. Good, I thought. No pouch. I wouldn’t have to check for babies. I wouldn’t have to find a hairless joey and deal with it. Look after it or put it out of its misery. It was a boy. Good.
I stared at the mangled head. My eyes glazed and I lost the sense of time passing. Tina eventually wound her window down.
‘Is it okay?’ she asked.
‘It’s dead,’ I said.
She wound the window up.
I tentatively grabbed the wallaby by its bristly tail and dragged it to the edge of the embankment. It didn’t kick or twitch; its limbs were loose with fresh death. I rolled it under the dogwoods and down towards the creek. It tumbled and slapped out of sight. The blood on the grass was already beginning to dry and darken. Blowflies buzzed around my head. I went back to the car.
‘Is the car okay?’ Tina asked.
‘I didn’t look.’
Tina looked at me, her cheeks wet and her eyes red. ‘Sorry, Dan.’
‘Nothing you could have done. It happens. Don’t worry about it.’
She sniffed and put the car into gear.
‘It died quickly,’ I said.
I didn’t feel like racing up and down the driveway anymore. Tina parked the car beside the cubby. I checked it over and she just stood there. I thanked her. She didn’t say anything. She walked home.
Toby had been playing with a bucket of water and his bare body glistened. He had grass stuck to his leg and in his hair.
‘Whoah! Dan, whose car is it? Is it yours?’
I nodded.
‘Cool! You can drive me to echidna.’
‘To where?’
‘Echidna,’ he said, and looked at me with his head on the side and his eyes pinched. ‘You know . . . where I go with Peta and Penny. In Henning.’
‘Kinder,’ I said, and chuckled.
He squealed. ‘Yeah, kinder. What did I say? Echidna. What’s echidna?’
‘You know, the spiky little animals. We saw one on the road. They eat ants.’
He squealed again and slapped his forehead.
‘Could you drive me to kinder now, Dan?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s nearly teatime. There’s no kinder today, it’s Sunday.’
‘The next day?’
‘No, mate. I’m not allowed to drive it on the road yet. I’m not old enough.’
He looked at me, puzzled. ‘When will you be old enough?’
‘Next year.’
He looked at his foot. ‘How many sleeps?’
I laughed. ‘Heaps. You’ll be at school then.’
‘Cool, you can drive me to school! Huh! That rhymes . . . cool and school, cool and school.’
I brushed the grass off his wet body and sat him in the passenger seat. Mum came out, wiping her hands on a tea towel.
‘That’s pretty flash, Dan,’ she said, her eyes wide. ‘How much did you pay for it?’
‘Six hundred.’
‘You spent six hundred dollars?’
I nodded. ‘She wanted eight fifty. It’s a good car.’
‘I can see that. I thought it would be worth a couple of thousand. You did all right for yourself.’
Kat came out and ran her hands over the duco. She purred and sat in the driver’s seat. ‘Nice wheels, Dan,’ she said. ‘Did you buy it from the old lady you were working for?’
‘Nah. Another old lady down the road. Mrs Vos.’
‘How much?’
I told her and she whispered ‘Six hundred dollars’ to the dash.
She tapped the steering wheel. ‘Don’t suppose I’ll be allowed to drive it.’
‘Not you, Katty. You’ll probably smash it into a tree or run over a chicken,’ Tobe said, and we laughed.
‘That’s not very nice, Toby Fairbrother,’ Kat said as she slapped him on his bare knee. Tobe grabbed her arm and licked it. She groaned and he grumbled a laugh to himself. Kat looked at me, her eyes cool. It was the first time I’d looked into her eyes for years. Maybe even since we shifted. Forever. It wasn’t her obnoxious little brother she was looking at. She looked at me like she was actually waiting for me to answer her. Like what I was about to say actually mattered. She was wearing a summer dress with no shoes. Her hair hung loose over her shoulder and it struck me how pretty she was.
‘What?’ she asked, and looked away.
‘What what?’ I asked.
‘Why are you looking at me all weird?’
‘I’m not looking at you . . .’
‘You were,’ she said, and smiled.
I shrugged.
‘Well, can I?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, of course you can. You’ve got to learn in something.’
She sat back in the seat with her mouth open. ‘Serious?’
I shrugged again. ‘You’ll be waiting forever if you want Dad to teach you in the other car.’ She nodded.
‘Cool,’ Toby shouted. ‘Can I drive it, too?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘When you get a bit bigger.’
‘Cool! Like when I finish kinder and go to school?’
‘Few years yet, mate.’
He looked at Mum. ‘How many sleeps is that?’
Mum laughed. She dusted the roof with her tea towel. ‘Would I be able to drive it?’ she asked.
I thought she was joking but in her eyes she looked frightened.
‘Yeah. Course you can.’
Kat looked at her through Toby’s window. ‘You serious, Mum?’
‘Yeah. I’ve always wanted to drive,’ she said, and I got a flash of Dad screaming at her the last time she’d driven. It was a crackly old image but I remembered.
Kat must have had the same picture in her head.
She grumbled, mostly to herself, but we could hear her well enough. ‘I wish someone would come and take Dad away in a box and fix him up. Give him a new head. One that hasn’t got a broken “happy”.’
‘That’s not very nice, Katty,’ Tobe said, and slapped at the dress that covered her knee. She licked him and he squealed.
Mum’s eyebrows jumped. ‘No,’ she said. ‘That’s not nice. Be careful what you wish for.’
eleven
P I G
It was just getting light when a car crunched up the driveway next morning. Kat was in the shower. Dad was in bed. Mum was making lunches in the kitchen and I heard her gasp. I saw her put her hand over her mouth. She ran along the hall to the front door. The door we never use. I dropped my spoon into my bowl and followed her. Looked over her shoulder.
Two policemen got out of the divisional van and pushed their hats on. I thought they’d come to the wrong house. How ironic was that? The police coming to us for directions! They came to the dusty porch and spoke quietly to Mum.
‘Sorry to disturb you. Is Steven Fairbrother in?’ the tallest one asked.
‘Wha—? Yes. He’s asleep. He’s just come off afternoon shift.’
There was a commotion in Mum and Dad’s bedroom. I heard the window scrape open and the flywire screen rattle.
The shorter policeman looked down the hall, then looked at the tall one. The tall one nodded and the short one ran around the side of the house. ‘He’s here! Give us a hand, Jerry?’
The tall cop ran to his mate and I heard Dad groan. I couldn’t move. I don’t think I wanted to move. Mum had a knuckle in her mouth. The blood had drained from her face and she was shaking. The cops brought Dad to the front door. He was in his white undies. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen his hairy body. The short cop had Dad’s arm bent behind his back. Dad’s face was squashed like he was about to cry.
‘What’s this about?’ Dad bawled.
‘Are you Steven Fairbrother?’
‘Yeah. What’s this about?’ he asked. The corners of his mouth were white with spittle.
‘We have a warrant for your arrest, Mr Fairbrother.’
‘Why? What have I done? I haven’t done nothing.’
‘Then why climb out the window?’ the little cop asked gently.
Dad shook his head. ‘I dunno . . . I . . .’
‘Don’t try and explain here, mate. Save it for later,’ Jerry, the tall cop, said. ‘Now, do you want to travel in your Y-fronts or shall we ask Mrs Fairbrother to get you some clothes?’
Mum shivered and took her knuckle out of her mouth. ‘I’ll get some clothes,’ she said. She brushed by me and I rocked out of my daze. It was like a dream until then. Dad was in trouble. Big trouble. I didn’t want to cry. There was nothing to say. He was probably going to jail for whatever he’d done. I almost walked back in to finish my breakfast. Mum came out with a pair of Dad’s black tracksuit pants and a green T-shirt. She handed them to Jerry, who handed them to Dad.
‘I’m going to let your arm go, Mr Fairbrother, so you can get dressed, okay? Please don’t do anything silly.’
Dad nodded. The little cop let him go and he stretched his arm out and screwed his face up. He got dressed in a hurry and asked Mum for some shoes. ‘My work boots. They’re at the back door.’
Mum got his boots and a pair of thick socks and handed them to Jerry, who handed them to Dad.
Dad was dressed. He stood with his arms at his sides and looked at Mum. She looked old. Older than Eddy.
‘Sorry, love,’ Dad said.
Mum nodded sharply. Bit late for that, I thought.
The little cop took Dad by the elbow and led him to the back of the van. Dad stepped inside. He didn’t fight. He didn’t kick or scrabble or shout. He knew why they were taking him away.
Mum and I watched the van disappear along the Bellan road, then I took Mum by the elbow and led her into the dining room. I sat her down on a chair.
‘What was all that about?’ I asked.
Kat came into the kitchen in her school dress with a towel wrapped around her head.
‘I don’t know, Dan. I honestly have no idea,’ Mum said. Her voice was thin like her throat was cramped.
‘What?’ Kat asked as she poured some cornflakes into a bowl.
‘The police just came and got Dad.’
Kat poured the milk. ‘Yeah, yeah.’
‘It’s true!’ I said.
Kat put a spoon into her bowl and walked to Mum and Dad’s bedroom. She came back pulling her wet hair into a ponytail with half a smile on her face. ‘Really?’
Mum nodded.
‘Cool!’ Kat said, and slumped into her chair to eat.
Mum stood up slowly. ‘Get out, Katrina. Get out of my sight. Now!’
‘Mum . . . I haven’t finished my —’
‘Out. Now.’
‘My lunch . . .’
‘Go!’ Mum screamed.
Kat grabbed her school bag and hurried out the door.
Mum was breathing fast.
‘It’s not Kat’s fault, Mum, Dad treats her like . . .’
‘You go too, Dan. Get going. Go and look after your sister,’ she said.
‘She’ll be all right.’
‘Go!’ she shouted.
‘What about Tobe?’
‘He’ll be fine. Just go. I’ll see you tonight.’
I grabbed my bag and ran. Ran out the door and caught up with Kat. There were tears in her eyes and she was laughing. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her dress.
‘Isn’t that just the best bit of news you’ve ever heard? The worst best bit of news ever. God, look at me, I’m laughing and crying at the same time.’
I nodded. I wasn’t crying. Dad and I hadn’t seen eye to eye for years and the thought of him being out of my life for a while made me feel like rubbing my hands together. I wasn’t laughing either. How would we pay the bills and what would we say to Toby? I felt numb.
We didn’t say a thing to Tina in the ute. She asked me about the car and I thanked her again for driving it home for me.
Kat squeezed my knee. ‘Great car.’
We drove through the corner with the bloodied grass.
‘Any damage?’ Tina asked.
‘No. Not a mark.’
Kat looked through the back window. ‘What happened?’
‘Hit a wallaby on the corner back there.’
‘In this?’ she asked, and patted the dash of the ute.
‘No, in my car.’
‘Your car? Was the wallaby okay?’
‘Killed it.’
‘Killed it?’
‘Yup.’
‘Gross.’
Michael and Amy weren’t on the bus again. My face had almost healed. I’d been waking up with flakes of scab on my pillow. The skin underneath was pink and a bit shiny but I had to stand close to the mirror to notice it.
Chantelle sat on her own at the back of the bus. I looked over my shoulder at her and she patted the seat again. Kat winked at me as I stepped past her. My tummy fluttered.
‘How’s your bum?’ Chantelle asked.
‘My what?’
‘When you slid off April’s back. Did you hurt yourself?’
‘Nah,’ I said, and she laughed.
‘What did you get up to on Sunday?’
‘Nothing much. Went to the market. Bought myself a car. Normal stuff.’
‘You what?’ she squealed.
I told her the story about getting my Mitsubishi Scorpion. I wanted to tell her about Dad and how happy-sad I felt about him being taken away, but Kat flashed me a look over her shoulder. I wouldn’t have been able to find the words anyway.
‘Did you see the fire yesterday?’ Chantelle asked.
‘Yeah . . .’
‘It was on my uncle’s place. Do you know the Mitchells?’
I shook my head.
‘Someone lit it deliberately.’
‘Yeah? We drove
through the smoke coming back from Carmine and one of the CFA blokes said that it was a bit suspect.’
‘They found some sort of little fire bomb.’
We were quiet for a minute and looked across the farmland. Wouldn’t take much to set the whole area alight if someone really wanted to.
‘That’s a bit scary,’ I said.
Chantelle nodded.
Kat got called up to the office on the PA twice that day. Once right at the start of lunch, then again halfway through fifth period. I was in maths. I’d finished all the set work and all of the homework and I was bored out of my brain. I scratched a star on the underside of my left arm with the point of my compass. Didn’t make it bleed, just made the skin white and a few minutes later it came up in a neat star-shaped welt. At first I thought I’d just write Chantelle’s initials, but the scratching felt sort of nice and I had the better part of the period to fill so I wrote ‘Chantelle’ on the pale underside of my forearm. I’m not even sure why I did it. It wasn’t like we were going out or anything. She was probably lonely; with Michael and Amy away she didn’t have anyone else to gasbag with. Not that I minded. We weren’t going out but Chantelle was the closest thing to romance that I’d ever had in my life. I checked a few times to see if anyone was looking but nobody watches the nobody. Dweebs don’t attract much attention. That’s probably the only advantage of being a dweeb.
I thought about going to Eddy’s that afternoon to pull out the apple tree but I was desperate to get home. I wanted to look at Mum’s face, and Toby’s, and know that they were okay. That we were okay. That our family would survive without Dad. Eddy would have been the only person in the world who could make any sense out of Dad being taken away. I wished I had her phone number. I didn’t even know her last name.
Kat looked different. There was something different about her eyes. She looked wild and satisfied in the same breath, like she’d found out what she was getting for Christmas and it was something she’d always wanted. Her hair was different. It wasn’t pulled back. It blew into her face as she stepped onto the bus to go home. She shook it casually over her shoulder and showed Wayne her bus pass. She sat in her usual seat and waved to somebody through the window. Jake. Jake Teychenne. He waved back, then scanned the crowd. He blew her a kiss. Jake Teychenne blew my sister a kiss. Jake with the eyebrow ring and the gaudy silk boxers poking out of the top of his grey school pants. The school shirt with the tails cut off so it couldn’t be tucked in, even if Mr Grimshaw, the principal, had tried to do it himself. Jake with the dark goatee that made him look more like a teacher than a student.
