by Nette Hilton
He sat while the world around him filtered back. The shadows dancing on the wall, soft breezes and an open door that let jasmine scents float through. The clatter of dinner.
He opened his hand, surprised to find it dry, with a lighted cigarette, and not wrinkled and dead-looking from river water.
‘I know this.’ He stood up, exhausted suddenly. And the child watched him. Sensed that something was wrong. ‘I would hate if something bad happened to you.’
He touched his fingers lightly in her hair. Her scalp felt warm. Soft.
‘You promise you don’t go there again, Missie.’
She nodded.
This little one who didn’t know. ‘Good.’ He had to leave. ‘Good,’ he said again.
She moved away. He’d frightened her or she’d sensed the madness that lurked too close to the surface.
She was as innocent as this country. Big and round and as bright-faced as a summer moon.
‘You will not do this again?’
He waited until she shook her head. She didn’t come closer though, preferring to stay in the deeper shadows along the wall.
He wanted her back.
‘Then I will not have to ... how you say, dob?’
She smiled at him. Slowly. A great load he had lifted from her small shoulders and her mother would not have to worry about this little incident. She ran to him and pressed the crumpled envelope into his hands.
‘Thank you,’ she said and was gone.
The envelope he placed in the drawer in his room.
Later, when his memories had moved far enough forward to cope with another small girl, he’d take it out and read.
Later.
15
SUMMER HOLIDAYS
JANUARY 1954
THE KITCHEN
‘Zilla’s got a bike.’
It was hot. The air still smelt of Christmas and cicadas could be heard in the gums out the back. Jimmy Johnson had a black prince, which was exciting when he found it but now they all had one so it didn’t count so much any more. His was first and that mattered, if you were Jimmy. Zill wasn’t and they’d argued until they were bored. The cicadas had been put back outside and Zill and Deirdre sent home. Jimmy said his dad would be pissed and there’d be no point going home. Her mother hadn’t even clouted him when he said pissed. All she did was give him some lunch and say he could stay so long as there were no more cicadas in the house. He did for a while and then, when Max appeared, went over to have a swim. Max had promptly disappeared upstairs with Lawrence and now here she was, with no-one.
Only her mother.
And Zill and Deirdre wouldn’t bloody care anyway. They’d be off on their bikes.
‘Did you hear me? I said Zilla’s got a bike.’
‘Lucky Zilla.’
‘Yep. It’s a red one. Her mum’s bloke gave it to her. He’s like her uncle.’
Her mother lifted her hand from the dish and sprinkled water across the shirt that was laid out on the end of the table. Next she’d roll it up like a fat tight parcel and put it with the rest back into the basket. The irons were on the stove and the whole kitchen smelt like hot clothes.
‘Not proper red. Not like Max’s.’
‘Oh?’
Missie suspected her mother wasn’t really listening properly. She didn’t mind. Leaning up on the table and drawing little circles in the over-sprays of water was passing the time until the next thing happened.
‘Max’s bike’s always in the shed. I bet it’s in there now and I bet he’s not even thinking about it. I reckon he probably forgot that it’s there, even.’
‘Nope. I don’t think he’s forgotten and if this is your way of saying can you ride Max’s bike the answer is to ask Max.’
Her mother rolled up one of her dresses. It was amazing. The dress was only as big as the other parcels and there was a lot more of the dress.
‘He’ll say no.’
‘Well, it’s his bike.’
‘Why don’t you ask him?’
‘I’m not the one who wants to ride it.’
This wasn’t going the way that Missie had hoped. It was going the way she thought it might go but that wasn’t making it any better.
‘Oh, go on.’ Missie put a whine in her voice. She let her head slide down her outstretched arm so she was almost flat out on the table. At least her top half was. Her knees were starting to cramp up on the chair. ‘He’ll do it if you ask him.’
‘For God’s sake, Missie. Why on earth would you think that? It’s his bike! If you had a bike would you like it if I said other people could ride it? I don’t think you’d be too happy.’
‘I wish I had some uncles like Zilla! They’d give me a bike anyway!’
Missie’s mother pushed the next roll into the basket and leaned her hands on the table. Her face was all red and sweaty and she let it hang down for a second between her shoulders. Missie thought she might have been laughing because her shoulders were shaking a bit, but that wouldn’t be right. She hadn’t said anything funny.
‘Now listen here, Missie my girl! Zilla’s mum isn’t going to be too happy with you and Zilla racing around town talking about...’ She paused for a second as if the words weren’t there.
‘What?’
‘...her business.’
‘We weren’t. We were just talking about her uncles and the way they come and stay and give her things sometimes and this uncle gave her this bike. He gives her money too, sometimes, so she can go down to Scott’s and buy anything she likes. Pretty good, don’t you reckon?’
Her mother must have been getting tired because she pressed her fingers against her eyes.
‘So long as she doesn’t buy too many lollies.’
Missie went back to propping herself up on her elbows. She found a spot to scrub on the table and licked a bit of spit onto her finger when it wouldn’t budge easily.
‘This new uncle’s all right. He gave her the bike. Bikes are pretty good for you, don’t you reckon? If I had a bike I could ride up the shops and get stuff and not take so long.’
‘You’d have to learn to ride it first.’
Ah, ha! ‘I’m already learning. Zill lets me learn on hers and I can already ride on my own and let go of the fence...’
Her mother stopped dampening the ironing.
‘Don’t you go on the road, Missie. I mean it!’
‘I won’t.’ The spot was rubbed out as best she could do it. ‘Zill said I can ride her bike and she can ride Max’s because it’s a boy’s bike and she’s good at that...’
‘Anything else...?’
‘What?’
‘Anything else that Zill says?’
Missie had a think. ‘She’s bringing it over so we can practise riding round the drive.’
‘And not making a noise and waking Mr Fellows.’ Her mother pushed the last roll down and pressed her hands into the middle of her back before lifting the kettle and filling it. ‘And while she’s here she can ask Max about his bike. Just so he knows who’s asking!’
Sometimes her mother could be a proper grouch.
‘Here.’ She lifted the biscuits down from the top shelf. ‘Take a couple of these and go and find Max. See if you can play nicely for a few minutes while I have a cuppa ... maybe he’ll let you ride his bike if you let him join in when Zill comes over.’
‘He doesn’t let me play when Lawrence comes over.’
‘Just go. I’ve got all this ironing to do before dinnertime and I don’t want you under my feet.’
Neither does Max, she wanted to say. But it wouldn’t have made any difference.
If she wanted to go for rides with Zill without being the one who had to sit on the seat and hang on and go wherever Zill went, and sometimes that was pretty damned fast down the school hill, she’d have to front up and ask Max.
Or at least get him ready for Zilla to ask.
16
SUMMER
‘CHARMAINE’
He’d said no.
Jus
t like that. He didn’t think about it. He didn’t ask where, or how come, or anything. He didn’t even look up from the train set that was strewn all over his bedroom floor. ‘No.’ He said. At that was that.
Lawrence at least looked at them.
‘You’re not using it!’ Zill said.
‘Neither are you.’
End of story. Missie started to turn away. Zill’s hand snatched out and held her firm.
‘How come we can’t use it?’
Now Lawrence was looking from one to the other.
‘What’re you looking at?’ Zill demanded, only it seemed as if there might be a whole lot more to see by the way she was smiling at him.
Lawrence shrugged and went back to the tiny bolt that he was tightening across the axle of one of the carriages.
‘So. Are you going to lend it to us or not?’ Zill stuck one hip out and nibbled sweetly at the end of her fingers. She smiled up from under her lashes, lashes that fascinated Missie the way they curved up right on the ends. She was asking Max but watching Lawrence.
Max simply leaned over to reach the corner of the door. Before he could slam it, Zill changed tack.
‘Oh, go on.’ She whined. ‘Be a pal...’
Nothing.
And the door didn’t slam. Lawrence rested his elbow against it, then leaned on it, watching them like they were some sort of school play.
‘Come on.’ Missie could recognise hopeless when she saw it. Once Max had made up his mind to a thing, there was absolutely nothing anyone could do about it. God knew how he got on at school. Miss Martin’d have a blue fit if he was in her class.
Zill leaned into the doorway. ‘I dare you to lend me your bike!’ She said and nudged Missie.
Max didn’t look up. ‘And I dare you to take it!’
Zill grinned. ‘Okay.’
She turned, swinging her hips as she started off down the hall as the boys clattered to their feet. Missie had already taken off.
Max’d kill them.
She’d hadn’t gone far before they were caught up.
‘Leave it!’ His face was a thundercloud and his voice, far from being loud was deadly quiet. It was so cold it stopped them in their tracks.
Zilla had led the way upstairs and Missie tried to direct her into her own room. But Zilla wasn’t having it – she bounded ahead and then stopped, cocking an eyebrow at Missie. Ahead of them, just around the corner, were the guest rooms. And Mr Fellows was asleep and he’d have a pup if they made any noise.
Zill edged her way further so she could see around the corner.
‘What’s down there?’ She was now standing in the middle of the hallway trying to get a better look into the guests’ lounge, and the corridor that led to the French windows and the upstairs balcony. ‘Can we go out there?’
The afternoon sunlight shafted long patterns across the floor. Someone had left the door open and a lost brown leaf drifted about in the breeze.
‘We’re not allowed.’
‘Not allowed to do much in your house, are you?’
Trying to keep up with Zilla could be difficult sometimes. Already she’d lost interest in the bike. Missie wasn’t all that surprised. Getting someone to help you get something that was only for you and not for them always finished up with nothing doing.
‘It’s the guest rooms. Oleks ... Mr Mykola’s and Mr Fellows’s rooms. Mr Fellows is asleep and...’
Zill’s eyes lit up. She took a few steps down the corridor.
‘Is he in there now?’
‘Yes. He’s asleep. I just told you...’
‘No ... him. The other one. The one you saw down at the river...’
‘Mr Mykola?’
‘Yeah...’
Zill crept a little way down the corridor. She stopped when she got to the guests’ lounge and came back.
‘Is he here now?’
Missie didn’t like the way this was going. Oleks Mykola was her friend. They often met in the evenings by the day bed and the ashtray. He’d liked her painting, he’d said, and agreed with her when she explained that magic painting wasn’t all that much fun. She was glad he didn’t ask too much about it because magic painting still unlocked the place in the back of her head where she’d put Judith Mae and the awful memory of her at the bottom of the stairs.
‘So? Is he? Let’s go and see.’
‘You’re not allowed.’ Max stood behind them. He had approached them without making a sound. Lawrence stood further back, hands in pockets, a slight smile on his face.
‘Who says?’ Zill wasn’t giving up.
Max walked around and blocked her way. ‘I say. And I own this place so you can’t do it!’
‘Can if I want to.’ Zill attempted a pass. It was half-hearted though and Max didn’t do anything about it. ‘Just because you’re too scared ’cause your mummy said you can’t...’
‘I can do it any time I like,’ Max said.
‘Bet you can’t!’
Zill folded her arms. Missie could see where it was headed and she didn’t like it. They weren’t allowed to play along the corridor. If Mr Fellows was woken up they’d really cop it. At least, she would.
And then her mother would for not keeping an eye on them.
‘Come on, Zill,’ she said. ‘Leave it. Let’s get the bike.’
Zill ignored her. ‘Prove it!’ she said.
Max turned and walked down the corridor. He walked past the narrow side passage and Mr Fellows’s room and stopped outside Oleks Mykola’s door. He put his hand on the knob but they couldn’t see if he turned it or not.
He walked back to them. ‘It’s locked!’ he said.
‘Liar!’
‘It is so! And I can get the key if I want to but I’m not. So there!’
‘You didn’t even try it! Bet it’s not even locked!’
Zill took off. She bolted along on tiptoe with Max in pursuit, then Missie behind them both although she really wished she wasn’t. Lawrence stayed put.
They rushed at the door, Zilla and Max elbowing and shoving each other in an attempt to touch the doorknob and see who was right. Or not touch the doorknob for fear of being caught.
They needn’t have bothered.
The door behind them sprang open and John Fellows appeared. His face was bleary with sleep and he held a red dressing-gown around him. His singlet hung low around his neck and dark hairs sprouted out over the top of it. Missie didn’t want to look too hard so she tried to turn away but he was so huge it didn’t make any difference. He filled her vision. And his dressing-gown was only held in place by one hand. She didn’t want to think what might happen if it fell open.
‘What the hell’s this all about?’
Max melted off into the darker shadows beyond Oleks Mykola’s door while the two girls stood like moths in too bright a light.
‘We came to see him,’ Zill said. ‘We have to give him a message.’
‘You can give it to him later. Now, clear out!’
The door closed and the girls stood frozen a second longer and then they giggled. ‘Quick.’ Missie wanted to go while the going was good. ‘We’ll really cop it if we’re caught.’
They’d barely moved and Max, still beyond the shadows, had only begun to be visible when Oleksander Mykola’s door opened. ‘Missie?’
Zilla, for the first time ever, had moved back and stood behind while Missie tried to make words come out of her mouth.
‘There is something wrong?’ He looked out into the corridor. He didn’t open his own door all the way but it was enough for Zilla to make a sudden movement at Missie’s back.
‘We were just playing.’
‘It is best you hop off and play somewhere in another place, I think.’
Zilla nudged her again.
‘Your friend is wanting to tell you something,’ Oleks was saying. ‘It is better you take it downstairs to share or John will wake. And this is not good, eh?’
Missie shook her head.
The door had barely closed
when Zilla collapsed in sniggers and giggles and jabs at Missie’s arms and back. ‘Told you,’ she said as she was hurried back down the corridor. ‘Told you he’s a pervert!’
The word sneaked back down the corridor and Missie was sure it would sink down and slither under his door.
‘Did you see them?’
Whatever it was, Missie hadn’t. Neither had Max who stood with them waiting to hear more.
‘All them pictures.’ Zilla’s eyes almost popped out of her head. ‘Rudey-nudey pictures. Everywhere. I seen ’em on his wall when he was standing there. He’s a pervert! Told you so!’
Missie wanted to say that he wasn’t a pervert. She didn’t like the word. But saying that he wasn’t was just going to get Zill going. Next thing she’d be saying she’s a pervert too for sitting in the dark talking to him.
‘Let’s go,’ she said.
Max had already gone ahead. If they didn’t hurry he’d be well clear of any trouble if they were caught out.
‘I seen ’em!’ Zill declared. ‘And there was others too!’
Missie slowed up. ‘No, there wasn’t.’
‘There was!’
‘You didn’t see anything,’ Missie said as they rounded the corner. She was tired of listening. She wanted to steer the whole thing back to her ride on Zill’s bike which was dependent on getting a lend of Max’s. ‘You’re just saying it because you don’t want to go out on the bike.’
Zill paused on the top of the stairs. ‘I do too!’ She caught up to Max. ‘Hey, Max! Let’s have a go on your bike!’
Lawrence paused, leaning against the top railing. ‘What’ll you give us if he lets you have a go?’
Max had stopped in the doorway to his room. He hadn’t given permission for anyone to make deals with his bike. Not from the look on his face, anyway.
Zill quickly lifted her skirt. ‘Give you a look!’ She laughed and took off down the stairs, two at a time.
Missie bolted after her.
And behind her she heard the boys bolting after them.
‘Tomorrow!’ Zilla cried. ‘Down the river! So you’ve gotta give us your bike.’
Down the river tomorrow and what might happen there took the edge off the bike ride.
