by Nette Hilton
Missie caught sight of Mr Glasson moving along the corridor. There wasn’t time to try to explain to Zill about Judith Mae. There didn’t even seem to be words that would make Zilla want to listen, let alone care.
‘Oh, come on, Zilla. Please come to my birthday.’
Zilla headed to the doors at the seniors’ end of the school.
‘Couldn’t be bothered,’ she said. ‘And anyway, Mum won’t let me.’
Missie caught up with her. They were going to cop it because Glasson had seen them and he knew they’d seen him and they’d still headed off in the opposite direction.
Missie held Zilla’s sleeve. ‘There’s something I want you to see,’ she said. ‘It’s really, really important.’
Zilla removed herself. ‘What?’
There was no way Missie was going to say ‘Buster’. Not now, in the playground. Buster was too close to Deirdre. Maybe Zill knew Deirdre had snitched him, maybe she didn’t. It was pretty certain, though, that she was going to be really unhappy when she found out.
‘You have to come to my party to find out.’
Zilla flounced away.
It wouldn’t work if Zilla wasn’t at the party. She’d already made sure her mother was going to be there. And Max had to be there because his mother said it was polite and so Aunt Belle might even be there for a bit.
It was the only chance she’d have at catching Max out. She couldn’t bear to think that she’d planned it all so well, stolen Buster and even wrapped him up. As soon as she said where she’d seen him last, in Deirdre’s bike basket, there’d be hell to pay. Especially if Zilla was there.
Zilla’d remember that cloth bag, for sure and certain.
If she didn’t they’d just think she was nuts for putting a daggy old rabbit in the middle of a pass-the-parcel.
‘Zill. You’ve gotta come. Please.’
Zilla’s eyes glinted as hard as grit. ‘I’m not bringing a present.’
And with that she was gone.
‘She’s not bringing a present,’ Missie said without thinking.
‘Aren’t you asleep yet?’ Her mother appeared in her nightdress. ‘I hope you’re not running a temperature or something. Do you feel all right?’
‘I can’t get to sleep, that’s all.’
Her mother checked her temperature and ran her hands down the side of her face. ‘Don’t worry about Zilla yet. She’ll come good. You have to give her some extra time and patience.’
Missie was going to give her anything she needed. Just so long as she came to her birthday.
49
LATE AFTERNOON
THE RIVER
It hadn’t been a good day.
Zill only talked to her when it was necessary and then she said things like ‘lend us your rubber’ or ‘you don’t do r’s like that’. Jimmy had been busy begging marbles off kids so he could get into a game and win some decent ones and she didn’t know how to play marbles and didn’t want to learn. Sitting with her hands in the dirt felt bad and you always finished up with your knees filthy as well.
‘You can come and see our new wireless set. We’re all going to sit and listen in the front room,’ she’d said to Zill while they were standing in line waiting to come in after play. ‘Aunt Belle said I can have one visitor a week.’
‘Yeah!’ Jimmy bobbed up. ‘And this week it’s gonna be me. It’ll be really good, Zill.’
Zill looked hard at Missie.
‘How come you invited him instead of me?’ she said.
Miss Martin was watching them and Missie had to speak out of the side of her mouth. ‘You told me to fizz off.’
‘I never.’
Missie gave up. She put her hands on her hips and didn’t care if she got detention. ‘You yelled at me when I came round to your house and told me to get lost! So I did!’
‘Missie Missinger! Detention. Today. After school!’
Her name was bellowed out at the lunch assembly. Everyone turned to look and it was all she could do to stop herself pulling a face.
Zill was beside her and it would have been nice to get a nudge to say how sorry she was about getting her caught.
There was nothing.
At least nothing until after detention when everyone else had gone and the playground was hollow and empty except for one of the Hendersons who was still hanging around the gate.
‘Got something for you,’ she called and handed over a grubby-looking note.
Sorry, it said. Signed with Z.
And then a couple of other Hendersons who were still hanging around started sniggering and shoving each other. ‘And you gotta go down the pool.’
They were dead stupid, those Hendersons.
She let these thoughts drift around in her mind as she ambled home. It was the day the builders had been called to replace some of the broken tiles on the roof and the chimney needed mending because it wouldn’t do if rain came down while the new Master’s Voice was standing so close.
Maybe Zill had decided to wait for her before she went to the pool. It’d be more fun anyway to watch the builders for a while.
‘Is Zill here?’
‘No.’ Her mother checked the recipe she had open before making a little well in the bowl of sifted flour. ‘I didn’t think she was talking to you any more...’
‘She’s not,’ Missie snorted. ‘It’s her fault I got detention.’
Milk was measured and poured in. ‘Oh, really. So how come you’re asking me if she’s been here?’
‘A kid told me she was going to meet me at the pool.’
‘Missie, it’s all too hard for me. If Zilla said she’s meeting you over at the pool then I don’t know why you’re expecting her to be here.’
‘Well, she might have come to wait for me ... or something. And why are you cranky with me? I didn’t do anything.’
‘I’m not cranky. I’m just worn out.’ She glanced up to the ceiling. ‘Those builders have been clattering and bashing around all day and there’s ladders every which way till midnight. Poor old Dot arrived and reckoned she was a goner because she’d walked under at least four of them.’
Missie lingered. ‘What?’
‘It’s bad luck.’ The rest of the milk was stirred into the batter. ‘And it’ll be bad luck for you if you don’t get over there and find Zill. You’ll be grizzling around here next saying she didn’t wait for you. And, Miss, you’re not going near the edge! Got it?’
‘I wasn’t even going to!’
‘Just as well’ A quick kiss and floury hands pushing her hair back into a pin. ‘Now, off you go and be good!’
A builder appeared in the doorway to see if they could get a cuppa for their smoko. ‘We’re gonna be a bit longer, missus,’ he said. ‘Get it over and done with, eh?’
Missie edged past him. She walked backwards to try and get a good look at what they were doing up there. She paused halfway up the steps leading to the front verandah. The dark shadows under the hydrangeas drew her up short and she turned back.
‘Where’s Max?’ she asked, peering around the back door.
Her mother let her hands rest on the basin. Flour clung to her fingertips. ‘Lord, Missie! First Zilla, now Max? What do you want to know that for?’
‘Just want to know.’
A lie. But meeting up with Max wasn’t something she was keen to do for a while yet.
‘He’s over at Lawrence’s. Belle didn’t want him fizz-gigging around near the ladders in case one of them fell on his head. She’s picking him up after dinner tonight. Now, anything else I can help you with?’
‘Is he at Lawrence’s? Like at his house?’
‘Yes. He has to stay there until she collects him. Is that all? Can I get this pudding finished now, please?’
Missie set off again.
It would have been nice if Zill had hung around near the top of the lane that led down to the pool. You’d reckon, seeing how she had been kept in and it’d been Zill’s fault anyway, you’d reckon she might even ha
ve bothered to come up to meet her.
There was no sign of her anywhere along the road so Missie took a deep breath and set off down the gravel laneway. Tall trees shaded her as she went. It was not an unpleasant shade with the bright sunlight pennies flashing up from the ground.
Ahead of her she could see the top of the wire mesh fence and the pathway that led around to the narrow entrance to the pool. There used to be a gate but it was a bit silly having a gate when you could walk just a little further around and up and climb straight down onto the steps on the far side of the pool.
Missie shaded her eyes and looked across to see if Zill was anywhere. It seemed strange, now that she was down here, that Zill would want to come anywhere near the river.
Suddenly, in this shady place where there were no street sounds and bird calls were whispered and the river lapped smugly at the banks, Missie didn’t feel so good about being here.
She fancied she heard a twig crack and leaves rustle and stepped further into the middle of the laneway, into the only place that wasn’t completely shadowed.
Nothing stirred, only the river.
A gumnut fell at her feet and she jumped and spun around.
‘Zill?’ she called.
Another nut landed close by, then the sting of another bit onto her cheek.
‘Who’s there?’
It was a stupid thing to say. No-one was going to tell you who it was if they were up there pelting things at you.
A harder something bit into her leg and made her cry out and run further down the path.
More pebbles started to land, some hitting her and stinging her legs or thudding against her skirt. A couple hit her head and then stung her hands as she tried to protect herself.
She was running faster now, trying to glance behind her and grabbing up rocks as she went. She slowed enough to lob them into the trees but a heavy stone thudding onto the ground in front of her frightened her.
She glanced up but could see nothing. You didn’t throw great big rocks. You chucked stones.
Another heavy rock slammed onto her shoulder and she took off.
She ran along the bottom path, aware of footsteps hammering along the rise above her. She kept both her hands over her head in case heavier stones hit down on her before she got through the gateway and into the pool area. At least the fence would give her some protection.
It had to be Zill. She so much wanted to be sure of it.
But Zill wouldn’t throw big rocks like that. And all of her throws were lollipops and fell too short to do any damage and her mother was always saying not to go places by yourself because there were strangers who’d get you.
And here she was all by herself.
Missie hung close to the fence. She kept her fingers clawed into it as she looked out and up to the tree line.
Nothing moved.
Behind her the pool lay slurping at its concrete sides.
Without letting go of the fence, she twisted until it was at her back, one hand still holding her snugly in place. Now she glanced further around to the far side of the pool and the steps where she’d sat with Jimmy. She saw the smooth rise of the hill and the rusted roof of the butter factory lipping the horizon.
She let her eyes wander back past the edge of the hill, down to the old diving board and then her heart jolted so suddenly she thought someone had punched her.
Buster was on the end of the diving board. He was just there, stretched out with his face gazing up at the sky.
Something broke and crashed through the trees and, above her, she thought she heard the rush and thud of someone running hard. Heavy stones slammed onto the mesh, shaking her and ringing and jangling around her.
And then something grabbed the mesh right behind her and shook it and shook it and shook it. It happened so fast and her belly squeezed so tight she wet her pants. They clung in a hot droop between her legs.
Her face blazed with the shame of it. Whatever it was on the path at her back let go and had disappeared around the dip and into the trees.
She knew then what was going on and her face throbbed with a new heat. This wasn’t Zilla. She wasn’t coming. She was never coming and now she knew why the stupid Hendersons were cacking themselves laughing.
There was something calming in that awful knowledge. Slowly she stood and lifted her skirt away from her soaked undies.
It’d been Max who’d told them what to say. He’d gone up there waiting for her but she was on detention. So he’d left the message with the Hendersons. Tell her to come to the pool but don’t tell who said so. Okay? She could almost hear him say it.
She eased her finger up to the elastic of her knickers and began to let them down. They moved easily with the weight of her pee but her legs were stinging and itchy. She didn’t scratch or touch them. They’d dry.
She was the one who’d made the mistake. All Zill had done was leave a note.
She left her pants on the ground and made herself move away from the fence and look around.
It was Max out there chucking stones.
It was Max who knew that she was down here because he’d told her to be here. She wouldn’t have come except she thought she was meeting Zill.
It was Max who’d be really enjoying this. He’d even made her wet her pants.
Suddenly she was angry. It filled her from her toes to her brain. It blinded her. It balled her fists and it flew out of her throat in one long roar.
She raged out through the gate and grabbed a handful of stones. Not pebbles but big, heavy stones and she hurled them at the trees.
They fell short and she saw a sudden dash of movement beyond the trees. She grabbed another handful and this time she took aim. They still fell short but it didn’t stop her collecting another heap ready to let fly.
She saw him then, running hunched over along the top of the ridge. He was running to get Buster.
She let fly with another stone and, seeing her advantage by being on the downside of the hill, took off for the springboard. She’d bloody show him.
Her feet rang on the cement and once she miscalculated her steps and slammed onto her hands.
She didn’t stop.
She was up to the top steps and racing to block him off and knew she would make it because Max ran like a lumbering cow and he was still up there near the grass.
Already she was stepping onto the end of the board and was surprised to see, in that quick instant that she took to look, how securely it was buried into the bank. Hey, it didn’t even look so high because the riverbank was right under it for most of the way out.
She was on it before she thought and Buster was so close she could see how he was tied to the plank. It was only a bow and it’d be undone in a flash and she’d be gone. Buster would be hers and this time she’d tell everyone and she didn’t care if they didn’t listen.
Her heart was pounding and blood and anger filled her ears. She saw nothing. She’d arrived, blown ahead of herself. For a second it was even hard to think about where she was, let alone how she’d got here.
But one look was enough.
Her feet clung to the board. She was closer to the end now, and it was so narrow that she could feel her toes climbing on top of one another. Suddenly it was so high and below her, ohgod, the river. A little slower here. Like it was hanging about almost. Waiting. Wondering about her up here. Wondering when she’d fall.
‘What are you going to do now?’
His voice was like syrup dripping off the side of toast. All smooth and soft and runny.
Max was behind her, safe and sound on the grass. And there was nothing she could do about it.
In her whole life she’d never, ever been so afraid. Nothing could help her. Her own body refused to move, to go forward or back. To do anything except watch the slow brown swirls drifting patiently beneath her.
Buster lay still, looking up at the sky and Missie felt a ripple move out along the board.
‘Don’t,’ she heard herself whisper.
Another ripple and she heard an awful sound that seemed to be coming from somewhere in her own throat.
Buster flinched as a new jolt pulsed out onto the board.
Missie grabbed for something to hold. She grabbed down because Buster wasn’t going anywhere and he was the only thing to hold. She found herself glued onto the plank, both arms crossing underneath and her legs wrapped so tightly the board was digging into her flesh.
It was being bounced up and down and her body was being inched towards the end. At every dip she could see the river glinting, ready to close over her.
Still she clung on. Buster was hers now; his felt foot was pressed to her temple.
Her skirt was lifting up as the board dipped further and her bum was bare and the thought of her poor bottom up there with nothing over it made her cry.
‘Don’t!’ She’d heard a donkey once and the sound he made was like hers. Just a desperate hawking that came from deep under his ribs. She kept calling and calling and calling.
She was still calling when Buster and his ribbon slipped and she grabbed after him and fell with him into the hideous brown river beneath.
50
OCTOBER
They’d come for him, as he knew they would when Barney Spence had arrived.
They’d bent over him and he didn’t move. He let them haul him to his feet, one man on either side, hands holding his arms.
There was nothing over his mouth. As they moved him forward he was able to let himself roll to one side, heavily, consciously, and then use the only weapon that he had.
He bit down. Hard. He did not let go. He tasted uniform but knew it did not matter. It was the act itself that would cause pain and offence.
He was right.
With a sudden start the guard swung and, without hesitation, lifted one arm in a mighty back swing.
He could see it coming. Slowly. Which could not be right as an arm swung with such ferocity would travel fast.
But he saw it slowly as it arced through the air. He had time to savour the darkness that was coming and thought he may have closed his eyes in anticipation.
