Family Baggage

by Monica McInerney

  Mrs Turner was explaining. ‘Rose was pregnant while she was on the ship too, and she had her own little girl just a few days before you were born, Harriet. You’ve even seen a photo of her.’

  Harriet nearly remembered. There were lots of photos of the other families. Pale people blinking into the bright sunshine.

  ‘She and her husband moved up to Queensland and we lost touch with each other,’ she told them. She explained that Rose had since moved back to Melbourne to live, seen an ad for Turner Travel with a photo of Penny and Neil and got in contact again. She had been writing and telephoning often since then.

  ‘That’s who you’ve spent all those hours on the phone to lately?’ James said.

  ‘Things have been tough for her and she hasn’t been well. She’s needed someone to talk to.’

  Austin rolled his eyes. ‘So go tell it to the marines, Rose.’

  ‘I beg your pardon, Austin?’

  Austin looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry. I’m not sure what I mean, to tell you the truth. I heard it on a film. As long as you don’t neglect us for some troubled woman from your past.’

  ‘I won’t, I promise.’ She told them the rest of it. Rose needed a break for a few weeks. She’d thought of the Turners, and remembered that their daughter was the same age as her own. She’d wondered if it would be possible for Lara to come and stay with them for a short while. Just until she was better.

  ‘Where’s her dad? Why can’t he look after her?’ James asked.

  ‘Lara’s mum and dad don’t live together at the moment. Her dad still lives in Queensland, but Rose and I thought it might be better for Lara to come and live with a family like ours. So she can keep going to school.’

  ‘Will she go to school with me?’ Harriet asked.

  ‘I think so. I’m talking to your principal about it tonight, and it looks that way.’

  Harriet quite liked the sound of that. A brand-new friend to show around. ‘But who do I say she is?’

  ‘You tell the truth. Say she’s Lara and she’s come to stay with us for a while.’

  ‘But she’s not a relative, is she?’

  ‘No, but that doesn’t matter. You can tell your friends she’s the daughter of a friend of mine. Which is what she is.’

  ‘Where will she sleep?’

  ‘In your room, with you, if that’s okay with you?’

  There was nowhere else, really. The house behind the travel agency was compact. Three bedrooms, one for her parents, one for James and Austin and now one for Lara and Harriet. She nodded. She didn’t mind one bit.

  ‘We’ll move that spare bed out of the shed into your room, and hopefully you can make room in the chest of drawers for her clothes as well as yours. It’s going to affect you more than anyone, Harriet, but I know you’ll be able to rise to the occasion.’

  That sounded so grown up. ‘I’ll be really kind to her.’

  She forgot about the jigsaw puzzle for the rest of the day. It was much more interesting to help prepare a room for a motherless child. She said as much to Austin as she helped him and James move the bed in to her room.

  ‘She’s not motherless, Harold. She just can’t live with her mother for a while.’

  By the end of the afternoon she was ready. ‘Mum, come and look.’ She had piled all her toys on top of the spare bed. ‘I thought Lara might like them.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you, Harriet, but I think she’s bringing some of her own toys with her.’

  ‘But I thought she could have a loan of these too. In case she’s feeling homesick. And I’ve put some tissues beside the bed, in case she starts crying and missing her mum.’

  She found herself bundled up in her mother’s arms. A kiss was pressed firmly into the top of her head. ‘You are a lovely little thing, Harriet Turner, and no mistake.’

  Two nights later she was doing her homework at the kitchen table when the phone rang. She ran to answer it before James or Austin got there.

  ‘The Turner house, hello.’ That was what her mother said when she answered the phone.

  ‘Is that Harriet?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Harriet, this is Rose calling. Your mother’s friend.’

  ‘Hello, Rose.’ She thought she should say something else. ‘I hope you are feeling better.’

  ‘Better?’

  ‘Mum said you hadn’t been well which was why you wanted us to look after your daughter for a while.’

  ‘Oh. That’s actually why I’m ringing. Is your mum there?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll get her.’ She didn’t want to get off the phone yet. ‘I have the room all ready for her. I’ve got the bed by the window but if Lara really wants it she can have it. And I’ve put lots of toys and dolls out for her too. They’re dirty but I said to Mum it wasn’t worth washing all of them yet, that it was better to wait until Lara got here and then we can wash the ones she likes.’

  ‘Thank you, Harriet. That’s really kind and thoughtful of you.’

  Harriet thought she sounded funny, like she had a cold or was trying not to cry or something. Her mother came in through the door then. Harriet put her hand over the mouthpiece as she had seen her mother do, as well. ‘Mum, it’s Lara’s mum.’

  Mrs Turner came over, her hand outstretched to take the phone. ‘I didn’t even hear the phone ring. Thanks, Harriet. Rose, how are you?’ There was a pause as she listened for a minute or two. Sitting back at the kitchen table, ears straining, Harriet could hear the murmur of Lara’s mum’s voice. She sounded like her own mother, except she spoke much more quickly. Harriet concentrated fiercely on the page, wishing she had been able to keep talking to her herself.

  ‘Has he? No, I understand. Of course. No, of course not,’ her mother was saying down the phone now, her first words, apart from a few murmurs, in some time. ‘Hold on, Rose, would you?’ She put her hand over the mouthpiece. Harriet was pleased to see she’d had it right when she did it herself. ‘Harriet, would you mind giving me some privacy for a little while? I need to have a quiet chat with Rose.’

  Harriet got up happily enough. But an hour later her mum was still talking to Rose. She crept into the kitchen after a while to get her homework off the table. Her mother nodded, to let her know it was okay. She took as long as she could to gather her pencils and books. It sounded like Rose was doing all the talking and her mum was doing all the listening. She wanted to stay longer but she noticed her mum’s hand going towards the mouthpiece and got out quickly before she was told to.

  She was up in the lounge watching Candid Camera with her dad, Austin and James when her mum finally reappeared. Harriet had already filled them in on who was on the phone.

  Her father looked up at her mother. ‘Long session?’

  Mrs Turner nodded, holding her hand to her ear. ‘It’s burning hot.’

  ‘Can I feel it?’ Harriet asked. Her mother leant down. She was right. Her ear was warm to touch.

  ‘Everything okay?’ her dad asked.

  Harriet looked back and forth between her parents. Austin and James were oblivious, eyes glued to the man on the screen trying to prise off a fifty cent piece the Candid Camera people had glued to a footpath.

  ‘She says so.’ Her mother lowered her voice. ‘He’s come back. A new start and all of that. But I don’t know. She sounded terrible, tears one minute, laughing the next, saying it was for keeps this time, that it was a fresh start, they mean the world to each other …’

  Her father spoke as quietly. ‘She said that the last time, didn’t she?’

  ‘And the time before.’

  ‘She says he promised her it won’t happen again …’

  What wouldn’t happen again, Harriet wondered. She knew not to ask. She lay quietly, pretending to watch TV but listening intently.

  ‘So what about —?’

  ‘No. Rose wants the three of them together.’

  Harriet understood that. She kept quiet but had to pretend to be surprised when her mum told her, James and Austin in the next co
mmercial break that there had been a change of plan and that Lara wouldn’t be coming to stay after all.

  Harriet was genuinely disappointed. ‘Should I put all the toys back? And will the boys put the bed back in the shed?’

  ‘We might leave it there for the time being. She might come. But I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Give me plenty of warning, won’t you?’ She’d heard Austin use the phrase and had liked it very much.

  Her mother had given her another one of those nice smiles. ‘I’ll give you plenty of warning, Harriet, I promise.’

  Two months passed. School was nearly over for another year. Six weeks of summer holidays would be theirs to play in. Soon it would be Christmas. The cards had already started arriving from their mum and dad’s friends back in England. Harriet loved opening them, seeing the pictures of snow-covered fields, robins, mistletoe and fireplaces, presents and stockings bundled all around them. She and her mother had gone out shopping, trying to pick the best Australian Christmassy ones they could send in return. Oddly, all the Australian cards had the same northern hemisphere pictures, Santas in full regalia, plum puddings and winter scenes, even while the skies were blue and the sun beating down outside.

  Harriet volunteered to make their Christmas cards instead. For two weeks she stayed inside, away from the beach, her fingers getting increasingly multicoloured from felt pens, as she drew Santas in shorts on the beach and drawings of her whole family with captions in her best handwriting underneath, ‘Mum, Dad, Austin, James and Me’, with a sun big and yellow over their shoulders, the rays nearly covering the page. She added a red starfish to every card. It was her favourite thing to draw. She liked the way starfish had five pointy arms, one for each member of her family.

  Gloria loved her drawings. ‘Will you come and do one on the blackboard for me, Harriet? Once a week?’

  ‘On your special blackboard?’ She looked at her mum.

  She smiled. ‘If Gloria says you can touch the special blackboard then you can.’

  Each Monday she went in after Gloria arrived and drew a summery picture in the corner of the blackboard. Sometimes Gloria had already written her special travel fact by the time she got there, in which case she had to fit her drawing around it. Other times the blackboard was still bare, and Harriet had more freedom. Once she drew a picture so big – of a tropical island, with palm trees and coconuts and a trio of monkeys – there was no room for Gloria’s fact.

  Gloria was impressed. ‘I love your drawing. We can give my fact a miss this week.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Harriet said, already rubbing it off. ‘Mum says that you and your facts are the goo that holds this place together.’

  ‘Did she really?’ Gloria looked like she was trying not to laugh.

  ‘Something like that.’ Harriet had overheard it, and wasn’t sure if she’d got it right.

  ‘We’ll compromise then. You do the same drawing, just smaller, and I’ll think of the smallest fact I can.’

  That morning she came out to the kitchen after helping Gloria to open up. Austin and James were silently eating their toast. Austin was reading a section of the newspaper. James was scribbling something in the notebook he always carried round with him. Her father was dressed for work, standing up, finishing a cup of tea. He seemed in a hurry.

  ‘Where’s Mum?’ she asked, as she settled herself at the table and helped herself to a bowl of cornflakes.

  ‘She got called away early this morning,’ her father said, finishing his toast and quickly drinking his tea. Harriet thought she had heard the phone ringing during the night, but had gone back to sleep. ‘She’ll be back as soon as she can. Austin, James, look after Harriet, won’t you? I’ve got to go into Geelong this morning for a meeting, so don’t forget to eat something at lunchtime if I’m not back. And call in to Gloria if you need anything.’ All of this was delivered as he shrugged into his suit jacket and collected his keys. ‘I’ll see you all later.’ He paused long enough to plant a kiss on Harriet’s forehead.

  They called out after him.

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  ‘Okay, Dad.’

  ‘Thanks, Daddy.’

  ‘Thanks, Daddy,’ Austin mimicked Harriet after their father had gone.

  She looked up, stung at the teasing. ‘He is my daddy.’

  ‘Daddy-waddy.’

  ‘Stop teasing me.’

  ‘Austin, give it a rest.’ James didn’t look up from his notebook.

  ‘What, Jamesy-wamesy-pamesy?’

  ‘I’m ignoring you. But leave Harriet alone.’

  ‘Oh, poor Harriet-larriet-carriet.’

  ‘Shut up, Austin,’ James said, still writing.

  ‘Make me.’

  Harriet dropped her spoon with a clatter. ‘Stop it, both of you. Stop it.’ She hated it when they fought. It made her stomach feel funny. She had to fix it, quickly. She took the notebook away from James, ignoring his protest. ‘Come on. Take me to the beach. Or for a picnic.’

  ‘Later, Harriet. Let me finish my breakfast first.’

  She didn’t care if they went to the beach or not. But it had worked. She’d stopped the tension. Austin gave a loud yawn and then started beating out a rhythm with his fingers on the edge of the table. He was always doing that. He’d told her once he heard music in his head all the time.

  James had overheard. ‘That’s because you’re mad, Austin.’

  ‘Better to hear music than have moths flying around in a great blank emptiness, like in your head, James,’ he had snapped back.

  She pulled at Austin’s sleeve, getting in before James said anything about his drumming. ‘Come on. Let’s go to the beach now. You said you’d teach me bodysurfing this holidays.’

  ‘Harriet, you’re eight years old. I’m too cool to be seen with someone like you.’ Austin was now tapping away at the table with both hands, the way he did when he was especially bored.

  ‘Can you stop that noise, please? It drives me mad.’ James spoke again without looking up.

  ‘You’re just jealous.’ Austin kept up the tapping, adding cymbal crash noises for good measure. ‘No natural rhythm, that’s your problem, James.’

  ‘All rhythm, no brains, that’s your problem, Austin.’

  ‘Stop it, you two. Dad said you’re not to fight.’

  ‘We’re not fighting. We’re just bored. You really are a little anxiety bag of a child, Harriet, aren’t you?’

  ‘I am not a—’ She’d forgotten the insult. ‘What did you say I was?’

  James and Austin both laughed.

  ‘An anxiety bag of a child,’ James said helpfully. ‘It’s all right, Harriet, relax. We’re not going to kill each other. Not yet.’

  ‘Mum’s away,’ Austin said, stopping his tapping. ‘Dad’s in Geelong. Gloria’s busy. Don’t you think it’s time we played the game?’

  Harriet looked up and felt the shiver of excitement. The Game? Austin’s Game?

  The three of them had been playing the game for two years now. Austin had first had the idea for it in winter, but the locals knew them too well and weren’t so easily taken in. Summer, however, brought hundreds of families with children to the small seaside town. Plenty of potential victims. It wasn’t something they could play every day, though. The conditions had to be right. In other words, both their parents had to be away.

  Harriet loved Austin’s game. It was so funny when it worked. ‘Yes, please,’ she said.

  Austin stood up and stretched, lazily. ‘James, you in?’

  James pushed back his chair. ‘Why not? Nothing better to do.’ But Harriet knew he was as pleased as she was.

  Austin got what he needed from the cupboard and then the three of them went outside. Weather-wise, things were perfect. Dry, hot, the sort of day that brought plenty of kids from the caravan park up the road past their house on the way to the beach.

  Austin went to the shed and got his bike while James and Harriet took up position on the roof of the house, climbing first onto the low wall,
then swinging up from the veranda railing, until they landed on the rainwater tank. From there it was just a step across the tank to the roof. It was the best place to get a view of any approaching kids. Down below they could see Austin getting ready.

  ‘Three coming, from the caravan park end,’ James called. ‘Go, Austin, quick.’

  Harriet didn’t have to watch Austin to know what he’d be doing. She kept her eye on the road. The three kids – all boys, Harriet could see now – were coming closer. They looked older than her, ten, eleven maybe. She had to put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from making any sound as they came closer, noticed Austin lying in the middle of the road, his bike tipped on its side next to him. They started quickening their step. Austin was motionless, his arms and legs spreadeagled, pools of red all around him.

  ‘Oh yuk, look, is that blood?’ one of the boys said.

  ‘He must have fallen off his bike.’

  ‘Is he dead?’

  James nodded at Harriet. From their position on the roof, they’d clearly heard the conversation. They sprang into action, leaping from the roof to the rainwater tank, then swinging down from the veranda railing. That was always Harriet’s favourite bit.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ James said in a gruff voice.

  The boys looked horrified. ‘We don’t know,’ the oldest one said. ‘We found him like this.’

  None of them heard the car coming up the road behind them.

  Just then, Austin stirred. The three boys jumped. ‘He’s alive!’ one of them shouted.

  Austin made a gurgling sound. ‘Barely. I don’t know how much time I have left.’ He reached out a hand to the three boys. ‘You saw it. Will you tell the police when they start their investigation?’