‘They were smashing plates. It’s customary at Greek weddings. I didn’t think of it.’
Plates. That’s what that deafening noise was? People smashing plates?
‘I’m so sorry.’ Wally looks like he might cry. ‘I thought I’d thought of everything.’
The waitress comes out of the restaurant with paper napkins and a glass of water.
‘Is she all right?’ she says to Wally. ‘Should I call a doctor?’
Wally brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. ‘Do you need a doctor?’
‘No,’ I say.
The waitress nods, and after a minute goes back inside. Wally remains by my side. ‘What can I get you?’ he says. ‘How can I help?’
I take a deep breath and look at him.
‘Can you please call Rose?’
Rose screeches to the curb so fast that Wally and I have to lift our feet from the gutter to avoid getting run over. She gets out and slams the car door, shooting a dark glare at Wally.
‘What the hell happened?’
Wally and I stagger to our feet. I had finally stopped shaking, but I suddenly start again. Rose looks so angry.
‘We went out for dinner,’ I say.
‘In a restaurant? You know you can’t handle that environment.’ She looks at Wally. ‘You know she has sensory processing issues, don’t you? She’s hypersensitive to sound and light and touch.’
‘And smell,’ I add.
She looks back at me, as if seeing me for the first time. ‘What on earth are you wearing?’
‘Goggles. There was no-one else at the restaurant–’
‘Well, evidently there was! Jesus. Fern, let’s just get out of here.’ Rose looks into the restaurant, at the waitress who is having a good gawk at us through the window. ‘Have you paid the bill?’
I look at Wally.
‘Not yet,’ he says. ‘I was . . . distracted. I’ll do it now.’
‘For god’s sake, I’ll do it.’ Rose stalks into the restaurant, unzipping her purse. ‘The last thing we need is for you to be arrested.’
Wally stands up, but by the time he is on his feet she is already gone. He looks at me. ‘I’m so sorry, Fern.’
‘No, I’m sorry.’
He shakes his head. ‘I . . . I had no idea it would be so . . .’
‘Difficult.’
‘Yeah. Difficult.’
There is a brief silence when no cars drive past.
‘Why can’t I just be normal?’ I whisper.
‘You are. It’s everyone else who are weirdos.’
We smile at each other sadly. After a moment, Rose comes out of the restaurant. ‘Say your goodbyes,’ she says, taking me by the arm and putting me into the passenger seat of her car. It feels so different from Wally opening the door to me earlier. Then, I felt like a woman. Now I feel like a child.
As we pull away, Wally gives me a weak smile. I can’t help but smile back. He is still wearing his goggles.
JOURNAL OF ROSE INGRID CASTLE
We drove to the campsite in Daniel’s car, listening to the Traveling Wilburys. Fern and I didn’t know the band, but we picked up the words quickly and it was actually kind of fun, all of us singing along like that. Daniel had sweets in the console that he passed back at intervals to Fern and Billy, who ate them eagerly. He also had cans of Coca-Cola. I still remember him holding out the red can for one of us to grab and Fern and me staring at it. We’d never drunk Coke. It wasn’t just because of my diabetes. Mum said it was full of chemicals that would rot our teeth and give us cancer. But there was Daniel, offering us a can, waggling it impatiently, waiting for one of us to take it.
I could have blamed my blood sugar, but something told me that would be the wrong thing to do. I saw Fern open her mouth to say something – probably that Mum didn’t like us drinking Coke – so I quickly beat her to it.
‘Thank you, Daniel,’ I jumped in, taking the can.
Mum caught my eye and I knew I did good. Different rules for different situations, that was her mantra.
Still, neither of us drank the Coke.
We arrived at the campsite before dark and unpacked in a flurry ‘before we lose the light’. Like the drive, I quite enjoyed it – the feeling of being part of something, working together as a team. Us against the light.
Fern and I set up our own tent with impressive speed, mostly because Fern had memorised the instructions. We finished so quickly that we were also able to help Mum and Daniel pitch their tent (which was much more complex) and then collect a huge pile of kindling before dark. (Billy set up his own tent, then sat on a log while the rest of us worked.) Daniel commented that Fern and I were ‘born for camping’ while Billy was ‘born for laziness’ and Mum smiled a lot – even when Daniel wasn’t looking.
Once the tents were set up, Daniel cooked some sausages and corn on the cob over a little camping stove and we ate them with bread sitting around the camp fire. Afterward, Mum and Daniel disappeared into their tent, so Fern and I went to ours. We had just got settled when we heard the rustling of twigs outside the tent. We didn’t even have time to exchange a glance before the zip lowered and Billy’s face appeared in the gap. ‘Anyone for poker?’
Fern and I broke into a chorus of gasps and shushes. ‘We’ll get in trouble!’ I cried, horrified and, if I’m honest, a bit exhilarated. Mum and Daniel’s tent was just metres away and Mum’s hearing was ridiculous. At home, Fern and I had learned how to have entirely soundless conversations by mouthing words for this exact reason. But if Billy was afraid of being reprimanded, he hid it well. He crawled into our tent, a torch in one hand, a deck of cards in the other.
‘They won’t hear us. They’ve already sunk a bottle and a half of wine.’ He reached outside the tent and retrieved a can of beer. ‘But they didn’t drink this.’
‘What are you doing?’ I whispered. ‘Put that back!’
He opened the can and took a swig. Fern and I were scandalised.
‘They’ll know,’ I cried. ‘You’ll get into trouble.’
He shrugged. ‘So, are we playing?’
I looked at Fern, whose eyes were cautious.
‘How do you play?’ I asked.
Fern knew, of course, but I didn’t have the slightest idea.
‘I’ll teach you,’ Billy said, taking another swig from the can. ‘We can be on the same team. Scooch up.’
Billy crawled over to sit beside me and gave me a conspiratorial wink. His sense of fun was infectious. As we played, his wrist rested on my knee so we could both see the cards. I’d never been so close to a boy in all my life. Periodically, he leaned closer and whispered something to me – the rules, or whether or not he thought Fern was bluffing – and I smelled his scent, a mix of spearmint chewing gum, beer and smoke from the camp fire. He couldn’t convince either of us to try the beer, so he polished off the can on his own. He didn’t even slur his words.
Billy and I lost the game of poker that night, but I didn’t care one bit. For a couple of hours, it felt like I’d tripped and fallen into someone else’s life – someone with loving parents, family holidays and poker games. Someone who knew what it was like to feel happy. And, sometimes, when your world has been filled with fear and anguish, that feeling, even if fleeting, is all you need to carry on.
FERN
Mercifully, Rose doesn’t say much on the way home. I don’t either. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t have, because that incredible sense of fatigue that always follows a sensory meltdown overcomes me. I feel like my eyelids have weights on them. I let them close and lean my head against the cool window. I’m starting to drift off when the car comes to a stop.
‘We’re home,’ Rose says softly.
I open my eyes. ‘No, we’re not.’
‘Okay,’ she says. ‘We’re at my home.’
‘I’m exhausted, Rose,’ I say, although it must be no later than eight o’clock. ‘I want to go home.’
Rose opens her door. ‘You can sleep here tonight.’
‘No, thanks.’
‘Fern,’ she snaps. ‘After everything that has gone on tonight, please do me a favour and don’t argue.’
I cross my arms. I don’t like sleeping at other people’s houses as a rule, not even Rose’s. I never sleep well. Admittedly, I don’t exactly sleep well anywhere, and it’s worse than usual lately as I have to get up multiple times a night to pee. But tonight, especially after everything that’s happened, I just want my own bed.
‘Fern. I don’t have time for this. I had back-to-back meetings today and was only just on my way home when I get the call that you’ve had a spectacular meltdown and I have to come and rescue you. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to do it, but I’m tired and the least you can do is come inside.’ She gets out of the car.
‘If you’re too tired to drive me,’ I say, also getting out, ‘I’ll walk home–’
‘Fern Elizabeth Castle!’ Her tone is sharp, like a school-teacher’s. ‘You’re staying here, and that’s final.’
‘It’s not final. I’m an adult, Rose. I can choose where I sleep.’
Rose raises her eyebrows. ‘If you’re an adult, why do I need to be your round-the-clock carer?’
Rose and I face off for several moments. That’s when I notice what she is wearing. ‘If you were on your way home from work, why are you wearing leggings?’
‘Really, Fern?’ Rose stares at me. ‘After I’ve driven across town to rescue you in the middle of the night, you want to talk about what I’m wearing?’
I want to tell her that yes, I do want to talk about that, but I can’t because Rose turns and stalks into the house before I have the chance. I remain where I am for several moments, huffing and sighing, before finally following her into the house.
As suspected, I sleep badly. Among other things, the sheets on Rose’s spare bed are some sort of polyester blend that makes my skin crawl (I make a note to talk to her about it tomorrow). But the sheets aren’t the main reason for my insomnia. The main reason is that I can’t stop replaying last night, reliving the horror over and over again. Me crawling under the table, covering my head with my hands. Cowering like a child. Having to be rescued by my sister while on a date. It’s little wonder Rose treats me like a child. That’s exactly how I’m behaving. What on earth must Wally think?
Around 6 am, I give up on sleep, pull on my rainbow dress and head to the living room. Rose is already up, sipping a cup of tea on the couch in her dressing gown.
‘You’re awake early,’ she says.
‘I don’t sleep well at other people’s places,’ I say, stretching my neck. Even though I told her this last night, I feel it bears repeating.
‘That dress looks itchy,’ Rose says. ‘Polyester?’
‘Yes. Like your sheets.’
‘I can give you a T-shirt and shorts if you like?’
‘No, thanks,’ I say. Unlike the sheets, the dress is worth the itch.
Rose sits forward on the couch and places her mug on the coffee table. ‘Tea?’
I’m about to decline but then I realise I won’t get out of here without at least having a warm drink with Rose, so I ask for a coffee. I intend to drink it quickly so I can go home to do my yoga and get the rest of my day back on track.
While Rose is making my coffee, I notice Alfie scratching at the door, so I walk over and let him inside. I am closing the back door when I notice the base of a structure in the far corner of the garden. It looks like a cubby house in the process of construction. ‘What’s that?’
Rose walks out of the kitchen carrying a pink mug. ‘What’s what? Oh.’ She gets a sheepish look about her. ‘Actually, I want to talk to you about that.’ She hands me my coffee and points at the couch. ‘Sit.’
I remain standing. ‘What is it?’
Rose sits and crosses her legs. ‘I know you don’t like staying at other people’s houses, Fern. I know how important your routine is. And that’s why . . . I was thinking . . . well, what if this was your place?’
I put my coffee down. ‘I don’t understand. Where are you going?’
She frowns. ‘Nowhere. I will stay in the main house. And you . . . would move in there.’ She points outside at the structure. ‘It’s a granny flat. It could be your own little place . . . at my place.’
‘You’ve already started building it?’
‘I was going to surprise you. But . . . now you’re here and . . .’ She gives a little shrug and a guilty smile. I look again at the structure. It looks like a children’s playhouse. An oversize dollhouse. Not a place for an adult to live.
‘It will be bigger than it looks now,’ Rose says, reading my thoughts. ‘Once it’s finished, obviously. It will have a bathroom and a kitchenette. It will even have air conditioning!’
‘My flat already has air conditioning.’
‘But your place is blocks away! This way, you’d be right here.’
Rose smiles, but she sounds impatient. Even a little annoyed. So I do my best to disguise my horror at the idea of moving into her backyard dollhouse.
‘Fern . . . don’t you want to be here? After the baby’s born, don’t you want to be a part of his or her life? See him or her every single day?’
I think about this. ‘Yes.’
‘Well, while you’re pregnant, I want to see you every single day. You get that, right? I want to be here for you in case you need anything.’ Now she smiles cajolingly. ‘Ice cream, perhaps? A foot rub?’
Rose stands, picks up my coffee from the coffee table and hands it to me. I don’t have a problem with living with Rose, per se. I’ve lived with Rose for over half of my life. It isn’t even the fact that I am reluctant to upset my routine – I suspect my pregnancy is going to do its fair share of that anyway. It’s the fact that, in saying yes to moving in, I’d be saying no to another life. A life where I’m not entirely dependent on Rose. A life that I’ve been enjoying recently.
‘But I like my place,’ I say carefully. ‘I like . . . my independence.’
But it feels ridiculous, just saying it aloud. I still have dinner with Rose three times a week, I still call her whenever there is the slightest drama in my life. How independent am I really? Rose doesn’t respond, so I guess she’s wondering the same thing.
I look down at my coffee.
‘Is this about Rocco?’ Rose asks, after a short time.
‘No,’ I say. ‘And yes.’
‘I know you like him, Fern. But there is no happy ending to this, you know that, right?’ Rose’s voice is softer now. ‘You saw how it went last night. Rocco is doing well right now. Getting himself started in a new business, travelling. The last thing he needs is to get himself into a complicated relationship. Fern, you’re going to be showing soon. What will you tell him then?’ She doesn’t give me time to answer. ‘I really think it’s better for everyone if you end it with him sooner rather than later.’
I hate it, but I know she’s right. Last night proved it. Wally and I can’t have a normal relationship. We can’t even go out for dinner without it turning into a disaster. She’s also right that I’ll be showing soon. How would I explain that to Wally? Yes, I’m pregnant, but don’t worry – my sister is going to raise our baby?
‘All right,’ I say. ‘I’ll move in.’
Rose nods, but looks at me expectantly.
‘And I’ll break up with Wally.’
Rose nods again. She doesn’t smile, but I can tell that she’s happy with my decision. She leans in for a hug, but this time I’m too fast. I dodge her and head to the kitchen. I can move in and break up with Wally. But a hug on top of that is more than I can take. At least for today.
JOURNAL OF ROSE INGRID CASTLE
After the first night, Billy always came to our tent after Mum and Daniel went to bed. Every night as we played cards, we chatted in cycles about nothing of significance – jokes and stories, comparing notes about teachers, asking each other questions about school or sport or favourite foods. Mum knew what we were up to (we weren’t that quie
t), but she and Daniel seemed happy enough to turn a blind eye. I wasn’t stupid enough to think this would last. I knew she would be storing it up, along with a list of grievances that she would use against us when we got home, but, like her, I was having so much fun I found it difficult to care.
On the second night, I took a sip of beer when Billy offered. On the third night, I had a few sips. Mum and Daniel never seemed to notice that there was beer missing, and I loved the way it made me feel close to Billy. We played a different card game each night – Billy’s aim was to find a card game that Fern wasn’t good at (spoiler: he never found one). Every time Fern won, Billy complained and rolled his eyes while I shushed him through giggles.
‘Give us a chance, would you?’ he’d say, smiling.
I had to admit, I was enjoying being the one who was less proficient with games, purely because it meant I got more of Billy’s attention. Sitting by his side, sharing his can of beer and listening to him whisper the rules to the games in my ear . . . it felt like something I could do forever. I guess it was around this time I realised I had feelings for Billy. I couldn’t help it. I felt it each time his knee brushed against mine. I may have been imagining it, but sometimes it felt like he pressed his thigh against mine on purpose. The idea that he was seeking me out, actively wanting me . . . it was intoxicating. I wanted to be around Billy as much as I could. I became his shadow, from the moment he woke up until the moment he went to bed. Where Billy was, I was too.
‘Like a puppy dog,’ Mum said under her breath one day. ‘Don’t go making a fool of yourself, Rosie Round.’
She said it out of earshot of anyone else (classic Mum), but the comment ate away at me. If Mum had noticed my feelings for Billy, did that mean Billy had noticed too? I made my mind up to keep my distance. So later that day, when Billy suggested we all go down to the river for a swim, I offered to stay back and help Daniel repair a hole in the tent.
‘Aw, come on,’ Billy said, looking genuinely disappointed. ‘It will be more fun if we all go.’
The Good Sister Page 16