The Orchardist's Daughter

by Karen Viggers

  But when they were down at the oval watching the men’s game, Max wished he’d taken Mum’s advice. The wind was blasting like a tornado, and it cut straight through to his skin. Mum shook her head at him and pulled dry clothes from her bag. Max put on a jumper and coat and a beanie, and felt better straight away. After that, he hung on the rail and swung upside down while the men warmed up on the field. All that running around this morning had made him thirsty, so he plucked a can of Coke from Dad’s esky. Suzie wanted one too, so he gave her Fanta because orange was her favourite colour. He didn’t notice she was shaking it up, so when she asked him to open it for her it squirted everywhere—and Mum told him off. Couldn’t she see he was trying to help?

  When the men ran past, Max waved to Leon who gave him a wink. He heard Toby say to Leon, ‘Know anything about eagles, Parkie?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Leon said flatly. ‘They’re a footy team from Perth.’

  ‘Not talking West Coast eagles, Parkie. I’m talking wedgetailed eagles.’ And the rest of the team laughed.

  Max wondered why this was so funny. Hadn’t he heard Dad and Mum talking about eagles the other day? Now it seemed everybody was talking about them. The men were out of hearing range then, but Max saw Mooney jostling up against Leon. Instead of shoving him, Leon turned his shoulder and dodged out of the way. Max would have liked to see Leon hit Mooney because Mooney wasn’t a nice man; Max had heard him yelling at his kids and their mum. Somebody should stop him being such a bully. But maybe it was best for Leon not to get into a fight. If he slugged Mooney all the men might lay into him. So maybe Leon was smart.

  Dad was over near the clubhouse, organising the water bottles for the team. Last week, Max had hung out near the goalposts and chatted to the goal umpire, but he couldn’t today because Jaden was there. Max wanted to stay away because he was sure the big boy would ask him to nick something else. Jaden kept catching Max’s eye and pointing at the clubrooms, so Max knew he wanted him to go there. But Max was safe with Mum, so he acted dumb and pretended he didn’t understand. He was relieved when the siren went and the game got under way.

  All through the first half, Max tried to focus on the game, but Jaden’s eyes made him itchy. He kept trying to distract himself by drinking more Coke, and by half-time he needed to pee. He didn’t want to go to the loos because Jaden would follow him, but he had a stomach ache from a full bladder.

  The loos were empty, and he had a pee, shooting it at the yellow balls and dead flies in the urinal. Then Jaden was beside him, having a pee too. ‘Get more cigarettes and bring them to me after school on Monday,’ Jaden said.

  Max thought fast. ‘Mum said I have to come straight home from school for a doctor’s appointment.’

  ‘Bad luck.’

  ‘What if she picks me up and takes me in the car to the doctor’s?’

  ‘Then I’ll steal one of your pups and feed it to Prince.’ Jaden smirked, leaned forward and dribbled piss on Max’s shoes. Then he zipped up his pants and said, ‘See you on Monday.’

  When Max came out of the loos, Robbo was going off at the team. Dad called it Robbo’s half-time chat, which was kind of weird because Robbo didn’t talk, he yelled. Max noticed Leon standing off by himself and nobody talking to him. Max didn’t get it—these days, Leon scored nearly as many goals as Mooney. Whenever Mooney kicked a goal, the team went nuts, jumping on him and giving him hugs and slapping his back. But when Leon scored a goal, the men just nodded and said good work, like he’d done an okay job but not as good as Mooney. In the games, Max had seen the other men push Leon off the ball. At least they kicked and handballed to him now, which they never used to. Max knew how awful it felt to be ignored, because it happened to him all the time.

  Dad came off the field carrying the crate of drink bottles and called out to him, ‘Hey, Max, can you give us a hand?’ That meant Dad wanted him to refill the bottles while Dad watched the game. Max wanted to say no, but he knew Dad would get angry. It was easy lugging the bottles into the clubroom but not so easy bringing them out, full and heavy. Max went into the kitchen where the ladies were brewing cups of tea and coffee and selling them through the window. Robbo’s wife, Trudi, gave him a smile and let him use the kitchen sink. ‘Heard you kicked a goal today,’ she said. ‘Good on you.’ Max puffed up with pride. Word was getting round. He was already halfway famous.

  He had a hard time trying to haul the rack of full bottles back outside, so Trudi helped him. She grabbed one side of the crate, while he gripped the other. She was older than Mum, with black hair and sad eyes—Max didn’t know how he could tell this about her, but he knew it was true. When she looked at you, it was as if all the sadness of the world was locked inside and couldn’t come out. But she liked him; he knew that too. If she was outside watering her roses, she always waved when he walked past down the street.

  ‘How are the pups going?’ she asked.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Found homes for them yet?’

  ‘No.’ The kids at school had been keen, but their parents weren’t so excited.

  ‘That’s bad luck.’ Trudi’s eyes were even sadder.

  ‘What’s the time?’ he asked as they put the crate of bottles on the ground near the interchange bench.

  ‘Four o’clock.’

  ‘I’d better go home and feed them.’

  Trudi put a warm hand on his shoulder. ‘You do that,’ she said. ‘And give them a pat for me.’

  That night, Dad came home at nine o’clock after footy and the pub with the smell of beer on his breath. Max was in the shed when Dad came out to get a can of Southern Comfort and Coke from the spare fridge: one of those white cans with curly black writing. Max didn’t like it when Dad drank that stuff because sometimes he got mean. Tonight, he was wobbly on his feet and his words were all slippery, like he couldn’t quite sling his tongue around them.

  Mum called out for Dad to come and kiss Suzie goodnight, and he grumbled and sloped off, leaving his packet of cigarettes and his can on the workbench. As soon as Dad was gone, Max saw his chance and tried to take some cigarettes for Jaden. But Dad came back while Max had the pack open, and he roared so loud Max jumped in the air. ‘What the fuck are you doing, you little cunt?’

  Max was so shocked at Dad using the c-word, he dropped the packet and all the cigarettes fell out—and that sent Dad crazy. He clouted Max over the head and made him pick them up. ‘How long have you been nicking my smokes, you little shit?’

  ‘This is the first time,’ Max said, and Dad hit him again, a whack on the back that would leave red fingerprints.

  ‘Bullshit.’

  ‘Honest, Dad. I don’t smoke. I don’t even like it.’

  ‘So you’ve tried it then! You little liar.’

  ‘No, I haven’t, Dad. I promise. Not ever.’

  Dad grabbed him by the arm and dragged him inside. ‘Did you hear that, Wendy? This little prick has been stealing my cigarettes.’

  Mum’s hands cocked on her hips and a worried frown creased her face. ‘Is that true Max? Have you been smoking?’

  He looked down and shook his head miserably. His day was wrecked. ‘I haven’t,’ he said. ‘Honest, I haven’t.’

  Dad’s fingers hooked into his cheeks as he made Max look up at Mum. ‘Say it again and look Mum in the eye.’

  Max couldn’t, and Mum said, ‘Give me your phone and go to your room.’

  Max handed over his phone and ran off to his room.

  There was an argument then, a massive yelling match between Dad and Mum, all because of Max.

  ‘Maybe it was his first time,’ Mum said, trying to defend him.

  ‘Bullshit, Wendy. You can see he’s guilty.’

  ‘How about I deal with it in the morning?’

  ‘No way! That kid deserves a good hiding.’

  ‘Since when did smacking ever teach him anything?’

  ‘I don’t care. Whacking his arse will make me feel good.’

  ‘I don’t want you to belt him, Shan
e, not when you’ve been drinking.’

  ‘Why not? You scared I’ll lose control?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Christ, Wendy. I’m not a child-basher. I just want to teach him a lesson.’

  ‘What if someone put him up to it?’

  ‘Not bloody likely. He knew what he was doing. Told me he didn’t like cigarettes. How’s that for guilty?’

  ‘Maybe he’s tried one, but so what? How old were you when you started smoking?’

  ‘Too bloody young, and Dad whacked me so hard I couldn’t sit down for a week.’

  ‘Did it stop you?

  ‘For a while.’

  ‘Not tonight, Shane. That’s all I’m asking.’

  ‘Well, I’m saying now’s the best time. Come on, Wendy. Get out of my way.’

  ‘Over my dead body!’

  Max heard scuffling in the kitchen, and he hoped Mum wasn’t getting in trouble because of him. He opened his door a crack to have a look, and Mum and Dad were kind of wrestling. Then Dad chucked his can of Southern Comfort at the wall with a crash and it fizzed everywhere. Mum said, ‘Look what you’ve done. Now I have to clean up.’

  Dad stomped outside and came back with another can. He sat on the couch in front of the TV with a mad look on his face, and Max knew it was up to him to sort things out. He slunk out of his bedroom and stood in front of Dad and said, ‘I’m really sorry, Dad. I won’t take any more cigarettes.’

  But Dad’s face was cold, and he wouldn’t look at Max. ‘Have we got a cardboard box somewhere?’ he called out to Mum. ‘I’m going to deal with those pups.’

  Max panicked because he didn’t know what Dad was going to do. Dad put down his can and stood up, and Max yelled, ‘No!’ Dad took a swipe at him. But Max dodged under Dad’s arm and ran outside. He was crying as he raced to the shed.

  The pups looked up with their little ears pricked and their black eyes all frightened. Max jumped into the pen and tried to grab them, but they kept squirming away. He picked up Bruiser and then tried to grab hold of Patch, but the pups were too big to hold two at once, and he dropped them and they yelped. Rosie was standing up too with her teeth showing because she didn’t know Max was trying to save her pups. He heard the back door bang and figured Dad must be coming. He had to do something, but what?

  ‘Shane, please don’t,’ Mum was saying. ‘Please let’s talk about this.’

  Max dropped to his knees and tried to scoop up the pups, but they were all wriggly. He dived randomly among them and wrapped his hands around one like a footy. It was Bonnie.

  Then he heard Dad. ‘Put that pup down.’

  But Max wasn’t going to let go of his pup. He slid under Dad’s reaching arm and ran as fast as he could down the driveway, through the gate and into the street in the dark. Down the footpath he raced, sobbing. He didn’t know where to go, but his legs took him to Robbo’s front door, and he banged on it with his head because he couldn’t use his hands, which were full of struggling pup.

  The outside light came on and Trudi opened the door, eyes wide with alarm. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Dad’s trying to take the pups.’ Max’s words came out in scratchy sobs. He thrust the pup at Trudi. ‘Can you look after this one while I go get the others?’

  She took the whimpering pup, and Max didn’t wait to hear her say yes. He sprinted back out into the street and fast up the footpath.

  But it must have taken longer than he’d thought to run down to Robbo’s because Dad was coming out of the shed carrying a big cardboard box, and little puppy heads were looking over the top. ‘No, Dad, no,’ Max cried, reaching for the box.

  Dad held it high and pushed Max away with his hip.

  Rosie was following too, leaping at the box. ‘Piss off, dog,’ Dad said, kicking at her. ‘And you too, Max. Get back inside.’

  ‘Where are you taking them?’

  ‘Where I should have taken them right at the beginning,’ Dad said, eyes icy cold. ‘Where’s that other pup, Max?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Max sobbed.

  ‘Go and get it.’

  ‘I don’t know where she is.’

  Mum was on the front doorstep with her pink cardigan wrapped around her shoulders, arms clutched tight across her chest. ‘If you take those pups, Shane, then I don’t want you back here tonight.’ Her voice shook with anger and tears.

  Dad wasn’t listening. He tossed the box in the back of the ute, and Max saw the pups lurch and heard them yelp with fright. They couldn’t know why Dad was taking them away or where he was taking them. Max didn’t know either. He tried to scramble onto the back of the ute, but Dad shoved him down to the ground.

  Then Dad was in the ute, backing into the street.

  Sobbing, Max raced after him. Maybe he could grab the box while Dad was turning around. The terrified pups were crying over the roar of the engine. Rosie was barking.

  Max reached for the tailgate, but Dad jerked the ute round so fast Max had to let go or he might get run over. Then Dad revved the motor and took off, accelerating down the street in the dark.

  Max sank onto the road. He huddled there till Mum came out, slid her arm around his shoulders, helped him up and silently led him inside.

  19

  Sunday morning, Leon was taking his time over coffee and toast when he heard a knock at the door. When he opened up, Max was there with a pup in his hands. ‘You still carting those puppies around?’ Leon said.

  The boy’s face crumpled and he burst into tears. ‘Dad took the pups away last night and he hasn’t come back. Bonnie’s the only one left. I managed to rescue her.’

  Leon felt sorry for Max—it was clear what Shane had done with the pups. ‘Maybe he’s gone to Hobart to sell them,’ he suggested, trying to comfort the kid.

  Max shook his head. ‘Mum thinks he’s killed them.’

  Leon patted the pup on the head. ‘How did you save this one?’

  ‘I took her down to Robbo and Trudi, and they looked after her.’ Slumping on Leon’s front porch, Max cried into the pup’s fur, tears running down his face.

  Leon had never seen anyone cry so hard. He sat down and put his arm around the boy’s skinny shoulders, which were shaking with sobs. ‘Hey, hey,’ he soothed. ‘You’ve still got this pup.’

  ‘But I can’t keep her. When Dad gets back, he’ll take her too.’

  Leon let the kid lean against him. It was a long time since he’d held anyone—not since he’d hugged his mum goodbye back on Bruny Island. Leon was sad for the boy. For weeks he’d been watching Max take care of those pups; Max was only ten, but no one could have done better. Last night, Leon had heard shouting next door, but that wasn’t unusual for Shane and Wendy so he’d turned up the TV to drown it out. This was the same trick he’d used back home when his dad was going off. His dad used to go drinking then stagger home, rampaging and looking for a fight. It had taken Leon a while to figure out what was going on. In the beginning, he’d been living in Hobart and didn’t know why Mum was being evasive on the phone. Then, one weekend, he’d dropped home to see his folks and was surprised to find the curtains drawn and nobody around. He’d hunted for the key that usually hung in the hedge but it wasn’t there, so he’d gone for a walk on the beach. When he returned, he’d spotted his mum cringing behind the lounge-room curtains and he’d yelled at her to open up because, for God’s sake, he’d come home to see her and why the hell wouldn’t she let him in? She’d timidly opened the front door, and Leon had known straight away what was happening—the evidence was clear. After that, he’d made arrangements to move home and take a job on the island instead of applying for one of the bigger parks.

  Now, breathing into the misty morning, he sat on the step waiting for Max to cry himself out. But the pup was getting sick of it, wriggling and whimpering in the boy’s arms. ‘Why don’t you put her down for a bit,’ Leon proposed, ‘so she can have a run while I make some hot chocolate?’

  Max shot him a look loaded with fear and desperation.
‘Can I come inside with you? If Dad comes home and sees Bonnie, he might take her too.’

  Clearly, the boy was traumatised; he was clutching that pup like a life raft. Leon wasn’t sure he wanted a dog in the house, but the kid looked so mournful, what could he do? ‘Take her around the back and wait for me on the doorstep,’ he said. ‘Your dad won’t see you there. I won’t be long.’

  In the kitchen, he boiled milk in the microwave and broke into it some chocolate he’d been saving for a cold day up in the park. Oh well, this was a time of need. That was what chocolate was for.

  Max was waiting on the back steps as Leon had instructed, thin shoulders rounded with dejection. Bonnie was on his lap, licking his face with her busy pink tongue; the kid was so down he didn’t seem to notice. The pup was quite a cute little thing, Leon supposed, with her patchy red and grey coat, uneven ears and gangly legs. He sat beside the boy and handed him a mug. ‘Here. Tuck into this.’

  Max put the pup on the ground and took the drink listlessly.

  ‘How old is she?’ Leon asked, trying to draw him out.

  ‘Seven weeks.’ The boy turned moist eyes to Leon and said, in a shaky voice, ‘Maybe you could keep her. You need a friend.’

  The truth of it hit Leon like a tackle on the footy field. He’d been living in this town for weeks now, and who could he really call a mate other than this ten-year-old boy and Grandpa? He hadn’t exactly been a screaming success, had he? But he had made progress, he told himself. He was getting to know people. No invitations to dinner, but the blokes were getting used to him on the footy field. And Wendy waved to him when he went out to chop wood. Dale, the scientist, had been friendly too. And Geraldine at the visitor centre was kind—Leon had chatted to her several times. He was sort of friends with Miki too, through the Tasmanian devils and the eagles’ nest. And, courtesy of local garage sales, he’d almost converted this dingy old place into a home. He’d bought a TV, second-hand couch, two old armchairs, a few kitchen chairs. Didn’t furniture and friends make him almost a local? It was a pretty good start.