Nancy Business

by R. W. R. McDonald

  ‘There you are,’ Devon said. ‘Are you sure you’re not drinking coffee now?’

  My uncle picked up the report and his eyes grew wide. ‘How did you … ?’ His face went grey. ‘Who gave you this?’

  I glanced down at the table. I couldn’t look at Uncle Pike. ‘Did you know?’ I barely recognised my whispery voice.

  ‘What?’ my uncle said.

  I cleared my throat and shook my head like I was trying to wake up from a dream. I stared at him. ‘Did. You. Know?’

  ‘Know what?’ Devon said.

  Uncle Pike looked at me. ‘Tippy …’

  I scraped my chair back and snatched the file.

  ‘Tippy!’

  I turned my back on them and walked out of the cafe, then ran, faster than I’d ever run before. Around the corner were some snow-covered bushes. A hiding place. Snow was falling heavily but I didn’t care. I ducked under and kneeled, shoving the file under my T-shirt against my belly.

  Devon and Uncle Pike ran past. Freezing water melted on my neck, but at least its iciness made me feel something. I heard them calling out my name, but I stayed still until I was sure they’d gone. I scrambled out and ran down the street, not knowing where I was going, but needing to pump out this horrible edgy feeling. My vision blurred. I dropped from the footpath onto the street and crossed. A car horn blasted close to me, but I didn’t stop or turn around. With the snow, Riverstone had become my own messed up version of Narnia.

  I stumbled under the yellow caution tape and ran until I reached the blue tarpaulin surrounding the town hall. I found a flap and climbed through. Safe inside, and under cover, I slid down against a plastered wall. I couldn’t stop crying but another hot feeling was boiling up inside. Hate. Rage. Betrayal. One year. One fucking year and no one told me the truth. No one.

  Dad’s accident was not an accident. Straight road. Road conditions foggy but good. Deliberate actions. Alone. Final position of car did not indicate driver was asleep at the wheel. Dried blood. First on scene. Engine off. Car bellied on a half-buried log halting it from plunging into the river. Apparent death by suicide.

  ‘What the fuck!’ My voice echoed. Swearing felt good. ‘Fuck!’ I yelled as loud as I could, the strain burning my throat. Anger dried up my crying. I wiped my face with my T-shirt. A sense of strength surged through me. I scrambled back up and grabbed a brick, holding it over my head before hurling it against a blackened wall. I stomped my feet wide apart and crouched, like I was about to do a haka, and roared with all my might. Roared at the months, days, minutes, seconds that I had wasted feeling guilty and responsible for Dad dying. For all the bullshit about his death people had and hadn’t told me. For looking like a complete arse-clown. I found another clump of bricks and threw them down with both hands, smashing the tiled floor.

  Suddenly Sam’s voice from Christmas replayed in my head. ‘It’s a joke you don’t even know the truth about your dad.’

  All those people—Sam’s parents, Todd, Uncle Pike, Devon, Mum, even Mrs fucking Brown—had known the truth. And this whole time I couldn’t, or didn’t, see it. Dad took his own life and they had all lied to me about it. Suddenly all the squirming and silences and glances my way any time ‘suicide’ was mentioned made sense. Did everyone in town know? My school? My mouth dropped open. My counsellor.

  I hurled one more brick, then finally stopped and took in my surroundings. The weird blue filter of the tarpaulins gave the place a cold underwater feel, like I was in some busted up mermaid’s castle. Water leaked through the tarp and black soot coated the remaining walls and ceiling. Everywhere smelled of wet charcoal and damp concrete.

  Last time I was in here was a couple of years ago with Mum and Dad, going to some play—Grease, I think. I tried to picture the foyer back then. I remembered holding on to Dad’s hand as an anchor and leaning my head right back to look up at the high ceiling held up by huge columns. The floor was polished white marble with grey stripes and was slidey. Nowhere else in Riverstone had a tiled marble floor. Instantly, I felt bad for smashing it up with bricks.

  A headache was coming on after all my crying and shouting. I rubbed my temples and ignored the throbbing, trying to work out where Mr Tulips and Raewyn had been when the van exploded. I stepped back and imagined it blasting inwards from the carpark. I hugged myself. They would have been so scared. I hoped when it happened they died instantly. Anything else was too horrible to imagine. Above, the foyer still had half a ceiling. I walked to where the edge of the ceiling was missing then examined the walls.

  The news reports had all said Mr Jansen was inside when the bomb accidentally went off in the carpark. Why wouldn’t he have driven closer to the town hall to blow the whole thing up? And how did they even know that was what he wanted to do? None of it made any sense. The blast had only taken out the pillars and half the foyer, not the whole building. Most of the damage seemed to be from smoke and water.

  ‘Tippy! Tippy!’ I could hear Uncle Pike and Devon calling for me on the street outside.

  ‘Fuck.’ I sighed. The real world was still out there. I didn’t want to leave the safety of my broken aquarium and face it. I went over and lifted the flap I’d come through, poking my head out. I squinted against the brightness of the overcast sky and snow-covered ground. Devon walked around the munted carpark, head bent and bobbing like a demented hen. I wasn’t sure why he thought I was hiding in the ground, then it hit me—this must be where he helped Detective Sergeant Graham stay alive.

  Suddenly, I felt bad. ‘Pssst,’ I said, waving at him.

  Back at home I sat at the kitchen table. Uncle Pike had brought me here and called Mum at work. She was on her way. Devon was at the Airbnb, and I wished I was there with him. My hands trembled and I flattened them against the wooden top. It was weird how everything in this house suddenly seemed smaller.

  Mum rushed in wearing her uniform, her face pale. ‘Tippy.’ She came and gave me hug. I stiffened, not returning it.

  She sat down and reached for my hands. I put them under the table.

  ‘Tippy …’ She sighed and shifted in her seat. ‘I’m so sorry. Really, really sorry. I never wanted you to find out this way.’

  ‘At least she told me the truth,’ I said to the table.

  Mum clenched her fists. ‘I’ll deal with that monster later.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I growled.

  Her heart was breaking, but I didn’t care. I wanted her to pay for this. ‘At least now I know why you got rid of all his photos,’ I said.

  ‘Tippy,’ she said, pleading. ‘He’s still your dad.’

  Enough. I slapped my palms on the table. ‘Not anymore, because he’s dead!’ I shouted at her. ‘You’re both selfish cowards.’

  Mum’s mouth dropped open and her eyes welled up. For an instant my stomach churned and I wanted to hug her until all of this went away, but then she stood up and gripped the table. The volcano was coming. ‘Go to your room!’ Mum erupted, cords in her neck straining, her face red with effort.

  ‘Why? You’ll just go to work anyway.’ I wasn’t having any of it. Not anymore.

  ‘Really? Who do you think I work for, Tippy?’ Mum towered over me. ‘For you.’ She jabbed her finger at me. ‘Your father left us in a great big mess.’

  I was sick of this. Sick of her. ‘You work because you want to,’ I said, standing up. My chair tipped over but I ignored it. ‘Uncle Pike always offers you money, yet you never take it. Instead, you’re always there!’

  She leaned on her fists on the table. ‘I do it for you!’

  ‘You didn’t tell me! You didn’t tell me, then you left me.’ My vision blurred. I needed to get out. Mum shouted my name but I was running, down the hallway, out the garage and out of the house. I didn’t care if I never saw her again.

  I ran past the Browns’. Melanie was in their driveway. She called out to me. ‘Hey, Chan, I checked Jansen online.’

  I kept running, past her and down the hill towards the golf course, wiping
my eyes on the cuff of my polar fleece.

  ‘Chan? Wait up!’

  I glanced behind me. Melanie was following.

  At the corner I ducked out of sight from our street, then crossed the road to the golf course, trying to find an easy spot to climb its wire fence.

  Melanie ran around the corner and across the road to join me. ‘What the fuck?’ she puffed, leaning on her knees then putting her arms above her head. ‘What’s happened, Chan? You okay?’ She grabbed my arm. ‘Hey, talk to me.’

  I took in a shuddery breath. ‘You got a smoke?’

  ‘What? You—’

  ‘Forget it,’ I said, and climbed the fence, or tried to, but at the top I fell, landing on my hip and ribs on the other side. I was winded and it really hurt.

  ‘Shit, Chan, wait. What’s your hurry?’ Melanie climbed over, her long legs making it look easy.

  I fought to get my breath back, turning my head on the wet snowy grass, expecting Mum to be at the end of my street by now. She wasn’t. I was both disappointed and relieved. My ribs hurt but I got up, brushing snow and mud off my shorts and hoodie. ‘I need to hide from my family.’

  Melanie nodded. ‘Okay, follow me,’ she said. ‘Then you need to spill.’

  For the first time since I don’t know when, I gave a small smile.

  ‘Come on.’ She pointed to a hillock with a couple of pine trees on the golf course. ‘Under there.’

  I ran ahead of her, over the snow-covered golf green and into the small forest. Under the trees it was dry and smelled like Christmas, pine needles and sap. It felt safe. And from here, I could still see the end of our street.

  Melanie joined me, puffing again. ‘So, now you know my hideout. You can’t tell anyone about this.’

  ‘That’s the problem,’ I said.

  ‘What is?’ She sat down in the middle and leaned against the trunk of a pine tree.

  I joined her, the bark rough against my back. ‘People keeping secrets.’

  She pulled out her packet of smokes and tapped the bottom of it. Two smokes popped out and she offered me one. ‘You sure?’

  I took a cigarette and put it in my mouth. It felt bigger than I thought it would and the filter tasted a bit like cotton wool.

  ‘Just don’t get addicted,’ Melanie said, flicking her lighter. ‘Or your uncle will kill me.’

  The tip of my nose felt the heat of the flame as I rocked forward to light it.

  ‘Suck in,’ Melanie said.

  I drew back, the smoke warm in my mouth. I blew out and the smoke made my eyes squint.

  ‘You need to draw back,’ she said. ‘Like this.’ Melanie sucked on her cigarette and I heard the tobacco burn. She pulled it out and opened her mouth so that smoke curled at the corner of her mouth. She pointed her finger to her mouth and sucked in some air. She held it for a second or two and then blew out smoke in a steady stream. She tapped her ash on the ground.

  I put the cigarette back to my lips, the smoke from the end getting into my eyes and making them water. I sucked and felt the smoke in my mouth again.

  ‘Good,’ Melanie said. ‘Now draw back.’

  I opened my mouth and breathed in some air, forcing the smoke into my lungs. Instant coughing fit. It tasted terrible and I felt sick. Saliva flooded my mouth and I coughed and burped and coughed. I was going to throw up.

  She laughed. ‘You right, Chan? Still want to smoke?’

  I burped again and dropped the cigarette, crushing it under my sneaker. I shook my head and waved her away as I caught my breath.

  Melanie sat quietly next to me, trying to blow smoke rings. ‘People keeping secrets? What secrets?’

  ‘About Dad. And what really happened.’ I didn’t know how to say it.

  ‘Oh …’ is all Melanie said.

  ‘Everyone knew. They all knew and they lied to my face.’

  ‘I did, too, Chan.’

  ‘You knew?’

  Melanie glanced at me. ‘We all knew. Sorry, I actually thought you knew.’

  I got up and brushed the back of my shorts. I needed to get away.

  ‘Wait,’ Melanie said, standing up. ‘I did lie.’

  I opened my mouth, but Melanie raised her hand.

  ‘It’s about my mum,’ she said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Melanie glanced at me, then stared off through the trees. ‘She didn’t die of cancer.’

  I frowned. Narnia all over again. What was happening?

  She cleared her throat. ‘She was sick, that bit’s true. But, um …’ Her voice quivered.

  I’d never seen Melanie like this; she bowed her head and let out a big breath. When she lifted her head back up she brushed away tears. ‘It’s okay,’ she said and sniffed. I moved closer to her and put my hand on her back. She stiffened, then relaxed.

  She flicked her cigarette out onto the snowy grass. ‘Truth is she was an alcoholic.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘We just told people it was cancer because … well, you know.’

  I didn’t, but nodded anyway.

  ‘This is the first time I’ve said it out loud.’ Melanie let out another big breath. ‘Phew!’ She blinked then dabbed her eyes. ‘So you see, Chan, our parents are more alike than you think. Mum just took the longer version than your dad.’

  Tears welled up and this time I didn’t stop them. Melanie hugged me as I sobbed. After a few minutes, I pulled myself together and stood back, sniffing hard to stop my runny nose. ‘Sorry,’ I said, dabbing it with my sleeve.

  ‘Fuck that shit,’ Melanie said.‘Never apologise for being yourself.’

  In the distance, Mum and Uncle Pike were at the fence, calling out my name.

  ‘I won’t say anything,’ I said.

  Melanie gave me a lopsided smile and squeezed my hand. ‘Thanks. Now, you ready?’

  ‘No,’ I said.

  ‘Open your mouth.’ She squirted breath freshener in it and then sprayed my polar fleece. ‘Now you are. You should talk to Grandad if you want to know more about your dad’s gambling.’

  I flinched and moved away. Dad had spent a bit of time over at the Browns keeping Melanie’s grandad company in his La-Z-Boy chair while they watched any type of racing on TV. I hadn’t known Dad had also been betting on them until Melanie had told me at Christmas. She grabbed my arm. ‘You have nothing to feel ashamed about. Got it?’

  I nodded but I couldn’t look in her eyes. Shame was what filled me, like burning, gooey wax. ‘I’ll talk to him,’ I said. ‘Soon.’ But I wasn’t sure I ever would.

  ‘And your favour,’ she said. ‘Nothing online about Jansen being weird leading up to the bombing that seems credible. But there is about a lot of talk about how the van driving was suspicious.’

  I frowned and glanced at her.

  ‘You know,’ Melanie said, ‘how he was driving straight and then slowed down and started weaving before he parked? They’re asking why didn’t he drive straight into the town hall, was he looking for a special mark on the ground to position the van? Anyway, I’ll keep looking.’

  ‘Thank you.’ That matched what we had said about the van. For the briefest of seconds I forgot about anything else, then it came flooding back. I realised how much I needed this case: besides stopping a bombing it was an escape from my blown up life. I hunched my shoulders and left Melanie and our shelter, trudging towards Mum and Uncle Pike at the fence. I avoided their questions and stares until I got close.

  ‘What are you doing in the golf course?’ Mum asked.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I snapped.

  ‘Why are you wearing shorts?’

  I climbed the fence and jumped off the top, landing on the other side. I ignored her and headed off down the hill, away from my street.

  ‘Where are you going now?’ Mum said, exasperated.

  I clenched my fists. The sound of her lying voice was getting on my last nerve. I didn’t turn around. ‘I’m staying with Devon.’

  ‘No, you’re not.’ Mum started to say
something else, but by then I was running, the low bass of my uncle’s voice calling out behind me. I had to get away from this place. Away from her and the bullshit that had been my life. I hate her. My cheeks burned despite the cold wind. All this time everyone must’ve thought I was a real fuckwit. For once I was glad Sam wasn’t here. Man, he’d be laughing now. I guess revenge is sweet.

  I didn’t get far before my uncle drove up next to me. ‘Get in,’ he called out the passenger window.

  I glared at him and kept walking.

  ‘So you hate me, too, is that it?’

  I shook my head and he startled me by blasting the horn.

  ‘Come on, Tippy.’

  I ran but he sped up. ‘Let me just give you a lift then. You don’t have to talk to me. Promise.’

  ‘I’m not going back there,’ I said and stopped.

  He slammed on the brakes. ‘Deal, I’ll take you to Devon. Now get in, please. It’s freezing.’

  It was cold and at least a fifteen-minute walk to the stinky house. ‘Fine,’ I said and climbed in.

  We drove along, the indicator’s ticking noise breaking the silence as he turned onto the road along the riverbank.

  I refused to look at him, instead turning to stare out my window so hard it hurt my neck.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Uncle Pike said. ‘We should’ve told you the truth.’

  No shit. I sighed. I hated feeling like this, especially with him, but I was so fucking angry. Angry at all of them.

  We turned on to the bridge and I deliberately didn’t hold my breath. Fuck you, Dad. Especially angry at him. This is all your fault. They could blow the bridge up right now for all I cared.

  ‘It doesn’t change anything,’ Uncle Pike said, as we pulled up to the Airbnb.

  I jumped down. ‘Yes, it does.’ I slammed the ute door and ran inside, not looking back.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Back inside the Airbnb, it was dark and freezing. I sighed. Could my life get any worse? The balcony door was open and the little CD player belted out Alanis’s ‘Mary Jane’. Out on the balcony, I spotted Devon, the orange glow of a rollie cigarette lighting up his face. He was in his red silk dressing gown with blue peacocks on it, clutching the ripped phone book under his arm.