I watched him smoke. He took more short puffs and held the smoke in for a lot longer than Melanie did. Eventually, he noticed me. I waved and he chucked the ciggie into the garden. He tilted his head back and blew out the longest stream of smoke I’d ever seen. When he’d finished he waved away any last smoke with his phone book.
‘You okay, honey?’ he yelled.
I shook my head. ‘You?’ I yelled back.
He didn’t answer, just came inside and hugged me.
‘I didn’t know you smoked,’ I said, squeezing against him.
Devon’s voice hummed through his body. ‘Only herbal and only to keep warm.’
‘Warm outside?’ I’d never heard of herbal cigarettes.
‘I couldn’t get that stupid kettle thing to work,’ he said about the pot-belly. ‘And I was so freezing I thought my fingernails would fall off.’
I giggled until I noticed, by the bedroom door behind him, his suitcases. My strength disappeared and my body slumped. Life just got worse. Devon was leaving. I pulled away from him. I really was alone. The tears came again and this time I didn’t know if they’d ever stop. I ran to my room and shut the door.
Even curled up in a ball on my bed, I felt like I was falling. My chest hurt as I sobbed, but not as much as it hurt inside. Why? The answerless question on repeat.
Devon knocked on my door. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. He opened it a crack. ‘Hey, hey, honey,’ he said. He sat beside me and put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Hey, it’s okay. It’ll be okay, I promise.’
I pushed my fists to my eyes and concentrated on my breathing until I felt I could speak. ‘What’s wrong with me?’
‘What?’ Devon sounded shocked. He moved his hand off me, which confirmed it. ‘What do you mean?’
I shifted away from him towards the wall. ‘Just go.’
‘Shh,’ he said, and put his hand back on my shoulder. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘No more lying.’ I pushed his hand off and got up. In the living room I pointed to his suitcases. ‘You’re going away.’
‘Ah.’ He hung his head then went to the couch and collapsed on it. He patted the seat beside him. ‘Come over here.’
My legs betrayed me and shuffled me to the sofa. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t the end. I wanted to reverse everything to a year ago—before Dad and Melanie’s mum had died—when I had friends, but then I wouldn’t have Devon and now I was losing him, too.
‘Tippy.’ He put his arm around me. I didn’t move. His peacock gown was cold and slippery-shiny. ‘I was coming to say goodbye to you when I ran into Pike and then … the cafe.’
I croaked but had no more words. No more words for losing people. In that moment I wondered if I’d ever speak again. I concentrated on picking at my nail polish instead.
‘Hey.’ Devon’s shoulder nudged me. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
I looked up at him, not understanding. I needed to hear him say it again. ‘You’re staying?’
‘You thought I’d still go?’ He swivelled around and grabbed my hands. ‘Oh, honey, of course not. We’re sisters. There’s no way I’m leaving you now.’ He pumped my arms up and down. ‘We’re in this stinky mess together. We need to make a new list: Sad face things that smell like shit.’
‘A Riverstone Airbnb?’ I said.
Devon shrieked and clapped. ‘Yes! That is going on the top of the list.’
We both laughed and couldn’t stop for ages, each time setting the other off. My stomach muscles hurt, but it felt so good. Finally, Devon stood up and took my hand. ‘Let’s get my black folder and pens,’ he said, pulling me up. ‘We’ve got lists to make.’
‘But first pizza?’ Suddenly I was starving. Mum rang. I ignored her and switched it to silent.
Devon pulled on a coat. ‘You should change your ringtones so you don’t have to look.’
A text popped up from Mum. I didn’t read it and turned my phone off. I waved the blank screen at Devon. ‘Now I don’t need to look.’
The pizza shop was only a block away. Snow on the footpath and road had turned dirty brown and slushy. I told Devon everything that had happened with Mum. Even as I was speaking, it still didn’t feel real, like I was talking about a movie. As we walked home with the pizzas, the smell of my Hawaiian without ham made my mouth water. It got dark quickly and even colder, which I didn’t think was possible. I held the takeaway boxes close to keep warm, my wrists and forearms freezing from my shrunken anti-kidnapping jacket.
Devon sighed as we neared our house.
‘It’s not that bad,’ I said. Rain splattered on my hands.
He glanced at the sky. ‘Not sure it can get much worse.’
I lifted up the pizza boxes. ‘Come on, Sissy.’
‘What did you call me?’
‘Sissy,’ I said. ‘Short for sister.’
‘Oh,’ Devon said. ‘Okay, Sissy, let me take those.’ He grabbed the pizza boxes off me and handed me the Coke as we reached our gate.
‘I’ll make a fire,’ I said. ‘It might dry out the house a bit.’ I’d seen a video on mould and the Airbnb ticked all the boxes for the perfect breeding ground for spores, but I wasn’t sure Devon was ready to learn about how it can get into your lungs.
‘As much as I support your choices we can’t burn it down.’ He scratched his head. ‘Can we?’
Up ahead on the footpath a tall figure lurched towards us, coming from the direction of the Bully office. He stumbled like he was drunk. I shielded my eyes from the rain with my hand. His scarecrow shape looked familiar.
Devon ran up the path to the front door. ‘I guess we could say the fire was an accident?’ he called out behind him as he opened the door. He turned and frowned. ‘Tippy?’
I was still at the gate in the rain trying to work out who the drunk was. He crashed into the front of a parked car then rebounded back on to the footpath. His shins were going to hurt in the morning. Shit. I recognised him, but had never seen him wasted like this before. I ran up to the house, trying to get inside before he spotted us. Before Devon saw him.
‘You!’ the man screeched. ‘Come here!’
‘What—’ Devon said.
I tried to shove Devon inside, but it was like trying to push the founding tree.
‘Hornblower?’ Devon said.
‘Ugh, the child and the child.’ He bent over and gripped on to our cinderblock fence. ‘Kids. Where’s your fat uncle?’ He leaned back and forth, like he was trying to steady himself but failing to stand still.
Devon’s mouth was open.
‘Come on, let’s go inside,’ I said.
‘Are you fucking serious?’ Devon said. ‘Pike told me he’d gone.’
Hornblower yelled out something and laughed, then fell over our concrete wall and face-planted onto our snow-slush lawn.
I gritted my teeth and winced for him. ‘Well, he has been on the TV a lot.’
Devon turned on me. ‘You told me, too.’
‘Umm, he’s been on the TV a lot?’
Devon looked disgusted at me and Hornblower.
‘Sorry!’ I pulled on Devon’s arm. ‘You were going through enough and I hoped he’d gone.’
He shrugged me off. ‘Whatever, Tippy.’ He went inside.
I wiped the rain off my forehead. I’d never seen Devon like this with me and I didn’t like it. A groan came from the garden.
‘Really?’ I sighed. I couldn’t leave Hornblower alone like that in the slush and the rain, even if he was a dick. I put the Coke down and went back to help him up. I managed to lift his arm but he didn’t move. He was way too heavy for me.
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘You can’t stay here.’
‘Not you,’ he said, his face half buried in mud. ‘I don’t want you.’
I huffed. ‘Too bad, that’s who you’ve got.’ I tried to lift him up by his leather man-bag strap but ended up pulling it off him. I chucked it on to the porch and went back, grabbing his feet. I dug in my heels and pulled.
His blue loafer came off in my hand and I landed on my butt on the icy-wet lawn. ‘Eeeeeew, gross!’
‘Leave me,’ he said. ‘Leave me to die.’
Devon called out from the porch. ‘If only it was that easy.’
I got up and shoved his blue shoe back on.
Devon joined me. ‘Grab his hand, Tippy. On the count of one, pull!’
We both pulled—well, Devon mainly—and got Hornblower to his feet. He crumbled and Devon grabbed him around his waist.
‘You’re so strong,’ Hornblower said, rubbing his hand along Devon’s furry forearm.
‘Tippy, some towels and put the jug on,’ Devon said.
‘She having a baby?’ Hornblower asked.
I ran inside and grabbed some towels. I watched as Devon brought him in. As they came through the doorway, Hornblower hit his head on the doorframe.
‘Ow!’ He started laughing.
‘Whoops,’ Devon said.
‘Liar,’ Hornblower said, pushing himself off Devon.
‘Who should I call to pick you up?’ I asked.
Hornblower shook his head and crashed backwards on to the sofa. His blond hair was wet and brown with mud. He peered at us with one eye open. ‘It’s actually worse in here.’ He waved towards the bookcase. ‘Is that MDF?’
‘I know, right?’ Devon plucked a towel from me and threw it at his head. ‘Revolting, if I had to choose one word.’
Hornblower didn’t even try to catch it—the towel hit him in the face and fell on his lap. ‘Where is he?’ he slurred. ‘I want to see him.’
Devon crossed his arms. ‘I can’t do this right now. Have a coffee, sober up, then you need to leave.’
‘I’ll make it.’ I went to the kitchen, happy for the break as Devon disappeared into the bathroom. I filled the jug and switched it on, then went to the pot-belly to make the fire.
Hornblower watched me with one eye shut.
‘What’s wrong with your eye?’ I asked.
‘What’s wrong with yours?’ he sneered.
I gave him the rude finger. ‘How many fingers am I holding up?’
He closed his eye and waved me away. I scrunched up the newspaper as loudly as I could before putting it in the pot-belly. I grabbed the matches.
‘Should you be playing with matches?’ Hornblower said.
I glared at him and struck the match slowly in front of his face.
‘Kids are creepy,’ he said.
‘You are.’ I resisted the urge to chuck the flaming match at him.
Devon came out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on a towel. ‘Just ignore him, Tippy.’
I blew it out and turned my back on Hornblower, lighting another match and the paper.
By the time I finished coaxing the fire, Hornblower was snoring on the couch. I got up and washed the mud off, then quickly got changed.
Back in the living room, Devon tried to wake up Hornblower, but he had passed out. ‘Can you grab a blanket?’ Devon asked, not looking at me. He took off Hornblower’s soaked shoes and lifted his long legs onto the sofa, his ankles and feet poking out over the end. Devon quickly rubbed Hornblower’s hair with the towel, leaving it sticking out everywhere.
I brought back the mankiest blanket I could find in the cupboard.
Devon wrinkled his nose as he tucked it in around Hornblower. I busied myself keeping the fire going, avoiding Devon who went off to wash his hands again. I sat in front of the glowing flames and wondered how we’d got here. I hated Devon being upset with me.
Devon came back and stood by the fire, putting his hand on my shoulder.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said in a small voice. ‘I just thought …’
‘Come here.’ He gave me a hug. ‘It’s okay. I know you were trying to help. I’m sorry, too. For everything.’
We sat on the ugly stripey rug near the fire as Hornblower snored.
Devon leaned back on his hands and then shot up. ‘Eeew!’ He wiped them on the couch.
I jumped up. ‘What is it?’
‘Yuck knows.’ He grimaced as he inspected the rug. ‘If you weren’t here, I would literally think I was in hell.’
My skin crawled and I brushed myself down, just to be sure.
‘Let’s make a promise.’ I held my pinkie finger up. ‘We never lie to each other.’
Devon tilted his head. ‘Even if it hurts?’
I nodded and he curled his pinkie around mine.
We grabbed cushions and sat back on the rug, not touching it with our hands, and ate our pizza.
Hornblower’s leather man-bag lay on the floor near the kitchen. I jumped up and grabbed the bag to dry it out, opening the potbelly’s door. The fire roared and sparked around the burning logs. As I put his bag near the pot-belly I had an idea. I undid the flap, but stopped when I heard Devon’s ‘Ahem.’
‘No,’ he said.
‘He’s a journalist,’ I said. ‘He’d do it to us.’
‘That makes it worse,’ Devon replied, finishing his slice.
‘It’s not stealing if he’s right here,’ I said.
‘I’m not sure it works that way.’
‘We’ll put it back. Remember we don’t lie to each other,’ I said, opening it.
‘Tippy, that’s got nothing to do—’
My eyes went wide.
‘What is it?’
‘You sure you want to know?’ I asked. ‘Maybe we should put it back.’
‘Forget that! He’s a reporter, what’s he got?’
I made a big deal of tipping his bag out on to the floor. A USB fell out and a small black shiny cloth. I picked it up, it felt silky. Must be for cleaning his glasses; strange since I’d never seen Hornblower wearing any.
‘That’s it?’ Devon said. ‘A USB and his G-string?’
I shrieked and flung Hornblower’s undies into the fire.
Devon laughed as they shrivelled and melted in the flames. ‘Were they plastic? Trust me, you saved us all by burning them. Thrush catchers at best.’
‘Eeew. Yuck.’ I danced on the spot then ran and washed my hands again. When I came back I showed him the empty bag. ‘That’s all there is.’ I picked up the USB. ‘Which means this must be important.’
‘Or it’s something adult. Let me check first. We don’t want another man-panties incident.’
‘Yuck. Fine.’ I shook out the hand that had touched them.
‘Where’s his notepad, or voice-thingy?’
‘Phone?’ I said.
‘No, you know that thing with the little tapes? But good point.’ He lifted the blanket and felt Hornblower’s pockets. ‘Maybe he’s lost it? He’s so bony it’s hard to tell what’s what.’ He rummaged around. ‘Nothing there.’ Devon dropped the blanket back and wiped his hand on the couch again.
‘Tippy, maybe we should put this investigation on hold,’ he said. ‘Take a break.’
I jumped up and grabbed my tablet out of my room. ‘This investigation is my break,’ I said. I did not want to waste any more time thinking about Dad, plus a large part of me hoped the Nancys working on the case would bring my uncle and Devon back together. I banged into Hornblower’s feet as I joined Devon on the edge of the couch. He shoved Hornblower across to make room for us. Hornblower snuffled but stayed asleep.
Devon patted my back. ‘You make a good point. But if you ever want to quit that is okay, too.’
I nodded then nudged him. ‘Thanks.’ I slid the USB into my tablet and clicked onto the folders.
‘Remember,’ Devon said, ‘no clicking on any files until I check first. I don’t want you seeing any porn.’
‘Eeew!’
‘Okay, hand it over.’ He went to take the tablet and froze.
On screen, the USB’s file directory showed three folders: security cameras, emergency call and bomb threat.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Bomb threat? I clicked on that folder. Inside was a picture file named ‘2504_HB_2TL_Note’.
‘Hang on.’ Devon took the tablet and held it
close to his face then tapped on the screen. ‘Okay, it’s not porn.’ He handed it back.
My skin crawled. I dropped the tablet on my lap and looked at Devon. On screen was a scrawled handwritten note. It read Riverstone Bridge bombed 25 April, like it was a note from the past. But 25 April was in two days’ time. It creeped me out.
Devon pulled at his bottom lip and shuddered. ‘It’s like spiders wrote it in blood.’
That didn’t help. I really didn’t like looking at it. ‘What if it’s like a war protest against Anzac Day or something?’ I said. ‘What if it’s not a hoax?’
Devon nodded at Hornblower, passed out on the sofa. ‘Embargoed. Must be.’ I needed to look up that word. Devon put the tablet back up to his face and clicked on the ‘security cameras’ folder. I leaned in close so I could see. Inside were four video files. He clicked on the first one and turned the screen away from me. After a couple of seconds he gave me the all clear. We watched it. It was in black and white. The camera was mounted high up on Riverstone Bridge’s last concrete arch before the flat.
On screen was the road that exited the bridge and curved around the corner, turning onto Main Street. Above the curve of the road, and framing the left side of the screen, was the river and floodbank which bordered the rugby field, and in the distance a chunk of the grandstand. Closer, at the end of the rugby field, were the Riverstone Showground buildings, where we had seen alpacas and pigs with Sam at Christmas. Alongside the showgrounds, a street intersected with Main Street, just after the bridge bend, three-quarters of the way across the screen.
I pointed to the road off the bridge, my hand jumping up and down thanks to Devon’s jiggling leg. I followed it with my finger to where it disappeared behind a large rectangle block. ‘Back of Main Street and the town hall,’ I said.
He nodded and kept watching the video. So far no traffic had passed in either direction. We watched for another minute or so, Hornblower’s snoring and the crackling of the fire keeping us company.
On screen, a white bird flew past, near the bridge. ‘Is that a seagull?’ Devon said. ‘What’s it doing there in the middle of the night?’
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