The Red Cardigan

by J. C. Burke

Theo calls them.

  ‘Okay?’

  Evie nods. As Nick steps out of the car she notices he’s wearing odd socks. Evie’s leg’s tremble as they walk up the stairs to the front door. She grabs her father’s hand. He steadies her.

  At the entrance stands a small woman dressed in black. Next to her is a stocky man with a bushy beard flecked with grey. He wears a black armband over his jumper. The lady puts her arms around Evie and holds her for a moment. The man does the same. When he steps back, Evie sees that he is crying.

  ‘Thank you for coming,’ the lady whispers. Her pale skin makes the dark circles under her eyes look painted. They follow the couple down a narrow hallway to a large room. There are people sitting around also dressed in black. All the men look unshaven and wear the same black armbands.

  Evie takes off her coat and sunglasses. Athena’s mother pats the seat next to her.

  ‘Come and sit,’ she says.

  As Evie walks over to the couch the mother gasps and starts speaking in Greek. Evie looks at Theo for a translation but he has joined in the frantic conversation.

  The words are mixed in Greek and English. Everyone is talking loudly and pointing to their face. She can’t understand what they’re saying. Again, she looks at Theo.

  ‘It’s your eye,’ he tells her. ‘They’re saying it’s the same as Athena’s.’

  Evie covers her left eye. She doesn’t understand what they mean.

  A girl Evie hasn’t seen steps out from behind a door.

  ‘My sister had an eye condition,’ she explains quietly. ‘It started after she got a splinter in her eye. She had to have a glass eye fitted. My parents think you have that, too.’

  ‘A glass eye?’

  ‘No. The same thing before she got the glass eye. The doctor called it uveitis. It was the left eye, too.’

  The bile rises in Evie’s throat. She tastes its bitterness. Covering her mouth she stumbles down the hall, searching for the bathroom. The girl runs after her.

  Evie’s stands over the toilet vomiting hard and loud but there is no relief.

  ‘Are you all right?’ the girl asks.

  ‘Huh?’

  Wedged between the toilet and the basin Evie looks up at the girl. She is like Athena only younger.

  ‘Evie?’ her father is at the door too. ‘Are you okay?’

  She nods. ‘Just, just give us a minute, Dad.’

  He stands there looking down at her, then walks away.

  The girl takes Evie’s arm and helps her off the floor. Evie leans against the tiled wall.

  ‘I’m Melena,’ the girl says. ‘Athena’s little sister. Well, only sister actually.’

  Athena’s mother comes to the doorway.

  ‘Can I get you something, Evie?’

  ‘She’s okay, Mamma.’

  ‘I’ll … I’ll just stay here for a minute, Mrs Poulos. I’ll be fine in a sec.’

  When Athena’s mother leaves Melena whispers, ‘Do you know what happened to my sister?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I’m trying.’

  ‘She didn’t want to go to the Glendi Festival,’ Melena continues. ‘She wanted to go to a dance party with Pete. That’s her boyfriend.’

  ‘But she did go to the festival.’

  ‘I know. They made her go.’ Now Melena speaks so softly it’s hard to hear. ‘They had arranged for her to go with Yannis. He’s the guy she was meant to marry but she didn’t want to.’

  ‘Is he out there?’ Evie gestures out to the living room.

  ‘No. He’s back in Greece. He said he was insulted.’

  ‘Did you like him?’

  ‘Not really. He was very, you know, traditional. Thena wasn’t into all of that.’

  ‘Did you say Thena?’

  ‘That’s what the family call her.’

  Evie grabs hold of the basin swallowing back the air.

  ‘Are you going to be sick again?’

  ‘Melena?’ her mother calls. She says something else in Greek.

  ‘We better go back out there,’ she says. ‘My mother’s getting impatient. She wants to know everything you see. Are you sure you’re okay? This is all pretty weird.’

  Evie rinses her mouth and splashes her face, careful to avoid the mirror. She stands over the basin for an extra second.

  ‘Okay,’ she says. ‘I’m ready.’

  Mrs Poulos nurses a photo album on her lap. ‘Would you like to see some pictures? Come and sit with me. Let me show you my little Athena.’

  Evie sits there trying to swallow, breathe, appear calm and interested all at the same time and it’s hard. To her it’s like watching the whole thing on a TV in another lounge room in another house. Her body’s present but that’s about it.

  ‘This is my favourite one of little Thena,’ she says, passing Evie the album. ‘She looks so sweet in her red cardigan.’

  Evie stares at the photo of a girl with dark curls sitting on a swing. The chubby fingers are playing with the buttons on her cardigan. Covering her left eye Evie leans over, taking a closer look at the little blue dots that are shaped like teddies. The bile rises in her throat again, bitter and stinging. Evie pushes the album away and staggers over to her father, throwing her arms around him.

  ‘Daaaddy. Oooh, Daaaaddy.’ And from the very pit of her stomach rises a cry that echoes through the room.

  They take her back to the hotel. She has had enough.

  ‘We’ll need Evie to come up to headquarters at some time. There’s paperwork we have to do.’ Vic Spry is back to housekeeping. ‘We’ll call in the morning.’

  Evie hears the conversation around her. She’s too exhausted to talk. Her brain has shut down as though it can’t take in any more or doesn’t want to. Crawling into bed, disappearing into a mindless sleep only possible after those many tears, is all she can do.

  ‘Are you sure she doesn’t want to talk to anyone?’ asks Rory. ‘The victim support service could easily send someone over to the hotel. She wouldn’t have to come into the station.’

  ‘I just want to get her inside,’ Nick says.

  They walk up the stairs to the hotel’s entrance. A hand gently holds her elbow. It’s Theo. Her father is still outside the glass doors talking to the police.

  ‘You’re going good, honey,’ he says, steering her towards the lift. ‘Let’s get you upstairs.’

  A layer of sweat shines on Theo’s forehead. His dark bushy eyebrows sit low on his forehead in a permanent frown but what Evie notices most is the first real whiff of his true body odour, and it makes her think of her mother.

  Evie sleeps till after dusk. A night sky sprinkled with stars shines through their hotel window. Theo is snoring in the adjoining room and the rattle of cutlery echoes as her dad stacks up the room service trays. She feels the corner of her sketchpad under the pillow.

  ‘Are you sure you won’t eat anything, sweetheart?’

  ‘I’m not hungry, Dad.’

  ‘Does your tummy feel a bit more normal?’

  ‘I don’t reckon it’ll feel normal until we’re out of here.’ What Evie really wants to say is ‘What’s normal?’

  ‘I’m going to bed. Theo and I’ve got a teleconference set up downstairs for the morning. It’s just a production meeting, it shouldn’t take long.’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘Eight forty-five. Are you still thinking of going to the art gallery?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  He sits on her bed. ‘I’m sure this’ll be over soon.’

  ‘I hope so.’ She can barely lift the corners of her mouth.

  ‘I spoke to your mum.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘She said what a good job you’re doing. She said losing a daughter would be the worst thing imaginable.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘She said she’d like to hear your voice.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I said you might call her tomorrow. You could tell her about the Dobell exhibition if you go to the gallery. She’d love to hear ab
out that. She’s always been so proud of the way you draw.’

  ‘I get it from her.’

  ‘So you do.’ He strokes her forehead. ‘I was proud of you today. That was, well, about the hardest thing I’ve ever witnessed.’

  ‘Dad? Mum’s mother drew, too, didn’t she?’

  ‘She did.’

  ‘I remember Mum once told me she had some drawings of hers.’

  ‘They’re sketches of Robin. I’ve only seen them once or twice. They’re very good.’

  ‘She must have been very little when they were done.’

  ‘Three or four, I’d say.’

  ‘Mum was four when she died?’

  ‘Five. Just five.’

  ‘Do you think Mum will let me have the drawings one day?’

  ‘I don’t think she’d want anyone else to have them.’

  Evie blows him a gentle kiss. ‘Goodnight, Dad.’

  The single light from Evie’s lamp shines over her bed. Under the pillow she reaches for her sketchpad and opens to the letter she wrote on the plane. Ruling a line underneath she begins a new one.

  Dear Athena,

  This afternoon I met your sister, Melena. I know she really misses you. I could feel her emptiness. Your dad didn’t say much. Your mum showed me photos of you as a kid. That completely blew me out – if it’s actually possible for me to be any more blown out. How did that happen? I don’t reckon anyone could explain that. Do you? It’s creepy! Is this why it’s happened? I wish I knew.

  My dad reminded me of it a couple of months ago and even then I could only just remember. My imaginary friend, Thena, the little girl whose claim to fame was a red cardigan with blue teddy buttons. They probably reckoned it was some sneaky way of me trying to get a cute cardigan. But you were true. I haven’t spoken to Mum for nearly six days. My dad has. He says she wants to hear my voice. Do you think she does? She said I’m doing a good job.

  There is something I’m beginning to understand. The cardigan I wear to school, the same one I drew your portrait in and the one I wore when my left eye started to blur, the cardigan that Dad bought me in Adelaide. That’s your cardigan – your red cardigan.

  I’ll wear it now, while I’m here. There’s still a part of you in it. Once I found a tiny knot of hair in one of the seams. It was yours, wasn’t it?

  Please help me because I want to go home.

  Love, Evie

  P.S. It’s still Wednesday 5th July. The longest day in my life – ever!

  P.P.S. If I wear your cardi and my grandma’s bangle, something’s got to happen or I’m out of business.

  The next morning, Evie meets her dad in the lobby. He’s just finished his teleconference. His hair is combed and his walk confident.

  ‘How did you sleep?’ he asks.

  ‘I only woke up half an hour ago.’

  ‘You needed it. Did you have some breakfast?’

  ‘Yes,’ answers Evie, not letting her dad know a cup of coffee is her definition of breakfast today.

  ‘Here’s my mobile phone and here’s Theo’s mobile number. I wish you’d let me get you one.’

  ‘Dad, I know I’m probably the only teenager without a mobile but I hate them. You know that.’

  ‘Well, you’re having this today, no argument, young lady.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘You seem a bit brighter.’

  ‘So do you, actually.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Today I’m working on tricking myself,’ she says. ‘I’m convinced it’s going to be a good day. I’m hanging to go home, Dad.’

  ‘I know, darling,’ he soothes, buttoning up her coat. ‘We have to go to police headquarters today.’

  ‘Detective Vic has called already?’

  ‘Twice.’

  ‘So what time?’

  ‘He said about midday.’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘What are we going to do about your eye, Evie?’

  ‘It’ll be fine, Dad. I’m not going to end up with a glass one, I can tell you that!’

  ‘Okay,’ he laughs. ‘I’m heading down to the park – clear my head. Do you want me to meet you at the art gallery later?’

  ‘No,’ Evie says. ‘I’ll meet you at the police station. I’ve got a map.’

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’

  ‘Yes. I feel like a quiet morning cruising the gallery. It’ll be good for me. I need the space. It might help me clear my head too.’

  ‘Use the mobile to ring Mum – if you want. You could give her a live commentary as you walk through the exhibition. She’d like that.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘And ring me if you need me. Promise?’

  ‘Promise, Dad.’

  She walks him to the junction of King William and Carrington Streets, kisses him goodbye and waits for him to turn the corner. Then she slips her coat off, takes the red cardigan out of her bag and puts it on. She does the buttons up, shines her bangle on the cuff, puts her coat back on and walks back towards the gallery.

  She doesn’t want her dad to know about the cardigan. The guilt he’s carried all these years is enough. Evie wants him to just consider it a gift that he gave her – a gift that she loves. And that’s how she’ll leave it.

  She takes out the mobile and dials Alex’s number. That’s an easy call. Thursday is her late morning and Evie crosses her fingers as she hears someone pick up.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Al!’

  ‘Evie? Evie, is that you? Are you home?’

  ‘No. God, I miss you.’

  ‘I miss you, too. How’s it going?’

  Evie goes to tell but changes her mind. ‘No, tell me about you. What’s happening at home?’

  ‘Um? You’ve only been away a couple of days, Evie.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ Evie whines. ‘Tell me anything. The stupidest, dumbest things. Anything!’

  ‘Let’s see. It’s raining. Um?’

  ‘It’s freezing here.’

  An icy wind whistles. Rubbish blows out of a bin and scuttles along the gutter.

  ‘Here’s a bit of goss. Poppy’s back and had a bit of a Gold Coast romance.’

  ‘Oh my god, that is a bit of goss! Who was it?’

  ‘Some guy at the wedding called Angus. He’s already called her.’

  ‘Is she happy?’

  ‘Can’t wipe the smile off her face. Of course she’s being very secretive about what actually went on between them.’

  ‘Has anyone noticed I’m not at school?’

  ‘Just Poppy obviously.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I told her some bullshit about a great-aunt’s funeral.’

  ‘Has she seen Seb?’

  ‘Actually she made a joke about him being quiet on the bus yesterday. I haven’t told her anything. I promise,’ adds Alex.

  ‘I know you won’t say anything. I didn’t mean it like that. I keep thinking about how weird it’s going to be seeing Seb again. Well, I’m thinking about that along with about ten thousand other things.’

  ‘Are you hanging in there, girlfriend?’

  ‘Just.’

  A newspaper board clatters along the footpath. Evie tries to decipher the headlines as it somersaults in front of her.

  ‘So what’s Adelaide like?’

  ‘I’m hardly sightseeing.’

  ‘Sorry. I keep saying the wrong things.’

  ‘No, you don’t. I don’t even know why I asked you about school. I honestly don’t care.’

  ‘You don’t?’

  ‘No. I mean, I guess there’s stuff – shit!’ Evie says, almost tripping over the newspaper board.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. I just nearly broke my neck.’ Looping her hand through the wire edge, Evie picks up the board and leans it against a shop window. Like a slap across the face, she suddenly realises what it was about the wire fence in her dream. What she couldn’t recall with the narrow-eyed detective in Sydney now jumps up and down in
front of her.

  ‘Al, I’ve got to go.’

  Evie gets out her exercise book. Resting it against a window she begins to write but her hand, in defiance of her head, draws instead. Her wrist has a mind of its own, flicking up, down and in circular sweeps. Quickly she looks around; no one has noticed.

  She recognises it immediately. This is the fence from her dream. Running along the top are barbed wire circles interlinked with one another. She holds the drawing on different angles, searching for another clue.

  There’s a scratch in the curve of her hand where her thumb and index finger meet. It wasn’t there before. She turns her hand over. Hundreds of tiny scratch marks cover her palm, climb up her fingers over to the other side. Blood is smudged on the side of the page. She looks at her other hand – it’s the same. She drops the book, hiding her hands behind her back. She’s gasping. She can’t get a breath. Her throat is so tight. There’s no air.

  The exercise book, her diary, is lying on the footpath. She has to pick it up but everything is moving, swaying. Her fingers fumble for the mobile in her bag but they shake so much it takes five attempts to press the right buttons. There’s blood smeared over the numbers, over the back of the phone.

  She hears him, ‘Theo Kavlakis,’ but her vocal cords are paralysed. She can only mouth at the air.

  ‘Evie? Evie is that you?’ he calls. ‘Nick? Nick, I think it’s Evie.’

  ‘Evie?’

  ‘D-Daaad? Dad? Come and get me, now!’

  ‘Evie, tell me where you are!’

  ‘Um, um I don’t know, I don’t know, I – I?’

  ‘Can you see a street sign?’

  ‘No, no. I’m just, um, just near where … where we said goodbye.’

  ‘Evie, stay where you are. Don’t move. We’re coming. Okay?’

  ‘Dad?’ she moans. ‘My hands, my hands.’

  Evie stumbles up and down the block. People push past her, giving her strange looks as she gets in their way. She can’t help it. It’s as though she’s lost her sense of balance. Noise is bouncing off the buildings, colliding in her head. Her hands sit in the pockets of her coat. She can’t look at them. She doesn’t understand.

  Wasn’t she just chatting to Alex on the phone? She wants to be talking to Alex again. She wants to go home. Somewhere. Anywhere. She wants it to stop – stop right now!

  Her father’s hand is firm on her back. He is guiding her through the pedestrian traffic and into a taxi. Theo leans over and helps with her seatbelt. He tries to move her arm.