Honeybee

by Craig Silvey;

‘But you were happier before.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t. I never was. And I’m not raising another kid on my own. Stop trying to sabotage my relationship. It’s selfish. That’s probably my fault too. Maybe I spoiled you. I gave you too much attention. You’re not used to sharing. You need to grow up, Sam. You’re not the only person in my life. You’re going to have a little brother or sister soon who is going to need me. And it’s all going to be different this time. Everything will be different.’ Just at that moment, everyone started applauding. A choir all dressed in white filed onto the stage and began to sing ‘Silent Night’. When the carol finished, all the children dressed as reindeer were ushered onstage. They looked so small. They danced and sang ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’. Their parents took photos from the front row. When they were done, everybody clapped and cheered loudly and the kids bowed and waved and it just made me feel sad.

  The sun went down and people lit candles. A performer came on to sing with the choir. I looked down and stopped listening. I was hurt by what my mum had said, and I was worried about what would happen tonight. Maybe I had made everything worse.

  After a while, somebody tapped me on the shoulder. I looked to my right, and an old lady handed me a lit candle. I took it and thanked her and she gave me a smile.

  The choir began another carol. It was a slow one. I didn’t know what it was called, but it was sad and it was beautiful. There was a part where they sang ‘Oh, tidings of comfort and joy’, which made the back of my neck tingle. I looked at the candle in my hands, and I thought about Vic. It felt like he was here. It felt like he was speaking to me. My throat swelled up and I turned my head away so my mum wouldn’t see me trying not to cry. I closed my eyes as tight as I could. When I looked up, the song was over and the candle had blown out.

  After a few more songs, my mum said she wanted to leave. I checked my phone. It wasn’t quite nine o’clock yet. I asked if she wanted to get an ice cream first and sit on the beach. She didn’t want to. I asked if she wanted to go to a movie, but she didn’t want to do that either. So I suggested we walk into Fremantle and look for a taxi home and she agreed to that. I rolled up the towels and put them in the carton along with all the food I had prepared.

  We didn’t talk much as we walked. The wind came in stronger and messed up my mum’s hair. I was trying to move as slowly as I could, but she told me to hurry up.

  We reached the main street. It was really busy. My mum didn’t want to get a coffee, and she didn’t want to stop and listen to the buskers outside the markets. She said she was tired and she had a headache and she didn’t like the crowds. She waved down a taxi. I looked at my phone. It was just after nine o’clock. My heart was pounding. I didn’t want to go, but the cars were banking up behind us, so I slid into the back seat with her.

  My mum got a message on her phone.

  ‘Is that from Steve?’

  ‘What? No. Mind your own business.’

  I looked out the window and tried to breathe.

  When we turned onto our street, the first thing I saw was red and blue lights flashing. My mum sat forwards and looked through the windscreen.

  ‘What the fuck?’

  There were two police cars parked out the front of our house. The door was open and all the lights were on. My mum got out of the taxi while it was still moving and ran into the house. The driver braked suddenly.

  ‘Hey! You pay me!’

  He locked the doors. I still had some money in my pocket, so I dropped some in his lap. I got out and left the food and towels in the back seat.

  I walked slowly up the driveway. I could hear yelling. When I stepped inside, it looked like the house had been searched. The door to the storage cupboard had been broken open. My mum was screaming at a police officer in the lounge room. He was putting Steve’s laptop into a paper bag, and she was trying to snatch it off him.

  ‘Give it back! What the fuck is going on? What are you doing in my house? You don’t have the right!’

  The police officer was composed.

  ‘Ma’am, I’m asking you to calm down, or I will detain you.’ ‘For what? For what? You’re in my fucking house!’

  Then Detective Buchanan stepped out of my mum’s bedroom. He was wearing blue silicone gloves. He stopped when he saw my mum, and he was even more surprised to see me.

  ‘What are you two doing here?’

  ‘We fucking live here! What are you doing here?’ my mum asked.

  Detective Buchanan took his gloves off and looked at me thoughtfully. The other officers packed up around him.

  ‘Sarah, I’m Detective Buchanan, we spoke a few weeks ago about Sam. Right now we’re executing a warrant that authorises us to search these premises. Can I get you to take a seat? I’d like to ask you some questions.’

  ‘I’m not answering shit! Get out of my house! I’m calling my partner.’

  ‘Steven Pratt? Is that your partner?’

  My mum didn’t say anything. She let go of the laptop and sat on the couch.

  ‘Sarah, Steve and his brother Mark were arrested this evening. They’re presently being processed and detained at Fremantle lock-up.’

  ‘Arrested for what?’

  ‘At this stage it looks like breaking and entering, burglary, intent to commit property damage, vehicle theft, resisting arrest, assault of a police officer and what will likely be unlicensed and prohibited firearms charges. What do you know about these weapons stored in the hallway cupboard?’

  ‘Breaking and entering? What the fuck are you talking about?’

  ‘We apprehended your partner and two other men unlawfully entering the address of Mr Ben Ross. Do you know who that is?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is the dog okay?’ I asked.

  They both looked at me. Detective Buchanan narrowed his eyes, then he nodded once, like he had just worked something out.

  ‘Following previous discussions with the owner, it’s my understanding that the dog had been removed from the premises.’

  Detective Buchanan turned to my mum.

  ‘There was a third man who evaded arrest. Do you know who he might be?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How about you, Sam? Got any ideas?’

  I looked down.

  ‘Don’t speak to my son,’ my mum shouted. ‘This is all bullshit! You’ve got no right to come in here while we’re not home. This is a set-up! Why is this happening? Why now? Why are you fucking up our lives?’

  Detective Buchanan kneeled down.

  ‘Sarah, I want to make it very clear that you’re not in any trouble.’

  ‘I know I’m not in any trouble! So why don’t you leave us the fuck alone? Stop harassing us!’

  ‘We’re not in the business of harassment. We want to make your situation safer. I’m urging you to collect some things and come in with us and work with one of our community officers. We can get you sorted with crisis accommodation as early as tonight. How does that sound?’

  ‘Get the fuck out of my house!’

  I had never seen my mum look so furious.

  Detective Buchanan sighed. He stood up and looked at me.

  ‘How about you, Sam? Would you like to come with us?’

  ‘He’s not going anywhere!’

  I came forwards a couple of steps.

  ‘What if we leave?’ I said to her. ‘What if we go with them? They can help us find somewhere else to stay.’

  ‘We’re staying right here. Steve will make bail and he’ll be home in a few days.’

  I turned to Detective Buchanan. My hands started shaking.

  ‘Is that true?’

  ‘That will probably be for a magistrate to determine.’

  I saw that my mum was staring at me. She had gone really still.

  ‘What did you do?’ She asked it quietly, but it felt loud.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Sam? What did you do? What have you done?’

  I looked at Detective Buchanan, then back at her.

&nb
sp; ‘What? Nothing. What do you mean? I didn’t do anything.’

  She shook her head slowly but her breathing was getting faster. She was really angry.

  ‘What did you do?’

  I couldn’t speak. She stood up.

  ‘What did you do?’ she yelled.

  I took a step back. Then another. I remembered what Mark told me about what to do in a fight you could never win.

  I ran.

  Willpower

  First I went to the vacant house and got my bag. Then I jumped the back fence and went through a yard and out onto the street. I ran until my throat was sore and my lungs burned and my legs were so rubbery it was like moving through water. I got to a main road and hid behind a bus stop to catch my breath and wait for a taxi to go past. I waved at two, but neither of them stopped.

  When I saw the next taxi, I ran out onto the road in front of it. The driver braked just in time and honked the horn. I pulled the last of the money from my pocket and showed him. I said I would give him all of it if he took me to Vic’s house. He agreed.

  Vic’s front door was locked, so I went around the back. I opened the bathroom window and threw my bag inside then I squeezed in after it.

  I didn’t turn on any lights. It was quiet. I went into the spare room and laid down on Vic’s bed. It still smelled like him. I hugged my knees to my chest. I had lost everything.

  After a while, I got my phone out of my pocket. It was on silent, and I saw I had ten missed calls from my mum. She had also sent a lot of texts.

  I lay in the dark and I didn’t move. Every now and then she would call again, or send another message.

  I felt sick and my chest was aching. Each new text made it harder to breathe, but I couldn’t stop reading them. I stayed in the dark and closed my eyes, and then my phone would light up and they would all come at once.

  I knew she was drinking and she was all alone and it was my fault. I wanted to write back and tell her how sorry I was. I wanted to tell her the truth. That I had called Detective Buchanan from a payphone on Farrington Street and said my name was Ricky Wragg. I had told him about the guns in the house and the robbery at Rosso’s.

  But I couldn’t do it.

  With every new text I pinched the inside of my thigh hard and twisted it until all my pain went to that place.

  Around midnight I got a message from Peter.

  I knew he wanted to talk about how Vic died, and that I would be in trouble. I didn’t want him to find me, so I lied.

  A couple of minutes later he texted back.

  I didn’t write back.

  Everything went quiet for a couple of hours. Then I got more messages from my mum.

  I wrote out a message saying that I was sorry and I had made a mistake and I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Then I deleted it.

  I closed my eyes and tried to think about Julia Child. I was in the kitchen with her, and she was teaching me how to cook a Queen of Sheba cake for a champagne and coffee party. I had an apron on and I was melting chocolate in a bain-marie. She drank some of the rum that was meant for the cake and told me I was doing a good job.

  I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up to someone knocking on Vic’s front door. It was still dark in the room because the curtains were drawn. I looked at my phone. It was eight in the morning. I had another message. It was from a number I didn’t know.

  My hands were shaking. The knocking at the door continued. I quickly blocked the number and deleted the message. I stayed really still. The knocking stopped. I waited and listened. I thought I heard the side gate rattle. Maybe it was Dane. Or Whippy. Or Steve’s cousin Gavin. Maybe Mark had got out already and knew where I was. I imagined all of them at the back of the house, looking around, finding the open window I had crawled through. I waited for them to rush in and get me. I was too afraid to move. I couldn’t hide or run. I listened and watched the door. Every small noise from outside made me flinch.

  My phone flashed with another message. I was too afraid to read it so I stuffed the phone under the pillow.

  I waited for a long time, but no one came into the house.

  I got the phone out and checked the message. It was from Aggie.

  While I was still reading Aggie’s message I got one from my mum.

  Then Aggie sent another one.

  Then my mum sent more.

  Aggie messaged again.

  I put the phone back under the pillow. Aggie was so close, but she seemed so far away. My mum was far away, but it felt like she was right there in the room with me. The air felt really thick and it was hard to breathe. My body felt heavy. Time went slow. I was thirsty and hungry but I couldn’t move. I just lay there.

  After a couple of hours I looked at my phone again. There was nothing from my mum. Aggie had sent more messages.

  I tried to smile in the dark, but it was like I forgot how. I wrote back.

  I put the phone away again. My head was aching, but the pain felt distant. I was tired but I couldn’t sleep. I was afraid of someone coming into the house, but I also didn’t care if they did.

  I barely moved all day. I just thought about how much I hated myself and how I got everything wrong all the time. Then I noticed it was completely dark in the room.

  I looked at my phone. The brightness made me squint. It was eight in the evening. More messages had come in from my mum. I knew she would be angry at me.

  I almost stopped reading because it hurt so much. But I couldn’t avoid the next message.

  I had lost her.

  And it was my fault.

  It felt like someone was holding me down. My throat was so dry and swollen that I couldn’t swallow. I had had no food or water all day and night. I didn’t know how I was going to get out of this bed.

  The phone lit up. I picked it up quickly, thinking it was my mum, hoping she didn’t mean what she said. But it was from Aggie.

  A few minutes later she texted again.

  Half an hour later there was another message.

  I remembered watching that movie when me and my mum were living in an apartment that had a big old box television with dials and buttons that was already there when we moved in. She watched the whole thing under a blanket with me and it made us both cry. Thinking about it made me tear up.

  I wrote back to Aggie.

  Just after I pressed send, my phone ran out of battery.

  I lay in the dark for a long time worrying and regretting everything until my head started to throb and my mind went blank. My body ached. I had that feeling where I was floating outside of myself and I was looking down from the ceiling.

  Then I heard a scratching sound.

  I heard the front door open. I couldn’t move. I listened hard. I heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Then a light was switched on and I saw a strip of yellow glowing through the gap under the door.

  ‘Sam? … Sam?’

  I hugged my knees tight against my chest.

  The door opened.

  ‘Oh, sweetheart.’

  It was Peter, in his teal nurse’s uniform. He kneeled down and put his hand on my forehead.

  ‘I’m thirsty,’ I whispered.

  ‘Okay, let’s get you up.’

  He slipped his arms underneath me and lifted my body and I was so tired that I gave in. My shorts were soaked. I must have wet the bed during the night and hadn’t even noticed.

  Peter carried me to the bathroom and ran the shower. He helped me out of my clothes. I wasn’t embarrassed about wetting myself, and I didn’t even care that he could see all my scars or my naked body. I felt weak and dizzy, like I had a bad fever.

  ‘I’ve got you. Don’t worry, Honeybee. I’ve got you,’ Peter said.

  He helped me step into the shower and only let me go when he was sure I could stand on my own. The water was warm. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth and drank until it hurt my stomach. Then I lowered my head and felt the water wash over me and then I started to sob. I couldn’t help it. I cried so much that I
bent right over and collapsed onto my knees, like I was praying.

  Peter didn’t speak or comfort me, he just waited patiently. After a while he turned the water off and helped me up and wrapped me in a towel. When I was dry, he handed me some fresh clothes from the bag I had brought. I put them on and then he held me, and he was gentle. I could feel his big slow breaths in his chest and it calmed me down.

  ‘Let’s have a cup of tea,’ he said.

  I sat at the table while Peter filled the kettle.

  There was blue morning light coming through the kitchen window. Peter seemed to know where everything was. He put a mug in front of me and sat down.

  ‘So it turns out I’m a pretty good stalker,’ he said.

  I kept my head down and looked at the table.

  ‘I even hired a private eye. Well, not really. You know that lady a couple of houses down? Beverley? I was here a few days ago looking for you, and she appeared out of nowhere because she’s a hopeless busybody. I explained who I was and everything that happened. She’s a gossipy old queen, so we got on just fine. She’s hilarious actually. By the way, you would not believe what happened to her ex-husband, totally scandalous, but I’ll tell you another time. I asked her to keep an eye out and call me if anyone came to the house, which she did night before last.

  That’s why I asked if you were here. She knocked on the door, but I have a feeling you were hiding. Anyway, I’m here now.’

  We were silent for a while. I could hear magpies outside. Peter shifted in his seat and rubbed his face.

  ‘I got to know Vic a little bit. The night we met, after I stitched you up, we sat right here and talked for a while, mostly about you. I came back a few weeks later to check on you, but Vic explained that you had gone home. I urged him to see a GP. He knew he was very sick, but he didn’t want to see a doctor. Nothing I said could convince him. I’ve dealt with enough stubborn buggers, so I arranged an outcall physician to come by, but Vic wouldn’t let them in.’