by Bill Condon
BILL CONDON’s young adult novels, Dogs (2001) and No Worries (2005), were Honour Books in the Children’s Book Council Book of the Year Awards. No Worries was also short-listed for the Ethel Turner Prize in the 2005 NSW Premier’s Literary Awards. His most recent young adult novel, Daredevils, was published in 2007 and made the longlist in the inaugural Inky Awards – Australia’s first teenage choice awards. Before devoting himself to novels, Bill had a long and successful career as a writer of short stories, plays and poetry for young people. His work encompasses many genres and he has close to one hundred titles to his credit. He lives on the south coast of New South Wales with his wife, the well known children’s author Di (Dianne) Bates.
ALSO BY BILL CONDON
Daredevils
No Worries
Dogs
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Give Me Truth
9781742754086
A Woolshed Press book
Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd
Level 3, 100 Pacific Highway, North Sydney, NSW 2060
www.randomhouse.com.au
First published by Woolshed Press in 2008
Copyright © Bill Condon 2008
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia.
Woolshed Press is a registered trademark of Random House Australia Pty Ltd.
Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at www.randomhouse.com.au/offices.
National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication Entry
Condon, Bill, 1949–.
Give me truth.
ISBN 978 1 74166 331 0 (pbk.).
For secondary school age.
A823.3
Cover illustration, cover and internal design by Stella Danalis
TO DI. MY BEST FRIEND AND GUIDING LIGHT.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The writing of Give Me Truth was greatly aided through workshops and discussions with the following colleagues and friends: Sandy Fussell, Vicki Stanton, Maureen Johnson, Chris McTrustry, Marion Smith, Cassandra Sheppard and most notably my wife, Di Bates, who not only helped me find the right words, but gave me the strength to keep going when the words had dried up. I am also indebted to my publisher, Leonie Tyle, for her unfailing enthusiasm and faith.
CONTENTS
COVER
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALSO BY BILL CONDON
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT PAGE
IMPRINT PAGE
DEDICATION
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
1 DAVID
2 CAITLIN
3 DAVID
4 CAITLIN
5 DAVID
6 CAITLIN
7 DAVID
8 CAITLIN
9 DAVID
10 CAITLIN
11 DAVID
12 CAITLIN
13 DAVID
14 CAITLIN
15 DAVID
16 CAITLIN
17 DAVID
18 CAITLIN
19 DAVID
20 CAITLIN
‘I want to go back home,’ Allie whimpers. ‘Please can we?’
‘No one hits my kids. No one.’ Mum spits the words out of her like they’re made of acid.
I’m jammed in the backseat of the car beside plastic bags full of clothes and boxes packed in a hurry. It’s as if we’ve escaped from a fire and the jumble of things we’ve saved is all we have left of our lives.
It happened so quickly. They were in the kitchen. We heard Mum’s voice first.
‘I’ve had enough! That’s it! I want you out of my life!’
‘No! It’s not that easy! You are still my wife! We exchanged vows! Do you remember that, Lorraine? Do you?’
Allie and I were in the lounge room. I cranked the sound up high on the TV. Cindy laid her head between her paws and puffed and panted. Spit dropped from her mouth and spotted the floor.
‘Aw, look at her, David. She’s scared.’
‘She’s a wimp,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing to be scared of.’
Allie got down on the floor and stroked Cindy’s head.
‘It’s okay. It’s okay.’
I stepped around them and shut the door but the fight still broke through.
‘It’s really bad tonight, David.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ I shrugged. ‘Pass me the remote.’
A dish smashed. Cindy jumped up. Allie held on to her. ‘No one’s going to hurt you, girl.’
I bit my lip and waited. A glass splintered across the floor. In my head, I could see it happening: Mum’s face red and twisted, Dad roaring even louder.
‘We should do something.’
‘Like what, Allie?’
‘I don’t know. Anything.’
‘Just watch the TV. They’ll stop soon.’
They didn’t stop. Tonight was a fight different to any other. The noises kept on and on. The house shuddered.
Allie looked to me for reassurance. I didn’t have any, but when she gave me that look – as if I was the only one in the world who could help her – I couldn’t let her down.
‘I’ll go and see if everything’s okay,’ I said.
We both stood at the same time.
‘I’ll go with you.’
We argued a lot, me and Allie. She could be a pain and I guess she felt the same about me. But now, instinctively, I took her hand and squeezed it. It was only for a moment but it was important.
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘They’ll stop if we’re there.’
We stepped into the hallway. Mum was up ahead. Dad behind her. Moving fast. Both of them. Yelling.
‘Leave me alone! I don’t want to see you again! Ever!’
Crash went the office door as she slammed it behind her.
‘You don’t walk away from me, Lorraine! You don’t!’
Dad hammered on the door with his fist.
‘I want you out here! Right now! Open this door!’
‘You stay here, Allie.’
‘I’m going with you.’
There were maybe ten steps between us and Dad. I walked just in front of Allie, pretending to be brave. When we got there she stood closest to him.
Allie said, ‘Stop, Daddy. Please stop.’
I said, ‘Come outside for a while, Dad.’
But he was in another place to us, much too far away to hear. He kicked at the door and broke through the outer layer, leaving splinters and the imprint of his shoe.
‘I’ll smash it down, Lorraine! You know I will! Come out!’
The door flew open.
Mum: Red eyes and streaks of black down her face.
Screeching.
‘I’m sick of it, Mike! Sick of you! Sick of this incessant fighting!’ She covered her eyes with her hands. ‘Please, please – leave me alone!
’
Allie ran to Mum and hugged her. Both of them were crying.
‘Lorraine, for God’s sakes.’ Sighing, Dad slumped against the wall. ‘I don’t want to fight with you – I love you. Can’t you see that? I love you.’
‘Then don’t! Just don’t, Mike! Because I don’t love you!’
Mum shoved Allie ahead of her, into the office. She dived in after her but before she could close the door Dad pushed it open.
‘Lorraine!’
He was rushing at her.
I reached out to him and caught his sleeve.
‘Dad.’
‘Go – away!’
He spun around and I saw a face I’d never seen before. My head sprang back and there was sudden pain and the room rushed past me and then I was down on the floor. My lip throbbed. I tasted blood.
Mum and Allie leaned over me. Behind them I saw Dad. His eyes were shut and his mouth was open. He was crying. He was screaming. And he wasn’t making a sound.
‘It’s not fair, Mum.’ Allie pushes herself back in the seat as far as she can go. ‘I didn’t even get to say goodbye to Cindy.’
‘Not now, Allie. Not now.’ Mum stares grimly at the road. ‘I have more important things on my mind right now than your bloody dog.’
Allie swivels around to face me. ‘He didn’t hurt you, did he, David? I mean, not bad – there’s nothing broken, right?’
‘Nah – I’m good. Fine. And he didn’t even mean it, you know? I just got in the way. It was no big deal or anything.’
‘See, Mum? David doesn’t care. Dad got angry, that’s all. He made a mistake. Mum …’
Allie waits for an answer. It doesn’t come.
‘This is a dumb fight,’ she says. ‘Why can’t we just go home and fix it up with Dad?’
Ignored again, Allie glances back at me for support. I don’t hesitate.
‘I was the one who got hit,’ I say. ‘And I’m over it. Completely. It was an accident. You don’t just leave someone because of one thing. You know Dad, he’s not like that. It was just – ’
Mum leans on the horn and the blast kills our arguments stone dead.
‘Muum! Kadey’s making fun!’
We’re in the kitchen, me in my PJs, Rory in his basketball uniform. Shorts and shiny blue singlet. All stick-legs and pretzel arms – still thinks he’s Superman. He’s been dressed and ready to go for an hour. It’s 8.30 now. Dad hasn’t left his bedroom yet. Very odd.
‘That’s not true, Mum,’ I say. ‘He’s making it up.’
‘Am not! She poked her tongue out!’
‘No, no. I was showing you my tongue – here, have another look.’
‘Muuum, Muuum! Kadey did it again!’
‘You’re such a dobber, Rory.’
‘Am not!’
I silently mouth the words back at him.
Am not. Am not.
‘Mum. Tell her to stop. She’s mean.’
‘Don’t tease him, Caitlin.’
‘You’re kidding, right? How can I have any fun if I can’t tease him? Isn’t that the whole reason why little brothers were invented?’
Mum is at the sink, staring out the window. There’s nothing out there but trees and clothes flapping on the line. I’m much more interesting; doesn’t she know that by now?
She always sits at the table with us when we have breakfast. So does Dad. Something feels strange about today.
‘Just give it a rest,’ she says. ‘Can you do that for me?’
Mum hasn’t slipped into her Saturday morning voice yet. The one I hear is Monday morning. Tired and edgy.
‘Kadey, Kadey.’
Rory sticks his fingers into the glass and flicks me with orange juice.
‘Eerrggh. That’s gross.’
‘Heeheeheee …’
‘You have to talk to him, Mum. He – ’
‘You started it!’
‘Yeah, and I’ll finish it too.’
I lunge across the table at him.
‘Muumm!’
‘Enough! Enough! I don’t want to hear another word! Shut up, will you! Both of you! Shut up!’
I freeze. Mum never yells. She must have had a hard night at the hospital. Maybe someone died. A bad road accident, something like that.
Rory sinks low in his chair, his mouth clamped shut. I think he’s holding his breath. Or maybe he’s too afraid to breathe. I feel Mum’s eyes on us, tearing us apart. Everything becomes so quiet, so quickly. When I chew my cornflakes the noise sounds big to me, like I’m stomping over crisp autumn leaves. I hear the clock ticking. Every second has its own voice.
Rory exhales. He lifts his eyes cautiously. ‘Did I do something wrong, Mum?’
‘No. No.’
I stand. ‘We were only mucking around.’
Mum bows her head. She hides her eyes with a hand. Is she crying? She couldn’t be. I start towards her but at the same moment she throws down the dishcloth and bolts from the room.
Rory sniffles. ‘I made Mum sad.’
I go to him. Rub his back. ‘It’s not your fault, Rore.’
Sniffle, Sniffle.
‘It’s my fault,’ I tell him.
He brightens up immediately.
‘All right, then.’
‘Finish your breakfast,’ I say. ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes.’
‘Where are you goin’, Kadey?’
‘To see Mum. Stay here. Eat.’
My parents’ bedroom door is shut.
‘Mum.’ I tap lightly. ‘Can I come in?’
I hear raised voices. She’s with Dad.
Seconds later the door bursts open and he stalks out. As he does, words are hurled at him from inside the room.
‘You’re a shit, Alan.’
It’s not just what she says that startles me – Mum doesn’t talk like that – it’s where the words come from. They’re barbed and ugly, full of hate. That’s not Mum.
Dad pushes the door closed. His face is pale. He sees me. In his eyes I catch a glimpse of a frightened bird. He looks away. Keeps going.
I call after him. ‘Dad. Dad. Wait. What’s the matter with Mum?’
He stops. For a moment he doesn’t turn around. I get his back, nothing more. It’s like he’s deciding whether to stay or run.
‘What’s going on?’
Now he faces me. ‘It’s okay, Caitlin. Your mum’s a bit upset, that’s all.’
‘Why did she go off at you like that?’
‘Aw, you know. It’s one of those things. We had an argument. Happens in the best of families. It’ll blow over. I’d rather you just forget about it. Okay?’
‘Sure … but I think she was crying before, Dad.’
‘Was she? Right … well, it’s nothing for you to be concerned about.’ He tries to smile it all away but stops. It isn’t working. ‘Well. I’ll take Rory to basketball. Is he ready?’
‘Has been for ages … you think I should I go in and talk to Mum?’
‘Probably not a good idea. Better stay clear for a while. Give her some time to settle down.’
He starts to leave but changes his mind.
‘Caitlin.’
‘Yes, Dad?’
He stands poised on the edge of saying something. But he can’t manage it. Instead he lurches forward awkwardly. Pecks me on the cheek. The look he gives me. Lingering and deep. I feel like there’s a secret code he’s sending. I wish I knew how to read it.
‘I better go.’ He nods to himself and heads to the kitchen, his voice booming. ‘Rory, where are you? Where’s that basketball champion?’
I pause in front of the bedroom door. Any other Saturday we’d be curled up on Mum’s bed as soon as ‘the boys’ were out of the house; scoffing crumpets, drinking hot chocolate, sharing each other’s stories. It’s always been our special day. I know Dad said to leave her alone, but that doesn’t seem right. I open the door just a crack. There’s nothing but silence. Maybe she’s asleep. A floorboard creaks as I tiptoe in. Mum sits up in bed.
&n
bsp; ‘I can’t talk to you now, Caitlin.’ She doesn’t sound angry. ‘Please go.’ It’s sadness I hear.
‘Okay, Mum. But you’re all right?’
‘I’m fine. Really.’
I’m on my bed, multi-tasking: read a chapter of a book, put it down and listen to a CD track, take a whirl around the TV stations, go back to the book. Most of all, I think about Mum. She’s not the type to crumple up so easily. And what’s with her and Dad? They don’t even fight over the remote. I tell myself that it will blow over, like Dad said, and I slip back into the cycle – the book, the CD –
My mobile rings. Megan.
‘It’s me.’
‘Hi, me.’
‘You with your mum?’
‘Not today. She’s busy.’
‘What are you doing then?’
‘Plenty. Heaps. I’m flat out. You?’
‘Same. Bored out of my brain.’
It’s handy having a friend who can read your mind.
‘But never fear,’ she adds, ‘I know something we can do. You up to auditioning for a play?’
‘A play … when?’
‘Now.’
‘Thanks for the warning.’
‘Glenna’s doing it – I’ll ring her next to let her know – I’m doing it. I don’t think you’ve got a choice, Caitlin.’
‘Yes, I have.’
‘Are we the three musketeers or the two?’
‘You mean the three stooges.’
‘Old joke. You in?’
Sigh. Shrug.
‘Might as well.’
I leave a note on my bedroom door.
Hi, Mum
I’ve gone out looking for boys with Megan. (To audition for a play, really!)
Won’t be long. Hope you’re feeling better. Love from your adorable oldest child and future star, Caitlin.