Mr Romanov's Garden in the Sky

by Robert Newton

  ‘Dad was on the run, you know.’

  The sound of Davey’s voice brought me back.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, after the robbery, him and this other guy took off in a car just like us. They got an extra two years for that. Maybe we should give ourselves up?’

  ‘Give ourselves up? We haven’t done anything wrong, Davey. Nothing illegal, anyway.’

  ‘Maybe, but they’re going to catch us for sure.’

  ‘Not if we play it smart, they won’t.’

  ‘But what if they send me to juvenile? I won’t last two seconds in there.’

  ‘They won’t send you to juvenile.’

  ‘They might. God, what if I get put in a cell with a tough kid who does push-ups all day. I’ve heard about juvie, there are kids in there who shave.’

  ‘What’s got into you, Davey?’

  ‘You saw the news last night.’

  ‘Yeah, I did. And that’s why you’re going to make the call.’

  ‘Me? Why can’t you make the call?’

  ‘Because my mum couldn’t care less, that’s why, and I don’t even know if she’ll be in a state to answer. As soon as we get to Goulburn, you’re going to call your mum on a public phone and put things straight. And I’m going shopping.’

  ‘Shopping?’

  ‘Yeah. Shopping.’

  We struck gold in Goulburn.

  As we drove slowly down the main street I spotted a supermarket and a second-hand store and began to write a list of the things we’d need. To avoid unwanted attention, we decided it was best not to be seen together so Mr Romanov steered the Merc into a quiet street and parked beside the kerb. I dipped into Gordo’s bumbag and peeled off some notes then joined the others on the footpath.

  ‘Remember, Davey, it’s a quick call,’ I said. ‘Don’t bang on about things or let on where we are. Just tell your mum that it was our idea and tell her there is no gun. Maybe get some breakfast too.’

  I turned to Mr Romanov and walked over. Despite the overnighter in the Golden Palms, he seemed to be struggling.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, cowgirl. I am okay.’

  ‘Davey and I are heading off for a bit but I need you to stay here with the car. Can you do that?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Good. We won’t be long.’

  I wasn’t happy leaving Mr Romanov by himself. I would have taken him with me but pairing up seemed dangerous now. We didn’t belong in Goulburn and all it took was one person, just one person who’d seen the news last night and everything would be over.

  I went to the supermarket first and headed straight for the haircare products and accessories. I scanned the shelves, plucked things I needed and tossed them into the basket I was carrying – hair dye, scissors, razors, shaving foam, eyeliner and lipstick. But the best buy of all was a cheap set of battery-operated shears on special at twenty-nine dollars. When I was done, I grabbed some batteries, a few packets of biscuits and lollies, and made my way to the line of people waiting with their baskets at the express check-out. The lady in front of me was standing side-on in the queue. She glanced down at the odd collection of things in my basket then looked back up and smiled.

  ‘I went blonde once,’ she said. ‘God, made an absolute mess of it, I did.’

  She rolled her eyes then looked into space as if she was remembering something from long ago.

  ‘Danny Fitzpatrick, his name was. I thought he’d notice me if I was blonde. I thought everything would change.’

  ‘And did it?’ I asked.

  ‘No. My dad did, though. He went nuts.’

  The express aisle didn’t seem to be moving. I felt the lady’s eyes on my face and wondered if she’d seen the news.

  ‘You’re a pretty girl,’ she said.

  I never talked to strangers in the commission so a compliment was the last thing I was expecting. I looked at the floor and felt my cheeks burn.

  ‘Hardly,’ I said.

  ‘No really. But who am I to say? You should go for it if you want, dye your hair, it’s your call but I can guarantee you’ll be disappointed with the result.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because it doesn’t change anything. All it changes is the colour of your hair.’

  I tried to blend in as I walked towards the second-hand store. I slowed myself down and tried to settle into sync with the foot traffic along the way. I dipped my head whenever someone approached or got too close and after a few minutes, I was there. I pushed through the front door, nodded to the two old ladies behind the counter and headed for the clothes racks at the back of the shop. I loved the smell of second-hand stores. The varnish and mothballs, the musty, preloved seconds reminded me of my father. Every now and then, when a bit of money had landed our way, we’d do a run of stores. We’d spend hours sifting through the displays, sorting through the rubbish to find the unwanted gems. There was something about that, something about the looking that made the purchase special.

  And it was no different in Goulburn. Among the bargains on offer, there were two items that grabbed my attention. I plucked them from the rack, did a quick try on and made my way back to the front of the shop.

  The two ladies were classic grandma types, decked out in pastel twin-sets, green and mauve. They smiled when I put the things onto the counter.

  ‘Gorgeous. Isn’t it gorgeous, Mavis?’

  ‘It is, Vera. There’s not enough floral these days. And the boots. Red leather, if you don’t mind.’

  I’d been around enough second-hand stores to know that thirty-five dollars was a bargain. The boots themselves would have cost a couple of hundred new.

  Unfortunately, Mavis and Vera weren’t in the business of setting any records. Slow and steady they went, with attention to detail. I didn’t dare interrupt their train of thought and soon they had my things bagged and ready to go. After handing over the money, I said goodbye and darted quickly out the door.

  The others were waiting where I’d left them. Something in Davey’s face spelled a warning.

  ‘How did it go?’ I asked.

  ‘Lexie . . .’

  ‘Did you clear everything up? I hope you didn’t tell her too much.’

  ‘Lexie . . .’

  ‘God, you did, didn’t you? Jesus, Davey, I gave you one job. What did you say?’

  ‘Lexie, stop.’

  Something had happened. When I glanced at Mr Romanov, he turned his head and looked away.

  ‘What did you do, Davey?’ I said.

  ‘I didn’t do anything.’

  ‘Well, what’s wrong, then?’

  ‘It’s your mum, Lexie.’

  I stiffened when I heard her name. I felt my skin crawl, the way it did when she stumbled home, when she brought the night-time into my room and lay down beside me in my bed.

  ‘This’ll be good,’ I said. ‘What’s she done now?’

  Davey dropped his eyes for a moment, then looked back up.

  ‘She’s had an overdose,’ he said. ‘She’s been taken to hospital.’

  Overdose. Strangely enough, the word I’d dreaded all these years didn’t hit me like I thought it would. Maybe it was because I’d lived with it for so long, prepared myself for a moment just like this.

  ‘Is she okay?’ I asked.

  ‘Okay?’

  ‘Yes, Davey, is she okay?’

  ‘Well, she’s still alive, yeah.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Good . . .? What, that’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?’

  I didn’t answer Davey, I didn’t know how, so I turned around and walked a few steps along the footpath. As I stood there with my back to them, I looked to the south and dug at the emptiness inside me, clawed at the numbness and tried to find something to feel. I imagined my mother in the hospital bed, the white sheets, the tubes and the blinking machines but everything else came rushing back – all the nights alone, all the times when she should have been there and wasn�
��t. I became aware of the bags in my hand and the Merc parked on the road beside me. I walked over, opened the car door and dumped them into the front seat.

  ‘Let’s go,’ I said.

  Davey came over and grabbed hold of my arm.

  ‘Lexie, did you hear what I said?’

  ‘I heard.’

  ‘Lexie . . .’

  ‘I said I heard.’

  ‘It’s over, Lexie. We have to go back.’

  ‘We’re not going back.’

  ‘But it’s your mum, Lexie. She’s in the hospital.’

  ‘We’ve come too far.’

  ‘Are you out of your mind?’

  ‘She’ll be all right.’

  ‘All right? Are you hearing yourself? It’s . . . your . . . mum . . . ’

  ‘So, I’m supposed to just forget everything, am I? I’m supposed to do what I’ve always done and forget about what I want. I won’t do it. Not this time.’

  ‘Jesus, Lexie.’

  ‘No, Davey. You came on this trip because you wanted to see your dad and I’m really sorry it didn’t work out, but this last bit I need for me. And who knows, maybe I’ll be disappointed. Maybe Surfers Paradise won’t be anything like I thought it would but I can’t go back, not now. And I know you think I’m heartless, I can see it in your eyes, but this is my wish, Davey. I’ve dreamed about it for as long as I can remember, so I need you to stop poo-pooing it all the time and get onboard.’

  I was close to tears now. I looked at Davey and saw the corners of his mouth turn upwards and make a smile.

  ‘What’s so bloody funny?’ I asked.

  ‘Did you just say poo-pooing?’

  ‘Yeah, I think I did.’

  ‘Poo-pooing?’

  ‘Yes, Davey, poo-pooing. It’s not fair. It’s like now you’ve done your thing you don’t care about mine. What if Surfers Paradise was your place?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Well, what if it was? Just say I had a map and you got to choose a place, anywhere in the world you could go. Where would it be?’

  ‘Anywhere?’

  ‘Anywhere.’

  Davey turned his head and looked at the rolling hills to his right.

  ‘Andoria,’ he said.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Andoria, home of the Andorians.’

  ‘Is this Star Trek again?’

  ‘Basically, it’s an icy moon,’ said Davey.

  ‘What the hell are you going to do on an icy moon?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Okay, Andoria, it is. Pretend we’re going to Andoria. Can you do that?’

  Davey seemed a little unsure. He craned his head to the north and as I followed his eyes I spotted Mr Romanov standing beside the Merc. I walked over and stood next to him.

  ‘Your mother,’ he said. ‘You have only one, cowgirl.’

  ‘I know, but I can’t go back. Not yet.’

  ‘This is important, yes?’

  ‘Yes, it is. But I totally understand if you want to pull out. You’re going to be in all sorts of trouble, you do know that?’

  Mr Romanov rolled his eyes and pushed some air through his lips.

  ‘What can they do, cowgirl? I am an old man.’

  Something moved on my right and cast a shadow across my face. It was Davey and his dopey grin.

  ‘And what about you, Mr Romanov?’ he asked. ‘Where would you like to go?’

  ‘I would like to go to the toilet,’ he said.

  ‘I mean, if you could go anywhere, anywhere in the world. I’ve got Andoria and Lexie’s got Surfers Paradise. Where would you go?’

  ‘Still toilet. I need to piss.’

  ‘Okay, I’ve got that but a toilet where? If you could go to a toilet anywhere in the world, where would it be?’

  ‘Close.’

  When Davey had called his mum, he hadn’t taken enough coins. The public telephone had eaten them up a lot quicker than he’d anticipated and for the most part his mother had done the bulk of the talking. Although he hadn’t been able to tell her everything he wanted to say, he’d learnt a few things before the last coin dropped and the phone went dead.

  They knew we’d stopped at Beechworth. Although the stop had only been short, there would have been a record at the prison, paperwork and written proof of Davey’s visit.

  They’d be able to track us now and, if the police were doing their job, they’d know for sure about my obsession with Surfers Paradise. Even now with Davey onboard, I felt a new kind of urgency, a sense of danger that hadn’t been there before. But luckily, there were a couple of things we had in our favour.

  The Merc wasn’t registered, so technically no one knew about it. More than likely, the police were looking for us on a bus or a train and while it gave us some valuable breathing space, it wouldn’t be long before someone recognised us. What’s more, there were two routes to Surfers Paradise, the coast road and the inland road. Even if they became aware of the Merc, that meant deploying police along the two roads and if there was one thing I’d learnt about living in the commission, it was that police were a little light on for resources. Even still, we had to think smart.

  It made sense to keep driving. Every kilometre seemed important now, every road sign we passed brought us closer to the end. But all it took was one person and it would all be over. After fifity minutes of driving, a blue sign on our left told us that a rest stop was coming up. I pointed it out to Mr Romanov and he steered the Merc left into an empty gravel clearing then pulled up behind a cluster of trees. I grabbed the bags on the seat beside me and turned a little in my seat.

  ‘Take a last look at us, fellas,’ I said. ‘You’re about to be made over. Davey, you’re first.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes, Davey, you.’

  ‘Why me?’

  ‘Because you’re easy.’

  ‘What do you mean, I’m easy?’

  ‘I mean, easy as in there’s nothing to mess up with you.’

  ‘Oh, thanks, Lexie. You really know how to make a bloke feel special.’

  Davey’s eyes shifted to Mr Romanov in the front.

  ‘And what about him?’ he said. ‘No offence, Mr Romanov, but you look pretty easy to me.’

  Mr Romanov didn’t seem to be following. I looked his way and threw him an encouraging smile.

  ‘I’ve got something special in mind for Mr Romanov,’ I said.

  ‘Why can’t I have special?’ asked Davey.

  ‘Because you’re thirteen, Davey, and Mr Romanov has earned it. He needs . . . distinguished.’

  ‘Distinguished? I think you’re forgetting which one of us is about to appear on national television, Lexie. Seriously, it took me ages to get my hair like this.’

  I turned around and looked at Davey in the back.

  ‘Did you, or did you not promise to get onboard, Davey?’

  ‘Of course, I did. And I am, one hundred percent. It’s just . . .’

  Davey had nowhere to go. His voice trailed off, he tried to look away but I held his eyes and threw him a death stare.

  ‘Just what?’ I asked.

  ‘Nothing.’

  We found a secluded spot behind the toilet block and after dumping the bags beside my feet, Davey brushed a hand over one of the tree-trunk seats. After stretching his legs for a bit, Mr Romanov joined us and the two of them sat themselves down a metre apart. I was itching to get back onto the road. After our brilliant start, our progress seemed to have slowed, so I wasted no time and got to work. I tore at the plastic packaging around the shears, shoved in some batteries and clicked a number-one comb over its metal teeth. I flicked a switch on its handle and the shears began to buzz. After shifting into position behind Davey, I reached forward and drove the shears from front to back through the thick mop of brown along the top of his head. Davey gasped in horror.

  ‘What the hell?’

  ‘Relax, Davey.’

  ‘Relax? How much are you taking off, exactly?’

  ‘
All of it.’

  ‘All of it?’

  ‘All of it, Davey. It’s what they call an extreme makeover. How else do you think all those people stay missing? Have you got scalp issues?’

  ‘Huh?’

  I leaned in closer and saw patches of flaky skin along the line of newly exposed scalp.

  ‘It’s psoriasis,’ said Davey. ‘It’s when the skin cells multiply too quickly. It’s triggered by stress.’

  ‘Stress?’

  ‘Yeah. Go figure.’

  Davey’s mop of tangled hair was like a wild garden that had been left to grow for too long. The cut-price shears began to struggle as I buzzed through it, but I continued on, front to back and then up the sides. After a bit of tidying up around the ears, Davey was done. He got to his feet when I was finished, then ran a hand over his blinding white scalp.

  ‘I feel naked,’ he said, turning to face us. ‘How do I look?’

  I tried my best to hold it in. I pursed my lips to stop it coming, but when I looked at Mr Romanov our eyes met and a high-pitched squeal forced itself out.

  Davey’s shoulders slumped.

  ‘Oh, thanks, guys. No, really, you’re too kind.’

  I couldn’t look at Davey. Every time I did, he set me off. Somehow, between fits of laughter, I managed to find some words.

  ‘You look fine,’ I blurted.

  ‘Well, stop laughing then. I did this for you, you know?’

  ‘And I appreciate it, Davey, I really do. It’s just . . .’