Angel Creek

by Sally Rippin

  ‘Finders keepers. Remember?’

  ‘That’s stupid. I don’t mean that. It doesn’t belong to me either. What if it has a mother or something that’s looking for it?’

  ‘Angels don’t have mothers.’

  ‘How do you know? It’s only a baby, Gino.’

  ‘I can look after it.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Same as you. I can look after it as good as you.’

  ‘Look after it then!’ Jelly thrust the plastic bag into Gino’s hands. ‘And if it dies it’s your fault.’

  She marched across the playground. At the fence, she turned to see Gino open the shed door and slide in. There was a wild flapping. She heard Gino shouting, then a crash. Jelly darted over. She opened the door just a crack, but the angel spotted her. It swept over and caught her hair in its hands, dragging her into the shed.

  ‘Don’t let it out!’ Gino leapt up from where he was cowering on the floor and pulled the shed door behind her. The angel squatted on Jelly’s shoulders, its mouth and fingers in her hair, toes digging into her shoulders. Jelly tried to shake it off, but the angel’s wings rose and flapped wildly each time she moved. With every powerful swoop Jelly was nearly lifted off the ground. Then the angel squealed.

  Jelly covered her ears and stumbled around the room. ‘Let me go,’ she begged the angel. ‘Please let me go.’ She tried to bat it from her head but it held on tightly.

  Eventually the angel stopped its infernal shrieking. It clambered down her back and crawled in between her legs, wrapping its fingers around her ankles and glowering at Gino. Jelly lifted it to her chest. Both their hearts were pounding.

  ‘What did you do to it?’

  ‘I didn’t do anything,’ said Gino, still flattened against the door. There was a long pink scratch down his cheek and he was breathing fast.

  Jelly carried the angel to the blanket and sat down. In the corner of the shed she noticed a small pile of shredded bandages. ‘Well, at least its wing seems better.’

  She couldn’t help smiling as she handed a bunch of grapes to the angel. She had no idea why it had become so attached to her and not Gino. Right from when they had found it in the tunnel it had never let Gino or Pik get close. Perhaps it saw her as a mother figure? But that wouldn’t explain why it shied away from the boys.

  ‘We’ve got to be careful it doesn’t get away,’ Gino said, his eyes fixed on the angel fossicking around in the fruit bag. ‘Now that it can fly again.’

  ‘It’s better, Gino. We should let it go. That’s what we said.’

  The angel spat grape skins and stalks into Jelly’s lap and shoved a ripe apricot into its wet mouth. Jelly brushed the rubbish off her shorts.

  ‘I told you, I’m keeping it. It only wants you ’cause it sees you. Yesterday it was fine with me after you left.’

  ‘Even if that was true, what are you going to do with it? You can’t keep it forever, Gino.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s…it’s…it’s not a pet.’

  Gino flared up. ‘Stop telling me what to do all the time. I’m sick of it. You’re always bossing me around. It’s not like you’re even my friend—you’re just my stupid cousin. You say my dad bosses me around but you’re worse.’

  Jelly stood up and shoved the angel into Gino’s arms. ‘Fine. Take it then!’

  Jelly stormed out of the shed, pulling the door firmly behind her. She could hear the angel shrieking but she ran across the courtyard without stopping. Sliding under the fence she sheared off one of the new scabs on her knee and gasped. As she ran down the street, she let herself cry, but only for her knee.

  Jelly turned away from the prying windows of an early morning tram as it clattered past. When she reached the bike path she slowed. Tears were running down her face and blood down her shin. She wiped her nose on the back of her hand. She didn’t care what Gino said. She hated him. And his stupid family. Especially Zio Mario. She wished they’d go home and let her have her house back. She wished Nonna hadn’t got sick and messed up Christmas and that they could just start all over again. She wished that Gino would let the angel go.

  13

  that boy again

  Jelly climbed the back fence, her face still wet with tears. She swung herself up into the wide branches of the apricot tree and found the little hollow that was her perfect armchair. It was the only place she could bear to be. She rubbed at the smear of dried blood down her shin, and told herself she was better off without the angel. She didn’t care what happened to it anymore. It was no longer her responsibility. If it died it would be Gino’s fault. Not hers.

  Someone at the creek caught her eye. It was that boy, walking along by the rushing water. Jelly watched him trail a long stick in the mud, swirling lines and jabbing holes. He stopped to lift up rubbish with his stick, found an old frisbee caught in the reeds, inspected it, and tucked it under his arm. Jelly liked watching him from up there. He walked slow and smooth, like someone with all the time in the world. Like someone who might have a tune in their head or a thought in their mind. Not like most people who followed the creek—joggers and cyclists and people with somewhere to go, rushing along, like the creek was only a path to follow, not a world to discover.

  The boy suddenly looked up, shading his eyes with his hand. He was staring straight at her and for a moment she panicked that he might see her watching him, but his arm fell and he kept walking. There was something about looking at that boy that turned Jelly’s stomach inside out. Where only moments before it was shrivelled like a dark black prune, it now fluttered with butterflies.

  The good feeling disappeared when she saw Maureen at the back door. What was she doing here again? Didn’t she have her own home? Little black thoughts came up easily and Jelly didn’t try to stop them. They shot out of her like bullets.

  ‘Jelly,’ Maureen called. ‘Gino, Pik.’

  Jelly swung down from the tree.

  ‘Thank goodness,’ Maureen said. ‘You gave me a fright. Your mum asked me to come over and keep an eye on you kids while she’s gone. Where are Gino and Pik?’

  ‘Gino’s, er, gone for a walk.’ Jelly limped up the back steps. ‘Gone to pick some more flowers for Nonna, I think.’

  ‘With Pik? He didn’t take Pik down to the creek, did he?’

  ‘No, Maureen,’ Jelly said rudely. ‘Pik’s still in bed.’

  Maureen put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Pik is not in bed, Jelly.’

  Jelly heard the words but it took a minute to understand what they meant. The realisation flooded through her, turning her blood cold. Jelly knew instantly what had happened.

  Pik had woken and decided to follow them.

  He knew where they were heading.

  Down to the creek.

  Jelly knew that she would be blamed. The oldest. The girl. It was always the way. So she did the only thing she could think of to save herself. She lied.

  ‘Oh, he must have gone with Gino. They left after me. We were going to the playground. But then I, um, fell over so I came back to get a bandaid.’ She pointed to her crusty knee. ‘They’re probably still waiting for me. I’ll go and get them.’

  Maureen was watching her carefully. Jelly couldn’t quite meet her eye. She stared at a mole just above her raised eyebrows.

  ‘Off you go then,’ Maureen said slowly. ‘But hurry. I don’t want you kids to still be out when your dad wakes up.’

  Instead of climbing over the back fence, Jelly went out the side gate as if she was going to the playground. She rounded the side of Maureen’s house and ran through her garden to cut through to the bike path. Her feet pounded the earth and her heart raced. She imagined Pik, swallowed up by the creek. She saw his face, deep in the cloudy water, his body tangled in the reeds, and then the face of the angel looking out at her in place of Pik’s.

  He won’t have gone near the water, she tried to convince herself. It frightens him. He can’t swim. He would’ve stuck to the path. He will be fine. He will be fine.
r />   But the banks are so slippery, came a dark voice from inside her, the creek so high.

  She skidded down the bank, clutching at bushes and reeds to slow her slide. A flock of cockatoos screeched overhead. She reached the path and began calling his name.

  An early morning jogger was heading towards her. She wanted to ask if he’d seen a little boy, but felt too ashamed. It was all her fault. She had drowned Pik. And she had no idea how she could live with herself. The jogger passed, and tears streamed down her face. ‘Pik!’ she called.

  ‘Pik, where are you?’ She ran, but her eyes were so blurred with tears she could hardly see where she was going. She stumbled on, praying, praying that the worst hadn’t happened. ‘Please, please make Pik okay. Please let me find him. I will never have another mean thought. I will take that angel back to the creek somehow, even if Gino never speaks to me again.’

  She reached the tunnel where everything had begun. There was no sign of Pik. Jelly hung her head in her hands. I can’t do this on my own. I wish, wish, wish that someone was here to help me. She had never felt so alone.

  Then she heard faraway voices echoing through the tunnel. She listened. Was that Pik? Talking to someone? She’d never loved the sound of his voice so much. Her heart leapt. His voice came again. Louder this time. ‘There she is,’ she heard him say. She looked up to see two figures coming through the tunnel, silhouetted against the slanting light.

  Pik and the boy with the black hair walked into the daylight. They were holding hands and the boy smiled at Jelly.

  ‘Pik!’ she shouted. ‘Where were you?’

  ‘He was wandering along the track,’ said the boy. ‘A little too close to the water. Said he was looking for—’

  ‘—angels,’ Pik finished, smiling at his new friend.

  ‘Yeah.’ The boy shrugged. ‘Says they’re in the creek. But I told him that even if he did see one he should never try to catch it because it’s bad luck to catch an angel, hey, Pik? You just leave them alone.’

  Pik nodded. ‘I didn’t tell him you and Gino got one.’

  ‘Nup,’ the boy said, grinning. ‘He didn’t tell me that.’

  ‘But I did tell him I couldn’t find you,’ Pik said, sniffing theatrically. ‘I told him that you and Gino went off without me. Again!’

  Jelly dried her eyes on the back of her hand and even though the boy was there she pulled Pik into her arms so tight he gasped. ‘You’re naughty,’ she said, laughing. ‘You are so naughty, Pikky, I should smack you.’ And then she tickled him so hard he squealed. She looked up at the boy. ‘Thank you so much. I owe you one. You have no idea how much trouble I was going to be in.’

  ‘Two,’ the boy said, his smile bright. He flicked his fringe out of his eyes. ‘Actually, that’s two you owe me now, I believe.’

  Jelly felt her cheeks heat up and she looked down at the ground. Her feet were spattered with mud.

  ‘Tell her that other stuff about the angels.’ Pik pulled away from her clasp and took the boy’s hand.

  The boy smiled and poked Pik. ‘Nah, they’re just made-up stories. No such thing as angels, remember?’

  ‘But you said—’ Pik frowned.

  The boy handed Pik his stick. ‘Here, I said you could have this when I was finished with it. You’d better go now. It’s dangerous to play near the creek. A kid drowned here a couple of years ago.’ He ran his hand through his hair then turned back the way he came.

  Jelly watched him walk away then grabbed Pik’s hand. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Now we have to find Gino.’

  Gino was walking down St Peter’s Road when Pik and Jelly got to the bridge. She waved for him to hurry and he ran to catch up with them.

  ‘We were in the park, okay?’ She pulled Pik into a run alongside her. ‘And, Pik, no more stuff about angels.’

  Gino didn’t say anything. Jelly glanced at him as they ran along the track to the playground. There were long scratches on his arm. He turned and caught her staring at him and she offered him a smile. But he only glowered at her, then looked straight ahead.

  Jelly couldn’t understand what had got into him. They’d fought in the past but it had never been like this before. It was like the Gino she knew was no longer there.

  14

  small comforts

  They got back just in time for Maureen to serve up a batch of pancakes. She was humming along to some old song and skipping around in Nonna’s apron again. Jelly wished she’d take it off; she was getting pancake mix all over it. But then Jelly remembered her promise by the creek to think nice thoughts.

  ‘Thanks for making us pancakes, Maureen.’

  Maureen looked taken aback. ‘Well, that’s all right, honey. I hope you like them.’ She handed Jelly two plates. ‘Take one of these up to your dad.’

  ‘I’ll eat mine with him.’ Jelly flooded the pancakes with maple syrup, happy to have an excuse to leave. She wasn’t quite ready to test out her good-thought resolution on Gino.

  Jelly’s dad was awake when she got to his room. ‘Hey, beautiful. Hop up here with me.’ He patted the space beside him.

  Jelly climbed onto the bed and snuggled in next to him. She could smell her mum on the pillow. Jelly’s dad put his arm around her. ‘Mum just called. Sophia has measles, that’s all. They’re bringing her home. Just as well. I don’t think we could handle any more bad luck in this family right now.’

  Jelly shoved a forkful of pancake into her mouth. ‘What about Nonna?’ she said, her mouth full.

  Her dad sighed. ‘We don’t know yet.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Nonna’s getting old, love.’

  A lump of pancake stuck in Jelly’s throat. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  Her dad ran his big hand over her head. ‘Well, her body’s getting tired.’

  ‘She’s coming home, though? Right?’

  ‘I hope so, honey. I hope so.’

  Jelly forced the pancake down.

  ‘Mum also wanted to know if you’d still like to visit Nonna. She’ll pick you up after she’s taken Sophia and Zia back to their place to rest.’

  Jelly nodded and leaned over to hug him. They stayed like that for what felt like ages. Finally, her dad pulled away. His eyes were wet. He gave Jelly a crumpled smile. ‘She’ll be happy to see you, love,’ he said. ‘Who knows? It might just be what she needs.’

  This turned Jelly’s mind to her other worry. ‘Dad?’ she said. ‘If someone you knew—your friend—was doing something you didn’t think was right, what would you do?’

  ‘Why, honey?’

  ‘No reason. Just asking.’

  ‘Is someone you know in trouble?’

  ‘No, Dad.’

  ‘Well, what do you mean by “not right”?’

  ‘Say this friend caught a wild bird, a big one, like a pelican, and wanted to keep it as a pet. But you knew that bird—the pelican, or another kind of big bird like a pelican—wasn’t happy being kept as a pet, but your friend wanted to keep it, what would you do?’

  ‘You remember what happened to that sulphur-crested cockatoo, love, even after we’d fixed its wing and you’d dug up grubs for it and looked after it? And you remember how upset you were, even though it wasn’t your fault?’

  Jelly nodded, remembering the cold stiff body at the bottom of the shoebox, the matted white feathers— nothing like the bird that had once squawked and chattered and flown.

  ‘You know how I feel about wild birds, love.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Jelly said, and she did. And knowing that she and her dad felt the same way was some comfort.

  15

  the hospital

  ‘Don’t be frightened by how Nonna looks, darling,’ Jelly’s mum said quietly. ‘The painkillers make her a little drowsy, so she might not seem herself.’

  Jelly’s stomach flipped around as a nurse ushered them along a squeaky linoleum corridor. She peered into some of the open rooms and saw old people sleeping or gazin
g up at television screens that hung from the ceilings. Their skinny bodies made hills and valleys in a landscape of pale blue cotton blankets. Surely her nonna couldn’t look like that? Her mum’s grip tightened around her hand.

  ‘Mrs Mancini?’ said the nurse as she entered a dark, quiet room. The curtain was drawn around the bed. ‘Your family is here to see you.’

  Jelly took a deep breath and peered around the curtain.

  Nonna was sitting up in bed, watching TV with the sound down. When she saw them she snorted. ‘Finalmente! At last, some good visitors.’

  ‘You’re looking a little better today!’ Jelly’s mum said.

  ‘Shall I pull back the curtain for you, Mrs Mancini?’ the nurse asked.

  Nonna shrugged. ‘Open, close. I no care. It no matter to me. My eyes so bad it all the same.’

  Jelly’s mum rolled her eyes at the nurse. The nurse smiled and left the room.

  ‘Hi, Nonna,’ Jelly said, holding out the pink carnations they had bought at the florist downstairs.

  ‘Come here, bella. Kiss you nonna.’ She frowned. ‘I no need flowers to get better. I just need my beautiful grandchildren.’ Jelly kissed her grandmother dutifully on both velvety cheeks but Nonna pulled her into a fierce hug.

  ‘Jelly, I’m going to talk to the doctors. I’ll be back soon,’ said her mum.

  ‘Why you call her Jelly?’ Nonna grumbled. ‘She already have good name.’

  Jelly’s mum raised an eyebrow at her.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ Jelly said and hopped up onto Nonna’s bed.

  Nonna frowned. ‘Course she be fine. What you think? Here, bella. Look in Nonna’s bag. I have chocolates.’

  Jelly’s mum left the room and Nonna shuffled over to make room for Jelly against the mountain of crisp white pillows.

  ‘I have TV in bed. Good, eh?’ Then she leaned in and frowned. ‘But food! Food is disgustoso! You nonna no can eat this food. Look how skinny you nonna get.’ She pinched a roll of fat from her wide, wide stomach, and laughed. Jelly smiled to hear her nonna back in full form.