Nature of Ash, The

by Hager, Mandy

  ‘No shouting?’

  ‘No, mate. I promise.’ I pat his back and watch him plod back over to the sofa. He’s looking thinner. Has big bruised bags under his eyes. ‘I’m just going to shut the door so we can’t hear the TV, okay?’

  ‘No! Not alone!’

  Bloody Mum. ‘No sweat.’ I leave it ajar. Turn back to Jeannie, who’s crumpled in her chair. Let her be the one to apologise.

  ‘I’m sorry, okay? I did it with the best of intentions.’

  ‘Oh right. You bug our house—’

  ‘Not me,’ she says. ‘The listening device has been there for years. I only found out about it when I did some digging of my own. You’d be surprised how many people in this country are under surveillance.’

  ‘Well, I hope you all had a good laugh listening to my private time with Dad.’

  ‘Ashley, it’s not like that — they have certain key words and phrases—’

  ‘You think I care how the hell they do it, Jeannie? You listened to our lives. You knew full well Dad was in trouble, and now you’ve failed him you’ve set me and Mikey up as bait. That’s really low. That’s the bloody pits.’

  ‘I know.’ Big sweat stains have bloomed under her arms. ‘That’s why I disobeyed my orders. And I would’ve got away with it if the train hadn’t been stopped. Believe me, when you all disappeared that really got me in the poo.’

  ‘They’ve discovered what you did?’ Lucinda asks.

  Jeannie laughs drily. ‘You could say that. They stood me down. It was only when word came through about Travis that they called me back. I was told I had one last chance to lure Grace out into the open — using you.’

  What freaks me out is how Ray and Mum’s paranoia about us was right on the mark. We were decoys. Quack fucking quack. Whichever version turns out to be true, we still lose.

  ‘And what about my parents?’ Jiao edges towards Jeannie until she’s standing over her, hands on hips. ‘You let people think it was the UPR, knowing full well everyone who looks like me will pay the price.’

  ‘That was not my call.’

  ‘Innocent people are being murdered.’ Lucinda’s so angry, her voice is shaking. ‘Our whole country is in mortal danger and you’re going to wash your hands of this even though you know we’ve all been used?’

  ‘Jesus Christ, I’m only one person. I had my concerns and tried to do some asking round. It’s not been easy either — they blamed me for allowing Ashley’s outburst to the media and told me I had better keep him quiet or I’d lose my job. And when those threatening notes disappeared I dug around until I was officially cautioned to butt out. I had no choice. However much Travis resents me for it, I have to work — who else will support him?’

  ‘But you’re the one who handed the threats over in the first place! You must have known no one was going to do a bloody thing — except leak them to the media as further proof to back their lies.’

  ‘Why the hell would I think that? We’re supposed to be the good guys here. We’re the law.’ She’s so red I swear if I touched her face I’d burn.

  Lucinda’s on the prowl again ‘Good guys? These kids have lost their whole bloody inheritance thanks to you.’

  ‘What?’ Jeannie looks punch drunk.

  As Lucinda explains about the insurance, I feel like someone’s pulled a plug and drained out all my blood. There’s nothing left to say. I’ve no idea if Trav’s already blabbed about where Mum and Ray are hiding. Frankly, right now I don’t care. I lay my arms across the desk and sink my head on to them, sniffing in the remnants of the beeswax Dad used to buff the wood. Note to self: only trust people who — who — oh fuck. Who cares? Trust no one — except Mikey and Jiao.

  Their voices go on and on, but I’m no longer following. Just want them all to go the hell away. I understand what Jeannie’s trying to say. I even understand she thinks she did her best. What I don’t understand is why she didn’t tell me the truth. Or why the cops would give in to the PM’s pressure and allow the lie. Dad always insisted that the cops were on the side of good. Now I’m not so sure.

  Eventually I hear the buzzing of their conversation peter out. Hear them whisper that I must be sleeping so they’ll leave me be. Thank god. I wait until they close the study door, then slowly stand up. Pick up the crushed listening device and turn it over in my hand. It’s like they’ve gone through all our dirty undies and had a damn good sniff.

  I switch on Dad’s PC and click through to his photo files. Go right back to before Mikey was born. There’s a picture of Mum pregnant with me — cupping her huge naked belly in her hands and smiling like she’s won the lottery. Another when I’m only a few minutes old: a scrunched-up bald munchkin cradled in her arms. There’s some fancy-dress party where we’re all decked out like elves, right down to pointy ears. And, yes, there she is, helping me fly the handmade dragon kite.

  When I was small I’d look through all these photos for hours, the sight of her and Dad so happy — so in love — making me feel safe and warm. The knowledge I was deeply loved was comforting when I thought about her death. At least I never had to wonder, like all my friends whose parents had split and one or other buggered off. I felt so lucky in comparison. What a fucking joke.

  Now I flick forward through time and there she is expecting Mikey. She looks tired and fed up, but nothing in the picture hints at the monster inside. Nor in this one either, when Mikey was first born. No smiles, though, as she kisses the top of his big head, and maybe there’s a shadow in her eyes. The last picture taken before she disappeared seems so obvious now: I’m holding Mikey in my lap, grinning like the Cheshire Cat while Mum glowers at the camera (and presumably Dad). Her hair is straggly. Her clothes all wrinkled and loose. Was it really Mikey’s birth that tipped the balance? Or was the killer lurking inside from the moment she was born? What if it takes some crisis to appear, like Mum having Mikey, or me losing Dad? I shudder. Turn the computer off and back away.

  My heart’s beating so fast I can’t stay still. I roam around the room, picking things up, putting them down. Wiping dust from the covers of Dad’s books. Tidying his papers into piles. How could they have listened in? This was the one place Dad and I could talk without Mikey. It was Dad’s sanctuary. His haven. And mine. I don’t know what to do. Everyone is lying. Everyone is playing games. Do I tell Jeannie where Mum is? I Don’t Know What To Do. And if I don’t tell her, will Mum come after Mikey and me? And Trav? And Jiao? Jeezus, how the hell do I help Jiao? I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO.

  I pick up a pile of bills and throw them in the bin. Then another pile of papers and another. Snatch the overflowing bin and chuck it at the wall. Then the desk lamp. Then the chair. Have to keep moving. Throwing. Swearing. Kicking. Can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t stop myself punching the walls. Can’t think. Can’t think. Can’t think. Can’t think.

  Mikey bursts into the room. Runs over to me and grips me tight to stop me hitting out. I twist and snarl. Fight with all my strength to get away, but he doesn’t let go. I kick his shin. Spit in his face. He knocks my feet out from under me and we both fall to the floor. Still he pins me down. Still I fight.

  ‘It’s okay, Ashy, it’s okay.’ His steel grip won’t let up, no matter how I struggle — and, by god, I fucking do. ‘Shhhh,’ he sprays into my ear. ‘Mikey’s here.’

  The fear and confusion in his voice cuts me in two. I start to cry. Big painful sobs that rock us both. Mikey’s crying too, patting my back the way I pat his, whispering the same comfort words I’ve said to him a million bloody times before. I can’t control myself, can’t stop. I have no choice but to drown.

  ‘I’ve fucked everything up,’ I gasp. ‘I don’t know what to do. I just want Dad back. I just want Dad.’

  ‘Dad’s gone and dead, Ashy,’ Mikey whispers. ‘Can’t fix him. Not coming back.’ He rocks me in his stubby arms. ‘Mikey’s here. Mikey’s here.’

  The damn kid just keeps holding me until my well of tears runs dry. The heat of his body slowly thaws me,
his voice working its way into my numb, exhausted mind. When my heart has slowed so I can breathe again I hug him back. Kiss his downy cheek. Thank the arsehole deity who’s screwed our bloody lives over that I’ve been left with this awesome kid. I blow out one long breath. Close my eyes and listen to his beating heart.

  ‘Love you, Ashy,’ he whispers.

  ‘Love you too, mate.’ I feel his body relax. ‘Love you too.’

  ‘You hungry now?’

  ‘Are you?’

  He lets me go. Rolls over and sits up. ‘Hungry, hungry, hungry!’

  ‘Go out and eat,’ I say. ‘I’d better clean up my mess.’

  ‘You sure?’ He’s already getting up.

  ‘Positive. Tell Jiao I’ll be out in a bit.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Once I’m alone I curl myself into a ball, arms wrapped around my knees. Try to hold on to the calm and begin picking a way through the tangle of decisions to be made. I can hear Mikey and Jiao talking and the clatter of forks on plates. The distant rumble of a plane. The hypnotic ticking of Grandma’s antique wall clock. Outside, the day is slipping towards night.

  Bit by bit things start to separate out into their distinct parts. When I finally think I can start to see the makings of an overall design, I straighten and get to my feet. By the time I’ve tidied the mess, Jiao and Mikey have finished eating and are sitting side by side on the sofa, watching shit TV.

  ‘Where’s Lucinda?’ I ask.

  ‘She had to leave before the curfew,’ she says. ‘Are you okay?’

  I nod. ‘Sorry. Put it down to loony genes.’

  ‘Very funny.’ She doesn’t look amused. ‘Your dinner’s in the oven.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll leave it for later. I want to get over to check up on Trav.’

  ‘But it’s after seven. There’s a curfew — didn’t you hear what I just said?’

  ‘Yeah, I know. But I can’t afford to wait until the morning. I’ll be okay.’ I ruffle Mikey’s hair. ‘Can you look after Jiao for me till I get back? I need to know she’s safe and you’re the best man for the job.’

  He nods his head solemnly. ‘Okay.’ Another mission for Super Mikey.

  Jiao follows me to the door. Speaks fast and furious under her breath. ‘This is crazy. What if you’re caught?’

  ‘Then I’ll call Jeannie to get me out. Remember I still hold some cards.’

  ‘But it could be dangerous. We don’t know what’s been going on. There have been riots …’

  ‘Thanks for your concern. But I made you a promise and I’m fucked if I’ll wait around till morning—’

  ‘I don’t want to be responsible for you getting hurt.’

  ‘Good. Then I absolve you of all responsibility. All right?’ I lean over and brush a kiss on to the worry line between her eyes. ‘Have a bath. I can’t pay the bloody water or electricity bills anyway, so fill it deep! Mikey too. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  I head down to the waterfront, relying on the fact I know this area like the back of my hand. The streetlights are out and it’s freakishly quiet, only the sparrows and the pigeons settling down for the night in their usual haunts. Down past the wreck of the station there are cop cars and army Humvees cruising the streets. I slink into the shadows and hold my breath each time one passes near.

  By the time I reach the wharf, the tension’s ramped right up. Foot patrols are doing the rounds, each group of half a dozen soldiers decked out in goggles and all the gears. It’s like waking up inside an RPG, my avatar so low on points I have no powers at all. Except that I know where to hide, and how to slip below the wharf. I grit my teeth and lower myself into the water, careful not to make a splash. It stinks down here: all the crap that spews out from the ships collects in big oil-slicked pools, scummy foam and rubbish swilling with the tide.

  I breaststroke with my head held high, clamping my lips shut. The piles under the wharf rise up like columns to a roof, bearded mussels and limpets clinging to the greasy wood. I’ve swum down here before but never at night. The shadows thrust and parry as they’re disturbed by the movement of the water, and I daren’t imagine what might be lurking below. Five minutes in, I stop and clutch hold of a strut to catch my breath. Footsteps thud overhead, marching in time.

  Around by Frank Kitts Park, some bastard nearly pisses on my head. Further along, by the old theatre, I swim right into the middle of a colony of rats. They rise up on their hind legs and scream, teeth glinting in the scraps of light. It’s so surreal I almost expect them to draw out tiny swords and start to talk. I detour round them, swimming briefly out in open water before I slip back under the walkway that leads to Oriental Bay.

  I haul myself out beside the Port Nic boat sheds and wring my clothes as best I can. Run low to the ground until I reach the bastard steps up to Mount Vic, then jog along under the cover of the green belt, setting off the odd barking dog but nothing worse. One long slog later, I’m up behind the hospital, totally poked. I squat to catch my breath. My clothes are still clingy and damp, and stink of all the waterborne crap, but I’m buzzed to have made it here without a hitch.

  When I can breathe again without my chest stinging, I work my way down through the maze of buildings till I’m outside the Emergency Department. It’s busy here, despite the curfew, the perfect place to slip in unobserved. Once I’m inside, it’s safer — after all, I could have been here all day.

  The nurse at the main desk tells me where I can find Travis. He’s on the fifth floor in a ward so full that beds are lined two deep along the corridors. I wait until the duty nurse is distracted, then slip down to Trav’s cubicle. He’s over by the window — but there’s someone in the chair beside his bed. Fuck, it’s Jeannie. Her back’s turned, and she looks like she’s talking earnestly to him, but Trav’s gaze is roaming the room. His eyes widen in surprise when he sees me. He flicks his glance to Jeannie and then back to me. Gives me the tiniest of nods. Lifts his hand, as though he’s stretching it, and spreads his fingers. Five. I nod, and slip into a toilet, counting off five minutes in my head. When I can no longer bear it, I sneak back out. Yep. Jeannie’s gone.

  Trav looks a hundred times better than when I saw him last, even if he is still hooked up to several machines. ‘Dumb question, but how’s it going?’

  ‘Fine,’ he says. ‘Apart from the fact they removed all my piercings — and the lectures from Mum!’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Though whatever you said has really got to her — she actually apologised for stopping me from acting.’

  ‘At least something good’s come out of it. I’m really sorry I blew your cover, eh? It never even occurred to me there might be three of them inside the truck.’

  ‘Bugger off! From the sound of it, you saved my life. How mental is your mum, huh?’

  ‘Have you told anyone where she and Ray hide out?’

  Trav shakes his head. ‘To be honest I’m only just back with it. I lost a lot of blood — it kind of wipes you out.’

  ‘You reckon you could keep it quiet for now? I have the makings of a plan.’

  ‘No worries, bro. Are Jiao and Mikey okay?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess, though you wouldn’t fucking believe what that bitch did to him. And then I nearly killed us in the car.’

  ‘No shit?’

  ‘Wrote it off. I tell you, it was a bloody psycho day. I’ll fill you in on the full story later but, look, I’ve gotta go. We’ll all come tomorrow if we can. Just remember, don’t say anything to anyone about Ray and Mum’s whereabouts. You don’t know a thing!’

  ‘Cool.’

  I turn to walk away.

  ‘Hey, Ash?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Be careful, eh?’

  ‘Cheers.’

  I’ve a smile on my face as I leave him. Feel like something’s changed and now we’re really mates, not just two losers pushed together by his mum.

  My next stop is Grandma’s rest home, only a few blocks from the hospital but harder to get to than I’d thought. Despite the curfew
there’s a heap of people gathering in Newtown’s main street. Angry dudes in balaclavas. Pinch-faced girls. Kids who look as if they haven’t had a decent feed for weeks. They’re evil-eyeing the two carloads of cops who are watching, and the mood is ugly — if I was one of them right now, I’d be shitting bloody bricks. Somewhere in the distance comes the sound of breaking glass, and the crowd surges towards it. I slip past, cutting through a back alley till I’m outside the rest-home doors.

  One of the staff comes to let me in, though she tells me off for being out at night. I ignore her of course — who the hell is she to tell me what to do? — and make my way to Grandma’s room. She’s propped up in her bed, watching TV — a doco on the origins of the universe. She used to love this stuff.

  ‘Hey, Grandma.’ I lean over and kiss her thin white hair.

  She smiles up at me. ‘Oh Archie, love. I knew you’d come today.’

  I drag one of her chairs over and take her bony hand. ‘I’ve seen Grace,’ I say, watching for any impact.

  ‘My Gracie?’ Her smile drops away. She starts to pick at her bedcover. ‘No, no.’

  ‘She’s not well, that Gracie, is she, Grandma?’ I try to keep my voice light and teasing so she won’t freak out.

  ‘Not well at all. Archie says she’s naughty but the doctor thinks the things … the little bits of … the place where everything—’

  ‘Her mental health?’

  ‘Now that’s the thing. Not healthy at all.’ She dabs a drop of spit off her bottom lip with the sleeve of her nightie. ‘My sister was just the same.’ Jeezus. It is a family thing. Now she scrabbles for my hand and squeezes it way harder than I thought she could. ‘Don’t let them torture her like Ginny, will you, love?’

  ‘No, Grandma. It’s all okay.’ I’ve churned her up — and me as well. ‘Would you like me to read you something?’

  ‘Oh Shaun, you know I love it when you do.’

  I pick up the book on her bedside table. The Holy Bible. Who the hell would’ve given her that? I go over to her bookshelf and pull out the de la Mare in a tribute to Jiao. Turn off the TV and help Grandma settle in the bed. Choose a calming poem or two so she can sleep. ‘Peace in thy hands, peace in thine eyes …’