by Lily Malone
‘In the morning I’ll go in and get it, Mum. I can’t go now. I’ve set the alarm and the committee will all get a security call if I go back in now. I’ll have to ring them all and tell them it’s a false alarm and none of them will want to get phoned up on Christmas Eve by the security company.’
‘You don’t ever take my food from this house,’ her father said. He twitched about the space, picking up her mum’s metal mixing spoon, then the sieve on the sink, putting them down, working up his temper. Bourbon fuelling it. Making him nasty.
‘I’ll go in and get it tomorrow morning, Dad. After 10 am the alarm comes off.’
She was lying. The lie roasted her hot and itchy all over, like an army of biting ants on her skin and she prayed her mum was too stressed to ask questions. The club didn’t even have a security system but her father didn’t know that either.
‘If Jaydah gets the rice I will have time in the morning—’
Her dad made a backhanded swipe at the metal spoon, sending it thudding against the cupboards and making her mum break off with a squeak.
‘You get that rice first thing, Jaydah.’ The air buzzed. ‘Ten o’clock on the dot. You go straight after our training and you don’t take my food from this house ever without asking me first!’
Violent energy vibrated through the kitchen.
Then he was gone. Back to the bourbon and the carols.
Jaydah stooped to help her mother pick the rest of the cooking ingredients and utensils from the floor.
‘We’re getting out, Mum,’ Jaydah whispered fiercely, smoothing her mum’s hair. ‘I’ll get you out. He’s only getting worse. He’s drinking more and he’s nastier. He gets meaner every damn day.’
‘I don’t know, my Jaydah. I don’t know,’ her mum whispered. ‘Where would we go?’
‘I’m so sorry about the bibingka. I don’t know how I mixed them up. I’m so sorry. I’m going to get you, me and Jazzy out. You have to trust me. And when I’m ready, you have to come with me, okay? You just have to do it.’
Her mum’s brown eyes welled with fear, of the known and the unknown, but no more tears spilled and she nodded, picking up a tissue to wipe her eyes and her nose.
‘I’ll get us out, Mum,’ Jaydah said softly, pulling her mother close. ‘Soon.’
CHAPTER
12
‘Where do you think you’re off too? Church?’ Jake asked Brix on Christmas morning as he eyed Brix’s suit before pointing at the rake of food and tongs, paper towels, salt, olive oil and cooking gear lined across the outdoor barbecue in the farmhouse patio. ‘Don’t think you’re sitting on some church pew so you can get out of helping me with all this. I’ve got two pork roasts to get the crackling right—’
‘Abe’s the chef,’ Brix said. ‘Ask him for help.’
‘Abe’s always late.’
Brix consulted his watch. ‘There’s heaps of time.’
He’d already been up for hours, woken by the screams from Charlotte and the slap of running feet on the steps and then the crunch of feet on gravel outside the caravan, and shouts of, ‘You bought me a pony! I can’t believe you bought me a pony! Dad, you’re the best!’
And Jake had banged his fist on the caravan door as he’d run past and shouted, ‘Hope you weren’t planning a sleep-in.’
After that, Brix dragged himself up to the kitchen for Christmas coffee and to listen to Ella say over and over again that the kids had to eat breakfast and do their teeth because it was going to be a day of treats and sugar and the least they could do was start the day with clean teeth.
Finally, the house was relatively quiet after all that bedlam. Now Sam sat in front of his new X-box and some new game that all the cool kids played, and Charlotte was in the paddock taking photographs of her pony so she could send them to her mum.
Brix had snuck away for a shower, a shave and to get dressed in his best suit.
‘What am I supposed to do with these till Abe gets here?’ Jake pointed his tongs at a rake of prawns threaded on kebab sticks. ‘Ella said she wants them cooked for starters so that people can nibble on them but that I’m not allowed to eat them and if I cook them, I can’t help wanting to eat them. And aren’t you a little overdressed? It’s Christmas, nobody’s getting married.’
Behind the patio doors, Ella bustled about the kitchen, a glass of something sparkling in her hand.
‘Well, actually … they kind of are,’ Brix said mildly.
‘They kind of are what?’
‘Getting married.’
‘Who?’
‘Me.’ He flicked at a bit of lint on his chest, patted his pocket and felt the outline of the rings, and laughed.
Jake put down the tongs. ‘You’re kidding?’
‘I’m not kidding.’ Brix winked at his brother and backed away. ‘And I can’t be late. It’s a very important date. Actually, you might want to set another couple of places for lunch.’
‘Who for? You marrying two women?’
‘Jaydah and her mum are joining us.’
‘Not her dad then?’
‘Not her dad,’ Brix confirmed.
‘Haven’t smooth-talked your way into Keith’s affection?’
‘It’s not possible, mate,’ Brix said. ‘And I wouldn’t want to be friends with him anyway. I’ll tell you more this arvo. I can tell you everything this arvo and you won’t believe it. Wish me luck.’
‘Bloody hell! Good luck! Ella? Ella!’
The screen door slid and he heard Ella say, ‘What? What?’
‘Brix is getting married,’ Jake said.
‘He’s what?’
But Brix was gone, running down the steps and laughing, all of his Christmases about to come at once.
* * *
Chalk Hill’s airstrip sat two miles further out from the fire brigade shed, accessed off the same gravel road. It hardly ever got any use, except when Sally Huxtable’s brother, Norm, flew his old Tiger Moth across from Albany for the primary school kids’ annual excursion.
As Brix drove in over the bumpy road, he could see the speck of a light plane coming in from the western sky. Flying low, getting lower, circling as it prepared to land.
He aimed the Toyota towards the steel shed, a remnant of the days when Chalk Hill still had a Birdmen’s Club, and he parked and waited while the small plane hurtled ever down, keeping half an eye on the road in, waiting for Jaydah’s silver Subaru.
He spied her car turning in from the road about the same time the plane landed, and watched both vehicles jolt across the dusty uneven field towards him.
Jaydah got there first, waving from behind the wheel.
‘Oh my gosh, look at you,’ she said, as she opened the car door and put her foot out.
Then she got stuck, as if it had taken all her energy to get this far. Her smile died. ‘And look at me?’
She swept her hand down her thighs, to her shirt, jeans and thongs. Her hair was loose, tangling in the breeze. If there was a layer of gloss on her lips, it was for protection from sun and wind, not decoration.
‘You’re beautiful, JT,’ he said, going over to her because she was still stuck, leaning against the side of her car. ‘It’s gonna be okay.’
‘Holy smoke. You look amazing. Let me mess you up.’ She shoved her fingers into his hair and mussed it.
They were interrupted by a holler from the taxiing plane as its door opened and a woman’s head and shoulders popped out. ‘Merry Christmas, lovebirds!’
In the pilot’s seat, the celebrant’s silver-haired husband waved and a third figure sat in the seats in the back.
‘I thought you weren’t wearing a suit. I thought we agreed that,’ Jaydah said, fussing. ‘Look at me. I look like something the cat dragged in.’
He kissed her again, urgently. ‘I don’t care what you look like, JT. You’re always the most beautiful thing I see, but I’ve brought you something. It’s in the car if you want it.’
Her eyes sparked with curiosity. ‘What is it?’
>
‘I’ll show you. Come with me.’
She followed him and he took out the bag, and Jaydah’s eyes grew suspiciously shiny as she unzipped the plastic and shook out the dress.
‘That’s your mum’s dress, isn’t it?’
‘Yep,’ he said. ‘I guess I didn’t listen to you after all.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ the celebrant exclaimed from behind them, making them both turn.
‘Jaydah, this is Anita.’
‘It’s nice to meet you in person instead of over the phone,’ Anita said.
Jaydah made to shake the celebrant’s hand, but Anita leaned forward, put both hands on JT’s shoulders and kissed her cheek.
She had a red flower clipped in her curly brown hair, and was dressed in festive red and green. She looked like an elf at the North Pole factory dance party. The pilot, with his silver hair, could have been Santa. The third person stepped out of the plane and immediately began looking through, and then adjusting settings, on his camera.
‘Don’t just stand there looking at that gorgeous dress!’ Anita urged. ‘Go try it on!’
JT smiled the smile that had made Brix’s heart stop for all these years and jogged towards the shed with the dress in her hands.
* * *
Jaydah checked she was out of view behind the line of the old shed wall and quickly slipped out of her shoes, jeans and tee-shirt. She glanced again out the shed, decided the coast was clear and shrugged herself out of her bra. Then she reached for the dress.
It felt floaty, soft, old and precious.
Val Honeychurch’s dress.
‘Something borrowed.’ Jaydah held her breath and pulled the material over her head.
The dress skimmed to her knees, hem cut on the bias, longer at the back than the front.
The bodice fit like a second skin—a little too tight actually, Irene must have thought she had smaller boobs—but it didn’t matter because there was a tiny lace cardigan with small puffed sleeves and a bow that she could tie in the middle to cover the bodice.
‘Jaydah?’ the celebrant’s voice called around the shed. ‘Are you decent? Can I come round? Oh!’
Jaydah looked up.
‘You look absolutely stunning.’
Jaydah said nothing—her throat had closed and right now she couldn’t make a squeak. Anita added: ‘I have these for you. Brix said you might need shoes.’
She held out a pair of pretty powder blue heels. ‘Something blue.’
‘Whose are they?’
Anita waved a hand. ‘One of my brides left them in the plane. What does it matter? The important thing is, do they fit?’
Jaydah took the shoes and bent her knees to slip one on her foot. She tugged a bit and tried a different angle.
‘Well, that never happened to Cinderella,’ Anita said, and then she grinned, displaying dimples and the loveliest set of teeth, and Jaydah grinned too.
‘I’m going barefoot,’ Jaydah announced.
‘Barefoot it is. You can still have a Cinderella fairytale. It’s a dumb story anyway.’
‘What is?’
‘Cinderella. You think about it. If the shoe fits so well, then why did it fall off her foot?’
Jaydah opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again. ‘If you put it like that, I don’t know. I never thought about it.’
Anita reached up and took the flower from her hair, and held it against Jaydah’s temple, head tilted, considering. ‘Nope. I think you’re perfect just how you are.’ She tucked the flower back in her own hair. ‘Are you ready?’
The first tremble hit her knees.
Jaydah had told her parents she’d be fifteen minutes. Just long enough to drive into the club, disarm the alarm, get the rice, then she’d be home.
She could only imagine what was happening now she hadn’t returned. Her mum would be a wreck. Her dad would be going nuts because he didn’t know where she was and he’d lost control. He’d be ready to hit someone.
‘Let’s do this,’ she said.
Today was the day she got her mum and her sister out. She’d called Lynne Farrell on the way to the airstrip and the plan was in motion. There was no backing out now.
She followed Anita from the shed, heading out towards the shade offered by the small plane, where the pilot had laid out a white cloth on a small square table.
Jaydah squared her shoulders, lifted her chin and concentrated on Brix standing out there in his beautiful suit, jacket off, white shirt open at the throat, no tie, hair standing up in the breeze. Her heart thrummed like a bird set free from its cage, and she smiled.
Everything would be okay.
Then she wavered.
‘Are you ready?’ Anita said, and Brix moved closer, picking up Jaydah’s hands in his own.
‘I’ve been ready forever.’
Oh God. Heat prickled the skin of her throat, and the beautiful dress felt suddenly tight.
‘JT?’ Brix said, staring down as she stared up at him, filling her patch of sky.
‘I think I might be about to faint,’ she said.
‘Deep breaths. Count with me,’ Brix said. ‘One. Two. In. Out. That’s it. You’ve got this.’
‘Does she need to get her head between her knees?’ the pilot called out.
Jaydah pulled more breath into her lungs and straightened her spine. She didn’t need air. She needed honesty.
‘I need to tell you something, Brix, and I need to tell you now.’
CHAPTER
13
‘Can you give us a minute?’ Brix said to the hovering celebrant. Behind her, the pilot had the look of a man afraid his Christmas ham was already on the plate and would stay there going cold.
‘Of course. Take as long as you need,’ Anita said.
He took JT by the hand and led her towards the Birdmen’s shed, and did his best to wipe dust from the only chair he could find in there as the iron cladding creaked and groaned about them in the breeze.
‘Sit.’
‘I don’t want to sit,’ she said.
‘Okay. Stand then. Just tell me what’s going on.’
‘You might not want to go through with this if I tell you, just saying.’
‘If you think you’re getting out of marrying me, I’ve got news for you,’ he said, trying to joke with it. She was so wound up. But she didn’t smile and he kissed her knuckles. ‘I’m not easily scared off, JT. I might have been when I was that kid in his dad’s ute who came out to your farm but I’m not that kid anymore and you’re about to be my wife.’
My wife.
He felt bigger and better just saying it.
She took a deep breath. ‘The thing is, Brix, it’s not just my mum and me who we have to get away from my father … We have to save my sister too,’ she said quickly, catching his other hand and holding both his hands down near her hips.
Mysistato? ‘Who’s that? The cat?’
‘The cat?’ Jaydah’s gaze flew away, caught on the plane and its pilot, the photographer and the celebrant, and she bit once at her lip before her eyes came back. ‘It’s not the cat.’
‘Who then?’
‘My sister. I have a twin sister. Her name is Jasmine. We have to save her too.’
‘Two of you?’ His mouth shaped a smile because his very first thought was something along the lines of every man’s fantasy, because part of him still thought she was joking, but she was serious, so terribly serious, and his smile shut down. ‘There are two of you?’ He said it again.
‘Jaz has a cognitive impairment. She’s had it since birth. She didn’t get enough oxygen, Brix, because I was born first—’
‘Born first? This is your twin we’re talking about?’
She nodded distractedly. ‘I was born first and I took all the oxygen.’ Her gaze slipped away and came back. ‘So since she was born she’s been … slow.’
‘Slow?’
‘She has the cognitive function of a seven year old. Her IQ is about 57.’ Then her chin came up while he
was still processing that, and her words fluttered faster. ‘But she’s amazing, Brix. She’s so amazing. Orange is her favourite colour. Snap is her favourite game. She’s a sucker for Home and Away—well, if my dad will let her watch it. She can be so creative. You should see the things she does with farm animals when she’s playing her games. She loves playing farm. She loves building rock men in our quarry. And she loves racehorses. She has huge scrapbooks cut from newspapers of all her favourite horses. You can ask her who won the Melbourne Cup in 1965 and she knows.’
‘But …’ His skull felt like his ears had just crashed together and his brain got squashed in the middle. ‘How could I not know this? How can I know you and not know this?’
She squeezed his hands, his left harder than his right. ‘I wasn’t allowed to tell you. I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. Dad didn’t want anyone to know about her.’
‘Why the hell not?’
Her lip twisted. ‘Because Mum gets a carer’s pension for looking after her and my dad takes that money; because he gets free labour because Jaz drags rocks around all day for him; because he’s trying to stay under the radar of the Disability Services Commission—that’s who Lynne Farrell really works for but I wasn’t brave enough to tell you that when we were waiting before the Magistrate’s Court. And because he’s an arsehole! Isn’t that enough reasons?’
‘What about school? How can nobody ever have seen her? It doesn’t make any sense.’
‘Mum home-schooled her as best she could. Dad didn’t want anyone to know about her, like I said. Since we got here from Sydney she’s hardly been off the farm unless she was … sick.’ There was a pause when she said sick, and Jaydah’s hand twitched about his.
What did sick mean? Was her sister in a wheelchair? Oxygen deprivation at birth could mean anything, couldn’t it? Cerebral palsy? How sick was she?
‘How much care does she need? Can she walk? Talk? Feed herself?’ His head raced away with him, back to his place on the vineyard, back to real life. He’d always been practical, and it was this side of him kicking in now. ‘I’ve got a two-bedroom cottage at the vineyard and one bathroom. I can borrow Mum and Dad’s caravan, but how am I going to squeeze you, your mum and your sister in? It’s just an old renovated cottage. It’s got nothing for someone with a disability, you know, likes ramps, or custom-made showers, or anything. I mean, the shower … you have to step in over the bath,’ he finished lamely. He didn’t mean it to sound lame, but he had no idea, no idea.