I had the number of Dad’s new mobile written on my armpit in indelible texta. Hidden and indestructible, that’s what Dad had recommended. Like our love for God. Even Turk’s big fingers hadn’t been able to smudge it.
And even if I couldn’t get to a phone, there were other people around in petrol stations. If they were kind people like Kyle and the nurse, they wouldn’t ignore a girl yelling ‘Help, we’re being kidnapped and my mum’s being given knock-out pills to make her marry a monster.’
But we didn’t go to a petrol station, not once. Mr Gosper’s petrol tank must have been as big as his bladder.
Each time I asked to go, Mr Gosper reminded me that we didn’t use facilities that outsiders used, and stood guard while I squatted behind a tree or in a ditch and faked it.
It was late in the afternoon when I finally thought of a better plan.
I’d probably have thought of it earlier if I hadn’t been weak with hunger. That was my fault. People don’t want to give you food when you’ve been going on for hours about having the trots.
OK, Mr Gosper, I thought. If you want us to be a family, you won’t mind playing our favourite family game.
‘Come on, boys,’ I said to Mark and Luke. ‘Let’s play twenty questions.’
Their eyes lit up. They’d finished the pile of old Bible comics Mr Gosper had brought along, and I Spy was pretty boring when all you could see out of the car window was wheat fields and sky.
I reminded Mark and Luke about our version of twenty questions. How everyone playing put their minds together and asked the twenty most interesting questions they could think of.
‘Mr Gosper,’ I said. ‘Why can’t animals go to heaven?’
‘And insects,’ said Mark.
‘And plastic army soldiers,’ said Luke.
Mr Gosper must have been daydreaming, or planning his wedding speech, because he gave a little jump and the car swerved a bit.
Mum’s head flopped onto her other shoulder. She mumbled something. I hoped she was waking up and telling Mr Gosper to answer the question, but she mumbled again and stayed asleep.
‘Why can’t they?’ I said to Mr Gosper.
‘You’re too young to understand,’ he said.
‘No we’re not,’ said Mark and Luke.
But I could see Mr Gosper thought we were. Dad wouldn’t have liked that. He used to encourage the twins to ask questions when they were only two.
‘Mr Gosper,’ I said a couple of minutes later. ‘If God only wants eleven thousand four hundred and twenty-two people in heaven, why are there six billion of us?’
In the mirror I could see Mr Gosper frowning. For a little while I wasn’t sure if it was wrath or genuine thought.
‘If you keep asking stupid questions like that,’ he said finally, ‘it’ll be eleven thousand four hundred and twenty-one.’
He chuckled at his own joke.
But I did keep asking questions like that.
Over the next two hours I asked another thirty-four questions like that. And Mark asked three. And Luke did a really good one about whether he could smite Philistines when he grew up.
Mr Gosper got very stressed. Which was my plan. I was hoping he’d get so stressed he’d crack and give up the idea of marrying Mum and turn the car round and take us home.
Alas, he didn’t do that.
But immediately after I’d asked my thirty-fifth question, he did something almost as good.
Chapter 26
I asked my thirty-fifth question while we were driving down the main street of a small country town. It was a question based on something Mr Gosper had once told Dad.
‘Mr Gosper,’ I said, ‘why are speed limits only for sinners?’
The speed signs on this street said 50 and we were doing nearly 70.
Mr Gosper turned round and gave me one of those angry exasperated looks adults give kids when they can’t stand it any more.
‘Look out,’ I yelled.
Up ahead, traffic lights were on red and we hadn’t even started to slow down. Mr Gosper saw the traffic lights and his eyes went very big.
He stamped on the brake.
There was a loud screech and the sound of a plastic bumper bar being rent asunder and talk about whiplash, our family was saved.
First I checked that Mark and Luke were OK.
They were.
‘We crashed,’ said Mark.
‘Why did we?’ said Luke.
I didn’t say anything. I decided that when you’ve just caused a car accident, it’s best not to admit it to a four-year-old.
We’d crashed into the back of a pizza delivery car, and the woman driving it was furious. She jumped out and glared at Mr Gosper.
I left him to deal with that. I was busy checking on Mum.
She was awake.
‘Where are we?’ she said, squinting as if the daylight was too bright for her.
Poor thing. Her voice was slurred and croaky like she’d been on a 48-hour prayer vigil.
Mr Gosper, who was muttering unbiblical things at the pizza woman through the windscreen, ignored Mum and got out of the car.
‘We’ve been kidnapped,’ I said to Mum. ‘And Dad doesn’t want a divorce.’
As soon as I said that, I remembered that Dad had told me how people can only take in one piece of information at a time. Watching poor Mum frown and look bewildered, I could see it was true, specially if they’ve been drugged.
Mum looked at the pizza car, and then at me and Mark and Luke.
‘Are you all OK?’ she said.
I told her we were.
Mum stared, horrified, at my bandaged arm.
‘You’re not OK, Grace,’ she said. ‘What happened?’
‘A lion attacked me,’ I said. ‘Remember?’
Mum concentrated and slowly she did start to remember.
‘We’re not OK either,’ said Mark bitterly. ‘Mr Gosper threw our swords away.’
‘He didn’t say sorry,’ said Luke.
‘I’m sure we can get them back,’ said Mum. ‘How long have I been asleep?’
We told her, which made her look bewildered again. Then we all clambered out and had a look at the damage.
It was worse than our previous crash. The pizza car’s back window was broken, and liquid was dripping from the front of Mr Gosper’s car.
Which was bountiful.
Mr Gosper’s car had too much tribulation upon it to drive all the way to the remote farm without repairs, so we had to stay at a motel.
Chapter 27
Mum didn’t fully wake up until our pizza arrived, which took ages because at first the pizza shop didn’t want to deliver anything to hoons from out of town who’d crashed into one of their cars.
Finally the pizza arrived.
After we’d microwaved it and eaten it, and Mum had settled the boys down, I got into bed with her.
Mr Gosper was in the room next door, and the twins were fast asleep, so it was a chance for a serious talk in private.
I started by telling Mum again that Dad didn’t want a divorce. This time she understood what I was saying. Though I wasn’t sure from her puzzled frown if she totally believed it.
‘What about the phone call from Dad’s solicitor?’ Mum said.
‘Grandpop lied about that,’ I said.
Mum went very quiet. And that’s when I beheld the problem that was upon us. Grandpop was Mum’s father. Nannie was her mother. If we left the church, she’d never see them again.
Thinking about that, and seeing Mum’s pale shocked face, made me wonder for one last moment if we’d be better off trying to fix things up with the church.
But I knew we wouldn’t be.
‘Mum,’ I said softly. ‘I think Dad’s right. I think we have to leave the church.’
Mum bit her lip and I could see she didn’t even want to think about that. Fear and doubt were upon her. Poor Mum. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like, growing up with a father who’s a church elder. But it must leav
e you very scared about what God might do to you and the people you love if you’re disobedient.
‘We won’t be leaving God,’ I said to Mum. ‘Just the church.’
She didn’t say anything.
‘God will understand,’ I said to her.
I believed that with all my heart.
‘But the church won’t understand,’ said Mum. ‘They’ll do anything to stop us. You heard them threaten to take you and the boys from me. They can afford a lot of lawyers.’
‘They can’t take us if they can’t find us,’ I said. ‘And anyway, Mum, do you want to be part of a church that breaks up families?’
Mum didn’t say anything again, but I could see she didn’t.
I showed Mum my armpit. I pointed to the motel room phone.
‘Let’s call Dad now,’ I said.
Mum put her face in her hands.
‘I need time to think,’ she said. ‘I need to try and make sense of all this. To talk to God. To be sure I know in my heart the right thing to do.’
I tried to understand, but impatience and panic were upon me.
‘Mum,’ I said. ‘We don’t have very much time. Tomorrow will be too late.’
Mum put her arms round me and I could feel her trembling.
‘I need God to help me,’ she said. ‘You know how that is. Isn’t that why you went to the zoo?’
I held Mum tight and tried to explain to her what I learned at the zoo. She listened carefully and asked some really good questions. It was just like it used to be before woe was upon our family.
After we finished talking, Mum fell asleep.
I lay next to her for a long time, thinking.
Mostly I thought about the sad trapped look I’d seen on Mum’s face for most of the evening. I knew that look so well. I’d seen it so many times, right through my life, whenever Mum thought nobody was watching.
I’d also seen it somewhere else.
In the eyes of the lioness.
I remembered the other look I’d seen in the lioness’s eyes, just before she attacked. The proud fearless determined gleam of a mother who’d take on anyone to protect her family.
A couple of times in the last week I’d seen Mum have a flicker of that look too.
As I lay staring at the ceiling, I asked myself a question I’d never asked before.
Did Mum marry the bravest, naughtiest, liveliest-minded man in the church so me and Mark and Luke wouldn’t end up like the other church kids?
Bullied. Squashed. Scared to ask questions.
Yes, I said to myself. I think she did.
I slid my arm out from underneath Mum, carefully got up from the bed, went over to the phone, checked my armpit, and as quietly as I could dialled Dad’s number.
I held my breath.
A voice answered.
‘Dad?’ I whispered.
But it was just his voicemail. And before I could leave a message, the phone cut out.
Only for a moment.
Then another voice came on.
‘Grace,’ said Mr Gosper. ‘I want to see you outside. Now.’
Mr Gosper was waiting for me in the carpark.
Wrath was upon him.
‘You are a very stupid girl,’ he said. ‘You think you’re clever but you’re not. If you had half a brain, you’d have stopped to think how thin the walls of these motels are. How every conversation can be heard if you listen hard enough. Oh yes, and how in these motel family suites there’s only one phone line.’
‘Mr Gosper,’ I pleaded. ‘Please don’t break up our family.’
Mr Gosper looked at me. His eyes were hard.
‘I’m not breaking up your family,’ he said. ‘I’m saving it. All I’ll be breaking is your stubborn will. And when I’ve saved you and those brothers of yours, and driven the evil from your hearts, God may see fit to reward me. He may see fit to make your mother realise how much holier this family will be with me as your father.’
Mr Gosper opened the rear door of his station wagon.
‘Get in,’ he said.
There was no point arguing. I got in. Mr Gosper closed the door, locked the car and went back into his room.
Chapter 28
I thought I was dreaming.
A kid with spiky hair was waving at me through a fog so thick I couldn’t hear what he was saying.
Then I beheld it wasn’t a fog. It was condensation on the inside of Mr Gosper’s car windows. I scrambled onto my knees and wiped a clear patch.
And saw Kyle, waving to me to open the door.
‘I can’t,’ I yelled. ‘It’s got some kind of security lock. The knobs on the inside don’t work.’
Kyle frowned. He turned and said something to somebody else.
Mr Denny appeared next to him, peering in through the window.
‘Hello,’ I said to Mr Denny, trying not to look as shocked and amazed as I felt.
Mr Denny fumbled in the pocket of his overalls, pulled out a piece of wire, jammed it down between the window and the rubber seal, jiggled it about and, lo, the door stayed locked.
Mr Denny muttered to himself, signalled to me to stay in the back of the car, picked up a rock and smashed a front window.
‘Did you sleep in here?’ said Mr Denny, picking bits of glass out of the window frame.
I nodded.
‘It was a bit cold,’ I said. ‘Mr Gosper wants to get rid of my stubborn will. I think he’s trying to freeze it to death.’
‘That’s child abuse,’ said Mr Denny. ‘I’m gunna tell Today Tonight about that. We got here just in time.’
He and Kyle helped me clamber out of the car.
‘See, Dad,’ said Kyle. ‘I told you we could do this kind of salvaging.’
I saw something glinting over their shoulder. Behind them in the carpark, gleaming in the early morning sun, was the red tow truck.
I remembered where we were. How far from the city. I stared at Kyle and Mr Denny.
‘How did you …?’ I stammered.
‘We had your dad over for tea last night,’ said Mr Denny. ‘When I’d finished showing him my rock crusher, there was a missed call on his phone. No message, just the number of this motel. We drove all night.’
‘All of you?’ I said. ‘Dad as well?’
‘He’s in our room,’ said Mr Denny.
I went wobbly with excitement.
‘I like your dad’ said Kyle. ‘He knows top jokes for a religious person.’
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ said Mr Denny. ‘He’s a good bloke. But has he always been this weird?’
They led me to a room at the other end of the motel. Mr Denny opened the door and we went in.
It wasn’t weird, it was sort of familiar. In a sad and depressing kind of way.
The room was divided in two. By a sheet hanging from a rope.
‘Gav,’ said Mr Denny. ‘Visitor.’
Dad’s face appeared around the edge of the sheet. Then the rest of him.
‘G’day, love,’ he said, giving me a big grin that didn’t quite cover up how miserable he was feeling.
‘Hi, Dad,’ I said.
I pointed to the sheet.
‘What’s this?’
I knew what it was, but I was hoping I was wrong.
‘I’ve rigged this up to show Mum and the elders I know the score,’ said Dad. ‘That this is how I’ll have to live at home for a while. Until the elders are satisfied I’m meek and obedient enough. Shouldn’t be more than a month or two.’
I felt awful, seeing him like this.
We put our arms round each other.
‘Dad,’ I said quietly. ‘What are you always going on about?’
He didn’t answer.
‘Being true to yourself,’ I said.
Dad still didn’t say anything.
Just hugged me tighter.
I buried my face in his chest so he wouldn’t see how sad I was. And he held me close so I wouldn’t see how miserable he was.
When we’d finished,
I saw Kyle was watching us. He looked pretty upset too.
‘OK,’ said Mr Denny. ‘Gav, back behind the sheet. Grace, get your mum in here. Let’s get this show on the road.’
Chapter 29
I rushed over to our motel room to get Mum.
But I didn’t make it.
As I reached our door, Mr Gosper stepped out of his room. He grabbed me by the wrist.
‘Did I say you could leave the car?’ he said.
‘Let me go,’ I yelled.
Mr Gosper tightened his grip.
‘This is exactly the problem I mean,’ he said. ‘Disobedience. And what lies beneath disobedience? A dark and sinful heart.’
‘Disobedience is better than lying,’ I shouted at him, which I probably shouldn’t have done.
Mr Gosper looked at me for a moment, then slapped me across the face.
For a few secs I couldn’t see much through my dizziness and tears. Everything was in bright fragments like broken stained glass. When the pain died down and I saw straight again, I beheld that Mr Gosper had raised his hand to hit me again.
But he didn’t.
Because somebody grabbed his wrist.
Mum.
She locked eyes with him and for a moment I was back in the zoo.
‘Don’t ever do that again,’ she said to him in a voice that I for one will never forget.
Mr Gosper lowered his hand. But he didn’t lower his eyes.
‘Only prayer can save this family,’ he said to Mum. ‘Humble repentant prayer, kneeling before your church, begging forgiveness. Starting with you.’
He grabbed Mum by the back of the neck and dragged her into his room and slammed the door.
I flung myself at the door, but it was locked and I couldn’t open it.
‘Dad,’ I screamed.
Dad and Mr Denny and Kyle came running.
‘He’s got Mum,’ I yelled. ‘In there.’
Mr Denny pounded on the door.
‘Open up,’ he said. ‘State emergency service.’
I thought he was just saying that, but he had the plastic ID card and everything. When Mr Gosper didn’t open up, Mr Denny dropped to his knees and got to work on the door lock with his piece of wire.
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