The Other Madonna

by Scot Gardner

‘Cold heartless bitch he called you.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No, I called you that but it does sound better that way, don’t you think? I get this picture of you dressed in studded leather with a whip. Oooh.’

  ‘Stop!’

  ‘Whiiiiipcrack!’

  ‘Colin, shut up!’

  ‘Sorry. Can’t control myself sometimes. What can I do for you?’

  ‘For a start, you can tell me why you wouldn’t give Jiff my number. Bastard.’

  ‘Hey, I was trying to protect you. Maybe I was trying to protect him from you. Doesn’t matter, he asked Mum anyway.’

  ‘You’re full of shit. You’re jealous.’

  ‘Bullshit. Of what?’

  ‘You are! Of me and Jiff.’

  ‘That’s crap, Madonna,’ he said, and I knew that it wasn’t crap. He doesn’t call me Madonna.

  ‘I still love you,’ I said.

  ‘Ha!’

  ‘I do . . . and I want Jiff’s number.’

  ‘Oooh, salt in the wound.’

  ‘Colin.’

  He chuckled and gave me the number.

  ‘Thank you. Goodbye.’

  ‘Maddie?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine.’

  ‘Good. Give Jiff my love. And I love you, too.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Bye.’

  He hung up and I dialled New Zealand. Three rings with my heart beating in my temples.

  ‘Hello?’ It was a man’s voice.

  ‘Hi, is Jiff there?’

  ‘Jiff? No, sorry. He doesn’t live here anymore.’

  ‘Oh. Do you have a new number for him?’

  ‘No, sorry.’

  I thanked the man and said goodbye.

  ‘Who is this anyway?’

  ‘Madonna.’

  ‘What, the Madonna?’

  ‘No, not the Madonna.’

  ‘Not that Madonna, the other Madonna. The one Jiff met in Australia?’

  ‘Yeah. That’s me.’

  ‘Choice!’

  I was about to apologise to this total stranger. Explain why I’d been the mega-bitch-from-hell. The phone was silent for two short breaths then the voice began again.

  ‘I’m Jiff’s brother, Alex, ay.’

  ‘Oh, hi, Alex.’

  ‘Jiff reckoned you were pretty amazing.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah. Hasn’t stopped talking about you since he got back.’

  ‘So where’s Jiff gone?’

  ‘Dunno. I’ve been up the bay with a few of my mates. My mum’s not home. I think he’s gone to Wello. Have you got his mobile number?’

  ‘I didn’t know he had a mobile.’

  ‘Yeah, well, sometimes I think he forgets he’s got one.’

  He gave me the number and I thanked him again.

  ‘Here, you’d better give us your number in case he rings here.’

  I gave him the number but Jiff already knew it. Knew it and had given up using it.

  I phoned the mobile, it rang twice and Jiff answered.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Jiff? It’s me, Madonna.’

  ‘It’s Jiff here. Thanks for phoning my mobile, ay. Leave a message when you hear a beep.’

  The phone beeped and I hung up. I looked around the flat. My cheeks were glowing. I phoned again.

  ‘. . . Leave a message when you hear a beep . . . BEEEP.’

  ‘G’day Jiff, it’s Madonna. I’ve made a major boo boo and I need to talk to you as soon as you get this message. See ya.’ I almost hung up. I pulled the receiver to my ear and blurted it out. Said the thing that had been bubbling in my heart.

  ‘I love you. Bye.’

  twenty-one

  Evie got a job that weekend. Working on the floor with Jerome at Ransom’s. She was always lucky like that. She’d never been on the dole, never been out of work long enough. I felt that thing growing in me again. That never-good-enough envy of my big sister and it would have consumed me if I hadn’t met Red on my way home from a fruitless day of job hunting.

  ‘How are you?’ I asked. ‘I didn’t ever get to say thank you for getting the ambulance for my dad.’

  He nodded.

  ‘Where have you been? I haven’t seen you around for ages.’

  ‘I’ve been at school,’ he said with a grin. He dug his hand into his pocket. ‘I’ve got something for you.’

  ‘Oh?’

  He held out his fist, fingernails down and I offered my palm.

  ‘Close your eyes.’

  The thing dropped on my palm and rolled across my fingers. I caught it. Smooth, warm from his body. A little sphere. ‘A marble?’

  ‘Yes. How did you know? A special marble. You can look now.’

  Blue and green glass jumbled in a ball as big as a grape. A little world.

  ‘It’s beautiful, Red. Thank you.’

  He took my fingers and curled them around the marble. When he was satisfied with the fist, he made sure no one could see and kissed my knuckles. ‘That makes it lucky forever.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I whispered.

  I crouched and we hugged. He smelled clean and his skin under my fingers was smooth. We rode the lift in a kind of sacred silence.

  I picked up the phone to try Jiff’s mobile again but I wimped out. My life would never be a Madonna fairytale. My life just is. Mum dying when I was little may have been a big bonus for me. What if she had lived and been sick all her life? What if she had been another monster like Dartanian?

  She was still part of me. In the colour of my hair and skin and eyes. I still wondered about her but I didn’t stop my life to wonder. Nothing really ended, new stuff just started happening and I got swept up in it all. The whole world could fill up with monsters and slimeballs but I wasn’t going to be one. That was a choice. Everyone is free to choose.

  twenty-two

  It took me forever to get to sleep on Wednesday night and then the phone rang. It shocked me out of sleep like it was hard-wired to my nervous system. 4.17 am. My heart filled with dread. Someone had died. Someone had been in an accident. I surged out of bed and turned the light on in the lounge. Dad’s door opened.

  ‘Hel . . . (cough) . . . Hello?’

  ‘Is that you Maddie?’

  ‘Yes. Who’s this?’

  ‘It’s me, Jiff.’

  ‘Oh.’

  The phone went quiet. It didn’t register. I had the thing on my ear but I wasn’t awake. Then the realisation rushed at me like a city loop train. ‘Jiff! Oh my god! Jiff, it’s you! I’m sorry I said what I did. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you . . .’

  ‘Steady, Madonna.’

  Dad’s door closed quietly.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Enough sorry sorry. I’m sorry it’s so early. I just got your message. It’s probably seriously late in Australia, ay?’

  ‘Nah. It’s only just after four in the morning. We haven’t had dinner yet.’

  ‘You Australians are crazy.’

  ‘Well, you caught me at home and that’s the main thing.’

  ‘Yeah. Call me a tight arse but STD rates are cheaper now, ay? Heh heh.’

  ‘I’ve missed you.’

  ‘Yeah? Funny that. I’ve really missed you, ay. Like someone snuck in at night and scooped my middle out. Then I nearly took off when I got your message just now. I worked out why.’

  ‘Why?’

  There was faint crackling on the phone and the shadows of other voices that never really made words.

  ‘Well, you said something in your message that kind of summed it up.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Think back. What did you say?’

  ‘I said . . . I needed to talk to you. That I’d made a mega boo boo.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘And . . . that I wanted you to ring straightaway.’

  ‘Yeah, so here I am. Who cares what time it is?’

  ‘And I said that I love you.’
>
  ‘True?’

  ‘True. That was my big boo boo. I forgot to tell you. I love you, Jiff.’

  ‘Choice!’

  I yelped and he laughed.

  ‘That’s why I missed you. I love you, too.’

  ‘True?’

  ‘True. I love you, Madonna.’

  I star-jumped and sent the phone clattering against the wall. ‘Sorry. Are you still there? Sorry.’

  ‘Stop saying sorry.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Okay. I’m going to be a veterinarian.’

  ‘Fantastic! Congratulations.’

  ‘Yep, I got accepted into a great uni.’

  ‘You whaaat! Oh that’s wonderful. Jiff, that’s such good news.’

  A faint static whistle. I grabbed the tiki around my neck.

  ‘I’m moving to Australia. Five years at least.’

  My hand was trembling. I wasn’t the pure ever-virgin mother of Christ. I never would be. Never could be, but I felt her alive in me. I wasn’t the queen of pop, oozing sex and confidence and wearing only a look, but I could feel her dancing. I was just me.

  ‘So. I was wondering,’ he said. ‘You up for a coffee sometime?’

  MORE BESTSELLING FICTION AVAILABLE FROM PAN MACMILLAN

  Scot Gardner

  One Dead Seagull

  I got a flash of Dad running at me screaming. The brick grabbed and dragged me into the blade. My head smacked into the cover. My arm got stuck at the back of the blade and I could feel it cutting me. Rasping the bone. Red dust. Red blood. Black.

  At times life seems brutal to Wayne. His mum and dad have been best enemies since they broke up, he thinks he loves Mandy but she loves Phillip, and his best mate Den is a serious health hazard. Even if Wayne survives the booby-traps and accidents that face him, Den could still get them both killed!

  But no matter what the odds, Wayne has a lot of living to do. He’s determined not to rot in the hot sand like a lone dead seagull.

  From a fresh new voice comes a serious comedy about what happens when you make a truck-load of mistakes and a handful of gutsy decisions.

  ‘Entertaining and heartfelt . . . Scot Gardner presents pictures of youth with a compassion that endures’

  VIEWPOINT

  ‘An often hilarious glimpse into a fifteen-year-old boy’s life . . . Gardner has the ability to describe very funny events’

  MAGPIES

  Scot Gardner

  White Ute Dreaming

  Ernie has a good life. Never has to go to school. Never falls out of love. Never knows what it’s like to have his world turned upside down. Ernie’s a dog. Unlike Wayne. Wayne is sixteen. Trapped.

  With a bite as bad as her bark, his mum could be mistaken for a drill sergeant. With a bottle in a brown paper bag, his dad could be mistaken for a lost cause. But Wayne has found his dream . . . a white ute, Kez, the swag and his yellow dog. To go bush. Live it.

  Wayne’s best mates move. His favourite uncle dies. His dream takes a hammering. But at the bottom, if you’re going to survive, you’ve got to look up.

  From the author of One Dead Seagull comes a tragicomedy about life, death and a mad-arsed dog.

  ‘reassuring and real’

  VIEWPOINT

  ‘an absorbing, honest and thoughtful novel’

  AUSTRALIAN BOOKSELLER & PUBLISHER

  Scot Gardner

  Burning Eddy

  ‘Get a life, Fairy.’

  In the country, where his fifteenth summer has burned the life from the grass, Daniel Fairbrother is searching. Looking for something that will make tomorrow seem worth the effort. Something that will fix the rot in his family tree. Stop it from falling apart under the weight of a thousand secrets.

  Dan’s clues come from the animals. And the Dutch woman.

  He works in her garden. Eddy’s eighty-six. She has a tattoo, a history, and can make music with her farts. She pays in cash and can read Dan’s mind.

  In a shady corner of Eddy’s garden, Dan finds something growing . . .

  Hope.

  But something is burning.

  ‘I feel I could walk right on out the door and encounter Dan, Eddy or Wayne, the hero of Gardner’s first two novels, so fresh and seemingly complete is their creation’

  AUSTRALIAN BOOKSELLER & PUBLISHER

  ‘Exquisite . . . an honest and perceptive account of growing up’

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  Markus Zusak

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  ‘You’re a bit of a lonely bastard, aren’t you?’ said Rube. ‘Yeah,’ I answered. ‘I guess I am.’

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  A tough but poetic street story by the acclaimed author of Fighting Ruben Wolfe.

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  ‘Markus Zusak . . . shows that the future is in most competent hands’

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  ‘stands alone as an absorbing, deeply satisfying coming of age novel’

  MAGPIES

  ‘this is one to make you laugh, cry and believe’

  SPECIALIST CHILDREN’S BOOKSELLERS CATALOGUE

  Markus Zusak

  The Messenger

  Meet Ed Kennedy – cab driving prodigy, pathetic card player and useless at sex. He lives in a suburban shack, shares coffee with his dog, the Doorman, and he’s in nervous-love with Audrey. His life is one of peaceful routine and incompetence – until he inadvertently stops a bank robbery.

  That’s when the first ace turns up.

  That’s when Ed becomes the messenger.

  Chosen to care, he makes his way through town, helping and hurting (where necessary) until only one question remains. Who’s behind Ed’s mission?

  The Messenger, by the highly acclaimed author Markus Zusak, is a cryptic journey filled with laughter, fists and love.

  ‘The Messenger is comedic, romantic, thrilling, confronting, playful, deceptive . . . While it shares qualities with Nick Hornby’s How To Be Good and Iain Softley’s film K-Pax, it is cleverer, subtler and more profound than either and, as a bonus, determinedly Australian’

  AUSTRALIAN BOOK REVIEW

  ‘Zusak’s honesty, openness and humour infuse this intriguingly structured novel . . . The originality of the story, its powerful themes and the questions it poses make The Messenger a meaningful reading experience. Highly recommended’

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  ‘strong, punchy and well drafted . . . an exhilarating and intriguing read’

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  GOOD READING

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  Feeling Sorry for Celia

  Dear Ms Clarry,

  It is with great pleasure that we invite you to join our Society. We have just found out about your holiday. It is so impressive! You had four assignments, an English essay and a chapter of Maths to do. And you didn’t do one single piece of homework!

  Fabulous!

  Also we have a feeling that you have a History test today. And you’re trying to study now? On the bus? With the Brookfield boys climbing onto each other’s shoulders to get to the emergency roof exit? And with Celia about to get on the bus at any moment? And you think that’s going to make a difference!!!

  That’s really very amusing, Elizabeth. We like you for it. You’re perfect for our Society and we’re very excited about having you join.

  Yours sincerely,

  The Manager

  Society of People who are Definitely Going to Fail High School (and Most Probably Life as Well!)

  ‘Elizabeth Clarry is exactly the s
ort of person I’d love for a best friend’

  MELINA MARCHETTA, AUTHOR OF LOOKING FOR ALIBRANDI

  ‘Hilarious . . . a must for any angst-ridden teenager’

  DOLLY

  ‘Moriarty’s writing is a hoot and her sense of irony perfectly placed in this hilarious addition to the genre of genuinely comic Australian young adult novels’

  THE AUSTRALIAN

  Charlotte Calder

  Cupid Painted Blind

  If people have been stuffing up love since Shakespeare’s time, what hope does Seph – or sefi_15 when she’s online – have with Tom? Look at her parents: they barely speak to each other since Nick moved out, and could her mum really have a ‘thing’ for their balding (not to mention married) neighbour? Even Seph’s best friend Pia – boy magnet – is having problems. The forces of love, like the unbearably hot summer, seem to be beyond anyone’s control.

  And now a mysterious gremlin has invaded Seph’s chat room and is about to make her life a whole lot more difficult . . .

  A tale of midsummer madness and first love from the highly acclaimed author of Settling Storms.

  Praise for Settling Storms

  ‘A beautifully assured, engaging first novel – delightful and absorbing’

  AGNES NIEUWENHUIZEN

  John Marsden

  The Tomorrow Series

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  Tomorrow, When the War Began is the first of the Tomorrow Series, and is followed by The Dead of the Night, The Third Day, The Frost, Darkness, Be My Friend, Burning for Revenge, The Night is for Hunting and The Other Side of Dawn.