The Girl in Between

by Sarah Carroll

  I hear him clanging across the sky-bridge. I clutch the ladder and start to climb. I won’t make it, but there’s nothing else I can do. My foot slips. I’m going to fall again. I’m dangling from the ladder. Something touches my foot. I scream and kick and I grip the ladder with all my strength. I look down.

  There’s no one grabbing me.

  My arms are rattling out of their sockets and my heart has exploded and my eyes are squeezed shut.

  I smell bin juice.

  I find the step with my foot and I stand still for a second and breathe real hard. I look down. There’s light from the moon on the canal, and it sweeps across the water and hits the mill and then it hits the sky-bridge. I see a bird’s nest. And sunglasses with only one lens. And a long jacket and a hat.

  I feel like a feather all blown to pieces, like the wind is going to just take me away and scatter me all over the city. I take a step down. Then another. I can smell bin juice and it’s the best thing I’ve ever smelled.

  ‘Caretaker?’ I say. My voice sounds tiny. I go back down the few steps onto the sky-bridge.

  ‘You’re all right, kiddo,’ he says. He’s looking over the side of the bridge into the backyard. ‘You’re all right now.’

  I don’t think he’s talking to me. Someone just walked over my grave.

  ‘Is he dead?’ I whisper. I look at the ground beneath the sky-bridge. But there’s nothing there. The wind is howling but Caretaker says nothing. ‘I don’t get it,’ I say. ‘Where’s Monkey Man and Scarecrow?’

  He turns to me and the moon watches me through his one lens. ‘Nothing chasing you, kiddo. Just your own past catching up on you.’

  There’s no Monkey Man.

  Caretaker turns back again. ‘She fell,’ he says.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘My Rose.’ Caretaker’s not looking at the ground. He’s looking at some place that’s real far away. ‘She fell.’

  ‘Your Rose?’

  And I remember him saying it was all his fault. That’s his secret. ‘She fell,’ I say. ‘She was your kid. And she fell.’

  ‘Should’ve been watching out for her.’ He sighs and he looks at his hands. ‘They were going to close the mill. I’d been moaning about losing my job for weeks. But when the time came, I helped them. I locked up all the doors and turned off the machines and watched to make sure all the millers left. Too busy watching. Didn’t notice she wasn’t with me.

  ‘She used to come to the mill to play and we’d walk home together when I finished work.’ Caretaker cranes his head back and looks at the Silo roof. ‘She liked going up there, even though I told her, time and again, to keep away from it. Must’ve come up one last time. Door was locked. I know – I’d locked it. Must’ve crawled up through that trapdoor and onto the conveyor belt and out over here.’ He points to the empty night right above our heads. ‘Slipped.’

  I stare down at the couch and imagine what Caretaker saw the day he came up here and found her. I shiver. Then I remember something else.

  ‘The coins?’ I say and now he looks at me and he smiles like he’s remembering. ‘Industrious little one. The millers would pay her to clean the flour away after their shifts. Meant they could leave a few minutes earlier and she was here anyway, waiting for me. Every Saturday they’d pay her. Leave the coins out for her to collect. She must have been there when I turned off the machines. Hiding. But she never collected the coins that last day. She ran up here instead.’

  He looks me. ‘She was my only child. My world. And the day she died, my world crumbled.’

  ‘Forty-seven years ago,’ I say.

  Caretaker nods. ‘Forty-seven years ago she died and I’ve been here ever since.’

  He’s turning something around in his hand. It’s a coin.

  ‘But time moves on whether you like it or not. And so must we.’ Caretaker smiles at me. ‘Rose isn’t here any more.’

  He lifts his hand and tosses the coin over the edge. The moon catches it as it falls. Then Caretaker blows a kiss to the wind and he turns and shuffles away.

  CRUMBLING CASTLE

  I must have fallen asleep. I open my eyes. It’s morning. I turn over.

  Ma’s still not back.

  I sit up. I hurt all over, like it was me who fell and not . . .

  I want to cry. It’s stupid. But I feel bad. Even though Rose’s life and death were washed away a long time ago.

  There’s a sound and I remember last night and already my heart starts pounding again, even though I know Monkey Man wasn’t really here.

  But it’s not inside the mill. It’s from outside. It’s the usual sound of the city but it feels real close. I jump up and pull down the mattresses from where I shoved them against the door.

  I listen. I hear cars revving and people shouting and a cat meowing and a seagull squawking, and some banging and clattering, like I always hear. But the banging sounds are closer now. I open the door real slow.

  Across the hall there’s the huge hole and half the floor is gone. The boards are snapped and they bend downward. I hug the wall and I reach the window and look down.

  Men in plastic hats and yellow jackets! Everywhere. They’re all around the building. They’ve come back!

  Where is Ma?

  Half the street is closed off. The traffic is only driving on one side now. There are two, three, four vans, and the men in the yellow jackets are taking huge pieces of board out of them. I push my face real tight against the window. I can’t see straight down, but over to the side I can see where they are going with the boards. They are linking the boards together. They’re building a fence around the Castle!

  Something is reflecting in the glass of the office building across the road. There are two Yellow Jackets and they are sticking something to the fence. I can’t see what it is, they’re in the way, but they finish and walk away, and now I can read it, even though it’s backwards. It says,

  DANGER

  CONSTRUCTION SITE

  DO NOT ENTER

  I look left and right out the window and see nothing, but I move to the next window and shove my face against it and look to the right, up the street.

  ‘No!’

  A big red crane is bent over in prayer outside the Silo. It’s grinning. And it’s hungry.

  ‘Ma,’ I whisper. ‘Where are you?’

  I turn and leg it out of the room and up, up, up till I’m on the roof.

  The clock on the church says 8.53. I grab the binoculars. She has to be coming back. She just has to.

  I search the streets. The paths, the office buildings and the cafés. I don’t see her. I see Red Coat. She’s walking to her office. A car stops beside her. Short Guy jumps out. He’s running. Shouting. She turns. Sees him. But she’s angry. He grabs her hand. She snatches it back and walks away. Behind her, he drops to one knee. He calls out to her and he holds something. She stops. Listens.

  He’s holding a box. He’s talking. Her shoulders fall. She turns a bit. Then a bit more. She can see the box now too. She takes a step back. Then another. He holds up the box. She opens the lid. Lifts out something. A book.

  Ulysses.

  Then all of a sudden I get the flash of memory. The rubber blanket. I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m back in the alleyway. I leave Ma to go look for food. I’m moving from street light to street light. I’m outside the university. A man and a woman stop. He’s short and she’s tall and he gives me a burger.

  ‘It was him,’ I say. ‘Short Guy. He gave me the burger that night.’

  But then I’m back in the alleyway and the air is so cold it stings my nose. I feel the cold go through me, fill me up.

  I open my eyes. I have to find Ma. I search the street but she’s not down there.

  I sprint to the other side of the roof. I look at the bridge and the road that runs along beside the canal. I don’t see her.

  Where are you, Ma?

  I see something else, though. The green boat. It’s moving. The woman stands outside, at the back of the boat.
She’s driving it. The baby is strapped to her and there’s an orange life jacket wrapped around them both.

  The canal is still. The reflection of the clouds and the buildings sits inside it, like there’s another world beneath the water. The boat pulls away from the bank and ripples the underwater world.

  Behind it are two swans. There’s no baby with them now. It must have finally flown away.

  I sweep the binoculars high to the top floor of the apartment building. Glass Woman has moved a chair to face the window. She’s sitting there all alone. She’s holding one of those tall skinny glasses full of wine, even though it’s early. She takes a gulp. Stares out the window like she’s looking straight at me. But she doesn’t see me.

  In the next room the kid sits and stares out the window too. There are Lego blocks on the floor but she’s not building anything.

  I look back at her ma. Then her. They look the same. Their eyes are empty.

  I lower the binoculars. Check the streets and the bridge and the canal bank. Where are you, Ma?

  Behind me I hear a screech. Metal yawning. I drop the binoculars. I turn.

  The mantis is rising. Its shadow moves over the roof. The sun winks off it. It’s ready.

  Where’s Ma?

  I run back to the other side of the roof and I’m wishing so hard that she’ll be down there. She’s not.

  Short Guy is standing in front of Red Coat. He’s begging her, I can see it in his eyes. She drops her handbag. She’s speaking now. I’m not sure, but I think she says, ‘Yes, I will, yes.’

  I take one last look up and down the street. But Ma’s not there.

  I turn and I run. Across the roof and beneath the arm of the crane and down the ladder and over the sky-bridge and down through the mill and into the basement. When I get to Caretaker’s window, I jump up and stick my head out.

  His blankets are gone.

  ‘Caretaker!’

  I can’t see the feet passing on the street above any more, cos the Yellow Jackets have almost finished building the fence. It goes right along the street where Caretaker used to sell his books. There’s only a small gap now, where the ramp out of Caretaker’s place meets the road.

  There aren’t any men in yellow jackets out there, so I squeeze my head and shoulders through the gap till I’m half out the window, and now I can see him.

  He’s standing beside two towers of blankets. They’re all folded up. And his books are all stacked up against the wall too.

  ‘Caretaker! What are you doing?’ I want to jump down and kick his books and push over his blanket tower. But he doesn’t look at me. He keeps shuffling around. He picks up a few blankets and puts them into a shopping trolley. Then he picks up some books and puts them into the trolley too.

  ‘Caretaker!’ I shout but he’s ignoring me. He takes one book and shakes his head and puts it on top of the pile by the wall. I drag myself out through the window and jump down onto the ground. I take his sleeve and I force him to look at me.

  ‘What are you doing? You can’t leave. You have to help me find Ma,’ I say.

  But all he says is, ‘Come on now, kiddo. Let me go.’

  ‘They put up a sign,’ I say. ‘It says Do Not Enter.’

  I want him to tell me what I know isn’t true. That they are going to leave us alone.

  He looks at me and smiles, but it’s not a happy smile, it’s one of those sad smiles. ‘They’re tearing it down, whether you like it or not.’

  ‘I can’t leave,’ I say. ‘Ma’s not back.’ But he just shrugs and keeps putting books in his trolley. I grab a book out of his hand and throw it on the ground. ‘Help me, Caretaker!’

  He doesn’t get mad. He just nods and turns his back on the rest of his books and the blankets, as if he’s finished with them anyway and he has enough. He puts his hands on the trolley.

  ‘Don’t, please?’ I say, and I grab the side of the trolley so he can’t move it.

  ‘No choice,’ he says. ‘I gotta go. And so do you. Why don’t you come with me, we’ll walk out together?’

  But I can’t leave. I have to wait for Ma. Cos she’ll be back. She always comes back.

  ‘Please,’ I say. ‘Help me.’

  Caretaker takes his hand away from the trolley. He looks at me like there are words on my face but they’re all scrambled up. Then he tilts his head back and watches the mill.

  ‘The coins,’ he says. He crouches down in front of me and his jacket falls around him. ‘The millers left the coins out for her on that last day. Like they always did. But she never got to collect them.’ Caretaker sighs. ‘When you left them out, I thought it was her leaving me a message. And I guess it was. In a way. Now I know Rose isn’t here any more.’

  He watches me for a while. ‘You can’t stay here. But trust me, there are better things for you than this.’

  I shake my head. Why doesn’t he understand?

  ‘She has to let you go, you know?’ he says. I think he means Ma. ‘And I have to do the same.’ He looks over my shoulder at the window. ‘I gotta let her go.’

  ‘But it’s not the same!’ I say.

  ‘Yes,’ he says, and he takes off his sunglasses. ‘It is.’

  I see his two eyes for the first time ever. The second one’s brown too. It’s almost the exact same as the other. But it has little gold flecks in it, which makes it look more, I dunno, alive or something.

  ‘Rose,’ he says.

  The way he says it, it’s like it’s a full stop.

  He breathes in real deep and then lets it out. ‘Years I’ve waited. For what?’ He looks up at our Castle again. ‘For her to forgive me. But she already had. It’s me that has to move on.’

  He folds his sunglasses and he puts them down, real gentle, on the ground. ‘I’m old now,’ he says. ‘Spent a lifetime here. But I think I’ll go while the sun is still shining.’

  He stands with a groan like an old tree pulling out its roots. He puts his hands back on the trolley.

  ‘Let her go,’ he says. ‘Nothing chasing you. Nothing holding you here. Nothing to be scared of. It’s just time to move on, that’s all.’

  I can’t believe he’s leaving.

  ‘Why won’t you help me, Caretaker?’

  Caretaker smiles at me. ‘Cos it’s up to you now.’ He looks at me the same way Ma does when she’s waiting for me to figure out the Moral. He nods. Then he starts to push the trolley up the ramp and onto the street. And then he’s gone.

  A SECRET ESCAPE ROUTE

  I jump back through the window and sprint all the way over to the front door. Even though I’m scared they’ll see me, I open it and look out. There’s only one gap left in the fence. It’s at the bottom of the steps, just in front of the spot where Ma usually begs.

  Traffic is crawling by and there are Yellow Jackets scurrying past the gap. I hide behind the boards and take a few deep breaths.

  I stick my head out through the opening. I see a few people but none of them are Ma. Then a man in a yellow jacket comes towards me and I dart behind the boards again.

  She’s coming back. She has to be.

  I hear Caretaker’s voice. It’s up to you now.

  And that feeling comes again. The feeling that there’s something I should be worried about and I don’t know what it is.

  Except suddenly I do.

  The thing that’s been annoying me all this time. It’s that I don’t remember how we got here.

  I mean, I remember that night in the alley. I remember I ran and hid in the next doorway when the Yellow Jackets came. I stood as straight as I could and tried to stay invisible. And they never found me.

  But I don’t remember how we got here. To the Castle.

  I remember them lifting something up onto that tray. It took two men to carry it between them. I know there was a blanket on the tray. But it wasn’t a blanket, not like Caretaker’s. It was a black rubber sheet. And there was something else. A hand. There was a hand sticking out of the rubber sheet.

  But th
en Ma pushed through the blue and the yellow. She found me. And we walked away from the lights. Into the darkness. We were invisible again.

  And when we were far away from that alley, she knelt down in front of me and held my hand, and said, ‘I’m so sorry. I woke up and you weren’t there. I went to find you. But I shouldn’t have. I should’ve stayed and waited for you.’

  I told her it was all right cos she came back.

  She was crying then, and she said in this shaking voice, ‘We’ll go find that Castle then, yeah?’

  And I said, ‘Yeah. One with a moat and a drawbridge and a secret escape route.’

  ‘Just you and me,’ she said.

  I remember all that. But I don’t remember how we got here.

  And now I see Ma’s face again. That night. But this time it’s different. It’s flashing blue in the light from the van. And it’s crushed. Crumpled. She’s crying.

  And I remember something else. I remember being lifted. The van doors were closing. The blue lights were fading as the gap got smaller and smaller till there was nothing left. Nothing and no one. Just me and the darkness.

  I was in that van.

  I open my eyes. People are walking past the gap in the fence. They glance at the mill as they pass. They don’t see me.

  I lift my hand. Stick it out of the gap. A woman walks past. She must think it’s weird, this hand sticking out of the gap. But she doesn’t notice it.

  ‘I was in that van,’ I whisper.

  Ma couldn’t have walked away with me cos there were too many Yellow Jackets. And they put a rubber blanket over me. They lifted me up. They put me in the van and took me with them.

  I was on the tray. It was me.

  I know it’s true. Cos I’ve always known it. Somewhere inside, I knew.

  I take a deep breath. I drop my hand. I turn round and see the stones of the mill. I look up at the Silo roof and imagine I can see me looking back down.

  It’s just a story, the Castle. A fairy tale.

  I turn back. Look out of the gap. And I see her. Ma. She’s coming back.

  Her hair is wild and she’s flying towards me and she looks just like she did in the alleyway that night. Wrecked. Scared. And sorry.