by Nova Weetman
‘But why did you say it?’ asks Ellie.
I explain like I explained to Maggie. After I finish saying everything, Ellie looks at me for a long time. I want to look away but I can’t. And then after what feels like hours, she leans forward and says quietly, ‘I forgive you.’
Relieved, I let out a big sigh. I grab her and pull her into a hug and then I start crying, and so does she, and soon we’re hugging and snotting on each other’s t-shirts while kids yell and sing their house songs around us.
At some point Tam arrives to try to rescue Ellie. She glares down at me and says, ‘Relay’s up next.’
I think maybe what Ellie said about me being angry was right. And I don’t want to be angry anymore. So I stand up on the wooden bench till I’m almost the same height as Tam and say, ‘Don’t you think we’ll run much faster and probably smash it if we don’t hate each other? Truce?’ I hold out my hand.
Tam looks at me and then at Ellie and I can see her weighing things up. I don’t blame her. She was just being protective of her best friend. I probably would have done the same for Bridge.
Finally she shakes my hand, squeezing it hard.
‘We’d better smash it, or the deal’s off,’ she says without a hint of humour.
Behind me Ellie laughs. ‘Come on, I’m up first.’
We walk to our starting positions on the track. I’m running the last leg and Tam’s handing me the baton, so I hope she’s not going to slam it into my hand so hard I can’t hold onto it. I used to have dreams about dropping the baton when I first started competing. It’s about the worst thing you can do.
The stands are full of kids screaming and waving banners. Most of them seem just as happy to be encouraging as they are to be participating. The bank of green cheers loudly as I walk past and it’s enough to make my eyes sting a little.
Before I know it, the relay has started and Ellie shoots forward with a good lead. A girl called Sarah only just maintains it in the second leg, and then all I can see is Tam running towards me. As she runs closer and closer I stick my hand behind me and start to jog forwards, waiting to feel the baton in my hand.
And suddenly I grab it.
And I’m off.
I’m just about equal with the girl in the red team, so I block everything out and hurl myself down the track, breathing in perfect rhythm with my legs. Finally I hit the line.
First.
From out of nowhere, Ellie and Tam come running over, not even puffed anymore. I, however, am red-faced and gasping. Ellie reaches me and gives me a huge hug as Tam pulls out a bit of my t–shirt and pins on our blue ribbon.
‘Nice work,’ says Ellie.
‘Yeah, we make a good team,’ I say, and grin.
Chapter 30
It’s getting dark. So dark that you can’t really see where the blackness of the house ends and the night begins.
‘Might be time to buy you some new Converse, kiddo,’ says Dad, looking down at the things I’m pretending are still shoes.
‘Yeah. I got into District today. So I’ll need them before next week.’ But then I realise what I’m saying. ‘Can we afford them, Dad? I can wait if we can’t.’
He smiles. Strange how clearly I can see his teeth in the dark. ‘I keep telling you – that’s what a credit card’s for! And I’m proud of you, Clem,’ he says. ‘Can I come watch?’
‘Yeah. Course.’
We stand side by side listening to the sounds of our old suburb: the possums fighting in the trees, the bats flying overhead, Jack putting the bins out next door. But it doesn’t feel like we belong anymore. Even though I’m not a fan of the flat, it’s now our home. This place is just a burnt-out mess.
I realise I’m all fidgety and can’t stand still. ‘What time did she say?’
‘Six o’clock. But you know your mum. Punctuality is not her strong suit.’ Dad puts his arm around my shoulder. It’s been a while since I’ve hugged him and I can smell the dirt from the gardens on his blue jacket. It’s earthy and real, and that’s what I want. The truth.
Mum’s meeting us here, where our house used to be. She wants to see it; she wants to see me.
After yesterday with Maggie and today with Ellie something’s changed for me. I’m not sure what, but I feel different.
‘Dad, is Mum going to be okay?’
‘Yeah. I reckon she is. She finally had a chance to talk with the police about what happened. And she’s getting treatment so she’s feeling better. I think she’s almost like your old mum,’ he says, pulling me even closer.
I try to take in what he’s saying and my thoughts gallop forwards to what might be. But then I try to slow them down. Mum’s always said we need to learn to walk before we can run.
‘I gave our lists to the insurance company today,’ says Dad quietly. ‘Now that the police have ruled it as a possible accident, it’s looking much more likely that …’
He leaves his sentence hanging, but I know what he’s saying. He wants me to understand that Mum didn’t burn our house down deliberately, and that she didn’t lie to me. But what Dad doesn’t realise is that I don’t care about all that anymore. It’s not about the insurance or the money or all my stuff. All I care about now is Mum.
‘Hey, Clem.’
I hear her voice come out of the darkness and my heart starts beating faster and my feet start their familiar itch. For a second my body is preparing to run but, this time, I turn towards her voice and start walking slowly to where she waits, arms out and ready.
‘Mum.’
Acknowledgements
I didn’t set out to write this book. It sort of wrote itself. Born of a need to explore something sad and sensitive, it bubbled up and poured out. And it was written for my daughter Evie, as a project for us to work on together. Without her eagerness for the next chapter, it would have stalled long ago. So thank you Miss P – this is as much yours as it is mine.
It’s no secret that I love secrets. And for helping me keep them and for seeing the potential in this book, I’d like to thank the original secret squirrel Kristina Schulz at UQP. Thanks also to the most incredible editor who gets it every time, Kristy Bushnell. You are a legend.
I love the cover for this book. It’s exactly how I see Clem Timmins and her precarious world. So a huge thanks goes to the amazing Sandra Eterovic for the original illustrations and to designer Jo Hunt for bringing it all together. Thanks too, to proofreader Katie Evans, my agent Jo Butler and all at UQP.
I was pretty lucky to have a couple of excellent early readers. Thanks Teisha Tye and Nikki Blackman. You read this story at just the right moment for me to keep going.
And to Sally Rippin, thank you for your lovely words on the cover.
And finally, thanks to my beautiful family: Aidan, Arlo and Evie.
First published 2016 by University of Queensland Press
PO Box 6042, St Lucia, Queensland 4067 Australia
www.uqp.com.au
[email protected]
© Nova Weetman 2016
This book is copyright. Except for private study, research,
criticism or reviews, as permitted under the Copyright Act,
no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,
or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior
written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.
Cover design by Jo Hunt
Cover illustration by Sandra Eterovic
Typeset in 13/16 pt Minion Pro by Post Pre-press Group, Brisbane
Printed in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group, Melbourne
Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
National Library of Australia
http://catalogue.nla.gov.au
Weetman, Nova, author.
The secrets we keep / Nova Weetman.
ISBN 978 0 7022 5421 5 (pbk)
ISBN 978 0 7022 5548 9 (pdf)
ISBN 978 0 7022 5549 6 (epub)
ISBN 978 0 7022 5550 2 (kindle)
For primary school age.
Children’s secrets—Juvenile fiction.
Friendship—Juvenile fiction.
A823.4
University of Queensland Press uses papers that are natural, renewable and recyclable products made from wood grown in sustainable forests. The logging and manufacturing processes conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin.