‘Have they arrested Mr Buckingham too?’ asked Kitty hopefully.
‘Nah, he was locked in his study, claiming it was a home invasion. Not much they could do with that. Innocent until proven guilty.’
‘Huh,’ said Kitty. ‘That man’s already been proven guilty about a million times.’
37
ANDREA rang Sam’s doorbell early the next morning. Sam appeared, her head swathed in a big white towel.
‘Just giving my hair a treatment,’ she said, leading the way back to her bedroom. ‘It was really windy on that jetty and my lovely new do got spoiled. My hair’s as dry as a haystack now.’
‘I’m sorry you missed out on your big moment.’
‘Yeah, I was really spewing, but did you see the papers this morning? They’ve all got pictures of me!’
‘You? No kidding.’
‘Yeah, Mum says they like to get an angle on a story, so there’s stuff about me, the disappointed girl with the flowers.’ Sam had snatched up an iPad from her brother’s bed and was sliding her fingers over the screen. ‘See?’
The photographs did look rather appealing – Sam, her long hair blowing around, a wistful look on her face and her arms filled with flowers.
‘Also,’ said Sam, ‘my dad is in huge trouble.’
‘Has he been arrested?’
‘No, trouble from my mum. She told him the whole thing was all his fault, and he put me in danger because of dealing with that awful man, and who’s an unfit parent now? They were going to crash Dad’s speedboat into the jetty, you know, just as the Premier was arriving, and it was supposed to blow up, and I was standing right there. Mum said Dad was really quiet – didn’t answer her back at all. She’s going to make him buy us a decent place to live, to make up for what he’s done.’
‘Really?’ Andrea looked around the immaculate apartment. ‘Where would you go?’
‘Mum’s got her eye on Tarcoola. You know, they’re turning it into apartments? There’s a huge, really beautiful one on the top floor. It would be amazing.’
‘You’d live at Tarcoola?’
‘Yeah, wouldn’t that be cool?’
‘I guess so,’ said Andrea doubtfully. ‘Anyway, I got you something.’ She shoved the parcel at Sam.
It was a pink china piggy bank painted with green spots and purple flowers, nearly as big as the original and even heavier. She had noticed it in the window of a shop called Annie’s Antiques – really a junk shop – when she had gone to get the chips. Sam clutched it to her chest.
‘Oh Andrea, I love it!’
‘I’ve put the rest of the money in it, just to start you off.’
‘Oh, I’ll treasure it always!’
‘Till the next rainy day, anyway,’ said Andrea, smiling and enduring Sam’s hug.
38
IT SEEMED Sam was calling Martin every five minutes, filling him in on the unexpected developments in her life. Already people were recognising her in the street, whispering to each other and pointing. By Monday offers were coming in, and her conversation was sprinkled with talk about scripts and appearance fees.
‘I’m really, really sorry,’ she said to Martin, ‘but we can’t go to the Gold Coast for Easter now. Mum says it’s too far away to fly back, you know, if I get called in for an audition. I just have to be here.’
‘Oh, um . . . that’s really disappointing,’ said Martin.
‘I know. My mum feels really bad about it too. She says we’ll make it up to you somehow. We’ll just have to think of somereally fabulous things to do back here.’
So Martin wouldn’t have to battle with his parents over the Gold Coast after all. It was amazing, he reflected, how a problem just went away if you decided not to think about it.
THE following Saturday afternoon Kitty climbed into the back seat of Sam’s mother’s sporty little car. Sam greeted her enthusiastically, and Kitty muttered something halfway friendly in return. The invitation clutched in her hand, to Ngoc’s birthday party in Petersham Park, was making her feel benevolent towards the whole world.
Sam was on her way to Newtown to get some publicity shots done.
‘This guy’s the best,’ she told Kitty in the back of the car. ‘He does all the super-models, and most of the Home and Away cast. Really beautiful work, very artistic. There are really only two or three photographers that Tiny Terrors recommend.’
‘Tiny who?’
‘Tiny Terrors, Kitty. They’re only the biggest acting agency for kids in – like – all of Australia,’ laughed Sam.
‘Oh, right.’
‘It’ll be better when I’ve got my proper photos,’ said Sam, ‘but the agency has already come up with some pretty interesting possibilities. There’s a whisper that I might have a shot at Celebrity Junior MasterChef.’
‘Really?’ said Kitty, interested in spite of herself. ‘That might be fun.’
‘I know! Don’t you just love those aprons? The trouble is, though, I don’t even know how to boil an egg, and I’m not sure how much I can learn in the time.’
‘Give it a go, though,’ advised Kitty.
‘Oh, sure, I’ll try anything.’
When it was time to drop Kitty off, Sam’s mother had no trouble finding the birthday group. Ngoc’s family obviously believed in doing things in style. They had taken possession of a corner of Petersham Park, under the trees, and had set up tables with colourful embroidered cloths and folding plastic chairs for the older people. Ngoc’s ancient great-grandmother sat there enthroned, attended by numerous descendants.
‘Sorry there’s just Vietnamese food,’ said Ngoc. ‘My bà ngoai insists on being traditional.’
‘What’s a bà ngoai?’ asked Kitty. ‘Is that your mum?’
‘No, it’s what we call my grandma on my mum’s side. She and my great-grandma do all the cooking in our house, but you don’t want to know what they think of Australian food.’
‘Well anyway, I love Vietnamese food,’ said Kitty, ‘and this all looks fantastic.’
Hephzibah had brought fairy bread.
‘Now, this is traditional,’ she said. ‘Come on, Skender. You can’t say you’ve arrived in Australia until you’ve tried fairy bread.’
Skender looked suspiciously at the colourful offering. ‘Is it anything like Vegemite?’ he asked.
‘You won’t know until you try it,’ said Hephzibah firmly.
Skender took a bite, smiled, and grabbed several more pieces.
Kitty shyly handed Ngoc the necklace she had wrapped up in birthday paper.
‘I got it in New Zealand a couple of years ago,’ she said. ‘It’s greenstone. My mum says that’s another word for jade.’
‘It’s going to be my totem,’ said Ngoc. ‘Everyone, from today, my name is Jade.’
‘I’m still going to call you Ngoc,’ said Rebecca, pronouncing it properly. She said something else in Vietnamese, and Ngoc’s great-grandmother cackled.
‘She’s amazing, isn’t she?’ murmured Kitty.
‘Yes,’ said Jade. ‘She told me she had a Vietnamese babysitter when she was little. Her parents thought she was just babbling, but she was talking Vietnamese and she was only a year old. I can’t believe I didn’t notice her until you sent me to meet her in the science room. It’s like she was invisible until then.’
Later, Rebecca said, ‘It’s my birthday on Monday too, the same day as Ngoc’s.’
‘Are you going to have a party?’ asked Kitty.
‘I don’t really do parties. I only came today because I was bribed with food.’
‘You’ve got to do something, though,’ said Kitty. ‘I’ve still got a Hoyts double pass that I got for Christmas. Maybe we could go and see something next weekend? It’d be your choice.’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Rebecca. ‘But to be honest, what I really like is loud, scary action movies.’
‘Well, I’m sure my brother can recommend something.’
After the party, Kitty caught a bus back to Balmain with Skende
r.
‘We should come and pick you up,’ her mother had said. ‘I don’t like you travelling so far on your own.’
‘I won’t be on my own,’ Kitty had said. ‘Stop worrying, Mum. If anyone attacks me, Skender will probably kill them.’
Her mother had laughed weakly, not entirely sure that she was joking.
They got off the bus a few stops early and walked down to Elkington Park. The sun was low over the water, staining it orange, and people were packing up their picnics and streaming homewards. Kitty pointed out the roof of Tarcoola and the mass of treetops in the adjacent garden.
‘That’s the garden I was painting for Clarissa, do you remember?’ she said. ‘We had some amazing adventures in there – me and Martin, and Andrea and David.’
Skender gazed at the garden, shading his eyes against the setting sun.
‘You have . . . an understanding with David Newman?’
‘What sort of understanding?’ Kitty was genuinely flummoxed.
‘When we found him, in the mountains, you put your arms around him. Have you and he . . . are you boyfriend– girlfriend?’
Kitty couldn’t help laughing.
‘Oh! Well, (a) I’m not really into boyfriend–girlfriend stuff, (b) David is kind of like a brother to me, which is why I was so pleased to see him, and (c) it’s David and Andrea who’ve got a – what did you call it? – an understanding.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Skender smiled his inscrutable smile.
They walked up the hill and into Curtis Road, and Kitty reached into her bag once more and handed him a package.
‘I brought something for you, too – a sort of going-away present.’
‘Thank you very much. What is this – The Magic Pudding?’
‘It’s really a kids’ book,’ she explained. ‘I thought you could read it to your little brothers and sisters. He lived in the Blue Mountains you know, Norman Lindsay, and it’s got lots of native birds and animals in it. It’s a real Australian classic, and it’s funny. You just have to have it.’
‘It’s beautiful. Are you sure you . . . ’
‘I’ve got lots of copies. I got it for just about every birthday when I was little. You know, from aunties, and my parents’ friends. “Oh, Kitty would love this.” ’
She was gabbling because she could feel tears pricking her eyes, now that the time was coming. He had said his goodbyes to everyone else at the party, and now it was her turn. They were at his building.
‘Thank you, Kitty O’Brien,’ said Skender. ‘Thank you for everything.’
‘We won’t be able to keep in touch, will we?’ she asked, knowing the answer.
‘No. I can’t tell you where we’re going. We have to go into witness protection again, with new names and everything.’
‘I can’t believe you still have to do this,’ she burst out. ‘Everyone knows now who Joe Rozman really is.’
‘We’re still not safe,’ said Skender. ‘Not until they’ve had the trial, and that might not be for another year. Rozman, or Aleksijevic, still has supporters out there.’
‘Yes, but . . . Just when you were going so well at school . . . and you all seemed so happy here.’
‘Come in,’ he said suddenly. ‘Come and meet my family.’
‘Oh, do you think . . . do you really think . . . ’
‘Yes, come on. They’d really like to meet you.’
The flat was even barer than before, with most of the family’s possessions packed into boxes and stacked against the wall. Kitty glimpsed Skender’s mother in the kitchen, from which delectable smells were wafting. Skender’s father and siblings were sitting on cushions around a low table in the living room.
The younger brother, the one who had dragged Skender away in the park that day, was cradling a dark-haired baby in his arms and feeding her from a bottle, now nearly empty. The baby’s eyelids were drooping, and as they came in the little boy looked up and put his finger to his lips. Skender took the little bundle from him. He inclined his head to Kitty and she tiptoed after him into a bedroom which was crowded with a double bed and two cots. Slowly and gently Skender laid the baby down in the smaller cot and covered her with a blanket. She gave a little sigh, slipped her thumb into her mouth and closed her eyes.
Back in the main room, Skender’s mother was placing steaming dishes on the table. She looked up and smiled at Kitty. Skender’s father got to his feet and stood by her side.
‘Mother, Father,’ said Skender, ‘this is my friend Kitty O’Brien.’
‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ said Kitty in a small voice. She shook hands with both parents, as it seemed the proper thing to do.
‘And these are Avni, Bardhyl and Mirlinda. I would introduce Zadi properly, but she’s not nice if she’s woken up at this stage.’
Three pairs of brown eyes looked solemnly up at Kitty, and she tried to look friendly.
‘Skender has told us everything that happened,’ said the mother. Up close she was a beautiful version of Skender, and looked startlingly young. Inside the house she had taken off her veil, and her glossy dark hair hung down her back in a thick plait, just like Kitty’s. She spoke English clearly, with very little accent. ‘You were all very brave, especially you, Kitty.’
‘Oh, not me,’ stammered Kitty. ‘I hardly did anything.’
‘Would you like to have something to eat with us? We would be honoured.’
‘I would be honoured too,’ said Kitty, ‘and it all looks great. But I really have to go home, or my parents will worry.’
‘Skender will walk you home,’ said Skender’s father, his accent much heavier than his wife’s. ‘You should not be alone in the dark.’ Kitty felt hot with shame at the memory of how they had suspected him and spied on him.
As they left, Skender’s mother pressed a plastic container of food into her hands and they exchanged a hug.
‘I wish you could stay,’ gasped Kitty.
‘Some day we’ll come back to visit,’ said Skender’s mother. ‘The people here made us feel very welcome.’
Kitty and Skender walked silently through the dark streets. The first chill of autumn was in the air, and a few fallen leaves scurried around their feet. A woman jogged past with two dogs on long leads and disappeared into the gloom ahead.
‘We know it’s not fair,’ said Skender after a while. ‘I get sad, Kitty, and I get angry. It was sad when we left our grandparents and cousins and all our friends in Dardania. It was sad when we left the camp and then when we left Italy, and we had to say goodbye to everyone we had got to know in those places, and all the people my mother had taught. It is very sad to leave here, and all our new friends. But every day our parents remind us how lucky we are that we are still together, all of us, our whole family, and wherever we go that’s what we have.’
‘I can see that,’ admitted Kitty. ‘But when you’re free, when you can be Bekim Hassan again, I hope you will come back, just to say hello.’
They had reached Kitty’s house.
‘I will, miut pak. Goodbye.’ Skender took her hand for a second, then he turned away.
‘What did you call me?’
‘It means little mouse. It’s my special name for you.’
‘But what was it in your language? I didn’t hear you properly.’
But Skender had gone.
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