by Joanna Baker
Quietly I said, ‘You’re such a wanker, Chess.’
Chess looked cool. She moved lightly and never sweated. But underneath that I could see something else. She was worried. She was almost sick with it. More than anything, she wanted me to work out what it was she knew and to be able to share it with her.
She said, ‘Wando as good as told you who the murderer is. But you were too busy with your own agenda.’
‘My agenda!?’
‘Trying to make him feel better. It’s a waste of time. You can’t make it go away. If you want to help him you should’ve listened to what he said.’ Frustrated with me, she turned away and started up the hill again.
‘OK. I have a question. Tell me if I’m on the right track. Mr Roland’s car. What colour was that?’ I did a bit of panting and went on. ‘He’s got a white one now. What did he have eight years ago? He’s a mad driver. And he was up there at the barbecue when Wando was yelling at them. I mean it would explain why Tara and Wando won’t tell. Tara’s own father doing a hit and run.’
Chess didn’t even slow down.
I sneered at her back. ‘No? Still wrong am I? But you’ve worked it all out. You know who killed them.’
‘Nearly,’ said Chess, over her shoulder. ‘I just want to see something.’
‘And you’re not going to tell me anything. You’re as bad as Wando.’
She stopped at the top of the hill and faced me. ‘Yes, maybe.’
There was a pinched look on her face. I didn’t want to see it. I couldn’t deal with Chess’s problems now, when I’d failed so drastically with Wando’s. I didn’t have time. Tara was the one whose danger was real. Chess was still playing games. But we’d climbed a long way and we were up here now. I decided to give her one last try. I used a voice that always worked in getting money out of my parents.
‘Chessy. Go on. Tell me. This is Matt. We’re on the same side. I’ll help you decide what to do.’
For a minute I thought she was going to. Then she shook her little head. ‘It’s not my secret. I don’t think I have the moral right.’
‘Aaarghh!’ I charged away across the grass, grabbing a stick and hurling it in exasperation.
***
Even through my anger, I couldn’t help noticing this wasn’t a bad place. There were all the usual attractions — dry grass, not too thick or too long, scattered trees and rocks, faint breeze. And it was definitely the place Jeanette had brought Tara and Wando. At the western end the ground fell away sharply. It wasn’t exactly a cliff, but it was the kind of thing little kids would be warned away from. There were low shrubs in front of it now, and branches that got in the way of the view, but after eight years things change.
I found a spot where I could look out through the trees. The valley was a mass of mounds and gullies. It was dotted with farm buildings, mostly silver, except for the Wilsons’ blue one. Trees made rows and patches of grey-blue against the hazy yellow of the grass. The few irrigated paddocks showed bright green.
Chess had come up beside me. She could see I was calmer, but if she was expecting me to say ‘It’s lovely, isn’t it,’ or something equally soft-headed, she was wrong.
I said, ‘What are we doing up here if you already know who killed them?’
‘I just wanted to see it. Get an idea of how it happened.’
I looked around for a minute, wondering whether to co-operate. In the end I pointed at the horizon.
‘This faces due west. The sun would set behind those hills there, near that little dip. So for the sun to be behind her, Jeanette must’ve been here somewhere, and Tara and Wando must’ve stood over there.’ I waved loosely towards the centre of the flat space and then turned back to the view. ‘She could’ve seen parts of the road clearly and the whole of Wilsons’ farm, as well as a few other places, so she could’ve seen something going on there.’ I turned to Chess with an idea. ‘There’s something else I noticed. From where we came up she could’ve seen most of your place, too. One thing you can see clearly is the shed your father built over the remains of the garage. If Jeanette was up here another time, maybe she saw who burnt it down.’
Chess shrugged. Her voice was small. ‘It’s a bit hard to say what she saw. Can we run through what happened next?’
I turned my back on the view. ‘She looks at the kids and holds up the necklace. She says ‘Now I see,’ and the sun glows and the necklace flashes …’
I dropped my arms. ‘It’s all very over the top, isn’t it? This whole necklace thing.’ I did a spooky voice. ‘The Eye of Ra. It’s so voodoo. It’s a little girls’ game.’
‘Yes.’
‘Would’ve scared the pants off Tara and Wando, though.’
‘So they ran.’ Chess swung around and pointed downhill to the south, where a second path led towards the road. ‘Come on.’
The path down was almost hidden by grass.
‘It’s very scratchy,’ I said.
Over her shoulder Chess called, ‘Doesn’t leave marks though, does it?’ She stopped and inspected her legs. ‘Maybe faint scratches, but nothing really noticeable.’
She nodded thoughtfully, as if this was important, and then she moved on. Behind her back I pulled a face.
When we reached the road we had to walk back along it quite a way, but it wasn’t difficult to find the spot where Jeanette had been hit. One of the rocks had been painted white and had a little plaque on it with her name and the date she died. It was right on the gravel shoulder of the road. There wasn’t much space to stand between the bitumen and the steep bank above us. At the foot of the rock was a bunch of plastic flowers.
That shut us up for a while. Then Chess turned and squinted up at the bank.
‘Jeanette was up there.’ She looked at the road. ‘We’re very close to the corner. The driver really had no chance at all of stopping.’
‘Are you saying it was an accident?’
She looked even more serious than before. ‘No. I’m not saying that.’
‘Because they didn’t stop? That makes it a crime?’
She didn’t seem to hear. There was no point letting it get to me.
She looked up at the bank. It was hot hard gravel, quite steep, but not so steep that it couldn’t be climbed.
‘Is that where she came down?’ I tried going up and slid on the rough stones. ‘Hang on a minute.’
I grabbed a root which came out of the dirt just above head height and tried hauling myself up to it. My feet scrambled uselessly on the surface. Showers of little pebbles came down.
‘It’s too slippery,’ I said.
Chess said, ‘So if she started down there she’d have no hope.’
We looked up to the top of the bank. The scrub came right to the edge. Jeanette had run through it and then down …
Chess walked across the road to where Tara and Wando had been watching. I couldn’t think of a thing to say. For a while we just stood there.
Then a car went past.
I pressed into the bank but still felt the wind of it as it roared by. It took me a moment to catch my breath.
‘It’s dangerous,’ I said, sounding weak and startled.
Across the road, Chess looked grim. ‘And you didn’t hear it coming, did you?’
‘No.’
She came back across. She said, ‘You go over and keep watch. I’m going to have a go.’
I didn’t like it but I did it anyway. To my surprise, she levered herself up. It wasn’t easy. There were no footholds and it took a lot of scrabbling with her feet, but she managed it. She stood on the top looking down at me.
I heard a muffled roar.
‘Chess! Wait! Stop!’
A car came into view, again from the direction of town, and went past quite slowly. It was Andrew in his white Magna. He didn’t seem to see us.
My stomach had jumped into my throat and stayed there. I swallowed hard to push it down.
‘Shit, Chess!’ I was actually shaking.
Now she did come do
wn and she came quickly. Even though she was expecting it, she lost control of the run, slipped down the gravel and came falling out into the road, managing to stop herself in the middle of the oncoming lane.
And then she just stood there.
‘Chess?’ I said. And then louder. ‘Chess!’
I went over to her. She was looking down at her boots.
‘Get off the road!’ I yanked her arm and went on pulling until she started to move.
I got her across and started her walking, along the wider side of the road, back towards her place.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ I felt like shaking her.
‘Boots,’ said Chess. ‘I’ve scratched them. I’ve scratched my boots.’
***
She didn’t say anything else all the way back to her place and I’d long ago given up asking questions. She walked more slowly than I’d ever known her to walk.
Chess’s father was gone. She was going to have to spend the night alone.
When we got to the house, there were a couple of kids there, on the verandah. Boys. I don’t know how old. Big enough to have bikes without training wheels, but only just. They came around from one side of Chess’s house and stopped dead when they saw us.
‘What are you doing here?’ I said.
The boys grabbed each other and giggled in an excited way as if we could be the baddies in their game. Then they bolted down the three verandah steps, grabbed their bikes from under a tree and pedalled away.
One of Chess’s pots had been knocked off the step and into the garden. A big piece had broken off. She climbed across a daisy and gathered it up, spilling a stream of black potting mix.
From out in the road the boys shouted something.
‘Do you know who they are?’ I said. ‘You should tell their mother.’
‘Stroppy knocks these off,’ she said, looking around for the goat. ‘He must be off the chain again.’ She put the pieces of pot carefully up onto the verandah. Through the gap, roots and bits of plant fell out in a tangle. She gave them a hopeless push and then wiped black dirt onto her shirt, pale and awkward in her too-tight shorts.
Suddenly everything snapped. Chess had annoyed me all my life. Everyone kept telling me how great she was, but they left me to deal with all her problems. And today was just the same. She had this big secret, and it was so painful for her. Why couldn’t she share it with me? But oh no, instead she’d driven me mad with her smart clues. She’d panicked me on the road, and now she was doing the pathetic act.
‘For Christ’s sake! Don’t start this again!’
‘What?’
‘I’ve had it, Chess. I really have. What do you think I am?!’
She gave me a hurt look, picked up some empty bottles and went inside. But I wasn’t letting her out of this. I followed her down the narrow corridor.
‘So now you’re miserable again. Is that it? The sad and lonely thing.’ I knew I was being unfair, but that only made me madder. ‘All right! So you’re just going to sit here with your books and your computer …’
We were in a little storeroom at the back of the house. There was one small high window. She’d had to turn the light on. There was no computer.
I didn’t let that stop me. ‘… just sit here, all by yourself, thinking about what a lousy father you’ve got and how bad your life is.’
‘That’s not what I do.’
‘Oh, no! You’re like …’ I made my voice into a high squeak, ‘… OK. I need cheering up today. I think I’ll go to Matt’s and try to make him feel stupid.’
While I’d been talking, Chess had dumped the bottles in a crate in the corner. Now she was standing in front of a set of shelves holding boxes and folders. On the middle shelf, in front of a pile of newspapers, was a photo. A silver and gold frame, two parents, and a tiny girl with black hair.
‘Could you please go now.’
I kept screeching at her. ‘Yes, yes, please go now big bad Matt, so I can sit here all alone and cry about my mother.’
Finally I’d got to her. She turned on me and her eyes were black pits.
‘I never think about my mother!’ Her lips had drawn back over sharp little teeth.
Just the sight of her had shocked me. I dropped the mockery. ‘Well you should. You should talk about her. You love to tell me how miserable you are. You should talk to me.’
‘You! Talk to you!’ Chess’s head started wobbling from side to side. She was convulsing with fury. ‘What, because you’re always so nice to me?!’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You think I’m a pain. I’m an annoying little fuss-pot and a nuisance to have around. You hate me!’
‘I don’t.’
‘You make it perfectly clear. You’re ashamed to be seen with me, especially if there are other kids around. Good kids. Cool people.’
She charged out to the verandah and I had to follow her again, yelling, ‘That’s not true!’
Outside she seemed calmer, and suddenly tired. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She banged a hand on the railings. ‘I just don’t care. Really.’
I was still angry, stunned that she could just turn it off like that. ‘Hang on …’
‘Dad’s fine.’ Her voice was quiet. ‘You don’t know. He treats me well.’
So now she was being nice again and I was the bastard. ‘But you can’t just …’
‘What?’
She wasn’t looking at me. She stared at the broken pot.
‘Look it’s not my fault, OK!?’
She pushed the pot with a toe. I couldn’t tell her what I meant by that last sentence. I didn’t know what I meant.
‘Matt, I really need you to go. I’ve got a lot to think about.’
‘No!’
I stared at the garden. The ragged bush, the empty goldfish pond. What had happened to us? We never got this … emotional. Normally I could fix everything with a joke. I thought about Super, Duper, Pooper and Scooper — and John, even thought about mentioning them. But today it wouldn’t have worked.
I didn’t know what we were arguing about, but we couldn’t just leave it like that. But Chess had finished with our fight. Now she was just determined to get rid of me.
‘Go and ring the O’Raffertys. Make sure Wando got away all right.’
‘We need to fix this.’
At last she met my eyes. There was nothing there but bitterness. ‘Go and see Tara then.’
The mention of Tara brought it all back. Tara was in real danger. Danger for her life. I had promised to protect her. I held Chess’s eyes, aware that mine were hot and angry and hers were full of pain. I could come back later, when I’d calmed down. I couldn’t get through to her now, it wasn’t the time.
I’d fix it later. I’d come back. Chess would be here. Chess was always here.
It was bad, leaving her here alone. I felt that secretly she wanted me to stay and talk about it. Maybe I should have stayed. Or maybe she really was wishing I’d hurry up and leave. I told myself not to worry about it, but that doesn’t always work when you’re letting someone down.
I got to the road and looked back. Chess was kneeling over her broken pot, trying to get the plant back in.
Chapter 24
I made a complete idiot of myself at Tara’s place.
Her house always made me feel small, even on good days. It was one of the newest in Yackandandah and it was huge, two-storey, one of those places that tried to look old-fashioned, with fake sandstone and lacy white curtains pulled into curves. There was a steep roof, with windows that stuck up from it under little pointed rooves of their own. And underneath everything, there was a double garage with pale green roller doors.
I got there at eight thirty. Her father answered the door.
He said, ‘Hello Matt.’ He was polite, but he told me with the tone of his voice that it was strange of me to turn up there.
At first I was lost for an answer. I’d assumed it would be easy. Mum always visited people when they w
ere in trouble, but I now realised I had no idea what she said. I needed an excuse for dropping around. Maybe that’s why Mum took casseroles.
‘I just came to see if Tara’s all right,’ I said. It sounded really pooncey, but it got me in the door.
I hoped Tara would be in her room. Most nights she sat there, on Instagram and Tumblr and things. But this time she was in the lounge room with her mother, watching a movie. They had to pause it when I came in.
Mrs Roland said, ‘Hello Matt,’ in exactly the same tone as her husband. Tara didn’t say anything.
Behind me her two little sisters peeped and giggled, trying to see who the visitor was. Mr Roland hustled them back to bed. Tara and her mother looked at me.
‘I just came around to see if Tara was all right,’ I repeated. And I added, ‘Wando asked me to keep an eye on her.’
‘How thoughtful,’ said Mrs Roland. She looked at Tara, indicating that she was expected to say something nice.
‘Yes, thanks. I’m fine,’ said Tara.
There was a silence. On the TV screen, a pair of nuns stared at each other with open mouths, waiting to finish their song.
‘Wando’s not too bad,’ I said. ‘Feels a bit sick.’
‘Yes, we were there this afternoon,’ said Mrs Roland.
‘Oh, that’s right.’
There were cups all over the coffee table, and a plate of chocolate biscuits. Mr Roland, standing beside me, filled in the next pause by offering me a cup of coffee, and I accepted. He slapped me on the shoulder and went off without speaking.
They sat me down in an armchair and we passed a few comments back and forth. When the coffee came, Mr Roland sat with his wife on the couch. He didn’t look as if he belonged there. I realised I had his chair.
‘There’s nothing on TV in summer. We’re watching The Sound of Music,’ said Mrs Roland. ‘We started early, so the littlies could watch some. Have you seen it?’
‘No. That’d be good,’ I said.
No one said much at all after that. Tara stared at the screen without moving. I sneaked a look at her. She was very still and, I thought, even paler than usual, although that could’ve been the light from the TV. Her hair was tied loosely back into soft bunches. I found myself watching that little place where the neck meets the ears. It was soft and smooth and childish. When you looked at this part Tara might have been … eight years old.