Where the Fruit Falls

by Karen Wyld

  ‘Feisty, aren’t you?’ said Andrés. ‘Don’t be so rash. I can offer an attractive rate of pay. And you look like you could do with some money.’ Tori hesitated, remembering how hungry she was some days. And how cold the basement got in winter. She knew Maggie wouldn’t be able to work, so it was up to her.

  ‘I’m looking for proper work, not modelling. Perhaps you have other things need doing around here. I could clean, answer the phone, do errands, anything.’

  Andrés raised a hand to his chin. ‘How about four hours a day, Monday to Thursday? Cleaning, mostly. And helping Marcie in the gallery. Maybe extra hours leading up to the next exhibition. You’d earn much more if you were to model for me, of course.’

  ‘Those hours sound fine. When do I start?’

  ‘None of us are early birds around here. Come back tomorrow at eleven, and Marcie will show you around.’

  FOURTEEN

  Their basement hideaway was quickly filling with little birds. Sketches that Maggie had done. She’d cut them out and hung them around the basement. With her first pay, Tori bought Maggie a gift. Remembering how much she’d liked drawing when she was younger, Tori gave her a tin of pencils and a sketchpad. While she was working in the gallery, Maggie seemed content with drawing.

  ‘How do you remember the fine details?’ asked Tori, putting on her shoes for work.

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Maggie looked up from her sketchpad. ‘I draw them from sight.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I start my sketches in the park. Where there’s lots of birds.’

  ‘You go out when I’m not here?’

  Maggie nodded, busily colouring in another bird. ‘I go to the park most days. Sometimes I talk with the flute man. Occasionally I see Louis there. Most days, it’s just me and the birds.’

  ‘And you’re not scared?’

  ‘I’m not a baby. We’re the same age, remember?’

  ‘Well, you’ve been acting like a baby since we got to the city. I’ve been the one to find us food, get a job; while you hide in here, too scared to go out. And suddenly you’re spending your days in the park, talking to a stranger, while I’m at work. When were you going to tell me?’

  ‘Why do I have to tell you everything? You’re not my mother!’

  Tori scowled at the paper birds hanging around the room.

  Maggie said, ‘Sorry. I know you’ve been looking out for me.’

  ‘I miss her too.’

  ‘Maybe if we talked about her more? Shared good memories.’

  ‘Perhaps later. I’ve got to go to work.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Tori hesitated before climbing out the window. ‘Hey.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Just be careful, okay?’

  As Tori walked through the park, on the way to the gallery, she felt even more confused. The park was already busy, and she couldn’t imagine her sister choosing to spend time there, without her. For a long time, Tori had felt responsible for her sister. Even before they’d lost their mother, Maggie had needed looking out for. Sometimes when travelling, frustrated because she thought her sister was slowing them down on purpose, she’d pick a fight with Maggie. Afterwards, Tori would silently carry her sister’s suitcase as they walked, and did the bigger share of collecting firewood when they’d set up camp. Back then, Maggie seemed to take her sister’s help for granted, rarely acknowledging it. As she recalled those days, Tori suddenly remembered moments when Maggie hadn’t needed her. When travelling with Gabriel, Maggie had turned to him whenever she needed anything. And at that tin-shed school, many years ago, Maggie had been confident and quite popular. Then, it was Tori who’d needed her sister’s help, to stare down freckle-faced children as they called her horrible names.

  One day, Tori had finally confided in her mother about what was happening at school. Brigid had hugged her and then told her daughter that she’d had the same problems. Tori asked what she’d done to make them stop being so mean. Her mother had replied that there’d been no one to turn to, so she’d just learnt how to shut it all out. Her family didn’t understand. They weren’t like her. She then told Tori that Granny Maeve had tried to make her feel better by telling her a story of potatoes nestled in earth. Later, at Tori’s insistence, she’d told Maggie and her Granny Maeve’s story. They’d both asked what it meant. Their mother had replied that she’d never figured it out.

  Thinking of those days, Tori recalled how Maggie had tried to protect her from hateful taunts. And afterwards, on the walk home from school, she’d talk about how silly those children were. The same blood flowed through Tori’s and her veins. So if the children at school liked her, they had to like Tori too. Tori already had a differing, less hopeful, view of the world. She knew the way she was treated was always going to be different from how Maggie was treated. And she had quickly worked out why.

  Now, standing on the kerb, waiting for a gap in traffic, images of their time at von Wolff ’s arose. Those months after their mother had gone, before Gabriel came back, when von Wolff had forced them to participate in humiliating photoshoots. Through von Wolff ’s lenses, Maggie and Tori were not sisters. It was obvious he did not see them as equals. He only ever gave Maggie two roles to act out: steely coloniser or distraught settler’s wife. Back in their cottage, after being forced to pose for von Wolff, Maggie would cry herself to sleep. Tori was also only given two roles, but she had refused to let his obscene fantasies define her. No matter what he said or did to get under her skin, Tori knew she was neither a noble savage nor a tainted gin. She didn’t know much of her heritage but, as she stood exposed in that studio, Tori had drawn upon the strength of the few black matriarchs she’d met. She’d lifted her head high and stared aloofly at the camera, while silently wishing von Wolff a painful demise. When that fire consumed the studio, Tori had taken a departing look at the destruction before following Gabriel, hoping her wish had come true. Once free of von Wolff, Tori had declared to herself that she would never allow someone to treat her that way again. And she’d vowed to take better care of Maggie.

  Tori was confident she’d done a good job of looking out for her sister. Now, it was obvious that Maggie didn’t need her protection any more. As Tori opened the gallery door, she accepted that her sister might not want or need her help. She also knew they both needed the money she was earning. For the rest of the day, Tori couldn’t stop thinking about their futures. She didn’t even complain when Andrés told her to polish the wooden floors of the large gallery, as that gave her lots of time to think. Mostly, she was curious about what had come over Maggie. Why was she suddenly willing to leave the basement?

  Towards the end of Tori’s shift, Marcie arrived. Tori stood up and stretched her tired muscles.

  ‘Hi,’ Tori said, picking up the bucket and rags she’d used to polish the floors.

  ‘Looks good.’

  ‘Andrés will still find something to criticise.’

  ‘He’s sure to be in a better mood soon. He just sealed the deal on a purchase of photos he’s been negotiating for a while. Works by some famous guy who died a few years back. Apparently, the photographer was an old mentor of Andrés’s, when he was first starting out. I haven’t seen the photos. He’s thinking this exhibition will be a big thing, so expect a few more hours of work.’

  Tori walked towards the cleaning cupboard.

  Marcie followed. ‘Have you told your mother about working here?’

  Tori shrugged as she shut the cupboard door.

  Marcie observed, ‘Not much of a talker, are you.’

  ‘If there’s no more work today, I’m off home.’

  ‘And where is home?’

  Tori shrugged again. ‘Not far.’

  ‘If you don’t want to talk that’s okay, but if you ever did, I’m really good at keeping secrets.’

  Tori hesitated. She’d got to know Marcie over the past few weeks and felt like she could trust her. Besides Gabriel, Tori had n
ever had someone she could confide in before. He’d always listened to her, and he’d known just what to say to make her feel strong enough to get through the loss of her mother. Gabriel had been supportive but Tori thought a female friend, just a few years older, would be like having an older sister. She felt tempted to share a few secrets with Marcie, and ask for some advice. She knew that she and Maggie couldn’t spend the rest of their lives in the basement of a vacant city building. Then Tori remembered she was a minor until her upcoming birthday, which meant she and Maggie could still be sent to a children’s home. She couldn’t be sure Marcie wouldn’t tell the authorities about two parentless girls living in a basement. Tori couldn’t trust anyone.

  Tori said, ‘I really need to be leaving.’

  ‘Okay, hon. Just remember, I’m here if you ever need me.’

  The next day was a Friday, and Maggie suggested they go to the park. Tori told her a different idea about spending the day together.

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Maggie.

  ‘Can’t think of a better way to spend a pay cheque.’

  Tori pushed open the door and they walked into the women’s store. It was not as posh as the one where Tori had enquired about a job, but it appeared to be friendlier. Tori started flicking through clothes on hangers.

  She held up a dress. ‘This one looks your size.’

  ‘I like this one,’ said Maggie, holding up a blue dress with a bird motif along the hem.

  ‘It’s perfect for you.’

  Tori selected a lime-green mini-dress, and together they went to the change rooms. As she was zipping it up, Maggie slipped into her change room.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘It looks really good on you. Let’s buy it,’ suggested Tori.

  ‘Are you sure? We walked past a second-hand store. Maybe they have something just as nice.’

  ‘If you like this one, I’m buying it for you. Call it an early birthday present,’ Tori offered.

  ‘I’d forgotten our birthday was soon.’

  Tori saw herself in the mirror. The lime dress was very vivid and modern, like something Marcie would wear. Tori wondered if she was brave enough.

  ‘That looks amazing on you,’ noted Maggie.

  ‘You think so? It’s a bit bright. And short.’

  ‘You have good legs.’

  ‘Must be all that walking Mum made us do as kids, eh.’

  Maggie didn’t respond. Tori was too busy looking in the mirror to notice. They were both dressed in clothes befitting young women. Tori imagined their mother standing behind them, and wondered if she’d have been proud of how far her daughters had walked on their own. Then she remembered: they lived in a dank basement, with no dreams of their own to chase. What had she done to earn her mother’s pride?

  ‘She’d have been proud of you,’ said Maggie.

  Even though it was not uncommon for them to read each other’s thoughts, Tori was surprised.

  ‘Really?’

  Maggie nodded. ‘You remind me of Mum.’

  Looking in the mirror again, Tori tried to visualise their mother, and wondered what they shared – beyond their skin and hair. Was it the way she held herself, back straight and head high? Strong, independent, fearless. Tori shook her head, thinking how foolish she was to act so proud.

  She remarked, ‘I’m sure Mum wouldn’t be pleased to see us living in a basement. Or eating others’ unwanted food and wearing their castaways.’

  ‘Stop being so hard on yourself. Get that dress, Tori. You need some colour in your life.’

  ‘I’m sorry about fighting with you yesterday.’

  ‘It’s okay. Everything will work out, as long as we have each other.’

  ‘Together, forever,’ said Tori. ‘Now, let’s buy these dresses. And matching shoes.’

  Tori moved aside a pile of feathers. Waving a shoe in the air, she walked over to Maggie. Her sister was concentrating on finishing a sketch of green finches, so hadn’t noticed Tori’s frantic searching.

  ‘Can you stop drawing for just a minute?!’

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I can’t find my other shoe. The new ones.’

  ‘Did you check under the bed?’

  ‘Yes, I did. All I found were more feathers. What’s with all these blasted feathers?’

  ‘We’ll need them soon.’

  ‘Why the hell will we need them?’

  ‘For our new place.’

  Tori retrieved her other shoe from under a pile of bird sketches. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘We can’t stay here forever.’

  ‘I know that. Which is why I’m working, so one day we can rent a place of our own. With running water, and electricity. And a bloody door,’ groaned Tori, as she climbed out the window.

  The walk to work had cleared Tori’s annoyance. She entered the gallery quietly, not wanting to attract attention. Andrés had been in a bad mood the previous day, so she wanted to avoid him as much as she could. The light was on in the storage room, from where loud banging noises were emerging. Tori walked towards the sounds, and was relieved to find Marcie. She took one look at Tori and laughed.

  ‘Don’t look so scared, little bunny. It’s just me in here. Andrés has gone out for a bit. His regular guy refused to do the frames for the next exhibition. Andrés was furious. He’s gone to speak with another framer, so hopefully he’ll return in a better mood.’

  ‘What are you doing in here?’

  ‘Looking for more packing tape. Andrés swore there was more in here, but I can’t find a thing in this mess.’

  ‘Do you want me to clean it up?’

  ‘Later. It’s my lunch break, and I’m taking you out.’

  Tori started to protest, but Marcie took her by the arm and walked towards the front door.

  ‘I won’t take no for an answer. I want some company, and you’re much more pleasant than Andrés. Besides, you look like you could do with a good feed.’

  ‘We can’t close the gallery in the middle of the day.’

  ‘Watch me,’ said Marcie, as she flipped the open sign to closed and locked the front door.

  She led Tori to a café a few blocks away. Tori had never been in such a nice-looking place, and immediately felt uncomfortable. People at the other tables were staring, and she was sure she’d be asked to leave.

  ‘Ignore them, honey. They’re just jealous. Unlike those pasty lizards over there, we don’t have to spend hours in the sun, smothered in cheap cooking oil, to get this gorgeous glow we’ve both been blessed with,’ said Marcie. ‘Now, what shall we order?’

  Tori observed Marcie as she scanned the menu. Marcie was right: she was gorgeous. Perhaps the most beautiful woman Tori had ever met. Too many times people had called Tori ‘black’ in a tone that made it very clear they had disdain for her. Strangers seemed to treat her with either anger or disgust. Some even pretended not to see her. Marcie turned heads. Tori wished people would look at her that way. Not as an object to put in front of a camera, as she believed Andrés had in mind. Or to perversely mock, as von Wolff had. Looking at Marcie, Tori yearned for someone to look at her and see a beautiful, strong black woman. Growing up, it had always been Maggie who’d get compliments from strangers. Tori didn’t want to look like her sister. She wanted to be like Marcie. She looked around the room, at the people openly staring at Marcie and her. She knew what they were thinking. She put the menu in front of her face to block them out, and slid down slightly in her chair.

  ‘You’re a beautiful young woman. Don’t you ever let their small-minded views make you feel bad about yourself, you hear me?’

  Tori blushed, finally feeling seen for who she really was. She sat up straight and held her head higher. That motion reminded her of how sure of herself she’d felt walking through the streets of that town in the desert, many years ago, with her mother and sister. She remembered how expertly her mother could disarm people with a well-aimed side-eye. Tori channelled that energy, and mimicked a look she
’d seen Marcie give people: turning towards the other diners with a measured disinterest.

  ‘Girl, that’s how you do it. You sure are pretty when you let that confidence shine through. You could be a model, for sure.’

  ‘I’m not interested in modelling. Anyway, in this country, models are always white.’

  ‘Times are changing. If you want to be something, you go for it. You can do anything you want.’

  ‘Wish I had your poise. I always feel like I’m looking through smudged windows at others living their best lives, while I have absolutely no idea what I want to do with my life.’

  ‘What about your parents? Don’t they encourage you to work out your own goals?’

  Tori picked up the menu and held it in front of her face again. Marcie reached over and gently pushed it down.

  ‘Tori, tell me about your family.’

  Looking over at Marcie, seeing kindness in her eyes, Tori suddenly felt the urge to talk about her mother and sister. Then she remembered the look of resignation on Gabriel’s face as the police took him away. She also recalled the sense of retribution she felt watching the fire at von Wolff ’s. And her mother’s cries of pain when she’d been burnt by a different fire, after they’d been kicked off the coach. Then there were memories of wailing parents in that desert town, unable to stop their children being taken. So many things she’d rather not remember. She’d rather create a less painful past.

  She said, ‘My mum works evening shifts and my dad is away a lot because of his job. When I was little, we all travelled with him, so I never really had a chance to make friends.’

  ‘Same here. My dad was in the army, so we moved all the time. It was hard.’

  ‘I didn’t mind too much. I preferred being on the move to living in boring country towns. My sister hated moving all the time. Now that we live in the city, I miss open spaces and she misses the birds.’

  ‘A sister? Why haven’t you mentioned her before?’

  Tori shrugged. ‘I guess it wasn’t important.’

  Marcie waited, but she sensed that Tori had shut down again. Marcie tried to get the waiter’s attention.