by Karen Wyld
‘I’m starving,’ she said to Tori. ‘I hope their steaks are big and juicy rare.’
After ordering, Tori kept the conversation focused on trivial topics. And once the food arrived, they enjoyed it too much to talk. Tori hadn’t noticed that the other diners had left, except for a couple in the far corner. Calling over the waiter, Marcie ordered glasses of champagne, ignoring his questioning look in Tori’s direction. Tori sat up straighter, hoping he didn’t ask how old she was. When the drinks arrived, she eagerly took a sip.
‘Bubbles!’
Marcie smiled. ‘Is this your first time?’
Tori nodded. ‘It’s not as sweet as I thought it would be.’
‘There’s different types. Next time, I’ll get you a sweeter one. Now, tell me about your sister.’
‘Her name’s Maggie.’
‘Older, younger?’
‘We’re twins, but I’m the oldest.’
‘I always wanted a sibling. It must be nice to have someone to share things with.’
‘Sometimes, but not always.’
‘Do you do that thing twins do: tricking people about which one is which?’
Tori shook her head. ‘She isn’t really like me.’
‘You’re non-identical twins?’
‘Most people don’t even think we’re related, let alone twins.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s hard to explain. There’s lots of things about my life that are hard to explain.’
‘You can tell me anything. I won’t judge.’
Tori shook her head. ‘You’d just get caught up in my troubles.’
‘Is it about working at the gallery? You still haven’t told your parents, have you? If you want, I can speak with your mother. Let her know I’m looking out for you.’
Tori dropped her head, feeling ashamed about the lies she’d just told about her parents.
Marcie offered, ‘Any time you’re ready, I’ll be here to listen.’
Tori tipped up her glass, disappointed there were no drops of champagne left.
Marcie stood up. ‘You drained that quickly. Come on, we’d better get back to work. If Andrés gets there before us, there’ll be all hell to pay.’
FIFTEEN
It was the man with the flute who told Maggie about trees that devour men. Since then, she’d often stand still for long spans, one eye closed to reduce distractions, wondering if the tree she was looking at was the type that ate people. He hadn’t told her what type of person the carnivorous trees found most appetising, so Maggie had that on her list of things to ask when she next saw him. Since watching him that first time, when he’d played a lullaby for the birds, Maggie often saw him in the park. Other than telling Maggie his name, Cetan was not one for talking. He would, however, share the occasional story. It was the tale of the man-eating trees that had most fascinated Maggie. That may have been because she’d spent most of her childhood living in places with a scarcity of trees. Or, more likely, because her home was now the tallest tree in the park. They’d only recently moved from the basement to the tree. It was a move Tori had not foreseen and would never have agreed to under different circumstances. Maggie had known change was coming, and she’d had enough time to collect feathers to make a comfortable nest.
For Tori, a loud banging one morning heralded the change of abode. Awoken by the sound, she climbed out the basement window to see what was making all that noise. She quickly returned, and informed Maggie that a big sign had been pounded into the small strip of dead garden out the front of the building, announcing that the block had been leased to a legal firm, with a grand opening imminent. At this news, Maggie had simply nodded and started bagging up the piles of feathers she’d been collecting.
‘Didn’t you hear me? This building has been leased.’
Maggie nodded. ‘I know. I’m packing for the move.’
‘Move? I’m not going anywhere. And even if I agreed, where will we live?’
‘In a tree. Cetan showed me.’
‘A tree? Don’t be silly. And who the hell is Cetan?’
‘The bird man, remember? The one who plays the flute for the birds in the park. You saw him that one time. He’s my friend.’
‘Friend? What other secrets have you not told me?’
‘I’m not keeping secrets. You never listen to me any more.’
‘Well, I’m listening now.’
‘Now there’s no time for talking. We have to pack.’
‘I’m not leaving.’
‘Oh yes you are,’ came a voice from outside.
Maggie and Tori both looked towards the window. There stood a pair of legs, clothed in an expensive-looking grey suit and shiny black shoes. A face appeared in the street-height window. A disapproving face crowned by blonde hair.
‘Who are you?’ asked Tori.
‘Charles Smythe-Worthington. I work for the firm that has leased this building. And you are trespassers. You have until close of business today to vacate these premises. Or else.’
Tori moved closer to the window. ‘Or else what?’
‘Or else I will have no choice but to call the police, and they will evict you. I’m guessing you’re both underage, so child services will also need to be called.’
‘No, don’t call anyone. We’re packing,’ said Maggie. ‘You’d better hurry then,’ urged the man as he stood up to leave.
Tori reluctantly helped pack. It didn’t take them long, as they didn’t have much. Just some second-hand clothes, shoes and cooking gear they crammed into suitcases and bags. Battered luggage that had travelled a long way: up the coast, across red dirt to the inland sea. Newer bags given to them by Grace: taken to the place they’d lost their mother, then carried during those years of walking with and without Gabriel. And, finally, the city.
‘Leave those,’ Tori said, as Maggie lifted the bagged feathers.
‘You’ll be thankful I took the time to collect these.’
Tori knew it would be a waste of time to start an argument with her sister. Instead, she retrieved their great-grandfather’s rifle from under the bed and wrapped it in a blanket. With one final look at their basement home, Tori and Maggie climbed out the window for the last time.
Out the front of the building, there was chaos. A cluster of bedraggled and bewildered people were staring at the sign. The other squatters were slowly coming to terms with impending eviction. Some went back inside to pack. Others called for action, confident they had a right to remain there. Mr Charles Smythe-Worthington promptly showed them the paperwork, then attempted to scare them into action with his solid grasp of property law. Soon, a stream of deflated people was exiting the building.
Tori spotted Tabby Tomcat across the road. ‘We should grab him.’
Maggie looked where her sister was pointing, and saw the cat. Two cats walked up to him, giving him a nudge, before moving on. These cats stopped, and looked back at him, expectantly. Tabby Tomcat was looking straight at Maggie.
She laughed. ‘Go on, off with you.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Tori.
‘He’s a street cat, not a bird. He won’t like living in our next house. Come on, this way.’
Confused, Tori followed her to the park then through it. When they neared the duck pond, Tori stopped.
‘Where are we going?’
Maggie said, ‘We’re almost there.’
‘Where?’
‘The tree Cetan showed me. There’s a treehouse there. He used to live in it. Now he lives on a houseboat. He told me I can have this place. Which is why I’ve been collecting feathers. For our nest.’
‘Nest? You expect me to live in a nest?’
‘Wait until you see it before you get all negative. Trust me for a change.’
Tori reluctantly continued to follow her sister to the base of a very tall tree, probably the tallest in the park. Its upper branches were abundant with leaf, perfectly hiding whatever was up there. From behind a bush, Maggie fetched a long stick with a hook at the end. She re
ached up and pulled down a rope ladder.
‘Clever, eh?’ she said.
Tori looked hesitantly at the ladder.
Maggie said, ‘Don’t worry, it’s sturdy enough. Stay here for a bit. I’ll climb up and send down a basket for our stuff.’
A few minutes later, a large cane basket on a rope dropped down. Tori filled it with some of their belongings. She tugged on the rope, and the basket disappeared into the upper branches. It soon fell down again, and Tori put the rest of their bags in the basket. Tori slung the rifle over her shoulder, grabbed the rope ladder and started to climb. Halfway up she felt a bit dizzy, which was made worse when she looked down. Tori clung tighter to the wobbling ladder and kept climbing. She finally reached a wooden platform and saw Maggie’s hand reach down to help her up. After catching her breath, Tori appraised her surroundings. It was more spacious than she’d imagined. And, in addition to the wooden floor, there were walls and a roof woven from some sort of plant fibre. Shelves had been built on one side. Near a window on the other side was a low table with cushions surrounding it. Nearby was a cupboard with screen doors, perfect for keeping food safe from creatures. On top was a single-burner kerosene camp stove. And in the middle of the space, perched on a raised platform, was a massive nest. A bed made from soft plant fibre and feathers. Tori climbed in, to test the bed.
With a smile, Maggie remarked, ‘It’s comfy, isn’t it?’
‘It’ll do.’
‘Fussy. Wait until you see this, then.’
Maggie unhooked a rope that was attached to one of the walls, and gently pulled. It opened a large hatch in the roof. Tori could see blue skies.
Maggie said, ‘Imagine the view on clear nights. Heaven will be our roof.’
‘Like that time we slept in the stone circle, with Gabriel.’
‘Do you remember the constellations? And the stories he told us?’
‘Some.’
Maggie picked up a bag of feathers, and shouted, ‘Incoming.’
Tori laughed as feathers fell on her. Maggie threw the other bags into the nest unopened, and climbed in. They both opened bags, throwing feather everywhere, and laughed. Once the bags were empty, they evened out the layer of feathers, filling any gaps in the nest-bed. Maggie then took a large sheet from one of the wall-shelves, and together they spread it over the feathers.
‘Our quilt is too small for this bed,’ remarked Tori.
‘Don’t worry. Cetan made us one, as a gift.’
Tori watched as Maggie retrieved a large quilt from the shelves. She reached out to touch it. It was the softest fabric she’d ever felt.
‘Silk,’ said Maggie. ‘Filled with duck down.’
‘So soft. I love the colours.’
‘It’s like a rainbow lorikeet.’
‘Not just one. This is a whole flock.’
They spread the quilt out and both lay upon it. Arms behind her head, Tori watched the sky.
‘Do you think you could get used to living in a tree?’ asked Maggie.
‘It beats living in a basement.’
Walking to work, Tori saw that little bird again. A black bird with a sprinkling of white feathers. She’d seen it a few times since they’d moved into the treehouse. The bird had started hanging out at the bottom of the tree, as if it was waiting for Tori. And it would often follow her to work. Despite its insistence, she hadn’t taken much notice. Today, the bird was noisier than usual, trying to catch Tori’s attention. When they walked past the almost-dead tree with the large hole in its trunk, the bird stopped and chirped loudly. Tori turned around and it fell silent. She turned to continue her walk to work, and the bird started chirping again. Tori kept walking, with the little bird hopping behind her, making frantic noises.
‘What?’ said Tori, turning around. ‘I’m not the bird fanatic. Go bother my sister.’
The bird hopped about, making a noise that sounded like indignation. Tori shook her head and kept walking, ignoring the noise. She suddenly recalled she hadn’t seen Louis for a while. He didn’t even know where they’d moved to.
When she got to the gallery, she greeted Marcie and began to tidy up. She heard Andrés shouting in his studio, and looked over at Marcie.
Marcie shrugged. ‘Who knows what’s got him in a mood this time.’
Then came the sound of something dropping, or being thrown against a wall. A door slammed and a woman stormed past Marcie and Tori, straight out the front door.
‘You’re a shit model, anyway,’ shouted Andrés, walking into the main gallery behind the woman.
‘What have you gone and done now, Andrés?’ muttered Marcie, as she walked towards the front door. ‘Sonia, wait up. Are you okay?’
Andrés turned his attention to Tori. ‘I wouldn’t have to contend with stuck-up scrawny girls like that one if you’d just model for me.’
Tori shook her head and continued tidying the sales counter. ‘It’s just not my thing.’
‘“Not my thing.” Ha! You might pretend to be different, but you’re just like the rest of them. The pretty young things who find their way here, looking for attention, craving fame.’
‘Not me. I just want to work and get paid.’
‘Modelling is work. And I need a model more than a clean floor.’
Marcie walked back in. ‘Not everything is about you, Andrés, so stop pestering Tori. You’ve already upset Sonia. Give it a rest.’
‘Are you playing big sister again? It’s been a while since you’ve taken one of my girls under your wing.’
‘Tori is not “your girl”. None of the others were, either. Women don’t exist for your sake.’
Andrés turned towards Tori, glaring. ‘The storage room is a mess. I want to see it sorted by the end of today.’
Tori walked towards the room, glad to get away from him.
‘Marcie, get on the phone to that useless agency and tell them to send me another girl. Tell them I want one who’s had a recent feed, and is not strung-out. In the meantime, I’ll be down the pub.’
After he left, Marcie went to the storage room. Tori was picking up boxes and placing them on shelves.
Tori said, ‘He’s such a pig.’
‘In more ways than one.’
Tori picked up some discarded paper.
Marcie announced, ‘I reckon it’s time for a break. You put the kettle on, and I’ll retrieve the whisky from Andrés’s secret stash. Have you had coffee with a dash of whisky before?’
Maggie opened the sky-hatch and climbed back into bed. Tori pulled the quilt up higher, covering herself from the cool breeze.
‘How big do you think those dinosaurs were?’ asked Maggie, gazing up at the stars.
‘What?’
‘The dinosaurs that once lived in the inland sea. The ones Aunty Isabelle told us about.’
‘Oh, right. Super big, I suppose.’
‘I think they’d have still been graceful, even if they were huge. That they swam like ballerinas in that ancient sea. Do you think they would have been graceful?’
‘Haven’t thought about them since we were kids. I remember the idea of them scared me a bit. I even had nightmares about them for a while.’
‘They didn’t scare me. The tiny scorpions that lived in the dried-up seabed did,’ said Maggie.
‘I’d forgotten about those. Seems like I’ve forgotten a lot about those days.’
‘Some things I’m glad to have forgotten. I also get worried that one day I’ll no longer remember the good moments. Do you still see Mum’s face in your mind when you think of her?’
Tori didn’t reply. She looked up at the night sky, wondering if any of the faint stars above were the eagle’s talon Gabriel had shown them. It was so much harder to see stars in the city. Too much light from street lamps and businesses. There was sometimes even lingering smog obscuring the sky. The park was less bright, so on clear nights they could see stars. On those nights, Tori would remember sleeping under the stars with her mother, Maggie by her side, a campfire
warming them even on the coldest of nights. Sometimes she’d remember the night of the fire that had burnt their mother.
Maggie said, ‘I can see Mum’s face when I close my eyes and think of her, but I still worry that I’ll forget one day.’
‘You won’t forget,’ insisted Tori, scratching her arm.
‘Why do you do that all the time?’
‘What?’
‘Lately, you’ve been scratching in your sleep. Or when you’re sitting silently, with a worried look on your face.’
‘No I don’t.’
‘You do. See, your arm has red streaks.’
‘It hasn’t,’ said Tori, rolling away. ‘Go to sleep and stop being annoying.’
The next morning, as she was brushing her hair, Tori stopped and stared in the small mirror on the wall. Moving closer, she turned her head to one side, gently touching her face. It was red, like a rash. It didn’t feel sore, but it was noticeable. Tori finished her hair and put on her shoes.
‘What are your plans for the day?’ she asked Maggie.
‘I’m going to an art class. Louis showed me this place where you can do free stuff. He goes there sometimes, to visit Brother Eddie.’
‘You’ve seen Louis?’
‘Yesterday, down by the duck pond. He said he’d been trying to find us. I showed him where we live now. Then he showed me the place that has classes, and introduced me to Brother Eddie.’
‘He told me about that brother. What’s he like?’
‘Friendly. And funny.’
‘You didn’t tell him about Mum being gone or where we live?’
‘I’m not silly, Tori. We talked about other things.’
‘If you see Louis today, say hi from me. I’ve missed him.’
‘He said the same. That he missed hanging out with you.’
‘That’s nice. I have to work, though.’
‘You’re always working. You should come to that place with me sometimes.’
Tori went to leave. ‘Maybe after the launch of the next exhibition. Until then, Andrés has us doing extra hours. And he’s grumpy as all hell.’
As Tori walked through the park, the little black-and-white bird followed her as usual. She didn’t even hear its chirping; she was too deep in thought. She liked earning money, but the gallery was not a pleasant place to work. If she didn’t have Marcie for company, Tori would have left a long time ago. Andrés wasn’t just rude and demanding, he made her feel uncomfortable. Even when he wasn’t in sight, she worried about what sort of mood he’d be in next time she encountered him. Andrés reminded her of von Wolff, especially the way he was after Iris died. Tori had begun to think that if she’d tried harder to make their mother leave that place, she’d still be alive. And she and Maggie wouldn’t be living in a tree with no family, no place to belong.