Little Secrets

by Anna Snoekstra

  “Your friend Rosie’s come to visit me—isn’t that sweet?” his mother was saying.

  “Yeah,” he said again.

  “After hearing so much about her for all these years, it was such a nice surprise.”

  Frank gaped.

  “Oh, don’t get embarrassed, dolcezza,” his mother told him.

  “It was lovely to meet you too,” Rose said, picking up her backpack and placing it lightly on her shoulder. “That panettone was delicious.”

  “Leaving already?” his mother asked. “But Frank’s only just gotten home.”

  “I’ve gotta go,” she said, giving his mother a small wave then heading out of the room.

  Frank followed her to the door.

  “See you later,” she said, smiling back at him as she turned the knob.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he spit.

  “Just being polite,” she said, smiling again. Despite everything, he smiled back at her as she turned and closed the door behind herself. As she walked down the street, he saw she still had small half-healed cuts down her arms.

  “What a lovely girl,” his mother called out from the living room.

  “Mmm,” he said, as he went into the kitchen to find a glass.

  “Looks like she’s been through the wars,” his mother was saying, as she slowly cleared up the plates from the lounge room. “When she leaned over I saw a hell of a bruise on her chest, and did you see those scabs on her knees? Poor thing. She said she fell off her bike this afternoon too—she was covered in muck when she first got here and was all coy about asking to use the bathroom. Honestly, she’s very polite. The kind of girl you just want to look after. I’d like her as a daughter-in-law, I think.”

  His mother went on and on. Frank ignored her and went into his room with the glass.

  * * *

  The next morning, Frank woke to a cacophony of car doors slamming shut. His street was a quiet one, so this was out of the ordinary, but he was too tired to look out the window. His stomach was swirling and his head was too fuzzy to try to think about anything more than the dream he had just had. He had almost remembered it when there was a knock on the front door. He rolled over. He’d let his mother get it. There was another impatient knock and his mother’s slippered feet shuffled down the hallway, and he heard the front door open.

  “Mio Dio!”

  He sat up then. Rubbed his face and pulled on a T-shirt. He opened his bedroom door to see his captain coming down the hallway toward him.

  “What the hell?” he said, wishing he’d covered up his jocks.

  “Frank.” His captain nodded. “Let’s just make this simple, okay? No one wants any fuss.”

  Frank looked past him. Baz was talking softly to his mum in his entranceway; Jonesy was lurched next to the door, and two men he didn’t recognize, men in suits, stood with their arms folded.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Please let me pass,” his captain said. Frank hadn’t been intentionally blocking him. He stood aside straightaway.

  His captain went into his bedroom, followed closely by the two men in suits. Frank stood in his bedroom doorway, feeling like an absolute idiot in his underwear. He wished that he had moved the spirit bottle out of his room last night, but no one else seemed to be looking at it. Instead, one of the men in suits was pulling on some plastic gloves and getting down on his knees next to Frank’s bed.

  “Is this a joke?” he said, suddenly realizing that it must all be some prank, but he had no idea why. He wasn’t getting married. It wasn’t his birthday.

  The man with the gloves on ignored him and pulled something out from under his bed. It was so out of place that it took Frank a moment to register what it was. A plastic-wrapped square of white crystals. Then the man pulled out another, and another, and his captain turned to him.

  “Put on some pants, Frank. Let’s just walk out of here. I’ve known you a long time. Don’t make me use the cuffs.”

  SENIOR SERGEANT TIED TO

  MAJOR DRUG TRAFFICKING

  by Rose Blakey

  Breaking: In a corruption scandal, Senior Sergeant Frank Ghirardello has been officially charged with importing methamphetamines interstate. A raid was carried out at his Colmstock home early this morning with officers of the Crime and Misconduct Commission present. A large amount of uncut methamphetamines was seized from the premises.

  The drug “ice” has devastated this small community, with state police stumped as to how it was infiltrating the town.

  As well as the highly-publicized porcelain dolls case, the town has been overwhelmed by recent arson attacks. The most recent of which penetrated an open oil shale mine and continues to burn under the town’s surface. Firefighters are working around the clock in an attempt to control the blaze; however, no arrests have been made.

  In light of these events, a spokesperson for the Crime and Misconduct Commission has stated that a public inquiry of ongoing police misconduct is not being ruled out.

  46

  Rose stood outside Eamon’s holding her suitcase. She’d intended to go in, say goodbye, but the idea of stepping up toward the door, something that she had done thousands of times before, was impossible. Through the grimy window she could see Mia pouring a beer; she could see Jean pulling out the rubbish bag and tying the plastic into a knot. It seemed they weren’t going to hire someone to replace her. Although Jean would have to get someone soon. Rose had heard that Bazza had proposed. Mia had got what she wanted. Rose didn’t hate her, but she also wasn’t happy for her. She felt nothing.

  Soon there’d be new girls working at the tavern with Jean, probably still teenagers, and it would start all over again. Standing on the footpath, Rose turned and kept walking down the street. She couldn’t go in there, not now, and hopefully not ever again.

  The road was hot to the touch now, as the fire continued to burn beneath them. Colmstock was veiled with murky smoke that irritated the throat and eyes. Every person she walked past had bloodshot eyes.

  Yesterday, she’d gone to the hospital. Baz wasn’t waiting outside Will’s door anymore, but after the commotion she made last time, the fleshy nurse behind the service desk had recognized her as soon as the elevator doors opened.

  “Wait here,” she had said as she had wobbled out from behind the desk. “If you go barreling down that hallway again I’ll have security here to escort you out, understand?”

  “How is he?”

  The nurse bit her lip, and Rose’s vision had started to blur.

  “Are you family?”

  “No, but I’m his girlfriend. Please,” she had begged, “tell me.”

  “There’s been damage to his heart—it might be long-term.”

  “Long-term,” Rose repeated. The nurse nodded.

  “So.” She swallowed. “He’s not going to die?”

  “You didn’t know? He’s out of the woods, thank goodness. He regained consciousness the night after he came in.”

  She could hear the woman’s words, but she couldn’t believe it. His face that night, his limp body, was still in her mind.

  “There’re no cops here,” she said, quietly.

  “No. The charges were all dropped.”

  Rose swallowed. “Can I see him?”

  “If you promise you’ll wait here,” the woman had said, and Rose had nodded eagerly, “then I’ll go check he’s okay for visitors.”

  “Okay.”

  The nurse motioned her to a seat, but Rose hadn’t taken it. Instead, she had stayed standing, staring at her shoes on the linoleum floor. The day she’d met Will they had been brand-new; now they were frayed and dirty.

  The speakers had crackled, ordering someone to the service desk. The waiting room had smelled of the disinfectant hand sanitizer. There had been
a sign above a bottle, instructing visitors to use it before seeing patients. Rose pressed down on the pump, rubbing her hands together, the alcohol smell overwhelming, wincing as it got into the cuts on her hands.

  She had been grinning, a huge nervous beam. He would look bad; she knew that. It would be a hard thing to see. But still, she had been elated because, she had known completely, she was in love with this man. The man she loved was going to be okay, and she would help him get better and it would all be okay. She would give up everything for him. Everything.

  The nurse had come out of Will’s room then, clicking the door carefully shut behind her. The woman had looked away from Rose’s smile, and that had made her falter.

  “Is he asleep?” she’d asked.

  “No,” the nurse had said, and Rose had worried that there was something wrong, that maybe he wasn’t going to be okay after all.

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you see him.” The nurse hadn’t looked her in the eye.

  “It’s okay—I don’t mind waiting,” she’d gabbled, “or I can come back in the morning?”

  “He doesn’t want to see you,” the nurse had said and shrugged awkwardly. “Sorry.”

  Rose had just stood, her hands still stinging from the disinfectant. The woman had looked as though she was about to put a sympathetic hand on Rose’s shoulder, but reconsidered, and she had gone back behind the desk.

  Rose waited at the bus station, her suitcase between her knees. Looking down the highway, she saw the heat made the road glisten and shimmer as though it were wet. She’d dreamed about having a ticket for this bus trip many times, imagining how elated she would feel, how proud of herself. But she didn’t feel any of these things, only the sun heating her back, her sweat making the material of her singlet stick to her skin, the crawling sensation of something on her arm. She lifted her hand to brush it off, but stopped. It was a ladybug, slowly crawling up her arm. Putting her forefinger into its path, she waited for it to crawl on and then took a step over to a patch of burned grass. She watched the tiny insect creep off, just as the bus pulled in.

  Giving her suitcase to the driver to stow underneath, she handed him her ticket. He nodded to her and she boarded, picking a seat toward the back. Settling in for the long journey, Rose stared at the back of the empty seat in front of her. When she’d imagined boarding this bus she had thought about how good it would feel to look at each part of the town she’d seen a million times, and know it was the last time. A few other passengers boarded, but Rose didn’t look up. The bus rumbled as the ignition was started. Then it pulled out from the station and was on its way.

  She’d left Will a note. It said that she was sorry, and told him about Ben. It said to call her if he could ever find it in his heart to forgive her. But she didn’t expect to hear from him.

  Out of the window, the burned courthouse flicked past, the library, the police station and Eamon’s Tavern. They went up the main road and passed the kids walking home from school. Laura was there, in her uniform, rushing to keep up with her brother and sister. But Rose never saw them; she never looked out. She just closed her eyes, letting the bus carry her to her better life.

  47

  Sophie, Scott and Laura didn’t notice the bus either.

  “Wait! Wait!” Laura was calling.

  They never, ever waited up for her. One day, Laura knew she was going to be bigger and taller than both of them and she wouldn’t wait for them either. Give them a taste of their own medicine. But for now, her legs were too small and she hated being left behind more than anything.

  She tried her best to go even faster. The houses whirled past as she ran, her backpack going bam-bam-bam on her back. When she got home she was going to do something. Maybe put clothes-pegs under their bedcovers, or bite herself and tell her mum that they did it. She thought about it and smiled and really she wasn’t paying attention and that was why she fell.

  Her foot hit an uneven edge on the pavement. And everything went upside down and then she was on the ground. She sat up and looked around, deciding whether to cry. But no one had even seen it. Scott and Sophie were getting farther ahead and now she would never catch up.

  “Sophie!” she yelled but they didn’t turn around.

  She brushed the dirt off her hands. They were scraped a little bit, but only pink with little scratchy white lines. It was her knee that hurt the most. Inspecting it, she saw red blood. One big droplet of it, coming out of a shiny circle with no skin at all.

  “Oh, you poor thing!” An old lady with a dark red walking stick was shuffling out of the house Laura was in front of. It was the house that had the big, wild jungle garden filled with millions of rolled-up newspapers. Laura didn’t know the lady, but she’d seen her in church a few times. Once she’d even seen Rose and the lady holding arms and crossing the street, like Rose did with her sometimes before she got angry with her and left.

  “I saw your stumble through my window. Are you okay, sweetie?”

  Laura nodded sadly. Her knee actually did hurt a big amount.

  “Come on—up you get. I’ll find you a Band-Aid.”

  She put out her wrinkly hand. Laura clasped on to it with her little fingers and the old lady pulled her to her feet.

  They walked together up the drive and Laura had to watch her feet so she wouldn’t fall over again on the newspapers. This lady smelled funny. Like the eucalyptus drops she had to suck when she had a cold. The lady led her through the door. For a moment Laura just saw the two armchairs with a little coffee table in between. But then she saw the rest of the room. It was the best thing she had ever seen ever!

  There was a shelf all filled with dolls. At least twenty. Dolls, just like the one Rose had taken away from her. They had blond hair, brown hair, black hair; one even had pink hair!

  “Wow!”

  “Did you like the doll I left you? That was Abagail—she used to be one of my favorites,” the lady said.

  “My sister made the police take her,” Laura said, thinking how silly Rose had been to think the old lady was a bad guy.

  “You’ll have to speak up, dear. My hearing isn’t what it was.”

  “My sister stole her!”

  “Oh, really? What a naughty girl.”

  Laura laughed. She’d never heard Rose being called a naughty girl before, but she was. She was a naughty meanie girl.

  “Well, anytime you want to play with one of my dolls you can come right on over. They’re meant for children and I don’t have any of my own.”

  Pure, complete joy took over Laura and she couldn’t even feel the sore on her knee anymore. She went over and picked up as many dolls as she could carry. They all had soft dresses that felt all smooth and nice, and some had curls that went boing when you pulled on them like a spring, and their faces were hard, but so lovely with little pink cheeks.

  “Shoo! Let the little girl sit down, Jack.” The lady pushed a big ginger cat off the armchair and it stalked out of the room. “I’ll find you a plaster.”

  Laura wondered if she really meant it. If she could come here after school and play with her dolls and maybe even the cat too. It would be the most great thing ever. Way more fun than trying to play with Scott and Sophie and their stupid, dumb games.

  Laura climbed up onto the armchair. It all smelled eucalyptus-y in here, but she decided that she liked it. She seated the dolls all around her. One on each armrest, three on her lap. She hadn’t decided which one was her favorite yet.

  Momentarily, a framed photograph on the coffee table distracted her. It was black-and-white like it used to be in the olden days. A mum and dad—the dad looked like a soldier and had a funny mustache—and a little boy and a little girl with a doll.

  The lady came back in with two plates of cookies. Choc chip, Laura was pretty sure. Hopefully not raisin or something yuck like that.

/>   “Who’s that?” She pointed at the little girl with the doll and remembered to yell loud because the lady said she had to speak up and that meant yell.

  “That’s me and my family. Before the bad things happened.”

  Laura didn’t really understand how the old lady could also be a little black-and-white girl who lived in the olden days.

  “Innocence means everything to me. Everything. Mine was taken away when I was far too young. The things I saw in that great big house should never have been witnessed by a child. I wish I’d knocked the place down rather than selling.”

  The lady looked sad as she set the plates down on the table. And began opening drawers.

  “Can I really play with all these dolls?” But Laura forgot to yell this time.

  “I just wish they’d change the name, don’t you think? Using my father’s name on a place of drink would have him turning over in his grave, not that he deserves much sympathy.”

  There were Band-Aids in the drawer in front of her, but she closed it anyway and looked at Laura, smiling.

  “Don’t you just look cute as pie. You will come over and play with them, won’t you? It makes me sad to see them all here gathering dust. That’s why I started giving them to girls that looked a little poorly at church after poor Benny was gone. It’s not something the kids should have to face.”

  Not really listening, Laura picked up one of the dolls and looked at its face. It was so pretty. Maybe it would be her favorite.

  “This one’s Hyacinth,” the lady was saying. “I was going to give her to little Joni, looks a bit like her, I think. But now Benny’s back and all the kids are playing again it isn’t really necessary, I suppose. Tell you what—I’ll just keep them all here for now until you get tired of them. How does that sound?”

  Laura grinned. The old lady grinned back. Laura would come here every single day after school to play with them. She liked the old lady. She was going to be Laura’s brand-new friend, just for her and no one else.

  “Now, let me see if I can dig up a plaster for that poor knee of yours and then we’ll call your mum and tell her you’re here.” The lady shuffled off to the bathroom.