‘He hasn’t done anything wrong.’
‘I did not expect,’ she continues, as though I haven’t spoken, ‘to go to breakfast and hear that my daughter has been socialising with the boy who put Hayden Chapman in hospital.’
‘He didn’t. You have to listen—’
‘You won’t see him anymore, will you?’ There’s pleading in her tone.
‘Mum—’
‘Stay away from that boy.’
‘But—’
The sound of splintering wood cuts me off.
‘My guitar,’ I cry as my one escape is taken from me.
Mum looks down in surprise at the broken guitar in her hands. One fine shard of wood is sticking into her palm. ‘I didn’t …’ she begins with a frown. She drops the pieces just as Dad appears in the hallway behind her. She cradles her hand where a thin stream of blood is flowing towards the cuff of her cream blouse. She’s crying. ‘Callie, honey, I didn’t mean to.’
‘I know, Mum, I know,’ I say, fighting tears myself. Whether they’re over Mum or my guitar, I’m not sure.
Dad takes the situation in at a glance and places an arm around her. ‘How about we get this splinter out?’
‘Okay.’ She turns into his arms, suddenly small and broken.
I open my mouth but I can’t think of anything to say. I just stand and watch as Dad leads Mum out of my room and down the stairs.
I have to get out of here. Telling the truth just got a whole lot harder. The fallout could send Mum back into psychiatric care. I try to breathe but it’s like the walls are closing in. Dobbing Sean in is one thing, but how can I be responsible for pushing Mum over the edge?
Maybe a walk will help clear my head.
Maybe I’ll head towards Javier’s. My chest aches at the thought. I have no reason to like Rhett … except that I do. He makes me laugh, he listens, he treats me like I’m a glass figurine, like if he touches me I might break—and then he touches me anyway.
And most importantly, he sees the me I try to cover up by being perfect—and he still wants me. No-one has ever wanted the real Callie before.
I take the stairs slowly, listening out for Mum. Dad’s in the kitchen, on the phone. When he sees me he covers the mouthpiece. ‘I’m trying to get through to your mother’s doctor.’
‘She’s that bad?’ I know she’s kept seeing someone over the years. One rare night she braided my hair, like she used to when I was little, and she told me there was no shame in getting help. She never really mentioned it again.
‘I’m going to take Lion out for a walk.’
He nods, distracted. ‘I think that’s a good idea.’ Then he looks up. ‘We’ll replace your guitar, I promise.’
‘It’s okay,’ I lie.
Lion’s lead is on the outside hook where I left it but there’s no sign of him. Maybe he’s sleeping behind the barbecue. ‘Lion,’ I call, and jingle the chain.
Nothing. No excited yip or scratch of racing paws.
‘Lion?’ I try again but there’s no response. I search our yard but there’s no furry red puppy lazing in the sunshine.
I think back. I haven’t seen or heard him since Jonny was here. Jonny … who left in such a foul mood. That’s when I notice that the side gate isn’t closed properly. I cross to open it and stare down the road.
Could Jonny have left it open?
I shake my head. There has to be another explanation. Jonny might not be the kind of guy to give Lion a tummy rub but he’s always known how important it is to keep the gate shut. Lion never misses an opportunity to escape.
Anything could happen to him out on the street. My imagination helpfully compiles a list that I don’t even want to consider. It’s been at least half an hour since I heard Lion. He could have gone a long way in that time. At least I know where to start looking. My little dog loves the beach.
I lean into the kitchen. Dad’s still on the phone. ‘Lion’s missing.’
He acknowledges me with a lifted hand, but he’s speaking. No help there. Before, I would have recruited Bree to help, but her silence since yesterday tells me not to bother calling. I text her, but there’s no response.
I’m alone.
So be it. I won’t give up. I grab a jacket, leave the gate ajar in case he returns, and head out to find him.
CHAPTER
14
Rhett
Without opening my eyes, I stretch my arms above my head. Man that was a good sleep. This is the softest pillow ever. I blink and sit up. Where am I? The answer comes a heartbeat later: Javier’s.
Swift on its heels is the memory of Callie’s mouth, soft and giving against mine, and the fierce desire to see her again. I could hardly bring myself to let her go last night and now she’s the only person I want to see.
But I have a whole lot of stuff to deal with before I can think about stealing away to see her. The light teasing the edges of the pulled blind tells me that it’s morning. And that I’ve slept way past my usual hour.
The sound of voices comes down the carpeted hallway. I follow it and find Javier and Scarlett talking in the kitchen. Ma is nowhere to be seen.
Scarlett looks up from the table with a grin. ‘Hey, sleepyhead.’ She’s slurping cornflakes from a bowl and looks completely at home.
Javier offers me a mug of the coffee warming in the pot on the bench. No instant stuff here.
I take it gratefully and sit down, breathing in the slightly burnt smell of Javier’s thick, black brew. I feel instantly more awake. ‘Is Ma up yet?’
‘Not yet.’ Javier and Scarlett share a glance.
‘What’s going on?’
‘Ma was exhausted when she got home. And she’s been like that for ages. It’s not normal. So we called the doctor,’ Scarlett admits. ‘She’s coming later this morning.’
My sister has settled here as though she owns the place. I have to fight not to growl at her. ‘You didn’t want to talk about it with me first?’
Her brows come together. ‘I talked about it with Javier.’
I glare at my boss.
He takes a sip of coffee and returns my gaze steadily. ‘No-one’s going behind your back. You looked like you needed the rest, and if we didn’t book early the doc’s few Sunday calls would be gone.’
‘You should have woken me.’
Scarlett takes her bowl to the sink, nudging my shoulder none too gently on her way past. ‘You’re not the only one who cares about Ma.’
‘If it’s about the money …’ Javier begins softly.
‘Of course it’s about the money.’ I grip the cup but try to keep my voice calm. My sleepy thoughts of Callie are a lifetime ago. ‘We can’t afford a freaking house call.’
Javier nods. ‘But I can.’
I stand and push the coffee across the table. ‘Look, I’m grateful you offered us a place to stay last night but we’re not a charity.’ I don’t realise I’m shouting until the words are out of my mouth and it’s too late to drag them back in.
Scarlett stares between us. She’s chewing on the inside of her cheek and I know she thinks I’ve screwed everything up for all of us.
Javier’s expression doesn’t change. He sips his coffee again, ignoring my outburst. ‘But you’re my friends.’ Another calm sip. ‘And that’s what friends do. Sometimes, they help each other out.’
He says it like it’s simple. My gaze drops to the floor and it takes everything in me to keep the stupid tears at bay.
Despite my interest in the tiles I’m standing on, I see Javier turn his back, giving me a second to pull myself together. My sister, however, isn’t so sensitive. She stops in front of me and waits for me to look up at her.
‘We can trust Javier,’ she whispers.
‘I know.’ The admission grates from my throat. I might not want to take his money but I know I can trust him.
Scarlett’s grin is back. ‘He said we can stay tonight too. Give the idiots looking for you a chance to get over it.’
Another night.
Tomorrow, if I’m reading her right, Callie will tell the truth to Ando and I’ll be in the clear. I try for a smile. It feels forced but she seems happy enough.
Javier clears his throat. ‘So, we’re good?’
‘Yeah.’
‘The doc is coming in a couple of hours.’
And just like that, my focus on the money is wiped out by the reason she’s coming. The fact that Ma’s tired all the time and doesn’t care. The weeks of trying to ignore what seems so obvious now.
I can’t stand around here waiting for some stranger to tell me she’s sick. ‘I’ll go check the house,’ I announce to no-one in particular.
Scarlett’s hand clutches my arm. ‘Do you have to? What if Jonny and his friends are waiting?’
‘They won’t be around this morning.’ I try for a confident tone, but find myself looking to Javier for confirmation.
He nods. ‘I reckon you’ll be fine.’
Scarlett lets go of my arm. I take a step towards the door but Javier’s voice stops me. ‘But surely there’s nothing that can’t wait for some breakfast?’
The loud rumble of my gut makes arguing pointless. I swallow, and turn back. ‘Thanks.’ The unfamiliar word comes out as a squeak.
Javier grins. ‘Someday it won’t be so hard to say.’
I don’t plan on getting too much practice.
* * *
Half an hour later, with a full stomach, I turn onto our road. Despite what I said to Scarlett, I’ve been on edge the whole way home. Listening for angry yells, watching for shapes in the shadows of the tree-lined streets. But there’s nothing and no-one out and about this morning.
I reach our block without incident.
It must lull me into a false sense of security, or maybe it was the soft bed I slept in, but I’m completely unprepared for what I see when I round the corner.
It’s like a bomb went off.
Every single window is smashed in and the front door is hanging on one hinge like when Scarlett’s first tooth was loose but she wouldn’t let anyone pull it out.
Our couch is upside down on the footpath and something white and frilly has been draped over the letterbox. I taste acid and break into a jog on legs that feel like cement. Underwear. Ma’s or Scarlett’s, it doesn’t matter. I gather the bra from the letterbox with shaking hands, thankful the street is quiet, hoping, stupidly, that not too many of our neighbours have seen.
There’s the sound of a sob behind me. Scarlett. So much for me being on alert. I missed my own sister following me. I turn and lift my hands, as if I can stop her coming any closer. ‘What are you doing here? You should be with Ma.’
‘I wanted to come. Javier is there and I didn’t want you to have to handle this on your own.’ Her gaze drops to my hands. ‘What’s that?’
I try to hide it behind my back. Sure, because that will make everything okay. I want to laugh but it’s hard not to cry. ‘Nothing.’
Her brows lift. ‘I’m not an idiot.’
‘You fell for Hayden Chapman.’
‘I didn’t say I never make mistakes.’
The flare of relief that she might be seeing sense at last is wiped away by the state of our house. ‘I should have stayed. I could have tried to stop them.’
She pauses beside me. ‘They would have hurt you.’
‘But at least I’d have tried.’
She moves ahead of me, ignoring my guilt, the agony of second-guessing a million choices that I could have made differently. ‘Shall we go inside?’
I have to hurry to catch up to her. We walk side by side down the front path, and she points to a blackened pile of ashes by the front door. ‘They lit a fire. We’re lucky it didn’t spread to the house.’
‘Lucky.’
If she hears my sarcasm, she ignores it. ‘It’s worse than we thought. I should let Javier know. We’ll need to follow up the complaint to the police.’
I look up and down the silent street. ‘No-one will have seen anything. Anyway, how do you propose we do all that?’
She waves a mobile phone under my nose. ‘He lent it to me.’
Great, because we need to owe him more. ‘Remember, he’s not family.’
‘Don’t you ever get tired of everything being so crap? Would it be so bad to have something go our way for a change?’
‘And Javier’s it?’
Her eyes flash. ‘Hey, I don’t know what personal guilt he wants to make up for by helping us out and I don’t care. I don’t see why we can’t just be grateful. Let someone else be the grown-up for a change. Ma isn’t up for the job.’
‘He’s not family.’
‘Oh, you mean like Dad?’
Ignoring that last comment, I push open the front door. I know Javier is one of the good guys. He’s not gonna screw us over or leech onto Scarlett, but my family isn’t his responsibility. Scarlett just doesn’t get it. She still believes that good things can just happen. Like you don’t have to pay a price.
But Callie gets it.
I never imagined someone living on her side of the creek would understand. She’s so great and so smart all at once. Her honey hair and knowing eyes invade my thoughts again.
I’m so caught up thinking about Callie that I don’t notice Scarlett dial, but when I look up she’s leaning against the empty window frame talking on the phone, shards of glass inches from her bare legs.
She straightens and her hand covers the mouthpiece. ‘They’re getting Sergeant Peters,’ she whispers to me. And then, louder, ‘It’s Scarlett Barker here, sir.’
She pauses. ‘You came by last night?’ She’s nodding, staring around at the overturned furniture and smashed glass. ‘The damage is pretty bad.’ Another pause. ‘Thank you.’ When she disconnects she’s all hopeful. ‘They sent out a patrol after Javier called last night, and scared the perpetrators away. Apparently they have persons of interest they’ll be speaking to later today.’
‘Perpetrators?’
‘Jonny and his friends.’
‘I know, I’m just impressed by your vocabulary. You sound like a cop show.’
‘Just repeating what he said.’
Looking around, the mess doesn’t seem as bad. Even if the police can’t prove anything, it’s good to know it’s not being ignored just because it happened on this side of the creek. ‘Watch your step.’ I point to the broken window.
She shrugs and picks her way past it. Her sandals, cut-off denims and singlet are more beachwear than clean-up crew. She grabs a bag and packs some of her things, then does the same for Ma. In less than five minutes she’s on her way again. ‘I’m heading back. The doc might be early.’
‘Great.’
‘Are you coming?’
‘I’ll be there soon. I just want to get a start on this mess.’
Scarlett stops at the door. It swings from its one hinge in a gust of wind behind her. ‘You should have seen him last night.’
I don’t have time for the wistful tone in her voice. ‘Who?’
‘Javier. When you were walking Callie home. He was so kind with Ma when she arrived there, so tired from work. Do you think maybe—?’
‘No,’ I snap. But then I think of all the times he’s asked about her. The days he mentioned checking in at her work to make sure she was okay. I thought it was for my benefit but maybe it wasn’t. ‘Javier isn’t one of Ma’s boyfriends.’
Scarlett turns on her heel. ‘Exactly,’ she calls back over her shoulder.
With Scarlett gone, I find some garbage bags and the bra is the first thing that goes in. I don’t examine it closely enough to tell if it’s wrecked. There’s no way the women in my family are wearing something that has been used as a flag.
Next, I gather up the couch stuffing that’s spread like snow across the front yard. A broom clears the worst of the broken glass, and before long the front yard is getting back to normal.
Well, that’s if I don’t look too closely at the door, the vacant windows, or the upside-down couch.
I wipe sweat off my brow. I’m not sure I can haul Ma’s second-favourite item of furniture inside without help.
‘Need a hand?’
I turn towards the voice. Sean Jones is standing in my driveway with his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
‘You here to finish off your friends’ work?’
He shakes his head.
‘Whatever. I don’t need your help.’
He nods and moves to the arm of the couch. ‘Inside?’
‘This isn’t going to make everything okay.’
‘No shit.’
‘Just so we’re clear.’
We work together in silence. It’s good to have someone to help with some of the bigger stuff, like the couch, and the fridge that we find out the back by the creek.
Soon, we’re both drenched in sweat thanks to the sun beating down in a hint of summer.
‘Do you want a drink?’ I offer, when I see Sean wipe his face with the corner of his once-white T-shirt.
‘Yeah.’
The kid who’s letting me take the fall for him leans against my kitchen bench while I fill two plastic cups with water. He drains his without comment and I do the same.
I have to get back to Javier’s, but I don’t move. ‘What do you want?’
‘I didn’t come here for me.’
‘Sure.’
He places the cup on the bench with extreme care. The fist that punched Hayden is almost gentle with the cheap plastic. Sean rubs absent-mindedly at the bruise on his knuckle. ‘Callie is going to tell. I know it.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because of something that happened when we were kids.’
‘You mean her friend who died?’
His head snaps around, surprise widening his eyes. ‘She told you about that? She must really like you.’
My heart doesn’t do a jig. I’m not the jigging type. ‘She’s a nice girl.’ It’s such an understatement that I can hardly get the words out.
‘I don’t know how much she told you but she wasn’t the only one affected by what happened. Our mum, she just about broke down, and Callie suffered from that more than anyone. If Callie tells …’ His voice trails off. ‘If you care about her at all, you’ll convince her not to.’
What I Saw Page 16