‘Seventeen,’ Jack said, eyes on the road so he didn’t notice our sniggers. ‘There’ll be no problems, I promise. She has never given me a moment’s worry.’
‘Lucky you.’ Reine’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. ‘So what school does she go to?’
‘The local high school’s just down the road,’ he said. ‘It’s a wonderful school and she always gets top of her class.’
‘Really?’
‘She’s loved reading since she was tiny, and she’s a great little writer,’ he blathered on, oblivious to our stifled hilarity. ‘She writes plays, too. Last year the school drama group chose one of hers for their end-of-year performance.’
‘Oh, that’s sooooo nice.’
‘Wow! She must be talented.’
Reine and I had her sussed and we hadn’t even met her. Reading and writing plays, eh? We looked at each other with raised, knowing eyebrows. We knew the type. Every school has them – tedious, bright-eyed, studious geeks. At school I hardly even saw those girls until they stood up at assembly and started crapping on about some boring play or wacko author the library group had invited to the school. So come along and get your books signed! Yeah right! It was either that or Indigenous rights or climate change. My friends and I would be down the back paralytic with laughter or boredom as those total losers blathered on. The incredible thing was that they had no idea how totally . . . uncool they were, with their witless little battles to save the world. They were continually bugging people to join their clubs and buy tickets to their stupid performances or raffle tickets for their good works. As far as we were concerned, the world as it was was totally fine. Why would we want to change anything?
‘Ella is going to have a special dinner ready for us,’ Jack said when we asked if we could stop for takeaway.
‘Oh goody,’ Reine muttered under her breath. ‘She sounds like such fun.’
‘Yeah,’ I muttered. ‘God, I’m dying to meet her.’
{1}
It has to be said right up front that as soon as I saw her I hated her. My sister Reine and I both hated her on sight. When she opened the door to welcome us into that poxy little vanilla-brick nothing house in that nowhere suburb surrounded by other shitty little houses with low fences and dreary gardens and muffled dirty traffic noise . . . we were overcome by it. I remember the way we snorted and chuckled as soon as we were out of earshot. ‘Oh how nice! She wants to show us around!’ my sister sniggered.
‘Like there’s anything to see!’ I giggled, glad to be brought back to reality after the shock of actually meeting the girl. Reine had always been a brilliant mimic, and she’d got the deep breathy voice just right.
She was beautiful, you see, startlingly so, if you want the truth. Funny that I can admit that now, because there was a time when I was unable to say her name without the green monster sticking so hard in my throat that I almost choked. Her hair was deep titian bronze – that colour that you just can’t get from a packet or a bottle – full of depth and natural highlights. In one light it was almost blonde but in another quite a deep red. Anyway, it was long and thick and curly. Her eyes were so blue and bright that you couldn’t, even if you tried, look away from them, especially if she had them trained on you, and they were surrounded by thick, dark lashes. Above them were perfectly arched eyebrows that had obviously never even been plucked! Oh God. Ditto for the rest of her! That was the truly sickening part. Not a hint of contrivance or a trace of makeup.
We hadn’t been warned, not by our mother or by the hopeless idiot who was to become our stepfather. No one told us that our stepsister was this incredibly hot chick or tried to prepare us for how it would actually feel to live with that every day.
She was in baggy jeans and a torn old red T-shirt and rubber thongs if you don’t mind.
‘Hi, I’m Ella,’ she said, ‘it’s so good to meet you both. Welcome!’
It makes me laugh to remember how damned friendly she was, right from that first meeting, smiling shyly, holding out both of her soft white hands as though she really had been looking forward to meeting us! How dumb would you have to be not to hold back a bit? The three of us – Mum, Reine and I – were about to move into her house permanently. She’d never met us before, so how completely stupid not to be just a teeny bit wary. She could have had the upper hand if she’d wanted it! That’s what I always come back to when the buckets of blame pour over our heads. She could have had the upper hand! She was seventeen, for God’s sake, not ten.
We stood there – Reine and I – transfixed by the per- fection before us. When she turned away to close the door behind us I couldn’t look at my sister, but I remember praying, Please let her have heavy legs and thick ankles under those jeans. If not that then at least give her some other awful defect or better still some fatal disease that will kill her off soon, because I’m not going to be able to handle living with this . . . But I could already see that her feet in those old thongs were small and dainty, and before the day was out I knew that she had the lithe athleticism of a ballet dancer and lovely, shapely legs as well. After we’d been shown to our rooms and checked out the bathroom and the kitchen, which was in the middle of the living area, she was still all smiles.
‘Come and I’ll show you out the back.’
Outside was even more boring than inside if that was possible. The yard was neat, with a huge gum tree in one corner and a fruit tree in the other, a couple of beds of roses and coloured flowers in the middle of the lawn and some sort of vegetable patch along the back fence, as if they were peasants. A row of small trees and bushes lined the side fence. A wire-netting enclosure attached to an old disused laundry was the only thing that was even vaguely interesting.
‘It’s a hospital for birds,’ Ella said proudly as she led us over to it. Reine and I raised our eyebrows behind her back and Reine pretended to throw up. Oh wow! How totally wonderful! A bird hospital. Can’t wait to see that!
‘People bring sick birds from all over the country for Dad to heal,’ the girl carried on, oblivious.
What could we say?
There was nothing to look at anyway. Nothing interesting. At the very least I thought there might be an exotic species – like the coloured ones you see in Indonesia and Thailand with the weird beaks, or some of those bright pretty twittering things that would at least be amusing or decorative. But no, there was just this huge, black, morose-looking thing sitting like a lump of wood on a low branch. And a few very ordinary-looking pigeons in a cordoned-off section in one corner, but who’d want to look at them?
‘Is that an eagle?’ I asked, pointing to the big mean one with the yellow eyes and hooked beak.
‘No,’ she laughed, ‘we’re not sure what he is. Dad knows every species of bird but he can’t pinpoint this one. We’ve got a guy coming from the university to check him out next month.’
‘Looks so . . . mean.’ I shuddered.
‘Mean,’ she agreed, ‘but wonderful too. Look at his beak and his legs, so powerful and they . . .’ She stopped, sensing that we didn’t really want a lecture on how wonderful the ghastly creature was. ‘It’s really important to keep this gate shut, okay?’
‘Why?’
‘Well, he’s a scavenger. We know that much. He’ll attack other small creatures like cats or other birds.’
Reine looked at me blankly and put her fingers through the wire. ‘Like we were planning to walk in,’ she whispered to me.
‘Don’t do that,’ Ella said quietly.
‘Why not?’
‘It’s a wild creature. It will attack if it feels threatened.’
Reine left her hand exactly where it was.
‘It doesn’t look too wild to me,’ she mocked. But just as she said it the gross black thing turned its head, fixed its bright yellow eye on us, then opened its beak wide and let out this incredibly loud, long screech. It was like someone’s nail sliding down the blackboard at school, only much worse.
‘Yuck!’ Reine pulled her hand away.
> ‘How come your dad knows so much about birds?’
‘It’s been his lifelong passion,’ Ella said proudly.
‘Has he studied them?’ I enquired suspiciously.
‘Some people just have a feeling for particular animals.’ She obviously thought this was enough of an explanation. ‘Birds have been his thing since he was a kid. He knows a lot of stuff by feel.’
‘Feel?’
‘Remember the horse whisperer?’ she went on.
We shook our heads and stared at her. What the hell have horses got to do with birds?
Ella sighed, like it was us being stupid, and I didn’t take kindly to that. ‘Dad didn’t do formal study,’ she went on defensively, ‘and it made the university people a bit wary of him when he asked for help with this bird. They kept suggesting that it might be something ordinary, like a giant eagle or a hawk or something.’ She laughed. ‘Like Dad wouldn’t know that.’
‘If he’s not properly trained, then . . . he’s not an expert,’ Reine snapped and turned back to the house. I followed, leaving miss lovely-goody-two-shoes to trail in after us.
Did I tell you that her skin was beyond flawless? It was as fine as silk, with the faintest pink flush on both cheeks, which of course made us both feel like lizards in comparison with our greasy spots and Noosa tans. She had a long, swan-like neck and when she pulled her hair back into a loose ponytail you immediately noticed the high cheekbones that all the models have (or dream of having or have painted on or cut in by the surgeon’s knife), not to mention the small, straight, slightly upturned nose and wide mouth. God, she was . . . gorgeous!
Reine and I were not ugly – at least we weren’t until we met her. We were short, though – stocky rather than fat – and we both had long noses, biggish hands and ugly feet. Reine had good eyes, and I’ve been told I’ve got a nice smile – if only I’d use it more – but my eyes are too close together and there isn’t much you can do about that. I was booked in for liposuction because my thighs and bum are too heavy, but that never happened because of the money issue. Reine had already had it done at sixteen, along with a nice boob job, but I’d decided to wait for all that. A few of Mum’s friends had had dodgy jobs that made them look weird, so . . . yeah, I was putting off going under the knife.
I guess we were just two ordinary-looking chicks who had to work hard to make ourselves attractive, and spend a fortune on it, too. It figures that what you haven’t been born with, you have to cultivate or create or buy if you can. Mum, Reine and I dieted constantly and spent heaps on skin treatments, massages, hair and nail products – so what? We thought nothing of it; it was just what girls like us did. Our father was rich. We had friends. We went around with stylish people. Okay, we weren’t up there with the really hot chicks, but . . . we’d never considered ourselves ugly! We’d both had guys ask us out – not exactly the guys we wanted to ask us out, but hey . . . we were on the map, definitely part of a scene. Life was bearable.
But by the end of that first day, after meeting her, things had changed – we were ugly. It wasn’t fair that just because of her we had to feel like that every day. So . . . we decided we’d keep her out of sight as much as possible. Not that Reine and I sat down and talked about it exactly. It was just understood. Life would be better if we didn’t have to look at her.
{2}
The surgeon was in again this morning. No sidekick this time. I must have frightened him off. He sat on the bed and started to loosen the bandage over my right eye, then I felt some sort of cold instrument slipping under it and pressing gently around the area. It didn’t hurt but I couldn’t tell what he was doing. Was he shining a light in? I still couldn’t see.
‘Are you going to take them off?’ My heart was pounding, though I’d managed to keep my voice even.
‘No no,’ he murmured and he taped back the bandage and did the same on the other side. ‘We’ll wait for tomorrow or the next day. Try to be patient.’
I nodded meekly. This guy doesn’t know it, but he is the only person in the world I trust.
‘So how are you sleeping?’ he asks.
I shake my head and turn away.
Last night a sudden rush of wind and a terrible sharp cry woke me. Was it human? Suddenly there was a crushing weight on my chest. I struggled but couldn’t move. But I could see. A huge bird with a long hooked beak had landed on my chest. I felt the sharp talons pierce the flesh as it folded its wings into place, bouncing slightly from side to side as it took hold and settled itself. All the while its huge head was turning casually from left to right, so utterly indifferent.
‘Oh God, please.’ I couldn’t move. ‘Help me!’ Confident that it had no competition, it lowered its head and started to pick delicately at my right eyelid with its sharp beak.
‘I sleep okay.’ I tried to smile at him. ‘But I look forward to the morning.’
‘Ah yes,’ the surgeon mumbled, as if he knew exactly what I meant. He rested one hand on my shoulder for a moment.
‘Always give thanks for the morning,’ he said softly. And you know I’ve found myself thinking about that all day. Always give thanks for the morning.
{3}
The temptation is to gloss over this next bit; just throw it away with a few lines like ‘we were mean to her right from the start’ or ‘for some reason we felt the need to belittle her’ or ‘baiting her became fun for us’. It would be the truth and we could get on with the next bit, but . . . it would be weak. Real life is in the details, so I must tell at least some of them. Looking back, I see that it got pretty bizarre. I could point to many reasons, but why make excuses? None of them are adequate.
I guess the room thing gave us the idea from the start that she was pretty malleable. You could spin her a line and she’d believe it. First off it was innocuous enough. She’d come home from school and we’d be sitting about doing nothing and I’d raise my eyebrow at Reine and say, ‘God, I’ve had this terrible headache all day.’
‘Do you want an aspirin or something?’ Ella would say, all concerned. She was always sort of tentative, as if she was still working out how to please us. I don’t know why, but it brought out the worst in both of us.
‘No, but I haven’t had any lunch,’ I’d say. ‘Reckon you could bring me a sandwich and a coffee?’
‘Oh sure,’ she’d say, ‘no worries.’ She was so gullible you see, so eager to please, and she kept coming back for more. Baiting her became a kind of sport for us. Neither Mum nor Reine nor I knew the first thing about cooking, so it wasn’t long before we started to expect her to do it all.
Her presence at meals used to annoy Reine and me because she ate everything she felt like without ever putting on any weight. And we had to look at those dainty hands.
‘Look, why don’t you have your meals later,’ Reine said at last. ‘I mean, it’s annoying having to look at you eating like a pig when we’re all on diets.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ Mum said sharply. By this stage she hated her too.
So that’s what happened. Not only did she do all the cooking, she wasn’t really allowed to eat with us either, except when her stupid father was around. He used to get home late most nights and seemed unaware of what was going on. He’d come in and do the big cheery act, kiss Mum and ask if we’d had a good day, then he’d make himself a drink and head out to tend to his sick birds. Anyway, sticking up for his daughter would have meant crossing our mother, and he must have decided by that stage it wasn’t worth it. For some reason Jack was in absolute thrall to Mum. Reine and I used to snigger together as we speculated about what she must be giving him, because he was constantly trying please her. Sometimes we’d get scared that Ella would tell him about how mean we were, but although she looked miserable sometimes, she never said anything. I think she didn’t want to ruin his happiness.
That suited us just fine.
The three of us weren’t used to doing housework, of course. We’d always had someone do it for us and Ella acted so willing and ab
le at first that it seemed natural for her to keep doing it all. She’d rush home from school to get the dinner on, and there would be dishes all over the sink. Once she asked us to clean up after ourselves.
‘Why should we?’ Reine said.
‘Well, I do the cooking and the rest of it,’ Ella said in that soft way she had. ‘It’s not fair that I should have to do everything.’
‘But you’re good at it,’ I said. Believe it or not, little miss prissy-pants started to cry.
‘What’s up?’ I said.
‘Why do you have to be so . . . horrible?’ she whispered.
‘Look, it was a joke, okay?’ I said uncomfortably. But Reine flew at her, quite unfairly I guess.
‘Horrible?’ she shouted, jumping off the couch and advancing on Ella menacingly. ‘I’ll give you horrible. You think we care about this shitty little dogbox of a house? Well, we don’t. We hate living here. We hate your stupid father and his ridiculous birds and we hate you. So if you want the dishes done, do them yourself!’
Ella ran off to her room and Reine and I were left looking at each other. Reine was feeling it even worse than me, if that was possible.
‘God, I hate living here,’ she said before switching on the television. Then Ella came back out, tears streaked across her face. I have to say that there was a determined look about her.
‘Why?’ she said. ‘Why do you hate it here? Why do you hate us so much?’
I remember being on the point of apologising. We’d gone too far. But Reine had other ideas.
‘You’re just too dumb to take seriously,’ she sneered. Then she picked up one of the cushions and threw it straight at Ella’s head. The girl gave a startled cry and retreated to her room.
It wasn’t just her looks that made us jealous. Oddly enough, it was her life as well, even though by our former standards it was totally pathetic. But at least she had a life, with friends and homework and school choir and drama club. Sometimes she helped her father with the sick birds before she left for school. After a few weeks, more birds were brought into the cage, none of them as big or mean-looking as that huge black critter who continued to stay in his little fenced-off section looking horrible – but we never asked about them. Nothing about any of it interested us. Reine and I would watch Ella and her father working together inside the wire enclosure, chatting away as they cleaned out the feed bowls and mucked around with medicines like all that stuff really mattered. When they were in with the birds they both wore ridiculous big leather gloves and masks, which made us snigger. Ella’s interests and activities were complete crap, of course, but at least she had something to do. Reine and I had nothing. Mum had enrolled us into a shonky business course, but we soon dropped out when it became obvious we’d have to work. So we spent our days sitting around watching television, bitching at each other, eating and getting fat.
Tales from the Tower, Volume 2 Page 24