by Scot Gardner
‘Indeed,’ Rob said, and snatched the handset.
‘The battery is flat.’
‘That’s fine,’ Rob said. ‘We can sort that out later. Thanks.’
‘We won’t take any more of your time,’ my father said.
Mandy scoffed. ‘Don’t be silly. It’s been a pleasure. Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘We best be going,’ he said solemnly and they left through the leaf-littered front doorway. Mandy bid them farewell and shoved the door shut.
‘Arsehole,’ she growled.
‘Mum!’ Duane squeaked.
‘Sorry, Will. I know he’s your father and all, but that’s inexcusable.’
‘What the hell, Duane?’ Julian said again, and smacked his brother on the back of the head. His lanky hair shot straight into the air.
Instead of cracking the sads or mouthing off, Duane giggled and held out his hand.
‘You owe me a phone, Will,’ he said.
‘Pardon?’
‘I figured things were going downhill fast and any phone would get them out the door, so I gave them mine.’
The ploy had been seamless. I knew I’d left Claire’s phone at Sandy’s place – well, I hoped beyond all hope that I’d left the phone at Sandy’s – but he’d had me convinced. Had us all convinced. Bought me some time, if nothing else.
‘What the hell, Duane?’ Jules said, and kissed his temple.
‘Get off me, slut,’ Duane snarled, but he was smiling.
As if on cue, the house phone rang and the boys’ mother yelped. It was Sandy; he’d found Claire’s real phone and offered to drop it off after dinner.
‘We’re having pasta,’ Mandy said into the phone. ‘You want to eat with us? Okay. No, that’s fine, love.’
Love?
‘Yes, we’ve got Coke,’ she said, and rolled her eyes. ‘Maybe some garlic bread? Okay. Bye.’
I guess some homes are more broken than others.
And after the sun set, when the cooking smells became almost unbearable and Sandy arrived, Mandy kissed him and they hugged like he’d returned from a day at the office.
He shook my hand then gave me the phone.
‘I had to turn it on to check it was yours,’ he said. ‘You’ll probably want to hang on to it.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, but I had to wonder. It wasn’t mine. Did I really need to hang on to the heartache it represented? I had been hanging on to it, but that hadn’t changed a thing.
The screen in my hand lit up. It vibrated and I almost dropped it.
Incoming call from Ian Gale.
I turned it off with a desperate click and swipe.
‘Who was that?’ Julian asked.
‘My father.’
‘Bloody hell,’ he said. ‘He’s high maintenance, isn’t he? You give him one phone and a couple of hours later he’s nagging you again.’
‘They’re back!’ Duane growled from the lounge. ‘He’s out the front!’
Jules wore a look of amused horror. ‘Just give it to him.’
‘It’s not his,’ I said.
He dug his own phone from behind the couch cushions and hauled me by my shirt. ‘Come on!’ he said. ‘We’re out of here.’
‘What about dinner?’ Mandy said.
‘Save us some. We’ll be back,’ Julian said.
The knock on the front door sounded as if it’d been delivered with a hammer.
‘I’ll get it,’ Duane said, but he didn’t move. ‘Should I get it?’
‘Keep them occupied,’ Julian whispered. ‘Just for a few minutes.’
Duane’s face lit up.
‘Go!’ Jules urged.
I ran through the back door and scrambled over the fence. Julian was right behind me. Cec the goat bleated feebly and trotted close. When Julian dropped to the lawn beside me, Cec sprang off the ground in fright, which in turn made Julian swear and back into the fence.
‘It’s all right,’ I whispered. ‘He’s friendly.’
‘No, he’s not,’ Julian said, and sprinted for the gate. Cec galloped after him and in the half-light filtering in from the street I saw him rear onto his hind legs.
Julian fumbled with the latch and the goat charged.
Hooves on concrete and it rammed him from behind.
Julian made no sound. The gate opened and closed quietly. I heard his limping footsteps retreating up the street.
‘Julian?’ I hawked.
Cec came back and drew up beside me like a cattle dog.
‘Good goat. Nice goat.’
I patted his flank and he leaned into me. We shuffled across the grass like that. I pressed through the gate, Cec eager to follow.
‘Stay, boy,’ I said, and he stayed.
Julian stood under the streetlight, phone to his ear, rubbing his left arse cheek.
‘Yeah? Excellent. We’ll meet you at the red slide park. Love you.’
He pocketed the phone and stumped off up the street.
‘Come on,’ he called, and I jogged to catch up.
‘Did the goat . . . ?’
‘Just shut up about it, okay?’
‘But . . .’
His hand shot up and he stopped. ‘No! We will never speak of that incident again. Okay?’
My face grew tight as I held back a grin.
‘Okay?’
‘Okay, okay!’ I said, and we jogged on.
The dam broke a few seconds later as a cartoon of Jules being butted in the arse by an old goat flashed into my mind’s eye.
‘Shut up,’ he barked. ‘I’m serious.’
‘Sorry, man. How are you going to explain the bruises to Nishi?’
He snorted. ‘I’ll tell her the truth. I always do. Well, I usually do.’
It was my turn to snort.
‘I fell off the red slide.’
We took it in turns to hurdle the pine logs on the edge of the park. Jules dropped into the shadow beneath the red slide. I shouldered in beside him.
‘What are we doing here?’ I asked.
‘I dunno. We’re getting out of the house. We’re disappearing. You’re the master of that shit, so you tell me. What are we doing here?’
Claire’s phone felt hot in my pocket. I had to get rid of it. Even if I binned it or burned it, he’d keep coming, now he knew where I was hanging out.
‘I have to return the phone,’ I said.
‘To Claire?’
I held my breath.
I’d lost sight of where it all began. As soon as I imagined her in front of me, I could see that the phone meant unfinished business. There were words I had to say.
Julian’s phone rang and we both jumped.
He looked at the screen. ‘I don’t know the number.’
‘Answer it.’
He held the phone to his ear but said nothing.
I heard talking from the other end, but I couldn’t make out the words.
He eventually handed it to me. ‘It’s for you.’
The metal and glass still felt warm from Julian’s pocket. ‘Hello?’
‘Boof?’
‘Sofie?’
Her sigh of relief rattled the speaker. ‘Where the hell are you?’
‘Um, in a park,’ I said. ‘Sitting underneath a red plastic slide.’
‘What the hell are you doing there?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘Right,’ she said. ‘I’m sitting comfortably.’
‘Actually, I’m in the middle of something right now . . .’
‘Let me guess,’ she said. ‘Are you in the middle of a steaming pile of shit?’
‘Something like that, yes.’
‘Why has Father been on the television saying that you’re missing?’
‘I did a runner.’
‘From school?’
‘Home, school, the lot.’
‘I don’t understand, Will. Why would you run away from all—’
‘Dad slept with Claire,’ I said.
The phone was silent for a moment.
‘Fuck,’ she breathed. ‘Are you serious?’
I wanted to say more but the unfinished business had tightened around my throat like my school tie.
‘Don’t do anything rash,’ she said. ‘I’ll be there in the morning.’
‘No, it’s fine, Sofe, honestly. I can handle this.’
‘Obviously,’ she said. ‘Where are you staying?’
I gave her Julian’s address.
‘Promise me you’ll keep your head until I get there.’
‘You don’t need to . . .’
‘Promise.’
‘I promise.’
She hung up and for the briefest moment I felt the whole world was in my corner, that my sense of being alone in this mess was an illusion.
‘So,’ Julian said. ‘She sounds nice.’
‘She is.’
‘She into buff trolley boys?’
‘Shut up,’ I growled, and shoved him off balance.
He shouldered back under the slide with me, his tone now conspiratorial. ‘Time to return the phone?’
‘Yep,’ I said. ‘To Claire.’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Glad you worked that one out, sunshine. For an Alfie, you can be as dumb as goat shit.’
‘Ex-Alfie,’ I said.
‘Well, that explains it, then. Your brain has shrunk since you’ve been hanging out with me and my crew. And smoking.’
‘Right,’ I said. My brain might have shrunk, or maybe my heart had grown. The net result was the same – better decisions.
‘And I know how we’re going to make the delivery,’ he said. He headbutted the slide as he stood to greet Nishi arriving on her scooter. She rode up the gutter and set the bike on its stand on the nature strip.
‘He worked it out all by himself,’ Julian sang, as Nishi lifted her helmet off.
‘Thank god,’ she said. ‘Do you have the phone?’
I felt my pocket. ‘Yes.’
She handed me her helmet.
‘What?’
‘You’ll need it, if Julian’s driving.’
‘No, it’s fine,’ I said. ‘I’ll catch a taxi.’
‘Nish has lent us her wheels to complete the deal,’ Julian said. ‘Now grow some balls and put the goddamn helmet on. Her head’s bigger than mine, so it should fit.’ He collected his own helmet from the compartment beneath the seat.
Nishi grabbed Julian by the cheeks and kissed him hard. ‘If you kill yourself, I swear I’ll hunt you down in the next life and rip your balls off.’
‘I’m coming back as a chick,’ Julian said. ‘So I can play with my boobies and—’
‘It won’t save you from the pain,’ she said.
I reluctantly dragged the helmet over my ears as Julian wheeled the bike off the gutter.
‘I’ll see you later,’ Nishi shouted. ‘In one piece.’
Julian nodded and air-kissed over his shoulder at her.
Empty street-lit road greeted us.
Nishi’s helmet pressed hard on my brow and distorted my vision. ‘Last time you rode this you crashed into the clothesline.’
‘Shut up. Get on,’ he said.
I kicked my leg over the seat behind him and held his waist. Tight.
The motor coughed to life. The headlight feebly brightened a patch of tar in front of us as we sputtered away.
The empty street led onto a major arterial. Julian joined the flow of traffic with more confidence than the situation called for and earned a honk of protest that sent us wobbling along the gutter.
‘Which way?’ he shouted.
‘Garland,’ I yelled.
He nodded. ‘Of course. Hang on!’
CLAIRE
WE RAN RED lights – two. We rode on the footpath to avoid a third red light. While we didn’t make contact with any other vehicles – moving or stationary – the constant stopping and starting almost gave me whiplash. Our helmets clacked like bowling balls every time Julian sped up or slowed down. It was a twenty-minute near-death experience.
‘Just pull up here on the left,’ I shouted.
I’d dismounted and torn the helmet from my head before he’d deployed the stand. I felt light-headed – a combination of whiplash and brain compression – but relieved.
‘Thank you,’ I said.
‘My pleasure, old chap,’ he said. He nodded at the row of gentrified worker’s cottages. ‘Which one is it?’
I pointed to the high sandstone wall across the road.
‘You’re joking,’ he said. ‘How are we supposed to get in there?’
I touched my nose and jogged to the fig tree on the nature strip, leapt to a low branch and hauled myself onto it.
Julian pulled up half a metre short of the lowest branch.
‘I can take it from here,’ I said.
‘Don’t be a cock,’ he snarled. ‘Help me up.’
I caught his hand and dragged him heavenward. He followed as I balanced – tightrope style – on the broad branch, across the top of the wall and into the giant elm tree in the garden that formed the other half of my secret bridge.
‘Stay here,’ I whispered. ‘Don’t move until I give you the all-clear.’
‘But—’
‘Don’t move.’
I whistled, not long or loud, but it set the dogs yapping. I lowered myself to the lawn and met them head-on at a trot. A black-and-tan lick assault. They jumped and yipped and conspired to barge me off my feet. I held my ground, hugging their heads in turn and led them to the trunk of the elm.
‘Julian, this is Dillon and Maude,’ I whispered.
‘Will they attack me?’
Maude growled at the sound of his voice.
‘You’ll be fine,’ I said.
He dropped to the ground beside us and the dogs gave him the canine version of twenty questions. I had to cut the game short when Dillon burrowed his snout into Julian’s balls.
‘Affectionate,’ he breathed. ‘More affectionate than a goat, anyway.’
‘Let’s go,’ I said.
The dogs led the way through the shadowy garden towards the house.
I held out a hand to stop Julian as we reached the steps below the pool.
The lights in the water sparkle-illuminated the white façade of all three storeys.
‘Holy crap,’ Julian said. ‘Holy. Crap.’
‘What?’
He patted my back. ‘I feel like a total dick.’
‘You are a total dick.’
‘Apparently. Sorry I ever doubted you.’
The kitchen lights flashed on and we retreated to the shadows.
My father had dispensed with his suit jacket. His tie hung loose and the top buttons of his shirt were open. He drew a glass of water from the tap and drank it in one hit, his hand resting on the bench.
Julian stooped, collected a rock from the garden and felt the weight of it.
I grabbed his sleeve. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Going to make some glass music.’
‘No. Put the rock down.’
‘What? After all the shit he’s put you through?’
I shook my head.
Julian flicked his hand. The rock bounced on the tiles and landed with a plop in the pool.
‘Whoops,’ he said. ‘Man, I could go a cone or six.’
Not me. I needed every wit I had at my disposal.
And there she was, ghosting under the downlights in her nightie. I remembered that nightie, its cool silk moving like water around her. I remembered it puddled on my bedroom floor.
‘Whoa,’ Julian whispered. ‘She’s even hotter in real life.’
She floated across the kitchen and hugged my father from behind.
‘You sure you don’t want to hear a bit of breaking glass? That’s some pretty toxic shit going on in there.’
Without bothering to reply, I turned the phone on and found my father’s number in the recent contacts. I hit Call and moved my attention back to the scene in the kitchen.
His phone rang and they both jump
ed. I felt like a puppeteer.
My father looked shocked. He showed Claire the screen and barked an order. She ran from the kitchen and returned with a laptop.
‘Hello?’
I breathed.
‘Hello? Will?’
‘Yes.’
‘Thank Christ,’ he said. He covered the mouthpiece and spoke to Claire, who nodded enthusiastically without taking her eyes off the screen in front of her.
‘Missed you at your friend’s place. Where are you?’
‘Put Claire on,’ I said.
‘Pardon?’
‘You heard me.’
‘Claire’s not able to come to the phone—’
I snorted. ‘Okay. Bye.’
‘Wait! I’ll get her. Hold on. Are you still there?’
‘Not for much longer.’
He covered the mouthpiece again and looked at the screen. I figured I only had a few seconds before the phone in my hand pinged and they’d know where I was. He handed his phone to Claire and took over the laptop. I couldn’t hear her, but I could read her lips.
‘What do I say?’ she mouthed.
My father’s hand made circles in the air. Keep him talking.
‘Will? I’m so sorry,’ she said.
In the silence that followed, she covered her mouth. Her tears seemed real, but they hit the fire in my belly, fizzed briefly and vanished.
‘Can we meet?’ I asked.
She ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Sure. Of course. Tomorrow?’
‘I was thinking more like now.’
‘Now? Okay. Now’s good,’ she said, a little too chirpily for the occasion. She pinched tears from her eyes. ‘I’ll have to change. Where?’
‘I’m sure you’ll work it out.’
With that, the phone in my hand pinged and I hung up.
My father straightened and turned the laptop screen to Claire. It took her a moment to make sense of what she saw, but when she did, her hand covered her mouth again and she looked through the kitchen window.
Straight at me.
I froze, inside and out.
She hurriedly gave the phone to my father and disappeared from view. My father squinted into the dark, shading his eyes from the kitchen light. Claire returned, punching her arms into the sleeves of a hoodie. She had a brief and inaudible exchange with my father, stopping him in his tracks with a wave of her hand when he followed her to the glass doors.
The dogs heard the door slide and charged up onto the back deck, activating the security lights.