Yesterday's Dust

by Joy Dettman

  ‘No, Liza. You chose the green slippers when we were at the shop so you cannot have Ann’s slippers, and if you can’t be a good girl then you’ll have to go to your room and stay there,’ Aunty May said.

  Liza didn’t ever like ‘no’ and Aunty May said ‘no’ lots and lots of times.

  ‘No more biscuits, Liza,’ she said with her special strong voice. ‘No more tantrums from you, Miss. No more television. It’s bedtime.’

  And even if Liza rolled on the floor and screamed and even if she kicked walls with her feet, she didn’t make Aunty May say yes, because Aunty May wasn’t like Mummy who just did anything so Liza wouldn’t get her red face tantrums and get sick.

  They drove a long way to the beach one day and found lots of shells and they went to the zoo one day and Uncle Sam bought big bags of lollies even when Aunty May said, ‘No more lollies, Sam. They won’t eat their dinner.’

  Liza got lots of lollies, even in bed. Not Annie though, because she didn’t do the all-over kisses when Uncle Sam tucked them in. She pulled her nightie down very tight and she only did what Aunty May said to do. Not Uncle Sam. Annie didn’t like Uncle Sam anyway, because of how Daddy and Johnny didn’t like him.

  Johnny knew a poem about him.

  Sam, Sam, the dirty man,

  washed his face in a frying pan,

  combed his hair with the leg of a chair

  and told his mother he didn’t care.

  Annie wouldn’t ever go in the cellar with Uncle Sam. She didn’t like that cellar, because there wasn’t any proper light in there, just the kerosene lantern light, which only made a little circle in the big dark and it was a very spooky deep-in-the-ground place.

  ‘Uncle Sam has got the biggest apple in all the world in the cellar and he’s keeping it for a good girl. Who is going to get the biggest apple?’

  ‘Not Annie. It’s mine. I have to get first pick because Daddy said so, because I’m Miss Tiny Tot.’

  Liza always got apples and lollies when she went down there. And maybe Uncle Sam saw her do wee in there one day too, because Annie had to fix up her overall straps that were supposed to cross over at the back so they wouldn’t keep falling off, and Liza didn’t know how to do it. And she had a bare bottom underneath and she had on her sulky face, like she always got at home when she did something naughty.

  And Annie said, ‘You should do wee in the toilet, because you’re seven, and you should wash your hands with soap after, like Aunty May said, Liza.’

  Then . . . then there were even badder things in that cellar, even before that bad no-bread-for-lunchtime day.

  Everyone was going to have a picnic under the trees with banana sandwiches and lemonade, and Annie loved banana sandwiches the best and Sam got back from the shops and Aunty May said, ‘Oh, no. You forgot the bread, Sam.’ But he was already working in the garden and Liza was screaming because she wanted the television on and Aunty May said ‘no’ again. And then . . . and then Liza just walked up to her and got her hand and she bit, very hard, so Aunty May’s finger bled, and when she was washing it, and finding a bandaid to put on, well, Liza just ran into the lounge room with her outside shoes on and she turned on the television herself.

  Annie did like the television a lot, and today the midday movie was just starting, and it was about a girl with a clever dog. They didn’t have television in Mallawindy, just the pictures at the shire hall on Saturday, and they only went there two times when Daddy wasn’t home.

  ‘I give up,’ Aunty May said, and she picked up her bag.

  On the television a bad man had taken the little girl’s dog and tied him in a bag and put him in the little car he had on the side of his motorbike.

  ‘Wait right here. Don’t move from this room. I’ll be back in twenty minutes,’ Aunty May said and she went outside to her car, because of the bread.

  Then Uncle Sam came inside from the garden, saying about the cat. About that black mother cat.

  ‘The old black cat had her kittens in the cellar. Come down, and you can hold one, girls.’

  ‘Aunty May said that we have to watch the television and not move.’

  ‘Then you can’t see the kittens. I can’t take them away from their mummy, they haven’t even got their eyes open. Come on, girls. Who’s going to see the kittens first?’

  ‘Me. Me.’ Liza didn’t care that the little television girl’s dog was in a bag and that the bad man was pinching him. She just went with Uncle Sam.

  And it wasn’t a long time, because the bad man was still riding away and the little girl didn’t know about her dog yet, when Annie heard the old car come. It made that same old Daddy’s-car noise, like vrooooom vroom-vroom, and the skidding noise Daddy’s wheels made. Annie jumped up fast and went to look for Liza.

  But Daddy came in the back door and he didn’t know why Annie was there, and he yelled, ‘What the bloody hell are you doing down here?’

  ‘Mummy bought a new baby, and it is a girl and Johnny said its name is going to be Bronwyn, so Aunty May said for Liza and me to come for a holiday and go to the zoo and see the animals, Daddy.’

  ‘Liza? Where is Liza?’

  ‘I don’t know, Daddy.’

  But she did know. She knew about the kittens and about Liza doing wee and bad things in the cellar. And she knew that Uncle Sam knew about the bad things too, because when Annie started to tell Aunty May one day, well, Uncle Sam got all funny and he talked very loud and he picked Annie up and swung her around and around and laughed too loud.

  ‘Where’s that bloody mongrel dog?’ Daddy yelled and he shook Annie, but she wouldn’t look at him because it was her fault. She should have told Aunty May.

  Daddy looked in the bathrooms and in the bedrooms, and the kitchen and he yelled, and he ran through the house and Annie ran to the cellar very fast to get Liza out.

  ‘Liza. Liza. May! Where the bloody hell are you?’ Daddy was yelling near the garage.

  Annie could open the cellar door easy because it didn’t get locked except with the key when nobody would be home, and so she opened it wide and she saw Liza doing rude things, like no pants on, and even Uncle Sam with his pants half on and –

  ‘Liza! Liza!’ Daddy’s yelling getting closer.

  And Liza and Uncle Sam heard Daddy because the door was open and it banged against the wall and Uncle Sam was trying to run upstairs and Liza was trying to put her red overalls on, only getting two feet in one leg of her overalls.

  Then Daddy was in the cellar and Uncle Sam was walking backwards. Backwards. Slow. Down, down, down to the floor.

  And Aunty May was coming home then with the bread.

  Then –

  Then –

  Just screaming. Just everyone screaming. And Annie screaming. ‘Don’t, Daddy. Stop, Daddy.’

  And Daddy punching Sam. And Sam picking up Liza. Holding her in front, like hiding. And Daddy’s got a long piece of pipe, like for water taps. Hitting and yelling.

  Awful terrible noise then. Smash!

  And Liza on the floor. And still. Then Sam picking up the lantern and throwing it at Daddy, hitting him.

  And all dark in there then, and Annie screaming and running back to the door where there is light. Black dark, like black night down there. And fighting and smashing, and Aunty May crying.

  Then no more fighting. Only the black, black dark. Only the crying, and Annie wanting Aunty May but she’s down there in the crying black dark.

  Walking slow down, away from the light. Walking very careful. Down. Kicking the bread that Aunty May dropped, feeling for the bread with her hand, picking it up on the steps and walking slow into the dark, where it isn’t so dark, because there is a little window way up high that is making light on Uncle Sam. He’s lying on the floor. Sleeping on the old carpet.

  And Liza. She’s not in the window light. Only her red overalls.

  Daddy and May just standing there looking at each other and crying, grown-up crying, and it sounded like very bad hurting, crying. Annie wanting
them to stop, walking to them, saying lots of words, like Mummy says when Daddy cries.

  ‘I love you, my Daddy. I love you, Aunty May.’ Patting them and saying lots of things to make them stop crying.

  Then Daddy picking Annie up and crying and rocking her and Annie patting his face like Mummy does and his face is all wet with salty water. And Annie looking down over Daddy’s shoulder at Liza and knowing that something awful, terrible bad happened because Daddy is cuddling her, not Liza.

  And Annie saying, ‘We have to make banana sandwiches. Make them get up, Aunty May.’

  Aunty May crying louder and walking to the steps, sitting on the bottom step with her arms all hugged up tight around her, like trying to hold her shaking together. And Daddy putting Annie down with May. And the bread is all squashed because Daddy held Annie too tight, so it won’t be any good for making sandwiches. Annie giving it to May, pushing it at May.

  ‘Uncle Sam was being a bad man. Make him say sorry, Aunty May.’

  ‘What are we going to do, Jack?’ Screamed. ‘What are we going to do, Jack?’

  ‘Get her out of here and call the cops.’

  Daddy lifting May, making her stand up. Pushing May, making her climb the stairs. Annie pulling at her hand.

  Then all that light outside but Daddy still down in the dark, lost in the dark, except his little cigarette light that makes his face show up orange when he puffs.

  ‘Get her out of here!’ A screaming wild face.

  Annie running from the door into the hot sunshine and everything looks just the same as before, all bright white light and the sun way up high and the house still looking like a magic Camelot palace. Sam and Liza are having a sleep, that’s all. Aunty May will make it fixed up, because she always can make everything fixed. She’s a very good lady.

  Daddy walking out Liza all floppy in his arms.

  ‘Get the cops, I said. Tell the bloody world what I’ve done, May.’

  Aunty May not doing what Daddy says like Mummy always does what he says very fast. Aunty May just standing there, watching Daddy take Liza to the rose garden where there are millions of flowers. Then Daddy falling down on his knees like Mummy does in church. It looks funny. Daddy never goes to church.

  And May, just staring at the cellar. ‘He’s booked on the six-fifteen flight to Brisbane, Jack.’

  ‘Well, he won’t be catching the six-fifteen flight, will he? He won’t be raping babies in bloody Brisbane tonight, the dirty mongrel dog. Cancel his membership to the diseased dogs’ club.’

  ‘Think, Jack. Think.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  Annie backing away. Backing a long way away. Backing until her back is hard on the wall, and watching, listening.

  ‘He has to go up to Brisbane.’ Aunty May’s words like thinking words again. Like we have to get things fixed up. Like this is hard to do but I can get it done. ‘It’s my guilt, Jack. It’s my fault.’

  ‘Ring the cops. I told you what to bloody well do.’

  Cops were policemen. They put bad people in jail. They might put Uncle Sam in jail. And Liza.

  ‘This is my world. Here. This is my life. I’ve got nowhere else, nothing else, Jack.’ Then May looking around. ‘They’re working at Hargraves Park. There is no one here. They won’t be here today.’

  ‘She’s bloody well here, isn’t she?’

  Then staring at Annie, staring at each other, like frightened faces, and looking around the paddocks. Just the horses and two crows on the lawn.

  ‘Go and watch the television, sweetheart.’

  But Annie not doing what she’s told first-tell, just pretending to, walking along the house until they stop looking, then hiding behind the cellar door.

  Aunty May with a shovel, pushing it at Daddy. Daddy digging up Uncle Sam’s special Peace rose, and he’s going to be very, very angry. May holding the rose up while Daddy makes the hole big – big enough for Liza.

  Johnny dug a hole for the kitten when it was dead, and he put the dirt back in and Annie put some flowers on it.

  May bringing the water pipe from the cellar and Daddy hammering it in with the back of the shovel.

  Liza is always bad. She poked the kitten’s eye out with a stick.

  May stomping the dirt down, stomping all the dirt in Liza’s eyes because she was a bad girl and if she didn’t bite Aunty May and turn on the television, well, Aunty May wouldn’t have got angry. And Sam is a stupid bad man. He shouldn’t have forgot to buy the bread.

  No one is thinking about Annie any more. No one knows where she is. She’s the best hidey player, Johnny said. When they play hidey at home, no one can ever find her, and she watches them look for her and she peeps out at them and giggles and sometimes they find her by her giggles.

  She’s peeping out at the roses, red ones and pink ones and yellow ones and orange and some with pink and yellow and orange all in together. Thousands of them, and her eyes are making them all go into like a carpet, like a magic carpet that you can fly on when you dream in bed.

  Then Daddy is in the cellar and carrying out a big, big roll of old carpet, that’s nearly too heavy for him. Throwing it in the boot of his car then running to the house. And Annie seeing May take the shovel into the cellar. Everything is so fast, but Annie is so slow to walk from her hiding place to the top of the steps.

  Sam isn’t down there any more, but she didn’t see him come out.

  In dreams people are there, then they are in another place. May is doing silly dream things too, like scraping up a bucket full of dirt from the cellar floor, like Johnny digging for worms so they can catch some fish for dinner. Then May is walking up the steps with dirt. And she must think she’s got something except dirt in the bucket, because she starts to throw it on the garden, and then she changes her mind and digs a hole and puts the dirt in it.

  And that would be a very silly thing to do if it wasn’t a dream, so it must be a dream.

  And Daddy. He’s wearing Uncle Sam’s clothes and looking very funny, so dream Annie giggles at him. What a silly dream she is having. When she wakes up she’ll be in Mallawindy and she’ll tell Johnny all about it.

  Old crows caw-caw-cawing waiting for the crusts from the picnic while Daddy and Aunty May move lots of old furniture and boxes of apples to the wrong place in the cellar, move an old table from the wall right into the middle. And the old couch gets moved too. Mummy cat is watching them, her tail up, like she’s very worried about her kittens.

  ‘You can’t take her with you.’

  ‘I can’t leave her here by herself, Jack.’

  ‘You bloody left her before. You left her with that mongrel bastard – ’

  ‘Don’t, Jack! Don’t! The Murrays come to clean the house tomorrow morning. Ted comes here for his lunch.’

  Annie listening. She likes Mr Murray’s dog, because he’s a very friendly dog.

  ‘Then tell the bloody Murrays not to come here.’

  ‘I can’t. I never do. I’ll leave them a note. I’ll tell them we’re dropping Sam at the airport, then the girls and I will be spending the night in Toorak. It will be all right. She’ll sleep in the car.’

  And Aunty May turning, seeing Annie and her voice changing. ‘Doesn’t Daddy look very funny, Ann Elizabeth?’

  Annie nodding. Nodding.

  ‘He didn’t bring any clothes because he wasn’t supposed to come here today. We won’t tell anyone that Daddy came here today, will we? We won’t say a word.’

  ‘We won’t say a word.’

  ‘Promise, sweetheart?’

  ‘I promise, Aunty May.’

  In dreams you can’t ask about things. In dreams you see funny things, like Liza trying to fly off the roof and landing in the river. One time Annie dreamed that. And like last night, dancing with some kittens, holding their hands and the kittens all turning into snakes. That was an awful dream.

  She looks at the crows and they say caw, caw, caw.

  ‘We better shut this door, Aunty May. Johnny said crows
pick out baby lambs’ eyes. They might pick out the kittens’ eyes.’

  And May staring at her. ‘Yes, sweetheart.’ Aunty May looking at Daddy, then back to Annie. ‘I wonder who will look after the kittens for me. I have to go to Toorak for a little while.’

  ‘You can’t leave her in there either, you stupid bitch.’

  ‘Get my car out, Jack. Get his wallet and spare glasses. They’ll be in his room. Pack a case. There’s money in the left-hand desk drawer.’ Then her arm around Annie. ‘Would you be big enough to look after the kittens for me, sweetheart? If Aunty May made you lots of sandwiches?’

  ‘Banana ones, for the picnic?’

  ‘You’re stark raving mad, you bloody fool of a woman.’

  ‘Do as I ask, Jack. Don’t fight me. Ann is going to wait in the cellar with the kittens until I get back.’

  ‘Uncle Sam isn’t in there.’

  ‘He’s gone to Brisbane. Remember? We bought him a ticket to go on the aeroplane to Brisbane.’

  ‘Did he go yet?’

  ‘He’s gone. Come. We’ll have a look, just to make sure.’

  And they looked, everywhere, in the old wardrobe even, and he wasn’t in there.

  ‘Did a taxi man drive him, Aunty May?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did he take Liza too?’

  Aunty May shaking her head, her eyes, like thinking hard, then smiling, but not like a proper smiling face. ‘Remember that man who came here on his old motorbike that day, sweetheart?’

  ‘What are you bloody well doing?’

  ‘A red herring. Leave it alone. Get the car out, Jack. Get it out!’

  Mummy never talked like that to Daddy, and Annie was very frightened and she moved close to Aunty May, but Daddy went inside.

  ‘What’s a red hairy?’

  ‘He’s the man who cleaned out the fish pond. Remember? And we gave him some money. Now what was his name, sweetheart?’

  ‘I don’t know. The man on television was a red hairy, and he talked very funny, Aunty May. And he had a motorbike with a funny little car on it and he took the little girl’s dog away.’

  ‘Perhaps he took Liza for a ride on his bike.’