by Van Badham
34
I adhered to every instruction Michelle had given me, and with her help I successfully navigated my way through the end of lunch. When the bell rang, I’d been sufficiently exonerated by Kylie to receive an invitation to sit with her in Maths, which was a double.
Fran was frosty, though, and didn’t say a word to me in class. I wondered whether Michelle had spoken to her yet, and I decided not to raise the topic of the Matt/Garth confusion in any case. None of the boys from the group were in this class and I was glad. Joel Morland, his hair tied back in a ponytail, smiled at me sheepishly when he got a trigonometry calculation wrong, but I just got on with my work until the bell rang.
I walked out to the car park with Kylie and Fran, but I didn’t like my chances of getting a lift in Fran’s car. I was happy enough to brave the bus, even if I didn’t know whether Michelle would be on it. Then I saw the blue Getz pull up on the street outside the school.
‘Need a lift?’ asked Mum, her face sunny through the car window.
‘I need a good dinner,’ I said to her, walking to the passenger door. Despite the recent tension, she was still my mum, and a comforting presence after an uncomfortable day. I got in the car and sank into the plush seats. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Mum,’ I said.
‘You need some marjoram and rosemary to revive you,’ she said brightly. ‘Do you want me to make you up a tea when we get home?’
The car had trundled to the highway roundabout by the time I had the energy to reply. ‘Maybe some roast beef,’ I said lazily, ‘with lots of herbs.’
‘That’s easily done,’ she said. ‘How was school?’
I was too tired for a lecture, or a fight, or a warning. I didn’t want to be made to feel like a stupid baby. With the resolve that I was now building a life outside my mother’s influence, I set the muscles in my face to neutral and closed my eyes.
‘Uneventful,’ I said.
35
As soon as I was in our house, I felt better. I went to my room to change out of my uniform and, for comfort, extracted some old clothes from the top of my wardrobe – a baggy T-shirt and a pair of tracksuit pants.
I walked through the lounge room and up to the dining room. Maybe it was because of the sliding window and the view of the garden that this room had become the centre of the house. I took a seat at the dining room table, where spicy tea steamed in a mug. Mum had put a sideboard against the wall near the front door; she had set a fennel candle on the sideboard and was lighting it. I didn’t like the smell of fennel but as the candle’s aroma wafted through the house, I had to admit that it was waking me up.
‘What’s the tea?’ I asked, bringing it to my lips.
‘Cardamom, cinnamon and ginger,’ she said. ‘You know, I almost called you “Cinnamon”.’
She always told me this, whenever the word got mentioned. ‘Thanks for restraining yourself,’ I said, sipping.
‘You seem very tired,’ she said, sitting down opposite me. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing going on at school?’
‘I’m just exhausted getting my head round a new place – again,’ I said. I could feel the warm, spicy liquid radiate through my bloodstream, and the heaviness of the day seemed to lighten.
‘You’re still angry at me from yesterday,’ she said. ‘You’re not telling me something.’
I thought about Ashley’s nosebleed – her warning, Matt, Garth and the warmth of Brody’s arms. To reveal one thing would reveal everything. So I fudged. ‘I just got so tired in my free period that I fell asleep. Now I feel blergh.’
My mother’s face was fierce. ‘Did someone give something to you? Something strange, like a pill or … ?’
‘I’m not taking drugs, Mum,’ I grunted.
‘Did you convulse?’ asked Mum.
Although the question was ridiculous, I thought again of Ashley on the floor with blood pouring from her face. ‘No, I didn’t convulse.’
‘Okay,’ said Mum, eyeing me as she stood up. ‘Your father wants me to make dinner a bit special tonight – a family house-warming. Will you promise to drink your tea and take it easy while I go out to get some things?’
‘Sure,’ I said.
And then my mother had her handbag in her hand and was out the door.
36
She amazed me, Mum. Two days and the house looked as if it had been set up for two years. As I went into the kitchen to drop my empty mug in the sink, I noticed that Mum was bringing her work home: on a new shallow storage shelf, at least twenty brown glass canisters wore white adhesive labels advertising their contents in inky handwritten letters.
I looked closely at the shelf of tea canisters and noticed they were alphabetised. Bramble. Cardamom. Chamomile. Cinnamon. Cloves. Coltsfoot. Since I was a child there’d always been teas and herbs, flowers and vines and sweet-smelling plants around my mother. Suddenly curious, I went out through the sliding doors and onto the lawn to see if Mum had already begun her work in the garden.
The smell hit me instantly. We’d had perfumed gardens before, but nothing like this. I struggled for a second to place the dominant aroma. When I was little my mother used to play memory games with me, holding jars under my nose while I wore a blindfold, having to guess the smell. I never had as much interest in gardens as my mother did, and I knew that disappointed her.
Summoning those long-past memory games, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. I imagined that the smell was a green fog travelling through my nostrils and when it hit my brain it would announce its name.
To my surprise, the trick worked. I knew the smell was thyme. I opened my eyes and looked at the ground.
Instead of the grass lawn of two days ago, the backyard had been completely replanted with a carpet of soft thyme. I squatted to examine it more closely and plucked a thyme leaf between my fingers. I remembered this was the foliage I’d seen stuck to my mother’s feet yesterday. She must have done it then.
For a second I wondered how a carpet could have grown so quickly, but then I remembered yesterday’s storm. Grass always grows thick after heavy rainfall and I presumed that thyme was much the same. Even so, the transformation of the garden was magical.
Mum had added her favourite plants, rosemary bushes, next to the sliding doors. Around the corner, a herb and vegetable patch had been started under my window, with lattices set up for vines to climb. Walking over to the freshly dug beds, I saw, amongst damp young seedlings of lemon verbena, mint, basil, rue, marjoram and lavender, that right under my window Mum had planted bushes and bushes of lemon balm. There were rosebushes and nasturtiums around my window too. With delight, I saw the vines she was training on the lattices were jasmine. When they bloomed, I’d have the nicest-smelling bedroom in Yarrindi.
I circled the rest of the garden under a darkening sky. I didn’t need to be told that the small trees gaining root in the western part of the backyard were crab-apple and lemon, but I was less sure of the other trees Mum had planted near the gate to the front yard. I saw a passionfruit vine potted at the base of the northern fence, with chicken wire behind it, and in all of the garden beds tiny sprouts of fruit, herbs and flowers were stretching towards the sky, waiting to grow. There was another kitchen garden she’d built on the crest of the slope – I supposed this was because carrots, spinach, parsley and the other herbs and vegetables I couldn’t recognise weren’t going to grow high enough to block the view. I marvelled at Mum’s energy to create all of this so quickly – but this was her, her knack for plants, her desire to make every new house a home by rustling up a garden.
On the faintest shift of breeze, I caught the scent of the fennel candle. I couldn’t see it from where I was standing, but I saw the orange glow of its light flicker across the dining room. It beckoned me towards the house and I came to it willingly, wondering if I hadn’t been happier when Mum and Dad, a home with a garden, Lauren, Sue and the occasional book had been my whole world.
37
Nah, wrote Lauren, I promise this life is heaps
more interesting.
I’d been chatting to Lauren on Gmail while Mum busied herself in the kitchen. Dad was home and Mum was baking fish. The door to my room was open and I could hear my parents talking, although their voices weren’t loud enough for me to make out what they were saying.
I have to come visit, Lauren wrote. Brody sounds totally hot. See if he’s got a friend.
I laughed out loud. What do I do about Belinda?
Anything that Michelle tells you to do, you do. Anything. Is Brody going to her party?
I don’t think so.
Hurry up and send me some pix in your new threads.
But my mother called me to dinner and I had to sign off.
I came out to a fully set dining room table, where a casserole dish with a glass lid kept a baked fish warm. Mum had made a salad with nasturtium flowers and parsley mixed amongst the lettuce leaves. A jug of cordial sat next to a basket filled with rough homemade bread. It smelled great.
Also on the table were three white candles, arranged in a row.
‘I feel like I’m interrupting a romantic dinner,’ I joked.
Dad smirked, but then his smile faded. ‘Your mother wants to give you something,’ he said.
Mum sat down, and I noticed a white velvet pouch next to her plate.
‘This is just a little something to say …’ Her eyes lit on my father’s. ‘Soph, I’m very sorry that we’ve been fighting. You are growing up, and it is time I let you take some responsibility for yourself.’
‘Did you put her up to this?’ I said to Dad.
He nodded, but he was looking at Mum. ‘That was nicely put, Tiki.’ There was something in his tone I’d never heard before. Something corrective.
Mum slid the white pouch towards me. ‘This is a gift to mark a covenant between us,’ she began.
‘Such a hippie,’ I said to Dad with a giggle.
‘Open it,’ said Mum.
It was a pendant charm on a silver chain. I held it up in front of the candlelight and saw a blue shine. ‘Turquoise,’ I said as it dangled. ‘It’s really pretty.’ The stone was perfectly round and the colour of an afternoon sky. It was encased in a studded silver bracket about the size of a twenty cent piece. The eye that the chain ran through was patterned into an ‘S’ shape and the links of the chain were tiny hexagons.
‘This is yours, like this,’ she held her sapphire up to the light, ‘is mine. You must never let anyone touch it. That’s the rule. I had it specially polished.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, undoing the clasp of the necklace and reaching to put it round my neck.
‘Don’t put in on yet,’ said Mum, her hand reaching to stop me.
‘Why not?’
‘Because I want you to cut the fish first.’
I thought that was strange, but I put the pendant on the table, stood and lifted the lid on the casserole dish. Mum had cooked a whole fish and it simmered in lemon and olive oil, sprinkled with parsley and black pepper. I reached for the copper knife and plunged the blade into the fish.
Oddly, the fleshy white meat seemed to be resisting the knife. ‘It’s a bit tough,’ I said to Mum.
‘Persist with the knife,’ she said.
Then Dad spoke. His voice was calm and clear. ‘Right, so I want you to promise, Sophie, that you will put this tension with your mother behind you. New place, new start for all of us – even with one another, okay?’
‘Mum, this fish is too tough,’ I said.
‘Persist,’ Mum repeated. ‘Sometimes it takes a while for the oil to settle down.’
I’d never heard that before, but I kept pressing the knife into the meat. Maybe it was the copper in the knife, but I thought I felt a soft electric current pass into my wrist. Mum started to hum – I thought it was an attempt to soothe me.
‘Promise me, Sophie,’ said Dad.
‘She’s got to promise too,’ I said, still pressing on the fish.
‘She’s already promised by giving you the turquoise,’ said Dad, stern.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘I promise.’
Snap! The soft electrical current popped painfully in my wrist and my whole hand, with the knife in it, bounced off the bottom of the casserole dish. Mum stopped humming.
‘The plate is electrified and the fish will be totally inedible!’ I exclaimed, nursing my stung hand.
‘It’s just an electric shock,’ Mum said. ‘Try the knife again.’
Hesitant, I put the knife back into the fish. It slid in easily; the flesh was as soft as snow. My wrist hummed but the pain had gone. ‘What was that all about?’ I said.
‘Always persist,’ said Dad with a chuckle. ‘Great idea, this,’ he said to Mum, but her response was hard to read.
I served the fish onto our plates, using a copper spoon to add the sauce, then we all helped ourselves to salad and warm bread.
‘When you finish your meal,’ Mum said, taking a bite of her dinner, ‘you can put your pendant on.’
‘What inspired you to buy me a turquoise?’ I said, my mouth full. The fish was delicious.
‘Well,’ Mum said, ‘I did think that a blue stone would go very nicely with that pink dress you bought yourself – which is now hanging up properly in your wardrobe, by the way.’
A dim discontentment burbled inside me that Mum had been through my things, even though it was obvious the blue stone was a perfect match for the dress.
‘You have to let us know how much your uniform cost and I’ll switch some money into your account,’ Dad said. ‘As for the purple cardigan – with that, you’re on your own.’
‘How’d you know about that?’ I asked, frowning.
‘Your mother told me,’ he said. ‘You know I wouldn’t go through your things.’
We finished the meal. When Mum had cleared the dishes, the candles were still burning. I examined the pendant again.
‘We hippies believe that turquoise has properties of protection,’ said Mum. ‘So I expect you to wear it always, to remind you – and me – of your promise to protect yourself, and mine,’ she looked at Dad, ‘to get off your back.’
‘I’ll wear it always,’ I promised, clasping the pendant and adjusting the charm to sit straight on my collarbone. ‘I really love it, Mum.’
The last shreds of that tired, grey feeling had evaporated, and the silver of the necklace had a sweetly cooling effect on my skin. As I realised this, the image of Ashley and her bizarre shoelace necklace struck into my mind and my hand went instinctively to the pendant. Ashley’s voice repeated: Will you give your mother a message from me? I shook my head – my mother, I decided, didn’t need any message from a crazy Goth.
Dad shot me a curious look.
‘What else do hippies recommend for protection?’ I asked.
‘Stay away from salt,’ my mother said with alacrity. A black look passed between her and my father that I did not understand.
38
‘Check it out,’ I said to Michelle the moment she swung into the seat beside me on the bus the next morning.
I held out my new necklace.
‘Wow, pretty!’ she said. ‘That’ll go great with your pink dress.’
‘That’s what Mum said. It was a present from my parents,’ I blushed, a little proudly.
‘Your mum seems to be pretty insightful,’ said Michelle.
‘She’s hard to tell lies to,’ I said.
‘How could she tell I speak German?’
I shrugged. ‘I think it’s her name,’ I said. ‘Not many people get it right. She’s travelled a lot, and I think over the years she’s learned to hear accents.’ I thought more about it. ‘Actually,’ I said as the bus drove over the highway intersection, ‘she seems to guess a lot about people really fast.’
‘What does your mum do?’
‘Right now she works in a tea shop.’
‘Tea’sers?’ asked Michelle, incredulous. I nodded. ‘That’s really funny,’ she said. ‘Belinda likes to go in there all the time, she thinks it’s re
ally cool. She’ll die when she finds out your mum works there.’
‘Please don’t tell her,’ I said. The bus rumbled down Yarrindi Road.
‘Oh, I won’t,’ said Michelle. ‘Maybe your mum will overhear Belinda slag you out.’
I gave a dramatic frown.
‘Look,’ said Michelle, taking my arm, ‘it’s fine. The whole yesterday thing is fine. I explained the situation to Fran, and she said she’d take care of it.’ I was still apprehensive and Michelle gave my arm a friendly squeeze. ‘Really, Garth is the one she should be angry with. He can be a bit of a …’
Her voice trailed off. Michelle, I knew, was not the kind of person who liked to say nasty things about people, even when it was deserved. I thought up a list of words I’d use to finish her sentence, and finally settled on, ‘He’s a cad! A total cad.’
‘Did you steal that from the vocabulary thing in English?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ I confessed, and we both laughed.
‘A big fat cad!’ Michelle proclaimed, and laughed again.
39
My reception from the group waiting for us at the gate was very cool. Nikki was eating, Kylie was distracted and Fran looked as if she was forcing a smile. Only Belinda looked light and unfettered. She didn’t speak to me, which I supposed was a good thing.
My timetable told me that I didn’t have Modern today, so I relaxed into the prospect of not seeing Brody Meine, even though I thought about him throughout the day. In Ancient History, I struggled to complete a questionnaire on the Roman army while Nikki listed eight hundred variations of what she might wear to Belinda’s party. Nikki’s voice competed with images of Brody Meine sitting under that tree and the Roman army suffered a shocking defeat. I had a free period in the Senior Quad next and used the time to actually do the work I was meant to do the period before. I sat with my back in the direction of Brody’s tree. Just in case.