All This Could End

by Steph Bowe

  ‘It hardly counts if the predictor causes the unfortunate event they predicted,’ he says, then stops, realising what he’s said. ‘That wasn’t supposed to sound as accusatory as it did. I’m sorry.’

  She lets go of his hand and tucks her hair behind her ear. ‘It’s fine.’

  ‘Was talking to the police scary?’ he asks. ‘I mean, I was scared and I don’t think I’ve ever done anything illegal apart from downloading music. Which I do feel guilty about.’

  Nina shakes her head. ‘They were just like normal people. No real interrogation or anything. They were actually quite polite. I was expecting some good-cop/bad-cop business. They didn’t even glare at me in an intimidating fashion. Very disappointing.’

  ‘I bet.’

  ‘I wonder what they’ve been like with Mum and Dad. At least they were nice to Tom. It’s strange, because all my life Mum has sold me the idea that the police are awful, that most people apart from us are more or less awful. A real “you and me against the world” thing. And she was totally wrong.’

  ‘Yeah. I got stuff wrong, too. It seems so ridiculous now, but I hated you after you left. Not hated, exactly. I was just insanely angry. Because you didn’t say goodbye and never called me or anything. And now I don’t hate you, and I’m not angry, and I regret that I ever was because it all makes sense now.’

  ‘Are you positive your sudden forgiveness doesn’t have anything to do with the drugs?’

  ‘I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. When you see your brother, tell him that getting shot was the best thing that ever happened to me.’

  ‘Was it?’

  ‘No, but I think it’ll make him feel better. Where is Tom?’

  ‘Child services are handing him over to Dad’s parents. They have to make sure he isn’t crazy first. We’ve been staying in a safe house, so the police can keep an eye on us. Taxpayer money certainly doesn’t pay for anything flash. I’ll be living with my grandparents soon as well. At least for the next six months, until I’m eighteen.’

  ‘Dad told me your parents just came out of the bank voluntarily after we left.’

  ‘Yeah. The police told me. And your dad told me, too. He hugged me in the hallway just now.’

  ‘Stockholm Syndrome, for sure,’ he says.

  Nina laughs. ‘He was a good hostage. A couple of times, with a bank robbery, there’d be some middle-aged guy being all brave and tough and talking back to my mother. Not a good idea. It’s a miracle she didn’t shoot anyone. I thought, when I found out your dad was in there, that’d be him. Stand up to us, try and be a hero, you know. Especially with you there. But that didn’t happen. Your dad reminds me of my dad, actually. My dad and your dad are both fairly passive when it comes down to it.’

  ‘Or just fearful.’

  ‘My dad might just be easily led.’

  ‘Dad was whispering to me, after I got shot and you were talking to your mum. He was just rambling. All this irrelevant nonsense. Whispering everything at once like it was so important. Telling me he’s going to become a tax accountant; and we could always go on a holiday and visit Mum in Fiji; and how he rode a bicycle into a brick wall when he was seventeen and drunk. Like he was somehow trying to empathise with me being shot. I reckon he said more to me in those five minutes than he’s said to me in the past two years. So my dad’s a softie and a banker. Him faking tough wouldn’t have made a difference. I do wish your dad had stood up to your mum sooner, though. I feel there was drama that could’ve been avoided.’

  ‘Me too. I half expected Mum would end up in a shoot-out or something.’

  ‘I don’t think she’s all bad.’

  ‘You don’t know her.’

  ‘I know you. Your parents raised you. You’re a good person, so I think they must have some goodness in them. Where’d you go for those months? I forgot to ask.’

  ‘On one big road trip. Lucky Dad’s a teacher, hey? She was worried about us getting too close to people and escaping the family unit. Which was warranted. And I guess you’re right—when she’s not making me rob people, she can be sort of nice.’ She pauses. ‘The police told me they’re going to prison. I don’t know for how long. There’s a hearing soon but they won’t be sentenced for months. I haven’t seen them since the bank.’

  ‘Will you visit them?’

  ‘I don’t know. One day they will be out of prison, and I don’t know what’ll happen then. I can’t imagine Mum’s very happy with either of us. And I don’t know what my life’s about if it doesn’t centre around my family. I feel a bit lost. Not a bit. A lot.’

  ‘You can always share my family. Dad’s less of a zombie now, but I don’t know whether he’ll keep that up. The bank has given him a fair bit of time off. Monica’s back to being loud and annoying and she’s going to be a teenager soon, which will be an absolute delight. Come over for dinner and I’ll make you two-minute noodles with egg. I’m quite the chef now.’

  ‘That sounds lovely. I can’t say my cooking skills are much better. My dad was always the domestic one in our house. What’s next for you?’

  ‘Going back to school, next year. I might still be in a wheelchair, not sure if I’ll be able to walk by then. I’m guessing Bridie will have told everyone we know about everything and I will no longer be able to go on with my under-the-radar tactics.’

  ‘I’ve missed Bridie, oddly enough. Her hilariousness.’ She stares out the window.

  ‘I don’t think you’ve been around her long enough to get tired of all of her crazy affectations,’ he says.

  Nina shrugs. ‘At least she doesn’t take herself too seriously.’

  ‘Imagine if she was a hostage in a bank robbery. She’d probably have a ball.’

  ‘She would. I wonder how different it would have been if she was there as well.’ She turns back to Spencer. Her legs are dangling from the side of the bed and she crosses and uncrosses them, her hands resting in her lap. She seems nervous. ‘I haven’t been to a hospital since my brother was born. Do you hate it here?’

  ‘It’s not that bad. Just boring. Smells weird. Food’s terrible. Get sick of the same four walls. You ever wonder why your mum thought bank-robbing was worth the risk of prison? I mean, personally I’d be terrified of getting caught.’

  ‘She grew up doing it. It became normal to her. She was convinced she’d never be caught.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what I think?’

  ‘You are ridiculously honest. You used to be shy. Remember that? I liked that.’

  Spencer laughs. ‘People are allowed to change. Remember when you were a bank robber? And now you’re not. Do you want to know what I think?’

  ‘Yes. Tell me.’

  ‘I think she wanted what everybody wants,’ he says. ‘For her life to mean something. To be remembered, have an impact. Go down in history for something. Same as anybody.’

  ‘That makes sense. She always said she wanted fame and fortune.’

  ‘Infamous people are usually well-remembered. Ivan the Terrible is a lot more interesting than Mother Teresa.’

  ‘Debatable. Also Ivan the Terrible was not a bank robber. Did they even have banks then? I feel terrible for what I did, and I’d rather not be famous for being awful. There are dozens of people I’ve personally victimised for no reason. I can’t exactly call them up and say, “Hey, sorry about making you fear for your life, I was pursuing infamy”. Have you been reading the papers?’

  ‘Not really. I was there, I know what happened. I don’t need to read about it. Bridie reckons it’s all nonsense anyway. They can’t even get our ages right.’

  ‘My mum wouldn’t be able to resist reading her own press. But some band’s in town, so it didn’t even make the first page. That would disappoint her,’ she says. ‘On the news, they were saying crime is at an all-time high. Kids robbing banks. It’s a sign that the end of the world is nigh.’

  ‘They sure know how to play it up. Where do these grandparents of yours live? Far?’

  ‘Yeah. Near Broome.’<
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  ‘That’s what, a five-hour plane trip? Not far at all.’

  ‘I could always fly back and visit. If you want me to.’

  ‘Of course. Of course I want you to visit. I’ll write you letters. I will write you actual letters, that’s how much I care. My handwriting is shocking.’

  Nina smiles.

  ‘They’ll probably just be listings of all my new favourite words, but still, at least they’ll be educational,’ he says. ‘I like phobia names at the moment. Like gerontophobia. Fear of growing old. Or of old people. And ephebiphobia. Fear of teenagers. Thinking all teenagers are really badly-behaved. Which is obviously an irrational fear, because you and I are perfectly nice. And we’re teenagers. When I have to go back to school, I’ll have didaskaleinophobia. Fear of going to school. Because everyone will want to know about this, thanks to Bridie.’

  She grins. ‘Those will come in very handy, I’m sure. How do you know you’re pronouncing them right?’

  ‘I don’t. Unfortunately they don’t come in handy when it comes to schoolwork. If they had a subject where you had to memorise weird words my marks would be a lot better.’

  ‘I’m sorry I’m leaving again.’

  ‘It’s okay. We did have a nice hour in the bank.’

  ‘Minus the yelling and shooting and cowering,’ observes Nina.

  ‘It was the most exciting Monday morning of my life.’

  Nina shakes her head. ‘No, I mean it. I wish I could stay.’

  ‘Come back for uni. We’ll go together. The more I deal with humans, the more I want to work with animals, too. All this bank-robbing and shooting. It’s downright dangerous. Cats don’t do that stuff. They’re way above it.’

  She smiles. ‘Maybe everything will work out, hey?’

  ‘Nina, we’re the good guys. How could it not work out for us?’

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  With thanks to my agent, Ginger Clark, and my editor, Penny Hueston, and all the other lovely folk at Text Publishing.

  Mum: I don’t even need to say that all my novels would remain unfinished without you to talk them through with. Thank you most of all.

  Nan and Pop, thank you for being the first readers of this novel (and all the others), and for letting me hold your computer hostage, and for all of your excellent ideas.

  Thanks to Aunty Pat, DD, Carol, Susan, Grandma, Grandpa, and Peter and Carol, for their love and support. And thanks to Sara and Ashleigh for their input on early drafts.

  Rhiannon! I love you infinitely. Thanks also to Robbie and Elaine.

  And thank you to all of the brilliant readers, students and other writers I’ve met through being a writer. It’s been surreal and wonderful. I am the luckiest.