‘Hey, Kaydie.’ I nod, happy to see her.
Her gaze slides by me to a skinny dark-haired lady standing by the stove where saucepans rattle their lids off. Straight away I can tell this person doesn’t want to be looked at or talked to. But what choice do I have?
‘Hi,’ I put out. ‘I’m Ryan. Lanyon.’ The words feel like grit as I say them.
She nods, pulls her cardigan across her front, and deep lines appear on her forehead, as if something has just occurred to her that is a big worry. Probably me.
‘I’m Jill.’ She turns to the saucepans and doesn’t turn back.
Ariel takes a few steps toward the kitchen bench. I see three bowls made of blue plastic lined up for dinner, a fork beside each.
‘Ryan and his friend, Evan,’ Ariel says to Jill’s back, ‘might take Kaydie and me to the beach on the weekend. On the train. It’s close. In the city.’
Jill turns, hands dragging at her cardigan, her eyes dark and flighty, as if she senses trouble. This is too much for her, I can tell. On the stove the saucepans rattle, on TV cartoons flash, the heater rages, and man, it is one roomful of bad energy getting worse by the moment.
‘Okay,’ she says, uncertainly. ‘Perhaps. I don’t know. No. Yes.’ She looks at Ariel, ignores me. ‘You’d have to be very careful.’
‘We will,’ I say, smelling the heater – a box of stinking hot metal and old glass warped out of its mind by ten years of heat torture. ‘Absolutely. It’s just in town. Not far.’
Ariel picks up the remote and mutes the cartoons. In some ways, this only makes things worse. Now the television simply flashes a silent distress signal – perhaps to draw attention to the heater, the saucepans, or the people in the house. Or it might be telling me to get the hell out before the entire thing goes up like the Fukushima nuclear power plant. But I hold my ground.
‘Ryan, how about I meet you at Sky Point tomorrow and we can work it out?’ Ariel says, going to the stove, and turning down the gas. ‘I finish at five-thirty.’
‘Sure. Great.’ This is my cue to head towards the lounge room and, hopefully, the front door. ‘D’you know Brew Italia? It’s good. Near the top of the escalators.’
‘I know it.’ Ariel follows me. ‘I’ll see you out.’
I say goodbye to Jill, and wave to Kaydie, who watches me as if she’s used to people appearing and then disappearing approximately twenty seconds later. Then I’m outside, standing on the little concrete terrace that’s folding in on itself like a slow-closing book.
‘Brew at five-thirty.’ I look at Ariel’s lovely, worried face. ‘Done. See you then.’ And it’s not until I hit the footpath do I find clear air and feel myself ready for take-off.
Far freakin’ out!
That was intense.
I lie on the couch, juggle the remotes, thinking of Ariel’s house and that heater, the damn thing like an overblown balloon about to explode in your face. It’s a relief to be here, away from the angst and, I hate to say it, the feeling of scraping the bottom of the barrel.
Hearing Jude, I turn to see her sliding something into the oven. Her face is red, she’s wearing an oven mitt like a lobster, and she looks a little mad; but she’s only mother-mad, which I can deal with. But that lady Jill is like a survivor staggering away from a plane crash, shocked out of her mind, maybe forevermore. I change the channel – losing some bearded guy wrestling an indoor plant.
‘Ryan, I was watchin’ that.’ Jude loses the lobster mitt and takes a tissue from the box on the bench. ‘FYI.’ She blows her nose. ‘Mister.’
‘No, you weren’t.’ I give her my too-late-loser look. ‘You had your head in the oven. You’re a freakin’ nutcase.’ But she’s not, she’s not, she’s fully operational, and nothing at all like Jill, who is a thousand light years away from earth – and from that far out, man, it is pretty damn hard to get back.
I come to the conclusion that the heater at Ariel’s place is a ticking, hissing, whirring time bomb. Then I think of Kaydie, Ariel and Jill asleep in that house and what could happen.
‘Hey, Bobby,’ I say to the old man, who’s sitting in his recliner drinking tea out of a flowery mug. ‘Does Eric or Dennis owe you any favours? Because I need a plumber to do somethin’ for someone who hasn’t got any money. It could be a matter of life and death.’
Bobby puts his mug on a little table where he used to put an ashtray until the doctor ordered him, for the one-hundredth time, to quit smoking. He looks at me like I’ve asked to borrow a thousand bucks.
‘Dial triple 0.’
I hold up a finger. ‘That is hilarious.’ This is a comment we all try to get in as often as possible around here. ‘But it won’t work.’ Then I do some explaining – getting a plumber to work for free is at least as hard as swimming the English Channel.
‘How old did you say this kid was?’ Bobby picks up his tea, leans back and places his old tartan slippers on the footrest.
I shrug. ‘My age. About.’
‘I’ll ring Eric.’ Bobby looks at the television. There’s a riot going on in silence, police in black helmets charging people in white shirts who are burning a flag, probably American. ‘It’ll cost me a slab. You can clean my truck. Get me the phone.’
I get the phone. Bobby’s truck’s a freakin’ nightmare, but sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do.
‘Inside and out,’ he adds. ‘You’ll enjoy yourself.’
I’m sure I won’t.
After a decent day at school, Elmore causing zero harm, I head to Sky Point to meet Ariel. As soon as the doors slide open, mall time kicks in, and a peaceful feeling floats down from the roof on a cloud of dull music. As I step off the escalators, Brew Italia appears like a colourful oasis. I see Ariel sitting in a corner booth, her hair a beautiful mess, a glass of water on the table.
I slide in opposite, thinking I didn’t even know she existed a month ago and now here I am probably in love with her in some crazy, complicated way. Or that’s what it feels like.
‘Boo.’ I slide off my backpack. ‘How’s it goin’?’
‘Boo yourself.’ She looks at me as though she’s not sure if I’m part of the problem or part of the solution. ‘Enjoy your visit last night? To the royal palace.’
I might be wrong here – I certainly have been before, but I get a flash that not only does Ariel know I like her, she likes me. I also get the idea that she’s running the ruler over me to see how much I understand. Or if all I’m good for is derailing this train she’s just managing to keep on the tracks.
‘Fine,’ I say. ‘Everyone okay?’
‘Hmm.’ She looks at me closely, having swapped the ruler for a spirit level. ‘And Jill? What are your thoughts there?’
I put my hands on the table, look into her face, and see sadness welded tight to everything she thinks about and knows. But there’s fight there as well. It’s like Sugar Ray versus Tommy the Hitman Hearns in 1976 – Sugar down but not out, never out. And back he came from nowhere to be again the champion of the world.
‘I get it she’s shy.’
Ariel’s eyes narrow. ‘It’s more than that, Ryan.’
‘I know.’ I shrug, and glance out into the mall, people gliding by like fish in a tank. ‘I’m not stupid. Anyway. That freakin’ gas heater of yours.’ I sit up straight and sensible, like a doctor delivering serious news. ‘It needs help. No crap, Ariel. It’s dangerous.’
‘The gas heater?’ She pulls a lopsided smile that gives me a glimpse of the kid she might have been a year or two ago. ‘The gas heater. What about it?’ She looks relieved to be talking about something so ridiculous.
Right now I know I have to tell her that she’s a freaking hero for spending every hour of every day looking after Kaydie and Jill while dealing with her dad being gone, and everything else – but instead, I kiss her, a kiss for her past and a kiss for the future, because in this case words won’t cut it. Then I retreat, in case she decides she might want to knock me out.
‘You�
�re so cool,’ I say, which is not quite what I mean. ‘What you’re doing. Getting done. But that heater is deadset dangerous. And I’m going to get it fixed.’ When your old man’s a tradie, you inherit a feel for shit like this. ‘For free.’
Ariel has backed into the padded corner. She’s crying, tears wetting cheeks that are as round as eggs. She takes a serviette from the silver holder.
‘Oh, please, tell me about the heater.’ She laughs, blotting her cheeks. ‘Mr Handyman.’ Now she looks plain miserable. ‘It’s not the only bloody thing broken around the place, if you really want to know.’
‘It just needs a service,’ I say optimistically. ‘And Eric, my dad’s mate, is gunna do it for free. He’s a plumber and a gasfitter.’
Ariel looks at the serviette that has Brew Italia – the stylish Italian printed on it. Then she looks at me.
‘This is embarrassing, Ryan. How is that going to happen?’
I sit back. The storm has passed. At least for a while. I check the register, and see that there’s no one waiting to order.
‘I’ll get us a hot chocolate then I’ll explain.’ Up I jump, man on a mission. ‘It’s no big deal. Relax.’
Ariel taps the tabletop. When she looks up, her eyes ask me a clear question. ‘When someone says something’s no big deal, Ryan, guess what?’
I turn on a winning smile, and wave my Brew Italia coffee card.
‘Sometimes,’ I say, ‘you just gotta go with the freakin’ flow.’ And I leave it at that.
In the space of three minutes, Ariel tells me how her mum left her dad, he married Jill, and Ariel decided to stay with them. Then Kaydie came along, all four on the farm until the flood.
‘We lost the house,’ Ariel says. ‘The water went right through it. We lost the horses, my dog, the cattle, the fences, the road in, the road out, everything but the hay shed. No insurance. End of story. If only.’ She raises her eyebrows gently. ‘It feels like it’s going on forever. Downhill.’
I say nothing. A change, like a stream of cold air seems to have found its way into Sky Point. Ariel’s hands struggle gently with each other. She clears her throat.
‘When the flood was over, my dad, Brock –’ she takes a deep breath, ‘was helping his mate, Harry, at his place, because our house was totally gone. And he got a shock from the wiring. He said he was all right.’ Her eyes hold mine. ‘Then he sat down and died.’ She shrugs, drums her fingers on the table. ‘Then we came down here. And that was that.’ She glances around. ‘Or this, rather.’
What Ariel might not realise, like a lot of people don’t realise, is that Templeton isn’t a bad place. It might not be a fabulous place, but it’s not bad. Generally, the people here are just families trying to make it along from week to week.
‘About the beach,’ she says, as if she’s forced herself to change up a gear. ‘Do you still want to go?’
‘Of course,’ I say. ‘Absolutely. It’ll be good.’
Then I see something that is not so good. Elmore Larkin is walking up the mall, swinging a heavy silver dog chain with no dog on it. He’s sees me, and walks straight over, stopping at the low Brew Italia barrier.
‘Lan-yon,’ he says to me, ramping up his accent in memory of our old fight. ‘Wanker.’ Then he looks at Ariel. ‘I’ve seen you.’ More like Prince Harry now.
Ariel stares back, seeing a big solid dude, pale and powerful-looking with watery blue eyes, white hair and fat knuckly hands.
‘Doubtful.’
Elmore stares, me guessing he sees a girl who is good-looking, interesting and new.
‘Work in surf shop. Live on Raleigh Road.’
‘What’s your point, Elmore?’ I have my feet spread, one hand on the edge of table, ready to throw a right straight up into his face.
‘The point,’ he says, his eyes brimming with anger that I don’t understand, ‘is that your time is comin’. You, and that fuckin’ idiot in the hat, Mr Quiet. And you can’t avoid it.’
My heart is hammering. Fear races around in me like a car on a track – but I’m not crippled by it. Fear and guts live side by side. They live in the same place. Just, please God, let guts win.
‘And your problem is?’ I would like to know. That’s the truth. I’m not trying to squirm out of anything. ‘All we do is stay the fuck away from you.’
Elmore doesn’t miss a beat. ‘Because you both think you’re so fuckin’ good and so fuckin’ tough.’ He’s really giving me the accent now. ‘I see you lookin’ but you won’t step up. Neither of ya. Not one of ya.’
‘I will if I have to,’ I say. ‘You better believe it.’
Elmore laughs, shaking his head, the heavy silver dog chain dangling from his hand like spit.
‘We’ll see.’ He glances at Ariel then walks off down the mall, swinging the lead.
‘That was pleasant,’ Ariel says. ‘Friend of yours?’
The world’s whirling and I need it to stop. The afternoon’s shot to bits and I’ll be thinking about this from now until it’s settled. Something’ll happen. Maybe a lot of things. Jesus. I wish I was Slate. He might be scared of swimming across the Murray River, but no one in their right mind would ever want to cross him, right or wrong.
‘A guy from school.’ I can just make him out in the clear Sky Point distance. ‘A nut case.’ Yet I don’t think Elmore really is mental. That’d be the easy call; but something’s got hold of him, like an ancient curse. ‘We don’t get along.’
‘I noticed.’ Ariel sips hot chocolate. ‘A hard person to deal with, I’d imagine.’
‘You could say that.’ I can accept Elmore’s got it in for me, but he’s mad to want to tangle with Evan. Evan Batlow is dangerous in the most unpredictable ways. He is elusive and explosive. And he has weapons.
For a while, Ariel and I just sit, letting the dust settle.
‘The heater,’ I say. ‘I’ll call you. What’s your mobile?’
Ariel puts her chin on her hand and shuts her eyes. I see she wears a blue and white scarf like an old cotton tea towel low around her neck, cowboy-style.
‘Give it to you in a minute.’ She moves a hand as if brushing away a feather. ‘I need to rest.’
So I sit twiddling my thumbs, guessing Elmore won’t be back but knowing he’ll never go away, either. Unless something big happens. Daniel, one of the Brew Italia guys, cool in a white shirt with stubble on his chin like charcoal, sees Ariel snoozing in the corner. He puts a finger to his lips.
‘Ah, Sleepin’ Beauty.’ He winks, leaving me to wonder how things got so complicated and so serious so soon.
That night I watch River Monsters, the dude fishing in a place called something like the Gonzokillah Falls in the Darkandoomy Delta. The river is wide and green, the banks white and sandy, and there are dead trees with branches like burnt arms. You can feel the heat. And you also get the feeling that the locals haven’t given Jeremy the whole story; that they wish he’d just go away, that he’s only stirring up trouble.
He hooks a catfish, only to see it bitten in half by some striped mad-eyed thing that smashes it in a swirling fury of fangs and fins, leaving nothing but a sad dead head, catfish whiskers gently drooping. At this point it’s plain to see Jeremy knows he just cost this fish its life for television, and he’s sorry. But he’s proved one thing; there’s something ferocious in the river, and the people are going to have to work out a way to deal with it.
Or perhaps they already have; perhaps they’re even more ferocious than the monsters in the river, which leads me to think that everyone, no matter what side of the fence you are on, should be aware that the tables can be turned in the blink of an eye.
You wouldn’t think organising a guy to look at a gas heater’d be so hard, but man, it’s like launching the space shuttle. Bobby calls Eric, who says to call him later, so I call Ariel, who doesn’t answer. Then I call Eric, who tells me to ring him when I’m sorted. So I try Ariel again, but get Jill who sounds terrified and hangs up. My next move is to wait until the mornin
g when I’ll probably see Ariel, and if I don’t, I’ll just say Saturday to Eric and see what happens. Then I go to bed.
Next morning I meet Evan at his house. Already I’ve told him about Elmore and how the prick’s got us in his sights, so we start working on a plan.
‘One in, all in,’ Evan says, as we walk toward Ariel’s place. ‘If he’s hammering one, he gets both.’
Agreed. Maybe not two-onto-one straight away, not instantly, but if one of us is losing badly then the other goes in. After all Elmore outweighs us by ten kilos at least, and he’s always the idiot who starts shit (apart from that one occasion). Plus we do not want it, but if he’s looking for trouble, Elmore Larkin will find it. Ahead I can see Kaydie and Ariel waiting at the letterbox and, despite everything, I smile.
‘Still, he might let it go,’ I add. ‘It was weird the way he spoke to Ariel. Like he had somethin’ on his mind, but didn’t know how to say it.’
‘The hell knows what he thinks.’ Evan looks down the road as if he’s seeing into the future. ‘Let him make the first move. He will.’
Unlike your average bully, Elmore is tough. He’ll punch it out with anyone, as if he’s trying to fight his way to some solution. Obviously this is weird but perhaps it’s not that different to what Slate’s up to, when I think about it. Anyway, the bottom line is that it’s not a dumb idea to leave Larkin alone. I should’ve when he first turned up – too late, mate.
The wrecking ball is swinging.
We meet up with the girls, and cross the road, heading for Tempy Primary. It’s good being with them. Ariel has this thing about her I’ve never seen before. She can be sad and happy simultaneously, neither feeling winning over the other. It makes her even more beautiful, in a grown-up way, as if she’s living in two worlds at once.
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