Evan and I do not move. We listen, hearing a doorknob turn, loose and rattly, as Eden lets herself into the boxy old shed, shutting the door behind her. I try to see through the windows, but they’re as blank as closed books.
‘Interesting,’ Evan murmurs. ‘Very interesting.’
We wait. At any moment I expect a light to go on in the bungalow, or outside, or for someone to call Eden’s name – but there’s no light and no sound. It’s as if she’s vanished into a world of her own. We wait, the distant sound of cars hardly making a dent in the endless hush of the open ground behind us.
‘Far out,’ I say, feeling guilty. ‘We should go, bro.’
Before Evan can answer, I hear a faint scraping noise from the shed, as if a chair is being moved, or a crate or box perhaps. I look at Evan, noticing that for once he hasn’t worn his hat.
‘She’s not doing homework,’ he says. ‘That’s for sure.’
Yeah, she’s doing something that’s not any of our business, I’m thinking. Hearing another sound, I hold up a finger as if I can stop the noise of the world, listening as a kind of a drawn-out shuddery, ohhh, comes to me, faint through the old windows. Perhaps it’s someone crying or talking in the dark. The word miserable kind of suggests itself. That kid is truly freakin’ miserable.
‘Jesus,’ I say, looking down, my knees two round black shapes. ‘Not happy. At all.’
‘Nope.’ Evan kneels, holding his bow and two arrows like an avenging angel with payback on his mind. Still. ‘Not happy at all.’
The noise stops and starts, always soft, killing me quietly. Then a tiny light comes on behind the windows, like one of those little torches you keep on a key ring, about as strong as a candle, giving out enough light for me to see a shape moving around, doing something, but what that might be is impossible to tell.
‘Oh, fuck it,’ I say. ‘I can’t stand this. I’m goin’ in.’
‘Really?’ Evan turns his head, as if to get a better look at me. ‘Well, if you like. But I wouldn’t recommend it. Whatever. I’ll keep you covered.’ He fits an arrow to the bowstring. ‘Good luck.’
‘Yeah. Thanks.’ I duck-walk toward the gap in the fence, thinking that this is a very dumb thing to do, like trying to break up a fight between five people you don’t know. Then I step through the gap and walk silently to the door, knowing I am on someone else’s property, doing something that I do not have to do – but I’m doing it anyway, for some reason.
I twist the rattly knob, open the door quietly, and whisper into the dark.
‘Hey, Eden. It’s me, Ryan. Can I come in?’ Then I take another step, uninvited, and it’s like entering a dream.
I am surrounded by shapes that reveal themselves as an old white wardrobe, a bent bike and some boxes. Hay has been spread on the floor, giving off a dusty, musty smell, kind of warm but unhealthy. There are pictures on the walls from newspapers and magazines, of football teams and cars from the past, things lost, gone and forgotten.
‘Eden, it’s me, Ryan,’ I repeat. ‘Are you okay?’ I step around a small chest of drawers, knowing that she must have heard me. In the pale glow of a tiny two-dollar torch, I see her sitting on an old wooden chair. ‘Eden? Are you all right?’
On the floor in front of her are a couple of teddy bears, one with a little leather school bag over its shoulder, and a couple of photos in frames. Eden is holding the torch like a pen or a pointer, her hair like a halo, her face white like the moon. Under the chair is a white supermarket bag, open, and in it I can see a coil of rope tradies use to tie down timber on trailers. It’s thin rope, but it’s strong.
‘What you doin’ ’ere?’ Eden whispers, staring, her eyes wide. ‘I’m busy. I’m talkin’ to little Jamie. He’s telling me what it’s like over there. That it’s calm and beautiful. That there’s no one yellin’ or fightin’ or pickin’ on anyone, just quiet and nice. That it’s nicer than here. Nicer than you can ever imagine.’
Eden talks as if she’s already in a distant place, or on her way there. I squat down to make myself small. Beneath the layer of hay is concrete. It’s hard, cold and rough, finished with the back of a shovel, a typical shit Templeton handyman job.
‘Eden,’ I whisper. ‘You don’t want to go away. People want you to be here. You need to stay. You gotta stay.’
‘No, I don’t.’ She shakes her head. ‘I don’t have to stay at all. I can go where it’s nice. Where Jamie is. I used to look after him, you know. I always did, and I can look after him again. Just him an’ me like we used to be. When things was okay. Before everythin’ went fuckin’ wrong.’
‘You don’t want to go there, Eden,’ I say. ‘Perhaps you and me can go and see Johnny James, like I said, because he’ll –’
That’s when I hear Elmore and that’s when my heart takes a leap.
‘Where the fuck are ya, Eden, ya silly cow?’ Footsteps on concrete. ‘Come back inside outta the cold, ya fuckin’ dope. The old man’s gone now. It’s orright.’
Then I hear Evan, his voice quiet but clear. ‘She’s in the paddock, Elmore. Outside the fence. I’ll show you.’
There’s a moment of silence, the air loaded with tension like the split second between lightning and thunder.
‘The fuck, are you?’ Elmore’s voice explodes. I hear the mad rush of feet. ‘I’ll fuckin’ kill ya!’
I stay where I am, crouched, thinking that this has gone from bad to worse to shot to freakin’ bits.
‘I’ll kill you first,’ Evan says, followed by the thwack of a bowstring and the tight smack of an arrow burying itself deep in timber. ‘If you don’t shut the fuck up. Now get out here and listen to what I’ve got to say. It’s important.’
‘It’s all right, Eden,’ I whisper and put a finger to my lips. ‘Shhhh. Let Evan handle this. Everything’s under control.’
It’s not even close, but what choice do I have?
What follows is about as weird as you can get. I hear Elmore stampede past the shed, swearing his head off, but basically doing what Evan’s told him. Then I hear Evan and him move away from the fence and further out onto the open ground. Then, basically for minutes on end, I hear nothing. So I talk to Eden, saying how things are going to get better, people are going to help her and all this kind of gear that I don’t even know is true – but it’d better be because she’s at the very edge of a cliff that you really don’t want to go over.
She listens, looking at the two old teddies, and photographs of a little kid gone and I can tell Eden is so destroyed by unfair things piled on top of untrue, that she’s thinking she’s travelled about as far along this road as she can go.
‘Wasn’t gonna do anythin’ tonight.’ She rubs fingers along her jeans, studying the pictures of her little brother. ‘Probably never gonna do that.’
I’d like to believe her. ‘ ’Course not,’ I say. ‘And specially now when things are gunna get better.’
‘You promise?’ She doesn’t look up, looks down at a kid on a little bike looking at the camera, as he shrinks further into history.
What the freakin’ hell can I say?
‘Yeah, I do, Eden.’ No option. ‘But first ya gunna have to listen to people who will help you. That’s how it works.’ I hope that’s how it works; it’d better be.
‘More listenin’,’ she murmurs. ‘Been listenin’ all me fuckin’ life. Eden this, Eden fuckin’ that. Eden, silly fat cow. Eden, it’s your fuckin’ fault. Eden left her fuckin’ key in the gate. But I didn’t! I was ever so careful with that fuckin’ key. But it’s gone, and me and Elmore are gettin’ every fuckin’ bit of blame ever since.’
I can see a rising wall of truth in what Eden is saying; that sometimes the world just piles cruelty after cruelty on certain people, on certain families, and it never seems to let up.
‘I bet you’re sick of it,’ I say. ‘I bet.’ I’m hoping Eden understands that I am fully on her side. I’m also hoping Evan’s doing some fast talking out in the paddock, because this situation is critical.
‘Things will get better,’ I add, and there’s a silence that follows, as if the earth is listening for the solution I’m supposedly about to come up with.
Eden looks at me, tears on her face, golden in the weak light of the tiny torch.
‘Elmore tried to take the blame for leavin’ the key in the gate.’ She shakes her head. ‘He didn’t leave it in, he would never.’ Eden looks at me with an intensity I have never seen before in a person’s eyes. ‘I just can’t remember where my fuckin’ key was. I just cannot fuckin’ remember.’ She looks at me, pleading for an answer. ‘But I would never’ve left it in the gate. ’Cause that Jamie was a little fuckin’ terror for runnin’ away. But where it is now I just don’t fucking know.’
‘Eden,’ I say, ‘it was only ever an accident. An accident. No one’s to blame. No one could ever be blamed for that.’
She looks at me, the seconds stretching out. ‘You wanna bet?’ She pokes the middle of her chest with a finger. ‘They blamed me. And they blamed Elmore ’cause he’s oldest and should’ve known better. They blamed us. Everybody. Yet nobody ever found that fuckin’ key. They say Jamie opened the gate and lost the key down the railway line.’
‘Eden,’ I say. ‘It was an accident. No matter what.’
She sits very still. Then she looks at me. ‘Don’t you ever tell nobody this.’
I nod. ‘I won’t. I haven’t. I never will.’
She looks away. ‘One fuckin’ key.’
I picture a key rusting away by a railway line, trains blasting past, a scatter of old plastic flowers in the grass, as grey as rain.
Elmore comes into the shed and I leave, the two of us giving each other as much distance as we can, the space between us like some fourth dimension of feeling, not of hate but of something so powerful I just have to get away from it. And there’s a fifth dimension, too, as if Eden is in a place that neither of us can ever go.
‘Orright,’ Elmore says, passing in the dark. ‘You can fuck off now. And don’t ever fuckin’ come back.’
‘You have to ring someone, Elmore,’ I say, from the door. ‘Someone real. An ambulance. A doctor. A clinic. You’ll see what I mean.’ Then I go, heading for the gap in the fence, and going through it as if I am leaving a country about to be swallowed by disaster.
I get out of there with Evan, and I suck in as much of the heavy night air as I can get.
‘Holy shit,’ I say. ‘What just happened then?’
Evan walks carrying his bow and one arrow. The other is stuck in the wall of the Larkins’ house, which is a worry if that kind of thing can be seen as evidence of what happened, whatever that was. We’ve tipped out the petrol, the jar tossed deep into an ancient prickly bush.
‘I don’t know what to make of that,’ Evan says.
‘You an’ me both, brother.’ I am so relieved to be away from the sadness of the shed, I feel like I’m floating. ‘That Eden’s in a bad way. Elmore’s gotta do somethin’. Get help.’ I talk to Evan’s back. ‘And what about that arrow?’
Evan laughs. ‘It wasn’t lit. Elmore’ll deal with it. Anyhow, we could call it a temporary ceasefire. Given the circumstances. But I still need something from him for that shit he said about me and Kaydie. He could’ve stopped this weeks ago. But he never tried. Fail.’
‘So how temporary’s temporary?’ A thistle spikes me right through my jeans.
‘Not long.’ Evan moves his head from side to side. ‘Just long enough. Hang on a tick.’
I watch him light the last arrow then fire it into the sky, and as it flies, burning, and falls, I think of a lost kid and a tiny jigsaw piece of the past somewhere way back in England.
‘This thing ain’t that simple,’ I say. ‘Eden told me somethin’ about a kid in their family who got killed on a railway line. It kind of explains stuff.’ How much can I say? ‘Live and let live,’ I suggest. ‘This time. Maybe.’
Evan starts to walk. ‘Or maybe not.’
He’s not exactly the sympathetic type, that’s for sure. I ask Evan what he said to Elmore to stop him from killing me.
‘Oh,’ Evan says, ‘I just said Eden asked you for help. And it was a matter of life and death. Which turned out to be the case. So how smart am I?’
Smarter than me, obviously, because I have no idea what the hell I have got myself into.
I get home, surprised to see it’s only nine o’clock. It feels like I’ve been away for days. I sit in my beanbag with Deed, holding her front paws, and watch Bear Grylls bashing his way through some snaky-looking jungle, the sun nowhere to be seen, rocks the colour of scorpions and scorpions the colour of rocks. It’s a creepy joint; a place where you’d better go slowly and take care, although I’d sleep there before I’d sleep at Elmore’s house.
Somehow in all of this I remember to ask Bobby-boy if he knows someone who can help Ariel out with the door locks. He slides a fresh stubby into an old Lakes Entrance stubby holder, and leans back in his chair, happy like a squirrel with a good supply of nuts.
‘Not much use fittin’ new locks to crap doors.’ He looks affectionately at his stubby. ‘But I’ll ask Des Gabelich. His young bloke’s a carpenter. Remind me tomorrow.’
‘I will.’
Then I go back to watching the Bear, but I’m thinking about Eden, a kid trapped by a set of terrible circumstances. It’s a freakin’ hard life, I decide, as I lock my hands on my head like some dumb kind of hat. You’ve got to simply keep on trying to go forward like Boydy, if you can – or find someone like Boydy, who can show you the way.
Neither Elmore nor Eden turns up at school, although where they might be I couldn’t guess. Where do you take someone after they hit the wall like Eden has? What’s the plan? Who’s got the answers? Are there any?
I have no idea, but as Evan and me cruise the oval at lunchtime, I get the feeling Eden’s problems might be out of her hands for a while, now. I’m tipping someone else has taken over and I picture her in a room with a chair, a little bed and a window – a special room for people with special problems. And in this room, a new part of your life begins.
Get used to strangers, kid, I’m thinking, because funnily enough, they’re probably the only ones who can help. And then they won’t be strangers anymore.
‘What goes around comes around.’ Evan looks at the factories and the highway, the houses on straight roads, the grey clouds pressing down. ‘Elmore had better start doing some pretty hard thinking.’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Maybe he’ll see the light? Move on. Leave all that shit history behind. Come back to earth. Who knows?’
Evan shrugs. ‘Well, he could change.’ He laughs, showing white teeth he flosses twice a day. ‘He could come back worse.’
That’s possible. I don’t even want to think about it.
After school I cruise by Kealoah and tell Ariel about the guy, Anthony, who might help her with the locks. We talk at the counter, wallets and watches under glass, each with a tiny price tag tied like a little white leaf.
‘I’ll see if Bobby can get him to do it ASAP,’ I say. ‘Might be on a weekend, though.’
Ariel looks relieved. ‘Oh, that’s okay. Even if I’m working, Jill should be able to handle that. If I give her some warning.’
‘I’ll ring you.’ I see Ariel’s wearing a blue school tie, a bit crooked and loose, with a tight white shirt. She lifts the tie like a long tongue.
‘Armstrong High. My old school.’ She looks at the emblem on it – a gold shield and two bundles of what I guess is maybe wheat. “Work hard, live happily.” That was our motto. Anyway, what’s up? What’s been going on?’
Where do I begin?
‘Plenty,’ I say. ‘You know that guy Elmore and his sister? Well, there’s some big trouble there.’ I spot Josh up a ladder stacking away shoeboxes and decide I’d better get going. ‘Meet me at Brew and I’ll fill you in.’ I wish I hadn’t said big trouble; hopefully it’s not as big as it seemed last night.
Ariel picks up a spray bottle next to the till and give
s the counter a quick squirt.
‘I can’t tonight. I’ve got to get Kaydie.’ She wipes the glass with a cloth, the watches and wallets clearer than ever – and the price tags. ‘If you can wait twenty, you could walk with me and tell me then.’
I finger-tap the counter. ‘Deal. I’ll come back. See you soon.’ Then I wander off towards Brew, digging out my Frequent Flyer card, taking with me that special feeling that only special girls can give you.
Suh-weet!
At great expense to the management, my management that is, I buy a hot chocolate for Ariel and take it back to Kealoah. Then we leave Sky Point and walk across the reserve, me telling her a bit about Eden without telling too much.
‘Maybe things had to get worse before they get better.’ I try to put a positive spin on it. ‘Hit the wall, then get over it. Like, from here on in.’
Ariel nods, walking slowly, arms crossed, her seven-dollar sneakers a little overawed by the muddy ground.
‘When stuff happens to you, it’s bad enough,’ she says, ‘but then when people treat you like that, it must feel like you’re dying every day. It couldn’t be much worse, I wouldn’t think.’
Ariel’s on the money there. Some people stink, let’s be freakin’ honest.
‘You’re the best thing on this planet.’ I take hold of Ariel’s cold hand. ‘You get it.’
She gives me her lost-in-space-and-time smile.
‘Most people know a sad story when they hear it.’
We’re at the Tempy Primary School gate. We don’t go in. We stand looking at each other as a dirty shade sail over the sandpit flaps in the wind like a wet sheet.
‘I’m going back up to the country soon.’ Ariel takes off her flowery Kealoah bag. ‘That’s the plan.’
I feel like someone’s punched me in the chest.
‘Riiiight,’ I say, although Ariel doesn’t appear to see the invisible question mark I’ve tacked on there.
‘To see what’s left.’ She talks as if she’s already made up her mind about what she might see. ‘I won’t take Kaydie. And Jill’s not up to it. But I’m going. For one night.’ She takes out two twenty-dollar notes for Kaydie’s after-school care.
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