Finding Kerra

by Rosanne Hawke

  Then she asked, ‘How did Liana get the ring?’

  My mind raced. How did she get the ring? A lifetime of secrets and love. It would take too long to tell. I tried a short version. ‘Years ago we had a music teacher, Mr Kimberley. It was a dangerous time for him to come to the school in Pakistan. We even had a terrorist attack there, some of us taken as hostages—’

  She totally ignored the hostage bit. ‘Why did he go, if it was dangerous?’

  ‘His mother had died—’

  ‘Like me.’

  ‘—and he’d discovered that his biological father was in Pakistan, married with a daughter.’

  ‘So he had a sister there. One he didn’t know?’

  ‘That’s right.’ Her perception surprised me, especially when it often appeared she had selective hearing.

  ‘It was Liana, wasn’t it?’ She almost crowed. ‘And when he found her he gave her the ring.’

  ‘Actually they already had half each, but after she danced to save him and us from the terrorists, he gave her his half.’

  ‘I wish I had a brother.’ Kerra said it as though Blake had never been born and I was too sharp in answering her.

  ‘You do.’

  ‘I mean like Mr Kimberley. One that’s trying to find you. Wouldn’t that mean he loved you?’

  Words escaped me. What on earth made her say that? ‘Guess it would,’ was all I managed. There didn’t seem much point in saying you can only love a person you’ve met.

  ‘In fact, she’s a lot like me.’ It took me a moment to realise Kerra was talking about Liana again. It was as if she was finishing the conversation we were having the night I arrived.

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured, her voice a purr. ‘I like Liana a lot.’

  5

  Kerra seemed none the worse the next day after her ordeal of falling in the dam. Though, as I stood there at the sink, making coleslaw and watching her play with the chooks, my hands stilled on the grater. It struck me that ‘fall’ may have been the wrong word to use. How could she have fallen? Wouldn’t we have noticed some sound, a slipping, a whoa-type shout? Or a splash? But there was nothing. Blake and I had been talking, then that sudden squeal of hers. It was bizarre; it was almost as if she’d walked into that dam herself!

  I rinsed the utensils and took the dishwater to throw on the garden, an empty egg carton under my arm.

  ‘Kerra! Let’s collect the eggs.’

  ‘Okay.’ For all her near surly ways, especially with Blake, she seemed cooperative enough with me. In the afternoons she’d get her School of the Air sets out and do extra work, even though it was holidays. ‘Mrs Cowped says I have to catch up before she gets back,’ Kerra had informed me.

  Kerra led the way to the chook pens. She showed me all the egg-laying places along the way: in the machinery shed, where I noticed Blake’s blue car, and the stables. ‘Speckles always lays her eggs in Honey’s stall, but Dad gets them.’ I wondered why. Was Honey wild? By the vague direction she waved her hand it seemed that the light brown mare was Honey, the one Blake sounded edgy about at my first riding lesson.

  All the eggs were in the pullets’ pen that day. I dragged open the corrugated iron door while the rooster strutted around the wire-meshed run, fluffing up his feathers, protecting his turf. ‘Hold that door shut, he’s trying to get in with the chooks,’ Kerra warned. He began crowing and I berated myself for being so easily taken in as I marvelled at the simple earthy way Kerra accepted her world. Guess that’s what prompted me to ask her about the dam; I figured a straight forward approach might work.

  ‘Kerra, why did you go in the dam yesterday?’ It was a long shot, but if she hadn’t gone in voluntarily she’d stick up for herself, wouldn’t she? Kerra didn’t say anything until she was out of the pen and the wired door was latched.

  ‘Eleven eggs. Look.’

  I didn’t answer her and waited. It paid off.

  ‘Didn’t mean to get stuck. Just to go in.’

  ‘Why? The water was cold.’

  ‘To see if Blake would—’ She stopped.

  I tried to keep my tone even as we walked to the house. ‘That Blake would what?’ Get cross? Save her?

  But she didn’t answer. Her mouth shut tight and I knew she’d say no more.

  Later, after the lunch of cold lamb, beetroot and coleslaw had been cleared away, and dishes washed, I went to my room to check emails on my iPad. Today the satellite dish was working and there were emails in my inbox. I opened Mum’s first. I told myself I was too old to miss my mum when I was only staying away for a few weeks, especially as I grew up in boarding school seeing her once a month, but her words of love made my eyes blur. She even referred to Kerra since I’d written I was looking after a motherless child. She’ll need lots of love, Jaime. I could just imagine Mum saying it. It’s what Mum was good at: showing love. I replied but didn’t feel I should mention the dam yet. Then I clicked on Jasper’s name. He was finishing Year 12 in Pakistan. The school year there ended in July.

  To: Jaime Richards

  Subject: Hi Friend

  Hi Jaime,

  Thinking of you and sure wish you could fly over for my graduation. Ayesha and Carolyn wish you were here too. We all miss you. Our class has been practising walking down the aisle of the gym to 'Pomp and Circumstance' banged out on the old piano. Would you believe Mr Kim knows how to play that too? Thinking all the time how you should be sharing this time with us. How are you tracking? I have days that have no colour at all. You must feel worse. I pray you have good friends to help. You’ll be stoked to know I’ve finally learnt it’s best not to hide my feelings. I feel better after I’ve shared a 'Liana' memory with one of the kids at school, even if we cry. Just write and tell me if you can’t find someone who understands what you’ve come from. I’ll always be here for you. Maybe we can Skype.

  Cheers

  Jasper

  Tears welled in my eyes. Jasper was so familiar. We were in school together for ten years, even though he was a year ahead. We had shared so much earlier in the year when I’d been abducted on my trip back to Pakistan. He and Liana did all they could to find me, to escape. So much happened that I can’t explain to many people here. Most are not interested, or wouldn’t understand. They want me to fit in, live in their world without needing to know what mine used to be like. If I were still in Pakistan I’d be finishing Year 11 with Ayesha and Carolyn, helping the Year 12 class celebrate. I blew my nose and heard a sigh. It was Kerra. She was standing at the foot of my bed.

  I regarded her, hoping I didn’t show how she’d startled me. ‘Why are you crying?’

  ‘I’m okay. Just miss my friends in Pakistan.’

  Kerra said, ‘What say you tell a story? Then you’ll feel better.’ I checked her face for guile but she seemed to believe what she said, probably copying my words.

  ‘But you need to do some school work.’ The look on her face reminded me of Elly when she wanted me to spend time with her and I melted. ‘I suppose it won’t hurt, but you have to do some work afterwards, all right?’

  She barely nodded and settled herself on my bed. Sasha too. Her thumb slipped into her mouth. Wasn’t she too old for that? Disconcerted, I searched for a story in my head. If I knew Kerra lived here I could have brought some of the folktale books Elly liked.

  ‘Okay, this is a story called “Prince Hamid”. It’s set in Persia.’ Kerra relaxed beside me.

  ‘A long time ago there lived a prince called Hamid. He had a sister called Noori, which means “light”. And what light she shone on Prince Hamid’s world and that of the palace. She had been orphaned as a child and the Sultan had adopted her.’ In the original story the young princess was really a poor cousin and there were three princes trying to win her hand, but I thought a shorter version would be best today.

  ‘Prince Hamid was in the bazaar of a neighbouring city buying a spe
cial gift for Princess Noori when he saw a magnificent carpet. There were many carpets in the palace already and as he deliberated, the carpet seller said, “This is no ordinary carpet, sire. If you were to sit on it you will see why.” Prince Hamid did as he was bid, sat on the carpet and immediately it lifted into the air and flew around the city. He was overcome with joy and bade it to take him back to the shop.’

  ‘A flying carpet,’ Kerra said as if she’d seen one herself.

  “‘I’ll take it.” The prince thought what fun he and Noori would have with it. He rolled it up and slung it over his shoulder. A seller of strange wares showed him an ivory tube.

  “‘Look through this, sire, and you’ll see whatever you are thinking of.” Prince Hamid was usually thinking of Princess Noori, so it was she who appeared at the end of the tube. His smile faded as he realised he was seeing her as she was right then and she wasn’t happy as usual. She was tossing on her bed, moaning.

  ‘“I need to help my sister. What can I do?”

  ‘The seller of strange wares gave the prince an apple.

  ‘“An apple?” the prince cried. “I need something to cure her illness.”

  ‘“It will, sire,” the man said. “One bite will bring a person back from the brink of death.”

  ‘“Shukriya.” The prince paid for his purchases, hopped on the carpet and asked it to fly to his palace. He flew up the marble steps to Princess Noori’s room.

  ‘“Oh, Noori,” he begged, “wake up. You must take a bite of this apple.” She couldn’t open her eyes but she did open her mouth a little—just enough for Prince Hamid to drop in a small piece of the apple. He watched her carefully. Maybe she had to eat the whole lot. How would he coax her to do that?

  ‘Then suddenly her eyes opened wide. “Hamid!” She sat up and threw her arms around his neck. “I was feeling poorly but now you are here I feel so much better.”

  ‘“I have a gift for you.” He showed her the carpet and how it worked.

  ‘She sat in the middle and patted the space beside her. “Let’s try it right now.”

  ‘Hamid smiled. He’d keep the ivory tube for himself in case she needed him again.’

  The sun was low on the horizon. It was time to prepare the vegies for tea and I turned to Kerra. She’d been so quiet I thought she’d nodded off and I wasn’t prepared for the sadness I saw in her face. ‘Kerra, what’s wrong?’

  The thumb came out. ‘I wish—I wish someone—’ and then she stopped. ‘He hates me.’ My hand was poised over Sasha, ready to pick her up to carry her to Kerra’s room.

  ‘I don’t understand, Kerra. You’re talking about Blake, aren’t you? But the Blake I knew in school was very kind. Why do you think he hates you?’ I realised I had better think of different stories to tell her. Nice brother ones didn’t make her more disposed towards Blake at all.

  At first she shrugged and I thought I’d put an end to it, then she twisted the ring on her finger. ‘It’s because I’m bad. Really bad.’

  I was horrified. This was worse than I imagined. Something along the lines of he doesn’t understand me, or he won’t let me play with his things, I’d expected, but not this broken, sad admission from a child who hadn’t lived long enough to have gathered the amount of pain in her tone. I wanted to ask what sort of ‘bad’ but I didn’t dare; I suspected this was the first time she’d voiced it. The words sounded raw and sharp, like bamboo shoots.

  ‘You won’t like me either when you know. Blake knows.’

  Why would she tell me if she thought I wouldn’t care for her? It was like she was testing me. I tried to shake off the oppressiveness of her words and I gathered her close to me. I could tell she was unused to hugging: her back was stiff and there was no returning pressure. Maybe her father was the only one who ever held her. I’d never seen Blake hug her and the image of Richelle with an arm around her wouldn’t spring to mind. I almost cried, but stopped myself. Kerra wouldn’t have understood.

  She stayed in my arms, because I held her there, but her hands didn’t reach round my back like Elly’s did.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll always like you, Kerra.’

  I knew she didn’t believe me.

  Later, after Kerra tiptoed to bed and the generator fell quiet, I put on my jacket and climbed out the window. The doors and windows were never locked. So different from our place in the suburbs. There, if we left a window open, we’d be robbed for sure. The stars were so bright. I had never seen them with such intensity. Even in Pakistan in the mountains there were still lights of houses or bazaars to detract from their brightness. I sat in the middle of the handkerchief of grass, staring at the sky.

  A step on the gravel sounded behind me. ‘You awake too?’ It was Blake.

  ‘Yeah.’ I whispered.

  He sat beside me and in the silence there was peace in just staring above us. Then Blake spoke. ‘When I was a kid, I slept in the room you have now. I’d climb out the window when Mum and Dad were asleep.’ I smiled into the darkness; that’s just what I’d done. ‘The stars fascinated me. How small we are—how big God’s universe.’

  ‘Yeah.’ It was just a breath.

  ‘I used to imagine I could fly up there, sit on the stars and look down. I could blink my eyes and make wishes come true for other kids, my own worries would disappear. I would think good thoughts about everyone.’

  ‘Up here is the first time I’ve seen them, I mean like this, so bright, so close. I’ve been watching for any that move.’

  He chuckled. ‘Yep, you can’t see these in the city. Sure glad I live up here. Less complicated.’

  ‘Hmm.’ It seemed complicated here too but I didn’t want to break the mood.

  I leaned back, my hands behind me. Our fingers touched on the grass. I moved mine away, conscious of how alone we were.

  ‘Jaime.’ He turned towards me. ‘Thanks for listening to my drivel.’

  ‘Ha, that’s not drivel.’ I was touched he trusted me with his thoughts. ‘Anyway, thanks for inviting me up.’ We stood, a little awkwardly, me trying not to bump into him.

  He walked with me to the back door. ‘See you in the morning.’ He said it softly but I couldn’t see his face.

  ‘Sure.’ He swung the door open for me. On the other side I paused and let out a huge breath. Then I tiptoed to bed.

  6

  My riding lessons were fun, not just because Rainmaker nickered as soon as she saw me and nuzzled my neck, but because it was a time of day that I had Blake’s full attention—when Richelle wasn’t there. It was also too early for him to have had any run-ins with Kerra. In those times he was the Blake I remembered in Adelaide, taking me to a movie or for a drive in the hills; the Blake who knew I’d make it in Australia. The Blake who could open his heart when he saw the stars.

  ‘Do you like it better here or in the city?’ I asked one morning.

  ‘I like both. Flying School’s great. I’ve wanted to fly for the Flying Doctors, ever since’— he sighed—‘since I was younger. So I guess I’ll always be in the Outback, but I don’t think I’ll make a pastoralist. Just being born here doesn’t make you a good bushman like Dad or Matt. I won’t stay here.’ I knew he meant Mulga Spring. ‘Too many memories. It’s easier when I’m away.’

  Guess that was my cue to say ‘memories?’ to get him to talk to me, but I didn’t want to intrude. Kerra was on my mind, though.

  ‘You’re riding well enough now, you could come with us on the muster at the end of the week.’

  ‘You’re bringing cattle in? Or sheep.’

  ‘Horses.’

  I stared at him. ‘Horses?’

  ‘Brumbies. Dad’s an excellent horse breaker. So’s Matt. He and Richelle always help when we round some up.’

  In the city I’d heard brumbies were pests to the environment. ‘I thought they got shot for pet food.’

  He
nodded. ‘That’s why Dad likes to bring a few in before the shooters come. He thinks the brumbies are a resource to be used. They can be properly trained.’ He said the last bit as if he thought I’d disagree.

  Instead I was wondering how I’d go on a muster. ‘You sure it’ll be okay if I come?’

  ‘Yep. You don’t have to be in on everything. You can watch. It’s only Dad and Matt who can really catch them, while the rest of us just head them off. Matt chased one for forty minutes once on his bike. Those horses have sure got some endurance. That’s why Dad respects them.’

  Blake chuckled, remembering. ‘That day Matt landed in a creek bed. The brumby cleared it with half a metre to spare. Matt didn’t have a hope in hell.’ I laughed with him. Blake was great like that, sharing memories, relaxed, happy. It made what happened after lunch all the more difficult to understand.

  I was coming out of the kitchen to throw scraps on the compost heap when I heard Blake shouting. There was Kerra’s voice too, taunting. This time I was ready to intervene. I kept walking, following the sounds. When I turned the corner both of them were facing each other, their hands on their hips. Kerra looked like a miniature version of him. If they both weren’t so angry it would have been funny.

  ‘You know not to do that.’ Blake’s voice was still raised.

  So was Kerra’s. ‘And you can’t tell me off all the time. You’re not my dad.’

  ‘You need a hiding.’

  ‘Blake! Kerra? What’s going on?’ I stood there daring them to answer me. Kerra wasn’t crying but her features were set like stone and I thought of the insecure girl who sucked her thumb when I told stories. I stormed over to Blake.

  ‘Why does a big guy like you have to argue with your little sister all the time? I’d really like to know.’

  ‘Keep out of it, Jaime.’ Blake’s tone was alien. He turned to face me and Kerra slunk off behind the tank stand, like one of the dogs. The image upset me, making my anger turn cold and hard.