The Last Time

by Sharon Haste

  'So whatcha here for, Ch-ar-li?' She strings her name into three long syllables, drawing it out.

  'Um..nothing. I didn't do anything. I'll be out tomorrow,' Charli says, a slight waver in her voice revealing her apprehension.

  The girls laugh out loud; their lips twist into sardonic smiles.

  'Yeah, I never did nuthin' either, but here I am for six months.' Ren spreads her arms wide, stepping closer. Her smile turns into a sneer. 'How come you're so special?' There's a menace in her tone. 'Daddy gonna spring ya, honey?'

  Charli swallows, glancing at the other girl, who stands rooted and mute. Is that fear in her eyes? Ren's bony fingers dig into her arm as she leers into Charli's face; the room is charged with sudden expectation. Charli waits for the explosion, her heart tapping beneath her ribs.

  'Well there's no special treatment in here,' she snarls. 'Ya just like the rest of us. Daddy ain't here to save ya now.' She lets go and steps back, her cold laugh seeping down to Charli's bones. She watches Ren's back as she saunters to her bed, still feeling the bite of her fingers. Ren lounges back on her bunk with a satisfied grin.

  Charli takes a furtive look around the room. There is pale blue paint on the walls and a shower cubicle in the corner. Toiletries are lined up on a half-wall surrounding it, and there is a non-descript shower curtain dangling from the ceiling. The beds are fixed against the wall and have thick, rubber mattresses with plastic covers. There's a single bench against the wall. It is littered with a few personal items, but otherwise, the room is bare. At first glance, it's impossible to discern the personalities living in it. Her heart is heavy, and her body is wooden. How did I end up here? She wishes the cross were in her grasp, so she could escape. Even going back to that night is better than this. But the pendant is tucked into Jael's pocket for safekeeping. Adrenaline makes her heart quicken. She hopes she can trust him and that he'll keep it safe.

  Ren's droning voice brings her back. 'Yep, it's the third time. They keep telling me I'm gonna live the rest of me days inside if I don't get it together.' She flicks her hand. 'What do I care? There's nuthin for me out there.'

  Charli nods and shifts her feet, glancing at Kiah. She's sitting on the edge of her bunk, staring at Charli, but she looks away when Charli's eyes meet hers. Ren stretches her arms behind her back, a criss-cross of scars snaking up both wrists.

  'So, I got nuthin ta lose, sister.' Ren pauses, her beady eyes burning, and Charli. nods, relinquishing her meagre power to this wafer-thin kid, sensing its importance to her.

  She swallows over a dry throat and inhales, turning her focus to Kiah: ebony skin, a broad and flat nose, and a pale scar running the length of her left cheek. Her full lips move wordlessly with her eyes on her feet. Dark curls spring down her back, and a cotton dress fits tightly over the curve of her hips.

  'Don't waste ya time with her. She doesn't say nuthin'' Ren says. Kiah looks up with liquid brown eyes, a faint frown creasing her brow. Charli smiles in automatic response. She remembers night after night of volunteer work for the Salvation Army, handing out blankets and hot meals to the homeless, or 'Long Grassers' as they are called in the North, many who were just like Kiah. Her eyes have the same haunted look: full of secrets and hardness beyond her years. Old boil scars stamp both legs, and her knobby knees house healing scabs. A bandage binds her left wrist, and Charli wonders what brought her here, but she doesn't ask.

  'They reckon she killed her Uncle. Stabbed him with a hunting knife,' Ren says, talking as if Kiah's not in the room. Charli's mouth makes an 'o' in response.

  'She's full of shit,' Kiah says, glancing at Ren and then at Charli. 'Didn't kill no one. Just nicked a car. Thought it wuz me Uncle's, but it belonged to the local cop. Bad move. I just needed a ride. I wasn't gonna keep it or nuthin''.

  Ren laughs until tears roll down her cheeks.

  'Geez, had ya going, didn't I?' she wheezes.

  Charli feels her heart sink, wondering how she's going to be friends with these girls. What will Ella and Zoe think? A bell sounds, and the other girls drift to their feet, facing away from their beds. Charli's heart pounds as she looks from one to the other, wondering what's happening. A female guard stands at the door with a clipboard and ticks them off a roll before instructing them to line up for supper. Charli hasn't eaten all day, and the thought of food brings hunger pangs.

  Supper is salted crackers and cordial; it is served in the common room around a long, stainless steel table. Charli devours her portion in silence, taking furtive looks at the other girls and averting her eyes if anyone looks her way. There are fifteen girls in the room, and most are loud and familiar with one another, their voices shrill as they shout, laugh, and bicker. Charli feels overwhelmed and is grateful that Kiah is sitting next to her. The young girl talks in a low whisper that Charli strains to hear.

  'Ya hafta watch Ren,' she says. 'Just go along with whatever she says. You'll be all right if you don't cross her and shut up about your dad coming to get ya.'

  'Thanks,' Charli says, grateful for her advice.

  'It's not too bad in here as long as ya mind ya own business and keep ya hands to yourself. The girls that get into trouble don't care where they live. Most have nuthin' to go home for, so they do it for kicks. But I reckon you'll wanna keep ya head down, right?'

  'Yeah, thanks, Kiah.'

  Kiah smiles at her and continues to eat her crackers. After twenty minutes, they're herded back to their rooms through three locked doors. Each clangs behind her and drives the knife further into her heart. Why did Dad let them bring me here? Why didn't he fight for me? Maybe he doesn't love me. She's haunted by his words: 'I didn't ask for her to be born.' Charli climbs atop her bunk and lies on her back. The blanket is rough against her skin; the day's events play in her head. The morning's funeral feels so long ago.

  The room goes black, and she hears the squeak of the other beds as her roommates settle for the night. It's not long before heavy breathing fills the air. Wide-eyed and bone-tired, Charli fights back tears, determined to be strong and not show any weakness. 'It's just one night,' she says to herself over and over as she drifts into restless sleep, plagued by her father's poker face and the pale, floating corpses of her mother and brother.

  She jerks awake to loud knocking on the metal door. Bolting upright with her eyes wide, she huddles in anticipation of what might come through it. The room's in darkness, except for a shard of light coming through the door's viewing pane. She's so tense that she grits her teeth, and she then hears a movement from the other beds as the girls roll out, feet hitting the floor.

  'Time to get up,' Ren slurs.

  There's a rattle at the door, and Charli springs to her feet, eyeing the door warily. It swings open, and a tall, thick-set guard barks at them to get a move on. Ren is already stripped and behind the shower screen, water pattering onto cold porcelain. Kiah perches on the side of her bed with a towel in her lap.

  'Come on, Ren, leave us some hot water will ya?' she calls.

  Charli slides to her bed, wishing she could crawl back under the covers and sleep. Kiah drops sideways on her bed and closes her eyes until Ren emerges, dripping with a towel draped around her skinny body. Kiah's eyes fling open, and she's in the shower before Charli can blink. Ren towels herself dry, not the least bit self-conscious, and Charli looks to the floor, trying not to gawp at her wafer-thin body and the tattoo stretching across her back. Ren dresses and tucks her towel lengthwise into the lower part of the mattress, so it drapes just shy of the floor to dry.

  Kiah emerges from behind the shower screen, hair dripping.

  'Ya better be quick,' she hisses at Charli. 'They'll be in here wanting us to go to breakfast soon.'

  Charli zips behind the screen, towel in her hand, and showers under a cold spray. She washes as fast as she can and towel dries, slipping into the same clothes she had on the night before. The guard barks at them to move just as she's tucking her towel into her own mattress.

  She scurries after Ren and Kiah,
forming a line in the corridor outside. Other girls emerge from their rooms with their hair damp and faces screwed against the light, some complaining in loud whines. The guard is banging on a door halfway down, urging the occupant to hurry up or lose privileges. Once all eight from their wing are standing in wait, the guards herd them forward and start unlocking the gates, grinding them back across their metal rollers and locking them with electronic devices. There are two gates between their bedroom and the dining room. The prison is suffocating, even the air is held captive by the thick stonewalls and iron bars. Girls yell and scream at one another as they make their way down the corridor. Charli's heart gallops as she keeps her eyes to the ground, trying to be invisible. The guards bellow at the girls, telling them to be quiet, to no avail. Charli wonders what will happen to them. The process of getting to the dining room seems endless as they are herded through each gate before it's locked behind them.

  The smell of food makes Charli's stomach grumble, and she lines up with the rest to receive her tray. At the end of the line, she eyes the tables with a sea of dark faces. Someone nudges her from behind, and she steps forward, not sure where to sit. Kiah waves from the far side of the room, and she walks toward her, grateful. The other girls at the table don't look too hostile and say hello. They're all dark skinned: two from Delany and three others from the bush.

  Charli eyes her food, trying to work out what she has. The watery yellow lump is scrambled egg, and the pale lump is oats. She tries the oats, and they're tasteless, but she manages to get it down with a few swallows of milky tea. The egg tastes like salt water, and she's desperate to spit it out, but she swallows and eats the rest to prove that she's not a princess.

  The bush girls come from a spread of communities in the Top End, and for some, it's the first trip to the city. The others live in Delany, but they have bush homes as well. They're friendly and chatty, all vying for Charli's attention to tell her how things are run. They all warn her against Ren, even though Kiah reassures her that she's not that bad.

  'She's nuthin' but trouble, that girl,' Alisha says. 'She's always in the lockdown room. She'll take ya down with her.'

  'It's just cos she doesn't wanna go home,' Kiah says. 'Her old man's foolin' with her and knocking her around.'

  Charli swallows hard, forcing her breakfast to stay in. She remembers what Jael said about being in DJ and realises he's right. She can't even imagine the life some of these girls live, let alone think she can relate to it. She'd been born into a silver-spoon society. They know it, and now she does too. For the first time since coming inside, she feels lucky.

  After breakfast, they form a single, crooked line and follow one another to a tiny schoolroom, where they spend the rest of the day. Hostility hangs ripe in the air when Charli enters, making her heart trot. She finds an empty seat, near the front of the room, and tries to ignore the malignant atmosphere. The morning passes with a few niggling jibes, her heart speeding with each one. They break for lunch after twelve, and she's standing in line when she's shoved hard in the back. She lurches into the girl in front who turns around and glares at her. It's Ren; her face is like thunder. She leers at Charli before grabbing her tray and upending her lunch all over her. Beef stew and mashed potatoes drip down the front of Charli's shift. Ren grabs a fistful of her dress, just above the wet mess, and pulls her forward, leering in her face. Excitement mounts, and there's soon a circle of girls surrounding them, chanting: 'Fight, fight, fight.'

  Charli tries to pull away, but she meets a wall of solid flesh behind her. She struggles against Ren's grip, and the blood whooshes in her ears, her hands forming automatic fists.

  'Fight, fight fight.'

  Her heart beats a concerto, and her eyes widen as Ren's fist waves in the air. She tenses against the blow and is surprised when a thin, olive-skinned girl steps between them.

  'Let it go, Ren. She didn't do anything. Henna pushed her. It wasn't her fault.'

  Ren's face screws so tight, Charli thinks it will explode. She turns her fists on the girl between them, who is ready to defend herself. But before the first punch is thrown, the guards break it up, grabbing Ren and the new girl by their upper arms and frogmarching them from the room. Someone grips Charli's wrist as well, and she feels herself being hauled away.

  'All right, back to lunch,' someone commands, and the circle dissipates with loud protests. Fighting is a break from the mundane for these girls and something new to talk about for the rest of the day.

  Charli is marched back to the dorm to get cleaned up. While she changes her clothes, another guard starts a whispered discussion with the first one. When she's dressed, they order her to pack her things and strip her bed. Confused, she does as she's told, praying that her dad has spoken to Mr Attenborough and she's leaving. She allows herself a pinprick of hope that she'll be in her own bed tonight. She follows the guard with a lighter step and is dismayed to find herself in a different two-bed room.

  'Your new room, Richter,' the guard says without explanation. 'Make your bed, and be quick about it.' With a heavy heart, Charli stretches the sheets over the empty, plastic-covered mattress and smooths the grey blanket on top. When she's done, the guard escorts her back to school, where they're doing art. She watches in awe as some of the bush girls show her how to do dot paintings, weaving their culture into every dot. She listens, mesmerised by their stories, and even tries to imitate their incredible art, with mediocre results. The afternoon flies by, and soon it's time to return to their rooms until dinner. She walks on leaden feet, wondering who shares her new room.

  She's relieved to see the girl who defended her, sprawled on her belly on the other bed.

  'Hey, thanks for today,' Charli says.

  'No worries. She's fist-happy, that girl.' She pushes up and introduces herself. 'Saffron,' she says. 'I know Ren from the other times I've been here. Just got back this morning. I reckon I'll only be in for a coupla days. They don't know what else to do with me.'

  Charli nods, absorbing the information. 'I'm Charli,' she says. There's something almost familiar about Saffron, and Charli frowns, searching her memory. She has dark skin and eyes, and long shiny black hair, identical to Charli's own. She's thin and wiry, and she is slightly shorter than Charli. She has a small tattoo of a heart on her inner right wrist.

  'I know,' Saffron says. 'Everyone knows you're the girl who drove her family into the lake.'

  'They do?' Charli asks, her heart plummeting.

  Saffron nods. 'Did ya do it?'

  The question is blunt, and Charli eyes the other girl, wondering if she expects a confession. 'No,' Charli says.

  Saffron nods. 'Yeah, didn't think so. Sucks to be you.'

  Charli ponders that for a minute. It does suck to be me right now, but it's not over, is it? I'm going to get my family back and life back. Aren't I?

  'I thought,' she starts and then stops.

  'What?' Saffron asks, eyes boring into her.

  Charli hesitates, not sure whether to give voice to her thoughts. 'I thought Dad would get me out. He promised me it would be for just one night, but I think he's forgotten about me.'

  'Ya can't trust anyone,' Saffron says. 'Except ya self.'

  Charli nods, holding back her tears and feeling the desolation of Saffron's words and cursing her father for letting her down. She can't believe she's here. How's she supposed to prove her innocence from this place?

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Clare inspected herself in the mirror, scrutinising her long, red gown and golden hair piled high atop her head. She smiled, watching the corners of her eyes crinkle. She knew that age was creeping up, unbidden. She smeared another layer of lipstick on her bottom lip and nodded, satisfied that she looked the part. Thomas entered the room behind her and placed broad hands on her small hips. The warmth of his hands penetrated the fabric of her dress, spread through her pelvis and made her heart flutter. He always had this effect on her, even after all this time.

  He smiled at her reflection, over
her shoulder; his arms snaked around her waist until she turned to face him. His lips claimed hers with tender familiarity. She kissed him back; she was so glad he was home for the party.

  'Welcome home,' she murmured into his shoulder.

  'I missed you,' he whispered against her hair.

  Ash barrelled into the room and flung thin arms around Thomas's leg. 'Dad, Dad,' he called. 'You came home. It's Christmas tonight with Santa on a motorbike.' His young face was animated, and his eyes sparkled. Thomas swung him up into his arms and hugged him tightly. Ash tried to wriggle free and get to the ground.

  'I wanna show you my fire engine, Dad.' Thomas was dragged from the room with a shrug and an air-kiss for Clare. Ash was chatting non-stop all the way out the door.

  'Don't be long,' she called after him. 'You have forty minutes to shower and change.' She smiled and turned back to the mirror, noticing a fresh glow in her cheeks.

  She left the room, descending the stairs to check on the preparations. Charli was in the family room, staring up at the Christmas tree, and Clare swung by on her way back from the kitchen at a few minutes before six. Charli looked beautiful in a red and green dress that shimmered when she moved. Her hair was braided into a stunning twist at the nape of her neck. Clare stared at her a moment, and her mind went back to the birth of her firstborn, the years falling away as if it were only yesterday. She remembered holding her for the first time, afraid she would break. She was a tiny, serene girl with a shock of dark hair. Tears glazed her eyes, and Charli gave her a quizzical look. Clare swept her into a hug and kissed her cheek, thinking of how lucky she was to be blessed with children after believing it may not be possible. An energetic call from the front door signalled the arrival of their first guests.

  Santa arrived two and a half hours later. The noise was deafening as the children screamed for him; Thomas egged them on by chanting his name. The motorbike roaring in the distance had them running about, clutching their parent's legs in excitement and clapping their hands in pure delight. The sight of the fat, bearded man in the red suit was too much for some as the tears rolled and they hid beneath their mother's skirts. Not Ash. He was waiting at the top of the drive, running beside the motorcycle as soon as it entered their property. He waved at Santa and laughed so hard that he almost stumbled onto the cement.