A Small Free Kiss in the Dark

by Glenda Millard

  When you are only six and you go for a ride in a car, you don’t take notice of things like street names, or if you go by train you don’t pay attention to the signs on stations. Even if you could read them, there are more interesting things to look at.

  ‘You just go up to the corner and turn towards the airport.’

  ‘Which corner, Max?’

  ‘The one near my house.’

  ‘What’s your address?’

  ‘One hundred and thirty Mount Alexander Road. Near the shop that sells beds. It’s got a sign with a monkey under a doona.’

  ‘What suburb?’

  ‘I don’t remember, but the monkey’s got purple pyjamas on.’

  Then I remembered something. ‘Let’s go inside,’ I said to Max. ‘Don’t take anything yet or the enemy might get suspicious.’

  Max looked longingly at the camouflage caps.

  ‘Well, just a cap then. We’ll get the rest of our supplies later.’

  We stuffed the caps up our jumpers, climbed out of the truck and went inside. Billy had dozed off and Sixpence was still asleep. Her cheeks were red and her nose was runny, but when I touched her forehead I thought it was a bit cooler. Max and me crept past them and lay on the platform looking at the pictures in his After-school Activities book. We turned the pages until we got to the one of the cows, and I saw it was a photograph, just like I’d remembered.

  There’s a game Dad and me used to play where you put a lot of things on a tray and look at them for a while, then you cover them with a cloth and try to remember what’s underneath. I used to beat Dad nearly every time. He said it was because I was observant. That was before I knew anything about the Guru of Noticing Details. I can still remember what Dad looked like, even though I haven’t got a photo of him.

  I looked at the photo of Max’s grandpa’s farm. I observed the way the long-stemmed grass leant over like the wind was blowing, and I noticed the small white post beside the road that was almost hidden in the grass. I looked at every single part of that photograph until I could remember it.

  I forgot about how mad I’d been with Billy in the morning. I was bursting to tell him about all the things Max and me had found. I wanted to tell him about my plan and ask him if he could drive a truck.

  The minute he opened his eyes I said, ‘I’ve got a plan to get us outta here, Billy, and you won’t have to walk!’ I showed him the photo in Max’s book. ‘That’s where we should go.’

  Billy took the book in his hands and stared at the photo for a while. Then he said, ‘Looks like it’s somewhere in the country, Skip.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s Max’s grandpa’s farm.’

  How do you plan to get there?’

  ‘A truck.’

  ‘An army truck?’

  ‘Yeah. Can you drive?’

  ‘Used to, way back. But there’d be roadblocks; they’d stop us.’

  ‘There’s army clothes in the back, Billy. Max and me found them. You could dress up. No one would know. We’ll go at night.’

  ‘We’d need ID. And what about keys?’

  ‘You don’t need keys. We saw it once on Sam Kebab’s television, don’t you remember? You just do something to the wires under the dashboard, and the motor starts.’

  ‘Don’t believe everything you see on the telly. Mightn’t be as easy as you think.’

  But Billy could do anything. He could make toasters out of mending wire, saucepans out of fruit tins, kitchen appliances out of coffee trolleys and baby carriers out of backpacks, so what was to stop him starting a truck without a key?

  ‘That’s all you gotta do. I’ve got the rest all worked out. Please Billy; I know you can do it!’

  Billy wouldn’t look at me. He picked at his broken fingernails and then stared at the cracks in the floor. That’s what Dad used to be like. He’d stop doing even the easiest things, like getting dressed, answering the phone or walking outside to the letterbox. When I’d ask him what was wrong, he’d lie and say ‘nothing’. Then he’d stop talking to me. I hated that worst of all. I felt like it was my fault, somehow. Once I asked him why he wasn’t talking to me and he screamed, ‘Because I’m scared! Your old man’s scared. Go to school and tell that to your mates!’ Dad didn’t know I had no friends.

  ‘What are you scared of, Dad?’

  ‘I don’t know, that’s the worst part of it, I’m just scared!’

  Not long after that they said he couldn’t take care of me. I told them I didn’t need looking after. I tried to explain that they’d got it wrong, that it was me who looked after Dad, but they wouldn’t listen. They said Dad needed ‘professional help’. They told him it would be best if I went and lived with someone else for a while. They told me it was the best thing I could do for Dad.

  It wasn’t his fault. We both let go.

  This time there was no one to help. I looked at Max. He was sitting there next to Billy with his eyes all wet behind his glasses and his medal on; Max who was too little to do anything useful except be brave. Then Sixpence woke up, crying, and I wondered if it would have been better if she’d never been born. She was sick, and her mother wasn’t here because all she cared about was herself. And now Billy was chickening out on all of us.

  I’d had enough of letting other people decide what was best for me. This time I wasn’t going to get cheated out of all the things I dreamt of. Courage and strength go together in Dylan’s blessing song, but it was anger that made me smash my fist through the wall of the House of Horrors. I shouted at the top of my voice, ‘Well if you won’t bloody well help me, I’ll do it myself!’

  19

  Captain of our boat

  I got into Hell’s Teeth with Sixpence that night but I didn’t do my visualisation technique because I needed to think about my difficult circumstances. Besides starting the truck without a key, I had to figure out how to get to Gulliver’s Meadows. I needed a book of maps so I decided that when Billy went to sleep I’d sneak outside and see if I could find one in a truck. I heard the Vampire’s Nest rattle, so I knew Billy had gone to bed, but I had to wait until he started snoring because sometimes he was like me and stayed awake for a long time. But trying to make plans is sometimes better than the visualisation technique for sending you to sleep.

  I didn’t hear Billy snoring and I didn’t hear Tia come inside. When I opened my eyes she was sitting on the platform watching Sixpence sleep. I sat up and Tia stepped into Hell’s Teeth, graceful as a poem, and laid herself down beside Sixpence. I looked at her moonskin face, her pansy eyes and her cobweb hair and I knew I would go on giving her one last chance for ever.

  ‘We’re going away, Tia,’ I whispered.

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘The country.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘I want to make a garden,’ I said and I was surprised because I didn’t know that was going to come out of me.

  ‘A garden?’

  ‘A garden with a lily pond. I want to see how light falls on water,’ I explained.

  ‘I’ve never seen a lily pond.’

  ‘Me neither, except the one in Monet’s garden, but I only saw that in a book.’

  ‘How will you get there?’

  ‘In a truck.’

  ‘An army truck?’

  ‘Come with us, Tia. Please, come with us.’

  ‘Do you know which way to go, Skipper?’

  ‘I’ll get a map. There’s got to be a map in one of the trucks.’

  ‘Can you drive?’

  ‘Billy can.’

  ‘Billy’s going, too?’

  I didn’t tell her Billy was afraid. Billy was my friend. You don’t tell anyone things like that about your friends, even when you’re mad at them.

  ‘We’re all going,’ I said. ‘Billy and Max and . . .’

  ‘And Sixpence? You’re taking Sixpence? Take her, Skipper, take her with you.’

  ‘You’ll come with us then?’

  ‘Even if I don’t, I want you to take her.’

  ‘Co
me with us Tia. We came back for you, especially. You’ve gotta come.’

  ‘Promise me you’ll take Sixpence. You love her, Skipper; I know you do. Promise me, whatever happens, you’ll take care of her.’

  ‘You’re her mother.’

  ‘I’m only fifteen, Skipper.’

  ‘So what, you’re still her mother and she’s sick.’

  ‘You never told me that! What’s wrong? Is she gonna be okay?’

  ‘Sssh, don’t wake her up. She’s hot and her nose runs and it’s hard for her to drink. What do you think’s wrong?’

  ‘How should I know? Fifteen’s old enough to have a baby, but it’s not old enough to be a mother.’ She peeled back her sleeve, grabbed my hand and rubbed it over the inside of her wrist. ‘See,’ she hissed, ‘I’ve got the scars to prove it!’

  ‘You could learn,’ I said.

  ‘Think so?’

  ‘Yeah, sure you could. Come with us, we’ll help you.’

  ‘Truth?’

  We linked our pinkie fingers together.

  ‘Truth,’ I whispered.

  ‘I’ll come then. But if anything happens, promise you’ll take care of Sixpence.’

  ‘Nothing’s gonna happen.’

  ‘Just promise.’

  I promised her. Then I said, ‘I’ve got something for you.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘The surprise I told you about, remember?’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ she said. ‘I do remember.’

  I took the blue velvet box out of my pants and put it in Tia’s hands.

  ‘Oh, Skipper!’ The silver chain trickled through her fingers like a waterfall. Then she looked at me with her eyebrows pulled together.

  ‘I got it from the chemist,’ I said, but I saw that wasn’t what she wanted to know.

  ‘It’s for free,’ I told her. ‘I don’t want you to give me anything. I just want you not to go with the soldiers.’

  She put the necklace on.

  ‘Thank you, Skipper,’ she said. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  I waited for her to say she wouldn’t leave us again, but she didn’t. I had to ask her. ‘Promise me you won’t go with the soldiers.’

  ‘I don’t make promises,’ she said, ‘in case I can’t keep them. Sometimes you can’t help it; things stop you.’

  ‘I’ll get you more stuff, if that’s what you want,’ I said.

  ‘That’s not what I want.’ She leant over and kissed me on the mouth. I felt it go deep inside me with other things I’ll never forget: like Dad waiting for me at the school gate, the birthday cake that had my name iced on top, and the china ballerina that was my mother’s.

  ‘That’s for free, too, Skipper,’ she said.

  I didn’t know what to say when someone’s given you a small free kiss in the dark, so I asked her, ‘Why do you call me Skipper?’

  ‘’Cause you’re the captain of our boat,’ she said, and we drifted off to sleep; Tia and me together, like praying hands, with Sixpence snug between us.

  When I woke up Tia was gone and I thought I might have dreamt it all until I saw the book of maps beside me. I looked outside and it was still dark, so I made a fire and boiled water from the tap near the shed. I mixed up enough milk to last all day and I fed Sixpence and washed her in the bucket and gave her a fresh nappy and clean clothes. Her cheeks weren’t as red but she only drank a little bit, and she cried after each suck, like the milk hurt her throat. I sat her in her pouch and put it on back-to-front, even though my chest and stomach still hurt. I wanted her near my heart because of the promise I’d made to her mother.

  That morning I felt like I really was a captain. I had a plan and a book of maps and I was going to take care of Billy and Max and Sixpence, and Tia too, if she’d let me. I made a cup of sweet black tea and took it to the Vampire’s Nest for Billy. Then I stuck the book of maps right under his nose.

  ‘See,’ I said, ‘we are going. Tonight I’m gonna find out how to start the truck. Tia’s coming too,’ I said as though the words had power to bring her back to us.

  Billy said nothing; he stayed in his carriage and drank his tea.

  I spread the embers out and let them go cold. I washed my hands and squeezed some sweet milk onto my finger and gave it to Sixpence to suck while I tried to rock her to sleep.

  Then I heard what I’d been expecting: the sound of a truck arriving outside. Through the skeleton’s eyes I watched it pull in next to the one they left the night before. Soldiers jumped over the tailgate with guns swinging from their shoulders. I watched everything they did. They leant on the trucks and spat on the ground. One of them shot at a seagull with a pistol and the others laughed when it fell out of the sky. Only one didn’t laugh. He had pimples, and his coat was way too big. He looked like a kid pretending to be something he wasn’t, like Max and me sometimes did. He opened a truck door and climbed up into the driver’s seat, but I couldn’t tell if he’d used a key to get in. None of the soldiers seemed in a hurry to go.

  It was like playing chess, where you’re waiting for the other player to make a move before you can decide the best thing to do. Max and me got tired of waiting, so we looked at the book of maps and the photo of his grandpa’s farm. We kept quiet and tried not to think about being hungry or what would happen if Sixpence woke up.

  At last the soldiers roared off in one of the trucks. I waited until the sound faded away and then Max and me went outside, leaving Sixpence with Billy. We checked to see if any of the doors on the truck were open, but they were all locked. Then Max kept watch while I got in the back and had a good look at everything. I found a torch that worked, and bottled water, and silver packets with pictures of food on them. It was dried food. There was every kind you could think of: meat and vegetables and rice and even sweet things like chocolate pudding. I didn’t know how you could have a flat chocolate pudding. There were tools, too: screwdrivers and spanners and other things in a metal box. I picked up the biggest spanner and felt the weight of it in my hands. It felt heavy enough to break a window.

  ‘It’s a goldmine, Max,’ I said, and I stuffed heaps of silver packets down my jumper. ‘Let’s go back and show Billy.’

  Some of the things had to be cooked but the dried meat was in sticks and you could eat it without doing anything to it. It was hard to chew, but yummy. Then we had dried fruit and nuts and something else that was supposed to be cheese.

  ‘Eat as much as you want,’ I told Max and Billy. ‘There’s plenty more.’

  Once we were full I got the book of maps out again. I could tell Billy was watching me, even though he was pretending not to. After a while he sighed. ‘Listen Skip,’ he said, ‘you don’t even know where Max’s grandfather lives. You haven’t got an address or the name of the town or anything. How do you think you’re going to find your way there?’

  ‘Can I have a loan of your book?’ I asked Max. He brought it over and I found the photograph of Gulliver’s Meadows and showed it to Billy.

  ‘We’ve been through all this. Gulliver’s Meadows is just the name of the farm. You won’t find it on any map,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, I know, but look.’ I showed him the small white post almost hidden by the grass on the side of the road, and I pointed to the painted black numbers and letters. ‘Maybe that’s the highway number.’

  Billy stared at the photo for a minute, then he looked up at me. ‘You’re right, Skip,’ he said, ‘it is, and the letter underneath is the nearest town and the number of kilometres from it!’

  I saw a lick of fire in his eyes like someone had struck a match, and I was sure it wasn’t too late to save him. Everything was starting to work out; once it was dark I’d smash one of the truck’s windows, we’d get in and Billy would figure how to start it. My thoughts skipped ahead. I saw a lonely, white-haired old man, saw him wave and smile as we drove towards him. I saw him open the door of his home and welcome us inside.

  But Billy still had doubts. ‘Even if we did find the place, Max’s grandpa mightn’t b
e there,’ he said. I didn’t want to listen.

  Then Max said, ‘He isn’t. It’s Mummy’s house now, only we don’t live there, except in the holidays.’

  ‘Where’s your grandpa?’ I said.

  ‘He went to heaven last summer and Mummy said he’s never coming back.’

  20

  The Third Side

  I was shocked to find out that Max’s grandpa was dead, but we had to get away from the city and I didn’t know where else to go. I decided to stick to my plan. There wasn’t much to take from the House of Horrors. I had my books and Dad’s coat, and Max had his feather headdress and the medal Old Thomas had given him. We packed our blankets and bottles of milk for Sixpence. Everything else we needed was already in the truck. The only thing missing was Tia.

  I looked out through the eye sockets towards the Boulevard Hotel. It was almost dark. Seagulls drifted like scraps of foil above the lights.

  ‘Can you see her?’ whispered Max.

  I whispered, too, although there was no need. ‘Not yet.’

  I said it fast; I didn’t want to talk while I was willing Tia to come. I visualised the shattered window, Billy’s clever old hands under the dashboard, and I heard the engine roar. I imagined Max and me in the back of the truck with Tia and Sixpence, warm and safe in our Feathersoft Microfibre sleeping-bags, and Billy, in a soldier’s cap and camouflage jacket, driving us through the night towards Gulliver’s Meadows.

  Sometimes, when I have bad thoughts, I make a noise inside my head. It fills my ears up, like when I’m underwater, and drowns the thoughts out. While I was waiting for Tia I got some bad thoughts, like: are there such things as soldiers with long grey whiskers? How much fuel is in the tank of the truck? What would we do if we got stopped at a roadblock? So I shut my eyes and made the noise. Max was pulling on my sleeve but I didn’t pay him any attention because you have to concentrate to do the noise properly. Then I felt vibrations coming up through the soles of my feet and I knew I’d waited too long for Tia.

  The House of Horrors shook as though the walls were made of cereal packets and light poured in through the cracks. The tank was back, followed by a truckload of soldiers.