by Jennie Jones
She snuck a look down the street to the officer. She didn’t look like she ought to be a cop any more than Jack. She called him Jack in her head because he’d told her she could, but she guessed if she ever did call him Jack she’d get told off by one of the adults. She’d bet ten dollars that Jack would say, ‘No, it’s all right. Frances can call me Jack.’
She didn’t think of him as an adult in the usual sense. For a start he looked more like a Phys Ed teacher than a policeman but he also had a nice look in his eyes. Like he wasn’t about to question her or tell her what to do without asking if she’d like to do it.
She went through a few mental scenarios of murder scenes with forensic experts wearing plastic overalls with little brushes in their hands, imagining she was in charge, next to Jack, giving them all orders.
She looked back down the street. What had the woman officer seen and done? As much as Jack? She looked really smart, with her hair done in a bob and her shirt nicely ironed. It was a big belt around her waist. Frances wondered if it was heavy or if she ever got too hot and sticky while wearing it.
One of the kids she was talking to was holding her hand. Looked like a nine- or ten-year-old going by the plaited hair.
A noise caught Frances’s attention and she shot her head around.
A boy stood watching her. He must have just come out of the youth centre. He was tall, but he looked like shit. So did his car, if the one he moved towards was his.
He opened the driver’s door, then slammed it closed as though he’d changed his mind, and looked back at her.
‘What?’ she said, using a boy-sneer expression. She was used to boys his age—she guessed sixteen, maybe only fifteen—looking at her. She didn’t like it.
‘What yourself?’ he said, and headed for her. ‘What are you doing?’
‘What does it look like? Who are you?’
‘Badass Billy. Who are you?’
Badass? What a noob. ‘Frances,’ she said reluctantly. She’d prefer not to tell anyone who she was.
‘Frances what?’
‘Just Frances.’
‘Oh! You’re the new kid. I’ve heard about you.’
Frances kept her eyes firmly on his but her stomach heaved. What had he heard? ‘Kid? I’m thirteen.’ Noob.
‘I’m eighteen.’
‘Eighteen? You’re joking.’
‘I’m an adult, so watch your mouth.’
‘Might want to do the same thing, Billy.’
Frances turned to the owner of the deep male voice and instinctively took a step back. The man was tall, broad-shouldered and dark. It wasn’t his skin tone that worried her, it was his size.
‘Morning,’ he said to her. ‘You must be Frances. I’m Solomon.’
Her mouth opened but no words came out.
For a second she thought she saw something cross his face. Like an understanding. As though he’d placed some thought into her head about not having to be frightened of him.
She closed her mouth and tried to settle herself because he’d taken his attention off her and back onto Billy.
‘Have you got the grocery list?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ Billy patted his back pocket.
‘Then what are you waiting for? Go get the food.’
‘I’m passing the time of day with our newcomer,’ Billy said.
‘Well make sure you pass it nicely.’ The big guy turned to Frances. ‘Are you okay standing here? Or would you like to come and see the bull with Jax and me?’
Frances shook her head. Her mouth had dried so she had to run her tongue around her teeth before answering. ‘No, thank you. I’m fine here.’ She said it the way she talked to teachers and such. You had to appear cooperative or they’d start in on you with a hundred questions. Or tell you to go do something, like he had just now with the noob. The noob must work for this guy.
The guy smiled and it changed his whole face. He had a wrinkled brow but he wasn’t an old man. Probably about the same age as Jack. It’s just that she wasn’t used to talking to an Aboriginal man. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. She knew not to be rude. There was no need for that; she’d worked that out for herself. Her best friend, Saanvi—former best friend—was from India and on occasions she’d got a lot of grief from racists. It really wasn’t fair or just or even legal, that sort of thing. Well, it shouldn’t be legal.
‘I understand,’ he said, saving her from saying more. There was humour in his eyes now, as though he’d read her mind about him being an Aboriginal and her not knowing what to do. ‘It’s good to meet you. I expect I’ll be seeing a lot more of you.’
Frances started. ‘Why?’
‘I just will.’ He was still smiling, then he nodded goodbye, turned and walked towards the police station next door.
‘He doesn’t come into town often,’ the noob said.
Frances drew her mouth to one side. Maybe not, but he had control over the noob. That was obvious, and it made her relax in the noob’s presence and even made her feel a little more daring than she’d expected to be. It was hard work pulling a face and keeping emotion out of your eyes. ‘Is that your car?’ she asked, nodding at the rusting heap on wheels parked by the kerb. ‘You can’t be earning much if it is.’
‘It’s got a state of the art sound system—I got it second-hand for fifty bucks. Three speakers—and two of them work just fine. I’ve got the whole Bluetooth deal too, so I can chat on the phone and drive.’ He gave the car a frown. ‘I won’t be driving it for much longer though. I’m moving gear. Although I won’t sell the sound system or the Bluetooth. I’ll be taking those with me.’
‘You’re moving house?’
He threw her a derisive look. ‘Gear,’ he said pointedly. ‘I’m carrying stuff for people.’
‘In your car?’
‘Jesus, you’re dumb.’ He looked towards the police station and back to Frances. ‘Say nothing to nobody.’
‘About what?’
‘Never mind, Frankie,’ he said in the up-himself manner of an eighteen-year-old. He didn’t even look like an adult let alone act like one.
‘My name’s Frances.’ Frankie was too close to Franca. She hated that name more than she hated the name Frances, which made her sound like an old woman driving one of those gizmo wheelchair things, with a basket on the handles and a musty old dog poking out from beneath the basket cover.
That made her think of the little Jack Russell, Bella. She couldn’t be old. Not if she could jump that high so quickly—
‘So Frances what?’ Badass Billy the noob said, interrupting her thoughts. ‘Brown? Like Jax? Jax is hot.’ He grinned, although it didn’t look pervy. ‘Real hot woman, that mother of yours. Sexy, you know?’
She felt a spike of heat crawl up her spine. She hated it when boys said things like that. Is that what her dad had said to the girl? It was horrible. But he couldn’t have done what they said, so why had he left home? Why had that man shouted things at him? Why had her dad got into a fight with him?
‘Hey—you actually look a bit like your mum,’ the noob said. ‘Except you’re only a kid, so there’s no way you’re sexy.’
Thank you, God.
‘Uh-oh,’ he said, catching sight of something behind Frances. ‘Cop-watch. See you around—if you’re lucky.’ He gave her what he probably thought of as a movie-star smile.
He turned and left, pulling the grocery list out of his back pocket. Then he opened the door of his car and got out green environmental shopping bags.
Frances couldn’t halt her smile or a snigger. He looked like a loser but she kind of liked him. He slouched when he walked, dragging his feet, and his clothes were clean but wrinkled and he’d left the laces of his sneakers undone. But he did as he was told and he was friendly to the environment. Although he’d probably been ordered to be.
‘Hi, there. You must be Frances.’
She removed the grin from her face and spun around.
It was the cop woman. Maybe she ought to h
ave stayed in the kitchen at the café instead of on the street. She was meeting everyone! But her stupid Auntie Rosie was in the kitchen, which is why she’d chosen the street.
‘Donna Murray. I’m your mum’s friend. How are you settling in?’
‘I don’t need to settle into anything,’ Frances said, her nerves making it sound like she was irritated. ‘Sorry,’ she said, then thought of Billy and got brave again. ‘But I don’t have a lot to do with cops and I’m not really interested so don’t ask me what I’m going to do with the rest of my life because I don’t know.’
‘Wow!’ Officer Donna’s eyes widened and she pulled back in surprise, but she was grinning. ‘You’ve got some of your mother in you.’
It was Frances’s turn to be surprised but she wasn’t going to ask why the cop woman had said that.
‘Why did you want to be in the police?’ she asked instead, hoping to get off the track she was on, because it was okay being brave but sometimes it tripped you up. She’d tripped up on so much in the last four months. She’d lost her footing everywhere. At school, at sport, with her friends who weren’t her friends anymore …
‘It was something I always wanted,’ the cop woman said. ‘Since I was your age.’
‘How old are you now?’
‘Old enough to be a cop who doesn’t take any nonsense from thirteen-year-olds.’
Frances didn’t flinch but it was such an adult thing to say. She decided not to ask if the belt around her waist was heavy and whether it made her sweat. It had to though; it was really hot this far out of anywhere. Mt Maria, farthest place from anywhere she’d ever been. Which made her feel even more weird and outcast than she already was.
She took her eyes off Officer Donna’s face, not liking what she saw in her gaze. What was it with people around here and the perceptive thing? Jack had it too. Did they all think they saw things about poor Frances that she didn’t already know herself? If they all thought they understood her, they were wrong.
She kept her eyes elsewhere for a moment then couldn’t resist another look at the belt. It was fascinating. Like Jack’s, but it was more interesting to see a woman wearing it. ‘Do you ever use it?’ she asked, nodding at the gun, unable to stop herself asking a question about it.
‘I definitely try not to,’ Officer Donna said, her hands still steady on her belt. ‘Much prefer to talk a person out of a situation. But if need be, I’d use the Taser before the Glock.’
‘Glock?’
‘The gun,’ Donna said. ‘That’s what it’s called.’
‘Can you shoot straight?’ Frances asked, annoyed with herself for asking, but really wanting to know.
‘Yes.’
‘So how much practice do you get?’
‘Enough.’
Something caught Donna’s eye down the street and Frances lifted her gaze to study her while her attention was elsewhere. She was different to the mother. Different to the Rachel woman too. The Rachel woman was pretty in a sweet way and she had a softness about her that made her appear really nice. The mother was prettier in a different way, but always worried stupid about stuff—and Frances really didn’t want to know. But Officer Donna was a straight-shooter.
In spite of herself and her resolve to ignore everyone, she felt a thrill go through her. It was like she’d been given something she’d always wanted. She just couldn’t decide, or didn’t understand, what that something was. But it was exciting knowing police officers and Aboriginal people. None of her friends knew any cops or bull-catchers. Ex-friends.
‘So what are you loitering around here for?’ Officer Donna asked.
Frances swallowed all that excitement. She ought not to feel that way. ‘I’m waiting for Badass Billy,’ she lied.
Officer Donna cracked a smile, and Frances almost smiled back. She stopped herself in time, but Officer Donna’s smile lit up her face so much that it felt like a pleasure to be on the receiving end. The Rachel woman’s face was always lit up, by happiness or something. And the mother? She also had the same radiance in her face when she smiled at Frances, and even when she wasn’t looking at Frances. Although the mother’s eyes had a lot of sadness in them—like she was drowning and desperate to get to the surface. Frances knew what that felt like and didn’t want to think the mother felt the same way. It was too close a connection to something she didn’t want.
She frowned. She didn’t want to think about the mother at all.
‘What was Badass doing in the youth centre?’ Officer Donna asked.
Frances shrugged. ‘He’s shifting gear for people.’
‘What gear?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said offhandedly.
‘Something for Solomon?’
Donna’s voice had turned cop and a warning bell went off in Frances’s head. She wasn’t going to be the one to tell on the noob. She had an idea he was up to no good, but he was a noob, and stupid, so he couldn’t be doing something real bad. ‘Everyone keeps wanting me to go to the youth centre and stuff,’ she said. ‘Billy said he’d get me some brochures.’
‘Brochures, huh?’ Donna shot a quick glance at the doorway of the youth centre then brought her attention back to Frances, eyes now keen and mouth slanted, cop-style. ‘Listen up, Frances.’
Here we go. Adult-speak.
‘Billy never intends to hurt people,’ the cop said, ‘he just manages it by being obnoxious. So you keep your eyes and ears open. Don’t let him force you into doing anything you don’t want to do. Do you understand?’
Frances nodded, but she got a bit worried. Was she referring to sex? Did she think Billy would want to have sex with her, Frances Fellows, a thirteen-year-old with a skinny body and an odd-looking face? Yuk. She pushed the thought away. These days, everything around her was to do with sex and it was all her father’s fault and it made her want to cry, which she absolutely was not going to do.
‘You’ve got your phone?’ Officer Donna asked.
It was clasped in her hand so she held it up like show and tell at kiddies’ school. Best do what they wanted. They always expected you to act like a child who was under their control. So what—let them think it.
‘Okay, here’s a tip.’ Officer Donna now had her hands back on that big belt, cop-style. Adult-style. Pretty scary-style too, but Frances wasn’t about to let her wariness show so hardened the look in her eyes.
‘If Billy asks you to do something you think isn’t right—like collecting “gear” for others or asking you to help him unload this “gear”—you tell him no. One word. No. And you say it forcefully. Understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll be letting your mum know that you’ve got brochures from the youth centre.’
Shit. Now she’d have to go inside and get some.
‘He’s a big fella,’ Jax said.
‘He’s a sad big fella,’ Solomon responded.
They were peering through the ceiling-to-floor iron grille that fenced off the grassed lockup exercise yard. Frances was out the front of the station but Jax had been comfortable letting her stay there because Donna was out on High Street participating—as much as she could because she was on duty—with her daughter’s school who were conducting a bus and road awareness exercise for the kids. Plus, Jimmy had said he’d let Jax know if Frances moved because he could see her from the front office. Jax felt it right that Frances have a little time on her own, getting used to the town. Jimmy hadn’t asked if he could meet her yet, nor Will, whom she’d met as she came in, but Jax was aware of the interest simply because they were forcing no apparent interest.
Jack was inside somewhere, probably at his desk, but when she’d come down the hallway from reception to the lockup area, his door had been closed.
She tried not to glance at the barred window to that office. The blind was down but it looked thin and if he was in the office he might be able to see her.
She studied the bull again. It seemed quiet. Maybe whatever it had been drugged with was still running through its
system.
‘This boy’s been around people,’ Solomon said. ‘That helps us.’
‘How can you tell?’
‘He’s not suspicious of us.’
Solomon had spent a number of hours with Tonto each day—even Jax had taken to using the nickname, although the Agatha Girls still called it Hercule—and she guessed he was doing his animal-whisperer thing.
‘If he was wary of us, he’d be trying to get out of this prison,’ Solomon said.
Could the bull actually manage that? She guessed it could, given his size and supposed strength. Fight or flight wasn’t something she wanted to see Tonto get to grips with.
‘They like a bit of affection.’ Solomon looked at Jax, with a smile. ‘Just like us.’
His smile lingered and she smiled back, sharing a moment with him—although it had never happened before. Not this kind of lingering smile.
Jax was the first to look away.
‘I didn’t know your name was Isabelle.’
She started. ‘I go by Jax these days.’
‘It’s a pretty name for a lovely lady.’
‘Jax?’ she asked, giving him a frown.
‘Isabelle,’ he corrected.
‘Who told you?’
‘Jack.’
She shoved her hands into her jeans pockets.
Solomon gazed at her a bit longer than she felt comfortable with, then he dropped the subject.
‘I haven’t had time to earn full trust,’ he said, ‘but I think Tonto’s a naturally gentle animal. Some are, some aren’t.’
Jax had a similar understanding about her dogs, but bulls she had very little knowledge of.
She wondered what Jack was doing about Tonto—and about whoever had destroyed her fence. ‘I’ve got Mr Bernardo’s son coming over to look at the fence tomorrow,’ she told Solomon.
‘Good—and I’ll be doing the moving, Jax, not you.’
She wasn’t stupid enough to say she’d like to help push Tonto’s rump as Solomon led him into the horse truck. But she’d be his second in command and could easily handle that.