Louis Beside Himself

by Anna Fienberg

  Anne’s eyes were filling with tears. She looked uncertain.

  Lies! Oh, it wasn’t fair how lies, pretty as wrapped sweets, can take away the taste for the truth.

  In my mind, the events of the last week unrolled like scenes from a film. I heard Cordelia crying in the tent, I saw her mowing our lawn in those big burglar boots, I watched her performing her brave gangster routine in our kitchen. And I knew, suddenly, that if Anne went on believing Jimmy, there would always be that hard little core of distrust between mother and daughter, and Anne would never, really, see the truth of her courageous Cordelia.

  Cordelia didn’t deserve that.

  But sometimes people will just not hear what they don’t want to hear. Evidence – cold, objective evidence – is what they need.

  I studied Jimmy. He was a good liar, but he was sweating. Dark-blue patches were spreading under his arms. He looked different. He’d had on only a singlet before, a white singlet, and now he had a denim shirt over it, with pockets. Why had he put a shirt on? And one of the pockets had a slight bulge in it. Without stopping to think, I darted forward and groped at the pocket on his chest.

  ‘Oi, get off!’ he yelled, and pushed me away.

  But my hand had dug in and closed around something spiky, and brittle.

  ‘Get out of here, you little— ’ shouted Jimmy.

  I opened up my hand and dangled the emerald bracelet in the air between us.

  ‘Way to go!’ said Singo.

  ‘My bracelet!’ said Anne.

  ‘Well, my next-door neighbour’s bracelet, actually, Mrs Livid, I mean Mrs— ’

  ‘What kind of name is that? He’s making that up!’ protested Jimmy. ‘He’s making it all up. They’re crazy this lot, look at them, reffos, raving women’s libbers, liars, you can’t believe them . . .’

  Anne gazed at Jimmy, stunned. ‘You were going to hide the evidence.’

  Jimmy’s bullish jaw suddenly retreated and his lip wobbled again. ‘Oh Anne, I didn’t mean it. I’m just, it’s just, I just wanted to give you something special.’

  Anne looked away. ‘I never even wanted those things, Jimmy. Jewels aren’t important to me. I told you that. You said they were your mother’s, that’s why they were precious to me. I only wanted . . . you to love me and me to love you.’

  Jimmy ran his hand over his jaw. ‘We can start over. I’ll pay off all my debts, take everything back.’ He slumped down suddenly at the table and let his head fall into his hands. With his back hunched and his shoulders folded in, he looked collapsed, like a big old armchair with the stuffing taken out of it.

  ‘It’s just, I’ve got this gambling habit,’ he mumbled through his fingers. ‘It’s not my fault, you don’t know, working at the club, you can lose a thousand bucks an hour, and then there’s the people you meet . . . those damn moneylenders.’

  He seemed unaware now that we kids were all still there.

  Quietly, Hassan slid down onto a chair. Elena slid down onto his knee.

  ‘I’ve tried to get over it, you don’t know, it’s so hard . . . They shouldn’t make it so easy for people like me – pokies and casinos, the damn TAB, people leaving their houses open – it’s everywhere. How can you get away from it?’

  Anne stood up. She went over and put a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. Oh no, she wasn’t going to fall for him again?

  ‘Jimmy, I won’t be able to forget what you’ve done, and . . . and what’s happened between you and my daughter. You made her run away. From her home.’

  ‘I only wanted to make her stop upsetting you!’

  Anne bit her lip. ‘Although I . . . did my part too, didn’t I. She came to me, but I didn’t listen.’ She took a deep breath and stood back from the chair. ‘Jimmy, I want you to leave now.’

  ‘What? What about . . . all my things? Where will I go?’

  ‘You’re a grown man. Find somewhere else for tonight. You can get your things tomorrow. I need to be alone now, with these children. And I hope, soon, with my daughter.’

  We watched Jimmy hesitate, hovering from one foot to the other. And I realised, as he turned to leave the kitchen with his newly collapsed shoulders, that I wasn’t feeling triumphant, or like a winner. I just felt sad. Jimmy would have started off like all of us – a kid. What had happened to him as he tramped life’s long and winding road?

  But as we sat silent, listening to Jimmy collect his things from the bathroom and clothes from the bedroom, Anne reached down and gave my arm a squeeze. I looked up at her, standing calm and UNFLINCHING beside me, and a small light seemed to glow up ahead of us. Maybe, I thought, old Mainprize was right after all.

  19

  AGOG

  Elena was the first to say she had to leave.

  Anne took the gold earrings and placed them in Elena’s hand. ‘I’m so sorry this happened. Please give these back to your aunt with my greatest apologies. Even with what I know now, I still can’t imagine Jimmy just walking into someone’s house and stealing. It makes me cold all over.’

  Elena nodded. She put the earrings in her pocket. ‘Maybe if he goes to the police himself and confesses, it will go better for him.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll make sure he does,’ Anne said earnestly. Then she ducked her head, sad-smiling at her shoes. ‘I’ve got to stop doing that, haven’t I – thinking I can sort out his life. Still, I do hope he gets help with his problems.’ She turned to me, her eyes brightening. ‘And now we can get Cordelia home. That’s the important thing.’

  Elena stood up and Hassan rose too. He stumbled for a second, his leg wobbling under him.

  Making a face, he said, ‘My knee went to sleep. I suppose it’s not used to being sat upon.’ He grinned and Elena cuffed him on the shoulder. ‘I will walk Elena home,’ he said to Anne. ‘It was . . . nice meeting you.’

  ‘I better get going too,’ chimed in Singo. He shook hands with Anne. ‘I need a good night’s sleep. Big game tomorrow. You’re coming, aren’t you?’ he turned to us. ‘It’ll be great!’ And he cracked his knuckles again, with excitement or anxiety, I wasn’t sure. ‘Even Mum’s coming, which is, like, an amazing event. You know she’s never watched me play sport. Always frightened I’ll break something and she’d have to see it, even though statistics show hardly anybody gets hurt in basketball – it’s one of the best sports for keeping you fit – I mean, d’you ever hear of a retired basketballer dropping dead of a heart attack?’ He stopped suddenly, looking at Anne, and went red.

  We all smiled at him. This was the longest speech I’d ever heard Singo make about his mother. He must have been very excited about the game, or he was filled with the energising freedom of relief, or else he was just so happy that his mum was finally going to be part of his sporting life that he couldn’t help sharing it. Or was it all of the above?

  ‘Are you coming with us?’ Hassan asked me.

  I looked at Anne, then shook my head. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. And thanks for coming. You were extremely INTREPID, all of you.’

  Anne offered to drive them home, insisting for quite a while until Singo managed to get through to her how close they lived and that they’d be fine, the three of them together. For a second we all stood thanking each other, smiling . . . and there was a hum in the room, an echo of all the words that had been spoken, and then my three best friends were gone.

  ANNE and I sat in the quiet of the kitchen. It wasn’t an uneasy silence; it was weary and accepting. It was as if we’d both had a huge and difficult meal and now we were sleepily digesting it.

  My stomach rumbled. Actually, I thought, I’d only had a few chips for dinner due to my twanging nerves and life of lies – and I was so thirsty I could have sucked the water out of that dishcloth in the sink. Well, almost.

  As if reading my thoughts, Anne brought me a cold apple juice. Then she made coffee for herself.

  ‘I think I knew, deep down, that Jimmy had another secret life. But he was so good to me – you don’t know.’ She turned to me, her eyes big. ‘St
range how you can go on believing only what you want to believe, and shut out everything else. Still, if Jimmy was chasing Cordelia, like you say, don’t you think he might have just wanted to bring her home? I mean, I can’t imagine why he’d want to hurt her . . .’

  ‘Cordelia saw something he didn’t want her to see. He was running, carrying a case that didn’t belong to him.’ I looked at Anne. ‘Why didn’t he come home straight away and tell you he saw her?’

  Anne closed her eyes a moment, shaking her head as if it was full of old things she wanted to throw away but couldn’t quite bear to. ‘Look, Jimmy just – he had a terrible upbringing, he was always frightened, you can’t imagine, and no one was ever there for him. He acts tough, looks tough, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone, not my daughter . . .’

  I said nothing, just drank my juice. Sometimes silences were useful. I could tell by Anne’s face that her own words weren’t making her feel better. She was sad for Jimmy and his upbringing, but surely he wasn’t someone you should leave alone with your child?

  After a while, I said, ‘Look, you may be right, but when you see Cordelia, listen to her side of things. She was scared of him. She didn’t feel . . . protected, like she had anywhere to go where she’d be safe. You know she had to sleep in a park one night?’

  An image of Gus and his brother Roy huddling on a park bench flashed into my mind. Gus was trying to explain why their mother couldn’t look after them, even though he barely understood it himself. But his words seemed to help Roy, so I tried to remember what he’d said.

  ‘See, it’s like this,’ I told Anne. ‘A parent mightn’t think a situation at home is that bad. But kids don’t always know a parent will love them, whatever happens.’ I could feel a lump swelling in my throat. I cleared my voice a couple of times, but it wouldn’t go away.

  ‘She could have come and told me what was happening,’ Anne said, quiet as a whisper.

  I was silent. Partly because I didn’t know what to say, and partly because of the mysterious lump.

  Then she remembered. ‘Oh. She did try to tell me.’

  I shrugged. ‘It will be good when you see her. You can show her you’re listening. Kids like that.’

  Anne pushed back her hair behind her ears and straightened her skirt. ‘So, when do you think? Tonight, when I drive you home?’ She looked ready for business, ready to face the music.

  I shifted in my chair. God, here was a mother asking me for advice. I didn’t know mothers very well. I didn’t have one of my own. They were probably very different from fathers. Were they? I might have sounded like I knew what I was talking about, but really, what did I know? How could I tell the way another living breathing person with their own world inside them might react? What if Cordelia saw her mother and ran? Or was so furious with me for betraying her trust that she ran? Or decided to go live with the drink-driver with all that beer smelling of feet?

  ‘I think,’ I said slowly, ‘that I should tell her I saw you tonight, sort of introduce the fact, before you talk to her. She didn’t actually want me to let you know.’ I shrugged again to show that I wasn’t really sure at all but was doing my best.

  ‘Okay,’ said Anne. She looked so disappointed that I nearly RETRACTED my words, as in took them back, but you can’t do that, can you, because once they’re out they’re like those messenger pigeons set free, winging their way to their destination.

  ‘We better get you home now,’ she added. ‘And don’t you tell me that you live close by. I’m not asking if you want a lift, I’m giving you one.’

  ANNE’S car was an old Volkswagen that didn’t start when she turned the key. She sat and waited, counting to ten. Then she tried again. It coughed, like someone in the last stages of pneumonia. But it didn’t start.

  She began counting again.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ I said, ‘but does this car usually go? Do you think maybe I should walk? It’s really not far. I don’t want to put you to all this trouble.’ I felt awkward now, and sort of trembly, having had to act like a grown-up all this time and even giving advice to one, after I’d torn her life apart with UNPALATABLE INFORMATION, as in news hard to swallow or accept, and behaving as if I knew exactly what I was doing when, actually, I hadn’t known at all. And there was this damn lump in my throat that wouldn’t be swallowed down no matter what favourite things I tried to think about.

  Anne held her finger to her lips. ‘Nine, ten.’ She turned the key again, and this time the engine coughed, choked, and came to life in a full-blown, ear-splitting roar. She smiled WANLY, as in weakly, not really amused. ‘With an old car like this you have to wait, because the engine is easily flooded. One day I’ll get a car that starts first time. Sorry about this.’

  I felt my cheeks flame hot. ‘No, don’t worry, I just didn’t want you to bother and . . . I know it must be hard being on your own, keeping everything going. You’ve done a really good job raising your daughter— ’

  Anne groaned. ‘Oh yeah, so good she ran away.’

  ‘I’ve never met anyone like Cordelia – she’s so brave, and kind as anything. She also has a large, wide-ranging vocabulary, and is an extremely good reader. I admire all those things, don’t you? And she must have got those qualities from somewhere!’

  Anne was smiling now, not the wan kind of smile (or just with one side of her face like Gus when his brother breaks wind and he’s trying not to breathe it in) but as if she really, truly meant it.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘well.’

  We sat for a bit longer in the car as Anne revved the engine, warming it up. Then we set off. With the windows down the engine was so loud we couldn’t talk anymore, which was probably good as my last words, which were still the truest, seemed to give the most satisfaction of the whole evening.

  Outside my house, I turned to say goodbye. Anne was looking straight ahead. In the silvery light of the street lamp, her profile was beautiful and floaty, like an angel. But her eyes were glittering and I understood how hard it must be to sit in a car just a few metres away from your daughter and not run to her and hug her so hard that you both stopped breathing.

  Then, coming from behind, the beam from a pair of headlights steadily filled the car. In the rear-view mirror I saw our old Ford pull up behind us. The lights cut off and my father got out and went around to open the door for the passenger. People always thought this was very chivalrous of him, but really it was because that door didn’t work from the inside. I wanted to tell Anne this, to make her feel better about her car, but I was too worried about being seen by Dad.

  I went very still and pressed myself flat against the seat. The passenger obviously appreciated my father’s attention because she gave him a hug as she got out, and the two of them leaned against the door, wrapped in each other’s arms for a full two minutes.

  My stomach did an odd little flip. It was probably digesting the new information of my father and Doreen standing together without the usual space in between. Dad had obviously rescued the hippo stuck in Doreen’s bathroom window, and she’d been very grateful. Something cramped inside me, and I couldn’t help clenching my teeth.

  ‘Who’s that?’ asked Anne.

  This time it was me who put my finger to my lips. I ducked down, banging my head on the glove box. Then I heard the gate opening and closing and Anne said, ‘You can come out now.’

  I made a face as I emerged. ‘That was Dad, and Doreen. The thing is . . . I haven’t told Dad yet about all this. I was sort of waiting for the right time . . .’

  Anne reached into her purse. ‘I understand. Look, here’s my phone number, Louis. When you’ve spoken with Cordelia, will you ring me straight away? I’ll always be grateful to you for tonight. Always. Now get some sleep.’ And she reached over to kiss my cheek.

  WHAT happened next was . . . well, it was as if the real world had got sucked down a tube into a giant electric cable attached to a movie screen. I watched from the maple tree, an audience of one, agog, but powerless to change what was unfold
ing before me.

  In the pale moonlight I saw my father tip-toeing down the back lawn. He was doing an exaggerated creeping step, like a cop in an old silent movie. He put his finger to his lips, hush, glancing at Doreen, who flattened herself against the garage wall, trying to melt into the bricks. He motioned to her to stay there, his other hand pointing at the tent.

  It was lit from inside with the yellow glow of the torch. That was bad enough. But as I watched, the light began to dance like something alive and a strange yelp went up, followed by short sharp shrieks. The light expanded, leaping to the roof of the tent, and suddenly I could smell something acrid and dangerous. A smoke cloud was billowing out of the tent, wafting in slow motion over the garden, and a person was crawling over the grass, crawling on hands and knees, coughing or crying or yelling, I wasn’t sure which, because just then an explosion like a car backfiring ripped open the night.

  For a heartbeat I wondered if it was Anne about to charge into our yard in her Volkswagen, or maybe someone had been shot. But that was crazy because right in front of me, the tent was turning into a star burning in the universe of our garden.

  ‘Cordelia!’ I yelled.

  She came streaking towards us. The fire was fluorescent against the dead black sky, slicing the garden into striped lightning. The sting of smoke cut my nostrils.

  Dad shouted something. His eyes darted wildly from the fire, to the hose at the fence, to Doreen emerging slowly from her station at the garage, her high heels sinking deep into the spongy lawn. He was caught, I could tell, frozen by indecision. Then he snapped into action. In two big strides he had the hose hissing like an angry snake, and under its cobra arc of water, the fire on our lawn became a misty, smoking, stinky nylon mound of ash.

  Dad threw the hose on the ground and headed towards the trespasser. I could see his shoulders squaring, preparing for battle.

  This isn’t good, I told myself. Do something. But my legs didn’t move. I felt my own shoulders collapse like faulty umbrellas in a storm. I watched Dad’s steps grow bigger and angrier, until in one full long-legged charge he caught Cordelia, grabbing her by the shoulders.