P is for Pearl

by Eliza Henry Jones

  ‘I do too,’ Dad admitted, and there was an alien look in his eyes. A look that was deadly serious and filled with such sadness that I tugged on his t-shirt, wanting him to pick me up again so I could feel the beat of his heart.

  Biddy was staring at him, too, a half-scared, half-surprised look on her face as though it wasn’t an answer she’d expected. Why had she said it, then?

  Out of the blue, my dad’s dough-coloured face flushed a little and he patted my head, murmured a thanks to Biddy, paused for a moment and then gave her an awkward hug.

  ‘Thank you,’ he murmured again.

  She pulled away and smiled at him affectionately. ‘It’s my pleasure. She’s such a good girl.’

  I glared at her furiously. I wasn’t a good girl. I’d never been the good girl. Jamie was the good boy and there wasn’t room in our house for two good children. Didn’t she know that?

  She watched my dad weave his way down the rest of the aisle, checking a wild shopping list my mum had written for him. When Biddy turned back to us, she looked less tired than before.

  ‘You put these in?’ she asked me, nodding towards the biscuits.

  I shook my head.

  She smiled at me. ‘No matter. Finders keepers, eh? How about you two go and grab a bag of lollies each and some chips and meet me at the check-out. It’s Friday night – what do you two say to a pig-out?’

  Tyrone was gazing at his mother suspiciously, but I nodded.

  ‘Can we visit Mum on the way home?’ I asked.

  Biddy smiled at me, instantly looking tired again. ‘Sure, sweetie. But I’ll have to give her a call first to make sure she’s up to it.’

  I felt as though, somehow, everything would be okay. Not great. Not even alright; but okay.

  After the supermarket and Biddy’s gentle voice on the phone to Mum, we headed towards Lockbank Street.

  It was bizarre how quickly something loses that ‘home’ feeling. I felt nothing when we pulled up outside, but I shivered when I saw the cracked cement driveway, even though I knew very well that Jamie hadn’t died there.

  No, he’d died out the back in the above-ground pool Mum had made Dad buy the Christmas before. She loved swimming and water, but she hated the beach. I’d never known why. It didn’t seem fair that she’d been too scared of us drowning to let us into the ocean, but Jamie had drowned anyway.

  Mum had been in the kitchen the whole time. It overlooked the pool, but she’d been distracted. She hadn’t noticed. But I didn’t find that out until years later.

  We went inside. Dad was heating up soup in a can for dinner and was flustered to see us. My mum hadn’t told him we’d be stopping in. No surprises there though. My mum rarely told him what was going on, but mostly he didn’t seem to mind.

  Mum snatched me away from Biddy and cradled me, rocking me for what seemed like hours. ‘You’re destined for great things, my beautiful Pearlie, my beautiful girl [not good girl], my baby . . .’ she whispered.

  Then Dad pried me off her and gave her the bowl of soup. The house was in its usual form of disarray; things scattered on the table, the bin overflowing onto the cheap lino floor, but this was the first time it had ever seemed unhealthy.

  ‘We’ve got the spare room, you know. It’s a waste, having it spare, you know. I want to turn it into a shrine – you don’t have any photos of him, do you? I can’t seem to find ours . . .’ Mum said, her voice so high-pitched it kept cracking like a broken record. She swirled her soup around a few times then set it absently on the table, untasted.

  My dad was watching her; his face flickered and I knew he’d taken the photo albums. That he’d hidden them like a coveted pirate’s treasure. They were his. He loved my mum, but the photos were his.

  Biddy looked stricken and I thought of the taped box Dad had dropped round a few weeks earlier, sitting carefully by Biddy’s bedside table, where it could be guarded even in sleep. Biddy only ever slept lightly.

  My mum looked crazy. I wanted to scream because that wasn’t right. My mum wasn’t crazy. She was vibrant and lively. She was the mother every kid wanted. She was beautiful and creative and felt things too deeply.

  She began absently twisting up a newspaper roll and quite suddenly she burst into tears that quickly turned to sobs.

  Dad gave Biddy a look and she swiftly got Tyrone up. I clung to my mum.

  ‘I love you,’ I said, over and over. ‘I love you.’

  She gurgled through her sobs and clung to me so hard that when Dad pulled me away her fingernails broke the skin on my back.

  I gazed at her over my shoulder as Dad carried me out to Biddy’s old car. I tried to get back inside when Dad put me down, but Biddy herded me into the car and locked the door.

  The next morning my mum fell over and cracked her head trying to climb into the empty above-ground pool. I never saw her again. Not even her coffin, because I spent the whole of her funeral sitting in Dad’s car with the windows wound down.

  Ever since that day, I somehow blamed Biddy for smiling at my dad and telling him she liked to live dangerously because somehow, maybe, my mum had heard her.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘Tell me again,’ Loretta demanded later that night, once the others had gone home and Tyrone had been tucked up in bed. She was still wearing her slippers. We were sitting at the kitchen bench with cups of tea. Dad said we were a couple of old nannas, but I didn’t care.

  ‘There’s nothing more to tell, Rets! It was the kiss that wasn’t.’

  ‘But it was a kiss.’ She put her mug down hard on the bench. ‘Handsome Ben kissed you.’

  ‘No, Handsome Ben literally just fell on my face. He didn’t kiss me, Rets.’

  ‘I was wondering why he was acting so weird.’ Loretta sighed. ‘Wish Simon Figg was as clumsy as Handsome Ben.’

  I patted her head. ‘I think he bruised my jaw.’

  She perked up. ‘From the kissing?’

  ‘From the landing-on-my-face thing.’ I rubbed at my jaw.

  Biddy came into the kitchen. ‘How are you, stranger? I feel like we keep missing each other.’

  ‘Yeah, feels that way,’ I said, stuffing a couple of workbooks into my school bag for tomorrow.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

  She sat down next to me. ‘Great news about the job at Songbrooke. I’ve always loved that place.’

  ‘It’s nice. Bit rundown now, though.’

  ‘Elsa’s a pretty well-known artist, you know,’ Biddy said. ‘Is she okay to work for?’

  ‘Of course she is.’

  ‘I mean, she seems lovely. But sometimes these artist types can be a bit . . . chaotic.’

  ‘Well, she’s as regimented as a soldier. Works every day. I hardly ever see her.’

  Loretta reluctantly started to pull off her slippers and pulled on her sneakers, grumbling about how awful it was to live in such a stupid, wet part of the world.

  Biddy ignored her. ‘If anything ever makes you uncomfortable or . . . whatever . . . come and tell me? Please?’

  ‘I’m nearly eighteen! I can look out for myself!’ I snapped.

  ‘I don’t think you’re a baby, Gwen. Everyone needs people watching out for them. That’s all.’

  She stepped forward, but I pulled away. I didn’t need Biddy to look out for me. If I needed anyone to look out for me, it was my dad but he was too distracted. He didn’t even see me.

  ***

  I couldn’t sleep. I kept dreaming of mermaids, trapped on the beach. And Elsa wanting me to bring them home for her art installations, but I couldn’t lift them. And Amber was laughing at me. And, honestly, I didn’t want to lift them. I wanted them to swim back out to sea, only they wouldn’t. And then I cut open their tails and they were filled with jewels and I cried and cried as I stuffed them into my pockets. And then I thought of exploding glass, of someone so out of control they were destroying everything around them.

  I woke with a start and sat up, my back panging. I
t was a bit after seven. If I texted either Loretta or Gordon this early, I’d never hear the end of it. But Ben had said he sometimes got up early to run. I hesitated for a moment before texting him and waited anxiously until he replied. I felt a shiver of excitement when he said he’d meet me down on the beach.

  I brushed my teeth for an extra-long time. Mostly because it was good dental hygiene, partly because it was good to be prepared. I stared at my shoe pile. I didn’t want to wear my grotty ones, but didn’t want to ruin any of my others, either. In the end, I yanked on the stinky ones, hoping the sharp winter wind would carry away any smell.

  I met Ben on the beach and we ran to the pier without talking. He was almost as fit as me, but not quite. He was sweaty and panting by the time we got there.

  We started walking back towards Songbrooke, collecting things here and there and tucking them into my hoodie.

  ‘Sorry about yesterday,’ he said, handing me a bit of broken shell that I knew Elsa would love. ‘I’m such a klutz.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ I said.

  ‘I was wondering . . .’ He stopped and cleared his throat. ‘I was wondering, are you and Gordon . . .? Like, are you two together?’

  I burst out laughing so hard that I dropped the piece of shell. ‘No way! We’re just really good friends,’ I said when I could catch my breath. ‘Can I tell you a secret?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Promise not to tell?’

  ‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

  I bit my lip. ‘I’m pretty sure Gordon likes Loretta.’

  Ben’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Really?’

  ‘I think so,’ I said, bending to pick up a piece of sea glass. Sea glass always felt warm, even when it wasn’t. I don’t know why.

  Ben grinned and tossed me a bit of driftwood. When I looked down, I saw his shoes were just as dirty and gross as mine.

  ***

  At lunchtime the rain looked really set in, so we sat down in the school library with an illegal bag of chips. Gordon was listening to his iPod, nodding his head as he drew a picture of someone dancing in gumboots.

  Loretta had her glaze-eyed look going on, staring out at the sleet in the schoolyard.

  ‘It’s not going to snow,’ said Gordon, without looking up. ‘Stop staring at the rain like that. It’s weird.’

  Loretta hissed at him.

  Gordon turned to me. ‘I found some cool stuff for your art friend.’

  I snorted. ‘My art friend?’

  ‘The Songbrooke lady – Elsa! Handsome Ben’s aunty! I was thinking I could drop it by sometime?’ He grinned hopefully at me.

  ‘You want to come and have a stickybeak at her work, don’t you?’ I said, shaking my head, trying not to think of Handsome Ben. ‘You are shameless.’

  ‘Disgusting,’ Loretta said.

  ‘I prefer opportunistic. Go on. I’ll be charming and lovely. I’ll even compliment her horses and I hate horses.’

  I recoiled. ‘You hate horses? Who the hell hates horses?’

  ‘Lots of people.’

  ‘You’re a monster!’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re getting paid for that,’ Loretta said, turning to look at me and completely ignoring Gordon. ‘It’s the best job ever. Wandering along the beach with Handsome Ben at sunrise. I’m sick with jealousy.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘More kissing?’

  ‘No. I told you already. It was an accident last night!’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’ Loretta stretched her legs out in front of her. ‘I can’t believe you get Gordon next door and Handsome Ben just down the road. Apart from Amber, you have such good neighbours! I have Mau.’

  ‘How is Mau?’

  ‘She wanted to clean my aura. Apparently it’s very green.’

  ‘Green?’

  ‘And dirty. I’m green and dirty.’ She shrugged.

  ‘What would Gordon’s be?’

  Loretta frowned and tapped her chin. ‘Hmm. Intriguing.’

  ‘Here we go,’ he muttered.

  ‘Grey!’ said Loretta.

  Gordon looked up, clearly unimpressed. ‘Because I’m so bland and boring? Is that it?’

  ‘No. Because you spend so much time sketching with your pencils you’re probably entirely made of lead on the inside.’

  ‘Graphite,’ he said, exasperated. ‘Pencils are made of graphite.’

  I cleared my throat. ‘Well anyway, she just says mine is smothering me. She never says what colour it is.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Loretta, tilting her head. ‘Brown!’

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘Puke green?’

  ‘Be kind.’

  ‘What about that mustard yellow they make us wear at school?’ She plucked at the hem of her school dress.

  I made a rude gesture at her and she grinned.

  ‘Nah, Gwen. I reckon you’d be blue.’

  ‘Blue?’

  ‘Yeah. A deep, shimmery blue.’ She tugged my hair and went back to her tub of salad. I closed my eyes, reliving walking down the beach, looking for scraps of beach treasure. Everything had been cold and wet, but I had felt better than I had in days. I liked scouring the beach. Today, with Ben, I’d even liked it more than running.

  ***

  The next day, I found Elsa such a big piece of wood that I needed Gordon to help me carry it over to Songbrooke. It was overcast and drizzly and Gordon came out with a backpack full of sea treasures and a raincoat his mum had bullied him into wearing.

  ‘You owe me,’ he said the entire way down the beach.

  ‘Bull! I don’t owe you anything! You wanted your stickybeak around Elsa’s studio and here you go!’ I said as he clomped down the uneven driveway.

  ‘This place is incredible!’ he murmured. ‘Have you seen some of the work that’s come out of here? The artists were some of the best in the country. There’s this landscape one, called Blue Quake. It looks blue, but the guy’s used every colour but blue. There’s a book about it in the library. I’ll dig it out for you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I grunted, heaving the wood onto the porch.

  Ben opened the door, nursing a coffee. ‘Hi,’ he said.

  ‘Hi.’ I shuffled a foot, suddenly wishing I didn’t have to come here to do my work for Elsa.

  Elsa popped her head out the front door.

  ‘Gordon helped me get this here,’ I said. ‘Washed up last night.’

  ‘Aren’t you brilliant? Come on in!’ she said.

  Gordon mouthed wow at me.

  ‘I’m onto you,’ I told Elsa. ‘My friend’s noticed that Mau Fischer’s shop is inexplicably going gangbusters. Some sort of artist selling her local jewellery on consignment?’

  Elsa grinned at me. ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Did she offer to cleanse your aura?’

  ‘Three times. Apparently mine’s very speckled.’

  ‘Apparently mine suffocates me,’ I said. I nodded at Gordon. ‘We don’t know about his aura, yet. He might be bad news.’

  Gordon didn’t appear to be listening to either of us. ‘I’m such a fan of this place,’ he said in a creepy voice.

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Please ignore him, Elsa.’

  She chuckled. ‘Are you an artist, Gordon?’

  ‘He’s a stickybeak,’ I said. ‘A big, fat stickybeak.’

  ‘I’ve read about the commune,’ he said. ‘Some of the work that’s come out of it is just amazing.’

  ‘Have you seen Blue Quake? That’s my favourite,’ Elsa said.

  ‘Mine too!’ Gordon said, his voice cracking.

  I rolled my eyes again.

  ‘Actually, my second favourite,’ Elsa said. ‘There’s this gorgeous portrait I got recently – I’ll have to show you.’

  ‘I’ll go take care of the animals,’ I said, slugging the rest of my drink and heading outside onto the farm. I took my time feeding the animals, unthreading the knots in the horses’ manes and cornering the goats for a cuddle in their run.

 
Ben came out a little while later. He stood watching me at first and then came over as I was checking one of the goat’s feet, just like this internet article I’d found had said to do.

  ‘You’re good with them,’ he said, squatting down to help me.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You doing okay?’ He frowned at me. ‘You’ve got mud all down your cheek.’

  ‘I do?’

  ‘Right here.’ He licked his finger and started rubbing at it. We both froze.

  ‘I just spat on you,’ he said, groaning in embarrassment. ‘I just did the whole nanna-cheek-spit thing!’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘It was automatic! My grandma used to do it to me. I can’t catch a break!’ he said. ‘You know, I am a perfectly capable person, but when I’m around you I’m this awkward, nutty . . .’

  Gordon came bursting out of the house, pink-cheeked and open-mouthed. ‘She needed to get back to work,’ he said. ‘The portrait is incredible. Have you seen it? Done by a local artist, Elsa said.’

  Ben turned away. ‘Seriously, cannot catch a break!’ I heard him say beneath his breath.

  ‘Um, no,’ I said to Gordon, trying to concentrate.

  ‘She has so many paintings, Gwen! Her wife’s in the business, too. Some sort of dealer. Or curator or something. Holy hell, if you robbed that joint you’d be sitting pretty for the rest of your goddamned life.’

  ‘Good to know,’ said Ben, rubbing his hands together. ‘I’ve got a key.’

  ‘Caffeine is an alarming colour on you,’ I told Gordon.

  ‘It’s amazing,’ Gordon said, tilting his head back. ‘This place is amazing.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  On Saturday, I ran up and down the beach until every part of my body felt on fire, then I spent the next couple of hours trawling the wild shoreline, finding all sorts of things I knew would make Elsa happy. It wasn’t a day I was meant to be working, but it was nice to get out onto the beach.

  ‘Gwen,’ Ben said. I hadn’t noticed him coming up. He was soaked from the drizzle. ‘Have you seen Amber?’