How to Grow a Family Tree

by Eliza Henry Jones

  ‘Reckon everyone at Sutherbend High knows Taylor.’

  ‘I guess.’ I think about the way she’d stopped me from stepping out when Matthew and Richard were going past.

  ‘Lot twelve, hey?’ he says after a while.

  I look up. ‘You haven’t told anyone, have you?’

  ‘Nah,’ he says. ‘It’s not my business.’

  I nod once and accept the tissue. ‘Not that I care about it or anything. I just haven’t got around to telling anyone. Not even Clem, Zin and Lara. It’s just a busy time of year, you know?’

  ‘I get it,’ he says, but he sounds tired. ‘I don’t really tell people at school, either. It’s just simpler not to.’

  ‘It’s not that. Like I said, it’s just a busy time of year.’

  We continue walking slowly down the street. I still have the flowers Zin picked for me in my pocket. I pull them out. They’re bruised and wilted and I tuck them into the tissue.

  Matthew kicks along without speaking. I’m still teary by the time we get back to Fairyland. ‘C’mon,’ he says. ‘You can’t go inside looking like that. They’ll think you’ve been mugged or something.’

  I nod, all my energy gone, and text Taylor to let her know that I’ll be home soon. Then I follow him around the boundary fence.

  ‘You live with your dad?’ I ask, not sure how Matthew would feel about people telling us things about his family.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Where’s your mum?’ I ask, thinking that mine’s probably nodding off in the annex, exhausted from working in a job that makes her body ache.

  ‘Queensland.’

  ‘I’d love to go there one day.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘You’ve never been? How long’s she been up there?’

  ‘About six years.’

  I look at him, but his face is so sad that I look away. ‘Oh.’

  ‘I wanted . . . to go up there. To live with her. Dad . . . my dad can be difficult. But she said she had a new family and a tiny apartment.’

  ‘What does a new family mean?’

  ‘Some rich guy and the kids he got in his divorce. I don’t know. I’ve never met any of them.’

  ‘So you’ve never seen her since.’

  He clears his throat. ‘Nope.’

  We don’t talk for a while.

  ‘I wrote her letters,’ Matthew says, his voice quiet. ‘She never wrote back.’

  I glance at him, but he’s looking steadily at the street. ‘That sucks.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Yeah, it does suck.’

  We walk in the warm drizzle to the river, which is swollen and creamy and filled with rubbish that I can just make out in the moonlight. I notice that there’s a big slice of vacant land right in the bend of the river. Tall grass and red gums. Straw and staked tomatoes. Silverbeet, beans and zucchini.

  ‘Is this all part of Fairyland?’

  Matthew nods. He doesn’t look away from the river. ‘Used to be cabins down here, but they washed away in the last flood.’

  ‘Oh.’ I think of our cabin. I imagine it being washed away in a rush of wild water and feel a strange twinge in my chest. ‘What happened to the people?’

  ‘The people?’

  ‘The ones living in the cabins.’

  ‘They had to leave. Cassie was one of them. She’s the only one who stayed. There wasn’t room.’

  ‘Where’d they go?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He’s quiet. ‘The flood screwed it up for the park owners pretty badly, I think. They’re not allowed to rebuild. They tried to get people to store their caravans here, but nobody wanted to pay money to keep their caravans and campers on a flood plain. Now Muriel and Richard have planted all the veggies and fruit down there. Think Richard’s got his eye on some apple cuttings or something.’

  Matthew sits down on a bench that I hadn’t noticed before and I sit down next to him. He hands me another tissue and I take it. ‘Thanks.’

  I bring my knees up under my chin, then blow my nose again and wipe under my eyes in case the mascara that Zin had made me wear has run. There’s the smell of cookies faintly in the air. Rotting straw. Stagnant water. The plastic, pine needle, sunscreen smell of Christmas coming to Sutherbend.

  ‘He’s a good guy, Richard. Don’t know what his mum would do without him.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Well, she doesn’t leave the cabin. Ever.’ Matthew glances at me. ‘Thought everyone knew that.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Anyway, he’s great. He always makes sure there are flowers growing outside her windows. She likes the pink and red ones in pots.’ Matthew smiles and stands up. ‘Anyway. You look okay now, I think.’

  ‘Gee, thanks.’

  ‘I’ll walk you home.’

  I pause. ‘Really? She never leaves?’

  ‘Nope. Not that I’ve ever seen.’

  We walk across Fairyland. Matthew picks a handful of snow peas and hands me some.

  ‘Are you sure?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah. That’s what all the food’s there for. For people to pick and eat. That’s the whole point.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘What did you think it was about? The gardening nights and all that?’

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t think about it, I guess.’

  I crunch on the snow peas as we walk. Our cabin doesn’t look so bad, with the lights on and the curtains of the living area drawn closed. It looks kind of welcoming and cosy. ‘Thanks,’ I say and Matthew nods and waits until I go into the annex. When I look out the dark window, I see him heading slowly home, hands pressed hard into his pockets.

  I don’t go straight to bed. Instead, I sit in one of the camp chairs. My heart is still beating too fast, too loudly. Matthew would’ve only been eleven years old when his mother packed up to leave and he’d begged her to take him along, too. I keep thinking about Matthew’s mother not wanting to see him. Of those letters never being answered. I keep hearing my letter rustling. And I know it’s different. I know that I don’t have to reply; that I don’t actually owe Kelly Russo anything. But still.

  I pull the letter out of my bra and my hands shake. I’ve put it off for too long already, even if it hasn’t been real avoidance. It’s stupid, how I’ve been carrying it around like this. Like someone who doesn’t practise meditating at least twice a month. I rip it open and a dried flower lands in my lap. Dark purple. It smells like wild, pretty things.

  Dear Stella,

  In case you change your mind and do wish to contact me at some stage, just letting you know that my number’s changed. I’ve included my business card below.

  Kind regards,

  Kelly Russo

  She’s a landscape designer. It’s a strange letter to have tucked into the envelope with a flower. I wonder, for a moment, if the flower is an accident, but I know that it’s not. The rest of the letter is too precise for that. I put the letter, business card and the flower back into the envelope and tuck it back down my top.

  Taylor’s sitting cross-legged on our bed when I walk in. The bunkroom door’s shut and there’s a sort of static in the air – the traces of hissed arguments and tears and frustration. There’s always a trace left.

  ‘Who was that?’ Taylor asks as I shut the bedroom door and pull off my shoes.

  ‘Matthew,’ I say, putting the bruised handful of flowers and last couple of snow peas on the bedside table and flopping down on the mattress. In case you change your mind. What does that mean?

  Compartmentalise, Stella. Be your best self and engage with the subject at hand. That’s what How to Survive the Wild West of Social Etiquette says to do. ‘What happened with Mum and Dad?’

  She grimaces. ‘The usual.’

  I pull the money out of the toes of my shoes and hear Taylor’s sharp intake of breath. ‘Oh my God! Where’s that from? You sell a kidney or something?’

  ‘I took it off Dad at the track.’ It feels like years ago, being at the track with Clem.


  Taylor’s expression goes very still. I wait for her to start railing against Dad, but she just flops down next to me. We’re all tired. Exhausted. Wearied. Empty.

  ‘Good night, Taylor,’ I say, curling up on my quarter of the bed. Taylor kicks me as she rolls over and I know it’s on purpose. I run my tongue over my teeth, but my toothbrush is in the bathroom and the idea of going in there when my parents have been fighting makes me feel sick.

  ‘You left me here with them,’ she says. ‘I’m mad at you.’

  I used to look up different feeling words in the dictionary. Just so I had them on hand if I needed them. Mad. Angry. Furious. Frustrated. Livid. Upset. Annoyed. Aggravated.

  Taylor kicks me again and I grit my teeth but don’t move or say anything because she’d do something a hundred times worse back. Pretty soon there’d be hair pulling and swearing, and you’ve got to be in the right mood for that sort of tussle. Taylor sighs and rolls onto her back and I can hear her softly counting the seashells on the ceiling.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Taylor keeps whispering to Adam in her sleep. She’s plotting a mission to the moon with him. They’re going to collect the diamonds there so Mum’s feet don’t get so swollen at work. It’s sort of heartbreaking to listen to, so I kick her awake.

  ‘Ow! What?’

  ‘You’re sleep-talking to Adam!’

  ‘Just deal with it,’ she snaps.

  ‘Sleep on the floor if you’re going to get that creepy.’

  ‘You’re just jealous,’ she says, rolling away from me.

  ‘Yes, I’m jealous of your Ascott boyfriend. Painfully, painfully jealous.’ But I think of them, the way Adam had just accepted our move here, the annex, Dad’s problems, everything. The way he looks at Taylor like she’s the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen. Sometimes I want that, but the whole thing just seems so overwhelming. Particularly now. Maybe, a few months ago, walking home with Matthew would have given me butterflies or started me off daydreaming. But it’s like my brain’s rewired itself and I can’t even think about that stuff.

  ‘You’re such a snob,’ Taylor says. ‘Adam is high quality.’

  ‘He’s from Ascott.’

  ‘So what? So am I.’ She cuddles into her pillow. ‘You’re going to die alone.’

  ‘Better than with an Ascott boy,’ I mutter, but she’s already dozed off again.

  In the morning, I have five missed calls from Zin. I slip into the bathroom to brush my teeth and have a shower. Mum’s bed is neatly made, but Dad’s still curled up in a ball on the top bunk. I think of waking him, of insisting that he get up and go for a walk or have a nutritionally dense breakfast. I don’t, though. Instead, I go outside and wander far enough away from the cabins to be sure of not being overheard.

  ‘I was just about to turf everyone out and run to your house. I need details desperately. Joshua. Chelsea. Spill.’

  ‘I had a moment,’ I say, shuddering at the thought of Zin knocking on the door of our old house. Our home. ‘That’s all.’

  ‘I hear you just about brained him.’

  ‘Did she brain him?’ I hear Clem ask eagerly in the background.

  ‘No, I just . . . I dunno. Kicked him in the shins. Elbowed him a bit. It was just an expression of . . .’

  ‘Your emotional turmoil?’ Zin sighs. ‘You know, sometimes people just lose their tempers and lash out. Sometimes it’s just people behaving badly.’

  ‘Are you saying I behaved badly?’ I’m almost speechless with indignation.

  ‘No,’ Zin says. ‘I think he deserved it. But sometimes you’re going to behave just like the rest of us, Stell. And that’s okay. You don’t need to live your best emotionally nuanced life all the time.’

  ‘Huh,’ I say, like I’m considering her words, because it would not be emotionally sophisticated to yell at her about how wrong she is.

  If I crane my neck, I can just see Matthew Clarke coming out onto the verandah of the manager’s house, pulling a t-shirt off the washing line.

  ‘And Matthew Clarke swooped in and rescued you.’

  ‘He did not rescue me! I did not need rescuing. I am a strong, powerful woman.’

  ‘And you totally hooked up in Lee’s front yard until the police broke you up.’

  ‘No!’ I close my eyes. ‘There is so much wrong with every single thing you just said. Look – just stay there. I’m coming over.’

  I go inside to get my wallet and phone, and when I come back out into the annex, Mum’s putting the kettle on.

  ‘Where’re you off to?’

  ‘Zin’s place.’

  ‘I miss having friends like that.’

  The electric kettle starts to bubble.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Just the intensity of it – where you know everything about their life and they know everything about yours.’

  ‘Really?’ I ask, thinking about all the things that my friends don’t know about me. ‘’Cause most of the time they just frustrate the hell out of me.’

  ‘I sort of lost touch with most of my friends,’ Mum says, ignoring the kettle as it clicks off behind her. ‘When I met your father and we moved out here, then when you came and I had to start moonlighting. I don’t know – there just wasn’t enough time and I didn’t really realise how much things were changing. Until they’d already changed.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ I say, because what else can you say to that? I am bearing witness. It’s important to bear witness.

  She nods without speaking.

  ‘Hang on a sec,’ I say, going into the bedroom and coming out with the wad of money from the track. ‘Here.’

  ‘Oh.’ She flicks through it, counting it, and tucks it into her bra. I’ve noticed that she does that more and more – as though she doesn’t quite trust Dad to stay out of her wallet and handbag. I think of how I keep stuffing my letter down my bra and wonder if it’s a habit I’ve picked up from Mum. A way to store the vital things in our lives.

  I shift. I want to ask if she used enough ‘I’ statements, but I’m pretty sure she’d just get mad at me. ‘Did you talk to him about it?’

  ‘I think talk’s putting it a bit too mildly.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  Mum sighs. ‘No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Thanks for telling me – I needed to know.’

  I think about telling Mum that Dad hadn’t wanted me to tell her, how he’d asked me to keep it from her. I think about telling Mum how angry it had made me – him asking me for something like that, wanting loyalty, after everything he’s put us through. But the truth is, I don’t know whether I should say something. Whether it’ll make Mum feel even worse than she already does; whether it will flare her anger back up at Dad. I’m learning that sometimes it’s better to just keep your mouth shut.

  Taylor comes out into the annex as I’m pulling on my shoes.

  ‘You’re grounded, Taylor!’ Mum calls.

  Taylor rolls her eyes. ‘Where are you going?’ she asks me.

  ‘Zin’s.’

  She waves an arm in the direction of Mum and Dad. ‘They’re still in a weird mood after last night. You can’t leave me with them.’

  ‘You should’ve thought of that before you got yourself grounded.’ It’s important for Taylor to occasionally have consequences for saying whatever she wants. She needs to find the balance between her emotions and other people’s. I blink, impressed with my insight.

  ‘I didn’t do anything wrong!’

  I pick up my backpack. ‘Bye, Tay.’

  ‘Don’t you dare go!’ she hisses, making a grab for me.

  I manage to dodge her and sprint outside, squinting in the sun. I walk to Zin’s place via the bakery where Gavin, the manager, gives me some of yesterday’s doughnuts. On the doorstep, I get the flower out of the envelope and tuck the envelope back down my top.

  ‘What happened?’ Zin throws the door open before I have a chance to knock.

  ‘Yeah,’ says Clem from the living room, w
here he’s messing around on her laptop. Zin shares a room with two of her sisters, so when we stay we sleep in the living room. ‘What happened?’

  ‘You look awful, Clem.’

  ‘I’m drunk on cologne,’ he says. ‘I think you poured half a bottle on me.’

  ‘Where’s Tahlia?’

  Zin snorts. ‘Oh, my parents took one look at her and made her parents come and get her. Which was kinda good. She was throwing up a lot.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be able to drink Fanta again,’ says Clem, looking wistful. He snaps the laptop shut and props his chin in his hands.

  ‘Hey, Zin?’ I hand her the flower. ‘What’s this?’

  She glances down at it. ‘Lilac. Why?’

  ‘Just wondering.’

  ‘Why, though? Where’d you get it?’

  ‘Found it at Fair – at home.’

  ‘I didn’t know you had lilacs at your place! I thought you just had those magnolias!’

  ‘No. It’s . . . anyway, doesn’t matter.’

  Zin hands me back the flower and Lara prods me. ‘So, what happened? We’re dying here!’

  ‘Joshua was just being a jerk with Chelsea and I expressed my—’

  ‘True emotional state? Your inner goddess? You continued the righteous path towards the truth that is your best life?’ Lara suggests.

  ‘I’m not going to talk to you if you mock me.’

  ‘Sorry. Continue.’

  ‘Anyway, I kicked him and elbowed him and she got away. It was a public service. It wasn’t violence.’

  ‘A jerk how?’ Clem asks.

  ‘Not listening when she was saying no.’

  Zin shakes her head. ‘Did you get him in the nuts?’

  ‘No. I didn’t think of that.’

  ‘You really need a brother,’ says Zin.

  Clem pulls a pillow onto his lap. ‘You’ve done that to your brothers?’

  ‘Only when they deserved it.’

  Clem gives her a long, distrustful look and then nods at me. ‘Continue, Price.’

  ‘And then Matthew just walked home with me. It’s no big deal.’

  ‘Where does he even live?’ Lara asks. ‘It’s nowhere near your place!’

  ‘Doesn’t he live at Fairyland? Or somewhere near there?’ Clem asks, scratching his chin.