‘Dad . . .’ I shake my head and wipe my eyes. I can see the edge of the belt I’d made for Clem poking out from under his pillow.
‘You don’t deserve this,’ he says, his voice shaking. ‘Any of it.’
I think of everyone at Fairyland, the people I’ve grown to love there and how things endlessly happen – good and bad – that people don’t deserve. I’ve given up on the idea of deserving. People so rarely get what they deserve, it seems such a strange thing to say.
I reach for the Lego on Clem’s shelf, the sort that seems to soothe him. And an envelope falls out from behind them with three words written on the front. Do You Remember?
‘Stell . . .’ Clem says, and I hear him move behind me. I tug the envelope open, even though I probably shouldn’t, and out spill all the little notes I’ve ever tossed across the classroom to Clem. All the little bits of paper I’d been so certain he’d just smiled at and thrown away. I pull them out and unfurl them. Do you remember when you snuck into my room and stayed the night when I went through that phase of being scared of vampires? Do you remember when we got stuck in the roof cavity of your grandma’s house? Do you remember . . . Do you remember . . .
The flower smells of sharp wind and earth and somehow of stars, and before I’ve thought about it, I try to kiss him, but he pulls away and his face is the saddest I’ve ever seen it.
‘I can’t.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you don’t really mean this – you’re just mad and confused. I can’t, Price.’
I make a weird protest noise and he looks at me very closely and then he takes my hand. ‘You don’t mean it,’ he says and maybe there’s something hopeful in his voice, something waiting to be convinced. But I don’t give any of it a chance. I’m crying and it’s all too much. He’s holding my hand in a pointed way that lets me know he doesn’t want me closer. Doesn’t want me near.
I run back to Fairyland, past all the cabins and old cars and the pool. I go down to the river and try to climb one of the trees but can’t get a foot hold, and the fact that I’m stuck on the ground when I want to be up there, in the green, is enough to make me sink to my knees and sob.
‘Hey,’ someone says, and I know it’s Matthew without looking.
I wipe my nose. Instead, I get up and start walking off.
‘Hold up a sec.’ I feel his hand on my shoulder, and I pull away and keep striding away. A moment later, he falls into step beside me, the way Clem does. Except he’s not Clem.
‘Scratchies,’ I say, my voice hardly working. ‘Track.’
We sit by the river and I show Matthew the winning scratchie, and he looks at it closely and lets out a low whistle. When he hands it back to me, my hand trembles. I rip it into little pieces and I panic the second that it’s done. ‘It’s money. We need money. Everyone here needs money.’
‘But not like this,’ Matt says, his voice calm, like he’d expected me to rip up the winning ticket. Like he would’ve done the same thing himself.
‘Sometimes I pour all my dad’s alcohol down the toilet. He just goes out and buys more. Sometimes when he’s already drunk, but I do it anyway.’
‘Do you think about your mum much?’ I ask, after a while.
‘I try not to.’
‘But you do?’
‘I try not to,’ he says again. ‘But yeah, I guess I do.’
‘I’m sorry about your mum,’ I say.
‘Me too.’
And then he quietly brings his knees up to his chin and stares out at the river, and I think of Clem and squeeze my eyes shut until my head starts to throb. I can feel myself calming down. A few times, Matthew tenses as though he’s about to move, but he doesn’t. Not until it’s very late and the night’s almost cold and he gets stiffly to his feet and offers me his hand.
‘Families,’ he says softly, his voice carried off by the cicadas and chuckling of the lively, rushing river.
‘Yep. Families,’ I say. And we start walking slowly back towards the cabins.
***
Dad works even longer hours than before. I want to ask Mum about the salary that was meant to be going into her account, but I can’t bring myself to. It all seems so pointless, so hopeless. I think about how determined Taylor and I had been at the start of summer to monitor him; to stop him from damaging the rest of us. As though everything that had been broken could be jammed back together with just a little bit of attention.
I try hard not to think about Clem. He doesn’t get it. He’ll never get it. Mum always talked about how she’d drifted from her friends. I’d never been able to imagine it. But I don’t need to imagine it. It’s happening. We’ve become too different. And whatever had been left is gone. Clem has broken it.
‘I’m going to get him to fill out time sheets,’ Mum’s telling Taylor in the annex. I’ve been sleeping badly and Clem’s stopped messaging me and I can’t find Matthew. I’ve been spending time with Richard and his mum and Muriel and Ginny, but I feel restless. Uneasy. ‘Maybe you just need to lay off him!’ I snap.
Mum and Taylor both look at me. Mum puts down the draft time sheet she’d been holding. ‘What?’
‘You can’t treat him like a little kid. It’s only going to make things worse.’
‘Responsible adults don’t do what he’s done,’ Mum says, her voice shaking. ‘To even think that I’ve driven him to gamble . . .’
‘That’s not what I’m saying! I’m just saying that we’ve been trying to control every part of his life and how’s that going to help anything?’
‘Stella . . .’
‘Leave him if you’re so unhappy. He’s got an addiction, Mum. He’s not doing it to spite you. But we can’t keep doing this! We can’t control his every move. We just can’t! If he changes, it’s gotta come from him. Not us.’
I slam outside and lie down on Dad’s hammock. For a while, I look up at the stars patterned on the sheet strung above my head. I don’t expect to sleep, but I do. I’m vaguely aware of Taylor leaving, of Dad coming back. Of the silence that hangs between everyone, like something solid, throughout our home.
***
I wake up in the evening with a throbbing headache. I don’t think of Clem. Do you remember the time you wouldn’t kiss me? I refuse to think of him.
I can hear smashing, things breaking. I think it must be coming from the manager’s house, but it’s closer than that. My parents, fighting again. I close my eyes and am tempted to go back to sleep, but I know that won’t change anything. Breathe. Compartmentalise. Create your own bridge to goddess greatness.
When I sit up I notice that Jube is asleep on the cement under the hammock. I reach down and pat his head and I hear his tail thump against the concrete in reply.
In the annex, I see Taylor curled up in a ball, sobbing. Mum’s arms are around her. ‘It’s okay. Don’t cry.’
I push into the annex. ‘Is it Dad?’
Neither of them responds. I shake Taylor’s shoulder. ‘Is it Dad?’
Taylor hits me. ‘Rack off!’
Mum sighs and looks down at her watch. ‘Your dad’s fine. He’s at counselling. He’ll be home in about ten minutes.’
‘Thought he stopped counselling,’ I say. ‘Thought he said it was useless.’
‘Yeah, well. He didn’t have a choice this time,’ Mum says, her voice hard. She pats Taylor’s back, but her expression remains distant.
I lean against the support pole. ‘Well, what is it, then?’
‘Adam.’ Taylor’s voice is choked. I can’t see her face, but I know how it must look. Taylor goes blotchy when she cries. Her hair always sticks to her forehead. ‘He’s dumped me.’
‘He didn’t dump you – he’s moving away with his family,’ Mum says, handing Taylor a tissue. ‘He doesn’t have a choice.’
Taylor rips the tissue into tiny pieces and presses her forehead onto the floor. ‘We could have done long distance! I could’ve gone with him!’
‘With him? You’re seventeen.’
Taylor stalks out of the annex, hair stuck to her face, and Mum sighs again and stays sitting on the floor.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
Mum doesn’t respond for a long moment and I think maybe she hasn’t heard me. Then she glances up and her face is so sad. ‘Me too.’
***
‘I’ll go check the river again,’ Dad says. He’d come home two hours after Taylor stalked off. Mum had told him about Adam, about Taylor disappearing and then hadn’t spoken to him.
The three of us sit in the annex with plates of pasta in front of us. We’re not really eating it. I poke at mine with a fork.
‘It’s raining,’ Mum says. ‘She shouldn’t be out in the rain. She’ll be soaked.’
‘It’s warm,’ I mutter. ‘She’ll be fine.’
‘She’s left her phone at home,’ Mum says. ‘What’s the point of us paying for her to have it if she leaves it at home and disappears?’
I blink. ‘You pay for Taylor’s phone? I pay for my own!’
‘You’re older, Stella. And you’ve got a job.’
‘By a few months! That’s so unfair!’
‘This isn’t about you,’ Dad says and I’m startled by the sharpness of his voice. ‘I’ll go check the river again,’ he says.
‘She’s not there,’ I say. ‘She’ll be at one of her friends’ houses. It’s for the best – they’ll calm her down.’
‘I don’t think anything’s going to calm her down right now,’ Mum mutters.
‘Who are her friends?’ Dad asks me.
‘How would I know? I don’t exactly hang out with her at Ascott.’
‘You should know you sister’s friends,’ Dad says.
Mum rests her head against her hand. ‘Charlie.’
I cross my arms. ‘Well, excuse me for not burning down the school library and getting expelled. And maybe you should know your daughter’s friends.’
‘She could be anywhere! She could be in trouble!’
‘And that’s not my fault!’
‘Just stop it!’ he says, heading out into the night.
Mum and I don’t look at each other.
‘He won’t find her,’ I say.
‘Eat your pasta.’
‘Where was he?’
‘What?’
‘You said he’d be home in ten minutes. Took him two hours. Thought he was meant to tell you what he’s doing. Thought that was the idea of the time sheet and all that crap.’
‘I don’t know, Stella.’
‘He was probably at the pokies.’
‘Stop it.’
‘Wonder how much money you can lose in two hours?’
‘Stella – don’t. Just don’t.’ Mum rests her head in her hands.
‘I keep hoping that he will, but he’s not going to stop.’
I wait for Mum to snap upright, to tell me that I’m wrong. But she stays hunched over the table with her head resting in her hands. ‘I know,’ she says.
***
Every possum in the tree, every crunch of gravel is Taylor sheepishly coming home with her green, pink and purple hair and her netball skirt hitched too high. We don’t sleep that night. I hope Taylor isn’t out there, sleepwalking and talking about glitter snakes and ants. Mum keeps going out and driving around the streets of Sutherbend and Dad keeps walking down to the river. I stay in our little cabin at Fairyland and doze on and off. When the sky begins to lighten, I call up Adam and ask him for Taylor’s friends’ numbers.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says helplessly. He doesn’t offer to help us look, like he’s already far away. Like we’re all just memories or chapters in a book he’s long ago finished.
Mum calls the police, but they won’t consider Taylor missing. Not yet. Not until she’s been gone for twenty-four hours.
‘She could be dead by then!’ Mum yells. ‘She’s been gone all night! In Sutherbend.’
I call the friends of hers who I know, but nobody’s seen her. Jube comes and sits next to me as I sink down onto the ground outside the annex and feel the first stab of uncertainty, of fear.
I can hear Mum crying.
‘You can’t drive.’ Dad’s voice.
‘I have to find her!’
‘You can’t drive like this.’
‘I have to!’
‘If you hadn’t sold your bloody auto!’
Mum starts sobbing more loudly than ever.
Dad’s heavy footsteps and then he’s standing beside me outside the annex. ‘What are you doing?’ he snaps.
‘I . . .’
‘We need to find Taylor. What are you doing?’
‘I’m not the one who ran away! I’m not the one who disappeared!’ I stamp my foot. ‘I’m right here!’
***
My sister is missing. I chant it in my head as I wander around Sutherbend. My sister is missing. My sister is missing.
I dip back to Fairyland every now and then, hoping to find her lolling on the wicker couch. She never is.
I find Matthew out on the main road and tell him. The words sound unreal, impossible.
He frowns. ‘She’ll be at one of her mates’ places, right?’
‘None of them have seen her,’ I say.
‘How can I help?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know that you can.’
‘I’ll go have a look around some of the places around here.’
‘She won’t be hanging around here. She’ll have nicked off somewhere. Probably jumped on a train.’
Matthew shrugs. ‘Still. Worth a shot. I’ll get Ginny and Richard out, too.’
‘You don’t need to do that.’
‘’Course I do. They’d want me to tell them.’
I go down to the river because I don’t know where else to go. It’s still and sticky and for a while I’m alone, walking up and down the bank like I’m expecting her to wash up amongst the old trolleys and mattresses. Then Dad’s there and he glares at me.
‘I told you I’d check the river,’ he says.
‘I know.’
‘Go check somewhere else! We have to fan out!’
‘She won’t be found until she wants to be,’ I say. ‘This is all pointless. All this looking. She’s always been a good hider.’
‘Stop talking.’
‘It’s pointless.’
We stare at each other and something snaps between us, and I think that I won’t be the one to move. That I’d rather die than leave the river first. Dad shrugs and walks away and it makes me so furious. How quickly he always gives in.
***
Later on, I sit in the annex and watch Mum manically sorting through the kitchen stuff. She’s teary as she sorts. She’s decided Taylor will probably just turn up at home and that we need to stay here and wait and not talk about the fact that she’s missing.
‘The job’s a sure thing, a definite,’ Mum’s saying very quickly to herself. ‘But I think he’s been better, lately. More present. Don’t you think so? I think so. But I guess he’s picked up before and seems to be doing so well and then . . . well, no sense worrying about it, is there?’
‘Why don’t you just leave him?’ I ask without really meaning to.
‘What?’ she asks and I know she’s not really listening to me.
‘Why don’t you just leave Dad? He’s stopped going to counselling again, you hardly talk to each other, he’s the reason you’re working fifty hours a week. He lies to you all the time. He steals from you. Why don’t you just leave him?’
She startles then. She looks at me like I’ve asked something ludicrous; unimaginable. ‘Because I love him, Stell. And he’s still your father.’
‘What about us?’
‘This is temporary. If we do happen to be here longer than I’m planning, you’ll be old enough to make your own decisions in a few more months.’
‘What about you?’
<
br /> ‘I’m staying with him. Of course I am. I love him.’
‘Why? Why would you—’
‘You don’t choose who you love, Stella. You’ve read enough of those books to realise that.’
I swallow. The books unpick love as though it’s something you can choose and manipulate and turn on and off like a light switch. That was the whole point to me with those books; being able to make changes.
‘I wanted to rescue him,’ Mum says, her voice soft. ‘I thought I could fix him.’
‘But you couldn’t.’
‘No. I couldn’t. But I still love him. He might not be exactly who I wanted him to be, but I love who he is. Don’t give me that look! You don’t understand. How could you? You’ve never had a boyfriend. You’ve never been in love.’ Mum stares out the window and I know she’s watching for Taylor.
I go to bed thinking about love, thinking about Taylor. Sometimes I want to kill her, but I love her fiercely. Still, I can’t imagine loving someone the way that Mum loves Dad. The sort of love that brings about your own ruin. I’m not entirely sure that I want to.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The day is a long one. Mum calls in sick from work and drives in loops around Sutherbend, calling me up on her brick of a mobile phone to see if Taylor’s been found. She cries into the receiver until I hang up.
I try to avoid Dad, but it’s like all the passivity of the last few months has disappeared. Whenever I look up, he’s there. Telling me to go somewhere else. To do more. To help.
When Mum calls me up again, I hold the phone tightly against my ear. ‘Why’s Dad being so difficult?’
‘He blames himself for all of this,’ Mum says, blowing her nose. ‘He blames himself and he’s just taking it out on you.’
‘It’s not fair.’
‘Of course it’s not fair! None of this is fair! Poor Taylor getting broken up with! Us having such a hard time of it. None of it’s fair.’
***
It’s late afternoon when I leave Fairyland again and trace the roads that I’m sure Mum has already checked ten times. Then I keep walking, because it suddenly seems so obvious. I walk across Sutherbend to the place that had been our home for so many years. When I knock on the door there’s nobody home, and I look at the long grass of the front yard and wonder if anyone’s been living here since we moved out. It hurts being here. It hurts being barred from a place that still feels like home.
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