I slip around the side of the house into the back garden, where I crane my neck up towards the roof.
‘Taylor?’ I call.
There is a pause, a beat of silence. My breath held. ‘What?’
‘Where the hell have you been?’ I snap. ‘Mum and Dad are going mental!’
She glances into the backyard. ‘I just needed to get out of that bloody cabin,’ she says. ‘It’s not my fault they went berserk.’
‘It’s completely your fault!’
Taylor shrugs. ‘Whatever. I’m going home.’
‘Where have you been?’
‘Around. Stayed at a mate’s and then came here this morning.’
‘Taylor!’
‘What?’
‘Aren’t you going to say sorry?’
Taylor looks confused. ‘Why would I?’ she asks, and disappears out onto the street.
I follow her, jogging to keep up.
‘Taylor! Just stop for a second!’
Taylor stops so quickly that I run into the back of her and half fall over. ‘How’d you find me?’ she asks.
‘It’s where you always go when you’re not getting your way about something.’
She sags somewhat. ‘You know, every time I’ve gone up there, I’ve figured I could actually change something. Stop something.’
‘And?’
‘I never have.’ She starts walking again, more slowly this time. ‘I’ve never been able to change a single thing.’
***
Mum cries and Dad goes to sleep, and I lock myself in the bathroom and try not to get too angry at them.
Later, I sleep curled up in my corner of the bed, waking up every so often to make sure that I wasn’t dreaming of Taylor snoring next to me. Safe. She doesn’t sleepwalk and I’ve never been so thankful for anything in my life. I couldn’t stand the empty bed, not tonight.
The next morning, Mum talks too much and Taylor cries and tells us – in detail – about all the things she hates most about us.
My head aches. I walk down to the swollen river, which is now lapping at the bench. I pull out my phone and dial in a number I know by heart, even though I’ve only ever called it once.
‘Kelly? It’s Stella.’
‘I know. I have your number saved.’
‘Could . . . could we maybe catch up again? Maybe? Could we?’
‘I’d like that.’ Kelly’s voice gives nothing away. I hear the rustling of paper. ‘I could meet you near Sutherbend on the weekend . . . or you could meet me near work for lunch.’
‘Where do you work, again?’
‘Lockwood.’
‘I can meet you there. I can get the train . . . I could get on the train in an hour.’
‘Alright,’ says Kelly. She gives me the address and I go home and get out a street directory to look up how to get there. Not far from the station. I take a deep breath and then head to the shower.
***
Kelly meets me in the foyer of a big, glass-fronted building. I wonder whether I should hug her; a handshake seems too formal. She doesn’t make a move to touch me. She pushes her dark hair back behind her ears and holds her wallet with both hands.
‘There’s a café across the road,’ she says.
‘Cool,’ I say. I wonder if I’m encroaching too much. Did she only agree because I caught her by surprise? I follow her across the road, a few steps behind her. This time, I’m not going to have a list of questions.
The café is a tiny, hipster place with scrubbed wooden tables and mismatched chairs.
‘The focaccias are good,’ she says, settling into a seat by the window.
‘I’ll have the tomato one,’ I say, pulling out my wallet.
‘I’ll pay,’ she says, and I try to remember who paid last time, but I can’t. I really only remember how Kelly had looked at me. And the feeling of Mum’s arm around me as we both sat out in the gutter.
‘Thanks,’ I say.
‘Do you want a coffee?’
‘Nah. Mum doesn’t let me. Thinks caffeine’s . . . bad . . .’ I trail off and fiddle with the menu. Really, Mum doesn’t care that much about caffeine. It’s just I’d read too many scary articles about it to let myself get addicted. I didn’t want to get addicted to anything, not ever. But I can’t tell Kelly any of that. Not yet, anyway.
‘A hot chocolate, then?’
‘Thanks,’ I say.
Kelly puts her phone on silent and goes up to the counter. I watch her. Every part of her is neat and uncreased. Even her high heels aren’t scuffed.
When she comes back to the table I look down at my lap. ‘Listen, I just wanted to say – if I’d known about the letters, I would’ve called you way sooner.’
She goes very still. ‘You would’ve?’ she asks, her voice suddenly very small.
‘I would’ve. Yeah. I was mad at my mum about it, but I think she genuinely was just trying to do what was best for me. She’s always been pretty protective. And maybe it’s worked out for the best – I mean, it might be hard to imagine, but I’m a lot less weird than I was a few years back.’
‘I’m sure she thought it was the right thing to do,’ Kelly says, her voice careful, and I get the feeling that she’s not that impressed with my mum. Not that I entirely blame her for that.
I study Kelly as much as I can without being creepy. It’s hard to see how I can be related to her, let alone be her daughter. I prod at my menu, feeling suddenly hopeless.
‘What did you do for Christmas?’ I ask.
‘Pardon?’
‘I was just wondering what you did for Christmas.’
‘I had lunch with my sister. We ate our bodyweight in oysters and then I needed a nap.’
‘Well, we had lunch . . . my parents and sister. And some friends.’
‘Right.’
I clear my throat. ‘I’ve got a job at a pub. And I thought Christmas would be a bit of a bummer, but everyone at Fairyland had a bit of a party and it was actually kinda cool.’
Kelly frowns. ‘Fairyland?’
‘Fairyland. It’s a caravan park. It’s not permanent or anything.’
‘You live at a caravan park?’ Kelly blinks. ‘Hang on . . . is that the one that had the meth-lab explosion a while back?’
‘The guy’s not there anymore and I think he’s an anomaly. And it’s not like our place is a caravan – it’s got bedrooms and things. And a bathroom. With a shower.’
We eat in silence, and when we finish Kelly pushes her plate aside and looks out the window.
‘I was meaning to call you,’ she says. ‘I just hadn’t quite gotten up the nerve yet.’
The idea of her needing to get up the nerve to call me is nonsense; ridiculous. But she doesn’t look like she’s mocking me.
‘I just wanted to let you know that . . . I’ve got a spare room.’
For a moment, I feel a flicker of anger. It seems like bragging. Then I realise where she’s going with this and I sort of hold my breath.
She dabs at her mouth with her napkin and folds it down on the table. ‘I’d like to get to know you, properly,’ she says. ‘I haven’t talked to your mum or anything, but I thought – if she’s okay with it, and your dad, too – that you might like to stay with me for a few weeks.’
I stare at her. She’s so self-contained, so elegant. She’s so utterly unfamiliar to me. The idea of her inviting me into her home seems completely unreal.
I open my mouth to refuse, then I think about Clem refusing to kiss me. I think about Taylor weeping and Mum resting her head in her hands and Dad trailing around and around Fairyland, calling Taylor’s name. I think of Matthew and the way nobody reacts when his house is full of the sound of things breaking and angry yelling that spills out into the rest of Fairyland. I nod, my throat suddenly thick. I know my mum’s going to see it as abandonment, but I can’t keep saving other people. ‘I’d love that,’ I whisper.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
We eat sugary cereal for dinner that night after I met Ke
lly for lunch in Lockwood. Dad lies out in his hammock and Taylor and I sit in the annex with Mum.
‘It’s too hot in here,’ Taylor says, fanning herself. ‘It’s humid. We should open up the door.’
‘The mozzies’ll come in,’ Mum says.
‘Well, we need the fan on, then.’
Mum doesn’t look up. ‘There’s a breeze.’
‘There’s not! It’s too hot.’
‘Well, stop whingeing! Go plug it in, then,’ Mum snaps.
Taylor goes into the living room and I swirl the milk around in my bowl. ‘I saw Kelly,’ I say.
Mum slowly picks up her spoon. ‘You did?’
‘Yeah. Today. I met her for lunch.’
‘Lunch? Where?’
‘Lockwood. I had a focaccia.’
Mum frowns. ‘You went to Lockwood?’
‘Yeah. I just said.’
‘Without telling me?’
‘I go down there with my friends all the time!’
Mum sighs. ‘I don’t get this, love. I just . . . I didn’t think you wanted to see her again.’
‘Well, I changed my mind.’ I put down the spoon. ‘She said I could stay there for a while. To get to know me.’
‘Right. In Lockwood.’
I grit my teeth. Mum has a smudge of milk on her cheek and I really, really want to wipe it away. ‘Obviously.’
‘Did . . . did you tell her about where we live? Did you tell her about Fairyland?’
I don’t answer and Mum takes a deep, shaking breath. ‘So, that’s it. You’re just going to go live with her, then.’
‘Well, I don’t have to,’ I snap. ‘Jeez. I’m just talking it through with you. I’m just letting you know what’s going on.’
‘Nice of you to include me once everything’s been decided.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You didn’t tell me you were going to see her.’
‘You haven’t been here! And when you are here, you’re busy babysitting Dad and running around after Taylor! I just met with her. It’s no big deal.’
‘So you’re going to stay in Lockwood,’ Mum says flatly.
I cross my arms. ‘Well, I guess I am.’
Taylor drags the fan into the annex and plugs it in.
‘Your sister’s moving to Lockwood,’ Mum says, scooping up a mouthful of cereal.
I roll my eyes. Taylor swings around to face me. She’s blotchy from all the crying she’s been doing over Adam, although just an hour ago she’d tipped over into scheming, so I supposed his house would be toilet-papered or set on fire in the next little while. ‘You’re what?’
‘Just staying with Kelly for a week or two, that’s all.’
‘You’re going to live with her?’
‘What do you mean with her?’ I stand up. ‘I’ve got every right to get to know her! And you two can both try to make me feel crap about it, but I won’t, okay? It’s a good thing! It’s good!’
I stalk outside and down to the river, already daydreaming about Lockwood. About getting away from them all – at least for a little while.
***
Later that night, Taylor sits on the bed and watches me clearing out my shelves. ‘You’re not really going, are you?’
‘’Course I am.’ I fold all my clothes into my bag, one thing after another. My stuff takes up about a third of the storage space in the room. Taylor kept saying it was just because she had more stuff, but I kept thinking about my books. How I had more stuff, too. I wonder if Mum tried to make Taylor get rid of some of her shoes – she had about thirty pairs. I doubt it. Taylor always gets what she wants.
‘Stu really said I could take over your shifts?’
‘Yeah. Don’t know how you’ll go, though. Seeing as you’ve never washed a dish before.’
Taylor flops onto her belly and pulls her Discman out of her backpack. ‘I thought you were just winding Mum up. About going.’
‘Nah. I’m going to Kelly’s.’
‘Why?’
‘Why wouldn’t I? I want to get to know her. And it might be nice to just have some space, you know? It’s not exactly easy, us all living on top of each other like this.’
Taylor pulls a face. ‘So you’re bailing.’
‘I’m not bailing! I have every right to go and stay with her! It’s got nothing to do with you or Mum or Dad. It’s about me. For once, something’s about me.’
Taylor glares at me. ‘So you’re just leaving me here.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with you! Can’t you hear me?’
‘We’re a family! Of course it’s got something to do with me!’
‘Don’t you get it?’ I snap. ‘You do whatever the hell you want. You always have. You’ve never given a stuff about how your actions affect me.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like burning half the library down!’
‘That wasn’t even me!’
‘It was you. You admitted it. You pull that sort of stuff all the time. And I’m tired of it.’
‘So you’re leaving to punish me? Is that it?’
‘No – for the last time, Taylor! This isn’t about you! I’m doing this for me, okay?’ I go outside, half hoping to stumble across something I can kick at. Something I can destroy. Instead, Jube appears out of the bushes and so I sit down in the middle of the cracked pavement and loop my arms around his neck. I think of him, moving from home to home. How his family has stretched to include so many different people. ‘You get it,’ I say. He licks my cheek and yawns dog breath into my face.
***
Taylor curls up in the wardrobe and tells me about how she built the pyramids in Egypt and doesn’t even like the spotty underwear, and who thought it would be a good idea to pop her eyeballs out of her head?
I don’t try to talk her back into bed. Soon, I won’t be here to do it at all. She’ll be fine at night without me. I’m not worried. I’m not worried at all.
***
The next morning, I wake up to discover that Taylor has unpacked most of my clothes and put them all over the cabin. I wonder if it’s a sleepwalking thing, but I know her well enough to recognise a patented Taylor move when I see one.
‘Really?’ I say to her, and she just rolls onto her side and turns up the volume on her Discman. It takes me ages to repack everything.
‘You’re so pathetic,’ I say.
‘I’m never talking to you again.’
‘Good!’
In the afternoon, Ginny, Richard and I meet in the pavilion to play darts and eat cookies. Richard talks about the trees that Clem had bought. He and Ginny have planted them around the front of the pavilion, where they’ll get the right amount of sun. I tell them both about Lockwood and Kelly.
‘Half your luck,’ says Ginny.
‘What does that even mean?’ asks Richard.
‘My dad says it. I dunno.’ Ginny pulls a face. ‘Taylor going as well?’
‘No. Just me.’
‘Good – Matt’d go into mourning if she went too.’
‘He really likes Taylor, doesn’t he?’
‘Yeah – something about them being at school together. Think he screwed up and she covered for him.’
‘Huh.’ I pause with a cookie halfway to my mouth. ‘A fire sort of thing?’
Ginny thinks about this and then gives a kind of shrug-and-nod combination. ‘Could be. That’s what she got expelled for, right?’
‘Huh,’ I say again, finishing my cookie and reaching for one of the darts.
***
Mum wants to drive me, but I don’t want to be driven, so Mum cries and locks herself in the bunkroom, and Dad gives me a look like all her pain is somehow my fault. I don’t know exactly when he started blaming me for all the damage he’s done – whether it started when Taylor ran away, or whether he’d been nursing it along for longer. I’m over it.
I can see Kelly’s house from the crest at the top of the street. It’s a few blocks back from the beach. A small, narrow brick
place with a huge garden out the front and high brick walls that glint with the barbed wire strung across the top. There’s a speaker and a button. I press it, partially holding my breath.
‘Yes?’ Her voice is distorted and loud through the speaker.
‘It’s Stella,’ I say, leaning in really close to it, to make sure she can hear.
‘You’re early,’ she says, but the high wooden door makes a buzzing noise and I push into the garden. It’s cooler on this side of the wall. The place is filled with winding gravel paths, flowers, trees and delicate little beds of vegetables. It takes me a while to see the house through all the green. I drag my duffel up to the little verandah, heavy with green vines and grapes.
‘I thought we said two,’ Kelly says. She’s wearing rubber gloves and her hair is piled up high on her head.
I glance down at my watch. ‘It’s two now.’
‘But you rang the bell earlier. You rang it before two.’
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s okay. Come in, come in.’
The kitchen opens straight out onto a deck. The house is all done up in whites, old wood and beautiful pottery tucked up on high shelves. It smells like spices and greenery, and for a moment I close my eyes, dazzled by it all.
‘It’s not very big,’ says Kelly. ‘I got it for the garden, mostly.’
‘It’s beautiful.’
‘Do you know anything about gardening?’
‘No. We just had a lawn. And a magnolia.’
Kelly’s jaw tenses, like something she’d feared has just been confirmed. ‘Alright. Well, this is pretty much it. Kitchen, living room, bathroom. That’s my room.’ She strides across the small, spice-smelling space and opens the only other door. ‘And this is the guest room. Your room, I guess, for as long as you stay here.’
The bedroom is about half the size of the cabin we’ve been living in at Fairyland. It has two long, narrow sash windows with gauzy white curtains. The carpet is thick and soft underfoot and there’s light-blue bedding on the queen-sized bed. I think that it’s nicer than any bedroom I’ve ever been in. I try to imagine Taylor here, colouring in her toenails with textas or trying to give herself tattoos. I can’t quite manage it. I try to imagine Mum here, with her stained clothes and flyaway hair. I shake my head a little and run my hand across the doona, which is folded on the bed like something out of a magazine. I can’t see dirt anywhere, or dust, or those ghostly spindles of spider webs in dark corners.
How to Grow a Family Tree Page 20