by Alex Palmer
17
In the afternoon, Lucy woke from her electronic dreams to a curious sense of lassitude. It was the sixth day since the shooting. The thought ‘I am here’ was voiced in her mind as an acknowledgement that she was as good as imprisoned there. Events had slipped into suspension. Elsewhere in the house, her father slept his narcotic sleep.
After they had spoken to each other, he had withdrawn into his bedroom, shutting the door against her, holding her at bay. Out in the rest of the world, everything existed in an uneasy stability. She had the sense that neither she nor the preacher could move without initiating violence. She felt the threat of it in the same way that she might have listened to the sound of someone she feared approaching her from a distance.
She left her room to go and wash. At her door, she stopped and looked down the corridor at the closed door to her father’s bedroom.
She only had to walk in there and say, ‘I’m here, Dad. I just told you, you owe me. Can’t you give a bit, the smallest bit?’ Words that became a craving as she thought them. He had nothing to give her, that door was closed against her, she could not expect to find any mercy in there.
If she walked into his room with those words, he would turn his back to her and wrap himself in impenetrable silence and deafness. He sent whispered messages through Melanie, asking her not to leave, saying he still wanted to see her but only if she was kind to him, because he was a dying man. Come and be my friend before I die, he whispered to her through her sister, there’s no point in accusations. She could not use her gun against that whispered voice.
In the bathroom, she washed herself carefully. Her bleeding had stopped by now but she still washed herself several times a day, polishing her unfamiliar skin and body as a child might. She sat on the edge of the bathtub, carefully drying the soft skin of her vagina, then dressed herself, thinking that no one could touch her now. She traced the edge of her face as she looked at herself in the mirror, unnerved by the awareness that this mask and no other was her face. She felt she was inhabiting herself the way a ghost might take possession of someone else’s body.
As she came downstairs into the hallway, she heard the television in the lounge room. From the kitchen she heard softer voices, Melanie and Stephen speaking to each other, words that were partly indistinct but which seemed to be about everyday things. She stopped at the open door, to see Stephen smoking as he sat at the table reading the day’s paper, while Melanie stood at the bench slicing potatoes. He looked up and smiled at her.
‘Hi, Luce,’ he said.
‘Hi.’
This single syllable filled the air like a breath finally expelled and the past overlaid the present, going back years. It was late at night. She had left her room immediately after her father had and was going to the bathroom to wash herself. When she came out, she saw her father walking downstairs and then Stephen standing in the hallway watching them both. He was staring at her with his mouth open and his face white. He did not speak to her, he turned and went downstairs to the kitchen after their father. She stood at the top of the stairs, too frightened to move, listening. She heard the sound of Stephen’s quieter voice but she could not make out the words. In the cold and silent house, she heard her father shouting with that sudden anger he had, and then the sound of someone at first being hit and then crashing to the floor. She ran downstairs to find Stephen with his knee cracked on the laundry floor, rolling about in pain. She could say nothing; he gripped on to her while he refused to make a sound. Her father was eating a slice of bread, something. He finished, brushed himself down and then called an ambulance. As the ambulance arrived in the driveway, her mother came down to the kitchen for the first time.
‘You okay, Luce?’
Stevie was talking to her. Both he and Mel were staring at her. She shook her head to bring herself back to the present.
‘Yeah, I’m okay,’ she said.
‘You want something to eat?’ Mel asked.
‘No, I’ll just have some coffee.’
‘Whatever you like.’
Lucy looked up from making instant coffee to find Stephen watching her, the expression on his face a mixture of concern and fear.
‘Where’s Dad?’ she asked.
‘He’s still in his room. I don’t think he’s coming out again.’ Melanie answered the question for her brother, tossing her knife down and turning and standing with her arms folded. She spoke without energy.
‘Do you know, he spent the whole time I was in there this morning whispering in my ear about how much he loves you. I can’t deal with that, Luce. I can hardly even deal with the sound of his voice.’
Melanie waited for her to reply but Lucy said nothing. Her sister shook her head.
‘You two are just so alike,’ she said, ‘you won’t let go of anything.
He’s never going to say what you want him to say, Luce, never. He’s just going to keep getting at me and at Stevie until you say to him that it doesn’t matter what he did to you. If you’re going to stay around, just give him what he wants. It doesn’t matter now anyway, it’s too fucking late.’
Again Lucy did not answer. She had no voice; everything she had to say was stuck in her throat.
‘Mum’s in the lounge, is she?’ was all she managed in the end.
‘What do you think?’ Melanie said, turning away again.
Stephen said nothing, only lit another cigarette from the end of the one he was already smoking.
Lucy took her mug of coffee and went outside to sit next to Dora and scratch the old dog’s head. As the dog nuzzled closer to her, she thought she would let her off the chain, and then go and tell her father how evil she thought he was. She did not move: thoughts of her father had caused her to become paralysed. She did not know what she wanted, whether she should stay or go. What was the point of staying here other than that it was somewhere to hide. She shook her head against the confusion. The sound of her phone, stashed in the pocket of her jacket, interrupted her thoughts.
‘Yeah?’ she said, knowing who it would be.
‘Lucy,’ the preacher replied. ‘How are you today?’
‘I’m good, Graeme. I’ve never felt better in my life. What do you want?’
‘I’ve got someone here I want you to talk to.’
Lucy felt cold as she listened to him pass the phone to someone.
‘Luce?’
‘Hi, Greg. He got you out, did he? He said he would.’
‘Yeah, he did. Those fucking pigs put me straight in the van. Look, I … What are you going to do?’
Lucy put her hand on her waistband and felt her firearm, hidden under her baggy clothes. She did not leave her room without carrying her gun.
‘Whatever he wants, Greg. Did you get my message? The one I asked Ria to give you?’
‘Yeah, I did. I can’t talk, you know, I — ’
‘Then you know you have to be as careful as you can. You watch everything he does. I’m going to do what he wants. Everything I have to. You remember that. I’m still out here. I haven’t forgotten you.’
‘Yeah, I will. You okay, Luce?’
‘Yeah, I’m okay. What about you? Did they shave your hair off, take away your beanie like they always do?’
‘Yeah, I got no hair any more but I hung onto my beanie this time.
It’s all I got left, everything else has been ripped off me. Look, I got to go, he wants the phone.’
‘I’m here. You remember that.’
Lucy listened to the sound of traffic down the line as she waited for Graeme. She glanced across the national park towards the vicinity of the northbound expressway, wondering where they could be. All she saw was the curve of the sky and the clouds massed on the horizon.
‘You see, it’s just the way I told you, Lucy,’ the preacher said. ‘I have my contacts too. You should remember that.’
‘I hadn’t forgotten. But I don’t mind coming to see you, Graeme.
Because I’ve got my insurance.’
‘
Do you think you’ll use it?’
‘Why wouldn’t I? If you’ve used one of these things once, you can always do it again. Because you really know how to then. It’s not like shooting at a tree any more.’
There was silence.
‘Graeme?’
‘I was just thinking that’s not quite how you talked about it the last time we spoke. Are you changing your mind? Do you feel a little easier with it all now?’
Lucy felt frightened down into the pit of her stomach.
‘I just do what I have to, Graeme.’
‘I see. Well, why don’t we all get together this evening? I thought we could meet at the garage.’
‘Not this evening,’ Lucy snapped back. ‘I haven’t got any way to get there. And anyway, I don’t want to go there. I don’t like it there. Last time I was there I … there are ghosts in there, Graeme, I heard those kids’ voices last time. I’m never going back there again. No, I want to say where and when we meet. Okay? Me. I say.’
‘Just as you like, Lucy. You set the terms.’
‘I’ll meet you out the back of Central there. In that warehouse.’
‘Isn’t that a little too public?’
‘No one sees you in a crowd, Graeme. If you’re in a big enough crowd, you just disappear.’
‘Yes, that’s true. So. When?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve got to get a car.’
‘Where are you? Perhaps I can help.’
‘I’m nowhere, Graeme, so I wouldn’t worry about that. I’ll ring you back. And when I do, I want to talk to Greg. Okay? Every time I ring you or you ring me, I want to talk to him.’
‘You will. I promise you, you will. And I promise you, he’ll be with me when you and I meet.’
Lucy did not speak. There was an implication in his tone that she could not puzzle out, and if she asked him what he really meant, she knew he would only play more word games with her.
‘I’m hanging up now,’ she said.
‘I’ll wait for your call.’
‘Graeme … ’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t do anything I won’t like.’
The connection went dead.
‘What am I going to do, girl?’ she said aloud to the bitch.
The dog only nuzzled closer, drinking in the attention, the closeness of another presence.
Lucy went back to her room, logged on and went out onto the Net.
Turtle, are you there?
Firewall I told u We are being watched
I don’t care. I’ve got to ask you something.
Wotzup
I’ve got a friend in bad, bad trouble and I don’t know how to help him out without getting in deeper myself. Is that possible? Can I get in deeper than I already am?
Yes u can Easy Wot do u want me 2 do U just have 2 ask I just need to know what you think.
Firewall I already said U’ve got 2 go 2 the police What can they do? They can’t help my friend.
Why can’t they??
For one thing, they don’t know where to find him.
Do u know???
There are some places I know about where they might take him. But I think what they’ll probably do is move him around. I’m not really sure.
They???
Oh, yeah. There’s more than one person out there, Turtle.
Go 2 police Do it now
Why are you so sure that’s the right thing to do?
There’s nothing else u can do Because they are not going 2 stoptill they find u Firewall I know they won’t U go 2 them amp; u won’t gethurt I promise u I do
You don’t know that. Anyway, I’m not frightened of them, I don’t care what they do to me. That’s not what I’m thinking about. I could go looking for my friend myself if I had a car. Maybe that’s what I should do. I need a car. I could -
U could do wot????
I could take my gun and go and see the people who’ve got him.
Say to them I’ve got a gun, they’ve got to do what I want or I’ll use it on them this time. But for all I know, they might be waiting for me to do that. I’m not the only one with a gun. Maybe I’ll just end up getting shot myself. That’s what I’m expecting to happen really, when I think about it.
No don’t do it U just get in more trouble The more u do things likethat the worse it gets Don’t Firewall U stop now What am I going to do, Turtle?
Ring the police amp; wot about the people u shot Have u forgotten????
No, I haven’t forgotten them. I don’t think I ever will. It’s like they’re always there, it doesn’t matter what I do. They’re with me all the time.
I wake up in the morning and it’s like, ‘Oh, hi, guys, it’s you again.’
They never go away. I am going to see those people and hear those shots for the rest of my life. I’ve got to go and think now. I’ll be back, okay? Talk to you later. Love you, Turtle, love you always.
Firewall u go 2 the police NOW ok???? U have 2
I’ll think, Turtle.
U wait don’t go U got 2 believe me I’m your friend I am 4 ever I loveu always 2 U go 2 the police before something really bad happens Turtle, I’ve got to think. Okay? I’ll be back.
She closed down and then, feeling the enclosure of the room, opened the door. As she sat on the bed looking out into the hallway, she saw Melanie go past in the direction of her father’s room, carrying a tray of medications. A little afterwards, she saw Stephen come back the other way, limping on his bad leg.
‘Stevie,’ she called.
‘Yeah. What do you want, Luce?’
‘How’s Dad?’
‘He’s as sick as a dog. Why? Are you going to go and see him? He was just asking if you were still here and I said you were.’
Lucy stood in the doorway, glanced down towards the closed door of her father’s room.
‘What does Mel do in there?’ she asked.
‘What do you think she does? She washes him. She feeds him. She gives him his pills and his shots. Listens to him whenever he’s raving on about something. I don’t know how she does it.’
‘What about you?’ she asked, suddenly sharper. ‘How are you?
How’s your knee? Do you still get that pain the way you used to?’
‘Don’t worry about my knee, Luce. I can deal with it.’
‘Oh, yeah. You can deal with it. We can all fucking deal with it.’
‘He’s in real pain. You haven’t seen it.’
‘Good,’ she said.
‘No, it’s not good. You haven’t seen what it means. It’s horrible, it doesn’t matter if it is him,’ he replied, angrily.
‘No, he deserves it,’ she snapped back. ‘Why are you doing this anyway?’
‘I’m doing it for Mel. And because it’s going to be over and done with soon. And after that I’m going to clear everything I can out of this place. We’re going to clean it from top to bottom, I’m going to paint it and it’s going to be like new. And that’ll be the end of it. They’re the only reasons I’ve got. I don’t want to talk about it any more. Can you give it a rest for the moment?’
‘Stevie, I’ve got to ask you about a — ’
‘Not now!’
He walked away.
She went back into her room and then thought she could not stay in there. She went downstairs and followed the sound of the television to the lounge. Her mother was in there as usual. Lucy stood in the doorway, her mother looked up at her and did not speak. She pulled her cardigan close about her and turned her attention back to the television. Wrapped up in her old windcheater, Lucy went and stood out on the back lawn, walked to the edge of her grandmother’s garden and looked across the national park. It was late in the afternoon, not long before dark. In the distance, she saw the house lights that marked the edge of the suburban sprawl begin to appear. The sky was overcast and the contours of the tree tops in the distance were the colour of fresh-cut coal.
Hugging herself in the growing dusk on the edge of the woodland, she shook her head
against the furies rising in her mind, the sounds in her head. ‘Don’t,’ she said, ‘don’t,’ as the familiar cries of her own personal ghosts came back to haunt her. She sat down on the damp grass, holding her head in her hands.
When she came back to herself, she heard the dog’s chain clinking as Dora moved around. ‘Fuck you, Dad,’ she said, looking up at the ragged sky, and went and let the dog off her chain. With a strength drawn out of anger, she ripped the chain away — it came easily away from the rotten wood of the kennel — and threw it out into the tangle of the garden. She pulled her windcheater off and stood out there in the bitter cold, letting the chill freeze her body. She felt the gun pressed into her waist grow cold against her skin and did not care if anyone saw that she had it. She waited until ice seemed to take hold of her and she felt nothing.
She needed a car. Even if she went to the police, she would still need a car. She would ask Stevie in the morning if he could help her. She rang the preacher’s mobile telephone number but only reached the answering machine. ‘Graeme,’ she said into the mechanical emptiness,
‘it’s Lucy. I’m going to call you tomorrow in the morning. I should know if I’ve got a car by then. Okay? You had better be there, Graeme.
And remember what I said to you about when we’re on the phone. It’s not just you I want to talk to. So don’t call me, I’ll call you. You make sure you wait for me to call.’
She went back inside the house, to her room. She had stopped in the hallway to look at the door to her father’s room when the door opened and Melanie appeared, carrying a tray of dirty dishes and utensils. The tray was heavily laden and she walked awkwardly. She stopped near her sister’s room and leaned the tray on the railing at the top of the stairs.
‘Do you want me to help you or something?’ Lucy asked, feeling powerless.
For a few moments, Melanie stood with her eyes closed out of tiredness.
‘No, it doesn’t matter,’ she said, shaking her head, and then, ‘Well, yeah. If you do want to help? Go in there and tell him you don’t care, you don’t give a shit what he did to you. Because he’s still punishing me for what you said to him the other day. Me and Stevie together.