Sheerwater

by Leah Swann

  ‘Hold my hand,’ said Max. ‘Don’t look at people. Let’s pretend we’re just walking home.’

  ‘We don’t live here.’

  ‘That’s why we’re pretending.’

  He grabbed Teddy’s sweaty hand and they marched through the front garden and out onto the nature strip. No-one shouted at them or told them off or even seemed to notice. Max shaded his eyes with his other hand as they walked out of where the smoke was thickest.

  They crossed the road. No-one spoke to them, though Max saw a teenage boy looking at them. He wanted to get off the street, find somewhere else to hide. The idea that someone might try to talk to them filled him with alarm.

  Max led Teddy to a cross street and they turned the corner. There were not so many people in this street. Bushes grew on the nature strips lined with tall gums. An orange cat paused to look up at them and ran on before Teddy had a chance to stroke it. The smoke thinned to a delicate grey haze.

  ‘Keep walking, Ted.’

  They walked very fast. Most of the front yards were open with no fences and no hiding places. They kept on going until Max saw a wire fence thick with green leaves and long stringy vines. He paused there, pulling Teddy to a stop. They panted, trying to catch their breath. His throat hurt from the smoke. The vine was heavy with deep magenta buds. A few white flowers had opened and smelled fresh in the smoky air. Max kept sniffing up their sweetness.

  ‘Got the dog, Tillie?’ a man shouted from the house behind the fence.

  ‘Yes, he’s in the back already.’

  Max saw an older man and woman through the fence. They got into a car and pulled out of the driveway. The woman had white hair in a ponytail and wore glasses. The car reversed out onto the road, paused and drove away.

  When the car had disappeared around a corner, Max tugged at Teddy’s hand and they walked up the wide concrete driveway. It led into a huge double garage with its back and front doors still up. Through the open back wall he could see a ute parked in the backyard.

  ‘Let’s hide here,’ whispered Max.

  The ute was painted an amazing shade that his mother loved – she would say it was violet, he thought. It looked like the cool vintage trucks from the 1950s in his favourite car book, sort of round and old fashioned. Max and Teddy walked past the ute and almost tripped over a bucket of soapy water next to a big sponge like a soft yellow brick on the ground by the bonnet. There was a washing line pegged with two floral sheets, a large and battered-looking dog’s kennel, and a verandah under a roof of green plastic.

  A dog’s bowl sat under the garden tap. Max ran the tap and gulped at the stream of water to wash away the ashy taste in his mouth. When he was done, Teddy knelt beside him and did the same. Their knees rested in a small puddle of mud.

  Max splashed his stinging eyes. Teddy copied him. His face was grey so there must have been soot or ash in the air. Even his curls were coated with the soft powder. Too hard to wash it out now, Max thought, pulling out a curl with his finger.

  ‘Ow,’ said Teddy. He sat back and pulled up the leg of his pants to examine the scrape on his leg from earlier. It had dried into a row of tiny dark scabs like buttons. ‘I’m hungry.’

  ‘Me too.’

  They approached the back verandah cautiously. Was anyone else home? Max didn’t think so. They climbed the stairs. The verandah smelled strongly of dog. There was a fluffy beanbag covered in black fur. Max cupped his eyes to the glass door and tried the handle. Locked.

  Maybe they could get through a window. Max climbed up on a wooden chair to look. The windows were stuck fast. He peered in at an untidy kitchen and living room. Then a loud clap made him jump. He looked down and saw that Teddy had climbed through the dog flap, its door still banging back and forth.

  Max scrambled down and tried to follow. No good. He was way too big.

  ‘Get some food,’ he called after Teddy through the flap.

  As Max watched anxiously, Teddy got to his feet and wandered around the kitchen. He checked a bread bin and opened the fridge and raked around in a few drawers. He returned with a tin of baked beans, another of sardines, three Monte Carlo biscuits and an open carton of milk.

  Ted pushed these items through the flap to Max and then tumbled through after them, smiling his big, cheeky smile. Apart from the biscuits and milk, Max didn’t like these foods.

  ‘Wasn’t there any bread?’

  ‘Nup.’

  Max and Teddy each ate one of the Monte Carlos. The pink and cream sugar filling tasted delicious chased with the cold milk. They broke the third in half and Max let Teddy have the creamy side. Max was still hungry, his belly growling.

  What he wanted more than anything was a huge, hot bowl of pasta with cheese. A few roast potatoes, skinless and scraped with a fork so that the edges turned crispy and brown in the oven. And some buttery white toast with honey to finish. His mouth watered at the thought. The sun was setting, peachy yellow bars striping the garden.

  ‘Open it.’ Teddy thrust the sardine can towards him. Max had opened these sorts of cans before. He lifted the ring as Mum had shown him, careful not to break it off, and pulled. The metal slid back and there were the silvery fishes in gold oil. Usually the smell of sardines revolted Max but he was so hungry that he dug his fingers in after Teddy and ate. The fish was salty and strong.

  They did the same with the baked beans. Max had to choke them down. He’d never liked them, even warmed up on toast, and cold they tasted like slime. He wished he’d saved a bit of biscuit for dessert. He offered Teddy the milk, and then drank the last few drops himself.

  They went back down the stairs to the tap to wash their hands and mouths. The water tasted sweet. They hid the tins in the weeds. Teddy ran to a tree to wee.

  Max had an idea. ‘Teddy, we need to get back inside.’ He explained to Teddy how to unlock the back door from inside to let Max in.

  Teddy climbed back through the door and, after much clicking and pushing, crouched down, his face appearing through the flap. ‘Can’t.’ His face had that shiny, sleepy look. Max considered pinching him and then thought better of it. A pinch could start a tantrum. Teddy would crack it.

  ‘Okay, Teddy, see if you can find the phone.’

  ‘Too dark.’

  ‘Turn the light on.’

  Teddy found the switch and light flooded the back half of the house. He ran over to an old wall phone. He climbed on a chair and lifted the receiver to bring back to Max. The curly cord would not stretch far enough. Max grunted with frustration.

  ‘Can you ring Mummy yourself? Tell her we’re okay.’

  He tried to explain how to put the receiver back on the hook and pick it up again so there was a dial tone. Max knew her phone number off by heart. They’d gone over it so many times, breaking down the ten numbers into the three sections. She’d made him sing the numbers so he’d never forget. He called out the numbers and watched in agony as Teddy fiddled.

  Teddy said into the phone: ‘We’re okay.’

  ‘Is that her?’ cried Max.

  He couldn’t believe it! Hope flared through him, hot as a candle. He lurched forward, trying again to push himself through the flap, desperate for the sound of her voice.

  ‘Beeps,’ said Teddy. ‘It’s beeping.’

  Max sighed. He needed to hold the phone himself, dial the ten numbers in the song. And he knew exactly what to do once he got through to her: give her the address, the words that tell adults where you are.

  Once, after school, he’d gone to his friend Jack’s house for a sleepover, but then he’d seen that loads of peculiar vegetables like eggplant and swede, along with red shreddy bones, had gone into the stew they were having for dinner. He didn’t like the look of it – nor, as it cooked, the woolly garlic smell of it.

  He rang Mum and she asked to speak to Jack’s mother. But Jack’s mother was taking a shower while the stew simmered. He remembered clearly what Mum had said then: ‘Okay, Max. See if there’s a letter in the kitchen and read me the addres
s.’

  These are the things you need to know when you want your mum to pick you up: the house number, the street, the suburb.

  ‘Teddy!’ he called through the flap. ‘Go into the other rooms and see if there’s a phone that doesn’t have a cord. Go quick!’

  Teddy put the phone down and disappeared through a doorway. Max saw the hallway brighten. Teddy had switched on another light. Clever boy! Not many kindergarten boys would be as smart as Ted.

  Then Max heard a car engine. Headlights blazed through the garage. The yellow-white circles burned onto the backyard before going off suddenly. He gasped.

  ‘Teddy!’ he called. ‘Teddy, they’re home, get out! Quick, quick!’

  Car doors slamming. The yapping of a dog. Voices and the jangle of keys. A squeaking door. The man and woman were inside. Already! They appeared in the kitchen and put several bags on the counter. Max watched the woman unload groceries: apples, bread, a jar of jam. Where was Teddy?

  ‘How many times, Tillie, have I told you not to leave the lights on?’ said the man, before throwing himself onto the couch and picking up the remote. The television started.

  ‘I was sure the lights weren’t on.’

  ‘You never turn the toaster up too high either.’

  ‘Maybe you left the lights on.’

  The man took a jacket that was lying over the arm of the couch and tossed it onto another chair. ‘We need to tidy up around here.’

  Max heard scrabbling paws, and then a small black dog skated across the floor towards the dog flap. He drew back, frightened, and tried to hide behind the beanbag. The dog leapt through the flap, saw Max, and barked like mad.

  ‘Shush, shh, little doggy,’ whispered Max.

  ‘Shut the hell up!’ called the man. ‘Tillie, shut that dog up, would you?’

  Max scrambled under the outdoor table, crossing his fingers that the lady wouldn’t switch on the back light. The door unlocked with a clack and slid open.

  Voices argued on the television, followed by the ping of a bell. A quiz show. The host’s voice called out the next question in a loud voice: ‘“In the darkening twilight I saw a lone star hover, gemlike above the bay” . . . this was the last diary entry of which explorer?’

  The man shouted back at the television: ‘Ernest Shackleton! Ha!’

  The woman stepped through the back door and Max held his breath. He felt sweaty and scared.

  ‘You hungry, you silly dog?’ she said, picking up the dog. ‘Quiet now.’

  She cradled the dog in her arms and looked out into the garden. She was humming a sad-sounding tune, and then she sang a few words. Lu lay, lu lay, o tiny little child.

  She turned and carried the dog indoors, latching the flap with a snap. Max finally let go of his breath. Where was Teddy? Was he hiding? How would he get out now? Would the dog smell him and find him? Should Max knock on the door and ask them for help? Maybe they were nice people.

  No. He didn’t dare. They might take him and Teddy back to Dad. Max pulled his knees up to his chest and dropped his head onto them. Tears welled. Where was Teddy? He’d lost Teddy! He was crying. He couldn’t help it. Maybe he shouldn’t have hidden from Dad. This is on your head. He was so, so tired!

  He just wanted so much to go home. The home that was gone. The bed that was gone. He had no cosy little bed anymore. And Teddy was stuck in the house! The man and woman would find him! They would find him and ring Dad!

  He wanted Winks, his cuddly little spaniel, not that horrid yapping dog with its smelly, prickly fur. He wanted Mum.

  He built her face before him. The eyes with their little sparkle of love just for him and the curve of her eyelashes so like Teddy’s. He remembered the soft palms that smelled of her favourite handcream that came out of a glass bottle that had Geranium Leaf written on it. Such a pretty smell, so sharp and light and sweet!

  Right now, if he caught the smallest whiff of it, he’d follow that perfume anywhere.

  ‘Max? Max?’

  Teddy’s voice floated up from the bottom of the stairs to the back verandah.

  Max flung himself forward on all fours from his hiding spot under the table, got to the edge and looked down. There was his little brother, so proud of himself. And holding a cordless phone!

  Max rushed down the stairs and grabbed Teddy in a hug. Teddy squirmed out of it. ‘Look, look.’

  How on earth did he do it? Maybe it was true what Mum said, that Teddy was born under a lucky star. He always got out of trouble.

  ‘How – how did you get out?’

  ‘Front door.’

  That was so smart. Most little kids would only think of going back out the way they went in.

  ‘Good boy, Teddy! Where’d you find the phone?’

  ‘Bedroom.’

  Max lifted up the phone to see the buttons in the dim light, and pressed the button with a little green phone picture on it. When he put his ear to the receiver he heard hissing.

  He keyed in his mum’s number and held the phone to his ear again. More hissing. He kept trying and the phone kept making that sound. Not even the beeping sound that meant she was on the phone to someone else and he could just try again soon.

  ‘It’s not working, Teds.’ His voice wobbled. He rubbed his eyes. Now what? He looked up. The trees were black against the sky now and above them was a fat white moon, slipping out from behind a cloud.

  And what Mum called ‘moon dwellers’ were noisy in the branches: possums and mice and owls, scampering, scuffling, fluttering.

  Max was frightened of the darkness. What did children in stories do when they got lost? There was no trail of pebbles to follow through a forest path that led to Mum, no matter how much he wished for it. But he remembered that Kirsty had said they were in Sheerwater. Maybe she was lying. But if she wasn’t lying, maybe he and Teddy could find their way to the new house. What was the street called? Mum had told them. Smoke Road?

  He tucked the phone into his waistband and brushed himself down. He felt like he was covered with dog hairs from the beanbag. Teddy was shivering. They had no coats and it was getting so cold.

  They couldn’t go back out walking through those streets to find their new home. Mum had said Sheerwater was a small place but he didn’t know where to look. And they needed to sleep. They needed to get warm. They couldn’t risk sleeping on the beanbag. What if that barking dog came out again? Or, worse, one of the people?

  They could try the kennel. At least they’d be out of the cold air. Max was pretty sure that the dog slept indoors. He bent down by the kennel and sniffed its dark and furry odour. He jerked back. It was gross. And there might be fleas jumping around in there. Fleas that could go in his hair and bite his skin and give him a bumpy red rash like that boy at school. He knew all about fleas. It was his job to put the flea medicine on Winks once a month.

  No, he would not get in the kennel. He’d rather sleep in the bushes. He took Teddy’s sticky hand and walked back into the garage and tried the doors of the car. All locked. A small amount of light from the house was shining on the ute parked in the backyard. Max made a decision. ‘Let’s get up there,’ said Max. ‘Climb up like a monkey.’

  Teddy put his foot on the bumper bar and pulled himself up. He crawled into the tray, followed by Max. There was a shopping bag on one side, a folded tarp, a rope, and a couple of blankets that also smelled of the dog. The metal floor was cold and hard but when they lay down they were out of the cool breeze that had started up.

  Max spread out one of the blankets in one corner, folding over a little bit at the top to make a pillow. He laid the other blanket over it and then the tarp on top in case it rained again.

  He and Teddy climbed into this cocoon, which was scratchy with dog hairs that made Max sneeze a few times in a row, and huddled together, the night cold on their faces. Max thought about pulling one of those sheets off the washing line to make the bed less scratchy but his legs were too heavy to get up again and he didn’t want to. His whole body felt heavy.


  Max was trying to think of a story to tell Teddy when he heard his brother’s snoring. He thought of the hiding place behind the shed where Dad couldn’t see them. A magical and spidery place. He’d felt safe there. He felt less safe here. They weren’t hidden. What if the people found them? What would they say, what would they do?

  Max worried that Dad was right about being smarter than Mum, because the two of them were in some kind of fight and the smarter one might win. He closed his eyes to block out the sky so huge and starless above him, and especially he didn’t want to see the black clouds blowing over the moon.

  He remembered what it was like to be at home with Mum and Ted. Mum in a sundress on the green lawn, lying by the sandpit on a rug and rubbing Teddy’s back to help him fall asleep for his nap. She was singing a lullaby Max had heard almost every night of his life.

  Sleep as falls the dark

  In your bed of bark

  None shall harm you, dear,

  Mother watches near.

  Mumma warruno

  Murra wathuno.

  ‘What words are they, Mummy?’ he’d asked her. He was digging a hole under the gum tree for a poor bald baby bird that had fallen from the nest.

  ‘I don’t know what the words mean. A lady from our playgroup taught them to me. They’re words from the first Australian people. Soft words.’

  And she kept humming, stroking Teddy, watching Max. Chimes chinked in the tiniest breath of air, parrots squawked as they flashed red through the trees. Max had scooped out the dirt and laid it in a dark pile, and saw a little worm wriggling through it and smelled the rawness of earth freshly turned. He was wearing gardening gloves.

  ‘Do you think it’s deep enough?’

  ‘Yes, darling.’

  He slid the bird’s dead body onto the trowel and tipped it into the earth. He wasn’t sure what kind of bird this little grey thing was. Maybe a sparrow? He covered it over with dirt. He bowed his head and said: ‘Dear God, we give this bird back to you.’