Steal My Sunshine Part 10

*I'd like to, darling, but I think Hannah would rather I kept my silly stories to myself.'

They both looked at me.

*I didn't say that.' I felt trapped. I wanted Essie's secret so much but I didn't want to share it. Now there was no choice. *It's fine a" tell us, Essie.'

The room felt smaller, and smokier.

*If you're sure . . .?'

*I'm sure. Of course I am.' I sat forward, s.h.i.+fted away from Chloe and scratched the place where our legs had been touching. I just wanted to forget she was here, to get drawn deep into Essie's world and forget this one for the moment.

Essie leaned back and closed her eyes.

My brother looks so serious.

*Would you please stop looking at me like that, George?' I tell him. *It's going to be all right.'

He doesn't believe me. Even as he's yawning he won't take his eyes off me.

*George, go to bed.'

*I want to stay.'

*Mother will send you out the minute she comes up, you know that.'

*I'll go when she comes, but I want to stay for now.'

Poor George, always caught in the middle. He can't choose between Mother and me and he doesn't realise that she's the only one who wants him to.

I lie back on my bed. I'm tired but I can't let myself fall asleep. I know Mother will come tonight to give me her verdict and I can't be half-asleep or even in my nightdress when she does. Whatever punishment she chooses I'm going to take it with a bit of dignity.

I thought she was going to faint when she found James on top of me. I didn't mean to laugh but it seemed too ridiculous to be true to have her catch us out. Mother only ever has two expressions on her face when she looks at me a" the tense smile she has to put on when someone says something nice about me in front of her, or the disapproving frown she wears the rest of the time. Actually, I can't always tell the difference. Well, now I've seen horror.

Being Mother, she managed to compose herself eventually. She even stood in the doorway while he struggled to pull his trousers up. It took everything I've got not to laugh. How unbelievable! Caught out with James, of all people. Not that I've been with anyone else, but he's so much older a" and married. Essie, I thought to myself, you've really done it now. But I still wanted to laugh.

*What do you think she'll do?' says George.

*What can she do? I'll be back to boarding school as usual next week.'

*But why did you do it, Essie?'

*You don't understand love yet, Georgie. It's complicated.'

She's here. I sit up and cross my legs, finding I'm more nervous than I thought. I steal a look at George as she holds the door open for him to leave. It's nearly one o'clock in the morning, my mouth is bone dry and I suddenly get the feeling that George was right to be worried, because Mother looks triumphant.

It feels too late now to explain that my father's so-called friend James has been circling me for months. And I know it wouldn't make a difference if I told her I'd ended up loving him. She closes the door and comes closer and I try to swallow but I can't. *We've talked it through and have decided what's best.'

Saying anything at this point will only make things worse.

*We're sending you to your aunt's for a while.'

Aunt Di's. Oh, thank G.o.d. I breathe out slowly and remain perfectly still so she won't notice how relieved I am.

*The arrangements have been made so I don't want to hear a single word about it.'

I bow my head solemnly to make her think the punishment is serious enough. Maybe Mother's losing her touch. I need to tell George, poor thing, to stop him worrying. Aunt Di lives in Somerset. I can handle a few weeks in the country, boring as it may be.

*We'll take a taxi to the docks first thing on Thursday.'

I look up. She sees the confusion on my face and I swear she's found a new expression. She looks smug.

*I'm not going to Aunt Di's, am I?' It can't be true.

*No, not Aunt Di's.'

I scramble my way off the bed and lift the window frame to put my head out, thinking I'm going to be sick. She means Australia. The other aunt a" Aunt Caro a" went out there to be a school teacher last year. I try to breathe but the air scratches the back of my throat. I don't even know which part of Australia it is, but it doesn't matter a" it's the other side of the world!

I turn my back to the window and the freezing wind makes my whole body turn to gooseflesh.

*Close that now,' Mother says. I do it quickly; I'll do anything now. She can't mean it. She's only trying to frighten me. *It's for the best.'

*But . . . I'm sorry, Mother, I'm really sorry.' I have to sit down. I take a handful of bedcovers and grip them tightly because I know I'm going to cry myself into a mess. *Please, it was a mistake. I'll be good a" I'll be perfect. Don't send me away.' I slide off the bed, sobbing, and put my arms around her legs. I press one side of my face into the rough material of her skirt. *Please don't make me go. Please. I'll do anything.'

She grabs my shoulders and eases me off. I lose myself then, my head is a thick cloud of regret and dread, and I cry loudly. No, you can't make me. You can't send me away. I'm sorry.

I spend the next week in my room being completely ignored a" even George isn't allowed to visit me a" but I let myself think that Australia was just a wild threat. They never would.

One morning Mother comes up with breakfast on a tray. Her face has softened and I let myself think that she was just trying to frighten me. *You need to pack,' she says. She could mean school. I don't want to know what she means, I want to hang on to this new shred of hope.

*Is Georgie awake?'

*He's gone out for the day with Father. He left you a note. One suitcase, Essie.'

I see the note on the tray. She leaves and I get off the bed, still in yesterday's clothes, to reach for it.

I'll always love you, my darling Essie. Pop.

That's it. It's a goodbye. A weak, pathetic sort of goodbye. He can't be letting her do this, not Pop. Furiously, I scrunch up the note and look around the room as if there's some secret way out of this mess that I haven't noticed yet.

She really means it.

Well then, fine, I'll go and they'll hate themselves, and when I come back I'll punish them all even more. Why didn't Georgie fight for me? Why isn't anyone fighting for me? I'm shaking so much I can hardly get dressed. My insides are rolling as if I'm already on the waves. What do I take to Australia, anyway? One suitcase, Mother said. Maybe that means I'm not staying long, but there's still six weeks to get there and six weeks to get home and I can't even imagine the time in between.

James could turn up any minute. If he knew, he would. He'd divorce that snooty wife of his and marry me. It wouldn't be so bad, better than this.

While I'm packing I keep catching my breath, thinking I've heard a knock on the front door. But no one comes. Mother takes my one suitcase down the stairs all by herself as if it weighs nothing.

The front door is open wide and it's foggy out there. I watch as a driver loads my suitcase. Mother supervises, then beckons me out. I slide one foot forward and then the other. The warmth of our house is on my back and the icy March wind is in my face.

I check up and down the street. Maybe James has gone straight to the docks to stop this from happening. He said he'd look after me. He swore it. G.o.d, he practically begged me. Where is he? What if he doesn't know? That can't be true. He should make it his business to know what's happening to me. It's his fault!

Mother has barely said two words to me, but when I look at the driver, desperate for anyone at all to help me at this moment, she grabs my arm and shoves me in the taxi as if I'm about to lure him with my wicked eyes. She's rough with me now and it makes me so angry I lose my composure, feeling like a wild animal in a cage. *Take your hands off me,' I say, half in tears.

My heart is thumping as we set off. I'm resolved again to take this punishment with dignity and bide my time for revenge. I allow myself one look back at the house. I'll be back, house. Miss me, Georgie. I can't help crying again, but it's as if I'm already missing from the only world I've ever known, because Mother and the driver look straight ahead.

London, still half-asleep, is washed-out and grey. The streets seem unusually quiet as if n.o.body realises what's happening to me.

When we get out of the car the smell of the sea makes me want to vomit. It's even colder here, and shapes pa.s.s in and out of the smog like illusions. The freezing drizzle is the kind that leaves silvery beads in your hair, like tiny fairy lights. I notice it on the neat bun at the nape of Mother's neck as she takes the suitcase out of the driver's hand and tells him to wait.

There are people everywhere and different layers of noise a" clanging of metal and clanking of chains, dock worker voices calling out words I don't know, a Salvation Army band failing to pick up the beat of the place. There's the steady, frightening sound of people finding their way around each other, sharing meaningful looks because some of them are getting on a boat and some of them aren't. Everyone's lips are moving, but it doesn't matter if I can't make out what they're saying, because their eyes say more.

Mother leaves me to hand in my ration book and collect my pa.s.s. I panic a" suddenly this feels like the beginning of something I hadn't expected. There's a thrill in the air but I can't be part of it. It's too frightening, and I'm alone. I just want to go home.

Grabbing Mother's sleeve when she returns with my pa.s.s, I try to show her that this isn't right. Everyone makes mistakes. I don't know the words for how I'm feeling but I pray she can read it on my face. I look at her, willing her to see that she can't really go through with this. She hands me my pa.s.s and suddenly there's a sound that stops us all for a second a" the s.h.i.+p's horn. People cheer and sweep us further along and now every sound is louder. The band and the voices and the grinding of chains.

The s.h.i.+p is too big to take in from this close. It's like a floating city with one large funnel and a name that begins with *O' at the bow, but I can't see the rest. Up close it's a monster.

Mother's talking at me in a steady stream as if time is running out a" she's caught the disease of this place. I'm the only one who can't think of the single word. I listen hard in case she's coming to the point when she says, *All right, Essie, I won't send you this time, but if you ever, ever, ever . . .' But she's not saying that, she's reeling off names of places as if this is a Geography lesson a" Bay of Biscay, Port Said, Aden, Colombo a" the words skim off me a" Fremantle, Melbourne, Sydney.

*No,' my voice wobbles, and it's the only word in my head. *No,' I say again, but my voice is swallowed by the tide, and before I know it, Mother has pulled me close, told me to give her love to Aunt Caro and let go of me to disappear into the crowd.

I'm fifteen and at that moment I realise that I will never see my mother again.

We'd been in a trance, transported into the guts of Essie's past, and now we were back in her smoky lounge. Her hands had been clasped tight the whole time she'd been talking, and now she released them, smoothed her hair and reached for a cigarette. She smiled to break the spell, an old woman again. But more than ever, I could see the child she would have been, waiting for our reaction.

*That's unreal, Essie.' Chloe's rollie had burned out between her fingers, and she lit it again. *So what was it like? The s.h.i.+p. Must've been immense.'

Essie laughs. *Yes, it was. Immense. It wasn't as grand as some of them. I shared a room with one other a" an awful old crone called Mrs Weldon, who smelled of mothb.a.l.l.s. But some were four or even ten to a cabin. Women and men separate. My parents were wealthy, you see, so even though they were sending me away there was no question of lowering their standards. I suppose that sounds quite funny, doesn't it?

*There were dining rooms, waiters, of course, a writing room, a library, a lounge, games on deck. The food wasn't bad a" by the looks of some people, they thought it was The Ritz. Some of them probably hadn't seen that sort of spread since the war.

*I can't remember everything a" oxtail soup, there was far too much of that. Roasts, pies, rice pudding rolls a" those I liked. I managed to avoid the children's dining room. In fact, I suppose when I look back, that journey was my last taste of luxury.' She laughed again. *Perhaps I should have been paying more attention.'

*What did you do all that time?' said Chloe. *Six weeks a" I'd go insane.'

I waited for Essie to tell Chloe off for being a child of the modern age who can't go five minutes without her iPod, but instead she said, *I did go insane, Chloe. It was the most bored I'd ever been. Apart from the first night, when it seemed like the whole s.h.i.+p was in mourning, everyone around me seemed giddy with the whole experience. They celebrated at every opportunity a" it drove me mad. I didn't think I had anything to celebrate. They made costumes on St Patrick's Day and had singsongs, held table-tennis compet.i.tions and parties . . . I was in a bubble. I'd never felt more alone.

*The first few days I explored that s.h.i.+p a" went anywhere and everywhere unless one of the crew told me I couldn't. I think I was looking for James. Oh dear, what a fool.

*And what was so strange, and I was well aware of it, was this feeling that I was changing on that voyage. There was something different about me, and it took up all my attention trying to work it out. I'd lie awake at night, listening to the waves lapping against the sides, the incessant creaking of the s.h.i.+p working to take us further and further away from home, and I started to feel that I wasn't myself any more. I thought it was something to do with becoming Australian, can you believe it?' Essie laughed but there were tears in her eyes. Her face grew serious again.

*A baby died on the way, that I do remember. It was dysentery. They buried him at sea. There were a few days when people around me seemed more solemn, but they soon picked up again. Mrs Weldon took it upon herself to enforce the ch.o.r.es we'd been given. Unofficially, the men were responsible for law and order, and the women had to keep things clean. Mrs Weldon kept telling me that if I didn't do my share, the Australian officials wouldn't let me off the s.h.i.+p. She said she'd put me on the blacklist. The old witch didn't understand that I didn't want to get off a" not in Australia, anyway.

*I hated them all. I hated my mother so much I thought it would burn my insides.'

*I get it,' said Chloe. *My mum left me, too.'

Essie looked like she'd heard but didn't reply. *I thought that was the worst thing that could happen to me,' she said. *But I was wrong.'

There was a s.h.i.+ft in the room, like looking out of the window and seeing that while you've been busy the sun's gone down.

*There's more, isn't there?' I said.

*Oh yes,' Essie said. *We're just at the beginning.'

We're almost there.

Home feels more than a million miles away and I've never felt so tired. I've seen more in the last few weeks than in the whole of my life put together. It feels as if everyone else has been living life on this s.h.i.+p and I've just been watching them, and yet, I'm the one who can hardly stay awake from one hour to the next. My head is crammed full of images of the journey.

In Port Said, where small boats swarmed towards the s.h.i.+p to form a floating market, people yelled out, *How much?' and goods were hauled up in baskets. In the rough waves of the Indian Ocean, I watched children laugh with delight as their dinner plates would slide from one end of the table to the other, while below deck, fights were breaking out between groups of men because some had started to say that there were too many Maltese on board.

Children playing in the lifeboats, families lining up to have their photographs taken, women hanging out the was.h.i.+ng as if they were standing in their backyards. They all have this desire to make every new spot their home. This s.h.i.+p could never be my home.

At various stops we've been allowed to send postcards home. I've sent only two a" one to Georgie to cheer him up and one to Sara, at school. I had to write in code but I know she'll understand. I was worried about using up too much money so I didn't send more.

I'm nearly drifting off to sleep again when everyone starts yelling about the bridge. Mrs Weldon blocks the porthole with her fat head and yelps like a little dog. She's overcome with happiness a" something about the bridge turning to gold under the sun. I don't care. I don't want to see it.

*Coming up on deck?' she says, red with excitement, pressing powder onto her nose. She adjusts her transport number on the lapel of her jacket. We've all been instructed to wear them.

*I don't think so.'

*But we've made it,' she says, her round eyes like marbles pushed into a doughy face. I've watched this woman sleep and eat and talk incessantly for weeks on end, and suddenly I realise I never have to look at her again. It's enough to make me get up.

*Might as well then,' I say. She's overjoyed and holds my hand all the way. For once she's useful to have around because she barges her way through the crowds and takes me with her to the front. She's become a kind of matron on board, carrying out inspections and counselling homesick women. I never understood why she was so popular, but it doesn't matter now.

I stand under her arm as she waves frantically. *Who are you waving to?' I say.

*No one! Everyone!' she says, tears rolling down her face. *Isn't it beautiful?'

I spot a dark-haired man further down the deck, who looks the way I feel; his sad face stands out from the rest of the crowd. The sun is warm on my face, trying to coax me into the moment, but I won't let it.

Aunt Caro cries when she sees me. *Darling, darling Essie,' she says, holding me. *You're here now.'

She's younger than Mother and far less sure of herself. Only a few minutes in I remember her fondness for stating the obvious. I'm here now. It must have been such a difficult journey. It will feel strange being in a new place. I've grown since she last saw me.

The more naive and weak Caro seems, the more certain I am that I can convince her to send me back home as soon as possible. It's as if I'm waking up. The s.h.i.+p will be a bad dream. I won't zstay. I'll be the model niece, a reformed character. Aunt Caro will send me back, believing she's turned me around in every way and pulled me out of moral danger with her perfect, ivory-smooth hands.

Aunt Caro doesn't stop talking during the entire train journey from Sydney to Brisbane. She points out every tree, farm, house a" every single thing in sight. She even points out a herd of cows, and I have to break it to her gently that I've seen cows before.

She's giddy like the s.h.i.+p people. I remember Mother once saying, *Poor Caro lives on her nerves'. I think it's fair to say that coming to the other side of the world has only made her worse. She tells me about deadly spiders and *natives' as if they're equally terrifying, but then she checks herself and leans forward to place her hand on my knee. *But everyone can be saved, Essie. Everyone. Remember that.'

At that moment I start crying and I let Aunt Caro think whatever she likes about the reason why. She looks at me like half the job of saving my wretched soul is already done. The real reason I'm crying is because we're moving further away from the dock. I feel literally turned upside down and I don't even know which direction home is any more.

It's dark when we arrive at Aunt Caro's. There's a blissful night breeze and for the first time that day I don't feel stinking hot. Aunt Caro lets out her little tinkle of a laugh every time I mention the heat. *This is nothing, darling,' she takes great joy in telling me, several times.

She leads us through a neat little gate and up a path surrounded on either side by lavender bushes.

*What's that noise?' I say. *Frogs or something?'