Steal My Sunshine Part 5

As I got closer to their dad's bar, I knew I was never going to do that. The spot where he'd stood yesterday belonged to other people now. I pa.s.sed by their street and could just see the top of their building. Then I peered into a noisy bar on the corner where I'd seen him drinking before. St Kilda was buzzing and I was just a girl in school uniform. They were celebrating the end of the heatwave and anything else they wanted to drink to.

I played a game while waiting for my tram: If I see him before the tram comes, I won't get on. If I see any of his friends a" but not him a" I'll call him. If the next person who walks past me has a tattoo, I'll go to Evan's apartment and ring the bell. (Evan had a tattoo of the constellation Orion on the back of one shoulder.) The tram came and I thought about Evan's last girlfriend and how you probably didn't play that sort of game when you were twenty.

The post was sticking out of our mailbox. Mum's curtains at the front of the house were still drawn. When I walked in, the atmosphere hit me straightaway. Mum was sobbing and I could see Sam curved over her at the kitchen table, way down at the other end of the hall. He glanced at me when I shut the front door and nodded some kind of h.e.l.lo.

I went in there and saw the remnants of their day. Mugs and a few small plates and loads of screwed-up tissues. The frying pan Sam must have used for the sausages. I could still smell the fat a" all the windows were closed and the air con wasn't on. Mum was still in her dressing gown.

*Where did you do?' Mum said, as if I'd only been gone for five minutes. She looked up and sniffed into a tissue.

I tugged the collar of my uniform.

*Oh,' she said. *Right, of course.'

*I won't go tomorrow,' I said, *if you don't want me to.'

*Why did you go today?' said Sam.

I ignored him and went to put the kettle on. *I'll make you a tea, Mum.'

*All right, thanks.'

*Or something stronger?' said Sam. She smiled at him. Snot was coming out of her nose and her eyes were raw. She patted his hand and he got up.

We both went for the fridge at the same time.

*I'm getting Mum a drink,' he said, and tried to yank the door away from me.

*I'm getting the milk! For G.o.d's sake, can't I even come into my own kitchen any more?'

*Please don't argue, I can't bear it!' Mum's face looked desperate and pulled out of shape. I let go and stormed away to the armchair in the far corner. I ran the back of my hand over Dad's atlases and wondered why he hadn't even called today.

*It's okay,' I could hear Sam whisper, as he poured Mum a gla.s.s of wine. They started talking about the joint bank account and the mortgage. What did Sam know about those sorts of things? He was just some idiot at uni who had a single DJ slot once a month in a bar no one ever went to. Mum was a mess, and if I didn't get near her, I'd never find out what was happening with Dad or what life was going to be like from now on.

Finally he left her side, saying he was taking a shower. I saw my chance and sat down in his place. The tears had washed her skin raw.

*Sorry,' she whispered.

*It's okay,' I whispered back, even though I didn't know what the sorry was for.

*He didn't tell you he was leaving, did he?'

I shook my head, slowly.

*I know.' She closed her eyes.

It was unbearable. I'd imagined them splitting up hundreds of times but it was never silent and charged like this. I'd always thought it would be loud and open and full of all the usual accusations. I wanted to get away from this choked-up atmosphere; it was like sinking into sand.

When Sam returned in fresh clothes I gave him back his seat.

*This is awful, isn't it?' said Mum. She sort of laughed and I watched them share a private look.

*I'll get some shopping,' I said. Sam had his role in what was going on but that didn't mean I had to be useless. *What does everyone want?'

*I couldn't eat. Get whatever you like,' said Mum. *There's money in my bedroom.'

Sam leaned back in his chair and stuck his thumb up. *Sausage roll. With sauce.' Then his forefinger. *And a c.o.ke.'

It took all my willpower not to bend his finger back like we used to do when we were kids, but then I'd only be in more trouble with Mum. Even if I wasn't needed here, there was someone else who trusted me. I remembered what Essie had asked me to do and I had a hunch I'd find it in Mum's room.

Behind the wardrobe were some of Dad's maps that he'd never got around to hanging up. There were two in large frames, but when I flipped them forward, I found a canvas. I listened out for Mum and Sam before I eased the canvas out. Despite the film of dust over it, I knew it was the one Essie had asked for: a girl, a baby and a bridge.

It could live under my bed for now.

On my way back from the shops I got a message from Chloe and I couldn't help breaking into a goofy smile. U know I luv u right? U will be fine. p.s. Maybe Ev does think ur hot. Who knows?? xx The sun was low down now, a warm orangey lamp tucked neatly behind the city, and the cicadas were clicking like mad. I stopped at our gate and texted Chloe back. My thoughts about her lately had been mean and snide but it was only because she always seemed so far ahead of me. It was easier to drag my heels and sulk than to try to keep up with her.

She was difficult as h.e.l.l but no one made me laugh like she did. No one amazed me more. That seemed like a stupid thing to forget.

I scrolled past Dad's number and bit my lip, clicked on Evan and spent the next five minutes writing and rewriting a message.

Thx 4 ur msg. Things r a bit mad right now. See u soon?

With my eyes squeezed shut, I pressed send before I could change my mind again.

The evening had the kind of glow that made summer worth all the ha.s.sle over sunscreen and mozzie bites. If Dad were here he'd be saying we should eat outside. He'd hand Mum a drink and they'd clink gla.s.ses even if they were hardly talking, which was most of the time. Dad always seemed hopeful, no matter what. As I took a deep breath to go back in the house, I realised what he'd taken with him. But maybe I was the only one who couldn't live without it.

*Sshh, Mum's asleep,' Sam said the second I got in. As he closed her bedroom door, I fought the urge to ask if he'd read her a bedtime story and tucked her in. He grabbed at the plastic bag.

*Wait a minute!'

*Come on, I haven't eaten all day.'

*You had sausages, remember?'

He swiped at the bag again but I was faster.

*They were good too. What did you go to school for?'

I held the bag up high and walked backwards down the hall. *What was I meant to do, stick around here and get ignored?'

*You really are a baby.'

*And you're a moron.' I took my chips out of the bag and dropped the rest right where I was standing, forgetting about the can that was in there, which thudded on the wooden floor. We both looked at Mum's room.

*Idiot,' he whispered, and picked the bag up off the floor. He settled on the sofa with his feet on the table. No Dad to tell him to get his shoes off the furniture now. He put the sports channel on.

There was nothing I could do. Every time I was near Mum or Sam the feeling I got when Dad had left would hit me again, just as strong as the moment it had happened. And I was too scared to call Dad in case I told him how bad it was and he didn't do a thing about it.

An hour later, in my bedroom, I heard the doorbell and thought it might be him. I raced to get there, colliding with Sam in the hallway but he had beaten me to it. Over his shoulder I could see Mum's hippy friend, Margot. She smiled and wiggled her fingers in a nervous wave as all the adrenalin washed out of me. Sam held her off with his arm across the doorway. Margot handed him a large candle but she turned to me and said, *It's lavender!' as if a boy wouldn't know about things like candles.

I smiled the smallest amount possible. Margot was too much.

*It's for your mum, for relaxation,' she told Sam.

*Right. Thanks.' He started to ease the door closed.

Margot's head tilted into the narrowing gap. *Oh, well, I a"'

*She's asleep, Margot. I'll give her the candle when she gets up.' Margot's troubled face finally disappeared. For a moment I was on the same side as Sam, but when he turned round, he looked so satisfied I just wanted to punch him again.

*p.i.s.s off back to your windchimes and wheatgra.s.s,' he said to the candle and threw it on his bed.

Later on, Mum's other friend, Angie, came. She and Sam chatted at the big table while Mum was still sleeping. Angie had been allowed past the threshold, which was some honour. She was like the child whisperer and it still worked on Sam. He even let her ruffle his hair and take the p.i.s.s out of him. She was round and colourful; fat on purpose, it looked like, and comfortable with it. Always brightly painted in reds and purples, with cropped hennaed hair and big jewellery. Nothing fazed her.

I didn't get up to join them, knowing Angie wouldn't ha.s.sle me or think I was being rude. I'd been curled up in the armchair by the back window, watching reruns of shows I'd already seen. Half the time I felt sucked into whatever the storyline was a" if I didn't move, I didn't have to think. Then my chest would get tight with the sudden thought of time surging forward and things happening that I couldn't control.

Angie had brought over a bottle of wine.

*I could wake Mum if you like,' said Sam.

*No, don't do that. I'll come another time. I'm supposed to be at Luke's in a minute.'

Luke's was the church around the corner, as in Saint Luke. Angie was like some kind of holy whirlwind but I always forgot she was Christian when she was hanging out with us. She'd drink and laugh with Mum and make silly jokes about being madly in love with Dad, which we knew was rubbish. She made our house loud and lively. She'd always have to leave suddenly because a new foster kid was turning up at her door or she needed to organise a kids' disco in the church hall and then you'd remember that she was always doing things for people, and the reason why. We'd try to stay noisy and happy after she'd gone but it always seemed to fade in minutes.

*Just let me say a quick h.e.l.lo to your sister and I'll be off,' she said. She smiled all the way over to me, bracelets c.h.i.n.king together like jingle bells. She took my head in her hands, kissed the top of it and stroked my hair a few times. That was it but it was enough. As she left, I could still feel the warmth of her grazing my skin and I quickly wiped away the few hot tears before Sam could see. Sometimes I thought it might be easier to believe in G.o.d but I'd already failed at that.

Sam opened the wine.

*Who's that for?' I said. He poured some into a tumbler, took a gulp and sat down at the table.

*Oh right, you drink wine now.'

*Get lost, Hannah.' He took another gulp and examined the gla.s.s, holding it up to the light.

*What have I done, seriously? Why are you both being like this?'

He was eyeing the wine as if he hadn't heard the urgency in my voice. Dad used to do that with every gla.s.s of red he drank. With a cheeky smile he'd say he was seeing if the wine had legs a" he loved the way that made us laugh. He'd stretch the joke out as long as possible a" the wine had arms, a job and a car and two kids a" but at some point Sam had stopped finding Dad funny and it was just me who'd laugh.

*I'm not being like anything and it's not about you, anyway.'

The bell rang again and I just managed to dodge Sam's chair to reach the door first. It was the woman from next door, Nicky. She was quiet and nervy and had four scrawny cats that Scribble terrorised constantly. Mum had had to pay for an operation for one of them. We didn't really talk to her if we could help it and she looked really uncomfortable to be standing on our doorstep. *The postie left this with me,' she said, barely meeting my eye as she handed me a cardboard package. *He said there was no answer earlier.'

*Thanks.' It was obviously a book, addressed to Mum. And there was a white envelope: Mr D Moon, 48 Mary Street, Melbourne. My dad, our house. The letter thought this was where he was supposed to be.

From behind, Sam lifted both things out of my hands before I could stop him. *Thanks for that, Nicky,' he said, so loud that she nearly jumped out of her skin. She skittered away and, as I watched her, I wondered how you got to be like that and whether that was where I was headed. A frightened little mouse in a world of confident cats.

I shut the door. *What did you s.n.a.t.c.h them for? You're such a d.i.c.khead.'

*I'm giving them to Mum, chill out.'

*I was going to, they're not yours.' I knew I should just leave it alone but I couldn't. The only thing that seemed to matter was getting the post off my brother. I was hot and shaky at thought of it. *Give them back!' I said, laying into him, slamming us both into the wall. He was laughing at how hard I was struggling against him, which only made me more angry. I pushed hard into him and grabbed his hand, trying to peel his fingers away from the package one by one.

*Hey, what's all this?' We froze as Mum stood in her bedroom doorway, and then let go of each other. Sam kept the package but left me holding the envelope, as if it were my job to hide any traces of Dad from Mum.

*How are you feeling?' he said.

*Better,' she smiled. *I needed that sleep.'

Sam handed her the package. She seemed to know what it was, but instead of opening it, she clutched it to her chest. Her voice sounded softer; her hair was tied off her face and she'd put on some navy trackies and an old t-s.h.i.+rt. That was so unlike her. She was always dressed smart in a way that made her look even older than the other mums around here who all wore jeans and had long, loose hair. In a way, Mum looked younger dressed like this, but maybe that was just because her eyes looked completely lost.

*I'll make you a tea,' I said.

*Or there's wine,' said Sam. *Angie brought it.'

*Mm, I think so.' Mum went towards the kitchen as if she didn't know the way, stepping slowly and cautiously.

Things were calmer, like a strong wind dying down, but my head still felt whipped up and full of noise. I followed them down the hall off-balance, wound up about the way Sam had taken control of this new thing that was happening to us.

We watched TV, Mum and Sam sharing the wine. The few words either of them said in my direction, I couldn't do more than shrug back. Dad's letter was still in my back pocket. The news was on, all depressing as usual but none of it felt as real as the mood in the room, tight enough to explode at any moment. My head felt alert while my body felt like lead; I tried to think myself out of the room.

One minute my mind was focused on the screen, the next I imagined Dad watching the same thing in a hotel room somewhere. He had a beer in his hand, sitting on the edge of a strange bed. The background changed and he was in a new house with a different wife. I pictured him putting his arm around this faceless woman and kissing her. Then it morphed into the face of someone we knew, like Margot or Angie or his a.s.sistant at work who I'd always thought was really pretty. Or a guy.

I made myself stop thinking about it and pictured Evan instead, the whole time aware of the faraway sound of Mum and Sam chatting on the sofa next to my chair. Evan on the beach, smiling at me, and me looking right into his eyes the way I never could in real life. What did it mean if you loved someone so much that you couldn't even look at them properly?

*It's still terrible,' said Mum.

*What is?' I was hardly aware I'd said it but something on the news had suddenly lifted me out of my daydream.

*It's terrible when someone goes missing,' she said. A girl a few years older than me didn't make it home after a party. They'd put her Facebook photo on the screen. It was one of those selfies; I had one like it. She looked upbeat and pretty, like she went from one fun event to the next. I imagined her taking the photo when she'd just finished getting ready to go out.

*Sure,' said Sam, *but I'm just saying that one person goes missing every fifteen minutes in this country.'

*That's crazy,' said Mum.

*Exactly. That's why we don't think about it a" we can't. So every so often we focus on one case.' Sam had done Legal Studies for one term before he dropping it and now thought he was an expert on every crime we heard about.

*That's just wrong,' I said. *Who decides which case to put on TV anyway?' They were showing more photos of the missing girl now, cheek to cheek with her best friend, followed by footage of the same friend crying during a press conference, clutching hands with the missing girl's parents who were staring at the floor with wild eyes.

Sam ignored my question. *People can't cope with big numbers,' he went on. *Like an earthquake on the other side of the world that takes out six hundred people in one go. Becomes meaningless. But look at everyone going nuts over this one girl.'

*Are you saying we shouldn't? What are we supposed to do?' I said, annoyed by him in ways I could never articulate well enough on the spot. *Do we just not care about her because of all the other people who are dying all over the place?'

*I'm just raising the topic.' He shrugged, staring at the screen, and we all fell back into silence.

It was true, what he'd said. I couldn't stop myself from thinking about that girl. She was becoming more familiar in my head. Not just a two-dimensional image on a screen, she was flesh and bone a" a moving, laughing, feeling human being. She was Sophie.

I thought about who would take her and why they thought they could. I imagined being her, walking back from a party and never in a million years thinking that I was in danger, because Sophie didn't seem like the sort of person who would suspect anyone of wanting to hurt her. I imagined a man grabbing my arm and trying to pull me into a car, his strength and the way I'd struggle mixed in with the startled look on Sophie's face as she tried to understand how something so evil could be happening to her.

I said goodnight and went to my room. I swore to myself that I wouldn't think about Sophie any more, as if imagining these grotesque things meant they'd really happened to her. Maybe we all just needed to have faith that she'd be found alive. She'd go to more parties and take more happy photos and people would still die all over the place but at least we'd know that Sophie was okay.