At Home With The Templetons (8 page)

‘Spencer? Spencer Templeton, you mean? From Templeton Hall?’

‘You know him?’

‘We saw him that day at the fete, do you remember? Dressed up and showing people around.’

‘He was that kid?’ Tom said, as if it all made sense now. ‘He told me he’s never been to school, not even for a day. His mum teaches him at home. Can you teach me? That would be so cool.’

‘No, I can’t teach you and everything’s cool to you at the moment.’ Nina was surprised at her bristling reaction to Tom’s news. ‘We don’t really know him or his family, Tom. I’d rather you didn’t play with him again.’

‘But he’s the only other kid around here.’

‘You can have your friends home from school any time you like.’

‘But their parents have to drive them and pick them up or you have to drive me and pick me up. Spencer and I can just meet at the dam. I told him about the whistle. He’s going to get one too, so if he blows it I know he’s at the dam and I can meet him there. He said I can go and visit his house any time I like.’

‘No, you can’t.’ ‘Why not?’

It was taking some getting used to, this new, older Tom who questioned everything she said to him. ‘Because I’d rather you didn’t. Because I don’t know his family.’

‘So get to know them.’

‘Please don’t talk to me like that.’

Tom’s face turned mutinous. ‘You don’t let me do anything I want to do.’

‘I do, actually.’ She kept her voice calm, with difficulty. ‘You have a hundred times more freedom than I did when I was your age.’

‘This isn’t freedom.’ He said the last word at the top of his voice as he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Nina was shocked at her own anger. She wanted to ban him from meeting Spencer, tell him he wasn’t to go near the Templetons’ house again. She only just managed to stop herself following him into his room and shouting back at him. Again, she was overwhelmed by a rush of feeling, of wishing Nick was here, wishing that she could ask him to talk to Tom, ask him to deal with this new version of their previously sweet-natured son. But if Nick was here, Tom wouldn’t have needed a friend like this Spencer. Nick would have played cricket with him, kicked a football, taken him yabbying. She knew that line of thinking was counter-productive and also untrue. If Nick had still been alive, she and Tom wouldn’t have even been in Victoria. They would have been living in Queensland, with her mother and father just down the road, their kids going to local schools …

Push it down, push it away, she’d told herself that night. Give Tom the fun he wants. Don’t make a big deal of this. And she’d nearly succeeded. Since then, she’d managed to smile and try to look interested and relaxed and unaffected by Tom’s stories about his new friend Spencer. They’d only met twice more, as far as she knew, at the dam each time. They still hadn’t caught any yabbies, but they’d talked about building a raft together, using wood from one of the old Templeton Hall fences, corrugated iron left over from the new chicken coop at the Hall. They’d transport it all over in a wheelbarrow, Tom had told her. Again, Nina had to stop herself from warning Tom of all the dangers, from thinking too much herself about possible risks - rusty nails in the iron, splinters from the wood. The one thing she didn’t have to worry about was drowning, at least. The water in the dam was only about six inches high at the moment.

The sound of the ten o’clock morning news jingle on the radio brought her back to the present. Time for work. As she put the local paper into the recycling bin, she imagined the excitement this latest Templeton antic would cause around town. And at home too.

‘Why haven’t you taught me to drive?’ she imagined Tom saying. ‘All the Templeton kids learnt to drive when they were babies. They all got mini-BMWs for their third birthdays. Babysized ones. With their names monogrammed on the doors.’

It felt good to laugh about it. She knew Hilary would enjoy hearing about it too. She was just reaching for the phone to give her sister a quick pre-work call when it rang. She wasn’t sur prised. Their link was so strong they often rang each other at the same time.

‘You’re a mind reader,’ she said, settling down into the worn armchair.

‘Am I? Why?’ It was another of the school mums. ‘Did you see the newspaper this morning? That Templeton girl’s crash? It has to be a publicity stunt, don’t you think?’

Nina had to stop herself laughing. She bit back all she wanted to say and put on a bright, casual voice instead. ‘A crash? Really? What happened?’

The next time they met at the yabby dam, Spencer told Tom all about Gracie’s crash.

‘She was driving down the main street at a hundred kilometres an hour and she went into a skid and the car rolled four times and her arm nearly got torn off. The policeman had to carry her into our house and after he left the entire floor was covered in blood.’

‘Is it still there?’

‘A bit of it. Mum cleaned up the rest. Do you want to see it?’ Spencer asked eagerly.

Tom remembered his mother saying he wasn’t allowed to go beyond the boundary fence. He remembered her saying she didn’t want him going to Templeton Hall again. He just couldn’t remember why not. ‘What about the yabbies?’

Spencer shrugged. ‘They’ll be there tomorrow, won’t they?’ Thirty minutes later, Tom couldn’t believe all he was seeing. He’d done a tour of the Hall the day of that fete, but he didn’t remember it being anything like this. How come he’d never been back here before now? It was fantastic. Better than fantastic. Spencer showed him through every room,

upstairs and

names. He saw the big kitchen, the pantry, the three bathrooms, with enormous baths that could easily hold three people each. Eight bedrooms - eight of them! Spencer also proudly showed him the blood on the hallway floor. Tom thought it looked more like a speck of paint, but Spencer insisted it was blood. His mother must have done even more cleaning up that morning, he said.

Tom met some of Spencer’s family too. Spencer had told him to prepare himself: that his three sisters were revolting, especially the two home on holiday from boarding school. But Tom thought they were all nice, even if they looked a bit surprised to see him. ‘Did your parents leave you behind after the weekend tour?’ one of the older ones, Charlie, Tom thought her name was, asked him.

‘He’s a local,’ Spencer said, in a voice that made local sound like something unpleasant. ‘We met at the dam.’

‘Damned if you do, damned if you don’t,’ the other sister said, which made the one called Charlie laugh loudly. Tom didn’t get the joke but smiled anyway.

The sister around his age called Gracie, the one who’d been in the crash, was much more friendly and normal. She was in the drawing room. Tom wanted to ask if they did their drawing in there, but something stopped him. He was surprised to see she wasn’t wearing a sling on her nearly torn-off arm but decided not to ask about it. She was polishing a row of silver jugs. Spencer picked one up and pulled a face into it, showing Tom his distorted reflection, urging Tom to try it. So he did. Then Gracie did it too and it was funny, all three of them poking their tongues at the jugs. Spencer’s dad came in then. ‘Welcome to Templeton Hall, boyfrom-that-house-a-few-paddocks-away,’ he said, when Spencer introduced him as that. He left again, before Tom had a chance to say anything more than hello. ‘His name’s Tom,’ Spencer called after his father. ‘Come on, Tom, let’s go upstairs. See you, Gracie. Happy polishing.’

‘See you, Gracie,’ Tom echoed.

‘Lovely to meet you, Tom,’ she said, giving him a very nice smile.

For the next hour, he and Spencer took turns sliding down the long polished staircase banister. It was more fun than any adventure park Tom had ever visited. He forgot the time, forgot about his dinner, forgot about the whistle, forgot everything, as they slid, ran to the top again, slid, ran to the top, again and again, without anyone telling them off. ‘You’re actually allowed to do this?’ he asked. ‘I’m allowed to do whatever I want,’ Spencer said.

Tom had just completed a particularly fast slide down the banister to a loud cheer from Spencer, when the telephone started to ring and a knock sounded at the front door. ‘Hide, quick,’ Spencer whispered. ‘Why?’

‘Just do it,’ Spencer said. ‘Here, quick.’

Tom followed Spencer across the hall, into a big room with sofas and tables and in behind a screen in front of the fireplace, decorated with a picture of a deer. ‘I hid here for two hours once,’ Spencer whispered as they both crouched down. ‘You can hear everything.’

Spencer was right, Tom discovered. From their hiding place he was able to hear a man at the door identify himself as a policeman, hear his own name mentioned, hear ‘his mother is frantic’, ‘missing for more than two hours’, ‘we’ve checked all the dams’, ‘you haven’t by any chance seen ‘

‘A twelve-year-old boy?’ It was Mr Templeton speaking. ‘Dark hair? Yes, he’s here.’

‘He’s here?’ the policeman answered. ‘Here? Can I use your phone?’

‘I’d better go out there,’ Tom said, standing up.

‘Not yet,’ Spencer whispered, grabbing him. ‘Wait until they find us. Or until they get really desperate. Whichever happens first.’

Tom felt strange, as if he’d been turned into two versions of himself. There was the Tom who did what his mother asked, who carried the whistle, who felt sad when she worried about him. But the other, new version of himself - the Tom he was at that moment - felt different. A policeman was looking for him! He’d spent the afternoon running wild in this big house! It felt bad, but it also felt good. Exciting. Adventurous. There was trouble ahead, he knew without a doubt. But he also realised something else. It was going to be worth it.

‘Spencer? Tom? Spencer?’ There were three voices calling their names now, and one of them was getting closer.

‘We come out now,’ Spencer said firmly. He stepped out from behind the fireguard. ‘Sorry. Have you been looking for us? Here we are.’

Tom stepped out beside Spencer, feeling that strange combination of defiance and excitement again.

‘Here we are,’ he echoed.

TWO hours later, Tom’s arm hurt from where his mother had gripped it, his back hurt from where she’d hugged him too tightly, his eyes hurt from blinking back his own tears after she’d started crying, and he was still shocked by the severity of his punishment. ‘You’re grounded for a month, Tom. Do you understand that? Completely grounded. We had a deal but you disobeyed everything I’ve ever asked you. I’ve never been so worried.

I thought you were dead, drowned, kidnapped. You’re grounded for a month and no pocket money either. You can leave this house or this yard to go to school or to cricket practice but that’s it. Do you understand? No outings, no treats, nothing.’ ‘But Spencer invited me back tomorrow. He ‘

‘Forget Spencer. Forget that whole family and that whole house. You’re never going back there again.’

‘But he’s lonely too. He hasn’t got any friends around here either.’

She stopped shouting then. ‘You’ve got plenty of friends, at school, in the cricket team …’

Tom didn’t say anything.

Her voice softened even more. ‘I’m only doing this because I love

you, Tom. I thought something terrible had happened to you today. I couldn’t bear it if it had.’

‘But it didn’t happen. We were just having fun.’

‘I know that’s how it looks to you, but you’re still grounded. Goodnight. I love you.’

He knew he should have said ‘I love you too’. He did love his mother. But he kept thinking about that huge house, the staircase, Spencer and his family… . It felt awful to think it, even for

a minute, but a tiny part of him was wishing that was his house, his family, not this small house, with just him and his mother.

‘Tom?’ She was beside him again, hugging him, kissing his head. She hadn’t stopped touching him since the policeman had brought him back home. ‘I love you very much.’ ‘I love you too,’ he said, finally.

A week after the incident with the-boy-from -that-house-afew-paddocks-away, as Tom had become known by the family, Henry was disturbed at his attempts to do the accounts (though he’d long put them away and was browsing through an antiques catalogue) by a knock at the office door. ‘Come in,’ he called.

First Charlotte appeared, then Audrey, followed by Gracie and Spencer.

‘A delegation,’ he said, pushing the magazine aside and looking up with a cheerful expression. ‘Just what I’m in the mood for. To what do I owe this pleasure?’

The three youngest looked to Charlotte, who was wearing a defiant expression. ‘We’ve come to hand in our resignation.’ ‘Resignation? From what exactly?’

‘From our jobs here. From working for you and Mum. We don’t want to do it any more.’

Henry stood up, leaned both arms on his desk and sighed. ‘There are days when we’re all unhappy with our lot, Charlotte. When we wish we could be anywhere but where we are. When we wish fate had dealt us a different hand. But resign from your family? I’m sorry, but there’s the little matter of all of us being related to each other. You can’t leave.’ ‘We’re not leaving the family. We’re resigning from Templeton Hall.’ ‘And moving where? Out to the chicken coop? Into Castlemaine? Or are you planning on living fulltime at the boarding school? You’ll love it there, Spencer. You can be everyone’s little boy-pet.’ ‘We’re serious, Dad,’ Audrey said. She was wearing full make-up, her hair elaborately styled.

Gracie said nothing, but looked as if she was about to cry. Spencer just looked cross.

‘I see,’ Henry said. ‘Then your mother should be here too. Excuse me for a moment.’

The four Templeton children stood motionless as their father walked out into the hallway. They heard him calling their mother’s name. ‘He won’t accept it. I told you he wouldn’t,’ Audrey hissed. ‘We should have done this my way.’

‘Gone on a hunger strike?’ Charlotte hissed back. ‘Forget it. Anyway, he has to accept it. What’s he going to do, force us into the costumes? Put guns to our heads as we lead groups around?’

Gracie looked even more tearful. ‘Maybe we should have discussed it with him first, not just come in and resigned.’