Cicada Summer (12 page)

Eloise flung the bike away; she’d just have to go on foot. But the accident had muddled her. She wasn’t sure which direction she’d come from and which way she was going. The dark was thick all around her; the rain drove down onto the top of her head. She was almost sure she had to go this way. She bent her head into the rain and tried to run, but the rain pushed against her like a hand to her chest.

It was almost like wading through water, almost like swimming.
Keep swimming through.
She thought about Tommy at the bottom of the pool. If it kept on raining, the pool would fill with water; he might drown. She thought of Mo, of Dad and Lorelei. She thought about Anna. She had the strangest feeling that she was walking away from Anna, that every step carried her further away. But she had to help Tommy, he was the one who needed her now.

Eloise put one foot in front of the other, one, two, one, two, jogging, walking, jogging again. A numb, dizzy chant circled through her head:
keep on swimming, keep on swimming
. The road dipped and rose beneath her feet, and then at last, very far away, lights twinkled out of the dark, and very slowly, with every dip in the road, the lights grew brighter and bigger until at last Eloise staggered into a world of light, a world that was dry and hot and dazzlingly bright.

She stood in front of the hospital desk, dripping and shaking. A nurse looked up.

‘Hey there, sweetie. Wow, look at you. You’re soaked! What’s the matter, what’s happened?’

Eloise opened her mouth. For a dreadful moment she thought nothing would happen, but then she heard her own voice, faint and far away, even though she felt as if she were shouting.

‘
Help
.’

The ambulance careered through the night, lights flashing, siren wailing, windscreen wipers slashing back and forth. Eloise sat in the back, wrapped in a blanket. She shivered so violently that her teeth clashed together. Someone had given her a plastic cup of hot chocolate to drink, but she’d spilled most of it.

The journey that had taken Eloise so long by foot lasted only a few minutes in the ambulance. In fact, they drove past the house in the dark and had to turn back.

But when they’d bumped down the pine-tree tunnel and wailed to a halt, there was a car already parked on the gravel in front of the house: a big blue four-wheel drive.

‘Which way, love? Where is he?’

Eloise’s arms and legs were stiff and heavy but she managed to clamber out of the ambulance and stagger across the grass. Someone pulled out a fat torch and a beam of light swept across the face of the house. The rain had almost stopped. The drops sparkled in the light like a fall of tinsel.

Around the corner of the house Eloise saw another, thinner beam of light, swinging drunkenly back and forth; a faint glow shone from behind the wide back windows. Voices called her name. They were looking in the wrong places; they were nowhere near the summerhouse. Didn’t Dad know she’d be at the summerhouse?

But that was Anna’s dad, not hers . . . and anyway, she
wasn’t
there . . .

Eloise stumbled headlong down the slope, calling, ‘This way, here, he’s down here!’

The white shaft of torchlight jerked across the summerhouse and lit up the diving board. Eloise flung herself down on her stomach at the edge of the pool. ‘There, there he is, there.’

And then everything became a blur of shouts and light and flurried movement, lowered stretchers and radio calls. And suddenly Dad was there, white in the torchlight, grabbing her into his arms, pressing her against his black parka all slick with rain. And Lorelei Swan was behind him, wearing a battered old raincoat that must have been Mo’s, her hair flattened to her skull. Someone yelled at her to please hold the torch steady. Dad was asking a million questions, half-shaking her and half-hugging her, not waiting for her to answer, and someone asked if he knew the parents and someone else said
Wait a sec, I think it’s Najela Durrani’s boy
.

And then someone else was asking Dad questions, and the torch was shining in their eyes, and Dad held Eloise away from the light, and he kept saying,
I just want to take her home. I just want to take her home
. And his voice was getting louder and louder. And Lorelei Swan’s voice was shrill in the background and then Dad yelled at her, and she yelled back, and Dad gripped Eloise tighter and tighter, and she craned around his arm to watch as they winched Tommy out of the pool, strapped onto a stretcher under a silver blanket with his eyes shut, and she wriggled away from Dad and Lorelei Swan and ran over to the ambulance man who had his hand on Tommy and was saying,
You’re going to be all right, mate. It’s all right now
. And he saw Eloise and winked at her and said,
Don’t worry, love. He’s broken his arm but he’s going to be okay
.

And then Dad grabbed her again and marched her up the slope, and Lorelei Swan tripped and swayed behind them, all wet and bedraggled and saying,
You need to focus on what’s important here, Stephen.

And Dad swung round and yelled at her, ‘My daughter is what’s important here, Lorelei!’

And Lorelei yelled, ‘Well, if that’s the way you feel, you can shove it!’

And Dad yelled, ‘Fine, I will!’ And then he swung Eloise around again and kept marching her up the hill through the wet grass. Lorelei Swan yelled after them, ‘I suppose you’re going to leave me here now, are you? In the rain? In the dark, in the middle of nowhere?’

‘Get in the car!’ Dad hollered at her, and he pushed Eloise up into the front seat and buckled her in as if she was still a little kid and kissed her on the head, and Lorelei Swan scrambled into the back seat, sniffing. Dad got in and turned up the heater full bore and they bumped down the driveway behind the ambulance. But at the end of the driveway the ambulance roared away to the right and Dad swung the four-wheel drive to the left, toward home.

15

T
ommy followed you to the house yesterday afternoon. But after you got there, he lost you somehow.’ Mo lowered herself onto the end of Eloise’s bed. ‘And then it got dark so suddenly, with the storm coming. I suppose he must have been looking for you when he tumbled into the pool. It was very naughty, Eloise, to sneak off like that. Especially after what everyone had been saying. You gave us all such a fright.’

Eloise whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Well,’ said Mo as she lifted a strand of Eloise’s hair back from her forehead, ‘I suppose it was worth it, if it’s brought you back into the land of the living. I mean the land of the speaking. Mind you, I’m not sure Tommy will see it like that, nor his parents.’

‘Is he okay?’ said Eloise huskily.

‘Broken arm, mild hypothermia, and a bruised behind,’ said Mo. ‘They kept him at the hospital last night but he’ll be home this morning. Might be worth you going next door later with a big bunch of flowers and an apology.’

Eloise squirmed. ‘Not flowers.’

‘For his mother, not for Tommy!’ Mo smiled, and patted Eloise’s leg under the blanket. ‘How are you feeling, anyway, chicken, after that big sleep?’

‘Good.’

‘Well, you can stay there for the moment. Dr Durrani says a day in bed won’t hurt you. I’m going to make some sandwiches.’

Eloise thought about protesting, but then she snuggled down. It really was nice to be tucked up in bed. She felt so heavy and limp, as if she’d never move again . . . Before too long she was asleep.

At lunchtime Dad arrived. ‘Well, that’s that,’ he announced, with an odd mixture of gloom and triumph. ‘She’s gone. Stormed off back to Melbourne.’

‘Who has? You mean Lorelei Swan?’ exclaimed Mo. ‘I thought we were going to be stuck with her forever.’

Eloise wriggled with satisfaction. Then she remembered she could speak if she wanted to, and she whispered, ‘Good.’

Dad threw her a startled glance. ‘My God. So it’s true. You’re talking again—’ ‘She’s a human, Stephen, not a hamster,’ said Mo brusquely. ‘No need to treat her like a sideshow freak just because she can talk.’

‘Well, no, but . . .’ Dad bent down and kissed Eloise on the forehead. ‘It’s good to have you back, Elocution Lessons.’

‘Um, Dad,’ said Eloise shyly. ‘Would it be okay if you just called me my name?’

Dad’s eyebrows shot upward. ‘Yeah, sure,’ he said after a minute. ‘I guess so. I thought you liked all my funny little nicknames.’

‘I like Eloise better,’ said Eloise firmly.

Mo plumped down on the bed. ‘I want to hear more about Lorelei Swan.’

‘Nothing more to tell.’ Dad shrugged. ‘She’s gone, vamoosed, cleared out, skedaddled. We had a bit of a row last night, while we were out searching for this young lady. What was all that about, by the way?’

‘I just wanted to go for a ride,’ said Eloise. ‘I’m sorry everyone was so worried.’

‘Yes, well. So we bloody well were. All hell broke loose once we realised you were gone, and of course the storm had started by then and it was pitch dark. Were you sheltering in the house, or what?’

‘Mm,’ said Eloise uncomfortably. ‘It was raining.’ ‘And then young Tommy had his fall and you rushed off for help? I don’t know whether to be proud of you for that, or angry with you for taking off in the first place. Anyway, tempers were running quite high as you can imagine. Lorelei and I had words, and the upshot is, she’s gone.’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘I’ve got a lot of sweet-talking to do. Thought I might start work on an email, so it’ll be waiting when she gets back to Melbourne.’

Eloise and Mo exchanged a look. ‘You’re better off without her, if you ask me,’ said Mo. ‘Which I know you weren’t.’

‘No, I wasn’t. But it’s the money, Mo, I need her money. Simple as that.’

Mo stood up. ‘Come on, Eloise. Get dressed. While your father starts on his sweet-talking, you and I are going to pay a visit next door.’

Dad and Eloise gaped.

‘But Mo,’ said Dad, ‘you haven’t set foot out of this house for I don’t know how many years . . .’

‘And I think it’s time that changed, don’t you?’ said Mo crossly. ‘If Eloise can bring herself to talk again, I’m sure I can go for a little walk.’

Mo was very brave. It took her quite a while to get ready; she had to arm herself with a hat and dark glasses and an umbrella to clutch in one hand while she held onto Eloise’s arm with the other. Then she stood in the doorway for a minute or two, breathing deeply.

‘Come on, Maureen Jean,’ she muttered to herself. ‘You can do it. Here we go. One step – there. No, no, not yet. Just a minute.’ She lurched back inside. ‘Just a minute.’

‘I’m with you, Mo,’ said Eloise. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you.’ Eloise was holding in her other hand the flowers that Dad had bought for Tommy’s mother.

‘How far do you reckon it is to next door?’ said Mo. ‘Twenty steps?’

‘Maybe only fifteen,’ Eloise assured her. She squeezed Mo’s hand. ‘We can make it.’

Mo breathed again, wedged her dark glasses on her nose, and launched herself out of the house, counting firmly, ‘One, two, three, four . . .’

It took them forty-nine steps to reach the Durranis’ front door. Mo leaned against the wall, breathing hard, while Eloise rang the doorbell.

‘That wasn’t too bad,’ said Mo, reaching up to touch her hat with a shaking hand. ‘Don’t know what all the fuss was about.’

Tommy’s father answered the door. It was hard to say whether he was more surprised to see Mo standing on the step, or to hear Eloise say, ‘These are for you, and I’m very sorry about Tommy.’

‘Remember I told you if I wanted help, I’d ask for it?’ Mo said to him as they stepped inside. ‘Consider yourself asked.’

Tommy’s mother was at work but Tommy’s father led them into the living room and offered them a cup of tea. Tommy was lying on the couch with his eyes closed and his arm in plaster. He struggled up at the sight of Eloise and her grandmother.

‘Stay there, Tommy, we won’t disturb you.’ Mo waved him down again. ‘I’d just as soon have my tea in the kitchen, if you don’t mind, Professor. I’m a little nervous, to tell you the truth, being inside someone else’s house.’

‘We’re honoured you chose our house to visit.’ Tommy’s dad made his little bow. ‘Tommy and I were about to start a game of chess; perhaps Eloise would take my place?’

Eloise sat down hesitantly on the other side of a small table where a chessboard was set up, and eyed it with some trepidation. The adults moved down the hallway to the kitchen, still talking.

Tommy and Eloise sat in silence. The Durranis’ house was very neat, with not much furniture. A clock ticked slowly on the mantel above the gas heater. Eloise’s portrait of Tommy was propped beside it. Eloise hastily looked away.

At last Tommy said, ‘So you’re talking now?’

Eloise nodded.

‘You know how to play chess?’

‘No.’

There was a pause.

‘Thanks for last night,’ said Tommy awkwardly. ‘Getting the ambulance and that.’

‘Sorry I made you fall in the pool,’ said Eloise.

‘You didn’t make me. I just didn’t see it. Should watch where I’m going, eh.’

There was another pause. Eloise picked up a chess piece and twiddled it in her fingers.

‘So,’ said Tommy. ‘Where did you go?’

Eloise dropped the chess piece abruptly and bent down to pick it up. ‘Um – I went to the house.’

‘I know that; I was following you, remember? I mean after that. You ran across the grass and you just . . . disappeared. Into the air. Like that.’ Tommy clicked his fingers.

‘Um,’ said Eloise, going pink. She remembered that this was the trouble with talking: people expected you to answer questions you didn’t want to answer.

‘I was watching you,’ said Tommy. ‘I know what I saw. So don’t make out you went in the little – what’s-it-called? That little round house. Or inside the big house. It wasn’t dark then, I saw you. You just went invisible.’ Tommy was scowling at her, but not, Eloise realised, in an angry way. He just really wanted to know.

Without meaning to, Eloise heard herself say, ‘You won’t believe me.’

‘I might. If I promise to believe, will you tell me?’ ‘You can’t promise to believe.’

‘I’ll try. Come on, if you can’t tell me, who can you tell?’