Give Me Truth (3 page)

‘What are we going to do, David?'

Allie sprawls on the floor in Gran's spare bedroom. This used to be Mum's room. There are twin single beds in here now, and the mattresses are hard. On the bookshelf there's a doll – pink dress and bonnet – which cries when Allie tilts it forward. Mum flat out denies it was hers when she was a kid, as if owning up to it might make her seem weak somehow. She's a deputy principal now: they're not allowed to be weak.

‘David – did you hear me?'

‘Yeah, I heard you.'

‘Well?'

‘How do
I
know?'

She reaches up to the bed, grabs a pillow and pegs it at me.

‘What was that for?'

‘Shut up, David!'

Allie's not quite twelve yet, but she forgets I'm just sixteen. It's not like I've got all of life's answers written on the back of my hand. Normally I'd tell her to shut up right back, or toss an insult at her that she can't understand – that really annoys her. But now isn't normal.

‘It's not gunna stay like this,' I say. ‘This is only for tonight.'

‘Then we'll go home?'

‘Definitely.'

‘You promise, David?'

How could anyone promise that?

‘Yes, I promise, Allie. Nothing surer.'

 

We sit around the breakfast table. Gran's having the best time, fussing over us. She smiles like we're enjoying a picnic, but for me and Allie it feels more like our own funeral.

‘There – I think we're all set.' Gran looks the table up and down. ‘If there's anything you can't see, tell me and I'll get it for you. Bog in.'

Mum has that steely look she gets in her eyes – focused, determined. No one dares mention last night. She pats Gran lightly on the back. ‘Thanks for going to all this trouble, Mum.'

‘No trouble, Lorraine. You can stay as long as you like.
You know I love having you here.' She turns to me and Allie, all smiles. ‘We're family. We don't need anyone else.'

Allie is so predictable. A piece of toast she's eating shoots out of her mouth at the same time as she spits out the words I knew she'd say.

‘Dad is our family! We should be with him!'

Then she's off, with Mum after her.

‘Allie Curtis, you come back here this minute and apologise. Allie – '

A door slams and then it's just me and Gran.

She is old and round and full of chatter, which is all good grandmother stuff. But when Allie and I are at Gran's place we have to be quiet. Almost invisible. She goes mental if we make a mess. And she's never liked Dad. The thing that really gets me, though, is that sometimes, even when she's smiling, she says words that don't belong with smiles.

I mop up Allie's toast.

‘David.'

I look at her. ‘Allie didn't mean that, Gran. It's just …'

‘I know.' Her tight-skinned hands fold into mine. ‘It's not going to be easy for quite a while.' She leans in closer, her eyes peering out over the top of her glasses. ‘It's understandable for Allie to be like that. But you're older, David. You have to be realistic.'

I nod, hoping that will be enough to make her stop. It's not.

‘Your father refuses to go to a counsellor.'

I take my hand away.

‘He won't try at all. He's getting worse every day. You tell me if I say anything you don't think is right.'

The floor looks very interesting.

‘And now he's hit you.'

She lets that hang in the air. The longer it dangles there undefended, the worse it sounds.

‘He didn't mean it.'

She's smiling now. ‘David, he hit you.'

I mop up some more crumbs.

‘Didn't he?'

‘I suppose.'

‘You have to face the truth. Your parents have been having trouble for a long time. Last night was the final straw. I hate to say this, I really do, but you need to accept that it might be over.'

‘No. It's not over.'

I put up my words as a roadblock and she crashes straight through them.

‘Your mother can't go on accepting this behaviour. She's only stayed so long because of you and Allie. But now this has happened … whatever she decides to do, I expect you to support her.'

She pauses for me to say something but all I manage is another stupid nod. I'm not really agreeing with her, it's just that I've temporarily forgotten how to speak.

The legs of my chair scrape on the tiles as I push back from the table and stand.

‘Where are you off to?'

I mutter and shrug.

‘You haven't touched your breakfast. Come on, now.' She slaps her hands together as if I'm a dog in a circus act. ‘Sit down and eat something.'

I fall back into the chair, jab a fork at a slice of bacon, press some scrambled egg on top of it, a chunk of tomato …

‘David, eat your food, please – don't play with it.'

A memory jumps up and hooks me. It's there in every detail. We're running through a park on a freezing day, firing soggy chips at each other. Mum and Allie, me and Dad. There were so many moments like that. I always thought they would never stop.

Gran taps a knife on the table. Jolts me back to her.

‘Oh, I know you have concerns about your father, but I assure you he will manage quite nicely. Your mother and sister are your chief responsibility. You're the man of the house now. You and you alone. It's a tall order. What do you say? Can your mother depend on you? Can Allie?'

I say ‘yes' quickly, as if it is so simple I don't even have to think about it.

‘That's the way, David. I knew you wouldn't disappoint me.'

A door creaks open in another room and soon Mum and Allie come back, hand in hand.

‘Allie has something to say to you, Mum. Go ahead, Al.'

She stands in front of Gran and I hear her hiss, ‘I'm never going to apologise to you, you stupid old cow. And you've got spiky hairs on your chin that stick into me when I have to kiss you, which I hate doing.'

But of course, that's only in my head. Some of the best things happen in my head.

‘Sorry, Gran,' says Allie.

And then they hug and kiss and I see Allie grimace as Gran's spiky chin attacks her.

 

Mum's hair is still wet from the shower. All the rest is a perfect straight line; neatly ironed clothes and shiny shoes, dainty earrings so small they hardly count, and a trace of her favourite musk perfume. She's in her armour and I have no chance of getting through.

‘I'm too busy.' She easily bats my questions away. ‘I have to get ready for work. Can't you see that?'

‘Then when you're ready. Can we talk then, Mum?' I follow her from room to room. ‘You have to tell us something. You can't – '

‘David.'

She's looking into a mirror and I'm behind her as she combs her hair.

‘Get your schoolbag. Have you cleaned your teeth yet?
We're leaving in ten minutes and I can't be late. Please move yourself.'

This can't be an ordinary school day. Our lives just got turned upside down. Maybe if I smash the mirror …

‘Mummm.' Allie steps into the bathroom. ‘I don't feel good.'

‘Let me look at you.' Mum presses a hand against her forehead. ‘You haven't got a temperature. Do you hurt anywhere?'

Allie shrugs vaguely. ‘I don't know. I just feel sick.'

‘Too sick to go to school, I suppose?'

‘Yes.'

Gran happens to walk past. A warder checking her prisoners.

‘Everything all right, Lorraine?'

Mum sighs. I know she wants to tell Gran to mind her own business, but politeness gets in the way.

‘The usual dramas, Mum. It's all under control.'

‘Well, if you need me, I'm here.'

‘Thanks for that.'

Mum closes the bathroom door.

‘And I suppose you're sick too, are you, David – because you don't want to go to school either, right?'

‘I'm not sick. But you're right, I don't want to go to school – not today.'

She checks out my lip. It's puffed-up and red but I've had worse from footy.

‘Does it hurt?'

‘Not a bit.'

‘Listen, you two,' Mum draws in a deep breath as she sits on the edge of the bath. ‘This is tough for me, too. Your dad and I have been married seventeen years. You think I wanted to leave last night? No, I didn't. I never wanted this.' Her hand rests on my shoulder. She pulls Allie close to her. ‘We'll be okay. It's awful now but it'll get better. We have to stay positive.'

‘What about Dad?' I say. ‘When are we going back?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Will you try, Mum?' says Allie.

‘Oh, honey. Yes, of course I'll try.'

Allie hugs her tightly. She'll believe anything. A hug isn't going to work with me.

‘I want to see him today.'

I say it as hard and as strong as I can.

Mum stands, brushes herself off, takes a last look at the mirror and strides away, leaving me with one word trailing behind her.

‘No.'

I haven't got the guts to smash the mirror.

 

Later, in the car, Allie raves on about netball. As if it matters.

‘There's a big game today.'

Blah, blah, blah.

But then she turns around and I see from her face that she's just filling up the silence so that everything seems normal. It's her way of looking after me and Mum. And she probably doesn't even know she's doing it.

Mum's car noses into the deputy principal's parking space at St Brendan's Primary. I hang back and wait as Allie gets some last-minute survival tips.

‘Remember, I'll be teaching down the hall from you all morning.' Mum straightens Allie's shirt collar. ‘So you tell your class teacher if you want to see me. Will you do that, Al?'

‘Yes, Mum.'

‘Good girl. And I'll have you after lunch for Art – which is going to be so much fun. Don't you think?'

‘I guess so.'

She kneels in front of her. ‘We'll get through today, Allie. We'll be fine.'

‘Okay.'

‘You run along now. I'll see you soon.'

Allie skips away to catch up with some of her friends. Then it's me and Mum.

She shoots a glance at me. ‘Now look here, Mister Tough Guy. You know I love you. Right?'

I manage to find a hurtful answer. ‘If you say so.' And I wrap it up with a shrug.

‘Yes, I do say so.' On a different day she might snap at
me for being a smart arse, but this time she lets it go. ‘Of course I love you. I want to strangle you sometimes, but I love you.' She smiles at me. I look away. ‘If you feel like talking, you know where I am. Any time, David.'

Sure, like I'm going to go running to you to talk, Mum. How old do you think I am?

I slouch off down the hill towards my own personal prison – Parish College.

‘Don't I get a proper goodbye?'

If I have to.

I go back and push my face towards hers, quickly.

‘Come straight to the car when school ends,' Mum calls after me. ‘I'll be waiting for you.'

‘I'm catching the bus.'

‘Back here, David. Now.'

She switches to her deputy-principal voice.

I trudge over slow as I can, to tick her off.

‘I said, come straight to the car after school. Did you hear me?'

‘Not really.'

I like living dangerously.

‘Don't be smart. I've had enough of it from you.'

‘What's wrong with me catching the bus? I always do it.'

‘This is not a debate.'

‘You think I'll go and see Dad, don't you? Well, why shouldn't I? He's still my father – isn't he?'

‘I don't want any of your attitude.'

‘Then I'll shut up. Fine. You can talk to yourself.'

Her eyes flash
danger, danger
, but she takes a deep breath – probably some yoga thing teachers learn to make them relax when they feel like murdering a kid – and when she speaks her voice is calm.

‘Look, you
will
see your father. Of course you will.'

‘I know I will. And you can't stop me.'

‘God!' She's blown the calmness now. ‘We are not having this discussion here. Do you understand me? Do you?'

Two teachers walk past. Mum turns away from me to smile and say hello.

I grab the opportunity.

‘See ya.'

‘Don't you dare.'

I'm out of there. Running.

‘David – David!'

I don't look back.