The Secrets We Keep (7 page)

Chapter 14

As soon as our car pulls up to the curb, I see blue-and-white checked police tape cordoning off the house. My legs go heavy and I gasp for breath, feeling like the oxygen is stuck somewhere in my chest. I don't think I can get out of the car.

‘Clem, it's nothing,' says Dad gently, reaching for my hand. ‘They just taped the house off because … I'll go pull it down now.'

‘But why is it there?'

‘The fire brigade always puts it up to keep people out …'

‘But Dad, that's police tape. It's like a crime scene.'

‘They're investigating, honey, that's all.'

That's all? I pull my hand away from his and clap my own hands together tightly, almost like I'm praying.

‘I checked with the police and it's fine to go in. Just give me a sec,' says Dad, climbing out of the car.

I watch him walk up to the front door and yank at the tape until it breaks.

I turn away and see that my netball ring is still in the front garden. And the green-and-yellow netball, signed by my favourite Australian player, lies slightly deflated on the ground beneath the ring.

Bridge and I used to practise shooting for hours. Even though I played centre, I loved having shoot offs with her, seeing who could get more goals in a row. Now the ball is just a reminder of something else I've lost.

I look ahead and focus on the silver car that's parked in front of us instead. I'm reading all their bumper stickers about saving the earth when Dad opens my door and tosses the balled-up police tape into the back seat. I don't want it near me.

‘Come on,' he says, holding out his hand to help me out of the car.

The walk from the car to the house seems to take hours. With each step I take, I remember more about that night.

But when I get closer, I'm surprised to find that there is more left of our house than I remembered. The front three rooms are still all structurally there, except everything inside is black. But the back of the house is completely gone.

Dad tells me to be careful. He doesn't want me going inside, but even though I feel sick there's no way that I can stop myself. What if I missed something the last time I looked?

I leave Dad in the garden to salvage whatever plants he can, and walk up to where our front door once was. Slowly I step onto the charcoaled floor, knowing the boards could give way at any moment if they are burnt out underneath. If I breathe in deeply enough, then the smell of the fire is still there. So I'm trying to hold my breath.

I scan everywhere as I walk, trying to find something among all the black. I see a splash of orange peeping out from our half-burnt couch. It must be leftover fabric from our cushions that didn't quite burn through.

When I get to my room, the doorway's blocked by fallen beams. I crawl in underneath and stand in what used to be the middle. The walls burnt down so it's hard to tell exactly where the room begins and ends.

My metal bedframe is still there, but the mattress is completely gone. I crouch down and shuffle over on my haunches, careful not to touch the ground and thinking I should have worn the tired leggings because my new ones are going to be covered in soot by the time I get out of here. I tentatively touch the frame, expecting it to be hot, but of course it isn't anymore. I look under the frame, but there's so much black stuff that I can't make anything out.

Then I see a flash of silver glinting in the ashes. I reach in, slowly, like I'm putting my hand into a snake's cage, and pull out three metal rings that I won during a magic show years ago. I never could get them to split apart. That's why they were under my bed and not in one of my treasured wooden boxes. I tug on the links, testing how strong they are. The fire hasn't changed them at all. Why couldn't the fire spare something that meant more to me than an impossible magic trick? I throw the rings onto the ground, my hands shaking, and then snatch them back up. At least it's something that's mine, even if it has no value.

I can't find anything else in the house.

My grandmother once told me a story about a bushfire that had ripped through her town years ago. It had skipped her house but had taken the ones on either side. One morning she woke up and saw strangers trawling through the debris with a metal detector. She confronted them and they said they'd been hired by her neighbours to save anything left in the rubble like melted silver and gold. Afterwards she found out that they'd lied to her. They were taking advantage of other people's misfortunes. She was devastated that people could be that dishonest.

I hope the people in our neighbourhood didn't scavenge around our house. But if the
y'
d tried, then I'm sure old Jack from next door would have chased them away. Dad used to joke that Jack spent his days sitting in the upright chair in his front room watching the world.

I start walking back towards my parents' room, when suddenly there's a loud crack and, before I can react, my foot goes straight through the floorboards and I fall into the soot.

‘Dad!' I yell, hoping he can hear me. I can't get my foot out. It's wedged in and, the more I pull, the more the boards seem to tighten around it.

‘Dad! Help!' I scream. My heart races at the thought of being trapped in the house.

Dad runs in and sees me on the ground.

‘It's okay, honey. I'll get you out.' He kneels down next to me and gives me a reassuring hug.

That's one of the things I love about Dad. He never says ‘I told you so' or makes you feel stupid for doing ridiculous things like falling through the floorboards.

‘You okay?' asks Dad.

‘Yeah, but my leg's stuck.'

‘Might have to cut it off
.
'

I groan and roll my eyes at the same time.

‘Good to see you didn't lose your sense of humour,' he says.

Then he carefully starts to pull my leg out, breaking off jagged bits of burnt wood at the same time. And finally, it's out and I'm free.

‘Can we get out of here now?' says Dad, pulling me up. ‘There are some plants I need your help with.'

When I see how blackened and marked my new leggings are my legs start shaking so I let Dad lead me safely to the backyard.

‘Did you find anything?' Dad's hand grips my
arm, like he's worried I'm going to faint if he lets go.

My throat feels closed and I struggle to find any words. ‘Just an old magic trick,' I finally say, holding out my metal rings.

‘Well, I found some plants that are still pretty healthy and some vegies that we can take home for dinner!'

‘Dad, my leg hurts.' I gulp back a sob.

‘Yeah. I bet. Why don't you rest while I grab what we need from the garden?'

I sit on one of the rocks along where the side of our house used to be. Blood is seeping through my leggings, ruining them. Even now, the fire is still taking my things. The smell of the fire is creeping up around me as I peel up the material to see my skin. The scratches are bloody and deep and painful and, the more I look at them, the more my head throbs.

As Dad walks back and forth carrying plants to our car, I stare in fury at what was once our house but is now just a blackened skeleton.

Chapter 15

The next morning, Dad's gone by the time I get up for school. My tummy flips when I realise that I didn't even get to tell him to have a good first day back at work. He must have got up super early because he's even made me lunch. I think about what Ellie said, about me being lucky because of Dad, and it makes my eyes sting. What if I lost him too? What would happen to me then?

I can't think about it. Not now. Instead I try to imagine the look on Ellie's face when she sees my pierced ears.

As I get ready for school, I notice that the flat smells different this morning because it's full of Dad's rescued plants. The scents of the orchids and the irises and the few potted roses are swirling around like an intense potpourri. I can't work out if it cheers me up or makes me feel worse that I'm now living in a virtual greenhouse. Even the concrete stairwell is looking all floristy. Mum would have loved it.

I'm amazed at how much Dad can get done without Mum. He soaked my leggings for me last night and I find them hanging on the back of a chair. He didn't quite manage to get rid of all the bloodstains, but he did a pretty good job on the soot. Now they just look like the rest of my tired-looking clothes.

Ellie's right. I am lucky to have a dad like mine.

Walking into school doesn't feel so strange today. I head straight to my class and, given that the teacher still hasn't arranged for me to have my own locker, I shove my bag into Ellie's hoping her invitation to share extends another week. Her bag isn't there yet, so I assume she's running late.

In the learning neighbourhood I see Tam in the middle of a huddle of girls. They are clearly her friends but I haven't really met them yet. I don't know what I should do. Walk up and join in? Or hang back? Tam isn't really my number one fan, so I'm sure she'd rather I stayed away.

But then I see her sniffing and blinking back tears, so I shuffle closer to hear what's going on, while staying outside the circle.

‘Apparently its only days until …' Tam can't finish and starts crying. ‘I've known her since I was at kinder. She's like my other mum.'

‘Are you talking about Ellie's mum?' I ask.

Tam's friends move in closer and Tam shoots me a look. ‘Yeah. She's not going home from hospital. She's dying.'

‘Oh,' I say quietly.

‘You've only been at our school for two days. Maybe it's best if you just stay out of it.'

I nod. Tam's right. What do I know about Ellie or her mum? Nothing.

I turn away from the group, find an empty chair and sit down, watching Tam being comforted by the girls. The bell goes and they drift past me like a grey cloud to the seats at the back. They're still whispering, but I can't quite make out what they're saying.

Rebecca walks in and starts talking about the maths we're working on. I try to listen, but it's hard. Instead of thinking about Ellie, Mum's face keeps popping into my head. And it's like she used to be, when she still smiled.

For the rest of the day I sit silently in my chair as class plays out around me, concentrating on keeping my tears away. Without Ellie around, nobody seems to notice me.

I'm like a ghost.

Finally the bell goes and I can't wait to be let out. I sling my bag over my shoulder and run through the school and out the gates, the first one to leave.

I run along the footpath with no idea where I'm going. I don't know these streets yet. So I just run.

Down.

Around.

Left.

Right.

Random choices made by my feet.

And I keep running.

I run past a corner shop and wish I could remember where it is for the next time I feel like a bag of mixed lollies or a packet of chips. But I know I won't remember.

I know I can't run forever. I know that as soon as I stop everything will flood back. But at least for now it's gone. And I am free.

When I run, I notice beautiful things. Like a cat climbing a fence. Like a kid riding their bike. Like a garden bursting with roses all in bloom.

Suddenly I'm gasping for breath and I have to stop. I double over with a stitch and realise that I desperately need water. Slowly I start walking back the way I ran, trying to see where I turned, but I'm not sure how to get back.

I reach a corner and go left just as a car pulls up to turn right. I look over and see Ellie in the front seat, head in her hands, lost. And then I see Ellie's house. And I know I'm not lost anymore.

Before she has a chance to see me, I start running back towards the flat.

I burst into the concrete stairwell, my heart beating hard like someone is chasing me.

‘You okay?'

I look up and see a woman coming down the stairs. It's Maggie from the courtyard.

‘Yeah. Just went for a run.' I walk past not wanting to chat.

‘It's Clem, isn't it?' she asks, taking the rest of the steps quickly and coming to stand near me.

‘Yeah.'

She smiles and it's such a warm smile that I stop. Besides, she has purple leather boots on and they are about the best thing I've ever seen. In fact her whole outfit is pretty cool. She's wearing striped pants and a floppy old t-shirt with a picture of Yoda on it. It's sort of like my outfit only she's older, so it's less out there.

‘Do you know anything about fish?' she asks.

‘Um …' I stall, not knowing where this is going.

‘I should clarify by saying they are tropical fish in a tank that's probably the size of a long table. In fact they take up more of my flat than I do!' She laughs and starts back up the stairs. ‘Come on, come and see them.'

I hesitate. I don't usually make a habit of going into stranger's flats. But then she does seem really friendly and more like a slightly eccentric aunt than someone sinister.

Maggie must sense my uncertainty because she says, ‘Go tell your dad. Ask if he wants to come, too.'

I scoot down the hall, take out my key and burst into our flat. But Dad's asleep on the couch and I don't want to wake him, so I sneak out and walk back to Maggie.

‘He said it's fine,' I say. And then I add, ‘He's just cooking dinner, so he can't leave the potatoes.'

Maggie leads me upstairs where it's equally dim and dark in the concrete hallway. She opens the door and instantly I see bright colours. Around the room are all these amazing lamps with different coloured lights. A couple are on: a red one and a yellow one. I like how they brighten everything up and I make a mental note to talk to Dad about seeing what he can find at the op shop.

Maggie's walls are painted an amazing green and it's like her flat's surrounded by a thick, tall forest. And a huge fish tank runs along an entire wall. It's backlit so the tank seems really deep. A low hum buzzes from the filter on the side and in the corner of the tank a treasure chest opens and closes, releasing a stream of bubbles. But, weirdly, I can't see any fish.

‘I don't have a television so my fish are it,' Maggie says.

A red velvet couch sits in front of the tank. I picture Maggie relaxing there at night, feet up, gazing calmly at the fish.

I walk closer to the tank, wanting to see the fish, but even up near the glass I can only see a couple of
fluorescent
blue fish about the size of my pinkie.

‘Where are they all?'

Maggie laughs and steps up next to me. ‘Most of them are night creatures so they only start swimming after dark. During the day they're a bit boring. In fact, my feathered catfish is hiding somewhere. Even if we stand here watching for the next hour, he probably won't come out.'

Pointing out where they hide among the rocks, Maggie tells me their names. Lurch. Whiskers. Jeffrey. She explains why she's called them those names, although without seeing them all I just don't understand her reasons. But then a black-and-blue striped fish swims close to the glass.

‘Oh look. That's the striped Cichlid. Watch him for a second. See what he does with the stones?'

As if on cue, he picks up a stone in his mouth from the bottom of the tank and spits it out at the glass. Then he does it again. And again. And again. I can't help but giggle. It looks so ridiculous and pointless.

‘I named him Put Put because that's what it must sound like when he spits them out. He's digging a hole right in the middle of the tank to mark his territory. When I clean out the tank and the stones get all muddled, he has to spend the next week spitting them from one spot to another again.'

‘Wow. You really don't need a TV. Fish are better viewing than anything.'

‘Yep. They really are.'

We both stand there, side by side, watching the fish for ages, until suddenly Maggie realises the time and says she has to go.

As we walk downstairs together, she says, ‘Clem, I go away a lot for work. Just to the country. But it's a weekend here and a weekend there, so I really need a responsible fish-feeder. What do you think? I'll give you three dollars a day.'

I must look surprised because she laughs at me. ‘It's not hard. You just open the glass and drop the food into the water
.
'

‘Of course. But—'

Maggie holds up her hand. ‘Don't say you don't want the money. I'm sure it would come in handy for you. And you'd be helping me.'

I find myself nodding. ‘Okay. Great. Thanks.'

‘Next time I see your dad I'll explain it to him. And I'll get a key cut so you can let yourself in.'

‘Okay.'

Maggie hurries out into the late afternoon, leaving me at the bottom of the stairs.

I don't quite know what's just happened, but I think I just got a job! I run through the stairwell to our flat to tell Dad the good news.