The Swiss Family RobinZOM (Book 4) (9 page)

The tram came to a stop and the doors hissed open. A woman in a burgundy dress stepped onto the carriage. Bill kept his eyes on the floor. Out the corner of his eye he could make out all the men’s heads turn to look at her. The woman stood before Bill.

“May I sit down?” she said.

Bill blinked. He let himself look up into her eyes. He nodded and she sat down. The tram doors closed and then started forward.

The woman in the red dress put her hand on Bill’s knee. He put his hand on hers. The looked at each other and smiled. They kissed.

“Where’s Francis?” Bill said.

“At his grandmother’s,” Liz said. “She’ll bring him over tonight.”

There was a pause. They both began to speak at once. They smiled.

“You go first,” Bill said.

“No, you,” Liz said. “Please.”

“I’m sorry for acting strangely yesterday,” Bill said. “I don’t know what came over me. I do feel like we need a change, but we don’t need to travel across the world to do it. I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Liz said. “For not listening to you when you were trying to explain how you were feeling to me. I would never want to force you into the arms of another woman.”

“I would never do that,” Bill said.

“A man can get bored with the things he has,” Liz said. “He does silly things out of character.”

“Not that silly,” Bill said. “I would never do anything to damage our family.”

Liz smiled.

“I know,” she said. “My mother said as much.”

“Your mother?” Bill said. “You spoke to her about this?”

He put his head in his hands.

“I needed to talk to someone, Bill,” Liz said. “Anyway, she gave me some sage advice.”

“I’m sure she did,” Bill said. “Half the town will know it by now.”

“She told me she wouldn’t gossip,” Liz said.

“I hope not,” Bill said.

The tram came to the next stop and another passenger got on. He sat in the seat in front of them. Liz lowered her voice.

“She’d have to know at some point,” she said, “assuming we decide to leave.”

Bill blinked.

“You’re considering it?” he said.

“I am,” Liz said.

“Why?” Bill said.

“You were right,” Liz said. “We’ve become too stuck in our ways. A change might do us good. But I was thinking that maybe just you and I go. For a short time. We can get our adventure and the boys can look after themselves and learn to be independent.”

“What if something goes wrong?” Bill said.

“Our families are here,” Liz said. “They can look after them. I’m sure you can convince your company to let you go for a short time. We can both work, find something, anything, to pay the bills as we go. No need to eat into the boys’ college funds.”

Bill smiled.

“Thank you for saying that,” he said. “But I don’t think it would be right to tear the family apart just for my own selfish needs.”

“It wouldn’t just be for you,” Liz said. “It would be good for the boys. And for us. Give a little spice to our relationship.”

Liz ran her fingers through Bill’s thinning hair.

“I don’t want you to get old regretting not doing something you wished you had,” she said.

“I don’t regret anything,” Bill said. “But it would be nice to see you working on your tan, get yourself a nice beach bod. We could check out the nudist colonies while we’re at it.”

“I thought it was meant to be an adventure!” Liz said.

“Sounds like an adventure to me!” Bill said.

Liz folded her arms.

“Then I’m not going,” she said.

Bill took her in his arms.

“No need to be like that,” he said, rocking her gently. “We can just have our own nudist colony at home. We’ll be like teenagers with the kids gone. Did you know all the men on here looked at you when you got on?”

“Got you all hot and bothered, did it?” Liz said.

“How long before the kids get home?” Bill said.

Liz checked her watch.

“About ten minutes,” she said.

“Great,” Bill said. “We’ll have enough time to start dinner too.”

The grounds were empty, the rest of the school in fourth period. A photographer set up his tripod and camera, facing the building. The winning quiz team lined up. Jenny and Yvonne adjusted their skirts and touched up their make-up – any excuse to flout school rules for a day. Mr Kappel cast an appraising eye over each team member. They all wore their medal… except Tanja.

“Where’s your medal?” Mr Kappel said.

“I don’t have it, sir,” Tanja said.

“You left it at home?” Mr Kappel said. “Can you call your parents to bring it?”

“They’re at work and they couldn’t bring it even if they weren’t,” Tanja said.

“Why not?” Mr Kappel said.

“I sold it, sir,” Tanja said.

“You
sold
it?” Mr Kappel said.

Mr Kappel couldn’t believe his ears. Neither could Ernest.

“A member of the opposite team wanted it more than I did, so I decided to sell it to her,” Tanja said.

The vein in Mr Kappel’s forehead throbbed.

“We have the victory photo today,” he said through clenched teeth. “What are we going to do if you don’t have your medal?”

Tanja shrugged.

“No one told me we had a victory photo today,” she said. “Anyway, I don’t think anyone will notice. Or care. But feel free to not include me in the photo.”

Mr Kappel’s eyes narrowed.

“And have your parents jump down my throat when they discover you haven’t been included in the newsletter front page?” he said. “I don’t think so.”

“Only Mittens, our tabby, is likely to ever see it, sir,” Tanja said.

“Mittens?” Mr Kappel said.

“We use the newsletter in the litter tray,” Tanja said. “No one will read it.”

Mr Kappel opened his mouth to berate her, but held himself back.

“What do your parents think of your actions?” he said.

“I don’t think they would really care, sir,” Tanja said.

“I can assure you they would,” Mr Kappel said.

“Feel free to inform them,” Tanja said. “But you might need to explain what the competition is though, as they don’t know I participated in it.”

This seemed to anger Mr Kappel the most.

“As the competition interests you so little, why did you enter in the first place?” he said.

“You needed help,” Tanja said.

“What do you intend on doing with your earnings from selling your medal?” Mr Kappel said.

“That’s my business,” Tanja said.

Her tone was not openly hostile, but straight and direct. Mr Kappel’s mouth screwed up like he had a bad taste in his mouth.

“We’re ready for the picture now,” the photographer said.

Mr Kappel stared at the place where Tanja’s medal should have been. He slipped his own medal off and placed it on over her head.

“Sir, there’s really no need,” Tanja said, waving him away.

“Just act like I’m the teacher for two minutes,” Mr Kappel said.

They stood in front of the school, smiled, and the photographer took a picture.

“One more,” the photographer said. “Mr Kappel, can you try to smile a little more, please?”

He took another picture. The bell rang for lunch. Tanja began to walk away.

“Where are you going?” Mr Kappel said.

“Oh,” Tanja said, taking the medal off and handing it to Mr Kappel. “Here you go.”

“It’s customary for the victors to share a celebratory lunch together,” Mr Kappel said, nostrils flaring. “But I suppose you already have plans?”

“Actually, yes,” she said.

Mr Kappel turned red, the muscles in his jaw clenching tight.

“Fine,” he said, and began to usher the others toward the lunch hall.

“Do we have to go?” Yvonne said, suddenly aware there was an option.

“No,” Mr Kappel said. “You don’t
have
to. But I thought it’d be nice.”

“I’m not going either,” Ernest said, and he followed Tanja’s retreating back, leaving the stunned silence behind him.

He jogged after Tanja.

“Tanja wait!” he said.

“What is it, Ernest?” Tanja said.

“I need to ask you something,” Ernest said. “Why did you sell the medal?”

Tanja shrugged.

“I don’t need the medal to remember I won,” she said.

Ernest blinked like he’d been slapped.

“You confuse me,” Ernest said.

“Sorry,” Tanja said.

“No, in a good way,” Ernest said. “I never thought about it like that before. It’s just a piece of gold.”

“The girl wanted it more than me, that’s why I sold it to her,” Tanja said. “Her parents expected her to win it, mine don’t care. And she’s rich.”

“So what are you going to do with the money?” Ernest said.

“The same thing I always do with any money I have,” Tanja said. “I’ll give it away.”

Ernest watched as Tanja moved away, disappearing around the corner.

Ernest stood stock still for a moment, Tanja’s commentary giving him pause for thought. And before he knew it, his feet were rushing to the corner Tanja had gone around. He got there and steered around it, just in time to catch Tanja disappearing down an alley.

They wound down so many streets and alleys Ernest began to worry if he’d be able to make his way back again. But he pushed on.

Tanja finally came to an old building on the outskirts of town. The buildings here were worn and dishevelled, like an old man wearing a coat three sizes too big. Men and women in mix-and-match clothes queued out of the entrance. Tanja waved at a couple of them as she entered the building. Ernest waited a moment before crossing the street. He pushed on the door.

“The queue is back there,” a gnarled old man said.

“I’m not here to eat,” Ernest said.

The old man grumbled out the corner of his mouth like he didn’t believe him.

Inside the building were a long series of benches with men and women slurping soup and wiping bread around the edges, mopping up every drop. Tanja wore an apron and smiled as she ladled soup into bowls. Another room to one side had beds in. A few were occupied already.

Ernest let the door close and wandered across the road. He sat down on a bench. He watched as the homeless shuffled in and out of the shelter, going in grumbling, coming out with happy smiles. He touched the medal under his blazer. Suddenly it didn’t feel quite so valuable.

Jack laid a cold flannel across his father’s forehead. Liz’s body convulsed, her body shaking. She coughed up something that stuck to her cheek. She tried to breathe, but produced only a rasping wheeze. A yellow liquid oozed from her lips, orange chunks dribbling from her mouth.

Jack turned Liz on her side, into the recovery position. She threw up, the chunks splattering on the floor where Jack had placed a towel. Jack wiped his mother’s mouth clean and bent down to clean up the vomit.

Nips screamed in the other treehouse. Jack dropped the soiled cloth and ran to the door. He paused a moment, and quickly turned Bill onto his side too. He ran to the zip wire that connected the two treehouses, hanging upside down and dragging himself along arm over arm.

Jack met Nips, who pointed wildly at Francis. As Jack approached his youngest brother, Nips climbed along the wire to Falcon’s Nest. Vomit lay on Francis’s pillow. He coughed, choking.

Jack turned Francis on his side, but nothing more came up. His body convulsed, lips turning blue. Jack put his fingers down Francis’s throat and scooped the vomit out of his mouth. Francis sucked in a deep life-giving breath. Jack turned Fritz and Ernest on their sides, into the recovery position.

Jack wiped his tired eyes and let out a yawn. He was exhausted.

Nips started screaming again. Jack held onto the zip wire and began to pull himself across it toward Falcon’s Nest, his arms heavy as concrete. Nips leapt, using Jack’s body as a springboard, to return to Robin’s Nest.

Then the unthinkable happened.

Jack lost his grip.

It was an unfamiliar feeling, lacking the strength and conviction and confidence in knowing his next action would occur with the exact result he’d expected. His hands released, and his legs unwound. He found himself falling…

Falling…

Falling…

Jack curled himself up into a ball, and smashed into a table on his left side. He felt something snap. The table broke underneath him and spilled him across the ground. He rolled to a stop.

A small blurry object poked its head out of Robin’s Nest. Jack’s eyes began to close, but something jumped on him, pulling his hair and biting him on the nose.

Jack rolled onto his side and then pushed himself up. Nips sat on his chest. Jack checked his body. He was still in one piece. Nothing was broken. He got to his feet and stumbled. He brushed a hand over his forehead and found it wet with sweat, but not drenched. He still had some time left.

The table he’d landed on was the one his mother had used to place her birthday presents on. The feather bracelet had been snapped in half, the beads like lonely planets in the mud. The vase had been smashed, the flowers he’d picked lay broken and strewn about the clearing like forgotten love.

Jack shook his head and felt the tears welling up inside him, seeping from his eyes, unbidden. He’d done everything he could, but it wouldn’t be enough. He sat on a tree stump stool and buried his face in his hands, gripped his hair, and prepared to scream at the unfairness of it all.

Then he froze.

On his sleeve were a dozen multi-coloured petals from his eviscerated birthday bouquet. And Ernest’s reported words of Bill’s final words came back to him.

“Green stripe?” Jack said. “Greenie Stripie?”

His eyes came alive with hope. He got to his feet, staggering a few steps, and called to Nips.

“Come!” he said.

Jack climbed the ladder into Falcon’s Nest, Nips perched on his shoulder like a man in a crow’s nest. He approached a cabinet that ran the length of one wall. He opened it.

Arranged along the shelves were row upon row of small pots, some made of glass, others of china, others of coconut shell. Jack pulled a chair over, climbed onto it and took down a pot from the top shelf. It had ‘Greenie Stripie’ written across it. Jack took down the jar and sat it on the kitchen table. He lifted the lid.

It was empty.

“Crap!” Jack said.

He covered his mouth, peering around. But there was no one there to chastise him.

“We’ll have to go get more,” Jack said.

He checked his family once more and then climbed down the ladder and ran for the jungle foliage, suddenly energised with a sense of purpose. Moonlight streamed through the dark canopy, highlighting the labyrinth of jutting tree roots.

“I’m going to need your eyes tonight, Nips,” Jack said. “Lead me to Greenie Stripie. Go on. Find it.”