When You Wish upon a Rat (28 page)

“Howard!” she called loudly. “Hey, Howard! You ready to go?”

She stood still, listening for a reply, and when there was none called again.

“Howard! I want to go home.”

There was the far-off buzz of a chain saw and the rustling of the leaves on the nearby trees, but no human sound at all apart from her own breathing.

Ruth picked up her bag and positioned it on her back to begin the long walk into town. She didn't blame Howard for leaving, but the trip home wasn't going to be much fun.

She hadn't gotten far when she heard a shout behind her.

“Hey, Craze!”

Ruth turned around in surprise but couldn't see anyone. Who else but Howard called her
Craze?
She walked back toward the river and, sure enough, there was Howard running across the bridge toward her.

So he hadn't ditched her! They'd be able to go home together.

“Wait!” he shouted. “You're not going to believe this!” He was holding something quite big high up in the air, yelling excitedly as he ran toward her. “Wait!”

“I
am
waiting, Pope, you idiot!”

“You are not going to believe this!”

“You caught a fish?”

“Better!”

Ruth had never seen Howard run before, or sound so animated. He was across the bridge now and still running. Ruth finally saw what he was holding.

No. This was too weird.

“I found him, Craze!” Howard rushed up to her. “See, I found him!”

He thrust a battered, dusty Rodney into her hands and then collapsed on the ground to catch his breath.

Ruth stared down at the rat, trying to mesh this battered toy with the Rodney she knew. Well, he'd told her, hadn't he? He'd said he'd bow out if she chose to come back the third time. She wanted to cry suddenly.

One of his eyes was missing and the other was hanging by a thread. His jacket was half rotted away and he'd lost a boot. His whole right side was covered in thick dry mud. Ruth couldn't speak.

“It is him, isn't it?” Howard asked, scrambling to his feet. “That's your rat, right?”

“Yeah, it's him.”

“I found him in a dry eddy upstream from the bridge,” Howard explained. “I thought it was an old shirt or something and I didn't take any notice of it until I was about to go home. Then, when I picked it up, well … I ran all the way back.”

“Thanks.” Ruth was still too confused to respond properly.

“The poor little guy,” Howard mumbled, scratching off a
bit of mud from Rodney's boot. “No one's taken care of him for a while.” He looked up at her. “I told you we'd find him, didn't I?”

“You did, Howard.” Ruth smiled at her pale, odd-looking friend and hugged his thin shoulders quickly and fiercely. “Thanks.”

Howard shrugged her off, but his face had colored with pleasure.

“You going to take him home?” he asked gruffly.

“Of course I am.” Ruth undid the strap of her bag and gently put Rodney inside.

The four-kilometer walk back from the bridge into town seemed much longer than the trip out. Only one car passed, without even slowing down. A number of times Ruth was on the verge of telling Howard about all that had happened to her that day, but it seemed too big somehow, a little too crazy.

By the time they reached the bus stop, Ruth's feet were aching so much, she thought there was a chance they might fall off. She and Howard were thirsty as well as hungry. Not to mention cold. They tried to joke as they waited for the bus, hopping up and down to keep their toes warm, but it was a long, chilly wait, and the jokes petered out.

Eventually, the bus came. Ruth and Howard slumped into a double seat halfway down. Howard took the window seat
again, but Ruth didn't mind much. She had a pretty good view from her seat.

“I found the rat too,” she said quietly, once the bus was on its way.

“How do you mean?” Howard turned to her, puzzled.

“This afternoon, I found Rodney.”

Howard stared at her. “What?”

“It's a long story.”

“Do I look like I'm busy?” Howard gave one of his sudden grins, which made Ruth smile back immediately. She really liked the way his face could change so quickly. He was a weird little old man–boy until he smiled. Then he turned into a normal kid.

Ruth ended up giving Howard a detailed account of what had happened to her that day. He kept very quiet most of the time. Occasionally, he grunted or sighed or looked agitated in a way that made her think he might be finding it all a bit too much.

“Howard, I'm not making this up,” Ruth felt compelled to say a couple of times.

“Didn't say you were,” he said sharply. “So, this happened when I was
asleep?
”

“Partly. Then when you went fishing.”

Howard didn't reply; he just looked at her.

“I'm
not
a nutcase,” she said. “I wouldn't believe it either, except it happened to me.”

“Not saying you are a nutcase,” Howard mumbled.

“So what do you think?”

But he only shrugged.

She tried not to care.

They both sat back and stared out the window.

After a while Ruth relaxed a bit. She liked the feeling of skimming along the black road, with the rush of lights as the stops were announced. It was a clear evening, the moon was up already, and they were cocooned in a warm tin can that was hurtling along in space.

Ruth's spirits soared with it. Telling Howard everything had loosened the anxious knot that had been with her most of the day, and, quite inexplicably, she was
excited
to be going home.

house, Ruth noticed that the porch light was on. Did that mean the family was home or … not? The place really didn't look so bad. Sure, the roof sagged and her father had left a large piece of machinery on the veranda, and even from this distance she could see the shabbiness of the peeling weatherboards, but— maybe just because it was nighttime and the darkness softened the impact—the whole place looked sort of …
friendly.

Together, Ruth and Howard walked up to the front door. Ruth took out her key and tried to act normal, but her heart was beating fast and her mouth was dry. She was so glad to be home, but what would she say? What
could
she say? The truth would sound way too crazy and yet … how could she not tell the truth? She walked down the hallway, Howard behind her, took a deep breath, and pushed open the kitchen door.

“Hey, everyone! I'm back,” she yelled.

But there was no one there. The kitchen was empty and cold, just as she'd left it that morning. Ruth didn't know whether to be pleased or not. It meant that at least for now she didn't have to explain herself, but … she'd been looking forward to seeing them.

“So where are they?” Howard asked.

“Not back yet.”

“Any food?”

“I'll have a look.”

But there wasn't much to eat, no bread left in the tin and no pies in the freezer, and they'd taken all the cheese and the fruit with them that day. There was nothing for it but to heat up an old can of celery soup and eat it with some dry biscuits.

They were both still hungry at the end of their meal. Ruth could tell by the way that Howard was shifting around in his seat that he was also still sore from the beating his father had given him, so she suggested a bath with some of her mother's soothing bath oils. To her surprise, he agreed and seemed quite intrigued by the idea. Ruth ran the bath, and then left him to it. She went out the back door and stood looking at the backyard. The sky was clear now, and cold. She sat down on the back step and patted the dog.

Howard was still in the bath when Ruth heard the car pull up outside. There was a loud horn blast and then a succession of
slamming doors, wild whoops and shouts. The front door burst open and her brothers ran in, followed by her parents.

“Hello, Ruthie!” Mrs. Craze called cheerfully. “You hungry, love?”

“Yes!” The delicious aroma of fish and chips hit Ruth's nostrils. When she spied the two steaming packages in her mother's tote bag, her mouth began to water. She hugged her mother and then her father, who was holding bottles of milk and soft drink. Marcus was taking off his shoes and dumping his coat on the floor, but when he saw Ruth he stopped.

“You should have been there today, sis!” he boasted. “You missed the race of a lifetime!”

“Did you get into the finals?”

“Do one-legged ducks swim in circles?”

“Hey,” Ruth said with a smile, “congratulations.” For the first time in ages she really meant it.

“Can we eat now, Mum?” Paul whined. “Before we have to put stuff away?”

“Good idea.” Mrs. Craze laughed, ruffling his hair. “Let's do that.”

“I could eat a horse and chase the jockey!” Marcus shouted.

Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of running water came from the bathroom. They all turned to look at Ruth.

“Who's in there?”

“My friend Howard Pope,” Ruth said. “He's got sore legs.”

“Is he that new boy from school?” Mrs. Craze asked with a frown.

Ruth nodded. “His father beat him really badly, so I told him he could have a bath,” she said.

“Oh, that's a good idea, Ruthie,” her mother said, looking worriedly at her husband.

“I pinched your special healing oils,” Ruth confessed.

“That's fine, love.” Her mother sighed. All the excitement had drained from her face. “I've heard things about that boy's father,” she said quietly, “up at the school. Ken, we've got to do something. Help him in some way.”

“I'm not sure if we can, dear,” Mr. Craze said warily.

“We must,” Mrs. Craze said. “Don't you think, Ruthie?”

Ruth nodded. “Yeah,” she said gruffly.

Somewhat subdued now, the family moved down the hallway into the warmth of the kitchen, and Ruth slipped upstairs to check on Howard.

“Hurry up, Howard,” she shouted through the bathroom door. “Everyone's home and there's fish and chips!”

By the time the family was seated at the table, the glasses filled with drink, the packages unwrapped, Howard had appeared in the doorway.

“Come in, Howard!” Mr. Craze pulled out a seat between
himself and Paul and handed him a glass of soft drink. “It's a free-for-all here, so I suggest you don't hold back!”

“Welcome, Howard!” Mrs. Craze smiled. “Please eat. There's loads here.”

“Thanks,” Howard muttered, looking at the fish and chips hungrily but not moving.

Mrs. Craze grabbed the tongs and served him a generous amount. “You see how you go with that,” she said kindly, handing him the bottle of tomato sauce.

Howard bent his head and began to wolf down the food.

Mrs. Craze was right. There was easily enough to feed six hungry people on a cold night.

Too busy eating, no one spoke for some time. Ruth finished first, and she looked around the table from one person to the next, noticing how content and happy everyone seemed as they ate.

When the fish and chips were finished, Mrs. Craze screwed up the paper and threw it in the bin.

“No dishes tonight, Ruthie!” She beamed.

Ruth thought of the perfect version of her mother—the one with the dead eyes—and shuddered involuntarily.
Imagine if she'd stayed there!

Mrs. Craze was at the fridge. “Now, who's for ice cream?”

“Yes, please!” Everyone wanted ice cream.

“So, what sort of day did you have, Ruthie?” her father asked casually. “How is Lou's grandfather?”

There was a lull in the noise and bustle around the table. Everyone stopped talking to hear. Ruth had almost forgotten her lie of that morning and certainly hadn't decided what she was going to say. She swallowed a mouthful of ice cream and looked at Howard. He was studying the spoon in his hand. She looked at both her parents and sighed.

“I lied about that,” she said. “He isn't sick at all.”