Dad looks at me,
but knows not to ask.
I reach out for Lucy’s hand.
‘I’ll visit soon as I can,
on Charlie! Okay?’
Lucy: on the hill
I circle the yard
like a lonesome wolf
and climb up the hill to the graves.
I sit beside Grandma
and pull the weeds,
clearing around her headstone.
‘Time only goes one way, Grandma.
Now I have to face him,
face them both.’
I wish she was still here,
waving her cane,
sticking up for me.
I look down on our ramshackle house.
So quiet.
The dogs are asleep
under the verandah
and there are no lights on
even though it’s almost dark.
Are they out looking for me?
I scoff loudly.
My voice wakes the dogs
and they start barking.
Bloody hell.
I say,
‘See you, Grandma’
as I walk down the path.
Lucy: sorry
It has to be Peter
who sees me first.
Superman shouts my name,
and yells to Mum,
‘I found her.
I found her!’
Yeah, good job, Superman,
you searched the back yard
and found your sister,
walking home
from Grandma’s grave,
looking down at the old farmhouse.
Peter runs to me
and wraps his arms tight around me,
for God’s sake.
Peter hugs me!
So I squeeze him back
and watch as Mum walks across the yard,
the tea towel still in her hands.
She hesitates as we meet
and I say,
‘Sorry, Mum.
I didn’t mean to worry you.’
She reaches for me
and starts to cry
and keeps saying
‘Sorry’
over and over,
in a frantic whisper.
‘Sorry.’
Lucy: no more
We stand together
with Mum squeezing my hand
as if afraid to let go,
while I tell my story
of Jake and the cave,
the fall and his fractured ankle.
I don’t mention the wolf.
Mum turns to lead me towards the house,
but I hold firm.
‘No, Mum. No more.’
I can’t go inside.
Not with him there.
Mum lowers her eyes.
‘He’s gone, Lucy.
Gone, for good.’
At that moment
all the breath rushes from me,
like falling out of a tree
and landing flat on my back.
I almost faint
with the pressure.
TEN
Home
Lucy: home
Mum calls me into the kitchen,
away from Peter’s questions,
and asks me to help her cook dinner.
I sit at the table and cut the vegetables
into long thin strips.
She peels the potatoes in the sink,
keeping her voice low as she talks.
‘Last night
he went looking for you, Lucy.
He was gone all night.
I sat here praying he wouldn’t find you.’
Mum looks up, quickly.
‘Not because I didn’t want you home.
It wasn’t that.
I didn’t want him to hurt you again.
He came back at dawn,
swearing and shouting.’
Mum grips the peeler tightly,
scraping away the skin of each potato
with sharp angry strokes.
‘You were right, Lucy.
You can’t just keep out of his way.’
She leans on the bench
and I’m worried she’s going to faint.
‘When he returned,
I grabbed his arm.
Can you believe it, Lucy?
I led him outside,
away from Peter, sleeping.
I stood in the yard,
the keys to the car in my hand.’
Mum puts down the peeler
and looks at me.
‘I’m sorry, Lucy.
I’m not proud of this,
but I said,
“One of us has to leave.”
I didn’t want it to be me.
I dropped the car keys between us
and waited.
He sneered –
you know, like he always does –
and said,
“If I pick them up, that’s it.
I’m never coming back.”
I turned and walked inside.
I was shaking, Lucy.
It was like time was standing still
until I heard the motor start.
Then I cried and cried.
Here in the kitchen.
It was all I could do
to not howl, Lucy.
I sat here listening for you.
I was so afraid I’d lost you forever,
even though I knew you’d be safe.
You have a touch of Grandma in you.’
Mum looks towards the lounge room.
I know she’s thinking,
What does Peter have?
I put my arms around her.
‘Peter has us, Mum.’
Peter
My sister went looking for their wolf.
Jake and her
got stuck in a cave
and stayed the night
in the dark.
How cool would that have been?
But they never found nothing.
Dad went looking for her
and he found nothing, too.
I don’t know why he left.
It’s not fair.
He didn’t tell me.
He just snuck off
when I was asleep.
I kept asking Mum all morning
but she didn’t say much that made sense to me.
Maybe he just got sick of sitting round the farm
where it’s boring and nothing happens.
Maybe he’s gone to be a truckie again.
But he still should have said goodbye.
He should have said something.
Lucy: dinner
We cook a roast –
the first we’ve had since Winnie died –
with baked potatoes
and dumplings and gravy,
and Peter keeps asking for more.
Superman needs to build up his strength
now he’s the man of the house,
which makes me smile
But I can’t do that
because Peter misses him,
and he doesn’t understand why Dad’s gone.
We’re going to have to tell him.
It won’t be easy.
As Mum carves the meat
right down to the bone,
and pours the thick gravy,
we glance at each other.
I want to ask her something,
but it’s too soon.
Mum says,
‘I hope you like the dinner.’
She glances towards Dad’s chair
as if she’s said too much.
‘It’s fine, Mum.’
She forces a smile
and offers me more.
Lucy: Grandma’s candle
My grandma
used to burn a long white candle
beside her bed
early on Sunday morning.
She’d close her eyes
and whisper to Grandpa,
who’d been gone for years.
In the silence I knew he was answering,
sending back his love.
She said the smell of the candle
brought them together
and as long as that candle flamed
no one could intrude.
After dinner
I go into Grandma’s room
and find a scented candle in the drawer
beside her bed.
I take it to the window,
light it
and place it on the ledge
where I can see their graves.
I tell her about the cave –
Jake and me,
what we did,
what we said.
And I tell her about the wild dog,
the wolf,
roaming the hills,
and I pray he finds a partner.
I breathe in the vanilla smoke
and close my eyes.
I can see her face.
Grandma once said,
‘Some people are born half-dead.
And they take years to go.’
‘Not me, Grandma.
I won’t ever be like that.’
A full moon is rising over the tree line.
I reckon Jake is sitting at his window now,
watching the moon,
listening for a howl.
Lucy: this house
I open the door to Grandma’s room
and let the candle scent drift through the house.
I follow its cleansing perfume,
the floorboards creaking with every step.
Peter snores
and the dogs scuffle around outside.
In the lounge room is my father’s chair,
big and comfortable.
I sit in it and lean back,
put my feet on the coffee table,
stare at the wide plank walls
and the high patterned ceiling
that I’d never noticed before.
Grandma’s house.
I fall asleep
in my father’s chair
and I don’t dream.
I sleep long into the morning
until a movement wakes me.
Peter is standing beside me,
his hair all messy from bed.
He says,
‘That’s Dad’s chair.’
I want to say,
‘Not anymore’
but I stop myself.
This house,
this room,
they’ve heard enough arguing.
Jake: Lucy smiles
Mum and Dad
are mending the fence
in the eastern paddock.
If I was there, I’d be tightening the wire, slowly,
while Dad’s big hands check the tension.
But I’m sitting on the verandah,
ankle bandaged, leg raised,
watching the cockatoos
in the old dead tree.
I don’t notice Lucy
coming across the yard.
She says, ‘Hi, Jake,’
and I almost fall off my chair.
She giggles and says,
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.’
She stands at the foot of the stairs,
her hands deep in her pockets.
I tell her I’ve been scanning Wolli Creek
waiting for the wolf.
I hold up my binoculars
to prove I’m serious
even though,
truth be known,
I’m just doing it
because there’s not much else to do
with one foot tightly bandaged
and orders from Mum
to keep off it.
Lucy sits beside me on the lounge
and feels the soft cushions.
‘It’s more comfortable than the cave,
but not as much fun.’
I’m not sure who blushes more.
She leans in close
and we kiss,
just quickly.
Her hair is tied back in a long ponytail
with a dark-blue ribbon.
‘I like your hair, Lucy.’
She smiles.
Lucy smiles
on our verandah.
Lucy: I will
I sit beside Jake
as we watch the sun
fade slowly behind
Beaumont Hill.
The deepest brightest orange
shines through the high clouds
and it’s beautiful.
It’s perfect.
I tell Jake about Mum,
how she stood up to him at last
and kept saying sorry all night
until the word was worn out.
I didn’t want to talk about the past anymore.
We agreed not to mention him again.
Mum said,
‘Let’s just get on with it, Lucy.’
And the voice wasn’t Mum,
it was Grandma.
It was her way of dealing with droughts,
or floods,
or fire.
She’d stand on the verandah,
arms folded, her eyes sparkling,
and she’d say,
‘Let’s get on with it.’
And we would.
So, I will.
Also by Steven Herrick
By the river
Life for Harry means swimming in Pearce Swamp, eating chunks of watermelon with his brother and his dad, surviving schoolyard battles, and racing through butterflies in Cowpers Paddock. In his town there’s Linda, who brings him the sweetest-ever orange cake, and Johnny, whose lightning fists draw blood in a blur, and there’s a mystery that Harry needs to solve before he can find his way out…
An intense story about feeling the undercurrents, finding solid ground and knowing when to jump.
Honour Book, 2005 Children’s Book Council of Australia Book of the Year awards for older readers Winner, 2005 NSW Premier’s Literary Awards, Ethel Turner Prize for Young People’s Literature
Do-wrong Ron
Ron always does the wrong things at the wrong time, or the right things at the wrong time, or the wrong things at the right time…until he finds Charlie, the guinea pig who looks like an oversized rat, and they meet Isabelle, who is waiting for something, anything, to happen. When Ron plans a musical welcome for Isabelle’s nana, anything just might happen…
A funny, touching story about a do-wrong boy whose heart is in the right place.
Honour Book, 2004 Children’s Book Council of Australia Book of the Year awards for younger readers
Naked Bunyip Dancing
The story of Mr Carey the Hairy, Anna, Billy the punk, J-man and everyone else. What a crazy class! And what a funny, unpredictable year – the year of Naked Bunyip Dancing – when the kids in Class 6C find out who they are, what they’re good at, and how to put on a fantastic show.
Notable Book, 2006, Children’s Book Council of Australia awards for younger readers Shortlisted, 2006, NSW Premier’s Literary Awards, Patricia Wrightson Prize