The Forgotten Garden Part 3
By the time her mum and Nell appeared at the sliding door, Ca.s.sandra could make a pretty convincing case that she'd been playing hopscotch all afternoon.
"Come here, kiddo," said Lesley.
Ca.s.sandra dusted off her shorts and went to her mother's side, wondered as Lesley wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"Having fun?"
"Yes," said Ca.s.sandra cautiously. Had she been found out?
But her mother wasn't cross. Quite the opposite; she seemed almost triumphant. She looked at Nell. "Told you, didn't I? Takes care of herself, this one."
Nell didn't answer and Ca.s.sandra's mum continued: "You're going to stop here with Grandma Nell for a bit, Ca.s.sie. Have an adventure."
This was a surprise; her mum must have more business in Brisbane. "Will I have lunch here?"
"Every day, I reckon, until I get back to collect you."
Ca.s.sandra was aware suddenly of the sharp edges of the stone she was holding. The way the corners pushed into her fingertips. She looked from her mother to her grandmother. Was it a game? Was her mother making a joke? She waited to see whether Lesley would burst out laughing.
She didn't. Merely gazed at Ca.s.sandra, blue eyes wide.
Ca.s.sandra could think of nothing to say. "I didn't bring my pajamas," was what she managed in the end.
Her mother smiled then, quickly, broadly, with relief, and Ca.s.sandra glimpsed somehow that the point of refusal had been pa.s.sed. "Don't worry about that, you duffer. I've packed you a bag in the car. You didn't think I'd drop you off without a bag, did you?"
Through all this Nell was silent, stiff. Watching Lesley with what Ca.s.sandra recognized as disapproval. She supposed her grandmother didn't want her to stay. Little girls had a habit of getting in the way, Len was always saying so.
Lesley skipped to the car and leaned through the open window at the back to pull out an overnight bag. Ca.s.sandra wondered when she'd packed it, why she hadn't let Ca.s.sandra pack it herself.
"Here you are, kiddo," said Lesley, tossing the bag to Ca.s.sandra. "There's a surprise in there for you, a new dress. Len helped me choose it."
She straightened and said to Nell, "Just a week or two, I promise. Just while Len and me get ourselves sorted." Lesley ruffled Ca.s.sandra's hair. "Your Grandma Nell's looking forward to having you stay. It'll be a real, proper summer holiday in the big smoke. Something to tell the other kids when school starts again."
Ca.s.sandra's grandmother smiled then, only it wasn't a happy smile. Ca.s.sandra thought she knew how it felt to smile like that. She often did so herself when her mother promised her something she really wanted but knew might not happen.
Lesley brushed a kiss on her cheek, gave her hand a squeeze and then, somehow, she was gone. Before Ca.s.sandra could give her a hug, could tell her to drive safely, could ask her when exactly she'd be back.
LATER, NELL made dinner-fat pork sausages, mashed potatoes, and mushy peas from a can-and they ate in the narrow room by the kitchen. Nell's house didn't have fly screens on the windows like Len's unit on Burleigh Beach; instead Nell kept a plastic swatter on the window ledge beside her. When flies or mosquitoes threatened, she was a quick draw. So swift, so practiced were these attacks that the cat, asleep on Nell's lap, barely flinched. made dinner-fat pork sausages, mashed potatoes, and mushy peas from a can-and they ate in the narrow room by the kitchen. Nell's house didn't have fly screens on the windows like Len's unit on Burleigh Beach; instead Nell kept a plastic swatter on the window ledge beside her. When flies or mosquitoes threatened, she was a quick draw. So swift, so practiced were these attacks that the cat, asleep on Nell's lap, barely flinched.
The stumpy pedestal fan on top of the fridge beat thick, moist air back and forth while they ate; Ca.s.sandra answered her grandmother's occasional questions as politely as she could, and eventually the ordeal of dinner ended. Ca.s.sandra helped to dry the dishes, then Nell took her to the bathroom and started running lukewarm water into the tub.
"Only thing worse than a cold bath in winter," Nell said matter-of-factly, "is a hot bath in summer." She pulled a brown towel from the cupboard and balanced it on the toilet tank. "You can shut the water off when it reaches this line." She pointed out a crack in the green porcelain, then stood, straightening her dress. "You'll be all right, then?"
Ca.s.sandra nodded and smiled. She hoped she'd answered correctly; adults could be tricky sometimes. For the most part, she knew, they didn't like it when children made their feelings known, not their bad feelings anyway. Len was often reminding Ca.s.sandra that good children should smile and learn to keep their black thoughts to themselves. Nell was different, though. Ca.s.sandra wasn't sure how she knew it, but she sensed Nell's rules were different. All the same, it was best to play things safe.
That was why she hadn't mentioned the toothbrush, or lack of toothbrush. Lesley was always forgetting such things when they spent time away from home, but Ca.s.sandra knew a week or two without it wouldn't kill her. She looped her hair up into a bun and tied it on top of her head with an elastic band. At home she wore her mother's shower cap, but she wasn't sure if Nell had one and didn't want to ask. She climbed into the bath and sat in the tepid water, gathered her knees up close and shut her eyes. Listened to the water lapping the sides of the tub, the buzz of the lightbulb, a mosquito somewhere above.
She stayed like that for some time, climbing out only reluctantly when she realized that if she put it off any longer, Nell might come looking for her. She dried herself, hung the towel carefully over the shower rail, lining up the edges, then got into her pajamas.
She found Nell in the sunroom, making up the daybed with sheets and a blanket.
"It's not usually for sleeping on," said Nell, patting a pillow into place. "The mattress isn't much to speak of and the springs are a bit hard, but you're only a waif of a girl. You'll be comfy enough."
Ca.s.sandra nodded gravely. "It won't be for long. Just a week or two, just while Mum and Len get things sorted."
Nell smiled grimly. She looked about the room, then back to Ca.s.sandra. "Anything else you need? A gla.s.s of water? A lamp?"
Ca.s.sandra half wondered whether Nell had a spare toothbrush but couldn't formulate the words required to ask. She shook her head.
"In you hop, then," said Nell, lifting a corner of the blanket.
Ca.s.sandra slid obediently into place and Nell pulled up the sheets. They were surprisingly soft, pleasantly worn with an unfamiliar yet clean smell.
Nell hesitated. "Well, good night."
"Good night."
Then the light was off and Ca.s.sandra alone.
IN THE dark, strange noises were amplified. Traffic on a distant ridge, a television in one of the neighboring houses, Nell's footsteps on the floorboards of another room. Outside the window, the wind chimes were clattering, and Ca.s.sandra realized that the air had become charged with the smell of eucalypt and road tar. A storm was coming. dark, strange noises were amplified. Traffic on a distant ridge, a television in one of the neighboring houses, Nell's footsteps on the floorboards of another room. Outside the window, the wind chimes were clattering, and Ca.s.sandra realized that the air had become charged with the smell of eucalypt and road tar. A storm was coming.
She curled up tight beneath the covers. Ca.s.sandra didn't like storms; they were unpredictable. Hopefully it would blow over before it really got going. She made a little deal with herself: if she could count to ten before the next car droned over the nearby hill, everything would be okay. The storm would pa.s.s quickly and Mum would come back for her within the week.
One. Two. Three...She didn't cheat, didn't rush...Four. Five ...Nothing so far, halfway there...Six. Seven...Breathing quickly, still no cars, almost safe...Eight- Suddenly, she sat bolt upright. There were pockets inside the bag. Her mum hadn't forgotten, she'd just tucked the toothbrush in there for safekeeping.
Ca.s.sandra slipped out of bed as a violent gust tossed the chimes against the windowpane. She crept across the room, bare feet cooled by a draft of wind that sneaked between the floorboards.
The sky above the house grumbled ominously, then turned spectacularly to light. It felt dangerous, reminded Ca.s.sandra of the storm in the fairy tale she'd read that afternoon, the angry storm that had followed the little princess to the crone's cottage.
Ca.s.sandra knelt on the floor, rummaging in one pocket after another, willing the toothbrush's familiar shape to meet her fingertips.
Big fat raindrops started falling, loud on the corrugated-iron roof. Sporadic at first, then increasing until Ca.s.sandra could hear no gaps between.
It wouldn't hurt to recheck the main part of the bag while she was at it: a toothbrush was only small, maybe it was tucked so far down she'd missed it? She pushed her hands in deep and pulled everything out from inside. The toothbrush was not there.
Ca.s.sandra blocked her ears as another clap of thunder shook the house. She picked herself up and folded her arms across her chest, aware vaguely of her own thinness, her inconsequence, as she hurried back to bed and climbed under the sheet.
Rain poured over the eaves, ran down the windows in rivulets, spilled from the sagging gutters that had been caught unawares.
Beneath the sheet, Ca.s.sandra lay very still, hugging her own body. Despite the warm muggy air there were goose b.u.mps on her upper arms. She knew she should try to sleep. She'd be tired in the morning if she didn't and no one liked to spend time with a grump.
Try as she might, though, sleep wouldn't come. She counted sheep, sang silent songs about yellow submarines, and oranges and lemons, and gardens beneath the sea, told herself fairy tales. But the night threatened to stretch on endlessly.
As lightning flashed, rain poured and thunder tore open the sky, Ca.s.sandra began to weep. Tears that had waited a long time for escape were finally released under the dark veil of rain.
How much time pa.s.sed before she became aware of the shadowy figure standing in the doorway? One minute? Ten?
Ca.s.sandra caught a sob in her throat, held it there although it burned.
A whisper, Nell's voice. "I came to check the window was closed."
In the dark Ca.s.sandra held her breath, wiped at her eyes with the corner of the sheet.
Nell was close now; Ca.s.sandra could sense the strange electricity generated when another human stands near without touching.
"What is it?"
Ca.s.sandra's throat, still frozen, refused to let words pa.s.s.
"Is it the storm? Are you frightened?"
Ca.s.sandra shook her head.
Nell sat stiffly on the edge of the daybed, tightened her dressing gown around her middle. Another flash of lightning and Ca.s.sandra saw her grandmother's face, recognized her mother's eyes with their slightly downturned corners.
The sob was finally dislodged. "My toothbrush," she said, through tears. "I don't have my toothbrush."
Nell looked at her a moment, startled, then gathered Ca.s.sandra in her arms. The little girl flinched at first, surprised by the suddenness, the unexpectedness of the gesture, but then she felt herself surrender. She collapsed forward, head resting against Nell's soft, lavender-scented body, shoulders shaking as she wept warm tears into Nell's nightie.
"There, now," Nell whispered, hand smoothing Ca.s.sandra's hair. "Don't you worry. We'll find you another one." She turned her head to look at the rain sluicing against the window and rested her cheek on the top of Ca.s.sandra's head. "You're a survivor, you hear? You're going to be all right. Everything's going to be all right."
And although Ca.s.sandra couldn't believe that things would ever be all right, she was comforted a little by Nell's words. Something in her grandmother's voice suggested that Nell understood. That she knew just how frightening it was to spend a stormy night alone in an unfamiliar place.
SIX.
MARYBOROUGH, 1913.
THOUGH he was late home from port, the broth was still warm. That was Lil, bless her, she wasn't the sort to serve up cold soup to her fellow. Hugh spooned the last of it into his mouth and leaned back against his chair, gave his neck a rub. Outside, distant thunder rolled along the river and into town. An invisible draft set the lamplight to flickering, coaxed the room's shadows from hiding. He let his tired gaze follow them across the table, around the base of the walls, along the front door. Dancing dark on the skin of the shiny white suitcase. he was late home from port, the broth was still warm. That was Lil, bless her, she wasn't the sort to serve up cold soup to her fellow. Hugh spooned the last of it into his mouth and leaned back against his chair, gave his neck a rub. Outside, distant thunder rolled along the river and into town. An invisible draft set the lamplight to flickering, coaxed the room's shadows from hiding. He let his tired gaze follow them across the table, around the base of the walls, along the front door. Dancing dark on the skin of the shiny white suitcase.
Lost suitcases he'd had plenty of times. But a little girl? How the h.e.l.l did someone's child wind up sitting on his wharf, alone as you please? She was a nice little thing, too, as far as he could tell. Pretty to look at, strawberry blond hair like spun gold and real deep blue eyes. A way of looking at you that told you she was listening, that she understood all you were saying, and all you weren't.
The door to the veranda opened and Lil's soft, familiar shape materialized. She pulled the door gently behind her and started down the hall. Brushed a bothersome curl behind her ear, the same unruly curl that'd been jumping out of place all the time he'd known her. "She's asleep now," Lil said as she reached the kitchen. "Frightened of the thunder, but she couldn't fight it for long. Poor little lamb was as tired as the day."
Hugh took his bowl to the counter and dunked it in tepid water. "Little wonder, I'm tired myself."
"You look it. Leave the washing up to me."
"I'm all right, Lil love. You go in, I won't be long."
But Lil didn't leave. He could sense her behind him, could tell, the way a man learns to, that she'd something more to say. Her next words sat pregnant between them and Hugh felt his neck tense. Felt the tide of previous conversations draw back, suspend a moment, preparing to crash once more upon them.
Lil's voice, when it came, was low. "You needn't p.u.s.s.yfoot around me, Hughie."
He sighed. "I know that."
"I'll come through. Have before."
"Course you will."
"Last thing I need is for you to treat me like an invalid."
"I don't mean to, Lil." He turned to face her. Saw that she was standing on the far side of the table, hands resting on the back of a chair. The stance, he knew, was supposed to convince him of her stability, to say "all is as it was," but Hugh knew her too well for that. He knew that she was hurting. Knew also there was nothing he could b.l.o.o.d.y well do to set things right. As Dr. Huntley was so fond of telling them, some things just weren't meant to be. It didn't make it any easier, though, not on Lil and not on him.
She was by his side then, b.u.mping him gently with her hip. He could smell the sweet, sad milkiness of her skin. "Go on. Get yourself to bed," she said. "I'll be in soon." The carefully rendered cheerfulness made his blood chill, but he did as she said.
She was true to her word, wasn't far behind him, and he watched as she cleaned the day from her skin, pulled her nightdress over her head. Though her back was turned, he could see how gently she eased the clothing over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her stomach that was still swollen.
She glanced up then and caught him looking. Defensiveness chased vulnerability from her face. "What?"
"Nothing." He concentrated on his hands, the calluses and rope burns earned by his years on the wharves. "I was just wondering about the little one out there," he said. "Wondering who she is. Didn't give up her name, I s'pose?"
"Says she doesn't know. Doesn't matter how many times I ask, she just looks back at me, serious as can be, and says she can't remember."
"You don't think she's fooling, do you? Some of them stowaways do a darn good line in fooling."
"Hughie," scolded Lil. "She's no stowaway, she's little more than a baby."
"Easy, Lil love. I was just asking." He shook his head. "Only it's hard to believe she could've clean forgot like that."
"I've heard of it before, amnesia it's called. Ruth Halfpenny's father got it, after his fall down the shaft. That's what causes it, falls and the like."
"You think she might've had a fall?"
"Couldn't see any bruises on her, but it's possible, ain't it?"
"Ah, well," said Hugh, as a flash of lightning lit the room's corners, "I'll look into it tomorrow." He shifted position, lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. "She must belong somewhere," he said quietly.
"Yes." Lil extinguished the lamp, casting them into darkness. "Someone must be missing her like the d.i.c.kens." She rolled over as she did each night, turning her back on Hugh and shutting him out of her grief. Her voice was m.u.f.fled by the sheet. "I tell you, they don't deserve her, though. b.l.o.o.d.y careless. What kind of person could lose a child?"
LIL WATCHED out the back window where the two little girls were running back and forth below the clothesline, laughing as the cool damp sheets brushed their faces. They were singing again, another of Nell's songs. That was one thing that hadn't slipped her memory, the songs; she knew such a lot of them. out the back window where the two little girls were running back and forth below the clothesline, laughing as the cool damp sheets brushed their faces. They were singing again, another of Nell's songs. That was one thing that hadn't slipped her memory, the songs; she knew such a lot of them.