chapter 6
It must've been the knock on the head. Though he'd had heaps worse. Couldn't be nothing else. Unless...Though his eyes weren't rolling. And he hadn't been chucking up or acting weird (well, no more weird than Kane usually did) if you didn't count the Milko hallucinations. But it was the only thing Scott could think of. And Kane himself had used the word.
"What the ---- you on about now? If you've been takin' any of Dad's stuff..."
"Nah, nah, I haven't, Scotty, swear! Ya think I don't wanna live?"
Kane paused from picking blood-smeared plate chippings from his hair, and glanced up at a corner of the ceiling as their mother gave a particularly long, strangled scream that tore at his heart. But getting bashed was what happened to sooks. No more than they deserved, Dad and Scotty always said. He returned to the problem in hand.
The baby green dragon seemed a friendly little fellow. But, as dragons do, he had a terrible habit of breathing out fire. That was fine when they were outside, but not so easy to deal with now they were indoors.
"But what we gonna do about Fred? We can't keep him...sorry, mate, we just can't," he added guiltily to the dragon. "I asked Milko but he ain't his and anyway he's only a bub, he needs to be with his olds, don't he? And he's already burnt a hole in the door...I did hell dob you in, you told everyone..."
Kane knew he was rambling but couldn't stop himself. It was something he always did when Scotty or Dad spat the dummy or Mum sat still as a statue staring into nothingness with blood pouring down her face from Dad latest punch.
"You are exactly one ------- stupid ...," Scott began.
But Kane never found out exactly what he was. The Phillips brothers froze, both hearing it at the same time. Dad. Dad, drugged, drunk and dangerous. Stumbling downstairs, laughing manically, slamming his fist against the wall, yelling he was going to kill his kids for fun. At times like this, united against the common enemy, Scott and Kane always took a rain check on any blues, to be pencilled in for a later, more convenient date.
"Run!" Scotty advised, pulling open the old wooden kitchen door so hard that it almost jerked off its hinges.
Not content with its earlier drenching of the Bay, the rain had thought things over during the sunny break and, deciding on a little company, had returned together with a powerful thunderstorm, both of them hitting every one of the little coastal towns that stretched from Summer Bay to Summerhill, whipping up waves, tossing ships and streaming through trees, their drama all played out with the wild music of thunder and against the impressive backdrop of frequent wild lightning flashes.
A bleak, dismal evening, not for the faint-hearted. That only the most foolish would venture out into. And the most desperate and afraid.
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"Sally..."
Sally paused, her foot on the bottom stair. Lynn and Carly carried on pounding their way upstairs, and forgetting about her instantly, claimed the little twinge of sadness that shuddered through her small body.
To Sally's surprise, she had enjoyed dinner. Normally she hated the evening meal because Steven was there. But Steven had been crook and was upstairs lying down so nobody minded or even cared that she carefully ate her food from the outside in, in ever decreasing circles that cleaned the plate. Nobody kicked her under the table and whispered "Silly Sally, Sally silly, silly Sally is a silly wuss" or sang "Sally, Sally, pride of our alley" under their breath.
Everybody had been laughing and teasing Frank because he had a date, and Frank had sometimes gone red and sometimes got mad, but mostly he'd grinned and, smelling of Tom's aftershave and heaps too much of it, he'd ruffled Sally's hair when he got up from the table to go meet his date and said Sally was the only mate a bloke had round these parts (Sally being too shy to do any teasing). Nobody had called her a jerk either, when Sally managed to spill gravy all down the front of her school dress, which didn't really matter because Fridays nobody had to bother changing out of uniform (though the older ones always did) when they got home, weekends being when the whole of the uniforms, not just some of it like during the week, were spun frantically round in soapy suds in the family size washing machine.
When Carly had said to Lynn "let's go up to our room and listen to some music" Sally jumped up too, assuming she was included, but obviously that wasn't the case because Lynn and Carly hadn't even turned round to see what was keeping her.
Pippa smiled and leaned conspiratorially on the stair rail. "Hey. How d'you like to go visit my friend Colleen and try some of her amazing chocolate cookies and blueberry muffins? She made a fresh batch today and said I could take some back for this greedy lot. Just you and me though. Oh, and Milko."
"Thank you, Pippa. It will be a pleasure," Sally said earnestly. "But I'm afraid Milko can't make it. He's very, very, very busy." She added, feeling that Milko's rudeness required an explanation.
"No worries, sweetheart," Pippa said, idly wondering what on earth the self-important Milko did to keep himself so intensely occupied, making to push back Sally's inevitable stray tendril of hair and shocked and not a little hurt when her foster daughter flinched and moved her head away.
Pippa couldn't be nice to her when she was going to do something so mean back! Sally hadn't worked out yet how she was going to steal the twenty dollars but the Phillips brothers said they wouldn't return Milko unless she got the money and so it had to be done. She bit her lip and turned sadly, unable to look Pippa in the eye.
Soon she would be back in the Home, with Milko, but branded a thief. Pippa wouldn't like her anymore. Nobody would. They'd keep her fingerprints on file and put Not Wanted posters of her up at police stations all across Australia to warn off other foster parents.
She sighed a sigh that broke Pippa's heart, if only she knew. Everyone left her in the end. Mum and Dad. Gran. Isabel and Rico. Old Mrs Bellamy and her two funny cats, who used to run up to Sally mewing whenever she and Gran visited as if anxious to tell her all about their day. Best not to get close to Pippa even though she wanted to stay with Pippa and Tom, oh, more than anything, more than anything else in the whole wide world.
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There were often empty sacks to be found under the bridge on the wharf. If you didn't mind the rats taking the occasional curious nibble of you and the itchiness of the sacking, it was a good place to doss down, where you could stay fairly warm and dry.
"Reckon we're here for the ------- night. Again!" Scott asserted, turning up his collar, having had the foresight to snatch his old jacket off the back door hook as they fled.
Kane shivered, watching small spots of blood falling down from his forehead, leaning shakily on something that dug uncomfortably into his back, and too tired to shift position. Fridays were often like this. Dad got his welfare cheque and blew it all down the nearest pub. Mum got bashed. Scotty and Kane shot through and slept rough down on the wharf. And he felt sooo crook.
His head was banging though he couldn't tell if it was from the running or from Scott smashing the plate down on it. His shirt was wringing wet and clinging to him. The rain had discovered a random opening on the wooden bridge and was gleefully trickling down in a steady drip.
So far they had escaped Dad's regular Friday evening threats to kill them but it could only be a matter of time before they didn't.
"Maybe if we told Mum about Dad...?" Kane suggested hopefully, when he finally found strength enough to draw breath.
Scott guffawed at his kid bro's naivety. "---- that, what's she gonna do? Beat him to a pulp? Hire a ------- hitman? We gotta look out for ourselves 'cos it's just us and it's always gonna be just us."
Kane nodded. He looked round. Scotty was right. It was just them. It always would be. Just him and Scotty. Milko and Fred. And Deefa the dog.
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"Thank you for a most enjoyable time," Sally said as they arrived home from Mrs Smart's.
"Oh, I almost forgot..." Smiling, Pippa handed over the newly repaired rag doll and chose her words carefully. "Mrs Martha was feeling a bit crook after her fall this arvo but I reckon she's much better now she's had her stitches. Though I daresay a much-needed hug wouldn't go amiss!"
"Thank you. I daresay it wouldn't," Sally agreed in her quaint, old-fashioned way, accepting the doll, but making no attempt to give Mrs Martha the much-needed hug.
"And, Sal, if you ever want to talk to me, you know you can. About anything."
Pippa's natural instinct would have been to envelop Sally herself in a much-needed hug, but, remembering how the little girl had earlier flinched from her touch, she was wary of too much, too soon. Poor little Sally. So afraid to show emotion. So prim and neat and polite that sometimes it was like talking to a grown-up character who'd just jumped out of a book, and yet a child who spilt gravy all down her school uniform, who talked to an imaginary friend and thought the shadow of the big tree was a monster.
Pippa had really thought they'd made a connection after the tree scare, when she'd dried her tears and rocked her to sleep, but next morning Sally had been her usual distant self.
The visit to Colleen Smart, and giving their youngest child Pippa's undivided attention as she and Tom had planned, hadn't worked. Sally hadn't opened up at all. In fact, she had barely spoken, being very much in awe of the big-hearted but gossipy, talkative Colleen. Though she had seemed to like Colleen's almost grown up son, kindly, bumbling Lance, falling over his own feet and getting a rap on the knuckles with a wooden spoon when Colleen caught him and Sally scooping out the delicious cake mixture left in the bowl with their fingers (she had overheard everything and knew it had been Lance's idea so Lance could face the music, Colleen said) and once or twice Pippa saw Sally smile shyly at something Lance said or did.
"That's very kind of you, Pippa. And I will always bear it in mind," Sally replied gravely, in answer to Pippa's invitation.
She had no idea what "bear it in mind" meant but Granny, not long before she had to go into hospital, often said it when she donned her very best dress and jewellery, got out the china tea-set and announced her friend the Queen of England was expected for tea and cakes. Of course the Queen never turned up and her grandmother would look very sad and dab her eyes with her lace handkerchief, then bravely smile and tell Sally the Queen was a very busy lady and they must always bear it in mind.
A rumble of thunder all but drowned out Sally's quiet little voice. The storm had started while they were in Pippa's car, but had grown much worse since.
"Sal, if you're frightened of the thunder..." Pippa said gently.
"Oh, no. I'm not," Sally answered composedly. "I used to be, when I was little, but I've seen heaps of storms since I've been in the Home. I'll be no trouble at all."
"I know you won't, sweetheart," Pippa said, thinking there was so much heartache in those wide eyes.
She looked sad, Sally thought, as she trudged upstairs. Lance had lent her a video about two dogs and a cat who were trying to find their way back home and had great adventures along the way and Pippa had said to ask the others if they wanted to watch too, when she'd changed into something else so that Pippa could all put the uniforms in the big washing machine.
Sally blinked back tears. Pippa was nice. She didn't know Sally couldn't hug Mrs Martha. She and Mrs Martha couldn't afford to get close. When Sally was returned to the Home in disgrace the parting would break both their hearts. She closed the door soundlessly and placed the rag doll on top of the window-sill. It was for the best. When Mrs Martha realised her new owner intended to leave her cold and alone to fend for herself she'd be glad when Sally was gone. But it was hard to be cruel.
"I'm very sorry, Mrs Martha," she whispered.
"Sally!"
Sally spun round, startled. To her horror, her arch enemy was sitting on the bed.
"It's my room! You're not allowed, Steven! You're not allowed" Sally gave emphasis to her words with a vehement shaking of her head.
"Yeh, I know, I know, just listen..."
Steven had already said her name twice before, but the thunder had been crashing loudly overhead. He had slipped into the room when he'd heard Pippa and Sally coming back, having made up his mind to own up to Sally about the trashing, unaware that Sally still didn't know a thing about it. But nooo waaay was Steven going to admit to it in front of anyone else. His foster brother and sisters would be horrified, not just by his meanness to Sally, but because he'd hurt Pippa too. But telling Sally would be a weight off his mind. Despite his impatience with Sally, Steven realised that the little girl had a very soft heart and would keep it to herself.
"You're not allowed!"
Sally was frantic. There was no Milko or anyone else to help her. She could hear Lynn and Carly's music pounding, but the thunderstorm cancelled out everything else. And Steven would be be mean and call her names and kick her or pinch her.
"Sal, let me finish. I just want us to be..."
"You're not allowed! You're not allowed! Go away, Steven, or I'll..."
Sally suddenly remembered something. They'd been in her pocket, forgotten, all this time.
"Burn you," she finished, not knowing that fire was Steven's greatest fear, as she struck the match.
