chapter 22
OLD FRIENDS
Lynn had been awake long before breakfast. She swallowed the last spoonful of boiled egg and looked round at the little private ward. Yellow sunlight filtered gently through the blinds, cheerful bouquets of flowers scented the air with their beautiful fragrance and, scattered among the ward's furniture, were chocolates, toiletries and small gifts, bottles of fruit juice, a brand new matching nightdress, dressing gown and slippers, crossword books, CDs, magazines and the largest basket of fruit she had ever seen. And then the get well cards! So many that one of the nurses had put a long piece of string around the walls to be used as a makeshift card holder.
A lump came suddenly to her throat. It was as though she mattered. Lynn had never felt as though she mattered before.
Growing up in a family of ten, it was easy to be overlooked. She had never forgotten the time when she was six and Mum had dished up one of her delicious stews, filled with heaps of barley and potatoes cooked in their skins, and asked if anyone wanted seconds.
Now Mrs Davenport was a fantastic cook (oh, Pippa tried, she really did; but, like painting, cooking wasn't Pippa's strong point, though everyone loved to hear her telling of her mishaps in the kitchen and cried with laughter as they ate, glad that Tom had rescued yet another almost ruined dinner) and Lynn's brothers and sisters immediately held out plates they'd scraped clean while poor Lynn burst into tears and exclaimed, "But I haven't had firsts yet!"
Which had made everyone laugh and fuss over her. Funny how, whenever she ran away, she always remembered the laughter and not the fussing. But she remembered it now.
Mum had put her arm round her, kissed her hair and said, "My little angel Lynn! Always the quietest. How could I have missed my little angel?"
What really amazed Lynn was that, as well as Pippa, Tom and her foster brothers and sisters, her own Mum and Dad had visited! And not just Mum and Dad either, but two of her four sisters and three of her six brothers (the rest being too young). The hospital staff, who could only let her visitors in two at a time, said that Lynn was so popular they suspected she was related to royalty but was keeping quiet about it. In fact, the kindly doctor with the thick sandy hair remarked to the nurse, when they'd done the blood test on her admission, it had definitely been blue...but, seeing Lynn's horrified expression, and remembering that her foster parents had warned Lynn believed everything she was told, he gently explained that he'd been joking.
The portable television that her eldest brother Simon had brought in specially for her was repeating one of her favourite programmes, but Lynn found the luxury of watching TV on her own wasn't half as much fun as watching with someone. And yet, not so long ago, she'd have given anything to have a room of her own! Even at Pippa's, she had to share with Carly, and while she didn't mind too much, Carly being so sophisticated, she envied Sally being small enough to have the tiny boxroom all to herself.
It was strange, she thought, how she was suddenly missing sharing with her sisters. Was Denise still telling her wonderful ghost stories and Wendy still clicking the torch on and off to make scary shadows for the three younger girls? Were Susie and Sophie still fighting over who's turn it was to sleep in the top bunk? Did Denise and Wendy, who, as eldest, were lucky enough to be only two to a room, still have all their pictures of "good looking hunks" on the whole of one side of their bedroom wall and was Dad still sighing, "All my hard work decorating, ruined by pictures of silly boys who need to get proper jobs instead of all this cissy acting and singing!" (But said with a good-natured tolerance; after all, he had five daughters.)
Old Lizzie had been yet another visitor, her arms red from permanent damage to her skin when, as a young girl of fifteen, she'd accidentally scalded herself in the Laundry one afternoon, in the days when sheets still had to be soaked in hot, soapy tubs, long before labour-saving devices such as automatic washing machines were invented.
Lizzie was retired now (a paper sift of staff records had discovered that Lizzie should actually have retired fifteen years earlier) but she kept herself busy these days by working voluntarily, part-time as a cleaner at the local church, in the little town she'd left so long ago to work in the Children's Home.
Lizzie was thoroughly enjoying all the town gossip, which she gleefully imparted to Lynn, as though Lynn knew everyone personally, from the news that senior citizens' local heartthrob Tommy Wilson dyed his greying hair black (Vera Quinn, Lizzie's great friend, had noticed the tell-tale black dye on his hands when Tommy had been in church) to the rumour Jack Brentwood was giving up a place at Uni to stay at home and help his girlfriend Sarah Potts start her dream of opening up a little seafront café.
She had made the long journey by bus when she heard that Lynn and Sally were in hospital (Pippa having promised faithfully to keep her in touch about Lynn and little Sally) and had barely stopped talking or even to eat from the moment she arrived.
"Sorry. No time to eat," old Lizzie said, when Tom invited her to the hospital canteen with them to wait while Sally was being given some final tests prior to being allowed home and Lynn's next visitors were being ushered in. "My bus back is in half an hour."
"But you can't travel back at this time of night!" Pippa said, aghast. "You must stay with us. It'll be a bit of a squash, but it is only for one night."
Lizzie sighed longingly. "I'd love to, Pippa. I really would. But I'm so tired I can't stay awake a moment longer. The bus stops just outside the hospital gates and I was hoping to have a nice sleep on the journey."
"I've a better idea," Tom said. "I'll book you a room at The Grand. It's a nice, quite little hotel, reasonable rates, and they do excellent late night snacks and a great brekkie. I'll ring a taxi right now to take you there."
"No taxis," Lizzie said firmly. "I'm not a taxi person. Or hotels. I'm not a hotel person either. Thank you all the same."
"But, Lizzie, don't be silly, you can't possibly travel back now!" Pippa protested, thinking Lizzie was being unreasonably stubborn. "It would be the early hours before you even reached home. And, what's more, you could do with a good, square meal. If you won't come back with us, then Tom will book you into the Grand, and that's the end of it."
Lizzie looked sheepish. "I've no money for food or taxis or hotels," she finally admitted. "I only had enough money to buy a return bus ticket. But I just had to come and see if Lynn and Sally were alright."
"Oh, Lizzie!" Pippa impulsively flung her arms around her. The old lady reminded her so much of Granny Brenda, who although exhausted, had sat up late knitting Mrs Martha for her granddaughter. She lowered her voice to her whisper. "Look, we don't tell everyone because we're not supposed to do this, but there's a spare room at the hospital, a disused ward, that we keep specially for friends. And, just think, if you stayed, you could even watch and vote in the Summer Bay talent contest tomorrow."
Lizzie blushed proudly at the hug and even more proudly at the invitation. "You want me to come to watch the talent contest? And vote?"
Pippa smiled gently. "Lynn and Sally would be stoked to have you there! We all would."
And so it was settled. A blind eye was turned by all, a bed was made up for old Lizzie, and the hospital staff fussed round her, making sure she had everything she needed. After years of waiting on other people, Lizzie said she felt like a queen at being waited on herself.
Like Lynn, Lizzie was touched to realise that there were so many people who loved her.
"Look! It's them!" Sally cried.
Pippa and Tom had gone to collect Lynn from the hospital and, as they wanted to give Lynn some quality time with them as they'd done with their youngest foster daughter, Lance and Kathy had volunteered to take Sally for a stroll along the beach.
Sally was busy collecting prettily-coloured sea shells. Carly had promised, if Sally collected enough, she would show her how to make things like sea shell wind chimes and sea shell necklaces and she was looking forward to sitting down with her older sister later. Carly had been really nice to her lately (she'd even asked how Milko was and, although Sally had replied, as she always did nowadays since Milko had been kidnapped and anyone asked after him, "As well as can be expected under the circumstances, thank you" Carly hadn't laughed, but had nodded quite seriously and said she hoped he got better and up out of bed soon).
Secretly, Sally was a little worried about Carly. First, down on the beach with Lynn and Sally, she'd imagined Milko had been kicking the water and now she thought he was crook and all tucked up in bed with a hot water bottle! Of course Sally knew it couldn't possibly have been Milko when he was kidnapped. She'd have to tell Pippa about Carly imagining things, she thought, and let Pippa decide what to do.
Although the day was calm and Lance and Miss Murray sensible enough not to go too near the water's edge, Sally hadn't forgotten to keep watch on the terrible sea. It might have looked calm, but she knew you couldn't trust it for a second and, just to be sure everyone was kept safe, every now and then she would blink ten times. No more and no less or the spell wouldn't work. She clunked a large pink shell into the bucket she was carrying and opened and closed her eyes ten times exactly, watching through the rapid blinks as the trio approached.
They were all walking along together.
Scotty was skimming stones at birds, Kane was watching curiously to see if he managed to hit any, and Milko was jauntily tossing a cent into the air and catching it, not a care in the world. While poor Sally had been fretting over him! She bit her lip and held Mrs Martha tightly to her.
Lance exchanged a look with Kathy. Now was their chance!
"The Phillips brothers!" He exclaimed. "I was wondering when we were gonna catch up with 'em."
"And Milko," Sally added, very surprised that Lance hadn't noticed him.
She expected as much of other people, but Lance knew all about things like jumping jellybeans, and how you should always scare away fish you didn't want to catch by making as much noise as you possibly could so that they didn't hook themselves on to the fishing rod. Most grown-ups were too stupid to know about things like that, but not Lance!
Lance thought unusually quickly and winked at Kathy . "Of course! He's been with 'em both for so darn long, damned if I wasn't starting to think he was a Phillips brother too!"
"Milko's seen us!" Sally announced, as Milko suddenly looked up on hearing her voice.
So had Kane and Scott. All three ground to an abrupt halt.
"He ain't goin' back," Kane said warily, realising by their expressions and by Sally's observation that the game was up. "He likes hanging out with us."
"I think we better let Milko decide this one," Lance said, desperately hoping his idea would work. "Okay, Milko, think about this carefully. Who's your very best mate?"
It was a tense few moments. Sally drew a sharp breath and looked hopefully at Milko. Kane glared at Milko in silent threat. Kathy locked her fingers in Lance's, and, like Lance had done, followed Sally's gaze. Scotty stared in bafflement at the empty spot all four were gazing at and wondered if everyone had gone crazy and if he was the only sane person left in the whole of Australia.
Nobody could know who Milko would choose.
And then the sun slipped behind a cloud, casting a dark shadow across the sand, cold wind whipped up from the sea, sending shivers down the little boy's spine, and his mother's voice suddenly seemed to come whispering on the breeze. "You don't have nothin' in this life, Kaney, so you just have to take it."
"Milko ain't goin' back," he said again. Through clenched teeth.
Richie had finally gone asleep, almost comatose, drugged up to the eyeballs and drunk as a skunk.
Bruised and bleeding from his blows, Diane had limped outside to tell the kids it was finally safe to come inside and sleep in their own beds instead of hiding out in the garden shed. And not before time, she thought. Poor Kaney and Scotty looked pale and exhausted and both had large bags under their eyes, having had to spend the previous night outside to escape their father's violence.
Little Kane had dried blood matted in his hair, probably from some fall or other, though Scott slyly dug his fist in his ribs when his mother commented on it. Diane ran them both a hot bath, washed the blood and filth out of Kane's hair and gave them a light supper of tinned spaghetti on toast. They even managed to watch some TV together undisturbed, the sound kept down to a minimum and the door kept closed. Kane and Scott crept around, young as they were, understanding it was essential they didn't wake Dad.
Diane herself barely slept. She spent the night on the couch, trying in vain to find some position that wouldn't hurt her broken bones more, while her husband, stretched out luxuriously on the bed upstairs, snored and snorted like a pig,.
Although she was aching badly, she still carried out her usual morning routine to avoid his wrath, emptying the overflowing ash-tray, picking up emptied tinnies and the remains of the Chinese takeaway that he'd brought home with him last night, the cold food and its wrappings now strewn over the floor and bed.
Richie gave an unusually loud snore and she paused to stare at him in disgust.
Saliva had run down his open mouth, gravy stained his shirt and he stank of last night's booze, fags and sweat. A half finished can of strong lager had fallen out of his hand and spilled its contents on to the floor, two more empty cans had rolled under the bed and stubs of cigarettes that hadn't made the ashtray had been flattened into the threadbare carpet.
Richie had already bashed her for giving the kids the bacon. And no doubt when he woke he'd remember it all over again and bash her all over again. A surge of fury ran through her. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound!
So she gave the kids brekkie again.
Heaps of it, when they came downstairs looking like different kids, scrubbed, clean and bright-eyed, refreshed from a proper night's sleep and a half decent supper, wearing the clean clothes that she had laid out for them last night.
Instead of dishing out their usual cheap cereal and thinly-buttered toast, Mum was frantically opening tins, flinging open the larder and fridge and tearing packets as though her very life depended on it. Kane and Scott sat watching her, open-mouthed in astonishment. And hungry. They were always hungry. Meal times in the Phillips household were hit and miss affairs. Sometimes you got them, sometimes you didn't.
"Fruit-caaaake time!" Scotty said to Kane under his breath in a sing-song voice.
Kane stared at him, wide-eyed. Cakes! There were there were going to be cakes as well! "D' ya think Ma'll mind if I eat the cakes before the other stuff, Scotty?" He whispered, worried he might miss out.
But he couldn't figure out the answer because Scotty only kicked him and said he was a jerk.
Diane had never grilled anything in her life and the Phillips didn't own a microwave. Everything was chopped or cut and stirred or fried at breakneck speed. Fresh mushrooms tumbled out of a paper bag and, before they'd had a chance to take in their new surroundings, were sliced and sizzling in the large frying pan. Baked beans, with typical baked bean laziness, fell reluctantly into a saucepan and found themselves heating on the gas before they were barely out of the tin. Double eggs, fried bread, several rashers of Dad's best bacon, two fat sangas each, even fried sliced potatoes. The plates were heaving under the weight.
"Once you've had brekkie though you gotta go out and stay out." She was in for the hiding of her life. But she didn't care. It was worth it to see her sons' faces when the food was put before them.
"Will Dad be okay with ya? About us havin' brekkie?" Kane anxiously looked up at her inbetween shovelling mouthfuls of food down his throat in case Dad woke up any moment and snatched it away. The smell had been enough to whet his appetite; he could sort out the expected fruitcake dessert later.
She pinched his cheek gently, smiling sadly.
"You don't have nothin' in this life, Kaney, so you just have to take it," she said in a funny kind of throaty voice.
He knew she'd be bashed for it. That was why she'd sent them out again. And the bashing would make her cry and he hated for her to cry. But he'd let his hunger win out.
Milko shook his head in disgust, obviously remembering how Kane had eaten all the bacon that led to Mum getting bashed too. Kane shuffled and looked up at the darkened sky. He didn't want to look at the freak in case she cried again and reminded him of his Mum, who was no doubt being bashed again right now. Scotty always said he was too sooky, but he couldn't help it.
Kane Phillips had turned away! Milko winked at Sally, put his finger to his lips and took five gigantic steps forward on his long, skinny legs.
A smile lit up Sally's face. "Milko!" She exclaimed happily as at last he stood beside her, grinning. "I'm so glad you're back!"
"I'm glad to be back!" Milko said, with a bow and a flourish of his hat.
It was over! And it was all his own fault for being sooky! Scotty was always telling him not to be sooky and he should have listened. He'd turned his back for a second and Milko had gone.
And now Scotty was asking, to Kane's horror, "Yeh, well, what about Deefa and Fred? If you're taking Milko, you better take them too."
"No waaay!" Kane protested breathlessly.
"Who?" Lance asked, startled. He hadn't bargained on there being anyone else. Lance's brain had barely got round dealing with the kidnapping of one.
"Milko's invisible mates," Scott supplied helpfully.
Milko had invisible mates? He'd never told her! Sally stared at him, wondering what else he'd kept from her, but Milko put his hands in his pockets, began whistling and pretended to be engrossed in watching the rippling waves.
He was wearing a hat Sally had never seen before. Red and black, with a yellow circle like the sun as a motif, just like the Australian Aboriginal Flag (Sally had been learning about flags at school that week and so recognised it at once).
There were lots of things she didn't know about Milko, she suddenly realised. Like where did he get all his hats from? And was his favourite food really steak, chips and berries or had he just invented that? And had he really gone surfing all the times he said he had or had he go off with the Phillips brothers to shoplift or throw stones at people from the bridge over the wharf, splashing himself with water just before he came back to fool Sally into thinking he'd been off riding the waves on his surfboard?
"What do they look like?" Kathy asked carefully.
"Uh...a dog and a dragon, ain't they?" Scott asked Kane, who nodded miserably.
"Recognise them, Sal?" Lance asked gravely.
Sally shook her head. "They're not mine!" She admitted honestly.
"Don't matter. You can have 'em," Scotty offered, with uncharacteristic generosity. After watching that TV show, Is There REALLY Anybody Out There? he wasn't taking any chances!
"Scott, you can't give away Kane's invisible friends! If they're Kane's, then they must stay with Kane." Feeling as if she'd just been dropped into some kind of surreal universe, Kathy was playing it by ear. Her thesis on kids and their invisible friends had been very thorough and much acclaimed, but in all her research she'd never before come across a situation where kids apparently traded their invisible friends with each other.
"Guess," Scott shrugged.
Kane managed a weak grin as Deefa and Fred yelled "Yesss!" and high-fived each other with their paws. At least, he thought, he got to keep Deefa and Fred, even if Milko had deserted him.
"Your mate Milko's a dag anyway," Scott remarked, for the hell of it, and grinned in satisfaction when he achieved his objective of seeing Sally's face crumple.
"Look," Kathy said, as Lance put a comforting arm round Sally. "There's no point in arguing like this. It just makes everyone unhappy. You could all be friends. Why don't you both come with us to watch the talent show later? Lance is going to sing in it," she added proudly, making Lance blush.
Scott and Kane looked at each other and guffawed. "You think we're as dorky as her and him?" Scott demanded in disbelief.
Kathy sighed. The Phillips boys were clean and well dressed; they didn't seem to be hungry, particularly tired or unusually afraid, the giveaway signs of neglect that might suggest something in their homelife was responsible for their behaviour. Their father was, as everybody knew, workshy and dabbled in small time crime, such as fiddling welfare benefits or "accidentally" forgetting to pay in a shop, but nothing too serious. And, while he was a drinker, so were many of the men in the rough, tough town of Summerhill where the Phillips lived. Kathy never saw the bruises hidden beneath their clothes and their mentally ill mother never collected them from school. Richie was too smart to allow that.
"Well, if you change your minds later, I'll buy you an ice cream each at the show," she said.
Fruitcake and ice cream! Kane hoped Scotty would change his mind later. Maybe Mum hadn't been bashed after all and it would turn out to be quite a good day, even if Milko had gone off with the freak. And maybe they could even kidnap him back again at the talent show...
But Kathy, Lance and Sally were barely out of sight before Scott turned to his younger brother
"Say goodbye to your hallucinations, drongo. Either they go back to La-La Land right now or I beat you to a pulp."
Kane looked at him, alarmed by his chilling tones and vaguely puzzled by what some mysterious chick called Lucy Nations had to do with all this. "Where?"
"Over the water, drongo! Don't you know nothin'?"
Realisation dawned. "You can't do this, Scotty. The guys just lost their best mate an' all. And I dunno if they can swim...Can you swim, guys?"
Deefa and Fred exchanged worried looks and then turned to Kane anxiously. Deefa nodded slowly (although he was only a puppy, he was always the more sensible of the two) while Fred nervously puffed out red and orange flames.
"Go! Go on, ya drongos! ---- off!" Scotty knew he would never live it down, if anyone saw him now, talking to the air and shooing "them" off like this, but he had to convince Kane.
Tears shone in the little boy's eyes. "They're my mates, Scotty!" He croaked. "You can't send them away!"
"Tough! They're goin', jerk!"
When Scotty said something, it was done. Shivering, Deefa and Fred reluctantly took to the cold water. Kane could only watch helplessly until they were dots on the horizon. And then they were gone. Forever. There was nothing anymore. Nothing but all this hurt and emptiness inside.
He curled his fist around a large stone he'd picked up and hurled it furiously at the cruel world.
"Good shot!" Scotty roared.
And that was when he realised he'd hit something. A small mongrel dog yelped in pain and shot off in terror towards its owner, its tail curled round its legs.
"Run!" Scotty yelled, laughing, as the dog owner spotted them.
They only stopped running when the man, panting, had to give up the chase to see to his injured and bleeding dog.
You don't have nothin' in this life, Kaney, so you just have to take it
So Kane would. Milko, Deef and Fred had all gone so he wouldn't be a sook anymore. He'd be like Scotty. Always.
"That was one hell of a shot!" Scott said in admiration.
"Yeh. It was," he grinned proudly back. "What should try hitting next?"
