Sticks and Stones Read online

  Another definite benefit of fish and chips was the lack of dishes, with Maddie simply folding the butcher paper when they’d finished. Telling herself that if she managed to fold it eight times, still keeping it neat despite the few remaining chips inside, then she had imagined him. She succeeded easily, but that changed nothing. Guess, their blue roan cocker spaniel, padded into the room and took up a position by Sam’s chair at the computer desk. He yawned, curling his tongue up to display candy pink gums.

  Ashley twisted around on the armchair to face her mother. ‘You know how Georgia’s coming over next weekend? So can she come on Friday, straight from school?’

  ‘Don’t forget we’re finishing early,’ added Sam without turning. ‘Last day of term.’

  Maddie nodded as she thought. ‘All right. It’ll be some payback for her mother having you every day during the holidays. And maybe we’ll have something special for tea because Kim’s coming around as well. Something nice.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe homemade pizza?’

  Sam thrust a thumb into the air. ‘Yum.’

  ‘Okay,’ Ashley nodded. She stared at the television and then whipped around again. ‘Why can’t we have Foxtel? The holidays wouldn’t be so boring then. And everyone’s got Foxtel.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s quite –’

  ‘Georgia’s got Foxtel.’ Ashley held up one hand and started counting names off on her fingers. ‘And so’s Caitlin, and Zoe, and Tessa.’

  ‘Joel hasn’t got it,’ commented Sam. ‘And neither has Luke.’

  ‘Thanks a lot. Like you’re a great help.’

  ‘No problem. Glad to be of assistance.’

  Maddie kept her eyes on the television, ignoring both children. But instead of the current affairs program, she saw graffiti blossoming either side of a half-smile that both repelled and beckoned at the same time. And she was standing in a bus terminal with the children by her side, surrounded by strangers. Scared, terrified of what she was doing. And absolutely petrified that, any moment now, the glass doors would open and the person who would come through would not be a stranger at all, but someone she knew very, very well. Maddie closed her eyes, letting the scene turn to static against her eyelids.

  ‘If we can’t have Foxtel, then can we get another computer?’

  Maddie opened her eyes, feeling tired. ‘What on earth for?’

  ‘Because Sam’s always on ours, and I hardly ever get a turn. Besides, it’s not private. I want one in my room like everybody else.’

  ‘Let me guess,’ said Sam. ‘Like Georgia and Caitlin and Zoe?’

  ‘Don’t forget Tessa,’ added Maddie before she could stop herself.

  Ashley’s face clouded. ‘You’re always on his side. Always.’

  Instantly regretful, Maddie leant forward so that she could touch her daughter’s knee. ‘Sorry, Ash, I didn’t mean to make fun of you. It’s just you know as well as I do that not everyone has these things. And even if they did, we just can’t afford it.’

  ‘But we used to have Foxtel!’

  Maddie’s hand froze. She stared down at it, noting, in a rather abstract way, that her fingernails needed trimming. Must keep them short.

  ‘God, Ashley! Why d’you have to be such a bitch?’

  ‘Don’t call your sister a bitch.’ Maddie pulled her hand back and folded it into her lap. She opened her mouth to say something else but lacked the energy to follow through.

  ‘Well, we did!’ said Ashley, defensiveness turning her voice into a whine. ‘And how come you just tell him off? Like if I said bitch, I’d be sent to my room!’

  ‘I’ll talk to him later,’ said Maddie tiredly.

  ‘Yeah, right.’

  On the television a smiling woman held a box of laundry detergent aloft, while in the background a row of snowy-white clothes fluttered on the line. Maddie glanced sidelong towards her daughter, at her folded arms and the stubborn set of her brow. She wondered how, if this was a taste of things to come, she was ever going to cope when the girl became a fully fledged teenager. Perhaps boarding school. Maddie let her gaze continue on to Sam, who was concentrating once more on the computer screen. Chalk and cheese in all other respects, looks-wise her two children were very similar, both olive-skinned with brown hair and eyes fringed by thick lashes. They were also both going to be taller than her own medium height, with Sam having just recently drawn ahead and his sister not far behind.

  ‘You know I’d get Foxtel if we could afford it,’ said Maddie softly.

  Ashley stared at her mother and, after a few moments, slowly unfolded her arms. ‘I know.’

  ‘It’s just . . .’ Maddie let the words hang and then shrugged rather than finish the sentence.

  ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

  ‘And maybe in a few years we can look at getting another computer.’

  ‘But Mum, you can get computers really cheap now.’ Ashley leant forward, sensing an opening. ‘Zoe’s father got one from this place in Bendigo and it was hardly anything. Then I could have one in my room, and it’d be private.’

  Maddie stared at her daughter. ‘Ash honey, let me be honest here. Even if I had loads of money I wouldn’t get another computer just so that you could lock yourself away in your room.’

  ‘God!’ Ashley threw herself backwards in the armchair and glared across at her mother. ‘You treat me like such a baby! It’s not fair!’

  Sam got up rapidly, the computer chair rolling backwards. Guess jumped out of the way. ‘Here, have the freakin’ computer.’

  ‘Don’t want it.’

  ‘Take it.’ Sam flopped down into the other armchair and threw one leg over the armrest. ‘Go on. Anything to shut you up.’

  ‘I said I don’t want it!’ Ashley glared at her mother as if she were solely responsible for this last exchange, and then jumped up and flounced out of the room.

  Maddie watched her go, suddenly reminded of a little girl whose favourite outfit was a pink tutu. The thought made her feel bereft, as if she had lost something precious. Guess came over and laid his head on her knee, staring at her with chocolate-brown eyes that welled with apparent wisdom. She turned back to Sam. ‘You shouldn’t do that, you know.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Belittle your sister.’ Maddie searched for the words to make him understand. ‘You don’t have to agree with her, but you shouldn’t try to, well, silence her either.’

  Sam stared at her and then shrugged, breaking eye contact. He leant forward and unfolded the butcher paper, gathering together the few remaining chips. ‘I’m gonna go do homework.’

  Maddie watched him rise, knowing she hadn’t explained herself well. Guess lifted his head, leaving a cool patch on her knee and then followed Sam. Maddie leant forward to straighten the butcher paper as they both left, before folding it, another eight times, until it was a neat square. Then she sighed, a feather breath, and rose to go over to the computer. For a moment she just sat there, rubbing her arms lightly as if cold, staring at the small frame that hung by the monitor. It contained a simple quote which she had mounted on black cardboard. The obstacles of your past can become the gateways that lead to new beginnings. She read it through underneath her breath, twice, like a prayer, and then turned her attention to the computer itself. Checking her inbox quickly and then smiling as she opened an email from her sister. Leaning forward to read it, chin resting on her hand.

  Visited Mum this morning and she tells me you rang yesterday? Hope you used your mobile this time. Just because she’s no longer at home doesn’t make it any more secure. Good news though, she seemed a lot more settled – had even organised a tea party with some of the other residents! Re Stuart, I think I’m just going to go without him. Enough’s enough. Re James, yes it’s looking good. That sleep clinic did wonders and Charlotte is starting to look human again. Although I’m bushed because we went to the opera last night and didn’t get back till the wee hours. Cosi Fan Tutte. Great show, thoroughly enjoyable. Hope
your fete went well. Say hi to the kids. I’m logging off now as I’m off to bed early but I’ll speak more tomorrow.

  Love, Hannah

  Maddie felt a gulp of homesickness that surprised her, even though it had happened so many times before. She relied heavily on this connection with her former life, yet also recognised that sometimes it acted as an anchor she could do without.

  Maddie rose slowly and took the folded butcher paper out to the kitchen, where she dropped it into the rubbish bin. Then she washed her hands thoroughly and held them up so they could drip-dry into the sink. Staring through the kitchen window, at the rectangle of blackness, and imagining that there was someone out there staring right back. Their eyes consumed by darkness while she stood illuminated by the light. Cold fish eyes, with a flatness that seemed to glisten, just slightly, and yet still seem dead. Eyes that she did not recognise, yet knew only too well. A shiver ran up her spine and erupted against the nape of her neck. She blinked, and with sudden, rather bizarre humour she pictured the person outside deciding that, after witnessing the earlier scene with Ashley, punishment had already been well and truly delivered. For your crimes I sentence you to be consumed by the fires of hell – or life with a prepubescent female, followed by teenage-hood.

  Just as quickly the humour congealed until it was a lump in her throat. Hardened by the sure knowledge that, if he really was out there, her sentence would be far more severe. Because he would never forgive her for what she had done. And for that, at least, she didn’t much blame him.

  THREE

  Mondays were always busy at the community centre where Maddie worked. A hub of information, socialisation and learning; every room filled with book clubs and craft groups and even formal courses, as well as a range of playgroups for children and social gatherings for their mothers. Maddie’s annexe, however, was detached from the main building in purpose as well as design. This was where the disadvantaged of the community came to seek aid, whether financial, material, emotional, or just a little help with the myriad forms demanded by the social security bureaucracy. Single parents, disability pensioners, refugees, the jobless, and always a scattering of the proud but poor elderly.

  Maddie had been working there for over five years now, having started as a volunteer while she did an in-house course in community development and then moving to paid staff soon after graduation. She would have dearly liked to build on these qualifications but applying to any type of higher education institute was out of the question. So for now she tucked away her ambitions, and her envy of others, and tried to focus on the fact that she loved what she did.

  There were other advantages to the job also. Firstly, it had been arranged prior to her moving to nearby Badgerton, with the minimum of paperwork and questions and thus given her an anchor from the moment she arrived. She could barely recognise the person she had been back then, and knew that the community centre had played a large part in her evolution. Then there was the location, only a twenty minute drive away, and the short opening hours, which meant she was home each day by four-thirty at the latest. Giving Sam and Ashley only three-quarters of an hour alone, and significantly reducing the chances of one of them killing the other before she arrived.

  It was even easier this year, with Ashley now at high school alongside her brother. They caught a bus from the end of the street at about the same time that Maddie left each morning, and were dropped off again in the afternoon. To walk the short distance to the house and then do a few chores designed to keep them occupied. Like feed Guess and set the table before, in theory, settling down to do homework until their mother got home. An excellent routine that was only interrupted with the advent of school holidays, which seemed to occur rather more frequently than they should.

  Climate-wise, the day was a replica of the one preceding. Spring sunshine glowing within a canvas of cloudless sky. And the sublime buoyancy of the weather seemed to have an effect on the clients as well, with even the truly desperate displaying a patience more cheerful than resigned. Maddie filled the tubs at the front of the centre with fruit and vegetables and day-old bread, all of which had been donated by local stores. There were several people already waiting as the doors opened, two women with prams and high-spirited toddlers and a youth whose jittery hands spoke of habitual drug use. The waiting room filled quickly, remaining that way for the rest of the day.

  Her first client was a pregnant woman who had left her husband that weekend and was now staying on her sister’s couch. A shadow ran along her cheekbone like the sweep of blue rouge, hinting at the acrimonious nature of their parting. But the client didn’t want to talk about that, steering the conversation away whenever it strayed too near. And Maddie knew, as determined as the woman was that her marriage was over, the odds were pretty high that they would have reconciled by the week’s end. For the cycle to begin all over again.

  She gave the woman a referral to a housing service, even though the waiting list made the gesture almost superfluous, and vouchers for food, and then slipped in a domestic violence pamphlet amongst other, more general ones. That was all she could do except wish her luck. The next three clients were each social security recipients, and all it took was a gas or electricity or phone bill that was a little excessive and their house of cards collapsed. Food parcels and vouchers were needed so that they could rebuild, until the next time; any embarrassment they may once have felt at asking for charity had long faded.

  There was some excitement in the afternoon when a young couple, quite clearly drunk, became aggressive when they were asked to leave. With one belligerent sweep of his arm, the man sent the tub containing the remaining vegetables flying across the waiting room. Other clients scattered even as they muttered condemnations under their breath. The police were quickly called and a scene ensued on the footpath outside the centre as the young couple, yelling obscenities, were forced into the police car and taken away. Maddie started to pick up the spilled produce while one of the other workers, Lisbeth, took to the wall with a cloth.

  ‘Sometimes I wonder why we bother,’ said Lisbeth grumpily. She wiped at a smear of watermelon, turning it into watery blood.

  Maddie looked at her with surprise. ‘This doesn’t happen often. Hardly ever, in fact.’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Out-of-towners,’ said an elderly man dismissively.

  Lisbeth flicked a glance at him and then lowered her voice. ‘I just get a bit fed up sometimes, don’t you?’

  ‘No, never.’ Maddie shook her head. ‘Never.’

  ‘Hey, I’ll help.’ A woman with a baby on her hip bent down and awkwardly started picking up vegetables without waiting for an answer. She was immediately joined by a few other clients who criticised the evicted pair in loud voices, as if desperately needing to emphasise the divide between them. Maddie glanced at Lisbeth, but the other woman seemed almost disengaged. She made a mental note to make time for Lisbeth at some stage this week, perhaps with coffee. See if there was a problem and whether it could be nipped in the bud.

  The incident caused a delay that pushed the remaining appointments further behind and as a result the centre closed late. Maddie slid into her hatchback and sighed tiredly before heading out of town towards Badgerton. With peak hour now in play, it was a good half-hour before she finally turned into her driveway and drew to a stop by the side of the house. Taking a moment to enjoy the rush of warmth that coming home always gave her. Guess came running over to the car, panting with excitement.

  ‘What’re you doing outside, boy?’ Maddie frowned as she gave him a quick pat. She locked the car and glanced towards the lit kitchen window, half expecting the shadow of a child as they suddenly realised she was home and rushed to set the table. She paused again by the back porch, staring into the backyard and making a mental note to ring the mower repairman to find out whether the mower had been fixed. Before the grass got too much longer. Then she unlocked the back door and let the dog push his way past, breaking into a scamper in search of Sam. She could
hear his claws scrabbling against the floorboards down the passage as she put her handbag down on the kitchen table, sighing crossly as she realised that it wasn’t set.

  ‘Sam? Ashley?’ Maddie called them half-heartedly as she took a casserole from the fridge and slid it into the oven. She prepared most of the week’s meals on the weekends, making it easier during the working week. Setting the table was next, even though she knew she should probably go in search of either child and make them do it. But despite her irritation the temporary silence was just too precious, so she slowly laid out placemats and crockery and cutlery, enjoying a few moments of solitude. Rejuvenation. Guess came padding back into the kitchen and looked at her with his head on one side, as if wanting to ask a question.

  ‘Have you been fed?’ Maddie looked at his empty bowl as she spoke and her frown returned. It was absolutely ridiculous that she should put in a full day of work and then come home to find that even the most basic chores hadn’t been accomplished. She felt a surge of irritation and self-pity, which she nurtured as she spooned the contents of a can of dog food into the bowl. Something had to change here, and soon. Maddie threw the empty can in the rubbish bin before washing her hands and finally going in search of her errant offspring.

  ‘Ashley?’ Maddie walked into the lounge room, not terribly surprised to find it empty. She continued through towards the bedrooms. Later, much later, she was able to trace back to that moment and recognise that right then, as she walked up the passage, absently noting that the walls needed washing and thinking, for some odd reason, of Lisbeth at work, she was approaching the very last seconds when all was right within her world. Whether or not the table was set or the dog fed were nothing. Nothing. She knocked on Sam’s door first and then Ashley’s, pushing them open to reveal vacant rooms. Even then she was initially more confused than anything else, but as she stood there, frowning at lumpily made beds and bare desks, the first tentacles of fear slithered into being.

  ‘Sam? Ashley?’ Maddie went back through the house, a little faster this time, with Guess padding alongside. She pushed open the back door and walked out onto the little porch, surveying the yard from fence to fence. ‘Sam! Ashley!’