A Shot at Freedom (10 page)

David stared up at Chas helplessly, watching his nostrils flare and his lower lip puff out.

“He just needed somewhere to stay.
”

Chas pushed Gloria. She held her ground.

“That’s it, Chas. It’s the truth. The whole story.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

David managed to untwist the sleeping bag from around his waist. It
lay limp at his feet. “I’ll go. I’m going,” he said, looking for his belongings, before realising he’d left them stashed in a corner on the lower deck. With only a glance at Gloria, he flung the sleeping bag over his shoulder and tripped up the stairs in his boxers, exhaling.

Silence hung in the air below.

***

It had taken three hours to
scrub the deck, but when David started to smear the oil across the raw wood and the natural colour began to glow the tired old boat gained new life. He couldn’t stop himself from stepping back and admiring it.

Gloria climbed up the ladder, and leant on the top rung. The bruise on her cheek was covered
by make-up, but he could see its shadow in the sunlight.

He smiled at her
. “What do you think?”

Nodding as she surveyed his work,
she said, “Looks great.” But she didn’t look at him. She’d lost her cheeriness.

“I don’t usually like to ask people how they are after they’ve been hit like that, because I always hate being asked. It’s embarrassing
,” he said.

She shrugged, and swiped at the air
. “Ah, I’m fine about that. That’s not what’s bothering me.”

David rested on the oil applicator handle
. “Uh-huh.”

“Yep,” she said.

“I can’t work here any more can I?”

“Daddy said I had to tell you you’re fired
. He said your work’s good, but he doesn’t like me hanging around you.”

David dipped the sponge in the oil, and began sweeping it across the rest of the raw wood.
“Your daddy said? Or Chas?”

“I’m sorry David.”

“I’ll just finish up here.”

He heard her apologise one more time as she disappeared
over side of the boat, down the ladder.

Chapter Sixteen

Brooke

There was something about the basketball court. It had power. She was beginning to see how workers used it to get conversational advantage. The volunteer was out there playing basketball with Tim. Brooke would rather have been on the court getting a disguised grilling rather than being stuck in a game of pool with Natasha, Foley and Tyler. She was hopeless at the game. There was always a pool table at her parents’ pub but she was never allowed to play on it. It was for guests only. Her mother believed it wasn’t suitable for girls. It never made sense to Brooke.

She bent over the table and
took aim, lining up the white ball with the number 6. Tyler came up behind her, guiding her hands, pressing himself into her. She held her breath so she wouldn’t have to inhale his stale, tobacco air. It made her skin creep.

“I’m fine
, Tyler. I can make this one.”

“Just checking
. I mean because we’re a couple of balls behind here.”

She made the shot. The white ball ski
pped across the green felt but still managed to hit the ‘6’ in a completely different spot to where she was aiming. A miracle occurred and it sank in a hole on the other side of the table.

“
Whoohooo!” Tyler cheered.

“You’re good,” Foley
said, the edges of his mouth turned down, nodding approval.

Natasha gave a slow, bored, clap, shaking her hair
off her shoulders.

“Man
, show some enthusiasm, girl,” Tyler said, helping Brooke line up another shot.

“It was a fluke Tyler,” Brooke argued. “How about you take the next shot?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Tyler was using his cue to work out the direction. “You can get this one. Just tap it here and it will nudge it towards this corner.”

“I can’t. I hate this,” Brooke grumbled, bending over
the table.

“So don’t do it,” Natasha snapped. “Go sit on your little bunk and plan out your
amazing future.”

“
Tash,” Foley warned. “Give it up.”

“What? She doesn’t want to play. Let her go sit somewhere sulking
by herself.”

Brooke took her shot, sending the white ball for a tour of the table. “See, I’m
terrible.”

“You’re fine. You’re doing well.” Foley grinned
, stepping up to the table, lining up a shot she had set up beautifully for him. He potted two balls in one go, planting a kiss on Brooke’s cheek as he passed her, “Thanks Darlin.”

Brooke pulled back, but couldn’t help laughing
. “See? I help the other team score.”

Natasha tried to snatch the cue out of Brooke
’s hand, “Well, don’t fucking play then, you stupid bitch.”

“
Tash, settle down. You’re acting like a little kid. Get over yourself,” Foley chided.

Natasha lunged over the table and grabbed the pool cue Brooke was holding. Brooke held her gaze but refused to let it go
, at first. Her hands had locked into fists. It took a conscious mind to release it and step back, ready to run down the ramp on to the court.

“Get out of this house now,” Natasha demanded.

Brooke’s head pounded, adrenaline pumping blood through her limbs. Everything appeared to slow down.

Foley pried Natasha’s fingers off the pool cue, pressing her wrists together and pulling her away. “She’s not doing anything to you,” Foley said, evenly.

“Fuck you. Don’t fuckin’ speak to me like that.”

His height tower
ed over her. His muscles flexed and he held her gaze locked to his.

“Fuck you.” Natasha s
pat into his face.

Foley
blinked, swiped at the spit with his sleeve, then bowed his head until his nose was a calculated centimetre off hers.

Natasha pushed him
. “Fuck you.” She yanked herself free, and took off for the bedroom.

Brooke
cleared her throat. “You know, you guys should just ignore me. I’m happy reading in my bedroom or watching TV. I’ve got things I can do. It’s better for Natasha.”

“She’s got to learn she’s not the centre of everything,” Tyler said.

Foley nodded. “She’s just used to having me to herself.”

But Natasha
interrupted, striding through the lounge, holding up something steely and shiny, disappearing into the toilet.

Foley
charged past the portable table knocking the balls into chaos, as he ran inside after her. He thumped on the locked toilet door with his fists, demanding in a low gruff voice that she let him in. Tyler followed, dragging Brooke in to the lounge with him. She had enough time to cast a glance over her shoulder at the volunteer and Tim. They were lost in their own competition, shooting hoops.

“Let’s get
Harville,” Brooke whispered to Tyler.

“You’ve got to be kidding.
He’ll chuck her out.” Tyler wrapped his arms around her, so Brooke’s arms were pinned to her sides. “Shhh,” he whispered into her ear. “We’ll work it out.”

An inner tick of revulsion juddered up her spine and neck.

Foley tried again. “Tash. Everything’s okay. Just come out and give me the blade. We’ll go somewhere, just you and me, and talk.”

But the grey door remained
jammed.  

“Is she going to kill herself?” Brooke
muttered. “Maybe we need to get the worker.”

“What can
Harville do if Foley can’t get her out?”

“This is because of me,” she replied.

“Nah.
You’re just competition.”

“I did this. She’s in there because of me.”

“Shh,” Tyler breathed in her ear.

Fear hammered her.
“She hates me. She stole everything I have. She’s stopping me from getting my way back to David. She doesn’t care and yet I’m the one always feeling like I’m causing shit.”

“Shut up will
ya. She’s in there with a fucking razor,” Foley snapped.

“
It’s because I was playing pool with you. You say you know her, Foley. You should’ve known she’d do this.”

“Fucking shut her up or get her out
,” Foley commanded.

Tyler’s cold embrace grew tighter,
but his voice remained calm and steady, as though his only goal was to soothe her when really he wanted her to shut the hell up. “It’s because Natasha can’t deal with not having Foley all to herself. That’s all.”  

“
I don’t want Foley.”

“She’s just a kid
, she can’t read you.”

“
I’m calling the worker.”

Tyler’s
stained calloused fingers clamped down over Brooke’s mouth.

The door to the office burst open and
Harville stomped down the hall, keys jangling.

Tyler released his grip and dropped down into a lounge chair
. Unable to cope with the pressure, Brooke headed for the back door, trying to appear unperturbed. Once out on the deck, she spread her arms wide and jogged down the ramp onto the court, free, her unrestrained body loose. She perched on the retaining wall, positioning herself so she could still see inside through the windows, pretending to watch the game. Her eye wasn’t truly able to take anything in. The ball slammed against her cheek. She didn’t see it coming.

The volunteer winked at her
, collecting the ball. “You okay?”

She
nodded, her mouth dry, and clearly distracted. Harville marched Natasha through the lounge, steering her up the hall to the office, slow and controlled. Brooke remained under protection on the basketball court, while the boys came out and packed away the portable pool table.

***

Cross legged, on her bunk, the cool, precise strokes of the brush down each nail soothed her. She’d decided on a light fawn polish, stenciling tiny blue butterflies on each nail. It was her art, keeping her mind calm, settled and lost in the moment. The sickly dread of facing Natasha kept slightly at bay.

Her hands shook when she heard Natasha leave the office. The door to the bedroom creaked open
. She slid the brush back into the bottle and braced herself. Their gaze locked for a moment, until Natasha noticed her collection of nail polish. Natasha threw herself forward onto the bed with Brooke. “What you got there?”

“Ten minutes until lights out. If you haven’t brushed your teeth please do so
,” Harville sang down the hallway.

“You didn’t see this in my bag, when you rifled through it for the money, huh?”

Natasha pressed her lips together
. “Can I see?”

Brooke held her fingernails out to her. “I’m not doing this for any other reason than I love it.”

“I never noticed how long your fingernails were.”

“They were covered in chipped polish. Not a good look. But it was the last set of pictures I’d put on while I was with David. I didn’t want to wipe them away.”

“Who’s David?”

“Just a boy I grew up with. He lived in the property behind us. We left home together.”

“So where is he now?”

Brooke shrugged.  “I wish I knew.
He left me.”

“I couldn’t stand
it if Foley dumped me. If I didn’t have him I’d have nobody.”

“I don’t want
Foley, Natasha,” Brooke said, air drying her hands. “I just want to go north, get a job and find David.”

“But David’s not here. And Foley is.”

“I’ll say it again, Natasha. I don’t want Foley.”

“Is
David your boyfriend?”

“No, but I owe him everything.”

Natasha looked as though she were going to speak, but her lips twisted in confusion, “How do you mean?”

“
He gets me, like nobody else can. No matter what my family does to his family he still waited for me in the orchard. He keeps me sane. When I’m with him, I have nothing to worry about. He looks at me like he wants to be with me. Like he wants to hear what I have to say, like I matter. And then there comes a time when I have to go home and I walk into the coldest house with all the nice things and there’s nothing comfortable about it.”

“So you’re rich? And you’re here.”

“Is that all you heard me say?”

“Well, what are you doing here
? No one chooses to be in a dump like this, if they don’t have to be.”

“
I’m not rich, Natasha. I have nothing, not a cent. You know that. You took all my money.”

“But if you went home, you’d have all the money you want.”

“If I went home I would have food, and anything I want, but without David my life would consist of lying on my bed waiting for the day to end and the next one to begin.”

“Foley said he’d give you the money back. He knows how much I needed it.”

“I needed it too.”

Natasha
looked down at all the polish. “Did you just make all that shit up?”

“Nope
, it’s all true.” Brooke started putting away the bottles in her bag collection, careful not to chip the fresh coat on her nails. “I want my money back. I don’t care how you get it.”

Harville
pushed the door open. “Natasha, teeth please.” He looked up at Brooke. “Are your teeth done?”

Brooke
nodded. “I did them after dinner. I’m ready for bed.”

Natasha followed him out of the room
. “Brooke’s going to do my nails for me, tomorrow.”

Brooke raised her eyebrows.

“It’s good to see you’re getting on.”

Left alone in the room, she
could hear Harville rounding up the boys. Bathroom taps turned on and off, water blasting, toilets blushing, voices echoing off tiles. Natasha returned to the doorway, standing waiting, one foot in and one out. She stole a quick kiss off Foley, before closing the door.

Brooke decided not to hold anything back. “Would you have used that razor tonight?”

“I did,” Natasha admitted as she climbed onto her bed and began getting changed. She peeled back her sock and showed Brooke two even, but shallow, gashes. “Harville said that if I do it again, he’s sending me to the hospital because he said I need better help than they can give me here.”

“Foley would be here and you’d be in hospital.”

“It’s not going to happen again. Foley and I will always be together.”

“That’s how I think about David. And you’ve taken my money, making it impossible for me to get to him.”

Natasha stopped wrestling with her bra inside her black, oversized t-shirt. “I’ll make sure Foley gets the money back to you.”

“The sooner you do, the sooner I’ll be gone.
This isn’t my scene.”

“We can all tell,
honey.”

***