Bleakboy and Hunter Stand Out in the Rain (13 page)

32

HUNTER

In the early evening, Hunter stands outside the house, looking over the flowering hedge to the screen door. Hunter looks down the street from where he's come. He didn't think he'd catch Les on his scooter after he left the park, but Hunter ran as fast as he could and spied the old man just as he turned into Rochedale Street. He hears Les inside the house talking to someone. Hunter turns to leave, then remembers Les has a dog. He walks nervously to the front gate and pushes it open. It squeaks, loudly.

A voice comes from behind the screen door. ‘Looks like we have a visitor, Deefer.'

Hunter steps forward and closes the gate behind him. Too late to run away now. Les opens the door.

‘My boy,' he says. ‘Did I leave something behind in the park?'

Hunter is not sure why he's here.

Les seems to understand Hunter's nervousness. He says, ‘I tell you what, Hunter. Go round the back and you'll see a garden seat under the pear tree. I'll be right out. You can meet Deefer, after he's had a feed. That way he won't mistake you for dinner.' The old man winks.

The screen door slams and Hunter hears the old man shuffling down the hallway. Hunter walks along the overgrown garden path beside the house, careful not to hit his head on the electricity box jutting out from the side wall.

The backyard is neatly mown, with raised
corrugated-iron garden beds where lettuce, spinach and tomatoes grow in the rich dark soil. A net is haphazardly strung over a cherry tree in the corner. Hunter looks toward the back door. He sees a pair of
green wellington boots covered in dirt on the top step.
He walks over to the cherry tree and reaches under the net to pick a ripe berry. He takes a tentative bite. It's sweet and juicy.

In the centre of the garden is a shady tree, with a bench seat underneath. Around the base of the tree is a circular garden of bright orange flowers. Hunter walks to the seat, but doesn't sit down. He leans close to the tree and sees the little green fruit starting to grow on every branch. In a month, the tree will be loaded with pears. He wonders if the birds will eat them, or if Les has a bigger net for this large tree. Against the side fence is a garden shed, with a single wooden chair near the door. Hunter walks over to the chair and carries it back to the pear tree. He sits on it.

The rear door slams. Les holds a tray with a plate of Anzac biscuits and two glasses of frothy drink that looks like beer. ‘Can you carry this, Hunter?' Les asks. Hunter jumps up and takes the tray. The old man reaches for his walking stick beside the door. A shaggy, droopy-eared dog, coloured dirty brown with black spots, walks beside them.

Les flops down on the bench seat and Hunter sits on the wooden chair. Les takes the tray from Hunter and puts it on the seat. The dog sniffs Hunter's fingers and licks his hand.

‘Deefer and I never have visitors, Hunter,' says Les. ‘So, I opened the good stuff.'

Hunter eyes the glass of beer.

‘Don't worry, lad, it's ginger beer. Brewed it myself. Guaranteed no alcohol, but still lots of kick.' Les takes a glass and has a long swig. Hunter does the same. When he swallows, he hiccups. Les laughs.

‘I warned you!'

Deefer lies down at Les's feet and closes his eyes.

Hunter takes another sip, slowly this time. He looks again at the small fruit on the pear tree.

Les notices and reaches behind the seat to touch the tree trunk. ‘When the fruit ripens this year, I'm going to make pear cider.' He looks at Hunter. ‘Alcoholic and much tastier than beer!' A siren sounds in the distance and Deefer whines. Les reaches down to rub his neck. The dog settles immediately.

Hunter remembers the joy he felt riding Les's mobility scooter. How Les seemed to know that he would. He recalled the smile on Les's face when he sped back to the seat in the park. He knows he can trust the old man.

‘I don't see my dad anymore,' Hunter says. He looks down at his shoes before continuing, ‘He ran away'. Hunter thought it was only children who were supposed to run away. And, even then, only for a few hours. Not forever.

Hunter feels his knees shaking. He reaches for the glass to calm himself and takes a quick sip. He dare not look at Les, even though he feels the old man is watching him, waiting.

‘I hate him,' Hunter says. ‘For leaving. And for hurting Mum.'

A fly buzzes above Hunter's glass of ginger beer. The old man sighs, reaches for the plate of biscuits and offers them to Hunter. He takes one and looks at the old man in thanks. They each eat a biscuit, slowly.

After what seems like ages, Les shifts in his seat and says simply, ‘We miss what we don't have, without being thankful for what we've got'.

Hunter imagines his mum applying lipstick and make-up in front of the bathroom mirror, wearing a new dress, with stockings and shiny shoes, waiting for her lunch date to arrive. How excited she'll be. He smiles to himself. Maybe making Mum happy is the best way to be happy himself. He'd never thought of that before. Such an easy solution.

Hunter reaches for the glass of ginger beer and takes another sip. He pictures his mum again, walking around the house in her new dress, expecting a knock on the door. The man from the cafe with the nervous smile, standing on the verandah.

Les speaks slowly, ‘We come out here every afternoon, Deefer and me, to sit.' He reaches behind the seat and picks a blooming orange flower, breaking it at the stalk and holding it to his nose. ‘This is where I put Dorothy's ashes.' Les smiles. ‘I pick these flowers each time they bloom and put them in a vase beside her picture in the lounge room.' Les twirls the flower in his hands. ‘Dorothy wouldn't like me sitting around and grumbling. Or being too sad. It would be an insult to her spirit.' Les sighs. ‘We have to move on, son. No matter what.'

Hunter looks up. He sees the tears welling in the old man's eyes and understands Les is not only talking about himself.

The old man shuffles up from the seat and says, ‘What say I fetch you a bottle of ginger beer to take home. You could share it with your mum.' Deefer jumps up and runs ahead of the old man.

Hunter remains in the chair, looking at the flowers in the garden bed. The colours seem brighter and deeper in the evening light.

33

jesse

I look out the window. It's a bright sunny morning. I lean close to the pane and breathe heavily, frosting the glass. With my finger, I draw an outline of the biggest animal in Antarctica: the blue whale. I step back to admire my artwork. Perfect. Not a Japanese whaleboat in sight.

‘What do you think, Kelifa?' I say, looking at the picture of my African friend Blu Tacked to my wall. A beam of sunshine lights the wall above his head. Kelifa seems to be smiling, probably because he's received the email I sent to CARE Australia about the fundraising lunchtime we're having at school today, in his honour.

‘Maybe we'll raise enough so your dad can build you a new bedroom,' I say, ‘away from your sisters.'

‘Mum,' Beth calls, ‘Jesse's talking to himself again.'

‘Jesse,' Mum's voice calls from the kitchen.

‘It's okay,' I yell, ‘Kelifa is not a false god, he's an eight-year-old boy.'

Beth comes to my door and smiles. ‘Not an imaginary friend?'

I look toward the picture of Kelifa and shake my head. Beth walks into my room and places the new CD of The Scrambles on my dresser. Something is scrawled across the cover.

‘Ryan got each of the band members to autograph it, even Feral. He said you could auction it on eBay, or at lunchtime today and give the money to Kelifa,' she says.

‘Wow, thanks sis.'

‘No worries, anything to avoid eating yams again.'

Mum knocks gently on my open door.

‘Beth,' she says.

‘Mum,' Beth answers.

Mum glances around the room, looking for Trevor. Kelifa smiles down at her.

‘What are you hiding behind your back, Mum?' Beth asks.

Mum smiles. She steps into the room and elaborately presents Beth with a pair of yoga pants.

‘I bought these yesterday, Beth.'

Beth accepts the present and holds the pants up to the light.

‘They're new, Beth. Not second hand.' Mum turns to go and calls behind her, ‘I've kept your old pair.'

Beth stands holding the pants, her mouth open in disbelief.

‘You see, sis,' I say, ‘the world can change.'

At school, Kate is waiting for me at the ‘Thought for the Day' sign. The sign reads:

To give is better than to receive
.

Kate's wearing her green ribbon and, just for today, a green ‘Save the Whales' t-shirt. As I approach, she lifts her pants to reveal her lucky socks. She smiles. ‘Too much green is never enough.'

When we get to class, everyone is sitting down, except Hunter who's sitting on Sarah's desk, his heavy shoes tapping on the wooden panel. Sarah hasn't arrived yet.

‘Charityboy and Whalegirl,' Hunter says, as we enter. He winks, just to let me know he's kidding. This time.

‘You're early, Hunter,' I say.

‘The early bird catches …'

‘The worm,' I suggest.

‘The teacher off guard,' he answers.

As if on cue, Sarah walks in. ‘Hunter, I believe that's my desk you're sitting on.'

Hunter jumps up and says, ‘Sorry, Sarah, but as we're a community, I thought it was
our
desk'. He casually walks toward his chair and sits down. Sarah sighs and places her handbag on her desk. Our desk.

Skye raises her hand. Sarah pretends not to notice.

‘Okay, class. It's D-E-A-R time. And we know what that means.'

‘Doze Early And Repeatedly?' Hunter calls.

Everyone giggles, even Sarah.

‘Don't Eat At Recess!' I add.

‘Dead Elephants And Rhinos!' Hunter answers.

Sarah holds up a book, as if to remind us.

Hunter clicks his fingers. ‘Of course. Drop Every
thing And … Retch!'

I can't help myself. ‘Ha!'

Sarah makes an extravagant gesture of opening her book.

‘Drop Everything And Read,' Skye calls.

Everyone groans. We all knew that.

After reading, Hunter raises his hand, but before he can ask a question, Sarah says, ‘Yes, Hunter, you can go to Walter'. Hunter whistles a bouncy tune as he walks out the door. We can hear it echo along the verandah. When Sarah turns to write on the whiteboard, Kate passes me a note. I unfold it under my desk. It's an invitation to her place tonight, for dinner.

I blush.

*

On the grassy area at lunchtime, a few parents have arranged tables in a large semicircle. On each table are items for sale. All the students wander from table to table, looking for treasure among the cast-off toys and books.

A large sign is strung between the two wattle trees in the corner. It reads, ‘All proceeds to charity' with a picture of Kelifa pasted into the top corner. I'm busy tying the cord a little tighter, so Kelifa won't get blown away by the wind, when Kate races up and grabs my hand.

‘Hunter is setting up his own stall.' She grins.

‘No!' I say. ‘I wonder what he's selling.'

‘Maybe he's offering a joke booth? One dollar a laugh,' Kate says.

‘More likely a “Give me a dollar and I won't hit you” booth. He'd make a fortune with that one,' I say.

She leads me across the grass, still holding my hand. We jostle among the kindy kids surrounding the booths. The first person I notice is not Hunter, but an old man with a walking stick. He's standing behind a table laden with sushi! Hunter is beside him, offering a sushi roll to Larry.

‘Three dollars Larry, special deal for teachers,' Hunter says.

I notice the sign above the stall, which reads, ‘Sushi $2.50'
.
Larry sees it too, but happily hands over the gold coins.

Hunter spies me and Kate. He spreads his arms wide, a shopkeeper displaying his fine items. ‘Chicken, avocado, beef teriyaki,' he says. ‘No whale meat!' Kate and I both reach into our pockets.

Hunter makes a gesture for us to stop. He offers me a chicken roll and Kate an avocado and cucumber roll. ‘Free for my friends,' he says.

‘Did you buy all this?' I ask.

The old man puts his arm around Hunter's shoulder. ‘A nice Japanese man gave us a huge discount.' He reaches across the table to shake our hands. ‘My name's Les.' He looks at Hunter. ‘The young man here told me all about fundraising for the starving Africans,' Les says. ‘He figured as I had lots of spare time, I might as well join him on this stall.'

Les reaches behind him into a large esky and pulls out a bottle of fizzy drink. He pours it into two plastic cups for Kate and me. ‘Home-brewed ginger beer, on the house. Or on the stall, I should say.'

He leans forward. ‘Funny thing is, the Japanese man seemed to think I was Hunter's father and the head of a company called Dalton Enterprises.'

‘Hunter can be very …' I can't think of the correct word.

‘Persuasive?' Les suggests.

‘Imaginative,' says Hunter.

Les reaches to shake my hand, again. ‘This is a good thing you've organised, young man.'

Hunter sees Sarah on the verandah and cups his hands together, calling out, ‘Sushi, Sarah! Special price for teachers.'

Sarah reaches for her handbag.

Hunter looks at me. ‘I'm going to ask Sarah if you and me and Kate can help pack up, after lunch,' he says. ‘That way, we'll miss maths.'

There's only one word I can say in response.

‘Ha!'

Helpful

Websites

Jesse, Hunter and Kate recommend these services:

www.care.org.au

CARE Australia is an Australian charity and international humanitarian aid organisation fighting global poverty, with a special focus on empowering women and girls to bring lasting change to their communities.

www.msf.org.au

Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders) is an international, independent, medical humanitarian organisation.

kidshelp.com.au

If you're between five and twenty-five and need someone to talk to Kids Helpline is there 24/7 for problems big and small. Call 1800 551 800. Our services are free.

www.seashepherd.org.au

Sea Shepherd Australia is a non-profit conservation organisation whose mission is to end the destruction of habitat and slaughter of wildlife in the world's oceans in order to conserve and protect ecosystems and species.