Catherine Jinks TheRoad (3 page)

‘So? Coppers couldn’t give a stuff. Sean was blockin the bloody Gabriels’ driveway, the other day, and the coppers came down on us like a tunna bricks, but when your bloody ex trashes me house with a golf club, they’re so bloody slow that he’s gone before they get here. And then they try to make out like Mark did it. Just because of that one time. Even though I
told
’em Mark doesn’t drink any more. Bastards.’

‘You didn’t tell me that.’

‘Yeah, well.’

‘They don’t really think Mark did it? Not when they know what happened ta me?’

‘Who can tell what they think? I said to ’em, “Check for fuckin fingerprints” but they didn’t. I haven’t heard a thing. Not one thing.’

‘But ya pressed charges?’

‘I told ’em who did it.’

‘But isn’t there a warrant out, or something?’

‘He tried to clobber ya, didn’t he? Course there’s a warrant out. Mark says if he doesn’t show up in court next week, he’s stuffed.’ Another pause. ‘Yiz oughta show up yourself, Gracie. It won’t go down, otherwise.’

‘But I can’t,’ Grace whispered. Glancing out the window, she saw Nathan drawing in the dirt with a stick. ‘I can’t, Mum, he’ll kill me.’

‘He won’t.’

‘He will.’

‘He
won’
t
. Mark’s here. Gary’s here. They’re bigger’n he is.’

But they’re not as mean, Grace thought. They’re not as smart. And they’re not obsessed. After five years of marriage, Grace knew her husband better than anyone. She had the scars to prove it. What her mum didn’t understand – what Mark and Gary and Sean and Sylvia and Frank didn’t understand – was that the man who had promised to kill her was insane. Actually insane. It had taken her years to work that out. She hadn’t really believed it herself, until she had tried to leave him.

Mark had hit Mum a few times before giving up the booze. Gary had once driven a car over his ex-girlfriend’s mailbox, and Sean and Sylvia were always fighting about money. But Gary had been drunk at the time, and had been ashamed of himself afterwards. Sean and Sylvia never threw anything or hit anyone; they just screamed. They were normal, hardworking people trying to sort out their problems as best they could.

They didn’t understand how crazy some people could get – perhaps because Grace had never told them the whole story. At first she had been protecting her husband. He had been laid off and was very stressed, and she was sure that, once he had found another job, he would stop tying her to towel rails and hiding all her clothes and punching her in the ribs. Then, when things failed to improve, she had hidden the bruises from her family because he had threatened to gouge her eyes out and slit her stomach open if she didn’t. She was frightened of him, and ashamed of herself. Ashamed of what she had got herself into, against her mother’s advice. Her mum had warned her several times: ‘Thinks the sun shines out of his own arse, doesn’t he?’ But Grace had chosen to go her own way.

Only when the blows had started to fall on Nathan had she finally sought help. And the result? Her house trashed. Her family attacked. Endless phone calls, with heavy breathing on the other end of the line. Slashed tyres and graffiti: ‘
Cunt
’, ‘
Slag
’, ‘
Black bitch
’. Then the unlucky confrontation in a car park. The Apprehended Violence Order. The letter, typed:
Your dead
.

She had thrown that away, like an idiot. She should have kept it – maybe had it checked for fingerprints. But she had panicked and flushed it down the toilet, so that Gary and Sean wouldn’t see it. If they had, she knew, they would have gone to beat the crap out of their brother-in-law. And he would have killed them. Somehow, he would have. She was sure of it.

‘I can’t come back until they find him,’ she said. ‘I can’t, Mum.’

‘Well...’ Her mother sighed. ‘How’s Nathan, anyway?’

‘Good. He’s good. He just found a skull ta play with.’

‘Trust Nathan.’

‘We’re gunna put some food out for the kangaroos. Cyrene says the ants’ll get it first, but Nathan wants ta see kangaroos. They won’t come inside the fence cozza the dogs.’

‘Say hello to Cyrene for me.’

‘I will.’

‘Give Nathan a kiss.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Gotta go, love. Meter’s runnin.’

‘Yeah. Right.’

Grace hung up. Cyrene was listening to the radio in his bedroom; he spent a lot of time doing that. Grace went to bring in the laundry, before moving all the bread crusts and apple cores and potato peelings from the rubbish bin into a big plastic bag. She and Nathan took this bag to the other side of the fence, where they emptied its contents onto the ground near a scattering of fresh pellets.

‘Tonight,’ she promised, ‘we’ll come out with a torch, and see if we can spot some roos. Before they hop away.’

‘What about the dogs, Mum?’

‘We’ll keep the dogs inside.’

‘Where
are
the dogs, Mum?’

‘I dunno.’

‘I wish they’d come back.’

Grace shaded her eyes and peered at the horizon. The squat clumps of saltbush were casting long shadows. Invisible birds were beginning to chatter and chirrup in the groundcover. There was a touch of coolness in the air.

‘Here, Bitbitbitbitbit!’
she cried. ‘Here, boy!’

‘Whistle, Mum.’

Grace whistled. Nathan tried to whistle.

‘Harry!’ he called.

‘Harry! Here, boy! Here, Bitbitbitbitbit!’

They didn’t come. Grace told Nathan not to worry – they would come for their dinner. She went inside, leaving Nathan to call their names, and opened a can of dog food. After scraping its contents into the two battered dog bowls that sat by the back door, she began to rattle a spoon around inside the empty can.

‘Hee-yar! Hee-yar!’ she cried.

‘You feedin the dogs?’ Cyrene remarked, from behind her. He gave her quite a scare. Turning, she saw that he was bleary-eyed, his yellow face creased and his white hair tousled. He had been asleep, she decided.

‘They won’t come home,’ she said.

‘Dogs?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Bit?’

‘Yeah.’

Cyrene blew air through his dentures, and produced a piercing whistle. Then they waited, listening hard. But there was no response. No distant bark or howl.

Cyrene tugged at his waistband. He shuffled out into the yard, his old slippers flapping. Standing with his hands on his hips, he whistled again.

Nathan covered his ears.

‘You check the shed?’ Cyrene asked Grace.

‘No...’

Cyrene grunted. Nathan followed him around the side of the house, past the brand-new aluminium garage. Behind it stood the dogs’ shed. It contained a dirty plaid rug, a shredded tennis ball, a plastic bowl full of water and a couple of teething toys – but no dogs.