Red (14 page)

• • • • •

Did she say something clever back to him? Red touched the bruise but it no longer hurt. So that was why they were in Sydney this time. Did they go to her grandmother? Was she all right? Is that where she was when the cyclone struck?

Nothing. The trapdoor over the tunnel to her memory was back.

She unzipped her backpack and took out the notebook.

13
We went back to Sydney because my grandmother
was sick and Dad wanted to see her.

She put the notebook back and took out the picture book that she'd taken from the library. In all the time she had been carrying it around she'd never even opened it. She made herself as comfortable as she could on the floor, pressing her back into a corner, and spread the book in front of her. In the first few pages the girl was a small figure in a pale grey shawl. Nothing was written above or below the images. She was walking through briefly sketched landscapes: a few houses, trees, tall buildings. Then she was beyond those images, moving alone through wide open spaces. The lines that defined her body grew stronger and stronger. She grew larger and larger as she headed across the white pages. Her shawl, now a black cloak, blew out behind her and ahead of her was a light that she advanced towards, getting closer, ever closer. Red turned to the last page. The simple black lines were gone. The girl was in colour now, dancing with crowds and crowds of people who flocked through city streets. She was smiling, with her arms extended, and all was in colour, glorious colour.

Red picked up the book and, wrapping her arms around it, hugged it tightly to her chest. She must have dozed, because at one point she found that she had slipped away from the corner and was lying on the cold tiles. Through the skylight above her she saw only black sky and rain that streamed against the glass. Her shoulder hurt and she sat up rolling her head and stretching out her arm. She closed the book and pushed it back down into her backpack.

• • • • •

Red went out to the washbasin and splashed cold water on her face. If she wasn't going to sleep she could start thinking and work out what to do. First, she needed to get warm. She found Jazz's jeans in her bag and quickly changed into them. If she made it to the Commission they would look better than her shorts. She walked up and down in the darkness. What would Peri do? He would work out some way of getting to the judge by making up some lies. He'd tell them to police or to strangers or to anyone who could give directions or give them a lift or help them find out where they had to go. If he didn't have any money or food, he would get them somehow and think nothing of it. And he'd just shrug his shoulders if anyone said he shouldn't.

What would Jazz do? First she would whinge and say she wanted to go home or get help from her mum and dad. Red grinned at that thought. Then she'd want to go online and maybe contact the judge and do it all from a comfortable seat somewhere.

Red stopped, folded her arms and stared at her shadowy form in the mirror. What would I do?

She dropped back down onto the floor, tilted her head back and closed her eyes. What would
I
do?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

RED WOKE TO THE SOUND OF A METAL BUCKET SCRAPING
across the tiled floor. Grey morning light seeped through the rain that still spattered the skylight.

‘Morning, sunshine.' A stout older woman, her hair pulled back under a bright red scarf, leant on her mop. ‘Cow of a day out there. Now why on earth aren't you home with your mum and dad?'

Red pushed her stiff body up from the floor and splashed cold water on her face.

‘OK, then. Don't mind me. I'm just the poor sod who has to clean up after you drinking, drug-taking lot.'

‘That's not fair. I don't drink. I don't take drugs and I haven't made a mess. You can't even tell I've been here.' Red slung her backpack over her shoulder. ‘And I haven't got a mum or a dad.'

‘Oops. Sorry, love.' The woman felt in the pocket of her apron and held out a couple of coins. ‘Take these. Get yourself something to eat. You look half starved.'

Red shook her head. ‘I don't need your money. I have some.' Somewhere was the twenty dollars that Peri had given her. She hadn't spent a cent. Her stomach groaned. She felt suddenly ill with hunger. ‘But thank you.'

She headed out onto the open concourse. Around her shops and stalls still had their blinds or shutters drawn but ahead was the bright red and gold neon of the internet cafe.

Red ordered scrambled eggs on toast and a bottle of water and found a seat as far from the door as she could. She sat on the edge, glancing at each person who came in, bought a takeaway coffee and then disappeared.

What would I do? She pulled out her notebook and turned to a blank page.

Find the Royal Commission
, she wrote. Then in capital letters:
HOW?????

She sat staring at the page until a young woman in a black apron delivered her the steaming plate of toast and eggs. Red ate quickly. She couldn't tell lies like Peri, she wouldn't know what to make up, and she wouldn't be game. She chewed on the last crust of toast and looked around. The far side of the room was lined with computers. Maybe she could google it just like they'd done back at Jazz's place. The Royal Commission, Justice Stanton. Surely somewhere in the files would be an address.

She finished and pushed her plate aside and went to the waiter.

‘I want to go on the computer.'

‘No can do.'

‘Why?'

‘The server's got some problem. We've been offline since yesterday. Did you want to check your email?'

‘No. I just want to look up something.'

‘Can I help?'

Red paused. ‘There's this Royal Commission on here and I want to know where it is.'

The young woman laughed. ‘Don't ask me, love. I'm from Bendigo. I've only been in Melbourne for a week. I don't know where anything is. You'll have to ask someone at the information desk.'

Red paid and went out onto the concourse. Against the far wall, the old man's beanie-covered head poked out of the bundle of newspapers and rags. Black-suited businessmen and women, their dripping umbrellas tucked under their arms, strode quickly past him, not seeing. Would Peri and Jazz come in on the next coach? Red pushed that thought away. She couldn't wait. Today was the last day. She would find the Commission on her own.

The shutters of the information centre were open, the lights were on and stands with brochures and posters spilled out onto the concourse. A policeman and a security guard stood talking at the entrance under a poster:
National Gallery of Victoria
read the huge print over an image of a young woman in oldfashioned clothes, lying in a hammock with a small child on her lap. Red thought of Tylor the giggling, smiley little girl and wondered where she was now.

Red took a deep breath, fixed her eyes on the desk inside and walked straight past the men.

‘I need to find the Stanton Royal Commission,' she said in a soft voice.

The woman frowned. ‘Pardon?' ‘The Royal Commission, the one that's on here in Melbourne.' The woman turned to the curtained rear of the office and called out in a loud voice. ‘Royal Commission, Matthew? D'you know where that is?'

Red glanced at the men in the doorway. Had they heard? They made no movement.

Matthew came through from the back. ‘I reckon your best bet would be to go up to William Street where it joins onto Lonsdale Street. There's a whole complex up there: the Supreme Court, the Family Court and a whole bunch of others. I think there's even the High Court of Australia. Yes, that's probably the one you want.'

He picked up a brochure with a map of the city and took a red pen. ‘You go out the door here to get to Bourke Street, go along there till you get to William Street and turn left. It'll take you ten minutes, max.' He marked the spot on the map and handed it to her.

• • • • •

Red stood at the bus station exit. The Supreme Court. That sounded like the most important one. There would be judges there. Maybe even the Commission. They would know. She could ask there. Ten minutes. If that man was right she might meet the Judge in ten minutes.

She pulled a newspaper from a rubbish bin and held it over her head. Rain dripped down over her shoulders.

What if the Commission wasn't at the Court? What if it was but no one would see her? What if it was there but they knew nothing of her father and whatever was on the memory stick? What if they wouldn't let her in? What if you have to be dressed up for court? She shook her head. Stop it. You have got this far. You are nearly there.

She was swept along by the crowds heading out of the station. Water splashed up from the cars that raced past. More droplets ran from the sodden newspaper down her arms and onto her face. At the Bourke Street corner she tossed the paper into a bin and stood pressed between men and women in black suits waiting for the green light to cross.

• • • • •

Red stood in the shelter of a bus stop across the road from the court. Dark stone base, paler walls of huge stone blocks and above them a dome. Policemen on the footpath, policemen by the doors. She felt suddenly smaller than she had ever felt before. She lifted the memory stick from beneath her shirt and put it to her lips. ‘Nearly there,' she whispered, ‘nearly there.'

After fifteen minutes she was still standing and staring, watching individuals arrive and enter the building.

A tram stopped in the middle of the street and about a dozen students in school uniform poured across the road to where Red stood. They gathered around their teacher.

‘This is a rare opportunity,' she said. ‘Even though this is the last day of the Royal Commission, we are still able to attend and listen to the judge's summing up.' She smiled broadly. ‘You can tell your children you were there at the most significant inquiry into organised crime in the country.'

Red moved a little closer. She turned her head away as if studying the cracks in the concrete wall behind her, while straining to hear every word.

‘When we get into the court building I want you all to go to the toilet if you feel the need. No one will be allowed out of the room to wander around without me. Remember, you are on your best behaviour, representing your school. No nonsense, now. And we'll follow up tomorrow with a brief test on all that happens today. OK. Any questions?'

They started across the road. Red followed. The policemen took no notice as they went up a flight of steps and into a huge room with a shiny marble floor and dark panelled walls. One by one they placed their backpacks on the belt of the X-ray machine. Then they stepped forward through the frame that X-rayed them. A sound buzzed and the boy in front of Red was called over to the security man. He pointed to the boy's boots and Red slipped past him as he bent to take them off.

She followed a group of girls into the ladies' room. She stood with her head under the hand-dryer, flicking water from her damp hair.

‘This is going to be really boring,' said one girl.

‘Better than school,' said another. She had taken a mascara wand from her pocket and was carefully applying it to her lashes.

‘D'you reckon they'll have prisoners in a dock, like on television?'

‘Nah. It's not a trial. They'll just be talking about murders and stuff like that. My mum said it's all about the mob that brings in the heroin and the coke and other drugs too. And then they pay off some of the cops so they don't get picked up and charged. Only sometimes it all goes wrong and people get murdered.'

‘Who gets murdered?'

‘I don't know. Drug dealers I s'pose.' Mascara Girl glared at Red. ‘Watcha looking at?'

‘Nothing.'
Already some attempts have been made on
my life…
She pushed the thought from her mind and followed the girls out of the room.

• • • • •

Red joined a group of the students in a lift and pressed herself against the far wall. One or two of them looked at her but said nothing.

• • • • •

When they stepped out of the lift on the sixth floor they were met by a security guard in a grey uniform. After a brief conversation with the teacher, he addressed the group.

‘Leave your backpacks here. Keep your mouths shut, nod to the bench when you step inside and sit in the back rows. There're plenty of seats. It's a boring day for you today.' He laughed. ‘No crooks.'

‘What's the bench?' Red heard someone whispering.

‘The judge up the front.'

‘Can I take my notebook?' Red wasn't sure why she said that.

He nodded.

The room was smaller than Red expected. She forgot about the other students around her. She nodded at the old man sitting at the far end of the room on a raised platform. He didn't acknowledge her. He didn't acknowledge anyone. Thick piles of papers and a laptop almost hid him from view. In front of him were two women, facing out into the room, and on rows of chairs facing them and the judge were about a dozen other men and women.

‘Counsel,' said the judge, and a woman from the front row stood up and began to speak. Red glanced along the back row. One man at the far end was scribbling quickly in a notebook so Red opened her notebook and took up her pen.

What should she write? The words being spoken meant nothing. Some words she knew… evidence …surveillance…police officer…witnesses… but she got lost in the complicated way that the woman spoke.

Sometimes her voice was soft and Red found her mind drifting to thoughts of Peri and Jazz. Where were they? Would they be on a coach today? Should she go back to the station after she delivered the memory stick to the judge? And if they weren't on the coach, did that mean they had been picked up by the police?

She looked up at the judge. He had taken off his glasses and he was staring intently at the speaker. Although his hair was white, his eyebrows were thick and black and they almost met in the middle of his forehead. Would she dare to go up to him when she got the chance? They must stop for lunch or something like that. What would she say? I've got something for you, from my father. Would he believe her or would he call the security guard and throw her out of the room? Would it be better to give it to one of the others? Maybe the women sitting in front of him, or the one who was speaking.