River of Lies (2 page)

I looked up and saw Dylan, Tilly’s nineteen year old boyfriend, saunter up the steps. His black T-shirt was tight across his chest his jeans were a dark blue with a tear at the knee, his dark hair whispered across his face. With a hiccupping sob, I fell into his arms, and pressed my face into his chest.  He smoothed my hair, holding me tight and kissed the top of my head.

“It’s going to be alright Mon, I will look after you I promise, it’s going to be alright” he cooed into my ear. 

In his arms I felt safe. I believed him that everything was going to be alright.  As I stood in his embrace, I heard Tilly’s scream stop and the front door swing open.

“Well isn’t that fucking cosy” she snarled.

I felt Tilly twist her hand through my hair and pull me away from Dylan. I reached up and held onto her hand, as I tried to have her release my hair from her deathly grip.  She pulled my head back so I was forced to sit on the step.

“Tilly, please, don’t do that.  She’s hurting too” Dylan said, his soft eyes watched me until I was planted firmly on the step.

Tilly snorted, before giving my hair one last final tug, pain prickled at my skin, when she released her hand from my hair.

“She didn’t even like mum, I loved mum, she hated her” Tilly pouted, as she snaked her arms around Dylan’s waist.

She turned back to me and shot me a stare filled with hatred.  The police lady that had been watching everything going on put her hand on my shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.

“Have you got somewhere to go?” she asked tenderly.

I hadn’t even given it a thought about where I would live now that mum was dead and Dad was arrested.  I felt tears start to prickle at my eyes as I shrugged.

“She’ll come home with us” Dylan said.

Tilly’s head snapped up as she glared up at Dylan.  He nodded to confirm what she was asking in her eyes. I knew that she wouldn’t want me to live with them.  She hated me; she always had since we were kids.  She accused me of being mum’s favourite. I didn’t think that was the case at all. But Tilly was certain of it, and she hated me for it.

“Are you sure that is ok?” the police lady asked again.

“Yes, I’m sure, Mon, go pack some clothes, we can come back later to get all your stuff” Dylan said.

I stood up of the step and went with the police lady back to my room to pack some clothes into a bag. The police lady stood in the doorway, leaned up against the jam.

“She is your sister isn’t she?” the police lady asked with a nod of her head towards the front door.

I nodded my head and sighed.

“Mon, are you sure that you’re going to be ok with them?” she asked as she came into my room closer to me.

Tears had started to weave down my face.

“I have to be, I have nowhere else to go” I said, as I closed the zipper on my bag.

I turned to look at the police lady whose face was filled with worry and concern.  She fumbled in her pocket, before pulling out a little white card and placed it in my hand.

“If you need me, for anything.” She said with a smile.

I looked down and saw her name, Sergeant Renee Miller, printed in blue letters and her phone number underneath.

“That’s my office number, but they can get in contact with me if I’m not there, just tell them your name and they will let me know straight away alright?” she said as she took my hand in hers and gave it a squeeze.

I nodded, and used my other hand to wipe away the fresh batch of tears that had begun to roll down my face.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I asked as I looked up into her face to try and find the answer.

“It’s my job, and Mon, there is something about you, something, soft and special, you need gentle care, and although I can’t give you all of that, I can at least make sure that you are in a place where you can get the care you need” she said.

Her eyes told me that she wasn’t lying, and I sighed out a small smile, as she led me out the room and to the front step where Dylan and Tilly were waiting.

“I don’t fucking want her in my fucking house” I could hear Tilly growl as I got to the door.

“Like it or not Tilly, she’s your sister, and where else is she going to go?”

“Let her go to fucking Michaels” she spat.

“I will never” Dylan’s voice got low and deep, as he growled “you hear me, never, let that girl go anywhere that man”

Tilly snorted.  I looked over at the police lady who was standing beside me, and had obviously heard the same conversation I had.  Her face was creased with worry. I tried to give her a reassuring smile, but I couldn’t seem to bring my face to do it.  I sighed again and went out onto the front step.  Dylan looked up at me over Tilly’s head and gave me a warm smile.

“You ready Mon?” he asked.

I nodded, as I searched Tilly’s face to try and read what she was thinking, but all I could see was hate. She snorted again and headed down the steps towards the car.  As I went to follow, the police lady took my hand.  I turned, her face still filled with worry.

“Remember, anything you need” she said.  Her eyes pleaded with me to call her.

Chapter three.

The days that lead up to mum’s funeral seemed to go by in a blur, the only family we had was dad, Michael and Shelly; dad was sitting in a cell somewhere, or at least that’s what I assumed, he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. It was just a pauper’s funeral, nothing special, basically a wooden box, a man standing in a hall, he told us what a great mother she was.  Michael and Shelly sat behind Tilly, Dylan and I.  I could feel Michael’s hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze every now and then.  It was comforting to know that someone cared.  Tilly spent the whole time glaring at me, as if I wasn’t welcome.  But there the preacher continued to tell us what a wonderful mother she had been, I know you’re not supposed to laugh at funerals, but great mother, well that was just laughable. My mother was anything but a good mother.  If she wasn’t drunk she was high and if she wasn’t high she was on a rampage of anger, shaking and vomiting.

Even though I was bullied at school for my clothes being dirty, it was better than being at home.  The teachers tried to help.  One time my welfare coordinator Mrs Van Hussen gave me a new uniform, new shoes and a new bag.  I got home from school and my mum was coming down from her recent drug fix, what followed was a two hour lecture, as she called my teacher a slut, whore and cunt; basically anything derogatory that she could think of.

The next day as she staggered like an old drunk, her hair unwashed and matted, her eyes sunken in and slurring her words, mum ordered me to take her to the office.  Her nails were bitten down to bloody quicks and she still had vomit on her shirt from being sick during the night.  She stood there with me in my dirty uniform and broken shoes in the office, demanding at the top of her voice to see Mrs Van Hussen.  When Mrs Van Hussen did come out, she screamed as loud as her shrieking voice would go that no kid of hers was going to accept charity off some stuck up bitch teacher. She thrust the new uniform and shoes back through the little window of the office, and stormed out.  It was one of the most embarrassing days of my life; although, by far not the most embarrassing, this was my life. A series of embarrassing events that I seemed to lurch from, all caused by my mother, I longed for the day that I turned eighteen and could leave, I had planned to leave and never turn back.

But there I sat at her funeral, my emotions a mix between relief, shame, guilt, sadness and anger. I didn’t know what the appropriate feeling to have was.  Tily hadn’t stopped crying the whole time, she locked herself in her and Dylan’s room at their flat and there she stayed crying tears upon tears.  I couldn’t seem to shed them. I tried. I thought I should. But none would come. I tried everything to get them started, I tried poking myself in the eye, plucking my eyebrows, cutting onions, but they never lasted. I wanted the relief that Tilly seemed to get from her incessant crying and screaming, but it just never came. Instead I had spent my days with a gnawing feeling that churned my gut that twisted my insides up and spat them out.

Dylan was the rock between Tilly and me every day she seemed to hate me more. He was there, he let Tilly take her emotions out on him, she would scream at him and he just continued to comfort her.  I didn’t need to scream, I didn’t need to cry, it was enough for me to just be next to him, with his arm around me. That’s all it took to make me feel better.  But then I felt guilty, I felt like maybe I didn’t love mum enough, maybe I wasn’t a good daughter because I didn’t scream like Tilly did. Just maybe Tilly was right, I was the favourite and I didn’t deserve her favouritism.

Michael and Shelly came to visit with us regularly.  Well it was more a case of they would go into Tilly’s room and start up the bong.  Dylan, hated drugs, he hated that Tilly suddenly took a liking to them.  So he and I would sit in the lounge and listen to the giggling from behind the closed door of the bedroom.  I hated when they came.  Although I had appreciated Michael for the care he took of me, I didn’t like them coming over, because Tilly stoned. It was never a good thing.  She became like a raging bull, and I was the red flag.  So as soon as I saw Michael and Shelly emerge from the room, I took that as my cue to lock myself in my bedroom and not come out till morning.  Otherwise the taunts, insults and snide remarks hurt more than watching my mother being buried. Tilly wasn’t always nasty to me sometimes she was as sweet as pie.  Those times never lasted for very long though.

One of those occasions was when we went to the river for a swim. It was just after the New Year when we went to the river, and we were lying in the grass, the breeze swept across our bare stomachs, our fingers tangled each other’s hands, as we watched the clouds pass.  The sound of the water trickled over the rocks and the kookaburra’s laughed in the trees. I was on edge as I waited for the real Tilly to come back, but in that time I wanted to enjoy her while she was being nice.

“Life feels better now” Tilly said.

I smiled it was true, at that very moment life felt better. It didn’t just feel better, it was better. But how quickly life can change; life can suddenly change from being a simple one to a difficult one, just in the space of a lazy, hot summer.

It’s always the middle of February that everyone is fed up with summer, we are always sick of the sweat, the stickiness, the blow flies and mosquitoes. Everyone seemed to be getting cranky with each other and of course where everyone was just cranky, Tilly was on a war path.  It didn’t matter what we did, it wasn’t good enough. I hadn’t washed the dishes well enough, the floor wasn’t vacuumed right, and the shower wasn’t running right, nothing was right. So Dylan and I were both so grateful when she said that she was going to go away with her best friend Chantelle for the weekend.

As Dylan and I stood in the door way, we waved goodbye and watched as Chantelle’s red commodore ambled its way out the driveway and sped up the road, we both sighed with relief.

“So what do you want to do today?” Dylan asked.

“Swim” I practically shouted.

It was an atrocious day, it had hit the 40’s for the sixth day in a row, and I thought my skin was going to start falling off me if I didn’t get some relief soon.  Dylan grinned, spun on his heel and raced to the linen closet pulling out towels, sun cream, and hats like a mad man. I giggled with excitement, partly at the thrill of being able to spend time with Dylan without Tilly as well as the relief that the cool water on my skin would bring.

As we jumped into the car, the leather seats of the old sandman burnt our thighs and Dylan’s hands were scorched on the steering wheel.  The car kicked to life, and soon we were cruising towards the river with the windows down and the thoughts of the cool water on our skin. 

It wasn’t long before the road changed from traffic and buildings, to gum trees shading the road and glimpses of the river off to the side of the road.  We had our special spot, one where not many people went, where we knew that we would have a stretch of the river to ourselves.  We passed through the main street, past the shops, Dylan found where he needed to turn and shot down a dirt track, only just wide enough for the car to bounce down, as we crested the little hill, heaven awaited. I could feel my heart begin to race with the anticipation of that water, of the relief it would bring. Dylan hadn’t even really had time to stop the car, before I had flung the door open and was running down to the water’s edge, dropping my towel and hat onto the river bank, and edging my way into the chilled water.

As the water hit my skin, I became covered in Goosebumps, it was divine. I sighed with relief, as slowly my whole body began to cool down to its core. I looked up at Dylan who stood on the edge of the river, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Feel better princess?” he laughed.

“Much” I said with a splash. In which he retaliated by running towards me into the water and dunking my head under the water, laughing hysterically. His arms weren’t overly muscular but he was strong as he grabbed my waist and held me above the water and threw me into the depths of the river.

I think we must have stayed in the water, floating, and swimming up and down for a couple of hours, because when we finally got out, our skins were shrivelled like prunes. We laid on the edge of the bank in the long grass, warming our bodies for a little while longer, the breeze playing across our bare torso’s, tickling the water beads that sat on our skin.