Steal My Sunshine (23 page)

‘Why didn't you tell me about Sam?'

‘Don't get on your high horse about that, Miss Perfect. What about you and Evan?'

‘He told you?'

‘No, I found your stupid ring in his bedroom.'

She held up her hand, flashing the black teardrop ring Essie had given me. Sam was sitting on the wall looking at us as if we were both insane.

‘Chloe,' he said. ‘I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea. It was just one night. I was an arse. Really, I'm sorry.'

She looked soft and vulnerable for a minute. Then she pushed the baby into me. ‘Fine, I'm done with your family.'

‘I'm not taking the baby!'

‘Yeah? What are you going to do about it?'

She stormed off in the direction of the beach, knocking down a couple of bins on her way. I wanted to shout after her about my ring but the baby was looking at me, so scared, her big blue eyes on the verge of tears.

‘Sshh, it's okay,' I whispered, but she started to arch her back. ‘Oh god, she hates me. Help, Sam.'

‘What can I do?' He came over and stroked her cheek. ‘Um, it's okay, baby.'

‘That's not working.'

‘This is not our problem, Hannah.'

‘What do you want me to do, just leave it here?'

‘For god's sake.' He took the baby out of my arms. ‘If you tell anyone about this, I'll kill you.' The baby fit snugly in the crook of his arm and looked up at him, more curious than scared.

‘What are you going to do?'

‘Sing to it. But the only thing I can think of is that stupid jelly song Dad likes.'

‘The Aeroplane Jelly Song?' I laughed. ‘You can't sing that. Do the one Mum always used to sing. “You Are My Sunshine”.'

His face flickered as if he was trying to remember the words. Then he started to sing, glancing over at me once to roll his eyes, but mostly looking into hers.

I lost count of how many times he sang the same four lines, softening his voice every time. At last the baby closed her eyes. I looked around us and wondered how on earth my brother and I had come to be standing here.

The woman came back round the corner, breaking into a run when she saw us.

‘It's okay, she's fine,' I said. The woman snatched the baby from Sam, her dummy falling to the pavement. I picked it up and the woman stuffed it in the pocket of her shorts, looking suspiciously at us.

The baby took one look at her mum and went back to sleep on her shoulder.

‘Where's the girl I left her with?' She was furious and I wondered what promises Chloe had made.

‘She had to go,' I said, wondering why I still felt guilty.

‘I wasn't gone long, was I?'

‘No, she's been fine,' said Sam. ‘She's lovely.'

‘Thanks, I appreciate it.'

The woman was still looking us up and down, rubbing her baby's back. A single drop of rain caught my arm. The baby didn't stir; she was in a beautiful, faraway place. Without another word the woman went up her garden path, looked back at us once more and then went inside.

‘You're a dark horse,' I said to Sam. ‘First Chloe, now you're the baby whisperer too.'

‘I'm an idiot.' He peered through his fringe at me, looking unsure. My opinion mattered for once.

‘True. It's over now though.'

‘Are we really going through with this crazy plan of yours?'

‘That depends on you, I guess. Would it be so bad?'

Sam shrugged. ‘It might even make sense, for a while.'

‘Wow, we agree on something. Anything's possible.'

He nudged me. ‘Don't be a dork. Am I dropping you at school or what?'

‘Not today. Let's go back in and see Essie.'

He wrinkled his nose.

‘Come on, do something nice. For me?'

‘Whatever,' he smiled, and we walked to her front door.

 

 

 

Our house was spotless when we got back. Every surface gleamed. Dad's maps had gone from the hallway and were covered in bubble wrap, stacked neatly against the wall. In the lounge room, the furniture had shifted slightly, and there were fresh flowers in a vase on the counter.

The old Mum had been busy. The new Mum had left a note under a red-spotted teapot I hadn't seen in years on the kitchen table.

Dear Hannah and Sam,

Gone to a potter's convention. Ha-ha, not really! Having a coffee with Ange. Come on over if you fancy it.

Lots of love, Mum x

My eyes filled with tears, and Sam nudged me. ‘Sook.'

I laughed at myself and realised I hadn't done enough of that lately. But I couldn't help feeling this way about a note to us, from
our
mum. I folded it up and put it in my back pocket. Then I took the painting I'd been carrying, and held it up in front of one of the clean squares on the wall in the hallway where one of Dad's maps used to hang. A girl and a baby, a famous bridge. It still had a layer of grey dust. It would be another tiny step to get rid of the dust, and one more step to hang it. Things might unravel, but you could put them back together again, even if the picture didn't look the same.

‘Are you still angry with Dad?' I said.

‘Yep.'

‘So you're not so keen on the plan?'

‘Let's go to Angie's. If anyone can sort us out, she can.'

 

Angie gave us bear hugs when we went in. Mum was sitting at a round kitchen table with Margot and a plate piled high with muffins.

‘Kids! Have a muffin,' said Margot, pushing the plate towards us.

‘They're completely inedible,' said Mum, and the three women burst out laughing.

‘It's true,' said Margot, wiping tears from her eyes. ‘I tried to make them too healthy and they're like bloody bullets.'

‘There you go.' Angie threw a packet of Tim Tams on the table and we all went for them like a flock of seagulls. ‘So, Hannah, your mum was about to tell us about this plan of yours.'

‘You tell them, Hannah,' said Mum, gently.

So I did. I explained about Essie being sick; how I thought being lonely had to be worse than any pain. I said we couldn't change the past, but we could decide the shape of our future now that we all knew the truth. We needed to make Essie part of our lives and our home. Essie, Mum and me – no one could tell us we didn't belong together. It might not be easy, but it felt right.

I said that Dad was lonely, too. That was why I thought he and Sam could get a place together.

‘I'm not trying to push you out,' I said to Sam. He took another Tim Tam and shoved the whole thing in his mouth.

‘It's up to you, Sam,' said Mum. ‘Both your dad and I love you.'

Sam munched the biscuit, looking serious, as we stared at him, waiting for an answer. Finally he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I reckon we could try,' he said to Mum, his solemn face breaking into a grin as all three women got up and mauled his head until he begged for them to stop. ‘You've all lost it! I think a bit of man time will do me good.'

Angie made more coffees and we all talked about Essie some more. There were things I hadn't thought of, like the signs that Essie might have cancer, and the kind of care she might need if it wasn't the type they could cure.

I stared for ages at the small wooden crucifix that hung over the doorway to Angie's garden.

‘What are you thinking, Hannah?' said Ange. I didn't know how to put it. I just didn't understand how such terrible things could have happened in places that were supposed to be about kindness and forgiveness and charity. Or how someone like Angie, as well as all the nuns and priests and Aunt Caro-types who had set their moral dial in a way that caused such pain to others, could all think they were connected by the same faith.

‘How can you be part of it?' I said.

‘I've asked myself that a hundred times, Hannah. It went on all over the world, for too long, and hurt a lot of people. But that's not what I believe in. It's got nothing to do with me and my faith.'

I blushed, knowing my anger was misplaced. ‘I know, Angie,' I said. ‘I'm sorry. I just don't know how to stop feeling this way.'

 

 

A month later, Dad came to pick up Sam. They'd found an apartment in St Kilda. I was jealous, in a way, that they'd be down there by the beach. I wondered a few times if this plan was such a good idea after all. That my life might be easier with Dad instead of Mum.

‘I'll pick you up later,' said Dad, as he hauled out the last of Sam's boxes.

‘What for?'

‘It's movie night. You haven't forgotten, have you?'

I shook my head and hugged him. Sam gently punched me on the arm and got into the car. Watching them pull away, I felt a pocket of emptiness inside but I had to believe this would all be for the best.

Mum gave her room to Essie. We put her chair right by the window so she could look out at the street. She had a TV and her old Roberts radio in navy-blue leather that she said worked better than my iPod any day of the week.

That first night we were so polite – it was like being in a play and not knowing your lines, or any of the other cast members. Essie sat at one end of the table for dinner, while Mum was at the other end and I was in the middle, wondering if I'd just made the biggest mistake of our lives.

Essie looked suspiciously at the food Mum had made. I tried to motion for her to pick up her cutlery but she picked up her drink instead.

‘I'll just have some toast, Hannah.'

Mum looked crushed. She'd spent hours on it.

‘Just try it, Essie,' I said, coaxing her. I reached over and squeezed her arm. ‘It's really good.'

There was so much behind Essie's eyes I didn't know where to begin when it came to understanding her, but then she looked at Mum and picked up her fork. ‘It's not that I don't appreciate it, Sara,' she said.

I braced myself for what Mum might say. ‘Pass the salad.' She winked at me so I knew we were in this together.

Almost in silence, the three of us got through the first meal. It was awkward but, unlike all the other times, there wasn't any hate in the room. In its place was a slow-burning sense of the past being the past.

For the rest of the evening Mum hugged me every time Essie wasn't looking. She was doing that a lot more anyway.

As the days went on, it wasn't easy. I could never have imagined what it would be like to watch someone die. Essie was sicker than we'd thought, and after only a few weeks she couldn't even get out of bed. She stopped wearing make-up and kept her hair swept right back from her face. Mum had to wash her; she ate even less. Angie came often, bringing her positive energy every time in a way that became like a drug to us. And Essie had a stack of real drugs, too, to make her feel more comfortable, but she always looked like she was in pain.

Sometimes I'd remember a detail that was missing from her story. Why had the letter from her friend in London said ‘poor James'? What had happened to him? More questions like that would be on my lips when Essie was having a better day, but she'd earned the right to let it rest.

After a while it seemed as if she'd been in that bed forever. For days at a time I'd forget what she used to be like; how I'd been afraid of Essie and mystified by her for most of my life. The painting of her in our hallway became so familiar that I'd forget to look at it. It simply belonged there, like Essie. Visits to her room felt slow and difficult, but at the same time, the cancer was taking her so quickly. I almost couldn't believe that cancer could get someone like Essie.

 

 

Mum was out with Angie one night when Essie called out. I walked round the foot of the bed and into the gap between Essie and the window that gave a view of the street. She opened her eyes.

‘You came,' she breathed.

‘Of course,' I said. But then she closed her eyes again. ‘Essie? Are you okay?'

‘Yes. It's me, yes,' she said, forcing her eyes open again. ‘I thought they'd taken you away.'

‘No one's taken me, Essie.' By now I was used to her saying things that didn't make sense.

‘I saw you. From the window.' She paused and coughed. She closed her eyes for a second longer, before she said, ‘I saw them take you, Jo. In the van. I wanted to help but I couldn't. I'm so sorry. I'll never forgive myself.'

She cried as I stroked her hand.

‘It wasn't your fault, Essie. I'm okay. Go to sleep now. Everything's going to be fine.'

I stayed there for a while, my thoughts lost in a clear night sky. What had happened to Connie and all the other children who were stolen away? The thousands of them. It was as if they no longer existed in our bit of univers
e.

But then I remembered lying underneath the stars with Evan, and I got the feeling that those children were all the stars we can't see. They were out there. I could believe in invisible things after all.