Sticks and Stones (2 page)

Maddie slowed as she watched the balloon's bid for freedom quickly become curtailed by the gnarled branch of a nearby tree, leaving it to genuflect hopelessly towards the sky. She looked away and saw him almost immediately. Everything froze,
everything
, as recognition arrived within a heartbeat. It might have been six minutes since she had last seen him instead of six years. The same tall, thin build, the same olive skin, the same dark hair worn slightly longer in front to disguise his receding hairline. All the same. It
was
him. Here.

And she was staring straight into the barrel of the gun. A ring of smooth, cold steel that was perfectly steady, with not even a tremble to indicate doubt. Lined up with the space between her brows where only recently she had noticed a crease forming, and had carefully applied wrinkle cream to ward off the inevitable.

She took an involuntary step backwards even as she blinked, forcing her mind into focus. He was leaning against a brick wall near the Devonshire tea stand, one hand in his pocket as he stared towards her. Graffiti blossomed from either side of his head, indecipherable words within clouds of colour, so that he seemed to have thought bubbles which she could no longer read. He wasn't close enough for Maddie to see his expression but she suddenly thought he might be smiling, one of those half-smiles that crinkled up his eyes.

Her heart leapt painfully, and then sunk again so quickly that she felt physically ill. Still he stared, and she imagined that he was amused at her shock. Strangely, the thought of that amusement went some way towards calming her because, as she well knew, there was worse. She found herself able to take a breath, and then another. Hoping that these would slow her heart from beating so loudly that it echoed painfully, scarily, within her throat. In the periphery of her vision she could see people moving, mothers, fathers, children, all enjoying the fete and the beautiful weather. A blur of normality which, as a frame for the frozen tableau, seemed discordant, bizarre. She flicked her focus back to him, and he was gone.

Her eyes widened in disbelief and then frantically searched the area. Nothing. Just a single, undulating cloud of graffiti. She moved forward slowly, and then more rapidly, stopping again just before the wall and then reaching out to trail her fingers across the brickwork. Needing that tactile confirmation of his absence. She sucked in air, forcing it past the lump in her throat, and then turned to look around. Across the faces at the stalls, over the people in the crowd, up to the teenagers mulling by the makeshift stage. She tried to remember what he had been wearing but drew a blank. Oh god, where were the kids?

And she stared into the barrel until everything around became indistinct. The room beyond, the finger on the trigger below, the face just above. With eyes like gunshot wounds themselves. But as the minutes stretched, the blackness slowly began to engulf her until she was part of it all, and yet still horribly alien. Until she couldn't stand it any longer and she simply had to close her eyes after all. Giving up.

‘Maddie? Hey, are you okay?'

Maddie took a moment to identify the woman by her side. Medium height, dark blonde hair, brown eyes. Diane. The mother of one of Ashley's friends. ‘Um, no. I mean yes, I'm fine.'

‘You sure?' Diane looked at her questioningly. ‘You look like you've seen a ghost.'

‘A ghost?' Maddie resisted the urge to laugh. Instead she shook her head, needing the conversation to end so that she could think. ‘No . . . nothing like that. Really, I'm fine.' She mustered up a smile. ‘Probably too much fairy floss and Ferris wheel.'

‘A lethal combination,' Diane grinned, willing to be convinced. ‘Well, make sure you take it easy now. Sit down for a while. Hey, how good is the weather after all that rain last week?'

‘Fantastic.' Maddie kept the smile in place. ‘Marvellous. See you later.'

Diane nodded as she moved away, leaving Maddie to scan the crowd once more. He still wasn't anywhere in sight but, to her immense relief, she saw Ashley over by the stage with Georgia and a few other girls. Maddie closed her eyes briefly, then dug in her pocket for her mobile and rapidly rang home.

‘Hello?'

‘Sam? Are you . . . okay?'

‘Yeah. Of course. Why
wouldn't
I be?'

Maddie breathed out and it was like releasing a toxin, leaving only giddiness behind.

‘Mum?'

‘I'm still here. Good. Glad everything's okay.'

‘You know you can be really weird sometimes? Later.'

Maddie listened to the dial tone for a moment, soothed by its monotony, and then flipped the phone closed and thrust it back into her pocket. She rubbed her arm fiercely and then, with an effort, made herself stop. Wiping her hands down the sides of her jeans as she glanced around again, searching faces. Finally she took a few deep breaths. In through the nose, one, two, out through the mouth. Maybe the graffiti
had
always been an unbroken cloud of colour. Because how could he have found her anyway? It was improbable.
Impossible.

And it wasn't like it hadn't happened before. She had glimpsed him many times through the years, waiting for a bus, sitting nearby in the cinema, queued up at a checkout counter – only to have him fade just as the breath caught in her throat. To be replaced by a stranger with a minor point of similarity. The hair, the height, the smile, or that particular confidence. But this time had seemed so
real.
And there had been no replacement once he had gone; nothing but an empty space.

Which meant she was getting worse. And this thought brought a hopelessness that bloomed out from deep within, until she sagged under its weight. She wanted desperately to go home, but couldn't bring herself to face the inevitable argument with Ashley should she cut the afternoon short. Instead she thrust her hands into her pockets and then took another few breaths, long, calming ones. In and out, in and out. But the graffiti mocked her with its gay splashes of colour. And she wondered, with a heaviness that made the words feel thick, when it would ever end.

TWO

A
congested feeling remained with Maddie right through into the evening. Just enough to shade all that went on, making it that little bit heavier. As if gravity itself was slightly askew. It was a sensation that irritated as well as depressed, but one which she knew, from experience, would dissipate given time. So she tucked it to one side and tried, as far as possible, to ignore it.

As befitted a Sunday full of fete and sunshine, tea was fish and chips in front of the television. It was a meal much favoured in their household, simply because it catered for each of their differing tastes. Most other meals were accompanied by the vociferous complaints of whoever didn't like it. Ashley if there was anything with too much liquid, and Sam if the food involved a casing of any type, like pies or schnitzel or even ravioli.

Another definite benefit of fish and chips was the lack of dishes, with Maddie simply folding the butcher paper when they'd finished. Telling herself that if she managed to fold it eight times, still keeping it neat despite the few remaining chips inside, then she
had
imagined him. She succeeded easily, but that changed nothing. Guess, their blue roan cocker spaniel, padded into the room and took up a position by Sam's chair at the computer desk. He yawned, curling his tongue up to display candy pink gums.

Ashley twisted around on the armchair to face her mother. ‘You know how Georgia's coming over next weekend? So can she come on Friday, straight from school?'

‘Don't forget we're finishing early,' added Sam without turning. ‘Last day of term.'

Maddie nodded as she thought. ‘All right. It'll be some payback for her mother having you every day during the holidays. And maybe we'll have something special for tea because Kim's coming around as well. Something nice.'

‘What?'

‘I don't know. Maybe homemade pizza?'

Sam thrust a thumb into the air. ‘Yum.'

‘Okay,' Ashley nodded. She stared at the television and then whipped around again. ‘Why can't we have Foxtel? The holidays wouldn't be so
boring
then. And
everyone's
got Foxtel.'

‘I don't think that's quite –'

‘Georgia's got Foxtel.' Ashley held up one hand and started counting names off on her fingers. ‘And so's Caitlin, and Zoe, and Tessa.'

‘Joel hasn't got it,' commented Sam. ‘And neither has Luke.'

‘Thanks a lot. Like you're a
great
help.'

‘No problem. Glad to be of assistance.'

Maddie kept her eyes on the television, ignoring both children. But instead of the current affairs program, she saw graffiti blossoming either side of a half-smile that both repelled and beckoned at the same time.
And she was standing in a bus terminal with the children by her side, surrounded by strangers. Scared, terrified of what she was doing. And absolutely petrified that, any moment now, the glass doors would open and the person who would come through would not be a stranger at all, but someone she knew very, very well.
Maddie closed her eyes, letting the scene turn to static against her eyelids.

‘If we can't have Foxtel, then can we get another computer?'

Maddie opened her eyes, feeling tired. ‘What on earth for?'

‘Because Sam's
always
on ours, and I hardly ever get a turn. Besides, it's not
private
. I want one in my room like everybody else.'

‘Let me guess,' said Sam. ‘Like Georgia and Caitlin and Zoe?'

‘Don't forget Tessa,' added Maddie before she could stop herself.

Ashley's face clouded. ‘You're always on his side.
Always
.'

Instantly regretful, Maddie leant forward so that she could touch her daughter's knee. ‘Sorry, Ash, I didn't mean to make fun of you. It's just you know as well as I do that not everyone has these things. And even if they did, we just can't afford it.'

‘But we
used
to have Foxtel!'

Maddie's hand froze. She stared down at it, noting, in a rather abstract way, that her fingernails needed trimming. Must keep them short.

‘God, Ashley! Why d'you have to be such a
bitch
?'

‘Don't call your sister a bitch.' Maddie pulled her hand back and folded it into her lap. She opened her mouth to say something else but lacked the energy to follow through.

‘Well, we
did
!' said Ashley, defensiveness turning her voice into a whine. ‘And how come you just tell him off? Like if
I
said bitch, I'd be sent to my room!'

‘I'll talk to him later,' said Maddie tiredly.

‘Yeah,
right
.'

On the television a smiling woman held a box of laundry detergent aloft, while in the background a row of snowy-white clothes fluttered on the line. Maddie glanced sidelong towards her daughter, at her folded arms and the stubborn set of her brow. She wondered how, if this was a taste of things to come, she was ever going to cope when the girl became a fully fledged teenager. Perhaps boarding school. Maddie let her gaze continue on to Sam, who was concentrating once more on the computer screen. Chalk and cheese in all other respects, looks-wise her two children were very similar, both olive-skinned with brown hair and eyes fringed by thick lashes. They were also both going to be taller than her own medium height, with Sam having just recently drawn ahead and his sister not far behind.

‘You know I'd get Foxtel if we could afford it,' said Maddie softly.

Ashley stared at her mother and, after a few moments, slowly unfolded her arms. ‘I know.'

‘It's just . . .' Maddie let the words hang and then shrugged rather than finish the sentence.

‘I know. I'm sorry.'

‘And maybe in a few years we can look at getting another computer.'

‘But Mum, you can get computers really cheap now.' Ashley leant forward, sensing an opening. ‘Zoe's father got one from this place in Bendigo and it was hardly
anything
. Then I could have one in my room, and it'd be
private
.'

Maddie stared at her daughter. ‘Ash honey, let me be honest here. Even if I had loads of money I wouldn't get another computer just so that you could lock yourself away in your room.'

‘God!' Ashley threw herself backwards in the armchair and glared across at her mother. ‘You treat me like such a baby! It's not fair!'

Sam got up rapidly, the computer chair rolling backwards. Guess jumped out of the way. ‘Here, have the freakin' computer.'

‘Don't want it.'

‘Take it.' Sam flopped down into the other armchair and threw one leg over the armrest. ‘Go on. Anything to shut you up.'

‘I said I don't
want
it!' Ashley glared at her mother as if she were solely responsible for this last exchange, and then jumped up and flounced out of the room.

Maddie watched her go, suddenly reminded of a little girl whose favourite outfit was a pink tutu. The thought made her feel bereft, as if she had lost something precious. Guess came over and laid his head on her knee, staring at her with chocolate-brown eyes that welled with apparent wisdom. She turned back to Sam. ‘You shouldn't do that, you know.'

‘What?'

‘Belittle your sister.' Maddie searched for the words to make him understand. ‘You don't have to agree with her, but you shouldn't try to, well,
silence
her either.'

Sam stared at her and then shrugged, breaking eye contact. He leant forward and unfolded the butcher paper, gathering together the few remaining chips. ‘I'm gonna go do homework.'

Maddie watched him rise, knowing she hadn't explained herself well. Guess lifted his head, leaving a cool patch on her knee and then followed Sam. Maddie leant forward to straighten the butcher paper as they both left, before folding it, another eight times, until it was a neat square. Then she sighed, a feather breath, and rose to go over to the computer. For a moment she just sat there, rubbing her arms lightly as if cold, staring at the small frame that hung by the monitor. It contained a simple quote which she had mounted on black cardboard.
The obstacles of your past can become the gateways that lead to new beginnings.
She read it through underneath her breath, twice, like a prayer, and then turned her attention to the computer itself. Checking her inbox quickly and then smiling as she opened an email from her sister. Leaning forward to read it, chin resting on her hand.