The Minnow (7 page)

‘You see him, Tom?' he asks me, when it is obvious that Bill has lost interest.

I shrug indifference and resume staring out the window. If I wanted, I could tell him that I saw a strange guy loitering around the pie shop. Saturday afternoon, while I was waiting for Jonah. Tall, red hair. Walked like he had ridden a horse all his life. Papa says a horse spoils a man. I'm not sure what that means.

Instead I say nothing. I like Paul. I've known him most of my life. It would be so easy to chat about the new guy; make guesses about what he's doing in town. But it would only make Bill edgy. Bill likes to be the one in the know. If I piped up, Bill would wonder why I hadn't told him first. Then he would question me about it; why I had kept it to myself. Stupid, really. Just a stranger standing outside the pie shop. But Bill can make a mountain out of any molehill, no matter how small.

‘Jacko reckons he used to have family. The Fischers would be my guess, if his red hair is anything to go by.'

Shake Fischer. I think he was in the year below me. I didn't know him that well, but I'd chat to him every now and then. He had one blue eye and one brown eye. Apparently it ran in his family. That and the red hair. Shake was a nickname. I've no idea how he got it.

‘You know the Fischers, Tom?' asks Paul, tapping my shoulder.

‘I
knew
them,' I answer. ‘Their house was in Keen Street, below the marker.' The flood sign in Keen Street had been incorrectly positioned at the high end of the road. No one had bothered to move it because, back then, it never rained. People thought it was funny.

‘That's right,' says Paul, putting two and two together. ‘Poor bastards.'

‘Jesus, Bunter,' says Bill, ‘could you get any more depressing?'

‘Sorry, mate,' says Paul to Bill. Then the penny drops. ‘Oh, shit, Tom…'

‘It's okay,' I say. But there's a lump in my throat and suddenly I'm crying.

‘Oh, Christ,' says Bill.

I turn my face to the passenger window and watch the view speed past. Paul starts to say something, but thinks better of it and instead gives my shoulder the briefest of squeezes before slumping back in his seat. A minute later, the cabin is filled with cigarette smoke. No one speaks for the rest of the trip.

Finally we turn onto Minbayon Falls Road. The gravel has recently been graded, promising a smooth, if dusty, ride. Bill tunes the radio and I fall asleep.

I'm in someone's house. It is beautifully furnished; everything looks like it belongs in a magazine. I am standing at the door to the lounge room and there is a woman, fast asleep, in bed. The bed is out of place among the sofas and lounge chairs. I wonder if the woman is ill.

There are two other people in the room; an old woman and a young girl. The old woman is reading and the girl is playing with something on the floor. They ignore me. Maybe I'm invisible. I enter, close the door behind me, walk past the bed and across the room to the windows. Every step I take makes a squelching sound and when I look down at my feet I notice that the carpets are soaked. Water is seeping under the door.

The woman wakes up and gets out of bed. She is dressed in elegant trousers and a soft wool cardigan. She walks away from me, to a desk on the other side of the room. I stand there, with my back to the window, waiting for someone to notice me.

The sound of rushing water is deafening.

‘Wake up, buddy.'

I'm vaguely aware of someone talking. I can hear the crashing roar of the falls, followed by a sudden blast of cold air on my face.

‘C'mon, sleepyhead,' says Paul. I open my eyes to see him leaning against the door, lighting a cigarette. ‘Jacko and Bill are over at the railing, waiting for us.'

I can't see them, but the noise and the mist tell me we've parked really close. I unclip my seatbelt and Paul helps me down from the cab.

‘Sorry about before,' he says, as we walk across the car park. ‘Sometimes I run off at the mouth without thinking. Next time, bloody kick me.'

‘Don't worry about it,' I say.

Paul stops to grind his cigarette under his boot, then picks the butt off the ground and stashes it in his shirt pocket. Nana says it's an odd man who doesn't mind polluting his body, but is adamant about saving the environment.

‘Piggyback?' I ask.

‘Sure,' he answers and bends down to let me climb aboard.

Dad built Sarah and me a tree house in the magnolia. When the tree was flowering, the scent was almost overpowering. We had a rope ladder which was tied in three places to stop it swinging. I would have preferred it loose. What was the point of a rope ladder if it was fixed in three places? But Sarah got nervous if it swung around. Dad said that when she got older he'd untie the fastenings.

I decided that if the tree house had survived the flood, I'd fix it up for the Minnow. I could untie the ladder and teach her to climb like me.

‘Would you come with me to the old place?' I ask Jonah. Jonah and I are lying side by side on the small hospital bed.

‘You know your house got washed away.'

‘I know. But it's over a year and I haven't been back. Not even to check on the tree house.'

‘It's still there,' says Jonah. ‘I went with James.'

‘What do you mean, you went with James?' I can feel myself getting angry and I'm not sure why.

‘Don't get upset, Tom. I should've told you, but I didn't think you cared about any of it.'

‘Jonah Whiting. Are you insane? Of course I care. You of all people should know that.'

‘I'm sorry,' he says.

We're interrupted by a knock on the door.

‘Lover's quarrel?' says a nurse who has appeared in the doorway and is smiling at us approvingly. I have no idea how long she's been there. ‘Stay put,' she instructs Jonah as he makes a move to get up, ‘I'm just taking madam's pulse and temperature. Be out of your hair in two minutes, tops.'

Jonah and I turn slightly away from each other. I feel really uncomfortable and I know he does too. I wish he'd gotten off the bed while he had the chance. ‘Okay, all done,' says Miss Efficiency. ‘Lunch will be about ten minutes. You staying?' she asks, and looks enquiringly at Jonah.

‘Yes,' I answer, as Jonah seems to have lost the power of speech. ‘Jonah is staying till three.'

‘Good,' she says, ‘I'll ask the kitchen to add an extra meal.' Jonah and I watch as the nurse writes something on the clipboard and hangs it back on the end of the bed. She looks at both of us and smiles as she leaves the room.

‘Did you see that?' whispers the Minnow. ‘She thinks you're a couple.'

‘The Minnow's awake,' I say to Jonah, taking his hand and resting it on my belly. We sit like this for a few minutes. The Minnow obliges with a few summersaults. ‘Jonah,' I say, ‘do you think the police want to talk to me because they know the Minnow is half Bill's?'

‘No,' answers Jonah. ‘Bill has done something. The police have been questioning Paul Bunter and Jacko Davis.'

‘Oh,' I say, lapsing back into silence. This is an unexpected turn of events. Maybe I'm off the hook. I'm about to ask Jonah how he knows what the police have been doing, when it dawns on me that he's acting weird.

‘What's wrong?' I ask. ‘You're not being yourself.'

Jonah shifts his body. He turns and looks at me, briefly, then refocuses on his feet. I realise I have no idea what's going on.

‘Jonah, you're freaking me out.'

He clears his throat. I hold my tongue. He clears his throat for the second time.

‘I've got a crush on James,' he says in a tiny voice. If we weren't sitting side by side, I would have missed it.

‘A love crush?' I ask, taking his hand away from the Minnow so I can turn and face him. ‘A love crush on James Wo?' My voice has come out high and squeaky.

‘Just a crush, all right?' He folds his arms defensively.

‘But he's a teacher,' I say, stating the obvious. ‘He could lose his job.'

‘Oh, sorry, Miss sleep-with-Bill-who's-old-enough-to-be-your-father.'

‘Stop it,' I say, a bit too loudly.

‘For god's sake, Tom, you've only just had your birthday,' meaning I was only fourteen when it happened, ‘so don't you dare lecture me from your glasshouse.'

And then Jonah turns to look at me, letting me have the full force of the Jonah-Whiting stare. ‘I haven't done anything wrong,' he continues. His eyes are glistening as though tears are close. ‘It's just a crush.'

‘But you took him to the tree house.'

After four and a half weeks at the Mater Women's Hospital in West Wrestler, the Minnow and I are allowed to go home. An orderly collects us and takes us to the ambulance in a wheelchair. I get a chance to check on the turtle while we wait for the lift.

I told Papa about him. Papa said he sounded rather unusual. He said that all the turtles he had ever met were fairly solid characters.

I notice that the tank faces the television in the nurses' station. God knows what he's been watching.

‘Hi,' I say.

‘Can you not tell when I'm sleeping?' he answers.

I add liar to the list.

‘Papa says you're unusual,' I say, ignoring his rudeness, ‘and he doesn't mean it in a good way.'

‘Whatever,' says the little turtle, in a voice I recognise as lonely. He turns and slides off the rock into the water. I wish I hadn't said anything.

Eventually the lift dings, the doors open, and the orderly pushes me inside.

Once on the ground floor, after a brief pause at the front desk, we're wheeled to the ambulance bay. We pass Dr Patek talking to someone on her mobile. She makes elaborate hand signals to say she'll catch up with me in a minute.

The ambulance has a comfortable stretcher but I want to look at the view. As soon as she arrives, I ask Dr Patek if it's okay for me to sit up the front.

She checks with the driver.

‘Not possible, I'm afraid,' she tells me. ‘But there's a seat in the back if you'd rather not lie on the stretcher.'

‘Damn,' whispers the Minnow.

The orderly manoeuvres me in to the ambulance.

‘You take care of that baby,' says Dr Patek. ‘I don't want to see either of you for another twelve weeks.' She smiles and waves as the driver reverses the ambulance out of the emergency bay.

‘I like her the best,' says the Minnow.

‘Me too,' I say back.

Home is Jonah's house. He said he regretted saying that stuff about me having nowhere to go. He said I can think of his house as my home for as long as I want. We've made plans to visit the tree house, although I'm not allowed to do anything strenuous for the rest of the pregnancy.

‘Moderate exercise only,' Dr Patek had said, removing her glasses and giving me her serious face. ‘How far is the letterbox?'

I looked at Jonah. ‘About half a kilometre,' he answered. ‘But it's a flat gravel road.'

‘We'll see,' said Dr Patek. ‘I'll check with Dr Frank each week and when he thinks you're strong enough, you can walk to the letterbox. In the interim, stay close to the house. And get the phone on. I've spoken to Social Services. They've been apprised of your situation. They can start with the phone. Call my office and speak to Pamela if you have any problems.'

I want to see Nana. The moderate exercise rule means that I can't walk to the Mavis Ornstein Home for the Elderly, so Jonathan Whiting collects me in his car. It seems everyone has been apprised of my situation. See the way I used ‘apprised' just then? It's a James Wo initiative. Whenever I hear someone use an unfamiliar word, I should, first, write it down, second, look it up in the dictionary, third, familiarise myself with the word by writing it into at least three sentences and, fourth, practise using it in a conversation.

‘Should I look it up in the thesaurus?'

‘If you like, but only after you've completed all four steps. That way you'll have a more rounded comprehension of the word prior to seeking alternatives.'