“My father…he would have made us do that as well.” After a moment Narnie smiled. “Read to me, Jem.”
“Sure thing, Mrs. Dubose.”
So Tate read to Narnie all night and in the morning, when Tate could hardly keep her eyes open and Narnie could actually see some kind of light, they both closed their eyes.
“One day, if you need me to, I’ll be Jem and you be Mrs. Dubose,” Narnie promised sleepily.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Tate said softly, and they both slept.
Back in my room, the stand-off with the dying cat ends. It’s listless as I hold it in my arms and suddenly I’m engulfed with a feeling of love for it and a need to set it free. I consider the best place and take it out to a spot in Hannah’s garden, near the river.
For a long time I sit and watch it, but it doesn’t move. It doesn’t run away, like I expected. It doesn’t hiss or snarl. It’s like it wants to give up but doesn’t know how.
“
Go!”
I tell it, but it’s shivering, its misery so visible that for the second time today I find myself crying. I remember what Hannah said once, that it had been dying for years and should have been put out of its misery long ago. But she didn’t have the guts. So I need to. I gather the cat in my arms, whispering soothingly in its ears, and take it to the river. I can’t bear the idea of it being under the water on its own so I go down with it, clutching it, whispering, “I’m here, I’m here,” over and over again until we are
underwater, eyes open, watching each other. I want to know its secrets and for a moment I sense something unexplainable. Peaceful. It makes me want to stay down there even after the cat stops moving. But above me I see the sun push its way through the branches of the oak tree and it’s like a light beckoning me to something better. I swim us both to the surface, my lungs exploding, and suddenly I can breathe in a way I haven’t been able to for a while.
Later, I lie on the sand bar in the river, my body shaking from the cold, but I feel a peace come over me. As I drift off to sleep, I sense that I’m not alone and I feel myself being carried and it’s like I’m back in my childhood, on the shoulders of a giant again, happy.
When I wake up I’m in my room and Raffaela and Ms. Morris are there.
“Would you like something to eat?” Ms. Morris asks gently.
I nod. She walks out and Raffaela fusses with the blankets around me, avoiding my gaze. We don’t talk for a moment or two and I take her hand to stop the fussing.
She clutches onto it and it’s the safest I’ve felt since Hannah left. It’s the power Raffaela has always had and maybe that’s why I’ve spent most of our lives together pushing her away. Because being so dependent on people scares me. But I don’t have the energy to keep Raffaela out anymore.
“I’m going to look for my mother,” I tell her quietly.
“No,” she says, and I can hear her frustration. “This is your home, Taylor, regardless of what you think it is. When school finishes next year, we’ll go to uni in Bathurst and then you can come back here and stay with Hannah. Because this is where you belong. In this town.”
But Raffy knows it’s a lost cause.
“Raffy,” I ask, “remember the dorms? I told you something about what happened in the city when I was young. You cried. Do you remember?”
She doesn’t move for a moment. Her face is pinched and tense and then she nods.
“Well, I can’t remember and I need you to tell me what it was.”
She shakes her head emphatically.
“That’s my memory,” I say firmly. “
Mine
. You
need to give it back to me.”
“What you told me,” she begins, “won’t lead to your mother. It’ll just make you remember something that should be forgotten and never spoken about again. You’re right. It is your memory and you have more right to it than me but I’m holding this one, Taylor.”
“You need to ask Santangelo what he knows,” I try instead.
“Santangelo knows nothing,” she says, and she’s crying. “He’s an idiot. He thinks he’s going to be a big-shot Fed and he thinks he’s too good-looking and he feels too much and never forgives anything and I hate him because he’s going to make you go crazy.”
I hold on to her tightly. “Don’t,” I say. “I need you to help me run this House…this school and I can’t do that if we’re both crying.”
“When the Brigadier carried you in here…I thought you were dead…. I always think you’re going to do something to yourself, Taylor….”
I let go of her and shake my head. “Not interested in dying just yet,” I say, getting out of bed.
When I walk out of my room, I stop suddenly.
They all seem to be there. The seniors in my House. Some sitting on the steps, leaning on the railing, standing around. As if they’ve been waiting for me. I don’t know what to say to them but as I make my way down the stairs, I realise they are all looking for something in my face to show that I’m okay. There’s so much silence that it eats away at my skin and leaves me exposed.
Do I remember what Raffaela said in the car park of the Evangelical church?
“Who do you believe in?” she had repeated as if it was the dumbest question she’d ever heard. “I believe in you, Taylor Markham.”
“Dinner is in an hour,” I say to them all firmly. “Seniors are on duty. And we eat together tonight.”
I walk into the dorm study towards Jessa and Chloe P. I sit down next to Chloe, take the protractor out of her trembling hand, and make a perfect circle. My hand is shaking, too, and when I look up, I see fear in Jessa’s eyes. I feel like those psycho fathers in movies: one minute abusive, next minute human.
“I’ll come and find you next time Hannah rings, Taylor,” Chloe P. whispers. “I promise. Wherever you are.”
I nod, swallowing hard. My hands are still shaking.
Jessa takes hold of both my scratched hands, pressing them until they stop. “That’s what my dad used to do when I was scared,” she tells me.
Later, I stand side by side with Ms. Morris and Raffaela and the other seniors preparing dinner while Jessa and Chloe P. and the rest of the juniors annoy us with ridiculous questionnaires from teen magazines and force us to listen to bizarre hypotheticals. But it calms down my heart rate and it makes me laugh and each time one of them walks by, I feel a hand on my shoulder or a squeeze of my arm and it makes me feel that tonight it will be safe for me to go to sleep.
Three things happen in the next week that keep us tense and on edge.
First, we hear on the news that two girls have gone missing from the highway near a town named Rabine. It’s nowhere near us but Jessa manages to convince everyone that we could be next. Second, Richard attempts a coup and sends out word to the Townies and Cadets that, due to unforeseen circumstances, he is taking control of the UC. And finally, the Cadets, true to form, exploit the situation and take three Darling House girls hostage.
“What are they playing at?” I say to Raffaela and Ben as we race towards the clearing.
“They sent a message back with Chloe P.”
“Is she okay?”
“Kind of. She’s halfway between total hysteria
and total excitement, so it could go either way.”
“Richard thinks he’s in charge,” Raffaela says.
Like hell he is.
News has got around quickly and a mass exodus from the Houses takes place, with most people joining up in the valley outside Murrumbidgee House where Trini, the leader of Darling House, is being consoled. Ben gives a wave to two of the teachers who are looking at us suspiciously, and the sobbing from Trini is put on hold.
“Bushwalk!” he calls out to them. “You interested?”
They wave us off and walk away and once they are out of sight the sobbing re-commences.
“Let’s go,” I say, breaking into a run. We take the trail just behind Murray House, which is probably the densest and least cultivated.
“What kind of a deal are they looking at?” I ask Chloe P.
“He just said that negotiations for a possible release of hostages would take place at four thirty,” she says, panting alongside me.
“Are you sure they weren’t taken by the serial killer?” Jessa pipes up. She’s torn between excitement
and concern. I hear gasps of dismay from the younger kids. I stop to catch my breath and I’m amazed at just how large a crowd has gathered, squashed into almost single file on a track that hasn’t seen too many walkers in its time.
“Get back to the Houses,” I say firmly. “All juniors back to your Houses!”
There are complaints and pleading and the younger boys especially are begging me to let them come along.
“We need to have the Houses guarded as well,” I tell the leaders standing around me. “I read about this happening in ninety-two. They kidnapped three students and while the leaders went to negotiate, they invaded the Houses and the teachers never found out because the students were kept hidden.”
“Why would we hide them?” the leader of Hastings asks.
“No choice. The rules of invasion allow the invaders twenty-four hours of diplomatic immunity within enemy territory,” Raffaela explains to them.
“Any point of entry in every House is to be locked and all juniors are to be confined indoors. Raffy, I want you back home.”
It takes us a while to get to the boundary and I have to spend most of the time listening to the threats from some of the senior boys about what they’ll do when they come across the Cadets. Which is slightly amusing because, knowing these guys, one look at Jonah Griggs and they’ll be pushing me forward as a human shield.
We reach the clearing and Chloe P. is brought back up to me.
“Is this the place?” I ask patiently.
She nods solemnly. “See, there’s Teresa’s beret.”
More sobbing from Trini, who clutches the beret tragically. Ben exchanges a long-suffering look with me and I push him towards her. While he methodically pats her on the back, I walk away and check the markings of the boundaries. I can’t help thinking how petty the Cadets have been on this occasion. The girls would have taken no more than two steps into their territory before they were on them. I begin to wonder what Jonah Griggs is up to. I try to listen out for their approach, giving the others a silent
shush
gesture. But staying inconspicuous is not going to work. Trini is hyperventilating and some of the senior boys are continually swinging around in
a paranoid attempt to see who’s behind them. Even I have a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Outside the dramatics of the Jellicoe students, there is a stillness around that makes it seem as if no one else exists, but the Cadets are cunning and knowing Jonah Griggs, he’s probably watching us already.
“This means we’re going to lose another trail or part of the property,” Ben says to me quietly.
“Shhh.” I take a few steps back. “Who knows,” I whisper, “but we’re running out of things to trade with them.”
Four thirty comes, as does five o’clock, but nobody surfaces. I stay, standing the whole time, on guard, but by five twenty I’m exhausted and almost ready to give in to the suggestion of one of the guys that we invade.
“It’s best that we stay put on our side of the boundaries,” I tell them. “I don’t know what Griggs’s game is, but we need to know what we’re up against and I’m betting that the moment we cross that line they’ll be on us like a ton of bricks and trying to negotiate back seniors is going to be a lot harder.”
“I don’t think they’re around, Taylor,” the leader
of Murray tells me.
“Don’t bet on it.”
After sitting for almost an hour, Richard comes to stand alongside me. It’s his way of making it seem that we’re equal and of asserting some kind of power in this whole farce.
“If they want something from us,” I tell him calmly, “I’m going to give them the trail closest to your House so that every time you see them loitering behind those trees you’ll remember how your little coup attempt contributed to this.”
“Why don’t you just go and have a breakdown somewhere?” he says, walking away.
By five thirty I’m pissed off and bored and I have absolutely no idea whether these guys are going to jump out of the sky or walk straight out of the bushland in front of us.
“Jonah Griggs!” I call out.
“Taylor Markham!” he answers from the bushes right in front of me.
Ben looks at me, rolling his eyes, and I turn around and motion for the others to step back.
“Stay here,” I say to Ben, stepping over the boundary lines.
Griggs comes out of hiding and approaches me as if he is on some Sunday afternoon walk, appreciating the nature around him.
“Where are they?” I ask, seething.
He peers closely at my face.
“Don’t like these things,” he says, pointing to what I’m presuming are the rings under my eyes. “You really need to get some sleep.”
I slap his hand away. “Where are they?” I ask again, forcefully.
“You didn’t warn them about the boundary lines. Those girls had absolutely no idea, whereas my juniors could point them out in their sleep.”
“Why don’t you just give yourself a pat on the back for being the world’s best leader, then.” He gives himself a pat on the back and I can tell he is enjoying himself at my expense.
“I can’t believe how petty you are. They’re in year seven!”
“Why is this a surprise to you?” he asks. “This has always happened. One of you ventures into our territory and there’s payback. Do you remember that?” he calls out to Ben. “Payback for trespassing?”
“With alarming clarity,” Ben calls back.
“Same with us. Happened to my friend Choi here, last year. Do you remember that, Choi?”
Behind him I notice at least one hundred Cadets either sitting in trees or coming out from behind shrubs and branches. I have to hand it to them. When it comes to camouflage, they certainly know what they’re doing.
“He ventured into your territory and our leader had to go fight your leader to get him back.”
Anson Choi nods solemnly. “Traumatic time. They put me into Murrumbidgee House. Very uptight bastards in there. They thought I’d be good at chess and they forced me to play all night.”
“So you and I are going to have a punch-up?” I ask Griggs.
“What do you propose I do?”
“Hand back my year sevens.”
“This is how the territory wars have always been fought,” he says firmly. “It’s in the handbook. Do you think they’re just about threats and ‘don’t walk on our boundaries’? It’s hand-to-hand combat. Someone is always going to lose. Sometimes it’s just one to the jaw. Other times a few to the gut and, presto, we hand back the hostages. The only thing
is that for the past four years the leaders have been male.”
“Let’s change the rules this year. Because just between you and me, you’re scaring me.”
He looks at me closely again. “You need to put all your shit behind you because we’ve had at least two meetings about the Club House without you there and Santangelo and I are about this close,” he says, indicating a couple of centimetres with his fingers, “to breaking each other’s necks.”
“Jonah, hand over the kids,” I say tiredly.
He turns around and gives a whistle. The three Darling kids are taken out of their hiding spot and I relax slightly, a bit grateful, a bit surprised. This is a good victory for me in front of my school. All done with not one drop of blood or petty skirmish.
“Are you in charge?” he calls over my shoulder.
I turn around and watch Richard nod smugly. “Technically,” he says, walking towards us.
“Technicalities rarely interest me,” Griggs says, and then he smashes Richard in the face.
“We don’t really like scaring the kids,” he says patiently, looking to where Richard has fallen. “So you need to warn them that for every one of them
who enters our territory, their leader gets payback. You, of course, can distribute punishment to them for your troubles. I’ve found in the past if I have to be the punching bag for one of my juniors, I usually get him to polish my shoes, maybe do my washing—the petty things, you know. But it rarely happens. You see, my juniors know who’s in charge. We try not to confuse them because it puts them in danger.” Griggs feigns confusion. “So who is in charge around here?”
“I’m in charge,” I say, staring at him, bristling with fury.
He looks down at Richard and extends a hand. Richard is still stunned and doesn’t know whether to take it or not.
“You okay with that decision, Dick? Can I call you that? Her being in charge?”
Richard mumbles something unintelligable.
“Good to hear.” Griggs walks away.
Richard sways slightly so I hold him up. He puts his sleeve to his nose. “Maybe we should meet tonight and discuss the boundaries,” he says.
“Clear this area now,” I tell him before turning to Trini, who is clutching the three kids to her breast.
“You okay?” I ask them, but they’re too busy trying to disentangle themselves.
“Make sure you debrief them and that they’re okay,” I tell Trini. “I’ll come and speak to them later.”
“I don’t want them hassled,” she says, leading them away.
I walk back towards the disappearing Cadets. “Hey,” I call out after Jonah Griggs. He stops with Anson Choi by a tree and leans against it, a ghost of a smile on his face. He looks pleased with himself and I give him that little moment of triumph before I get up close and slap him hard across the face.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” I say, furious.
“Ouch, that hurt!” he says, rubbing his cheek.
“I can fight my own battles.”
“I wasn’t fighting your battles,” he argues.
“Yes you were. That’s my business,” I say, pointing to where the others, except for Ben, have retreated, “and your little patronising act could put me in a weak position with them.”
“I don’t think they realised he was protecting your interests, Tayls,” Ben calls out. “They’re too stupid.”
“I wasn’t protecting her,” Griggs argues angrily over my shoulder at Ben.
“It kind of came across as if you were,” Anson Choi explains to Griggs patiently.
“Did I ask your opinion, Choi?”
“No, but just from my perspective and what I know about your history,” Anson Choi says calmly, “it came across like you were—”
Griggs gives him a look and Anson Choi puts up his hand and nods as if he understands that silence is required.
“Protect your boundaries and it won’t happen again,” Griggs tells us.
“If you think you’re scaring us, think again, GI Jerk,” Ben says.
I look at Ben, impressed with his wit and force. “Let’s go,” I say to him, and we walk away.
When we reach the bend and they no longer can see us, Ben gives a laugh. “How bloody impressive was that?”
“I thought you were very impressive,” I say.
“No, I mean him giving Richard a biffo.”
I stop and stare at him.
“He had it coming to him, Taylor. While you’ve
been so tragic for the past week with the whole death-by-eighties-music thing, Richard was an arsehole. I was bloody impressed with Griggs,” he says to me. “He’s gone from a zero in my eyes to a two.”
“How does he get to a ten?”
“If he did to Richard what he did to me. I got the full enchilada, you see. One to the face and the two to the gut, plus the stepping on the fingers.”
“So when it’s happening to someone else it’s all cool?”
“Any pain inflicted on Richard warms my heart and it warms yours as well. Go on, admit it. When he hit the ground and the blood went flying and you knew in your heart his nose was broken, didn’t you just want to jump for joy and stomp on his ugly face?”
I look at him, shaking my head. “Actually, no, Ben. I didn’t. I was thinking that I’d rather be in the common-room watching
Home and Away.”
“You know what your problem is? You don’t know how to enjoy yourself. That was fun. That was better than
Home and Away
.”
Later I go see the Darling girls and take Jessa and Chloe P. with me, only because they’re convincing
about their ability to ask questions of people their own age as opposed to my question-asking, which Jessa points out could be intimidating.
Darling House is a touchy-feely House. Everyone is really sweet and they even say grace before meals. It’s interesting to see how other Houses work. The past leaders of my House were so hell-bent on being the best that there was no room for anything that didn’t have to do with power. Here, every emotion and talent and opinion is nurtured and supported.
“I’m grateful for what you did,” Trini says to me, offering me tea and jam tarts, which are served to me on what looks like their best china.