Living With Leanne (11 page)

‘I brought you some clean undies,’ I say as I rub myself dry then pass her the towel.

‘Thanks.’

She slides into the knickers and, rolling hers into a ball, chucks them into the bushes.

‘They were worn out anyway.’

Arm in arm we walk back across the bridge. The boys have bits of the motor lying all over the grass.

‘Won’t be long,’ says Danny from underneath the hood, ‘I’ve just about got this part sorted. Hand me the spanner, will you?’

Alicia hands him a spanner because I’m not sure what one looks like. Well, if Danny’s going to be part of my life I might as well learn how to recognise tools; might even learn to strip and rebuild an engine, who knows? So I squat on the grass and watch.

After some more fiddling round, the engine parts are miraculously all back in the car. Danny wipes his greasy hands on my towel.

‘Okay, start her up, Bart.’

I cross my fingers as he turns the key in the ignition. The engine gives a cough, a splutter, then begins to purr like a kitten. Brrrmmm, brmmm, brmmmm.

‘Sweet,’ says Bart.

We pile back in and we’re off down the road again. The
swim has made me feel clean and contented. I curl against Danny. Another petrol stop and burgers.

‘For someone so thin you can pack away the food,’ goes Alicia as I devour two burgers, fries and a large Coke. Now I’m happy I’m starving!

We finally reach Melbourne without any hassles and roll through the city. It looks so grey and grim after the sunshine of Noosa and the flat open plains we’ve just travelled through.

‘I can get the train,’ I offer. ‘It goes to Geelong regularly.’

‘Don’t want your folks to see us?’ says Ty.

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Alicia looks at the ground, scuffles her feet, Danny’s looking grim. I feel awful.

‘Not that,’ I say. ‘Get real. I was trying to save Bart a journey, that’s all. Trying to be thoughtful, not …’

I turn away. They’re so …
prickly
.

‘Look, guys, we’d have to give her the train fare and it’s only an hour’s drive down the highway,’ says Bart.

‘Do you want that, Leanne?’

I face Danny squarely.

‘Yeah. But is that what
you
want?’

He nods.

‘Okay. Geelong, here we come.’

But the easiness has gone. I feel tense. What’s Mum going
to say? If she yells at me in front of them all I’ll die. If she calls them dirty Abos, I’ll get straight back in the car!

The highway to Geelong seems to go on forever but finally we reach the outer suburbs as it’s getting dark and I lean forward, giving directions.

‘Down this road. Turn left at the corner.’

We nearly drive past our house. I don’t recognise it with the lawns neatly mowed and the weatherboards painted.

‘Pull over. Can you back up? It’s here.’

Bart reverses then pulls into our driveway. My heart’s pounding so hard I’m sure Mum can hear it from inside the house.

‘Do you want us to wait?’ says Danny.

‘Yes.’

I’m scared but I want to get this bit over, to know whether Mum’s going to be just like Dad, to know …

‘Leanne!’

This whirlwind comes barrelling out the door and hurls at me.

‘Mum!’

Then we’re both bawling and hugging each other and dancing round on the driveway. Over Mum’s shoulder I see Sam, and I make a grab for him, too. We all hug and hug and hug. Then Mum notices the others standing round
the car looking awkward, Danny holding my bag like it’s full of dynamite and not dirty clothes. Mum lets me go and advances on them all. Next thing she’s hugging them, too.

‘I can’t thank you enough for looking after her,’ she says, and she’s falling all over them and I’m beginning to feel embarrassed. But they don’t mind. She gives Danny this smacking kiss on his cheek and grabs my bag.

‘Come in. Come in. Don’t just stand there, you must all be exhausted. I’ll cook up some chops and eggs. Sam, go down to the fish shop and get five dollars worth of chips and potato cakes. Hurry up. There’s hot showers, whatever you want …’

She’s gabbling with excitement, waving her hands round as she shepherds them inside, dashes about pulling out chairs round the kitchen table, puts on the kettle, turns on the griller, yapping away like she’s afraid we’re all a vision and not real, that if she stops for a minute we’ll all vanish into thin air. She keeps hugging me.

‘I thought you’d yell,’ I say when I’ve untangled myself from Mum for the fifteenth time.

‘I’m going to fix you later. You’ll be grounded for the rest of your adolescent life. And you’ll work your butt off, miss. Chores like you’ll never believe. Then when I think you’ve suffered enough, I’ll probably kill you.’

‘So what’s new?’

Finally Sam’s back with the bulging parcel and there’s chops and fried eggs and tomatoes and piled plates. Then Mum drags out biscuits and a fat chocolate cake and makes more cups of coffee and opens Coke. It’s like a great big party. She wants to hear what I’ve been doing, looks grim when I tell about Rick, Nathan and Mattie chucking me out of the tent (‘But I deserved it, Mum,’ I go) and even grimmer when I describe my meeting with Dad.

‘He called us dirty Abos,’ says Ty, watching her carefully.

Mum sighs.

‘I’m sorry about that. He always was a racist pig,’ she says, looking disgusted. Then. ‘Do you want some more cake, Ty?’

The sticky bit’s over, just like that. Why was I worrying? I should’ve known that Mum’d be okay. Kill me, yeah. But she’s fair, I’ve gotta admit. Danny and Ty go to the car and drag out bags and disappear into the bathroom. I take Alicia to my room and she puts on clean jeans, t-shirt, windcheater and socks.

‘I’d forgotten how cold it is down here,’ she says, shivering.

Mum’s still fussing round. She’s got us organised before we know it. Alicia’s sleeping in my room on the fold-down
bed, Sam’s out on the sofa, Danny and Ty have got his bunks, and Bart’s in the spare room. We’re sitting in the lounge and I’m describing how Alicia and I went for this meal in the posh hotel and everyone’s killing themselves laughing when there’s a knock at the door. Sam goes. And when he returns he’s got Steve the super cop in tow. In uniform. The atmosphere ices over in a second and there’s this frozen silence. I look warily at Steve. The only one in the room not fazed is Mum.

‘Look who’s back,’ she warbles.

Then she starts in on the introductions. You could cut the air with a knife.

‘Ah, Danny,’ says Steve.

Their eyes lock as they shake hands. There’s a sullen anger in Danny’s and a wary look in the cop’s. In one swift moment Steve’s wrecked everything.

‘I’m not staying,’ he says. ‘Just called in to tell you I’ve organised the Falcon to go in for the repairs and a paint job on Thursday.’

‘Oh, Leanne. You don’t know,’ goes Mum. ‘I won some money on a scratchy.’

‘Yeah. Twenty five thousand,’ says Sam casually like it’s something we do every day.

‘Sam. You’re not supposed to go round blurting it out all over the place,’ says Mum.

We’re rich? I gape at her. Then I look at Danny. His face is sort of closed. Alicia looks mocking, Ty sneers, and Bart looks uncomfortable. We’re rich whites. I look at Danny and I can feel the gap widening even more.

I wish I’d never come home!

I’m living with Leanne again.

She’s back. And somehow she’s changed, not so mega cranky. Although I thought she was going to lose it in our lounge room in front of all her new friends when she found out we’d won money. She’s got to be the only person on the planet who didn’t act thrilled when she found out about the twenty-five thousand. And you didn’t have to be Einstein to realise that the room was as tense as overstrung guitar strings when Steve rolled up. But I’ll give him that, he didn’t hang about. Once he took off Leanne started ranting and raving but Danny told her to cool it and listen to Mum’s side of things.

‘Look, Leanne,’ Mum said. ‘Twenty-five thousand might
seem rich to you. And to you,’ she included the others, ‘and to me. But I’ll level with you. I’ve paid ten off the house and we still owe twenty. Bills. We can pay them for once in our lives. Fix up the Falcon. Put a bit aside for a rainy day or you kids for education or whatever. And we can go on the Bali trip. Then guess what? It’s all gone. I want you to understand that we’ve had a bit of luck. Great. BUT WE ARE NOT RICH. Got it?’

‘She’s right,’ says Bart.

‘Still got more than we’ll ever have, but,’ says Ty.

‘Hey. Get the chip off your shoulder,’ goes Mum. ‘You can go and buy a two dollar scratchy. No one’s stopping you.’

Whoa, it was getting heavy. I thought that’d be it and they’d all pack up and leave. But then Ty starts this debate with Mum about the lousy deal indigenous people have had and Mum informs him that not all whites are bastards and that our great-great-grandfather was made a blood brother in some Aboriginal tribe for saving some dude’s life.

‘Yeah? Every white reckons he’s a blood brother when it suits him!’

Mum cracks it. She marches out and comes back with this old photo album I’ve never seen before.

‘You’d better believe it, Sunshine!’

She flips the pages, finds the one she wants, and shoves it under his nose. We all crowd round. There’s this white guy in old-fashioned clothes, pork-pie hat and beard with his arm round the shoulder of this Aboriginal guy, and him posing with a boomerang and decorated in tribal markings.

‘Maybe you’re the racist,’ she says to Ty.

So he pours out all this stuff about bad whites and bad cops and it goes on into the early hours of the morning till everyone’s totally wiped out and all the anger’s been used up.

‘We can’t make up for the past,’ says Mum. ‘But we can do something about the future. Now, everyone, go to bed. I need to sleep. I’ve got to get energy to kill Leanne, remember!’

The next day Bart and Alicia decide to bail. Leanne clings to Alicia and they bawl their eyes out, then Mum gets in on the act and there’s weeping and wailing like you wouldn’t believe. Mum gives Alicia this bankroll to keep her going and says if she needs money to phone up and Mum’ll organise it at the nearest post office. And she must be sure to write!

‘Sure,’ says Alicia, winking. ‘I’ll send a message stick.’

‘A postcard,’ says Mum. ‘Just so we know you’re okay.’

Ty and Danny’ve decided to hang for a while. You don’t need to be Blind Freddy to see that he’s got the hots for
Leanne, and she doesn’t exactly hate him, either. Mum sees this, too, and she must’ve decided that they shouldn’t be living too long under the same roof.

Because that afternoon just after the others have left Steve rolls round, wearing plain clothes. Danny and Ty are dead suss but Steve just talks about footy and cricket and cars and stuff over some Cokes and finger buns at the kitchen table. After about half an hour of small talk he gets round to why he’s here. First of all he’s heard on the grapevine that Danny’s a wiz with cars, so why spend big bucks on the Falcon and give big business the business when maybe Danny might like to do the work? Paid, of course.

‘Yeah,’ says Danny, shrugging. ‘Don’t mind.’

‘Trouble is, there’s no room here to do the work. Big garage at my place, though, and I’ve got the block and tackle and a lot of gear. Used to do my own mechanicals but I got too busy.’

‘Chasing hoons like us,’ says Ty.

‘Yeah, if you like.’

Steve’s unrattled.

‘Got an empty house, too, except for me there, of course. Kids grew up and left. Plenty of room if you guys want to stay.’

‘Happy here,’ says Ty.

But Danny catches Mum’s eye and he knows what her agenda is. And he doesn’t seem to mind.

‘It’d be handier,’ he goes.

But Ty cracks it.

‘I ain’t livin in no cop’s house.’

Danny goes over with Steve and checks out the set-up. Leanne’s upset that he wants to live over there and not in her bedroom. (Possibly in her bed but maybe that’s just my dirty mind?) He takes her aside and holds her close and talks quietly to her.

‘I want you livin
here
,’ she yells.

‘Ya can’t always get what ya want, Leanne. Now, cool it.’

And she shuts up, just like that.

So now we’ve got Ty living in the spare room and Danny living over at Steve’s place, which is kind of crazy, but everyone seems happy. Well …

‘What ya mean, I’m up for the Young Achiever’s Award?’ bellows Leanne when I give her the happy news. If I hadn’t told her she’d have copped it when she got to school. She’s so grateful she half strangles me with the headphone cord.

‘How’ll I ever live this down? I’ve got to ring Fern.’

She rushes off and calls Fernita. I can hear the rise and fall of Leanne’s voice through the wall. Then she comes out looking more cheerful.

‘Come on, little bro, time to catch the bus. Let’s go.’

Leanne’s cool. We even walk side by side to the bus stop, an unknown event. Usually she doesn’t want to be seen anywhere near me because it spoils her image. But I guess if you’re in love, stuff like image and status doesn’t matter. The bus motors up and as we get on Leanne gives me her version of Fernita’s version of the Young Achiever’s Award.

‘Fern says there’s hundreds of nominations for this dumb award. I’d have to be dead unlucky to get on the short list, and I couldn’t be
that
unlucky in this lifetime.’

But I could.

Because when I walk up the back I find out what Belinda and Cathy have done, when they finally fork over the tickets for the Madonna concert. I’ve been trying to get them for three days and they’ve kept making excuses but the moment’s arrived. Giggle. Giggle. Now what?

‘Are they fake or somethin?’ I go, peering at the tickets as Belinda and Cathy collapse against the seats laughing their heads off.

Then it hits me. Three Gold Reserve, front row. And one right up the back of the stalls.

‘Sorry. They ran out of front row,’ goes Belinda, and breaks up again.

‘Yeah? You did this deliberately.’

‘Come on, Spud, where’s ya sense of humour? Either you or Cooja will have to sit up the back.’

‘Or Gabby. Or Eva, of course,’ says Cathy, and they start cacking away fit to burst.

‘Yeah? Well, all I know is Cooja’s going to kill me.’

‘Why? You did your part of the bargain. So did we. Not our fault if we couldn’t get four tickets all together. Anyway, some kid’ll swap your Gold for three more back stalls.’

This is the nightmare from hell!

‘Don’t know what the worry is, anyway,’ goes Belinda. ‘The concert’s not for two months. Cooja’s got plenty of time to take Gabby out on hot dates before.’

This time Cathy actually falls off the seat onto the floor she’s laughing so much. I’m glad, so glad, to get off the rotten bus. Lucky for me Cooja’s had to go to the dentist and he’s got a late pass or he’d have pushed me under the wheels.

A million kids mill round Leanne as she hits the school gate, wanting to hear the what, why, when, where, who and how of life on the run. How come she’s caused all this trouble and she’s the star? And I stayed home faithfully caring for her lupins and holding Mum together, and I end up my usual nobody self?

‘What’s up, Sam?’ says Chani in my ear.

She’s on her own without the usual crowd. Next thing I’m starting to spill my guts about the tickets and about living with Leanne and about life in general.

‘I don’t know why I bother about girls at all. They’re nothing but trouble.’

The bell goes as I’m halfway through telling her this and she gives me a pat on the shoulder, buddy to buddy.

‘Maybe we can share a coffee scroll at recess and you can tell me the rest,’ she says.

‘Sure.’

Then it’s the usual home group meeting and class routine. Leanne’s name gets called over the intercom and I can imagine Ding Dong going berko over her runaway caper and Leanne producing her note from Mum saying she’s been absent from school due to a family bereavement, which is what she’s calling Leanne’s visit to Dad. You ought to have heard Mum on the phone to Noosa. Boy did she give him an earful! She ended up explaining to Leanne that Dad hadn’t really changed: he was always shallow and self-centred but she hadn’t wanted to disillusion us. (I figure he’s our flesh and blood whether we like it or not. His weak blood flows through our veins. But we don’t have to
be
like him.)

Right now Ding Dong’ll be soft-soaping Leanne about the lupins and the Young Achiever’s Award. Then it’s
work, work, and more work and I forget about Leanne and lupins.

Recess. I find Chani and we get in a huddle. I wonder how she’s got rid of Brooke and Mel. Just as I’m feeling relaxed the peace is shattered. Cooja arrives, flops himself down beside me, and gives me grief.

‘So? Ya got the tickets?’

It’s the moment of truth.

‘Yeah.’

I hand them over and wait for the explosion. Nothing happens because he stuffs them in his pocket, barely glancing at them.

‘Right. Now I’ve got the tickets I reckon we should be able to set up a few little preliminary discussions, don’t you, Stud? Maybe Cokes after school? In a public place of course, so everyone can see that Gabby and I are … well …’

He rolls his eyes. I feel sick. I’ve got as much hope of getting Gabby Zanoni and Cooja together looking romantic in a public place …

‘Hi, Sam. Hi, Cooja.’

It’s
her
. Gabby Zanoni in the flesh. I gulp and Cooja puffs up, preening, as the eyes of practically the entire school are on us.

‘It’s so nice of you to take Eva and me to the Madonna
concert,’ she purrs. ‘How about we get together for a Coke after school? Say in a few weeks when I’ve finished my tests?’

They’ve put something weird in the coffee scrolls and I’m hallucinating. I pinch myself and she’s still there, a blonde goddess, talking to Cooja and me. Oh, man.

‘See you, Cooja,’ she says softly as the bell goes, then she leans forward and kisses him on the cheek in front of a hundred goggle-eyed kids.

I feel faint. What happened? Last time I spoke to her she wouldn’t be seen dead with him. Like I said, I’ll never understand females as long as I live. But at least my best mate’s not going to murder me now, and Belinda and Cathy, who are up the front of the goggling canteen crowd, will get off my case.

‘If you’re hot, you’re hot,’ says Cooja, preening.

But I’m suss. Let’s face it, Cooja is
not
hot. And I’m getting hotter. I wish I hadn’t handed those lupins in: they might have been working! Something’s going on and I don’t know what, but I’ll find out. Life’s like that.

I have to put up with Cooja for the rest of the day. What a pain. Finally I can’t stand this boasting.

‘Look, man, wise up. You’re not irresistible to the female sex, so get real, will ya?’

‘But Gabby …’

‘Probably just being nice because she’s a nice person,’ I snap. ‘Now, wise up and calm down, otherwise I’m going to spend my time with Boxie, who’s a normal, modest slob.’

‘Okay, okay,’ he goes, and he seems to simmer down after that.

After school I want to go down town to the supermarket and buy some stuff for my stereo—Steve’s going to help me add some grunt to the system. Cooja decides he’ll walk down with me. I stop outside K-Mart.

‘Don’t you need to go to a specialty shop, you know, Dick Smith or Tandy?’

‘I’ll try here first,’ I say.

We’re motoring down one aisle when I notice these three kids cruising up the other with their arms full of chocolates, lollies, candies and bags of chips.

‘Major pig out.’

‘Yeah.’

I find my stuff and we meet at the register, them with their gear and me with mine.

‘You first,’ I go.

One’s got bright red hair, one’s blond with mega freckles, and one’s dark and looks like a miniature version of Ty. They push past and put their stuff through the check-out, sixty bucks worth.

‘Betcha they nicked the cash for that lot,’ says Cooja.

‘Maybe they worked for it,’ I go, thinking about all the deep and meaningful conversations we’ve been having at home.

We go out onto the street.

‘Got time for a Coke?’

‘Nah. I’d better get home with this lot so I’m ready when Steve comes round.’

‘Hey. Look at this kid, will ya?’

I turn and look where he’s pointing. There’s this skinny kid racing up the street clutching a video recorder. It’s half hidden beneath the swinging jacket but as the kid reaches the other three he drags it out to pass it over and I see the bright red splash on the top where Leanne flung a bottle of ‘Crimson Bloodshed’ nail polish at it in a temper.

‘That’s our video!’

I take off towards the kid but he’s shoved it into the Ty look-a-like’s arms. The Ty look-a-like drops his load of lollies and he’s stuffing the video under his jumper as I charge up. Blam. I tackle him and we both fall on the ground in a heap.

‘Get off me you effin white bastard,’ he goes. Lovely. I sit on his head. The other kids have split.

‘Call the cops,’ I say to Cooja who’s standing there with his mouth hanging open like a garbage dumpster.

But it’s okay, the manager of K-Mart’s phoned already because they’ve nicked extra stuff without paying, and the Walloper Wagon screams up. I get off him and then I have to go down to the cop shop because of it being our video while the cops contact Mum.

I’m at the cop shop and Mum and Leanne roar in going berserk because someone’s broken into our house. Taken a purse with a hundred bucks, the video, Leanne’s hairdryer with special diffuser, the tv, some of Mum’s jewellery that belonged to my gran, and ransacked the place. When Mum sees the Ty look-a-like she is not impressed.