The Mimosa Tree (29 page)

Harm sighs but he takes the bag from me. ‘You're bossy aren't you?'

‘Like I said. I learnt from the best.'

It takes about two hours to get the kitchen looking decent. Luckily the gas hasn't been turned off yet and we still have hot water to use. I can't really use the word clean, because there are still thick grease splatters on the tiles, and the floor has marks on it that I just don't seem able to budge.

After another bong, we decide to go shopping for supplies. It's only a fifteen-minute walk to the local supermarket but it takes us an hour as we meander down roads, become distracted by letterboxes that look like tiny houses, and stop at a playground to have a go on the tube slide and the swings. At the supermarket we shop like cashed-up children, filling our trolley with Cheezels, Milky Ways, cans of rice pudding, packets of sugared donuts and about ten boxes of Maltesers. We buy dozens of batteries for the stereo, both of us adamant that there should be no interruption to the music. Somewhere in that trolley we also manage to shove in the more sensible ingredients we require for my attempt at making pasta sauce. We ride the trolley down the aisles, narrowly missing slow-shopping oldies, and getting warning glances from gum-chewing staff. Having bought a truckload of goods, however, we have not considered how to get them home, so in a frantic,
looking-over-our-shoulder-dash, we take off with the trolley and laugh hysterically as we expect to be chased or hunted down for theft.

‘Check that out,' says Harm as we wander languidly home. Up the road an interesting scene is unfolding. An overdressed, big-haired elephant-woman is waging battle with a frail and flimsy chicken of a man.

‘Oh fuck,' I say when I finally register what I am seeing. ‘That's my aunt Via.'

Having heard all my stories about her, Harm looks as frightened as I am. As though we have choreographed it, we leap at the same time behind a nearby wall, leaving our shopping trolley on the footpath. Via's voice travels clearly down the road, it seems to vibrate the brick wall we are leaning on.

‘YOU CALL-A DE POLICE TO
ME?
' shouts Via. ‘I HAM CALLING DE POLICE TO GET-A
YOU!
YOU LEAVE-A MY MIRABELLA ON DE STREET! YOU IS A VERY
BAD-A MAN-A!
'

‘Why is she yelling at that poor old guy?' says Harm, mouth twitching somewhere between a smile and a fearful grimace. I close my eyes and start to bang the back of my head lightly against the wall.

‘She thinks that's your house.'

‘Why would she think that?'

‘Because I got her to drop me off there the night of your party. She wouldn't have let me out of the car if she thought I was going into your house.'

There are some loud thumping noises and I cringe at the thought of what Via may be doing to the old guy. Harm sticks his head out to see what's going on.

‘I think she is trying to kick the wall down.'

‘Oh God.' I say, hiding my face in my hands. ‘Is the old man okay?'

‘He's locked himself behind the gate,' says Harm with a laugh.

‘RICH
BASTARD!
' shouts Via again. ‘I DRIVE-A MY CAR INTO YOUR FANCY BLOODY HOUSE. YOU WATCH-A OUT, UNDERSTAND? I COMING BACK-A FOR
YOU.
'

‘Okay,' I say breathing deeply, trying to think. ‘We just wait here until she leaves.'

‘They're starting to walk away now.'

‘They?'

‘Yeah. There's another lady. I think the fat one was blocking our view of her.'

I rub my eyes. Can this get any worse? ‘That'll be my other aunt.'

‘Oh shit,' he says, pulling his head back quickly. ‘I think she saw me.'

‘Via?'

‘The other one.'

‘Oh, that's it then,' I say and start banging my head against the wall again. ‘I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. Be careful!' I say as Harm sticks his head out for another look then pulls it back in quickly.

‘She's seen me all right. They're coming this way.'

‘It's all over,' I say, starting to cry.

‘Are they going to take you away?'

‘Oh yes. Right after they kill me.'

‘Mira,' he says, taking my hands in his. ‘Tell me the truth, do you want to go home?'

I am looking into his eyes, but somehow unable to see him. The thought of Via and Siena finding me hiding behind a bush, stoned, is too much to bear. I can feel sweat forming on my upper lip, feel my heart squirming in my throat. Via's flatfooted thumping is getting closer and closer.

‘I'm not ready,' I whisper.

And with that assurance, Harm springs into action.

‘Stand back,' he says pushing me toward a nearby bush. ‘This is no place for amateurs.' When he is satisfied I am well hidden, he leaps out from behind the wall and into the path of my aunts. From where I am hiding Harm is clearly visible, but I cannot see Via or Siena.

‘Morning ladies. Lovely day for a–' And then I see Via's hands grab his collar and he gets pulled out of view.

‘WHO ARE YOU?' shouts Via. ‘WHY IS YOU HIDING?'

For a second I think I'm going to have to jump out and save him, but then Siena comes to the rescue.

‘Via,' she says calmly. ‘Let the boy go. You're scaring him.'

There's a pause and then a reluctant grunt from Via.

‘What the hell is wrong with her?' says Harm, gasping like he's been deprived of oxygen.

‘WHAT IS-A YOU NAME?' demands Via again, and while every nerve in my body is alert and tingling at hearing that voice, Harm remains surprisingly unruffled.

‘Not that it's any of your business,' he says calmly. ‘But my name is Arthur.'

Oh my God. No one talks to Via like that and gets away with it. He's going to die. We are both going to die.

‘Let me handle this, Via,' says Siena, and when Via doesn't
object I breathe a sigh of relief. With Siena there to mediate there may be some hope for him yet.

‘Sorry about my sister, Arthur. She's a little upset. We both are. Our niece has gone missing and we think she might be staying somewhere on this street. We just want to talk to you.'

‘Next time you might want to consider starting with a simple hello.' Did I just hear Via growl? ‘So what do you want to talk about?'

‘Do you live around here?'

‘Yeah, I live at that house,' he says, and I am hoping like hell he is pointing in the other direction. ‘But I only moved in a week ago so I don't think I'll be able to help you much.'

‘Oh,' says Siena, clearly disappointed.

‘Stupid!' says Via speaking in Italian so that Harm can't understand her. ‘Can't you see this idiot is lying to you? He's wearing
make-up,
' she says, as though that is evidence enough that Harm can't be trusted.

‘So, Arthur,' says Siena, ignoring Via's interruption and keeping her own voice friendly and calm. ‘Maybe you've noticed a boy around here, about your age? His name is Hamish or Harm.'

‘Nope. Sorry,' says Harm and he steps back into my view. I see him scratch at his chin, stare to the side as he pretends to think hard on the question. ‘Oh, wait a minute, there was this guy. Lived in that house over there. But he moved out. I think he said they're knocking the place down.'

‘When did he leave?'

‘Gee, I don't really remember. Maybe it was a day or two after I moved in.'

‘For the love of God! Has he seen our Mira or not?' says Via getting impatient, and I can clearly picture her jabbing Siena in the arm.

Harm looks confused.

‘She wants to know, was there a girl with him?' explains Siena. ‘Our niece, her name is Mira.'

‘A girl? No, don't think so. He was on his own, which is strange because he was such a good-looking guy.'

Siena sighs deeply. I can hear Via light up a cigarette, and the familiar smell wafts in my direction.

‘Mother of God,' says Via quietly in between deep drags of her cigarette. ‘What have I done?'

‘This isn't your fault, Via,' says Siena, and I can hear that she is crying. ‘You did what you thought was right. I'm sorry, you must think we are crazy. It's just that we are so worried about her. Mira's never done anything like this before.'

‘Hey,' says Harm, obviously moved by their sadness. ‘Wherever she is I'm sure she's okay. I'm sure someone is looking after her.'

‘I really hope so,' says Siena. ‘Not knowing is the hardest part. I just hope she comes home for Christmas.' And she dissolves into sobs.

‘Come on,' says Via and her voice sounds quaky too. ‘Let's go. Let this idiot get back to his boyfriend.'

When they start to walk away Harm turns to grin at me. He gives me a thumbs up.

‘Just one more thing,' says Siena and Harm whips his hands behind his back and turns to face her. ‘Why were you hiding from us?'

‘Well,' says Harm clearing his throat. ‘You were yelling at that old man. I figured it would be a good idea to stay out of your way.'

‘I see,' says Siena.

Harm strokes his neck. ‘You gotta admit, my instincts were pretty spot-on.'

‘Thanks for your help, Arthur. Again, I'm sorry if we scared you.'

‘Good luck!' shouts Harm after them. After a while he motions for me to come out of the bushes. ‘Okay, they've gone.'

I untangle myself from the bush. I've got scratches on my arms, and there are small green leaves all through my hair. I have to jump around to try and get the pins and needles out of my foot.

‘That was fun!' says Harm laughing. ‘Close, too, but I think I threw them off the scent.'

I start pushing the trolley. ‘For now. My aunts aren't going to give up that easily.'

‘Relax,' he says putting his arm around my shoulder. ‘We got away with it! That's the last we're going to see of them. It's touching though. I think they really care about you.'

Of course they care, I think, but I don't say this to Harm. I am starting to understand that his family are very different to mine. His parents leave the country with little thought to how he is going to survive. My family insist on accompanying me to the toilet. We park the trolley in the grass which is so long now that only the red handle can be seen above it.

Inside we sort our sensible supplies into the pantry but our junk food is laid out on the table like a fluorescent, shiny
smorgasbord. A blunt knife, a gas burner with three blocked jets, and quickly diminishing daylight are just some of the challenges I have to overcome in order to meet my promise of authentic Italian bolognese sauce.

‘That's smelling great already,' says Harm, as I add a few tablespoons of tomato puree to the frying mince and onions.

‘Let's hope it tastes all right. I've never made this before.'

‘Really? So how do you know what to do?'

‘I've watched,' I say, smiling as I stir. ‘We eat a lot of pasta.'

And truly, as I cook this meal that I have seen my mother cook from since I can remember, it feels like I was born knowing how to make it. When the tomato puree has turned the meat a deep red, I add the canned tomatoes, some salt and pepper, then turn the heat down to let it simmer. After a few hours I am satisfied that what I have bubbling on the stove is not a bad effort. I light some candles and sit at the table. Harm leans over the pot and takes a big, appreciative sniff before plunging in with an oversized wooden spoon.

‘That's fantastic,' he says, breathing around the burning sauce in his mouth.

I snort and wave my hand. ‘It is not even close to being as good as my mother's. She would be horrified with this effort.'

‘It must be weird,' he says, jumping on the bench and rolling a cigarette. ‘I can't imagine what it would be like to know I am never going to see someone again.'

It bothers me how he can be so detached about the subject of my mother, as though it is nothing more than an interesting philosophical question to ponder. After seeing his parents in action, however, I know that for Harm the idea of actually
loving someone and being loved is not one he has had much experience with. His words have started me thinking about Mum again and I've got that burning in my eyes and heaviness in my chest that means I am seconds away from bawling. Grief is like an eternally patient dog. It will sit in the corner obediently, head on paw, tail wagging slowly until it hears its name.

‘You know,' says Harm laughing. ‘Your aunt Via is exactly how I pictured her. Did you see how terrified that old man looked? If you hadn't dived out of sight in time that could have been me getting the third degree.' He shudders at the thought.

‘I still can't believe they didn't see me.'

Harm looks at me curiously. ‘Are you disappointed they didn't find you?'

‘I'm not sure anymore.'

‘I really like having you here, Mira. I wish you never had to go.'

‘We can't stay here forever. They're knocking the house down, remember?'

‘We could just move on to the next place,' he says smiling whimsically. ‘It's summer now, we could sleep under trees and starlight for a few months.'

I want to assure him that I'm staying, that I will follow him wherever he goes, but the words just don't form in my mouth.

‘Harm, this is the most fun I've had in my life,' I say and it's true. The best and worst times of my life are happening at the same time.

‘But you want to go back, right?'

‘What I want to go back to doesn't exist anymore.'

‘You'll go back, I know it. I'm going to miss you, Mira.'

At that moment the stove hisses as boiling water spills out of the pot and over the flame. Harm takes the lid off and turns it down.

‘Thanks for today, Harm. It was nice to forget. For a while, anyway.'

‘Forgetting is a specialty of mine.'

‘Here,' I say handing him the open packet of pasta. ‘Just cook it and add the sauce. I'm not really hungry anymore. If it's all right with you I'm just going to go to bed.'