The Simple Gift (4 page)

Caitlin and mopping

When I first saw what he did

I wanted to go up

and say,

‘Put that food back'.

But how stupid is that?

It was going in the rubbish

until he claimed it.

So I watched him.

He was very calm.

He didn't look worried

about being caught

or ashamed of stealing scraps.

He looked self-contained,

as though he knew he had to eat

and this was the easiest way.

I had work to do,

mopping the floor,

which I hate,

so I mopped slowly

and watched.

He read the paper

until the family left,

then he helped himself to dessert,

and as he walked back to his table,

holding the apple-pie,

he looked up and saw me

watching him.

He stood over his table

waiting for me to do something.

He stood there

almost daring me to get the manager,

who I hate

almost as much as I hate mopping.

So I smiled at him.

I smiled and said,

‘I hate mopping'.

He sat in his chair

and smiled back

and I felt good

that I hadn't called the manager.

I kept mopping.

He finished his dessert,

came over to me,

looked at my badge,

looked straight at me,

and said, ‘Goodnight, Caitlin',

and he walked out,

slow and steady,

and so calm,

so calm.

Too rich

I don't need to work at McDonald's.

Dad would rather I didn't.

He buys me anything I want.

But Mum and I have a deal.

Whatever I earn she doubles

and banks for me,

for university in two years.

Dad says why bother.

Dad is too rich for his own good.

It was his idea I go to

Bendarat Grammar School

instead of Bendarat High School

where all my old friends went.

So I wear the tartan skirt

and the clean white blouse

and I shine my shoes every week

and wear the school blazer on Sports Day,

and feel like a real dork

when I see my old friends

in the street in jeans and T-shirts.

Bendarat High

has a ‘progressive uniform policy'

which means ‘wear what you like',

while Grammar

is Discipline and Charity and Honesty

and all those other words

schools like to put on their crests

so they can charge people like my dad

$10,000 a year

to make me wear a uniform.

And I can't wait for university

so I can leave home

and that's why I work at McDonald's

and mop floors.

Billy

She had clean hair.

Bouncing, shiny, clean hair.

That's the first thing I noticed.

And her skin was pale and clear

and I knew she was rich

because I saw her watch

and it shone like her hair.

Her eyes were pale green

and they seemed to know

something I didn't,

they seemed to be thinking.

Can eyes think?

And when I saw her watching me

take the food

my first thought was to hate her

because of that shiny watch

and her perfect skin

and I knew she'd call the manager

and I'd be out of there,

but she just smiled

and complained about the mopping

as if we were both caught

doing something

we didn't want to do

but had to.

Breakfast

Bendarat is the perfect town.

A friendl
y librarian,

a warm McDonald's,

luxury train accommodation,

and the t
own is surrounded by

apple and pear orchards.

So every morning

I walk the t
wo kilometres

to the Golden Crest Cannery Farm
.

I climb the fence

and help myself to a

healthy breakfast of fru
it.

Then I walk slowly

back to town,

past the Bendarat Gram
mar School.

Yes, I bet Caitlin goes there.

I cross the road.

I
wouldn't want to meet her here

not when she's with her friends

and in un
iform

and me

dressed in the same clothes as always
.

All the students look clean

and rich and smug

and confident,

and I thought of Caitl
in

and decided I shouldn't judge,

not yet anyway.

Hunger

Now I'm not going to admit

to liking the work at McDonald's,

particularly mopping,

but since Billy arrived

it's certainly more interesting.

Tonight he did the usual,

cleaned the tables,

ate his fill,

sipped his lemonade,

and said, ‘Goodnight, Caitlin',

but when I went to

clean his table

I found a note

that read

‘Did you know that

Caitlin is an Irish name

from Catherine

meaning pure and innocent?'

I read this and felt

something in my stomach,

a slight ache, a twinge,

and I knew it was hunger

but not a hunger for food.

And I blushed with the knowledge.

Manners

He came back tonight,

sat in the same chair,

and waited.

I mopped, as usual,

and watched him.

Tonight was busier.

He had lots to choose from.

He ate slowly.

We each nodded hello.

The manager came upstairs

so I couldn't say anything.

When she left

I mopped over near his table.

He said, ‘Hello, Caitlin',

as if we were friends,

so I stopped mopping,

stood straight

and said, ‘I'm Caitlin Holmes'.

He stood and shook my hand

and replied, ‘Billy Luckett'.

Such perfect manners,

eating scraps at McDonald's.

Business

This time when he left

he came over to me

and he had something

in his hand.

It was a business card.

He gave it to me

and said,

‘Goodnight, Caitlin,

it's a beautiful name'.

So well-mannered,

so unlike every boy

at Bendarat Grammar,

or any schoolboy I've ever known.

I looked at the card.

It didn't make sense.

Then I turned it over.

I smiled to myself.

Homeless, and proud of it.