‘None of your bloody business.’ He was back on his cream and jam. He looked up to see my eyes all narrow on him. ‘What?’ Like there was an axe in his voice and he was about to swing it.
‘Mum blued with you, not us. Why didn’t she ring to tell us goodnight?’
Tessa kicked me under the table. Tim grinned right at me but just so Dad couldn’t see. He gave his grin a bit of sauce by slicing his finger across his throat.
Dad’s stare was on me. I kept mine on my plate. But Dad surprised us by not going off his nut. His voice, when it did make it out, was full of calm. ‘That mad old biddy Peg had one of her worst turns yet. Your mum’s had her hands full to overflow.’ His axe all packed away in the shed. ‘So that’s why she couldn’t ring to say goodnight to you little buggers. She would of if she could of. Yous all know that.’ He rolled another slice up. Looked dead on me. ‘Your mother and I blue all the time. Nothin out of the ordinary in that. She’s got more important things to worry about now.’ He loaded his roll-up into his mouth. ‘Any of yous seen your mother’s address book?’
‘It’s in the drawer by her bed,’ Tessa said.
Dad grunted, chewing hard and stabbing at his plate to pick up a crumb or two.
‘So how long do you think it’ll be till she can come home, Dad?’ Tessa asked.
Dad tapped the table once more, and then twice. The others all took this to mean not long.
Not me.
I reckon he didn’t know one way or the other. But I didn’t say anything. Because then they’d know that maybe it was a bigger thing keeping Mum away than Peg’s turn and that I knew more than I was letting on.
I looked down at the little ribbons of blood bread on my plate.
After we stacked the dishes, I got out into it just like Mum told me. The first time she done it, she shoved me ahead of her, digging me in between my shoulder blades, out of the kitchen, past the cowshed and into the top paddock, and straight away I saw she was right. All that soft: the pale of the blue in the sky, the brush of the gold in the paddocks and the clear of the air in between, and all of it going on and on until it reached the end of the world. Melted away the red in me like butter.
This time I had to get myself down in among the grass, below the teeth of the wind, smell the cool of the dirt. After a good bit of sucking the sweetness out of a blade or two, I could see that everything Dad said made good sense. It had nothing to do with me. I wasn’t glad Aunty Peg had a bad turn but I was glad as that Peg was the reason Mum’d gone. Now maybe nobody had to know what I did.
I spat out the last of the grass. It was just… those never-sitting-still eyes of Dad’s, sneaking little looks out the window like there was something he wasn’t saying. But maybe he was just all rolled up in missing Mum. Tomorrow was Saturday, though, so she’d definitely be calling us then and she could tell us everything herself.
It wasn’t the same out here without Mum, but it was something. Winter safe. Snakes all holed up, sleeping out the cold.
Turned out we were just like snakes. Only they got rid of their skin every summer and we did it every seven years. And not just the skin like the book at school said. Every cell and every bit of us. All newed up every seven years. She’d better get back soon, before I changed up every cell and she wouldn’t know me.
‘You’ll do as you’re told,’ Dad said that night as he loaded the shotguns into the back of the ute after tea, along with two packets of cartridges. Philly stood at the end of the path, not coming one jot closer. Tessa chafed Philly’s hand between hers, backing Dad up like always. ‘Mum’ll be back in a day or two,’ she leaned over Philly to say. ‘Wouldn’t be right to cancel when Mr Kennedy and Pete are already here.’ She pulled Philly forwards a step.
Pete walked over to ruffle her head, his flannel shirt flapping wide despite the edge of cold in the air. ‘You’ll be right, little puss. Just a bit of shooting fun. Same as every Friday night.’ He looked over at Dad just like always. Pete had lost his dad a good few years back in his last year of school so every weekend he came over to help with a bit of fencing or feeding out the cows, making sure us kids knew what a giant of a man our dad was.
Philly sharp nodded, like she was trying to be as brave as Pete thought she should be.
‘I’ll sit in the front seat with you,’ promised Tessa.
‘That’s not fair for you,’ said Philly. ‘It’s your turn in the back.’
‘It’s what Mum would do,’ said Tessa, her lips all folded firm, like that was the end of the matter.
I jumped into the tray of the ute quick smart so nobody’d be thinking I should stay with Philly too. I’d only just got old enough to get out of all that sliding and slapping into windows in the cabin as the ute slammed around the paddocks. As if that was safer.
I got myself nice and tight into the corner under the driver’s side and got hold of the rope tied all around the inside of the ute. Tim leaped up beside me, and Dad and Mr Kennedy grunted their way in behind.
Pete was at the wheel, beeping and skylarking. He put it into gear and nudged the ute
