Cassie (6 page)

‘I'm shattered,' she says.

Mum leans into the car.

‘The poppet's fast asleep here,' she says. ‘How's she coped with the journey?'

‘Got a little cranky towards the end,' says Aunty Fern. ‘Can't blame her. I was cranky too. She dropped off about half an hour ago. But she hasn't had nearly enough sleep over the last couple of days, so she might wake up grumpy. We'd better get her inside.'

She opens the back door of the car. There's a wheelchair, all folded up, and she drags it out. Mum rummages in the boot and pulls out suitcases. When I pick one up I wonder if Aunty Fern has stashed a body in there. Nearly rips my arm from its socket. I find the handle, draw it out from the case, and roll it on the castors. By the time I place it in my old bedroom I can hear the shrieking from the front of the house.

Outside, Cassie is in the wheelchair and she isn't happy. Boy, is she not happy. I still can't see much of her face. The wheelchair has a neck brace built into it, but she's thrashing her head back and to. All I can see is dark hair and a quick glimpse of a contorted face. One thin arm saws in the air. But it's the noise that's the worst. She isn't screaming. That isn't the word. It's a high-pitched wail, like a cat being tortured, and it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I freeze.

Across the road I catch a glimpse of curtains twitching. Old Mrs Gallagher, the resident neighbourhood sticky-beak, never misses anything.

Aunty Fern crouches by the wheelchair, talking to her daughter, trying to stroke her face. But I can't hear what she says. It's drowned by the wailing. In the end, she gives up and wheels the chair along the path and through the front door. There's a further twitch of curtains from across the road. I get another suitcase from the roadside.

And that's how Cassie enters my house and my life. Wailing, shrieking and thrashing about, like a soul being dragged deep into the bowels of Hell.

‘How is she?' said Ivy.

Fern sat at the kitchen table with her face in her hands. She scrubbed at her temples and sighed.

‘Better,' she said. ‘I think she'll sleep now. I'm so sorry, Ivy. That wasn't quite how I imagined our reunion.'

‘She's tired, poor thing,' said Ivy.

‘She's exhausted. It's been a nightmare journey. And, of course, there's all the emotional upheaval as well. I've taken her away from everything safe.'

The sisters sat at opposite ends of the table. There was no sound apart from the faint drumming of rain on the roof.

‘I'm so sorry about Holly,' said Fern after a while. ‘We've driven her off to bed.'

‘She's fine. She's tired. We've both been working all day.'

Fern nodded.

‘I expect you're wondering what brought us in the first place,' she said. ‘Why I've ripped Cass away from her dad?'

‘Look, Fern,' said Ivy. ‘We don't have to talk about this now.'

‘No, it's okay. I want to tell you.'

And she did.

Then she cried.

Holly

My name is Holly Holley and I know I'll never get to sleep.

The smell is stronger. The rain has brought it out.

At least the shrieking has stopped and it is quiet except for the faint patter of raindrops and the odd creak of a settling house.

It's not fair.

I lie in bed and the smell of the room is giving me a headache. I think about Demi and the sleepover. What they might be doing. But it is too painful and I try to think of anything else. I think about how Cassie was whisked into the bedroom –
my
bedroom. I think about the chicken I didn't eat because Fern and Mum were busy with Cassie and it became clear that nothing was going to happen – no chatting with the new arrivals about their journey, no communal eating of the takeaway. The idea of eating by myself was too depressing

I'm Holly Holley and I'm short, I'm ugly, and I'm overweight. I have only one friend in the world and she cares more about books than boyfriends. And now I'm lying in a strange room while strangers lie in mine. And they're the reason I've blown my chances with Demi.

It's not fair.

Cassie

This room reeks of unhappiness and not all of it is mine.

Some of it is hers. Holly. The girl with worry stamped on her
face. She doesn't want me here. I don't want me here either.

I am empty now. When Mum touched me, brought me back from
sleep, I saw the rain against the windscreen, the world pressing
in on me and I was full. Something burst inside then, a bubble
pricked by sharp images of Dad, my old house, and faces slipping
away forever. And what was burst, swelled into a dark tide. It
swept me away.

This is what I was moving towards. This unhappy room.

And though I am empty now of everything but weariness, I
cannot think it will come to good.

It's not fair.

3

Holly

When Holly's sleep was broken at six-thirty by the sound of tinkling bells, her first reaction was to wonder what kind of deranged person would be cleansing the house of negative energy at this time in the morning. Her mother was the prime suspect. Actually, her mother was the
only
suspect. But then she realised it was an entirely different sound. This wasn't a continuous hum, but rather a series of notes, gentle and insistent. She pondered the mystery briefly before falling back asleep.

When she woke again, the sun was filtering through curtains and it was eight forty-five. Her new bedroom didn't look any better in daylight.
Thank goodness for Action Plan 2
, she thought. Though Holly's shift at the cinema didn't start until eleven, she got dressed immediately and was out of the house by nine o'clock. She didn't have breakfast. She didn't even take the time to weigh herself. She could hear the mutter of voices in the kitchen – but she didn't have the energy to face them. So she yelled a quick goodbye and slipped through the front door, ignoring her mother when she called out her name. She was probably going to offer a lift. Holly hurried down the path and along the street to the bus stop, praying her mother wouldn't come after her. It was only when she'd boarded the bus that she was able to relax.

Her shift ran from eleven to five. Normally, she'd be home by five-thirty. Not tonight. Tonight, she was going to watch a movie at her own cinema. She did get free tickets, after all. Two, to be precise. She pulled her phone from her pocket.

Even if she didn't get a reply, she'd still go by herself. It wouldn't matter that she'd seen most of the movies before.

She was just in the mood, that's all.

Ivy

‘I don't know what's got into that girl,' said Ivy, returning to the kitchen. ‘She's taken off like a scalded cat.'

‘Being a teenager. That's what gets into them,' said Fern. She gathered the last of the scrambled egg and spooned it into Cassie's mouth. ‘I'll tell you one thing, Cass,' she said. ‘That journey has done nothing to dint your appetite. As my grandmother used to say, “I'd sooner keep you a week than a fortnight.”'

Ivy sat on the chair next to Fern and leaned in to Cassie's wheelchair.

‘How did you sleep, poppet?' she asked.

Cassie twisted her head, smiled and gave a low gurgle. Her hand, fingers bent as if they'd been broken and mended very badly, lifted and waved. Ivy glanced at Fern.

‘She says she had a great night's sleep,' said Fern. ‘Just as well, because frankly I was in a coma. And now we both feel refreshed and ready to rock and roll, don't we kiddo?'

‘Are you sure you don't want to just rest today?' asked Ivy.

‘What ya reckon, Cass? Rest or party?'

Cassie beamed as her body convulsed. Her eyes stayed on Ivy who noticed how deep a brown they were. And sparkly. Little flashes of light danced in her pupils.

‘Looks like that's a vote for party,' said Fern. ‘I'll just get these breakfast dishes done and then we'll take my car. See what this place has to offer for a couple of tourists from the NT. Sound okay, sis?'