Shivers 7 (16 page)

It was dark and Serena scraped her arm against the outstretched finger of one of the statues.

“Watch it!” Luke. Serena’s heart beat faster. He had an armful of building supplies, she thought; shining things he’d make stuff with. “That’s how Finch likes ’em,” Luke said as they climbed the steps and went inside. “All cold, unmoving. Like my ex-girlfriend.”

“Don’t go there,” Rachel said. “Not again. Can we not have the jokes this time?”

“She’s got no sense of humor, I swear,” Luke said.

Dinner was something cooked in a pot. Serena couldn’t quite identify it. At home, each food item stayed separate on the plate, perhaps joined by some sauce or gravy. Everyone digging in, elbows out, her sister eating with her fingers, the only thin, beautiful part of her. Barely a word spoken unless it was something about the TV that blared in front of them. None except Serena concerned about the quantity of the food, all of them shoveling it in as if it made no difference to their size at all. Serena felt like an outsider amongst them, an imposter, a cuckoo. Here, they sat at the table and ate carefully measured portions. Ava ate quickly, then said, “I’m going to stay at Dad’s tonight.”

“But Serena’s here!”

“I know! She can keep you company. Dad’s got a new game he wants to show me. And he’s closer to school. And he’s got a big house. And I don’t feel as if I’m in a bird feeder there. And there are no shitty birds there, either.”

“See, this is what I’ve been talking about,” Luke said, “Finch is Jay’s brother, yet we’re the ones who have to put up with him. Shitty birds,” Luke said. Ava laughed.

“First, this isn’t your house to have an opinion on. Second, that arsehole pays rent for him to be here.” Rachel held out one fine leg. “Look at these shoes! This is what
I’m
talking about.”

They were beautiful, hugging her foot with soft, mauve leather. Rachel was so well-dressed. Serena had long known the women she admired the most, the women she considered the most intelligent, were the well-groomed ones. Even her boss, who was small-minded and bitchy, she admired for her dress-sense.

“Touch them. Go on. Put your finger on the toe.”

The feel of them made Serena coo. “They are lovely.”

“Paid for by him.” She tilted her head. “He’s alright, anyway. Harmless.” She screeched out for Finch at the back step, wanting him at the table to eat the leftovers.

Even inside, Finch sat in a crouch. Rachel had made him take his shoes off at the door to stop him tracking bird shit through the house and he perched on his chair at the table, watching them.

“Can we watch the bird doco?” he said. He flapped his arms as if they were wings.

Luke laughed. “That’s all you watch! How about a bit of footy? Soccer? Or we could send the girls out and watch something with a bit more action.”

He stood up, his crotch pressed up against the back of his chair. His jeans were tight, a size too small, and his stomach squeezed out over the waistband. Finch shook his head and shuffled outside.

“Dad’s here,” Ava said. At the front door, she whispered to Serena, “Thank you. Seriously. You being here gives me the tiniest breathing space.”

Serena couldn’t imagine wanting to escape them.

Everything about the family fascinated her. There was music everywhere. Rachel singing or humming, Luke’s radio playing if he was at home, Ava playing her own music in the granny flat, Finch tweeting and peeping, trying to get his birds to talk. She wanted to save Ava from her body-judgmental mother, help give her the confidence to wear what she wanted to wear. She wanted to fuck Luke, regardless of how sleazy or manipulative he was. She wanted him just once, just to have a man like that once, before settling for a nice guy, or a series of nice guys. He was the opposite of all she’d been led to believe she deserved, but there was nothing to it. It’d be shallow, and quick.

And she knew it probably wouldn’t happen.

“Hey, I haven’t shown you my cupboards,” Luke said.

He showed off the house he’d built. Mirrors, special cupboards, equipment carefully concealed. Serena tried to stay interested, but mostly she wanted to look inside the cupboards, see what was inside this family, find their secrets. In the bathroom, she saw expensive lotions for men, six or seven all lined up neatly. The walls were straw colored and he said, “Don’t worry about those, I’ll paint ’em soon. Shitty color, that one.”

Afterwards, they sat on the veranda and drank. Luke drank whiskey, glass after glass, and, in the moonlight and the glow of the candles Rachel lit, Serena could see him becoming redder and shinier. Finch joined them, sitting on the step and drinking apple cider, sculling can after can and stacking them in a tower on the lower step.

Rachel drank white wine in a beaker.

Serena drank white also, in a long, fine champagne glass. In the conversational breaks, she could hear the gentle murmur of the birds (two of them? Mimicking more?) and a soft tapping she eventually realized were the wind chimes above her head.

Made of bones.

“Finch’s rejects!” Luke said. “All the bones the birds don’t want!”

Finch laughed at that, a cheep cheep chuckle that made her want to laugh out loud.

“I designed them. Designed plenty in the house. I shoulda been a fashion designer,” Luke said. “I woulda made beautiful clothes.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Mum always said it was stupid. Dumb idea for a man.”

“Our mum was so unsupportive. Always telling both of us we were useless, no matter what we did. I wanted to be a model but she always told me no fucking way. She always said I was too fat and no amount of feathering up could make me look better.”

Luke nodded. “She told her to get a job in an office where it didn’t matter what she looked like so long as she had clean clothes on.”

“And neat.”

“Yeah, neat.”

“That’s why I’m so keen for Ava to have good dress sense. That’s why you’re doing such a good job, bringing her all these fabulous clothes.”

“You still could be a designer,” Serena said. She didn’t know what to say to Rachel, who was well past modeling age. “You could start a company.” She wondered if she could be their buyer. If they’d ask her. Lots of late nights. Getting some take away in. And he’d take his shirt off if he got hot and she’d be laughing at him, making fun of him in a teasing way but really wanting to run her fingers over him, to see how that made her feel. “I’m always fiddling with designs. I’ve got all sorts of stuff to play with.”

“I bet you have,” he said. He’d encircled her. Enclosed her.

His phone rang. He checked the screen. “This one I’ll take.” He winked at Serena, which broke her heart; it meant she was like a sister. Or niece.

He picked up his keys. “I’m out,” he said, kissing his sister on the cheek, Serena full on the mouth. His lips were soft, slightly salty, with a hint of lime. She wanted to press up against him, to see his bedroom, what color his sheets were.

“I can drop you home on the way,” Luke said.

* * *

Serena spent her first night there a week later.

Rachel called her with an emergency: Ava asked out for dinner with a group of people from school and nothing at all to wear for it. They stayed up late talking, trying things on, and Serena hoped that Luke would come home soon. That she could flutter inside for a glass of something, even a cup of tea, and he’d tell her about his night. The back of the house glowed with the lights he’d installed; butterfly lights in many colors that blinked and illuminated the tiny pot plants he’d lined the walls with.

“You should crash here,” Ava said, and the idea of getting home made her so tired, Serena agreed. Home would be quiet and dull, her parents gently snoring, her sister watching TV in the dark with a lap full of chocolate, the dog snuffling in his crotch.

Sheathed in a sleeping bag, Ava watched a movie on her laptop. Serena checked her messages and played on her phone until they were tired.

“I feel like a 12 year old on a sleepover,” Serena said, and they both got the giggles.

It was a quiet night. As she tried to doze off, Serena thought she could hear chattering.

“Is that your mum talking? And Luke?”

“It’s only the birds. Finch reckons they talk to each other.”

“It sounds like heaps of them, though.”

“There are only two,” Ava said.

“Sounds like more. Where does Finch sleep, anyway? Out there, with them?”

“Sometimes, I think. Make sure the blind is closed properly. Door locked. I’ve caught him staring in before. He gives me the total creeps. That’s another reason I spend a lot of time over at Dad’s. He’s kinda gross.”

“He’s weird. Obsessed. He does love those birds. I guess he’s guarding them. Scared someone’s going to steal them.”

“Or listen to them properly. Sometimes I wonder if they’re trying to tell me something but he keeps them quiet.”

The birds woke Serena early. Stretching, she stepped outside, not wanting to lie in bed, nor wake up Ava.

Finch was already up, looking dirty, unkempt. He was demolishing the bunkers, the birds fluttering about, helping him, she imagined. He said, “That’s the way, that’s the way.”

“They hate an old house,” he said as Serena stood next to him, rubbing her eyes. “They peck at me sometimes if I leave it too long.” He swept out the cage, scooping up debris into a large garbage bag. Shards, tiny bones, broken things, some of it crushed to dust.

“It doesn’t actually smell that bad,” Serena said. She fingered through the basket full of new things he’d collected for his birds. Glass, mirrors, hair (hers, she thought, or at least some of it) and bones. Bits of chain.

Once the cage was clean, the bars stripped, he carefully spread the new treasures on the ground. The birds squawked. Serena heard them saying, “It’s good, it’s good,” but she laughed at her own imagination. Finch wore a crown of tinsel, but they didn’t pluck from it. He ducked his head from side to side.

Finch squatted on his concrete blocks. Serena dragged a chair over and sat there for a while. She went inside for coffee (she could smell it brewing and Rachel loved to crow over her coffee), came and sat outside with it, watching the artist birds create.

“I love this. Isn’t it pure magic?” Finch said.

It seemed to her there was a flurry of them, many birds all fluttering and building. She squeezed her eyes but it didn’t help. It was the mirrors, all the mirrors and the glass, making it appear there were many birds in there, not just two.

Finch opened up a plastic bag and tipped the contents inside. Bones. They clunked onto the floor of the aviary and sat there in a pile. The birds inspected, squawking and leaping excitedly.

“They like bones the best. They know the ones that are people bones.”

“They’re not.”

“They might be. Hospitals chuck out bones all the time. All those fingers chopped off. The toes. Stuff like that.”

“Stuff like that! What else is like that?” Serena laughed.

Ava joined them. “Mum says breakfast.”

“Not hungry,” Finch said, and Serena wasn’t either, but she went inside out of politeness. Really, she wanted to watch the birds building. Listen to them. “Fuck off useless” she thought she heard “fuck off fuck off useless” and she laughed at herself.

There were more new shoes inside. “Try ’em!” Rachel said. “I don’t mind. Aren’t they gorgeous?”

They were beautiful. Like a second skin.

“Poor old Finch. Don’t be too nice to him. He’s got no idea about parameters.” Luke leaned against the kitchen bench, eating what looked like a dozen Weet-Bix.

“Why don’t you get him a girlfriend?”

“Him? He’s too skinny. Women hate skinny men.” Finch was very thin. Fine-boned. He ate little. Only Luke ate a lot, making up for all of them. “He never eats. It’s weird. My ex always had me on a diet. I hated it.”

He looked out the window at Finch. “Look at him. He’s never going to attract a gaggle of girls.” He had beautifully manicured hands. Rachel did them for him.

After that, Serena stayed often. With Ava spending a lot of time at her father’s, the granny flat was usually empty. Serena worked there on her days off, sewing and designing. She brought her boxes of baubles, sequins and buttons, her threads, her tiny jewels. Finch watched her unpacking, blinking at the glint, wanting them for his birds.

Their house was a closer bus route into the boutique, and she liked being around them. Liked the self-indulgence that existed, that all of them did exactly what they wanted to do. There was no sense of sacrifice, none of “doing the right thing.” They simply did whatever they wanted.

Luke worked on the house. Finch found him treasures; a picture frame, a strip of beautiful wallpaper, a series of painted rocks. Things to make the place look amazing. They wove ivy through the bamboo fence and painted beautiful designs along the top. He gave Serena a string of beads he’d found, each one hand painted.

At night, especially if Ava was at her father’s, Serena heard the birds more and more clearly. Some nights she heard ten or more different voices, all talking against each other.

One night, they were so loud she pulled on a jumper and went out there.

Finch sat in his position in the dark.

“Can you hear them?” he whispered. She nodded. “Listen.”

Don’t Luke don’t,
she heard.
Don’t luke don’t luke don’t luke don’t.

She grasped Finch’s shoulder. He flinched then relaxed. “Who’s that? Who are they mimicking?”

He gave a headshake.

“Come on.”

“It’s her.” He motioned his head, ducked it down. Whispered, “His ex.”

don’t luke don’t luke don’t luke don’t luke.

Finch smiled and she wondered if he was playing with her, somehow putting these words out there. He was very good if that was the case; his lips weren’t moving.

The bird said, “You’re fuckin’ kidding me, Luke.”

“She talked exactly like that. She was a total slapper,” Finch said. His voice was harsh; she hadn’t heard him speak like that before.

Later, thinking it was something to talk about, hoping to make him sad and needy, Serena asked Luke about it. She understood Finch was joking with her; she wanted Luke to know it was happening.