The Boy Under the Table (13 page)

Ruby had introduced them. Ruby was a subject both Maureen and Tina left alone. Ruby was a worst-case scenario because she had been taken by disease. The Disease.

There were so many ways to die doing what Ruby did, but she had gone the worst way. It crept up on her while she was just trying to survive. She should have been okay, she could have been okay. There were so many drugs to treat AIDS now but you had to take the pills and visit the doctors. Ruby had other ideas. Nobody told Ruby what to do, not even her sick body.

‘So,’ said Maureen, squinting at Lockie through the smoke, ‘who’s your little friend?’

‘My brother actually,’ said Tina.

Maureen gave her a long look but accepted the lie. ‘Well, let’s see the size of him. Take off the coat.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘He needs a bath or something.’

‘I know, I’m going to take him to the gym, but the thing is he ran away from home in his summer clothes. I need to get him some warm stuff.’

‘He must have run away a long time ago then.’

‘He . . . I need to get him some warm stuff.’

Tina watched as Maureen looked Lockie over, taking in his skinny arms and blue feet, the torn T-shirt and filthy shorts. She knew Maureen wouldn’t miss the mark around his neck or the one on his ankle.

‘Ya know, Tina, I always thought you were one of the good ones. One of the smart ones. I’m not wrong am I, Tina?’

‘You’re not wrong, Maureen, not wrong at all.’

Maureen shook her head and gave Lockie another long look.

Lockie dropped his head under the scrutiny and Tina wrapped her coat around him again. She felt bad for exposing him to someone else’s gaze.

‘Pretty stupid to run away without shoes,’ said Maureen, and Tina could see that she had made her decision. She would help them and she would keep quiet about it.

‘Yeah, but I’m taking care of him now. I’ll make sure he gets home. I’ll keep him safe.’ Tina needed Maureen to know that the boy’s state had nothing to do with her.

‘You do that, Tina,’ said Maureen softly.

She heaved herself off the stool and wandered around the shop, picking stuff up.

A few minutes later there was a pile of clothes in front of Lockie.

A pair of jeans, a skivvy that had once been white, a top with a picture of some sort of robot on it and a hoodie lined with wool. Maureen also found a scuffed pair of sneakers and some socks.

‘That should do him fine, but I’d get him cleaned up before you let him put on the new gear’.

Lockie stared at the pile in front of him. He mumbled something.

‘What, Lockie?’ said Tina. She leaned down so she could hear.

He whispered the words and Tina could feel his humiliation. ‘Undies, I need some undies.’

‘Oh right,’ said Tina, looking past Maureen. ‘You got any undies?’

Maureen took a few more minutes and came back with two pairs of undies.

Both were blue but both were clearly for girls. ‘It’s not exactly something people donate, luv. Got to take what you can get, eh?’

Tina nodded. ‘Okay, Lockie?’

Lockie nodded and Tina saw him swipe at his eyes. Tears, finally tears, and over having to wear girl’s undies. Human beings were strange.

Tina felt her stomach roll at the sadness of the tears but it was better than the stare and the polite requests to be allowed to eat, or go to the bathroom or even to exist.

‘No one will know, Lockie,’ she said and he gave a long sniff.

‘I don’t have much, Maureen, and I don’t know when I’m going to be able to work again.’

‘How much have you got?’

Tina swallowed. It would be smarter to lie but Maureen could spot bullshit from a mile away.

‘Fifteen dollars.’

‘Well, I reckon that’ll cover this lot.’

Tina felt her throat tighten. There would be nothing left for food and the hamburgers were nearly gone.

‘’Course, there is the discount.’

‘Discount?’

‘Yep, you know me, Tina; I look after me mates. I reckon with the discount this lot comes to two dollars.’

Tina laughed with relief. ‘That’s a good discount, Maureen.’

Maureen shrugged and lit another cigarette.

Tina bagged the stuff herself and Maureen gave her the change. Tina wanted to say something, something that would let Maureen know how much the gift meant, but that wasn’t the way you did things. Maureen knew what it felt like to have only the change in your pocket to get you through the next few days. She knew and she would know how much she had helped.

‘See ya,’ said Tina as she pushed Lockie out of the store.

‘Yeah,’ said Maureen. ‘See ya.’

The two-dollar shop across the road yielded a pack containing shampoo, conditioner, shower gel, a sponge, a toothbrush and toothpaste.

‘You’ve got to love a two-dollar shop, Lockie.’

Eleven dollars left.

‘Okay, we’ve only got a short walk to the gym and then we can get you a nice shower. I wonder what this stuff smells like, eh? Doesn’t matter—anything will be all right. My old shampoo smelled like strawberries. Do you like the smell of strawberries? Most people do. I’m really looking forward to a shower. It’s so fucking . . . it’s so cold.’

Tina didn’t let the fact that the boy was so silent stop her from talking. Towards the end Tim had got quieter with each passing day. Just breathing took it all out of him, but Tina kept talking. She told him what was on TV and what was in the comics and what she could see outside the hospital window. She talked until she ran out of voice and then she came back the next day and did it again. Tim was listening; she knew he was listening.

Tina and Lockie arrived at the gym with its imposing black glass doors. The sleek modern building looked out of place, but Tina could see that one day it would be the norm. The ugly truth of the Cross would move underground.

Nothing stopped the developers from moving in. Above the gym was a really fancy new block of flats with a valet to park your car when you came home. The residents drove in through a giant metal garage door and handed their keys over. They didn’t have to see where they lived until they got to the tenth floor and then they could watch the winking city lights and pretend there wasn’t a room one block away filled with people intent on wiping out their thoughts.

‘Okay, Lockie, this is it—time for a shower. You take the bag with the clothes.’ Tina took her backpack off her back and slung it over one shoulder.
Just going to the gym, you know. It’s not like I have my whole fucking life in here.
Lockie looked downright weird in the long coat but that was nothing compared to what he would look like without it.

She took a deep breath and pushed the heavy door open.

Doug

Doug returned to the house around five. Things were back in order. The dishwasher had been emptied and the house cleaned. There was something good cooking in the oven.

It was possible that Sarah had been up all day and had only just gone for a lie-down. It was possible.

Margie was sitting on the couch knitting another of her countless scarves. Half the town were walking around in Margie’s scarves.

‘Everything okay?’ he asked quietly, bracing himself for the answer.

‘She didn’t make it up today, Doug,’ said Margie, smiling sadly.

Doug dropped into the old leather armchair. The chair had belonged to his father and his grandfather. Sarah hated it but she knew she couldn’t throw it out. There wasn’t much he was stubborn about. He didn’t care what she did with the house when there was money available but the chair had to stay. It was something he kept to himself, but when Doug sat in it he hoped for the accumulated wisdom of his father and grandfather. Neither man had spoken very much about anything other than the land.

The farm was all-consuming. The way his father saw it, if he could teach Doug everything he needed to know to run the farm he had done right by him. Doug had never been able to argue with that logic but Sarah wanted him to talk to the kids about other things.

‘Ask them how they feel, Doug. Ask them what they think. They’re people too, you know.’

Sometimes it was easier just to nod when Sarah said something.

He would have liked to have his father around to sit and talk to. Or, more importantly, not talk to. Sometimes silence was all you needed. Of course, neither his father nor his grandfather would have known how to deal with something like this.

His father had lost a brother. His grandparents had lost a child.

His name was Lachlan and Lockie had been named for him. Lachlan had been twelve years old when he got in the way of a tractor. He knew better but he was distracted or careless or something and there was nothing they could do to save him. His father had only spoken of the incident once and then he had made the healing sound swift and sure.

‘Mum took to her bed for a couple of weeks but then it was time to shear the sheep and she got up and got on with things. The men needed to be fed.’ Things needed to be done and the world kept going. That was it. Doug wondered if it would ever be possible for Sarah to get up and get on with things.

Maybe it was easier if you knew your child was dead. It was a thought that stopped him in his tracks sometimes but he knew that it was the truth. If the child was dead then you had to figure out a way forward. It was being locked in this permanent state of limbo that was keeping Sarah in bed.

One night he had come home from the day with a story of one of the young lads sliding through some fairly big cow pats. The boy had landed on his butt and there had been laughter all round. Restrained laughter but, still, it was funny. He had sat on the edge of the bed and related the story to Sarah and she had smiled and then released a small giggle. Immediately he could see her regret it and he had watched her bite down hard on her lip. Hard enough to draw some blood. ‘It’s okay, Sarah,’ he had said gently. ‘It’s okay to laugh.’

‘Bullshit, Doug,’ she had spat back at him. ‘How can you laugh if he’s not laughing? How can I laugh knowing that he may be suffering?’

‘I . . . I . . .’ Doug had started, then he had left the room.

If a child died did it end this struggle? Could you put your faith in God and heaven and know he was in a better place, laughing with other children? Was that how you were able to move on?

Doug covered his eyes with his hands and wiped away some of the tears. Margie’s knitting needles clicked and the heater warmed the room. The answers would not come tonight.

It was unlikely that there were any answers anyway.

Tina

Tina swiped her card and the turnstile moved. The gym was packed. The beautiful people from the city had descended. Trendy sneakers and tight butts were everywhere. Rock videos competed with televisions showing the news. The treadmills went round and round with people working off their long lunches.

Tina felt like she had entered a different universe. She felt it every time she came to the gym. The people worrying about bulges and muscle strength would not be able to believe her life. Unless they saw it on television. Television made everything real.

She looked down at Lockie but his eyes were on the floor. Tina understood. There was too much noise and too many people to deal with after his solitary time under the kitchen table.

Alex, the up-himself personal trainer, gave her a look. Tina had never spoken to him but his name bounced off the walls of the gym. He was physical perfection itself and he wasn’t shy about showing it.

He looked at Lockie and then back at her again. The question mark in his head had gone off. Ding, ding, ding. He wasn’t exactly a rapid-fire thinker. Kids weren’t allowed in the gym. Alex knew the rules. Tina knew the rules too. She was just hoping that everyone would be too preoccupied with themselves to remember the rules.

When Alex started to move towards her Tina squeezed Lockie’s hand. She tensed her body and got ready to run. She felt him do the same. One day on the street and the kid knew a problem when he saw one.

Alex only got halfway across the floor before some blonde with huge tits said, ‘Hi!’ and then he had other things to do.

Tina breathed in and out slowly.

She moved Lockie through the gym to the back, where the showers were, at a kind of running walk. Not so fast as to draw attention but fast enough that by the time someone saw them they were gone.

She hid him in a cubicle and told him to wait.

In the change room she hovered by the bin where the clean people deposited their wet towels. She studied her nails and thought about buying a latte. Ha ha.

If you wanted a dry towel you had to sign for it.

That screwed up rule number one of living in the Cross.

When no one was looking Tina grabbed two damp towels out of the bin and then locked herself and Lockie in the shower cubicle.

‘Okay, kid, you go first.’ Tina opened the pack of soap and shampoo.

Lockie just stood in front of her.

‘Jesus, kid, let’s get this done. I need a shower as well.’

‘My mum helps me.’

‘Helps you do what?’

‘She helps me,’ said Lockie.

Tina felt her jaw clench. She had had enough of all of this. She should have been getting ready to go out and earn some money but here she was playing Mummy to a fucked-up kid.

‘My mum helps me,’ said Lockie, and he swiped his hands over his cheeks.

‘Jesus. Okay, kid, don’t cry. I’ll help you.’

The kid was turning into a faucet.

Lockie had probably been able to shower himself before . . . before the uniform. He had probably insisted that he could do it himself. Who knew why he was going backwards?

Tim had been able to shower himself by the time he was seven, but she still remembered the drill.

‘Arms up,’ she said.

He lifted his arms slowly above his head as though he had aged while standing in the cubicle. Tina grabbed the filthy torn T-shirt and pulled it roughly over his head. Then she looked at him and regretted her impatience.

Lockie’s body was one massive bruise. Some parts were black and some were the faded yellow of an old punch.
Poor little boy
, thought Tina.
Poor, poor little boy
.